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Remembering the Ash Wednesday Storm!

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Having grown up in Delaware and spent many happy summer vacations "at the beach," I remember the Ash Wednesday Storm of 1962 clearly, and realized yesterday, as we marked Ash Wednesday, 2012, that the 50th anniversary of that event will soon be here. What a storm! At left is a newspaper shot of the storm raging off Rehoboth Beach, Delaware, where my family used to vacation. We stayed often in that very hotel pictured, the Henlopen, which was heavily damaged. It looks to me as if the boardwalk I expected to see in the photo above has been completely washed away. The storm arrived early in March, a perfect nor'easter, and perched over the mid-Atlantic coast through 5 complete high tides.  At least 40 people died, and many communities suffered heavy damage.  A childhood friend and her family lost their summer home in Fenwick Island, Delaware -- everything was gone but the foundation pilings -- and such a loss was not unusual. I lived to the north and inland, near Wil

Seasonal Disappointment Disorder

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I'm a victim of an affliction I like to call Seasonal Disappointment  Disorder. This is a fancy-sounding way of saying I don't like the weather. One simple question: where's winter? People with Seasonal Disappointment Disorder, you see, like seasons, and, as creatures of habit, get all discombobulated when the seasons don't flow smoothly by. We like predictability. We like consistency. We assume, if we buy a nice, red parka with fake fur around the neck and hood, we will actually be able to wear that garment during the winter -- even if we do look like Kenny from South Park when the hood is pulled up. OK, I'm exaggerating (but not about the resemblance to Kenny). I have actually worn the parka two or three times this winter. But, most days, my poor old green quilted jacket is getting a run for its money. So, where's winter? Yesterday it was 61 degrees here in the Delaware valley. On our way to the commuter train, I and my fellow travelers shed lay

Winter Feast for The Soul

I'm definitely in a post-holiday slump. It's the season of blah: the time between New Year's and the beginning of Lent. I don't do winter sports, and even if I did, there's been no snow! Spring seems a long way off, even in the fairly mild weather. I understand that the bare trees have their own beauty as they send fingers into the gray sky, but many days I fail to see it. I look forward to Lent, but even that's way out on the horizon. I guess I have a touch of SAD, Seasonal Affective Disorder. My dad certainly had it, and my son does, as well. One restorative measure I can take is a day-long retreat. In early February, I may plan one. Another thing I can do is the Winter Feast for the Soul , a forty-day celebration of kindness, connectedness, and gratitude, which began on 1/15 and finishes up at the beginning of Lent. The program includes online, guided meditations in several faith traditions, including a set of interfaith meditations. The website lists lots

Elderly animals video

Just came across this on Facebook. It's about five minutes long, but well worth it if you're an animal-lover, especially if you've loved an older animal. http://vimeo.com/29632448

Best dog in my world

I'm relaxing tonight, dogs all around. Max and Amber, the 5-year-old standard poodle littermates, are on the bed with me. For some reason, they feel that they must lie on their sides with their legs stretched straight out, so that they occupy most of the available space. Every now and then, when they are dreaming of prey (poodles were originally hunting dogs in Germany -- no pink bows or painted toenails there), their legs twitch as if they are running, and they give a sotto voce "yip" every now and then. But the queen sits on the floor next to the bed. Shadow, my first standard poodle, is now fifteen and a half, and no longer gets up on the bed, mainly because she can't jump anymore, but also because she can't see where the bed ends and empty space begins. So she sits patiently on the floor. I'm a great fan of older dogs -- I could see adopting a few more. There's a wisdom in older animals, human and canine, that gradually replaces the exuberanc