What the heck is up?

Dearest, dearest cherubs:

Yes, there are two dearests in there. I have been thinking of you all.

I have been thinking about my life which seems to have taken up an interesting challenge. How to get around with one foot incapacitated?

But you know it's not so much the foot that is bothering me. It's the state of the world that's bothering me. I just picked up my yellowed newspaper which I carefully saved after President Obama's election. What in the world is everybody so danged unhappy about I wonder?

Ok, I usually do not care for one sided opinions. Opinions should be fueled by fact and careful research into both sides etc.

There are no easy answers to anything, there are no easy fixes. When, oh when will Americans figure this out?

Do you expect a president to cure your economic ills? I have some advice for you. Go back to school! I suggest you aquire a credential. I suggest you learn some stuff. I suggest you face the fact that manufacturing in America is done and get on with your life. We are making the transition to a global economy. It's not done yet. It will hurt for a long time. It will hurt and it will stink and you will get angry. But think about this -- the solution is up to YOU.

It's often what I say to women who come to me with problems about men. There are no white knights on horses. Get over it. Your happiness is up to you.

I don't know if I will lose my job. But if I do, getting a new job will be up to me and it will be nobody elses problem. I will be frightened I'm sure. I will be emotional, I'm sure.

I am emotional now. I am a former ballet dancer with a foot that no longer will ever, I mean ever, function as it did. But for heaven's sake it's not President Obama's fault. It's not the fault of the MBTA who had black ice on the curb at the Franklin/Dean station. It was just an ACCIDENT. We use that word because stuff happens that we can't predict. Stuff just happens.

We must have a sense of history. For quite a few years, we allowed excesses to happen in the financial markets. We allowed it (and you can't blame the government, because they are us, and we are them) and why did we allow it? Because people were making money hand over fist, that's why we allowed it.

You all know it. You all used your houses like banks. We all did it. We need to get over it and do the learning that must be done.

My friend Lou Longo speaks often of responsibility. You may not like the consequences of what has happened. But if we all take responsibility, then we can be like the great generation after World War II that Tom Brokaw writes about. We will recover and we can teach our children how to recover.

I'm just thinking out loud as usual my dearest cherubs. Thanks so much for listening.

All my love to all of you.

Latest Poems

Hello dear cherubs:

Some of you have inquired about my latest poems, so here are a couple of them. Enjoy!

Frozen

The somnambulists walking through the maze and it was just like every other morning except

This time there was an ambulance picking and tearing its way through and so we waited on a small piece of cement.

We stood there and watched the gentle edging of cars and cell phones barely hearing. The ear buds clearing out the gloom.

I fixed my eys on the bus.

The ambulance was gone.

The woman walked.

She walked as if there was nothing in the world to protect her, as if there was nothing in her way or worries or life or lights.

I cried out.

I might have said "stop, or wait, or watch out". I don't remember.

I remember crying out and then my eyes fixed on the bus driver whose window was open.

His face ashen beneath his black face. Our eyes locked.

The woman walked on. And so did I.

___________________

This is an older poem. But I like it, so here it is.

Random

A night worth waking with questions.

I float you see.

I wander and touch things -- the diamond eyeball TV stares back at me, it's 3 AM.

Not worried, not aching, not tense but there are so many ideas.

One hopes one is halfway through but you never know it could be near the end.

I wander and touch things -- I hear regular breathing and every so often a car goes by.

A night worth waking with questions.

I sift you see.

I wander and things things -- my questions are unanswered but that's okay.

Not super human, no frightened but there is so much to comprehend.

One hopes one's children might find teh center, but one is never sure, it could never happen or it could.

I wander and touch things -- there is a lovely aroma from the flowers on the table.

A night worth waking with questions.

I feel you see.

I wander and touch things -- I hear my heart, my heart which I have tried for so long not to hear.

I live entirely within this husk that is changing so rapidly I cannot even define it.

I hope there will be definition soon.

I wander and touch things -- the light filters through my window like dust.
_________________l

Untitled

As I strode toward the station the moon, earthlit, rose above me.

The sun behind me did not warm my neck.

In the sky with unequal love.

The deer frozen in the capsule of a moment, I hurtled toward her.

Her eyes luminescent like the moon, there was no time to live my life again.

At the last moment she moved and yet it feels just like I hit her broad on, the way she was standing, burying her hooves inside my heart, inside the celestial beings who shone down and did not care.

___________________

Happy New Year dearest cherubs.

Margaret

The obligatory physically challenged post -- coping with a broken ankle

Precious Cherubs:

Ok, so most of you know by now that I am the victim of black ice, which is not as nice as being the "victim" of black gold, "oil that is, black gold, Texas tea". Fifteen points to all who can sing the complete Beverly Hillbillies song. Nevermind, I win.

So I am past the surgery which involved plates and screws. And I am rediscovering my life. I have temporarily lost my independence. It occurs to me that I never really had it, that it was, perhaps, an illusion -- not my life, but my independence.

You have to figure out the following:

How to move (back and forth and up and down)
How to bathe
How to eat
How to drink
How to keep your clothes clean

There are many more sub-catigories that fall under those larger catigories. And all of them have to be rediscovered.

I have become grateful to many people, namely, my roommate, my daughter, my brother, and my friends, yes, in that order.

My roommate was a "first responder". He picked me up at the ER. He made the most profound statement of my life. He said the following: "Margaret, I can clean the house, cook the meals, wash the clothes and take care of you. In return, I ask only that you don't cry". I love you Tom DiFrancia.

My daughter was the "immediate care giver". She said the following: "Mum, you took care of me for many years, including the time that both my wrists were broken. Think of this as payback time". And she drove the car and took me to the doctors, to my testing, to the hospital at that ungodly hour, and she waited while I had my surgery. Then, and only then, did she venture home to her New Year's eve party. I love you Lydia.

My brother John was what he has always been, the "guy who picks up the pieces". He showed up at the hospital after I had my surgery and I opened my drug laden eyes to his smiling face. He looked like an angel to me. He offered to bring me home from the hospital on Thursday, after he had worked many long hours. Lucky for him and for me, my roommate's work schedule was changed and he was able to pick me up earlier. I love you John.

My friend Margaret came to make my bed at home and brought me books and stayed to discuss poetry with me. My friend Marcia brought me goodies from the grocery store and trashy magazines and stayed to talk with me in the middle of a busy day. My Facebook, Tagged and Yahoo friends left encouraging messages. My friends Patt, Jan, and Molly and my brother Tony, all called. I am one lucky woman.

I am not a believer in fate. I am not a believer in love. I am not a believer in God. But somehow it would seem many things wound themselves together during these last couple of weeks to make one accident that might have been unbearable, bearable.

I often tell people that what they deposit in the karma bank, comes back to them. Now I know, it's true.

Happy New Year, dearest cherubs.

Boys of Summer

The radio rustles with their return every year and somehow
No other team will suffice and no other worldly honor will be lauded.

They play the games those large men, they fly into each other as if each had a purpose.

The puck will sing, the ball will be kicked, but still part of us waits for the boys.

It is perhaps the inner life of those players -- we watch them wait for the pitch and imagine
inside ourselves what they might be thinking. I have always watched them. Their inner life, like the inner life of a nun, has always spoken to me.

When you stand still and wonder. When you stand still at the barre and wait for instructions. When you stand still and wonder what life will give you at that particular moment.

The moment when a ball will be hurled at you at 90 mph and then you must decide what to do.

And you have no time.

And you have nothing to rely upon but your instincts and your experience.

Ballet dancers, baseball players and nuns, how could you know how much they have in common. And yet, they do.

This I know because I have been all of them, either in reality or in my mind.

I have been all of them.

My problems with the holidays

Dearest cherubs:

It's not PC what I have to say. But I have a lot of problems with the holidays.

It is extremely difficult for me to just forgive and forget. I find, after much introspection, that I can do neither.

So, this year, I will not participate.

I resign.

I'm packing it in.

So this year, for the holidays I seek solitude. Complete and utter solitude.

What does this mean, you might ask.

This means the bell ringers go unanswered, the carols go unsung, the meals go unattended, the presents go unbought. The life goes on as if the holidays did not even exist.

I am finding some solace in this decision. But I also find that people feel sorry for me. I am wondering what kind of projection allows them to do so. For whom are they feeling sorry? For me? For themselves? For the myths? I am not sure.

But I also have to tell you, that is not a sad thing for me. My aloneness is not the same as lonliness. They are separate. Sometimes I am lonely. Sometimes, people teeming with family, are lonely. Sometimes people wish for the time to be alone, and they can never be. But I can.

I think the time to be alone with myself is something I have fought for all my life. And at no time other than the holidays is that more profound.

We are supposed to be making merry. But making merry means different things to different people. To me, making merry means being alone, quiet, or with one or two people. To me making merry means making merry with myself. I like me. I am a good person. I find, often, that I am the best person to tell myself that.

Best wishes for your own, self actualized, holiday celebrations.

Warmly and with love dear cherubs:

Margaret

Ok now that the hype has lessened, here are my thoughts about Ted Kennedy

Dearest Cherubs:





Of course, I had to let the hype die down. How could I even add to anything? But now, I have bought the book "True Compass" and I have devoured it my dears. I mean, I have completely devoured it. And it has brought me back to my childhood and to my adolescent years and to my adulthood.





So now, here's what I have to say.





I am part of the generation who watched JFK die, RFK die, Martin Luther King die, Malcom X die, George Wallace become paralized from a gun shot, race riots, Kent State and many other appalling indignities and horrid events transpire.





But I did not lose three brothers and two sisters. I did not endure that. I did not endure being responsible for the death of another person. I endured other things, but not those things.





On the other side of that, I was not responsible for championing legislation that made other people's life better. I did not nor was not in the position to make things better for the people of Massachusetts and the people of the USA. I was not in that position. He was.





I have only one small Kennedy story to tell. When I was in highschool, I knew a student who went to school at Concord Academy, the school which Caroline Kennedy attended. There was a small gathering at Concord Academy that year to which I was invited. Caroline was there. Her father had been dead about eight years. She wore her hair very long, I remember. It covered half her face. I was also wearing my hair in the same fashion.





The party was lively and fun but yet, Caroline held herself apart, quietly sitting in a corner. Who could blame her?





I gently approached her. I have no idea what gave me the courage to do that. I touched her hand and said, hey, there's cake, have you had some? She smiled at me and said that she didn't care for cake.





I don't remember much after that. But I tried to speak because it seemed to me that she was an unwilling victim of that senseless act of violence. And no matter how unsettled my adolescent life was (and it was) it could never compare to what she had to go through.





I am sure if I related that incident to her now, she would not remember it. But I remembered it. Because she was a Kennedy.





They were and still are a family that represents things to us, as Americans. And Teddy chose to give up aspirations to power, because I believe that despite what happened on the Cape that night, he could have been president. He could have been President of the United States of America. But he gave it up. Perhaps he felt himself unworthy. But I think not. I think he thought of the children and grand children left to his care. I really think he thought of them and thought that he was the only one left. So he took it on. He took it on without complaint. And he stayed in the United States Senate and voted every year, day after day, month after month, year after year, exactly as I would have asked him to vote.





It is for that I am grateful. It is for that, that his book goes into my library in a place of honor. It is for that public service that I thank him from the bottom of my heart.





A perfect person he was not, and who is? But a great public servant, he was. And dearest cherubs, there are few. So very few.





With love and respect, I submit this post.

Progressive libralism and sound Investing, they're not mutually exclusive

Hello dear cherubs:



I am an investment professional, I guess you would say to me that fact should make me a conservative, at least fiscally. Ummmm it does and it kind of doesn't.

I am a progressive liberal who believes in investing. How bizarre is that? But it's true. I am a progressive liberal who believes in investing. Investing and being careful and smart and informed does not collide with being a progressive liberal. Unbeknownst to most people, liberals don't just know how to spend other people's money. We also know where to spend the right amount of money at the right time. This may mean that the money we spend doesn't have an immediate effect. Good investing takes patience. To those who tell me now that the stimulus is not working, I will say to them the facts: the stimulus bill is 90% unspent, hung up in bureaucracy. And it's not the federal bureaucracy, it's the individual state's bureaucracy. So we have no idea whether it's working or not. My thought is, it is working but not quickly enough to suit most Americans. Americans have very little patience for anything.


If I could make enough money doing it, I would teach poor folks how to invest. I would think about investing for them. If brokers were really doing their job, they'd be thinking about poor folks too. I think that's what the government should be doing, paying brokers to help poor people learn about investing.

For a while, I was able to beat the S&P 500 by a goodly percent in my 401(k). (Many thanks go to my former colleagues who taught me about investing.) But the fact that I was confined to investing in a single fund company worried my investments into losses beyond my control.



But now I am back in control. And what do you all think I am doing in my 401(k) account dearest cherubs? I'm buying! I'm buying! I'm buying! There are values out there that are unbelieveable and if you're not buying you're crazy.



However, in my non-contributary accounts dearest cherubs, my roll over IRA, what do you think I'm doing? I'm protecting myself. I'm in bonds and precious metals and other safe investments. I'm being careful. Because I can't contribute to those accounts and so therefore, there's only one way to mitigate risk and that is to be in less lucrative but "safer" investments.


Now you're all smart folks, and so you know why I'm making these choices. I'm 53 years old and I have to save what I can save, and grow what I can grow. Also, I have a wonderful financial advisor who cares what happens to me. I'm unusual in this respect.




I really do not have a problem with the losses I suffered recently. That's the way the market works. But it's all a loss on paper. I have sold nothing and bought nothing that can be valued now. If I were to sell, then, I would suffer. But the fact is I will recoup my losses over the next 20 years or so. This is how one must think. For the people just retiring now, I am sorry, but I hope they had a wise broker who saw it coming and got those investments into safety. Because if that broker truly acted in his client's best interest, then folks just now retiring who were fortunate enough to be that broker's clients, they would be just fine. But we all know there are people out there who know what they're doing and others, well, let's hope this environment squeezes many of the bad ones out of business.



Here is what my progressive liberal self hopes. I am hopeful that we have learned something about what unchecked greed and unmitigated risk can do during this crisis. I hope that we have learned that when you don't restrain the market, the market will not restrain itself. My investor self hopes that the regulatory community will be wise in its imposition of new regulations (and we all know these are coming) and not prevent the market from achieving reasonable growth based on real value and solid deal making and not silly and stupid ideas like "the housing market will always go up".



See, we liberals know about money, yours and my money, other people's money. We know alright. We know that if you're investing for retirement, it's all about "hurry up and wait". If you're getting close to retirement age, consult a professional with a good ethical reputation and that professional should put you in the right place at the right time. That's her job. If she's not doing her job, fire her and get somebody else.



Who's in charge here? You, that's who.

Ok enough about that. Thank you, as always, for listening.

Warmly and with all my love, Margaret