Some things change. Some things stay the same.

We've had our bowl of oat mush filled with dried fruit, a sprinkle of poppy seeds, slices of butter and, for me, a swirl of maple syrup. These times of 'lock-down' are plumping me out! With few fresh veg or fruit or protein sources from the meat counter, it's beans, grains (and butter) that account for most of our calories. Some of us are filling out. Some of us not so much. "Metabolism."

While we mucked about in Otis, straightening and swiping a bit, sorting a few things that could be washed in one of those buckets of rainwater I heard the unmistakable sound of a galloping boy. My neighbor was doing laps. I reached for the smooth brass toggle on the big window overlooking the gravel road/track, turned to open and pushed out, "Good runn'n," I shouted, waving at boy. He turned. Didn't stop. Waved back.

Some things change. Some things stay the same.

I've written those two lines many times, and each time I can (still) remember why I was saying or writing it. When I sat with my childhood friend in his old family home turned office to compose a program for my Ma's memorial, I wrote those lines for the first time. My old friend, Craig, was a printer. Together we'd assemble a story to remember.

I hear Pete on the steps sloshing my old night shirt and the cotton leggings I use when it gets cold. He's doing things for me as I do what I do. My work and my gift is writing. There are some things we do better than others and if we're lucky the other will do some of those things. It's a sunny day today. There's water enough to do a small load of wash by hand. Pete has hands well-practiced in work. I appreciate his help, and try to remember to thank him every time.

Sometimes, I forget. And, sometimes it'd be better I did a thing rather than let Pete, or someone else do what I could do for myself. There is a fine line of distinction, right? Expecting there's someone else to do all the labor is the master's work. There's all that entitled to-ity. All that culture of being tightly tagged and bound. Bossy.

But, The Virus has come ... and we are changing.

Later today a young man, new to us until a week ago, will be delivering groceries to us. This young, enterprising man named Sawyer Mauk is part of the changes that are making a difference in the way we will remember life going forward. Whidbey Deliveries is a new service provided by local high school seniors (who are 'locked out' of the classroom, but oh so into the real deal -- life as it is!) We, Sawyer & crew and Pete and I are writing a new story. Together we are learning how to lay down those new grooves I keep blogging about. Those new processes, where riffing turn mistakes into some tune created on the spot, woven through with something familiar.

Like pop corn. Yay, one of my favorite things. Life popp'n with new life.

Thank you, Sawyer & Crew!

Part of the story being laid down, spread around, and posted on the Cloud, includes the "Stay at home. Stay safe." narratives. In it the elders and those at greater risk -- the more vulnerable -- are being cared for in different ways. The thing is, those 'different ways' could have been ways we showed care everyday.

The galloping sound of an unmistakable laying down of laps makes a mark (another one) on me. A friendly wave becomes a welo, as is seasonable proper for this time of year. If I had a kite I might send that wave off with the next wind with a(nother) message to my Ancestors.

"You were right. Some things change. Some things stay the same."

I knew when first I wrote alphabets onto the pages of my Rexall Drugstore notebooks.
I knew I was learning something I'd love.
I didn't know for sure.
But, some things do stay the same.  

Are you meeting new people(because of 'lock-down'); engaged in an unexpected consequence or coming up with a new tune? I'd love to open space here on "Fasten Your Safety Pins" for guest posters. Let me know in the comments or email, if you are one or know one.

'Umeke with 'safety pins'

Ola Kakou,
Mokihana


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