blog.bonnielcasey.com: Recent Comments

Comment on Eeek!-ing Out a Life

Veronica — Tue, 21 Feb 2012 14:33:11 GMT

I could totally understand your feelings about creepy crawlies in the house. Having 3 cats has made it common place to have mice, chipmunks, birds, and snakes brought in as "gifts." For the most part I have a husband to dispose of the critters. But on the occasion that he is out of town, I've had to muster all my resolve to pick them up (with lots of paper towels so as not to feel their bodies)and free them or bury them. Now, I could do the same thing when my husband is around, but somehow I turn all helpless and look to him! I know I can do it, but why do it if a man, who God made with no squmishness in his body, can do it for you?

Loved reading your post and could definitely relate to it!

Comment on Eeek!-ing Out a Life

Dave — Sat, 18 Feb 2012 20:05:44 GMT

Thanks Bonnie for such a gentle tale of mutual accountability. You gave me the chance to reflect on the value of gender being such a precious way to deliver the complete human experience.

A friend of mine once chided me for my good deeds saying, "if you're the only one who helps and never needs anything, how do I get to care for you?" Us men enjoy the gifts we are built to give to women, just as we are in awe of the ones women give to us. With mutual interdependence we show even greater strength... Thanks.

Comment on Eeek!-ing Out a Life

Ted Wick — Sat, 18 Feb 2012 13:43:48 GMT

Greetings Bonnie!

Loved your story, not far fetched. Gave me a bit of guilt though. A person who knows me called and couldn't even say the word, (MOUSE). She wanted me to drive 5-6miles to her house and first find then exterminate a mouse she had seen. I declined her offer, and encouraged her to come to a peaceful relationship with mousedom. Did I mention it was after bedtime? I have buried two cats for her so don't feel terribly guilty for my neglect. Hope you will forgive my callous attitude. Ted Wick

Comment on Going Like Sixty

Sue Ann Gleason — Tue, 31 Jan 2012 15:18:31 GMT

I love the "spirit" in this post, Bonnie. I am so glad to be over the hump of the harrowing years of youth. I used to laugh at the phrase, "When I'm old, I shall wear purple." For me, each year closer to the "crone" (I really despise that word.) has been richer. I wouldn't trade the wisdom of years for anything, even tighter abs and a s*xy behind. Here's to the Wild Woman in all of us.

Comment on Going Like Sixty

Dana — Mon, 30 Jan 2012 13:15:24 GMT

I remember that phrase! Nice post.

Comment on The Tao of Penguins

Jim Londis — Thu, 22 Dec 2011 14:58:23 GMT

Beautifully written Bonnie. You capture the human condition and its attending mood as accurately as anyone can. Your comments reminded me of the award-winning book of almost a half-century ago, The Denial of Death by Ernst Becker. Our fear of death (as you so perceptively point out) drives a great deal of our pathological behavior. As a philosopher I leave you with this thought: Our passion for an after life is due in part to our refusal to admit that the "natural" processes we observe and in which we are bound define the whole of reality. If they do, we cannot account for our sense of duty, our quest for meaning, our insistence that the "selves" of which we are conscious seem to transcend natural processes. We love beauty and art, we revel in harmonies and find joy in giving of ourselves (beyond instinct) to each other.

You are one of those who gives joy to others, even if out of your own struggles! Enjoy the holidays and know that you are loved by many not simply for your writing but for the kind of person you are.

Jim Londis

Comment on September Slide

Doug Knowlton — Thu, 22 Dec 2011 11:25:54 GMT

And this is why one moves to Florida!

I understand the eye thing, been going around with that since 2010, too. No fun.

Here, the months between Sept and Jan are my favorites. So amazing - I just stand in the garden and weep it's so damn beautiful. And soon - the hours of light will lengthen again. I'm always glad when I'm past Feb here . . . see ya'

Comment on The Tao of Penguins

Doug Knowlton — Thu, 22 Dec 2011 11:19:52 GMT

Trying again!

Loved that you mentioned compost.

In fact, loved the piece from beginning to Lucretian end.

Somehow it connected with my day, week, month. . . . penguinesque.

"we are the only creatures who know we are going to die" or at least we humans assume it so.

What no existential Penguins?

I was really hoping for a Robin Williams voice over.

sorry.

I've been listening to life stories recently by oxy users, opiate fiends. Wild tales. Addictions Tx has changed a lot in the twenty years I've been away from the hospital setting. They seem to have reverted to that animal level that's more about the "innate urges and needs." Rewired. The PET scans appear to verify what's on the surface. Zero red flashes of human creativity and connection. There's hope in Suboxone -- but only in the sense that it's a detox that isn't addictive. How did I get off on this? Hey, it was part of my day.

I would never urge anyone to quit whining. :>

I have a new response now after months spent with Emerson

"what would Waldo say."

The prospects are good. There's been a shift. I even caught myself humming Don't Worry Be Happy as I drove home from work the other night.

Certifiable.

“Aaah, that’s better.”

May your Yule be bright
dear friend

Comment on The Tao of Penguins

Sue Ann Gleason — Thu, 15 Dec 2011 14:39:32 GMT

I love the idea that we can give ourselves permission to hunker down and enjoy the rest that winter brings. It's the season to go inward, yes?

Thank you for a beautiful post and gracing the world with your writing.

Comment on The Tao of Penguins

Shelly Lou Zinke — Thu, 15 Dec 2011 00:36:10 GMT

Thank-you for sharing your insightful essay as you close your circle of 2011. I so look forward to each one that you send. We did enjoy viewing the link on youtube of the Emperor Penguins. The video touched my heart in personal ways, got me to thinking about every day habits and oddities, that at times have become mundane, and yet so welcomed and needed to regain perspective. Each season of the year is special to me, and I want to embrace what each has to offer in nature. We try to plan new and different excursions, at the beginning of each season, to welcome the changes that are evident here on the west coast. As time and funds allow, we often venture into new territory to expand our experiences. This winter will be different for us, as we will be more confined to California because of mama's stroke the last Sabbath of October. Our father has so stepped up as her primary care-giver, he won't be moved from his post. We all are being supportive and encouraging, however, we are trying to ease his devotion physically from becoming an overwhelming duty. Your essay was timely. Just yesterday he commented, "I'm just trying to keep her alive." It almost seems like she is very sad, maybe even grieving the loss of most of her independence. She seems to be pulling back and retreating from human contact, the outside social interaction with others. At first she made effort, now we are witnessing regression mentally. Mom's 82nd Birthday is Monday, December 19, and today she boldly proclaimed, "I don't want anything for my Birthday, and I don't want to go anywhere either!" This is not the mom we have known our whole lives. We love our mom, and now we so need patience as each day springs forth with new surprises. Mama cannot accept, right now, the state she is in medically speaking. Even though we all don't want her to emotionally give in to her inner demons, we can't help feeling sad too, as she struggles to find herself in this new, and challenging situation. We are finding ourselves beginning to parent our own parents more each year now. Keep writing and please keep sharing. We do hope your winter season will be full of hope and peace. That you will relish in the company of friends and family. We wish you renewal and rest, as you enter and begin your new circle in 2012. I love you Bonnie, you will always hold a special place in my heart, a friend from my childhood, a neighbor dear in our shared block, a classmate to be admired and respected. You will always be apart of my personal memories and in my prayers. Thank-you for keeping in touch.
Shelly Lou