The Grace of Change

If Not Now, When?

When you die, God and the angels will hold you accountable for all the pleasures you were allowed in life that you denied yourself. ~Anonymous

My mom died last fall.

I sat by her hospital bed for a week as she lay dying. It being the south, all manner of relatives, blood and otherwise, streamed in and out of the hospital room and told long stories about Mama's life. My sisters and brother and I laughed buckets and cried rivers. The wonderful pleasures of drawn out southern tales, uninhibited laughter of aunts and cousins, and platters of fried chicken rose from the same deep life spring as the grief for my mom dying hour by hour in her white gown.

Half-Fast Pleasure

I just read about Mardi Gras this year in New Orleans, my beloved home town. The article described Pete Fountain’s Half-Fast Marching Club: “Pete, looking frail but happy, led his musical merrymakers through the streets, dancing with anyone who kicked up to their jazz.”

I remember kicking up with them. I sure don’t remember them being “Half-Fast”.

No ma’am, those guys were into it: feathered and sequined, wailing jazz, dancing their way through Mardi Gras crowds, kissing any female who cared to get close. You never knew where or when they were going to show up, when they did everything got even more fun.

The Pleasure of Your Company

Gals, I’m gonna let you in on a dark n’dirty, non-PC (and that’s “Psychologically Correct” as well as “Politically Correct”) secret...

I started the art class I told y’all I’d do in November. But I couldn’t have done it without...are you ready for this?

The Husband.

Yowza! How unliberated! How codependent! I should be able to go for it on my own, Tiwanda, unleashed in all her mighty glory upon the world, right?