love

MEDITATIONS part 4

/ herismeorg / 3 Comments
(Photo by Felix Mittermeier on Pexels.com)
(or listen here)

Welcome to this tiny moss piglet’s eyelash’s undetectable speck of dust quantum universe’s teensiest inhabitant’s space on the Internets! If you might find parts 1 (with backstory links), 2, and 3 of interest, please clickity clack on back and take a peek. Or rebound to do a your version of a dive-in here:

Series to E.      		4

Oh, weak and selfish I have been!
I who pronounced my conscience clear
But heaped my wrath on other men
Who held no girl’s affection dear!

But no! – no man can say of me
I ever played the cruel part
Of him who voluntarily
Would break a trustful maiden’s heart.

Yet I am guilty! – O strange, strange sin
Which being kind is cruel instead!
And I am the worst heartless of men
Following my heart where it led!

***

Relentless doubt obscures my eyes
And opens my heart with icy pain, - 
Till the sweet waters of hope arise
Warming and healing the wounds again.

O cruel doubt! O wavering hope! – 
Tossing my reason to and fro-
What can I do but blindly grope
And follow my heart where it would go?

O strange, strange life! – Dear Powers above,
Beyond the moon and the pale starlight,
Fold, Fold me in creation’s love,
And the soft curtain of the night!

End page 4

to be continued…

Oh sweet David Lee! You are one smitten kitten for sure. Or passionate pup? Either way, I am certain you were the bees knees and the goat at wooing beautiful Emily B. in the gorgeous rural countryside of Edgecombe County, North Carolina.

Prior to the 19th century, this area of North Carolina was home to the Tuscarora Native American tribe who began departing once English settlers appropriated lands for their private use. There are local records of: a John Stewart (Stuart/Steward) in 1674 bequeathing a frying pan and other items upon his death, a Richard Bond in 1728 bequeathing assets to Sarah Bond, and in 1752 a Joseph Anderson bequeathing 15£ to a number of people upon his death.

73 years prior to David penning love sonnets, Union General Edward E. Potter entered Edgecombe County, destroying supply chains for the Confederate militia (Potter’s Raid). Many local enslaved people left the area during the Civil War to fight with the Union Armies in all-black regiments. Two years after Potter’s Raid, in 1865, the first all black incorporated town of Princeville was established by former enslaved people in Edgecombe County. In 1936, at the time of David’s love sonnets, Edgecombe County was about 50% white and 50% black, with crops of cotton, tobacco, wheat, peanuts, and corn along with cattle and chickens with a booming population (up 26% from the 1930 census). One year after David’s sonnets, in 1937, the first new-deal electrical cooperative began generating in the area. Today’s Edgecombe County is about 60% African American and remains primarily rural.

We have one page remaining, y’all. Let’s just take a moment to savor that July 4th full moon booming economy optimistic deeply felt passionate pain of love from August 12, 1936. I bet they carefully carved their initials into some tree with a heart around it.

Love, Ms Herisme xoxo

Hello. How are you? Do you wish that your name was Felix Mittermeier or that you could have drinks with someone named Felix Mittermeier? Just me then? Alrighty… makes sense. But if Felix lives in a house with the number ’27’ in it, then we are all in (unless there is a leather sofa of dubious color or colour, like blue).

MEDITATIONS part 1

/ herismeorg / 6 Comments
(Photo by Jessica Lynn Lewis on Pexels.com)
(or listen here)

If you need a catch up – The EBB, The Flo, and Carolina Portuguese are linked here.

I feel the need to all cap MEDITATIONS, to honor a man of certain distinction: Mr. D.L. Stewart

Series to E.
Wednesday, Aug. 12, 1936, 1:00 A.M. - 
In the Country

MEDITATIONS

Rise, golden orb of the midnight skies,
And show me with your mellow beams
The window where a maiden lies
Dreaming sweetly - pleasant dreams.

'Tis one o'clock: your golden rim
Reflects its final-quarter glow
And lends a mystic radiance dim
To the tired sleeping world below.

Sleep, tired world, both beast and man!
The hands of yesterday need rest:
And sleep your tired bodies can,
But, not the struggle in my breast.

Thou silent orb - whence comes the power
Inherent in your mystic glow?
And why do you, in this dim hour,
Disturb my throbbing spirit so?

Is it because in former tide
Beneath your full-resplendent charm
She walked, so meekly, by my side
So soft her hand within my arm?

End page one, y’all. Sheesh to the woosh. Mr. DL gots the pinings of the heart loves something fierce for Miss EB. At 1 am.

to be continued… but first I must digest page one.

Love, Ms. Herisme xoxo

ps I KNOW that I just lost any librarian credibility by using a few (out of approximately bazillion) rocks from SonHerisme’s rock collection to gently hold the papers open. I know. I know. I know. I also know that most likely I will continue to make sketch decisions like this, so if this image burns your librarian curator conservationist historian sensitive eyeball brains (which I ADORE but blatantly disregarding consideration for atm), then now you know to avert your eyes on at least the next four MEDITATIONS posts. Fair warning and you’re welcome.

Carolina Portuguese

/ herismeorg / 3 Comments
(Photo by thevibrantmachine on Pexels.com)
(or listen here)

David Lee Stewart and Emily Bond Anderson certainly knew each other in 1936.

Emily was 22 that year and her David was 34. Census records show Emily Bond Anderson born 23 October 1914 in Edgecombe County, North Carolina, and David Lee Stewart born 14 February, 1902 in Edgecombe County, North Carolina. Our prose prone Carolina gentleman was born on Valentine’s Day!

On Wednesday, August 12, 1936 at 1:00am, when David wrote his 5-page sonnet for Emily, he had already celebrated his birthday in February, and his Emily was waiting to turn 22 that upcoming October. David Lee was 12 years and 8 months older than Emily Bond.

David’s neatly written, tidily folded, 5-page sonnet was safely tucked inside of a copy of Sonnets from the Portuguese by Elizabeth Barrett Browning. This particular edition is believed to have been published around 1932.

On page 14 of the book’s introduction, Mr. David Stewart has underlined in red:

  • “There is, of course, no Portuguese original for them.”
  • “had called her his ‘little Portuguese.’ It has been suggested that this may have been the origin of the purposely misleading title.”
  • “the finest Sonnets written in any language since Shakespeare’s.”

The book was given by David Stewart to Emily Bond Anderson with “Best Wishes for Valentine’s Day.” This might suggest that Dave, Davey, David, Dada diddle cheeks is underlining these phrases in red to emphasize his admiration for Emily, Em, Emsters, Eba darling’s talents as well as his devoted love for her. Perhaps like Robert Browning’s for Elizabeth Bennett.

Then again, he did only send “Best Wishes,” and not, “all my love,” or some other gooey sentiment.

Using red pen might be due to Valentine’s Day, or might also be an emphasis on 1930’s mansplaining to settle a point or disagreement.

Either way, I think that Mr. Stewart went to a lot of trouble to get attention from Miss Bond Anderson. I prefer to think that our pal David was nervously attempting to express his deep regard for beautiful Emily.

He uses full names in the inscription:

TO Emily Bond Anderson
FROM David Stewart
WITH Best Wishes for Valentine's Day

He uses red pen on Valentine’s Day for “TO,” “FROM,” and “WITH.” His writing is very straight, cursive, neat and precise. His cursive capital letters at the beginning of the proper nouns are just textbook lovely.

I bet David wore a tie, matching vest, and pleated ballooned out in the frontage area pants when he delivered the book. I bet she had on a well-appointed dressed-for-work outfit of matching untucked belted blouse/skirt when she answered the door. I bet they had a lot of fun and trying times figuring each other out but never reaching the thankfully elusive I-know-everything-about-you times of boredom. I bet they had days they wished could last forever and days they wished they could forget. I hope that they mostly had ultimately satisfactory lives full of love.

Let’s choose mischievous green eyes for both. Darker brown hair for our David and reddish brown hair for our Emily.

Census records show both David and Emily coming from farming families with neighbors like Hill, Crickmore, Pittman, Bryan, Pope, Gavin, Price, and the Hunters. The Hunters are listed as a black family with a grandmother and granddaughter (6 years younger than David) named “Nellie.”

to be continued…

Love, Ms. Herisme xoxo

I tear up every time I look at this inscription. Is it tear worthy? Is it the intention or mandala-type impermanence that hits me? Fleeting feelings? Teeny tiny moments of a sparkle of life? Most likely my imagination gone rogue once again.

Also, today is MotherHerisme’s birthday! She is 77!

HASHTAGing it (BOITT)

/ herismeorg / Leave a comment

IMG_1857

I have everything and nothing to say at the moment.

Please check on your family and neighbors.

Please be kind.

Love, Ms. Herisme xoxo

ps.  If you need a break from the heaviness, since you cannot snuggle and hang out with my sweet little SonHerisme, google “Greg Davies.” I know I’m woefully over-late to that party (BIOTT), but holy heck he is full-on funny! Sweet baby BeeGeeZus, I hope he isn’t a misogynist/racist/bigoted douche.  If so, apologies!!!  If not, you’re welcome! And if by some totally bizarre COVID induced Thanos-esque universe twist, you ARE Greg Davies: apologies and thank you for making me laugh and take good care of yourself – healthy wishes to you and yours!

pps.  Be kind and spread your love – we are all hurting and our family, neighbors and friends of color, extra systemically so. {{{Hugs}}} and courage humans #listentothem #startwithIjeomaOluo #thenreadStamped #thenreadandlistenmore

ppss.  BIOTT = Blame It On The Trauma  Admittedly a victimy copout, but there it is nonetheless.  I can take your judgement, don’t worry.  I happen to be an expert on that bc BIOTT!

I like you xoxo

Madame/Madman President

/ herismeorg / 1 Comment

img_4775

I awakened last Wednesday morning, as most of us did, a little shaken by the outcome of our presidential election.  Not primarily because of the WHO, but primarily due to the deluge of outrage.

 

Did we really have NO IDEA that our country was poised to make a bad choice?

 

Did we really have NO IDEA that a significant segment of our country is fundamentally misogynistic, bigoted, racist, power-hungry?

 

Did we really have NO IDEA that either way the election turned out, about half of us were going to spiral into outrage, and the other half into bloating gloaters?

 

REALLY?

 

C’mon people.

 

Have you spoken to your neighbors?

Have you reached out to the lady next to you in carline?

Have you volunteered at your local domestic violence shelter or homeless shelter?

Have you, or anyone you have ever known, been a victim of domestic violence?

Have you ever known someone who has tried to separate or divorce from a domestic violence/abuse situation?  With children?

 

If you have been in an abusive relationship, tried to divorce or separate, and have children, then you know what to do now.

 

You know how to handle this situation, because you have dealt with it before.

Power and control,

through bullying, misogyny,

bigoted/racist speech –

been there, done that.

 

Our courts condone this type of behavior every single bojingle jangle day.  Ask around, we’ll tell you all about the reality behind the curtain of American Happy.

 

We have already worked through our outrage, shock and dismay at realizing the truth of our culture.  We are all sorry that the rest of you are just now being smacked in the face with it on a grand and public scale.

 

We know what to do next, and it isn’t “move to Canada!”

 

This is what you do.  Do what you CAN do.

 

I can prepare breakfast.  I can make healthy choices to fight my cancer.  I can work with attorneys/therapists to keep us safe and healthy.  I can inform myself about local, national, and global issues.

Talk to your neighbors with respect and compassion.  Talk to your family with respect and compassion.  Take care of your family.  Take care of your neighbors.  Turn your frustration into informed action and spread love all around yourself.

Inform yourself about what is happening socially and politically in your community.

Hold your communities’ elected officials to their commitment to represent you.  Volunteer for a community committee.  Thank those who serve on community committees.  Know your Congress people.  Know your Senators.  Know what they stand for and communicate with them about what you stand for.

 

Engage.  Empower.  Encourage.

 

We’re in this place together.

 

If we continue to turn our cheeks, spew rhetoric, or close our eyes and our ears, this, THIS, THIS is what happens.

 

Dear Adults, we NEED to do better.

 

Know your community.  Respect each other.

 

Know more and make better decisions with that new knowledge.

 

You are important, not more important that anyone else, and you are loved.

 

Love, Ms. Herisme xoxo

‘A’ is for Attention

/ herismeorg / 2 Comments

img_4816

Attention!  Attention!

 

Attenzioni!  Attenzioni!

 

Achtung! Achtung!

 

Mind the Gap and so forth.

 

Karmic disclaimer: This post is not here to invoke unwanted connection or attention.                     This is an expression of exasperation and disgust.

 

I wanted to title this, “A is for Abandonment.”  Then I thought, MY G-D, WHEN will I STOP sounding so sour and dour and gloomy doomy? Blech yuck blah UGH

 

My life is one of mostly comforts and the love of a sweet SonHerisme.  And, despite the current political tensions, we are poised in a country of overall general comforts, the likes of which have never been experienced in the history of mankind.

 

Yes, my family loves me and supports me.  We are supremely blessed and I am unimaginably grateful.  I live in a time and country of possibilities.

 

Here is what is weighing on me – a shackle that I seem unable to displace.  Perhaps I am not meant to displace it.  Perhaps I am meant to carry it for this lifetime, for whatever reason.

 

MrexH’s family has, for undefined reasons, chosen to abandon SonHerisme.

 

It is so painful. 

 

Not just the loss, but the utter lack of communication or contact for SonHerisme, who is unable to understand the ridiculousness and arbitrary selfish behaviors of adults.  Especially from those whom he loves and have professed to love him.

 

I understand that this is perhaps because they believe that I am the most horrid and awful human to have ever walked on earth.  Some days I believe that myself.

 

However, given that maybe I am a horrid awful terrible person, my G-D, wouldn’t you want to make sure that the young child I am taking care of, is okay?  Wouldn’t you want to send him a reminder that you are thinking about him and sending him your love?  Not even a damned f’in birthday card, people…  NOTHING

 

The last contact SonHerisme had with anyone from MrexH’s family, was in November 2014, when they came into town, unannounced, to attend one of MrexH’s trials.  They telephoned me and requested to see SonHerisme. I agreed.  They hugged him and promised him they would keep in touch with him.  They never have.

 

MrexH’s sister suggested that she bring SonHerisme’s cousins for a visit in the Summer of 2014.  They never came, they never wrote or explained, they never have.

 

Over the Summer of 2014, MrexH’s sister and mother, sent SonHerisme a generic birthday card, with their signatures only.  SonHerisme was turning 6-years-old.

 

Since that time, nothing.

 

There are a thousand explanations. 

And there is NO explanation.

 

Every once in a while, SonHerisme wonders aloud about his absent cousins, his absent grandparents, his absent uncles (one has since deceased), and all of the other relatives from MrexH’s family.

All of them *POOF* disappeared from his life without regard or explanation.

 

To bring you up to speed, or as a reminder, currently:

There is court-ordered ‘no contact’ between SonHerisme and MrexH, for safety and health reasons.

I send weekly updates about SonHerisme to MrexH (cc: attorneys & representative from MrexH’s residential facility).

We have a court-ordered BIA (until April 2017) who represents SonHerisme legally.

We have a court-ordered parent coordinator who facilitates any contact between MrexH and SonHerisme (to date there has been no physical contact since early September 2014).

(and, YES, this all costs me $$$$$$$)

 

July of 2016, our court-ordered parent coordinator, believed (based on information from MrexH – completely unreliable since he has a severe mental illness, yet that is what we have to go on) she might be able to arrange contact between MrexH’s family and SonHerisme, and told both SonHerisme, and me, about this potential.

This has never happened.

 

This is a deep pain in my soul – knowing that this group of people have somehow been able to rationalize absolutely smashing and abandoning my child’s heart.

 

That they are able to do this,

reinforces that they are all unsafe and unhealthy people for us.

 

I currently cannot imagine a scenario where I could be convinced that any reintroduction to any of them, would be healthy or safe for us.

 

SonHerisme has other cousins, other grandparents, a broad community of support.  They love him, and demonstrate their love for him consistently.

My prayer is that, other than possible curiosity as an adult,

SonHerisme will have enough in his life that this utter abandonment does not leave permanent holes,

just informational scars.

 

Love, Ms. Herisme xo

 

ps. I do have thoughts on the political climate to post in the next day or so {hugs} all around

Couple Out

/ herismeorg / Leave a comment

img_4378

 

After the neighbors across the street moved away, a new couple moved in.  I do not remember anything about the family that moved away, because I was so young.

I do remember the couple that moved in.

They lived across the street, until I was long grown and gone from my parent’s home.

We were forbidden to run across their manicured lawn. They did not have any children.  However, they always kept their eyes on the children on our street, and never hesitated to call our parents if they were worried or disapproved of our behavior.

Yeah, my parents were called a few times (kissing underneath the only streetlight on our street – teenagers have mushy brains).

Many people on our street had the nastiest attitudes and words for that couple.  My mother and our next-door-neighbor lady, were always trying to include and defend that couple with our neighbors.

But, the couple knew they were outcasts from the general neighborhood.

As a child, I found this completely confusing.

To me that couple seemed to have happily and contentedly figured out an answer to what seemed to be, a very difficult issue in our Midwestern white middle-class suburban culture.

 Whenever the mommies gathered, there were a million complaints about their husbands, typically rounding out with a unanimous disgusted, “ugh, MEN!” sigh.

Whenever we were left in the care of our daddies babysitting (showing my age here, GenX all the way!), there were a million complaints about their wives, typically rounding out with a unanimous disgusted, “ugh, WOMEN!” sigh.

 

To me it seemed like the couple across the street had magically figured out how to smooth all of those issues out by finding each other.

This couple were together for over 60 years,

when they unexpectedly died within a month of each other. 

 

I annoyed the hell out of them.

I thought they were great.

I was given some of their furniture they wanted me to have when they died.

I still have it.

 

 Mr. Mike and Mr. Paul 

Trailblazers for normality of consensual humans humaning

 

Coming out day is today.

Humanizing {{{hugs}}} all around

 

Love, Ms. Herisme xo