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Birthday Letter to my Deceased Father

Today is my father’s birthday. He was my teacher when he was alive and continues to be my teacher after his death. On September 22, I posted a blog, Letters to Lillianne, about my practice of writing letters to my grand daughter to remind her of her Spiritual heritage and introduce her to her ancestral lineage. Another letter writing practice I look forward to is writing my father a letter on his birthday and Father’s Day to honor how he has informed me. And, today is his birthday. While my father walked this planet he taught me: To show up when I make a commitment, To decide I am personally responsible for the well-being of myself and my community, To teach through being and doing, To realize I wear my character on my sleeve and I can’t help but show it to others, To be willing to do what is mine to do whether it’s comfortable or not, To stand up for humanity when they can’t; then to teach...

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Letters to Lillianne

  An old plate with a painting of a cob of corn, husks partially peeled open, hangs above my kitchen sink. This┬áplate was purchased by my favorite grandmother in her antique-seeking days. It hung in her kitchen, now it hangs in mine. In the early 1970s when television stations and programs were multiplying, mothers were working, and Bill Gates hadn’t yet made his way into the halls of Lakeside School to catch his computer vision; my grandmother would wait every summer for the Greyhound Bus to arrive so we could begin our week together. My favorite summer memories were camp, the beach, and visiting grandma. It was just the two of us. Oh, my grandfather was around, but he made himself busy when I was in town so the two of us could have “girl time.” Grandma taught me to cook, sew, ride horses and tend to their farm in Beaverton, Oregon. Television was limited to thirty minutes a day. She still had the Depression pulsing through her blood...

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