Posts Tagged With: Swampscott Massachusetts

Day 1964: To err is human

Yesterday,  a human I love had the courage to confront me about how I had erred in the past.  Because it’s human to have strong reactions when somebody you respect and care about lets you know they’ve been angry with you for a long time,  I experienced a lot of  feelings during this important discussion. After going through the human feelings of anger,  fear,  guilt, and sadness, we both gladly concluded with hugs, expressions of love, divine forgiveness, and a recommitment to how important we are to each other.

This blogging human wasn’t sure how she was going to write about that experience today.   I hope I’m not erring by sharing yesterday’s photos, here and now.













To err is human and Nirvana may be out of reach, but we can all strive for peace.

Here are two humans singing about an important relationship, for good.

I look forward to the human comments on this post.

As always, I unerringly end with thanks to all, including YOU.


Categories: personal growth, photojournalism | Tags: , , , , , , , , | 17 Comments

Day 980: Dash

If you dash by here regularly, you know that I dash off a post every day, whether I am feeling particularly dashing in the moment and/or whether my hopes have been — temporarily — dashed.

I’ve even dashed off some posts about a favorite punctuation mark: the dash.

But I’ve never been dashing enough — before dashing to dash out this dashing post on my dashed iPhone keyboard on this dashing Labor Day — to use the word “dash” as a title.

Why am I dashing to do that today?

Yesterday, I heard the poem “The Dash” by Linda Ellis– for the first time — at a funeral.

I shall now dash over to Google to see if I can find “The Dash” there.

When I dashed over to Linda Ellis’s website, I found that she had dashed off a request to NOT post her poem “The Dash.” I hope you dash over to her website, now, to read “The Dash.”

I will dash off this explanation, here, of the title of “The Dash” — it refers to the dash between the date of birth and the date of death, on a tombstone and elsewhere.

Besides reading “The Dash” at yesterday’s funeral, the loved ones of the deceased shared many beautiful memories of their wonderful family member, neighbor and friend, whose birth year  — before her dash — was 1921. Her son sang — with deep and moving feeling — some of this song:

That’s Judy Garland, singing a dashing version of “Embraceable You.”

Dashed if I didn’t see Judy Garland earlier yesterday, when my friend Deb and I had dashed over to a dashing and darling  restaurant in Lynn, Massachusetts.



Judy Garland is in two of the photos I took dashing around Mildred’s Corner Cafe yesterday. Above, she’s dashing around on stage and is next to the dashing Gregory Peck.

After the funeral, my dashing friend Deb and I dashed around Swampscott, Massachusetts, where Atlantic Ocean waves are always dashing up on the shore.

After Deb dashed me back home in her dashing Honda Fit,  I dashed over to the stairs to take photos of our dashing cat, Harley.

Then, my dashing boyfriend Michael and I dashed over to our dashingly local supermarket (which has many dashing products) — for our weekly shopping and to say goodbye to dashing cashier, Al.



That’s dashing Al, wishing us a dashing “Adieu.” Usually, Al dashes off a “See you next time” as we dash out the door. Last night, embraceable we embraced in some dashing hugs.

Then, Michael and I dashed home, and I took more shots of dashing Harley.

What about this post is most dashing, to you? Do not dash my hopes — dash off a  comment, please.

Dashing thanks to Linda Ellis (for the poem “The Dash”); to Mrs. Ruth Epstein and her beautiful family and friends; to Deb; to Michael; to Mildred’s Corner Cafe; to Judy Garland, Bette Davis, Joan Crawford, Katherine Hepburn, Gregory Peck and all the other dashing movie stars Deb and I  saw at Mildred’s yesterday; to the dashing city of Lynn and the dashing town of Swampscott; to Al our dashing cashier — who is dashing off to focus more on hospice work; to our cat Harley — who dashes up and down stairs and, usually,  off of tables; and — of course! — to you, for dashing over here today.

Categories: in memoriam, personal growth, photojournalism | Tags: , , , , | 45 Comments

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