TheDoDo Bug
The incredible dodo bug reminds me of the Phillip Jose Farmer (born in Terre Haute, IN, 1918-2009) sci-fi short story I read in junior high (thanks to The Carnegie Library located just a few miles away in the tiny village of Ridge Farm, IL. I lived in the tinier hamlet of Olivet, IL (1970s population of 332), now merged with city of Georgetown, IL) titled "The Sliced Crosswise Only On Tuesday World", c. 1971, which became a trilogy of novels known as DAYWORLD. The premise: each individual was allowed to live one day out of 7 (spending 6 off days in tubed 'stasis') . . . one female character's job was to hand paint the wings of roaches. Another series, RIVERWORLD, combined famous people simultaneously resurrected along a River Bank. Fantastic mix of history, philosophy, psychology, environmentalism, politics, every aspect of our human kindness and/or kindlessness.
Perhaps I accidentally tripped into loving art, KNOWLEDGE, philosophy, and nature alongside that specifically MIDWEST-ern straight and narrow, North-South Route 1, where I scampered on bare feet. I scampered, literally, because the tar on the highway became very hot in the Summer . . . not from sentimentally chasing bugs. Our very humble abode was directly across the highway from a working Catholic Seminary (LaSallette, now converted into a private boys' boarding school).
I can remember sitting on the front steps of my stepdad's TV Repair Shop (a former General Store built in the 1800's), spying on the nuns (in full habits) disembarking from the Greyhound Bus. I was raised 'Fire & Brimstone', indoctrinated that all non-evangelical Baptists, (especially the Catholics), were going 'straight to hell in a handbasket', so I found this, paired with the heathen outdoor altar and all the 'graven image' statuary very CURIOUS. I was also repeatedly told I was from a broken home, which confused me - our floors did have entire HOLES (an opossum once crawled into my bedroom in the middle of the night, along with all the slugs), but there was a roof over our heads and we weren't hungry and compared to others I knew of, we weren't the broken-est family. Now I know we were a very common blended family, more similar to The Brady Bunch, but with multiple divorces and two (2) additional siblings.
Another famous Terre Haute-an was "The Desiderata of Happiness" author, Max Erhmann (1872-1945) - I didn't discover Ehrmann until the 1990s, which I find tragic, as an earlier recognition of my outsider "artist-philosopher" tendencies would have smoothed out some very rough growing pains. I am so thankful I have lived and traveled so far in this lifetime, I was born in a small town, my parent still lives in that same small town (and, yes, that was some vintage John Mellencamp, that's me). For more on what it really means to be ‘small town’, read this 2010 blog entry. I likely spent as much time on the roads between IL/IN visiting grandparents’ farms EVERY Sunday. Here I am with a ‘few’ cousins and a ‘few’ Aunts and Uncles - Summer, 1982. And, yes, my sister was very mad I wore the same dress. We had 50 acres to roam and terrorize one another on, and there was a dinner bell (Veedersburg, IN . . . other grandparents in Kingman, In - Roachdale, IN and Plainfield, IN. Yes, I had 5 sets of grandparents - I really only figured the logistics of this out about 20 years ago (going back generations on both my maternal and biological father’s side, those grandparents divorced while my parents will still infants - they all remarried, so that is 4 sets and I had the bonus step-grandparents - 5! As we tend to do, history repeats itself (my biological parental units separated soon after I was born). Somehow, I broke that cycle when I met and married my husband. We are ready to hit our 30-year togetherness anniversary. This man looked at me this Fall and he doesn’t say many serious things, so I was: ‘What?!!! Do I have a burger in my nose’? He replied, so seriously: “No. I was just thinking that I would still marry you again”. I was dumbstruck and speechless.
Now, looking back across 50 years, thousands of miles, having walked the Vatican in Rome, Italy to the gaping horror of Hiroshima, Japan and having reclaimed ancestral soil from the Highlands - and even the exact location where the Pagans gave way to monotheism at Ravenna, Italy (with tons of overlapping iconography) I've visited most versions of religion (or at least their buildings in one way, shape or form . . . some just via comparative religion), nothing stuck. In fact, just last week, right before this last spinal surgery, the nursed asked me WHAT MY PREFERRED RELIGION was and I replied “NONE”, because there just isn’t enough space proved on any form (something I learned in K) for me to fit my identity into the SPACE PROVED.
My most valuable lesson is an abiding HOPE (which is actually a word that brings deep ambiguity (the root words of disambiguate translate to, I kid you not, Terre Haute) to my soul and deep gratitude for libraries. I've already survived my deepest fears a thousandfold - if I die that is fine and ‘alright by me’ (JCM, also). I've lived, deeply. I do hope we make it to Ireland in May. After more than a decade of on-again-off-again bed rest - I can survive a simple pandemic and a few more weeks of social distancing - if it's meant to be. It is well, with my soul.
Erhmann's timeless and TIMELY advise:
"But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness. Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be. And whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul. With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy". I’ve forgotten my own advice, as recently as 10 minutes ago and I am going to be in deep trouble with my husband for staying up all night working on this blog post, but another thing I’ve learned - living dangerously is a lot more interesting than endless boredom. I guess.
GO PLACIDLY amid the noise and the haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons . . . whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul. With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.
By Max Ehrmann © 1927
Original text
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Miss Frilly Pants? She's like a living work of art. THEDODO.COM
Woman Finds An Incredible Bug Who's Almost Too Beautiful To Be Real
The Dodo Bug - Miss Frilly Pants discovered by Ms. Neville. Doesn’t the wing design look hand painted???
Barefoot and baking
Photographic Evidence
Route 1 in Illinois was part of the original “Dixie Highway”. Every night I listened to the sound of the cars WOOSH and watched the hypnotising carousel reflection of the headlights that traveled across my bedroom walls
Statuary and building at La Salette, Olivet, IL
Grandpa died soon after this amazing pic was taken . . . his funeral was one of the last times I ever saw many of these family members. It’s one reason why I so urgently feel the need to visit my loved ones . . . just in case it will be our last visit
My Kindergarten Report Card from 1973-1974, the teacher comments: “The difficult spelling of Sher’s/my last name has made it difficult for her/me to learn” and my grade for “Writing first and last name: S-; Less Than Satisfactory, Knows right from left? I: Improvement Needed”. Truly, there was never enough space for me to print my whole name - thus began my identity crisis? Not much has changed in either arena, except that my last name is shorter, but is quite frequently and unfortunately misspelled.