Delights: May 15 to May 21

May 15: Kevin says my boss is working me too hard. At first I was baffled — I’m retired! Then the penny dropped. He’s not wrong. (Admit it: he’s exactly right.) My life right now is consumed with projects, to-do lists, deadlines, and outreach. And my brain buzzes with even more ideas and opportunities.

But it’s art and cemeteries! My Dad, a sportswriter, used to say that he loved his job so much that he’d do it for free. I guess I’m that person now. 

Time to find a less demanding boss, though.

May 16: Saturday morning, sleeping in. If my retirement sometimes feels like a 9-to-5 job, at least I’m back to savoring weekends!

May 17: At the farmers market, I saw a woman I’d known years ago. But I didn’t recall her name and — confession — kept walking. She, however, noticed the profusion of zinnias spilling from my bag. I smiled: “Instant garden!” She agreed.

Then we got down to business about how we knew each other. Eventually, we determined that our now-32 year olds went to high school together. We exchanged updates and a few stories, and then turned to go our separate ways.

She gestured quickly back to my zinnias. “Join the Falls Church Garden Club!” I gestured to them too. “But I don’t garden!” She waved away my demurral: “That’s exactly why I go: to learn how not to kill my flowers!”

May 18: I just read an article reporting that optimism is good for our hearts — and that, with practice, optimism can actually be built. Studies involving nearly a quarter of a million people show that little things, performed regularly, can lower our cortisol levels, inflammation and blood pressure.  

These little things include identifying positive events in life and appreciating them, performing acts of kindness, practicing meditation, setting and achieving small goals, and celebrating personal strengths. A gratitude journal (sigh: I do not keep one because it seems so BIG) might be as simple as saluting a delicious meal or a meaningful interaction with someone.

I particularly love this one: noticing small moments. And that’s my excuse for lifting up a few of my blogging friends, who I feel have become friends “in real life” despite our hundreds (or thousands) of miles’ separation. In their blogs, each of my friends celebrates the small, the whimsical, the generous or the beautiful that they encounter in books, food, gardens, history, family, art and architecture. 

I encourage you to pay a virtual visit to Laurie in Maine (as Kevin and I did in real real life), Platypus Man in England, Ju-Lyn in Singapore, and Barbara in New Zealand. Laurie, Mr. P., Ju-Lyn and Barbara, I appreciate you all so much.

Hmm. Maybe a gratitude journal is easier than I thought. . . 

Bonus: I just noticed that this painting, which I adore for its joyful explosion of color and energy, actually represents the celestial moment when the sun is completely obscured and darkness descends upon the land. I’m now starting to wonder: what is Alma Thomas trying to tell us?

Double Bonus: Grrrrrr. I mean, “Golly, gee!” In a sensible, albeit unexpected, move just now, Kevin and I decided to ask our handyman to make a repair both outside my closet (yay!) and inside my closet (uh….). So, on a day filled with other things, I am tackling The Closet. Now I get to practice exactly the kind of noticing and reframing I was just waving my arms about. Here goes. . . 

Look! this is the “safe place” where I put a handful of “I know I put them somewhere!” things. And: Here’s a great zippered travel bag! And: I forgot I owned this cute top! And, finally: I’ll never wear these things again. Bottom line: I’m Marie Kondo-ing The Closet today. Definitely not on my to-do list.

But maybe tomorrow, when I open my closet again, I’ll have lots to be grateful for!

May 19: Here’s a mural of young men playing basketball and handball. But there’s one of boys huddled under a porch and another sleeping on the street. Wait: now I see riveters on skyscrapers and men raising a house. Hold on! Elsewhere, there’s a child on a construction site and another — injured? — on crutches. Yet over here I see a girl sketching at an easel with architecture books at her feet.

What’s all this about? In the words of artist Ben Shahn, it’s “The Meaning of Social Security.” 

Yesterday, the Smithsonian American Art Museum docents gathered for a tour of a New Deal-era building intended, in 1939, to house the five-year-old Social Security Administration. In a hallway where members of the public would come and go, the U.S. Treasury Section of Fine Arts commissioned Shahn to create frescoes depicting, on one side, life enriched by beneficent government programs like Social Security and, on the other side, the lived experiences of the poor and vulnerable, still numbering tens of millions of Americans. 

I thought I would write a bit about color, tempo, pattern and maybe even the figures’ scary faces. But instead I find myself distracted by the contemporaneous words of President Franklin Delano Roosevelt. 

In his second inaugural address in 1937, President Roosevelt mourned that despite some renewed economic vigor, “I see one third of a nation ill-housed, ill-clothed, ill-nourished.” To confirm that quote, I naturally turned to the internet — and found myself deeply moved by these short excerpts from President Roosevelt’s address. They embody a public spirt of generosity, hope, justice, unity and humility I fervently long for today. 

About the art: The first three murals, from the series “The Meaning of Social Security,” are by Ben Shahn, American (1898-1968). The fourth mural, entitled “Security of the People,” is by Seymour Fogel, American (1911-1984). They were completed in 1942 and reside in the William J. Cohen Building in Washington, D.C.

Bonus: The agency charged with protecting art owned by the federal government, the U.S. General Services Administration Fine Arts Program, gives public tours of New Deal art in otherwise highly secure government buildings. (Apparently, though, they fill up as rapidly as my Oakwood Cemetery tours!)

May 20: Just say yes. 

My calendar today was blissfully empty. That meant — on my own leisurely schedule — I could plow through my unpitying to-do list, prepare for my sister’s arrival on Saturday, run a few last errands for my cemetery tour, and deal with The Closet (the contents of which still lie on the bed where my sister will sleep).

Then a text arrived from my son Nate: “Just arrived back in DC last night! What are you doing today?”

“Nothing!” I lied. “Lunch?” Three hours later, with our laptops back-to-back, we enjoyed an hour of companionable “quiet time” at a favorite coffee shop, followed by an hour of delicious conversation.

I am gradually learning to turn down the dial on my fussing and to embrace what the universe offers — especially when the universe is being particularly mischievous.

May 21: Several of us had gathered to celebrate a friend who is moving away. Under the canopy of a local coffee shop, we enjoyed listening to the sound of a sudden rain shower — and inhaling its special scent. This prompted us to name other occasional, and therefore precious, smells: rain on fallen leaves, fresh steaming mulch, cut grass in the early morning, freshly cut wood. What aroma would you add to our list?

Bonus:  I failed to mention that our friend, in her retirement, is launching a yacht charter company based in the Bahamas. May we please be on your shakedown cruise? We will definitely swab decks!

Readers, to receive notifications by email each time I make a post, just scroll all the way down this page (next to the “word cloud”), look to the left and click on the black button that says “Join Me!” And if you think a friend might enjoy these, please share the Delight!

If you’d like to browse my past delights, please consult the “word cloud” featured at the very bottom of this post. Find a theme or two that interests you and sift through the sands. Or learn a bit more about my Blog by visiting my Welcome page. You’ll also see links to four essays that were published in print magazines. I’m glad you’re here!