Sep18
Posted on Sep 18 by Ruth Davis
“Broken hearted often leads to broken open. And broken open is the perfect environment for finding out who you are and why you’re here. Break and grow.” – Michele Woodward Six years ago, on September 16, 2007, emergency open heart surgery saved my life. I didn’t have clogged arteries or heart disease or a heart attack. I had a myxoma, a very rare benign tumor that was almost completely blocking the blood flow through my left atrium. They discovered it after I had an episode of angina, that sharp ice pick stabbing in the back and chest and the inability to breathe. And yes, jaw pain and arm pain too. But I didn’t go to the ER or call 911. I breathed through it and kept myself calm and then went to Urgent Care the next afternoon. That’s where they saw an abnormality in my blood work, indicative of a clot, and sent me to the Heart Hospital down the street for further tests. A client recently asked me if I experienced a white light epiphany during the surgery, if...
Sep11
Posted on Sep 11 by Ruth Davis
As you may know, I had to put my dear sweet Laddy to sleep last Thursday. While he’d been eating less and walking slower since July, last week there were drastic changes in his behavior and appetite and even in the look of his orange-brown eyes. When Marika and Mabel were here visiting two weeks ago, the four of us enjoyed bluff walks and love fests and lazing around together in the RV. Laddy was being finicky about his food, but he had been since mid-July. He was leaving his kibble but loving the hot dogs, milk bones and home-cooked chicken that I added to his food. A few days before Marika and Mabel returned to Phoenix, I noticed a wound on his foot so we took him to the vet. His blood work looked great and he was still happy to play stick toss every other day. But early last week, everything changed. He didn’t want to walk unless he had business, and crouching to poop was suddenly so uncomfortable that he had to lie down afterwards....
Aug31
Posted on Aug 31 by Ruth Davis
When I think of my grandmother, Bub, I think of food. Potato and lox soup, boiled in an aluminum pot on the stove, soup meat stringing off marrow bones and gefilte fish made from scratch. On Gefilte Fish Day, Bub pushed slabs of raw carp through the electric meat grinder. The smell was so ripe that I had to run through the kitchen holding my breath and nose to avoid the odors. I never stayed to watch her form the wet mixture of fish and chopped carrots into mounds and cover them with a filmy gelatin. But by the time the gefilte fish was cooked and served with spoonfuls of nose-burning horseradish, it was delicious. Bub was a small woman, no taller than five-foot-three, with thick wrists and ankles. She came to the United States in 1915 from Schrednek, a farming village in Lithuania. “We made cheese and butter and I helped out in the shop,” she told me. “I was seventeen and there was nothing for a girl to do, either to be a maid or stay...
Aug28
Posted on Aug 28 by Ruth Davis
Marika and Mabel went back to Arizona yesterday. It was great to spend so much time together and sad to see them go. Sure, we had some moments of tension and disagreements, but, after all these years, we’ve found ways to talk or not talk our way through them. Sometimes there is even compassion and understanding as we work through the friction. And because we show up so present and honest, there are no regrets anymore. Not even when she told me that she no longer has any immediate plans to move to CA. That was an old dream that we shared. But things change. We will see each other again in October when we travel together to Georgia and I’m sure she’ll be back on the coast in the next six months for another fun visit. And, of course, we will talk on the phone, and FaceTime and email and continue to shift and grow and love each other in ways that support us both. This is living in the present. This is what true love is...
Aug21
Posted on Aug 21 by Ruth Davis
As a kid I often ate waffles and ice cream for breakfast. Or a bowl of Lucky Charms without the milk. Or Sugar Pops, without a spoon, one sweet, sticky kernel at a time. On weekends we’d have bagels and lox and whitefish from the deli. Sometimes my father made scrambled eggs with thick round slices of Hebrew National salami, or French toast with Log Cabin syrup. But I don’t remember ever having homemade pancakes. The only time I remember eating them was on those rare occasion that the family would go to IHOP for breakfast and I would order a plate full of silver dollars with no butter. I’d drown them in the thick brown maple syrup from the fancy pitcher with the sticky metal spout. My first attempt at making pancakes from scratch was for my friend’s 20th birthday. I mixed the flour and milk according to the recipe and poured the batter into the frying pan. I didn’t know that the pan needed to be hot before you started, or that you shouldn’t flip them more...
Aug14
Posted on Aug 14 by Ruth Davis
I never went to sleepover camp as a kid. The idea of being away from home and sharing a cabin with strangers was the furthest thing from my idea of fun. But when Patti Digh announced her Design Your Life Camp, complete with inspiring speakers, art-making and a talent show, I leaped at the opportunity. Some of my favorite teachers and writers will be offering workshops and there’s even a full-day writing course the day before camp begins. This is a real gift to myself to indulge in so much creative fun. And I’ll finally get to meet many friends I’ve connected with on Facebook and spend time with other friends who I haven’t seen in a few years. As if that all wasn’t enough. Patti also invited campers to submit proposals to be a speaker on the topic of courage, and also to lead creative art sessions. Of course I submitted proposals for both. And both of my proposals were selected! Can I tell you how excited I am? One of my next big dreams is...
