Blog - Laurie Klein, Scribe

ADVENTURING!—Alongside Angels

Advent, the church calendar name for the four Sundays preceding Christmas, is here again! Advent means “arrival,” or “to come to.” Advent means special candles. Stories. And angels.

Are angels still at work in our world?

Human musings about their sex, wingspans, and celestial footwear (for dancing atop the pearled heads of pins) persist to this day.

Many of us, or people we know, have a guardian angel theory. Or story.

(Our daughter believed that Cindy, her personal angel, lived on the roof and kept robbers away.) [Read more…]

Packing Light: 9 Ways to Reclaim Joy

by Laurie Klein 11 Chiming In

Packing light? Not my strong suit. Umbrella, snacks, lucky rock—be (over)prepared, that’s my motto. And find someone strong to carry your stuff.

Dreamer (my strong husband) mastered packing, years ago. Born to roam, he craves adventure. Every few months he pries this homebody loose from her office chair.

I grouse about leaving home again, grumble about packing chores. Then we encounter wonders. Risk. Occasional revelations.

[Read more…]

What’s bald and toothless, has two stomachs, sprints like Usain Bolt, and earned the undying respect of Benjamin Franklin? And should we care? Answer: Meleagris gallopavo, or wild turkey, a bird with secrets to share.

An ungainly foursome recently cruised our yard—one quirky photo-op.

I edged outside with my Lumix; they raced away. [Read more…]

Ode to the House Call (with Suckers)

by Laurie Klein 12 Chiming In

First house call: I didn’t know he had candy.

Hidden inside the pocket over his heart, a cluster of orange Saf-T-Pops with paper loop handles . . .

The crackle of cellophane. White sleeves rolled, he scrubbed his hands in our sink . . .

Some kind of sweetness came into my room with Doc Pete, a man craggy and calm as Lincoln.

He sat on my bed, black bag on the floor. Tender fingers probed my throat, behind my ears. He checked my forehead as if it sizzled, blew on his hand and winked.

While I was laughing (then coughing), he shook down the mercury in his thermometer. Tucked its cool silver bulb under my tongue.

Once, Doc Pete let me eavesdrop on my own heart, stethoscope bell pressed to my chest.

Dr. Pete left me dosed and Vicks Vapo-rized. He left me soothed. And he left me suckers. To this day, I love orange tootsie roll pops.

Fast forward to last week, me tossing and coughing, wishing for old-fashioned comfort. A little sleep.

I forgot my “Yes” Tank is finite

Saying Yes too often had taken its toll. Too many classes and podcasts, projects and research.

Did family and friends miss me? Yes. Did the dog shred his bed, missing our daily jaunts in the woods? (Tip: Don’t waste duct tape on fleece and fake suede.)

To be fair, there was also an accident; I was rear-ended. I didn’t blame the other driver. But my resentment grew over so many interruptions: shuttling between insurance agents, chiropractor and LMT, car repairs (twice), texts and mailings and follow-up phone calls.

I glossed over annoyance. [Read more…]

Appointment with Delight

by Laurie Klein 8 Chiming In

Kicked any leaves lately?

Bright fall days feel school-new and ripe with promise. Then comes waning daylight, raking, decay. Entropy in overdrive. More raking. Thoughts of snow.

Among swan-song colors, I feel conflicted: a little sad, yet grateful for small glories. Like “Eternity,” this wise little poem by William Blake.

He who binds to himself a joy
Does the winged life destroy.
He who kisses the joy as it flies
Lives in eternity’s sunrise.

Am I primed for delight?

Autumn’s rest and recovery cycle nudges me toward close encounters (of the best kind).

To spread-eagle in mounded leaves
Interpret cloud shapes
Count the colors on one leaf

After months of being productive, I am reserving pre-holiday recovery time. [Read more…]