Many of us are familiar with The Five Love Languages, authored by Gary Chapman, briefly: words, time, touch, service, and gifts. Theoretically, each of us has a primary and a secondary love language, that is, the method through which we demonstrate love and caring for another. A potential problem exists when a person important to us uses another or others to convey similar caring. The language styles are essentially equivalent in value; what becomes important is mutual appreciation, acknowledgement, and awareness.

I am immediately reminded of Paul, my husband’s, request of me before we were married, thirty-four years ago. Initially, it baffled me. Upon reflection, it demonstrated Paul’s awareness of critical differences between modes of expression and their importance.

Before we were married, he asked if I would be willing to see a therapist with him. I was shocked! I was not aware of any problems between us that needed resolution, never mind by involving a stranger. When I asked why he wanted us to see a therapist, Paul said that he recognized that we had such different ways of expressing ourselves and that he loved me so much, he was concerned that we might become conflicted about something in the future and not be able to resolve it. He recognized that a therapist might be useful in helping us recognize each other’s communication style and avoid miscommunication during a disagreement.

He was right. (He loves it when I admit that!) We saw a therapist weekly for two or three months, who helped us devise strategies for future use, inviting us to contact him in the future when needed. The short story is that, during conflict, I am very careful to speak rationally, rather than emotionally. Paul’s natural style is emotional and, when angry, he doesn’t respond well to rational arguments. They seem false to him, when delivered without emotion. These observations of us would not be obvious to a casual observer.

This may not appear related to Chapman’s five love languages, but I think it is. Upon reflection, Paul’s use of the five is crystal clear, while my own fall short. Paul demonstrates his love consistently through personal acts of service, such as frequently delivering cappuccino to me and recently, going outside early to defrost my iced car, before I needed to use it. We both use words frequently, asserting our love, combined with loving touch.

I have one more story about gifts, again demonstrating Paul’s superiority. When we were first together, giving gifts was perhaps my strongest love language. For Paul, it was not. Before our first Christmas together, we talked about this. I assured him that I would do my best to accept that he would not be buying me any gifts, that I would try not to be disappointed. On Christmas morning, I don’t remember whether or not I bought him anything, but I will never forget his gift to me. He handed me an envelope, containing a gift certificate for a full body massage, once a month, for the next year!

Over the years, the importance of giving gifts has dramatically decreased for me and I no longer need to receive a gift to feel loved. Clearly, use of the five love languages can change over time, perhaps also reflecting a change in our values.

For me, it is clear that my primary love language for the world is acts of service, demonstrated by frequent actions in peace rallies, meetings with elected officials, and local actions helping individuals in need. This has been officially recognized with a request by our mayor to join Beverly’s Human Rights Committee, to which I gladly responded, “Yes!”

This is actually about glimmers, not triggers, other than to begin by differentiating between the two. I suspect that more of my readers are familiar with triggers than glimmers. Triggers are relatively inconsequential actions or objects that remind a particular person of something highly negative from their past, causing or ‘triggering’ a negative and/or withdrawal reaction. Glimmers are the opposite — actions or objects that cause a highly positive response, a joy, though not necessarily because of a past interaction. At the risk of seeming that I am promoting commercialization, which I am not, let me describe a few of my glimmers.

I am not a big shopper, though sometimes I see a useful object that I don’t need, but that I am immediately attracted to, and I (self-indulgently) buy it. The three things to be described now each cost less than twenty dollars, so were inexpensive. This small plate from Anthropology, with the three-dimensional radish and butterfly, was among those objects last year. Now, every time I choose to use it for a snack or a piece of toast, I experience a ‘glimmer,’ a wave of good feeling that washes over me. It’s not life-changing, just re-charging.

The second item, bought from TJ Max about two years ago, was these two glasses, each with three-dimensional oranges on it. I didn’t buy a set, only these two. Whenever I choose one for my beverage, again, I experience a little glimmer, a feeling of good surging in me.

The third item, bought last year online, (though not from Amazon, from which I never purchase), was a simple pair of cashmere fingerless mittens, which matches my coat. It felt a bit frivolous to buy them, but they matched my weird coat so closely that I had to. The surprise is that I wear them so often. They’re perfect when I’m driving or being out for a short while. Perhaps part of the reason for the glimmer is that it feels so right that I picked them.

Lest you think I’m simply a ‘materialistic girl’, allow me to describe another kind of glimmer, with a different reasoning behind it. I’m sure you’ve each experienced this: when you see someone unexpectedly or who you haven’t seen in quite a while, something rises in you, a joy, an energy that simply feels good and adds to your own good energy. It may only last a moment, but it’s genuine. Please don’t take this for granted — this kind of glimmer should be revered, cherished, cultivated. Here are my thoughts behind this kind of glimmer, which may initially seem disconnected from this thread.

Einstein, one of my long-time heroes, received the Noble Prize for his observation of light: that it sometimes acts as a particle and sometimes as a wave. It now occurs to me that we, as human beings, also sometimes act as a particle and sometimes as a wave. When we meet up with certain people, sadly, we are as particles that bounce off of each other (like billiard balls.) But with other people, we are like waves and our energy combines, causing an energy increase in both of us. In other words, a glimmer. This results from no intention or action on our part, it simply happens.

So, we need to increase the glimmers in our lives, not to be confused with glitter. Glitter is simply something shiny that takes our attention momentarily, but that gives us no lasting or recurrent joy. There’s nothing wrong with glitter, as long as its use does not prevent us from paying the bills or putting our attention where it should be. It may be true that people who experience triggers in a way that frequently interferes with their life simply need to cultivate glimmers. If you’re just starting down this path, begin by identifying the people and events which are a source of glimmer for you.

Copyright ©️ 2024

To embrace the cliche, there are two kinds of people in the world — those who join groups and those who do not. I am clearly a member of the former. Among the groups I have joined in my life are: a drum and bugle corps color guard, writing groups, rowers, tap dancers, goddesses, climate activists, political groups, book groups, religious groups, women’s groups, neighborhood groups, and more, including another to which I have just accepted an invitation.

I’ve written about some of these and have linked corresponding essays. I have sometimes taken on a leadership position, as when I was president of the local chapter of AAUW (American Association of University Women). Far more often, I have not been in a leadership role, but chosen to hold an active support role.

I have been and am currently active in multiple religious groups, aligned to my basic religion, Quakers. These include my local Meeting, New England Quakers, and ECCO, with whom I lobbied in DC for immigrants’ rights. Additionally, I have been actively involved in an online bible study group, as part of a Protestant church. As a Quaker, my beliefs do not totally match those of other participants; however, I have come to feel completely accepted and able to express my beliefs. They even welcome my reading from a recent Quaker translation of the Gospels.

After the 2016 election, I joined the Beverly Democrats City Committee. I definitely act on my belief that, if you are not part of the solution, then you are part of the problem. I want to be part of the solution. In line with that, I just received an email describing a newly injured neighbor. Another neighbor is coordinating food contributions within the neighborhood. I signed up for this weekend.

I’m attending a wake this afternoon for the brother of a longtime friend, known through a local woman’s group. And, midday, a friend is joining me for lunch. She’s a former colleague, younger and still working, who I continue to value and appreciate. Many of my simple daily activities are based on various groups that I’ve been part of.

It’s long been clear to me that, although I have no desire to run for office, whether in a local organization or politically, I enjoy being a strong participant in many organizations. Tuesday, I attended the inauguration of Beverly’s mayor and city councilors. This celebration, held at our high school, was quite moving. It included a citizen speaking publicly, asking for the city to stand up for a ceasefire in Israel and Palestine. After he spoke, I joined him at his table and accepted his invitation to be part of a local group. Additionally, the mayor invited me to join the Beverly Human Rights Committee. It requires a formal authorization by the city council. I expect to be accepted.

Yes, I am definitely a joiner. It’s my way of changing the world.

Copyright ©️ 2024

Personally, I am excited by the planning, thinking, and doing of vacation planning, whether with others or by myself, for adventure or to relax. I recognize that is not a universal reaction. So, here’s my proposal for sampling this scheme, with minimal stress.

It involves your mind, more than any action. Are you willing to open, to stretch your mind? Or, at least to try it? Ok, then, pick a comfortable chair, sit down, relax, and imagine that you are in a new place, even though it’s actually your own home. You are surrounded outside of your home by people you’ve never met, by restaurants you’ve never entered, by foods you’ve never eaten, by new experiences, waiting to be sampled.

Do you feel the beginning of excitement or perhaps a little fear? Either is fine, because it means you’re allowing yourself to open, to stretch. Let’s continue.

Think of something that you’ve considered doing, but not allowed yourself to consider seriously. It might be as simple as having a conversation with a person who you cross paths with occasionally, but don’t really talk to. It might be trying a different restaurant, maybe even by yourself. It might be taking a local train to a destination where you usually go in your car. It might be getting a ticket to a show, if you never attend performances or plays. What matters is that it’s something you want to do, but haven’t allowed yourself to even consider.

It’s my theory that when we vacation, we change our mindset and automatically become more open. Although, even on vacation, we often follow our own patterns, creating new routines that we then follow, for example, returning to the same vacation spot and the same restaurants year after year. It’s human nature to want the comfort of routine and to create it when it’s lacking. It’s also human nature to avoid stretching, unless pushed. That’s why we sign up at clubs and gyms, to create situations where we are ‘forced’ to stretch. It’s both our bodies and our minds that benefit from stretching.

Let me describe a recent experience, when I stretched. A friend recently initiated a ‘death cafe,’ where people were invited to meet to discuss death, grieving, and any related topic. We met once a month at a cafe in Rockport, about a forty minute drive for me, mostly people I didn’t know. It happened that the cafe was located right next to the train station. So, after a few months of driving to the cafe, I decided to take the train from the station only a half-mile from my home. The MBTA timing meant I would arrive ten minutes early and leave fifteen minutes before the group ended.

These details may not seem relevant, but somehow, the change from my usual routine made it feel like an adventure for me! Of course, I was also saving fossil fuel and, as a climate activist, that matters to me.

Tonight, the winter solstice, I look forward to another adventure: the solstice service at my local First Baptist Church. As a Quaker, I don’t typically attend other church services, other than weddings and funerals, but this solstice service calls to me. I go, expecting another adventure!

So, plan an adventure, a simple one, from your own home. Feel the excitement or the fear and take it on! . . . .

Stretch. . . . . . . . . Try it. . . . . . . Stretch.

Copyright ©️ 2023

This is my un-Christmas card. I’m not sending holiday cards this year, recognizing that this message won’t reach all those who usually receive one from me. Please allow me to explain.

I wish you happiness and joy and peace in the new year, as always. Perhaps because of my age, my aging and slowing down, I’m really conscious of my limited energy and time in this life. Usually optimistic, this year I feel so deeply the ocean of darkness hovering above that it feels wrong for me to buy beautiful greeting cards in order to send out messages of cheer. The energy and resources that I have, I want to use for the many causes that I stand for: peace in Israel, Palestine, and Ukraine; social justice among all of us; climate justice for the planet; and good will to all. 

To the many people I love: my family, friends, Friends, protesting and rallying friends, partners in crime (crime for a good cause,) neighbors, Kiva friends, political friends, writer friends, friends from my youth, and new friends — please know that absence of my card does not signify diminishment of my love, but simply of my energy. 

I am increasingly more conscious of the limitations of this life and of its resources. I desperately want to be conservative with the resources that remain for me, as well as for the planet. 

There is so much need in this world. Let me spend my time and energy where there is need. I have been blessed with so much love in this life, that I am overwhelmed by it. My husband shows me this daily in repeated small acts of kindness, such as cappuccino personally delivered. My son and his quasi-bride, Ginger, also shower me with their attention and love in multiple ways, including most recently, cookies at a winter light festival. Likewise, so many of you — friends, cousins, nieces and nephews, new friends and old, each of you — please accept my deep appreciation and love for you.

I need to single out a few, though hope it doesn’t diminish the shine for the rest of you. My oldest friend, Karen, remains a bright spot in my life, even though our contact is limited. With her, I’m still in junior high! My newest, though that may be presumptuous, is Erin, met last week by chance downtown, and already responding to my invitations for beginner activism and involvement in causes that matter to her.

Tears come to me easily these days, perhaps with an easy tenderness for our world. I delight in small indulgences, such as my new pedicure, a beautiful shiny red, though I won’t be wearing sandals soon. My special trip this year was three weeks in Bali with Paul, exquisite beyond my imagining, especially the repeated snorkeling around coral and swinging thousands of feet above the rice fields.

My holiday wishes for each of you:

Love for yourself

Peace in your life

Joy as the new year unfolds

Work towards something that matters to you

Awareness of the preciousness of your life

With my love,

Carole

Copyright ©️ 2023

How in the world can I choose my favorite US state where I have visited? In addition to traveling to individual states, including Alaska and Hawaii, I spent a year traveling — and living — around the country in a Winnebago with my ex, our five-year-old son, Jack, and our schnauzer, Hickory. My initial thoughts go to the big states with their fabulous national parks: Texas, New Mexico, California, Colorado, Arizona, and Utah. Then, I think of Maine, where my second honeymoon was at Acadia. As an afterthought, I think about the political situations in various states and wonder if that should play a role in my decision. I think of Florida, which I currently view as rather tacky, though I’ve also had varied and amazing experiences there, through the years.

I’ve narrowed it down to Texas and Florida, each with political stances at odds with my own. Mentally flipping a coin, it lands on Texas.

My first trip to Texas was in 1973, to attend a gathering for Guru Maharaji, when I was a new devotee of this fifteen-year-old from India. The event occurred within the Houston Astrodome; it was unforgettable, as it was my first such event. My return to Texas the following year was more leisurely and more scenic.

Two striking memories included Corpus Christi and Big Bend National Park, two very different places. I had never heard of either, before being there. The appeal of Corpus Christi, for me, was the beach on the Gulf of Mexico. There was a reminder of Plum Island, the place here that was most similar. Right next to Padre Island National Seashore, it seemed to me to be a magical place. We were spending the year avoiding winter, following the sun. Spending several days being right there, sleeping in the Winnebago, rising to walk the endless white sand and swim in the warm water (warm, as compared to the North Atlantic, which was my frame of reference), whenever we felt like it, punctuating the day with meals as we wanted, what could be better? The only reason to leave was that we knew there was so much more to experience, including Mexico, which we had yet to enter. When we did, we entered through Laredo, exploring our neighboring country for two months, beginning with dinner in Monterrey. There we were delighted with what seemed like a spectacular dessert served to Jack. It looked like an Easter basket, wrapped in colorful cellophane, holding multiple treats.

After that detour to Mexico, we returned to Texas and headed for a national park that we had never heard of: Big Bend. The name is a reference to the ‘big bend’ in the actual Rio Grande. All of the images that had been in my head about the ‘bigness’ of Texas became real for me in that park. Specifics in my memory have dimmed; what remains is beauty, grandeur, and the accuracy that existed in the name of the river: the grand river, the Rio Grande.

Years later, I returned with friends to San Antonio, with its touristy river walks, which we thoroughly enjoyed, and, of course, the Alamo. On another trip, I visited a friend in Dallas and was exposed to a gold-trimmed lifestyle, very different than New England’s modesty. And on a business trip for Price Waterhouse in the 90’s, I had a completely different experience. When I visited our office there, I was invited to leave my firearm, which didn’t exist, at the main desk before entering our office space.

I have enjoyed my many travels throughout the United States. Upon reflection, Texas stands out for many reasons, especially for its unexpected variety and natural beauty. Please don’t mistake this as a shining recommendation for Texas!

Copyright ©️ 2023

We’ve hosted many houseguests through the years, but this occurred under unusual circumstances. MC and I had been dear friends for about thirty-five years, until about seven years ago. She was one of the three who rejected me in the middle of my Camino walk. Since then, we’d had some communication, but minimal, and no visits. Nevertheless, when she emailed me about six weeks ago and asked if she could visit me, I unhesitatingly said ‘yes,’ trusting in our earlier experiences of each other. Before she reserved her flight from Pittsburgh, she checked with me to ask if she could stay for five days. I answered, ‘yes,’ without reservation.

Describing the fun we had with our multiple excursions will be the easy part; describing the discussions we had about our earlier ‘miscommunications’ is the challenging part of this essay. So, let me begin with the easy. In a handwritten note weeks in advance, MC let me know that she was interested in spending time in Salem to capture its Halloween scene, plus visiting the PEM, the Isabella Stuart Gardner Museum, the MFA, and visiting Crane Beach. I wasn’t sure we could fit it all in. Additionally, I avoid Salem, even driving through it, in October.

I had already committed to two other activities with friends, which MC was also interested in attending. One occurs 3-4 times each year at a friend’s home, a chamber music concert with world-class musicians and about fifty guests. The other, at another friend’s home, is a gathering of eight of us to listen to a reading of Dante’s Divine Comedy. We meet once a week for two hours, tea, and snacks, listening for about an hour, then break for discussion. MC was interested in both, so I secured permission in advance from my friends for her presence, which they welcomed.

Now for the more difficult exchange. It was only the day before her arrival that I became anxious, wondering what she might say, also wondering how we could spend five days together with unease between us. I picked her up at Logan and quickly approached the topic directly. I don’t remember any exact words, but it was clear that she valued our past relationship too much to allow it to end. We shared mutual appreciation for both initiating and accepting this five-day encounter.

She and Paul were old friends, too, and clearly were glad to see each other when we arrived home. We never had any difficulty finding topics of mutual interest or of being silent together. After describing some of the multiple restaurants that surround us, we chose a local seafood place, the Anchor, where she could get lobster, planning for fried clams on the next day.

My plan for Salem was that we would take the train, a five-minute ride, to avoid driving in Salem. To my surprise, the local garage by the train station was completely filled, even at 9 am! So, against my better judgement, I drove to Salem, where I easily parked. When he headed for the PEM, we bumped into my friend, Kenneth, who gives 2 1/2 hour walking tours. We had thought we might do that tour the next day. However, seizing the chance, I asked if he had room for two more on today’s tour. He did, and we had the best time learning about Salem’s history, delivered with humor and knowledge. PEM was postponed until the next day, when we visited exhibits randomly, including their new bat exhibit. There, I learned how much false information filled my head about bats. I think much more kindly about them now, now that I have the facts.

One of my plans, organized only two days before, was a peace rally for Palestine, scheduled in Salem for 5:30 pm. MC passed on this activity, opting instead for a beer at Roosevelt’s, while I rallied at Riley Plaza, just down the street, followed by a march to our Congressman’s office. This was a good example of how our plans did not always match, yet we made them work for both of us. MC is a good person, good from the inside out, not ostentatious, but solid.

On Saturday, we visited the Gardner Museum, with its new exhibit, Inventing Isabella, which provided extensive background information about that extraordinary woman. We especially enjoyed our lunch there, with a dessert embellished with cardamom cream. On Sunday, after Quaker Worship, which MC had specifically asked to attend, Paul chauffeured us through the North Shore, through the leaves and by the beaches, to a seafood lunch in Gloucester. After Quaker Worship, MC, a recently retired physician, graciously responded knowledgeably and modestly to medical questions from two Friends.

Each night, we went to bed early, exhausted by our activities and conversation. Each morning, we had a leisurely breakfast, often accompanied by a cappuccino courtesy of Paul. Our days were full and rich. Our last morning, I attended my usual water aerobics class at the Y, while MC slept in. Our last excursion, en route to the airport, was a a stop at a quilt shop in Wakefield that MC had discovered. She had recently started to learn quilting and this shop was a treasure, with incredibly helpful staff. My awareness of the skill needed in quilting increased dramatically. At the airport, saying good by, we agreed that it will not be another seven years until we meet again.

The query is: What is one of the the nicest things someone has done for you? Always a good topic, it is especially so now, when the world seems so dark.

What comes to my mind immediately is from an event, an unpleasant event, only a week ago. I was in a car accident near my home, turning a corner onto a street that I travel almost daily. It was midday, excellent weather, not conditions that invite an accident. It was a busy corner, with cars backed up, waiting for a traffic light. I turned after looking for oncoming traffic. Because of the heavy traffic blocking my view, I did not see the car that struck me immediately after my turn, blowing out my front right tire and damaging that door. I instinctively pulled over into an empty parking space, parked, and got out of my car, a three-year-old, electric Mini Cooper that I love.

I was not hurt, just incredibly shaken up. I saw the other driver, another woman, as she got out of her car, which had hit a parked car after mine before ramming into the yard of an apartment complex. She was yelling, furious about the accident. All of this I took in quickly. I’m not used to being in accidents and was simply stunned. Also quickly, tow trucks arrived, along with an ambulance and a fire truck.

So far, none of this was a ‘nice thing.’ Here’s that part now. Probably only a few minutes after the accident, a police officer approached me, asking if I wanted to go to the hospital. I said, no, I was ok. His question did not appear perfunctory, but one of genuine concern. He was calm, encouraged me to reconsider the following day, as many injuries don’t appear immediately. He let me know that I could simply go to the ER, if I felt any physical discomfort tomorrow.

There was a lot of activity: the tow trucks maneuvering our vehicles to get them in line to be towed. Another police officer asked for my license and registration, which I got from the car. I entered from the driver’s side, as the passenger door would no longer open. This officer also expressed concern for my wellbeing, suggesting that I might be somewhat in shock, not yet conscious of any injuries. He, also, appeared genuine in his concern for me, telling me that after they had all the needed information from us, he would give me a ride home.

A woman, Nancy, who lived in the apartment complex had come outside when she heard the loud bangs. We began a conversation, she, also, expressing concern for me and offering me a nearby chair.

After about thirty minutes, my eyes filled with tears. Perhaps the shock was wearing off and I was beginning to feel. Finally, the police officer escorted me to his car to drive me home, again expressing concern for my well-being and reminding me to call my insurance company soon. I thanked him for his concern and told him that each officer had been so kind and that I was touched by their concern. He responded simply, “That’s what we do.”

When I made the call to the insurance agent, he also expressed concern for me, before collecting the required information.

Each of these expressions of concern was, in one sense, ordinary. Perhaps it was my own personal sense of shock that made each one feel so touching. Or, maybe it was simply that it was people who are not usually part of my life, who were expressing concern for me. Regardless, for me right now, I am super conscious of the positive effect that each of these strangers had on my life.

Let me extend this thought — each person with whom we have any contact, even minor, holds the possibility of being affected in a positive way, as well. We hold an incredible power to do good. Let’s use it.

Copyright ©️ 2023

With 75,000 of my ‘friends’, I marched in New York City on Sunday, culminating at the United Nations building. Our major message to Biden: End the use of fossil fuels. Here’s a recap of my day’s experience.

It began for my husband at 4 am, when his alarm sounded. He had agreed to drive me to meet four friends in Marblehead at 5:15, so I could ride with them to South Station for the 6:30 am train to Penn Station. Blessings to Paul for this generous act. He never protests with me, yet supports my actions in various and important ways.

When we reached the meeting point, there was no one there. We drove around the block, not recognizing anyone. Finally, after recognizing that he was going to have to drive me to South Station himself, I heard someone yelling. It was my friends, across the street, hidden by a wall. I had misread the meeting directions! Nevertheless, I quickly left my car for theirs and we drove off for our ride to rooftop parking at South Station.

There were five of us: Jim, Rebecca, Kate, Judith, and me. Coach seating on our Amtrak train was quite comfortable, more so than on most flights. I sat with Rebecca, who plans to walk the Camino in a year. After sharing with her my memories of my own Camino six years ago, I began to feel as if I want to walk it again, a brand new feeling for me.

We had no idea how many people would show up for this climate march, though we knew there were seven buses from Massachusetts alone, plus more. Our expectation was for thousands, but we really had no idea.

After our uneventful arrival and our purchase of coffee and cappuccino, Judith left us to meet with a Jewish group for prayers, knowing our proposed starting point. When we arrived at that location (Broadway and 50th?) at about noon, we were three blocks from the end of the protesters. Those three blocks were filled with people, all ages and races, with many signs, banners, and costumes. And, in front of us, the same — so many people that we could not even glimpse the beginning of it. I never saw the beginning of the march. None of the pictures reported in the next day’s newspapers (New York Times and Boston Globe) were familiar to me.

The march was to be 1.3 miles; however, we had walked from the metro to our starting point and had to walk back to the metro again. Because there were so many of us, we seldom took more than a few steps at a time, before stopping again. There was irregular chanting, in which we vigorously participated. The four of us (Judith had not rejoined us. We knew she was somewhere in the crowd.) kept careful tabs on each other, stayed connected.

During our frequent pauses, we engaged in brief conversations with others. Every single one, without exception, was uplifting, positive, and sincere. For example, two people who were walking together were freshmen at New York University, a young man from China and a young woman from Virginia. They each expressed their admiration that something like this could happen peacefully and that they could be a part.

Occasionally I would see a mom and her child, five or six years old. I’m sorry that I never asked to take a picture. However, each time I saw such a pair, I moved to the side and commended the mom for including her child in this experience. The responsive smiles meant a lot to me.

After marching for three and a half hours, slowly, very slowly, I told my friends that my energy was depleted and that I was heading back to the train. I did that, using my gps to identify the nearest metro station, a few blocks away. I was scheduled for the 5 pm train, my friends not until 7.

At Penn Station, I began a conversation with a young woman, Mita, who had come to the march from New Jersey. Her reaction to me: “You came all the way from Massachusetts!” I felt proud that I had been a part of this demonstration of the need for climate attention. I also felt grateful that I was physically able to participate. We had a sweet connection. She even asked if she could give me a hug! I was happy to consent.

On the train, I was once again with others who were not part of the march. I left Amtrak at Back Bay, to get the T to North Station, then the 11 pm train to Beverly, where my kind husband met me, exhausted and completely satisfied.

Although I have always been highly conscious of the connection among various threads of my life, recently, I have become acutely aware of at least four direct connections between life and current fictional accounts. I’m going to present them in alphabetical order, beginning with abortion.

In the most recent season of Netflix’ Grey’s Anatomy, the recurring topic was abortion, specifically the overturning of Roe vs Wade. However, the season’s focus was only secondarily on the pregnant women at risk. Rather, the primary focus was on the medical personnel adversely affected by the abortion-protesters. I personally, only by chance, have never been in a position needing to decide whether to have an abortion. Nevertheless, as I did in 1973, I continue to strongly support each person’s right to choose.

The fictional stories on Netflix presented the position of physicians offering a variety of care: sympathetic counseling, inability to prevent a patient’s death because of restricted medical care, abortions, birth assistance, clear birth control options, and STD diagnosis in senior citizens. The series ended with a significant award presented to a surprised physician who had taken multiple personal risks to help her patients.

This was fiction. Because it was was an accurate picture of reality, a powerful fictional account of reality, though not the one always conveyed by national news, it made me cry several times.

Next on my list is Barbie, the movie, which I have not yet seen. When I began to hear the hype for it, it seemed ridiculous to me. I would have put it on my never see this movie list, if I had one. Then, I read a CNN article describing how a certain segment of our population has discouraged viewing the movie, because of its attempt to encourage inclusion with its Barbies of multiple cultures, including a trans-Barbie. Reading that article made me want to see it. In fact, I went to a local theater last night, but it was sold out, with not one ticket remaining! Among the people who had already bought their tickets and arrived, were many in hot pink outfits or Barbie shirts. I won’t be buying that clothing, but I want to see the movie, pulling the fictional into my real life.

Next on my list is horses, inspired from the Heartland series on Netflix. After watching Amy (the horse whisperer) for several weeks, I felt this internal urging to have a connection with a horse. My good husband, Paul, reminded me of his friend’s wife, Kim, who had invited me to join her anytime for her horse and buggy practices near a local barn. I called her and recently joined her, with her horse, Thunder, in a two-wheeled buggy for a bumpy ride through Appleton Farms. It truly was a merging of the fictional life I’d observed on my computer screen with my own life, face-to-face with a horse, Thunder. I will join Kim again soon, further merging my real and fictional lives.

Last, but not least, is Oppenheimer, that other blockbuster movie, with a local connection to Goat Hill in Beverly, where my good friend, Janice, has just moved. Paul Leighton, our local journalist, has recounted these with excellent historical references to the Beverly resident who was aboard the Enola Gay and to the local company that processed uranium for the atomic bomb. Actually, the movie, I believe, is historically accurate, not so fictional, yet feels like a blend of fact and fiction.

So, fact and fiction are not so entirely separate, after all. I am completely enjoying my recognition of their braiding.