WordSisters

Category: inspiration

  • Lazy, Crazy, Days of Summer

    So, this is summer. We all began daydreaming about this time of year during the February/March doldrums. Longer days, more time to bike, read in a comfy outdoor chair, walks with friends or family, cookouts, maybe swim, possibly attend a local festival or even a trip to the state fair or a getaway.  Don’t think about bugs, grass cutting, watering the gardens, traffic, crowds, bored kids, very hot days, house maintenance at your place or a relative’s, ants in the kitchen, work that doesn’t diminish or go away, higher food costs or utility bills. Just roll out the lazy days. Really?

    For each of us with plans for a long weekend, there is a scheduler or boss with post it notes from a few of our peers for the same time off and calendars needing additional worker hours. Caregivers are scrambling to fit in dentist appointments, physicals, and eye tests and all required before the last week of August. And don’t forget finding drivers’ ed if there is an appropriate age kid in the house.

    What is it about our easy-going collective summer fantasy? Planted in our rhythms by school calendars built around agricultural and/or weather limitations centuries ago. Perpetuated by advertisers and businesses. Lots of people work their longest hours in warm weather. For them summer means more bucks to stretch through slow times. Or those extra summer jobs pay for the extra summer expenses. 

    What we share in our summer dreams across many parts of the United States are the simple pleasures of walking outside without a coat or gloves, not slipping on ice, seeing neighbors or friends while casually walking, sitting on a public bench sipping a cup of coffee or slushy. There are flowers to admire, fresh vegetables and fruit available that taste better, sunlight more hours instead of porch and garage lights. After staying inside during sunlight-starved months of cold, this is worth the wait. Wasps, bees, flies, mosquitos and ticks: please give us a break.

  • Reflections on Carl Sagan’s “Pale Blue Dot”

    The recent Artemis II mission photos of Earth brought Sagan’s “Pale Blue Dot” to mind. The photo from 1990 shows Earth as a tiny speck, “the pale blue dot” drifting in one of many galaxies in the observable universe. I recalled liking his speech from 1994 about the photo, but didn’t remember more than that. I was surprised how much his words spoke to me today.

    NASA image taken by Astronaut Reid Wiseman on April 2, 2026

    Initially, when I searched for the speech, I was looking for distraction from planning my extended family’s yearly gathering. I was overwhelmed and bedeviled by details. 

    When I read, “That’s here. That’s home. That’s us. On it, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever lived, lived out their lives. . . . every saint and sinner in the history of our species, lived there on a mote of dust, suspended in a sunbeam,” I reset and quit fretting. The family party will all work out—as most things do.

    Even more valuable was the perspective Sagan offered about my larger worries for our country’s future, specifically my fear of unhinged leaders plunging us into a 3rd world war:

    “The earth is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena. Think of the rivers of blood spilled by all those generals and emperors so that in glory and in triumph they could become the momentary masters of a fraction of a dot. . . . there is perhaps no better demonstration of the folly of human conceits than this distant image of our tiny world.”

    His words reminded me to have hope. Humanity is resilient and has endured for millennia. Even our current horrible leader will be gone one day. No regime lasts forever.

    However, the Earth itself isn’t endlessly resilient. Sagan’s words helped me refocus: 

    “Our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark. . . . there is no hint that help will come from elsewhere to save us from ourselves. It is up to us. . . . To me, it (the photo of our tiny world) underscores our responsibility to deal more kindly and compassionately with one another and to preserve and cherish that pale blue dot, the only home we’ve ever known.”

    No matter what, we have to care about preserving our planet. In the U.S., in this moment, the odds seem against us. But the stakes are too high. We have to persist and I believe we will. Right now, other countries are showing the way, but we won’t dwell in the stupidity of today’s policies forever.

    Sagan’s wisdom comforted me. In 1994, he saw the sweep of history and imagined a future he hadn’t seen—our current reality—one which included “every creator and destroyer of civilizations, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every hopeful child, every mother and father, every inventor and explorer.” I imagine he wouldn’t be surprised by the present state of our world, but he would urge us to recommit to saving Earth.

    I hope you’ll read “Pale Blue Dot” in its entirety and be inspired by Sagan’s wisdom and perspective.

  • Choosing to Believe

    A few weeks ago, I visited Pearl Harbor and the USS Arizona memorial. I wasn’t sure what to expect. My father was in the Navy during WWII at Normandy and later in the Pacific. I wanted to honor his service and the legacy of my parents’ generation who sacrificed and died to preserve our democracy.

    I stared into the water at the rusting sunken ship, which is a gravesite for more than 900 sailors. I wondered if they were young like Dad who signed up at 21, or if they had any idea what they were getting into when they joined the Navy. Pearl Harbor was a large naval base, but in 1941, it probably seemed like they were in the middle of nowhere, doing nothing important. Until it was bombed.

    USS Arizona Memorial

    In his later years, Dad said matter-of-factly, “War is hell.” He didn’t favor patriotic parades or ever make a big deal out of his service. Much as he hated war, he was also profoundly committed to preserving democracy. 

    Standing on deck of the memorial with the breeze rippling the water and lifting my hair, I didn’t feel a deep connection to Dad. Instead I felt frustrated, angry, and deeply sad that 85 years later, our country’s democracy is crumbling. I want to apologize to all the people who sacrificed and died so we wouldn’t see a day when the Current Occupant would engage us in a senseless war, trash our relationships with our international allies, and run roughshod over citizens’ constitutionally protected rights.

    I am worried about our country’s future. We certainly weren’t perfect 10 years ago or 20 years ago, but at least democracy was viable and mostly functioning then.

    More recently, I heard Yo-Yo Ma perform with the Minnesota Symphony Orchestra, and the music was as exceptional and moving as I expected. When he came out to play an encore, he alluded to Minnesota’s ordeal with ICE and our impressive community spirit. The audience clapped long and loud, grateful to be seen and acknowledged. Ma described the piece by Pablo Casals he intended to play. He said the music gets so quiet it almost disappears and there is fragility in the moment, but the music grows and fragility becomes strength.

    I am choosing to believe that as fragile as our democracy is right now, too many of us believe in it to let it disappear, so it will grow strong again.