Life Lessons - Learned and Still to Learn

It is often noted that the folks who live in Britain, Ireland, France, Germany, Italy, Sweden, etc., try to listen politely as Americans go on and on about their ancestors who hail from any particular country. I know it must be horrendously boring and slightly grating, but I've come to understand something that perhaps needs to be more clearly understood from those living in the "old country." You see, unless those of us born and raised in the United States are genetically Native American, we aren't really from the United States - not genetically or even culturally to an extent. In a way, that means so many of us have the interest or have felt the pull of countries we may not have known prior to visits or family tree research. In short, we are seeking our identities. I knew where my family came from prior to immigrating to the American colonies or, for more recent immigrants, the United States. Throughout my life, I always felt a strong pull to Britain. They say that

When Chris died, he left behind more than broken hearts and empty arms. He left behind a collection of beautiful photography. About a year after his death, his children and I decided that we couldn't let his photography just sit unseen. We decided we would put it out there for the world to see. Not only that, but we would use his photography to raise money for two places that meant so much to him and still mean so much to all of us - The Charleston Trust in his native Sussex and The Highland Hospice in Inverness. A trip to Sussex nearly always included a trip to Charleston, a farmhouse which was occupied by Virginia Woolf's sister, artist Vanessa Bell and her group of artists/writers/sculptures. It was a veritable salon of its time. As for the hospice, they gifted us with more time, and we can never thank them enough for that.  It took me four years, but this past September, on the fourth anniversary of Chris' death, we launched Chris Mawson Photography . We are still being

Once my cataract surgery had been completed, I immediately logged onto Disney+ so I could watch "Get Back." Instead of bingeing, I decided to watch it in hour-long increments. I wanted it to last longer; I wanted to savour each moment. The first thing that struck me when I started watching was how much watching The Beatles felt like watching old friends. Funny how the artists we grow up enjoying can feel so familiar. I remember, after John died, dreaming that he had been a good friend. The sense of familiar comfort was and obviously is still so strong. The Beatles were the soundtrack to my childhood. They appeared on Ed Sullivan two days after my eighth birthday. When my mother arrived at school to pick us up on Monday afternoon, she nearly squealed with delight when she handed us the flat, square paper bag that contained the 45 of "I Want to Hold Your Hand." And thus began the entire family's love affair with The Beatles.  We had had some advance news about the

I was raised in a home where dinner time often reflected the French salons of the Enlightenment (minus the powdered wigs and corsets). Our meals lasted for hours because of the incredibly engaging conversations that took place around the table. This was true of our immediate family and, more so, during one of the many dinner parties my parents hosted. When I was younger, I continued this tradition and hosted many dinner parties over the years. Because of that history, I find solitary meals incredibly boring and, to an extent, depressing. Cooking a full dinner, complete with all the necessary nutritional requirements, is a real chore. I love to cook, but I find cooking for myself quite boring and tedious. And I rarely do more than a main course when cooking for myself. And that makes me worry about eating properly. Despite the fact that I have a wonderful wheelchair-adapted kitchen, there are still limits to my abilities because of pain. I refuse to return to frozen prepared meals. The

O ver October through December, the changes I wanted to make to the apartment were accomplished. I only have a swag for the window in the bedroom and having the bedroom wardrobe stained left in order to have everything complete. I'm so pleased with the outcome. There were even some changes that I hadn't anticipated, but moments of inspiration moved me to create some amazing features. One of them is captured in the image to the right here. Once I had decided the colour for the living room, I realised the white closet doors were going to detract from the ambience of the room. There was no possibility of painting them, as they are composed of some sort of plastic material. I have long adored a piece of Chris' digital photo art - one he called "Emotive Triptych." I realised the colours in this piece would work well with the room, so worked with the original image to create two panels from the left and centre of the image. I sourced a company that could create custom-s

A s you can see from my profile photo, I have ditched the glasses. No, I didn't get contact lenses. My vision had deteriorated over the last year or so and when I visited the optician in the early Autumn, I was informed that my vision was being impacted by my cataracts. I had been made aware of the cataracts about three years ago, but at the time, they were deemed too small to remove. By this past Autumn, that was no longer the case. I was given a referral to the ophthalmologist who works with the NHS and I waited for an appointment. In the meantime, I also researched having the procedures done privately, as I was afraid the waiting list was going to be too long. I was at a point where I could no longer see the telly or my laptop. I was only able to use my phone because I could bring up to my eyes, but even then, everything I saw was "ghosted." My research showed that a private hospital in Glasgow offered the services. I had been to this hospital before, back in 2008, for