Scandinavian Lineage

"These walls have eyes, rows of photographs, and faces like mine. Who do we become without knowing where we started from. Everything that you made by hand, everything that you know by heart, all the names that you can't recall. I will try to connect all the pieces you’ve left, I will carry it on and let you forget, I’ll remember the years when your mind was still clear, all the flickering lights that filled up this silent house." Crowded House

Moet et Cristal

Champagne
Tickles my brain
Tiny pirouetting bubbles
Rise
Leaping towards the rim of my glass
Sparking adoration
Elevating mind and soul
Sinous
Organic
Sharp as a shiny tack

Prose, Andrea Hanson Kelley. Illustration, Alphonse Mucha

Mother

"Well, Mother and I are very entertaining, that's true."

Little Edith Beale

I See You

Crisp bright sun
Cracks a grin
Cooling atmospheres
Making way for new beginnings....

Steppin' Out

So, this is the time of year when Central Texans rise to the occasion. It's officially Autumn and all the ladies are bustin' out the deep rich jewel tones, the Jackie O cardigans, and the tall tanned leather boots....while simultaneously lathering on the Arid Extra Dry I might add, because in all honesty, it's wishful thinking. We're still in Texas after all, and right about now the days creep well into the eighties. Regardless, there is something magical about October in this region of the nation. An invisible jovial bug infects us all, a side effect resulting from the menagerie of mosquito bites and sun burns accumulated over the summer I suppose. We pile ourselves in droves onto every creek side patio, into every tree lined restaurant, sipping margaritas and munching chips dipped in fresh cilantro salsa; hit every single trail or anything resembling a deep fresh breath of cool green greenbelt; pack picnic lunches laden with chilled iced Luzianne and slow roasted hatch chile cheese dip; then after a day romping about we head home to build fires in our fire pits, gleefully parading about our insect free yards, save for the inviting symphony of cicadas and their ectoskeletal overture.

I am madly in love with central Texas, but this was not always the case. It took an unexpected yet delightful affair with central west Texas to launch me into this realization, but that is a story for another time...

Hard and Soft

My patch of Earth is hard and soft,
the wavy fragrant blades
a forgiving green ocean
inviting me to spill my dreams.

My patch of Earth is hard and soft
like my heart
when it was young
plump, fertile, and teeming with activity,
yet time became my teammate
And together we pushed its air up
and its life deep.

My patch of Earth is hard and soft.
It pines patiently for aeration
roots for nutrients
churns for love
advocates for attention,
a tender shoot
alive
and infinite in years.

My patch of Earth is hard and soft.
It begs to cultivate something,
and I lie on it
flat out
fertilizing
nurturing
sun shining on my face.

By Andrea Hanson Kelley

Freeze Tag

So what's the deal
Oh bird of prey
Can I not
Reveal my soul to you?

How will you steal it?
In the night
Stealthy and sleek
Like a beautiful thief?

Or will you come softly by morning
Drowning my fragrant heart
In a cold hard freeze...

The delicate petals
Of an exquisite blossom,
Cracking
Like the ice in a stiff drink,
Silently falling to the Earth.

By Andrea Hanson Kelley

Dirty Little Secret

Health Insurance. Let's see. Insurance? Insurance for WHAT? Annihilation by unaffordable health care? That's laughable (Oops! Better not bust a gut; could cost me ten grand)! I'm most likely stating the obvious, but doesn't it appear that the "insurance" industry is on the brink of pricing themselves out of their own market? I am baffled that as a whole (myself included), we continue to buy into their dirty little secret, the lie that we can't live a day without their "safety net". I envision a not so distant future strikingly reminiscent to that of our not so distant past. Can you envision CIGNA and the like dropping like aging insects? Going the way of the dinosaur? What would we do with all the money we used to begrudgingly dole out for insurance premiums? Forget cigarettes! Health insurance is much worse for your health! Ludicrous but true. Hmmmm…

Hey, want to take a trip down memory lane, just for grins? Yeah? Okay. Cool. Close your eyes and imagine that it's almost the summer of LOVE. The year is 1965. The sun is shining and it's a hot day in late July. Two clueless 22 year old parents drive their new bundle of joy home from the hospital after mom and baby have spent the standard one week convalescing following a normal delivery. One month later they get the bill from the hospital (insert music from the movie "Jaws" here). They open the bill and it.... (are you sitting down people? Please sit down or you'll fall over I am certain. I wouldn't want to be sued for your $20,000 trip to the emergency room.) The bill they opened that day in 1965 was…… under $300! Total! That’s correct, under $300. And the real kicker is, when they plucked it out of the mail box they weren't bowled over by a wave of nausea, like most of us are when we see a medical bill staring us in the face. I could now launch into the standard "good ole days" oratory, but I'll spare you the pain and suffering. I will, however, say this; my parents did not have health insurance. Few did 45 years ago, until in 1971 when John Ehrlichman, a top Nixon aide who was being heavily lobbied by the infant HMO industry, brought up the notion of profitability through providing less care to patients.

Now Mr. Ehrlichman, I'd say your messy delivery to Tricky Dick in the White House that afternoon could be likened to a cinematic tale of horror ever so popular at the time entitled "Rosemary's Baby". Little did we know that there was actually an infant insurance company in that black bassinet adorned with the inverted crucifix. No wonder Mia Farrow freaked out. On top of all that psychological trauma, her demon baby hospital bill was about to grow up into a strapping young and oh so evil $15,000 liability on a good day.

But I digress. Regardless, Ehrlichman's dirty little secret was hardly a bundle of joy, like yours truly and the manageable bill my parents received. Yes,back in 1965, health care was affordable. Insurance was a moot point. It was not necessary. My suggestion is simple. Get rid of health "insurance" (the nerve of them to still call it such a thing) and start over from scratch.

I sometimes wonder if that's what our wise old Mother Earth has in mind; ridding herself of us humans and starting over. Maybe we should begin entertaining the idea of a massive pandemic as our saving grace, or a new beginning, because if all we have to rely on when the swine flu gleefully mutates and makes its valiant attempt to gobble us up is our health insurance? Well, we'll just be shit out of luck.

On the Banks of Lake Erie

On the banks of Lake Erie
A majestic house stood
Built of stone brick and tile...
and red painted wood.

The house loved the lake
Waves lapping the shores
Nourishing soft grass
And the souls of it's dwellers...

On the banks of Lake Erie a majestic house sighed
To the chirping of birds
And the Stickle bees buzzing...

Humming and rustling
Floating amongst fine gardens and flowers
Life settled down
Embracing God's sacred power.

On the banks of Lake Erie a majestic house sang
to a strong dancing girl in a far away land...

Sailing over hills
and meadows
and trees...

To Madison Wisconsin
With the greatest of ease.
On the banks of Lake Erie a majestic house laughed
With a grace filled strong woman, playful girl by her side.
For when the sweet summer breeze
Swirled through the lavender patch
The girl would arrive
Suitcase in hand.

On the banks of Lake Erie a majestic house smiled,
filled with the love of a small tender child.
A child filled with wonder,
safe sound and secure
flying with wings
gifts of her angel Grandmother.

On the banks of Lake Erie a majestic house stood
Built of stone brick and tile
And red painted wood.
Filled with love hope and dreams,
And infinite beauty,
And memories created
Through the lives of it's family.

Prose and Illustrations by Andrea Hanson Kelley

Remembering

"In my past life" she said, "I was a writer. I lived in Paris. I wore silk chiffon, and bias cut satin gowns while I smoked cigarettes from a long ivory stem. I was a sight to behold, avec mon plume et du papier, et mes robes elegantes. Tres belle n'est-ce pas? Oui. All the boys said, "Oui."

Saturday Picnic

On Saturdays
Jack the cat curls up by the warm cook stove in the budding hours of morning.
He joins the wee mice anticipating crumbs from Momma Faith and Grandma Carrie
As they prepare the Saturday picnic.

Down comes Grandma Carrie and down comes Momma Faith,
Their thick flannel nightgowns whispering soft secrets only the tiger oak stairs can hear.
Down comes Poppa Earl with a yawn as wide as the universe,
it seems,
And out he goes to fetch
Water from the bubbling stream
For the stew at the Saturday picnic.

Down bounds little Rilla
She's not quiet at all,
As she leaps upon the tiger oak to the maple floor below.
She's wiggly and she's squiggly, as she sits on Momma's lap
"Today's the day we take a walk,
and eat with Jack the cat!"

Brother James and brother Bob pop in
With oak to stoke the cook stove hot,
While Grandma Carrie cuts beef into cubes;
Carrots, celery, and potatoes too.
"So soon we all shall sup!" she smiles
Sharing at the Saturday picnic.

The stew is ready
It's piping hot as Poppa carries it in the pot
Across the field
Behind the house
Out through the woods to the sacred spot
Awaiting the Saturday picnic

Jack the cat
He follows along
His tail swishes lean and long
A little mouse is at his heels
To catch the crumbs from the afternoon meal.

Poppa Earl harps a happy tune
While Momma Faith fills the bowls with stew
Then Grandma Carrie cuts the bread
As they all sit down to bow their heads
Offering prayers towards the trees above
Bark and leaves profess their love
Through a breeze at the Saturday picnic.

The meal is through
Now the Kelley's dance
Brother Bob swings, others prance,
Near the great round table
Under the turquoise sky,
A fiery canopy quivers high,
With leaves of orange and yellow and red
Some floating down to the forest bed.

And wee young mouse
And Jack the cat
Nestle in for an afternoon nap
Fat
After the Saturday picnic.


Inspired by my grandmother's childhood memories.

Morning

Butterflies stir my soul
As the flesh of your warm lips
Tugs gently on my earlobe
Infusing slumber with playful wisdom
Your tongue composing the moist song
That sets my heart to dance.

Prose Andrea Hanson Kelley
Painting Marc Chagall, "The Birthday", 1915, oil on cardboard

"Read Around the World"

A temporary 10'x30' mural created for the Scholastic Book Fair, 2009

Window

Rays of light
Illuminate the glass sun
Day in and day out
Spinning yarns of years gone by
A sweet and tender gesture

Funny
Although present at delivery
The tiny fissure in the molten core remained silent
Until the very moment it needed to speak.
"I release you", it growled
"I release you with love and kindness."

Rays of light
Illuminate the glass sun
Day in and day out
Spinning yarns of years gone by
And all the years to come

The beautiful crack
Now complete
Smiles
Having revealed it's fiery truth

By Andrea Hanson Kelley

Sheer Perfection

The human condition is imperfection, plain and simple. Humans are imperfect, as a collective and individually. When humans attempt to address their imperfections, own them, learn from them, grow from them, experience them and make an effort to share them with dignity, and grace; these acts, regardless of how uncomfortable they may seem, open doors for infinite possibility. Openly sharing our weaknesses takes courage and profound strength. Addressing our issues has the potential to illuminate the human condition.

When humans attempt to hide their imperfections, to run from them, to deny them, lie about them, fear them, be shamed by them, or in turn project defense mechanisms such as these onto others; this is when the human condition metastasizes; metabolizing darkness into a deadly cancer, harming both the individual and the collective.

God did not make us imperfect so we could live a brittle shallow life, betraying ourselves and others, hurting ourselves and others, hiding behind thin veils of judgment. We were not placed here on Earth to reject this amazing gift, the blessing of human frailty. God made us imperfect so we could strive to become One, so that we could rejoice in the richness of our human experiences, to allow us the opportunity to elevate, uplift and heal one another. Through our imperfections God offers us the opportunity for deep communion with our fellow human, with Truth, and with the natural world in which we live. This human imperfection, this awkward and often painful display of evolution, when embraced and addressed with integrity, honesty, and the holiest of intentions, is actually perfection on the highest level.

Perspective

A 104 (now 110) year old film clip captured by a camera mounted on the front of a Market Street cable car, shot just four days before the San Francisco earthquake of 1906. A remarkable and amazing 9 minute glimpse into big city life at the turn of the 20th century. About 5 minutes into it there is a man galloping down the street on a white horse. What I would not give to trade in my car for a horse as a viable means of transportation. And look how thin and active everyone is. Wow. Just an observation.

Click on the title "Perspective" for the link.

Potential

A Staunch Character

"Smart and sleek she sits, ready with her playful quips, wondering who will come her way, to dine her, to wine her, which to snare, to stay?"

Edith Bouvier Beale.
Poet, temptress, entertainer.

"Three Cats on a Snowy Night"

History Repeats

"The budget should be balanced, the Treasury should be refilled, public debt should be reduced, the arrogance of officialdom should be tempered and controlled, and the assistance to foreign lands should be curtailed lest Rome become bankrupt. People must again learn to work, instead of living on public assistance." ~ Cicero, 55 BC

Bail Out

"Liberal" or "conservative"; Republican, Democrat, Independent; Christian, Muslim, Hindu, Atheist. Why seek to define ourselves with narrow labels that vastly polarize? Why not seek to define ourselves through that which we can agree? I think it is safe to say that we can all agree to our mortality. We are human, and at the core we all dream of a world that is safe and just and rich with opportunity, a world in which all are allowed to thrive. I think it's not too far of a stretch to say that despite our ideological and political differences, the majority of us feel that our governing body does not have the best interests of it's populace at heart, and that we struggle to be heard, to influence the choices of the powers that be. It matters not ones political leaning or religious background. "Differences" such as these, as well as gender, skin color, socio-economic status, etc. are not differences at all. They are labels and illusions created by us, designed to fracture rather than merge and heal. We are all in the same boat. To keep from sinking we must learn to embrace our commonalities and move beyond our petty paralyzing so called differences.


As Dr. King once said, "We may have all come on different ships, but we're in the same boat now."

Father

Thunder bags and jump swings
Sparkling eyes like sapphire smiles
Moonbeams through the tall pine trees
Illuminate your story telling face
As the fire cracks and glows
Gifting rubies to the heavens
Setting stage the mountains

King Wig and Fred the Grasshopper
Dance in the floral meadows of my mind
My child mind
So soft
So gentle
Infinite
Wise
And free

As free as the wind
Dancing with the palm trees
Swirling
Come to rest in the breast of a brightly colored sail
Dropping sweet moist energy
Moving something much larger than itself
Into the whole hoop of the world

By Andrea Hanson Kelley

Birthday Poem

My Grandpa
Went to China
On an ocean liner
All those years ago
One of the band
Pete the man
Swinging his saxophone.

And his clarinet?
He won’t forget
Still plays it like a winning bet.

For me as a child
I loved the wild
Raspberries in the yard
Gardens composing
Springtime roses
Offered delightful surprise.

Winter ushered in tradition
Celebration
Exaltation
Turkey smoked to near perfection
Purple grapes pressed into wine
Midnight snow fall so sublime
Dusting sleepy trees
With anticipation

Smokey autumn
Leaves red and brown
Crispy velvet piles abound
Earthy golden floating down
Nurtured contemplation

Summer evenings
Sonny and Cher
Rags gently woven through my hair
Rhubarb pies and sunny skies
Mowing the lawn as clouds roll by
Cradled by the warmth provided
A garden of memories
Cultivated
Over the landscape of my life.

Grandpa your love and your generous nature
Has enriched my life for much the better
And still amazing at 98
Every moment with you is a gift
From God.

By Andrea Hanson Kelley

"Blue Sky" by Patty Griffin

The farther I come the farther I fall
Whatever I knew it was nothing at all
Nothing at all, just making me small
Smaller and smaller
I fall back

Sooner or later with a view from the ground
Chasing the race and the race runs you down
Sooner or later with a view from the ground
And a tear in your eye
You say baby why can't we fly
Into the blue sky
High
Into the blue sky

Be my singing lesson
Be my song
When I tell you I'm falling
You tell me I'm strong
You say trees have grown tall
birds have flown high
Higher and higher
Goodbye goodbye goodbye

I'll fly over a rainbow
I'll be sun kissed
Sail around the planet Venus
And send a long letter
Way back home
That says all that I know
All that I know is the blue sky
High in the blue sky

The farther I come the farther I fall
Whatever I knew it was nothing at all
Trees have grown tall, birds have flown high
Higher and higher
Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye

Hotel

Quietly she awoke, watching silently as the early morning light laughed, lazily spinning silky golden chiffon on the loom that was her window. She wandered downstairs, fixed a cup of tea and ventured onto the lush and fragrant grounds. The dawn, drenched and sweet, hosted silver threads that playfully danced towards her, spiraling from amongst the cottonwoods. Planting herself in the soft grass, she delighted in a symphony of perfectly tuned cicadas performing their glorious exoskeletal overture, gratefully allowing them to usher in the unfolding of her day.

Grandmother

I will love you forever and for always for you are my dear one. I miss you more than words could ever convey, beautiful Grandmother. So now I say to you, "Via con dios." Together we watch the leaves blow, only this time from different dimensions.

Glow

Comes morning now
Graced with inspiration
Seeds sprinkled tenderly
Tucked about the saturated soil that is my mind.

Dream

God is always present, a wise old loved one tickling our ears, whispering our dreams to us. I inquire all too often it seems, as a dream begins to whither, "Is it too late?" Says He, responding with a tender chuckle, "Child, it is never too late", and then He spins me yet another.

Heavenly Father and Holy Mother, I am forever grateful for your generosity, for your grace, and your mercy, the love and kindness you impart, but most of all I am grateful for the never ending supply of dreams.

Crescent

The crescent moon doeth speak to me
Shares its glow so eloquently
Filters down through branches and leaves
Ethereal lace born of the trees

Darkest night, so tenderly
You beckon me to dance with thee
Twinkling stars adorn my fingers
With the only diamonds I pray to linger

My lover is the night, you see
Arriving sweet and stealthily
Sneaking up as twilight opens
A world of magic, divine and holy.

Oyster

June bugs dance above my head
Fire flies sail
Divinely led
As I step outside my door this eve
Washed in a mist soaked moon lit breeze
Summer is upon us all
I thank our Mother for this glorious ball
Of pirouetting insects,
Rich tenacious green
Soaked by rain so clear and clean
Dancing drops of dew swing sly
Settling low on sage near by
The world is our oyster
Is all I can say,
As I fervently pray for that Louisiana bay.

By Andrea Hanson Kelley

Neanderthal

Commentary on:

"Hooked on Gadgets and Paying a Mental Price" by Matt Richtel

http://www.nytimes.com/2010/06/07/technology/07brain.html?emc=eta1


This is why I will never buy an IPhone, or a Blackberry, and why I left Facebook. It's bad enough that my penmanship and ability to spell correctly is completely shot due to the use of Word and Spell Check over the past 15 years; but it's even worse that I can't live without a cell phone. God help me if I were to drag the Internet every place I gallivanted. Even sadder? My once reveled in and cherished collection of non fiction and reference books are now lonely and becoming silverfish fodder due to my new found love affair with the Google search engine. At least I still have all my CD's, and have not yet moved on to an MP3 player. In the eyes of my peers, I might as well have a collection of clunky old vinyl. Yes folks, I'm a proverbial Neanderthal clinging to the stone age.

So, I'm not ashamed, I'll own my neurosis. I lost track of time on Facebook, not just a little, but a lot. For the first time in my life, all because I could not tear myself away from Facebook, I began not only running late for appointments but forgetting them all together. I felt panicked if I did not inject my opinion or thoughts into every post that piqued my interest, and as I witnessed hour upon hour melting into nothingness, spent monitoring and managing Facebook, a rather unsettling feeling oozed in. I was not using Facebook, it was using me. Creepy.

It's been nice to let it go. Honestly it has. A tad lonely, but nice just the same. Sometimes I get a hankerin' to move out into the middle of no where (if such a destination still exists) and completely dry out. No cell phone, no cable, no e-mail, no Internet.....just a book, the birds, the breeze, sky and trees, grass, flowers, soil. Simple stillness.