A Success of a Failure

I have been involved in our local free legal clinics for most of the almost 23 years they have been in existence. I have been an attorney, an intake clerk, a cook, a baker, and an attorney herder—in short, a little bit of everything over the years. From a small, once-a-month evening clinic, we have expanded in multiple directions, including my favorite project, our partnership with the Ohio Justice Bus program, focusing in our community on family law.

As the needs grow and our attorney population ebbs and flows, several of us are always looking for ways to thank the volunteers we have and recruit new ones. What better way than to hold an informal reception at Andrews House, an important community center under whose umbrella the clinics have been since their long ago start?

We were not unlike the anecdotal Mickey Rooney and Judy Garland line: "Hey, kids, let's put on a show!"

The invitation above went out to the bar in numerous channels. It went to members of our local bar association in several emails, to past and present volunteers, and, in some cases, I personally followed up with an email or personal conversation: please come to the reception.

I offered to buy food trays for the reception. That would be my personal contribution. I also made plans to come early to help set up and stay late to help clean up. So Wednesday morning I headed out to the store.

How much to buy? Who knew? We hoped we'd have 30 or more attorneys show up. So I, ummm, bought a lot. A. Lot. Veggie trays, fruit trays, meat/cheese trays. Cookies. Oh, some salsa and corn chips too. I guessed at how much we might need if we got a "good" turnout.

Warren winced when I told him how much I had spent. He said he wished I had taken him with me, as he thought he could help me keep the quantities in more realistic measure and that would have saved some of the expense too.

I agreed to a point. Then I said, "Yes, it was a lot. But I look at it this way. I don't shop for clothes. Or home decor. I rarely buy books, using the library instead. I don't buy jewelry or take trips or go to the movies or eat out. So I'm very happy to spend money for this reception so Andrews House doesn't have to." 

When I got to Andrews House later that afternoon, Mel (Melinda) and Shelly had already set out tablecloths and plates and such in the dining room. I'd brought the food trays earlier that day, and now we pulled them out of the fridge (Andrews House has a commercial kitchen, so a huge fridge) and decided what to set out. 

How about this one? Can you open this? Here's a small bowl for salsa and a large one for chips. Cookies can go on this platter.

In short order, we were ready. We were excited. We were hoping we'd soon be welcoming colleagues and volunteers. And...

Well, let's just say that there was not a mad rush to get to our reception. Or any rush at all. Not counting me, Mel, or Shelly, we had 12 total. 12. No new volunteer possibilities. Only two of our regular attorney volunteers (okay, three if you count me) came.

But there was lots of food. Don't forget the food.

But you know what? The reception was a smash. Yes, we got very few of our regulars and, obviously, no new volunteers. But there was great talk and laughter and stories and snacking. (Remember, there was a lot of food. A. Lot.) 

New connections were made. One of our regulars gave his card to a summer intern and urged her to call his office and connect with his young associate to talk about probate work. She was thrilled. A connection that meant a lot to me was connecting Sophia, the director of the Ohio Justice Bus program, who stopped in on her way back to Columbus after a long Bus event in a county further north, to our local Domestic Relations judge and his court administrator to talk about the Justice Bus and our DR Court's innovative programs. (I was especially delighted about that one because I had purposely invited that judge and administrator to the reception.)

As the reception wound down, Warren showed up to help with clean up. Some of the food stayed behind and some went home with Mel to share with her husband that night. The rest of it came home with me as we have my brother and sister-in-law here for a few days (to see Dad). As we loaded the last of the food in our car, Mel and I gave each other a huge hug and laughingly agreed that it was not the turnout we'd hoped for but it'd been a lot of fun.

And that's a success in my book any day.

Opening the Box

The globe thistle is blooming. The bees and I are glad.

So let me share the ending first: my father is back in his apartment at Assisted Living and is doing 1000% better than when I wrote the following notes. And I am doing 100000000% better.

So what follows (between asterisks) was penned out Monday morning, while I sat in a room at our local hospital with my father, who slept a lot of the time I was there. He had been squadded there from his apartment midday, then admitted, and I had spent considerable hours Friday, Saturday, Sunday, and then Monday while they treated him. 

In short, a lot of time. A. Lot. 

It took a toll on me. I do not have the bandwidth physically, mentally, or emotionally to see me through a long hospital siege. I carried a lot of stress, a lot of weight, and a lot of everything else, and I knew it. 

So this is what I wrote Monday morning, sitting there in the too cold room (too cold even with a sweater on; I kept checking on my dad to make sure he had enough blankets on):

************

I have spent the last several mornings at our local hospital—not for me, thankfully, but for my elderly father. It is exhausting. 

This morning when I arrived someone had put on an "easy listening" channel on the room television. Without his hearing aids (safely back in his apartment, at his insistence), he could not hear it, but he said he liked glancing up and seeing the scenery—brilliant colors photos from around the world (with identifying tags as to where it was) and shots of flowers and rivers—scroll by. He would watch a bit, then doze off, then watch some more, then doze off.

I did not bring a book with me today—the one day he is sleeping much of the morning, of course—so I too am seeing the slide show. So besides admiring the photograph and recognizing some of the American landscapes, I am feeling sadness. There are too many places I will never see again or, in some cases, never see period. For that matter, I accept that I am never going to make it back to Maine at this point, so forget Japan. 

I am feeling compressed into a box by age, disabilities, duties, responsibilities, time. (Note I did not say money.) It's not like I expected to feel "young" (whatever that means) ever again, but a little more vibrant would be good. 

And this too shall pass., I know. The current weight will lift when my father is discharged and I am not spending a chunk of every day at the hospital and having to rearrange the rest of my day (not to mention Warren's day, as we are a 1-car family) around the hospital.

************

So here I am some 30 hours after writing that, almost 24 hours since they discharged Dad, and the world looks immensely better. I visited Dad this morning in his apartment and he was thrilled to be back home in control of his own day, smiling with delight, talking and laughing with staff members who stopped in to welcome him back. I'm sure he had cheers when he went up to lunch today with his friends. All good. As for me, I walked home with a far lighter step than I have had since Friday at noon when I got the call from the AL facility.  

I even gave myself space to go out and take a few pictures. It doesn't get much than that! 

Globe thistle in a front garden 

Another Garden Update

The first one: not great.

It is hot. We are entering (maybe in already?) another heat dome—not as vicious as the one at the end of June (at least not yet) but still nothing to mess with. And, of course, I hate heat. 

BUT to keep my mind off the heat, here is a garden update!

The first cherry tomato, at the top of this post, was an ehhhh. Ripe but not ripe, A little hard. A little lacking. But a few days later the first Early Girl came in (which I ate promptly) and now I have THREE of them waiting to be enjoyed! (And remember, I am the only person in this household who eats fresh tomatoes.)

Yum! 

On the other side of the garden, the basil, after its weedy start, was ready to pick. So yesterday morning, while it was still cool, I got out there with shears and cut most of it, filling a huge pan. I stuffed it into a garbage bag, put it in the refrigerator, and this morning I turned my attention to making the first pesto of 2026.

Just waiting for me to dive in

This photo shows my work area before the pesto making commenced. Nice, neat, clean. The hammer? That's to smash (okay, hit firmly) garlic so I can get the skin off and throw it into the food processor. No wasting time with a garlic press for me! 

Ready to go!

I did not take a photo of my work area after I finished the pesto, but trust me, it was not nice, it was not neat.

But there IS pesto!

As I told Warren and then shared with my friend David, it was harder making the pesto this year. Age does take its toll, and my "real" age is more than the 70 years shown on my birth certificate. But I made it to the other side. Tonight I will put the pesto into containers, carry some to our neighbors on both sides, and then sit down and smile.

And maybe, just maybe, enjoy one of those tomatoes! 

Pesto! 

An Early July Garden Update

The tiger lilies are just starting to bloom

Well, let's just say the news is mixed. Not bad, mind you, just mixed.

Like many of the midwestern and eastern states, we had a massive heat dome last week. High temperatures here (in the mid to upper 90s) and higher heat index numbers—102, 105—those kind of numbers. For the garden, that meant watering it at, oh, 6:00 a.m. or so before the heat got too intense to be outside. 

Despite that battering, the garden came through. My biggest surprise is that the lettuce bed did not throw its hands up and surrender. That day is coming, but for now this household and our neighbors are still eating fresh lettuce.

From an earlier picking

We've had a few peppers already too.

The first tomato is almost ready to pick. (The rest are lagging behind.)

And the zinnias are starting to open up too. 

Trust me, there are more. 

The biggest obstacle with the garden this year? Yours truly. While never a strong weeder, this year I am downright pathetic. The basil has suffered the most from the neglect, although I did get enough weeded out that the basil pushed up and over the weeds. They have done well enough that I can probably make the first batch of pesto.

And an update on that earlier update: the basil seeds that I bought and sowed? Warren did not know I had sowed a small bed, saw pigweed coming up in that area, and hacked the "new" basil bed up to get rid of the weeds. Those seeds never had a chance. 

I almost hesitate to write this, but might as well throw it out here: gardening this year from my viewpoint has been difficult. Not just the weeding: everything. I have even had the heretical thought that next year, we have even a smaller garden. Fewer tomatoes (this year there were 5), fewer peppers (this year there were 14). I know, I know. It is only July. And some (many?) of the physical challenges I am dealing with this spring/summer may improve or even resolve.

Time will tell, both for me and for this year's garden. Here's to more tomatoes!