Breathe

/ Pam Goode / 4 Comments

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You know that feeling that somebody really, really understands you?
Or maybe they don’t, but they’re happy to pretend that they do?
Or more likely they don’t understand YOU so much as they understand what you feel.
That’s it. That’s always it.

We go through life looking for understanding. Sometimes we find it; sometimes we overlook it; sometimes it just escapes us. But mostly, we keep trying.

“Breathe, breathe in the air,
Don’t be afraid to care.
Leave, but don’t leave me,
Look around and choose your own ground.

Long you live and high you fly
And smiles you’ll give and tears you’ll cry
And all you touch and all you see
Is all your life will ever be.”

~ Excerpt, The Dark Side of the Moon, by Pink Floyd

I’ve always paused a bit at that last line, simply because it sounds so bleak. Of course when I was in college, I (almost) glossed over the bleakness because we all pretty much believed that WE were the ones who’d defy the odds. Frankly, I believe that’s a good bit of what college is for — believing — and then making it real.

And you know, even at a ripe old age, I still don’t read that line as bleak. In fact, I see it as a positive — a call to action of sorts — but mostly a reminder that what you need in life is there waiting for you — always more accessible than you think.

And music takes us a long way down that path, generation after generation, style after style, from Jazz to Rock, Punk, Country, Indie, R&B, Classical, Hip Hop, Classic Rock, Rap, Soul and a gazillion more in-between. Music loves us and we sure love music.

So many genres, so many musicians, so many avid listeners. I can’t imagine what the world would be without it.

NOTE: Pink Floyd is an English rock band formed in London in 1965. Gaining an early following as one of the first British psychedelic groups, they were distinguished by their extended compositions, sonic experimentation, philosophical lyrics, and elaborate live shows. They became a leading band of the progressive rock genre, cited by some as the greatest progressive rock band of all time. This photo is noted as part of the only photo shoot of all five members. They came in with killer music and we all fell in love. I miss them.

Each year it’s estimated that around 7 million adults in the US experience bipolar disorder, equating to about 2.8% of the adult population. Approximately 4.4% of all Americans will experience the disorder at some point in their lives. Too often, genius is a double-edged sword.

Kodachrome: The Power of a Photograph

/ Pam Goode / 2 Comments

As a girl with a mirror, I never saw myself as ugly, despite my stubbornly cow-licked hair. I was short-ish and thin, with dark hair and darker eyes that could see to China and back. Out with my mother as a child or with friends in high school, I could feel eyes on me despite my shyness and disdain for beauty products. I had only a handful of photographs from those days, but it was enough. I knew my mirror well then, not because I was vain, but because I needed to see who was behind those eyes — where she came from, what she thought, where she would go. She didn’t spill any of the answers, but I had a passable understanding of her from year to year.

Coming to know who you are is a very personal journey. I’ve never been comfortable on the lens end of a camera, and early photos illustrate that all too well. So while I pulled at non-compliant hair and did my best to fit in, I was invariably the awkward girl in any photograph. And a photograph, no matter how random, how good, how bad, how bland or how earth shattering, changes the way you see yourself, does it not? Even if I could have convinced my brain that I don’t really look like that, or at  least not all the time, it’s quite clear that this is the face I show to the world more often than not. But we are never just an awkward face.

My mom hated having her picture taken, and solved the issue by grimacing garishly and sticking her tongue out for every click of the button. It was a pretty effective way to erase the possibility that maybe this was her real face, her real soul, being shown. And why? She was beautiful.

It made me sad.

Thirty years later, I received an unexpected package from a very-long-ago boyfriend that held a cd filled with images he had captured in college. Back in the 70’s when few of us had cameras and even fewer had good ones, he was rarely without his Ricoh. To this day, he remains the only person, outside of my children, who could capture an image that showed my soul, simply because somewhere among those 1,095 days we spent together, I finally relaxed in front of the ever-present lens and let it see me.

And in a flash I was given the ability to see the girl I was, the girl I am, rather than the girl I’d been carrying around for decades. It made me happy.

Imagination / Perception / Memory: They live on in us regardless of how closely they match the actuality, don’t they?

The Lives We Live

/ Pam Goode / 11 Comments

My Dad wrote: “I’ve spent the afternoon sanding Uncle Alvin Howard’s workbench. My great aunt, Laura Hayward Howard, bought the bench in 1936 from Hammacher Schlemmer in New York, and then gave it to Uncle Alvin for Christmas.

Uncle Alvin quickly let on as how he wasn’t about to take up woodworking, and planned to give the workbench promptly to the local boys’ home.

Then Nana caught wind and talked him out of giving it away, saying that she had three rambunctious boys at home who could make good use of it. Both the three boys and their mother did, indeed, use it like crazy. Fifteen years ago, Dad wrote “whatever I know about woodworking tools, I learned at that workbench, sixty and more years ago. Mother is gone now, and I’ve always wanted to repair and restore it. Jeanne and Adam will be coming with a pickup truck in the morning. I’m flying out of Pass Christian on Tuesday afternoon to Atlanta, and then driving to Charlotte Wednesday morning.”

And so he did.

I can’t quite tell whether or not he ever got around to restoring it (the Pardue family wasn’t the hoity toity type), but I can definitely say that he used the workbench handily in his architecture office for quite a few years until he died in 2013. It’s now mine, and though I’m nothing close to a woodworker, I love it like crazy. Many thanks to Alvin, Laura, Nana, and Dad for always sharing their stories, and Jeanne and Adam, who I don’t think I knew, for making it happen.

We need more family stories, don’t we?

Waiting

/ Pam Goode / 6 Comments


Is there a purpose in waiting? I feel a bit like it’s a vigil, which makes sense. I know it will mean a bevy of time, a tsunami of pain, a gasping of fear.

I can do that.

What it doesn’t require is my personal presence, but most definitely my spiritual presence.

And I can do that.

What it doesn’t promise is a requested outcome, allowing only my prayers.

What is does promise is waiting. I don’t mind waiting, and yet I hate it. Or maybe I don’t hate waiting, but I hate the reason.

Some reasons are joyous. Some, uncertain. Others, life changing.

And the time it takes to receive an answer of “yes, it’s this, and it will be okay. Probably” is both momentary and lifelong.

And the time it takes to receive an answer of “yes, it’s this, and I’m sorry,” is also both momentary and a lifetime.

Lifetime. Lifelong.

I’m not sure I like those words anymore.

I like the word forever. And ever and ever and evermore.

“The tears of the world are a constant quantity. For each one who begins to weep somewhere else another stops. The same is true of the laugh.”
― Samuel Beckett, Waiting for Godot

Love to All

Clouds

/ Pam Goode / 9 Comments


I love clouds.

In fact I love them like crazy and I don’t even bother wondering why — I just look up in awe every day, gasp a little, and snap. Honestly, there’s not a day that I arrive home without some new cloud photo stashed in my computer.

This one was snapped at dusk near my daughter’s house, and I can’t help wondering when the fire will capture her too.

And it’s an interesting thing about clouds — I almost always miss the grand finale. I suppose it’s because I tend to come home at 5 or 6 and stay there. And even though the clouds are everywhere around me, my house is secluded, the trees abundant and tall, and to be honest, I forget.

Yes, I forget what isn’t in front of my eyes at a given moment. We’re all like that to some extent, but you know what? It’s a huge flaw in our day to day. Too often, the magic is exactly where we don’t look.

But then … on the days that I have a bit more leeway, I might walk out of the grocery store or bookstore or starbucks and BAM — I’m gobsmacked by the pulsing light that streaks the sky with gusto, almost as if the sky accidentally broke and, in the time it took to fit the pieces back together, we’ve almost, almost, forgotten that moment of magic.

Because we humans — we really need to learn to SEE.

Love to All

The Really, Really, Really Bad Day

/ Pam Goode / 12 Comments

“You know, Hobbes, some days even my lucky rocket ship underpants don’t help.”
(Quote by Bill Watterson)

Today I was totally prepped for a great day. My husband has been on the other side of the continent for a week, and he flies home tonight. I’m wearing my Happy Clothes, saved for special days. The house is clean. Ish. I’ve amassed a neatly folded give-away pile with oooooooodles of my favorite (too small) outfits, we’re deep in the dregs of summer, which means we’ll soon be cooler (right?), I’m on break from cleaning the attic (self-imposed), and the garden flowers are joyously blooming despite daily basking in the bowels of hell.

But then — who knows, but something clicked — or unclicked, and hell threw open that door. And I’d say I haven’t been able to shake this Very Bad Day, but the truth is that I’m just not ready. Because you have to be real. You have to walk through these things rather than around. Otherwise they never go away, and just bury themselves in your psyche instead.

So I looked up Bad Day quotes. And honestly, they totally sucked except for Hobbes and Bill, so I made my own.

Snark: an attitude or expression of mocking irreverence and sarcasm.

Blech. I really, really don’t like snarky people. We all have so much goodness deep in our hearts — why waste it on the opportunity to hurt someone?

And I guess that’s the extent of it. I haven’t been shot or robbed or suffered a great loss. I have endless happy choices at my fingertips. But today, I guess what I really am is sad.

And I am. I’m really, really sad.

Footnote: Hobbes, named for philosopher Thomas Hobbes, is Calvin’s stuffed tiger and best friend.

Pam Water? Let’s Check that Out …

/ Pam Goode / 9 Comments


To add that extra touch of French I might call it Eau de Pam. Or in English: Pam Water? Hmmmmm.

Honestly, I have no idea what it means. I assume it involves some pipe, a tight-fitting lid that can perhaps be opened with some sort of tool for repairs, France, and my name.

PAM: French abbreviation meaning: “pression artérielle moyenne. Programme alimentaire mondial.” Google Translate delivers an English version reading “Mean blood pressure; World Food Program.”

Okay that didn’t help.

Next try: “PAM stands for Parti Authenticité et Modernité, translated from French as “Authenticity and Modernity Party; Political Party; Morocco.” … … … Morocco?

And then of course we have these:

PAM is an acronym for: Pacific Armies Management, Pacific Aviation Museum (Honolulu, HI), Packetized Audio Mixer, Page Allocation Map (CICS), Pain Awareness Month, Pamir (linguistics), Pamphlet, Pan African Mining (various locations), Pan African Movement (conference), Parque de Atracciones de Madrid (amusement park), Partitioning Around Medoids (statistics), Partner Account Manager (sales), Pass Along Message, Passband Amplitude Modulation, Passport to Advanced Math (education), Password Authentication Module, Patent Application Management, Patient Access Manager (various businesses), Patient Assessment and Management (optometry examination), Payload Accommodation Manager

Sigh.

TheBump.com tells me that the name Pamela was invented by 16th-century English poet Sir Philip Sidney for his epic romance, The Countess of Pembroke’s Arcadia. Samuel Richardson’s novel Pamela was similarly inspired by the Greek term pán meli, meaning “all honey” and “all sweetness.” Ha. Fail.

So with absolutely nothing to go on other than two words pressed onto some sort of drain (I think), I can only assume that Pam Water translates to … City Water? Potable Water? Non-Potable Water? And most importantly, if there’s a water shortage or a water frenzy, can you drink out of it ??? ??? ???. I just don’t know ….

In the meantime, I’ve assembled a few possibilities around the mysteries of Pams, PAMs, päms, and paTs.

Etymology 1:
Probably short for the French Pamphile (“a given name”), special use of man’s name.
Well then.

Etymology 2:
Probable alteration of panorama. Again, WTF?

Etymology 3:
Noun, Pam: U.S. Cooking Spray Seriously?????

Pam Meaning According to Dictionary.Com
The Jack of Clubs (I give up)

French Meaning:
Common Noun – A noun that does not name a specific person, place or thing. … Hello??? Hello???

And THIS is why I studied English Lit instead of Parisian Water Supply.

Those Days

/ Pam Goode / 5 Comments

I got a fast car.
You got a car with a little bit of rubber,
keeping us slow when the slow is good,
and we’re loving the life in between,
in between.

Dolled up right for yesterday
and hunting tomorrow
in a hungry way,
gotta go, gotta go, gotta
go again, cause that’s surely
most all that we know.

Oh that’s surely most all
That we know.

We know.

© Pam Goode

Beautiful Girona, Spain

/ Pam Goode / 1 Comment

We were lucky enough to have a fabulous side trip to Girona in Catalonia, Spain, which was first inhabited 2,000 years ago. The beautiful Jewish Quarter, one of the best-preserved in Europe, dates back to the 12th century.

Images include bits of the Jewish Quarter; Game of Thrones site (the one with all the tourists); intricate stonework; 12th century Arabic Baths; and flowers growing up stone steps. I hope you enjoy! Images by Pam Goode.

A Fabulous Morning at Barcelona Cooking

/ Pam Goode / 4 Comments

A FABULOUS time at Barcelona Cooking: Walking to class on La Rambla; Prepping veggies and making stock; teaching a handful of kids who were VERY eager and VERY good how to make creme brulee, including the torch; super duper burners!; setting up the first course — soup with flowers and tomato bread; working on the Spanish Omelet; Paella; and a group of very happy girls.

All in all we learned to make paella, Spanish omelette, tomato bread, crema catalana, and sangria. Perfect for those interested in cooking with organic and local produce.