New blog: blissfulinsolence.com (under construction). Old blog donnatrussell.wordpress.com will remain as an archive.
Morning glory in my garden, 2011.
photo by Jörgen Viberg [courtesy flicker / creative commons]
There’s a chill in the air. That used to mean leaves turning yellow and crimson, but now it means everything in sight turning pink for Breast Cancer Awareness Month.
October means a new Facebook meme that allegedly raises “awareness” of breast cancer.
In years past, female Facebook members would post – without explanation – where they put their purses when they got home. “I like it on the kitchen counter.” Wink, wink.
The year before that they posted the colors of the bras they wear wearing. Red. Nude.
This helps raise awareness? Really?…
[read my entire “She the People” column at The Washington Post: Pinktober! Queue another stupid Facebook meme]
I’d been wanting to write a thank-you note to my mom. I guess this poem is it.
Poem for Her
by Donna Trussell
I wish I could see myself
through the eyes of the child
I never had. The wrinkles
softened by gauzy memories,
the excess pounds excused
by comfort taken there —
no safer place than the circle
of those arms.
But nothing so vivid
has come from my imagination,
from the land of wishes.
The Texas sun beating down,
the tall, unhindered grasses
swishing all around us.
Too real. I recognize.
It’s you I see.
Seventy-five years ago this month, Amelia Earhart took off from New Guinea in her bid to finish her trip around the world along an equatorial route.
The trip started in Miami on June 1, 1937. Earhart and her navigator stopped in South America, Africa, India and Southeast Asia. From New Guinea, Earhart was headed for Howland Island, which was halfway to Hawaii.
She never made it, and a mystery was born. Did Earhart run out of fuel, crash and sink into the Pacific Ocean? That’s what most experts believe.
Or did she land on Nikumaroro (Gardner) Island and survive for a time as a castaway? This blurry photograph of supposed “wreckage” could hardly count as evidence, but recently discovered artifacts, including a glass jar, perhaps for anti-freckle cream, could…
[read my entire “She the People” column at The Washington Post: Amelia Earhart: What happened?]
Pink ribbons. Pink food. Pink trash bins. Pink feather boas. Pink blenders. We’re drowning in pink, and not just in October. Everyone with eyes knows that Breast Cancer Awareness “Month” starts in spring and keeps chugging along until Thanksgiving.
Between the corporate marketing opportunities and the sheer number of people who want to do something — anything — that might alleviate the suffering they’ve seen, pink is big business.