Dear Friends:

It is truly a beautiful day here in Santa Barbara as I write this. I just took a sun bath on my balcony and plan to take a walk later.

I want to apologize for not being as responsive as usual with the mail that comes in from some of you. It has been a busy time lately with my trip back East and then Jane and Rob and Brian were here for two weeks, and we had a lovely time, etc., etc. I have some friends coming for a visit next week. And there are many things yet to be done here in my new home. I can't believe I have been here a year now! I just got the blinds in. Now it's time for screens on the doors! And the garden needs some loving hands.

As I make my way through life I have come to understand the meaning of the statement "First things first." Before we can do anything for anyone or anything else, we must learn to take care of ourselves as we would a friend. That means physically and mentally. Kindness is of the greatest importance toward each other and toward ourselves. When I was a child, my parents gave themselves little attention, to the point where my Mom almost died because she neglected her health. Those were the years of the "Great Depression" in New York City. People ignored their pain and pushed their way through it with home remedies (some of which worked) and shear guts. In most cases, the money wasn't there for doctors, much as is the case today in many homes. I remember that my Uncle Don paid for Mom's hospital bills and gave her blood transfusions. Dad didn't have the money or the right blood type which I am sure was rough for him. World War Two was going on. He had been turned down by the military as 4F because he was deaf in one ear, and so he went to work in the Todd Ship Yards. Dad was a proud man as were most men in those days. All of my male relatives went into the service. So anyway, I got used to the habit of discounting my needs early from the example of those dear people as I guess many of my generation did. Learning to "make do" has followed me through the years and I guess I will never be completely free of it, but I've made it through a number of scrapes to now and I now indulge in the luxury of massage once or twice a month, or a lunch out with a friend and the thorough enjoyment of a hot shower without the pressure of getting out quickly to get on with the day. A walk takes precedent over the cleanup of the kitchen, and a meditation break is more important than turning on the box for "The News." I know that reading an enjoyable book is not "wasting time" and taking a nap is not sinful. Even dessert once in a while is a must, though if I have too much sugar I will have a hangover the next day. I quit alcohol and cigarettes going on eighteen years ago, and am I glad I did! Some day I'll write about how all that happened within a two week period.

My goodness, I have rambled on and on haven't I? I had such a good time with my family when they were here. The Zoo for one thing. Rob got a picture of Brian and me there holding hands and rolling down a hill together. We had all just finished a picnic and I mentioned how I had rolled down that same hill at a picnic on my sixtieth birthday much to my Mom's and Jane's embarrassment. Jane said I had scared all the little kids away! Well, of course Brian (age four) wanted to see me do it again! So I said okay, if he did it with me. Then Brian and I put on a show on a little stage at the bottom of the hill singing a song I was teaching him, "We Thought That Love Was Over." We had no audience. We just were doing it for ourselves. It's a song that my Aunt Helen (the aunt who died two years ago, May. You can find the story about that in my June and July letters of 2003.) taught me when I was a little girl.

"WE THOUGHT THAT LOVE WAS OVER"

We thought that love was over.
That we were really through.
I said I didn't love him,
That we'd begin anew.
And you can all believe me
We sure intended to,
But we just couldn't say goodbye.

The chair and then the table,
They broke right down and cried,
The curtains started waving
For me to come inside.
I tell you confidentially
The tears were hard to hide,
And we just couldn't say goodbye.

The clock was striking
Twelve o'clock.
It smiled on us below.
With folded hands, it seemed to say,
We'll miss you if you go.

So I went back and kissed him,
And when we looked around,
The room was singing love songs
And dancing up and down.

And now we're both so happy,
Because at last we've found,
That we just couldn't say
Goodbye.

Do any of you remember that song? It must have been from the twenties or thirties. I don't know when my aunt learned it. She was fifteen years older than I am and lived with us for quite a while when I was little. She was my Mom's baby sister. The last of my aunts to die. She never had any children of her own and we used to talk every week. She lived in Honolulu. My goodness, I sure have discussed the family a lot this time haven't I? I am so blessed I have Jane and Maggie and Rob, and of course, little Brian. He just loves the beach and the ocean. I do too. I'm going to go out and walk on it right now. The beach, not the ocean!

Enjoy your summer.

Go Well,

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