Author: Flower Roberts

Pure Gold Pauses

| Flower Roberts

When I was teaching college biology I used to pause before an important point and alert my students that a gold nugget of knowledge was forthcoming. If I had been my student taking notes, I would have drawn an asterix in the margin, maybe skipped a line for the pause and breathed in.

I do this backwards as I read. I highlight the gold nugget and put an asterisk in the margin. If I consider the point really valuable, I flip to the front book jacket and write down the page number with a brief note or symbol.

I sometimes called these pregnant pauses because various facts were about to be birthed into a bigger concept. All the pieces finally came together to be joined forever, never to be seen as separate again. Like spinning gold from words.

Pure Gold Pauses take careful consideration and viewing a concept from all sides.  It is a skill that takes one’s full attention and relentless practice.

I just finshed a book with so much gold in it that I dried up three highlighters.  It was HOW TO KNOW A PERSON by David Brooks.  I am a fast reader but this book required quiet reading and pauses before and after each section. I will read it several more times as I wander where this book trail leads, but for now I will return to the asterisks, reread the pages I noted in the front cover and then site quietly for a time with my phone on silent.

I have always admired David Brooks, but now I love him. He is on every page of this book trying to see and be seen, hear and be heard, love and be loved. He has written other things and will write other things. This may be his magnum opus.

When I look back at my notes, page 164 got a grief post-poned note, page 165 got a WOW, page 250 got a heart.

If you have ever lost a soul-mate (mine was Sandra) you must read about his friend Pete. This part was raw and honest and helped me feel less bad about not doing everything right at the end. We cannot know what we do not know until we do know when it is too late.

Make time to pause. Read this book full of pure gold. Be ready to learn about yourself.

Thank you David Brooks.

FLOW

Dropping Our Reins

| Flower Roberts

I am almost ready to cut myself loose. The staples are out. I am no longer using a walker nor trekking pole. After nineteen months of struggle, I am down to one bandaid on the part of the incision that is still smiling. I have tried to be still since the staples were removed three days ago. This cautious  pause is due to the fact my other incision on the right hip got infected last July causing swelling at the site and fever. I do not want to repeat this with my left hip.

Hip prosthetic and staples


I also fell down two days before the surgery in October and bent my left, lower leg back under my body. I think having a fake knee saved me from a break. I guess you have gathered that I am more gung ho than graceful. I make my family nervous. They are tired of the trauma, emergencies and care-giving.

I get that. I appreciate their concern. I am grateful for their help. But…

Help is the sunny side of control (Anne Lamott) Too much help leads to helplessness. I have written about this many times on my other site,

seizuremamaandrose.org

That blog is about my daughter’s thirty-plus-year struggle with epilepsy. We have spent decades fighting against fear and over-protection. I remember telling one of her elementary school teachers ” Do not hand her a handicap!” Every child deserves to be as strong and independent as he/she can possibly be.

So I have been raging against holding the reins tightly as far as Rose is concerned for decades. Now, I find myself insisting that my own reins be dropped.

It is super important that women learn to be in charge of their own well-being whether it be avoiding a dark stranger, surviving bad weather, recovering from unwise decisions, staying alert for an empty gas tank, deflecting stray sperm, controlling a medical condition or not stepping on a piece of cardboard. (twice!)

Men protecting their moms, wives and daughters from reality makes us ignorant and weak. We cannot be naive in this world. We must be savvy, smart and strong. If we fall down, let us get ourselves up or call 911…again. You, dear man, cannot hover 24/7.

Do not try to keep the women you love in a bubble of your own making, it will pop. The earlier, the better.

We all know it. Stand down.

FLOWER

Proud of the Beauty Queens

| Flower Roberts

I cried in my favorite Mexican restaurant tonight. I was trying to tell the woman working there how proud I am of Miss Mexico in the Miss Universe pageant for standing up for herself.

Her son came to translate. We both teared up and clasped hands. There we were, two mothers from two countries standing in solidarity against sexism. Will this ever end? Not if it is tolerated anytime, anywhere.

I am not a fan of beauty pageants. I did not grow up watching them. I have watched the clip of Miss Mexico rising from her seat as she was being scolded and called dumb. I witnessed the contempt of the organizer as he called for security to remove her.

I felt pride to see so many other contestants rise in support of their fellow contestant. All women should walk out on this type of disrespect.

Women do not get to choose when to stand up against it. It must be addressed every time it occurs. Zero tolerance is the only solution to such misbehavior.

The president of the strongest country in the world sees females as objects to be used and abused. The Gatsby-themed Halloween party is just the latest display of this attitude for the whole world to witness.

These Miss Universe contestants walked out wearing sashes bearing their country’s names. They chose to represent the women in their country and all women.

Pretty, sweet and kind are no protection from the bad behavior of the sexist beasts. Stand strong beauty queens. Little girls are watching.

Thank you Miss Mexico

Flower

Writing for Non-writers

| Flower Roberts

I have shared many books that I find interesting on both my blogs. This one is about writing for folks who NEED to write. It is not about form, style or getting published. Allison Fallon has a business called Find Your Voice. She helps people write their life’s important stories.

There is real power in taking your recurring thoughts that keep swirling around in your head and writing them down. This helps clarify thinking and get you out of “the maze.”

I am on a long journey of this exact type now. It has been transformational for me to finally face past trauma and unpack the roles of each person, especially me, in order to thoroughly understand what really happened and why it affected me as it did. This is what healing is about.


This book gives good advice about how to get your story on paper and why that will make a difference in your life. This is exactly the book I need to guide me as I start a small writing group.  I will not be their fearless leader, I will be writing alongside them as part of the tribe.


I posted on a community website that if anyone wanted to struggle with me, they are welcome. I am just trying to get my stories down as clearly as possible. This group will be about just getting it done. We will not be editing nor correcting.


If you have hesitated to write about an event that needs to be out of your head and onto paper,  get this marvelous book. It will inspire and encourage you to finally start.

You need to be brave…not perfect.

FLOWER

Separated from my Schlumbergera

| Flower Roberts

This is the first time that I have been away from my Schlumbergeras while they are blooming. My daughter, Rose, sent these photos today.

Prepped with weak bloom food and less light.

They are in better shape than expected, because I prepared them for my absence while I was home last month. I cleaned them up, added a weak bloom solution and some sprinkle fertilizer.

Salmon Schlumbergera

My collection is much smaller now, but I know that the houses of my friends will be full of these bright blooms.

Blooming in cool semi-dark basement room.

I will add a several links below from days gone by when I was obsessed with these plants. They burst into bloom just when that first hint of cold-weather-blues kicks in. That is why I love them.

Saved by Schlumbergeras

Blooming Again?

Beauty By the Pot

I hope I can find that GOLD one again. If you have one from me, please save me some links next spring.

To share: Twist off pieces. No scissors. Three links minimum. Harden off for 3 days, then dust with root hormone and plant in light, loose soil.

FLOW away from her flowers

New Wisdom from Old Memories

| Flower Roberts

I realize that wisdom must be waited for. Time needs to season events into lessons worth learning and a brain needs to be mature enough to receive the lessons.


I have always spent an inordinate amount of my time in watchful, thoughtful silence. I like to think of myself as invisible. I did this in a crowded room just this morning.

I have filed away mysteries and hoped that some day the missing pieces would show up. I did not expect eureka moments to dramatically present themselves at the proper time. I was just hoping to eventually have enough epiphanies so that some of those lingering questions could be laid to rest.

My job, as I have seen it, was just to pay attention. Most times I did not even bother to ask questions for clarification. I was too busy and confused. I also did not want to interrupt my observations. I figured the missing pieces would show up later.

This silence and lack of participation has come back around lately. I guess you could say now IS later, and I still feel almost as dumb and numb as the days of the confusing events.

When a new clue shows up decades later and causes neither a eureka nor an epiphany I feel a bit befuddled. Maybe the clue needs to sit a while to smolder?  OR Maybe my brain is not quite ready to fully grasp the lesson?

Now that I have circled the subject several times I am just going to come out with what I think about a saying that I keep coming across in my reading.

“You can’t go home again.”

(Book title. Thomas Wolfe sort of. I know. If I die and leave piles of notes, I hope someone will trash my ramblings instead of posthumously assuming I would want them released.)

This whole time I have thought of this title/saying as a sad way of saying your home changes and you go back and things are different and some things you really miss are not there anymore. Yes, this is true and a bit sad.

I spent eight months in 2023 and 2024 living in my childhood home and going through every itty bitty item to save or sell to pay my mama’s bills. I spent many hours sitting at our kitchen table in silence wondering what the fuck Thomas Wolfe (or his editor, or They) was/were talking about. Every damn thing was still here. I was sixty-three and hauling my Mama’s wedding dress down from the attic. Nothing ever left BUT me and my sister!

(If you scholars want to wander off with the fascism hypothesis here…go on without me. That’s NOT where I am going.)

That house was emptied and sold.  More losses … more deaths and more time. I am now spending time in another place I spent parts of my childhood in.  It’s been like haunting myself. So you could say I have gone home again and again. Same furniture, same photos, same piano.

BUT (it’s a big one)

I am not the same. I am the one who changed. I am in the same places, but no longer that person anymore.

YOU Can’t Go Home Again!

I must say, I am NOT sad about that at all. That makes so much sense. I guess I had to be sixty to season that enough to get it. So it really isn’t about HOME at all.

It’s about YOU.

This is an example of what I mean about wisdom. I was looking for one answer and something completely different showed up.

Eureka!

FLOW

The View from My Bed

| Flower Roberts

I am hold up in the dreamhouse of my parents on top of a mountain. I have moved into their former bedroom because of the wide doorways and giant bathroom with handicap railing everywhere.

Wow fancy!

If you were describing your dreamhouse, your description might include plus rugs and fancy light fixtures.Those amenities did not make the cut here. From start to finish their priority was quality and convenience. These are the exact attributes that have helped me survive these months of mobility struggles.

Every room has a view. I can see other mountains from any bed I choose to sleep in. I feel like I live in the sky. This is such a joy.

My deer, Misty, and my present read.

It has felt like my parents were planning this house not just for their infirmities,  but also for mine and my sister’s. Since I have moved here, I have felt loved and cared for even when I am alone. I am grateful for this every day.

If you look closely in the mirror, you will see a ponytail that has not been washed in five days.

I appreciate my practical parents more and more as new challenges arise. I do not need to be impressed, just embraced by wise people who planned for what would be needed.

Feeling grateful again to…

Bop and Kiki, Carl and Dottie, Mom and Dad

I still feel your love. I hope you can feel mine, too.

FLOW

Building a Bridge

| Flower Roberts

I have been constructing a bridge from the past to the future. This bridge is not made of the usual materials. There is wood, but also words. There are metals, as well as medals. I am trying to carefully craft a legacy for my children that will not involve the purging of  thousands of useless papers and hundreds of unnecessary objects.

Something about that tedious purge process cluttered my brain. I am grateful we did not have to rush through this sorting. We also hired help which made it less overwhelming. I think clutter and chaos come from postponing decisions.

I now live in the house with all the books, dishes, photos, tools and jewelry that were kept. This is where I am building the bridge. I am sorting items that mean something to us and adding labels to them. Sharing explanations of why these objects are still here. What meaning do these have in our story?

Time is running out for this sort of task. We must write while we can remember. We must leave lessons for our future family. These objects and photos have significant stories. If these are not preserved, they will be just knickknacks and old photos of dead people.

We are just now discovering some tales from the past. There have been surprises. I think it is important for young people to understand the history behind what makes a home and a family. Parents try to be perfect, but that is never possible. Why not share the struggle? That is where wisdom comes from.

So as winter rolls in on my mountain I will be sorting, labeling and writing. I have contacted another family about a crossing of paths. I am sending things they may want to put in their bridge they are building.

There must be a crystalization and connection of past events that lead to a future. The time to build your bridge is now.

Holding these artifacts connects me to treasured memories of people and events that shaped me into the person I have become and I have influenced the character if my children based on these experiences.

I look forward to this process of preserving our significant family events for folks who have been or may be influenced by our legacy.  I will be slowly sorting and selecting the materials worthy of forming our bridge across the generations.

I plan to share steps as I go through the process. Maybe this will inspire you to cull your collections and record your favorite memories.

FLOW

My New Left Hip and My New Attitude

| Flower Roberts

Today was the day! I now have two new hips with double balls. My right hip was first replaced in August 2024 and then  revised in June 2025, after three dislocations which involved three ambulance rides to three different Emergency Rooms.

I have been in almost constant pain for ninteen months, due to an arthritic right  which was replaced with a faulty prosthetic hip and an accident which jammed my left hip just three weeks before schdeuled first replacement of the right one.  Blah!

I am not a graceful person. I have spent my life focusing on the physical work I was accomplishing. I used my body like a machine, or maybe like a man does, or like  fool does? Well that habit has backfired.

This is my sixth joint surgery; one shoulder, two knee replacements, two hip replacements and one hip revision. I am only sixty-four.

I am lying in the hospital bed tonight thinking and blogging between nurse visits, because there is no point in trying to actually sleep in a hospital.

What lessons have I learned from this long, painful journey?

First, I have always tried too hard. I will NOT place blame on Daddy who wanted a son, or Mama who wanted a little lady, or even my sister who wanted a playmate sister instead of an introvert who dug in the dirt. I have continued to try too hard through adulthood. Maybe I felt I needed to prove my worth as the youngest child or earn my value as a non-boy. I am still trying to figure all that out. Do not hold your breath for the answer.

Daddy and his girls.

I have finally stopped this over-achieverness because I could not be Wonder Woman while waddling around with canes and walkers,  grimacing and crackling like an old crone.

My friends and family have warned me NOT to fall back into my go-for-broke patterns after my new left hip heals.

Next, I treat myself like somebody else now. I have tried to be kind to my body and mind after years of mis-using them like appliances that can be fixed. There will be more careful planning and pausing from now on. I will be spending funds to hire others to do things I should not have been doing at all, much less solo. I will work smarter NOT harder.

I will stop with one LAST epiphany that I noticed about my new self today.  This may also be of value to you.

“To be part of a team, you must be part of a team. “

I have tried to be the whole team, instead of team a member. I have no super powers nor am I a genius. WTF Flower?

NOW,  I will focus on doing what is essential and needed. I will ask for help when I need it. I will tell folks what I need. They are not mind-readers and neither am I. Flower will quit showing off!

I have always been determined to be independent and do things without the help of others while also insisting on helping others.  Who do I think I am? I feel compelled to improve conditions wherever I am. That is not admirable. It’s OCD! Why is this true Biddle Boo?  I have usually refused help that was gladly and lovingly offered out of stubborness and pride.

It has taken ninteen months of brokenness for me to realize that the ebbs and flows of life are natural. I can quit shoveling sand against the tide like a maniac.  I can stop trying to prove I am as tough as my Daddy,  or as smart and pretty as my Mama or as extroverted and popular as my sister.

I will be just me…no pearls, no curls,  and no merit badges, but I will wear a shirt. Ha

The ladies and me.

I plan on thinking more and hiking more.

I will be pausing to observe and enjoy.

It’s about damn time!

FLOW