Articles by Adele Elliott
Adele Elliott: A postcard from Portland
Perfect Portland. That’s what my family calls it, this beautiful jewel of a city on the edge of our continent.
I am here visiting my family. My sister, Victoria, and her husband, Rich, were transferred here. In the term “upwardly mobile,” the emphasis is on “mobile.” Mother followed a few years later to be with her only grandchild, Gillian. My mother’s generation reproduced.
Adele Elliott: Flocked
Monday evening my “barkler” alarm went off, full force. This signal can mean that some strange person has dared to walk in front of our house, or that one of the neighbor’s cats is sauntering across the porch, clearly invading their doggy territory.
Adele Elliott: Ice cream and art
August is the cruelest month. (My apologies to that other Eliot, the one deficient in double letters.)
August is my most-hated month. It is the time when summer drags on, like an unwanted house guest. Not much to do about it, just suffer and dream of cooler months.
Adele Elliott: A day in court
Goodness, they say, is its own reward. That’s not enough for those uber-wealthy folks who like to slap their names on the wings of hospitals or endow charities. But, certainly, most of us consider ourselves “good,” and take some comfort in the idea that we are decent people.
Adele Elliott: No dead authors
In Mississippi talent flourishes like kudzu. Maybe this is because of the lush fertility of the land. Or perhaps it is a result of generations of oral tradition. Whether the artist’s flair is visual, or musical, or poetic, the results are almost always narrative. On some level, every one of us is a writer, spinning tales with pen, or brush, or song.
Adele Elliott: Tribute
Denizens of large cities love to boast about the cultural events, performances and limitless entertainment available to them. In some ways they are right. However, it seems to me that very few take advantage of this wealth of artistic opportunity. Most people just stay home, in front of the “boob tube,” in a sort of semi-catatonic state.
Adele Elliott: Haunted by past lives
“It’s no good trying to keep up old friendships. It’s painful for both sides.”
W. Somerset Maugham
July and August are tedious months. The weeks between holidays seem endless. It will be even longer before the air cools and thins. These days, breathing can feel like drowning.
Adele Elliott: Love thy neighbor
Our backyard garden is thriving, in spite of the triple-digit heat index. The bounty of plump cucumbers is just beginning to dwindle. The last few appeared curled into fanciful flourishes, fat feather-ish shapes, looking like something that would adorn the hat of a woodland gnome.
Adele Elliott: Masks
It is said that by age 50 we have the face we deserve. For most of us that is a reflection of life and experience.
At middle age, we can polish that face with a smile or, for women, a bit of lipstick and blush. However, except for extreme plastic surgery (and excluding the picture of Dorian Gray), we are pretty much forced to wear the results of the life we lived. Events and emotions of our past are etched around our eyes and impossible to hide with anything offered at a cosmetic counter.
Adele Elliot: Team colors
Chris is fascinated with the College Baseball World Series. He leans forward in his “papa bear” chair yelling at the TV. Our two dog-daughters look confused at the barrage of noise gushing from their usually calm daddy. Of course, they cannot understand that the Tigers are at bat and doing very well. The LSU players look quite sharp in the deep purples and sunny yellow of their uniforms.
Adele Elliott: Who’s your daddy?
Extreme fatherhood seems to be in style these days. The ideal family of 2.5 children is as passé as 33 RPM records and platform shoes on men. If you are to believe reality television, families of eight to 18 children are the only ones of any interest.
Adele Elliott: A Columbus almanac
Summer has arrived with a vengeance. The air hangs heavily. Chris goes into the backyard to gather beans and cucumbers, and returns exhausted, breathless. A voluminous humidity clings to our skin like a fog, seeping deeply into each pore. And, like a cranky house guest, she stays much too long. We know it will be many months before this visitor packs her bags and moves on.
Adele Elliott: Bugged
These early summer evenings are punctuated with the small, bright flashes of fireflies. From my porch we exclaim at every sighting. “There’s one! I just saw one!” You’d think there was a reward for the most observed in a single night.
Adele Elliott: Pork, parties and a portrait
Columbus seems encircled by celebration these days. Weddings, graduations, major events of all sorts call for an acknowledgement and a toast before moving on to the next chapter, the next goal.
It’s always fun to help friends honor a joyful moment. Too often we meet at funerals or in times of tragedy.
Adele Elliott: Rehabilitation
The lyrics from a classic Linda Ronstadt song keep rolling through my head. “Heart like a wheel, when you bend it you can’t mend it.”
Adele Elliott: Pain management
I’ve thought a lot about pain this week. Monday started with a trip to the dentist. A tooth extraction left one more hole in my head and a deep gouge in my finances. Thank goodness for Harriet Gilliam at Medical Arts Pharmacy, who kindly led me to the affordable, generic versions of my prescriptions and to a steady seat.
Adele Elliott: Oh, Mama!
Today we honor mothers of all sorts, and not a moment too soon. I’m not sure I could stomach another sticky-sweet ad featuring pink, cubic zirconia, hearts and corny text. Does anyone’s mother ever look like those models wearing inexpensive jewelry, and in rapture over a bottle of drug-store fragrance?
Adele Elliott: Planting seeds
Our perfect spring is quickly melting into the sauna that is summer. It won’t be long before Chris and I will be forced to abandon our late-afternoon alfresco chats with the neighbors, cultivating friendships.
Adele Elliott: Welcome Center
In the South we are known for our warmth and hospitality. It doesn’t matter if someone asks for directions, or advice on where to get great barbecue, or just says “hi” as they walk through our lovely streets. In this part of the world, and especially in Columbus, we are eager to respond. In fact, we sometimes wish there were more opportunities to illustrate why we are called “The Friendly City.”
Adele Elliott: Captains courageous
There are days when the news seems surreal. So often we wonder if we really understood what we heard or read. “Pirates Off the Coast of Somalia.” “Airliner Lands on the Hudson River.”