Adele Elliott: The care and feeding of fear

These days everything we buy comes with instructions and detailed warnings. Aerosol cans have labels that warn us to keep them away from open flames. Shampoos clearly state that the contents are for external use only.

Adele Elliott: Painting Elvis on velvet

I spent my childhood in Memphis, Tenn. It was the 1950s, and Elvis was “King.” In those days he was not just any king, he was Louis XIV, The Sun King, and Graceland was his Versailles.

Adele Elliott: Good advice from Miss Adele

From time to time my home page, MSN, tries to give me advice. It seems to think that I need to know how to make great cupcakes, or decorate my home to look like a furniture store window, or wear the trendiest colors, hot off the runways of Paris and Milan.

Adele Elliott: Iguana chronicles

Many years ago, while recovering from a brutal divorce, I traveled through the Yucatan with a companion. We rented a yellow Volkswagen and wandered without an itinerary or plan of any sort. It was September. Most tourists had returned to school, and work, and the promise of autumn. However, in Mexico temperatures were still in the high 90s. We had the peninsula almost to ourselves, and time meant nothing.

Adele Elliott: Caffeine queen

Let’s face it — we all have some sort of addiction. Most of us would never put our hobbies or (dare I say) obsessions in that category. However, such things as Facebook, online games, soap operas, sports, religious fanaticism, and almost anything that eats up precious time might be classified as an addiction, even if not against the law.

Adele Elliott: The write stuff

Once upon a time we all learned penmanship. Grammar school children had big tablets with solid and dotted lines. We were taught to stretch our capital letters between the straight lines, and hit the dotted ones with the tops of small letters. It all looked like rows of boxes, some open and others closed.

Adele Elliott: Full moon madness

A beautiful moon hung low over us this week. She waxed into her fullness early in the week, exploding into a fat, illuminated orb. Perhaps she was rehearsing for her harvest persona, the fiery sphere that truly reflects her counterpart, the sun.

Adele Elliott: Dog days

The “dog days of summer” is usually the most miserable time of the year, especially in the South. It is so named because, for a few weeks in July and August, we are under the constellation Canis Major (Large Dog), which contains the “Dog Star,” Sirius.

Adele Elliott: The hunt

Humans always seem to be “hunting” for something. I don’t mean just the literal hunt for game. Southerners may “hunt” for our lost keys, or a great parking spot or a new job.

Adele Elliott: Raising my voice

The last few weeks have been a sort of crash course in local politics for me. I have always considered myself apolitical. In New Orleans I thought I was middle-of-the-road when it came to politics. But, here in Columbus, I seem to be the poster girl for liberals.

Adele Elliott: Ashes to ashes

My sister called this week, a rare occurrence. She had received a package containing Mother’s ashes.

“They’re in a plastic box,” Victoria told me, “I remember seeing something like it at Pier 1, maybe 10 or so years ago.” What a crude container for such a complicated woman. Mother would have hated it. Then she added, “The box has a sort of rattle.”

Adele Elliott: Ulterior motives

Actors are taught to understand their character’s motivation. In mystery movies, the murderer must have motive. Usually that is greed, or jealousy, or maybe even passion. But without a very compelling reason, the crime is somehow hollow, and just not believable.

Adele Elliott: Magic actions

It seems that our needs are seldom satisfied. Our lives are filled with lack. Basic requirements go unfulfilled.

Adele Elliott: Flying my flag

These are tough days for the American patriot. The economy is in terrible shape, yet our government spends (seemingly) recklessly on projects of which we just do not approve. Still, taxes are raised on the battered, rapidly-disintegrating middle class, but reduced for the wealthiest among us.

Adele Elliott: Lessons

It is said that everyone we meet was sent into our lives for a reason. Life on Earth is a series of lessons. We do not move on to the next existence until we learn them.

Adele Elliott: A day for our fathers

My father has been gone 12 years, now. Still, that essay never fails to make me a bit weepy.

Today we are all thinking about our fathers, and about that delicate relationship between a man and his child. Mothers are perceived to be the first-class parent. It is usually a more intimate bond, and somehow easier. Fathers must be disciplinarians. “Just wait ’til your father gets home!” is every mother’s threat. Fathers dispense punishment. Mothers soothe the hurt. Who would want the father’s role?

Adele Elliott: Meet market

In one of my fantasies, I am a matchmaker. This is a big problem for Chris, because he is a strong proponent of minding-your-own-business. And that disparity in thinking is only one example of the vast differences between men and women.

Adele Elliott: Passion

I have a friend who is in love with Bonsai trees. John Weathers probably has about 100 of the tiny trees scattered around his yard. Bonsais are adult trees that have been artificially dwarfed. Some can be very old; the diminutive height has nothing to do with age. Every time they produce a normal-sized leaf, it is carefully pruned. Eventually, the trees stop producing large leaves, growing only miniature ones.

Adele Elliott: Rapt

If you are reading this, then I suppose you are probably still in this dimension, still breathing. Have you noticed anyone missing? Chris and I sat on our porch on “The” Saturday night waiting for something to happen. It seemed to me that traffic on our street was lighter than usual. So we called a few friends just to see if they were still here. All were.

Adele Elliott: Wearing many hats

It’s been a busy and exciting week in “the city with nothing to do.” The re-opening of The Hitching Lot Farmers’ Market, especially “Family Saturday,” was big news for early risers. Last week’s Suzuki Strings sounded wonderful! I heard the music rolling through the parking lot before seeing the musicians and thought it was a symphony orchestra.