Posted in Inspiration, tagged Inspiration, life, obituary, Photography on July 16, 2026| Leave a Comment »
Remember that smile I said I missed? I am gearing up with stories and few hidden handkerchiefs. Steve’s memorial service, a celebration of a unique life will be Saturday August 1st at 10am at Trinity Church Boston. You can read an obit here: https://www.currentobituary.com/member/obit/301653
Posted in Inspiration, tagged Inspiration, life, love, obituary, Photography, storytelling on July 14, 2026| 27 Comments »
Two days ago Steve and I sat on the porch, me with a glass of wine and he with a mango cocktail sans alcohol. I have written a lot about Steve over the years even before I knew what he meant to me. What do I write now that I haven’t written before? We sat on the porch that day because he had remarked that he hadn’t been out there in awhile. We sat with me prattling on and then I realized he hadn’t applied sunblock and I needed to get him back inside.
I have been regaling people today about how Steve pursued me even though I didn’t know I was being pursued. Or how he wrapped his long arms around anyone, and I mean anyone, that he thought he could help with no strings attached. He was brilliant and curious and loved to learn even when the various illnesses and chronic pain stripped away some of that motivation and curiosity. Some of what I miss most that was stripped away was his smile and then his voice. His intellect was slowed but not diminished. His love for those close, and those far, never diminished.
I will figure out what more to write in the future, and I hope it will be meaningful. Today I write that this morning Stephen Frederick Horne passed away peacefully in his home with family by his side.
Posted in Inspiration, tagged aging in place, caregiving, Contributing Writer, family, healthcare, healthy aging, Inspiration, life, Photography, storytelling on June 16, 2026| 2 Comments »
When I told Steve that the plant next to him was lavender eventually his right hand swept out in a languid fashion so that his fingers could sweep through the leaves. He then brought his fingers to his face to smell. It took just a little more time than before for thought to become action. I was able to wait in that space to see things evolve … I don’t always have that patience … but that particular day I did and so as I look out on the porch now and see the lavender swaying in the evening breeze it brings a smile to me. I did remind him that lavender is edible but that went in one ear and out the other.
Earlier today, as Steve sliced some mushrooms, I asked, “Has anyone ever called you stubborn?” He replied, “Yes.” I had invited him to cut some mushrooms for a creamy mushroom soup. I wanted to make life easier for him and said he only needed to cut the mushroom caps in half since I intended to use an immersion blender at the last stage but … for all the years I’ve known him as he’s cooked with mushrooms he slices them very thin. It has become rote. And so that it was he did today. It took time and effort and I was reminded of a statement from a young exercise buddy who said what he most admired about Steve was that he made the effort. He wouldn’t necessarily be successful but he made the effort and not everyone did that.
Since he’s returned home from most recent hospitalization … and it was a doozy … we’ve managed to binge watch all sorts of programming that other people may have already seen like, uhm, Poldark. I hope we make it to The Gilded Age. We watched the trailer for Dune 3 today and he said he wanted to see that which means we’ll have to rewatch Dune 1 and 2 and I don’t have a problem with that. I shared some things from my workplace about big upcoming events in 2027 and when asked would he like to see some of these events he said yes. Gives us plenty of time for planning. As much as any of us have control over time.
There are many sights I appreciate with Steve making it home once more to heal. Most involve him out of the bed sitting with family for lunch, playing chess with a friend, exercising even when it hurts, and bearing with me when I force, I mean invite, him to sit on the porch with me. I’ve learned to include incentives like mango lassi, chocolate ice cream and so forth. Still on soft foods for the present so I did have to rescue a chocolate bar from his grasp when he thought I wasn’t looking.
I am learning a lot on this journey with Steve. Though somehow I was recently called a legendary patient advocate … all I did was give voice to the fact to what is known that some folks heal better in home environment … I do remind myself that I am not perfect, I am not always patient and it is alright to ask for help. And its okay to treat myself which is why I splurged on a box of butter cookies yesterday. If we make it onto the porch later today I’ll nibble on them while Steve has some strawberry ice cream. Gotta put some healthy fat back on his bones.
As physical therapy ended yesterday, I stood next to Steve in his wheelchair to talk with the therapist. At some point the therapist began to smile. I looked down and saw that Steve was raising his arm to place about my waist. I started to help him and the therapist gently shook his head. Oh, right, I said. Good exercise! And I waited patiently for Steve to tighten his grip. And so it goes …
Posted in Inspiration, Nature Notes, tagged childhood, Contributing Writer, faith, Inspiration, life, memories, nature, nostalgia, Photography, poetry, rain, storms, weather on May 30, 2026| 3 Comments »
I don’t think the wind and rain this morning really constitutes a storm, per se, but there is a ruggedness to the weather that makes me reminisce about a younger me who would relish dashing outside, however briefly, to experience a summer storm. Not so much now. I am wrapped in a thick sweater, sipping hot coffee, and tempted to slip back under the covers where a sleepy Steve still resides. I’ll wake him in a bit because he has a calvacade of people coming through today, friends, family, tai chi teachers and so on. Meanwhile I share a poem I wrote, way back when, all the way back in 2010, about the storms of my youth in Virginia.
Summer Storms
The food I’ve purchased and brought North with me.
But the weather I could not carry in a cardboard box.
So when people ask what I miss, that is what I tell them,
I miss most the southern summer storm.
You know the ones,
the ones with rolling thunder trailing white lightening in their wake.
Sheets of rain falling like milk from the sky.
Such deafening noise and blinding light.
Children trembling as we peered past drawn curtains.
Unending it seemed but then poof!
Like magic it would stop, leaving silence in the air.
Darkness would part for the sun. Birds sang.
All that remained of the storm would be puddles
and leaves strewn across the front porch.
We’d step outside into a golden light.
God had scrubbed the world clean.
Just for us, you know, so that we could play.
And play we did until the sun set
and the lightening bugs came out and danced with the stars.
We would sit in the damp
winding down from another day well done.
That is why I miss the summer storm.
Posted in Inspiration, Nature Notes, tagged beauty, colors, Contributing Writer, Inspiration, life, musings, nature, Photography, storytelling on February 16, 2026| 2 Comments »
Steve has been through another health event and as we sat at the table at home tonight awaiting a friend to provide an assist to go to bed I remarked, “Oh my goodness gracious, next week I have to talk to students about art in religion with a focus on stained glass. What the Hades am I going to talk about?” He said nothing. Then I had a genuine revelation and I said, “Gosh darnit. I’m going to do what you do.” Then his eyebrows perked up as in, “What the Hades are you talking about?” And I said, “Remember years ago when I was fascinated with what happens when light shines through water and creates patterns and you taught me what was happening, caustics, and then there was a photo exhibit in a youth community center and I made you participate with one of your such photos and these two young children walked by and instead of you telling them what they were seeing you let them look and then asked them, What do you see?, and one boy said, I see the back of an alligator! And you said, Well, that’s very astute of you. And the boy said, What does astute mean? And the two of you wandered off to the cheese tray table as you explained how observant he was.” Steve smiled and said, “Yes.” And I said, “My dear, I believe it is in your spirit to be mentor. Do you agree?” He did agree. And as we sat there he helped me pull together my oh, so brief presentation. I read it back to him. Genuinely, I said, “Okay, this feels good. That’s not bad, is it?” And he said, “No, dear one. You’re good.” And please believe me if I was off track that person would tell me so. 🙂 Time does fly.
Posted in Inspiration, tagged caregiving, compassion, Contributing Writer, family, gratitude, human spirit, Inspiration, life, muse, Photography, storytelling on January 12, 2026| 3 Comments »
They almost made me cry, these two young men. We were their last stop for the day to pick up junk. I knew from an earlier phone call that they had already had a very full day. But as one of them went through the company schpeil, he added, “And if there’s anything else you need our help with just let us know.”
I looked up at him, “Are you sure?”
“Uhm, yes, that’s why we’re here. To help.”
I nodded. “Okay, next to my husband’s side of the bed, there’s a pole he uses to help with transfers that relies on tension between the floor and ceiling. It became loose and fell. When you’re done can you two put it back up?”
Without skipping a bit, they nodded.
And that’s what they did.
As I led them up the stairs, I said, “You know, the older I get the more I am willing to accept help when the offer is made. And sometimes I don’t even wait for the offer before requesting it.”
They laughed.
After acknowledging their presence, Steve napped in the bed as they worked. One of them nodded sagely. “I used to work in elder care, ” he said. “This is just fine.”
The two of them went to work using language that is not part of my repertoire about tension and how to insert screwdrivers at the base and turn to tighten . . . and after noticing the apparent look on my face one of the fellows looked around and saw Steve’s in-door woodworking area.
He said, “Uhm, if it’s okay for me to go in there and find a screwdriver I can do it for you.” I went in and picked up a screwdriver. “Will this work?”
He nodded.
Yes, I gave them a tip and good review but mostly what they left me with was a lighter spirit. A genuine offer made and genuine follow through.
And as they left, I heard those usual soft words and so I shouted to the men as they made their way down the stairs, “Steve says thank you!”
And they replied, “You’re welcome, Steve!”
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged American history, bigotry, black history, Contributing Writer, history, life, musings, racism, storytelling on October 12, 2025| 8 Comments »
A new restaurant has opened not far from where I work. I paused in my journey this morning to peer at the menu from afar. Words rang out. “Hey, Nigger. This is where people walk.” Startled I turned toward the voice to see a young white man striding past. Now I’d seen him earlier in the morning. He was clearly strung out on something so there was no need to say anything in return. But as I returned to work I was startled that the words of a junkie, someone clearly in need of some help of some sort, could touch me so. Probably doesn’t help that I am currently immersed in historical research about the profiling and imprisonment of free Black seaman in the antebellum south.
Nor does it help that as Steve and I continue to make our way in this world that people continually, immediately, assume that I am either the paid home health aid or the overnight caregiver. And so then the onus is on me to calmly explain that I am his wife. The onus. I know of a lovely older Black woman in an interracial relationship and she shared that in the retirement community where they reside she always carries her resident card to prove she belongs there and is not “just” a visiting care giver.
We live in a time of unprecedented whitewashing where people in power are trying to normalize outright racism and bigotry and even more so foment deep and abiding ignorance about this nation’s past let alone its present. People are not questioning their assumptions. Race does matter regardless of what a super rich and powerful white minority are trying to assert.
Just some Sunday musings … best get back to my research so that that forgotten story can be shared soon.
Posted in Inspiration, tagged austria, childhood, Contributing Writer, family, India, Inspiration, life, love, musings, nature, Photography, storytelling on March 11, 2025| Leave a Comment »
When my father was reassigned to Vienna we had to say good-bye to all of our friends. We had a party with my school friends. I “planned” it but my Ayah did all the work. The Ayah took care of me and my sister and made sure we weren’t stolen. She tucked me in bed at night, and chased the animals out. She got me up each morning. She was dark of skin with long dark hair. She would get me out of trouble and keep me safe. If I broke something, like a nice glass or cup, she often took the blame for me.
Hadi was the butler and oversaw the house and whole compound. He reported to my father. He was kind and gentle. One day I decided to cook a steak. I had to cook something. I was in the kitchen. I don’t remember why. He watched as I cooked the steak guiding me. When I thought it was done he said no but I didn’t listen. I insisted on eating it and it made me sick.
Let’s end with the Maharajah. My first impression of him was that he was fat. I mean he was a very big man to a small boy. My dad took me to work at the library that was located in Coorg. And that’s where I think I first saw him. He and my dad and I took a walk around his place. I wouldn’t call it a palace. Big compound is closer. The animals were loose in the compound. There was an elephant, gray, probably a male but I don’t know for sure. Probably a giraffe. He hunted. He shot a mother tiger and captured the cubs. There was a batch of those that I saw and played with. Four of them. They were very small. They would fit in my hands if I held them now. I think I told you they were white but they weren’t white solidly through. I don’t remember what year that was but I saw him more than once. I know he met with Queen Elizabeth in 1961 as she toured India. I remember seeing her driving in a convertible. I was looking down from the roof of the library.
I can’t think of these times as unusual. It was simply my childhood. We moved on to Vienna for a few years. I joined the Boy Scouts, an international troop, and received an award for knot tying. I had weak ankles and a doctor their prescribed ice skating. My mother taught me some fancy ballroom dances and my father tried to teach me guitar. There I was introduced to sachertorte. It is still one of my favorite desserts. Like I said, simply my childhood.
Photo Sources:
Horne Family Album
Posted in Guest Contributor, Inspiration, tagged banglaore, beauty, childhood, Contributing Writer, family, Father's Day, India, Inspiration, life, love, memories, musings, Photography, storytelling on March 8, 2025| 6 Comments »
In Steve’s own words …
In Bangalore, I used to walk to the local Indian school, St. Anthony’s Boy’s School. Sometimes I took a rickshaw. The driver would be peddling on the street and I would wave him down. It was cheap and I had enough pocket money. I thought school was thorough and complete meaning subjects were covered thoroughly and completely without any gaps or holes. But when I went on to a British school in Bangalore I discovered there were holes in what I had been taught. It didn’t matter. I just loved learning and reading. Given that my father ran a library there were plenty of books at my disposal. My parents were open to me reading anything. There were no PTA (parent teacher association) meetings. No judgements. My father probably gave me the most books on all sorts of subjects.
The dachshund would meet me when I walked home from school. My general routine after returning home was to put on outdoor clothes and go climb a tree. There were not so many other kids around. Sometimes a few. We lived on Richmond Road, a street with lots of bungalows. White people generally lived in these bungalows, mostly Brits. They worked for the state I guess maybe civil servants.
My dad had a jeep as part of his job. On Sundays we would drive to mass at the Catholic church. I remember the building as spacious. Sometimes he would drive me to the library where he worked. That seemed spacious to me too. Everything seemed spacious to me back then. Even our bungalow.
I remember the bungalow had a veranda. I remember lots of plants on ours planted by the gardener and by my dad as well. My father liked to garden growing all kinds of plants edible and not. I remember everything from African violets to basil.
In addition to the dachshund and siamese cat, he owned parakeets. About four or five blue parakeets in a green cage. He also kept fish in a standard fish bowl. They were just plain old fish not very interesting to me. He also kept two horses. He loved animals. He’d grown up on a farm in Nebraska.
I fell from a mango tree and my dad looked at my arm and decided it was broken and took me to the doctor. I also fell while climbing a wall. A piece of the wall broke off in my hand and that’s how I fell. A stranger, an Indian man, picked me up and took me up to the house. Broke my arm that time too catching myself with my hand and elbow beneath me. But aside from events like this I felt safe and happy in Bangalore.
I enjoyed the food. My first glass of water there I drank not realizing there were peppercorns in the glass. Overall the food was not spicy. We had a cook. He would make me fried chicken. When my father was entertaining he would take over the kitchen. He greatly enjoyed cooking. From him I learned how to make pesto. He was a good cook.
My younger sister had been born in Italy. My mother had her hands full with me, a baby and my father and all our animals. She was very beautiful and always smelled nice. Like flowers.
Posted in Inspiration, tagged color, fantasy, forks, green, imagination, Inspiration, journeys, life, musing, musings, storytelling on August 14, 2022| 3 Comments »
I don’t remember writing the story in 2012 or so. What I do remember is that early on in our relationship I might say to Steve as we hiked, “Ah, we’ve come to a fork in the road. Which one do we take?” And his response was always something to the effect, “If there’s a fork in the road, pick it up.” Not so helpful a reply in the moment but more helpful creatively than I ever imagined. The seeds were planted so when one day a little girl asked me to make up a story about a stone in my rock collection … well, the following story somehow evolved. https://www.creativity-portal.com/articles/cynthia-staples/long-walk.html
Words + Images 