Changing. It all is.


Hmmmm. Today marks the anniversary of the death of a very talented performer of old. She was the youngest of a well-known and popular vaudeville type act. They were called the Gumm Sisters and they performed mostly in Grand Rapids, Minnesota. The youngest daughter of Frank and Ethel.

Yes.  She was named after both her parents and baptized at a local Episcopal church. But her family called her…. “Baby”. And…. she shared her family’s flair for song and dance. Her first appearance came at the age of two-and-a-half.

She went on to live a brilliant and bedazzling….. yet very troubled, very sad life.

So. She could have never predicted at that young age that she would overdose on barbiturates.  Dead at the age of 47. Ethel Frances Gumm.

But.  Most of us know her as Judy Garland.

While her death was ruled accidental, many thought she committed suicide. Her friend, Ray Bolger (the Scarecrow), commented at her funeral, “She just plain wore out.”

I get really sad when I think about her. Especially when I see some of her later televised appearances, where she looks to be pretty bluto. I wish things could have turned out differently for her. Somehow.

I think of that beautiful, talented, young woman, who captured our hearts as Dorothy. I would have loved it if Glenda the Good Witch could have floated down and tapped Judy on the head, with her magic wand…. and made it all better.   Or if she had just hung on to those ruby slippers… she could have clicked her heels, and found her way home.

But that wasn’t to be.


It is the things we can’t predict that knock us off our horses. And as it turns out…. THAT…. is pretty much EVERYTHING.

There is nothing…. not one single thing on this ball of dirt… that is unchangeable, or absolute.  Nothing is for certain.

So it’s not what you’re sure of. It’s what you don’t know.

And that is today. And tomorrow. And the next day. Would we want it differently? I don’t think I would.   Knowing might be too much.

So we do the best we can, and that is living, and breathing, and being.

Each day brings… a horse of a different color.

“The future is no more uncertain than the present”
-Walt Whitman

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