No, I’m not Annie.
I don’t even know who Annie is. She’s a mystery advice columnist to me, too.
I like her advice; I’d say it’s pretty spot on. But she isn’t me, even though the problems of others are an endless fascination to me and I absolutely love advice columns.
I’m also impressed by those who write to Annie. It takes guts to air a problem in a community as small as ours — even the slightest detail is potentially revealing.
Funnier still, you may be writing it in a way that actually makes people think it’s someone else.
We all think we know a lot here, and we often know far less than we think we do. That’s how the rumour mill turns.
The last time I wrote about rumours for a local community paper, it cost me a bottle of scotch.
I made up a rumour, a rumour I thought so far-fetched as to be quaintly absurd and an offence to no one. I was wrong.
The bottle of scotch smoothed the ruffled feathers, making things right. I learnt to ask first in that context as well. Always check if someone’s humour matches your own. Sometimes it really doesn’t.
Speaking of feathers, my interesting fact of the day is that ravens can hold a grudge for 17 years, while only living for about 12.
How? They teach their young, and the next generation carries that grudge on until they don’t. Sound familiar?
A couple of days ago I saw almost 20 ravens dancing in the wind along the beach in front of my house. I’d never seen so many ravens together on that beach.
Usually I see my local raven Simon and his partner Simone. As I’ve written before, I then see their kids, and then it’s back to the two of them.
Occasionally a few more ravens will visit, but never that many at once. I wondered if it was some sort of raven youth group. Maybe it was a local social mixer, or a bigger family reunion than I’d previously seen before.
But Simon wasn’t with them. An eagle sat on a pole nearby, not minding the ravens at all, and the ravens not minding it.
This was different. I’ve watched Simon battle an eagle for months, trying to keep it away. This one sat peacefully, watching the ravens and they dipped and soared.
Not spotting Simon with his distinct missing wing feathers got me worried.
Was this a funeral? Were the eagles present to lend a hand to their opposite clan?
Is Simon okay? I still don’t know, I haven’t seen him.
I felt emotional today when I spotted a pair of ravens, and neither was Simon. Over the years I’ve built a connection to this raven that goes beyond words and, I believe, comforts us both.
But maybe he is gone, left the party without saying goodbye, neither of us knowing it was the last time.
Ask for help, ask for advice, be brave in your vulnerability.
Check what you think you know (FYI, my sister’s monogamous marriage is still very much intact. People often confuse us!) Watch the grudges we hold, and the grudges we pass on to our children.
It’s been said so many times, but we never know when our time is up, or the time with someone we deeply care about is over.