Where Does The Time Go?

OK. I can handle getting older. For MYSELF. I have resigned myself to cragginess; even embraced it. It's kind of a demerit badge of honor for me. But what I cannot handle is the aging of my daughter. Those of you who know my baby girl know that she is my hero. I often like to say that, when I grow up, I'm going to be her. Fat Chance, but it's a nice idea. I could never be who she is. She is an an adult. I just play at it. She is smart and beautiful and kind and every other thing that I am not. I couldn't be she if I had a total body transfusion. a brain replacement AND a personality-ectomy. And my hero is now engaged. She will marry a fine young man in less than 5 months. This perfect person is about to create her own family. What happened? Did I fall asleep and wake up 26 years later? Where does the time go? Tempus fugit, they say, so carpe diem and gather them doggone rosebuds because life is ephemeral. It makes me think that perhaps I should be about gathering. And perhaps learning latin. But what is there to gather? Stamp collections? Rare books? Hummel figurines? I know the answer to that. And so do you. My only little girl is an adult now. And as I age, I can honestly say that I've learned more from her than I have ever taught her. She will make the world a slightly better place. This is all any of us can aspire to. May we all contribute small great things that make a positive difference. This is my old lady prayer.

Before I Die...

Unless we are fortunate enough to stick around until the Rapture, every single one of us is going to die. There's no getting out of it; our only choice is whether we do it on our own terms, which my religion teaches is a sin--no different than murder--or wait to be called home by Our Heavenly Father. I don't mean for this blog to be a downer. Quite the opposite: It is meant to be encouraging. If you are still drawing breath, then there is still hope: for redemption, for reconciliation, for change, for forgiveness, for action, and fulfillment, and closure. Before I die, I want to make a difference on this planet. I'm not aiming for anything extravagant: I just want to be a good friend, a good mother, a good daughter, a good sister, and a good spouse. I want to be faithful, supportive, trustworthy and honest with my fellow humans. I want to intuitively kmow when a kind word is needed, and I want to have the courage to offer it. I want to be kind, respectful and appreciative to all God's creatures. I want to adhere to the Hippocratic Oath: to first, do no harm. I want to draw breath and exhale it in a way that says, "I am here, fully present, and eager to make a positive difference." I want to use my time wisely in ways that encourage and uplift. Let no one whom I encounter walk away any the worse, and hopefully better. I want to live like I'm dying. Because I am. And so are you. But if I am honest, one of the things I want to accomplish most before I die, is to publish one more book: the book I promised Mrs. Pooser I would see to fulfillment, on her behalf. Anne Pooser spent years researching an historical figure who, to this day, has not received her just notoriety. When Anne could no longer continue the research, she magnanimously gave me all of her notes and everything she had written to date. It was a selfless thing to do; she yearned to tell the story more than she wanted the recognition. And as of this writing, I continue to let her down, although I have tried very hard to make her dream come true. Just a few days ago, I submitted her story to another novel contest, and With each submission I am, once again, hopeful. Because I have not (yet) been turned down again. I like this pocket of possibility. Publishing is a very difficult business, but I continue to persevere, and have recently sent the manuscript to a novel-writing contest. Just doing that one little thing gives me hope. Because until the answer is positively "NO,", then answer can still be "YES." I would like to hear from you. What is that one thing that you secretly hope to accomplish before you die? Send me your deepest, most private, yet-to-be realized accomplishment. Perhaps we can encourage each other.

Writing...

I couldn't have been more than 20 when I saw a cartoon in the newspaper that described me perfectly. It was simply titled, "Writing." The cartoon featured an older, portly businessman in a tailored suit. He sat behind a daunting desk, smoking a pipe. Behind him, floor-to-ceiling bookcases brimmed over with the sum of every civilizations' knowledge. The whole vibe was so intimidating that it let you know, in no uncertain terms, that you should have called to cancel that appointment before you even made it. Across the desk from the pipe smoker, a hippy sat: long hair, sunglasses, wearing blue jeans and a sleeveless vest with no shirt underneath. The beatnick spoke to the businessman. This is what he said: "It started out as a suicide note. Then I corrected the spelling of a few words; rearranged a sentence or two; became interested in the style; developed plot lines and added suspense; inserted a few flashbacks to my miserable childhood and, of course, many bedroom episodes from my formative and adult years. Never once did I dream I would wind up talking to you about subsidiary rights." I loved it so much that I embroidered the cartoon on a piece of muslin and framed it. It is sitting on my desk even now. The cartoon has kept me going, even when I wanted to quit, all my life. It reminds me that so often, we find ourselves on the precipice of dispair, never realizing that we are just one key stroke away from success. Perhaps it is the despair, and perhaps only the despair, that can get us where we need to be, that can save us. That can get us to the place where we can finally reach the dream. And all the while, we rarely realize the untold numbers of souls who, without ceasing, encourage us. The angels who fight our demons unceasingly, in their effort to see us achieve our best lives. We should not fight against them. For Susie. Thank-you.

Westward Ho!

Last night PW and I watched a (nother) western movie in preparation for our epic "Westward Ho" trip this September. Neither one of us has even a smidge of bow-leggedness in our bones, nor do we "pack" our pistols when we pack, but we're really looking forward to experiencing the Great American West. We have begun stacking stuff by the door already, which is our motus operandi work-around for PW's ADD and my leaky brain. The reasoning is that if we have to trip over it to get to the car, we won't forget it. So far we have stacked our Grand Canyon hats, some Levi's and our chic-kicking rodeo boots. The hybrid Rav-4 is not exactly the Westward Ho type vehicle you might think of when you think of the West, but we've pimped it out with black and tan seat covers, and at 43 miles to the gallon, I couldn't care less if it was a clown car. But for this trip, it can be a rodeo clown car. Supplies yet to be purchased are snake venom antidote and sun tan lotion, and perhaps motion sickness medication for the Balloon Ride we plan to experience in Albuquerque on our escapades. I love that Albuquerque is our first stop, because the city's name has "quirky" in it. I'm calling it "al-buh-quirky," with no disrespect intended to the spanish royalty aftter whom it is named. Beginning from our our cabin in the woods, our first stop will be Hopkinsville, Kentucky, which the internet informs me is one of the few documented sites for the Trail of Tears. From there we will venture on to Kansas City, and then to Sioux City and Rapid City, South Dakota. Plans are to arrive in Billings, Montana, where we will visit Mt. Rushmore, carved by the Confederate stone carver Gutzon Borglum, who also carved Stone Mountain in Georgia. We also plan to swing by Sturgis, famed for biker-types and bare-chested women, although there will be nothing of a leud and licivious nature happening at that time. Just in case, though, I have my tatt design already drawn up: it's an angry parrot, sporting a "Ride or Die" helmet on his head and his wings on the handlebars of a Harley. Just need to get the magic markers. From there we enter Glacier National Park, where hopefully, there will still be a glacier to see. Sadness. But I digress... Next stop is Great Falls, Montana. I have never been to Montana but I can smell it from here. That's how I picture it, at least. The travel videos we've been viewing look very green, lush and scenty. I imagine it to smell like Acadia in Maine: all Christmassy, all the time. Lovely. Freezeout Lake is next, where we will also take in the Missouri River on our way to Bozeman and Galatin, where PW wants to do some river fishing and I'll cop a squat with my binocs, hoping for some new stars in my bird book. Stay tuned as we complete preparations and begin our trip to see our great big beautiful country!

I don't know about you, but the lens through which I view my life has been drastically transformed this past year. Before the pandemic, the things I worried about were not even marginally comparable: should we walk around the neighborhood in the morning, or save it for the evening? Ribs for dinner or barbecue? Which cute little North Carolina town shall we visit today? Banner Elk?, Blowing Rock?, Boone?, Brevard?, Bryson City? Or do we go really crazy insane and consider visiting a town that doesn't begin with B? The pandemic changed all that, and I imagine most of us are glad to leave 2020 in the rear view. But perhaps this is a good time to focus on that mirror, and try to find the positive, even if "positive" is a BAD WORD these days. The internet is gracious to give us the Top Ten Awful Things That Happened in 2020: Coronavirus, Australian Bushfires, Ukrainian Flight Crash, Death of Kobe Bryant, Lockdown in Italy, Postponement of the 2020 Summer Olympics, Taal Volcano Eruption, PIA Plane Crash, Taj Mahal Incident, the death of George Floyd...and those are just the "highlights." So in defiant retaliation, I offer you a list of a "Johnny Carson-esque" Top Ten Twenty-Twenty Warm Fuzzies from many different internet sources, in the hope that it uplifts you and reminds you that, as bad as 2020 was, there were some good, maybe even some great moments we can focus on as we reflect on the year we just closed out. 10: Drive-in movies made a comeback, and home-made movies became a family event, from scripting to filming to watching the finished project, with extended family members of all ages participating. 9: A ground swell of people sewed face masks for people who needed them. 8: Andre Bocelli held an beautiful, emotional concert on Easter Sunday in an empty Milan cathedral. 7: People bought books. And read them. 6: Board games returned. Families shared time with each other. 5: Our. Amazing. Doctors and Nurses. God love them and bless them all. 4: People...outdoors?? Say WHATT??? 3: Many families used the down-time to exercise, and no doubt felt physically and mentally better for it. 2: Our planet was given a well-deserved break from carbon emissions and ocean garbage. 1:We had our priorities rearranged. While I do not ever want another pandemic to descend on our planet, I am grateful for the reality check. It has thrown my happy little world into the diminsion of stark reality, reminding me that time is short. This observation makes the words of Mark Twain even more poignant: "The two most important days in your life are the day you are born and the day you find out why." We all can do a better job answering that second question. Twain knew something about the urgency of finding that "why." He was born two months early and was in poor health for the first 10 years of his life. His mother coddled him, which must have exasperated him enough to develop his mischievious streak. But "Mom" got the last laugh, though. When she was in her 80s, her son asked her if she had been uneasy about his poor health. She told him she was worried about him the whole time. Clemens asked her if she was afraid he wouldn't live. She said, "No. I was afraid you would." Now we know where he got his sense of humor. Would that we all were just as feisty, and all our mothers just as terrified. Perhaps that is the "gift" that 2020 has given us: a refocusing of our priorities so that we can fully appreciate those two important days in each of our lives, and share our reason for being here in a meaningful way.

When I was a college student some decades ago, I majored in English and minored in journalism. At that time the majority of American households received a newspaper. Radio and television news broadcasts were anchored by the likes of Dan Rather, Tom Brokaw, David Brinkley: men who seemed to me to be unbiased, honest and noble, and beyond reproach. Even in my childhood I recognized the journalistic weight that Walter Cronkite brought to the television screen. These news men and women of my formative years were professionals, dedicated to objective reporting. These days, however, anyone with a computer or smart phone can set forth their own agenda, including me. And it makes me wonder: are we better served? Is a podcaster or blogger even in the same league with the journalists of my youth? How do the major network news reporters of CNN, ABC, CBS, NBC,or Fox News measure up to the journalists of decades past? And perhaps more importantly, does a plethora of opinions translate to more insight, making it easier to compare and contrast and get to the truth quicker? Or are we just calling it a broad spectrum of views when, in fact, it is nothing more than an infinite number of personal agendas? Is the noise of so many voices actually leaving us with no real absolute truth? Is there even such a thing as absolute truth, if the backdrop is a corporation aimed at getting ratings to boost their ad sales? There is no getting away from a corporate bottom line. This is our system, and it is a good one. But it is far from perfect. And what I'm seeing now, in some news outlets, is frightening to me. There is a news outlet for every political leaning. Instead of newsmen and women offering us unbiased, (or at least balanced) recounts of the day's events, we, as consumers, seem to want our own personal version of the truth. Give me that, we demand, if you want me to watch. Skew it toward the other guy, and I'll turn the channel and buy what they're selling. I have always tried to be open-minded. I try to listen and learn from other people's perspectives, keenly aware that I don't know what I don't know, and what I don't know amounts to just about everything. There is always something to learn; I may not have thought about something the way you think of about it. The year we just closed out has tried to teach us that important lesson. It has showed us (more of) our weaknesses, and it has pointed us to improvements that can be made, if we are willing. America is nothing if not an evolving movement forward, of people from all walks of life, and points of view, and creeds and religions and every other kind of word that embodies diversity. I believe we still harbor the desire to understand each other on a personal and meaningful level. I believe we still want to find the common ground. This is what makes us special. This is what makes us strong. This is what makes us America. God bless. And Happy New Year.

In the interest of staying mentally and physically healthy during this damnpenic, as I like to call it (...shout out to all sisdecklicks...) I would like to provide you with a list of the Top Ten happiest, most encouraging, productive, and just down-right funny things I've collected through these weird and wacky times. Number Ten: Home improvement projects Since the pandemic arrived, PW and I have spent the months working on our log cabin in the woods. It's the perfect pandemic scenario: we have nothing but time to imagine, and then build, a cascading waterfall pond in the back yard, or stain the deck, or trim out the ceiling. It ain't all that fun, Not sexy, but these things do need to be done and the sooner we do it, the sooner we can start drinking at 5. Number Nine: Personal hygiene We have given ourselves the latitude to grown our hair out. For me, that means shoulder-length, tri-colored hair (the remanants of "Golden Honey" hair coloring) mixed with my naturally retreating Mousy Brown and Old Lady Gray. And if the color isn't bad enough, add in the creepy, ultra-fine hair that, as one hairdresser described it, and I quote, "literally crawls cross across my scalp." That is a true story. And I even kept going to him for years afterward. Number Eight: Movies. Movies. Movies. Movies. We watch movies we've seen before. We watch movies we haven't seen before. We watch movies about movies. We film our own movies. If we could watch them in reverse (like we used to do with home movies, laughing at Grandma walking backward till we peed our pants), we would do that too. Number Seven: Adult Beverages We drink. Like, a lot. Number Six: Edification I read a book! With pages, and words and shit. Number Five: Religion We found a beautiful stone church to attend before the dampenic and were getting to know a few folks before the Recent Unpleasantness BUT we we have found great solace in watching the services on-line. It certainly isn't a substitute for hugs and handshakes, but it will have to do for now. And it has given us a new appreciation for face-to-face interaction. Number Four: Family We have visited with relatives we haven't seen in a while. My mother is in an independent living community near by, and we see her several times a week. We have seen my husband's family more this year than ever, and we have a new appreciation for how precious time is. My sister comes to see us, and brings a child or two. This makes me very happy. Number Three: Animals I have always had a special place in my heart for wildlife, but since we have been here full time, we value their presence even more. There is something quite extraordinary about tossing a chipmonk a walnut and watching him stuff it into his chubby cheek and racing off, tail at full staff, back to his burrow. We have seen black bears, deer, turkeys, all manner of birds, groundhogs, just to name a few. The pandemic has given us the gift of slowing down, so that we can take the time to see the beauty that has always been here. Number Two: Writing Not blogging, or developing a story line for a book or play, but LETTER WRITING. You know, like on stationery, with a stamp on the envelope. And Number One: Holding hands Just because we can. The Damn Penic of 2020 is not something I would want to revisit, but I am grateful for the experience, and for my loved ones being spared. If we can find anything positive through this rough time, I think it would be that 2020 gave us the gift of sight: to be able to see what really is important, and what is not.