Little Gifts

We stayed home this memorial weekend. When you’re retired it doesn’t make sense to leave home when the rest of the population is traveling. It’s difficult to be a recluse when on the road with millions of people.

Yesterday we did yard work. Like adventurers slicing our way through the jungle, we pulled the weeds and overgrown branches from the flower bed that is just outside our bedroom window. While we were pulling and chopping the birds made loud comments from the brush where the lawn falls off to the river below. We discovered a small nest under a bush with more than a dozen tiny eggs. The mother was gone, but we were pretty sure that she was the one making such a racket in the bushes at the edge of the lawn. We made a canopy over the nest with the branches that we had cut and moved on to another project. My husband commented that since we had disturbed the nest, the quail would probably abandon it.


This morning I could hear quail babbling in the backyard and I wondered if the mother had returned to the nest. I found her all fluffed up over her eggs. As I moved my finger to take her photo, she flew away. I snapped a quick picture of the eggs and retreated to the house. I won’t be disturbing her nest again. It will be so good to have little ones around the house again!

Life is good.

Sarah Can Hear Again

I am a member of the Hermiston Lions. In fact, I am the chair of the Sight and Hearing Committee. The Lions focus in community service is sight and hearing. The majority of the money our club raises goes to community members who need assistance in paying for eyeglasses or hearing aids. With the down turn in the economy we have had an increase in applications for assistance. Just this past week we exhausted our budget for financial assistance until we raise additional funds.


Last week I listened to my answering machine and found a message from a 70+ year old woman, Sarah, who had applied for assistance from the Lion’s Foundation to get hearing aids. The foundation refurbishes donated hearing aids and provides them free-of-charge to candidates who have been referred by a local Lions Club. The local club provides funding for the applicant to get hearing testing and fitting of the aids.

Sarah said “Thank you, thank you so much. I can hear again. Thank you for once again allowing me to be who I am. I can hear again. Thank you.”

I could hear the tears in her voice.

There are some frustrations in administering a charitable fund. I’ve had applicants argue with me because they wanted more money than our club allows. Some applications contain untruthful information. People get angry if we can’t fund their application or if they don’t meet the guidelines for eligibility. I rarely hear back from the people we have helped.

Sarah was an exception. Her message made my day and reminded me that one small action can change a life. I am grateful for the opportunity to help.

Eastern Oregon Afternoon Storm

There was a weather alert this afternoon about 5:00 that warned of severe thunderstorms and hail.  We moved the cars into the garage and shop and got everything under cover.  Off to the west we could see a wall of black clouds moving toward us.  Within minutes the rain was pouring down, and just as quickly it was over.  The main part of the storm had missed us and we avoided the "hail the size of quarters" that fell in neighboring communities.  As the storm moved on the black clouds became a backdrop in the eastern sky to a rainbow.  Golden light illuminated the backyard.  It was a moment of natural beauty...  it's easy to be grateful when the storm passes and there's a rainbow!

Spring Silences

Our weather is finally turning. Spring is a beautiful time in eastern Oregon, but in Hermiston we get fierce spring winds. Today brought bright sun, vivid blue skies and no wind.  I love a hot day with just enough breeze to keep the bugs off. I ride my bike down the lane to the mailbox and revel in the warm wind floating over my body.


The neighborhood is quiet this time of year. Kids are still in school and their parents are at work. It’s only us retired people puttering around the neighborhood. On my bike I can sneak by the quail and pheasants without disturbing their routine. The neighborhood is serene and I can hear the birds, mostly the annoying magpies, twittering in the trees. The sun is on my back and the balmy breeze washes over me as I pedal around my kingdom. It doesn’t get much better than this.

Life is good.

Two-Year Anniversary

Today we celebrated the two year anniversary since my husband’s heart attack. We had a dinner of heart healthy salmon. A heart attack is a big wake up call. It makes you stop and pay attention. My husband was one of those people who never needed to visit a doctor. Other than an occasional cold, he was never ill. He was physically active and weighed the same that he did in high school. He was probably still wearing some of the same clothes! He was about to turn 60 years old and he smoked.


Late morning the day of the heart attack Paul loaded up his boat and headed off to fish in the Columbia River, a short two miles from our house. Alone in the boat on the river, he started to feel ill. He thought he had indigestion and he drank a soda to settle his stomach. When he didn’t feel any better, he headed back to shore and loaded up the boat to drive home. Two blocks from the boat ramp he blacked out behind the wheel of the pickup and drove into a utility pole. He knocked out power to an apartment complex and the loud bang brought a crowd of people to his assistance. Someone called 9-1-1 and a bystander found his cell phone and called me.

I could hear the sirens in the background of the phone call. The caller told me he had been in an accident but was conscious, was dripping with sweat, and was being taken to the local hospital.

I found out the details later. The police were the first official responders and they thought he had been drinking. The police officer kept asking him “How much have you had to drink?” and not accepting that he had not been drinking. There were two unopened bottles of beer in his cooler, along with another can of soda and bottled water.

When the paramedics arrived at the scene they knew right away that it was a heart attack. They wasted no time in getting him to the hospital. I beat them to the hospital by a few minutes. His EKG was transmitted to a cardiologist at the regional trauma center. He received the miracle clot busting drug and was loaded back on the ambulance for the 30 minute drive to the regional center. The ambulance driver told me to meet them at the hospital but not to try and keep up with them. “We’ll be driving with lights,” he told me. It was only much later that I realized he meant the flashing ambulance lights.

I got to the second hospital as they were running with him on a gurney down the hall to the operating room. The surgeon stopped at the door to the operating room and told us to say our good-bys.

Paul received two stents. He was conscious during the procedure and told me later that it was immediate relief when the blockage was finally cleared. The pain stopped immediately.

It seems strange to say, but the best thing that happened to him that day was that he ran into a utility pole. If he had stayed out on the river, he might not have made it to shore alive. If he had driven home he would have crawled into bed to take a nap and I would have found him dead. Hitting the pole assured that got the professional attention that he needed to live. The paramedics immediately recognized the signs of a heart attack and got him where he needed to be. Although it was late afternoon on a Saturday, the cardiologist happened to be in the hospital when the call from our local hospital came in. He stayed and waited for the ambulance to arrive. They got to the operating room within the golden hour.

We have much to be grateful for. Two years later Paul has made a complete recovery. He quit smoking and has made significant changes to his diet. We rarely eat red meat anymore. He’s not as good as he should be about exercising, but we definitely are living a healthier lifestyle.

We have much to be grateful for, but time tends to dull the memories and we forget some of those lessons that were learned the hard way. It’s good to celebrate these anniversaries and remember how close we came to a different ending.

Life is good and we are grateful.

The Story Where Everyone Hates Nana

I’ve written frequently in my blog about my granddaughters. Being their Nana is one of the joys of my life. I’ve written about the cute things that they say and our adventures when I visit them in Austin, Texas. I just returned from my latest visit where I attended the wedding of my son-in-law’s sister.


The granddaughters were the flower girls in their aunt’s wedding. They had beautiful dresses and wreaths of flowers in their long blond hair. They were picture perfect. They each carried a basket of petals down the long aisle and only remembered to throw them when they reached the alter.

My job at the wedding was flower girl wrangler. I managed to get them bathed and to the church on time and keep them clean and out of the baptismal font before the start of the ceremony. (Although later we wondered if we should have let Hunter take a dip to drive the demons out.) From my seat in the fourth row I watched them walk slowly down the aisle and whispered to them as they passed me “Throw the flowers, throw the flowers!”

At the reception they roamed with a small pack of children and I watched to make sure they didn’t get too wild. We enjoyed the buffet and they managed to finish the meal, complete with beverage, without a spill. They had been remarkably well-behaved throughout the event, but we knew not to push our luck. We had decided to take the children home after dinner, and after a long exciting day, get them to bed at their regular bedtime. Nana would stay with the kids and their parents could enjoy the drinks and dancing at the reception with their friends and family.

Implementation of the plan was going just fine until the girls realized that Mommy wasn’t with us in the car. Daddy, who hadn’t made even one visit to the open bar so he could drive us home, was in the driver’s seat, but Nana was sitting in Mommy’ s place. As we left the parking lot the wails started.

“I want my mommy!”

“I want my mom…mom….mom…eeeee!”

Calm explanations by Daddy and Nana were having no effect. It was obviously all Nana’s fault that Mommy was absent. Soon a new chant filled the car.

“I hate Nana.”

I hate Nana; I want my mom…mom…eeee.”

Two high pitched, wailing voices chanted the whole way home, “I hate Nannn……nnnnnna!”

At the house Hunter threw herself on the floor screaming for her mother. Picture a red-faced cherub in a pool of ivory organza with tears streaming down her face. Her sister kept up the chorus wailing “I hate Nana.”

I told my son in law to go. “They’ll be fine.” I said “They’re just tired.” And I crossed my fingers that it was true.

With one uncertain look back at me he left. Two minutes later I turned on a video of Cinderella, changed them into jammies, and fed them a snack. The wailing ceased and they snuggled with me on the couch to watch the movie. I called their parents to report that all was fine.

At 8:30 we were snug in bed reading bedtime stories. Hunter dozed off before we finished the second book. As I cuddled with Megan she said “I love you Nana.” And I resisted the urge to tell her “That’s not what you said earlier!”

That’s the thing about family. We aren’t always kind, but in the end we really do love each other.

I'm grateful for family...even the ones who hate me!

Good Reading, Good Writing

I attended a reading by my favorite author, David Sedaris, on Tuesday night. This is the second year that my daughter and I have heard him read in Austin, Texas. We’ve already made plans to attend again next year. It was such an enjoyable evening. He read several selections that were familiar from his books, but he also gave us a preview of his new book which will be published next October.


I especially enjoyed when he read selections from his diary. It gave me a glimpse into where he gets his inspiration for his writing. His ability to see the humor in everyday situations is a gift.

At last year’s performance he read an unfinished piece about airline travel. This year he read the completed story. I will never pass gas on the move again without thinking about “crop dusting.”

The following is a snippet from my favorite Sedaris book. Every time I read it I laugh out loud.

On my fifth trip to France I limited myself to the words and phrases that people actually use. From the dog owners I learned "Lie down," "Shut up," and "Who shit on this carpet?" The couple across the road taught me to ask questions correctly, and the grocer taught me to count. Things began to come together, and I went from speaking like an evil baby to speaking like a hillbilly. "Is thems the thoughts of cows?" I'd ask the butcher, pointing to the calves' brains displayed in the front window. "I want me some lamb chop with handles on 'em."

— David Sedaris (Me Talk Pretty One Day)

He signed my copy of Me Talk Pretty One Day on Tuesday.

Good writing, good reading…damn life is good!

Dancing for Miles and Miles

My hero, Oprah, is on a campaign to stop people from texting and using a cell phone while driving.  I have yet to figure out how the bluetooth works in my five-year-old car and I only know how to text one person, my friend Shawn.  Use of technology while driving isn't going to be a hard habit for me to break.  I'm hoping that Oprah won't get any more ideas for safe driving that would be more difficult for me to comply with.

Living in Eastern Oregon we're used to wide open spaces and nearly empty highways.  I grew up in Southern California and learned to drive in grid-lock.  I know how to dart in and out of traffic.  In Eastern Oregon  we do a lot of driving on long straight nearly empty highways.  It can be tricky in the winter when we have ice and snow, but most months we're driving in a straight line at speeds never seen in Southern California.

Today I drove north to Tri-Cities, Washington to do some shopping.  I was listening to NPR and found myself singing along with a snappy gospel song.  I'm not a regular church goer and gospel is not my usual musical genre, but it was a catchy tune and I couldn't resist.  I flipped the channel to a classic rock station and listened to "Beat It."  I couldn't help myself...I was singing and car dancing.  When they played Neil Young's "Rockin in the Free World,"  I turned the radio way up and sang along. I love those long stretches of open highway, good tunes, and no audience,

I hope Oprah doesn't get anymore safe driving ideas.  There's no way I want to give up car dancing and belting out show tunes.  I'm grateful for music.  Life is good.

Lions Roar for Easter - Only the Good Friday

I've been participating in the "Only the Good Friday" meme that was started at http://thiseclecticlife.com/only-the-good-friday
Below is my weekly contribution to the optimism virus sweeping the blogosphere.

The Hermiston Lion's Club held an Easter egg hunt last weekend.  For the past eight years the Lions have invited special needs children to hunt eggs in a local park.  I have been a Lion for three years and the Easter egg hunt is my favorite activity. 

The kids are greeted by students dressed as Peter Rabbit, Thumper, and, of course, a lion.  The children each have their pictures taken with Peter.  High school students volunteer to wear the costumes and they do a great job of encouraging the children to participate.  They patiently help the kids to adjust to the unfamiliar giant plush animals.

The Lions "hide" hundreds of eggs across the lawn and the kids find all of them in just a few minutes.  This hunt is designed for special needs students.  There are a limited number of participants and lots of eggs.  Even the child who needs to flap his arms and turn in circles three times before starting to hunt is assured of securing eggs before they are all claimed by other participants. 

One of our members brings a llama and an alpaca for the children to pet.  The kids all marvel over how soft the animals are.  They take turns feeding them and giggle as the alpaca's lips sweep across their palms seeking the offered feed.

It was a cold and windy spring morning in the park, but my heart was warmed watching the smiles on the children's faces. 

I am grateful for community organizations like the Lion's who make our communities good places to live.

Role Models

When my daughter was 7 or 8 she told me that she wanted to be a journalist "like Oprah or Connie Chung."  At the time I remember thinking how remarkable it was that this blond, blue eyed child had Chinese-American and African-American role models.  Her generation was fortunate to have strong female role models from many different ethnic and racial groups.  Although my daughter didn't grow up to be a journalist, she's a chemist,  those role models helped her become the accomplished woman that she is today.  She grew up knowing it was okay to be smart and that girls could be good at math and science.  Now she has two daughters of her own. 

My granddaughters  at 2 and 4 have yet to express any preferences for their future careers.  However, Hunter, the 2 year old, is convinced that she is a princess.  She insists on wearing "princess dresses" everyday.  Knowing how important it is that girls have self-esteem and are supported for their talents as well as their appearance, we are always quick to provide positive reinforcement to Hunter when she says "I bootiful." 

We respond "Yes, you are beautiful and smart too!" 

To which she replies "No, I bootiful.  I not 'telligent, I bootiful."

"Yes, Hunter.  You are both intelligent and beautiful." 

Where's an intellectual princess role model when you need one?

I am grateful for strong women who have led the struggle for equity.  My granddaughters have bright futures because of the work of many courageous women.

A Moment of Clarity on I-82 - Only the Good Friday

For several weeks I've been participating in the "Only the Good Friday" meme that was started at http://thiseclecticlife.com/only-the-good-friday/ Below is my weekly contribution to the optimism virus sweeping the blogosphere.

Is there a sixth sense that warns us of impending danger? I do know that there is an instant of clarity on the way to meeting destiny. The clarity of vision appeared in slow motion, the future was seen and the outcome was immediately known. It happened to me several years ago on I-82.

The sky was blue, the pavement dry and straight and I was headed west to Portland at speed. As I passed under the overpass at Three Mile Canyon I saw the twisted metal bar in the road and I knew, in that instant, that I was in trouble. The loud bang and the shudder of the steering wheel confirmed my premonition. I hit the brakes and muscled the car to the side of the road. My left front tire sported a six-inch gaping hole and I was in the middle of nowhere.  It may be an interstate highway, but in eastern Oregon the traffic is sparse and I was 10 miles from Boardman and the nearest service station.

Like McIver I quickly assessed my resources.  I had neglected to pack a Swiss army knife or, what would have been even more useful, a cell phone.  Fortunately I had the owner's manual. I put my skills to the test and, following the pictures, I managed to locate the spare tire and the jack. I had to read the page several times to figure out how to get them out of the trunk. I then turned to page 118, Changing a Tire. The first step was to block the car’s tires and this was easily accomplished. The second step was to loosen the lug nuts…that’s when I shifted to Plan B…get help.

I left the tire and jack by the side of the car and started walking to a warehouse that I could see in the distance. As I reached the freeway on ramp at the opposite side of the freeway, a woman stopped and asked me if I needed assistance. She drove me to a nearby farm and introduced me to Juan, the farm mechanic.

Juan loaded a big jack from the shop in the back of a farm pickup. I jumped in the cab and we headed back to the freeway,  As we approached the Three Mile Canyon east-bound exit, my car was visible across the freeway. I couldn’t see the spare tire. “Oh no,” I said to Juan “I can’t see my spare tire. I left it propped up by the flat.” The tire was gone.

Juan drove over the overpass and on to the westbound ramp so we could get to my car. As I got closer I could see that the trunk was closed. I had left it open. Sure enough, there was no tire by the side of the car and the jack wasn’t there either.

A stranger had come across my car abandoned by the roadside and seen my dilemma. This stranger changed my tire. Put the flat and the jack away and closed the trunk. No note, no business card, no clues as to who my rescuer was.

I’ve read about random acts of kindness. This was the first time I experienced it. It’s one of the reasons I love Eastern Oregon.

Life is good in rural America!

Peeps for Only the Good Friday

For several weeks I've been participating in the "Only the Good Friday" meme that was started at http://thiseclecticlife.com/only-the-good-friday/  Below is my weekly contribution to the optimism virus sweeping the blogosphere.

Spring is finally here. We had a little rain today, but this week we’ve also had sunshine and cloudless skies. Although my tulips and daffodils haven’t bloomed yet, around town I’ve spotted trees in flower and patches of yellow blossoms in the sunny spots. The quail were in the yard this morning. There are more than a dozen from the last summer hatch. Our pheasant wandered across the lawn a little later. There was no sign of his hen. I hope that she is busy sitting on eggs. I love the hopefulness of spring. It is a time of rebirth and renewal. Everything is new again and the future is bright.

Easter is just around the corner. Today I picked up little Easter treats to send to my grandchildren. I will miss being there to see them search for eggs. I will include a package of yellow peeps in their parcel. I don’t remember when it started, but every year my children looked forward to gathering around the microwave and watching a peep get nuked. The peep grows to several times its original size. My daughter carries on this silly tradition with my grandchildren.

I am grateful for spring blossoms and the almost forgotten feel of sunshine on my face. I am thankful for all that spring brings including those gigantic nuked peeps…and making memories.

Life is good.

A Special Birthday-Only the Good Friday

For several weeks I've been participating in the "Only the Good Friday" meme that was started at http://thiseclecticlife.com/2010/03/19/the-best-thing-about-a-carnival/  Below is my weekly contribution to the optimism virus sweeping the blogosphere.

I substituted in the life skills classroom at the high school on Friday. It is always a challenging but enjoyable experience. It was one student’s 17th birthday and part of the morning lesson was to bake a cake so we could celebrate in the afternoon. (And if you’ve ever tried baking with a group of special needs kids, you know what an exciting teaching experience I had.) The birthday student basked in all of the attention and announced to everyone who came in the classroom “Today is my birfday. We’re having cake!” We heard about the cake all day.

After lunch two high school students who serve as student assistants came to the classroom. As the girls entered the room the birthday student announced “Today is my birfday. We’re having cake!” They told her that they knew it was her birthday and they gave her a bright pink gift bag. I don’t know who was smiling more, the birthday girl or the two student aides. The birthday girl tore into the bag and discovered a princess birthday crown, a princess wand and princess jewelry. For the rest of the day the student announced to everyone who walked in the room “Today is my birfday. I got a princess gift.” And then we ate the cake.

Two caring students reaching out to brighten the day of a special needs students…it gives one hope for the future. Life really is good.

Laughter

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Is there anything better than hearing a child laugh?

It brings a smile to my face just thinking about my granddaughters' laughs...not giggles, but those high pitched, full-out chuckles that come from deep within. Their squeals as they fly down the slide at the park is the sound of innocence and joy. It is pleasure in it's purest form.

All is good with the world when the children are laughing.

Only the Good 'ventures With Nana

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When your children are small people give you lots of advice. I don’t know how many times I heard “They grow up so fast. Enjoy them when they’re little.” I remember that when I was mired in the toddler stage, it seemed like it would never end. I think I was sleep deprived for years. And then they were graduating and heading off to college. Now I’m a grandparent to two beautiful little girls. I learned my lesson…they do grow up fast. I’m enjoying them as often as I can. Unfortunately, they live in Austin, Texas and I live in Oregon. I’m leaving this morning to visit them.

Every time I visit we do the same things. We will walk to the park and Nana will push them on the swings. I will read lots and lots of books, mostly about princesses. We will go shopping (Megan will wear her “shopping shoes”) and Nana will indulge them with just about everything they ask for. They like to go on adventures with Nana, or what Hunter calls “ventures.” They really enjoyed the “venture” to the Blue Hanger Goodwill. The Blue Hanger is a Goodwill outlet store…who knew that Goodwill had an outlet? It was an adventure for both me and the girls. There were very interesting people and piles and piles of stuff. We came away with a wedding dress for dress up, a straw hat, and a pink feather pen that lit up.

They grow up so fast. I am so lucky to be retired and able to visit whenever there are less expensive airfares. We’ll be making memories this weekend.

Life is good.

Saturday Shopping with Shawn

On Saturday my friend Shawn and I went shopping in Tri-Cities, Washington. Sometimes a girl needs more than Wal-mart to quench a lust for shopping!
Tri-Cities is a quick 30 minutes away and, unlike Hermiston, has major retailers. Macy’s was having one of those One-Day Sales that actually started the day before. They have these sales several times a month and Shawn and I can usually be counted on to participate at least once, especially if they’ve sent us a selection of “Star Rewards” coupons!

I had nothing on my shopping list. Retirement calls for a much more casual wardrobe and since my clothes fill both walk-in closets in our two spare bedrooms, I probably already have the right outfit for just about any event. ..and the shoes and the perfect purse. My plan was to shop for Shawn.

But it was a GOOD sale! Shawn was no help in my quest to live on a fixed income. She found a cute zebra print jacket that was just my style and it was an additional 40% off (plus my “Star Rewards” coupon!) And there was a short wool jacket in a black, white and red subtle plaid. It was a perfect fit, but a lot like one I already have in my closet. A stranger in the dressing room agreed with Shawn that I had to buy it. The expensive green sweater was 50% off, but still costly. It had great texture and a unique style, so it went in the buy pile. We hauled our loot to the cash register. The nice thing about Macy’s is that they hold our purchases for us to pick up later so we could continue shopping.

We had to continue shopping because Shawn convinced me I needed red flats to go with that plaid jacket. So much for living on a fixed income.

In the car on the way home, the trunk bulging with our purchases, we congratulated ourselves on our shopping expertise. Everything we bought was on sale. We are good shoppers. Shawn says her epitaph will read “She never paid retail.”

What a great day! Hunting for bargains, laughing, talking and having fun, and at the end of the day I’ve got a cute new zebra print jacket and shiny red shoes. I am grateful for a good friend and great sales!  Life is good, even on a fixed income.

The Sound of Science

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Last week my son-in-law had surgery to restore his hearing. Four years ago he was diagnosed with a brain tumor. We were fortunate that the tumor was operable and benign. A month before the birth of his first child he underwent brain surgery. In the process the hearing in his right ear was destroyed.

Being deaf in one ear turned out to be a bonus with a newborn in the house. Jason could bury his good ear in the pillow and go to sleep with the squawking baby. The down side was that he no longer had stereo hearing. He had lost the ability to tell the direction from where sounds were coming. It was sometimes difficult for him to hear when his good ear wasn’t facing the conversation. He was well aware of these consequences when he had the surgery. We were all grateful that he survived with minimal consequences.
Last week’s surgery will restore his hearing in his deaf ear. A device was implanted in his head that will use his skull to transmit sound waves and bypass his damaged inner ear.

My understanding is that the actual device will attach to this port that is embedded in his skull.  He has to wait at least six weeks for the port to firmly attach to his skull.  Stay tuned and I will post updates of his progress. 

As a kid I remember watching the 6 Million Dollar Man and the Bionic Woman. I never thought I would have a bionic man in my family! I continue to be amazed at scientific advances. How lucky we are to live in a country where these advances are available. It really is "Better Living Through Science." I’m grateful for the scientific and medical discoveries that will improve the quality of life for my family.

Life is both good and amazing!

Formal Friday

I was called this morning to substitute at the high school for half a day.  Half a day!  I'm not getting out of bed to be paid for half a day; it's not worth the effort.  I declined the job and went back to sleep for another half an hour.  The phone rang again and I was offered a full day subbing in photography.  What a fun day.  The kids were working in an area that they enjoy and they were all engaged and on task. You hear a lot of criticism about today's teenagers, but the majority of them are caring and hard working.  I enjoy talking with them and I learn something new everytime I sub. 

Tomorrow is Friday and a group of kids at the high school participate in Formal Friday.  I had noticed one student who is always dressed in a suit and tie and carries a briefcase...he stands out in the crowd of jeans, t-shirts, and backpacks!  He started a movement to dress up on Friday's.  Now quite a few kids participate.  I wonder if I'll get called to sub tomorrow?  I'll need to shave my legs so I can wear a dress and high heels...it's Formal Friday.  Life is fun!

Just Over The Horizon

I grew up in the late ‘50’s and ‘60’s in Southern California. Our house, on a hillside overlooking the San Fernando Valley, was surrounded by lemon groves until 1958 when developers ripped out the trees and built cookie cutter houses all around us. Almost overnight we had sidewalks and neighbors and one lone tree left standing in our front yard.

On a very clear day we could see the thin band of blue of the Pacific Ocean on the horizon. In the 1950’s pollution alerts were still in the future. The air was clear and warm and kids played outside unsupervised all day long and sometimes late into the evening.

We rarely travelled far from the neighborhood. Family outings were uncommon. Mom, Dad and little brother in the front seat, my brother Leigh and I in the back seat. In those days before seatbelts, my brother and I were welded to the plastic in the back seat by the heat. The only air conditioning was the air blowing in the rolled down windows. With the radio tuned to KHJ we headed through the winding canyon road to the beach. There was a long tunnel cut into the hillside and we begged our father to honk the horn as we drove into the darkness. We emerged again into the bright sunshine and around every turn we quickly scanned the horizon for the first sighting of the ocean. As we came to a rise in the roadway we anticipated the ocean on the other side. My brother and I bickered about who spied the ocean first until my mother would finally turn around and demand that we stop…and we would, for awhile.

I still think of those drives to the beach with my family. Although I live hundreds of miles from the ocean, when I find myself approaching the crest of a hill there’s a little flutter of anticipation and I almost expect to see the ocean on the other side reaching to the horizon. It’s a memory of the pleasure of anticipation. Sometimes it’s the journey not the destination that makes the trip.

I'm enjoying the journey.  Life is good.

Too Much Information?

The danger of this medium is that I become so comfortable sharing my thoughts, opinions, insights and foibles that I cross the line into recklessness. How much is too much information? The gift of retirement is that I am past the point that anyone will be vetting me for appointment to the Supreme Court or even for the position of greeter at Wal-Mart. I continue to be surprised at what other bloggers share on their sites. I don’t think I will ever totally lower my filter…and I wonder if my writing is any less powerful because of this decision? On the other hand, isn’t it awfully self-important of me to think that anyone even cares what I write about?

My brother read my blogs for the first time yesterday and agreed with my perspective that seeking out the positive helps with the path to happiness. He shared with me that his wife has a routine in her daily short drive back and forth to work to think of something that she is grateful for. He is convinced that this gives her the opportunity to think of him twice a day! That was one of my moments of delight for the day. I am grateful to have a brother with a sense of humor. We share an outlook on life that I don’t see in lot of other people. I could bemoan that he lives so far away, or that we rarely see each other, but it is better to celebrate that he is there for me and he gets me and when we get together it is a laugh fest. I think it’s time to make a trip to San Diego.

Shared memories, funny people, family…life is good.