10:30 AM CST. Four cups of coffee. I watched Charles Osgood play an old song on the piano, wearing a bowtie printed with jonquils. I read another chapter of Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver, the one where she shares the coming of spring in their new mountain home, and the "TRANQUILS" that her daughter saw in the garden. I planted, this morning, the hen-and-chicks that the Ettrick bread-angels brought last night when they picked up this week's shipment -- bound for Barron and Bloomer, via the children who are coming home for the holiday. It took me more than fifteen minutes to figure out what to wear to an Easter dinner with the in-laws: the closet is still filled with the blacks & browns of winter, and the winter butt requires me to eliminate a few spring-like skirts, and it's 60 degrees now but predicted to hit 40 degrees by dark.... Hoppy Easter! The sun is shining, and Hubby just bought his fishing license. Spring is truly sprung......... ok, maybe we'll get a little more snow..... this is Wisconsin, after all!
I shall not share here the musings on the meaning of the religious "EASTER" that have flitted through my mind: too much like preparing for the Chapter 13 lecture! But I shall say this:
When we had young children at home, and Easter baskets, and an Easter dinner, it was a different sort of day. Oh, my! And, many of the years, the snow was still piled deep in the places where the snowblower had thrown it for the winter's six months, and crocuses tried their inspiration darnedest to put their colorful heads out where we could spy them, contrasting with wet dark leaf piles or dirty icy snow scraps. I remember the year that River ate the eldest child's Easter candy; and the year that I set up an Easter egg hunt in the house and found the last few about July, covered in ants that trooped in through the cracks in the window frame; and the annual whining from Hubby about green plastic Easter basket grass that clogged the vacuum for months (years?). I remember a driveway covered in "art" drawn with Easter gift chalk, books never read, school supplies lost in a drawer, and discussions about whether or not one should or should not eat the chocolate bunny's ears first.
Gotta go!
Sunday, April 8, 2012
Friday, April 6, 2012
April 6th: "Good" Friday and a good FRIDAY (TGIF!)
Good morning! It is a beautiful day in my neighborhood! No school bus went by the house today so both the dog and me slept in. Today's plan: clean my office, watch a movie and do the ironing, catch up on grading and recording students' efforts............
An email from Dad was in the inbox this morning, and I pasted here the redacted version plus my reply. I am old and I fear for my country. There are voices of reason -- this is one I've heard -- (http://www.theatlantic.com/politics/archive/2012/04/stop-romanticizing-the-tea-party-movement/255530/), but they seem to be tiny voices, poor people's voices, veiled voices, and an echo in a vaccuum (can that exist?).
On the other hand (a sunny day breeds optimism), our country has been in a philosophical pickle before, and survived. According to Marx, conflict will result in resolution, and the new society will look very different from the old stratified and segregated version; so what's coming? I am old and eager to see (parts of) the future!
You see, it's never the environment; it's never the events of our lives, but the meaning we attach to the events - how we interpret them - that shapes who we are today and who we'll become tomorrow. Tony Robbins
Dear Anne --
My classmate, from kindergarten through 2 years at UW-- was defeated in Tuesday's election. The Tea-Party is in the small towns of our nation.
Dad
from the classmate, aka "Ex-mayor" ---
Friends--
You may now refer to me as ex-mayor (not a lot of pizzaz in that title). I got beat 935-921 in a race featuring the Wisconsin primary contest between Romney, et al. Even local politics has become partisan. My opponent [is] a very nice guy married to J ---, [and] was the benefactor of the conservative vote. I knew the situation was going to be a problem for me, but I did not respond well. I was over confident, thinking I would win anyway. Bad mistake. My closest advisors and political friends shared my optimism. My opponent did not work hard, had few signs, was very low key, did not in all our common appearances appear to think he had a chance (was he more clever than I thought?). So I responded in kind-- about the same no. of signs, no real extra effort on my part. Result: a loss.
Lesson learned: work harder, a maxim that will serve me well in my 80's. (:
I loved being mayor!
I replied to Dad:
Dad --
I am saddened… and [the] last sentence is the epitome of the citizen-politician! Rumors are flying that the Republicans [here] will put fake Democrats in the recall primary. I just finished a week of lecturing on Chapter 11:Politics and Economic systems, in sociology – we create social institutions like “governments” to serve our society, yet the people we have been elected have lost sight of their purpose and become maniacal and egotistical, and detached. [Hubby] and I watch waaaay too much politics, plus we both listen to NPR – when I see the blank “YahdahYahdah” faces on too many of students, I understand why the Tea Party, as unofficial as it is, has gained so much traction: “Tell me what to think” say our voting adults, and the Tea Party candidates oblige.
Annie
An email from Dad was in the inbox this morning, and I pasted here the redacted version plus my reply. I am old and I fear for my country. There are voices of reason -- this is one I've heard -- (http://www.theatlantic.com/politics/archive/2012/04/stop-romanticizing-the-tea-party-movement/255530/), but they seem to be tiny voices, poor people's voices, veiled voices, and an echo in a vaccuum (can that exist?).
On the other hand (a sunny day breeds optimism), our country has been in a philosophical pickle before, and survived. According to Marx, conflict will result in resolution, and the new society will look very different from the old stratified and segregated version; so what's coming? I am old and eager to see (parts of) the future!
You see, it's never the environment; it's never the events of our lives, but the meaning we attach to the events - how we interpret them - that shapes who we are today and who we'll become tomorrow. Tony Robbins
Dear Anne --
My classmate, from kindergarten through 2 years at UW-- was defeated in Tuesday's election. The Tea-Party is in the small towns of our nation.
Dad
from the classmate, aka "Ex-mayor" ---
Friends--
You may now refer to me as ex-mayor (not a lot of pizzaz in that title). I got beat 935-921 in a race featuring the Wisconsin primary contest between Romney, et al. Even local politics has become partisan. My opponent [is] a very nice guy married to J ---, [and] was the benefactor of the conservative vote. I knew the situation was going to be a problem for me, but I did not respond well. I was over confident, thinking I would win anyway. Bad mistake. My closest advisors and political friends shared my optimism. My opponent did not work hard, had few signs, was very low key, did not in all our common appearances appear to think he had a chance (was he more clever than I thought?). So I responded in kind-- about the same no. of signs, no real extra effort on my part. Result: a loss.
Lesson learned: work harder, a maxim that will serve me well in my 80's. (:
I loved being mayor!
I replied to Dad:
Dad --
I am saddened… and [the] last sentence is the epitome of the citizen-politician! Rumors are flying that the Republicans [here] will put fake Democrats in the recall primary. I just finished a week of lecturing on Chapter 11:Politics and Economic systems, in sociology – we create social institutions like “governments” to serve our society, yet the people we have been elected have lost sight of their purpose and become maniacal and egotistical, and detached. [Hubby] and I watch waaaay too much politics, plus we both listen to NPR – when I see the blank “YahdahYahdah” faces on too many of students, I understand why the Tea Party, as unofficial as it is, has gained so much traction: “Tell me what to think” say our voting adults, and the Tea Party candidates oblige.
Annie
Thursday, April 5, 2012
April 5th... missed a day
I missed yesterday's opportunity to share something about my life.... I'm reading Farley Mowat's Never Cry Wolf (again), laughing out loud (again) at his rye and ribald humor. I am struck, too, with new awareness, that he is speaking of himself as a very young man, from the lifestage of being an older man. How much can we see -- and understand -- when we look back at our lives? I guess that is part of what I want to do this year.
Today, however, and right now, I look forward: another chick is leaving the nest ---- with my car. She's got riders to share the price of gas, and doesn't even know them except as email communiques. She's going to three big cities in the state, to re-connect with friends who are, as my BFF is for me, both mirrors and cheering squads. I can't worry about the chick: what will happen, will happen; chances are that nothing will happen other than a dose of self-confidance. So, instead I'll worry a little bit about my car.
Today, however, and right now, I look forward: another chick is leaving the nest ---- with my car. She's got riders to share the price of gas, and doesn't even know them except as email communiques. She's going to three big cities in the state, to re-connect with friends who are, as my BFF is for me, both mirrors and cheering squads. I can't worry about the chick: what will happen, will happen; chances are that nothing will happen other than a dose of self-confidance. So, instead I'll worry a little bit about my car.
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
Dancing.... with famous people.... on television....
April 3rd. Tuesday is a day of driving (which means, lots of public radio!!!), and today includes voting. I haven't decided who to vote for, so I'll give my mind the day to sort it out, and then share. In the meantime, I received an email-forward yesterday from Cousin Kim -- who is just one day older than me!! -- and, though I don't watch the show called Dancing with the Stars, the 4-M's Theory of Happiness sounds like a good idea............
1. Mindset -- The professionals and the guest stars of the show report that they consciously and consistently choose thoughts and feelings of optimism, positivity, gratitude, and appreciation. They know that a high-energy mindset translates into a great performance.
2. Meaning -- The dancers feel inspired by what they are doing. They're focused on something that is purposeful and meaningful to them. They always speak about the joy that they experience being on the show.
3. Movement -- Moving the body is good medicine. It produces big doses of happiness chemicals, and counteracts the stress chemicals that produce doubt, fear, and insecurity.
4. Membership -- All the dancers and all of the watchers are part of a like-hearted group: we feel connected to others, having a good relationship, and experiencing a sense of belonging -- all of which are fundamental to living in a state of happiness.
The email writer, "Marci," suggests that we USE the 4 M's:
A)Check out our mindsets and schedule THANK YOU moments during the day,
B)Complete this sentence: "My life feels meaningful when I __________," and then actually DO the activity in the sentence,
C) Stand up and stretch -- now, dance a little, get some outside fresh air, shake your bootie (OK, I said that part)
D) Connect with people who share your values, volunteer, join a group, take a class.
And, "Marci" says you can find her on Facebook! (one more thing to do on my list).
1. Mindset -- The professionals and the guest stars of the show report that they consciously and consistently choose thoughts and feelings of optimism, positivity, gratitude, and appreciation. They know that a high-energy mindset translates into a great performance.
2. Meaning -- The dancers feel inspired by what they are doing. They're focused on something that is purposeful and meaningful to them. They always speak about the joy that they experience being on the show.
3. Movement -- Moving the body is good medicine. It produces big doses of happiness chemicals, and counteracts the stress chemicals that produce doubt, fear, and insecurity.
4. Membership -- All the dancers and all of the watchers are part of a like-hearted group: we feel connected to others, having a good relationship, and experiencing a sense of belonging -- all of which are fundamental to living in a state of happiness.
The email writer, "Marci," suggests that we USE the 4 M's:
A)Check out our mindsets and schedule THANK YOU moments during the day,
B)Complete this sentence: "My life feels meaningful when I __________," and then actually DO the activity in the sentence,
C) Stand up and stretch -- now, dance a little, get some outside fresh air, shake your bootie (OK, I said that part)
D) Connect with people who share your values, volunteer, join a group, take a class.
And, "Marci" says you can find her on Facebook! (one more thing to do on my list).
Monday, April 2, 2012
April 2nd 2012 -- I'm still 52 years old
This was a work day: I sat at my desk for more than half of my waking hours. If it wasn't for Mitt and Ann Romney calling, I might not have stood up and moved until Hubby got home! Dog and Hubby and I worked in the yard for about two hours, cleaning up the willow's weeping, the proof that Maximilian sunflowers are prolific, and discovering two plum babies worth saving, three asparagus, three quince in leaf, four currants, and leaves on the Manchurian apricot and the pear trees. Lovely day (partial day) in the sun, committing purposeful work that burns calories. Dinner was chops on the Christmas gift grill and another steam-in-the-bag (love those!). Now, back to work until my favorite t.v. shows come on.
This was a normal day. A workaholic's day. A regular (this semester) Monday. A day when I think outside of "me" and think about "me" as a purveyor of truths and questions to ponder. When the piles of ungraded papers get high enough to topple, I ask myself -- quick, before the students ask! -- what is the purpose? And then I grade some of those papers and realize what students MAY learn from the homework: to read the directions, to follow a rubric, to read critically and for meaning. It's not the points -- though you can't convince them of that! -- it's the action, the purpose, the implicit message of homework: do your best. I hope students discover their own personal best! W. Edwards Deming wrote and lectured about a person's perception of intrinsic quality, and William Glasser took the idea into the schools. How do you teach a student about his or her own personal best? How do you say, with the teacher's red pen, that this is good, and that is, like, lame-o? What sort of homework makes a student excited, engaged, and contemplative, about self, talents, goals, and a sense of one's own "best" work? This was a normal day: I asked the questions and found few answers. I am a plugger!!
I cannot reach my toes.
In the photo, Dad, brother, Grandmother (never "Grandma" and "G.G." to my children), me about age 9, Mom. I can't tell where we are.... I have great legs! A tomboy's legs. Nice shoes! And dig that jacket on Mom! Retro rules: fashions always come back. I may never again, however, wear a dress that short.
Sunday, April 1, 2012
April 1, 2012
Today is the day after my birthday. I'm 52 years old. I spent my birthday with my BFF in our usual pursuits: breakfast, plants & planting toys (aka tools), and junking -- and I came home with a tropical, green & red plant that I don't know the name of, and two new pots, and three books, and some rose-scented soaps. Today somehow got a little bit lost, and only now, at 10:00 pm, am I starting on the Do-List! I read, and took a nap, ate two meals, updated the flowers in the bathroom (lilacs about to pop and a pink tulip), did the laundry, took the daughter back to her college dorm, explored the bushes for sale (on sale!!!) at Shopko.....
I'm feeling a bit melancholy. Reading Wallace Stegner's The Spectator Bird will do that to an old lady. Though his character is in his seventies, the litany of sore joints, aching muscles, and worry are beacons and heralds. As Mr. Fuget in The Forgetting (PBS) says, "The future is not someplace I'm rushing to get to." I speak to my students, often and with deliberate exaggeration, that I am old; and so I am, in contrast to their 18-year old attitudes and fashions, hobbies and biorhythms. But I'm not as old as Joe Allston, or as old as Mr. Fuget. And I should stop -- in my own best interest -- thinking like that!
I do feel that a certain amount of "Now or never!" and "If not now, when?" and so I have made some resolutions. I avoid New Year's resolutions -- they are guaranteed to fail, based on past history. Birthdays are a better date for looking backward and forward, and assessing the damages and the possibilities. I look forward to my March 31st birthday with a little girl's glee, anticipating fun and cake and presents! And I look back at the day with reminiscence, nostalgia, and reflection. Each year, looking backward on April 1st, I seek to learn from myself what I am supposed to be doing in the next year.
My husband told me once that he schlepps through life. Apparently, I schlepp, too, and I look back at the schlepping with guilt for all those lost opportunities, the wasted time, the roads not taken -- because something more fun in the short term, or the greater obligation, beckoned me down the well-trod path. Humph! And, humph! again. It is time to take some control over my life!
So here is the list of resolutions; no more schlepping!. They are based, I see, on making my mark on the world, and they are seemingly founded on the idea that I am -- though old and full of regrets, or though fundamentally a schlepper -- not ready to die. We'll see. I've never had much luck with these resolution things. But, the first one on the list is TRY.
1. I'm going to try and do a Julie-Julia blog and write every single day this year. What will I discover about myself? I'll try to read something that provokes thinking about BIG IDEAS every week, and I'll share all my favorite books and movies --- those titles, characters, scenes, and plot lines that I toss out during lectures when the black-on-white powerpoint is failing to keep the youngsters engaged (more and more, though, the movies are "heard of" but not seen, so the attempt falls flat and I am forced to Youtube -- a new verb in my lexicon!). The sharing and subseqent sense of discovery is not for you, the reader, but for me, the reader, next year.
2. I'm going to do yoga every day. It is not Pilates-style, and I will not attempt the Zoomba, but I think I want to re-discover how my bones and muscles are connected. If health improvements come from this, or I lose the mid-life paunch, so shall I be blessed. I think I just want to be able to brag that I can reach my toes when standing up, at age...55.
3. I want, I want, I want, to be a creative person! Why? I want to be perceived as deep and provoking, as talented and insightful, as an ARTEEEST. I want to make heirlooms that my children will treasure. I want to be able to answer "Yes" when I'm asked if I am as musical as my husband and son; I used to be. Perhaps all I shall succeed at is cleaning the cupboards in the laundry room, tossing out the ruined photograph-gift cards, or using the fabric scraps as rags when the dog is incontinent. But, the resolution is to try...... images will be posted! Ha!
4. There is a stack of books to read by my bedside, and another in my office, and another shelf in the guest room, groaning with potential. Though my birthday present from Hubby was a small-size HD TV, with a DVD integrated, and the cable to connect a computer... I need to schedule reading time. Fix the hammock. Make that treehouse. Retreat into intellectual discovery.
Not a big list and I'm sure I can add to it as I go along this year. I'm going downstairs now to attempt to make paper-pots with the toy/tool that BFF gave me last year on my birthday; I will take it out of its box and read the directions(!!!). Tomorrow I will plant seeds!?! And roto-till the carrot bed??!?! And finish grading those sociology papers........
Maybe the biggest resolution is to stop thinking that I can't or mustn't or won't, and be brave and reckless. Youth has the advantage of not being able to see very far into the future. I was once brave and I was often reckless. Then I grew up. How much did I lose when I grew up? I'll try and find out this year.
I'm feeling a bit melancholy. Reading Wallace Stegner's The Spectator Bird will do that to an old lady. Though his character is in his seventies, the litany of sore joints, aching muscles, and worry are beacons and heralds. As Mr. Fuget in The Forgetting (PBS) says, "The future is not someplace I'm rushing to get to." I speak to my students, often and with deliberate exaggeration, that I am old; and so I am, in contrast to their 18-year old attitudes and fashions, hobbies and biorhythms. But I'm not as old as Joe Allston, or as old as Mr. Fuget. And I should stop -- in my own best interest -- thinking like that!
I do feel that a certain amount of "Now or never!" and "If not now, when?" and so I have made some resolutions. I avoid New Year's resolutions -- they are guaranteed to fail, based on past history. Birthdays are a better date for looking backward and forward, and assessing the damages and the possibilities. I look forward to my March 31st birthday with a little girl's glee, anticipating fun and cake and presents! And I look back at the day with reminiscence, nostalgia, and reflection. Each year, looking backward on April 1st, I seek to learn from myself what I am supposed to be doing in the next year.
My husband told me once that he schlepps through life. Apparently, I schlepp, too, and I look back at the schlepping with guilt for all those lost opportunities, the wasted time, the roads not taken -- because something more fun in the short term, or the greater obligation, beckoned me down the well-trod path. Humph! And, humph! again. It is time to take some control over my life!
So here is the list of resolutions; no more schlepping!. They are based, I see, on making my mark on the world, and they are seemingly founded on the idea that I am -- though old and full of regrets, or though fundamentally a schlepper -- not ready to die. We'll see. I've never had much luck with these resolution things. But, the first one on the list is TRY.
1. I'm going to try and do a Julie-Julia blog and write every single day this year. What will I discover about myself? I'll try to read something that provokes thinking about BIG IDEAS every week, and I'll share all my favorite books and movies --- those titles, characters, scenes, and plot lines that I toss out during lectures when the black-on-white powerpoint is failing to keep the youngsters engaged (more and more, though, the movies are "heard of" but not seen, so the attempt falls flat and I am forced to Youtube -- a new verb in my lexicon!). The sharing and subseqent sense of discovery is not for you, the reader, but for me, the reader, next year.
2. I'm going to do yoga every day. It is not Pilates-style, and I will not attempt the Zoomba, but I think I want to re-discover how my bones and muscles are connected. If health improvements come from this, or I lose the mid-life paunch, so shall I be blessed. I think I just want to be able to brag that I can reach my toes when standing up, at age...55.
3. I want, I want, I want, to be a creative person! Why? I want to be perceived as deep and provoking, as talented and insightful, as an ARTEEEST. I want to make heirlooms that my children will treasure. I want to be able to answer "Yes" when I'm asked if I am as musical as my husband and son; I used to be. Perhaps all I shall succeed at is cleaning the cupboards in the laundry room, tossing out the ruined photograph-gift cards, or using the fabric scraps as rags when the dog is incontinent. But, the resolution is to try...... images will be posted! Ha!
4. There is a stack of books to read by my bedside, and another in my office, and another shelf in the guest room, groaning with potential. Though my birthday present from Hubby was a small-size HD TV, with a DVD integrated, and the cable to connect a computer... I need to schedule reading time. Fix the hammock. Make that treehouse. Retreat into intellectual discovery.
Not a big list and I'm sure I can add to it as I go along this year. I'm going downstairs now to attempt to make paper-pots with the toy/tool that BFF gave me last year on my birthday; I will take it out of its box and read the directions(!!!). Tomorrow I will plant seeds!?! And roto-till the carrot bed??!?! And finish grading those sociology papers........
Maybe the biggest resolution is to stop thinking that I can't or mustn't or won't, and be brave and reckless. Youth has the advantage of not being able to see very far into the future. I was once brave and I was often reckless. Then I grew up. How much did I lose when I grew up? I'll try and find out this year.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Still getting older...........with a Best Friend Forever
I spent yesterday with my BFF. We have known each other for 32 years! Amazing! We are the same (gardens, man-type preferences, favorite movies), and we are so different: she drives a Prius and uses a Droid, but doesn't have a Facebook page or a blog and can't use Powerpoint. We see each other about every other month, meeting half-way for lunch and shopping -- and giggles and sounding-boards. She reflects me, I think. I need her, often, to be reminded of who I was, who I am now, and how I got here. I hope that she will help me find my way back to who I was destined to be.......
I posed the "Annual Scrapbook" idea to her, that I got from Suzanne, who does it every year for her extended family. Suzanne sends out the email to everyone with a topic -- every month for a year -- and each person writes back with a story, a memory, a photo or two, and even another question. "What was your first job?" revealed that her aunt, now in her 70's, once worked as a secretary at a stockyard! For the Thanksgiving gathering, Suzanne simply copies/pastes all those emails (a few hardcopies are scanned in, and some people use Word or WPdoc) into a continuous script, then prints them out on cardstock as well as making a CD copy, and distributes them to "head of family." Everyone who chooses makes more copies and creates a binder for the collection of the year's stories.
Part of the emotional burden of growing older is the fear of forgetting. Perhaps those teenage dreams are now proved to be silly, and perhaps some doors to some alternate futures are really closed for good. But what if I can't remember my own lifestories that I'd want to share with my children (grandchildren) and nieces and nephews? I worry sometimes that without objects to hold and smell and squint at as mnemonic devices or touchstones the memories will -- if I am lucky enough not to have Alzheimer's corrosion -- simply float away or being pushed out by new thoughts. If I do not make a monument to my past, I will lose it.
When my mom died (two years ago now!) we ceased the Christmas gathering at her house -- so it's been almost four years since Mom's side of the family partied at her house, and it's been two years since I saw the Seattle nephews in person, and it's been more than 6 months since I saw the sandwich eaters of Madison. When we gathered at Mom's house, all of the adults fully aware that her clock was ticking, ticking, there were deliberate efforts to tell "Remember when...." stories about ourselves as children. Periodically, she would correct us, and frequently, Dad would chime in with a "I didn't know that!" There's something lost when the family linchpin dies, and something else later lost when the photos are in dusty boxes in the garage apartment.... (somehow, I have all the slides of childhood -- in the days before KodaChrome or Polaroid -- and Brother has Mom's organized and labelled photo albums). My family and I are not great telephoners, or letter writers -- though cells and email have given us so much Multi-Tasking opportunities that, on balance, we do talk more now than we did ten years ago. But the present doesn't seem, in my view, to have the same value or urgency as the past does. The present is mine, sayeth the busy lady -- and the past belongs to all of us. If we can remember it....
I posed the "Annual Scrapbook" idea to her, that I got from Suzanne, who does it every year for her extended family. Suzanne sends out the email to everyone with a topic -- every month for a year -- and each person writes back with a story, a memory, a photo or two, and even another question. "What was your first job?" revealed that her aunt, now in her 70's, once worked as a secretary at a stockyard! For the Thanksgiving gathering, Suzanne simply copies/pastes all those emails (a few hardcopies are scanned in, and some people use Word or WPdoc) into a continuous script, then prints them out on cardstock as well as making a CD copy, and distributes them to "head of family." Everyone who chooses makes more copies and creates a binder for the collection of the year's stories.
Part of the emotional burden of growing older is the fear of forgetting. Perhaps those teenage dreams are now proved to be silly, and perhaps some doors to some alternate futures are really closed for good. But what if I can't remember my own lifestories that I'd want to share with my children (grandchildren) and nieces and nephews? I worry sometimes that without objects to hold and smell and squint at as mnemonic devices or touchstones the memories will -- if I am lucky enough not to have Alzheimer's corrosion -- simply float away or being pushed out by new thoughts. If I do not make a monument to my past, I will lose it.
When my mom died (two years ago now!) we ceased the Christmas gathering at her house -- so it's been almost four years since Mom's side of the family partied at her house, and it's been two years since I saw the Seattle nephews in person, and it's been more than 6 months since I saw the sandwich eaters of Madison. When we gathered at Mom's house, all of the adults fully aware that her clock was ticking, ticking, there were deliberate efforts to tell "Remember when...." stories about ourselves as children. Periodically, she would correct us, and frequently, Dad would chime in with a "I didn't know that!" There's something lost when the family linchpin dies, and something else later lost when the photos are in dusty boxes in the garage apartment.... (somehow, I have all the slides of childhood -- in the days before KodaChrome or Polaroid -- and Brother has Mom's organized and labelled photo albums). My family and I are not great telephoners, or letter writers -- though cells and email have given us so much Multi-Tasking opportunities that, on balance, we do talk more now than we did ten years ago. But the present doesn't seem, in my view, to have the same value or urgency as the past does. The present is mine, sayeth the busy lady -- and the past belongs to all of us. If we can remember it....
We need to gather, and talk, before all the nephs and neeces start bringing their own procreations to the party and start mistelling the family truths and myths. As I get older, it seems more and more important that someone else will tell, again, the story of the nose flutists in Leadville, CO, attracted to our campsite by Dad on the bagpipes. Someone besides me should laugh again at the story of Jeb and the vicious Bantam rooster -- who apparently hated the Vikings and the purple hat worn to the chicken pen...! Does anyone know why Mom said she always wanted to go to China? And how many people remember, with the same exasperated fondness, my grandma at my first wedding, in a cold church on a bitterly cold Saturday morning, dressed in long-johns under polyester slacks under her best wool suit under one of grandpa's coats? Really, my children should know how I met their father and he should tell them about the great ice-storm of the firstborn's first winter.
So, I have a bit of a conundrum: I can travel to and fro to create situations where someone starts talking about Those Days (I shall take a tape-recorder!), OR, I can sit here in a tornado of my own making, in a busy life of work and dirt and books and Facebook Scrabble games -- and start now to communicate the memories. Which ones? How? Memories or memory-making? Or is this just one more thing on the daily Do-List?
I'm 50. If I don't start now, I'll run out of time........ I'll start with the BFF. There is more value just for me -- and not all those other family members -- with BFF memories. I'll be selfish, and giving, in the same action! I'll find myself along the path to and from the past... (how efficient! how thrifty!). I'll start with The Story of The Rose, and then our first beer together, or dancing at the Rainbow, and then the Elvis impersonator, the house on Cherry Street, the Flying J Fiasco, .... and yesterday's adventure at the school house. I should write that one down right now.
Note to self: write in blog every week!
So, I have a bit of a conundrum: I can travel to and fro to create situations where someone starts talking about Those Days (I shall take a tape-recorder!), OR, I can sit here in a tornado of my own making, in a busy life of work and dirt and books and Facebook Scrabble games -- and start now to communicate the memories. Which ones? How? Memories or memory-making? Or is this just one more thing on the daily Do-List?
I'm 50. If I don't start now, I'll run out of time........ I'll start with the BFF. There is more value just for me -- and not all those other family members -- with BFF memories. I'll be selfish, and giving, in the same action! I'll find myself along the path to and from the past... (how efficient! how thrifty!). I'll start with The Story of The Rose, and then our first beer together, or dancing at the Rainbow, and then the Elvis impersonator, the house on Cherry Street, the Flying J Fiasco, .... and yesterday's adventure at the school house. I should write that one down right now.
Note to self: write in blog every week!
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