Pieces of other lives.........

It seems summer has not only left us, but slammed the door upon exit.  I've been hoping for just another day or two of kayaking, but the water is cooling so quickly that may not be possible.   I'm perfectly willing to brave chilly water....I will even bear up under the indignity of stuffing myself into a wet suit to go out and enjoy another day of water, wind and peace.  These gilt edged fall days are amazing out on the water....Josh Groban singing to me in Italian from the tiny MP 3 player clipped to my suit.... the deep, dark water offering no resistence as I slide across its surface.

My outings are punctuated with stops at beaches to clamber out of the kayak and scour the beach for beach glass.....the perfect example of  "one mans junk is another mans jewel". I am taken with the silly romantic notion that a glass object went into the water, was broken into dozens of pieces and tumbled about the lake for years and years.  Today, for some reason, the finished product has landed at my feet for me to find.   Perhaps it was a soda or beer bottle, perhaps a very old medicine bottle or the window from some freighter that went down in a storm on the lake.  Whatever it's origin, however gently or violently the raw materials came to be in the lake, I now stand with this small piece of someone elses life in my hand. 

From what I've read and heard in lectures it takes from two to twenty years for the lake to smooth, buff, etch, and tumble a piece of broken glass into a jewel-like treasure for me to find.  It seems to me to be the ultimate in natural recycling.   Fossils, unusual rocks, and unique pieces of driftwood also catch my eye.  Perhaps to some it's not an exciting hobby...but this time on the water and on the beach is a gentle time of discovery for me.

What a wonderful time of life this is.  Time, so precious, to explore and enjoy a beach, a sunny day.  Time to add these beautiful pieces of someone elses life to my own.  I've come to the conclusion that it is time, after all, that smooths, buffs, etches and tumbles all of us over the years....and in the end each of us becomes the gem we were meant to be.

                                                                     Life is good.

My grandson plays football.....God help us.

I am not being the least bit prejudiced when I tell you that I have beautiful grandchildren.....it's just a fact.  Seven in all, each as unique as the combination of their parental genes could make them.  Three boys and four girls, brown eyed and blue eyed and each one a piece of my heart.

So far each has played some sport.....tennis, vollyball, soccer, baseball, wrestling, basketball, cheerleading and football among the choices.  That brings me to my point.   One of my grandsons plays football.  I hate football.

He is seventeen....a bit of a daredevil.   He's over six feet tall, good looking, on the shy side on one hand and definately not on the other.   Suited up he looks like any high school or college young man in tight pants and shoulder pads.   But he's not just any young man......he is my grandson.  And I have yet to go to a football game.

Now....anyone who knows me understands that I have no clue about sports and I have no desire to learn.   I was born without the sports gene that makes crowds go wild and team supporters weep.   For the most part I think watching sports is a voyuristic passtime and it bores me.   I don't care to watch....I don't care to discuss.....and I am annoyed when every segment of Morning Joe ends with "and how bout those (insert team and proper nickname here).   Sports and politics are even more annoying than just plain sports.

Having said all that, I want to note that my dislike of sports is not the reason I haven't been to a football game to see my grandson play.  Here's the real reason......I'm a coward.   I simply cringe when I think of the hundreds of pounds of muscle and equipment hurtling toward him during any given play on the field.  I think of tearing muscles and breaking bones and pain....and those are not things I want to associate with my precious grandson.

For my entire on line life I have used the same screen name.....Datdoo.   People chuckle and ask me where it came from, and I always tell them this story.   When this hulking seventeen year old was a little fellow I loved carrying him around and hearing him ask, as he pointed a chubby pink finger, "Whut dat do, gwamma?"    I never tired of hearing it, and he was curious about every leaf that blew,everything he saw.  "Whut dat do?".
Somewhere in my head my big, strapping grandson will always be that little fellow in the blue sunsuit wriggling in my arms as we explored the backyard.

Now he is on the brink of manhood.   Soon he will be finishing high school and then off to college....perhaps to play even more football.  He is still curious, still trying to figure out how the world fits together.  The years have passed and he has grown up.   I guess it's time for me to do the same thing, and get into the bleechers to root for this young man who has worked so hard to be on that field with his team mates.   I have to overcome my fear of seeing him get hurt, and come to some kind of understanding of the sport of football.
Perhaps I can get him to sit with me through a televised football game before I do and explain it to me......I'll just ask him "What does that do, kiddo??"...............Life is good.

Turning 65....and turning a corner

Today is the first day of fall, always my favorite time of year.  Like many people I enjoy the milder temperatures, the show of the leaves, the last gasp of good weather as winter tightens it's grip on the landscape.  The fact that my birthday is in October has only been icing on the big FALL cake.

This year is a special mile marker.....my 65th birthday.   It's not what I expected, if indeed I had any real expectations.   I am reminded of a favorite old song of mine, "Is that all there is?"....by the talented torch singer, Peggy Lee.   Like so many important days in my life the anticipation of some big event is eclipsed by it's unexpectedly mundane passage. 

As a young girl I remember the terror of my first dance, first date, and taking my drivers test.   They all passed without any real trauma.   Then the anticipation of my wedding day....which turned out to be a comedy of errors and passed in such a blur that I didn't have time to really be nervous, let alone mark the event with any shining moments.  The first baby.....I remember that one moment of fear when I realized that this labor was not something I could stop and think about....and then it was done.  My first trip into a Senator's office in Washington on a broadcasters lobbying trip was a walk back into history and a brush with someone famous...but it too passed one second at a time. 

All of these events, and many other of the biggest moments of my life, passed in the same way every other moment passed.  No blare of trumpets, no light show.  For the most part, without photos to remind me of some events, I would have only the tiniest recollection.   Is that really all there is?

Now, as I acknowledge the approach of my 65th birthday I look back over my life and I realize that it is those moments, those events, (and so many others) that have created this moment.  They were the building blocks of today, this hour, this second.   I am grateful for every one of them.....the good, the great, and the not so great.

If I have any disappointment at all, it is that I have not arrived at this milestone in my life full of wisdom and grace.   Somehow I had expected to be a 65 year old sage.....I remain a student.  I had hoped to be a gracious older woman....I continually cope with my impatient and sometimes cantankerous nature.  I thought by now I would have a vast resevoir of knowledge to share, but somehow I remain adrift in my own sea of questions and wishes.

I don't want to imply I've learned nothing in this journey, but I can share with you my biggest take away in a very short sentence.  Do not fear change, and never say never.   

I was never going to retire from broadcast, but when, at age 62,  I did, I found that editing Heart of Ohio Magazine was one of the most enjoyable things I've ever experienced.  I thought I didn't like the outdoors, having spent the bulk of my adult life in offices.....now I am an avid kayaker.   I bought a convertible a few years ago, after I found out the feel of the wind in my hair made me happy when I got past the fear of messy hair.   Change is the real mile marker of our lives, not the number of years you've invested.

And so, at 65, I am thankful for change, and I try not to allow my mind to freeze into "never" mode.
I may not be full of wisdom, but I am still full of the joy of life.   For that I have to thank the things in my life that have never changed....my wonderful husband and my three beautiful children, who have added three wonderful spouses and seven grandchildren to my ever changing life.

I will try to continue to embrace my birthdays, and the changes they bring.   Life is good.      

Perfume.....in the nose of the beholder

This morning I somehow ended up with a little extra time, so I decided to invest it in preparing a crockpot meal.   I knew my husband would get home before me and walk into a kitchen filled with the smell of baking  meatloaf.  The thought made me smile.

As I prepared some breakfast for myself and the meatloaf for the slow cooker it struck me how wonderul the scents of cooking can be.   The delightful summer  smell  of a tomato fresh from the garden.   The pungent smell of onion, and the spices as I opened the small containers to add to the mix.

These are not the scents from Calvin Klein, or Stella McCartney.   They are not amber colored liquids in beautiful bottles and elegant packaging.  The smells of a kitchen are more basic, more honest.  Onion doesn't pose as a rose....pepper doesn't disguise it's scent with pine or sandlewood.  Cooking smells make us think of home and hearth....friends and family.....comfort and contentment....without being anyting but what they are.

Coffee and bacon frying make me think of my grandmother's house where I snuggled in bed on chilly mornings during Christmas vacation, listening to the murmur of her voice as she talked with my Mother and Grandfather.

A roast baking in the oven reminds me of waiting for dinner on winter evenings after school.        Mom was in control of  the kitchen while Dad watched TV in the living room. I holed  up in  my bedroom pretending to do homework while, in truth,  I  was  reading  Tiger Magazine and listening to the  Everly Brothers.

These thoughts ran through my head as I kneaded the concoction that would be our dinner and placed it into the pan.  Perhaps it's just a flashback....or maybe it's just a sign that I am in the time of life where I appreciate the smell of pot roast  just as much as the scent of Patchouli.  Life is good.

Sleep....not so much.

It seems that I will be running on three or four hours sleep again today.....something that happens all too often.   I don't know why I can't sleep.  I don't wake from  nightmares or worry myself into insomnia.   I actually enjoy it for the most part.  For instance, I woke about two thirty this morning after going to bed about ten p.m.  I was thinking...perhaps I'd been dreaming....about holiday table decorations.  Hmmmm.....should it be copper or silver??   Shall I use the life-like pheasant and the feather balls, or just use some sparkly balls from the Christmas decorations box?  And....how can I arrange this so it doesn't interfere with actually eating at that pretty table?

Frivolous?   Probably.   Enjoyable?  Definately.  Decorating for the holidays is something I always enjoy, and setting a pretty table is one of the best parts.  In a paper napkin, plastic cutlery world I am, at times, a throwback.  Not all the time, but sometimes, I like to make the meal about the presentation and not just the ingredients.  A meal can be a party for all the senses, and a gift to those for whom you've prepared the spread. 

So, as I snuggle in the big warm bed, my husband sleeping beside me and my little Molly snuggled close to my heart.....and I plan meals and table settings and little treats for family and friends who will hopefully be here during the holiday season ahead.  As I make my plans in the darkness I send up a little prayer of thanks for my life that is so full I need a few hours of insomnia to enjoy it all.  Life is good.