Once upon a time

June 18th is always the beginning of an awkward time for me and this year it appears to be digging in its heels and refusing to go away. It is an old story, way back from 1968, but it has changed my life in ways I will never be able to explain to anyone.

Children accept almost everything as long as someone makes it seem okay, or ordinary, or inescapable, but we try to protect our children so they don't have to experience the bad things, at least the bad things as we know them.

In my day mothers did this with fear, keep the children afraid of things you don't want them to do. Fathers, or at least my father, left rearing children to the mother. I've often thought this was a shame because my father would address anything I asked him, quietly and directly, but my mother's tactics made me afraid to even talk about some things. Within the confines of our family that worked out pretty well.

But outside the family, in the places you go after leaving home, these methods are woefully short sighted. Lacking information makes one vulnerable. How do you avoid the red epar if you don't even know exactly what it or its counterpart is? You know enough to be frightened when you enter the garden, but you don't have the skills necessary to defend yourself.

In my case I made up stories and pretended falling prey to it was a glorious thing. In fact, I risked the rest of my life on it, because I didn't know any different. But I did know I wanted more for my children, so instead of filling them with fear I tried to fill them with facts. I hope it worked.

Love is not fear, or coercion. Innocence cannot be maintained with ignorance.

I think things are more out in the open today, but taboos are not the same thing as information and they don't make bad things okay no matter how nice the fairy tale sounds. And they certainly are not the basis for happily ever after.

Finding Fun

My daughter and I went to see Finding Dory and it was so much fun!

I can't remember the last time she and I went to the show together and this was the perfect one for us.

It made us laugh and sit the edge of our seats. It almost made us cry.

The theater was packed. We had great seats but people who came in later had to scrunch in wherever there was room. There were lots of fathers and daughters, a few big families and one that looked like three generations, a mother, grandmother and little girl. They were adorable, but the grandmother's perfume was so peppery and so strong her scent nearly drove us out when she passed us and even though she sat far away we got whiffs if her off and on through the whole movie. I felt bad for whoever they sat next to.

There was one place in the movie where the fish were crying, "Release, release . . ." As it went on I heard the children in the seats up and behind us chanting with them "Release, release . . ." That was priceless.

I am always amazed at how wonderful animated movies are and this one was one of the best.

The right way

Life can be confusing. Especially when something appears to be one thing, but feels like something else.

I grew up in a family where everyone smiled and agreed with each other. Open dissension was frowned upon and inclusion was the rule of thumb. I thought we had the perfect family. My mother was beautiful and my father was brilliant.

I knew I would never be beautiful because I was too big, not fat, but tall. Then, since I couldn't be beautiful, I wanted to be like my father and I was a bright child, but I was a girl. No one ever actually said these words to me, but I knew them just like I knew it was not good to run like a girl, or talk like a girl, especially if you couldn't be a small beautiful airhead.

I was taught to get my way by finagling. Innuendo and mind reading were encouraged, only people can't really read minds, so feelings were always being hurt when someone failed to do just that. Imagine expecting anyone to just say what they wanted, or needed! It denied the others a chance to display their extraordinary enabling skills.

The bar was low as long as everyone played by the rules. We were all loved, but I knew I was not liked and I tried, desperately to fix that. I threw chess games. I pretended not to be able to do things I had no trouble with at all. My teenage years were spent sabotaging my own self. And still I was just a tall girl in a world that felt like it valued boys and small cute girls.

I don't think I figured out passive aggressive until I was in my sixties, which is sort of sad since my whole life was built on the predication that it was the correct way to be. I had learned a few things over time, like if I wanted a birthday present I needed to tell my husband what I wanted and remind him it was coming up, but on the whole, I expected him to do a lot of mind reading too.

It takes a fair amount of determination to change things you grow up believing are the "right way," but it can be done and in my case, at least, it has been worth the effort.

Metaphors are meant for noticing

How many times have I thought I lost myself and then discovered I was only in a different place?

It is so easy to fall into a rut and mistake those boundaries for the end of the world.

Then, one day, a strange shadow falls across my path and I see an unknown shape there in among those I recognize. That means there is more going on than I am aware of and it's time to get busy and figure out what it is.

Life is not two dimensional. There is not just frontwards and backwards. I can see and hear, and taste and feel. I can even imagine. If I am able to accept all of these options are available, I should be able to use them to my advantage.

Occasionally it is time to throw myself into the soup and find out what else is cooking.  The metaphors are limitless.

Find one that fits you and get back onto the way.

Moments

I was trying to think of things that were better than just good moments in my life and instead I found myself thinking of sad things, things that felt like they had gone wrong. I wondered if I were the common denominator in all these things and even with Bestest's best common sense talk I was not in a good place.

Tonight, I was sitting here when I remembered one of the best and most amazing moments of my entire life. I was standing in front of our patio doors in our first house. It was mid morning. The sun was shining. It was such a beautiful day. As I gazed out at the bluest sky, it was as if I were dreaming. I was inside my womb, moving and looking out through diffused light and in that moment I knew my child was conceived.

Mere minutes later I felt foolish. I had no reason to ever believe that I would have a baby at that point. We were approved for adoption, but expected it to be years before our turn came up, so I put it out of my mind.

Then, four and a half months later, we received a call. Our baby was born! We brought him home and that baby had "eyes as blue as the sky and hair as gold as the sun." 

And that was the song I sang to him while he was growing up.
 

  

Anxiety

Everything changes. That is part of life and sometimes that is exciting.

But sometimes it is just painful.

The unknown is exactly that, unknown, so I need a plan for dealing with it.

How do I make a plan for something I have no knowledge of?

The truth is that I do have more knowledge than I think. I will still be me and I will still deal with most things the way I always have.

It would be nice if I understood exactly what that was/is, but I tend to muddle through things on a trial and error basis and even though that has pretty much worked for me in the past, it has not always been an easy or direct road.

I'm not looking forward to the silence, the sadness, the anxiety that often accompanies me down these ways.

The carrot will be the fact that I have always come out on the other side better than when I started.

But what if it's different this time?

Often

Once upon a time when people lived far from others, they had no expectations of hearing from each other very often.

There was no email, or messaging. Long distance phone calls were terribly expensive and limited to a few minutes every so often.

Letters took days. Packages often took weeks.

Visits from great distances might be sporadic at best and even if loved ones lived closer, visits were usually not as often as they might have wished.

For all the complaints people have about modern technology, I am grateful for it, because it is often my best chance of keeping in touch with those I love.

What's new Bestest?

When I was a child I was always looking for the secret message, the hidden code, the words others missed because they weren't really looking.

I just believed that the world was speaking to me and it was my job to find the translation.

Of course I am no longer a child, but I still find myself feeling that same sort of niggling feeling -- that this, whatever this happens to be at the time, might be important when I grow up.

Today I was transcribing an interview and having to look up the names of professors who worked at a southern university, literature forms I'd never heard of, authors and books I didn't know and it felt like a scavenger hunt. I found myself thinking how I might utilize this information in the future in spite of the fact that most of the people I talk to would not be the least bit interested. 

I am always amazed at all the new things left to learn in this world and I love finding them.
 
When I was a child my father was the person I looked up to for this kind of fun.

Now it's Bestest.

The first interpreter

I tell the story of my life bit by bit, day by day and even though it is a very ordinary life, it sounds pretty good if I tell it right.

That makes me think that life might just be a good story. 

The better I am at telling it, the more people like it and perhaps that makes it seem better to me too.

Why? Because I have to step a little to the side if I want to see myself the way others might see me and getting just that far away changes the perspective sometimes.

So, take a step to the left or right, or maybe back or even be a bit forward and rethink the moment. 

This is your life and you get the chance to be the first interpreter.

Family feasts

Family gatherings are the place to be if you want to gather information, because nobody is more willing to give it to you than family.

You sit in a room overflowing with those very people who gave you life (and sometimes seemed intent on taking it away) while listening to all those little conversations going on around you.

It can be hard to tell exactly what is going down because part of what you hear is just feather preening. There is no one in the world we need to impress more than those people who already love us.

Cousin Annie flits around the room taking selfies, in a chair, by the window, with each person there, smiling, frowning, eating cake, petting the dogs. Auntie Bertrasm floats around behind her taking pictures of her taking pictures as she tries to capture every moment for all eternity (or at least tomorrow's Facebook.) Junior quietly eats his way through three pieces of cake, two bags of chips and half a gallon of ice cream with chocolate syrup. Heloise changes clothes every quarter hour on the dot and redoes her make up to match. Uncle Malcom shows off his comic book collection via his android until Millie drops the ball (or phone) while passing it back to him.

The dogs are quiet opportunists, cleaning up under all the chairs whenever they cease to be the center of attention and Grandpa lurks in the corners smiling with both arms crossed over his chest like a member of the royal guard.

Everyone is happy, proud, force fed and loud. In fact, the one sure fire way to know the day was a success is the total lack of edible stuff left in the house as all the hoarse people finally drift away, promising to keep in touch and see each other soon.

(Note: the names, and sometimes genders, have been changed to protect the guilty.)

Proactive

Holidays are trickier as I grow older.

First there was Christmas when I was divorced and all the children were grown up and gone.

Then Easter, Halloween, Thanksgiving and birthdays all spent alone once in a while. I quickly learned to invite myself to friend's homes and was welcomed with open arms.

I also learned to celebrate myself, which was simpler than with family and friends, but not the same.

There was a huge adjustment in both the way I thought and the way I responded to every situation. I had to learn to be proactive and not sit around waiting for anyone to rescue me.

Now I'm taking these lessons and using them to fill in more of my life -- not just the holidays -- and summer is the perfect time to do that. There are free concerts everywhere, parks all over, things to do whenever I am willing to expend the energy to do them.

Life is out there, but it is necessary to engage.

Slow and meticulous

Today I began transcribing an interview for a new book.

This is the stuff of dreams for me.

I have been able to help Bestest with three other books and just seeing my name anywhere in them makes my heart race with joy and pride. He calls me his editorial assistant and I love that title even as it makes me a bit nervous. I don't feel qualified to work with someone on his level, but I am truly honored.

This new book will be about a living working author who has written amazing books. Hearing his voice on the interview can send chills down my back.

It's slow work. All of this work has been agonizingly slow and meticulous, but it leaves me with an indescribable sense of pride, honor and accomplishment.

Who could ever have guessed I would be doing this?

The good, the bad and the rest of us

The news is horrific.

We have become a nation of adolescents.

Name calling. Scapegoating. Testing the limits.

If the sign says no swimming, does it mean no wading?

If it's only a twenty minute crime is it less heinous than a thirty minute crime?

Should we pay people who won't do their job? I wanted to say dignitaries, but there is very little dignified about our political system anymore.

I understand that people are frustrated and angry and many are feeling powerless, but we are headed down some unprecedented and dangerous avenues. The very essence of our country's roots are being distorted to satisfy people who feel entitled because of money, power, or religion.

Digging in heels and refusing to cooperate can only go so far before reality steps in and the empty well cannot provide water that is not there. Then everyone dies of thirst, the rich, the poor, the good and the bad (whoever you think they are.)

Joie along the way

While walking last night I met a woman along the way who was kind of insistent about talking, which I am happy about.

I am always afraid of imposing on people, so I might have just smiled, nodded, and gone right on by her, but she stopped, turned to me and began a conversation!

It was fun! Her English was very good, but not her first language. She said she spoke French and wanted to know what I thought of her English. I said I spoke a little French (in French) and she immediately asked how I was. (In French!)

My French is very very limited, but even that seemed to please her. She joyfully helped me along with big smiles and high fives!

There was something very wise and wonderful about her. Exuberance and joy radiated from her eyes and I had the feeling that I had met much more than a woman along the way.

"There are none so blind as those who will not see. "

The horror in Florida highlights many of the worst parts of being human.

Fear. Bigotry. Prejudice. Racism. Ignorance. Reacting.

No race, country, or religion is blameless when it comes to killing people. It just depends on where or when you stop reading the news. Trying to eliminate horror by eliminating people is never the answer.

Unstable, ignorant and angry people often teeter on the edge. They are used by power hungry people to do unspeakable acts in the name of (almost anything.) Blaming and reacting with anger are fuel for more hate.

Making public the name, or picture of hate filled people gives them more power than they deserve. If people in our country can embrace Trump, they can embrace almost anything, no matter how violent or racist, or bigoted, or ignorant it seems to the rest of us. I don't know what the answer to this one is, but perhaps simply referring to the guilty one with some sort of pseudonym might be better. "The homicidal maniac," "the hateful one," "the killer," But nothing that gives them any personal fame.

We need to find a way to include all people in a war against ignorance and hate. All that money and time spent worrying about how people look and who they love and where they pee might be better directed.

Strike one!

It has taken me two thirds of a century to realize that people think they are older than they are. It makes sense. Our present age is the oldest we have ever been. We can only imagine what it will be like to be older and in a youth oriented society older is generally not better.

After twenty one, or perhaps twenty five when auto insurance becomes more affordable, we think of age as diminishing. Diminished beauty. Diminished opportunities. Diminished possibilities of every sort. There were several reasons for this, some still valid, others not so.

In the not so distant past people aged faster due to a lack of proper nutrition and health care and they had fewer expectations for quality of life after a certain age. Today this is often not the case. We can eat as healthy as we choose and even if we lack access to great health care, the access others have eliminates many communicable diseases. Most people born in 1900 expected to die around fifty, that is no longer true.

I see people who consider themselves old because they believe they have reached a certain age. That is often only in their head. I believe it is really important to look at ourselves from the future! When I am ninety, sixty six will seem very young. I do not want to start giving myself false limitations!

I drive just as well, maybe better due to experience, as I ever did -- day or night. I think just as clearly too, although I have a much larger amount of things to remember. I get around really good when my left foot is happy with its orthotic (But that was true when I was thirty two! I am better informed and more confident than I was at forty and I am relatively happy with myself.

Old age will eventually strike, but I expect it somewhere around ninety five.

Rare birds

We love to cuddle. We love to love. Love is probably the most sought after thing in the world.

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder and so is love.

Those things that attract one person don't necessarily grab the heart of another and that's a good thing.

But there are those who seem to be loved everywhere they go.

What is it about them?

It can be a pleasing face, but generally it is much more than that. Those people who garner love and keep it have a way of relating to people. Out wardly focused, they genuinely care about the people around them. Not just the talented, or intelligent, or beautiful people, but usually those who need their help to become all they can be. And generally the only real thing they have to gain by doing this, is the satisfaction and love they feel deep within themselves.

Often teachers of some sort, or someone in a similar position, they reach out again and again, patiently repeating the lesson over and over until it sinks in and while people may not realize what is happening, the love comes through and is reflected back at them.

These are the real lovers, the truly beautiful people and they're a little bit rare.

Carillon

It was a grand old night in the tradition of something even older.

I packed a picnic dinner and drove to a carillon concert with my daughter, granddaughter and her boy friend.

People came from all over to sit in lawn chairs and listen to the last concert of a week long celebration that ended in fireworks accompanied by the bells.

First we were treated to a wonderful assortment of songs by two excellent carillonneurs. One from Belgium and one relatively local. The breeze blowing through the shade trees on a hot June night was just perfect, but the sun was a little too bright to really make it possible to see the inside of the carillon as they played on the screen, so we simply listened. Which was actually perfect.

Later they accompanied a magnificent firework display and then there was the long drive home.

Even that was a bit magical as I pulled around the corner and six little baby bunnies scampered in all directions!

A walk in the park

I was walking through the park the other day when an older man glanced up at me and away from the two young women he was ogling.

First of all I was annoyed by the hungry look in his eyes. Then, when he saw me, I was shocked, hurt and finally angry, by the distaste in them.

You might think he could have been justified, that perhaps I looked dirty, or unkempt, or especially obnoxious in some way. That was my first thought too. Then I realized that I had run into quite a few people as I walked around that park. Each of them, the women, both young and old, and several young men, had smiled brightly and nodded, or said hello.

There was nothing wrong with me, but the idea that there might be flooded me with memories of other older men about the age of this man who have felt they are aging to perfection while women the same age are withering on the vine and spoiled. It also makes me pretty sure these men are not just enjoying looking at two pretty young women. They are probably imagining them in that old fashioned chauvinist day dream where the women are objects made to please them.

It is offensive. It does not go unnoticed and while it really says nothing about me and oodles about the men who think that way, it is something that needs to change.

Fortunately there are many more men, of all ages, who do not see women as pieces of well shaped meat out there for their sole enjoyment.

We can all enjoy looking at each other as beautiful human beings with hearts and minds and even beautiful bodies without that leering, or sneering, look that dehumanizes everyone.

Frustration

Frustration is trying to do something good and running into one brick wall after another.

I am beginning to understand why people stop trying to play well with others and just do things on their own.

The more people that are involved in anything, the better its chances are of falling through.

We thought we had planned the perfect surprise party weeks ago, but today, three days before the party, it fell through! The person who was to be surprised, surprised us and made other plans.

It is easier for me to make plans and let the people who want to be part of it just come, then if they don't show up, (which is more likely than not for many people) it doesn't ruin it for anyone else. 

Reasons

Most people agree that we need a reason to get out of bed in the morning.

Depression. Old age. Laziness. Illness. There are a million reasons people do not rise and shine, but just one can be enough to make the effort worthwhile.

Kids will do it. Like cats they are persistent except that cats will not get out their own cereal and pour half a gallon of milk on the floor. Nor will they let the dog out the front door so he can visit old Mr. Bother's favorite rose bushes.

Work is a powerful motivator. At the very least, having a place to sleep with lights and running water is high on most people's list around here.

But sometimes the reason we get out of bed can be as simple as nature's call.

This morning it was a spider. He did not invite me into his parlour. He crawled across my ceiling and the thought that he might drop in to visit me in bed got me up and moving without a second thought.

Yep, we all need a reason to get out of bed.

Heel foot

I started out great this morning. I walked 48 minutes, in the shade. Came home and did all kind of chores then started in editing while waiting for Bestest to call.

After we talked I went to walk in Franklin park for another 40 minutes, but on my last trip around the park I felt a bone slip in my left foot. It wasn't bad. I kept on walking.

It hasn't gotten any better as the day's gone on, so I didn't get to walk tonight.

Just like last year, I didn't do anything different that I know of. I guess they will always be my "Achilles heels."

Anxiety

In the beginning there was this feeling.

It had no name. In fact, I wasn't even aware that it had bored itself deep into my brain and was eating away at me.

I had no idea that it wasn't part of everyone, that not everyone lay awake long into the night thinking about things, but it wasn't long before I began to suspect that it was a flaw.

After all, if the authority figures in life appear to be flawed, that is wrong. Right? Where did I put my trust? What were the real absolutes in life? Scary thoughts for a three year old and so I lay awake pondering in my own small way, what the truth was. And I became a noticer.

If I just listened hard enough, looked close enough, learned everything I could, then surely the truth would eventually stand out. I knew not everyone felt this way.  People could be the voice of reason and they could be maddeningly ignorant with no desire for ferreting out the truth. That I did not understand.

That was the tear in the fabric, the place where that feeling got in, and it's still there. Now I know it is called anxiety, a feeling that the world is full of change and no one authority figure will ever have all the answers. Only the ability to sit back and observe, to study, and to experience new things with an open mind and loving heart will allow the world to change in peaceful and productive ways.

Until that becomes common place, anxiety will haunt me.

Courage

Ignorance can be misinterpreted as courage. Does that matter? I don't know.

I do know that courage is doing something you are afraid of. Otherwise it doesn't require courage.

But ignorance causes all sorts of problems.

People plunge in and do things because their gut tells them too, or because they are reacting to some kind of stimulus. If the cause is deemed worthy the world calls them heroes and claims they are courageous, which they may be.

But on some level there are a lot of things that occur this way that are neither worthy, nor heroic, and only if they succeed are they called courageous. Otherwise they are labeled foolish, or stupid.

Ignorance creates so many problems that could be averted if only people stopped and thought and chose to recognize and understand the consequences of their actions before they reacted. But that takes real courage.

Fixated

It's been one of those days.

My daughter locked herself out of her car, so I found myself running over there at 4:30 AM with the spare key.

I tried walking two times and only managed 2.5 miles before I was too tired to go on.

I grocery shopped and tried to watch a movie on Amazon Prime, but it was a sad combination of a very bad film and the internet causing it to reboot every few minutes.

I got nothing done on Agee today. My computer's "s" is going out, so I have to copy and paste every "s" you see here. I have a new tablet, but haven't got it up and running yet.

The good news?

I ate very healthy, lots of fruits and vegetables, lost another pound, and the last walk of the day was a winner. I got in 55 minutes for a grand total of 99 active minutes and over five miles, but nothing much more the whole day.

Unless it's tennis, exercise does not come naturally to me, so I'm sort of fixated on getting my body used to it right now.

Oppressive

All my life there have been times when overwhelming tiredness washed over me, but they have been relatively rare the past ten years.

I didn't really connect that on Monday. I simply thought I was exhausted from all the walking, but yesterday it landed like a ton of impossibly heavy cotton.

I walked 103 minutes and got in my five miles, but by eight o'clock I could barely summon the energy it took to brush my teeth before going to bed and sleeping 13 hours.

Then I had terrible a dream that I went home, but my mother had ruined our entire house. There was a small wooden booth where our kitchen table had been and a sheet tied around a bundle of dirty clothes sitting on half of one side. I waited and waited for her to make room for me, but she never did.

I left and went upstairs, but stopped on the landing where my two brothers were. They were young, one about eight and the other not much more than an infant. We were talking about how she'd ruined the house when I saw her coming up the steps and it was terrifying. I wanted to duck because I knew she was going to hit me, but I knew if I ducked she'd assume I had done something wrong and would hit me on principle, so I stood firm. It worked, but what I really wanted to do was ask why she had done this to our house.

I knew better. I just played with my brothers then went on upstairs where my bedroom was full of junk. There were clothes and stuff all over the floor. It was a mess. Finally, going into the bathroom I found it was the worst of all. There was a furnace and water heater out in plain sight. The ceiling beams were exposed and wiring hung from the ceiling. There were two toilets and my brother came in to use the other one.

We talked about what she had done to our home and I told him I wouldn't be able to bring friends home anymore. It was so depressing.

What caused all this? Maybe just my body, but I think it has also been this unremitting humidity. I really don't like being so hot and sweaty that my clothes are soaking wet all the time.