Birthing

 

I have lived in my new town and new apartment for a little over eight months and something is changing.

For years I have dreamed of being lost in a city at night, trying to walk home and running into loose dogs that I am afraid of, and dead ends that go nowhere.

Over the last few months that has transitioned into being lost in a city at night, but running into people and asking for help, or directions. Then I was bicycling through the city, so I moved a little bit faster and finally I found a woman who invited me into her business to use the phone. It was a large department store type place with huge engines in the basement running it. I still wasn't able to use the phone to call my mother, but I was safer and there was hope.

Last night I was in a rural community filled with very young people, many toddlers, and lots of green plants with leafy vines everywhere. There was a couple, a toddler boy and girl who might become the king and queen if they could pass all the tests and challenges put in their way. If they did, they were going to ride in a white convertkible in a sort of parade.  Somehow it was my job to make sure it all happened.

I feel a sense of empowerment I have not felt for several years, or more. I feel hope. 

I am becoming excited about doing things again. Painting, rearranging furniture, redecorating my apartment. Creativity feels possible again.

I actually went to the store and bought a few groceries in person, which I haven't done for a long time. I found clothes in my closet I haven't thought I could wear.

It is as if the clock has turned back for some reason and I have been reborn.

I don't know if this will last, but it is exhilarating. 

Incompetent

Everyone has bad luck once in a while, but when your whole existence is one long floundering mystery it probably has more to do with you than anyone else.

Trying to do things on the cheap is often a recipe for disaster, especially for people who don't seem to understand how anything works.

I cannot stress how important it is to be able to read and follow directions, or listen to what someone is actually saying and comprehending the words.

Having trouble learning new things is no sin, but refusing to take notes and using them to cope is a formula for failure.

I think some people just believe it is easier to get others to do everything for them. If they can do that they don't have to put forth any effort. They act like they have no choice, that the whole world is out to get them.

If the truth is known, they are doing things that sabotage their own lives.

And they want both help and pity, believing pity is the same thing as love.

Don't tell me you always have to pay the water bill in person because they don't tell you how much it is until you are in the office. And they add a little amount they kept a secret from you.

I know the whole city does not have to go to city hall to pay their water bills in person. 

And it is not the vet's fault you did not register your dog because you thought mailing in the registration might get it lost. Instead you waited six months to go in in person and had to pay a fine that you find outrageous.

Most of our problems are the result of something we did not take the time or make the effort to do right.

Lazy or incompetent, whichever it is, it does not serve you well.

Crutches

 

When I was a young woman I found myself suddenly overwhelmed with social duties.  Welcome wagon, Newcomer's officer, Bridge organizer, PTA, President of parents of children with disabilities, etc. 

In the beginning it all felt like an honor. People wanted me to do things, head up committees, but after a while it was just too much.

After all, I was not working at a paying job so I could be with my family and spend time with my children and suddenly there was no time.

It was just so hard to say no. And when I did say it, I felt the need to explain why. The problem with that is people always came back with a reason why my reason wasn't good enough.

Most people have crutches they use to escape some social function, or family function, or anything else they don't want to do. They use it so they can sound noble while saying, "No!"

My sister always had her work. She would simply say, "I have to work."

Then when she retired she was almost panicky until she got a part time job babysitting an elderly neighbor. Once more she can say she has to work. Or, even better for her now, she has a dog and she will say I can't leave Bailey alone.

I don't have any crutches.

I learned a long time ago to simply say, no. I never give a reason even if there is a long silence following my refusal. I will sometimes say, but thank you for asking, but that's as far as I will go.

It works.

People don't quite know how to deal with that.

Mid century modern

 

My parents considered themselves modern, educated people who were trying to raise their children in the best way they knew possible. They had four, so that was supposed to end the problem of having a middle child. However I think it just created two middle children. One boy. One girl.

They gave us names that did not lend themselves to shortened nicknames, except for my brother Thomas, who had the unfortunate nicknames of Tom, Tommy, Tommy toes, and Tom Ass. None of these, except Tom and Tommy, were actually sanctioned by my parents and yet my mother used them all at some point.

They then assigned traits to each of us. Something my father would continue to do with his grandchildren later on. I began life as Angel, but once my sister came along, I was the brainy child, or my mother's little old maid. My sister began life as my father's ugly duckling and moved on to Pretty. Forever after that she was considered the pretty one.

My brother Tom was always odd man out. He did strange things that my mother encouraged. I think she mistook this as honoring his eccentric intelligence. She had a problem with intelligent people, considering them all a bit crazy. This along with a lack of discipline ruined my brother's life. My father usually worked at least three jobs, so he was seldom present once I was five years old and I am the oldest.

My youngest brother was the typical baby of the family with all the freedom and baggage of most babies. He was bright, stubborn, eager, and an over achiever whose main father figure was not my dad, the teacher, but our neighbor, the fisherman, hunter, salt of the earth type.

There was not much sibling rivalry between us, although I often found my mother was more lenient with Tom and his ability to get away with things infuriated me. I was very protective of Henry, the baby and considered my sister and I equal -- except she was pretty and I was not.

Looking back I see where these stereotypes set Caroline and Tom for life. She would forever judge the world on how pretty something or someone was and assume the prettier, the better. Tom never gave up trying to do the bizarre thing and the more bizarre the better. It finally killed him. 

Henry is the most successful of all four of us. 

I always wanted to be more like my dad, but I only saw his love for learning and exploring ideas. I did not notice how his need for change affected his life, or mine.

We were a mid century modern family struggling to understand the new lifestyle of buying houses and cars with credit rather than cash, so you could appear to have it all.

When I die

 

When I die

Take my ashes to a beautiful place and set me free.

Allow me to float gently on the air into the world of eternity.

Into a world of light and love

A world of freedom and joy

A world where the water runs free

And the eagles fly high.

And if you are able and willing please add your voice and music to this wondrous day.

Send me off with guitars and voices that I love among people that I love.

Make it a love fest that brings tears of relief and joy to everyone.

Time line

 

I know you and I don't know why.

You are a face, an intuitive feeling, an unremembered memory, or yet to be experienced occurrence. 

You are a part of me caught up in this thing called time that I cannot put my finger on, and yet I know you.

Your face jars some unknown part of my lifeline. 

Your eyes speak to me of our togetherness.

A word, a phrase, an accent, speaks to me in tones that are so familiar.

My heart aches with the wanting of something that no one else will ever understand, because even I do not understand it.

But I know you.

Love is not a contract

(Originally published 2-16-2025) 

It doesn't matter if you love someone or they love you.

It doesn't matter if that love is reciprocated by either one of you.

Love is love,

True love occurs in spite of our shortcomings. We love someone not because they are this or that, pretty, or talented, famous or handsome.We love them in spite of the fact that they have bad habits, or gain weight, or grow older, or even act childish.

They can betray us, ignore us, or hurt us and we may turn away from them to save ourselves, but it is still possible to love them.

That is why wedding vows are such poor protection from divorce. Love is not a contract. It doesn't have to make sense by the world's standards, nor does it have to stand up in court.

Love is a state of being. A wonderful, unimaginable state of being that defies the odds and cannot really be defined. It does not guarantee happiness or anything else.

Love stands alone, defined by the heart not the head which is why it is so difficult to understand. How we respond or react to the love we experience either as the beloved or the lover is one of the great mysteries of the universe.

People mistake friendship, liking, needing wanting and lusting for love and while it may include all those things it is so much more.

True love is hole that is filled by transcendental experiences that are not quantifiable or even understandable. Love can be sublimated, but it does not die, which is why it can be both an unimaginable blessing and supremely painful torment.

It you have experienced it, you know there is nothing in this world like it.

Trying

 

I have not always made the best decisions. In fact, I make many poor decisions all the time, but that does not negate the fact that I am trying.

I see Facebook memories and old Thots and realize that trying to find that quiet place, that peaceful center, that moment of equilibrium has been a running theme for me.

I know that politics, my health, and some people are consistently putting a crink in my plans and calling me out again and again.

Serenity is a journey, not the end I have always hoped it was. At least for me

Usually when I go to sleep at night I can find that place for me. I visualize it as a starry night, or deep sea water, or, sometimes as a reddish healing haze, but lately it has been muddied with only glimpses of what is beyond.

I am stressed. I know I am stressed. The state of my country and the state of my health are both extreme stressors for me. But I am doing my best.

But I am trying.

Trying to find the peace that is here and hoping to find a way to let it spread out across my environment, my world, into the chaos around me.

Children

 

Children are love personified, the actual manifestation of the love between two people. People talk about the joys of parenthood. 

I see people dressing children up like dolls, parading them in front of the world so others can see how beautiful they are. I see children performing amazing feats that bring them and their parents much acclaim.

Children keep us from being lonely. They raise our spirits with their shenanigans. And they can be both stressful and a lot of work.

So, what is the real purpose of a parent, aside from simply keeping the child alive?

A parent's job is to give their child the skills to live successfully in the real world once they are grown up.

Animals seem to do this by instinct. 

People are not always so cognizant.

The ultimate purpose and supreme act of love is to take these beautiful creatures that we cannot live without and teach them to live without us.

Windows

 

The windows to our world can be television, radio, family, friends, books, or simple experiences.

We see things through so many different filters that sometimes it becomes difficult to know which ones to trust. 

For example, looking through a stained glass window may show things occurring in red or blue, or even sunny yellow, but we know this is an illusion.

That same illusion occurs when we look at the world through fear. Fear can be a life altering filter depending upon what initiated it.

Some things are truly dangerous. We don't have to meet a cobra to know we should not engage them, but watching certain television programs, or reading only the crime section of the news leads some people to think they are in constant danger from thieves, or sexual perverts, or sharks, or even goblins, ghosts and ghoulies. 

When fear becomes the filter of choice, the main way to protect yourself from things that are new, or strange, or things you simply don't understand, it becomes a liability.

How you replace the fear filter can be complicated and difficult, especially if it has been the driving force behind most of your actions for a long period of time. You become the turtle whose body contracts into a shell shielding you from everything both good and bad.

Opening the window to a life of reason is not as easy as it sounds for some people. They are even afraid to consider their options.

This is a mental illness. It means it is time to find a way to talk to a therapist, which of course becomes a catch 22, because that can be something new and new things are terrifying, (and therefore dangerous.)

If you recognize these symptoms, open a new window, let in a little light, let a breath of fresh air enter your life and discover that joy comes with more reasonable filters.

Adaptability of our species

 

One of the most frustrating and interesting things about human beings is their ability to adapt.

This is not necessarily always a good trait.

The ability to rationalize things so they fit into what is believed or wanted causes many problems for people.

Christians back things that are definitely against, what Jesus would do.

Intelligent people ignore the common sense behavior that goes along with getting along with other people.

People who believe they are kind use passive aggressive behavior to make their point.

We use our brains to defy the natural way of things and sometimes that is good. We generally don't eat each other, but we do destroy each other if it fits our agenda. 

A Cold Day In Hell

 

I once said it would be a cold day in hell before the United States knowingly elected a man who would be dictator.

Today that man is being inaugurated.

He was elected, so that means either a majority of the people in this country believe that a dictator, a man who admires dictators, a man who blatantly represents the top one percent, should run the country, or that many people do not really think about who they are electing.

I don't know anyone in the top one percent personally, although I do know one through his children. Most of the people I know do not know anyone in the top one percent. We have very few things in common with each other other than the fact that we are all human beings.

I hope the top one percent understands that being a human being counts just as much as money.

The good life

 

I have spent so much of my life trying to figure out what is right, what everyone else thinks is right, what I should be doing, thinking, acting on, or seeing.

An avid reader, I often catch myself thinking I should be doing this or that in order to be having a good life, but then it slowly occurred to me that all these articles are people trying to find something to write about. Whether it is to make a living, or find fame, or discover some personal form of satisfaction, these people are simply expressing their opinions, fears, and insecurities.

I suspect the most important thing about a good life is asking myself, am I okay with it? After that I can decide if I need more activity inside or outside my home. 

It really doesn't matter what anyone else thinks in the end. 

It is my life and the only real challenge I have is making me feel good about it.

Whether that is by doing something like painting, volunteering, reading, or simply sitting and enjoying the atmosphere, doesn't matter. Finding contentment, or even joy is so illusive for many people. If I can find that, or bits of that I think I am on the right track. There is no need for justifying it.

Historical karma

 

History is like karma. 

It will sort out the heinous from the just.

It will take off the rose colored glasses, the blindfolds woven from greed, eviscerate the words created only to curry personal power, and lay it all out in black and white.

Those with a purely personal agenda will eventually be named for who and what they are.

Of course if it is only a cry for attention, anyone could succeed.  After all, Hitler is still well known.

Depending on your standards it is always possible for a bad person to be wildly popular.

For a time.

Then the truth will rise to the surface like cream in good milk.

The results of all actions eventually speak for themselves. In spite of lapses, science and truth eventually rise back to the top because everything else is ephemeral, a childish desire to make things what we want, not what they are.

You may not live to see the day any of this happens, but it will happen. It always has.

Soup du jour

 

A few months ago someone came to my house and made a wonderful turkey and rice soup just for me.

Today, after a very long day of work, that person is going to walk to the grocery store, buy a carrot and then walk a quarter of a mile through slush and snow to my apartment.

Once here she will chop, cook and stir a lovely soup that we will share while watching television.

Afterwards she will clean up, wash the dishes and walk over a mile home. Once more in bitter cold through snow and ice.

That is love.

True belief

 

If we ever discover all the seemingly magical qualities our bodies have, we might live forever.

I think the problem is true belief.

Saying I believe in something is easy. 

Believing it? Not so easy.

The faith factor is highly underrated.

A mother lifting a car off of her son who is pinned under it does not stop to think, is this possible?

Healing our own bodies from within is probably possible too. There are other animals whose bodies facilitate this, but that niggling doubt negates the benefits.

That is why people have so many crutches. If we can give the credit to some other thing, a magical fountain, a pilgrimage to a sacred site, a particular prayer, it seems it becomes easier for us to really believe.

Still, if those things work for you? Use them!

Life is an ephemeral gift and I, for one, want to explore as much of it as I can before I move on.

Cults

 

I just watched a program about cults. How they work. Their methods, their allure and much of it felt eerily familiar to me.

Once, long ago, I belonged to a very respectable, mainstream church that was in transition. The priest had died and the congregation was looking for a replacement. It took a long time and there were several interim priests that came and went.

Slowly but surely I became part of a very intimate group of Sunday school teachers and fervent church members that ended up with us leaving this church and moving to a smaller one across town.

By this time we were all very closely involved. We were at church several days and nights a week. We had potlucks for all celebrations, church or not. We let our children spend hours together and encouraged them to be best friends. In fact, had something happened to us, we decided we wanted the lead couple to become the people who would raise our children instead of family members.

That couple came from the Catholic church, a former priest and nun who were now married with children. Natural leaders, they set the tone for much of what happened.

In the beginning they ran workshops where people paid a large amount of money to bring a dish to share for a communal group. There people split into pairs and one lay on the floor between large speakers blaring music around them. The other was a sitter who watched over the person on the floor. 

The person lying down began to breath in quick short breaths, really hyperventilating until they hallucinated. These experiences were taken as very serious ways of understanding our phobias, or problems. Eventually several people in the group, including me, began private counseling with this couple.

Slowly they also formed a so called Dream Group. At first it was lead by a Jungian psychologist retired from Switzerland. It evolved into a group that did not include her, but was lead by the former priest and nun at their home.

The group experimented with different modes of work. Sleeping together in a circle on the floor of a local church to see if they would share dreams, sweat lodges by a large creek, drumming circles where we descended in our minds deep into the earth, even classes involving painting. All of these supplemented by the counseling.

I thought of them as my real family, the people I trusted implicitly. At the time it did not feel incestuous or strange that counselors would be leaders and a part of this group, even claiming to be re-parenting some of them.

One day they suddenly decided that all the people they counseled would have to break off into a new dream group that did not include them. All the other events ended too.

They were the center of our lives. Surrogate parent type people who also benefited from us paying for their events and counseling. Suddenly they up and moved far away. He got a parish in the wilds of another state and we were bereft.

Not too long after that they severed ties with me on social media and even when they came to town for a funeral they did not seem to want to carry on our old closeness.

Now I wonder if I was part of a cult. It is an uncomfortable feeling.

Happy New Year

At midnight I will open my door in an old Irish Tradition to let the old year out and the new year in.

I say good riddance to this year, although the past month has been pretty stellar, the prelude was grim.

Going back to work may have put the final touches on my life.

I caught Covid from a student and in the end had to give up my job, my home and my life as I knew it. 

I may never recover completely. I am truly less than half the person I was before,

But I am not giving up!

Every morning I think over the past twenty four hours looking for some kind of improvement and occasionally I see some. It may not last, but at least it was there for a bit.

Last year my goals were to walk five miles a day and I was succeeding until Dec.25th.

Now my goal is to do the things that are necessary. Vacuum. Dust. Shower. Wash the dishes. Grocery shop, and feed my soul.

I am welcoming the new year with John William's Tokyo concert. Music that stirs the soul.

It seems like a good start.

The best Christmas ever

 

This has been an amazing Christmas. 

Some past years saw me completely alone, or even sick.

This year I was among family and friends three separate, wonderful times.

First the community I live in celebrated in a warm and caring congregation of men and women who have much in common and nothing at all in common.

Next there was a family Christmas with my nephew and niece's family that left me feeling very loved (and very stuffed!)

And on Christmas day, my granddaughter and her fiancee drove all the way down here to spend a lovely seven hours with me before driving home. We video chatted with my daughter and her fiancee and my oldest granddaughter while we all opened gifts and caught up. 

My oldest son sent a charming video from him and my two youngest grandchildren that simply made my day perfect.

And of course, my youngest son never fails to keep in touch nearly every day, all year long.

It was a Christmas season filled with those loving moments that mean more than anything else in the world.

Christmas

 

I have to remember to follow my own advice at Christmas.

Don't do anything unless it is out of love.

And, love means not injuring myself by over doing.

Simplicity is the key word.

Keep things simple.

It is the people and the joy that matter, not the decorations or the food, or the gifts. They may add to it, but if they begin to become an issue? Drop them!

The love that holds people together is the main reason for any holiday that is worth celebrating.

Money

 

Having money is like breathing for the insanely rich. Their frame of reference is so far removed from the world most of us live in that we will never really understand them, or them, us.

The newly rich fall into two categories. Those who need to flaunt their success and those who are mindful of the good their money can do.

As a child who thought she was wealthy I found it easy to spot the nouveau riche. They generally seemed to lose more than they had gained. Too much was the best description I can come up with. They over dressed, over bought, over acted. Having money seemed to have distorted their outlook. It was the last thing I wanted to be.

Today many people have more money than sense. Like the play says, "If you're rich they think you really know." Or perhaps that phrase could be altered to "If you're rich you think you really know," because we are going to reach a point in our society where even money won't buy you what you need to survive.

And the sad truth is, those who got us there will not even understand what they did. Money does not buy emotional intelligence, or really intelligence at all.

Park Glen

 

I like the name Park Glen. It has overtones of something Scottish or Gaelic, two things that have always fascinated me, but this is not in the magical Highlands. It is right here in the heartland of Illinois.

Last night we had our Christmas Party, a beautiful event surrounded by tall decorated trees and lovely evergreens. There were Santas and lovely decorations on tables covered in green tablecloths with decorative runners down the center.

The room was alive with a huge crowd of people dressed to celebrate the holidays together. There were service dogs, wheelchairs, walkers, and people as mobile and dapper as anyone anywhere.

We were served Chicken Cordon Bleu, cheesy corn, and augratin potatoes, along with a salad, and a roll with butter and salad dressings of your choice.

Dessert was a choice of scrumptious Italian creme, red velvet, rich chocolate, or pound cake.

There were prizes, a voluntary gift exchange and joyful moments galore.

And it was all planned and served exclusively by the four lovely people who take care of this building and us twelve months a year, in person, except for the one who was having an emergency appendectomy.

Park Glen is a high rise apartment building with every amenity for people over fifty or with disabilities, but I have never lived in a nicer apartment anywhere else. The staff here is what makes the difference. They care! They know people by name and they really go above and beyond to make this a place to be proud of,

It may not be in the Highlands, but it just might be magical in today's world where so many places are just out to make a buck. 

Fair

 

Life is not fair.

If life were truly fair it would be very different.

People say "fair" but what they mean is their version of fair, what they imagine, or want, or need it to be.

If life were brutally fair we would suffer the consequences of our behavior in unfiltered justice.

Parents who spoil their children thinking that it is a form of love would actually see clearly how those same actions destroyed the lives of their children in the end.

Companies who produce inferior goods would suffer the same problems their customers do.

People who destroyed the environment by producing or using harmful things would be the first to reap the horrors of climate change.

Most of us do not realize how much leeway "fair" gives us. We squeak by doing those things we always do and think that we are the exception.

And we often are, because life is not fair.

Do it with love

 

There are people who do lots of things for lots of people, but they have got it all wrong.

Just getting something done may be a step, but it is not THE step that makes people feel grateful.

I know someone who is always helping people, but she leaves them feeling bad when she is finished because she is simply doing it to get it done. It may be a habit born out of need, but it still doesn't work.

It is not enough to cook a big dinner. The cooking needs to be done with love. Attention to detail is important. Unless the people are simply starving, just throwing lots of food on the table leaves a kind of hollow feeling. Overcooked meat, poorly prepared side dishes, hard as a rock rolls, these are not the signs of a lovingly prepared feast. It would be better to have just a couple of wonderful dishes made with great care.

The same goes for other so-called loving acts. If you are celebrating someone do it right, or just don't do it. If it isn't fun and sweet and, well, loving, it doesn't feel that way to them.

And if you are helping someone move house, do it with care. Just getting things from A to B is not the same as getting them there undropped, unbroken, uncared for.

It is good to help people and good to celebrate people, but if your heart is not in it, don't do it, because in the end no one will feel really good.

Winter Blessings

 

We are about to enter one of my favorite times of the year. Not THE favorite, that is the cold crisp days of Fall, which seem to have eluded us this year, but my second favorite. Winter.

There is nothing more serene or pristine than snow falling on ground ready to sleep peacefully for the next few months.

It is like a wedding born of maturity and wisdom.

We turn away from the steamy, sweaty days of summer and lean in toward the warm cozy fires in our hearths.

Surrounded by the smells of home style cooking, drawn into the flames that speak to us of romance and warmth, we gather with our friends and families to enjoy the simple pleasures of life among loved ones.

Board games, puzzles, books to read and movies to snuggle by, fill our time now that the weather is better viewed through a window darkly. Knowing that the beauty of ice and snow harbors death and discomfort for those who violate the age old customs of hibernating with joy.

There are those who venture out to ski, or sled, or even build creatures of snow, but eventually it is back to the timeless contentment found in mugs of hot cocoa or pot roasts with fresh bread, and the comfort of beds piled high with comforters and quilts.

Preferences

 

I have pretty consistent choices when it comes to things I find beautiful or attractive, but it makes me wonder how these come to be.

People are influenced by everyone and everything around them, but most people appreciate things that are balanced and even. They find them more attractive than their counterparts.

As small children we usually have a favorite color that matches our mom, or dad, or grandma or some other favorite relative or person in our life.

It is when we grow older and show a preference for a particular color or style that interests me. Not teenagers who are often influenced by peer pressure, but adult minds beginning to form definite personalities.

I know some people choose colors and styles that aid in making money. Dark business suits, goth makeup, black clothing, glitzy revealing outfits, it all depends on what you are willing to wear for the dollars. Need, greed, and insecurity can be powerful influencers.

I want to know what makes me love forest green and cerulean blue and one of my sons love deep dark brown. Is it just that they are primary earth colors, or is there something more to it? 

I find it interesting that many people will claim they have a favorite color, but it does not figure prominently in their lives. It isn't in their home, or clothing or art work.

I think people tend to automatically lean towards their favorite colors when they pick something out for no other reason than they love it. That is how I discovered my favorite colors. I looked around me one day and realized that I had collected things in forest green and cerulean blue over many years. Up until then I was still saying I loved red, which was a color I picked out as a child because my grandmother liked red.

Do you know why your favorite color is what it is?

Succulents

 

It was the house of her dreams, a sweet almost storybook neighborhood with shuttered windows and white painted trim.

The yards were picture perfect and Handy Andy, the man across the street, was out daily manicuring his lawn one blade of grass at a time.

He and his wife were what everyone dreamed of. Elegantly lithe, silvered hair, bright smiling eyes and a manner that drew everyone around them closer.

Over the years she imagined what it must be like to be them. They seemed so happy, so content, so perfectly at ease in their surroundings. So when she retired and they said they needed some help, she signed on.

Just a few days a week to supplement her income and their needs. They had family the rest of the time.

Working for them was what she had always imagined. They became a part of her family. She even called them Grandma and Grandpa. 

Following Grandma into the kitchen and down to do the laundry was rewarding in so many ways. She was always sweet and kind no matter what was going on.

Helping Grandpa in his greenhouse and garden was an exercise in bliss. He taught her the names of each plant and how to care for it.

Everyone and everything seemed to be thriving. Especially Grandma and Grandpa.

She, on the other hand, found herself feeling more and more tired, but still she was drawn to them like months to a flame. She never missed her days with them no matter what. They were her drug of choice. 

Peace, contentment, satisfaction and so much more made her small salary more than worthwhile.

But as the year progressed, she became grayer and tireder. Her energy slipped slowly away until one day Grandma and Grandpa, who looked ten years younger, patted her on the face and said, "Darling, you need to go home and rest. We have a new younger caretaker coming in."

Forlornly peering out her window, she watched the younger woman enter their house, then she turned with her walker and tottered back to her chair.

Occasionally she would glance out the window to see Grandma and Grandpa sailing through their lives, the procession of aging caretakers always starting out right at their elbows and gradually moving farther and farther away until it was time for them, too, to leave, so a new one could take their place.

Disturbing

 

Imagine a child who eats a penny to get even with her mother.

Or thinks it is hilarious to stick gum under a family table,

Or scratches her initials into the finish of a Steinway piano with a safety pin.

Now imagine an adult who is still proud of these things and laughs about them while sharing them.

I find this particularly disturbing.

Priorities of the heart

 

I often get credit for being very well organized, but to me it is just a matter of priorities.

I don't want to miss, or mess up things that are important to me.

I believe that caring and love are best shown in the tiny details of living.

If I am going to do something for someone, I want to do it well.

And there are things that happen every over and over. How can I be surprised that it is time for a birthday, or time to write Christmas cards, or renew the license plate sticker on my car? These things occur like clockwork, every single year.

I don't want more things than I am able to take care of, or want to keep in clean and in working order. Accumulating "Stuff" means nothing to me. My apartment is filled with things I absolutely love and many of them are things I have loved for a very long time. My style, my colors, my choices are not spur of the moment fads.

And so I love my children, my family, my home, and my life. The priorities of my heart compel me to make sure I am worthy of having them. If you don't like raisins, I will never make you cookies with raisins in them. If your favorite color is purple, I won't buy you red clothing. And if you change your mind about something I will respect that and honor it too.

You are important to me.The real me loves the real you.

A brain for granny

 

I think the secret to living is always learning.

As long as you can learn -- you have hope.

So don't base your life on only doing what you know how to do, what you've always done, what comes naturally and easy to you.

Push back at life.

Make some mistakes.

Learn how to cope with things that are difficult for you.

A brain is like a sponge. Don't let it dry out for lack of experience

Learning how to learn is an art and a gift. Babies brains begin downsizing at birth which is why they need the right kind of stimulation from the beginning. 

That doesn't end because you are fifty, or seventy or even a hundred!