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My View From Here

Living in the city, no matter the size, is waking in the morning to the smell and feel of fresh night air. A yawn and a stretch later, that intoxicating aroma is smothered by the sickening odor of exhaust and fumes of an awaking city full of automobiles rushing to a destination of “another day, another dollar” hoping to make ends meet in an increasingly greedy world.

Closing the window as if closing my mind to this life in the city where each house surrounding ours feels like claustrophobia crowding out the freedom I felt on the four acres that was once our home in the country. Will my longing for a return to that life ever cease?

Children’s eyes are different. They do not view life the same as adult’s eyes do. Young people see each day or each event as an opportunity for adventure. 

Recently, my grandson and his friend shared an ephemeral moment in the rain, one of those moments that was as forever memorable as it was fleeting.

Two eight-year-old boys walking in the rain, pouring from giant buckets in the clouds. They could barely see their water soaked shoes as they splashed through growing puddles on their journey toward a moment of discovery two blocks away… pipes and drains, drain fields, and rising water. How did the water get in the pipes? Why was the water rushing out of them like a firehose? How much water could the drain field hold?

Shivering, wet, and cold, yet undeterred, they returned home full of excitement and questions about their discovery, each of them barely noticing the towels their mothers wrapped around their soaking wet bodies, heads shaking the water out of their hair like puppies shaking their furry bodies, twisting and turning and wagging their tails hoping someone will pay attention to them and pet them lovingly. 

This was a moment frozen in my mind as I longed to be eight again to feel the freedom and excitement of new discoveries… even in rain-soaked clothing. Not having a care in the world other than having fun with my friend in a field in the rain. Even in the city…. Children’s eyes are different. 

I wish that at almost 60, I could relax and enjoy the freedom of discovery on a rainy afternoon like a child, and not worry about my shoes being wet, or my hair looking flat, or water dripping onto the carpet upon my return. Adults view life differently.

I’m not saying one decade of life is better or worse than another. It’s just different.  Ahhhhh….

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Brrrr…

The wind blows hard here at times. We are not “The Windy City” but we could be a close second.

Today, the temperature outside is 55 degrees with high winds, which makes it feel like sweatshirt weather inside. Stew sounds good for dinner on a day like today. But, I guess chicken spinach tomato pasta will suffice.

I am sitting in our bedroom listening to the rustling of the leaves in our neighbors yard. The birds are chirping and, of course, the magpies are screeching.

I hear the clanging of the pans in the kitchen as my husband washes, dries, and puts away the dishes. He hardly ever sits still. He puts me to shame. Neither of us is lazy, but I do like to blog, write, paint, or anything to avoid doing the unfun stuff like cleaning or organizing. I don’t mind it, but I would rather be doing the fun stuff. So, here I am… blogging and daydreaming about traveling…..

I think that is part of what is so appealing to me about wandering around the country with no home or lawn or the myriad of other responsibilities that go along with having a home. I want to be free to travel and not feel tied down to anything.

My husband is the responsible one who thinks it is important to have the house as an investment for me after he dies. Well, what if I die first? Or what if we look back a few years from now with regret that we didn’t go experience life when we had the chance, when we were healthier.

In every way, I am more of a risk taker, investments, etc. He is very steady and likes to play it safe.

My paternal grandfather was a wanderer, his entire life. My dad moved a lot as a child. He did not like it. There is something to be said for being settled and having roots, but when the kids are grown and have families of their own, as our children do…. I think there is room to feed this wanderlust. I know there are beautiful places I have not seen yet!

So, enough daydreaming. Time to work on creating and organizing my new painting/sewing/craftroom.

Maybe I could cuddle up under a blanket and take a nap first. This wind is giving me a headache.

What a dilemma!  Sigh….

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Maybe Next Time

This is another post about my mom. She is so fun for me to be around. She tells great stories on herself.

The latest one is that she was feeling really brave after she realized she could drive again, since the pain in her knees from a recent fall no longer kept her from driving her vehicle. She decided she would attempt to take the car through the drive-thru carwash. This would be only her second time ever!

She did great! She lined up just right and pulled forward as directed by the carwash attendant. At the perfect spot, the attendant gave the direction for her to stop driving forward, then did his best “Vanna White” arm movement along the vertical sign directing Mom to put the car in Neutral, take her foot of the brake, and do not touch the steering wheel.

Mom was so proud of herself for doing such a good job so far. Until… the car would not move. She got nervous. The attendant was making his best motion for Mom to roll down her window. She could not understand immediately what he was wanting her to do. She finally realized, and rolled her window down. The attendant ask if Mom’s car was in neutral. She looked down at the gear shifter and motioned for him to see that it definitely was in neutral. She was so perplexed! Then, the attendant asked if her foot was on the brake. She exclaimed, “Oh dear!” And sheepishly grinned up at him as she removed her foot from the brake.

That is all it took and she was on her way through the suds and water. She thought to herself, “Maybe next time I will get it right… Maybe next time….”

It is not easy to become independent and responsible for everything at age 82 when, for over 60 years, Dad was right there to do it all for her.

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My Mom’s Friend is My Friend’s Mom

Tuesday, I took my mom to the doctor to discuss the pain in her knees. His office retook X-rays of her knees and said there was nothing broken. He gave her a cortisol injection in both knees, said she probably has a “bone bruise” from her last couple of falls, and sent her on her way.

She was thrilled there were no limitations placed on her (except for the excruciating pain she has been feeling) so she was free to attend the outdoor concert with her friends by the river. These friends and my mom have all lost their husbands. So, they really enjoy their “girls night out.”

The friend who picked my mom up drives a minivan so all of their friends can fit. (There are five women in total who ride to the river together.) She put my mom’s walker behind the back seat in the van. As she closed the hatch, she looked my way, then walked over next to me and asked if there are any restrictions or instructions from the doctor that she should be aware of.

Mind you, my mom’s friend just recently decided to get up off her “deathbed” and start “living life again.” She hardly eats anything. She is so small and frail, looks like skin and bones. She is younger then my mom by 3 years, but looks older than her (from all of the weight loss). I almost couldn’t contain my reaction when she asked me about my mom’s restrictions and then said she will take care of her the best she can. It was so sweet of her, but…really? Oh my! I thought later that I should have asked if her she was given any instructions or restrictions from her doctors and should I go along to help take care of all of them?

My mom’s friend is my friend’s mom.

My friend and I met in the 2nd grade. (We are almost retirement age and our moms are in their early 80’s. Well, I guess maybe her mom is only 79 or so.) Anyway, we went to school together, even double-dated in high school. We both married navy guys who each go by the same name. They have different legal names, but go by the same name. We were each other’s bridesmaids in our weddings. We kept in touch when she moved out of state to the upper Northwest and when I moved out of state to the upper Midwest. We sent cards and letters over the years to keep updated about our kids and our lives. We were the best of friends. But, distance and time can change things.

Mostly, misunderstandings can change things.

We are both back in the same town where we grew up. Unfortunately, we had a couple of falling outs over the years and she even stopped talking with me for several years. We are back on speaking terms and we try to get together with our husbands for dinner every now and then, but the closeness will never be the same.

My friend and I have both lost our dads. She lost her dad to covid in 2020. I lost my dad to watershed strokes in 2024. I am hopeful, that soon, my friend’s mom, my friend, my mom, and I can get together for lunch or something. That would be such a cool moment, all of these years later.

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Creatively Speaking

List three books that have had an impact on you. Why?

* The Scriptures, because they are how God speaks to me.

* The Giving Tree – because that tree gave everything it had because of the love it felt for one person. It reminds me of Christ. He gave all… because of the love He feels for each and every person who has ever lived or will live.

* My camera training manual, because it opened the first door to my love of photography becoming a beautiful creative outlet for me.

Speaking of creativity, this thought occurred to me today….

Humans were made to create. After all, we are made in God’s image. God created the world. And, He created us, humans… In His image. I never thought of it quite like this before. I have said before that we are made to create, but I just realized WHY. Because we are patterned after God, in His image, with the potential to become like Him… To create our own worlds and the inhabitants of those worlds.

That paragraph gives me goose bumps. 

Think about all of the things we humans like to create… other little humans, for example. We like to create stories or memoirs with our words on paper. We like to act, or sing, or photograph the perfect moment – freezing it in time. People create homes, buildings, cars, and trucks. We like to create gourmet food dishes and amazing art pieces. 

Children love to create! They start at a very young age. Think of the amount of money spent each year on Legos and activity sets, as well as blocks and puzzles. What about sports? You know, learning to create the perfect pitch or football move or to create the perfect layup in their own way with their developing creative talents.

I could write on and on about what we humans like to create. And, we do it with all of our senses. It is incredible when you think about it! Our brains were created to think of ways to create!! 

Do you know anyone (in their right mind) who doesn’t express creativity in one way or another? Every person that I know creates something. Every. Single. Person. 

Why is creativity so important? I think I answered that already. We are learning to become like God, our Supreme Creator.

Or like Lucifer, the Supreme manipulator. It is our choice. Creativity can be used for good or evil, just as anything else. It is all about agency and choosing how we want want to use our creative powers. Yes, agency. But, that is a topic for another day. 

Now, let’s go create something beautiful and amazing!  

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Are You Living My Dream?

It was the year I turned twenty. Two months later my my fiance and I were married. I became a wife and instant mom (a story for another post). I left home for the first time and moved with my husband from a western state to the eastern (midwestern?) state of Ohio in the Sandusky area.

One of the first Sundays we went to church, I met a married woman in her 30’s. I don’t remember her name, but I remember the experience like it was last week. She invited us to their campsite for dinner one evening. I do not remember what we ate for dinner or much about our conversation, but I remember feeling so at home in the cozy camp chair near the fire. I remember being surprised when she told us that she and her husband didn’t have a home to go back to. The camper was their home. They seemed so laid back, without a care in the world.

He with his long hair and she with her longer hair were not scraggly looking. They wore comfortable summer shorts and had a bit of a hippy vibe that surrounded them, especially when he pulled out the guitar as the shadows lengthened across the campground. Night was falling and here we were so far from the “city” (smallish town) where I grew up, listening to him play folk songs on his guitar. I remember her voice was lower when she sang. They sang as comfortably as they spoke. That was when it became a little awkward. We are not singers, so rather than comfortably joining them in song, we nervously smiled and sang a note here and there. The did not seem to mind.

I was enthralled with their voices, but mostly with their lifestyle. That scene is indelibly burned into my mind. That is the life I wanted to live. It represented freedom and a carefree way of life on the road, stopping every few towns and staying for awhile-just long enough to meet new people, hear their stories, and gather up friends along the way. I have always wanted that. I still do.

A few years ago when I worked as a professional wedding photographer, I remember telling my husband I wanted to travel from town to town and capture in photography and in words the lives of people I meet along the way. Then I discovered “Humans of New York” and it was amazing! but, my idea was already done…it was so fun to see the photos of everyday people in New York and read their stories alongside the photos. I wanted to do the small town version of that, but the wind kind of blew out of my sails when I saw that book. Somewhere in the back of my mind, that dream still lives. However, it seems to be further back in the recesses of my mind because I am not getting any younger.

There are blogs written by people who live the “nomad” lifestyle. They are living my dream. I am sure it is not always easy on the road, but it sure seems like a lifestyle I could live, at least for awhile. When I come across a blog or vlog of someone sharing their story of that life, I live, if only for a moment, vicariously through them. It almost always takes me back nearly 40 years to that one moment, a moment I have longed to repeat…sitting around a campfire without a care in the world, enjoying the peaceful surroundings, and making new friends along the way.

Actually, it takes me back further, to my childhood days of camping with my family. Fishing in the lake and playing in the sand in the daytime. Then, sitting around the campfire under the stars eating marshmallows at night. I loved listening to the adults tell stories and reminisce about days gone by.

It brings a tear to my eye even now, knowing that is a lifestyle I long for, but will never be able to have due to my own family circumstances.

So, if you are living my dream (or even if not), give me a like and/or follow so I can read about your experiences on the road and relive that nostalgic moment I once had so very long ago.

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A Walk in the Park

Not every choice or experience in this life is as simple or easy as a walk in the park.

I wish it was, but it just isn’t.

However, with each difficult situation comes learning, deeper understanding, and meaning. Growth.

It’s true.

This life was never meant to be a walk in the park. Rather, it is a place of learning and growth, building human family connection, and developing patience… with self and others.

Overcoming loneliness, loving those who are most difficult to love, forgiving the unrepentant and undeserving are never easy. But, is it possible that with God, nothing is impossible?

These are some of the thoughts I was contemplating earlier on my walk in the park.

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Memorial Weekend

Even as a child, I loved the peace and quiet of a cemetery. Today, as my mom, siblings, and I stood near Dad’s headstone, we shared a few memories and a few laughs. Dad would have been laughing right along with us…. He probably was. 😉

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My Dad

Who would you like to talk to soon?

I wish I could talk with my dad. He was so great to talk with. He could talk about anything! I particularly enjoyed our conversations about God, creation, where we came from, and dinosaurs. He was a bit of a deep thinker. I like deep thinkers who are curious about life. My husband is a deep thinker. He reminds me of my dad. Which brings me to last evening….

There is a beautiful little community park near my house, with a curvy, tree-lined, three-quarter mile walking path where I love to walk, often with my husband waiting for me on one of the benches, sometimes alone.

My thoughts are always drawn to the beauty of the various trees scattered along the path and throughout the park. Somehow, I am able to drown out the traffic noise from a nearby busy street. I barely notice the noise of people playing soccer or baseball or other games in the field.

The perfectly pink flowers on this tree started me thinking about creation. Questions came to mind about how the beauty of this world was created. I thought about how the earth had to be just the way it is to sustain life… water, food, oxygen, gravity, sun for heat, etc.

Then I thought about each of the planets in our solar system, how perfectly aligned they are. Well, if the “Big Bang” happened to create the earth and the other planets in our solar system, why is earth the only planet that can sustain life? And how did everything just happen to align so perfectly?

It does not make sense!! God is the only thing that makes sense to me about why we are all here and how our earth and other planets were created. He used science to create the earth, but he definitely was in charge of guiding the creation. It is the only explanation that makes sense to me.

I can’t wait for the conversations I will be able to have with my dad when I get to the other side!

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Snapshots of Life

The sun was dropping, the air was cooling, and the shadows were lengthening as I briskly walked around the almost two-mile loop at our community park. Several snapshots of life jumped out at me as I progressed along the path.

There were groups of small children talking, laughing, and squealing as they ran from one gym equipment piece to another. Parents were loitering around the playground equipment, visiting with other parents or keeping their eyes on their cell phones and their ears glued to the sound of the ones they were responsible for.

Opposite of them were a group of older gradeschoolers running back and forth as directed by their soccer coaches. They were listening intently and working hard. Parents were seated nearby in camp chairs they had undoubtedly carried with them from their cars in the parking lot. I wondered how many of the parents were friends outside of this practice circle. How many of the girls were friends at school or in the neighborhood? 

There was a young couple sitting on a bench. He had his arm around her. She was looking up at him, talking flirtatiously and giggling as she pulled her feet up and tucked them in under her small frame. Ahhh… young love. How did they meet? How long had they been dating? Will they end up together?

Since I was walking the opposite direction of most people I saw friends walking and talking, a middle-aged couple walking their dog, a multi generational family, and a couple in their 30’s holding hands as they walked and talked deliberately, lost to the world around them.

There was a young couple with a cute toddler girl who was having a bit of a meltdown. They were lovingly trying to comfort and console her, but she was not having it. As I walked past them and her cries faded further in the distance, I remembered that stage of parenthood and felt connected to them for a moment. Then, the moment passed, and I was grateful my children were grown.

It felt as if I was walking into the setting sun, past nastalgic snapshots of my own life’s memories, grateful for every stage along the way and even grateful for where I am today, with most of those stages of life behind me.

Sigh….

Looking forward with gratitude…that I can look behind with fondness.

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Our Night at the Movies

“Mom, do you want to go to see a movie with us at the theater?”

She said, “Yes, I would like that. it has been a long time since I have seen a movie at the theater.”

As a child, Mom got to see movies for free anytime she wanted because her dad, my grandpa, ran the movies at the theater in the small town where she grew up. She and her sisters spent a lot of time watching those old reel movies that their dad played.

She asked what movie we were going to see. I told her it is a movie called “Last Breath,” a true story about the rescue of a seasoned deep sea diver.

Mom does not have as much pep in her step as she used to, so we walked slowly from the parking lot to the theater building. We arrived early so we could pay for our tickets and purchase popcorn and drinks and find good seats. There were not many people in the lobby. We were able to walk right up to the counter and make our purchase. Apparently, it has been awhile since we have been to a movie because upon purchasing a ticket to the see our specific movie, the guy behind the counter pointed to the screen in front of me and asked us to choose our seats for the duration of the movie. That was a first! There were only 4 or five that were taken already, so we picked the perfect seats directly behind the wall which was located behind the handicapped area.

Mom was happily impressed that the tin bucket of popcorn even had a handle, which made it easier to carry with her drink as we walked to the napkin counter to pick up napkins and straws for our drinks. I always get fruit punch to drink with my buttery popcorn at the theater. It is the best combo!

We made our way to the theater at the end of the long hallway passing theater after theater rooms. The ads were already playing as we made our way to our chosen seats. The first challenge was to open the seat while holding a drink in one hand and popcorn, napkins, and the straw in the other hand. I backed up to my seat and slowly and gently slid it open as I sat down. My mom tried the same thing. Hers was more of a PLOP right down than a gentle sliding of the seat. She exclaimed she thought she was going straight down to the ground. We had a good laugh as we settled in, placing the drinks in the holders, removing our jackets, and placing the tins of popcorn on the napkins our laps. I’m sure Joe was picturing a scene from the Three Stooges, but he was the smart, cool one. Haha.

The ads on the screen were not the local ads we were accustomed to seeing. These were national ads that we see on TV. I guess they had to keep the movie theaters afloat somehow. National ads pay more, I’m sure.

When the movie finally started, we were sucked right in. Woody Harrelson played his part well. They all did. The movie was suspenseful and every time something unexpected popped up, my poor mom nearly jumped out of her seat! We had a few good laughs, enjoyed the popcorn, and a great movie together.

I am so grateful for a mom who is willing to experience new activities or ones she has not done in a long time, even in her eighties!