A SPONTANEOUS ADVENTURE

Sunrise in the Grand Canyon

When my daughter, Joliene, announced to me that she had enough frequent flyer miles to take us both to the Grand Canyon I was thrilled.  This was a place that I only have seen in pictures and one that I was looking forward to visiting one day.  Here I was, hearing the words from Joliene, “Let’s go to the Grand Canyon Mom!”  

We did.  For three days, we were introduced to the most indescribable place I have seen.  So many thoughts and observations that it will take more than one writing for me to express it all.

Watching the sun rise on the Canyon, provided jaw dropping delights every moment I stood there.  As the sun lifted over the buttes of the Canyon and the golden lights danced on the tops while lavender, pink, blue, and peach hues filled in all around me, I continually muttered “Oh my God, how beautiful” with every new visual revelation that lay before me.  

Standing on the rim’s edge, experiencing  the thin air that 7000 feet up will provide, I turn to the Park Ranger and ask, “How many people do you lose a year to the edge?”  

Thinking he would say one or two, I was stunned when he said, “Fifteen to twenty a year.  Not all of them accidental, but most of them are.”  

He continued, “We just lost a man last week.  He was standing on the unprotected edge when the wind blew his hat off.  He reacted by trying to catch his hat, forgetting how close to the edge he was and he just went over.”  

From that moment until we left, every person I saw challenge their fear by standing at the edge of the unprotected rim caused my heart to stop until they stepped back inside the barrier.  There is no forgiveness for mistakes on the rim’s edge.  

That was not the only danger we witnessed in our short 3 day visit.  Later that same day, a massive electrical storm rolled through the Canyon.  Lightening bounced off the walls of the Canyon in ways I have never seen.  It was explained by the Park Ranger that due to the rocks, lightning ricochets rather than getting absorbed by the ground the way it does here in the East.  So when an older couple, watching the lightning dance in the Canyon, got hit by a ricochet lightning bolt I understood.  The older gentleman, standing there, suddenly had a large burn mark running up the side of his head.  The Park Rangers flew into action, sending the man to the hospital to check for internal injuries.  

All the while this was happening, we began to notice white puffs of smoke darting here and there across the Canyon.  The Park Ranger I was talking with, explained, “the lighting strikes, hitting the pines are causing the fires.  We are not worried though, because the rains in the storm will dampen the damage that could be done.  We actually welcome this as it helps keep the pine forest healthy.”

All this exciting to us, but just a typical day in the life of living in the Canyon.  

Our stay at the El Tovar Lodge and the Bright Angel Lodge was extraordinary.  The porches at the El Tovar where definitely my favorite place to hang out.  (I’ll write more about this later.)

Although the average visitor only spends 1 to 4 hours visiting (according to the Park Ranger) I can not help but observe how much they miss by not spending more time to absorb all that the Canyon can offer.  On our third and final day, we decided to take a leisurely drive back along the Desert View Drive and stop in a few highlighted points to view the Canyon from different places along the rim.  

View from the Desert View Watchtower

We stopped at the Desert View Watchtower, another design by Mary Jane Colter, who is responsible for the design influence on the south rim of the Canyon.  Magnificent—beyond description—is all I can say regarding her work.  

Our last stop before heading back to Flagstaff for the return flight home was the Sunset Crater Volcano.  As we drove into the area, rounding a bend, we were taken back by the sudden lava field that filled the area around us.  Up to 3 stories high in fused black rock and cinder ash that flowed down the side of the hills.  Black sprays of cinder on both sides not allowing for anything green.  The shock is when we picked up the flyer that told us this happened 800 years ago!  It looked like it could of happened a few months ago, but 800 years was unbelievable!

 I will never forget this three days exploring the Grand Canyon with my daughter.  Thank you Joliene for this spontaneous adventure that will forever touch my life.  

SOMETIMES YOU JUST HAVE TO CRY

Sometimes you just have to stop and cry.  That is just what I did today, when driving up to Macungie to babysit my two youngest grandchildren.  I was caught up in traffic and while waiting in a non-moving line I glanced at the mail I just picked up and saw an envelope that looked like an invitation from the Doylestown Presbyterian  Church.  My son, Damian and his wife, Lauren,  are members of this church.  When I opened it up I read where my son and his wife donated a plaque in memory of his father.  It caused me to openly bawl to the point I had to pull off the side of the road when I got a chance.

I called Damian and sobbing, said, “Hello?  It’s Mom.”  

“What’s wrong Mom?” asked Damian.

Sobbing to the point I could hardly get out the words….

“Is it Joliene or Chewie?” he asked.

“Neither,” I said.  “I just opened a note from your church and saw what you and Lauren did in Dad’s name and I just wanted to say thank you.”

“I’m glad you are okay,” he responded relieved it was not serious and chuckling at the same time at my response.

“I don’t know why I am so off kilter this past couple of weeks,” I said trying to stop sobbing.

“Well you have been going through some of Dad’s things and that is most likely what is setting you off,” he said.

He was right.  It is 2 1/2 years since Pat’s death.  I am cleaning out some new corners and this week I tackled Pat’s file drawer where he had topographical maps for every lake he ever fished on.  I decided that since none of the kids fished the way he did, I would find a fisherman that would like them in their collection.

When Joliene saw me working on the files she asked what I was doing.  “Can we keep a couple that he wrote on?” she asked.

“Sure,” I said and let her go through and pick some out.  What we found was his hours of markings of where he caught fish, what he used, the weather, the color of the water—all the work he put into “practice” fishing before a tournament.  We decided to keep at least four of the maps (one for each of the kids).  I hope I can find a way to frame the maps and expose the backside where his writing is included.  I could also add some photos of him with some of his catches.  

I find my procrastination level is high when it comes to reorganizing my life after Pat.  I know why.  The trips down memory lane are a bit rocky, when at once the thoughts of those times are happy loaded with a deep longing to return to those days of living a full and complete life.  

I continued on to Macungie where my two grandchildren are waiting for me.  They are better than puppy dogs because they come up and hug my legs and tell me how much they have missed me since the last week.  It does not get any better than that…well it would of been with Pat, but I’m not going there.  I’ll just enjoy their hugs and kisses for now and keep looking for new ways to fill my days.

I HATE THE DENTIST BUT I LOVE MY DENTIST

I hate the dentist.  But I love my dentist.  But I really hate the dentist.  But I don’t know how I would get through it all without my dentist.  She is perfect!  I know I sound crazy, but crazy is how I am, at going to the dentist twice a year.  

I’m 67 and one would think going to the dentist would get easier since I have been doing it for almost 48 years now.  It is not. Although I have reached the stage where I no longer have to take valium before the appointment, my blood pressure still raises sky high when there. 

 I was the bride who after marriage saw a dentist for only the 3rd time in my life.  The first two times are the reasons I don’t like going to the dentist.  When Pat discovered that I did’t go to the dentist on a regular basis he immediately made arrangements for me to go to his dentist in Lansdale.  I was very nervous.  So nervous that when they put me in the dentist chair I immediately passed out.  Pat kidded the dentist and said, “If you work fast enough you could get it done before she comes to.”  

It started when I was first in kindergarden.  Toothaches in our home, meant you took a cotton swab and soaked it in lemon extract and placed it on the tooth that hurt until it went numb.  Sometimes it took a few days for it to settle down and go on to the next step.  Which in my case meant the tooth had to be pulled.  My parents were working poor, and did not have the money for regular dental appointments and my mother was not happy about wasting money on such things.  Both my parents had full sets of false teeth by the time they were in their 30’s.  Which is how many did it back then.  Wait until so many teeth were missing that false teeth  were the only solution.

The first trip to the dentist was traumatic for me.  Mom was a bit hissy about it all so when she took me into the dentist office and he said that she should be bringing me more regular to the dentist, she responded by a string of curse words and “You don’t tell me what to do with my children unless you are going to pay the bills!!!!!!!!”

The dentist was so upset at her behavior that he pulled my tooth rather briskly and quickly to get the maniac women out of his office.

The second time at the dentist happened when I was in 4th grade.  Another tooth did not respond to the lemon extract treatment so once again we had to find a dentist.  Once again, my mother was not happy about wasting money they didn’t have on my mouth, so when in another dentist office he recommended that I come back to deal with other cavities he saw in my mouth, she unloaded with a string of obscenities toward him, only this time they got into a pushing, shoving match.  The dentist kicked my mom out of the office and for a moment thought about sending me out after her, but seeing my obvious distress decided to end my suffering and pull the tooth.  Now at age 11 I had two holes in the back of my mouth from my adult missing teeth.  That was the last time I saw a dentist until I was married.

My first trip as Mrs. Ford, found me with thirteen cavities and two root canals that needed to be done.  What got me through all of this? Nitrous gas.  Without it and valium I don’t think I would have made it through those days.  

Today, I get nitrous gas for everything including the cleaning of my teeth.  Knowing that my dentist, (who I love to hate) understands my fear allows me to make my appointments every six months and keep them!  And I am always thrilled when I leave and she says, “See you in six months, no cavities!”

Now that is a great day!

WHY TBT IS IMPORTANT TO US ALL

Separated by miles but close in our hearts.

I love “Throw Back Thursday” and by the response I continually see, so do a lot of other people.  And it is not just because we are old and looking backwards.  

I believe that today due to the ease of moving here and there, but especially moving away from the familiarity of neighborhoods and family, it is easy to feel disconnected, isolated and alone.  I know I have over the years felt all these things.  I left Ingleside, Illinois in 1966 and never looked back—due to family circumstances there really wasn’t a reason to. That does not mean that I have not missed the connected feeling.  Moving away always left me feeling like I lived on the other side of the bridge.

I love and adore the family I married into.  They have taught me much about unconditional love and acceptance and today, I have no problem with feeling connected.  Forty eight years in one area should make you connected to something and it does.  But I find there are still times when I travel with friends who are from this area, who no matter where they go, run into someone they know from their past. 

My husband, Pat, could not travel up or down the 309 Corridor without running into someone he knew, either from school or old neighbors from the places where his family lived.  I would comment to him each time, “You don’t know how lucky you are.”  

Through social media came “Throw Back Thursday” and a reminder to us all, that we all are connected even when miles and time separate us.  As the family historian and genealogist, I love sharing our family history, but I especially enjoy knowing that the young people in our family are enjoying it too.  I have always given away and shared whatever I have.  I believe that this is not “mine” but “ours” and in sharing it with anyone who is interested, it insures that it will never be lost.  Knowing that someone out there has a copy of this or that gives me piece of mind.  

I’ll keep throwing out family pictures of times long gone and I hope you will too.  It reminds us all that we are one family, connected in time and history even when miles separate us.

THINGS ARE NOT ALWAYS AS THEY SEEM

I’ve lived long enough to have learned that not everything we see is always what we think it is.  A discussion is taking place regarding people on welfare and the abuse they believe is ramped in the system.  I am not so naive to believe that there is never any abuse, but when I read postings and hear people talk about how bad it is, I can only believe they have never walked the walk of having to take that step and apply for help.  I read a story in the Washington Post a while ago, from a women who wrote a personal essay about how she felt driving to the welfare office in her Mercedes.  Here is a link to the NPR story done on her essay.  http://www.npr.org/player/v2/mediaPlayer.html?action=1&t=1&islist=false&id=330680161&m=330940188

There are so many times in the course of any day, when I hear or read people slam someone for an issue they are outraged about, and I get concerned because we are all so anxious to jump to a conclusion, that we don’t take time to understand the whole story, just like in the case of Darlena Cunha, who found themselves in a position of having much to having lost it, and then needing help.  My husband and I found ourselves in such a position when we were a young family, with only him working and me being a homemaker and caring for our four children, when he was laid off from his job at Merck.  We found we needed a bridge of help until he could get back into the plant, so I went down to the county and applied for food stamps.  

I found myself, feeling embarrassed and it was especially hard for me to go to the store and spend the food stamps we received because I felt like all eyes were upon me.  It is not easy to do this.  Like the Cunha family, we were fortunate and only ever had to do it one time and went on with life once my husband returned to work.  But I can still feel how I felt when I sat across the desk from the social worker, who was abrupt and curt and non sympathetic to our plight.  But having four children to feed, and money running out, we needed help, even if it was just for a short while.  

In today’s world where men and woman can have a good paying job one day, and lose it the next, we can all find ourselves at the threshold of a welfare office.  If we show up dressed in clothes we bought and paid for when we had a job, with an expensive car (that also could be paid for) but out of work, out of money and out of food with a family to feed, does that make a person less qualified for receiving help?  From some of the conversations I see one would think that.  I don’t.  I have known people who have worked hard and lost that six figure job and have had to eat humble pie in order to move on in life.  I watched close friends of mine struggle to adjust from having making a great salary to making less than 30,000 a year.  It was devastating, humiliating and depressing for them as they went through the long adjustment to a new standard of living.  It took time, but imagine how much harder it was because of all the incriminating finger pointing that was done along the way because they still had “toys” from when they had a high paying job.   

I am not sure why we are so hard on those in need.  Are we afraid that it could be us?  Do we fear that poverty will spread?  I don’t know, I am only speculating.  The only thing I do know is this.  At my age, I have learned to be slow to judge.  Slow to condemn.  Slow to slam someone or something because it does not fit in my view of my world.  

RAMBLING THOUGHTS OF AN ELDERLY GAL!

Nothing like a good storm to energize you!

Nothing like having someone try to take advantage of me to lift me out of my funk.  I was so energized yesterday, that I was on a buzz all day.  I started the day by heading to the police and being directed to the post office with my fake money order.  Turns out this falls under the Federal Postal Inspector.  I turned everything in.  What bothers me the most about this whole process, was in finding a You Tube Video from 2011 with the same complaint and here it is 2014 and it is still happening.  This tells me that it is a daunting task trying to keep up with these jerks.

I just wonder, if they would put as much energy into legitimate work, wouldn’t it be better than running from the law every month or so?  Just saying!

Later, I joined some lady friends from my community for lunch.  Can I say how important they are to me?  This group was the first group of people that reached out to me after Pat died.  They pulled me back into the living and I will forever carry them in my heart for their act of kindness during that part of my life.  They get together now and then for lunch or dinner and they have a way to make me laugh.  Their attitude is spunky and they are full of funny stories.  

My life, like play dough, is always evolving and changing.  I am looking for volunteer possibilities to keep me engaged and help me make new friends.  

I started helping out at the Honey Hollow Audubon Society in Bucks County.  It is new to me, but already I find very interesting people.  I feed the birds, but honestly except for enjoying the entertainment they provide me while feasting at the feeders I am not an intense birder.  I love the property at Honey Hollow.  I volunteered this weekend at the Barn Tour, a fundraiser for the Bucks County Audubon Society.  I was assigned to Tyler Park at barn number 9.  I was a greeter at the entrance of the park out in the middle of nowhere directing attendees to go down a “do not enter” road to the barn.  

It was a bit lonely, and except for a couple who knew me and stopped to have a conversation, I was alone in the heat for the four hours.  I laugh at my thoughts when faced with these kind of moments.  I imagined what it must be like to be in a sweat box, with just the thoughts in my head…and there were some strange ones.  I was having a one on one with a squirrel trying to crack a nut.  He was not upset at my presence and he entertained me for a very long time.

Part time job or volunteer…which way to go?  I know I need the pull to keep me going, and I want to be with people and I especially need to have the purpose in my life.  In this world of widowhood, I am not afraid to step out of my comfort zone, and do things that fulfill my needs.  

Life, although challenging, is still an adventure to me.  I enjoy spontaneity.  I am filled with a desire to wander and explore.  I’ll keep moving, pushing and meeting new people.  I may be “elderly” according to some definitions, but I am young at heart and still ready to kick up some dust! If I have to do it alone, then so be it, but if I can find anyone to join me in my explorations, then that will be the frosting on my cake of life!  

BEWARE--THERE ARE SCAMS EVERYWHERE

I am writing this because I hate when people are taken advantage of. And especially at the age I am, it seems there are more people coming at me for crap I don't want or asked for.  Calls, letters, and emails all hold the potential for us to be taken.  I see it with my 88 year old friend who gets calls all the time even though she is on the do-not-call list and now this...

 On Doylestown Patch there was an ad that allowed for you to search for jobs, full time or part time.  You can plug in your zip code and career choices and it sends you a daily email with listings showing up in your area.  I had talked to a few people here in my community that use this to find part time jobs.

Thinking I would like a part time job,  I signed up.  I posted the work criteria I was looking for.  Except for my name, address and email there was not any personal information, only the skills I offered up for consideration.  

Three weeks after signing up I got an email from a Dr. Larry  Lawton, telling me I am one of the finalists be considered for a position with their company.  A part time position that I can do on my schedule and it was part time.  If I am selected as a finalist I would be contacted.

About two weeks later I got the following email:  

“Attention: Evaluation Officer

Kindly be informed that evaluation assignment has been provided to you to execute the consumer evaluation job.

These evaluation Payments with instructions sheet will be delivered to your address via postal mail service,

Monitor your Usps mailbox frequently. once package is received It is imperative you confirm the receipt of the package and follow the instructions sheet enclosed.

You are required to adhere to the instructions as stated on the Instructions sheet enclosed to complete your first task with the payment provided.

We do hope that you will be able to carry out your evaluation assignment immediately you receive it.

Please acknowledge the receipt of this email

Best Regards,

Dr Larry Lawton

Recruitment Manager

Mystery Shoppers, Inc”

I checked out the Mystery Shopper, Inc website:  http://www.mystery-shoppers.com.  It contained a section warning of scams and fraud.  I was not alarmed but I also believed there was no commitment or worry.  So I went about my business thinking if it comes okay if not…okay too.

Yesterday, in the mail I received an 8x11 brown envelope.  Inside was a letter and a US postal money order for $960.00 made out to me.

A FAKE MONEY ORDER
I blanked out my name and address.  The security strip on the
money order does not show well here...but trust me it is there.

I glanced over the letter, and looked at the money order.  Red flags began to rise within me immediately.  First, who sends out $960.00 to someone they have never talked with, have no personal information other than name, address and email?  No signed contract, no promise, no guarantee that I was even trustworthy.

My second pause came when I saw the company is from Tennessee but the money order was from a Jim Scott in Florida.  I   began to search on the internet to see if you can verify a money order is real.  I googled the company with the word scam behind it.  There was the information I was looking for.  it was a scam.  I was right to be alarmed.

Then I did a google search on Jim Scott’s name and address in Florida and up popped a You Tube video from back in 2011 showing a fake money order, a letter that looked very similar to the one I received, a label, similar to the one I received and a warning to people of the scam his wife had received.  Like me,  they caught it but decided to help warn others.  In the comments were a number of new people who, like me went searching before assuming, and were warned.  I’ve posted a picture of the money order so you can see how good of a fake it is.  I am planning on visiting the police department today to ask what if anything I should do with this, but I decided to share this with others so they too can be warned.

Charlatans have always been around, but let it be known, I hate scammers and the damage they do.

ALL IS RIGHT WITH THE WORLD, AGAIN

As I lay in bed (at the hospital for a sleep study) last night, I read over my last few journal entries and see how “drippy” my thinking as been this past week.  This happens now and then.  Accepting unwelcome change never comes easy.  And losing my husband qualifies big time on that account.  

I’m lucky to know that in my life’s journey I realized early on to not hang on to destructive and painful feelings and attitudes.  They do me no good except to slow me down and cause more pain.  But to deny them is also wrong.  I found a way to process these times in order for me to move on with life.  I do keep a lot inside, (except in my writings) and I know these moments are as important as the “happy” times and together make up who I am.  To deny one affects the other.  I practice giving both their equal due.  

I have mentioned in previous writings that painful memories flow like a river inside of me (inside all of us) and now and then they overflow their banks and I have to take time and work through them.

There is a lady in my community, a widow like myself, that  I have always looked to for motivation, as she appears strong and very content in her life today and when I mentioned to her how thrown I was by the emotions that filled me when my children and their families all peeled away and returned to their life.  She said, “I cry every time we go on vacation together.”  “Just like you, as they leave me and head home ahead of me, I am sad and emotional to say good-bye”, she continued.  “It is that I am having fun with them, and I really hate to see it end.”

And there is the truth.  The week down at the shore with my gang was fun, and memorable.  No pressure to do anything but what we wanted to do, and I loved every day until they started, one by one, to head on home.

This was the first time our family had gotten together for a vacation and the saying good-bye threw me and I fell all the way back to those first moments of being alone after losing Pat.   This morning, in the early light of dawn I am doing much better. 

When I cannot seem to shake an attitude or mood, I find it helpful to read back over my writings.  I find that once expressed, the hight of the emotions levels off and when I read them back, although I recognize the feelings, I am not as intense with them.  That is the sign to myself that everything will be okay.  And so it will.  And now I am off to be with two of my grandchildren.  And I tell you…they are better than puppy dogs as they run up to me, throw their arms around me and shout, “Grammy, I missed you!”  

“I missed you too,” I reply as they cling to my legs giving me all they got at the moment.  All is right with the world once again.

SOME DAYS ARE JUST HARD

As I read other stories of those who lost their partners in life, I see a common theme.  Adjusting to living alone and finding a new purpose in living.  I keep pushing to make both happen but there are days when it is just hard.  The following two poems just emptied out of me.  I have learned through my years if I allow expression to my feelings, the junk gets cleared and I can move on.  So I'm going for it!

RAMBLING THOUGHTS OF A WIDOWS HEART

Ears ring with silence

thoughts dance through my head

broken scrambled reaching longing

allowing thoughts to fill me

searching for purpose

for connection

for life

Being alone has its moments

creative energy flows

fills me

then the loneliness—no one to share things with

and the silence once again roars in my head

We are not meant to be alone 

to stand outside and look in

we are a tribe 

we need to belong

to feel

to touch

to hug

to be part of something

I walk along the river and watch others

stroll too

I see hands being held

and I think of you

we never took many steps 

without reaching out to each other

Connected

Loved

Accepted

Purpose

I long for these feelings to come to me again

but I wonder if ever.

Once again I keep moving

facing forks in the road.

fighting hard to not give up

working on enjoying the day

taking steps to go out and play 

I am…

I am what?  

I am…me.

**************

ONE IS A LONELY NUMBER

What am I…who am I…

An old women, whose life has been lived

yet days remain and what do I give?

I don’t want to intrude, to be a pest or a bore

I just want to belong

Nothing much…nothing more

If I have something to share

there is no one to call

no one who cares

just me and the wall

Do I shout to the world

hey look at me

do I stand meekly by

hoping you see.

I try hard to be helpful

I work to be kind

but in the end it is me

that lives alone in my mind

I don’t want to hide 

from the world I enjoy

I will just keep moving 

until someone I find

that will friend me and like me

and think of me as kind

I hope you’ll see through my mask

that I ‘m tender and loving

as we are on this journey—those of us who live alone

you would think we could find each other

and end this world of loneliness.

ACCEPTING CHANGE IS NOT ALWAYS EASY

Delaware River in New Hope

Accepting the change in my life is a lot harder at times than I let on.  Since my trip to the shore I have been feeling unsettled…that accepting change thing…the wanting to live with gusto but finding I am  having moments that throw me.  Today it hit me.  A common theme among those who have lost loved ones is the sense that everyone has left them.  We are forced to make new friends to fill the void of emptiness that we feel.  And that is when it struck me, that it is not a “man” I am looking for…it is a friend.  A real friend.  One like I had in Pat, because I realized this week in my quest to understand the depth of my being unsettled, that it is a real friend that I miss having in my life.  And I recognize why it is so difficult for me to find one like the one I have lost.

That answer is complicated.  First, in my youth, I didn’t have friends.  For many reasons it was just not so.  Part of it was because of my home life.  Home was not a welcome place to bring a friend into the house.  Second, is when you spend a childhood keeping a secret it is impossible to let anyone in.  I always wore a great mask, but it always hid what was going on inside my life.  During a recent conversation I had with someone from my past, we were discussing how we went through school.  He kicking and screaming, and then he said, “you trying to disappear.”  That resonated with me so hard I have been processing the thought of that ever since.  Once again, in my life the puzzle pieces come together.  In trying to understand the moment, I see through my past the why of what I am feeling.  I lost the one friend I had in life when I lost Pat.  No matter what he knew about me, no matter what I needed to share, I was an open book to him and he to me, and in that, a friendship grew like nothing I have ever experienced.  And that in the end is what I am missing most.  That someone who can accept me just as I am, and when I am out of line, gently and with love in their heart for who I am, nudge me back in place.  

I know this will surprise some who know me, but I struggle today in finding a friend.  The foundation of my youth was spent in hiding, and the 45 years I had with Pat, in living but I realize today that once he pulled me into the living it was something I took for granted because he made it so easy.  I always knew no matter what happened in life, I could go home to the safety net of his friendship and love.  And today, walking this stage of my life alone, I am in a struggle to gain that confidence in being me and alone while also being at peace with the idea of it all.  The difference in being lonely and being alone is a wide gully for me.  I don’t have trouble with eating out alone, doing things alone, traveling alone.  The truth is, there is zen in being alone.  But the lonely comes because I have not found that friend, and it is not because I don’t want her/him, it is that old sense of “fear” that comes from being afraid that if I am “me” it will not be enough.  It seems I have some work to do…and at this age, I am learning you never stop growing or learning.  As the old saying goes, “it ain’t over til it’s over.”

RETURNING TO REALITY

I have another bucket-list item checked off my list today.  For over 40 years I have always wanted to be at the ocean when a good storm would bring up the waves and pound the shore line.  With Hurricane Arthur moving up the east coast, it’s power is being felt in the thunderous surf.  As the day went on, the heaving of the waves, and thunderous sounds of the ocean roar filled the shore community .  

The sad part for the little ones this week is that the fire works they so looked forward to are postponed until the evening of our departure.  But as the evening rolled on individuals up and down the shore line set off fireworks—enough to satisfy anyone wanting to see the colors of the red, white and blue.  It still is a week of wonderful memories.

But tonight, as I stood on the waters edge it filled me with so many emotions.  I enjoy walking the edge of the ocean when the rest of the world has abandoned the beach, but my sense of aloneness filled me in ways I have yet to be able to describe. Everyone has left except for my one son and his family and they are walking the beach searching for sea treasures.  I am getting a glimpse of what remains when they all return to their lives…me.  I have never felt so connected as I was when I was a wife and young mother.  Today I am an observer of what use to be.  Surrounded by purpose and partnership was the most fulfilling part of my life.  Without it, I am lost and trying hard to find a way to accept this and enjoy the days left to me.   

As I look around me  at those who have lost a loved one, and are as old or older than I am, I wonder what they have done in their life to accept this change.  I want to know if the smile I see on their face is genuine or just a mask that hides the truth inside their soul.  

I never believed that accepting the changes in life would be linear or easy.  I miss having that special someone to talk over life's challenges and daily happenings.  I write I guess, because it is all I have to process what goes on inside my head.  Some days it is not enough, but I keep on keeping on!

SOUVENIRS FROM THE BEACH

Happy July 4th!  Today is the last full day of our family vacation in Sea Isle City.  Although,  Hurricane Arthur is playing havoc with any 4th of July plans, the rest of the week has been good.  

Treasurers have been gathered from the ocean’s edge by both adults and kids.  Stones, shells, conch…oh the conch.  Aaron found the first one—and the biggest one—Scott found the second one and Lauren came in last night with one she found lying on the beach.  The conch finds brought more smiles than anything else we have experienced all week.  In all my years this is the first time I have seen them outside of a seaside gift shop.  The colors on the finds have been beautiful too.  

I love watching Lauren stroll up and down on the beach in search of any treasure the ocean releases.  She gets this beautiful glow on her face and you know she is having fun.  In fact, as I write this, she and Honor are at the beach in search of new treasures in the rains from Hurricane Arthur.  

Last night Leighton, my grandson, caught a small shark.  “Did you hear about the man who caught a shark with his bare hands?” he asks with that glint in his eye.  “A manly man”, he says with a smile and then a bigger smile when you finally learn it was him!  

Logan (7) and Ella (5), the youngest of the grandkids, are the most fun to watch return from the beach.  “Look, Grammy!”, they shout.  “Look what we found!  Aren’t they pretty?”  Sand buckets filled with shells and stones, all treasures to take home—souvenirs from the beach!

Chewie spent most all his time like this
on the front porch at Sea Isle City.

There has been laughter—much laughter.  The boys have been the source of most of that.  I do believe true to a man’s form, they never stop being kids.  Friends of the family, Scott and Meredith were here with us in the beginning of the week.  Scott and Aaron, my youngest son, are a duo together that brings mischief wherever they go.  The man next door said to us, “Boy after Scott left it got quiet here.”    We laughed.  Our family reputation is in tack, we can blame it all on Scott, despite the fact that we know who is the real culprit.  

I will be sad to see this time with my family end.  I needed to see and feel my family around me and in today’s world of crazy work schedules and kid activities it can be a challenge to make it happen.  I thank all of them for accepting my invitation to gather together. I hope they all were able to find their own souvenirs from the beach.

CELEBRATING THE 4TH OF JULY WITH PRIDE

The first thing my son Justin did when he and his wife Stacy arrived here in Sea Isle City to join us for the family 4th of July gathering was to put up his Seabee flag.  A pride he has earned by serving our country for 20 years as a Navy Seabee.  

The 4th of July brings to the forefront our family history of service.  I am the family historian and have spent 44 years gathering stories and facts about our ancestors.  Service to our country is threaded throughout our family history.  From the Revolution to my son’s recent retirement from the Navy, the men in our family have stood up and served our country with pride.

I am lucky to have pictures and discharge papers from our 2nd great grandfather George Daniel Pifer, Major in the Civil War, grand father, John Ford, Sgt. in Calvary for the Army in World War I,  and my father, William E Brown, Army, World War II.  Prior to the Civil War we have ancestors on both sides of our family who were involved in the Revolutionary War and the War of 1812.

Along with those mentioned, we have an Uncle, who enlisted and served for both the Navy and Army following World War II, my husband was in the Navy before being injured and retired disabled, my brother-in-law served during Vietnam in the Air Force, my brother served the Air Force and retired after 20 years service, (he met his wife who was also serving in the Air Force) along with his son is presently serving in the Air Force aiming for a 20 year retirement, and also my younger son also served in the Air Force for 4 years.  

We owe it to our young men and women today to weigh carefully the obligation we ask of them.  When so few of us carry so many of us on their back we need to make sure we not only keep our promises to them, but promise them that any time we ask them to go out in combat to serve our political needs, we do it with great deliberation.

Happy 4th of July to all, especially to those who have given their life to enable us to celebrate this great holiday.

THE THINGS I SEE AT THE SHORE!

I see this week in hanging out with the kids that aging does have its perks.  I provided the setting for us all to come together.  I even supplied many of the basic needs, but in asking everyone to provide one meal a night has made my existence here seem too easy at times.  

I’m sitting back and watching the people in charge of the meal do their  thing and I get to visit.  Of course with a gang this large there are those pick up times but that seems easy in comparison to how I remember life as a mother of four and whatever friends they had hanging around.

I am not the type of person that feels the need to have her hands in everything that goes on.  I keep an eye on the care given the surroundings but outside of that I feel like I am floating this week.  What a joy.  Sitting by the seaside, smelling the ocean, listening to the waves beat up against the shore is pure heaven.  Even the threat of Tropical Storm Arthur is not upsetting me.  We may lose the opportunity to see the fireworks if it stays on through the night, but I have always wanted to be near the ocean during a storm to feel and see the power of the waves.  Another thing on my bucket list.  So no matter what happens…fireworks…storm…it will be pure joy to me!

The real fun for me is sitting on the front porch and watching the people head on down to the beach.  All shapes, sizes and walking styles.  Today I watched a good looking gray haired man—but he knew it—strut his stuff.  A gold necklace pulling your eye to a chest full of hair, and a copper tone tan that let you know he is no stranger to the beach.  He stands on the board walk, spots a beautiful set of blond twins coming down the boardwalk, so he pauses, puts his one leg up and stretches, showing how far his legs go up in a suit that is made more for a teen than a old man, even one with a descent body!  The girls go by, and he makes a point to watch them and then turn to see if they are looking back at him.  I about busted my gut laughing.

Last night, while spending the evening porch sitting and watching the boardwalk stroll, I noticed a young women stop under the light post, but due to my aging eyes could not quite make out what she was doing.  Turning to the kids I asked, “Can you make out what she is doing?”  To our amazement as we watched her pull her pants up while standing up we realized she just dropped and peed on the boardwalk.  Not believing what we saw, the guys ran up to check the spot where she was and shouted back to us on the porch, “Yep, there is a wet spot!”  Another great laugh!

We watched a man get a ticket for parking in the “do not park beyond this point spot”, a woman in a van back right into the fire hydrant, and the hunt for parking spaces during peak beach time is pure sport.

Yep, I’m having a great time.  I’m glad I am here!