One Mile

After reading the October 2010 issue of The Atlantic, I came away being a bit torn by a paradox. On  one hand I was frustrated with all that my generation of Baby Boomers has done--not the Civil Rights victories, not the discoveries, not the innovation that comes from our 1946-64 little group of several million. I was frustrated by the fact that even though we've done remarkable things throughout history as a group, we've also done some pretty ugly things as well. Like leaving our kids with trillions of dollars of debt, using our own sense of entitlement to plow through resources of all kinds with no regard to the future, and even though we been given the opportunities to intelligently and wisely  fulfill our "destinies" as this special group of kids born of the earlier "greatest generation", we sometimes just make some pretty knuckle-headed moves.  But then comes the other side of the paradox.

We still know how to care; we know how to look for things that need to be done and make the effort to change things for the better. We CAN make things better. Sometimes we just need to turn off the yammering national reports of gloom and doom and look closer to home. Maybe only one mile. Here's my idea...

For the next few months, let's each think about where we live as the epicenter and measure out a one mile circumference. Not hard to do--grab a map, a GPS, or a Google ap. Really study that mile and then think about what you could do to make that mile perimeter a better, happier, and healthier place. If everyone who reads this humble little blog would practice this and tell one other person, we'd have a good start.

Some will have massive populations of people with in that mile circumference. I'm guessing within that there are a few that could really use an ear, a shoulder, or a sturdy back to move something, to haul something, to cook or bake something, or just to visit and maybe help write letters or share a cup of coffee...the list is infinite.

Here we're short on people, but heavy on land...we can be better stewards and take good care of it by not consuming so much packaging that needs to go to the trash, by composting more, and by using things until they're worn out. Around here there are churches and cemeteries that are just getting by with fewer and fewer people to help with upkeep...another opportunity.

So...measure that mile. See what's out there. Do some simple good things. We don't have to set the world on its ear; we can, however, make our backyards good, healthy, and happy places once again. That's a pretty good legacy not only for us Boomers, but for everyone before and after us.

Have a fine day.

The Art of Reinvention

Today I made a soup over three times before deciding it was right. Thanks to my mom's bountious garden and her equally bountious generosity, I had a large bowl of tomatoes that were needing attention. Last night before calling it a night, I decided that today they would become a pot of homemade tomato soup with some nice, subtle French seasonings.

As I cooked the tomatoes down, they seemed kind of over-whelmed by the size of the pot I chose. I went to the refrigerator and decided that the chicken broth in the container would be a good addition; and, while I was at it, the pizza sauce would as well. After all, it was 99% tomatoes. What would a little basil and oregano hurt in with some marjoram and thyme?

After milling the original soup's contents of tomatoes, onions, and the more "French" spices, I added the broth, the sauce, and still it looked a bit demunitive in the cooking pot. Maybe some meat would bulk it up. Later, after thawing and cooking some ground sausage, it was added to the mix. NOW we were getting somewhere.

Another visit to the fridge found me face-to-face with a container of white rice from last night's supper. Hhhhmmm...that would thicken things a bit, so in it went. Now I'm thinking Mexican. I have some shredded Mexican style cheese, some sour cream, and some tortilla chips. That, with a packet of fajita mix and some added ancho pepper, and the taste grew richer and more interesting--in a good way.

I love the art of reinvention. It makes life so much more layered, more rich, more interesting. Whether it be a recipe that comes to life through trial and error, a change in our attitudes about ourselves and others, or our whole perspective of our place on this amazing planet, reinvention is not only fun from time to time, it is a necessary element of creating peace with ourselves and others.

So...go out there and have fun. Mess up a recipe; change your hair color; smile at people you normally frown at; bless those you normally curse. It's all about the reinvention and, with practice, we can make it a work of art.

Have a fine day.

Just Wait...Must I??

We've been told from the time we were old enough to understand that waiting was a part of life. "Good things come to those who wait", "just wait until you grow up", "the wait will be worth it"...and so on. So why is it that we're just not very good at it--this waiting thing.

I think some of it comes from our culture, especially during the 20th century and beyond. We don't need to wait--things are fast serve, fast moving, fast turn-around. We want things done quickly, on the qt, in record time. Our heroes are "faster than a speeding bullet", "fast to the rescue", and they ride fast horses, fast motorcycles, or they drive fast cars, or fast boats...you get the picture.

And then I come out and sit on the deck and start writing and the cats show up. Presently, I have a committee of four various sized felines surrounding my workspace in four various states of repose. Cats don't do "hurry up"; cats do as they please. They stretch, they recline, they doze, they come by and allow me to pet them one at a time. But they don't do any of these things "faster than a speeding bullet". I think this would be against the most basic laws of cat-dom.

So, I decide to do as the cats do...I don't rush. I'm not fast. I write as a person of leisure. I stop and sit and consider. I recline. And my thoughts come to me in the same fashion--they don't rush, but rather they float through my mind and on to the page. And you know what? I'll take this over a rush any day of the week.

Have a fine day...a nice, slow fine day.

Clean Windows

I looked out today and noticed just how dirty the windows had become; how long had they been that way? Who knows? But today I noticed them. I grabbed my handy miracle cloth, wet it down, and went to work. From the best I can tell, they'll look a lot better tomorrow.

Being a glasses wearer, I've also noticed on occasion, that my glasses lenses are dirty...really dirty. How is it that ten minutes earlier I didn't even notice that? I often wonder how I could see at all with the shape they're sometime in...ick.

Sometimes in life we kind of get that way. Our views of people, events, and even other countries get dimmed as a result of the "smudges" that are cast upon them. We only see them through less than pristine lenses. I try to think of this from time to time when my outlook on people, places, or things has soured or become smeary, so to speak. Maybe it's me that can make the change by clearing up the way I truly see life. Maybe I need to wipe away the grime of my pre-determined views and see much more clearly. Time to get out the proverbial wiping cloth.

My windows won't stay clean forever; nor will my view of the world. But it is good to keep in mind that with a few wipes of a cloth (or a change in attitude) we'll be seeing clearly again.

Have a fine day.

You Gotta Love a Cat

I'm guessing the title of this post brings a few "I don't think so's" from the audience. But really, even without the emotional attachment many of us have for the feline, you have to admit there's just something about a cat that can make you laugh or marvel at its unique nature.

At times, between our house and my in-law's house, it's pretty much "cat central". Good breeding stock--farms must do that to cats--they feel the need to multiply and multiply. Our current "herd" consists of Onyx, a solid black female and her two sons Re-Bob (named in honor of the beloved and no longer with us Bob) and Mr. Biggins (named Mr. because we were hoping beyond hope we had a Tom cat...tooooo many females).  Our two " q-tip" cats (aptly named for their striped coats except for a while tip on their tails) and the darker q-tip's three kittens (one who recently re-located across the road to seek new company). The remaining two kittens, one black and yet to be named (it tends to be called a different name each time I see it, kind of like a mood kitty) and then Thor--the puniest little cat I think I've seen in years. This little guy is basically made up of fur and a skeletal system. He has chronic runny eyes and a wheeze that makes me think he'll be carrying his inhaler soon. I named him Thor in the hopes that this would give him inclination to grow--at least to tea cup size. No luck yet, although he does tear into food like a twenty pounder. Hope springs eternal.

We've had a lot of enjoyment from this motley crew. We've watched them grow up, playing and fighting and snoozing on the deck. There have been lots of sessions of head scratchings and a few belly rubs along the way. There's also been praise when one comes up from the field with a mouth full of dead mouse and grass in its mouth. They are, after all, farm cats and this is what makes them tick. And, they've done a good job of it; in the 20+ years we've lived here, we've yet to have a mouse in the house. (I'm not superstitious by nature, but I say that former statement with hesitation--hopefully I've not jinxed anything in the mouse department with this bold declaration.)

So, even if you're not a fan of cats, just give them a few minutes of your time someday, even from a distance. Their "cat-like ways"  are indeed amazing.

Today I Heard a Plane

I took a break for a cup of tea late this afternoon on the deck after getting most of the house cleaned. It was also a good excuse to visit with the hummingbirds, I'll admit, as well as do a bit of reading. While sitting there in the quiet, I heard a plane flying to the north. Whenever I hear a plane while I'm outside, I normally look since most of them are low enough I can almost wave to the pilot--which I do due to my being a habitual "waver".

Many people don't realize that just across the river from us is a very nice landing strip that people use quite frequently, it seems. Tom's late cousin, Rich, would come to visit us on occasion or offer us an afternoon of flying when we met him there. Due to its close proximity to our house, the planes are quite low either on take-off or landing, so it's always a waving opportunity.

So, today when I heard the plane, my thoughts, quite naturally, went back to 9-11-01. I was principal at Otwell Elementary at that time and this is one of those occasions you pray never happens on your watch. I didn't have any tv reception in my office at that time, so I spent hurried trips to the custodian's office to get updates and watch quick clips of the coverage in order to keep the adults in the building aware of events while keeping the kids in their safety zone of "just another day". Tom also called me from time to time to give me the needed information as events unfolded.

Needless to say, the phone calls started pouring in from concerned parents, grandparents, etc. In retrospect, I know they weren't terrified that their children were in danger in the building that day; they were terrified their children were in danger from the change in events the world was helplessly witnessing.

The kids themselves had interesting perceptions of what happened. Some were blessedly oblivious, while others knew/heard enough to know that something happened and they were trying to grasp it in their capacity.

I can remember one little boy in particular who, on a good day, had difficulty grasping the world in its day-to-day form. The days following 9-11 were surreal to him, so he came and visited me in my office quite often--not because he was in trouble, but because he needed to give me "messages". His message to me, every time, was that he saw the planes crashing to the Twin Towers over and over again on the news--to him that was literal. He would come to my office door, meet me in the hall, or come find me wherever I was. He would use his hands to pantomime the tragedy, forming one hand in the shape of a plane and then "crash" it into his other arm while telling me that "it happened again--I saw it on tv". I explained to him several times that week that tv shows the same thing over and over again and that the planes weren't doing that anymore. Then, every time, he would look at me and make the same request--"can I rub your head?" I had a flattop at that time and apparently the texture of it was somehow soothing to him...I had my head rubbed a lot that week.

One other event I can remember with great clarity was the silence and pristine nature of the skies. I recall calling Kurt out onto the deck later that week and asking him to look up. I suggested to him that at no time since the discovery of air flight had the skies in the United States been empty--completely devoid of any planes, jets, helicopters--anything. No familiar white streaks through the sky from vapor trails, no sounds--we were witnessing a virtual time warp.

Since that day our world has certainly changed in many ways; we have regained many of our old habits, yet with an underlying guardedness. We mark the event each year with mixed emotions of anger, sadness, helplessness, and confusion. We want to deny that this could ever have happened on United States soil, but it did. Life is not as it once was.

So, today when I heard that plane, I looked up, said a prayer for peace and patience and a deeper understanding of how we all play a part in the universe. And then I waved.

Scatter Brains Unite!

I read a very interesting article today from the New York Times that should turn how we learn on its collective ear...IF we listen and put it into practice. It seems that after all the hoopla on learning styles and the old axiom of studying in one place in one setting are all wet...our brains just don't work that way.
Remember how our parents (and if we're parents how we) always naturally accept the fact that when kiddo gets home from school that he or she needs that little cozy corner of the world to study? You know, the one with zero distractions? Wrong. Now studies show that quiet and white walls don't do anything for memory retention; in fact, they tend to dull the senses to the point that retention is lessened.
Hallelujah! Another compartmentalized theory debunked! The beauty of the complexity of the human mind once again recognized for what it is--not a simple replicating machine that can only learn in one or two capacities, but a marvel that can take in vast amounts of information simultaneously and process it with ease. In other words...it's okay to be a scattered learner...viva la scatter brains!

Just Being There

How many times in life have we "just been there" for someone? How many times has someone "just been there" for us? We expend a lot of energy on figuring out the appropriate things to say, the appropriate note, card, bouquet, etc. And normally, as we can all attest, "just being there" is 9 times out of 10 the best thing to be.

Being humans, we are social beings even when we think we aren't. We might be having a really lousy day, be worried about someone or something, or feel uneasy about an event in our lives. Then someone we love shows up, takes our hand, gives a smile, and is "just there"...it works like magic.

A week or so ago, I wrote a blog on spiritualism talking about the profound words "Be still and know that I Am". I think if we take this message to heart and are still, we become more perceptive to the needs of others. And, at this time, we can "just be there" and do good things.

Have a fine day.

Simple Gifts

I woke up this morning with most of a whole day unaccounted for--what pleasure! I had a mental list, but knew it was going to result in about a 12 hour day; that didn't seem to palatable even though it is Labor Day. There's also an evening road trip to Indy that figures into the equation. So, with all that info in place, I decided to do one thing for sure and that was to gather up our "simple gifts" to give to the hospital in Jasper.

Anyone can do this if you own a current magazine--just that easy.

If you've ever visited a hospital's waiting room on any floor or the emergency room, one thing you will more than likely find are magazines that could be archived for the ages. When your mind needs a diversion, reading what was the "latest and greatest" in July of 2006 just doesn't quite catch it.

A couple of years ago, it seemed that for a short stint of time we were spending more than our share of time in various hospital waiting rooms. One evening as Tom and I sat amongst the piles of 2 and 3 year old periodicals, he said, "We have to do something about this." I agreed.

So, from that time on, we've been offering our simple gifts of up-to-date magazines. See? Something anyone can do. I can guarantee you'll see a smile on the face of the person receiving the new/gently used periodicals. And, most importantly, think of that person sitting in one of those waiting rooms...at least this simple gift might help them for a few moments escape their surroundings.

Have a fine day.

Being Still on Sunday

I was raised being told if your ox is in the ditch on the Sabbath, you can pull it out; just don't be the one kicking it in. I'm sure many of you grew up with this saying as well. For those that haven't and can't quite get the ox in the ditch analogy, it means that we are to keep the Sabbath holy and rest in accordance with God's commandment.
You'd think this would be a breeze, right? To be given a day off with the command to have the day off to rest, regroup, and revitalize through meditation. And, I will admit, some Sundays I do just those things...especially the resting part courtesy of the hammock. However, there are many Sundays that seem to almost be little vignettes of torture. I see things that need to be done; weeds to be pulled, windows to be washed, floors to be mopped. Sometimes I relent and just start working, but this past month I've been making a true attempt to keep the Sabbath just that--a sabbatical from all the world's needs.
I do believe I am getting better at this; today I did some reading, some thinking, and some napping. And I must admit after all that, I did feel more revitalized. I also made a couple of minor slips and moved a wind chime over to the deck and pulled a couple of weeds that seemed almost to be taunting me. Oh well...more faithful living is all about the tiny steps, right?
As the next week ends, I'm going to concentrate on the Sabbath once again; I figure with practice, someday I'll get it right.

Have a fine day.

Considering Futility

The past several days have found me reading the book of Ecclesiastes. Nothing like the challenge of reading several chapters of a work that starts out bemoaning the "futility of everything". Wow...and yet I kept reading.

I sometimes feel great compassion for people who pick, at random, various places to start reading a Bible. Some passages flow seamlessly and entice the reader to keep going. Some, with all the begetting, tend to make one turn to another random passage--unless you're truly into genealogy with a vengeance. And then there are the passages from Ecclesiastes...futility...futility...futility. Tough one to stick with, that one.

Think about a typical day--how much futility do we tolerate? Watched much tv lately? How many "news" (and I use that term loosely) shows are on that a)cite the obvious and b)repeat it ad nauseum? We're talking HOURS of our day. Add to this the mindless chatter on various radio stations and we have non-stop mongers of futility on two different levels. First, the futility of the litany of jabber. Second, the message that they all bring us is not one of hope or help, but merely futility.

As I read deeper into Ecclesiastes, I found a passage that made me smile: "Well, one thing, at least, is good: It is for a man to eat well, drink a good glass of wine, accept his position in life, and enjoy his work whatever his job may be, for however the Lord may let him live. And, of course, it is very good if a man has received wealth from the Lord, and the good health to enjoy it. To enjoy you work and to accept your lot in life--that is indeed a gift from God. The person who does that will not need to look back with sorrow on his past, for God gives him joy."

So, I push the "futile" things in life aside and turn off the tv, the radio, and the news that gives me no suggestions for making a better life of the current mess. And I do eat well, drink a good glass of wine, accept my position in life and enjoy my work...and keep futility at bay.

Give it a try and have a fine day.

Catch a Wave

I'm a waver by marriage. When we were first married, I noticed that when we drove down county roads, Tom would casually wave to most everyone we met. I asked him why once and he told me, "I'm a farmer and I wave at everybody. Farmers do that." Words I remembered. As time went by, I noticed I started picking up the same habit. Now, 26+ years later, I am a consummate waver.

When we're on the Harley, I have a great time doing the "biker wave". That low-key low armed wave that unites us all. It's also a great time to wave a people sitting on porches, on riding lawn mowers, and kids peering out windows. Great fun!

Waving is mighty important; while we're driving down the roadways in those self-enclosed tanks where it becomes very easy to be out of touch with all human contact, a simple wave will do wonders for someone's mood. They might not wave back, but I guarantee you that they'll be waving at someone else before too long and feeling pretty good about it.

I'll be waving; you do the same. Guaranteed to bring a smile to your day.

Different Yet the Same

The other evening as Tom and I were coming home from a road trip, we chose the two-lane route so we could pass through a number of little towns. As we drove along, I made the comment that sometimes it was just fun to look at others' towns, yards, homes, store fronts. Tom made a comment that rang very true: they're all different yet they're all the same. They are.
Town, city, village...all with their own flavor, yet all the same in purpose. They're home to young and old; those who never want to leave and those who never want to stay. The festivals and events that make each town unique are varied; this time of year throughout the fall will deliver a wide variety of banners across the roadways announcing the apple fest, the pumpkin fest, the fall fest--you name it, there's a fest. Which brings us back to the similarities...people like to congregate and celebrate. They like to eat, drink, and be merry.
And so, doesn't it make you wonder why we're not all better at getting along wherever we go? Yet we tend to practice isolationism in our own corners, thinking that no one else is quite like us. I guess that's true; we all are quite unique--in that we're all alike. So there you are--different yet the same.

Adding a Little Spice to Life

As I was figuring out what to fix Tom for his solo supper tonight, I did what I normally do and checked two items--the meat choices in the freezer and the spice rack. As you can imagine, I'm one of those cooks that has hardly to date met a spice I didn't like in some way, shape, or form. On one of the last trips to the Amish Gourmet grocery, I came across a ginger/sesame spice--that was the one for the chicken dish I was going to prepare.
I guess my spice cabinet is my collection in life. Generally, I'm not much on collecting much of anything; I'm a bit too eclectic for that and can see that it could lead to a collecting nightmare. However, with the spices, it's always an adventure to open the double doors and see three shelves full of various combinations with endless possibilities. There are the tried and true; there are also the exotic that are seldom used. Some are more than likely a bit stale, while others seem to retain their aroma and taste forever.
As I prepared the chicken with the spices, I started thinking about how people are much like the spice cabinet. Some prefer to play it safe and have a small amount of spice in life--certainly nothing wrong with that! Others have that proverbial cabinet brimming and bursting at the seams, but never really use any of that spice--they only have it because they feel for some reason they should. Yet others might have had reason to have that large variety of spice only to now see a cabinet full of tired flavors and vanishing aromas.
No matter where you find yourself in you life's spice cabinet, be sure to take a chance once in awhile and sample a new flavor...that's truly the "spice of life".
Have a fine day.