When we needed to replace our CD player, I remember the kids saying, "You still have CD's?"

We did, we do and they encompass different genres and artists and we enjoy them.

Feeling bouncy or house bound and the Irish Pub classics will be serenading us.  We go through our oldies moments, the country siege, love songs, dance tunes, and many of today's current artists that are well below 40 years old.

One feature included was Bluetooth. This was before we upgraded to a car that included Bluetooth and before we added Spotify to our phones and computers.  

I am really enjoying compiling a huge list of favorite songs that span decades, artists, and genres.  And the added bonus is synchronizing my phone with the CD player and having music magically infuse the air. All music that I love.

Pretty nice technology which includes online banking and bill paying, debit cards, facebook, snapchat, solar, and Zoom which makes my life easier. and helps me stay connected without a lot of fuss. 

I am still waiting for an easy way to open a child proof cap.  

 I have to admit it.  If you put a clean writing surface in front of me, I begin to twitch and reach for something to write with.

It has been like this since I was a child and I first learned that words equaled stories and stories could take you anywhere.

When I was 5 and just learning to read, I would memorize the stories my mother read to us, and then I would retell them with the opened book in my lap.  It wasn't long until I realized that those letters were the story.

When the kids were young I enrolled in a writing course to relearn all of the writing skills I had lost or forgotten along the way. My goal was to write children's books.

But the years passed and I read books I wished that I had written, but had no books inside of me to share. What I did have life experiences and they were funny and odd and thought provoking.  So, back in 2002 I began to write in earnest, well after the kids were grown.

After getting a piece published in the local paper, the editor offered me a monthly spot to write a column on whatever I wanted.  I did that for 15 years.

Back in 2010 I self-published a collection of 72 of those columns and titled it Laughing All the Way.  My dad was fighting terminal cancer and since he was featured in some of the stories, I wanted him to read it before his passing. He received his copy three weeks before he died.

This blog spot was created because of the book.  It was to give me another outlet to write but I got stingy with my writing since I was producing it for publication.  I only have so much to say or only so much folks want to read.

I recently retired after 19 years and a lot of my writing was used for client classes and teachings.  Again, that fulfilled the part in me that needed to write.

Today, I am revisiting this blog not knowing if any of this will be read, but desiring to have a place to gather and share those things that I write.

I am really going to try to use those hours when I cannot sleep to gather my ideas and put them here.  Maybe you will join with me in this journey. 

 

Born to Be Wild

In 1968 one of the first major rock songs was blasted across multiple music stations.  It became a major hit informing the world that motorcyclists were out seeking adventure and were Born to Be Wild.

Seriously, only cyclists are wild? It took until 1968 to tell everyone? Honey, it starts when you’re in diapers.

Be sure to have rattles, tubes of ointment, and possibly snacks available when you change the diapers of a child that can roll or crawl.  Not unlike a greased pig at a fair they can and will escape.

When children begin to toddle around they are thrilled to be “mama’s little helper” and willingly toss items into the trash and pick up toys.  This works for about three years or until they fully understand the word “No”. Sadly, this may happen much sooner than three.

 Welcome to Parenting 101 or Help! I Have Birthed a Child Just Like Myself! And that’s the hard truth because inside we all still want what we want …we are all born to be wild.

Looking back over my own childhood I cringe to remember the name calling, clique forming, parent sassing, rule breaking, edge pushing person that I was. 

Today I am much more controlled and yet, on occasion, the rebel rises. If I pass a coin drop, I usually DON’T contribute; it feels too much like panhandling and peer pressure.

Ever go to a church with a prolonged greeting of peace?  This is the kind where all the pews are vacated and then everyone visits everyone else in the church.  AWKWARD, especially if the only person you know is married to you and is required to sit next to you.  I always greet Russ enthusiastically; shake hands with those sitting directly by me, and then study the architecture.

  I will buy Girl Scout cookies, Boy Scout popcorn, or candy bars sold for class trips.  But I buy from the children not from the parents even if they bring the order forms to work.  Although I like the parents, I find saying no to a cute kid hard, the parent not so much.

What could be more fun than role playing during a seminar?  The only thing that I can think of is a root canal without medication.  Enough said on that.

And I don’t want to forget being in a crowd where you are encouraged i.e. demanded to clap, stomp your feet, stand up, or do hand signals.  There’s a good chance that I will gamely clap along; slim to none odds on any of the other.  Add to that any standing ovation because it’s expected and it’s not gonna happen.

When my son Peter was 6 he passed on some profound wisdom.  He had been playing at the neighbor’s when he came into the house crying.

“Peter, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?” He shook his head and continued to cry.

“What is it?”

“I heard a bad word.”

“Well, that’s ok.  You don’t have to cry about hearing a bad word.”

He threw his head back and howled, “But I want to SAY it!”

 Exactly! Born to be wild.

 

 

 

                 

 My last post was in 2015.  Because I have not posted one would think that perhaps I was:

1.    No longer interested in writing

2.    Void of ideas

3.    Deceased

None of the above is true.  I have been dropping thoughts and stories here and there, but mostly I have been sharing things on facebook.

Today I decided to dust off this blogpost and share again thoughts that come my way.

I don’t know that this will be read but it will give me an outlet to release pent up ideas.

I want to qualify that my picture has aged since the last time I was here.  Now at 65, I find that I am fighting the ‘melt’, that wonderful humbling time when your skin becomes like molten wax.

The biggest change is that I no longer use eyeliner.  Because I have to prop up my eyelids to apply it, once I release them the liner disappears. This is a plus because it has effectively eliminated any makeup that I use.

Again, since being retired not many people see me and with my wonky eyesight that includes me.

Catch you later! 

A Legacy of Kindness, Love, and Gratitude

                                 

            Each year Russ and I travel to Illinois to visit my mother, Darlene, who has now reached the age of 87.  It’s an honor and a privilege that I don’t take lightly.   I am well aware of the passing of time and I don’t want to miss any of her remaining years.

            She is in relatively good health but is experiencing more and more dementia.  Her short term memory is gone and during my weekly phone calls I make sure that I announce who I am at the start of the conversation. “Hi Mom, this is Kathy.”  After all she has nine children to remember.

            My younger sister Carol visited two weeks before me.  Since she had changed the color and style of her hair, my mother couldn’t quite place her.  When they visited a local pizza parlor for a buffet lunch my mom thought Carol was a very nice and efficient waitress.  The fact that the waitress joined her for lunch didn’t strike her as odd.

            When we arrived I was a little apprehensive wondering if Mom would recognize me.  Amazingly, she did and greeted me with, “Of course, I know my Kathy.”

  We spent some time looking through family pictures on my computer.  Several times when we came across a picture of Russ she would say, “Now, why does he look so familiar?” I would gamely point to Russ seated across the room and say, “Because he’s right there, Mom.” She’d giggle and we would continue on.

            For five years she has been a widow, three years in assisted care, and just a year ago her twin brother died from the effects of Alzheimer’s.  His death is foremost in her mind and because of this she is re-experiencing her mother’s death.  It is like the childhood memories are clearer than todays, and the pain of her brother and mother being gone is acute.

            When she wonders anew if her mother has died, I simply remind her that her mother would be over 107 years old.  That’s makes sense to her and it helps her cope with the fact that she has now lived longer than her mother.

My mother is well loved at the care center.  As she makes her way to the dining hall she waves and smiles at whomever she meets not unlike a reigning queen.

“It’s always good to be friendly; everyone can use a smile.”

When she comes upon a resident that she has some shared memories with, she stops, sets aside her walker, to embrace them and gently kiss their cheek.

When anyone visits she struggles to her feet to extend a welcoming hug and kiss.  My brother Dan’s wife received one and then Mom reached out to Dan exclaiming, “Your wife didn’t come?”

“She’s right behind you Mom, you just hugged her.”

“Oh, my,” she says and smiling, she bestows another hug and kiss on Carolyn. 

When Mom asks about our lives, our children, our trip she really wants to know.  But she doesn’t remember asking the questions or receiving any answers so our conversation is repetitive.  But her great joy is being in the room as we converse.  Her joy is in our presence, as is our joy in hers.

It takes so little to bring her happiness. She is grateful for our visit, her children and grandchildren, her home, and the feeling of being cared for and safe.    Her only complaint is that she believes that someone keeps eating her chocolate.  But at 87, it’s easy to forget having just one more piece when chocolate goes down so smoothly.

The last thing I did before we left was polish her nails with a glittering mauve nail polish.  She loved it and kept exclaiming it was the nicest that she could remember.

 “I did a good job picking out that color, didn’t I?” she asked.

“Yes, Mom, you did.”

 I am blessed to be able to visit and talk to my mother.  I am doubly blessed by her example into old age of kindness, love and gratitude.  I hope that will be part of my legacy, that and an ability to forget eating chocolate. 

Flower Show Meditation: This Season Will Pass

          I love flowers and plants. To date, I have 40 houseplants that are lifting my spirits through the winter, and I am already planning the flowerbeds that will need tending throughout the spring, summer, and fall. 

          This past Saturday Russ and I ventured up to the Vermont Flower Show in Essex Junction to jumpstart our need for floral beauty. Daffodils, tulips, primrose, rhododendrons, Irish moss, hyacinths, English daisies, lilies, miniature iris, and candytufts were some of the varieties displayed.  Ten thousand square feet showcased them in various colors and hues; they numbered in the thousands.  It was a feast for the eyes, the nose, and the soul.

          As I gazed on all that beauty I reflected on the short duration of blooming time that each flower possesses.  I have managed to plant my yard so that from the time the first crocus appears, I have a variety of perennials flowering in my yard until frost.  

Some blooms endure for a day, others for possibly one or two weeks, and a few for a month.  But they have their seasons, appear for a time, and slowly fade away.  Though the blooming time is brief, I anticipate and cherish those moments.

Life is filled with seasons that are not exclusively spring, summer, fall, and winter.  In my own life I feel as if I have experienced very different periods of time.  From childhood to teen, from single to married with children, and now with all of them grown my life has known many phases. 

 I have been a child, a sister, a teenager, an aunt, a student, an employee, a friend, a wife, a mother, a teacher, a counselor, a grandparent.  And I have been formed and shaped by living in these callings. I wish that I could state that I have lived without any mistakes or errors.  I have had plenty and I have tried my best to restore those things that have been damaged, to let go of those things beyond my control, and to live in the present day.  This day won’t return again.

The book of Ecclesiastes has a list of seasons and times and I’ll name a few: a time to be born and a time to die, a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance, a time to lose and a time to keep, a time to keep silence and a time to speak. (The complete list is in chapter 3 of Ecclesiastes.)

Perhaps someone you know has just given birth.  What a joyous time this is filled with laughter and hope.  Embrace these wondrous years of baby and toddlerhood when every day is one of discovery, new expressions, and the words ‘no’ and ‘why’.  This time passes so quickly.

You may be in a time of loss - the loss of a friendship, a career, a spouse, your health.  So many emotions occur.  You may feel disoriented, alone, mournful, or unable to express what is happening to you.

 My friend, Mel, lost her husband to a massive heart attack when he was just 34 after only 4 months of marriage.  In her profound grief she was counseled to do something for someone else every day.  At first it was just a kind word spoken in a check-out line, later she sent cards to shut-ins, as time passed dinner invitations followed to neighbors, and bit by bit she came through more loving and kind than when she began her journey in grieving.

After the flower show, we visited a dear friend who is engaged in a battle against cancer that gave little until Rachel could not get out of bed one morning.  She has already endured the fusing of her spine; radiation is to follow, and more surgery is expected.

 The road ahead appears to be full of obstacles, yet she is hopeful and gladdened by her family uniting together to uphold her and each other. In this season she is blooming and showing her true colors.  Her love is a beautiful fragrance.

Someday we all come to the inevitable truth of the end of our days here on earth.  Not unlike the flowers our appearance is for a brief time. We will face rocky soil, inclement weather, choking weeds, and dry spells.  Our response to life will determine how our flowering will affect those around us.  It’s been said before – “Bloom where you are planted.” This season will pass. 

What Did You Say Your Name Was?

            When we were having children we dutifully read any baby name book that we found, and at their birth we called them by names that we felt were lovely and had meaning.  I think this is how most children receive their title.

 Yet when certain physical traits and personality attributes become dominant, the child is honored with a nickname.  I share some of these without interpretation: Red, Towhead, Motor Mouth, Peanut, Buckethead, Fatty Patty, Rusty, Slack Hands, Pudge, Leggs, Pumpkin, Belly and Beanpole.

            Our youngest Elisabeth was first called Ba-beetle-bit because her older sister couldn’t pronounce Elisabeth.  Over time it became Beetle, then Beet which only I call her occasionally.  Elisabeth’s youngest Trinity was an especially difficult baby and on some trying days Elisabeth would offer Trinity for sale to the other siblings calling, “Who wants a baby? She’s going cheap, anybody got a penny?””

Amid a chorus of “I do, I do”, Tr­­inity would then be hugged and loved on by the other three­ and today she is called Penny.

Once a child enters school any unusual surname may get morphed.  Ruark to Ruarkski, a wee expression of Polish humor: Monahan to Mamahan, the mothering instinct on high alert: Puopolo to Poopsie or Little Poop, a natural handling of this unique last name;  Monk to Monkey, who would capitalize on the term, screeching and chattering, scratching and scampering, and once eating 12 bananas in one sitting.  Her credo was “if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em”.  She also loved the attention.

Neighbors and employers also hand out labels.  One young man’s first job was as a field hand.  He was thin and sorely lacking in muscle.  As time passed he gained muscle and mass and could move 350 pounds at a time.  His boss promptly called him Hercules.

An impressively bulked up teen was an ace catcher that mastered guarding home plate, and could throw out anyone running to second base.  Needless to say, he was Tank.

Then there was Steven.  He was the oldest boy and had 10 siblings.  As the oldest his father held him to a high measure which Steven struggled to attain and often fell short of. He was known at home and in town simply as Damnit Steven the name his father regularly called him.

My husband Russell received a nickname when he was in his mid 30’s.  We lived across from a General Store and would regularly stop by to pick up items that we needed.  John, the owner, was jovial and loved to greet his customers by name and he knew everybody.  It gave a homely feeling to the place.

He really liked Russ and every time Russ entered, John would boom, “Hi Bob!” The first time I heard it I looked to see who had followed us in. No one. John was making eye contact with Russ, and Russ was nodding and smiling right back.

When we got home I was puzzled about the ‘Bob’ thing.  Russ looked sheepish and said, “I don’t know, but he’s been calling me that for weeks.  I know that I’ve told him my name is Russ on more than one occasion, but ‘Bob’ seems to be stuck in his mind.”

So it continued.  One Saturday Russ said, “This is embarrassing.  Everyone else in town knows that I’m Russ. Today when I get some hardware I’ll tell him.”

Russ came home about a half hour later with an interesting fact he learned from John.  John’s real name was Evan.  The former owner was called John and when Evan took over the store the town folk just continued to call him John.

“He must have laughed about having your name wrong after that.  What did he say when you told him?”

Silence.

“You did tell him, right?”

“You know, Bob’s not such a bad name after all. And he has called me it for a long time.”

“You chickened out?”

“I chickened out.”

“Way to go, Bob.”

         

Relationships Take Work

We all live in relationship with someone or probably a lot of someones. And if you want a good relationship, it is going to take work.
Communication will entail eye contact, hand gestures, body posturing, and the like.  And the closer you are, the more time you will need to invest.
If you desire to have a strong marriage in your golden years, you will have to spend a lot of time when you are younger listening, sharing, understanding, caring, often coming to a compromise that you both can live with. 
A lot of time will need to be invested, but the end result will be so worth it.
Security, contentment, gratitude, peacefulness, and love are ust a few of the benefits.
It's a bit of a dance with each partner taking turns leading.  Give 100% always and on those days that you are unable, the other person will carry you as you will them on their bad days.
Life is comprised of a lot of long days and short years.  Make the most of all of them.

Spring is very far away

When I peruse my fb page, I often come across a countdown of days until spring or posts that deal with a hatred of winter.
There are just too many days left.  Why open the door to depression?
Why not instead embrace the things that there are to love about winter: warm toasty blankets, hot chocolate, crisp walks in freshly fallen snow, sledding, puzzles, books, movies, fresh baked cookies and pies, ice skating, snowshoeing, company in for a night of games, crock pot dinners, freshly baked bread.  
The four seasons need to be embraced and enjoyed.  They're not going anywhere.
The January thaw will come and give a respite, then February will bury us in snow, and March will play between winter and spring.
Oh, but when it comes!!!! What joy! I think you experience it just a bit more after the winter.

The Most Important Things in Life

We are in trouble in our home, in our state, in our country, in our world.

People are warring against people based on belief, race, gender, politics, lifestyle, or choices.  And so, I repeat, we are in trouble.

A new year is here and individuals are making resolutions to lose weight, exercise, quit smoking, consume less alcohol, clean closets, pay off debt, or the like.

 What if we decided to be kind?

 In essence we would cease from viewing others as the enemy, but would instead view them as a fellow traveler worthy of respect simply because they exist, have worth, and share the world with us.

For well over a decade I have worked with individuals in crisis.  I have listened to stories of incredible heartbreak and loss, witnessed the effect of broken homes and absentee parenting, and seen patterns repeated by early imprinting.

 Broken people with broken relationships need to know that life can be different, that families can love each other, and that manipulation does not need to be the avenue chosen to survive.

If we want to see the world a different place, we have to start one person at a time and the first place to start is with ourselves.  Until I treat each person that I meet with kindness and respect, until I listen to the story of others, until I see a unique individual before me, until I change me, we will go on as we are – a world in serious trouble.

I have heard or read many thoughts from people nearing the end of their lives.  No one talks of wishing they had made more money or worked longer hours.  Any remorse seems to be over broken relationships; any joy is in the family and friends that remain.

While it is still today, let’s work at building bridges to the people that we encounter in this life. There are some simple ways to begin as we face the year 2015.

 Stop texting as your primary way of communication.  Communication involves voice inflection and facial expression which is not possible when dueling thumbs are the only body parts involved in the dialogue.  A phone call is better; speaking face to face is the best.

There are young couples and single mothers desperate for someone to come alongside them and model good parenting skills.  Many of them come from fractured homes, are fatherless, or products of multiple foster homes.  How can you become what you have never witnessed?

  Be that example.  Even with all of your own shortcomings and failures, you can teach them to learn from their mistakes and bring them hope and compassion.

People are alone in the midst of a crowd, at the workplace, in front of their computers, in checkout lines, while raising their families.  Do you know of an elderly person that is no longer able to leave her home? How about someone ill and enduring long hours of treatment at a hospital? A single mother harried with work, young children, and lack of sleep? Maybe you are the person needed to break that loneliness.

Perhaps you are the person that is alone.  Volunteers are welcomed at hospitals, senior centers, adult daycares, hospice, pregnancy centers, food shelves, schools.  You are needed somewhere; find your niche and fill that need.

The rapper Eminen states, “I don’t care if you’re black, white, straight, bisexual, gay, lesbian, short, tall fat, skinny, rich, or poor.  If you’re nice to me, I’ll be nice to you.  Simple as that.”

That’s a good quote, but I say it doesn’t go far enough not if we want to change the world.  I would add another phrase: “And I’ll be nice to you even if you’re not nice to me.”  It’s really as hard as that. 

But the old proverbs say ‘a soft answer turns aside wrath’ and ‘you can catch more flies with honey than with vinegar’.

 One person at a time, beginning with ourselves, we can change the world since the most important things in life are others.

Someday, You Too, Will Have an Obituary

          Bursting through the door on Christmas Trinity, at 3 ½ years gave me a resounding kiss when I scooped her up,  and then thrust ‘Bernie’ forward so that he too could kiss me. 

Bernie has an embroidered eye and snaggle tooth, is olive and mauve in color, and fully encompasses his trademark name of being an Ugly doll.  He is UGLY, but to be offered a kiss by him lets you know that you are indeed loved by Trinity.

          That morning she was responsible for her attire and had foregone a fancy Christmas dress.  Instead she was clothed in leggings and a long sleeved shirt. Both were covered in bright multi-colored horizontal stripes that did not match.  She did this because she thought she looked like a caterpillar.

          The last three years of Trinity’s life have flown by and her personality becomes more evident every day.  So too, the last 58 years of my life are pass and I wonder just what kind of person I am becoming.  Because this truth is unavoidable, someday there will be an obituary.

          With the year 2014 bright and new and unwritten I am determined to live not only in 2014 but throughout the rest of my life striving to attain the following virtues.

          Be Present – A day can contain so many things.  Errands, shopping, doctor’s appointments, phone calls, work schedules, chores, car maintenance.  It can all be so exhausting, and sometimes it’s easier to be on automatic pilot and to get the jobs done with the least human interference.

 But life is filled with interaction.  And the commodity we deal in is relationship with folks that have worth and a story to tell.  I want to value those people, make their load a bit lighter, and yes, to hear their stories.  That can only happen if I am present in each moment, with each person, in every interaction.  Most things are not about me.

          Be Kind - “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.”  Whoever first coined that phrase was obviously in denial of the huge gaping hole that unkind works produce in the human spirit.  A word hasty spoken can never be unspoken.

 I want to speak words of kindness or not speak at all. The adage of having my brain engaged before opening my mouth will be a tough one to conquer.

          Be Generous – The dictionary defines this as giving freely of one’s time, help, or money.  I don’t want to be generous in one area and consider myself to have fulfilled the other two.  If I keep my physical needs small, I can more easily help others.  But the reality is that sometimes it will entail a sacrifice on my part, and it may even hurt.

Be Joyful - Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh! Look around, breathe deeply, touch the earth, listen to a child laugh, snuggle under a comforter, laugh until it hurts, sled down a hill, sing around a campfire, dine with friends, play board games, or celebrate another birthday.

 If you look for it, you will find it and find yourself ‘surprised by joy’ as C.S. Lewis was.

          Have Faith – I believe that all of life has meaning and purpose.  The trivial and mundane can teach us faithfulness and attention to detail.  Sickness and trial shows us those things that are worthwhile; it may also show us where we need to grow and change.

Times of celebration occur and are interspersed as a spice to ordinary life.  Life is not always cake and ice cream, nor is it only bread and water.  The one true thing about this life is that it will change.  With faith, you can accept those changes because you believe there is someone greater than yourself in control.

          The virtues I desire to be overflowing in my life are the very ones I desire to pass on to my children and grandchildren.  Today, Trinity wants to be a caterpillar; my hope is that one day her spirit will soar and be like a beautiful butterfly. I’m hoping to change too and be transformed.  After all, someday there will be an obituary.      

Hello, My Name Is...

            I recently returned from my 40 year class reunion which coincided with a family celebration for my mother’s 85^th birthday.  There were two events.  At one I wore a shirt with my RUARK 4 emblazoned on the back, at the other a name tag stating my name as Kathy Ruark Rohloff.

 I wore them with much trepidation convinced that one of my two worse fears would be realized.  1. That someone would recognize me.  2. That no one would recognize me.  After all it has been 40 years.  If anyone has revisited old high school photos you can understand my misgivings.

            Before attending the first event, a friend had counseled me to pay attention to eyes and smiles saying, “Those things never change.”

 My first encounter was amazingly simple.  I immediately recognized and was recognized by two former classmates.  We all agreed that 40 years had been exceedingly kind to us and we then shared basic facts on careers, addresses, children, and, of course, grandchildren.

            Turning I was accosted by a broadly smiling older gentleman who exclaimed, “I’m Denny Simpson! I was in the class two years ahead of you.” (It seems he had married a girl in my class.) He then enveloped me in a huge bear hug.

 I actively asked him pertinent questions as I racked my brain for just who this person was.  There was a definite twinkle in the eyes, a dimpled smile and as our conversation continued he began to morph and change before me. 

I mentally saw hair grow in and color to brown, a goatee magically appeared, and his cheeks thinned.  Like a phoenix rising from the ashes, I saw Denny as I had known him 40 years earlier and cried, “I know you! I DO know you! You’re Denny Simpson!” 

His grin grew and then I sealed it.  “You were such a cutie!”

            The next evening many more connections were made.  Suzie’s bright red hair had softened to a rich auburn, Maureen was now a lobbyist.  My old badminton partner, pep rally poster maker, field hockey sufferer Kathy was a librarian in Georgia.  There were at least five couples that dated in high school and were approaching their 38 year anniversaries. 

So many conversations began with…”remember when?” or “I remember…”  The best was when Linda stated, “I remember when you dyed your bangs green with food coloring for St. Patrick’s Day.”  I have no memory of that, but believe that it dwells in the realm of possibility.

            Careers ranged from teachers, nurses, an oil refinery trouble-shooter, church musician, a golf cart customizer, to the mayor of Bourbonnais my hometown.  Although those that attended lived mainly in Illinois and Indiana, California, Texas, and Vermont were represented. There was one potential awkward moment when my sister’s former boyfriend who married the girlfriend of his good friend that dumped her for another girl he married was seated at the same table.  Got that?  The comment I heard was, “Boy! High school was a long time ago.”  We all shared a laugh.

 Hey, who woulda thunk? It came time for the class photo where we were called to assemble according to height.  Earlier in the evening as I scanned the crowd I kept repeating to Russ, “Are all of the guys in my class really this short or is it me?”  At picture time it became obvious that it was indeed true since I found myself standing next to the star forward of our basketball team.  Need I say that I shifted down a hill slightly so that other women were nearby in the photo?

            The photo shoot over, Steve, a former classmate from both grade and high school commented, “After last night I went home and told my wife, I saw Kathy Ruark.  She’s so tall; she must be 6’1”.”  ”Steve, that’s not true!” I laughed.  “I’m only 5’11”.”  Steve then threw back his shoulders, stood on tiptoe, and added, “Me too.”

            

Before I start I want to qualify that this pertains to all men that have been a father figure in someone’s life.  It doesn't refer only to those who have birthed children.

Father’s Day 2013

            At some time during the service today we will recite the Lord’s Prayer.  It begins with “Our Father” and we then pray to our Father who is in heaven.

            God in heaven has given to mere mankind the ability to be fathers and to therefore reflect to their children the face of God.  Our earthly fathers are the first images that we see of Him. 

            Fathers teach their children how to change a flat tire, bait a hook, throw a football, paddle a canoe, set a plumb line, make a perfect campfire, read a map, balance a checkbook, replace a window, properly tie a Christmas tree to the roof of a car, grill the perfect hamburger, parallel park, drive a stick shift, and comprehend calculus.

            Fathers love to play hide and seek and Legos and monster.  They wrestle, fill water balloons and throw them, ride bikes, ice skate, ski, swim, dive, solve puzzles, and read stories in different voices.  And what child doesn’t have a memory of having a better view while seated on the shoulders of their father?

            Fathers provide for their families by working day after day, year after year.  They bring home a paycheck that is spent on orthodontists and underwear and shoes and piano lessons.  Casseroles, soups, hamburger helper, quiche, and salads are consumed with rarely a thought of steak.  Well, not THAT often.  Their weekends are filled with home repair projects, soccer practice, and family time.

            Present at birth, they continue to mark major milestones in their children’s lives.  Losing a first tooth, entering kindergarten, receiving a driver’s license, prom, diplomas, an escort down the aisle at a wedding.

            Fathers teach their children to pray, and then pray with their children, and finally pray for their children.  Always.  They love the mother of their kids hourly, daily, and will continue that love until death. They exhibit faithfulness and patience and constant care.

            The fathers here are in different seasons of life.  Perhaps your children are babies or in the terrible twos; young and facing a world that is full of adventure and surprises.  They may be ill or troubled; lost and without direction, they may be estranged from you.  Maybe they are doing well, have survived the teen years, and you are immensely proud of them. 

This one thing is true, they are your children and you love them. This one thing you must do – reflect the face of God to them.  Be to your children, as He is to you.

God does not change.  God never turns His back on us; He never ceases to listen to us.  He never withholds His blessing, His love, or His forgiveness.  He is always there and always available.  May you be as unchangeable to your children.

And on this Father’s Day may all of you see your children rise up to be a blessing and to bless you.  God bless you.  Happy Father’s Day.

The Earth is Full- Enjoy!

I just downed some Tylenol, noted the appearance of three new bruises and multiples scratches on my appendages gathered from working in the yard, checked the rising temperature, and enjoyed the music of a choir of birds.  It’s spring and this a good time to be alive.

          For most of April I hope that snow will not be in the forecast except in higher terrains and that unpaved roads will dry out and be graded.  And when that comes to pass, then winter is truly over in Vermont.  It’s time to welcome spring with all of our senses.

          Sight –Daily, hourly the land becomes greener and early flowers are bursting forth to gladden hearts.  People are outside raking, weeding, planting, walking, jogging, biking, talking, laughing.  Pale, sun-starved legs and feet appear even while the upper half is covered with layers to be discarded through the day.  Yesterday, Trinity, 2 ½, saw her first dandelion of the season.  She picked it and ran to show Paacha.  “My lion!  Isn’t it pretty?” she cried.  Even though a dandelion is technically a weed, the first ones are a thing of beauty even when you are over two.

          Sound – Chain saws burr as dead trees are removed.  Snatches of music are heard from the opened windows of passing cars; many times the bass thumps and pulses at stop signs.  Chirps, caws, tweets, peeps, chatters, screeches, yips, are nature’s addition to the celebration.  We were awakened in the wee hours by the screaming of an animal near our bedroom window.  A tomcat on the prowl?  A red fox passing through? We were never sure of the origin, but acknowledged it as a sign of the changing season.

          Smell – Campfires, brush piles alit, freshly turned soil, worms, manure, sun warmed earth tantalize the nose.  Laundry dried on the clothesline, bedding and throw rugs aired outside bring spring into the house as does throwing wide the doors and windows.  Let it all come in, unless or until the farmer is spreading manure and fertilizer.

          Touch – Prickly nettles, sharp thorns, crumbly moist soil, dew-soaked grass, velvety moss are all encountered in any gardening effort as snow peas and root crops are gently worked into the soil   Bare feet linger on warm asphalt, scurry over gravel, massage garden soil, glory in zephyr breezes. Sometimes I find myself touching the earth believing that I can almost feel its heart beat.  And I whisper to the seedlings and bulbs, “Grow.”

          Taste – The first barbecue or Creemee or toasted marshmallow is just the promise of more to come.  And what a promise it is! Lunch eaten at a picnic table, dinner served outside on the deck, an apple munched while in the hammock and food never tasted so yummy.  Now is the time to add extra vittles on the grill and invite friends, new and old, to partake.

          This season is a gift.  It’s a time to look around and realize the truth that the earth is full of the goodness of the Lord.  May you gather in that goodness and benefit from it.  Happy spring!  

False Fire Alarm

I was calmly uprooting dandelion taproots when I became aware of 2 men in large black trucks speeding by and then conversing at the end of my drive.
I thought that perhaps they were going to take the small file cabinet I had at the curb with a FREE sign perched atop.
Then one truck squealed into my drive with the other pulling into the neighbor's.  I paused, looked up, and said, "Did you need something?"
The elder man growled, "We got a report of a pellet stove being on fire with smoke billowing out of the basement."
"Well, I have a pellet, it's in the living room, and as far as I know everything's fine."
"You better check it."
My neighbor joined me  as we entered to house to see the stove merrily warming the living room.
"Clearly," I said to the neighbor, "The stove fired up, emitted a lot of smoke, and someone panicked.  Not unlike when you called me last fall when it was running."
We both assured the ex-fire chief that all was in order.
Glad to know that the neighbors are on alert, now it they'd only help me pull up dandelions.

            Too Old to Die Young

            I recently had another birthday.  I am now officially too old to die young and I’ve resigned myself to missing a variety of experiences.

            I won’t be President of the United States and will never run for office, mainly because I’m not interested.  But it’s a relief to no longer wonder what it would be like to roam around the White House at night and sneak a nap on Lincoln’s bed.  And that recurring nightmare of being poorly dressed for the Inaugural Ball should cease.

            Rafting down the Amazon, climbing Mt. Everest, running with the bulls in Pamplona, snorkeling in the Barrier Reef, finishing the Boston Marathon, and skydiving won’t happen for me.  It’s a sure thing that I won’t go 2.7 seconds on a bull named Fumanchu.  I may, however, view these events on DVD while on my trusty exercise bike.

            The awards for a Grammy, an Emmy, and a Tony won’t be mine and poor old Oscar will have to go home with someone else.   Martin Scorsese and Tim Burton will remain unaware of my wonderful untapped acting ability; Brad Pitt and George Clooney will need another leading lady.   And, shucks, I won’t be auditioning to be the new Bond girl.  

             I won’t be the advertising face for Lady Clairol or Cover Girl. Pillsbury will not choose my recipe for its bake off, Publisher’s Clearing House won’t be writing me a check for two million dollars, and I won’t be able to imagine the feeling of winning the Vermont Lottery.  All Nobel prizes will go to someone else.

From the summit of 57 years I want to pass on some aging and aged thoughts that have proven true in my lifetime thus far.  If you pass up the deal of a lifetime because it is out of your reach financially, be prepared for an even better deal to come at just the right time.  Good things come to those who wait.

Sometimes you may have three equally great opportunities before you.  If you examine each choice and they come out the same, choose any.  You will grow in knowledge and experience on whatever road you walk and will end up exactly where you were meant to be.

Avoid ‘if only’.  You can get so consumed over what might have been that you will miss what is happening right in front of you now.  Embrace, grab, hold on to the life that you’ve been given and LIVE it honestly and with abandon.  You only get the one chance.

Think before you speak. Sticks and stones may break bones, but words bruise, sting, bite and become etched in the heart and memory.  Sadly, that’s why years after the fact some wounds still bleed.  In your relationships always speak encouragement into lives.  Being kind is always appropriate. 

Above all things, walk in forgiveness.  Forgive yourself; forgive others.  Don’t keep accounts of wrongs suffered and make it your aim to not cause suffering.  You’ll sleep better at night if you do.

As I begin my descent “over the hill”, I find that though the days are flying by I’m already beginning to move a little slower.  I’m saying “yes” to those things I’m meant to do, “no” to those things I’m not, and trying hard to know the difference.   And even if I’m officially too old to die young, I’m still young enough to create change.  In me. This year.

Grandchildren Bring Joy

There are few things in my life that bring me more than joy than my grandchildren. They spent two days with us and delighted us again with their perspectives and their personalities. 

Antonia stated that she now knew how to sit like a lady and could wear a skirt without a pair of shorts underneath. We were treated to fine art work from the boys, kitchen help with meals and dishes, and random hugs and kisses. 

I am so glad that I had my children young and that I am able to enjoy the gift of these grandchildren.

catatacts, surgery, and pirates

Aarrrrr! It’s Time to Walk the Plank 

 For the last few days I've been living with a pirate. And that pirate happens to be my husband. 

 His resemblance to a pirate is enhanced by the eye patch that he has been wearing as he recovers from cataract surgery. One eye done, the other to come. 

 The day after surgery he was assured that he would be able to work, driving would be no problem. And it wasn't. The problem came when he had to read. The eye still wearing a prescription lens could, the eye without could not. 

 Hence, not an eye patch but a yellow post-it hanging over his glass frame. Aarrrrr! Not a pretty sight.

Sleeping ok? Yup!

My youngest granddaughter doesn't like to sleep through the night. She prefers to jabber, sing, dance, thrash, and generally let her presence be known. 

At 2 she is usually ready for bed by 6 p.m. and can barely function past that time, but check her at 2p.m. and she's vocal and alert. 

 If her older brother gets up to use the bathroom she sings out, "Hi, Karl." She will report on the whereabouts of everyone in the house i.e. "Nia...sleeping. Domi...sleeping. Mama...sleeping etc." It's especially irritating if you are on the list and are awakened by her declaring that you are asleep. 

 When she's told to be quiet, she is silent, but will then lift her legs and drop them onto her mattress. Repeatedly. Over and over. Again and again.

 One night when she was over I thought I heard her cry out. I crept into the room and checked her while she lay in bed. I heard steady breathing through the darkness and ventured to ask, "Trinity, are you ok?" "Yup!" was her reply.

Freedom costs

Let Freedom ring – For Kathy’s Four New Freedoms

Whenever the 4^th of July rolls around and I participate in the festivities, I am reminded of Norman Rockwell’s famous four Freedoms paintings, depicting the Freedom to Worship, the Freedom from Fear, the Freedom from Want, and the Freedom of Speech.  I value all of those and have thought of for more that I plan to add to my personal life.

·        Freedom from Comparison.

Keeping up with the Jones’s has always meant living your life in comparison to your neighbors. Years back it meant car models, landscaping, remodeling, job advancement, and expensive vacations.  Today it is all encompassing and includes savings accounts, retirement plans, fashion, and pedigreed animals.

Sadly, it extends to children’s after school activities, clothing logos, school choice, and the electronic gadgets they possess.  My plan is to keep my rusting Kia until the death of its engine parts us.  Adding satellite is still not happening, nor is switching my VCR/DVD TV to something more digitally mastered.  My work for a  non-profit doesn’t come with fame or fortune, the work is the reward.  I will continue to scour thrift stores and clearance racks for bargains. My goal is to be content with what I have.

·        Freedom from Judgment

People have different parenting styles, hobbies, passions, likes and dislikes. Often times my ideas and ideals differ.  I’m attempting to free myself from judgment.  Although I might not consider it endearing, respectful, beneficial or necessary, parent your way.  Public of private school? Homeschool? To immunize or not? Your choice, not mine.  It’s your child and I’ve seen some wonderful children grown from what I consider wacky parenting ideals and plenty of troublemakers from sound ones.

Politics? Religion? Whole-grain or white? Processed or organic? Imagine just how long this list can be.  Classical? Opera? Country? Rock? It’s all music to someone.  Enjoy.  You live your life I’ll live mine.  But as I live mine, I will try my best to talk with you, befriend you, and listen.  My responsibility lies in being a good neighbor and only I can accomplish that.

·        Freedom from Appearance.

Wouldn’t it be wonderful if there was a ban on the constant media bombardment on aging? Those headlines that read “50 is the new 30,””Woman, 72, is top in her field of weight lifting ”(how large is that field, I wonder) or “You too can have abs like these”. WHY????

I am making better choices than I did five years ago concerning my eating and exercise habits.  But as the years have passed I’ve acquired allergies, arthritis, and aches and pains previously unknown.  It’s happening and I’m OK with that.

I don’t want to live counting every calories and bite, refusing cake at birthday parties, wearing the lastest fashion, or stressing over aging skin.  I want to erase from my vocabulary the sentence, “I’m being bad,” when I’m referring to an eating choice.  Life is not meant to be lived at either extreme of fasting or feasting.  I’m going to celebrate life and attempt to live in balance.

·        Freedom from Perfection.

I don’t make fudge because my friend Debbie Nolan makes it really well.  Sadly, I haven’t seen Debbie in 26 years and I’m still not making fudge because I’m afraid it won’t be perfect.  There are much better quilters, writers, rug makers, bakers, home decorators, guitar players, singers, and dancers than me.

In the past, the idea of how inadequate I am compared to others has been my excuse to not attempt new things. No longer.  My home is a hodgepodge of homemade items.  Some are well done, others you need to not look at too closely.  The satisfying part is that it releases a spark within me and brings me pleasure to create something.

So for this July 5^th and onward, I am on a mission to add these freedoms to my life.  Adopt these or make your own list.  Whatever you do, begin now.  Let freedom ring.

Ring those bells!

(appeared July 5, 2012)