Category Archives: Positive attitude

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I count myself a very fortunate individual. I can be inspired easily by mundane surroundings. Observations that are truly unique may seem rather comical. If I tell you that seeing a septic truck brought creative thoughts to mind, you might think I have a need to talk to a professional. I think not and I will share why I feel that is the case, at least this particular time.

First, let’s discuss what a septic tank is and what service it provides. Then I will touch base on the importance of septic trucks. A simple search on Google will tell you that a septic tank is an underground chamber made of concrete, fiberglass, or plastic through which domestic wastewater (sewage) flows for basic sewage treatment. That is a rather delicate way to describe how to keep up with human waste. Those who live in a more populated or metropolitan area will rely on a sewer system which carries the waste off through underground pipes that transport it to a treatment plant. I understand if you think this topic may be bizarre but I promise you, there is a point to this blog.

I grew up in a household where we did make use of a septic tank. We were a family of seven, three adults and 4 children. That would equate to a lot of water usage and disposal. My father would try to combat some of that collection by having our washing machine drain outside through a hose. That way all the used water would not unnecessarily fill the septic tank and there were no concerns about it being a biohazard. You can imagine the amount of laundry that our family generated. It was a world of woe when the tank would reach its limit and a call was made to bring in a septic truck. I don’t recall what would trigger that request and it is probably just as well that I don’t remember. I do know it was a big deal when it happened. The truck would come and the driver would access the underground tank and pump out its contents. I don’t know what leads someone to choose that as a career but it remains an essential service.

Now let’s get back to my original premise, that inspiration can be found everywhere.  Whether it be a sewer or a septic tank, everyone needs something to rid one’s life of collected waste. The human condition insists that it exists. I’m asking you to use your imagination and not refer to bodily waste but rather negative thoughts, unkindness, nastiness or anything that could be considered within the realm of hatred. We don’t need to maintain it as part of our life and it is so much more beneficial if we rid ourselves of it and make room for the good. Life has so much goodness to offer. There are glorious experiences, relationships and positivity that exists. Just because this unpleasantness lay dormant below the ground, or under the skin, it not recommended that it be allowed to stay and fester. It is much healthier to wash it out of your system and purge yourself of it. Life is much too short to expend energy by lugging that heaviness around with you. Burdens find it hard to exist within the lightness. One more observation comes to mind. Be watchful and don’t let your tank ever get close to overflowing. Keep your thoughts and actions in check so the septic truck doesn’t need to make a house call. No one wants to be full of it!

Winter

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Everyone seems to have a favorite season. I gave some thought to this and feel that autumn might be mine. I enjoy the colorful backdrop that the changing leaves provide. I appreciate the chill in the air that has one transition from iced tea to hot tea and also prompts the addition of a blanket to the couch. I find I am lulled into the coziness that the season brings. I think there is something for everyone in every season but as winter’s last hurrah is upon us, I would like to focus on it.

I know those who enjoy winter’s brisk weather. It could be the chance of snow that brings a smile to their face, or possibly the holidays within it. I find I appreciate winter, but maybe for reasons unnoticed by others. I enjoy the lack of vegetation as things that might be hidden in other seasons are now visible. I am always impressed by taking notice of a hawk among the branches of a tree. These majestic birds might want to remain hidden as they watch their prey but I enjoy seeing them sit high and mighty without the cover of leaves. I also appreciate the work that went into creating a squirrel’s large nest. There are condo’s that don’t hold a candle to them. Winter is a time for Mother Nature to show off some creations that go unnoticed through the remainder of the year.

As a tribute to Mother Nature, I play along with her during the winter months. The blanket I introduced to my couch in the fall often finds me under it, enjoying its warmth. I can admire those animals who hibernate through the season. I, too, find I am happy to dig in on the dark, cold nights. A big pot of soup works its wonders as the bounty from the previous seasons creates an aroma that makes you glad your windows are closed and the scent doesn’t quickly escape.

I also think of how our lives mimic the seasons. This can be true where our relationships are concerned. In the spring when all is fresh and new, a heart can be full of anticipation. Planning what plants might be introduced to a barren flower bed is enjoyable. One looks forward to future blossoms. Summer can bring heat and weeds but those issues can all be creatively handled. As the time progresses winter can make itself known. Those can be the gloomy days of a relationship. As in winter, when Mother Nature introduces a barren landscape, so can true feelings be uncovered. I don’t see that as necessarily bad, rather an opportunity for the development of unconditional love. No cover-up, but an acceptance of seeing someone for who they are and loving them, blemishes and all. Unconditional love is such a beautiful gift that we can give one another. A beautiful bouquet grown through commitment. There are never any guarantees but hope springs eternal. Everyone will continue to have their favorite season but if something blossoms into unconditional love then maybe winter isn’t so bad after all.

Random Conversations

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I am one of those people who strangers talk to in a grocery store. I’ve checked and there is no signage on my forehead that invokes conversation. I have often thought I might possess a resting bitch face but if I did, I doubt people would want to talk to me. Those who know me, generally call me a positive individual and perhaps that is the aura or demeanor I project. Either way, it is interesting what a total stranger will offer in conversation. What I have to share is not a scientific study, rather observations made when paying attention to those conversations within a twenty four hour period.

I was making my way through a checkout line on a Friday afternoon. I told the cashier that I was glad the weekend was upon us but I recognized that I wouldn’t feel that way if I worked retail. The cashier, with joy in her voice, said she was going to be off on Saturday. I shared that I was going to take my cat to a vet appointment. She asked if she was sick and I explained that I had adopted her within the past two months and she had severe arthritis. I was taking her in to the vet for her monthly shot. When asked, I did reveal the cost of the care she was being provided. The cashier blessed me for taking the responsibility of pet ownership to heart. It was not lost on me that the next customer also responded, although not with the spoken word. Her eyes bulged out to the point that she reminded me of a cartoon. I had almost expected to hear her actions be accompanied by a sound much like those animated characters, a-wooga. If I was ever looking for an opponent to play poker with, I would select this woman.  I gave no evidence that I witnessed her reaction.

It was clear, the customer behind me, thought I was foolish for the money I was spending on my newly acquired cat. I let it go. The next day I also kept my thoughts to myself when having a brief conversation with one of the attendants at the local dump. I have definite ideas and interest where politics are concerned but I withhold them until I’m in the proper setting. Many who spend time with me on a regular basis probably don’t have a clue where my beliefs lie. I have learned to be polite and keep my mouth shut. It is always wise to choose your battles but it makes no sense to pick a fight with a total stranger. The attendant at the dump would have made it easy. I am still shaking my head over how Groundhog Day could be cloaked in politics. It never fails to amaze me how views can vary. In my opinion, bringing an innocent groundhog into the mix goes beyond the pale.

Not to fear, I won’t leave you with anything but a positive note to end this blog. While I was shopping in a craft and fabric store I saw a woman with the most beautiful bolt of soft fleece. It had shades of turquois, chartreuse, and other colors that would put you in mind of a tropical seascape.  I was drawn to both her and the material. She shared that she was going to make a bed jacket for her sister. Did I know what that was? I certainly did and went on to tell her that I had my mother’s for many years. She correctly guessed that it was made of satin. It was pink satin with lace. She further shared that her mother called them lady linens. It seemed like such a practical type of apparel. How did we get away from wearing something warm over our arms as we read in bed? We both enjoyed our brief walk down memory lane and went on our separate ways.

My thoughts about this very unscientific study seem to be clear. Most people enjoy talking and the topics go far beyond the weather. Just as I have a well-defined perspective on most topics, others do too. It is those diverse opinions that show how we are all unique in our world vision. I believe what might separate us is the ability to filter those thoughts or know when it is appropriate to share them. I will happily go through my day making conversations with strangers on inconsequential topics. If I should come across someone who seems not to respect the ground rules of keeping conversations about politics and religion out of the fray, I will remain polite and let it go. I learned a long time ago that opinions are seldom altered, especially by a brief exchange. I am not easily offended nor do I feel I am a hypocrite but rather an individual who enjoys chatter and banter that leaves a smile. Who needs a scowl, especially if your face were to stick that way?

Timing

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I received my education from the School Sisters of Notre Dame. When I was young, and the most vulnerable, they impressed upon me ideas beyond the typical school subjects. One, stressed in many different ways, was to always remain prayerful. There was a prayer for everything and special times to recite them. If you were to hear the siren of an emergency vehicle, it was cause for prayer. In particular, if it was that of an ambulance, one was to pray for the victim to overcome an illness or survive an accident. I would think that it doesn’t come as a surprise that I still carry that with me to this day. I’m not the least embarrassed to admit that I am prompted to pray for a total stranger during their time of need.

If the nuns assisted in giving me a foundation of prayer, as an adult I have not only claimed that as beneficial but have continued to build upon it. I feel a sense of gratitude that I am not the victim in need of transport by ambulance when I hear one on its way. I don’t have a sense of better you than me.  I have experienced it for myself and know how helpless one feels when your body reminds you that you are not immortal and you are the one on the stretcher taking a bumpy ride to the hospital. It is a sincere feeling of gratitude that I am not experiencing it this time and I pray for the well-being of the individual whose turn it is.

I also have a feeling of gratitude when I realize I avoided some misfortune, possibly due to timing. Again, it is not my wish that anyone suffer but often I have thought that there for the grace of God go I. One recent morning, when ready to head to work, I noticed sleet as I got into the car. I was running late, as usual, but I wasn’t concerned about the state of the roads. A little bit of sleet shouldn’t disrupt travel. As I approached a nearby town the sleet turned to snow and it was quickly laying. I didn’t see any snow plows, nor did the roads look like they were treated. As I approached the mountain I cross daily, I was stopped by a line of vehicles ahead of me. They were blocked at the base of the mountain and I could see flashing lights ahead. The ambulance prompted a prayer and then I offered an additional one of gratitude. If I had been on time, maybe it would have been my car that would have been caught in the collision. There have been several times that an unusual circumstance changed my timing and it left me wondering if I was being protected from harm.

I will share with you the time that I could have been the unfortunate victim. I have a level of comfort when driving in the snow. I don’t wish for it but when it comes I don’t shy away from getting behind the wheel. Upon returning from work one evening, I was close to home on a well-travelled, straight stretch of road. Although I didn’t see it or feel it, I must have hit a patch of ice. The car crossed the line and I found myself staring at oncoming traffic.  I might have tried to correct the direction when the car went into a spin. There was nothing I could do to stop the momentum. It was literally time for Jesus to take the wheel. Soon I found myself in my original lane but was facing the vehicles that were initially behind me. At that point I slid off the road, down into a slight ditch and finally came to a stop. I was inches away from hitting a telephone pole. There was barely any time to catch my breath when someone knocked on my window and asked if he could help. Although he was wearing a trapper hat with the ear flaps down, I still can remember what he looked like. His curly ginger hair was visible under the brim of his hat and his eyes were a bluish gray, his face sprinkled with freckles. I was in no position to refuse help and he quickly went to the rear of the car and pushed me out of the hollow and back onto the road. Although he appeared to be slight in build it took him no time at all to push the car out of the ditch and back onto the road. I was shaking but continued on and, when at a safe spot, turned around to go my original direction. I instantly thought that I should have thanked him for his kindness but it all happened so quickly. I passed the spot where I had gone off the road and there was no sign of him. Initially I thought I was so fortunate that during a snow storm there happened to be someone out in a cow pasture, right where I was to go off the road. What were the odds? Was it timing or something else? In hindsight I realize that my car returning to the road without tires spinning in the snow or additional assistance to push the car up and out appears to be rather unusual. Then I question what others around me might have witnessed.

Years later, I have deemed the experience as miraculous. I wasn’t granted the timing to stay removed from peril yet I was kept from harm during a potentially dangerous event. It was an answer to prayer that I barely had the time to utter. The experience was more than a decade ago yet I can relive it in my mind as if was yesterday. I have come to understand that there are things that life sends us which are beyond our control. There can be events where timing is on our side and others when that may not be the case. Although it might appear that there is no rhyme or reason, it is all part of the human experience. Let’s hold on tight and see what timing might bring us next.

Happy New Ice Cream

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Now that we are well ensconced in 2024, I have a confession to make.  I have never been one to get excited about celebrating the New Year. My contention is that if you had no calendar or clock, there would be no way to tell one year from the next. I know that sounds cynical and nonsensical. I don’t feel that way about other holidays. It could be because their focus is not specifically based on time. Maybe I didn’t always feel this way but long gone is my childhood tradition of watching Guy Lombardo ring the New Year in on television. If that doesn’t make sense to you, I suggest you google it. No, I am one who stays home, safe and warm, as another year rolls in and the last becomes history. Even though I don’t have the desire to celebrate, I find I must witness the change. It feels like my civic duty to oversee the event.

As in all aspects of life, attitude plays its part in how we view things. Watching the ball drop on television, or any other media, gives you the impression that it is so large that it must light up all of Times Square. I have actually seen the ball, in place prior to the New Year celebration, and it didn’t look huge. It actually looked dwarfed by its position on the building. This year I had the feeling that the performer wasn’t finished singing as the descent of the ball began. I might be the only one who was annoyed by what appeared to be an example of poor time management. I don’t feel that is the optimum way to start a new year, especially when the focus is upon the last minutes of the outgoing year.

I have a solution for myself and anyone else who might feel the need to make this holiday a bit more palatable. Let’s make the New Year ice cream and proceed that way. Incorporating sweaters and blankets might be needed rather than hats and noisemakers but I think we can meet everyone’s expectations. I fear there could be a select population that might not be fans of the idea. I personally hope my suggestion doesn’t alienate anyone.

I have heard, how you spend New Year’s Eve, is an indication of what to anticipate for the following 365 days. There are decisions to be made. How do you want your ice cream? Are you going to play it safe and have it served in a cup or are you going to incorporate a little bit of risk into your choice? If you go with a cone you not only get the ice cream but the additional treat of the cone. Are you courageous enough to take the chance? Yes, it could get messy, just like life, but there are napkins along with soap and water to help correct the situation. Another thought, as you prepare to celebrate Happy New Ice Cream, give some consideration to the flavor you select. Are you going to choose your favorite flavor or try something new? Your tried and true favorite might be a safe way to go and you will know what to expect. If you consider stepping outside your comfort zone and try another flavor, it might bring your taste buds excitement and sheer happiness. You never know unless you try. The decision of how you want your ice cream is entirely yours.

I doubt my suggestion will take the country by storm. Even though you won’t find me at a party reveling, I do believe that the New Year offers us all a fresh start. Resolutions aren’t required but meeting each day with anticipation and purpose will make it more appetizing. My wish for you would be the ability to look back and see that you not only had a delicious year but you might realize it was topped with sprinkles, or better yet, with whipped cream and a cherry. Now, you must excuse me. For some reason I feel the need to go to Dairy Queen.

Cat’s Tale

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Indulge me, please. I want to share with you my most recent experience with rescuing a cat. If you recall, I recently posted a blog entitled Season Changes. After having to put down my 18 year old cat I found myself in the unusual situation of not having a pet in the house. It had been roughly 35 years since I was without a furry companion under the same roof and it was unsettling. When I was a child, it was acceptable to have pets but they were not allowed to live in the house. Years later, when I was living 300 miles away from my parents, that rule appeared to have changed. During a visit back home, I was offered a kitten. I wasn’t looking for a pet but I didn’t have the heart to say no. Ironically, it seemed totally acceptable to now have a pet in my parent’s home. I don’t know if they had mellowed with age or maybe they were comfortable with the situation as it would only be temporary for them. Either way, she was welcome inside and thus began my journey to having cats become members of the family.

The cat who was responsible for my indulgence of feline ownership was well traveled. She had lived in a total of three states when she left me at the age of 22. Others were to follow and it wasn’t unusual to have at least two at a time. When I lost my last one it was difficult to cast off the usual habits of feeding, litter box scooping, being met at the door when returning home and snuggling. Her departure left a void. Although there is grief in the loss of a pet, I have never been one to mourn for a great deal of time. I have always believed that as a cat left it was to allow for the inclusion of another homeless one in need of a family. There were plenty of offers for strays but I found myself checking Petfinder and began keeping tabs on those who caught my eye.

I settled on one who was noted to have been a sole indoor cat and a couch potato. She sounded like a possibility. I am well past the stage in my life that I feel up to entertaining the antics of a kitten. An adult cat who could settle into a quiet environment would appear to be a good fit. The shelter was a half hour drive and I headed there the week before Thanksgiving. Initially I was told that she had been adopted just hours prior to my arrival. I was disappointed but asked to see the other cats after making the trip there. It was then when I spotted her. The identification tag had been erroneously switched. When staff went back to the reception area to check things out, I opened the cage and met a cat who was receptive to my attention. It was late in the day and the shelter was about to close. Hastily I decided she was destined to be my cat and I made arrangements to adopt her. I was not prepared to take her home then but advised I would be back the following Friday afternoon to pick her up.

There was joy in my heart as I made my way back to retrieve her. I had to remind myself that it had been years since I brought a new cat into my home and we would be strangers to one another. Still, with my many years of cat ownership, I felt that there was nothing that I couldn’t handle. The shelter had labeled her as special needs and there was a discussion about her diet. Again, from my prior experience, I knew I could handle that situation as I had been through it before. They did share that she was surrendered when her previous owner had to go into a nursing home. I brought my carrier in and staff escorted me to her kennel. The door was open and she automatically walked from the kennel into the carrier. I was amazed at how easy she made the transition. Maybe she knew I was breaking her out and good things lay ahead.

When we arrived home, I opened the carrier door and she walked out. I watched as she made her way cautiously around the living room and into the hallway. At that point I noticed she had a severe limp. It hurt me to watch her walk. Without hesitating I called the shelter and asked if they were aware of her limp. I was told they were and they had it checked. At the time they couldn’t determine the cause. I was heartsick and felt betrayed. At no time was this shared with me as a potential adopter. Choosing a cat is different than selecting a shelter dog. You don’t walk them and checking their mobility is not usually a factor. Why were her dietary needs shared rather than her limp? I immediately had rescuer’s remorse. What was wrong with her? My pockets are not deep and I was concerned that I would not be able to afford the medical care she might need. I was torn. She is a living creature and the thought of possibly returning her was upsetting. It’s not like making a return to customer service with merchandise. I was angry with myself for making such a hasty decision. I was angry with the shelter for not having full disclosure. The only one who elicited a compassionate response in me was the cat.

A trip to check her out medically was a necessity. I poured my heart out to the vet and explained the dilemma I was facing. She was sincere in her support of me keeping the cat and acknowledged that a cat like her would most likely remain languishing in the shelter. I don’t know if that trip caused more anxiety for me or the cat. She was stressed to the point that x-rays would not be possible that day. I was sent home with prescriptions and the plan to return the following week for the needed x-rays. Trying to bond with a cranky cat who was not interested in taking medication proved to be difficult. Soon time gave way to her appointment and I learned sedation was needed to get her to cooperate for the x-rays. I won’t leave you in suspense. The limp is caused by severe arthritis. There are no options other than a daily supplement and monthly shots. Even before I learned of her diagnosis I knew I couldn’t return her to the shelter. I took the responsibility of bringing her home and that is where she will stay. The vet, again supporting my determination, wrote off a large portion of the bill.

I can tell you that just after one month she is doing well. The limp has not totally subsided but it is obvious she is feeling better. She is affectionate and playful. The hissing and growling has subsided. I recognize that she was trying to make an adjustment while in pain. I am comfortable in my decision to keep her. I felt all along there was a reason that we were connected. She never asked to be in this situation, surrendered and in need of medical care. My adoption of Molly may not change anything outside of our lives but it brings a sense of satisfaction. I would not ordinarily think that rescuing a cat could be considered taking a risk but in a way it was. Her unexpected medical needs made me realize that I am not only her source of care but also her voice. You may wonder if I learned anything more from this experience. Taking the chance on one of God’s creatures opened my eyes to other possible expectations of myself. How much greater would it be to take a risk and act as a supporter and advocate to another human being? Again, it might not change the world but the individual that I reach out to may find their load a bit lighter. As this new year begins and resolutions are made, I will look upon the needs of others as opportunities rather than burdens.

Time Has Passed

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On a recent Saturday, during this holiday season, I couldn’t help but reflect on how life constantly changes. So often we are called to resurrect old traditions as we gather and celebrate and yet sometimes we choose to keep them tucked away. Time can show us that what was once the norm can be replaced with something more currently appropriate. Memories can become a tangle of events, possibly never sorted through or offered the light of day again. There are times, like this particular Saturday, when a memory strikes a nerve and one must acknowledge that it is just that, a memory and time has passed.

My career has centered mainly on nonprofits. Many times I witnessed how volunteers would be the lifeline of these organizations. During my tenure I have worked side by side with those called to generously share their time and talents. During a shopping excursion, on this particular Saturday, I thought I spotted a former volunteer. It has been at least 20 years since we held our positions and worked together. I momentarily held back but as I was sure it was him I did decide to call his name.  I was met with a smile and a warm embrace. There was the usual exchange of pleasantries and a quick catch up on what we were currently involved in, career wise. I shared with him how I have never forgotten an event where he provided service above and beyond what was expected. Although he was humble in his response, it felt good to share that particular memory. After our parting, I recalled the energy and passion I possessed while in my role. Time has passed. I may currently support programs which benefit the community but it is now from a different vantage point. Then I was ready to lead the charge, currently I remain conscientious in my role but the drive to lead has subsided.

Later in the evening I went to the cemetery where my parents are buried to see the annual luminaria display. The landscape was aglow as each grave had a candle lit in memory of those who have passed. I parked the car and walked to my parents’ grave. There was a young couple with their son visiting the grave located above my parents. They lingered and in the darkness I didn’t know if they were aware I was behind them. Concerned that I might startle them I advised them I was there. Conversation was not lengthy but I learned her father had made his transition in 2009. Judging from her current age, it appeared that she must have been young when she lost him. Not being able to ease the grief she must still carry, I invited her to use my family’s marble bench whenever she visited her father. The loss of my parents is not fresh and the grief is not as intense as it was originally. Time has passed. I realized I am at the point in my life where it is my generation that has stepped up to fill the void. A lifetime of experience and memories can fill one’s soul. Forward movement, no matter what the pace, is always important.

On my way home that evening, I passed the house where I lived in my early adult years. It was the home where I resided as a newlywed and as a new mother it was the home where I brought our son.  It was also the home I inhabited when I realized my marriage was over. Although it looks much the same as it did years ago, time has passed. If I were to stop and cross the porch and threshold as I did thousands of times previously, I would be met with resistance. The current owners are oblivious to the lifetime I spent there. The conversations held and the breaths taken are long gone. There is no reason to resurrect the dreams that were once held close to my heart as I am a different person now. I am content to leave them where they lie.

It felt ironic that a particular Saturday, during this holiday season, could impose the reality of the passage of time and the losses it has wrought. I am proud of the accomplishments I achieved while I climbed the proverbial ladder of success. The view was invigorating while I was there but I am satisfied with my current vision. My parents might no longer be here physically but the memories of them remain strong and the lessons they taught continue to resonate. I am cognizant that I must carry the torch for them. It has been several years since I lived in a household with others. I am very much accustomed to being responsible for all aspects of my life. Time has passed. Every day brings a fresh start. It is important to choose what part of the past is no longer serving us and pack it away. It is never truly gone but by putting it aside one allows a newness to enter and keep stagnation at bay.   

My wish for you, during this holiday season, would be to create lasting memories with your loved ones. Hopefully these memories will remain with you and are light to carry.  If that isn’t possible, treat yourself well and hold hope for the New Year. Time will pass. I hope what you choose to carry with you is well worth the energy it takes to pack and it brings you joy as you continue on your way.

Timber!

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Trees provide pencils, paper and oxygen. Growing up I remember the smell of fresh lumber in the house as my father always had something under construction. During my childhood Christmases, the aroma of some type of evergreen would permeate the house. I say “some type” as I am not an expert on trees. As a young girl I enjoyed watching Here Comes the Brides. The show’s concept was built upon the trials and tribulations experienced by the single women that were brought out to Seattle to accompany the lonely lumberjacks. I didn’t learn much about the lumber business by watching because, like everyone else, I had a crush on Bobby Sherman, one of the lumberjack brothers. Later, as an adolescent, I was an avid fan of the Waltons. Their family business had them operate a saw mill. I vaguely remember them harvesting the lumber strategically and being cautious not to strip the mountain. That little gem might have caught my attention as the concept of commemorating Earth Day was taking off. To celebrate its inception, President Nixon planted a tree on the White House lawn. If I haven’t lost you yet, you may have noticed that my knowledge of trees is enough to complete one paragraph.

Fast forward to present day. Surprisingly the lumber business has frequently come to mind. This time it has nothing to do with a television show but rather my place of work. I cross the mountain each day to find myself often staring at the edges of cut trees, piled high on a flatbed truck, as I wait for the light to turn green. There have also been unfortunate delays occasionally, as a truck is unable to complete a turn onto the narrow streets. Traffic is held up until the truck can inch its way to freedom. This current experience has expanded what has been my very shallow interest where lumber is concerned.

At some point, in school, I am sure we covered trees and their internal rings. I was not a big fan of Science but I do recall the concept of each ring signified a year in the life of the tree. It’s ironic that piece of knowledge has come back to me as I am presented with actual examples on a regular basis. During a lengthy wait behind one of these trucks, I took the time to notice that the size, color and thickness of the rings would vary from tree to tree. Nature is the catalyst or culprit behind these variances. If a tree was exposed to harsh outside elements, record of it would show in the rings. Fire and drought would leave its mark. The age and history of these trees would have remained hidden, under their bark, if they hadn’t met an early demise due to the handiwork of a saw.

I think we, the human race, can compare our lives to those of trees. Our exterior can hide the history of our growth and what we have encountered. There might have been times when we experienced drought. Maybe we felt like our lives were devoid of something: love and companionship, a decent wage or living situation, or the focus needed to select a better path. Possibly we were scorched or singed by living a little too carefree or pursuing a passion that was destined to go up in smoke. If we are fortunate, we live our lives without constant challenges. Just as a tree adds its rings, time goes by and we age, adding learned lessons and wisdom with each passing year. No one knows, as it could all remain hidden like the trees. If our experience is one that allows us to continue to rack up the rings, I would suggest we follow the example set by trees. Reach for the sky. Continue to focus on what is above and always look upward, constantly striving to become stronger each year. When the time comes to count your rings I pray they are immeasurable and unique.

Friends, the Family We Choose

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Not to sound egotistical but I must have been a very smart little girl. At the age of eight I made a friend. At the time I had no idea what the future held, my focus was on play and laughter. Now, over half a century later, I still claim her as one of my closest friends. We are very much our own people but I have found comfort in our like mindedness. Her honesty and fortitude have been invaluable over the years. For decades we haven’t lived close physically, but rather 1600 miles apart. The distance hasn’t lessened the connection.

Years later, as an adult, I had the experience of making a lasting friendship during my time as a Navy wife. The connection was actually made through our sons who found each other in friendship as classmates. We shared an uncanny connection through husbands and the Navy but I don’t think that had us tip the scales in the creation of our bond. Fortunately, a solid relationship was the end result. It has been over thirty years since the foundation was laid. Countless numbers of family celebrations and events have been shared. There are 100 miles between us, but again, the distance hasn’t dampened the relationship.

It would almost appear that my closest friends are the furthest away. That is not necessarily the case. I have a wonderful group of women that I share a meal with on a regular basis. They are supportive and compassionate and their presence in my life is positive and uplifting. I met another friend, also living nearby, through one of my previous professional positions. The job was eliminated but the friendship remains strong. Again, she is another one that brings a positive spin to my life. A former classmate, who returned to live in the area, is always ready to join me in an adventure or come to my aid when needed. No matter how these bonds originated, I am glad they remain.

As life is fluid, I feel no one should become stagnant where friends are concerned. I have a bounty of longtime friends and I am fortunate that recently I have increased my abundance. If you read my recent blog Airing Dirty Laundry I make reference to a friend that helped me organize and clean prior to my surgery. What is so remarkable about this experience is that this is a relevantly new friendship yet it has been profound. I found myself asking for help and graciously accepting it when I was the most vulnerable. That is nothing that I would have anticipated from a new acquaintance.

When I think about those I have known over the years, I realize that I have had some friends that existed for a finite period. There was nothing that terminated our alliance but a change in life’s circumstances created a natural separation. I have countless numbers of acquaintances that have enriched my life in various ways. I treasure those whose friendship has been tested with time, distance and other bumps in the road. I also recognize that these precious relationships are a two way street. Distance could be a deterrent to remaining close but it is worth the effort to stay in touch. There are no guarantees in life so it is worth the effort to never take anyone for granted. Life can be ordinary in so many ways but can present challenges that could blindside us. There are those who could offer support and enrichment and it is worth the effort to remain open to the opportunity of meeting them. I believe that true friendship binds you by impenetrable heartstrings. Friends are the family that you choose. You might not have the same blood coursing through your veins but you share history and a sense of caring and connection that can be as strong as any root in a family tree.

Connections

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It was not hard to decide to attend Ruth’s Celebration of Life. Although I was 2 ½ weeks beyond my surgery I felt I would be mobile enough with the help of my friend. I wanted to be there for several reasons. Ruth had been my Girl Scout leader. At a time when young girls were exploring who they were and what they might aspire to, it was important to have someone step up and guide that process. I also had the good fortune to know her after I had become an adult. Although it was a given that she was a loving and selfless mother and grandmother, she was also known for her involvement with her community and faith life. Her daughter was a long time classmate of mine. We were not close growing up yet I feel we have created a bond through today’s social media. As my mother died over a decade ago I felt I wanted to offer my presence as one who understood the loss.

I didn’t know many people in attendance but there were a few familiar faces. Of those, I didn’t know what connection might have been forged between Ruth and them. I could have asked as I feel I possess enough social graces to inquire without being offensive. I decided not to and allowed conversation to go elsewhere. I found that after the day, I continued to question the connections life offers us. How are these relationships formed? Do they come to us randomly? Granted, Ruth was fortunate to be blessed with a long life, and there were multiple relationships she must have enjoyed over the years. So very often after someone dies, age will often dictate how many people attend their memorial. It might be a matter of practicality, illness, mobility issues or death itself that might strip someone of their vast social connections. It is comforting to see contemporaries as well as others from different generations come and pay their respects.

I continued to dwell on the thought of how a lifetime of connections would translate to the loss family, friends and community may feel in the passing of one of its members. If someone has the good fortune of living many decades the relationships built and enjoyed could be immeasurable. I am not contemplating the six degrees of Kevin Bacon but the reality of all of us and how our life creates interactions with those on an exponential level. As much of my professional life was spent working within the community I know there are those whose lives I touched, whose names and faces would be unfamiliar to me now. Truthfully, I relish the idea of being of service to someone who remains unknown to me on a personal level. That is the purest form of giving of oneself and I count myself fortunate to have the opportunity to have experienced such a blessing. I also am blessed by the myriad of people whose relationships are personal.

Is there a goal that comes as a result of my contemplation? It might not be what you expect. Do I want standing room only at my memorial? No, but I would like to think that those I leave behind would find comfort and solace in having a shared connection with me being the common denominator. We are inundated with news of climate change and how important it is to leave the smallest carbon footprint possible. On the other hand Chief Seattle was known for saying, “Take only memories, leave only footprints.” I know what goal I choose. I am not concerned about any remaining footprint that I might cast but I would rather bestow a smile and full heart with those I share a connection. I will make an effort to be civil, kind and thoughtful to those whose paths I cross. I hope that I would never hesitate to offer a hand or support when I see the need. I will continue to live my mantra: If I think something nice I share it. Further, I pray that gratitude be at the very core of my being, not just for every breath I am given but also for every connection made along the way.