Children, Keep Things Simple!

Have you ever wished you could go back to being a little child? I have, but with this caveat, that I take with me all the knowledge I’ve earned. What’s the point of re-learning lessons like the alphabet or basic arithmetic? What I’m trying to say is this: old age need not be a return to infancy but a keener receptivity to good. Children learn this early and before long their tears and discomforts give way to simple wonder, smiles, inquisitiveness, color, construction, loving relationships. Pleasures that children enjoy should not become lost in the maze of worries we elders are often inclined to entertain. 

Jesus said we should become as a little child. That implies that the childlike attitude to life is not a going back process but a leap into reality. Life should not be complicated or burdensome. Complications and burdens come from the failure to keep our progress simple, from wandering off track and attempting to haul baggage that is not useful to us. 

This new chapter in my life has forced me to put aside not only things but thoughts that are useless to me. Let’s face it, moving is a cleansing process. Even when I thought I’d stay in my former home I felt the urge to empty it and start over as I had that first week I stayed there before the truckers hauled in all my possessions. It’s amazing how little one needs, really needs, to live from day to day.

Many seniors have taken to writing their memoirs. I did it myself when I wrote my autobiographical novel, Claudia’s Home, Way Stations Along Her Spiritual Path. In fact, it was also a trek from house to house, state to state. In other words finding home in many places, adjusting to new friends, new streets, new jobs. One had to be flexible, especially with children to care for. These writings are useful to us and will be to our children, but we must not let them rob us of present work and pleasures. Too much looking back can do to us like it did to Lot's wife, turn us into a pillar of salt!

Now I’m thinking also that I must not become too comfortable in my elder years. I like to call them my “advancing” years. These are times I can enjoy the qualities of childhood,- wonders, inquisitiveness, a bit of daring, new acquaintances and studious solitudes. They can be a kind of childhood all over again, having my meals prepared for me, informal home-schooling, finding ways to be of service and growing mentally and spiritually. 

At this time of life I am reminded of that old song we used to sing:

“Oh give me a home where the buffalo roam, 

where the deer and the antelope play. 

Where seldom is heard a discouraging word 

and skies are not cloudy all day. 

Home, home on the range...”  

THE RANGE. Now wouldn’t that be a neat name for the lives we lead in our advancing years? Yes, “home is where the heart is,” so I say to all of us as we grow older, don’t resist old age, put your heart in it! And seldom, if ever,  find reasons to complain or become discouraged!  

Time to Slow Down

Saturday here at The Willows is the kitchen staff’s day off. The dining room is closed. They deserve a rest after feeding us so well all week. I’m not starving, however. Today’s noon meal was my left-over-fare day. The second slice of prime rib I brought home from Thursday's meal, sauteed in butter,  tasted delicious!

I’ll be getting out soon to enjoy a leisurely stroll to the administration building where my mail is being delivered these days. There are people playing games in the Garden Room and I may play bridge sometimes but today I took time to read about Paul Salopek, the journalist who is tracing the path of humanity from its beginnings by walking from Ethiopia’s Great Rift Valley to the farthest tip of South America. He is scheduled to come through southern California in 2019. Easy, he says. You just bend forward and let gravity force you to put out a foot so not to fall. That’s how walking goes and  s -  l - o - w  is the name of the game. For his journey, (sponsored by National Geographic,) his reasons for doing it and all, you just need to go to outofedenwalk.nationalgeographic.com. I am interested but not sure I’ll spend the time reading all about it. I may wait and see the movie if there is one and if I’m still around in 2020. 

I’m busy enough right now learning to slow down in my own way and it is helping me greatly to not have a car to jump into any time I get the notion to go. I’m learning to walk again just to get places, but I doubt I’ll be walking off campus much. It’s enough to smell the flowers along The Willows walkways. I’m not going back in time hundreds of thousands of years as this Paul Salopek is but I find it enjoyable to be walking instead of driving, washing dishes by hand and drying them with a towel and forgetting that we're surrounded by shopping malls here in this secluded garden spot. Brings back my childhood when we used soap flakes in the hot dishwater. Even shaved them off the bar of soap. “Ivory,” no doubt. The advertising slogan on the radio was a spooky haunting voice calling “Ivory Soap. It floats!” It did too.

I bought a supply of new underwear at Macy’s the other day and will try washing it with the special soap they featured at the check-out counter. No rough tumbling machine washing for these silkies! But, so far, that’s about as far back in time I want to trace humanity’s methods. I’ll not be hanging a living room rug out on a clothes line and beating it with a hand held rug beater. I won’t be scrubbing the kitchen floor on my hands and knees or even throwing the dishwater out on the rose bushes. I could have a dishwasher if I wanted one but I’ve found that it seems more of a chore loading and unloading it than to swish them around in the sink and dry them with a white sugar sack towel. (Or is it a flour sack? I always manage to find these soft and absorbent gems for sale somewhere, though it’s not easy.)

Well, it’s time to mosey down to the mailbox. I even have time these days to page through the ads that fill the box, but not the ones for cars or groceries. What a joy it is to not have to look for and plan any meals except breakfast and light lunches! And, as for dishwashing, I don’t miss scrubbing pots and pans one little bit!

I’ll enjoy reading about Paul Salopek’s slow walk, but seven years without wheels? And I’d surely miss the sofa nap now and then. Going back in memory to my own beginnings is enough for me. Even one lifetime’s changes have covered up most traces of this one old lady’s sojourn on the planet. How can a fellow see what it’s like to be a Neanderthal man by walking his paths today? Guess I'll just have to wait and see.

"White Out" Weeks

I’ve used up a whole bottle of it. You know, one of those little vessels with an applicator cap. It’s called “White Out,” a correction fluid used to cover up mistakes on paper. Works great on the grid paper I use to plan where my furniture will go in the new place I’ll be calling home. I can’t count the number of sheets I’ve penned out in detail only to change things with White Out until the changes become too drastic to correct in any way but by starting over on a new page. 

I’m comfy waiting here in the guest house and it’s good to have these weeks to get acquainted with people and the grounds and living in a more tightly knit community. Days are much more active for me now. Lots of interesting activities. Not much TV. Much more walking, and neighbors who have more to say than hi and goodbye. Going places on the bus. Yes, that’s a biggie. The first time in my life since I was fifteen that I haven’t had my own wheels. But I’m getting used to it and my driver’s license is good until 2016 so I could change my mind and buy another car, but right now I see it as an unnecessary expense. Besides, Robin will drive me anywhere and having her company as we go is ever so much more fun.

When I’m alone, as I am in my guest villa, I sometimes listen to Pandora Radio. The music of my choice is from my times. That covers a goodly span. Right now some rich male voice is singing “Smile.” Like much of the music, it wrings the heart, but gently, and reminds me that there’s no one else here in my home. I’m not looking for that now. I’ve been blessed to have had two dear and lovable husbands. Now is the time for what I call single blessedness. A time to know that, as the Bible says, “Thy Maker is thine husband.”

Someone has said that memory is faithful to goodness. For me that is true. I’ve made my share of mistakes in life and have plenty of things to regret but my God is ever patient with me, and with all, so I am forgiving of myself and others. I carry no grudges, entertain no sorrows and, in a sense, I use my mental White Out as I go along. Not to cover up the bad times up but to see them as lessons once learned. With paper and pen and White Out I proceed to re-draw the plan until it becomes more and more satisfying. 

Moving is much easier when there’s a resting and reflective time between moving out and moving in. I’m enjoying it. Right now I need to get dressed for the bus trip to the market. Got to be prompt around here. Where is my list? I wonder if I can find some White Out in one of the stores. 

Home is a Kingdom

“Pilgrim on earth, thy home is heaven. 

Stranger, thou art the guest of God.”

“Look, Wally!” I whispered when I saw these words in the hymnal rack at the little Christian Science church we attended. El Centro, they told us, was not an ideal place to call home in the summer time. Heat, insects, typical of a desert home, but not quite an oasis. Still in the Marine Corps you didn’t get a choice. Orders were orders, and with World War II still raging we were fortunate to be stateside. Wally had been in the South Pacific, a fighter pilot for the better part of the war, and was home with only some shards of shrapnel in one shoulder from a dog fight with a Zero. Along with a host of memories. 

We’d been married in the Flyers’ Chapel at The Mission Inn in Riverside and after a honeymoon in Laguna Beach on his leave of absence we drove to El Centro. Awaiting us there was a room in a small hotel Wally had had the foresight to arrange for when first he got his orders. The little city was not prepared for the influx of service men and women. Some were even living in reconverted chicken coops! We felt fortunate to have the room, but we wanted a real home and right there in the pew rack we saw those words welcoming us. That little church felt like a doorway to our first home. 

And it was. Back at the hotel we picked up the local paper and there was our ad: “Marine captain and wife desire to rent an apartment or small house. No children or pets. Quiet habits. Will be happy to stay while owners are on vacation.” Since there was no telephone in our room we opted to sit in the lobby for a little while before going out to lunch. Someone might just be picking up the paper now.

As if on cue the phone at the desk rang and lo and behold, it was for us! A couple and their young son were getting ready to go to the mountains for a cool summer vacation. Their home was small but lovely, immaculate, and complete in every way. It even had a baby grand piano! 

The next home turned out to be a Quonset hut in the Mojave desert on the Marine base. So different. Government issued furnishings, plain, odd, but our very own when we bought curtains and rag rugs and took out our few wedding gifts.

If you want to read about all the other places I’ve called home you might find a stray copy of the book I wrote called “Claudia’s Home, Way Stations Along Her Spiritual Path.” It’s an autobiographical novel of my life up to the time of my second marriage. There have been any number more homes since.

One common thread has connected all the places I’ve called home. It is those simple words at the beginning of this blog. Heaven is our spiritual and permanent dwelling place and it’s inside us. To know it, appreciate it, and love it is to see it manifested outwardly in practical timbers, stucco, brick, glass and stone. Now I’m on my way to my thirty-eighth (about) home. 

I’ve loved them all, these places that bear memories sweet and sad. They’ve been small and large and in-between but they have one precious quality in common, they are temporal expressions of a heavenly Home where I and all we humans began, are now, and will ever be. 

Here at The Willows I’m finding this out again.   

Wayside

It’s been a while since I’ve written in my blog. On top of that several entries got lost, but that’s all right. Those, and the ones I might have written but didn’t can be classified briefly as the dark days on the sun dial, - not worth recording. They were my Red Sea experience. Now I’m on the other side trying to clean up the bits and pieces of my move to The Willows. In the November 17th blog I mentioned this option but thought my creekside cottage had won out. It didn’t. Again I’m staying in one of the guest cottages (called “villas” here) and my future home is being refurbished down the street a short walk away. 

The Willows is a twenty acre plot of land built at the same time as Leisure World by the same builder. The Willows used to be located north of here and at that time it moved into this location. That was forty or fifty years ago, I think. We lived in Laguna Beach then. I had no idea I’d ever live here then, nor did I dream that in the late eighties I’d have my first paying job here. But that’s another story. 

So, how do I describe The Willows? Well, it’s a residential community for seniors who have been and are students of Christian Science. Having this in common means a lot, but we are not exclusive or cliquish. Since Christian Science is a religion still in its beginning phase, its adherents are few enough that we find many people all over that we’ve known before. Here it is like homecoming to me. Not only that, the villas are all one-story, exceptionally well-planned units from studios to three bedroom places, all tiled roofed and nestled in delightful landscapes of lawns, trees, shrubs that are mostly flowering and countless rose bushes, orange trees and walking paths. Everyone has a patio and when I was here before I wondered why it seemed so quiet on the patio. Of course, I missed the water noises from the creek and little waterfall. But here I can hear wild birds galore and that’s because we are not near the freeways or heavily traveled streets. One main meal a day is served in the dining room every day except Saturday and those dinners are not the usual institutional fare. They are prize winning cuisine, served graciously. Many friendships are formed at the tables.

Since it is not far from Robin, my daughter, even in the same city, I have not lost that perk. I have given my car to Robin in exchange for her being my taxi driver to places I cannot go on the Willows’ buses. There are three lovely buses that take us shopping all around the area twice a week, to church services and meetings and to special theater performances, museums and other neat destinations.

My new place will be ready for the move-in on March 1st so I’m again staying in one of the guest units until then. Any of my readers who have moved know what an ordeal that is so I don’t need to elaborate, but I’ve had wonderful help on all sides and now I can recoup before the moving in task. My furnishings and household gear (that’s what we called it in the Marine Corps,) are in storage nearby.I have been measuring rooms and planning where everything will go and changing my mind dozens of times. That’s better than changing my mind after they are moved in! 

Katie and Jeff are on their own now. Good things have opened up for them too, but they are starting from the ground up, finding jobs to pay the rent and food, riding on city buses until they can afford a car, etc. etc. If I were a young person I might well envy my elder self in many ways. Of course, the bloom of youth is no longer on my brow but there’s a beauty in age too. Maybe you have to have lost your youth to see it but it’s there. Most of us oldsters are wiser, more tolerant, more compassionate and loving. Now that can enhance any home! And if you have a family like mine you may feel you’re on heaven’s doorstep. But I’m hoping to have more years to get ready for that. I’m calling my new home Wayside. I may not be ready for the pearly gates but I’d like to think I’m on my way!

Minding My Own Business

“Mind your own business” is probably the best advice we can give ourselves. How long does it take us to learn that? In my case, and in most everyone’s I suspect, it takes a lifetime. I’m finding excellent help in that regard. First: Know who’s boss. 

Is it you? Is it God? Is it someone else or no one at all? That’s your decision, but whatever you decide, you do work for your boss. I call my boss “Good.” I think that name best represents what I can believe. Ask any atheist too, and I’ll wager he or she believes in some standard called good, (though not necessarily capitalized.) If not, then one must conclude that we’re all living this life as a host of loose canons. How can we make sense or safety out of it? Who really wants to believe that?

You may wonder what got me started on this subject. Well, a few minutes ago I heard something that made me worry for a minute or two. Then the MYOB hit me smack in the noggin. Like most worries, it was beyond my capability to do something about. So, I just said to myself, “Stop! That’s none of your business!” I got instant relief because I believed utterly that whatever I can do nothing about is not my business. Worrying about it is meddlesome. All things work together for Good is my faith so my business in any case is to trust the power of Good for one and all. I can’t find peace if I don’t believe that. No matter what difficulties confront us, the end of the story is good and if I don’t see it now, I just skip over in my mind and read the last page. It always comes out the same: ...”and they all lived happily ever after.”

My worry tonight? It was the sound of a siren. My daughter was on her way to see me. I worried that it might be her in an accident. I prayed for her, “Please, Good, not my child!” The answer, Well, it’s somebody’s child. So I prayed for Somebody’s child. Then I knew that no matter whose child, no matter how severe the problem, no matter even if someone died, Good will see everyone through. See, my Good is infinite and eternal. There’s no end in death, just change. Whether we believe that or not, Good is. Good does good, never bad. Good won’t let us fail forever. I skipped to the happy ending and put everyone there. In a minute I opened the door to see my daughter’s sweet smile. “Hi, Mom!”

That’s how my business runs. I’m minding my own business the best I can. I love my Boss, Good, and because I really believe that Good is sweeping through all creation throwing its light on the dark places to show us it’s all been OK. It’s OK now, and  it will always be OK. My business is to nurture this thought and watch the results.  I can truly say Thank Goodness I'm living longer so I can see my business prosper. I'll bet, my dear readers, you are doing that too and finding that your business is getting better every day.

Vacation Time to Change Your Mind

I’m on vacation. Did I tell you? Letting Katie and her hubby spend their honeymoon at my house. Two weeks with nothing to do! When I first set foot into this “Vanilla Cottage,” (told you about that in the last blog,) I was enchanted by it’s invitation to the simplified life. The last few days I’ve been seriously considering the idea of moving here, right into this little one-bed-roomer, if they’d let me. Then I could rent my condo and let the rent pay for my mortgage, taxes, insurance and home owners’ association fees. The rent here would amount to a wash. Have hardly thought about anything else since I got here and have scribbled ideas of how I’d place my furniture in these rooms. Pages and pages.

That’s me. I get excited about change. Got so used to moving when we were in the service. It was fun. Have been at it ever since too, even after Wally left for the great HA (hereafter.) I thought I’d never leave my dear Quail Creek but I was just on the edge of doing it when Robin said, “If that’s what you want, Mom, I’m all for it, but I think you could ask yourself first, What does The Willows have that you can’t have here? What am I really looking for?” She's like that. My boys too. They treat me like I have full use of my faculties and can think things out for myself and come to a good conclusion. I hate to hear the words, "What shall we do with Mom?" I think, I hope, my kids will never have occasion to utter them!

Well, I did think about it in that light. Deliciously prepared main meals is one plus. But for about the same money I could do pretty well going out to eat and have the chance to pick my own menu, a restaurant of my choice, and ...well, that might be fun too. Social life? Yes, they have lots of opportunities for that. Nice people live here. People who have had interesting lives and there are interesting things to do with them. But do I really want any more of that than I already have? If so, I could easily take steps. Bus transportation so I could give up my car (not that I’d have to.) Am I ready to give up my car? When I am, maybe then? I finally figured out that my initial thrill was simply about the change of decor and a more simple way of life. Although this place is like living in a garden, it doesn't have my little creek.

I’ve let myself accumulate too many things I don’t need or use. I'd get rid of them if I moved. But I can fix that problem right where I am. Sort it all out and dispose of the excess. Take a “vacation” in my own home. Then too, I love to change furniture around, try new styles, new colors. I can do that at home too. I LOVE to move furniture! That is, I love to watch it being moved.

It became a mental tug of war between #125 (home,) and #117 (The Willows.) Well, I have been sketching out options in both places until I get them all mixed up in my mind, but now I think I’ve come to the end of the game. I’m going to stay where I am at home, not here on vacation. #125 won. #117 or a look-alike will no doubt be here down the line, if I want it.

There are unlimited opportunities to change right at home. I can thin out, send tons of stuff to the Good Will, replace certain pieces of furniture for something better. That might be cheaper than the cost of a moving truck and truckers. In my head and on paper I have plans for a whole new home with the same old address. I’m really excited about that! I can just see it, and I’m rarin’ to go!

Now I have a question for you. Why, oh why, do I know that Robin and I will be going to thrift shops, consignment shops, and gift shops and big box stores and find ourselves having a ball shopping? We could both be wiser to not go. But we don't overdo it, and we’re careful buyers too, often save money that way. What would it be like to not enjoy shopping, to be misers? I just thought of a book we all read in junior high school. It was my first encounter with that word “miser.” I think I’ll go to the library and get it again. (Note, I didn’t say I’d buy it!} The name of it is Silas Marner. Remember him? He was a miser. I wouldn’t want to be a miser, would I? Would you? 

Vacations should be like this. I’m having a ball not doing any of the things I’d planned. Just rambling around in my mind about all I’m going to do when I get home. It’s fun to get out of my skin. And I’m not even half way through this two weeks yet! Going to strange places, busying myself looking for new sights, new experiences. That’s fun too, but right now I’m delighted to be doing nearly nothing! Do you envy me? Well, take Robin’s advice. Visualize it! Then do it!