Walk, Ride, Walk

It was going to be interesting, this visit to see a doctor. The DMV, after my collision with the Yellow Cab, had ordered that I take a driving test and get a doctor's declaration that I'm fit to drive and so here I was sitting in the doctor's office, not knowing what to expect. Before I'd even met the doctor his nurse came in to take my blood pressure. She also had a queer looking device. "What's that?" I asked. "This is an EKG." she answered, and then explained how it would measure something or other about the heart.

After that I said, "Everything OK?" She smiled and said, "The doctor will talk to you about it." When he stepped in I immediately liked him, told him why I was there, and that I'd not been to see a doctor since I broke my hip about ten years ago. "I've relied on prayer all my life," I said. "I believe that clean living and clear thinking keep a person healthy but..." and then explained how the car accident had required a doctor's OK for me to drive in order to keep my driver's license.

All I remember about that visit was Dr. D's gentle manner. I instinctively trusted him, but I admit being somewhat surprised to hear him say, "I've ordered a wheel chair for you to go down to the ER." Since his office was in the hospital it was only a matter of going down the elevator and before I knew it I was on my way, along for a strange ride. The next five days I had a "vacation" totally out of my known world.

Along the way I kept thinking that God was with me. I wasn't afraid. I didn't balk at what was happening or what was being done for me. I just knew, as I had known moments after the accident, that "there is some good reason for all this." With the Psalmist, I said, "Whither shall I go from Thy presence...If I make my bed in hell, even there shalt Thou guide me." And so here I am, home again with a strange little device implanted in my chest called a Pacemaker.

All this for the privilege of driving a car? No, I think it was another example of how God meets our needs right where we are spiritually and mentally. A stubborn adherence to claim a position in the understanding of Truth that I had not yet earned vs. taking the temporary steps to prolong my earthly days without being a burden to my family. I chose the latter.

All through life I see that we either walk or ride. As long as we're moving forward, embracing life and its opportunities, it matters not much the means by which we progress. To my dear family, friends and fellow bloggers I share my philosophy:

"Trust in God and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him and He shall direct your paths." I'm thanking God for His guidance, His love, and His care wherever there is a human need. Knowing this I walk, sometimes ride, and then walk again. Life is always interesting. With the knowledge that God is with us, it's always good!

Tapping Into Knowledge

From the very start I have loved schoolrooms. But I don't mean only the ones with four walls, a door and blackboard, although those would have to be included in my affections. I simply want to learn in the easiest way possible. Good teachers are essential along with libraries and educational media. My problem is that I can't get beyond the initial peeks. I get side-tracked and before long my house is littered with partially read books, magazines, newspapers, CD's, DVD's and the contents of the daily mail delivery.

I've come to the conclusion that I'm interested in nearly everything but not to the point of giving many things a careful, dedicated uninterrupted study on a daily basis. I'd like to be able to glance at a book and take in its pertinent points without giving it the time required for reading it through. One exception to that is the savoring of a good novel in which I can lose myself to another life. But for sheer knowledge I'm lazy about what others have written. Sit me down with a pad and pen or in front of a computer and my tapping-in to ideas opens a way for sorting out the problems of life apart from academia.

I just this morning read that the Bible is still the world's best selling book and, for me, I find moments to explore its treasures every day. Like a cozy fireplace, where no wood-burning fire is identical to another, I can sit and ponder passages I've read hundreds of times before and get new meaning out of them. Then again I've found answers to deep questions in simple statements that come undocumented and anonymous that give me great insight and inspiration. One such thought is this: "God is that Being whose center is everywhere and whose circumference is nowhere." I don't know who first uttered that idea, but it suits me just fine to think that God's center is right where I am at any given moment and yet unconfined to a personal me. It gives me a sense of intimacy and the feeling that the reason God is so hard to explain is that his Being is too close to examine objectively. Yet the idea that this is true for everyone and that even the stars and planets and galaxies can't provide a circumference for God's being,  lends a sense of infinite pleasure, purpose and progress to life.

I like the name Mind for God and the definition above indicates that God is my mind, but as divine Mind, God is still relatively unknown to me or anyone. That's why I don't get disturbed by anyone claiming to not believe in God. The proof for or against is up to us and we have a choice as to which side we'd like to come down on.

Still, I know enough of this Mind that I can feel totally comfortable with it. I can feel a relationship with it that might be similar to a Mother and Father's where there is total acceptance and love such as a very young child might feel. No requirement, no daily assignments, no pressure to grow and learn, just daily acceptance of the circumstances whereby growth and learning can take place.

Tapping In is what I call my favorite occupation, even though I have a long way to go in order to get more than the milk of what is there.

Pajama Party Time

If I ever get transferred to a nursing home, (please, let that not be!) I will miss most the fun of having overnight guests. My bedroom has two beds in it and one wide screen TV. If I could have foreseen such a thing in my childhood bedroom I'd have swooned! Instead, on the rare occasions I had a girlfriend over to spend the night we'd lie awake for hours talking about everything under the sun and laughing in the dark until Daddy would come in and say, "Quiet down, girls, the rest of us want to get some sleep!"

Nowadays Katie, my youngest granddaughter, comes over once in a while and we each fix our own refreshments to take to bed and watch TCM movies one after another until I wake up about 2 am with the TV still going, turn it off, put a coverlet over Katie and her little dog, Dolce, and turn in for the rest of the night.

Katie's choice of entertainment may include modern movies with a boyfriend but her preference is in the old-time genre. TCM is right down the line for both of us. There are two great features to this channel: no commercials and black and white photography. The story lines may sometimes be contrived and predictable but they please us by taking us back to the times I well remember and the ones Katie wishes she had grown up in. She knows the old/young actors as well as I and has her favorites, Robert Young, Dana Andrews, Robert Mitchem, and especially Humphrey Bogart.  Of course, Marilyn Monroe, Katharine Hepburn, Lauren Bacall, Elizabeth Taylor and others too. Never mind that they are all either dead or old and wrinkled by now, they will be ever young and beautiful on the screen.

I like to glance over at Katie as she sits up against her pillow watching. She herself has a beauty that surpasses the best of those she's watching and she knows it but her aspirations, so far, leap over any inclination to stardom and fix on a handsome lover, (the current heartthrob maybe?) who might become her husband, be the father of her children and live out a happily ever after with her. Katie has a good job in a flower shop and can stand up to the best of floral designers but she'd trade it all for a man who would take care of her and their family in the old-fashioned way.

Right now she can taste of that vicariously with her older sister, Jennifer, who is married to a handsome young Costa Rican and has an adorable baby boy, little Jack Carlo. We see a lot of this little family and Katie loves being "Aunt Katie."

In looking back over the years I can feel fulfilled. This morning I wound the grandfather clock Wally G. gave me when we moved off my beloved ranch in Oregon. The clock,  a handsome Colonial one, was a consolation prize Wally G. bought me for leaving our paradise. Life goes on chapter by chapter and now the days are coming closer to an end. Still, at 86 I can hope to see my great grandies, five so far, grow into their teens. How cool would that be?

My bedroom works for female friends too. Joanie, my friend from St. Louis, will be coming the end of this month. Arlene, who lives in Florida, stayed a few days last year, and Hannah came not long ago from Boston. Erin, my San Francisco granddaughter stays with me when she comes, and my one and only grandson, Jordan, comes now and then from Glendale. Kimmie and Mitch live in Monrovia and they come with their two darlings, Samantha and Max. April and Jaime who live in Santa Barbara visit me with their baby boy, Kingston, now and then. Rosalynd has a new baby girl, Amy, but she and Gray live in New York. Of course there are my sons, Wally and David along with their dear wives, Nancy and Susie. You've heard of Robin in my last blog. She and her Paul live only a few steps away. I could have any one or two of them overnight should the occasion arise. But not in a nursing home.

No, I may be using a cane but I can get around the house and on short walks without it. I feel quite fit and although I never lack for something to do in my little creekside haven, I'm always open to overnight company. When we get through our reminiscences and laughs we can always turn on the TV and watch an old movie. One way or another we can all be young together when it's pajama party time at Grandma Joy's house.

Travel at Home and Abroad

My grandmother was once told by a fortune teller that she would travel abroad before death but, though other predictions came true, the travel one didn’t. (I sometimes wonder if Grandmother didn’t put off travel abroad to put off death? She lived to age 89.) With no such soothsayer’s prediction for me I decided in my late fifties to take a tour to China. It was the first and most exotic of my few excursions beyond our shores.

Nowadays I am content to travel by means of television, computer, print and picture page, and whatever means of concrete transportation such as car, rail or plane that can get me there and back within a day or two. At home I can stretch my mind, if I choose, to boundless heights and depths, even to thoughts of timeless, spaceless being. The opportunities for arm chair travel offer fantastic feasts and feats. Wow!

Yesterday the weather was pure perfection and I took a day trip to the island of Catalina with my daughter, Robin, who had been given a free ticket because of July 3rd being her birthday. I loved it! All the adventure, mingling with humanity, color, excitement, freedom and fun we could possibly pack into one day, awaited us and, best of all, without packing a single bag!

Going anywhere with Robin assures one that the occasion will be fully documented by a slide-show of beautiful picture remembrances. Her trusty little Canon camera captures it all. Far from slowing her down, (I with my new cane,) she was often behind me caught up by some boat, seagull, tanned skin beach bather or colorful beach umbrella that might someday appear in one of her paintings. Plants, flowers, even cobbled streets and tree trunks are of interest to her, but a little boy bent over a dispenser of fish food on the pier might even form the centerpiece of a future painting. 

Many of the people we encountered had something in common with this daughter of mine. They also were born on the 3rd of July and had been given free trips to the sunny island. Evidently, the tourist industry has found this a good come-on for customers and, wearing the Happy Birthday tag, she got a lot of birthday greetings. 

I too was continuously reminded of that day, rather night, when the doctor said, “You wanted a little girl? Well, you got one!” The fact that I would enjoy vicarious pleasure in her becoming an artist someday, as I’d hoped to be, was a joy yet to be discovered. But that she would become the dearest companion of my life puts a cap on my mother’s dream of a baby girl after two great little boys.

Robin has an interest not only in art but in humanity. She often donates her work to worthy causes, especially for women. She always finds opportunity to connect with individuals. As with the two men, both born on July 3rd, we met at a shuttle stop waiting for a ride to the Buffalo Nickel Restaurant where free meals awaited the birthday patrons. The wait proved to be lengthy enough that we got well acquainted with these men, Walter and Leon, and the fact that they were each 90+ put them in my age bracket so we could relate with the olden days. This made not one iota of difference to Robin. She was as interested in them, maybe more so, than if they'd been in her own age bracket. It ended up that we sat together at lunch and had a delightful visit.

We spent the rest of the day shopping (not buying), walking along the streets, stopping to rest here and there, and finally finding a sidewalk table where we could try an unusual repast, talk with a friendly waiter and twin women at the next table who shared Robin’s birthday. That put a pleasant cap on the day before embarking the ship to sail home. 

Robin is that daughter I could not have wished for because she exceeds all my dreams. That little strawberry blonde whose “tony pail” hair swished back and forth as she strode down the hill to her school bus stop is the grown-up girl who will always be young because she has the gift of joy and love in taking what life offers with immense gratitude and appreciation.

Now, this blog, which stated out as a piece on travel, has become more about my traveling companion. That, too, is a most important element to any trip, at home or abroad. I think someday the world will know my Robin through her art because she puts her heart and soul in it and people see and feel that. She touches other hearts through their eyes. 

For now, I’m looking forward to opening my e-mail and finding a slideshow of our day and travels at home and abroad. 

How To Handle the Downsides

Lest anyone think there are no downsides to my theme of getting older is getting better, let me say there are. The biggest one is the general belief about old age. That is not good. It's a hard sell preaching the better sides of growing old. Many abhor it to the point of dying too young and often I've heard people say, "I wouldn't want to live to be 100!"

The only reason I can see for such a declaration is that those people envision all the negatives instead of the positives. All through life we do that, so what's new? As my few readers can see, I'm definitely on the positive side, yet once in a while I have to do a bit of finagling to turn some negatives around. I believe it's wise not to attempt the impossible or improbable. To make the best of life you need to keep excuses out of the way. That just makes sense to me.


I recall a time when my husband and I went to see a man we had admired from a distance. We had heard a talk given by him and were so impressed that a man of his age could present such joy and vigor we wanted to know him better. We'd made an appointment yet upon our arrival his housekeeper invited us to sit in his drawing room and wait. After some length of time we wondered what the problem might be. At last he came in to see us and he was not looking good. He was using crutches and struggling to get to his chair, yet he greeted us with a broad smile and said, "I apologize for my appearance. I have no excuse but to say I'm doing the best I know how and that's all the angels are doing now-a-days!"

Funny how encounters with certain people leave such an impression on us. Our visit turned out to be very pleasant and enriching without further reference to his problem. How different have been other encounters where the person has unloaded a tale of woe trying to make hay out of misery!

Would you like to hear of my recent "downside?" I'll make it brief. A week ago I started out the day with a stop at the gas station. After filling up the tank of my little Vibe I proceded to go out the drive to take care of some other business. Now, I've been driving without serious incident since I was fifteen. I know the rules and so I'm sure I did what I always do, look both ways before emerging onto the street. So where did the yellow cab come from? I could swear it just materialized out of nothing because I didn't see it until I heard a loud bang and felt a sudden stop. Then the cab driver pulled off to the side and I managed to get near enough to where he parked in order sort out the damage. He was a young man. Rushing over to me he said, "Are you all right?" No blame, though it was obviously my fault.

The whole incident was taken care of harmoniously, including the help of a friendly policeman, a friendly tow-truck driver, a friendly insurance man and a friendly rental car agency. The story is not ended. The car is being repaired. So is the yellow cab. No one was seriously hurt and I can see a few upsides to the whole picture. I prefer to focus on these. But one of the downsides is that I'm again being reminded of my age. Although I have an impecable driving record I now have to go to the DMV with a doctor's report on my physical and mental condition and take a driver's exam.

At first I was tempted to throw in the towel and give up driving altogether. I can go wherever I want with the help of my daughter who lives nearby, a transit system on our street, or a taxi. I might even still do that, but before I do I'll go ahead and take steps to restore my driving privileges. I'll let you know how it all turns out. Thank goodness for the Upsides. Every Downside has them. I'll keep remembering to do the best I can. Along with the angels.

Sluice and Pan = Pay Dirt

If you’ve ever panned for gold you might know the thrill of seeing a rim of sparkling yellow light called “color” show up. Much more when a genuine nugget appears. Now I’m not talking about one of those recreation park concessions. I mean out in the wild along some river or creek. 

I know something about this because my husband, Wally, and I owned a 60 acre ranch in Southern Oregon for eight years and it was rumored that along our half-mile of riverfront people had found gold nuggets. If that was true, what might a real mining project unearth? After our years of farm life, before we left to go north for an easier life-style, we decided to investigate. 

“I’d hate to think we might be leaving a gold mine.” Wally said. So, he went about securing a permit, felling a few of our many large trees to pay for the project, renting a tractor-shovel to dig out a pond for the sluice trough so as not to contaminate the river, and hiring one son and a son-in-law who both were out of work at the time to contribute labor. I took on the job of camp cook, hauling meals and lunches in a wheel barrow down to the river-side spot where the men were glad to stop, eat and rest. 

The operation was scary and fun, but the best part was panning for gold. We’d take the final and heaviest dirt from the bottom of the sluice box into a pan. By dipping it into the river and sloshing it around carefully we’d get down to the black grains of sand. That’s when, if there was any gold in the pan, it would show up brightly around the edges of the black. We’d call the others over then to show them. “Look! Isn’t it beautiful?”

Word got around what we were doing and an old-timer asked Wally, “How’s the gold mine coming?” He answered, “We’ve found a lot of color.” The response? “Color! Heck, I can find color in my garden!”

But we were not deterred. We worked that operation for about a month and got only a fraction of an ounce of gold for our effort. Entertainment got us an A+, but money? Nothing more than a hole in the ground and a tiny vial of gold dust. We left the ranch with a bank-load of good memories and a fatter purse for appreciation of its land value, but whatever happened to the wee vial of gold, I don’t know. I wish I had it here on my desk. I could really appreciate its worth.

If we’d found gold in large amounts we’d probably still be there grubbing away. Others would be in on the operation and we’d be stuck. Eventually, the scenery wouldn’t thrill us so much, the burden of excess, where to spend or invest it, wondering who might be ripping us off, and any number of painful considerations to temper the good would probably not measure up to that little capsule of fun we had in satisfying our minds that we were not leaving a gold mine behind when we pulled out the dirt driveway. If I were to hear tomorrow that the present owners struck it rich I wouldn’t envy them a mite. 

Now I live in a cozy little condo in southern California.  It rests beside a rippling brook and small waterfall.  Huge trees give me shade with enough sun sprinkling through to cheer my days. Cool breezes make me the envy of summertime heat wave sufferers elsewhere in the country. My neighbors are all quiet, often invisible but friendly when we meet out walking our dogs. I don’t have to milk a cow (though I enjoyed that when I did.) I don’t need to clean out a chicken coop, (but the eggs were worth it.) I don’t hear a car or see one, yet shopping malls are within an easy walk. I’ve had a good life with few sorrows and many joys. I count my blessings all day and every night. They are the “color” in my pan. Yes, they're even gold nuggets! 

Questions, Silly or Serious?

Ask anything. Get a true answer. That would be my desire, but sometimes the answer comes only with work and, let's face it, I'm a true American, I like things to come easily. The academic workaholics don't like people like me. They want no silly questions and won't give casual answers. Well,  I have serious questions too, but this morning I asked a silly one I'd never thought of before, and I'll bet you haven't either.   Do ants smile?

What brought that on? This: I was sitting at a curbside table in a small cafe and noticing how the patrons and waiters wove in and out amidst the tables, meeting others doing the same and smiling at each other. Strangers to one another, mostly, but nevertheless willing to give out smiles as if they were recklessly throwing diamonds to each other. (To me, smiles are pricier than diamonds.) Then a young mother with her little girl baby slung onto her hip passed by on the sidewalk. I couldn't help smiling. No one could. Pure enchantment they were. The mother didn't notice me but the baby did and she gave me the broadest and sweetest smile imaginable!

That's when I thought of the silly question. Ants move easily and quickly with apparent purpose in mind just as humans do. They pass each other rapidly, meet and sometimes greet, but do they smile as they go about their ways? I suspect there may be someone who has figured that out through long study and persistent observation. I could go to the library and research it or make it my own project, but I'm not that desperate for an answer.

My questions tend to be either too silly to warrant time to seek answers or so serious they are beyond reach and only speculation is possible. Like this one: Who triggered the Big Bang? The stuff of the universe, did it come from nothing? Can something come out of nothing? Is that either physically or mentally possible? And does every something become nothing at some time?

I know it's a waste of time to dwell long on questions either too silly or too serious. I've got to get to more basic ones like, What do you intend to do with the rest of your life? Are you content with the same old-same old, or do you want to do something more worthwhile than blogging or keeping a-float on the sea of information available or pursuing some senior activity agenda?

I know what I should do. I should read the manual of my new home phone and find out how to set up the answering device it's supposed to have in it. My instinct is to stay ignorant and let anyone anxious to get me call my cell phone or call again on the home phone. At any rate, that's something I can put off. What I will do is clean up the kitchen from the lunch I prepared and ate because I don't like the sight of it. I'll pay a few bills because the consequences of not doing so are unappealing. I'll listen to the evening news broadcast and try to make sense of that. And I'll settle down for the evening with a good book. Better things may yet be in the works but at my age I'm not looking too hard.

Ambition is not my middle name, but I love to ask questions. Both silly ones and serious. Sometimes I do get answers. But even if I don't, speculation is fun and who knows, I may speculate well enough to write a book of science fiction. Don't count on it though. I'll be asking questions till the cows come home.