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My grandmother used to say, “Let’s go do something!”  It didn’t have to be much, but we weren’t going to be bored with her around.  At her house in Ardmore, Oklahoma, I used to spend my summer days looking at the stuff in her cedar chest, exploring the garage, swinging on the porch swing, picking pears from the tree in back, catching horned toads, walking to the ice plant, and going downtown with her to see my uncle at the bank or to the department store or to get ice cream.   We ran through sprinklers and sucked on Kool-Aid (the real kind with lots of sugar) frozen in ice trays into squares to keep cool.  I honestly never felt bored.

I’ve been thinking about how hard it is to be spontaneous these days.  I used to have a few friends or relatives around who were up for jumping up on the spur of the moment and doing something, but they have moved or are gone or are less eager these days.  My mother always told me to never turn down an invitation.  I try to remember that, but sometimes it just doesn’t work out.  It’s the excuses that bother me.  Why not?  Some of my best memories are of times that nothing was planned and special things happened.

When I was a child in Tulsa, we didn’t know what we would do most days in the summer and we didn’t care.  There were swim lessons and golf lessons and a few structured things here and there, but most of the time we were left to figure it out.  We played in the yard, stringing clover together into necklaces and bracelets, played tag, ran in the sprinklers some more, played card games and board games, lay on the bed in front of a fan, chased the milkman for ice chips, brought home stacks of books from the library, caught June bugs, ladybugs, and grasshoppers in the day time and lightning bugs at night and then lay on a blanket and counted the stars.  There were always kids around, riding their bikes or walking down the street.  We would gather a group to play work up in our side yard.  Work up was baseball when you didn’t have enough for two teams.  We played for hours and I don’t remember a dispute over a call.

Today, I took my granddaughter to her swimming lesson and was looking at a schedule for day camp.  That looked fun until I thought about the difference between having everything structured and doing what you felt like.  Don’t get me wrong.  I understand the need for structure and the need to have planned activities when you’re in charge of a bunch of kids. And I like organized sports.  But, it’s not the same as just playing.  The other night I watched three of my grandsons in the pool, making up games as they went along.  They went from pool basketball to pool baseball to throwing a beach ball around to playing soccer with the beach ball, changing as they felt like it, making up rules as they went along.  Total joy!

I wish all kids could walk to a neighbor’s and ring the doorbell to see if their friend could come out to play.  I wish kids could play ball, any kind of ball, without practice.  I wish kids could make up games and draw when they want to and read a book because they love it rather than because it’s on a school reading list.  The things I’ve been describing were simpler when there was no television and most moms stayed home and there were fewer organized camps and lessons and activities.

The world won’t go backwards, but we can still try our best to find ways for our children to have free, spontaneous time.  Sometime, when you’re exhausted from work and just want to sit, pull yourself up and get everyone out of the house to a park for a walk or to a creek or something, anything, unexpected.  This applies to every age.  Old people – get up and get out.  Find a friend to take a drive, walk along the river, get ice cream. Or do it alone. It won’t kill you and it might even brighten your day.  Do Something, Anything you weren’t planning to do.

One thing about spontaneous actions is that they make you smile.  And we all need to smile a lot every day!

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The year is half over.  I was reminded by email and it added to my awareness of how fast the days, months, years are rushing by.  I always said that when you reach middle age and go over the hill, the rest is a downhill slide.  Remember how the days crept along when you were a child?  School would never get out soon enough and the days dragged waiting for summer, birthdays, Halloween, Fourth of July, vacations.  You couldn’t get there fast enough.  I can’t think of the last time I couldn’t wait for my next birthday, although I’m glad I’m still here to have them.  They seem to come about every other month anyway.

The trouble with the middle age thing is that you don’t really know what your middle age is.  For my son, it was 17-18.  For my husband, it was 27-28.  For a friend who died this week, it was 34.  If you think about it that way, you start living your life in a way that celebrates every day you have.

So this year is flashing by and it’s time to assess how to spend the rest of the year.  I want to do so much and there is so much to do and they aren’t always the same.  There is work to do and play ahead.  Sigh.

So, this blog is ending quickly.  How much time do I have anyway?

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For the past few weeks, every time my cats decided to sunbathe on the deck on their favorite chair or glider, a Mockingbird would fly down and perch about a foot from them, giving them a warning round of chirps. The bird was pretty intense andthe cats just laid their ears back and took the abuse.  I knew there was a nest nearby and the cats were getting warned.

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Today, it happened.  I don’t know where the nest is, but the babies all appeared in my yard, four of them, flopping their short wings in an attempt to fly.  When I stepped outside, the mother was watching overhead, trying to help them as she could.  The first two I saw were by the fence, hopping and flapping.  This one finally made it down the yard, through the fence and up to a branch about a foot off the ground in the yard next door where my dogs can’t get it.

DSC_0025The second one hopped in the opposite direction and made it along the fence where a puppy was following it with its own baby curiosity.  It went through the fence into another yard where there was no dog, thank goodness.  But now the mother had two babies in different directions.  My own mom instincts were pretty high as I attempted to reassure her that I was trying to help herd them.  I couldn’t think where they could go where there was no danger.

Two more appeared.  I still don’t know where the nest is.  This one headed for the fence by the puppy and they stared at each other for a bit until I herded it away.  It flew at me, came up two steps of the deck and fell under the deck.  I guess it’s hopping around still.

DSC_0028The next one flopped around, heading for the deck and stopped to pose.  DSC_0034DSC_0037All I can think is that they are too young to leave the nest.  Their heads are covered in fuzz, their wings are too short.  There is too much danger lurking right here in my yard, much less the rest of the neighborhood. The mother is now looking at me and getting puffed up.  I understand that completely.DSC_0031DSC_0032You can’t imagine how much I relate.  I had four kids and they went in all directions.  Not on the same day, thank goodness.  I’m picturing the mother bird’s day, flying from yard to yard, trying to oversee their first day on their own, maybe even feeding them if they haven’t figured that out yet.

All those emotions are coming back to me, watching my bird counterpart out there.  My oldest grandson leaves for college next year.  I don’t know if he’s ready, even though his wings are definitely long enough.  But there’s all that danger out there, all those unknowns.  Even knowing you can’t protect them forever and they have to get out from under their mother’s wing sooner rather than later, it’s stressful for moms.  And dads.  And grandparents.

It’s nature’s way for our young to leave the nest.  They may fall out too soon, they may be adventurous and fly out on their own, or they may get kicked out.  We’re all in this together, birds, animals, humans of all races and ethnicities.  We all want our babies to survive and fly.  And soar.

Several years ago, my son, who was both a cook and an expert on pop culture, told me that food trucks would be the next big thing.  I knew he was right because he never missed on those kind of things and I even looked into a food truck for him.  He had great ideas, but not enough time with us to make all of them happen.  Because of that, I look at food trucks fondly and have followed the rise in popularity, just as he predicted.

We’re not talking about food trucks on the midway of the state fair now.  These are mobile kitchens full of culinary delights from some of the best cooks around.  You see them on street corners, tucked away on vacant lots, and in organized places.  I’ve been to parties with food trucks owned by local caterers, a fun touch of good food and atmosphere.

In Portland, there are blocks of them and you can eat any kind of food you like or want to try everyday downtown.  In a city with lots of parks and a fairly mild climate, it’s like a festival every day.

P9090031In Austin, there are food truck lots close to downtown with treats for all, matching the funky feeling in that city.DSC_0009In Tulsa, we have Food Truck Wednesday downtown and workers, artists, and the rest of us folks line up in the shadows of downtown buildings…IMG_4852One of our best local chefs closed one of his restaurants and operates from his food truck now.  Yum!10411378_10203172790017295_2067858657220542596_nWhat’s the appeal?  Why do we stand there waiting for food like this chicken and waffles with chipolte maple syrup and pineapple salsa?IMG_4853

I think there is something inherently fun about it.  It’s just that simple.  I like being outside waiting for the food, watching the people, talking to strangers about what to order and then munching on a delicious lunch.  It’s a totally different experience than a restaurant.  There’s an upscale festival atmosphere that brings good vibes.

I don’t know how else to explain it.  It’s just fun…like these mini donuts cooked in front of me in a small trailer then drizzled with caramel, chocolate and nuts.  Just wicked fun.IMG_4855

In my lifetime, I’ve been short of cash, in debt, but never poor.  My mother told me stories of the Great Depression and her mother, a young widow with three children, who faced rough times with a sense of humor and no looking back.  My grandmother taught me a lot as I watched her helping other people even when she had little herself.  She introduced me to people I never met in the comfortable life I led as a child, people who had a different scale of living.  She didn’t comment, she didn’t try to teach me, but I watched and listened.

When I lost both my husband and son to cancer, I could only think of all I still had even with such life-changing, soul-crushing losses.  On the news once, there was a woman in Turkey who had lost everything in an earthquake.  She lost her family, about 18 members, their home, their business.  She was just sitting there, frozen in the enormity of it all.  I wonder about her often.  There’s always someone worse off than we are, but I wonder who was worse off than that woman, at least on that day.

Life happens.  People are born into unfortunate circumstances, illnesses happen, accidents occur.  You can plan all you want and life happens anyway.

I’m in a good place in my life and I find myself sharing whenever I can.  I find myself doing things in my everyday life that are easy to do.  I tip bigger to make up for those who can and are cheap about it.  My kids have been waiters and pizza delivery and I know how little they are paid.  I tip bigger to maid in hotels and bigger at restaurants.  It’s just a couple of dollars here and there that I won’t miss but that might make a huge difference to someone else.

It isn’t always a big gift that means a lot.  People have pride and you can’t hurt that.  You have to be respectful.  But you can make life easier for those who struggle with a phone call, an offer of a ride, an errand run.  My time may mean more than my money.

It’s so easy to peel off a sliver of money or time when the opportunity is right there in front of you.  Last Christmas Eve, a friend of mine and I took 10 $10 bills and drove around town, handing them to people we saw on the street. There was a family waiting for a bus, a homeless man living in a tent, a homeless man who was standing outside a grocery store, a homeless man outside a thrift shop and others we found.  Sure, we felt good, but it was mainly the right thing to do. We gave those people a surprise, a glimmer of hope and love.  We learned a lot that afternoon.  And, I’ll do it again.  And again.  Because them that’s got are them that gets and they also need to be them that gives.  Simple.IMG_4380

 

Driving trips are my favorite, but sometimes you must fly.  I’m fascinated by the landscapes below and the patterns from above.  I click shots, trying to place what I’m seeing from a high perspective.  Flying west in America is a constant study of geology, geography, and art.  What cataclysmic events caused this upheaval of the planet, what up thrusts of rock, what cutting by glaciers left such jagged marks, which change so abruptly?

From Denver to Burbank, I was crossing territory I had driven several times. The beauty that mesmerized me on the ground created artistic designs from an airplane window.  My iPhone and iPad clicked away.

The snow covered Rocky Mountains in April…

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The change from mountains to flatter, dryer lands with canyons carved through eons…image

And more ore canyons, winding in such tight twists that they form circles from above…

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The projections of Lake Powell…

imageEdges of canyons…the Grand Canyon was on the other side of the plane…

imageEerie lights somewhere near Las Vegas and agricultural patterns are signs of people below

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So many patterns through deserts and then the San Bernadino Mountains…image

And I end our bird’s eye view with patterns of civilization.  From wide open spaces to masses of people.

imageMy feet are back on the ground.

Going on my grammar soapbox for today. I have some cred on this subject because I’m an English major and taught composition briefly as a graduate student. Mostly, I had very, very good teachers who drilled it into me.

When using me and I, please do it correctly. “Me and her are going to the movie” sounds ignorant. First of all, quit putting yourself first, even in this Me, Me, Me world. Then take one of the people out of the sentence and see how it sounds. “Me is going to the movie.” “Her is going to the movie.” Try “She and I are going to the movie.”

Mostly, I hear things like “Me and Joe and are hanging out,” rather than “Joe and I. . .” I cringe. If I were interviewing this person for a job, I would make a note.

I gave up changing the world, but I would love to have one person make the effort to correct their speech. Please. We all make grammar mistakes sometimes, but we can always keep trying to sound a little more educated. Let’s start with me and I. Please.

Stepping down. . .thank you, thank you, thank you to all those great teachers.

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A friend once commented that the only thing we can really give our children is memories. That’s a pretty important statement because it covers a lot of ground. Memories can be of lessons learned, like my mother teaching me manners or how to make a bed, or they can be painful, like hurt feelings or physical injuries or loss of loved ones. He was referring to the good ones, the fun ones, the special ones.

Watching my four year old granddaughter, who has already lost her Daddy and her other grandmother in her short life, I am amazed once again at how much little ones observe and remember. She’s at the age where she says “remember when…” a lot, already placing her memories in her ever so short past. But they are definitely stored there and who knows when she will bring them back into a conversation or how they will ultimately affect her life.

For Christmas, I gave my family a trip, a long weekend together, to Austin and San Antonio. The weekend after Christmas was the first time we could find that their schedules weren’t bogged down with sports or school or work, almost an impossibility to bring four families, 16 people together. But we did it. We spent four days traveling in four cars to two cities with eight adults and eight kids ranging from 12-16 with one four year old.

The gift for me was watching them all together, enjoying each other. We all live in the same city but it’s hard to find time to just relax and enjoy each other. The bigger kids go to school together and are close friends, so there was no teenage drama, no teen rolling his or her eyes at the parents. The little one was silly and the older ones were amused and helped with her antics. The parents all parented all the kids. I just got to sit and watch. And love them all.

Looking back at my own life, I have every kind of memory, good, bad, sad, funny. In all our lives, there are things that can’t be avoided, things that hurt, events and people we would like to forget. At best, we can learn and grow from them and put them in perspective. But, it’s important to have good memories, sweet memories, funny memories, to help balance it all out. My obsession with photos helps me with that. Not every memory has to be as elaborate as the trip we took, but it was great. We have many memories that cost us nothing and happened right at home. And, when we gather, whether it’s all of us or with some absent, all those memories are part of the conversation.

The gift for me is that my family has grown into a loud, laughing, loving bunch where there are no awkward silences, no sulking members, no hateful scenes and lots of the very best kind of memories. My resolution for 2014 is to make more of the good kind for everyone I know, family or friend. Happy New Year!

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Today, I’m remembering a song my grandmother used to sing to me and my mother and I sang it together forever…

I just took a peek in the pantry
And there on the row of shelves
sat a row of pies
that would be a surprise
to the Mince Pie King himself.

My grandma is here and my grandpa,
my cousins and Auntie May.
What is it about?
We’ll soon find out
for tomorrow is Thanksgiving Day.

Happy day before Thanksgiving to all!

Karen & Mommie Dude 1950

It Halloween time and all the scary movies are returning. One that frightened me and stuck in my head forever was “The Incredible Shrinking Man,” which came out in 1957 when I was in 6th or 7th grade. The images are so vivid to me of the man who kept getting smaller and smaller until he lived in a dollhouse, terrorized by the family cat and household spiders. The old black and white movie was well done, at least to this young mind. He got so small his wife couldn’t see him anymore and he was lost in the house.

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Yesterday, I was measured at a doctor’s office and seemed to have shrunk. I still think she measured me wrong, but whatever. Good grief, I take enough calcium and eat enough dairy and exercise. Another strange thing about aging. Those movie images came back to me along with the fact that I would be getting smaller as my grandchildren get bigger and bigger – a couple are already around 6’4″ and still growing.

Scary movies have nothing on real life. The good news is that the movie ended on a positive note as the incredible shrinking man realized that he was going to shrink to atomic size but that there was no zero in the universe and he would always be a part of it. As the minister said at my son’s memorial service, “He is now all around us.”

In the meantime, look for the little woman in my family pictures. That will be me. Incredible.