That flippin’ calendar!

June 18, 2014 //

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?

Tags time

Categories Restaurants, Uncategorized

Day Two – Out of the nest…

June 12, 2014 //

The mockingbird family I wrote about yesterday is now completing its first day with the babies out of the nest. There were four babies yesterday, scattered around the neighboring yards, the parents frantically trying to watch them as they flapped their baby wings, too short to lift their fat bodies very far. By night, they had gathered them in one yard, the only yard for several houses without cats or dogs. They found a spot in the corner with a chair covered by a mat beside a birdbath with hedges close by. Perfect. A thunderstorm blew through last night and I picture the mother cuddling with them again under the mat, this time without the nest she had so carefully built.

Today, I looked out and there are only three babies. I can only imagine that one flapped too far away and maybe didn’t make it. At least its body didn’t show up on my doorstep as a present from my cats. Now there are three. I relate.And they still don’t know how to take care of themselves and still have fuzzy heads. When I spotted them, they were staying together, flying to the ground and then hopping back up the mat. They weren’t straying too far.I should have known it was breakfast time. They could hear their mother’s wings and all stood up, spreading their wings and opening their mouths…Of course, Mom and/or Dad were out there getting something for them to eat. Just because the babies left the nest doesn’t mean they know much about taking care of themselves, including where to find food. Am I putting myself into this story too much? One got distracted, which means he or she will be at the end of the line for the next bite.Yep!
But there will be more. The babies started chirping, getting more impatient.The mother is doing the best she can for these little ones. While I stood at the fence shooting these pictures from a yard away, she landed right beside me and looked up. I understood that she might have been checking out my motives, so I didn’t say anything and she flew away, ever mindful of her motherly duties.This last shot reminded me of the frantic nature of being a parent. You can’t get it all done fast enough and yet you keep doing it. And the kids keep chirping and hopping around and falling down. Oops! I mean baby birds, of course.The babies were starting to get fuller tummies and were awake now, so when I looked back, there were only two. One had flapped into another yard where there is a dog, one was on the ground, and the other clung to the place where he should stay. I glanced again and all three were in different directions. For this mother, like all mothers, the day has just begun.

Tags mockingbirds, mothers and fathers, Out of the nest

Categories Nature, Reflections

Leaving the nest…

June 11, 2014 //

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.

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.

The 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.

The next one flopped around, heading for the deck and stopped to pose. All 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.You 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.

Tags baby birds, leave the nest

Categories Family, Nature, Restaurants, Uncategorized

The Appeal of Food Trucks

June 8, 2014 //

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.

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

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.

Tags food trucks

Categories Places, Reflections, Restaurants, Travel, Uncategorized

Thank yous…notes or not?

June 4, 2014 //

I grew up in an era of handwritten letters and notes. We were taught to graciously write thank you notes for just about anything that people did for us. We had stationery from the time we were little and monogrammed stationery, both formal and casual, as we grew older. Thank You notes were ingrained in us, something we did automatically, like Jimmy Fallon on Friday nights.

Times are more casual, media more immediate, so today’s thank yous often come through emails or on Facebook or just verbally. I know I still have my note cards, but I use them less frequently. Mostly, it’s not because I wouldn’t write a note, but because we, my friends and I, often say when giving a gift to not bother writing a note. We let each other off the hook after so many years of writing notes to each other. It’s part of our friendship pact to know we love the gift and know that we are thankful. It’s implied in the relationship.

I hope the tradition isn’t dying though. I hope that young people are learning this valuable habit which teaches you not only to be grateful but to write thoughtfully. Writing notes is a great habit for careers, too. I don’t know anyone who isn’t impressed with a handwritten note. The rule should be “When in doubt, write the note!”

My youngest grandchild, age 4, recently scribbled a thank you to her teacher, speaking the words out loud she scribbled. She has the ideas down pat and can add the actual writing skills later. Recently I gave her something and she immediately reached for paper to write my note. Pretty good reflex. Gotta start somewhere…

By the way, Thank You very much for reading my blog. I appreciate all of you who take the time to share my thoughts and pass them along to others. Thank you again and again.

Tags Thank you notes

Categories Family, Friends, Reflections

Tattoo…or not

May 29, 2014 //

Tattoos were a topic of discussion with my son from his teen years. He had the tenacity to end every conversation (well, not EVERY, but it seemed like it) with “Mom, can I get a tattoo?” The answer was always “No.” Just a firm “No.” When his father was in the Navy, he used to amuse me with stories of the strange and stupid tattoos his fellow sailors got while on leave. I asked him if he was tempted, and he said he thought about it, but thought again.

When I was growing up, tattoos were seen on burly guys who had been in the service or strange people you didn’t want to associate with. They were not common in Tulsa, Oklahoma in the 50s and 60s. When they started coming into vogue, my husband and I were on an island resort beach and saw an older couple, maybe 70s, probably from Europe, with tattoos. It made us laugh because the tattoos were sagging and not so attractive.

At one point in the tattoo discussion years, I gave my son a wonderful tie with tattoos designs, telling him this was the tattoo he had been asking for. Stupid me. He loved the tie, but he didn’t give up the idea.

Needless to say, he started getting tattoos as soon as he went to college, starting with his fraternity letters on his ankle. I excused that as something that at least would last forever. The next ones were the family crests of my family and his father’s on his shoulders and the celtic design on his lower back, telling me they were to honor his grandfathers. Really. There was the penguin he got on his leg when we went to Seattle for his cancer treatment. I have to say it was at least a work of art. There was the mad kitten attacking the ball of yarn on his upper arm when he licked cancer the first time, a symbol of his triumph. And there was some weird wolverine or something on his forearm. God knows why.

He’s gone now and we never finished our conversation on the tattoos because he was going to do what he was going to do. I never got to tell him how carefully I protected his skin with lotions when he was a baby, how I worried over every blemish, bruise and scar that marred his perfect skin. He was a work of art from the day he was born. I didn’t understand why he needed to cover anything, but I did appreciate his love for life and his attempt to experience every bit of it he could. I loved him for that and tried not to grimace at the tattoos.

I’m trying to understand the body art I see everywhere and not relating to the addiction that people have to it. I’m not criticizing, just trying to understand. I’m getting older by the moment and I can only visualize what a tattoo would look like on the parts of my body that change (I won’t mention droop) from year to year. On the other hand, I have seen photos of gorgeous tattoos covering women who have had double mastectomies and understand the beauty of that.

It’s also amusing to know that this too shall pass and the next generation or the next one will look at their parents and grandparents and see the tattoos and do something different, whatever that may be. Maybe they’ll just choose to go with what they have. I watch my grandkids and wonder if they’ll leave home and head for the tattoo parlor because it’s legal and everywhere. Their mothers must be cringing as much as I was.

In my wisdom of the ages, I know that the only thing I could have done to stop my son was to sacrifice and get tattooed myself so it wouldn’t be so cool. But he would have thought of something else, so I’m glad I saved my own skin to let it age naturally, age spots and all. I tend to look beyond the skin these days anyway.

Tags Tattoos

Categories Art, Family, Memories, Reflections

I used to be fun…

May 26, 2014 //

“I used to be fun.” There’s probably not a soul who hasn’t thought this for at least a moment in his or her life. We all experience moments when we feel like the dullest of souls in a duller than dull life. Hopefully, that’s a temporary feeling, easily replaced by the urge to do something that makes you smile.

I can’t define “fun” because it’s different for every one of us. Some like thrill seeking adventures, some like quiet moments with friends. There are activities like sports, board games, movies, books, nature walks, travel, gardening, playing cards, visiting museums, attending plays and concerts, having coffee with friends, dining out, crafts, riding bikes and motorcycles, and more things than I can imagine. Even our work can be fun.

The idea that “I” am fun is a little different when you think about it. I think a fun person is someone who is open to life, open to the new experiences we find every day in the people and ideas and places we encounter. A fun person makes everything fun for others by making them feel loved, liked, appreciated, a part of the activities. We can certainly not be fun. We can choose to be Debby Downer. We can make everyone around us miserable by our sour mood. This isn’t to say we don’t have our dark days when we face the life events that break our hearts or change our lives, but we don’t have to let those define us.

My theory is that the first thing you can do to be fun or have fun is smile. Once you’re smiling, you’re on your way to having something fun happen to you and around you.

Have a fun day!

Tags Debby Downer, Fun, smile

Categories Reflections

Them That’s Got…

May 21, 2014 //

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.

Tags gift, giving, Homeless

Categories Reflections, Uncategorized

Loyal and True

May 17, 2014 //

Loyal and True…to our Alma Mater…O…S…U. Those are lyrics from the alma mater at Oklahoma State University, where I spent six years, excepting some summer vacations, as an undergraduate and in graduate school. Fifty-one years after I enrolled there, I have accepted a job working with students on a special project and will be returning weekly for at least the next year. This is a school attended by two of my daughters, two of my sons-in-law and my daughter-in-law. We have ties.

Yesterday, I attended the eighth grade assembly at my junior high and high school alma mater, sitting in the same auditorium where I spent another 6 years of my life, from 7th through 12th grades. The same school I have shared with my children and now seven of my grandchildren. Two of my sons-in-law and my daughter-in-law also graduated from this school. We have more ties.

At my age, you can’t walk around these places without images from the past swirling through your memory. You watch a high school assembly and your own assemblies flash before you. Teachers and classmates, friends from then, some gone, some still in your life, perform, speak and walk from the 1950s and 6os. When I walk into the halls of the school alone, I see my friends in groups, hanging out before school, giggling and gossiping, too loud or too quiet. Making our way through the halls and through life as a teenager. It’s not even conscious sometimes, but I remember when I get home. And shake my head at how young we were, how sponge-like in our learning, how desperate to be grown up, to be cool, to know what to do in new situations.

At Oklahoma State, my images are even more varied. I spent my college years there, my first two years of marriage, and became a mother in that college town. I did a lot of growing up in that place and had a lot of fun. It was a big school in a small town and I came from a city. The students had different backgrounds and I learned from them. I can’t walk across that campus without being struck by how familiar it is and how much it’s grown, like everything in the last 50 years that’s managed to stay around.

There’s comfort in the familiar…like the first building on campus, Old Central.

…and seeing the steps to Morrill Hall where I had many of my English classes and taught Freshman Composition for two years. My office was up those steps, I slipped on those steps in the ice when I first got married. Oh, those steps.Every corner has a memory in that town. We stood on Main Street to watch Hubert Humphrey drive by or to watch the Homecoming Parade, a tradition that lives on with Pistol Pete still walking strong.The memories are stronger than ever. Walking from the Student Union, voted #1 in the United States this year, past the library where I spent so many hours going through the card catalogues, researching ever so many papers…I expect to see familiar faces, but I see younger ones, much younger ones. The dorms where I lived are still there, I can see the window of the room where I first saw the Beatles on Ed Sullivan. I drive by the dorm where I spent two years as a student counselor and can count the floors to my room. The duplex where we lived when we married and where we brought our first baby home is still standing, still looking like a cheap college rental place after all these years. The movie theaters we frequented in town are long gone, replaced by a megaplex theatre, The Hideaway, where my husband worked as manager, is still there on campus corner, although it’s moved to a much larger location. Our friend, the owner, who wasn’t much older than we were recently passed away, a pillar of the community. At least the Fire Station still owns that corner, a reminder of the old days.It’s a wonderful thing to be invited to return to a place where there are so many memories to warm your heart. My students will keep me sharp and I can hopefully help them with my experience. They will teach me a lot, I know. How fitting that my last job brings me back to my first jobs on this campus. The old and the new merge into a blur of my life. I’ve got my new school ID, plastic with my picture instead of the paper one I used to carry. There’s a comparison of then and now in everything I do. Then and now. My past and my present merged into another life experience, into new adventures. I’m as excited as a freshman…just old enough not to be as nervous.

An Oklahoma orange sunset was in my rearview mirror as I drove home this week. Lovely.

Tags alma mater, Oklahoma State University, Old Central, The Hideaway

Categories Events, Friends, Memories, Places, Reflections

Tears and Cheers

May 16, 2014 //

May is the traditional graduation month for everyone from preschoolers to graduate school. This month, my daughter-in-law has finished nursing school and is now a licensed LPN and two of my grandsons are moving on to high school. Everyone else is moving up a grade, just not such a milestone. It’s the season of recitals and commencements, a time to celebrate what has been accomplished in the school year.

I’m a sucker for these things, smiling through welling eyes, as proud as anyone can be. I wish I had the guts to jump up like the lady behind me today and shout, “That’s my grandson,” when her smiling boy received a special award. I’m a little more restrained by upbringing and by nature. But I appreciate the emotion and smile with her and understand completely.

As a grandmother, I’m feeling the same and different emotions than I did at my own children’s achievements. I’m proud for the grandchildren and mostly glad that I can be here to share their achievements. I’m proud of and for my children, too. It’s a richness of emotions.

Then there’s that feeling of time flying by, that gratefulness for what you’ve been given and the nagging question of how many more of these you will get to see. I’ve got a four year old granddaughter and I keep in my heart all the time that I’d like to be here when she gets out of college. I’ll be about 82. Not out of the realm of possibility with my genetics, but never a sure thing. I’m bound and determined to keep up with the grandkids and be as healthy as I can to enjoy everything to the fullest. That needs to be my mission in life – watching my health. Not always my priority, but should be. Reminding myself again now.

Anyway, here’s to May when we share tears and cheers with those we celebrate and make all their achievements our own, when we even celebrate those we don’t know because we’re proud for them and for their families. We come together to celebrate some of the best emotions that life gives us. What a joyous season!

Tags graduations, recitals

Categories Events, Family, Reflections, Seasons

Search

Categories