Sing a song of autumn

Can you hear that melody?  It is rising from the hills and valleys, thick with morning mist, heavy in the early evening with sunlight like golden honey and the promise of coolness on the breeze.  I was loafing this afternoon on the west facing porch.  I had things to do.  I always have things to do.  But, somehow I could not move from my chair there on the porch.  I looked out over the hills that dipped and rose toward the west.  It is true.  The trees this year are not very colorful, but the weather is absolutely perfect for porch sitting and letting the mind empty itself of any thought of work or planning or care.  I am reminded of the fable of the ants and the grasshopper.  You know the one:  The grasshopper is playing his fiddle all summer long while the ants gather grain and food for the winter.  When winter comes the grasshopper is starving and sees the ants distributing their food among their fellows.  He asks for something to eat, but the ants scold him for not being prepared.  And the moral of the story?  Prepare for the future.

Ah.  Now that is a laudable sentiment.  And I am all for looking ahead.  But I can not resist taking some time during these golden days of autumn to let the season sing around me while I sit and do little or nothing.  It is a glorious season.  Days are warm and  breezy.  Mornings can bring frost and chill but as soon as the sun climbs toward noonday we pull off our sweatshirts and enjoy the feeling of sun on our faces.  It makes me drowsy and calls for a mid-day nap out there in the middle of the field, down under a tree where my arm serves as a pillow.  Afternoon slides into evening and chores wait until I've had my fill of sunset on the hills of Caney Mountain.  Night comes in small steps, darkening the sky until stars come out one by one, winking in the clear open air.  I can hear the deer bedding down for the night at the edge of the wood.  Crickets are chirping.  And a soft breeze blows a little cooler, whispering to me, winter is coming....winter is coming....better be prepared.

I hear the song of autumn.  And carefully I tuck the gold and green and dazzling light into the special place I keep near my heart.  And some winter day when the snow is blowing and gray is all I see from east to west, some day when the sun doesn't shine, I will take this autumn song out and play it and remember this beautiful time of year.

Ghosts of October

Here is the bench that faces the hockey field.  Lake Michigan laps gently at the breakwater to the east.  Bare branches wave in the wind that blows from the north.  Shivering I bend my head down into my jacket and stroll over to the goal.

I can hear them now.  The ghostly players as they hit their sticks together for the face-off at center field.  Wings are ready to scoop the ball and send it flying, forward.  My heart beats a little faster.  I am there, legs padded against the certain contact with the hard and unforgiving ball.  Bending down I take my defensive stance.  A forward is pushing toward me, aiming for the goal.  I dart and put my stick in front of her, making her change her running step.  She looks at me with challenging eyes.  I meet her stare with my own.

And then I have it.  I hit the ball as hard as I can.  It zooms insanely past the forward line and is mastered by our own center.  And the action moves away from me.  Still breathing hard I watch as our forward line moves into offense.  And Goal!

I can hear the faint cheers on the sidelines.  And smiling I turn to walk toward the bench again.  The ghosts of October are alive and well.  And as I sit on the bench I can hear the game continue, sticks making contact, swift feet flashing by.  Lake Michigan ripples in the distance.  And even the cool wind can not make me leave the bench where I celebrate the ghosts of October. 

Lessons from my mother. Part 6.

Always aim high.  If you miss, you will still be among the stars.

Yes, that is my mother in the early 1930's, ready to throw the javelin.

She was always trying to do better.  Where she was at any certain time was not good enough.  She did not like the term status quo.  Part of that attitude came from her father.  Part from being raised in a big family where it was basically root hog or die.  I guess you get the idea.

Here are some lessons I have learned from my mother, the javelin thrower par excellence.

1.  If you can dream it, you can do it.  Going to college and no money available?  What do you do?  You take your savings, your one good dress, your few belongings, and move to Chicago during the Depression.  You find a family that needs someone to take care of their children.  You work for room and board.  You go to school. You work very hard.  And you graduate in the top of your class.

2.  Never settle for less than perfection.  Not really a winner here for me.  But after she made me tear out the seam that I had sewn in a skirt for the 19th time, I finally got the idea that it better be straight or it wasn't going to be any good at all.  As I have gotten older, I appreciate this striving for perfection more and more.
3.  There is never any sacrifice too great for your family.  She went to work while we were small.  Why?  So we would have enough money to go to college.  She gave up her home and friends and neighbors to move me into a situation where I could grow and have some chances I might not have anywhere else.  She had the uncanny ability to know when someone needed something.  Sometimes she could help.  Sometimes she couldn't.  But she was always there for us...through thick and thin.
4.  Always look for something bigger than you are.  Start a business.  Go on the road selling books, or toys, or silverware.  Never be satisfied with just getting by. 
5.  Live your life as if you were going to live forever.  Love what you are doing.  And always, always aim high.  When you get to your goal, keep on going.  Never stop.  Never ever stop.
And so I end this series of blogs about my mother.  She always loved us.  We loved her.  And I hope that one day people will say this of me too.  She aimed high.  She succeeded against great odds.  She loved and she was loved. 
I miss you Mom.  Thank you for the lessons you taught me. 

Lessons from my mother. Part 5

Make new friends, but keep the old.  One is silver and the other is gold.

This is a song I learned when I was young.  And how true it is.

My mother had many friends.  She was an outgoing, friendly person and people just naturally gravitated to her.  Never lacking for something say to a stranger, she would often be able to keep up a conversation with anyone for as long as they wanted to talk...or listen.

Her old friends, such as Maxine Lord, pictured above, were some of her best friends.  Mom and Maxine were about the same age.  Joe Lord and my dad were about the same age too.  Long before my mom came on the scene, Dad was friends with the Lord family.  I guess they had some adventures....just hints now and then came to my young ears.   After my dad passed away my mom really came to depend on Maxine to be her 'listening ear'.  I know that Joe and Maxine were such a help when Mom had to make decisions.  What would we have done without their support?  I came upon a letter Maxine wrote to my mom when she was in Florida.  I won't go into the content, but it was a wonderful thing.  I have kept it because it is so full of wonderful, caring advice.  Maxine was truly a friend of the gold variety.

Mom made friends where ever she went.  We would go to Florida to visit and each time there would be new people she had met that were included in any gathering we had.  She was a good cook, and she could make any occasion one to remember.  Sometimes things would not turn out as planned, but everyone had a good time.  And when she moved in with me she kept on making friends.  Many of them were people that Andy and I knew from church and the community.  But some were friends she made during her visits to the doctor, or people she had met in the grocery store.  They all became her friends.  These were of the silver variety, but they were friends nevertheless.

The lesson I learned from my mom is this.  Never lose track of old friends.  They are tried and true.  But be sure and keep your new friends.  They will be friends for life too.

Thank you Mom for teaching me about friendship.

Lessons from my mother. Part 4.

My mother never thought of herself as old.  And her goal was to spend as much time as possible with people who were younger than she was.  She was often heard saying this never-to-be forgotten sentence.  Why would I want to spend my time with people my age?  All they want to talk about is their aches and pains.  I have plenty of them...and I don't want to be reminded!

I'm not sure where the scene above took place.  Somewhere in the mountains of southwestern Virginia near Blacksburg where she was visiting my brother Derek and his family is all I know.  I think it must have been late summer or early fall.  You will notice the flowers in my mom's hair.  And you will notice that she is probably the only person there who had an AARP membership.

My mom always gravitated to young people.  Her greatest joy was teaching young girls and boys.  She loved to run with them, play baseball, kick the soccer ball around, hit a tennis ball so hard it was almost impossible to return.  And she loved to talk to them too.  Her favorite age group was kids at that difficult age of adolescence....around 12 to 15.  That was the group she always liked to teach and hang out with.  They are so interesting to be with. They haven't figured out who or what they are.  And they are looking at all the possibilities.  Not spoiled by failure.  Not touched by success...yet.  Ready to become adults...but not ready yet!  Fascinating.

My mom had a special rapport with teenagers and pre-teens that I only acquired late in my teaching career.  And babies.  She loved little ones too.  Any shape or size.  It wasn't that she didn't feel a  connection with her peers.  She had many close friends who were near her age and she liked to go around with them.  But if she could, she would find a group of children and listen to them talking and watch them play. 

She showed me something very important as she grew older.  You are only as decrepit as you think you are.  Your joints ache.  Your feet don't want to go as fast they once did.  You may not be able to dance all night with stopping.  But, golly, at least you can try.  You are young in your heart.  You are young in your mind.  Your body may be older, but never ever stop being interested in young people and children.  That was her secret.  And I want it to be my secret too.

Thank you Mom for showing me that you are never too old to be young again.

Lessons from my mother. Part 3.

Now they call it power napping.  My mom just called it "taking a little rest".  I don't know when Mother came up with this idea, but she practiced it all of her life.

When I was too young to drive and we would go somewhere in the car for the day, my mom would pull over to the side of the road, find a level spot...or a picnic table and spread out her blanket.  She would lay down and take a little snooze for about a half hour.  Then she would get up and we would resume our trip.  If we went to someone's house and the trip back home would be a long one, the same thing happened.  She would ask our host if she could lay down for awhile and rest before we got on our way.  And again, just about half an hour and she was good to go.

I found this same habit very useful as I started back to school for my Masters degree.  I would get up early on a summer morning, climb in the car and drive all the way to Springfield to class.  I usually was on my way back home around 2 in the afternoon.  By the time I got back to Gainesville, I would be so tired.  Going into the bedroom I'd lay down on the bed and close my eyes.  Usually just about 20 minutes would be enough.  I'd get up fresh and ready to fix dinner, do my homework, and get ready for the next day.

The key to power napping, as my mother taught me, is to do two things.  1.  Just lie down and close your eyes.  2. Do not stay there for any longer than 20 to 30 minutes.  If you sleep longer, you'll just be groggy.  Maybe it's a genetic thing.  Maybe it's a case of mind over matter.  I don't think I really fall asleep.  But I do drift off and then wake up easily.  And I am ready to go ahead and do whatever needs to be done.

My mom never had any trouble going to sleep at night.  She slept like the proverbial baby.  I also am blessed with good sleep and have never suffered from insomnia.  But I am glad I was shown early on what you should do when you are tired.  Just take a little snooze.  Here's to power napping!

 

 

Lessons from my mother: Part 2

I think my mother was born reading.  Books were so important to her.  She read to us all the time.  The best times  I remember were sitting in her lap in the evening and looking at the pictures while she read all sorts of stories to me.  There were always books or magazines or newspapers near her chair and bedside. 

This picture was taken inside our log house in the Wilderness.  Nina was just about 2 years old.  And look at that.  Mom has her, if not reading, at least looking at a newspaper.  I think my mother's love of reading was instilled in her by her father.  He had to stop his formal education when he was just a boy after his father was killed in a windstorm that hit their farm in Illinois.  He was a self-taught man who lacked formal schooling.  As a result, when he had a family and grew to be an important spokesman in his community, he always supported education and learning.  He served on the school board and often was a leader for all things educational.

My mother had a newspaper rack that sat on our kitchen table.  Every morning she would read the paper while she ate breakfast.  We were encouraged to read, even when we were eating.  Of course, we did talk to one another, but reading was encouraged anywhere we were.

She wrote very well too.  Most of all she loved to write poetry and she could come up with wonderful lines, that set the tone for almost any occasion.  I have them stored away with her things, but I am going to get them out and put them in a journal to keep with my other family joys.

My mother would read anything that was of interest to her.  She was not much for fiction or great books.  She usually would choose a non-fiction autobiography of a famous person.  She loved to read about history and anything current.

The amazing thing was that she continued to read even when her eyesight was failing.  I was able to get her books on tape through the state library.  We would go over the list and she usually chose current bestsellers that had to do with world events or politics.  She was really up to date with most things that were happening both here and abroad.

When she was in the hospital for the last time she had two or three books with her.  One of them was about the conflict in the Mideast.   She told me she wanted to know why it was that people in other areas of world didn't like us very much.  And she was serious about finding out why.

She would watch TV just to pass the time.   But she would rather read the newspaper and newsmagazines to get  current information.

My brother Derek loved to read.  His library was full to overflowing.  My brother Paul loved to read.  He spent a lot of his free time in libraries, just browsing the shelves to see what he could find.  I love to read.  My book collection has been whittled down to just two large book shelves.  Books fill my life with joy.  I can escape into history, learn about what is happening all over the world, or just sit and read and dream.

Thank you Mom for teaching me to love to read.

Lessons from my mom. Part 1

I have learned many lessons from my mom.  Here she is on her 95th birthday in September of 2005.  And she is truly looking forward to having a piece of that chocolate cake. 

My mother's philosophy.  When dessert is presented, eat it first.  That was her motto and she loved to follow it through.  I fixed breakfast for her for three years.  And, without fail, she would polish it off with three scoops of chocolate ice cream.  The only reason she didn't get the ice cream first is because I was the one serving and I thought that it was better for her to have her oatmeal, three soft boiled eggs, bacon, hash browns, toast and jelly and four cups of coffee BEFORE she tucked into the final course.

When her older sister passed away in Oklahoma my mother was sad.  She was the only one left of all her ten siblings.  But she did say this to me, "They tell me that Rosa passed away in the dining room at the Nursing Home.  I certainly hope that she had the good sense to eat her dessert first!"

I have been thinking about my mother and her many sayings lately.  Her 104th birthday would have been celebrated a few weeks ago, on the 19th.  She lived a full and exciting life.  A challenge is all she needed to get her motor roaring.  Life to her was a banquet.  Never pass up a chance to experience something new, or unique.

Perhaps this is a lesson for me these days.  When new things present themselves maybe I better go for the most alluring.  The sparkle.  The glitz.  The excitement.  You never know what might happen.  Go for it.

And always remember to eat your dessert first.