Aging with exuberance…

***

A lot of things have taken place over the past couple of weeks, one of which is that smiling and laughing are suddenly de rigueur again, praise be! For someone who was unceremoniously told, decades ago, that she laughs like a chicken, it’s like being let out of the henhouse to roam free! Be YOU, you crazy lil’ bandy-legged chick, nobody CARES!

So while our Sister in Joy and Laughter was busy making history, this girl here turned double 7s, which I believe is highly lucky. If you know otherwise, please don’t spoil my illusions, thx. I love the fact that I’ve made it this far, but already being within binocular range of 80 is messing with my head a little, so adjustments must be made and you know what THAT means… she’s thinking again.

I started blogging some 15 years ago on another platform in response to my son’s suggestion that it might be therapeutic. He was right, I loved it immediately, and when the original site folded I found Word Press and kept cranking out whatever was on my mind on any given day. Obviously, over that many years changes have taken place… and age has joined the chat. Profound shock. There is absolutely nothing other than being old on the inside (a tragedy) that could truly prepare a girl for her third trimester of living, nothing. But I’ve been here sharing insights for a bunch of years now, and been painfully honest with you in what I’ve said, and that won’t change… so buckle up.

“These are the days of miracle and wonder

This is the long distance call.” P. Simon

These are the days of the medical Rolodex, the recurring appointments with doctors and their teams, keeping the vehicle running. These, if you’re lucky and spoiled, are the days of pedis and haircuts and massages that truly do extend life by making it better.

These are the days of steroid shots in the joints, extra attention to the chompers, and various other things which, much like the Spanish Inquisition, NO ONE EVER EXPECTS.

These are the days when your optometrist skips most of the preliminaries and says “Let’s talk about your cataracts.”

These are the days of skin cancer paybacks for those lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer. The ones we thought would never end.

What gets your attention is the acceleration. One day you’re like “Well, not too bad so far. Doin’ what I can,” and the next you wake up to major mayhem that apparently occurred while you were sleeping. This spiral of crepe here when I turn my arm… when did that start? And these bingo arms! There are jowls in progress? How rude! The supreme sense of languid laziness every single morning when I’d planned to be a ball o’ fire for a change… it’s ubiquitous, as is the faint whiff of guilt that attends my daily existence. Welp, girl, that’s the way it is, walk it off.

After an incredible nine years of turmoil and division as a people, combined with the introspection it has sparked, this is a true statement:

**

Kids, here are the facts this morning as I know them. Our world is getting better not worse. Joy and laughter are not buried forever under the rubble of political correctness and planet-wide catastrophe. We’re still HERE! That means hope is alive and well. I’m catching this bus.

*

Image

What I did last summer…

***

To be perfectly legit about it, fall doesn’t start for another couple of weeks, but it’s already making its imminent arrival known. I haven’t checked the record books, but August seemed more fall than summer this year, with cooler days and nights outpacing the hot ones.

It was a summer of change in myriad ways, many of which I’m still processing. Things I know for sure at this point: I like joy more than doom, happiness more than rage, hope more than despair, and WE ARE NOT GOING BACK.

A harbinger. This tree was the first on our street to turn orange last year, but only precisely half the tree. Today it’s already in full-on fall mode, so here we go.

**

What we did this summer in lieu of a vacation was take day trips. I’ll tell you a little about those, complete with Kim’s photos, in a future post, hopefully soon. The thing I want most to do these days is write, but it mostly isn’t happening. Too much still hangs in the balance and I can’t focus. But HOPE is holding its spot in the universe and life is still the place to be.

Back with “travel” pics ASAP. Meanwhile, I don’t like to lose touch with you…

Image

What nourishes you?

***

Delicious morning. It rained in the night, with increasing darkness after 8am and rain continuing for a few more hours. Southwest of us Emporia got 5″ of rain this morning, flooding their downtown and other areas, so an extra hour or two of early darkness for us is nothing. As a farm girl and incurable melancholic, rain is a lifetime friend and my happy place. It’s been summertime only every other week or so, days in the 90s and 100s interspersed with cooling, nourishing rain, to the point that in midAugust everything in sight is still green and glowing.

The lush tapestry outside my windows only adds to the sense of hope that’s been let loose in the world over the past month. Joy feels so much better than gloom and doom, and it suddenly feels okay to hope… to cautiously believe things will improve instead of digging deeper into hell. So yeah, rain, happiness, hope, love, it’s all cool, and the coffee tastes extra rich this morning.

**

Image

Hope floats…

***

**

What an amazing week this has been, and it’s only Wednesday. I’m trying to remember when my social media feeds last reflected so much fresh optimism and pure hope. My first and overriding thought, “Maybe this brave little experiment in democracy isn’t over yet,” is enough to keep me out of the slough of despond for the foreseeable future. Wish we could see ahead and know what that future looks like, but for now a flood of hope and possibility is more than welcome.

**

**

It seems that once the scent of hopefulness hits the air, it pulls the atmosphere along with it and other positives start lining up. Yesterday we got some things accomplished and put behind us that have been like a weight around my neck for months. In an homage to having survived all that (always with the drama!), I’ve given myself the day off to do exactly as I please, which so far has been to make the bed and sit down right here. My “To Do” list now holds seven things rather than thirty-seven, and I feel like a kid out of school for the summer. Life gets really good sometimes.

**

It would be tragic if the U.S. were to end on a sour note so I hope (see what I did there) that we’re all ready to choose hopefulness and run with it.

**

If life has felt extra challenging to you of late, if you’re feeling drained and exhausted all the time, if everything’s a muddle in your head, if your heart aches… I, by virtue of seniority, hereby grant dispensation and grace to give yourself a day off, or an hour, whatever you can manage without making things worse. If you need a rest, take it. Get by yourself and let hope soak in for a while. Your world will benefit from the resulting ripple effect.

💋💋💋

Image

The comforts of life…

***

… are myriad, and we’re blessed by the universe every day, especially if we were to do some kind of comparison study. I mean, the planet is in the throes of change and humans are historically opposed to that sort of thing, therefore chaos. Me too, I’m opposed to the direction this current change-up is taking because I’m selfish and I prefer that life simply continue in a positive vein. Is that too much to ask?

UNIVERSE: Far too much, sorry.

Mornings this week have been cool, perfect for walking, striding, strolling, shuffling, wandering, and wool-gathering. Yesterday I did the above for an hour, this morning for half that, improving my outlook immeasurably.

Another fav comfort is that of sitting down to write and watching the words flow onto the screen. It’s always fun to see if I have anything to say. Lately I have far too much and can’t really say ANY of it, so I’m missing that security blanket. The only way I know to write is flat out, no masks, no gloss, all truth if possible, and that’s a challenge now because veering off into truth turns the floor to lava. That leaves the weather report and bird watching, both of which are fine but less than cathartic to write about.

Reading is infinitely comforting to me, but it requires an attention span, so there are caveats. Plenty of reading does take place, though, and I have a bottomless well of gratitude for the people who opened those magical doors for me. Books literally roll back the curtain that separates us from the rest of the world, which has been a delightful ongoing gift for this farm girl.

A comfort that never fails… and a gift that keeps on giving, apparently forever… is Kim’s cooking. He’s never content to simply “make food.” He starts with ingredients we both like and hones the combining thereof into a dish that would have anyone’s palate craving more. [Except those who genuinely prefer bland, boiled ’til it can do no man harm, innocent, what IS this food. To each his own.] Good food made with love is like a nice long hug. Pure happiness.

I take great comfort in having a safe place to live, excellent medical people and facilities, clean water, abundant fresh food, people who care about me, and the freedom to live the life I’ve been given. Much of the planet has little to none of that, so a shoot-from-the-hip comparison study I just did shows we’re doing pretty freaking well under all the whining and fighting and gnashing of teeth.

I know this much is true… if we can get through whatever’s coming our way… survive it and come out the other side with something left… something of substance… WE’LL NEVER HAVE TO DO IT AGAIN. A cloak of naiveté didn’t suddenly drop on my head, I know SOMEONE will be faced with all of this again because the war between freedom and fascism never ends. But if we do this right, a few generations may get to age out before it all starts to crash again.

**

Let’s all keep a good thought as upheaval reigns: It’s entirely possible that climate change, disease, nuclear war, or some other factor will wipe us out first, and we can finally stop thinking about politics.

Image

Crash, slam, bang… I’m okay…

Good morning, my fellow round-the-bend players, how’s July shaping up for you? Okay, yeah, kinda what I thought. A lot going on, huh. There’s such a general upheaval in progress at all times now, it’s tricky to keep things sorted out. What’s important? What really matters? How can I be helpful instead of simply in the way? We have an incredible array of life or death issues in the air around us at once, none of which we hold any real sway over, and it’s fairly mindnumbing.

**

Having spent the past week on the knife-edge of mortality, in the throes of Martian Death Flu, I’m back better than ever and ready to tear a chunk in the space-time continuum. Today, Monday, in a surprise fierce attack, it’s List-Making Day, and we’re in great shape on that so far, Alex. The determination and sense of purpose fairly leap off the page and the ecclesiastical “we” can’t wait to get started. In fact, we’ve already ticked two things off the list, including one from yesterday just to double up on the endorphins.

In light of what we wake up to every morning, we need all the good endorphins we can get, mainlined into the system. There are strange dichotomies at work that we aren’t used to dealing with, and that turns normally-mundane things very weird. I’m not Catholic, so no dog in the fight, but for the first time in 600 years two popes are alive at the same time. That raises chain-of-command questions I’m not sure anyone really wants to address, so I’ll just leave it here for posterity.

By somewhat the same token, we’ve basically had two presidents simultaneously in the U.S. since 2021, and I do have a big woolly-bear of a dog in that fight. The legitimate president calls the shots and gets things done, the pretender shoots wildly in every direction and keeps his cul… um, base, on fire. His own family, including niece Mary, a Phd in clinical psychology, calls him batshit crazy, but a percentage of people in the country think he’s better than sex, which is worrisome on every level.

At the SAME EXACT TIME we have two hugely influential generations aging out… the Silent Generation and the Boomers. Every day my Facebook feed is sprinkled with stories and cool photos of people from my parents’ generation, all the celebrities I grew up knowing about. The vast majority are in their 90s and past 100, still doing that thing they do, which is generally to make life feel better to the rest of us. They’re leaving a very large void as they slip away one by one. I’ll wake up one of these mornings to find that Willie Nelson is no longer a citizen of this earth and I don’t know if I can bear it.

I remember people saying that as we age time speeds up. Yes and no. Twelve straight hours of daylight can seem like a week, but the weekends arrive and depart in double-time. The Silents and we Boomers are reaping the benefits of better nutrition as it came to us along the way, and it’s showing up not only in longevity but also productivity. A whole lot of us still have all our faculties, strange as that may sound coming from someone out of the 1960s and 70s (if you remember it, you weren’t there), and we’re still a force, but the world has no idea what to do with us. The law writers and hangers-on DO mos def want to get their hands on all the Social Security monies we’ve paid into the system our entire working lives, and let’s just say it, to do that they need us dead. I mean, how else? These and other realities keep me awake for whole seconds at night before I slip into my own “little death” and shuttle my brain over to dreamland. And hoo-boy, there have been some bizarre scenarios lately, what’s up with that.

While I’m rolling, imma say this too: Any way we slice it, however it turns out, the presidential election of 2024 is not simply that. Change is coming regardless, the question now is how much and how fast. Will this be the year America turns its broad backside on our WWII defenders and simply strolls into fascism like it’s a Sunday picnic, or will we wake up in time to take a shot at doing it right? America willingly sauntering into Christian Nationalism, hands behind our backs, sounds ridiculous. I hope we won’t do that, but I don’t draw up the plans. No one ever even asks me, despite dedicated years of opinionated observation. Someone who does know what the plan is, by the name of Kevin Roberts, should be checked out and taken seriously, though. He means it.

Please avail yourself of a copy of Project 2025 to see what the end of democratic rule and beginning of religious oppression looks like. There’s also a documentary called “Bad Faith.” But let’s focus on Project 2024 so we don’t have to worry about 2025!

**

One thing we’ve discovered is that Joseph Heller was a prophet:

“It was miraculous. It was almost no trick at all, he saw, to turn vice into virtue and slander into truth, impotence into abstinence, arrogance into humility, plunder into philanthropy, thievery into honor, blasphemy into wisdom, brutality into patriotism, and sadism into justice. Anybody could do it; it required no brains at all. It merely required no character.”

― Joseph Heller, Catch-22

**

A note of hope writ large today: England and France, both leaning seriously right for a worrisome time, managed to rein it in and lean the other way in their recent elections, both putting left-ish moderates in office. That’s two first-world nations bucking the global trend toward Christian Nationalism, let’s make it three and start a wildfire. And since I’m likely already at max friend-loss on the day, here’s this. She did everything she could to warn us about every bit of this.

**

It’s a lot. I haven’t written much lately because I can’t do it without getting into the truth. Turns out I can hoard my thoughts for only so long, however, so take ’em as they’re meant. And survive the long hot summer.

Image

Thinking out loud…

***

It’s been an ISH kind of spring so far. Rain-ish. Bluster-ish. Wind-ish. Gray-ish. Not a problem, just a challenge, especially in light of the general bluster coming at us from all quarters. No question, these are strange times, putting a layer of uncertainty under everything, to which the solution seems to be “Keep your head up and keep moving.”

That’s likely the essence of what our college and high school grads heard the past two weekends from speakers who had everyone’s best interests in mind, with one notable exception, a man who kicks balls for a living. This girl is just thankful she can see the TV from the kitchen, because FOOTBALL, man (see how equal-opportunity I am?). And the kitchen isn’t even my territory, it’s the domain of the guy who can REALLY COOK. OMG, we are SO out of compliance with current regs! If the Household Quality Control Department totes us away, please send banana bread containing keys, thx.

So… we’re in hiatus again, with some 28,000 university students mostly gone with the wind. Mass Street, jammed for two solid weekends, is now kinda quiet, kinda slow. This state of being lasts only a couple of months, though, before new life returns and it’s on again: students looking for housing, furniture at the curb all over town, baby freshmen getting their college legs, and a happy Mass Street. Football. Basketball. Bread and circuses, bring it on.

In the interim we’ve consciously broken a habit of several years running, that of NOT watching news on TV. The various shenanigans and happenings have heightened our need to know, so we tune in to trial coverage enough that it reminds me of watching the Watergate hearings on a little black & white TV with rabbit ears while my toddler played and napped.

That whole thing, Watergate, seems so innocent in retrospect. I wasn’t here for slavery (the official version) and I missed the Civil War and both World Wars. By the end of the Korean War I was six years old and just beginning to be cognizant of events outside my small sphere of existence. By the time Viet Nam became an acknowledged war I was becoming very aware of world events and how politics, in the end, shape everything. (See definition of “woke.”) Despite the ugliness and division of that era and my own personal fears, I never really expected to see the globe in tatters and headed for a bad end in my lifetime. Why, I don’t know, because here we are.

**

While I wasn’t old enough for WWII, I fully understand what it was about, and I know its sinister vibe is very much with us right now, this week, underscored by words from a disgraced ex-“president.” Words like “unified Reich” and “immigrants are poisoning the blood of America” and political opponents referred to as “vermin.” Germany doesn’t allow Nazi rhetoric, why are we tolerating it? The language and intent are such that every time I’ve tried to write about it (or anything else) my brain fogs over and tears clog my throat. As a country we’ve never quite been who we thought we were, but we were for sure better than this and the world is aghast to see our crumbling feet of clay because if the U.S. is a sham, how do they maintain hope for their own nations?

I’ll always be a Pollyanna, the girl who looks for the pony in the manure pile, always hopeful, forever optimistic, but I must say it takes a mighty amount more effort to maintain that mental state now.

Can’t we just all get along?

Image

Life rolls on…

***

Good news! A second egg showed up in the nest over the weekend and Dave and Dar are faithfully incubating their first brood of 2024. According to the interwebs, David Dove is the one who dozes in the nest during the day while Darlene hangs out with her girlfriends at their favorite watering hole having chips and salsa. Then she returns home while David goes out with the boys, eating and drinking all night. Not sayin’ a thing, it works for THEM. And they’ve made quite a decent nest this time – we’re proud of them. It looks like they found a piece of dental floss somewhere… but whatever floats your nest.

**

Since spring is all about change and renewal we’re now surrounded by it, beyond the daily enjoyment the Dove family provides. Not all change is wonderful and positive, but stagnation runs counter to human desire, so since change for its own sake is an exercise in futility, maybe pick the things that bring light and life in greater quantities. A forward trajectory, if you will. That was a note to self.

Several of the lofts in our building have changed hands recently, so the sounds of construction have been a daily presence for a while as everyone revamps according to personal taste. I don’t mind… I just slip my hearing aids out ’til the racket stops… and a full building is a happy building. Or some such. A lot of people are under the impression that this is a retirement community, probably because of all the danged OLD people around. It’s true that likely everyone currently living here is over 50 but I don’t think there’s a requirement in the covenants & restrictions.

There are enough people from the Hill here, either retired or still employed, to give us a reputation as “The KU Faculty Dorm,” and that makes for an interesting environment with fascinating people who’ve lived full and challenging lives. We have neighbors who are moving to assisted living this month, a reality of life… change and lots of it.

So that’s the view from four stories up on a blue-sky sunshiny April morning. The News of the World this morning is as cockamamie crazy as our most cryptic bad dreams, so I’ll just stick around here where somebody knows me.

Oh, and there’s an eclipse happening pretty soon here, something that occurs around the world every little whipstitch. For some reason this one’s causing a stir and I understand there may be select individuals “raptured out” at some point. One governor has even declared a 3-day state of emergency, advising people to lock their doors and gather in prayer circles to stop the evil effects of the eclipse. It may be helpful to consider the following:

**

I’ll be back later to take roll call…

Image

The pause…

***

It’s another HumpDay, boys and girls, and we all know what that means: GET OVER IT ASAP! In truth, it feels like a very laid-back pre-Thanksgiving Wednesday, no big deal, which is the way I like my holidays. We’re creatures of habit in this house, rather than tradition, and a nice habit to cultivate is good food with great people, so tomorrow will follow… um… tradition. Rita will be here and each of the three of us chose a favorite dish to make, plus a few other goodies. It’ll be fire and we’ll congratulate ourselves on pulling off yet another cozy half-assed national holiday on our own template. Meanwhile, our middle sister should be on her way home today after major surgery, which is another tradition we dislike but adhere to in this family on a far too regular basis. And John will be working the holiday, as is his usual tradition.

This morning has sounded industrious and preparatory outside my doors. The yard crew arrived early to finish putting all the landscaping to bed for the season, at decibel level. There were fire trucks running north and south while city police cars screamed east and west, in response to what, I won’t even contemplate. The #lfk street sweepers have been out in force. Cars and people are roaming to and fro on errands unique to them. Kim’s home from PickleBall and is in the kitchen chopping a new load of fresh pepper and onion mix, his not-so-secret ingredient in most everything but desserts. The sun’s shining. The wind isn’t blowing. The day stands ready, holding out possibility. Might have to check it out… after one more cup of coffee.

A happy and grateful observance to all who celebrate. It’s never a bad time to stop and give thanks.

Image

For or against…

***

It’s a summer Sunday morning, only 76° and nothing to whine about. Haha, as if. The humidity is 81%, so welcome to the Eastern Kansas sauna.

My morning routine usually involves getting up by 6:30, waking up by 10:30, and spending the interim cruising through news and the most recent shenanigans. This morning while reading comments on the app formerly known as Twitter, I was struck in a fresh way by how straight and deep the dividing lines are becoming. There’s always been this side and that side, always will be, but the convo about that has become a model for AI chat, with interchangeable words and terms, and the same immutable lines firmly drawn each time. It’s a useless conversation because it changes nothing, but we keep reiterating our personal take on it as the ground under our feet crumbles and drops away.

I look for the good news every day, and it’s out there. I read the stories of people doing good things for other people, cry more often than not, and go into my day knowing there are still people trying to make life better for as many as possible. I’ve stayed in the conversation, with occasional time-outs while everybody starts to forget how annoying I am, but it might be time to simply drop out. My words don’t change anyone’s mind, and fortunately for my ego that isn’t the intention. I write to provide encouragement to people who think “I’m the only one. Nobody else feels this way.” But anyone who’s trying to tell the truth inevitably draws lines in the sand and the accompanying emotion is not one of peacefulness on either side.

I’m sensing that the default choice is to fight amongst ourselves until the lights go out and we all turn into blobs of molten clay, and then to icicles. We’re definitely a cautionary tale, and I sometimes envision the rest of the sentient universe peering at us in brokenhearted wonderment.

On another note, but likely related in some psychic sense, I amaze myself with what I can accomplish while actively avoiding some project that would contribute to the greater good, by which I mean my own peace of mind. Humans are self-sabotaging… look it up.

Once again I’ve sat here and written words and I only hope some of them meant something to somebody out there. As human life continues to decline in value, the connections we make mean everything. After about so much death and disaster, cockamamie crazy, and day after day of the incomprehensible, the planet starts to seem like a fictional place, so all we wanna know is, “Is there anybody out there who gets it? Anybody we can hang with to help make the medicine go down? Anybody still there?”

There is much we have to let go of, starting with this…

**

In a world where existential loneliness is the name of the game, I wish you at least one friend you can count on, one other heart that bonds with yours. Life is both too short and too long to be otherwise.

Image

Hot enough for ya’?

Photo Credit: Kim Smith 07/25/2023

***

**

Took a little summer hiatus. Didn’t go anywhere except in my mind, but that’s always a bargain because the choices are unlimited. The weather continues to be ridiculous, and today we’ll put our heads down and brace for about ten days of 100+ temps. With that in mind, along with the general global madness…

**

It’s hot, damn hot, and life is tricky. Therefore…

**

Confession: The current flavor of human existence, the atmosphere in which we live and breathe, is a butt-whipping for the Pollyannas of the world. “Can’t we all just get along?” was never more expressive of an era, but as “caring ants” we’re powerless to change the universal bent of humanity. Powerlessness leads to depression, so we have to fight that every day simply out of spite if for no other reason. Why should selfishness, a superiority complex, and a total lack of empathy be allowed to run unchecked in the world if we can stick a foot out every once in a while and upend the process? I’m on it, you can thank me later.

A challenge in this era is that of rejecting cynicism. It would be so much simpler to let our hearts harden and to stop caring about much of anything, but it wouldn’t be any easier. You live with hurt and pain or you don’t live at all.

**

Experience is teaching me to Keep It Simple. (“Stupid” is implied, but redundant by now.)

Stay cool.

Image

Waking… rising…

***

Every day the clock resets, offering a fresh chance to get it right. We sleep the “little death” and wake to sunlight that says it’s time to live again, everything new, all for the taking. Each day brings something good/interesting/enlightening if we’re awake for it and can work through yesterday’s detritus in short order.

Speaking of change, sometime in the past hour our renters seem to have flown the coop. Both offspring were in the nest when I got up, stretching their wings and testing them in the wind under the ferns. Went out a bit ago and nobody home. So the Dove family, David and Darleen and their two sets of twins, are likely off somewhere in the East Lawrence forest, doing whatever birds do with their summers. We barely got to know this latest set of chicks, Durwood and Donna, before they ditched the down and ducked out. Derek and Diane, the first set, provided our learning curve, and the whole family sweetened springtime for us so we hope they’ll check us out again next year.

Now summer is here and July arrives tomorrow. I scheduled my next five-week haircut the other day and it puts me into August, a fact which made me catch my breath. Life is a headlong rush from cradle to grave… unless it drags endlessly, each day and its dark night seeming both terminal and a life-sentence… pick your poison, although we rarely get to choose.

So yeah, summertime in Kansas. Totally unpredictable. Tie everything down for which you have a big enough bungie cord and enjoy.

**

A postscript: I went out just now and there were Durwood and Donna, snug in the nest, smug about knowing how to fly, and contemplating their next foray. So that cozy little bower is still home, or at least a way station, for a bit yet and we aren’t sad about that.

Image

Slow-walking it to summer…

***

So far it’s been a slow month in “paradise” and that’s lovely. The morning temperature was perfect during my stroll and nothing hurt, so I’m two for three at this point.

**

I remember 40. It was just a hint of how shockingly life and death can deal with us. No worries, walk it off.

And so did you. Celebrate!

**

June is PRIDE Month, and with friends and family on every part of the LGBTQ spectrum I’d be an unfeeling idiot not to state my support.

Every LGBTQ human feels all of this and more, every day of their lives.

**

This will feel like a 90° tire-screeching left-hand turn but it’s relevant, so keep your arms inside the vehicle at all times and do not attempt to disembark until the ride comes to a complete stop:

Abject confession, I have been this person.

DISCLAIMER: I’ve never made friends easily and can think of only a few people with whom I’ve felt a true bond, but I attract the needy like flies to honey. Something about that equation makes people want to challenge me in order to back me down on what my personal moral code looks like, and I’ve had to not only unfriend them but block them, because they don’t give up. This is relevant because longtime acquaintances I once thought of as friends have felt compelled to convince me of the errors in my thinking, trying to wear me to a nubbin on the “gay” conversation, among others. Let me just say for the record that persistence does not equal veracity and I won’t be tuning in to the gaslighting and shaming. Ever.

**

Image

I believe I can fly…

***

Good morning on a perfect spring day. With exactly three weeks left before summer arrives, the weather’s in Chamber of Commerce mode and I’m here for it. Kim went walking early this morning and then rode his bicycle back to Einstein’s after they opened, for one of my beloved bagels. The sun’s shining, the air is cool and still, and the lawn service mowers are droning away four floors down, the ultimate in morning contentment. Kim might go across the river for PickleBall, I might take a walk, maybe apply myself to something productive… and the day will spool out.

Meanwhile, in Dove world, life is progressing day by day. This morning the chicks were side by side in the nest, one parent was on the railing a few feet away, calling softly, and the other was perched on the neighbor’s balcony doing the same. The babies are about ten days old now, and biology says that at two weeks they will vacate the nest to make room for new siblings. I must say, they look as grumpy about that prospect as you might imagine, but it seems flying lessons are imminent.

**

*

Derek and Diane are not this robust yet, so we likely still have a few days to enjoy their presence. And then the all-knowing internet says they’ll hang around the nest for another week or so after they get their wings, and we’ll proudly watch them as they come and go. My, they grow up so fast, don’t they?

Speaking of which, if you didn’t grow up, as I did, hearing the call of mourning doves, check out the file at the top of the page that will open in the link. Turn up your sound, and wait the few seconds between calls. Ignore the “9 min” detail, nobody’s gonna hang with it that long. Probably. Depends on how sleepy you are.

ML166991841 Mourning Dove Macaulay Library(opens in a new tab)

I grew up on a farm with my grandparents living across the drive, and I spent lots of nights sleeping in their house. When a grandkid was there, Grandma folded back the sheets on the big bed in the guest room and it was grandma/grandkid sleepover time, leaving Grandpa all alone in the cozy bedroom just off the kitchen. Generations of mourning doves built their nests in the evergreen tree outside the guest room window, and their dreamy calls rendered me comatose every night I slept there, so to hear them now outside my own windows is to have come full circle.

David and Darleen have been out there most of the morning, stuffing little craws full of yummy seed mush, fussing around the nest, and offering parental support from six feet away while steadily distancing themselves from the whole situation, bit by bit. They’ve been good parents thus far, so I’m sure their gently-offered encouragement goes something like “You’re fine, we’re still here, no worries, just over here on the next-door balcony. Going seed-hunting, kids, BRB. Do your stretches while we’re gone, stick your little necks up but not too far, we saw a cardinal nearby this morning. Exciting times are coming, so spend your time preparing.” To which Derek and Diane can only utter a simple “Huh?” as they have no clue what lies ahead for them.

Because we have opposable thumbs and self-awareness, we fancy ourselves higher than the flora and fauna that surrounds us. The sad truth is, trees communicate with each other better than do most humans, and benign friendly birds have a lot to teach us about what matters. The world could be a much softer place, but it isn’t, so we have birds and flowers and sheltering ferns to cushion reality. On a spring morning in the 21st century, with the smell of fresh-cut grass in the air, that’s almost enough.

Image

Oh, how I love answers…

***

Second item on my list after getting out of bed this morning was to check on the Dove family, and I had a prescient little sense that something would be different this time. My first look at the nest told me there wasn’t a parent bird in attendance, and when I peeked inside there were two little chicks, wing by wing, looking up at me totally unspooked by my presence. Kim got home from his walk in time to see the babies, and he pointed out that David and Darleen were on the next-door neighbors’ balcony railing, quietly keeping watch. Must be time for the little ones to start gaining a bit of bravado and independence – they’re in the nest for only two weeks before being booted out to make way for Round Two. Such a high-speed upbringing boggles my mind. Once again this is a stock photo, but Derek and Diane look just like this at the moment, and my mama heart wishes them every success. So now we know. Two babies. Two weeks (minus time served) to enjoy them. Expect flying lessons soon.

Answers to the things we wonder about. Answers to the things we care most about… those, too. Five of the people I cherish most in the world need answers to health crises, and that’s a wait that relentlessly saps strength and courage over time. Loving people means hurting with them, that’s just how it is. May their answers turn out to be as instinctive, timely, and real as fledglings taking off for the skies.

All things considered, the heavy-duty requirement at this stage of living might be PATIENCE. Life goes on, things happen, things change for better or worse, and, well… life goes on. If you’re reading this, you’ve lived through everything that’s happened to you, every second since you were born. Base your patience on that knowledge, and keep walking. Or, like me, DO something, right or wrong, and hope for the best. Your call.

Have a lovely weekend and a solemn Memorial Day observance. Summer’s almost here!

Image

Previous Older Entries Next Newer Entries

Winnowing the Chaff

Storyshucker

A blog full of humorous and poignant observations.

Playing for Time

"How did it get so late so soon?" ~Dr. Seuss

Mitch Teemley

The Power of Story

John Wreford Photographer

Words and Pictures from the Middle East

Live Life, Be Happy

Welcome to my weekly blog on life's happiness. We are all human and we all deserve to smile. Click a blog title or scroll down. Thanks for stopping by.

Wild Like the Flowers

Rhymes and Reasons for Every Season

The Last Nightowl

Just the journal of an aging man looking at the world

Jenna Prosceno

Permission to be Human

Flora Fiction

Creative Space + Literary Magazine

tonysbologna : Honest. Satirical. Observations

Funny Blogs With A Hint Of Personal Development

ipledgeafallegiance

When will we ever learn?: Common sense and nonsense about today's public schools in America.

Alchemy

Raku pottery, vases, and gifts

Russel Ray Photos

Life from Southern California, mostly San Diego County

Phicklephilly

The parts of my life I allow you to see

Going Medieval

Medieval History, Pop Culture, Swearing

It Takes Two.

twinning with the Eichmans

Vox Populi

A curated webspace for Poetry, Politics, and Nature with over 6,000,000 visitors since 2014 and over 9,000 archived posts.

FranklyWrite

Live Life Write

Social Justice For All

Working towards global equity and equality

Drinking Tips for Teens

Creative humour, satire and other bad ideas by Ross Murray, an author living in the Eastern Townships of Quebec, Canada. Is it truth or fiction? Only his hairdresser knows for sure.

KenRobert.com

random thoughts and scattered poems

Margaret and Helen

Best Friends for Sixty Years and Counting...

WordPress.com News

The latest news on WordPress.com and the WordPress community.

Musings of a Penpusher

A Taurean suffering from cacoethes scribendi - an incurable itch to write.

Ned's Blog

Humor at the Speed of Life