I was about to begin this blog when my friend called. We talked about her weekend retreat, and various Buddhist practices, and let our minds join hands and wander a pretty wide field together. I told her about a song, "You can close your eyes" that Carole King and James Taylor sing on their new CD, and she asked me to sing a bit of it. I used to sing along with Linda Ronstadt when she recorded it in the seventies. I just loved this song then. Now I see it as more of a lullaby. Maybe because then I was full of raging hormones, and now a lot of my love is of the grandmotherly kind. Here it is:
Oh, the sun is surely sinking down
But the moon is slowly rising
So this ole world must still be spinning round
And I still love you
So close your eyes
You can close your eyes
It's alright
I don't know no love songs
And I can't sing the blues anymore
But I can sing this song
You can sing this song
when I'm gone
Won't be long until another day
We're gonna have a good time
No one's gonna take that time away
And you can stay as long as you like
Only close your eyes
You can close your eyes
It's alright
I don't know no love songs
and I can't sing the blues anymore
But I can sing this song
You can sing this song
When I'm gone
There is a reassurance in this song I love. A nurturing. The singer is saying he/she is doing the best she/he can to protect this loved being. She/he will keep the beloved safe. So the beloved can relax, let down her guard, and sleep.
I've learned this song because I love it so much, and now my friend has offered to learn the melody so I can do harmony. What fun!
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Monday, August 30, 2010
Old Age Day by Day August 30, 2010
I've had a busy three days, but good busy. Seeing friends, shopping and having dinner with my daughter-in-law, lunch with my younger daughter. My Buddhist study group met Saturday morning, and we are so fond of each other at this point, that it's like a family reunion. I am thankful to have so many connections to people and the opportunity to be with them. Today will be more about errands and laundry, but hey, those days are good, too. It is supposed to be warming up, the the sunniness early is a sign they the forecasters might be right. Labor Day feels like the last hurrah before fall and holidays. Last chance to be in summer mode. Summer mode for me is very little routine, no classes and commitments, a bit of travel, and catching up with my reading.
In fact, I'm so caught up with my reading I'm a bit sick of it. That means I have to occupy myself in other, hopefully more useful ways. My older daughter, son-in-law and granddaughter are coming this Friday, and that is a favorite way to use my time - adoring the grandchild, which, as you know, is an active and full time task. And I'm the gal to do it.
I will turn 65 when they're here, and I don't exactly know what that means yet, except for Medicare (as if I really understand that), but I'm tiptoeing my way into the other side of the sixties, and we'll see if the water is warm and nice, or a bit chilly. I have great trouble believing I'm this old, though there are plenty of signs, the saggy skin, the wrinkles, the wobbly knees, the hip and sciatica. But I don't quite get it. I never really expected to get to this age - so now, what do I do? The journey continues, and undoubtedly will be full of surprises. One day at a time.
In fact, I'm so caught up with my reading I'm a bit sick of it. That means I have to occupy myself in other, hopefully more useful ways. My older daughter, son-in-law and granddaughter are coming this Friday, and that is a favorite way to use my time - adoring the grandchild, which, as you know, is an active and full time task. And I'm the gal to do it.
I will turn 65 when they're here, and I don't exactly know what that means yet, except for Medicare (as if I really understand that), but I'm tiptoeing my way into the other side of the sixties, and we'll see if the water is warm and nice, or a bit chilly. I have great trouble believing I'm this old, though there are plenty of signs, the saggy skin, the wrinkles, the wobbly knees, the hip and sciatica. But I don't quite get it. I never really expected to get to this age - so now, what do I do? The journey continues, and undoubtedly will be full of surprises. One day at a time.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Old Age Day by Day August 26, 2010
My foster granddaughter is beginning kindergarten this fall. In less than a week, in fact. It's a big change, and she has before and after school care as well. It's a long day, and I remember my kids being so fatigued when they started school. Even though they'd had preschool experience, and various sitters, somehow they know that this is the real thing. School will not be over for thirteen years, even if they skip college. It's a long haul. Their peers slowly become more important than their parents, and the cultural influences are compounded. We tell them they are big stuff to be going to school, but we sanitize and gloss over the difficulties.
I hope she isn't bored a lot, and finds friends easily and decides learning is fun. But there are scary times, and her protectors will not be there. She will have to learn to negotiate the big bad world by herself. She's shy, and tends to pull back when kids act out. I hope she will continue to feel she can speak out and be heard. But that depends on the teacher, the class, and a whole lot of luck. My heart goes out to her, and all these little beginning citizens, thrown into a world that often doesn't make sense and is not all that much fun. I'm thinking of volunteering in her class on the day I take her home with me, and just observing what the lay of the land is. Her mom is a teacher at another school and I could stand in for her in this small way and witness.
I hope she isn't bored a lot, and finds friends easily and decides learning is fun. But there are scary times, and her protectors will not be there. She will have to learn to negotiate the big bad world by herself. She's shy, and tends to pull back when kids act out. I hope she will continue to feel she can speak out and be heard. But that depends on the teacher, the class, and a whole lot of luck. My heart goes out to her, and all these little beginning citizens, thrown into a world that often doesn't make sense and is not all that much fun. I'm thinking of volunteering in her class on the day I take her home with me, and just observing what the lay of the land is. Her mom is a teacher at another school and I could stand in for her in this small way and witness.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Old Age Day by Day August 25, 2010
It was hot yesterday. The air conditioning broke down in my husband's building, so he was sweltering. Even the elevator broke down. Everything has been undependable since the building was renovated. Kind of like cosmetic surgery. I loved the heat so much I planted new flowers in early afternoon and got myself overheated, and I didn't close the windows in the hottest part of the day. I've come to my senses and closed all the windows this morning. But it's great. Feels like summer, and NO JACKET OR SOCKS.
I grew up in the midwest and south, so I like a hot summer, even like the humidity. But of course, I'm no kid any more, so no running around at noontime with the sun in my face. I have to be sensible. I'm supposed to really take it easy being in the sun while I have this topical ointment treatment for the basal cell carcinoma. I was thinking earlier, that when I was fourteen I had over a dozen warts electrocuted on my left knee. At puberty I had a lot of weird growths and also some thyroid problems, and after menopause I'm having the same issues. These hormone fluctuations do run us around. I couldn't ignore the destiny of my chemistry if I tried.
When I was fourteen I wanted my legs to look cute and boys to like me. At least this time they can burn and cut and I don't care what the boys think. If they can get past the wrinkles, gray hair, spongy skin and apple shaped body, fine. I think my husband can, on his good days. But who really cares? When we're in our hormonal prime, we give our power over to others. I like my dried up, dessicated self that seeks to please itself, not anyone else. And I'm so much easier to please.
I grew up in the midwest and south, so I like a hot summer, even like the humidity. But of course, I'm no kid any more, so no running around at noontime with the sun in my face. I have to be sensible. I'm supposed to really take it easy being in the sun while I have this topical ointment treatment for the basal cell carcinoma. I was thinking earlier, that when I was fourteen I had over a dozen warts electrocuted on my left knee. At puberty I had a lot of weird growths and also some thyroid problems, and after menopause I'm having the same issues. These hormone fluctuations do run us around. I couldn't ignore the destiny of my chemistry if I tried.
When I was fourteen I wanted my legs to look cute and boys to like me. At least this time they can burn and cut and I don't care what the boys think. If they can get past the wrinkles, gray hair, spongy skin and apple shaped body, fine. I think my husband can, on his good days. But who really cares? When we're in our hormonal prime, we give our power over to others. I like my dried up, dessicated self that seeks to please itself, not anyone else. And I'm so much easier to please.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Old Age Day by Day August 24, 2010
It's going to be hot today, and we're all loving it, after a foggy, cool summer. I ran into some friends while walking the dogs, and they were out early reveling in the glorious morning. They both had on shorts, and NO JACKETS! Wandering around all day without a jacket would be a good use of my time, I think. However, here I am, back inside at my computer. But not for long. It's strange how the weather practically runs our emotional systems. We are truly creatures of the sun.
I'm doing this topical treatment for skin cancer every night, and it brings me back to a scrapbook of memorable sunburns. Though probably my worst experience was a combo of sunburn and poison ivy while my family was vacationing at Virginia Beach with other families. I had to be inside in the daytime suffering, and probably rereading Nancy Drew or the Black Stallion. It felt like the whole world was having fun, except for me. I was hot, sticky and itchy.
I love the sun, but the sun doesn't love me. I'm a redskin, a red skin, and no amount of sunscreen protects me. I'm the griddle for eggs and bacon. But reborn as a girl. So what?! With my hat on and my sunscreen and long sleeved shirt and pants, I brave the elements to feel that little bit of heat on the top of my hat and breathing through my clothes. It may be only two days of summer, but they're here now, and so am I.
I'm doing this topical treatment for skin cancer every night, and it brings me back to a scrapbook of memorable sunburns. Though probably my worst experience was a combo of sunburn and poison ivy while my family was vacationing at Virginia Beach with other families. I had to be inside in the daytime suffering, and probably rereading Nancy Drew or the Black Stallion. It felt like the whole world was having fun, except for me. I was hot, sticky and itchy.
I love the sun, but the sun doesn't love me. I'm a redskin, a red skin, and no amount of sunscreen protects me. I'm the griddle for eggs and bacon. But reborn as a girl. So what?! With my hat on and my sunscreen and long sleeved shirt and pants, I brave the elements to feel that little bit of heat on the top of my hat and breathing through my clothes. It may be only two days of summer, but they're here now, and so am I.
Monday, August 23, 2010
Old Age Day by Day August 23, 2010
I saw a delightful movie Saturday - Peepli (Live). It's an Indian film, and a satire on a serious problem in India, the rash of suicides of farmers. It depicts the hollowness of the news media, and the ruthless manipulation of human beings for "story". It's very funny, and well acted. It seems the news media in every culture has devolved into a distraction from what is important to obscure situations which we might actually change, if we made the effort and brought what was important to the forefront of discussions. I can't even stomach PBS any more. The stories are locked into the same box of helplessness and deja vu. Everyone thinks in sound bites, and the natural flow of discussion is truncated to the point of inanity.
I am most offended currently with the talking heads trying to persuade us that we should give money to Pakistan or it will turn to other countries and our opportunity to gain their respect will be lost.
Excuse me? People are dying. Women and children mostly. But we should help only if it benefits our foreign policy objectives! What happened to do the right thing? What happened to the upside of saving lives. There but for the grace of god go us. We are all people who can and do suffer. No one should starve or die of thrust. End of story.
Don't attempt to manipulate me with self interest. Respect me. Hello out there - is anyone actually listening? Or just yammering, so loudly, that they have forgotten what is basic and true.
I am most offended currently with the talking heads trying to persuade us that we should give money to Pakistan or it will turn to other countries and our opportunity to gain their respect will be lost.
Excuse me? People are dying. Women and children mostly. But we should help only if it benefits our foreign policy objectives! What happened to do the right thing? What happened to the upside of saving lives. There but for the grace of god go us. We are all people who can and do suffer. No one should starve or die of thrust. End of story.
Don't attempt to manipulate me with self interest. Respect me. Hello out there - is anyone actually listening? Or just yammering, so loudly, that they have forgotten what is basic and true.
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Old Age Day by Day August 21, 2010
My husband and I were having a great argument over Tiger Woods, Barry Bonds and Roger Clemmons this morning. Unfortunately, it was interrupted by my friend's phone call, but since I live with the man, it can be continued later. He often forgets I read the sports section of the paper. And I am a skeptic, not the believer in the sports writer's judgment, as he is. The problem is not who should be a kid's hero, but the commodification of athletes. And the way parents get sucked into accepting that a hero is someone who earns a lot of money. I'd like to see more parents pointing out other kinds of heroes, like an aunt who cooks for the homeless or a grandpa who helps kids learn to read. If we buy into, and I mean buy into literally, the garbage thrown at us by ad agencies and the media, then our heroes will only be celebrities and badly behaved people with too much attention and no boundaries.
I like sports. But I don't like manipulative profiles on athletes with sick children or mothers who died of cancer. I don't like the personal being used as a bargaining chip for a bigger endorsement deal. I want to hear about the fifth inning stolen base, but not the "up close and personal" crap that ruined the Olympics for me. I know some people are rational enough to see through this and think for themselves, and it's no wonder these guys start with the kids, who have not developed critical thinking skills yet. When we talk about character, maybe it better be about people on our block and in the neighborhood, and stop being fans for hire.
I like sports. But I don't like manipulative profiles on athletes with sick children or mothers who died of cancer. I don't like the personal being used as a bargaining chip for a bigger endorsement deal. I want to hear about the fifth inning stolen base, but not the "up close and personal" crap that ruined the Olympics for me. I know some people are rational enough to see through this and think for themselves, and it's no wonder these guys start with the kids, who have not developed critical thinking skills yet. When we talk about character, maybe it better be about people on our block and in the neighborhood, and stop being fans for hire.
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