Morning Musings

The temperatures have risen,  just as we wanted them to do. The snow is melting, flowing into every muddy crack and boggy crevice, just as we swore we wanted it to do. The roof tiles are no longer frozen over and the rain spouts have been freed to push out the coming spring rains.

The birds are not as needy, coming less to the feeders, instead looking for nesting materials and sturdy tree branches to start new families. The squirrels are springing from spot to spot on the lawn, locating hidden treats, surprised each time they find one.

My road is decimated, the product of last fall's new waterline project and exacerbated by the cars, buses, and trucks that refuse to slow down despite pothole craters and orange pylons. The muck will continue and worsen as the crews return soon to dig out my front yard for new sidewalks and ultimately, installing new road asphalt. It will be worth it, but in the meantime, oh, my car axles and aching back from the ever-worsening last quarter mile to home!

When the dogs awakened me for their early morning backyard jaunt, the bird songs were almost deafening in the still darkened trees. I easily separated the chickadee lilt and cardinal multi-tone, but still had a few to identify. I know they are searching my seasoned trees for branches on which to build their homes. Every year I have new avian families settle in nearby and it is a thrill to hear the timid chirps from the little ones when the nests are low enough.

Everyday living is stressful. So many things I can't control or change despite my best efforts. I question my effectiveness and place in the world, and whether I actually have the leadership skills and creative abilities I have always thought were my strengths. In the midst of the reassessment I have been forced to do relentlessly for close to two years now, the small comforts come from the predictability of things like bird songs and potholed streets and spring rains. If only the small things, the comforting things, had the ability to change the things which sadly control our lives.

I try to always listen for the bird songs.

The Pace of Life

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This world we live in rarely affords a chance to slow down and regain our perspective. New responsibilities fly at us daily and so often we are in survival mode, trying to just stay afloat and make progress. Years ago it was an art to plan ahead and have everything in place well in advance for family events, bill paying, and even down time. Now, stores stay open past midnight because they know people can't plan ahead for gift-buying. Bills are overdue because there is more month than money, and down time? Too often it doesn't even make the list.

When I was a young mother, I measured my success by how well I organized my day, my children, my life. It was a good day when I was in the car and on my way to church or an outing with time to spare and happy children all around. It was an excellent day when we were singing and laughing as we drove.

Today I watch young parents struggle to have strength at the end of the day for much more than hot dogs and sparse conversation. The loop of each 24 hour day rarely changes and by the end of each week, you can read the fatigue and helplessness in the downward slump of the shoulders. Add to that the burden of the world when they flip on media in any form and read about downed planes, executions, gas prices up and stocks down, and hundreds of loved ones lost in foreign countries for causes we don't really understand.

How does this change? Where is the hope? And dare I say at the risk of being dismissed as a denizen from "the older generation," when do we return to earlier times when sitting on the porch daily with loved ones was simply enough? Not just for a week of vacation so we can instagram it or save it on blogs, but something we do as often as we can. Preference? Every day in some way.

I have a friend who, in warmer weather, brews her morning coffee and automatically moves to the porch to start the day. Sometimes I know she has donned a jacket, perhaps even grabbed a blanket, and greets the morning regardless of temperatures. Others do yoga or early morning exercise, take walks or sunrise runs, read a chapter or study the Bible, all done without guilt that something else is being neglected while the pace is measured more slowly.

What will your true memories be of the movie of your life? I don't recall the days I rushed and shoved and barely survived. I remember the weekly ritual of Sunday afternoon jigsaw puzzles with my beloved grandmother. I automatically smile when I reflect on the hours of Candyland I inflicted on her. Many afternoons of my youth were spent riding a bicycle to nowhere, around and around the block, and later, around and around my college campus.

Somewhere along the way that sense of guilt took over and society pressured us to believe "doing" is a sign of success. Why did we give a faceless and disconnected voice such power? It controls us. We apologize for failing to keep the pace, and then try to march faster.

The stress, panic, fears are killing us by the thousands and even sadder, depriving our loved ones of the quality of memories many of us have had in the past. How do we turn this around so we can live longer, live happier, and reflect more? Will you join the conversation and share?

On This Day

I could work on being clever, cutting edge, or predictive in this post since it is my birthday. Instead, reflection is my menu choice.

I am a product of many things.

• Depression-era parents who married late and were often the oldest parents in the school audience on Parents Night.
• One older brother and no sisters with an almost 6 year gap between us. He never knew it but he was - and is - my hero.
• Thousands of checked-out books, first from the Phoenixville, Pennsylvania, library, and then, every library in every town in which I ever lived. First choice genre: crime and mysteries; close second, crafts.
• A small southeastern Pennsylvania town where the doors were always unlocked, bikes stayed out in the yard, and we often sat on the corner of the main road to watch the world go by, pumping our arms to get the trucks to respond with a horn blast.
• Survivor of a twenty-eight year marriage that while not ideal, had many positives, most notably three children and a legacy of wondrous grandchildren.
• A four year stint in an a capellla choir which included yearly United States tours and one European month-long trek. I've sung in many choirs.
• A liberal arts education at Gettysburg College where I majored in English and Education, but also dabbled in so many diverse courses of my own choice. Go, Sigma Alpha Iota, Sigma Kappa, and Alpha Phi Omega.
• The ultimate foods in no particular order: East Coast Italian hoagies; huge hot pretzels sold on Philly street corners - you rolled down your window and bought them on the fly (tasting far better than those from our ovens); artichokes loaded with garlic and parsley, rarely shared and enjoyed slowly; Italian water ice; and four inch melt-in-your-mouth peppermint sticks. Ah, I miss the sugared treats of my youth.
• I am an incurable animal lover, species not important. I raised my children with that love and it makes me proud.
• I fear snakes, spiders, and heights, my favorite number is 8, and if I could stay awake 24 hours a day, I would.
• My friends, my enemies, my acquaintances, my healthcare professionals who have cared beyond measure at critical times, my colleagues, my teachers, family friends, in-laws and everyone yet to cross my path.

A Trek Moment

I have done many things (perhaps things you never knew).

• I practiced endlessly in the yard, tossing the baton higher and higher. I was a baton twirler.
• I was a dancer, taking ballet, toe, tap, and acrobatic dance, for 10 years. Recitals scared me but oh, I loved the stage.
• I was a swimmer for more years of my life than I can count, it seems. I qualified for National competition, took my first airplane trips for the team, and learned so much about inner and outer strength, When I close my eyes, I can still remember exactly how it feels to be in the middle of an individual medley race in an Olympic-sized pool. Coach Dick Shoulberg defined my life.
• I was a musician and singer. Music was everything. I learned piano, organ, guitar, and yes, accordion. I even played in an accordion band for a brief time! And I can still sing large sections of the Latin Mass. "Panis Angelicus..."
• By the time I was 12, I had 126 pen pals from around the world. I catalogued them, organized their incoming letters and stamps, long before spreadsheets would have made it oh, so much easier. I wish I could relocate my pen pal, Colin Healey, who at 15 told me he loved me. As British entertainers came to our shores, I thought I was in heaven that I knew someone from England. I have searched without success.
• From the first time I remember printing my name at the indoor picnic table we used for art projects, my love of writing and writing implements has never waned. My favorites? Fountain pens that fill from an ink well and flow with the beauty of calligraphy. Exquisite decadence!
• I have taught thousands of young people and adults. And truly, they have taught me. Being an educator is a passion, a privilege, and a sacred trust. I love my students still. and always will. They have, indeed, made the ordinary extraordinary in my life.
• If it is a word game or puzzle, I love it. I won Spelling Bees in my youth. Twice. David Masiak was runner-up. Twice. My wining word the second year? "Acetate."
• I did 1000 piece puzzles with my grandmother weekly for years. We'd work on one for hours and she'd leave it for me to finish. I always did because I didn't want to disappoint her and her praise was profuse.
• I have spoken in front of thousands about education, leadership, integrity, AIDS, and more, using my teaching passion to inform, excite, enlighten.

And I am also a product of what I haven't done or been.

• I have never seen the West Coast, even though I hoped to travel there to receive my Master's degree. I have been to Alaska, so perhaps that has to count.
• I have never stolen anything that wasn't mine.
• I have never been a thin person by society's determination. When I swam, my shoulders were muscled from focusing on the butterfly stroke. I was good at being an athlete, but I didn't fit into the trendy dresses the other girls could wear. As an older adult, I just need comfort food too much.
• I have never been a corporate, ladder-climbing opportunist. Integrity is everything.
• I am not pushy, some say to my detriment. I listen, I encourage, but I never learned to make demands. Maybe it is because I have seen the pain that type of behavior brings.
• I have never tried escargot or squid, pickled pigs feet or head cheese. No, thank you. Not even on a dare. Not even doused in my favorite flavoring: anything citrus.

I will return to this post as I think of more things to include, It is a good day to consider, reflect, and share. I hope you agree. Maybe you will share some of yours with me. I'd love to hear!