HAPPY NEW YEAR? WHAT DO YOU THINK?

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It’s hard to say Happy New Year in March, but the way things were going in our crazy world, I wasn’t at all certain I’d be around for the daffodils or Daylight Savings. Hooray, we made it! It’s difficult to be positive, but I am positive that I’ve never lived through such chaos and insanity in my long, long life, as I’m experiencing now. Small comfort­­­­­­, for sure.

Speaking of chaos, I just returned from a walk around the Langley Woodmen Cemetery in the bright afternoon sun (a blessing right there!), and had a complete tour of the Grand Canyon and several rivers and oceans nearby. “Omigod, how did you do that?” you say. It’s my macular degeneration. In order to adjust to the deterioration of my eyesight, my capable and rather sassy brain provides me with vivid hallucinations, which at first were horrifying, but now are incredibly beautiful and amazing. It’s as if I’m making my own reality. I’m treated to interesting woodland scenes, and huge caves and deep canyons that became deeper and scarier as I look at them. So I just take my walking poles and dig them into the unseen ground and sail over the vast, beautifully sculpted holes. Fortunately, a friend was walking ahead of me, oblivious to what I was seeing. There was an imaginary thin wire covering over the holes, which only I could see, and the more I walked on them, the deeper and more elaborate the holes became. I’ve already told you about the purple flowers and other imagined foliage. It’s as if I’m being treated to an endless display of paintings each day…the Louvre at my fingertips. Isn’t life exciting? A surprise a minute!

The last three months have been wonderful with family and friends, and, wonder of wonders, the weather has been mild and more sunny than usual. That’s a big deal in the Northwest. And we were especially lucky, since most of the U.S. was suffering with snow storms and freezing weather. Even the weather is going crazy!

Family gathering playing the game Imposters

Grandson Thomas

Coming from Austin, TX, a t-shirt is not enough

Hauling manure for the garden

Son Tom and his wood pile

I want to share a heartwarming experience I’ve been having with two recent graduates of the boarding school I went to in high school, Emma Willard School in Troy, NY. Both these young women, Hannah and Piper, had read my column about the class of 1946 in the alumni news and wanted to get to know me. They called, separately, and at first I thought they were fund-raising for the school. No, they wanted to share ideas about the differences in our experience of the school, but, mostly, had copious questions related to present day travel as compared to fifty or more years ago. How did I get tickets or plan trips with no cell phone or computer? A travel agent is pretty much a thing of the past. Also, the solo hitch-hiking I did is not very prevalent these days. They wanted my opinion on the treatment of the elderly, the Peace Corps, theater, music and social trends that have changed over the years. Both of themare in projects to help the environment or children’s health and are as upset as I am about the direction our country is going. In the midst of our present chaos it’s good to know people who are soldiering ahead with optimism and a belief in the goodness of human beings and their ability to make life better. Getting to really know other generations is uplifting and necessary. A good lesson for all of us.

You all know how attached I am to my scraggly Christmas trees, which are “volunteers” growing on the edge of our parking lot. One cedar and one fir, tied together, took up a good chunk of the living room. You may remember last year’s homage, and here is a poem I wrote to honor this year’s tree as it was being taken down.

FAREWELL, DEAR FRIEND

While my kids took down the tree, the Christmas bells were ringing,
And if you listened, carefully, you’d hear the angels singing;
With loving care they placed the sparkling balls right where they should,
Untwined the lights and trimmed the branches, laid them in the woods.

I know it may seem silly to be grieving for a tree,
But I became its friend, its forceful eyes spoke truth to me;
And they became symbolic as I scanned each tiny light
To find a bit of hope throughout the world to make things right.

I realized that only when each one of us stands up
To every problem big or small, whatever fills the cup,
We never do expect to solve them all, just do our share
To serve our own community with love, and stay aware.

Age is a subject I have written about a great deal…as has everybody else in this country, who has passed 70. I never thought about it at that age, and it wasn’t until I was floored by pneumonia at 95 that I finally said, “Hey, what gives?” All around me were people diagnosing every ache and pain as “what do you expect, you’re OLD! Stop complaining and start planning for end of life and a good memorial party you can watch from above.” Well, my friends, these constant reminders are not at all helpful. Instead, my motto is, “Rejoice as you try to live as rich and productive a life as you can.” And, by the way, stop reminding me of the inevitable.

To counteract this universal ‘inevitable,’ I have written some crazy poems, some of which I have posted. Now I give you a more thoughtful one as I accept my fate and am grateful for the blessings as well as accepting of the pitfalls of a long life. Enjoy.

LIFE

Those were the days!

It seems that life is just a flicker in the curve of time,
You start out with a burst of strength and soon you’ve passed your prime;
Your energy is positive, your thoughts are off the charts,
Despite some disappointments you are full of brand-new starts.

You fill your life with study, search for meaning at the core,
And soon you know a complex labyrinth is at your door;
But that is life: exciting, full of music, poems, and art
Adventure, travel…write it down, spill all that’s in your heart.

How can you in one single life absorb such depth and beauty?
A maze, conflicting laws, to understand them is your duty;
But as your life is shutting down and you look all around,
Try hard to keep the joy and wonder as your light goes down.

Grandson Thomas and daughter Martha are enjoying the cemetery with Grandma.

And now, fast forward…I’ve entered what I think are the pearly gates, but with my lack of a sense of direction, made one last goof. Just so you won’t do the same thing, here’s my dire experience.

Oops! I TOOK THE WRONG TURN….

I really am not feeling well,
I find myself in Satan’s hell,
St. Peter said “You must turn left,”
I took the right now I’m bereft!

Directions never worked for me,
And now I see men drinking tea
They sit bedraggled, in a slump,
I think the ugly one is Trump!

Good Lord, how long have I been dead?
These mafia-types fill me with dread,
I’m on the left, they’re on the right
We’ll sort it out, I’ll spend the night.

Then Satan said, “Let’s hear your plea,”
He asked the question just of me;
“These men are evil,” I replied,
“But I forgive them, they have died;”

Trump interjected, screamed and spat,
“But she’s a fucking Democrat!
They all should die, burn at the stake,
Destroy their families, make them quake.”

Satan spoke to me quite gently,
“Don’t mind him, he’s damaged ment’lly.
Go outside, turn left ahead,
You’ll find the place to rest your head.”

(It pays to follow directions.)

Living in the Northwest I have come to realize the deep connection between the fog and the sun.

                           A FOGGY DAY IN LANGLEY TOWN

I was heaved out of bed by my jarring alarm, but I saw not a sliver of light;
So, I went back to sleep right away, for I thought that it must be the dead of the night…
An hour went by, I awoke, it was dark, Oh, my God, have I fin’lly gone blind?
Settle down, calm your nerves, it is just a dark day, No, you haven’t gone out of your mind.

Every-one needs a rest at least once ev’ry week, and that’s also the same for the sun;
It’s Sunday and what better time to relax, unless you’re a priest or a nun;
By ten in the morning a roof line appeared, could it be that the sun gave a blink?
This raised up my spirits, the light will return, only positive thoughts shall I think.

So, all you naysayers and haters of fog, remember our prized Golden Rule…
And do unto others, including the sun, she will notice, she isn’t a fool!
And look at the fog as it starts rolling out and a thankful old sun peaks around,
She’s had a good rest, and we’ve learned to be patient, she’s smiling, not making a sound.

Hit any key to continue…

Death by Computer

Lately, I’ve been finding that my computer is acting on its own. Or so I say, when asked by any techie who is trying to straighten out my documents. Or maybe it’s just that Apple has decided to update my operating system, once again, and change the settings to keep me on my toes.

It’s not fair, is my woeful cry as I struggle to stay functional. But, I’m beginning to see why so many of my generation eschew the computer. It’s not that they’re stupid. It’s that they’re smart!

Call Henry a figment of my imagination…but to me he is real.

HENRY, MASTER COMPUTER DUDE

Will Henry be the death of me, obnoxiously infernal?
He seems to pop up constantly, his presence is eternal!
I thought I knew my way around, could press the proper key,
And then, when Apple made a change, I was no longer free.

I couldn’t enlarge, my margins seemed forever set in stone,
I searched for all my tools, just like a dog who lost his bone;
The rules had changed to test my brain and see if I was clever,
And all the time I knew that Henry led the whole endeavor.

Oh, please, dear God come rescue me from endless, hopeless failure;
How do I lose my open documents? I need a savior,
And, meantime, Henry opened up my massive download folder
To prove that he will not reform, is simply getting bolder.

Without permission he will press the wrong key just for laughs,
Deleting lines without consent, and guess who’s blamed for gaffs?
But I blew up when I found out my contacts had been hidden;
I have the facts, will testify, this action is forbidden!

Note:
I just want all of you to know that Henry makes each day more impossible and more tedious for me. And, with our justice department in such disrepair, I doubt that he’ll even be prosecuted when I finally die.

Still hugging trees…