Last

You can't change the past, but you can change how you respond to it.

Sounds rather profound.  It wasn't meant to be, but it's so true.  As I work with family histories I find stories we wish to remember and cherish, and ones we wish hadn't happened and would give just about anything to undo them.  But we can't!  Even as we try to forget those nightmares, they remain a part of us, either as a reoccurring pain or the basis for a better future.

The past is long, billions of years; the future is also long, maybe more billions of years.  My personal past is more like 80 years and my future far less than that.  The present is the shortest; one moment it's the future and the next it's the past.  The present is what we experience.  It's now.  Even as I write this, the word that I just wrote in the moment that I wrote it can never happen again.  It's the last time that moment will happen.  That's where the title "Last" was born.

A year and a half ago, I celebrated my 80th birthday for the last, and only, time.  About three years ago was the last time I talked to Ken, Gail's brother, and his wife Sally.  They both died this year.  The same is true for Tina's mother.  More recently, last week, a long time friend breathed his last.  It's hard to accept the reality that I will never again talk to any of these dear people again earth.

It may be the last, but it's not the end.  It's been said before, probably many times in many different ways, when one door closes another opens, or when something ends something else begins.  Hence, I will live today and each day as if it's your last time to connect to others.  Happy Holiday Season!!

What Was I Thinking

 I'm sitting in my "grandpa's recliner" with a cup of hot chocolate next to me.  Within reach are an iPad for trite activities, and the tools and supplies for crocheting.  Yesterday we gave the year's collection of crocheted beanies to the Christmas box people who will give them out to families in a couple weeks.  In exchange they gave me another bag of yarn, about 13 balls, nice stuff.

The sun is roaring through the sky today, a rarity in Oregon Decembers, while the rain awaits its turn to return in a couple days.  Early morning texts from around the country indicated temperatures at zero in South Dakota, 23 near Flagstaff and a foot of snow in the lake area.  Oregon's temperatures slipped to near freezing locally yesterday for the first time this fall but should remain well above freezing for the foreseeable future, a far cry from the December temperatures at our former homes in Alaska and North Dakota.

I did a short walk-around this morning as I knew that in a cool day with no scheduled events I would be using my recliner much of the day: writing, reading, designing and crocheting.  I do this in part to celebrate that I can still do this and do it comfortably.  I'm also excited to acknowledge that my childhood dream of becoming handsome may be coming to fruition.  Well, at least at 81 years old my hair is still brown, not gray.

One of the joys of a walk-around is just simply enjoying the beauty of nature.  Another joy is to foster ideas for blogging, or journaling.  A joy of being 81 is that when I have those thoughts again, they will seem to be new, creative and never experienced before.  So somewhere wherever this morning's idea for a blog is tucked in a corner waiting for me to discover again, meanwhile I'm going to grab the crochet hook and create a beanie.  Or maybe a Christmas ornament.

[Sip of warm chocolate]

[Help Gail align and sew the back to the front of a small quilt]

[Sip of not very warm chocolate]

Family

 The core was three sisters and a baby brother, although the baby brother is no longer a baby - born about the same time we got married which was 56 years ago.  And the sisters are eligible to collect social security.  All gathered together to remember dad whose chair is permanently empty.

Each has two children, five daughters and three sons, all eligible for marrying.  One has married but she lives on the East Coast and didn't join the family for this service.  She was with them five months ago when they celebrated their grandmother's life.  Add several aunts and uncles and a handful of cousins and you have a couple dozen sharing the bathroom and vying for a seat at one of the small conversations.

"What was the third girl's name?  There was Fran and Betty and ...?"  I pull up an app on my phone and declared cautiously, "Eva," allowing for some refute.  "Ah, yes, Eva, and brother Conrad."  Another family of three girls and one brother, but two generations earlier, grandpa's half-siblings.

A nearly thirty-year old sheet of paper listing the birthdays of descendants of grandma and grandpa in my family tree data base lies on the table amid the cousins.  Questions continue to rise: "Who's the oldest cousin?"  Less seriously "Who was twelfth?"  I grab my iPad and put a family tree on the screen.  It slowly and quietly moves around the table everyone looking for their name and how it fits into the bigger picture.  Later there a hint that an updated list would be interesting and helpful.  As an advocate of family histories and research, I have self-appointed myself to pursue this task, especially since I have most of the data.  It's taking a couple days to put together the 200 names with birthdays and send drafts to the families for proofreading.  Some responded immediately; others will come later.

Myths about families tell how families bring their differences to the fore around the Thanksgiving dinner.  This group qualifies as a Thanksgiving dinner but the differences stayed quietly in the background, each respecting the other's ideas and thoughts, possibly because Dad isn't there.

Group activities, spontaneous and unplanned, were the traditional gelato tasting "what's in that sample" and some not-so-solitaire solitaire card games.  Those were secondary to continuous multiple conversations and eating.  Freshly baked sweet rolls generated some debate as to if they were called caramel rolls or cinnamon rolls.  No consensus was arrived at.  Pizzas filled the stomaches in the evening as slowly groups headed home or the airport.

Oh, yes, there was the memorial service, the reason for the gathering - simple and meaningful with bagpipes and remembrances.  The service will hold the record for the most mentions of horses in any such service - Dad was a lover of horses.  He was also very determined to bounce back from challenges which he passed on to the family.  And the family will bounce back.

Stuff

Stuff.  There's stuff everywhere.  Maybe not so much in your life, but then again maybe yes.  Even as a retired being with little to no interest in things, I find myself dealing with stuff much of the day.  What do I mean by 'stuff'?  Really basic daily items fit the category: dishes, pots and pans, food; soap, towels, hair brush and tooth brush; vacuum, broom, dust cloth; and on and on and on.

Then there's the routine for me that may not be the routine for others: raking leaves, pruning trees, watering pots, tools, feeding the dog, watering the humming birds.  There's also getting the mail, burning the rubbish, getting firewood for the stove, picking up the magazines, fluffing the pillows, charging the computers, putting in the hearing aids and false teeth.  As a hobby there's crocheting with boxes of donated yarn, making boxes from salvaged lumber, disposing of the wooden scraps and shavings.  Other than the moments when I'm writing, such as this blog, reading, taking a walk; I'm dealing with stuff.

I am the creator of my own stuff.  It's not the fault of someone else.  I could eat out, do more reading and writing - but even that requires a medium such as a book, tablet or computer, maybe a pencil and paper.  By my nature, I use stuff: working with wood or yarn, caring for animals, and cooking which creates dirty dishes and the movement of food, caring for the house and yard.  Regardless of the motivation for stuff, when you intentionally think about what we do throughout the day, we move a lot of stuff around.

There are exceptions to the routine.  For example, recently we visited with a widow to get some wood - 'stuff' - that her husband had stored in the barn.  It was a good sized barn and it was full of stuff.  We loaded the pickup with lumber and barely made a dent in the pile in the barn.  Much of what filled the barn - we didn't venture into the garage which was equally large and equally full of stuff - are similar to what we have gathered in our barn.  However, he seemed to have double and triple of each item we had, and many types of stuff we didn't have.

Stuff continues to amaze me.  I've come to the stage in life when I would rather give the stuff to someone else than gather more stuff thinking that some day I might need it.  Where is your "stuff" attitude?  How much and how little can we or should we live with or without?  While this earthly body requires stuff, I would like to think that all I really need is a hug.

November Continues

Probably during my college was I not so aware of the weather - except for the blizzard of March '66.  But since then, after moving to Alaska, getting married and then relocating in Oregon, the weather is a significant part of my routine.

The ice cream bucket sitting in the grass out the front door has about three inches of rain.  Yes, we have had a great rain the past two or three days.  Today the sun is beaming brightly and the forecast says that should be the case over the weekend.  I'm watching for a day suitable for burning the trimmings and brush from the winds this past week.  Maybe Sunday; today the pile is still rather damp and there may be wind later today.

By this time of the year in North Dakota and Alaska, two of my past residences, frost would had bit the tomatoes and snow may have covered the ground.  Family in both locations indicate that it's true this year as well.  What an amazing ball we live on!  There's a great range of environments, dry to wet, hot to cold; but humans and animals have adapted to most of these extremes.  Currently we live in a moderate environment with some cool and warm, some dry times and some wet times, resulting in some version of greenery everywhere almost all year round.  Another couple weeks and a few breezes and the colorful trees will be bare while the evergreens will continue to be ever so green.

I didn't write for a couple days.  The activities of those days weren't very intriguing for blogging.  Doctor appointments: the eye is healing as hoped for and the tooth implant is ready for its cap.  See, I said it was not very intriguing.  There was a college volleyball game.  The team we cheer for has won only one game this season, but the statistics don't tell the entire story.  Last evening they went ot five sets and just slipped behind in the fifth set.  Some of our favorite players have some fabulous statistics.  I guess it's their off season.

Tomorrow there's the first home college basketball game for the ladies and the last volleyball game.  We will cheer for both.  There's also a fundraiser bazaar by the ladies of Peedee.  It'll be a great place for gifts or inspiration for gifts for Christmas gifts.

The weather I see outside suggests that I should be mowing or trimming or raking leaves instead of writing a blog.  So...

November is Here

By the numbers November is Oregon's rainiest month, and so far it's living up to the numbers.  Fortunately for the cross-country runners yesterday afternoon provided a sunspot.  Forecasters hinted that today might have some sun.  For the most part they were wrong.  I had thought about doing a backyard burn but about mid-morning it just felt like a wet day.  By noon it was definitely raining and by evening the rain gauge was showing a significant collection.  So the burn will be another day.  And I didn't get my steps or exercise in for today.

So we stayed inside and cut up the jack-o-lanterns, stewed the pumpkin pieces, mashed, bagged and froze the pumpkin pulp, ready for a Thanksgiving pie.  We also threw together some bread dough to bake some buns and sweet rolls, sort of a precursor for the potlucks at church.  We did good.  They went well with the evening ice cream.

Being a good day to stay inside, I worked on the writing of my conversations with my ancestors.  I tried AI for the first time.  I thought it might serve as a proofreader and editor.  I was not impressed; it mostly wanted to add questionable commas.  I also wanted to discover and correct why the Excel on Gail's computer won't save or print.  If you're reading this and think you know the reason, type me a comment.  I'm open to any wild idea.  I've tried everything I can think of including an extensive conversation with an IT pro.  Consequently something I try to avoid raised its ugly head - frustration.

At moments like this I wish I lived a couple centuries ago with my favorite horse and dog in the mountains of Western America.  I quickly realize how unrealistic that thought is and how nice it is to have a dry warm place to sleep and eat a tasty meal.  I realize that being eighty huddled under a Douglas Fir in the Cascades is not a comfortable place to be even if it's far from a frustrating computer app that goes in circles.  I regrouped, took a deep breath, and will sleep on the problem hoping for an inspiration and a solution.  Besides, there was no Internet under the Douglas Fir 200 years ago and I wouldn't have been able to write this.  So I'm just to glad to be where I am.

The forecasters are affirming that this first week of November will validate historic statistics and I will continue to work on writing and seeking computer solutions in the dry house.  I will also look out the window and acknowledge that with every raindrop a beautiful tree is flourishing,  Thank you God and Mother Nature.

Closure

 I like closure.  I like completely a task, finishing a project, getting the last dish in the dishwasher and pushing start, getting permission to start something new, checking it off the 'to do' list.  Today we had some closure, the final cross-country meet for this fall.  Well, the final meet for us; the season isn't over yet, but the students that we are following and cheering for are done running within driving distance.  Kelsey will run in the state meet south of Eugene later.

Today Anya ran.  We call her a granddaughter.  It was somewhat of a climax to the season, a meet to allow the best of the best in middle high and grade school to run one last time with peers in the state and even some from outside the state.  We had no idea what this run was about until we got there.  Would there be many races?  Would there be a few or many runners?

We were surprised to see cars parked three blocks from the race, which was at the Western Oregon University track.  This had to be an illusion, there will be parking, hopefully.  But there wasn't any.  I left Gail off close to the track and found a spot on the far side of campus.  We discovered during the race and after viewing the results that there were six races with more than a thousand runners and probably hundreds of schools and running clubs.  The atmosphere emulated a carnival, tents, canopies, souvenirs (mostly T-shirts), kids running and throwing balls, parents, coaches, grandparents and lots of noise and cheering.

We focused on Anya's race - 3,000-meter middle high champs.  The results showed that her race had just over three-hundred runners and she came in 215th.  Her time was a bit slower than some other races where there were maybe about 50 runners, but her placement was about where one would expect her.  I'm always very proud of her and I'm so eager to follow her running career.  

But I also have the greatest of respect for the last runner to cross the finish line often minutes after the runner who was second to last.  The determination, the drive, the endurance to finish what she started no matter how far from the winner she may be, it demonstrates a strong character.  This individual is my hero.

I stand and applaud all the runners.  I wish you well and as you finish this season and bring it to a closure, I look forward to a new season of the next set of runners next fall.  The best to you.