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.

It's November

 It's November and the first thing that happens in November is our daughter's birthday.  And this year was a milestone, or a milepost if you're driving the Alaska Highway, because her original birthdate was 50 years ago.  What's that make me?  I was 31 when she was born.  I guess it makes me old.

There a heap of clichés about being old:  age is just a number, older than dirt, over the hill, you're as old as you feel, you're not getting older-you're getting better, seventy is the new 50.  Having passed the octogenarian mark I have made some observations, and let me tell you that age is not just a number.  In short, movements of my body are notably slower, and you don't need to be a rocket scientist to note the change of speed.  Often the slower moving senior feels muscles and joints than faster moving juniors don't even know that they exist.  I don't know if there's a cliché about being glad to see the sunrise in the morning, but I definitely love seeing the sunrise each morning.  I love waking up alive.

One of my daily goals is to move, not just sit or lie around.  Modern technology, specifically my iPhone, counts my steps and my goal is 5000 steps a day.  Rather arbitrary but realistic.  That's not the 10,000 recommended by the medical community -  I think that what they say - but on a average busy day it's about what I accomplish.  On a busy above-average day I might reach 7,000-8,000 but on those days I am painfully exhausted.

Less predictable than a birthday on November 1, is the Oregon rain.  It may not be predictable but it is  reliable and today was a rainy one.  At least early in the day it was rainy.  As the sun peeked through mid-afternoon I grabbed my iPhone, my jacket, my rain hat and my walking stick and headed out.  It's hard to walk fast today, the fall colors kept calling for me to slow down and look more closely at the beauty.  As I was rounding the loop, coming up the hill toward the house, I spied a bush that was just a gorgeous purple, or sometime close to that - I have visual color deficiency, not completely color blind.  I was impressed.  I probably said something like "God, you out did yourself.  Thank you."

If I were to chronicle the changes throughout the cycle of a year, this would be the time to include the fantastic changes that vegetation make as the weather cools.  The leaves on trees change colors, each in their own time, and then fall to the ground.  The chestnut is slow, the walnuts are almost bare.  The ash and alder are ahead of the oaks and the maples are somewhere in between.  The laurels ignore the rules and stay green year-round.  The lilacs and magnolias have more leaves the ground than on the branches.  Each to their own.

Now the sun has set and I say to myself, I'm so glad that I can go to bed and sleep well.  Good night.

Never Say Never or Always

Two years ago - where does time go? - I wrote in this blog that I would write more consistently.  Check it out!  Either I lied or I failed by breaking my word.  I probably got distracted or busy.  Or I simply move slowly.  Procrastinating's another option.  I have been writing what might be considered a book these past years.  It has to do with the story of my family, a bit of history of our family, if you will.  

I've put together a family genealogy, you know, one with names, and dates, and places - pretty boring stuff.  Reading it is like reading a phone book - for those of you who remember what a phone book is.  Actually I printed and bond that writing.  Then I started something that's like a conversation between me and my dad, and several grandfathers.  That's been much more fun.  You would think that I'm talking with ghosts since they have all passed, but it's more like talking to them if they were alive.  It's fun to hear their answers to my questions.  I'm sure I will reference this writing from time to time.

Summers are dedicated to working outside and in the yard.  And exercise.  Only last week did I return to trying to finish this writing as the rains and cooler weather moved in.  And I did finish the story if you can imagine finding a place to stop a conversation about hundreds of years of experiences and stories.  Next is to proofread and edit it.  Maybe I'll try some AI; it's the in thing these days.

I will attempt to fulfill my declaration of two years ago.  I will return to writing in this blog.  You will become exposed to the quiet life of a retired introvert.  There can't be much more boring than that.  However, being the grandparents of active young folks there's always something happening.

There are five grandkids.  The two older ones, sisters, are beyond college age.  One will be a mother in about a month.  The other lives with us and exploring what the future may deliver.  Two brothers are transitioning into college, one this year and one next year.  The fifth is a lad moving through middle-high school.  

We enjoy following them through their studies and sports.  Last spring the brothers were part of a winning soccer team which didn't maintain the energy to finish well during the post-season tournament.  They also ran cross-country which gave us an opportunity to meet some of their running friends.  This fall had us attending cross-county meets sometimes several times a week.  We were able to attend only one meet with our high school senior grandson.  

But ... there was one of their classmates who is attending college nearby and we went to her meets.  Going from high school to college she's doing awesome even though not number one.  And ... an psuedo-granddaughter just entering junior high decided to run cross-country.  She's doing fine for her first season and the meets are all close so we attend all of them.  And ... the daughter of a friend who is running as a senior in a local high school is winning her meets; we can't miss that.  At one meet as we talked with another spectator about our following all these runners we were referred to as professional spectators.

The leaves are turning colors and falling, the rains are coming and the temperatures are moderate so I will work on continuing to be retired and to write.  See you around.