The Memory of Magic

While at the zoo with her Grandpa, my granddaughter Addison had her face painted! I think it makes her look like a mysterious princess or little fairy spirit... both of which she can certainly be!

You know, I do believe in magic. I was born and raised in a magic time, in a magic town, among magicians. Oh, most everybody else didn’t realize we lived in that web of magic, connected by silver filaments of chance and circumstance. But I knew it all along. When I was twelve years old, the world was my magic lantern, and by its green spirit glow I saw the past, the present and into the future. You probably did too; you just don’t recall it. See, this is my opinion: we all start out knowing magic. We are born with whirlwinds, forest fires, and comets inside us. We are born able to sing to birds and read the clouds and see our destiny in grains of sand. But then we get the magic educated right out of our souls. We get it churched out, spanked out, washed out, and combed out. We get put on the straight and narrow and told to be responsible. Told to act our age. Told to grow up, for God’s sake. And you know why we were told that? Because the people doing the telling were afraid of our wildness and youth, and because the magic we knew made them ashamed and sad of what they’d allowed to wither in themselves.

After you go so far away from it, though, you can’t really get it back. You can have seconds of it. Just seconds of knowing and remembering. When people get weepy at movies, it’s because in that dark theater the golden pool of magic is touched, just briefly. Then they come out into the hard sun of logic and reason again and it dries up, and they’re left feeling a little heartsad and not knowing why. When a song stirs a memory, when motes of dust turning in a shaft of light takes your attention from the world, when you listen to a train passing on a track at night in the distance and wonder where it might be going, you step beyond who you are and where you are. For the briefest of instants, you have stepped into the magic realm.

That’s what I believe.

The truth of life is that every year we get farther away from the essence that is born within us. We get shouldered with burdens, some of them good, some of them not so good. Things happen to us. Loved ones die. People get in wrecks and get crippled. People lose their way, for one reason or another. It’s not hard to do, in this world of crazy mazes. Life itself does its best to take that memory of magic away from us. You don’t know it’s happening until one day you feel you’ve lost something but you’re not sure what it is. It’s like smiling at a pretty girl and she calls you “sir.” It just happens.

These memories of who I was and where I lived are important to me. They make up a large part of who I’m going to be when my journey winds down. I need the memory of magic if I am ever going to conjure magic again. I need to know and remember, and I want to tell you.
          ~Robert. R. McCammon, Boy's Life

     Recently, my 4 year old grand daughter Addison spent the night here with us. There is nothing quite like a 4 year old in the house to spark things up-- not only were Lanny and I more alert and paying attention to things that usually don't impress us, but the dog was too. He would snooze on the floor with his ears cocked, trying to relax but always on high alert.

     Addison has entered the wonderful world of make believe, where children can conjure up wonderful stories in their heads and act them out without feeling silly or self-conscious. She entreats me to enter her world to play, and I try... I really try. But the blocks on the floor she has carefully placed into a big square look all disjointed and loose to me. She sees the house her imaginary princess lives in-- I see a collection of blocks that needs to be stacked into high walls and a roof put on before it can be a proper "house". Addison can totally live in the world of make believe-- I can only visit it now and then, and always need her help. But I love visiting it with her-- it helps remind me of my own childhood and those wonderful days of innocence. And if I try hard enough, I can shed some of my own self-consciousness and start to see that princess!

     And that is the joy of being a grandparent, I think. It allows us to reconnect with our own long-past childhood and remember for a moment what it felt like to be so innocent and joyful. As a parent, I used to play with my boys sometimes. But I was usually too busy being Mom-- and all the adult things that go with that role. There wasn't much time for play. As a retired Grandma I have nothing but time when I am with my grandkids, and that has reopened the world of play -- the "memory of magic". I like it!

Childhood is measured out by sounds and smells and sights, before the dark hour of reason grows. 

          ~John Betjeman, Summoned by Bells

A bouquet of flowers picked from the yard and presented with grand flourish to Grandma... 

    

 

Little foxes and spoiled vineyards

Catch us the foxes,

     the little foxes,

that spoil the vineyards,

     for our vineyards are in blossom

          ~The Song of Solomon 2:15

     Years ago I used to attend a bible study group at our church that took about 6 years to study all the books, from Genesis to Revelation. While this study did  not make me a biblical scholar by any means, it did give me a good background and basic understanding of this important religious and literary work. The verse from The Song of Solomon above came to mind late last night after a very frustrating day. Our study leader explained that this verse speaks to the little frustrations in our lives that "spoil the vineyards" for us-- that eat away at our happiness.

     Yesterday morning started out with a small frustration. I was finishing up a knitting project and ran out of yarn. I was completing a "market bag" -- a knitted tote bag that could be stuffed inside another bag and used when needed to carry things. Meant for shopping at farmers' markets and such, my plan was to bring it to Italy when we travel there later in the year. It would fold up into a lightweight small thing, and could be pulled out to carry the souvenirs I plan on purchasing while on vacation. Anyway, it came as a kit with the pattern and all the yarn needed. Except I ran out with only a small amount left to be knitted.

     I have a lot of knitting projects piling up for Christmas gift giving, so I needed to get this bag done. That meant an impromptu trip to the yarn shop where I purchased the kit, for another ball of yarn. While I was there, I thought I would pick up some more yarn for some of the gift projects-- I needed stuff for 3 more.  I will stop here and explain that this yarn shop is my favorite-- it is local, owned by an engaging and very helpful young couple, and has an ever-growing inventory of wonderful yarns. I have received a lot of advice, help on projects, and camaraderie  from the other patrons who gather here on Knit Night. I am a faithful customer too-- in fact I enrolled in a "frequent flyer" program which entitles me to 10% discount on various, ever-changing projects. This discount applies only on specified days, which yesterday was not. I knew this when I arrived there, but my hope was they would let me get the yarn at the discount anyway, given the circumstances. Well, wrong. It was explained that the way their computer was set up the discount could only be entered on certain dates. I will be returning to the shop tonight, so waiting one extra day was really not out of line. But I am an impatient soul, and don't like No. They offered to let me shop for the yarn and set it aside until I purchase it tonight when there for Knit Night. I took them up on that, setting a bag full of yarn aside under their counter and only purchased the ball of yarn needed to finish the market bag. But I left feeling a little bit sad--  The Computer had stripped away the ability for personalized customer service... (and that is a whole other blog...) which this store usually excels at. I wasn't angry, just sad I guess. I kept thinking that "back in the day" they probably would have let me sneak in the discount a day ahead. Well, looking back through my rose colored glasses they would have anyway!

     There is also a very large fabric and craft store close by and I needed some accessories that the yarn shop didn't have. So, off I went to get that stuff. I was shopping in the store when I saw, from a distance, a woman I used to work with long ago. She is very friendly-- to the point of talking so much and so long I knew if I saw her I would never get out of the store. But she was shopping in the area where all the stuff I needed was... I had to talk to her. Sure enough, she saw me, came over and we chatted for too long.  Actually, it probably wasn't that long, but my back and hips were starting to ache from all the time walking on hard concrete floors. I was getting a bit of a headache too. It all added up to a bad mood and no patience...

     I also had to stop at the grocery store on the way home for a few items for our dinner. The plan was a simple BLT sandwich with corn on the cob as a side. Fresh tomatoes were on the counter-- all I needed was the "B" and the "L"... and some good sourdough bread. Three very common items, right? Should only take a minute, right? I pulled in to the Kroger parking lot. Our local Kroger store has been under renovation, to the point where it has been impossible to shop in there. The old store was small and cramped and never seemed to have what I needed, so this improvement should make shopping there much better. Perhaps it was my mood, but finding the lettuce-- iceberg lettuce, for heaven's sake!-- took me four trips around the newly renovated and huge produce area. I found tropical fruit I'd never heard of, I found figs and odd vegetables. Finally, tucked in the corner under another shelf display, I found iceberg lettuce. My back throbbed...  On to the bakery. Same story there-- all I wanted was a loaf of sourdough bread. I could have had four different kinds of multigrain bread. Italian peasant bread. French bread. Rosemary and garlic bread. Tomato basil foccacia, for god's sake... but a simple loaf of sourdough? I finally found the last loaf  hiding on the bottom shelf of a kiosk, behind some English Muffin bread. Into the basket it went, and I moved on to find the bacon. As I turned the corner towards the refrigerated meats, I discovered, to my horror, that the store manager was standing in front of the bacon display with about 30 or so other Kroger employees. A couple were men in suits, most were wearing a blue shirt with "Kroger" over the left pocket. I had stumbled into a seminar of sorts for refrigeration department employees. And they were all standing in front of the bacon I needed! Sighing deeply, I contemplated whether to interrupt them all or just head for home. One of the men wearing suits saw my reaction and came over to me. "Do you need something in there?" he asked. I told him I just wanted a pound of bacon. He said, "Follow me!" and proceeded to push through the employee group saying, "Excuse us! Customer coming through! She needs bacon!"  I felt 60 eyes staring at me... and the store manager who was giving the "lecture" sighed deeply and rolled his eyes. With everyone staring at me, I stepped up to the bacon display. There were seemingly dozens of brands-- very expensive to the least expensive, most prominently displayed: the Kroger store brand. Knowing all of these people were going to watch me, and knowing they were all learning about how to prominently display featured items to assure higher sales, I gritted my teeth, reached out and grabbed... the package next to the Kroger brand. Score one for the angry consumer!!!

     Now completely frustrated and quite angry, I headed for home. Only a short drive. When I turned onto our road, I had to drive around a tree trimming crew from the utility company. I noticed they had trimmed our neighbors' tall pine trees and was wondering what the neighbors were thinking about that when I noticed the chipper truck was parked... in our driveway! It completely blocked my ability to pull in. Even though I was lucky that we had put in a driveway extension earlier this summer that made it possible to actually get to the garage, I was outraged. My throbbing back, hip and head only made my ability to cope worse.

     I managed to pull the car into the garage without incident. I gathered up the small packages and stomped into the house. "LANNY!" I yelled. He was quietly working on his computer when I stomped into the office and without any advance warning he was treated to my venting all my shopping frustrations... His response was to quietly escort me to the kitchen, give me a hug and then pour me a glass of wine. And then, he listened some more.

     Welcomed back home in such a loving way took the wind out of my frustrations, helped me get a little perspective on things. We both had a good laugh. I really am a lucky woman-- on so many levels! My vineyard is indeed in blossom... and with Lanny's help I was able to chase away the little foxes that were trying to spoil it.
     

Sailing away from the safe harbor

Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover. 
          – Mark Twain

The two of us driving in our newest adventure-- a 1950 Studebaker Champion convertible we've named Ruby!

     Lanny and I, to our delight, are entering a very busy fall season. We have made many plans, been included in the plans of others, and have found ourselves having so much on our calendar we are turning down some social invitations... this is quite unusual for us!   We have two trips planned-- one to spend time with my son Matt and his family who have generously offered to share some of their own vacation with us. The other trip is a long-anticipated trip to Italy!  In between these vacations, we have car shows, college reunions, and we are helping my mother move from her house into a much smaller apartment.

     It is helping my mother pack up her stuff and move that has prompted my reflection on how busy we are. My mother is 88, living in a house within a retirement community. She has some chronic health issues that make the move to a smaller apartment a wise decision. However, leaving that house means she is leaving the last place she shared with my father, who passed away 7 years ago. We have been helping her sort through a lifetime of "stuff", including furniture, picture albums, family heirlooms of one sort or another. Sorting through all that stuff has led to some conversations with her where she reminisces about the life she and my father shared.  And I am struck with how much they explored, dreamed and discovered together. Enough that now, as her age makes exploration difficult, she has many happy memories to look back on. She doesn't miss going out on adventures because she has a lifetime of them to remember and savor.

     That is a strong lesson to Lanny and I, new to retirement. We have both agreed that we need to make memories now so that when we are too old or infirm to go out on adventures we will have plenty of memories to look back on. We both are feeling the effects of aging slowly creep in-- our bones creak and ache, and our hearing is gradually rendering communication difficult. We forget stupid stuff, like where we put something. Our energy level is not that of our youth. BUT we have free time now to explore, dream and discover... and we intend to do it.

     I can't wait for each new adventure, some planned, some impromptu. Our upcoming trips will hold many surprises and adventures, but so does every new day if we start it with an open heart and curious mind!

The importance of girl friends!

Never shall I forget the days I spent with you. Continue to be my friend, as you will always find me yours.
           ~ Ludwig van Beethoven

     Last evening I went to the home of my former sister-in-law to have dinner and spend the evening reconnecting with she and her daughter, my niece. We sat in the cool evening on her deck, drinking wine, eating excellent food, and talking until late into the night. Then I spent the night in her guest room, got up this morning and we repeated the process over coffee and breakfast. Both of us share the life event of unplanned divorce, so there was much to talk about. Having been married to brothers for many years, we shared a life experience of family for so long we felt like sisters. We could reminisce together about family events, raising children and the shared traits of our former husbands. We laughed together, shared a few tears, consoled each other and supported one another, just as we had done for years before our marriages failed. It felt wonderful to reestablish this connection. And my niece, who is now a very happy newlywed, joined us for some serious conversations about life and family and pain and growth. Seeing her as an adult and hearing her wisdom is remarkable, and I thoroughly enjoyed her company. When I left this morning, we all pledged to make these girls' nights out a more regular event.

     As I drove home, I got to thinking about not just my relationship with this sister-now-friend, but with all my girl friends. These relationships have been crucial in each phase of my life, and these friends have supported and loved me at the times I most needed it. Sometimes when nobody else was there, a friend would show up to share my burden or my joy.

     Fostering friendships with women can be difficult when one is in a marriage too. Often friendships develop as couples, and when one couple splits, the friendship ends. I have been very, very lucky to have had close relationships with women friends in each phase of my life. Some of these women are still my friends, others have moved on. But the total experience is that I am a wiser, happier person because of my friends.

     So, here's to you, Susie and Kasey... and Patty...  

     and Cindy... And Kathy and Karen...  And Colleen and Nancy and Joyce and Donna and Margaret and Sally and Carol and Trish and  Jo and Sherrie and Carrie and Debbie...  And Lois and Patty...and all the others! Bless you all for your gift to me. I sincerely hope I have been a friend in return and have enriched your lives as much as you have enriched mine!

To know someone here or there
with whom you can feel
there is understanding
in spite of distances or
thoughts expressed
That can make life a garden.          

          ~ Goethe

 

Life lessons from a rose

The rose has told
In one simplicity
That never life
Relinquishes a bloom
But to bestow
An ancient confidence.

          ~Nathalia Crane, Venus Invisible and Other Poems

     I am a novice gardener, so this summer's draught has been a difficult one for my poor gardens. I am not sure how to help my poor plants, other than provide water to them regularly. As time has gone on, our well is showing signs of stress, so I have had to slow way down on watering outdoor plants. That means that many of them will probably not make it through to this fall when cooler temperatures and hopefully more rain will help them. Lanny and I are worried about several trees as well. After many years of working to make our yard lovely, this all seems kind of cruel.


     I have mentioned before that I have quite a few rose bushes in the yard, most surround our deck in the back of the house.  Last year was difficult for them-- it was hot and dry too (though not nearly as dry as we are this year!) and we had a terrible infestation of Japanese beetles. The plants tried in vain to bloom, only to have the blossoms munched into brown shreds by these insects. Several of the plants were completely denuded of their leaves by them.


     Winter last year was kind to the roses however. It never got very cold, rarely below freezing, almost no snow at all and lots and lots of rain. They were well-mulched to withstand the weather thrown at them. I had researched how to battle the hated beetles, and had armed myself with insecticide spray in advance. I was optimistic and looking forward to the spring and that first bloom of roses.


     Of the 16 rose bushes around my deck, 14 of them showed early shoots in February. Fearing a late frost, I kept them mulched until late March. To my dismay, two of the roses seemed to be dead. Both of them had been hard-hit by the beetles and looked awful in the fall, so I wasn't surprised. I ordered two replacement bushes from the online rose catalogue I use, and looked forward to their arrival.


     When the new roses arrived, I asked Lanny to help me get them in the ground. By this time, the other rose bushes were covered in green leaves and actually had little flower buds on them. He dug up the first dead bush and planted one of the new ones in its place. When he went to do the same for the second bush, he called to me. "Look!" he said. "There are signs of life in this one!"  Sure enough, deep into the dirt was a tiny reddish shoot emerging from the big center cane. Maybe three total little shoots. "I am going to leave it be and see what it does," he told me. I admonished him that it was barely alive while all the others were leaved out, and that we had a healthy new replacement. But he persisted. He found another location for the new shrub, and we left the old one alone. All the roses, including this nearly dead one, got regular doses of fertilizer and treatment for the Japanese beetles.


     When the draught hit, and dragged on and on, I feared for the roses. But lo and behold, it turns out roses like dry hot weather! I have only watered them a few times, and have been rewarded by bloom after bloom. The deck, which we can't sit on in the heat, is fragrant with the smell of all these roses. And the draught has also taken its toll on the Japanese beetles-- we have only seen a few, which I immediately doused with insecticide. So, all in all, it has been a good summer for these flowers, in a year when nothing else has been able to grow.

The smallest rose to the right of the bed is the one that was almost dead. This was taken in June.

As the summer wears on, the roses thrive despite the heat and draught!

     And the nearly dead rose has continued to grow and bloom and is finally as large as the other rose bushes. It is beautiful!!

From almost dead to gorgeous blooms... what a lesson!

     There is a lesson in all this, of course. First, sometimes the most hopeless of causes just needs some encouragement and help. If well-nourished, you never know what beautiful blooms may come. And we also need to remember that when times are tough, there will always be someone who will make it and actually thrive and bloom in spite of things.  And finally, not everybody grows to maturity at the same rate. If nourished and encouraged and the growing conditions are right, with a little patience even "almost dead" people can blossom!


     I wonder what kind of flower I am? Do I wilt like the annuals in my flower boxes as soon as hot weather comes? Or am I like the astilbes out back that lasted well into the draught with many blooms, but eventually gave up, and dried up early?

Or, am I like this little rose, which set deep roots, paced itself and learned to blossom despite severe growing conditions?

Ablaze with color, this beautiful rose was almost dug up and tossed out in the spring!

A weekend to remember

I just got one last thing, I urge all of you, all of you, to enjoy your life, the precious moments you have. To spend each day with some laughter and some thought, to get your emotions going.

          ~Jim Valvano

     My life experience is that usually a day passes with some ups and some downs, but overall, it just passes into history with very little to make it memorable. Most days are just... days. But every once in awhile there comes a day when something important happens. It might be something momentous like a wedding day or a child's birth day. Or a devastatingly sad day when someone passes away. Or lots of other milestones. Sometimes a day contains a moment or event that is not all that important as a milestone but has deep meaning or creates a lasting memory for us.

     Such a day happened this weekend. Actually, it was several days that will probably blend into one lasting memory. And I'd like to tell you about it!

    My husband has a restored 1963 Studebaker Lark with a souped up engine. There is a long sordid tale of the restoration process which took almost 7 years, but a year ago it finally was returned to him in fantastic condition and he has been enjoying it ever since. Last year we showed it off at the Studebaker Drivers' Club International Meet in Springfield, Missouri, where it was awarded a First Place award in the car show and judging. Judging comments indicated some easy areas of improvement so Lanny thought he'd fix them up and reenter this year.

     After a year of tinkering, we hauled the car up to this year's show in South Bend, Indiana. While there we participated in an all day car show,  and attended the Awards Banquet where the car only won a Second Place. While disappointed in this, there were some extra special events that occurred that totally made up for it...

The proud Stude owner getting his Lark ready for judging.

     First, on Thursday at the car show we found another Studebaker to bring home... This one is a 1950 Champion convertible. This model is often referred to as a "bullet nose" and was featured in the first Muppet Movie. I have admired this model car since I first laid eyes on one years ago when we visited the Studebaker museum. The car we found was being sold by a buddy of Lanny's and was in good condition. The price was a little over our limit though so we told him we'd think about it... To make a long story short, after some negotiations, a fair price was set and we took the offer and bought it. It will need some cosmetic work-- new paint and new upholstery-- but mechanically it is in pretty good shape. It will provide Lanny with more tinkering opportunities, and us both with a fun little car to drive around in great style!

Meet Ruby, our newest family member. Isn't she a beauty?

     Then, again on Thursday, after the car show, about 300 cars participated in a parade through the city of South Bend. Lead by two Studebaker fire engines, a Stude police car, and two Stude Indy pace cars, we were escorted through the city by the South Bend police department. People lined the road smiling, waving, taking pictures and videos of all the old cars. We drove our Lark and had so much fun waving back, and I even took some videos of the spectators taking videos of us!

     Finally, on Saturday morning we got up bright and early and hauled the Lark to the old Studebaker Proving Grounds. This is where the car company tested their car models on a test track. There are some steep hills, and some obstacle courses and a big oval banked race track. It was on this track that over 300 old Studebakers were allowed to drive. We circled the oval for almost an hour, with our windows down. We went slow at first, but were able to pick up speed, and Lanny was able to "open her up" a little. Our little Lark went FAST for the first time, and we had a ball. People were taking videos and yelling out windows at one another, and having a great time.

Going around the track with 300 other old Studebakers was... quite a thrill!

     For both of us, who have spent so much of our adult lives being serious in our work and in our family lives, being able to play and just have a lot of fun, was a rare and much needed thing. We laughed and joked with other Stude enthusiasts, cemented some friendships, and enjoyed each other's company. And we bought another old Studebaker!!

     We shall return to the real world on Monday, but for now, we are enjoying the afterglow of a great weekend.

Not sure if the "glow" is from our great weekend or the 95 degree heat, but we had a great time!