Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We're doing the last little things before our trip tomorrow and there is a tension and excitement intertwined with the process.  So many possibilities for things to go wrong and so much that will be fascinating.  My childhood friend is meeting us with her granddaughter and we'll have three days together.  She has been thoughtful about the plans and I so look forward to seeing her again.  My granddaughter will get on the plane to come here in a few hours, and she makes me so happy.  She's at a delightful age and is game for adventures and travel.  Her mother is the same.  A bit of deja vu!  I love how people support us in this endeavor:  our son is driving us to the airport and my friend is picking us up.  It takes a village!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I'm gratified to see the former first ladies have spoken out in unison about the evil separation of children from their migrant parents.  Yes, our country was never paved with gold, but I did think we were a compassionate and generous people.  This action shames me.  I can hardly bear to think about these children, huddled in big tents, like circus animals, without any idea where their parents are or what is going to happen to them.  It's the stuff of nightmares.  Is this blatant racism or what?!  Our president doesn't seem to see others as human with feelings.  It's all about him and his privileges.  When I learned, many years ago, that our country had turned back boats full of Jews during World  War II I was horrified.  That was not who I thought we were.  The interment of our Japanese citizens was another shock.  I ought to be numb by now, but each time I cling to the words at the base of the statue of Liberty.  We should aspire to be our best selves, and do unto others as we would want them to do to us.  Don't smother our spirituality.  Speak out about this abominable policy now.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I visited a friend this morning to lend support for a health issue that landed her in the hospital overnight.  We discussed how we resist taking medication, but on the other hand, we're of a age where deterioration is inevitable, and more monitoring necessary.  As my Buddhist teacher used to say, quoting Bette Midler, "old age is not for sissies".  I helped her clean up her kitchen, get the dishes in the dishwasher, put away silverware and wipe down the counters.  I had a big wet spot on my shirt front after, and she offered to dry it, but I wasn't bothered at all.  I'm of a height where if I'm near a sink my shirt gets sopped.  This health development is a whole new ball game for my friend, and she's talking out her feelings and fears with her friends.  That's just what I like to do as well, and I hope I comforted her a bit, or at least served as a sympathetic sounding board.  We need to know we're not alone.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My father has been gone 32 years.  But he is a presence in my life.  He guides me in love.  I knew he loved me every second.  That was his great gift to me.  He got angry with me, he didn't understand me or my values, he felt I made wrong choices.  He was bluntly, sometimes brutally vocal about it - no holding back.  But he was my rock, and not for financial reasons, although he believed that, but because his love was boundless.  He didn't respect women much or get along with his mother.  But he saw me as like himself, and we looked like twins, so I was an exception.  He was leery of my education but proud.  He felt entitled to judge me, and I had a hard time shrugging off that voice inside my head that was him:  his values, his era, his limits.  But I'm free of all that now, so all that is left is boundless love, and because of it I have been able to love myself.  Thanks, Dad.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Yesterday my husband and I saw "Won't You Be My Neighbor?"  It's a wonderful documentary about Mr. Rogers, and as I said to my daughter, all you need to know about parenting.  I cried through a lot of it, because it reminded me of when my children were small and watching, and he was so wise and tender and brave.  He dared to stand up to those exploiting the "children's market" and say what was unhealthy and harmful that kids were watching on TV.  He also talked about things that most parents keep from their children:  death, assassination, war, racial prejudice and fears.  His listening capacity was phenomenal.  He heard, saw and respected children, and he honored their trust in him.  How much we need someone like him again, and how much we miss him.  He liked us just the way we are, and we loved him just the way he was.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I benefited greatly from being incommunicado at the cabin.  My cell phone doesn't work there, so, though in an emergency I have a land line, the news apps and deluge of emails that have nothing to do with me really were stacking up quietly.  There was one thing I missed:  the Belmont Stakes.  Three days after it was run I heard from my son, who's cell phone did work, that Justified had won the Triple Crown, and I was thrilled.  As I child I devoured the Black Stallion books, Margaurete Henry's horse stories and many others, and growing up mainly in Virginia I was fascinated by horses.  Yesterday my husband found the You Tube video of the race, and at the end I had tears in my eyes.  I'm not rider, I'm just an admirer of horses.  We had a pony for the kids for a few years, then a horse for seven years.  I loved her, but I didn't ride.  I broke the ice in her water in the winter, shoved manure, brushed her, treated her with oats, and brought her back when she escaped our corral.  She was wonderfully good natured, and gentle with our kids.  Deborah Butterfield's horse sculptures bring tears to my eyes.  Horses are social animals, but they are usually imprisoned and isolated, which is a terrible thing to behold.  Justified will have plenty of social cache and fields to run in, but he's one of the lucky few.  My hat's off to his great heart and effort and sheer beauty of his body.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

There is nothing like a two year old to keep you on your toes about right speech.  We've just spent a week with our older son, his wife, and our grandson, and we thought before we spoke, and also didn't speak of many things that might confuse or scare him.  Little pitchers have big ears!  We wanted him to trust the lake and the boat, and that entailed explaining the rules carefully and insisting on a life jacket, etc.  He was amazingly cooperative, and he loved playing and wading in the lake and riding on the boat.  He saw osprey and a bald eagle and ravens and thousands of butterflies.  He was thrilled with the catepillars that dropped onto the deck.  He picked up pinecones and litchen.  We rocked in rocking chairs on the deck.  We put his puzzles together again and again and played with Playmobil figures.  We read all the stories in the Curious George book I'd gotten him over and over until he pretty much had them memorized.  We had FUN!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I bought my two grandsons giant pinwheels yesterday, when I was shopping for rugs with my daughter.  They were part of a Fourth of July display, and caught my eye.  What is more fun than a pinwheel?  They've been around since at least my childhood, are easily made with paper and pins and a stick, and spin like crazy.  One of the most delightful things about grandkids is how they take you back to your own childhood, and it's simple pleasures.  My grandmother used to take out a tin tub from the cellar and fill it with water and my brother and I would splash and play in it for hours.  We'd pour from one container to another until the water was all soaked into the lawn.  Another thing she did was save cereal boxes and containers and we would play store on the front steps, using money we'd made from paper and grocery bags.  My grandparents were poor, but resourceful.  I watched my grandma can pickled peaches, beets, butter pickles and tomatoes.  Then, later, she'd take me to the cellar to admire row after row of shining cans ready for the harsh winter of Missouri. The colors were jewel-like and the mystery of the cellar tantalizing.  So many amazing things for a small child to wonder about.  Now I'm  a witness to that wonder again.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Today we vote in the primary.  It's fitting we have to trudge up a hill to a garage to do so.  I live in an area where I'm semi-comfortable with most of the politics and my representatives, but I know that I'm in a bubble.  My concerns are not necessarily those of others.  I think of my grandchildren, first and foremost.  I want water, clean air, opportunity and peace for them.  I don't see a lot of grandparent thinking in our country right now.  The Me-ism of the eighties has been growing stronger ever since the Reagan years, and now we seem to be a nation of the fearful and narcissistic.  There is no vision, and I think that is what leadership is all about.  Steering us, for our benefit and the future, towards sustainable living and compassionate actions.  Who are those people and how can they come forward in our current climate?  I pray that some appear soon, very soon.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I just read a terrific legal thriller by Steve Cavanaugh, "Plea".  It was like riding a roller coaster, and I had trouble putting it down, except I didn't want it to end.  It was super twisty, and with lots of juicy courtroom scenes.  The protagonist, Eddie Flynn, is unlikeable at the beginning, but grows on you as the book barrels along.  The characters are all fully fleshed out and interesting, and the underbelly of the issues is how plea bargaining has become unjust to the defendants.  The plot keeps pullling the rug out from under the reader.  Tricky!  Now I have to read an ordinary book, doggone it.  Luckily, I have a stack of those by my bed, and one of them just might turn out to be as riveting.  But I doubt it.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Last night I babysat my younger grandson, which consists of watching the monitor while he tosses and turns.  Every time I do it, I flash back to when I babysat as a teen, especially the one little boy I took care of frequently for many years.  He was the son of my parents' best friends, and he was adorable, but hard to get to go to sleep.  I'd read, tuck him in, get him glass of water, tuck him in, read some more, tuck him in, and on and on.  Finally, he'd conk, and I'd try to settle down to study or read but by then I was restless myself, and remember stalking the pantry looking for something good to eat.  There never was anything appetizing.  His parents were skinny and I could see why; no food.  I often ate stale, and by stale I mean brick hard, marshmellows.  They must have been bought in a previous decade and lingered in the pantry for the hot chocolate they never drank.  At least my kids have real food.  I ate some Ranier cherries last night and had herbal ice tea.  I was engrossed in a riveting mystery, so the time passed quickly, and before I knew it they had returned and my son-in-law drove me home.  He's easy to talk to and we had a conversation about coffee and appliances and then I was home.  I had strange dreams, but I'm not surprised:  I was already in a world between being sixteen and my current age, and time and place had been, shall we say, displaced.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I vegged out last night.  I watched a movie I find romantic, mainly because the hero is so gorgeous, and was able to drool without my husband as witness.  He doesn't like the movie anyway.  Something about plot and plausibility.  Who cares?  I was able to get into my inner adolescent and eat grapes and a fudge pop.  I was amazed at how the star just couldn't look bad.  There was no way to make that happen.  I kinda of have the reverse experience.  The more effort I make the worse it gets.  And I even got that the love interest, who was Chinese, was perfect for him.  He could cuddle her up and cradle her like a baby.  I'm short, too.  Of course, I'm not beautiful with sweeping black hair and puffy lips, and I'm the age of her grandmother, but otherwise...
Today my husband comes home and I'm back on the straight and narrow.  We'll fight over what to watch and COMPROMISE.  Thus we both will be seeing something we feel lukewarm about, but we're used to it.  I predict it will be adventure, sci fy or a history drama.  Oh, wait, I'm babysitting tonight, so he'll get a night of watching what HE wants.  That usually means a Disney movie for his inner child or "Twelve Angry Men" or something.  Let him get it out of his system!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I spent the day with my one and a half year old grandson, and we had fun.  We went to the park, and he was pushed in the swing, then he rode a rocket ship and another plastic vehicle for a while, and then got up and down a small slide by himself.  He organized the trucks, getting them out of the sandbox, then pushing them back in.  After an hour, he announced "snack" and I put him in the stroller with graham crackers and we headed home for lunch, a bottle, then a nap.  He woke up happy and ready to read books and rock in the rocking chair.  After my daughter picked him up, I lay on my bed and tried to focus my eyes on the mystery I was reading, but I was zoned out.  When my daughter called later to suggest I join them at a nearby pub for a very early dinner, I happily strolled down a few blocks, and we ate chips, had a beer, then I had a fried green tomato for dinner.  It was delicious.  They dropped me home, and I intend to watch something mindless on TV or a DVD.  My husband's away, so I can pick anything I wish.  Nice day!