Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Have you ever taken a walk with a scientist?  It's not like when you walk with a friend and "catch up" and maybe gossip a bit and share your take on the current state of the nation.  I'm married to a scientist, and he keeps a monologue going about what he sees:  I wonder what that flower is, see that tree there?  look at the bird, what are the crows fussing about?  He points out all the things I can see as well as he can, and stops often to look closer at a web, a plant, a bug.  We've been married 45 years, but he acts like I can't see anything without his guidance.   And we are usually taking one of two neighborhood walks, so very little changes or is new.  He is an OBSERVER.  Not a conversationalist.  He believes one person should talk for twenty minutes and the other listen, then he leaves.  He is fundamentally grounded in the world of nature.  Observing, noting, allowing me to be the Watson to his Sherlock.  I'm amazed Watson didn't push Sherlock down the stairs.  In real life, he would have.  But...the exercise is good, and I think my own thoughts as he narrates.  Marriage is a compromise.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I finished a book yesterday by Charles Cummings, "The Moroccan Girl", which is an amazing read.  I enjoy Cummings' spy novels, as they are in the vein of John Le Carre and point out current social issues in a way that is palatable and sometimes profound.  I especially adored "The Constant Gardener" by Carre.  Cummings' book is gripping, and so current it takes your breath away.  The setting in Morocco is terrific, and the humor and honesty of a protagonist who is a spy novelist hankering to get a little real action in, engaging.  But it is the politics of the book that is most powerful and surprising.  I won't spoil it by delineating the plot, but keep going, for page by page the story gets better and better.  This book is as fresh as today's headlines, and yet has dialogues that force the reader to think in deeper and more complex ways.  The reader joins in the arguments, and comes out perhaps having to rethink all his/her ideas.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My husband and I went to a hardware store yesterday and on impulse I suggested we walk to a rose garden very near.  It was built in the 1930s and is a kind of secret garden, not now known to many who don't live nearby.  It is at the end of a small residential street, and columns greet you.  Inside is a bowl with redwoods and woodlands and stairs that lead to higher residential streets all around.  There are paths with rose bushes and many benches and a waterfall with a pond at the top.  It's the kind of place you expect Gene Kelly and Leslie Caron to be swaying to an orchestra.  I used to take my foster granddaughter frequently.  She loved the roses, the paths, the gardeners who would talk to us.  She brought her stuffed puppy, and was thrilled if adults pretended it was real and asked her its name.  The perfume of some of the roses is sublime, and the colors!  I saw one bush with mocha colored roses, and many white roses, my favorite color.  And the blooms were huge; almost dinner plate sized.  My husband loved it and I realized I should take my two year old grandson.  He would happily run up and down the paths.  And he'd love a visit to the hardware store too.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Our two year old grandson is having a hard time adjusting to preschool.  His nanny is sick and just had surgery, so the switch was abrupt and painful.  He's acting out and miserable.  Nobody has a choice about what to do.  His preschool is fine, it's just the sudden change.  He's clearly angry and missing his nanny and the other little boy who was with the nanny.  Today he's getting to see his nanny and the other little boy, so maybe it will help him understand they are not "disappeared".  I can't help but think of the children separated from their parents at the border, and how severely traumatized they must be.  Their lives will never be the same.  Children are so vulnerable.  I look at my newborn grandson and marvel at how helpless he is, and what an enormous responsibility it is to keep children safe and loved and secure.  Our country is certainly failing in compassion and empathy.  I pray this attitude changes.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Yesterday I cooked all afternoon for the new parents:  turkey meatloaf, lentil salad, coldslaw, brunswick stew with chicken and lasagna.  Today I get to hold the baby while his mother takes a nap and his father runs around doing errands.  He's doing so great and passed his pediatrician's checkup with flying colors.  His parents are deeply in love with him.  He's adorable.  Last night I hosted our writing group, and it was bittersweet.  Only three more meetings left until summer break, and actually I think the time has come to end the group.  People are struggling to come, and act as if I'm the strict schoolmarm and they're delinquents.  Only two of us are working on something and regularly send in stuff.  I know the signs.  I had a study of religions group for ten years and the last few months only I was reading the information we'd chosen.  I'm thinking of suggesting a day group just once a month for checking in and keeping up with each other.  And maybe the one other person with a project and I could do something on our own.  I may float it by at the next meeting.  Things change.  A good thing can get stale or seem to slide down the priority list.  It happens.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Yesterday morning just after midnight, our younger son and his wife delivered a baby boy.  Our daughter-in-law was able to do the labor without drugs, naturally, and amazingly quickly for a first child of an over forty mother.  We went to the hospital in the morning, and he's beautiful and plump and curious.  He looks all around as if he's taking everything in and orienting himself.  I was at their place while they were at the hospital, taking care of their cat and dog, and I lay awake that night assuming hard work was going on, when actually, it was over.  They went in around ten pm and had him two hours later.  I stayed at their place last night as well, and my husband and I were there when they brought him home.  I got to hold him while he slept, and pretty soon his mother slipped away for a nap.  After a while I put him in his little bassinet like thing, and his father took over.  I'm exhausted, but not as much as they are, but they are a lot younger, and already look confident.  A fourth grandchild.  I am so blessed.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Half of our family saw a Monet show yesterday, and that was an achievement, since it was the half with two toddler boys.  The older was, of course, more engaged, but even the younger sat on a bench with me and contemplated various paintings, and picked out one with purples for his favorite.  I bought them both postcards of the paintings they most liked, and their parents bought books for them.  Lunch was the most tricky, as the younger one lost it and I swiftly swept him outside to the sculpture garden where he busied himself trying to climb sculptures, picking dandelions and running around.  Then the older and his dad joined us and we got the burst of energy out for a while, then were able to see the show with some dignity.  Luckily, there was a turtle island pond outside after, and we searched for the red eared turtle we'd seen before we went in, and the lily pad flowers were open to the sun and it was a natural reinforcement of the the paintings we'd just seen.  They may not remember the show, but every hit of beauty is a boon to the spirit. 

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Yesterday my friend and I stopped by a store, owned by a woman in her eighties, that features stuffed animals, dolls, and doll clothes.  She has made all the doll clothes herself, and they are amazing.  She's closing, probably because kids nowadays don't want the old fashioned stuff, but my friend and I admire the time, effort and craft involved in handpainted doll faces, outfits for bunnies and frogs, and all the tiny dollhouse furniture.  People take advantage of this lady, it sounds like, by offering her one tenth of the value of the item, figuring she is desperate, since she's trying to lower her inventory before she closes.  We both suggested she donate to hospitals or child care centers or organizations that can raise a little money for good causes.  She's letting herself get emotionally hurt by the greed of these bargain hunters.  They are people who will resale on EBay or online somewhere.  They don't admire the work, because they are trying to make the items are valueless.  I did buy a froggie for the new baby coming, a brown and white spotted dog and a snowy white fat sheep.  I'll keep them here, for the grandboys to play with when they visit.  Sad to say, my granddaughter is getting post doll, so I had to resist all the glorious clothes for her dolls.  And hand painted stools and child furniture is not what my kids want for their kids.  Everything is plastic and sleek.  Oh, well, visiting was like a trip to the past, and we both said we are probably the last generation who appreciates hand crafted things. 

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Our granddaughter's birthday is coming up, and our youngest grandson will be born soon.  It's also the month when my brother was born and my mother, and my husband's mother and sister.  And though only my husband's sister is alive, there is a sense of fullness and import about the month for me.  I also have two close friends whose birthdays are this month, and a step-grandson whom I no longer see but send a card and money to acknowledge.  Baby bunnies and chicks, Easter, Passover and tulips and dogwood and daffodils.  There is an air of celebration.  I must admit that when my brother and I were little, sometimes we got blue or pink live chicks or ducks.  No bunnies.  And when they grew bigger, my father supposedly took them to a farm to live.  I never want to know the truth of their fates, and I never treated animals like toys for my kids.  We did have ducks at one point, but they lived outside and had a pool and were not played with.  They ate the grasshoppers and saved our garden.  We had two bunnies, but only because my brother gave one to our older daughter, and the other was found in a corn field and would have been killed by wild dogs if we hadn't rescued it.  We were out in the country where life is hazardous.  The ducks got torn apart by some animal, despite a fence.  My poor husband had to bury them in the mound with the rattlesnake near our fence.  Many animals ended up buried there, next to the horse and her barn.  Life and death.  Rebirth and loss.  It stirs in my mind at this time of year.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

The Notre Dame fire does emotionally impact people, especially those who have seen it.  So Gothic, so imposing, so spiritual that I have lighted candles there for departed ones.  But I was a child who read Victor Hugo's Les Miserables, The Hunchback of Notre Dame, and Alexandre Dumas' The Count of Monte Christo and The Man in the Iron Mask, and the literature of that great period in French literature enthralled me as a child.  I read the novels over and over.  So when I first went to Paris, I imagined I saw Maureen O'Hara and Charles Laughton wandering like ghosts.  The cathedral is easily the most beautiful building in Paris, and set on it's island like a jewel, it anchors the right bank and left bank, the Louvre and the d'Orsay.  I believe the last time we visited, with our older son, his wife and our younger daughter, we got into Paris at an ungodly hour of eight am, and we took a taxi to our hotel on the left bank and walked a  very short walk to Notre Dame, and marveled at the structure for an hour, then sat in Luxemburg Gardens until it was possible to go to a cafe for lunch.  We'd seen the best first.  I know they'll rebuild, but for Parisians it must feel like a huge open wound in their city.  It seemed beyond time almost, and now we know it was crumbling and at risk.  Something we didn't want to think about.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Like the rest of the world, I'm reading Michelle Obama's autobiography.  I've just gotten to where she has met Barack and they've kissed.  Maybe other First Lady autobiographies have been this revealing, but I kind of doubt it.  Her narration is like one girlfriend talking to another.  And she admits mistakes and misdirections.  So, yes, I'm captivated so far.  But here's the thing.  I don't like the cover photo with the Flashdance one shoulder bare look.  It makes her look like a celebrity, in an uncomfortable way.  Does she have to glam up so obviously?  With the false eyelashes and all?  Taking your advice from Beyonce has some drawbacks, I believe.  Is Michelle a brand?  And if so, what is the message?  I hope she inspires people in the way that encourages them to work hard and achieve their best.  But is this book a bit Danielle Steele?  I'll have to wait and see.  I admire things about her and her husband, but must we be convinced he's a heart throb?  I guess I'm the wrong age group for this book.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Last night I babysat my younger grandson.  I brought my book and a magazine.  My daughter and her husband left for the restaurant.  I glanced at the monitor.  He was on his back with his eyes open.  Oh no, he was thinking.  Soon came the crying and I rushed upstairs and picked him up.  He was worried about a badger getting him.  I reassured him there were no badgers around.  He was uncertain.  We went downstairs, where, as I like to call him, the "bungle butt" played and talked in a frenzy until his parents returned after ten pm.  I didn't have to do much, just talk and sit and listen to him speak for all his cars, dragons and lambs.  As I left, he gave me a big hug.  Grandma to the rescue.  I picked up my untouched book and went home to read for a few minutes before going to bed.  I was tired enough.  I was not fearing a badger attack.  My mind was not in overdrive.  I'd gone through this with my older grandson and granddaughter, so I chalked the evening up to:  very bright child, his mind flying high with images and stories and fears and fascination, spins a tiny bit out of control.  And the people who love him still adore him, even while being very tired.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

It's a beautiful day and we walked this morning, noticing the dogwood and wisteria everywhere.  Then I went searching for some Easter treats for my grandchildren - the nonedible kind.  I ended up successful, I think.  I rushed to the post office to mail the gift to my granddaughter.  The other two I can just give.  So what happens when I go into Michaels, well, it's like being sucked in my a taffy machine.  Yes, first I found little blue pails for the boys, and stickers, and a car each, and a spa kit for the granddaughter, but then, did I go to the counter quickly, pay and exit?  No way.  I found yarn, for what I have no idea, and a kit to make a knit cap for a child that will have a dragon on top (for the yet to be born baby boy).  Then I wandered in the crafts section, looked at wrap paper and bought paper gift bags, perused the ribbon but resisted, then found stuffed animals that I likewise forced myself not to buy.  I was getting hungry, and that motivated me to move on out the door, but only to go to Target, where I bought some DVDs, organic ketchup and two button down shirts for the older grandson, who has just learned to button by himself.  I added a toddler bed sheet and blanket and comforter, and I was set, except for the lipstick I bought, two actually.  Then I read my mystery while I ate at Panera, and headed home.  With roughly ten times the stuff I'd intended to buy.  I am NOT trustable. 

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I was in the toy store this morning trying to figure out what to get the grandkids that isn't candy.  Or stuffed bunnies, chicks or ducks.  They've got enough of those.  I found two little battery lantern flashlights for the boys, but I'd like something to fit inside plastic eggs to hide.  They will both be here the Friday before Easter Sunday, and I can at least fix up an egg hunt.  More searching must be done.  I've got to send my granddaughter her gift, so it's even more complicated.  Our family went to Easter sunrise service, then my mom cooked a big midday dinner, usually ham, scalloped potatoes, green beans and a salad, with the most amazing coconut cake, high as a top hat, for dessert.  She'd dye some coconut green, make a nest and put jellybean eggs inside, and have a couple of chicks (non-edible) on top as well.  When I became a mother, I focused on the Easter baskets left inside the door from the Easter bunny, an egg hunt with eggs painted by the kids and then a picnic in a nearby park with fried chicken, potato salad, deviled eggs and cupcakes or brownies.  The kids ran around like wild mustangs and when we returned home, the day was over.  Now I seldom do anything, as the kids have their own traditions and in-laws and friends for marking the day.  I don't even make anything special, as we eat pretty healthy these days.  But the joy of spring, and new animals, flowers and foods, still feels special and worth celebrating.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I used to travel for art shows when I was younger, but after my kids were grown.  I saw many amazing exhibitions that way:  Dubuffet, the Nabis, Gauguin, Magritte, O'Keefe.  But it's been many years since I had the urge until now.  My friend showed me a print and a book she's had for many years of Hilma al Klint's work, and I was seduced immediately by her lines and color and passion.  The Guggenheim has a retrospective of hers now, until near the end of the month, and if I wasn't waiting for a baby to be born, I'd find a ticket and go.  My friend's book, bought many years ago is now worth a great deal of money, but serendipidously, I was in one of my favorite bookstores last week, and I found two more recent books of Klint's just waiting for me to grab them up.  One is her notebooks and the other a great selection of her work.  She's way ahead of the abstractionist, surrealist curve, but fresh and original.  Her pinks are all absorbing, and her lines playful and full of movement.  This friend of mine has introduced me to many artists I did not know, like Tobey, and I appreciate her generousity in sharing her passion for art.  I have other friends who also share this passion, and it's so joyful to be able to go with them to see art, send each other recommendations and just TALK art.  I love it.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

A friend of mine had an article published about her in a local monthly.  She has an amazing collection of giraffes, and her house is a delightful museum.  The article also touched on her life, and her five year struggle with stage IV lung cancer.  She has survived changing chemos, various drugs, and all the while traveling and living her life to the hilt.  She only retired a couple of months ago.  She has been an attorney for various cities.  We met when another friend invited her to my monthly study group focusing on the world's religions.  She was a faithful member for ten years, and in the process we all shared a lot of personal ups and downs.  I keep her story in my heart when I think of my own daughter struggling with metastasized cancer.  I know doctors have a lot of tools in their toolbox, more each day, and I'm upbeat about my daughter's future.  My friend is one of the countless ordinary heroes who brave what life gives them and don't give up anything of who they are.  I'm glad someone is highlighting her story, because she is a woman determined to be all that she is, even if she has a diagnosis. 

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Our family is getting excited about our younger son and his wife's baby due this month.  Yesterday our daughter-in-law called me and my heart jumped, but it was just because she'd locked herself out of their house, and needed to borrow our keys.  I teased her she shouldn't call unless it was the baby.  She's packed her bag for the hospital, and they are very organized.  The baby's room looks sweet, with crib, changing table, rocking chair and mobile.  I'm in charge of babysitting their dog and cat while they are at the hospital, and will spend the night with them.  It's hard to believe I'll have a fourth grandchild very soon.  Each child is so different and I can't wait to see what this grandson is like.  He will benefit from a large, loving family on each side, that's for sure.  Many boy cousins around his age, and one baby girl.  And an older cousin who will be old enough to babysit him in a couple of years.  This family expansion is such a blessing, and on each side every sibling has at least one child, so they are all on the same page.  I wish I'd had that kind of support when I was having my kids, but luckily, this time around, there is an abundance of family.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Our family is thrilled because my older daughter has a non-fiction piece in a prestigious journal.  Her first novel is being published next year.  She has tenaciously worked for this moment for many years, and it's delightful to see her soar.  We're very proud of her.
 I'm struggling with a cough contracted from my younger grandson.  Nevertheless, we took him to a wildlife museum yesterday, where we saw hawks, eagles, ravens, a kite, a turtle and many fascinating rescued animals.  But our favorite was a porcupine.  We saw her up close and personal, as she was curious about us, or rather some crackers a little boy nearby was holding.  I had no idea they could walk on their hind feet so well.  They waddle a bit, but are so adorable.  She reminded me of Mrs. Tiggy Winkle.  She ate broccoli from the hand of the keeper, climbed a log and generally seemed comfortable.  She has been there since she was a baby, and cannot be reintroduced to the wild now.  We tried to convince our grandson to get a stuffed porcupine from the gift store, but he loves birds, so he selected a ruby throated hummingbird, that could make its call when you pressed it.  His choice is not suprising, as this is a boy who says he makes a nest to go down for his nap and bedtime. 

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I did enjoy "Dumbo"  yesterday.  I went with my friend and we accidentally bought tickets for a Dolby Sound system that had very loud sound and vibrating seats.  We laughed throughout at the simulation of an earthquake.  We were definitely the wrong audience for rumbling.  Oh, well.  The tickets were more as well, but then, there is a sucker born every day, and two yesterday.  The film was gorgeous to look at and Dumbo so sweet it made your heart curl.  Michael Keaton, Colin Farrell, Danny DiVito and the kids were great, but Eva Green was strange.  It was as if she was impersonating Lisa Marie, Tim Burton's former muse.  The flying brought tears to my eyes, as it was meant to do.  I cannot really remember the old movie at all.  But I recognized a song from it; the one song in this movie but a great one.  Did Keaton's villain remind me of our current president?  Definitely, and there is plenty of plot for the PETA people and also those with missing mothers, and antiwar activists.  All ends well, and the final circus has only people not animals entertaining the masses, which is the way it should be.  Why harm animals in the making of this trope?

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My daughter's MRI came back clear, and we are all so relieved and happy.  It means the new chemo is working as it ought to.  And walking with my friend this morning, she had great news about her kids, including a new puppy for her youngest and her boyfriend.  I had to see a picture of Pearl, who is white and a mix that will guarantee a big adult dog.  We walked in the gloom, but it didn't rain, and in an hour I'm off to lunch and a movie with another friend.  We're going to see "Dumbo", which is my idea, and I hope I don't regret it.  Yesterday I had a lovely lunch and conversation with a friend of twenty years, and we had so much fun we skipped the walk we were going to take.  I'm blessed with so many dear friends who cheer me up and support and root for me.  They are the foundation of my life.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We're in for another week of rain.  Luckily, I have plans every day this week, that aren't affected.  Even the walks with friends will go on under umbrellas.  I usually live under sunny skies, though, so I'm spoiled.  Even when we ventured to another state for seven years, it was the third sunniest state in the U.S.  So am I living a big fat metaphor for my aging years?  It's tempting to say so.   We gain wisdom and perspective, but live daily with news of broken hips and diagnoses and trips canceled because of illness.  We're forced to be fluid, and accommodate our complaining bodies.  I generally do one thing a day now.  A day and evening event feels like pushing the envelope, and I need my sleep to function well.  A cup of coffee won't do it.  So we're forced into quiet and introspection, and slowly get comfortable with self examination.  I have the time to watch my mind do it's squirrely thing.  To realize I'm running old, old tapes again and again.  I lift out of observing me and feel free.  It's only that human thing I'm doing, it's not profound or meaningful.  Then, if I can bring some compassion for myself to the table, I can just be aware, moment after moment, that it's a wondrous thing to be alive in this world.  Let's watch the raindrops roll off the leaves of the camillias.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Yesterday was our 45th wedding anniversary.  We had already had the big to-do the weekend before, so when our son-in-law asked if we wanted to do something with him and our grandson, I suggested the train museum.  We left early morning and got there right as the museum opened.  Our grandson was in his pajama shirt, with a dirty face, and his father had not had breakfast or showered and was in his clothes from the day before.  Why?  Our daughter is on a three day trip to see a friend.  I bet he will appreciate her more when she returns.  It was cute and funny, and I had wisely packed a water bottle and snacks for my grandson.  He has a runny nose and cough, but was thrilled to see train cars and tracks, and go through some of the cars:  dining car, sleeper car, freight car, and ultra modern car.  Then we saw them unloading a Thomas the Engine car, wooden, for the play area upstairs.  But his most fun activity was the toy cars upstairs, where he played with the toy trains.  We had to pull him away.  When we returned home late afternoon, we felt tired, so we didn't eat out.  I made pasta and we opened a bottle of white wine and watched "The Batchelor and the Bobby Soxer" with Cary Grant, Myrna Loy and Shirley Temple.  Grand and Loy are a couple with major chemistry, and seeing them in action is fun.  That was our romantic moment of the day.