Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I got my booster this morning. My friend and I were walking, and she suggested we walk in to a pharmacy we were passing, and they were fine with it, and now that's out of the way. It's a relief. My husband will wait for a while, but I'm making him safer, I hope, by having mine. Then we had a cappuchino and looked at slippers in a shoe store, and ended with a quick visit to our neighborhood grocery for, in my case, V8, tomatoes, potatoes, etc. I'm always out of something, I suppose because we eat at home every single meal. It's a beautiful day, and while not super warm, 66 is warm enough that I took off my cotton sweater and wore a short sleeved cotton shirt. The cool air is helping keep us safe, I hope, while the headlines are all about Lake Tahoe. I went to summer camp there as a teenager, and my parents took my brother and I frequently to stay for a weekend or a week. So though I haven't been in many years, I remember it's pristine waters and the beautiful cabins and parks and ski areas. I first learned to ski at Squaw Valley. I hope they can contain the Caldor fire.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My husband and I have been playing a game of Scrabble every day, and our scores get lower and lower, I think because I've learned so much from him that I'm finally winning occasionally. I'll never have his ability to think way ahead and imagine words he might make, but I've certainly learned to put a word on any triple score square, even if it's low scoring, not to make a lovely big word if it will give him an opportunity to score big, and to be careful where I put a word with the J,Z,X, K or Q, because he is going to reuse it for more points. In other words, I need to bide my time and be patient. It feels good to win once in a while, and sometimes without drawing any of those big point letters. A couple of games ago, we both ended up not being a able to use a high point letter, I think for me it was Z and for him X. We are tough on each other, but I feel my mind is sharper now because of the games. We both notice that bad sportsmanship rears up, but we remain restrained and don't give in to anger. We want to win, but not enough to spoil the fun. I knew my husband could be a bad sport, but now I realize the very same impulses are in me as well, and I'm not on such an even keel myself. Good to know I'm human, and not above the petty feelings. I'm crystal clear about my dark side these days.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My husband and I went over yesterday afternoon to our daughter's house to watch the two grandsons splash in the kiddie pool. The younger kept getting shivery and needing to be wrapped in a towel, but the older was generating enough heat to keep him comfy. When they got inside they began getting on each other's nerves. So they were getting on our nerves as well. There was a lot of separating them from each other, interventions to avoid hitting and biting. Finally dinner came and they settled into their version of eating/not eating. I'd brought brownies over but neither child met the minimum requirements for dessert, so we quickly left them to their parents and bedtime rituals. We get exhausted just being the grandparents. My sympathy goes out to the parents, but I guess they are younger and much more energetic. I can no longer remember ever having that much energy. But I must have - I raised four kids, right?! It makes me exhausted to think about it!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

A funny thing happens on our birthdays every year. Mine is four days after my husband's, and over time, celebration has eroded. Our birthdays are always glopped together, so it's either on his birthday or mine, or neither. They happen usually over Labor Day weekend, so it's difficult to invite people over, even before Covid. We've often been traveling in the summer so there is no urge to do a trip of any kind, plus the grandchildren are back in school. And when it's a BIG birthday, mine inevitably gets overlooked then the next year we do something special for my husband. Back in the day, this wasn't true. I threw myself an amazing birthday bash when I turned 50: venue, catering, band, 100 people. The next year for my husband we all flew to Victoria B.C. for an even grander and more expensive party, but at least I'd made a fuss about mine. Now, 60, 65, 70 and now 75 for me have gone by without fanfare, though my husband had a great 70th with the whole family away in another state. Part of the problem is we're old and tired, and planning things is so complicated. The same deterioration has happened with our anniversary. We had a great party for our 30th, then when the 40th came along, the planning got so complicated we cancelled. 45? Nothing. In three years our 50th. I'll be grateful just to make it, but I WOULD like to celebrate. But I am certain it will be up to me if anything happens. And will I be up to it? No one knows.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I've just finished writing postcards to Senators urging support of the child care, paid leave, jobs creation, etc. infastructure bill for us. Moms Rising makes it easy to do this, and any action I take feels infinitely better than reading the news. I am not alone, because thousands of us are advocating for for issues dear to women and families. For a country that yaps endlessly about family values, there is no proof in the pudding, is there? I'm praying some of this agenda gets passed, and Congress will wake up from a slumbering moral compass. There is always an excuse: something more important than our families and their well being. These children inherit the earth and need to be raised as good citizens with a responsibility for the welfare of others, and they can, if they are adequately sheltered, fed, protected from violence and mentored. Let's do this thing for now and the future. We know in our hearts love and compassion change circumstances. We need to fight for kindness over power and greed.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My husband and I realized that looking through photos for pictures of our daughter who died has traumatized us. We want to organize all the photos, but need a break. My husband has been having disturbing dreams about the photos, and I've struggled with mental fatigue and depression. So we're going to concentrate of getting our trees trimmed and the gutters cleaned, and protect ourselves for a while. I've walked with women friends four days in a row, which has helped tremendously. The weather has been perfect for walking, and we've stopped for errands along the way, doing double duty. Today my friend wept a little about the twenty fifth anniversary of her husband's death. She so missed the support the father of her two children would have given her. She has a partner, but he has not wanted to act as stepfather or to be in her grown kids lives. I'm so fortunate that my husband has always thought of my two kids from my first marriage as his, and he is mourning the death of our older daughter as deeply as I. But then he has been with me since those kids were two and four. My friend's partner has only known her kids as independent adults. He has three kids of his own, and his parental feelings are exclusive to them. So she stands alone right now in her joy of her first grandchild, and her husband's absence is especially obvious right now. He would have been so proud and overjoyed.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I will be talking to my therapist this morning after six weeks. What I'm dealing with has no expiration, so I haven't minded waiting this long, in fact it was my idea. I'm a yoyo, up and down, and underneath feels like a bunch of broken ribs. I'm finally picking up my support pieces, my friends mainly, and taping the ribs until they heal enough it doesn't hurt so much to breathe. My therapist has been with me many years, and she knows my story, so we can take up wherever we left off without explanation. I know I have her sympathy, and she knows I trust in it. I never thought I'd still be occasionally talking to someone, but first my daughter's illness, my brother's suicide, and then the pandemic, among other things, has made me see it is wise to get her perspective on how I'm handling my life. I hardly know myself. Therapists can be like sages of wisdom, and this one is. And I need every tool in my belt.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I cried at the beginning of a walk with my friend today, because I am so disappointed we had to change my daughter's memorial service to virtual. But after we'd walked, stopped for a cappuchino, and gone to a bookstore, I felt better. I bought a few books for the grandsons and a few for me, to distract me from my sadness. I new Megan Abbott mystery looks good, and I grabbed the new Daniel Silva book, a book on nature, and several vintage books. I'm reading A Gentleman in Moscow right now, which is filled with beautiful language and description, but is sorrowful as well. My friend said it was good, and she is right. This afternoon, after lunch, my husband and I are attempting to go through the rest of the photo albums to find more pictures of our daughter to add to a slide show we will do at the virtual service. This is painful. She was so beautiful, lively and brilliant, and it's impossible to accept that she's gone, and if and when her daughter has children, they will never know their grandmother. This loss is great.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I took a long walk with a friend this morning. Last night our family decided to make our daughter's memorial service, two months hence, virtual. We are all devastated, but with the Delta variant and four toddlers in our family, we cannot take a chance for ourselves and for our daughter's many friends who would have needed to fly to attend. It's a heartbreaker, but we don't want to risk infection due to the service. I feel knocked out, but we will have the same speakers at the virtual service, and a slide show of photos of our daughter and also of some of her paintings. We will have music, and poetry. I know we are among many who have not been able to meet in person to bury our loved ones and speak from our hearts, but at least this will have a record for her daughter to peruse, and for her children one day, to get to know this remarkable woman who died far too young.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Our family is hoping to have a memorial service for our daughter. It's two months away, but already, with the Delta variant, we are worried it may need to be canceled. Today my husband and I had brunch with friends who already have their flights to the service, but are unsure whether they will actually be able to come. Both their daughters asked them not to go on a trip that was scheduled soon, and one is a doctor. It's omninous. Many of our daughter's closest friends and all her family will need to drive or fly. It's been over a year since she died, and the family would like the closure, such as it might be, especially for her 13 year old daughter. None of us knows what to do. The responsibility of people's health is falling on our shoulders, and it's oppressive. Wait and see, wait and see. It's endless.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I got a haircut at 8:30 this morning, along with a big dose of opinion about masks and vaccinations and passion quite intense for early in the morning. Later I called my son-in-law's mother, whom I have developed an great fondness for. We talk books and our granddaughter and other topics without ever running out of steam. She is ten years older than I, but funny and smart and deeply insightful. I know we are two of the people who love our granddaughter best, and her son is doing an amazing job of raising her. One of our topics today is Louise Penny, and her new book coming out the 24th. Evidently, she has cowritten a novel with Hilary Clinton as well, which is in bookstores in September. I told her I'd read the two mysteries James Patterson wrote with Bill Clinton, and though not great, they are action packed and have some insights about the presidency. The second one really made me think about being the son or daughter of a President, and how your life is forever changed. In reading "The President's Daughter" I thought a lot about Chelsea Clinton and then the Bush and Obama daughters. These kids didn't ask to be thrown into a fish bowl, and the scrutiny never ends. Yet mostly they have aquitted themselves well. It must be a strange life, and finding your own path must be extremely difficult.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Our air is slightly worse here. Still moderate, but the light is funny and we are so familiar with that tinge now that it is disturbing. The headlines in the paper tell us the fires up north are worsening, and the dread is upon us. I was telling my four year old grandson the other day a story loosely based on the Princess Bride, about the Dred Pirate Robert, and he is enchanted by pirates, giants, and all things related. But this fire threat is the Dred Fire Coming. Last night my throat was so dry I had to get up to drink water, and this morning I realized my husband had left our bedroom window open and a bathroom window nearby and probably the air had just enough smoke or particles in it I was struggling with a bit of a cough. I won't make the mistake of fresh air tonight. For people my age, the withdrawal in Afganistan conjures up images from the fall of Saigon at the end of the Vietnam war. Guilt, shame, remorse collide. My husband and I marched against the invasion of Afganistan, and our Rep Barbara Lee was the sole voice against it, but still history has repeated itself. It's sad, and coupled with the depressing news about Covid, hard to cope with. Sometimes it seems that the apocolypse is here.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

The last two days have been exhausting, with nine hour days watching the one and four year old grandsons. Their world is topsy-turvey, with mom gone back to work, and the younger boy never having known a time when his mother wasn't just right there. I have so much sympathy for my daughter and son-in-law. They are torn and guilty and overwhelmed. But I have to respect my abilities at my age, and I feel unable to do major child care helping. The next three days I pick up the one year old at noon and try to feed him lunch, get him down for a nap, and entertain him until mom picks him up after four. Today was his first day care day, and the school is easing him in by three half days this week and full time beginning Monday. So when I take him, he may have cried all morning. He'll adjust, just as his brother did, who now is looking forward to being back in his pre-K class. But it's a time of turmoil, and reminds me of all the struggles I had with childcare, and my own guilt and endless worry. I hope Biden can give some support to families and make the pain subside. Why our country is so antagonistic to families with children is unfathomable to me. Except that the men who run this country have never been put in such a position, and have no empathy for those who are not as priviledged as themselves.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My women's group met today and we sat on the patio with coffee and pastries. We have no agenda, and what comes up is often interesting and passionate. I mentioned that one thing Buddhism has taught me is to turn towards the dark parts of myself instead of away. I'm braver now. I can face mistakes I've made, for instance, how I influenced my brother. He was two and three quarters years younger than me, and when we were little, I must have guided him in ways I shouldn't have. I know when we were in school I influenced him in what he read and believed. Our father was often traveling and our mother busy running the household, and when I had my "Doestoyevsky period", reading all his novels, my brother read them as well, but his disposition was darker, and I wish I hadn't shared them. I had no idea I had any influence on him at the time, but I see it clearly now, and it saddens me that I, as mixed up as I was, should have guided him unconsciously. What if I'd had more attention to give him. After I left for college he was a sophomore in high school, and I didn't see how lonely and depressed he was. I did tried to talk to my parents about getting him therapy, but they ignored me and the problem. I probably couldn't have changed anything, but he must have felt so abandoned. I'm not judging myself, I'm just seeing situations more clearly, hopefully without judgement. The clearer the picture becomes, the more I can learn, and as Suzuki Roshi said, "It's never too late".

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I had a busy day going to the bakery, the grocery store and a walk with my husband, but when my friend called to walk I agreed, and after a sandwich we set off together. I find myself smiling a lot around her, because she is so in love with her baby granddaughter and to hear it, the labor was great, the parents are great, and the baby perfect. Of course, it's only been a week, and babies sleep a lot the first few weeks, but why spoil her joy? She is a beautiful baby and I am so very happy for my friend and her daughter, who is one of my daughter's best friends. The tsunami of love for a grandchild is one of the best things about growing older, and just being around her makes me happy. Her son is thrilled to be an uncle, and has flown up the last two weekends to see his niece. They deserve all the delight because my friend lost her husband twentyfive years ago and her kids lost their father. He would have been so thrilled with his granddaughter. The parents named their child after the mother's grandmother, my friend's mother. It turns out that before she died, she asked her granddaughter, if the baby was a girl, to name it after herself, and her granddaughter has. Very sweet!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I'm exhausted from taking care of my grandsons, 1 and 4, from 8 am until 5 pm. Luckily I have the weekend to recouperate. But next week is two full days of both boys and three days of the one year old. They are sweet, but into trouble constantly and the older hits the younger then the younger bites or pinches. I remember my Dad telling about his older brother hitting him with a plate, which resulted in a scar. This sibling stuff is intense. Because of Covid, they are used to their mom being there every minute, but now she is teaching second grade, so there is a lot of distress and confusion. And the baby is about to go to day care full time - zero to sixty in one fell swoop. I don't know how I did it with four kids, but I'm beginning to think I failed them a lot. Parenting is challenging, scary and you don't always know what's best for your kids. I believe my daughter is doing the right thing to go back to work, but I know she's nervous and fearful that she's hurting the boys. Because as parents we are always conflicted and unsure. But especially us mothers. Guilt is our middle name.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

When my granddaughter finally got up this morning, we had a political discussion at breakfast about the U.S. not being a good country. None of them are, of course, but she is experiencing the disconnect between what she has learned in school and what history really is. She recently found out Columbus was not who she thought he was. She's experiencing disenchantment and feeling tricked. The myths are so different from the reality. I'm proud of her questioning mind, and I can remember when I was similarly shocked: The Bay of Pigs, the Pentagon Papers, and other revelations. I said transparency is always better, however late it is, because then you are forced to accept human nature, and once we know who we really are as a species, we can struggle to rise above selfish motivations. We are animals, and share many of the traits we wish we didn't. As my Buddhist teacher says, we are not as evolved as we'd like to be. It's touching, that at thirteen she wants to tackle these prickly issues, and her mind is an amazing resource for enriching her life. It's also helping her talk about and experience her grief over her mother's death, and feel the unfairness, the injustice in life. Looking hard directly at the pain builds the courage muscle, and also empathy expands. Loss is a part of life, as is bad behavior of humans. But we are not limited by such experiences. We can grow and change and tackle what is right on behalf of those who cannot. There is work to do. And hope.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Today I took my foster granddaughter, 16, and my granddaughter, 13, and my younger daughter out to lunch, shopping and for ice cream. We had a lovely time, and my foster has grown so that she is the same height as my daughter. Even the 13 year old is taller than me. They are all three beautiful and so amazingly sweet. I really love them, but seeing the foster again after a year and a half was poignant. She has articulate political opinions and confidence, and the 13 year old held her own as well. Intelligent and passionate, they are just what I'd hoped for. My older daughter was the same as they, and I'm so proud of the females in my family, including my two daughters-in-law. This reunion was wonderful yet I feel overwhelmed: with love, with missing my older daughter, the thirteen year old's mother, and with all the challenges of being female in our culture. I don't want them hurt or their ideals crushed or their minds belittled. I want them to keep their wings on.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We returned from the cabin yesterday after waking up to smoke. It had been windy the day before, and I think one of the fires north of us changed wind direction and made for very unhealthy air. We wore masks as we loaded up our cars, and almost the entire way home the smoke was present. Right now, luckily for us, our air at home is good. We had a nice time at the cabin with our granddaughter, who is thirteen, and she loves to swim, so we spent our time on and in the lake. But people in the mountains are not masking or distancing either, and one day a bunch of people walked up to us and by us as we were picnicing and obviously settled with our canoe pulled up. No adults seemed concerned or respected our space. My husband reminded me that people acted oblivious before Covid, so their narcissism was always hale and hardy. But right now empathy is in short supply, and maybe partly because of the emotional cost of this pandemic. I can understand, but I wish they could too. Don't consciously and deliberately endanger others. It sets a precedent that may bite you later. How's that for pragmatic?!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My husband and I walked around a nearby reservoir this morning, and we talked about the information floating around about the Delta variant of Covid and what will happen. We both have always worn masks inside, so the new suggestion of masks inside we take in stride, but how much to be worried and how vulnerable we are is confusing and many news sources contradict each other. last week at the cabin I read Michael Lewis' newest book, Premonition, and it paints a dark picture of our healthcare system and CDC. It's not that someone is asleep at the wheel, it's that there is no one at the wheel at all. Local health officers bicker, governors contradict each other, no one seems to have any kind of enforcement power if guidelines are ignored, and no one knows who is vaccinated and who isn't. Our country is loose and disjointed in many ways, and always has been. But healthcare is something we ought to be able to come together on. Such a wealthy country with no will to help others end their suffering and be cared for the way we all wish to be. What the heck is wrong with us?!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I've just returned from a week at the cabin with our younger daughter, her husband and two sons. The one year old awoke before dawn every day, and the four year old attempted to poke and tease and get his baby brother into trouble, but mostly succeeded in getting lectures and time outs for himself. They are both adorable, but the sibling rivalry has caused a lot of hitting, biting, poking, screaming and crying. I wanted to help but wisely left it up to their parents. It did jog my memory of being the older of two and being jealous, angry and disgusted with my little brother. I don't think I hit, but who knows. I certainly got spanked with my mother's hair brush and was threatened with my father's belt. I was no angel. I definitely remember getting into trouble by cutting the little neighbor girl's hair off almost to the scalp on one side, climbing on everything and falling and sometimes ending up in the emergency room. So I recognize the naked mischief in my four year old grandson's eyes, but then, everything about my grandchildren reminds me they are complex, dark and light, churning with emotions. It's a jungle in our minds, even when we are tiny. I assume my daughter and son-in-law will mostly solve this conflict over time, but probably not entirely, from what I know. My older daughter thought I didn't curb her older brother well enough. And she may have been right. Siblings are jealous, possessive, and greedy for their parents' attention. I wouldn't miss out on my brother for the world, and the six years since his death hasn't made the loss any less, but our relationship was one of love despite lack of compatiblity, similar interests and gender. These little boys lives are emeshed for eternity, and their parents cannot free them from twists and turns of living and loving.