Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We went to our new lawyer to sign our wills this morning. My husband was nervous. I'd had to admonish him for stalling about it. The lawyer said she had noticed that it was almost always the men who were resistant and upset about wills, and the women just wanted to get it over and be done with it. I also had suggested we send copies to each of our kids, and my husband had said he didn't want to, but while we were in the office he changed his mind, and she reassured him it would be sent as a pdf file, which could easily be sent on to the kids. I feel part of my husband's uncomfortableness is fear of death, since he said in the car men usually die before their wives. I countered that in his family such was not the case, and he probably had 25 more years. But the part I observe but don't mention is men's belief that they should be in charge during financial discussions. They want to be "manly". But I have the better head for finance, and am rational and clear sighted. My husband is impulsive and prone to decisions he regrets, so really, I'm the confident one, which I owe to my father, whom I resemble. I'm careful with money, don't panic during downturns and play the long game. I can't really reassure my husband, because it's this "being a man" myth that gets in his way. It's hard on men to try to live up to what is a patriarchal assumption that hurts everyone. I've tried to liberate him, but it ain't easy, as they say.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

It's a beautiful sunny day, but around here we want rain. Our state has a pall of plague and death about it, as our covid cases and deaths are rampaging, we all fear the drought and fires, and then there is the threat of an earthquake. I love this state, and its miriad climates and terrains. I love the deserts, the Pacific ocean, the redwood forests, the Sierras, the foothills, the farms and orchards, the cities, well most of the cities. Nobody really loves Bakersfield. But we're worn out with crises and worry. How to counter this dread? Well, one of my friends and I went to the post office this morning so she could mail some sweaters with holes to her son in the southern part of the state because he knows someone who can mend them. I bought Valentine's cards in said post office, which was close to thrilling, and then we walked to our bookstore, I picked up two books I'd ordered, and also saw a puzzle in the window that I got for my husband, who is desperately seeking puzzles. Then we trudged uphill and had lattes outside. The coffee place had everything arranged safely, and we were never near anyone else though we were outside the entire time. Then we went to my house and I asked my husband to loan my friend two puzzles, and she left with new purpose. Perhaps, before covid, this would not have been an exciting morning, but it sure is now. It's the little things, you know.......

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I went for a stroll with my daughter and her eleven month old. He puts EVERYTHING in his mouth. He also has quite a set of choppers, and we call him the crocodile. He bites his older brother, but it seems to be about teething, not intent to harm. Just as his brother taps him on the head, despite warnings from his parents, about not touching his head. These interactions remind me of my brother and I. We were 2 3/4 years apart, and I know I must have accidently on purpose assaulted him. There is an ancient photo of me in a white pinafore dress standing next to my brother in his high chair, and the look in my eyes says I'm just itching to push the chair over. We fought then got along, then fought again. We drew an imaginary line in the backseat of the car and screamed if either of our hands was a pinkie across it. But we learned to compromise. I played army men and he played dolls. He was desperate to tag along with my friends and I, until he was well into elementary school. I walled myself up with girlfriends and sleepovers and reading constantly. But we both knew we were in "this" together. We united to criticize our parents. On vacations, where we both loved the swimming pools in motels where we stopped we were compatible dolphins. I adored him and he me, but we would have never admitted such a thing. We led very different lives because of our gender and our parents' pressures, but we agreed on harsh critical assessment of our parents. We moved enough that it felt like just the two of us against the world sometimes. I miss him.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

How can two weeks go by so slooooowly?! Still 10 days until the inauguration, and every day is like weeks. I'm worrying about what tricks Trump is up to, and how hamstrung Biden will be when all I want him to do is get the vaccine rollout going and for us to have some non crisis days in which everyone doesn't feel the urge to write their congresspeople. Is that too much to ask? I'm hoping the Twitter-Facebook shutdown will mute Trump's voice. I just don't want to hear it vicariously any more. I did my best to avoid seeing him or reading anything about him, but somehow through osmosis, I could not avoid his diatribes. I want Congress to quietly and competently do its business, not posture and rant and be indignant and selfrightous. I am an admirer of Nancy Pelosi, and she seems to be getting what needs to be done accomplished: calling for removal or impeachment, removing the nuclear codes from Trump's unstable grasp, being short on words and long on actions. If anyone can whip Congress into shape, it's her. And I appreciate her not waiting for Biden to become official, but is doing this right now in real time. And she's older than I am and has the energy of my grandchildren. She reminds me that we ain't done yet, no matter what our age.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I had a long talk with a friend yesterday in the middle of the day. These talks with friends are pretty much what keep me going. And because we had the time to do it, she described her relationship with her brother and sister-in-law. This was all new information to me, as we haven't had, in the past, the luxury to do much more than talk about events and travels and kids. I learned many things, and it rearranged in my mind her life, which I thought I knew so well. I really LISTENED, and without looking at my watch, just listened as if I had all the time in the world, which I do. It's wonderful to discover that the "story" you know about someone you love is different and more complex than you imagined. These talks bring me closer to her. And my friend who lives nearby has described as we walk, masked and distanced, personal feelings and thoughts that without the pandemic, we probably wouldn't have shared. It's truly a different way of connecting. I seldom speak to my cousin in the midwest, but recently, I've talked to her several times, and discovered that it's as if we'd been in close touch all along, when actually, we were lucky to talk once a year. I get an opportunity to witness her strength, and kindness and courage. It makes me believe I can aspire to be like her. She's also twelve years older, so I get to see growing older is still a gift. I'm taking a moment now to really notice this post-pandemic dynamic, and receive the blessing of hearts growing closer and bigger.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We are redoing our wills, partially because our lawyer retired, and also because in this covid threatening world, and given our ages, we want to have everything as easy as possible for our kids if they have to take over. I first had a will in my twenties, because I had a spouse threatening my life. And I've kept updating, tweaking details, ever since. My husband knows my feelings and respects them, though he is more squeamish about what a will implies, namely mortality. I, however, had my favorite uncle die when I was a toddler, my grandmother and boyfriend die when I was twelve, my two grandparents die when I was in my twenties, my best friend die when I was 29, and on and on. I've always felt mortal. My mother was from hellfire Baptists who had the body in the living room for a week, children had to see the deceased and kiss them, there were services and viewings and potlucks and the visiting of graveyards. When I last visited my cousin who is 12 years older than I, we stopped at three cemetaries to see my aunt's headstone, her husband's, my grandmother's, and various other relatives. My husband tactfully went along for the ride. There was nothing secret about death in my mother's family, and it has enabled me to comfort where others are nervous, support where people are stunned. I am passionate about living, but so were all of those who have been taken. Acknowledging them is important to me, and to accept my own vulnerability. I will join them. That's a fact.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We drove to a nearby reservoir this morning and walked with our daughter and her two bungle butts. It was drizzling, but we saw many pelicans, a blue heron, a white large egret, juncos, and other birds like coots. We took the kids on the fishing pier, where we were close up and personal with the birds, including the blue heron driving away the egret. It was good to get a few miles away from home. When we returned another outdoor bell, a big red one, I'd ordered arrived. I hung it up out back, and love it, as well as the green bells dangling on the apple tree. Wednesday was a horror, except for Georgia, but I see most of these protesters as deluded by false information and a poor education. Everyone has rage they can stoke if they try, but adults don't see anyone else as a savior. Adults need to do the hard work of looking for multiple sources of information and weighing them against facts. They cannot follow anyone. They have to take responsibility for themselves. I know, it can feel lonely and difficult, but we all need to occasionally look inside ourselves, see our patterns, our wounds and make sure we are not reacting but responding in a measured way, so we don't harm ourselves or others. Actions have consequences, they should not be impulsive. A mob has no dignity and no accountability, and that is the stance of children, not adults. Adult life is complicated and consists of large gray areas with very little black or white. To not see the gray is childish; a retreat from adult responsibility.