“Not in Assisted Living (Yet): Dispatches from the Edge of Independence!

Welcome to my World---Woman, widow, senior citizen seeking to live out my days with a sense of whimsy as I search for inner peace and friendships. Jeez, that sounds like a profile on a dating app and I have zero interest in them, having lost my soul mate of 42 years. Life was good until it wasn't when my husband had a massive stroke and I spent the next 12 1/2 years as his caregiver. This blog has documented the pain and heartache of loss, my dark humor, my sweetest memories and, yes, even my pity parties and finally, moving past it all. And now I’m ready for a new start, in a new location---a continuum care campus in West Michigan, U.S.A. Some people say I have a quirky sense of humor that shows up from time to time in this blog. Others say I make some keen observations about life and growing older. Stick around, read a while. I'm sure we'll have things in common. Your comments are welcome and encouraged. Jean
Showing posts with label sea turtle. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sea turtle. Show all posts

Wednesday, April 25, 2018

Time Marches On



Saturday was one of those rare days where I got a big girl serving of family time topped like a cherry on an ice cream sundae with a wish that I could be a young again. It was the first tine this spring that was warm enough to go without a jacket and the sun was bright enough to require sunglasses as I drove out to the boondocks to my oldest niece’s log cabin in the woods. They built the house thirty some years ago and I love it as much today was when it was new. There’s a peacefulness that comes over me when I open the old fashioned, wooden screen door that slams with a thud. That sound calls back to my youth and it says, “Hey, I remember you, welcome home!” I’ve never lived in a log cabin but I grew up in an era when everyone had wooden screen doors that made that sound. Usually it was a soft thud but when my brother rushed in and out it could be a sharp banging. Mom got so mad at him for slamming the screen door once too often that she made him stand at the door and open and close it a hundred times. 

From her house, my niece drove us to a different boondocks than I’m used to going, to a brand new house where a party was going on for a one year old boy who shares the same name as my dog. Of the nine (soon to be eleven) kids under four who form the newest generation in my family, he’s the only one who will carry on the family name. When they found out the sex of the baby, his grandmother claims I was the first person they called because they knew how much I was rooting for a boy who will keep our surname from dying out. I doubt that story is true but it seems to be part of the family folklore now and that's okay. It may be the only thing Levi will ever know about his great-great aunt Jean when he grows up.

We left the party before they served the cake and I teased my niece for “rushing me out” before I got my sugar fix so she took me to a place near the lake where I spent all my summers growing up, to an ice cream store that still has the same name but, boy, has it changed. We got cupcakes and took them to the old family cottage that she now owns, where we had tea and cake on the screen porch. I told her, “I never tire of this view” and although it’s changed a bit (trees die and others grow) that lake view reminds me of the days when I spent hours playing in and on the water---swimming, canoeing, sailing and fishing. There were also the days when we’d put peanut butter sandwiches and Orange Crush pop in an old Army surplus knapsack and we “cottage kids” spent the day walking around the lake's shoreline. In those days there were only the six-seven cottages on lake and most of the land butting up to the water was farmer’s grazing fields alternating with wooded acreage. We loved the woods because one of them had jungle-like vines that were strong enough for us to play Tarzan and Jane and the other one had catalpa trees aka to us, bean pod trees. 

My niece is doing some redecorating inside the cottage, her second reincarnation of the place. She’s going from a fun, eclectic ‘40s vibe that I loved to the growing-in-popularity mid-century modern. Slowly the cottage of my childhood is disappearing and the ‘60s look of my niece’s youth is taking its place. Both my nieces are fans of the Mad Men series and my oldest watches it for the decor in the scenes like I used to watch Little House on the Prairie for the frontier antiques. Time marches on.

Time Marches On. Do you know that Tracy Lawrence song? I hear it on Country Classic Channel every time I drive to the boondocks. I’m fascinated with how a song writer can take 171 words and tell a story that covers decades. I’m going to hear it three times in May. I have appointments lined up to finally get my tooth fixed that I broke off in February. The dentist will drill down the old molar and its huge filling, built up a core and set a new cap. I hate getting caps but what are you going to do if you still like chewing food and you’re not ready to suck all your meals up through a straw.  

Have you heard about the movement nicknamed Straw Wars? ‘National Skip the Straw Day’ took place in February so I’m late to the party. If you are too, let me introduce you to the cause. According to National Geographic Magazine Americans use 500 million plastic straws DAILY. They are a particularly insidious pollution because they are often the cause of death for marine animals. Plastic straws are an unnecessary pollutant because there are Eco-friendly wax coated paper straws and reusable stainless steel to take their place or we can go straw-less altogether. I watched a video of a sea turtle getting a straw removed from his nose, putting the big guy in obvious, bloody pain that lasted eight minutes before they got the whole thing out. That made me a believer in getting my own Eco-friendly straws to carry in my purse. Time marches on but we all need to be marching with it to solve the problems mankind created. Do what we can, where we can is a promise we can all make to the newest generation in our families. ©

Warning: Strong language at the beginning of the video.