Family Matters

       “Call it a clan, call it a network, call it a tribe, call it a family.  Whatever you call it, whoever you are, you need one.”  ~Jane Howard

I’m a Blessed Old Broad

My women’s luncheon Wednesday opened my eyes to how blessed I am. There were nine of us, but because of the table configuration, I spent the time primarily talking with three other women.

My grandsons, Patrick, JJ and Tony, giving Gypsy Lee a bath. — Photo by Pat Bean

They were in the neighborhood of what I call my old broad age, a term I use affectionately and which is an age I’m happy to be enjoying. They, however, were concerned about what this age portends.

I didn’t understand at first, and when Lady A said she had moved from her third floor home because it was too hard carrying groceries and other items up three flights of stairs. I, laughingly said, I used my three local grandsons for the heavy stuff.

But then Lady B mentioned that she had to go into a nursing home, which had been quite traumatizing for her, while recovering from a hip transplant. And Lady C said that would probably be her fate, too, if she became disabled.

All three women, I suddenly realized, were single with no children or other family members still living. It was an unhappy fact the trio had long been aware of, however.

It made me realize how fortunate I had been when I broke my ankle earlier this year. My youngest daughter was there for me, doing my shopping and laundry and taking me to the doctor until I could once again drive and get around on my own.

And what’s fun is that I get to do such things as attend Tony and Patrick’s band concerts, which I did just this past Thursday.– Photo by Pat Bean

I have other children and grandchildren as well, who have made it clear that they will be there for me if I ever need them. I’m an independent cuss and hope I will always be so, but I have to admit that knowing they want to be there for me is comforting.

As ladies A, B and C, who had not known each other before the luncheon, realized what they shared, I became the outsider of the group. This was a fact that was actually noted by one of the ladies as the three women began sharing contact information with each other as part of a newly formed support group.

I was extremely happy that they had found each other, and for the first time in my life glad I didn’t fit in. It didn’t feel at all like what Anne Lamott had described in “Bird by Bird” as that kid standing alone by the fence, which had been me growing up.

 

The Wondering Wanderer’s blog pick of the day.

Bean’s Pat: Thar she blows http://tinyurl.com/a9aeoaz This blog has made me want to go back and reread “Moby Dick.

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Yikes! I Have Nothing to Wear

          “Distrust any enterprise that requires new clothes.” – Henry David Thoreau

And that’s the Truth

For the past nine years, my wardrobe consisted almost entirely of cargo pants and shorts worn with a T-shirt top and a pair of tennis shoes. Occasionally I bought a dress for a granddaughter’s wedding or some other special occasion but usually gave it away because it took up too much space in my RV’s small closet.

The lower section of my ever faithful cargo pants zipped off and I had all the clothes I needed while gallivanting around in my RV Gypsy Lee in search of nice trails to hike. — Photo by Kim Perrin

For emergency situations, when T-shirts weren’t exactly appropriate, I had a nice pair of black pants and a couple of nice tops.

The one summer nice top I have, I realized this morning, is dirty because I wore it when I was taken out to breakfast by a son-in-law and three grandsons for Mother’s Day. I wore it with a pair of cotton culottes – is that term even still used?  – that was barely a fashion step up from shorts. But then it was just Denny’s.

Today I’m going out to lunch with a group of women to a nicer place and they, I know, from past lunches, don’t eat lunch in shorts and a T-shirt. And summer in Tucson, which has finally arrived, is a big no-no for hot-bodied me and black pants.

I know women are always stereotyped as complaining they have nothing to wear, but that’s a fact for me this morning. I’m going to have to make an early shopping expedition as soon as I post this. I can’t think of anything more unpleasant. I truly do hate shopping for clothes.

The Wondering Wanderer’s blog pick of the day.

Bean’s Pat: Birding in Wellington where winter is just beginning http://tinyurl.com/b7vcrdq A New Zealand armchair travel adventure.

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Words of Wisdom

Nark Twain lives on in memory and on this Garden City, Kansas, bench.

         “Life is short, break the rules. Forgive quickly, kiss slowly. Love truly. Laugh uncontrollably and never regret anything that makes you smile” – Mark Twain

From Mark Twain

I collect quotes, and Mark Twain’s words are not only worth repeating, they’re worth living by.

What’s your favorite Twain book. Mine is “Huckleberry Finn.”

Samuel Clements, aka Mark Twain, said:

The Mark Twain Bridge across his beloved Mississippi River in Hannibal, Missouri, — Photo by Pat Bean

“Don’t go round saying the world owes you a living. The world owes you nothing. It was here first.

            “Age is an issue of mind over matter. If you don’t mind, it doesn’t matter.”

            “Suppose you were an idiot, and suppose you were a member of Congress; but I repeat myself.” 

            “Whenever you find yourself on the side of the majority, it is time to pause and reflect”

            “If you tell the truth, you don’t have to remember anything.”

            “Patriotism is supporting your country all the time, and your government when it deserves it.”

            “A person who won’t read has no advantage over one who can’t read.”

            “The secret of getting ahead is getting started.”

But Twain’s “Prayer for War,” which was not allowed to be published during his life time, is, I believe, his best work. I cry every time I read it, and think it should be read daily by all who think war is the best solution to this world’s problems.

I didn’t plan on quoting it when I started what I thought would be a fun blog. But now I feel a responsibility to share it.

The War Prayer

By Mark Twain

“O Lord our Father, our young patriots, idols of our hearts, go forth to battle – be Thou near them! With them, in spirit, we also go forth from the sweet peace of our beloved firesides to smite the foe. O Lord our God, help us to tear their soldiers to bloody shreds with our shells; help us to cover their smiling fields with the pale forms of their patriot dead; help us to drown the thunder of the guns with the shrieks of their wounded, writhing in pain; help us to lay waste their humble homes with a hurricane of fire; help us to wring the hearts of their unoffending widows with unavailing grief; help us to turn them out roofless with their little children to wander unfriended the wastes of their desolated land in rags and hunger and thirst, sports of the sun flames of summer and the icy winds of winter, broken in spirit, worn with travail, imploring Thee for the refuge of the grave and denied it – for our sakes who adore Thee, Lord, blast their hopes, blight their lives, protract their bitter pilgrimage, make heavy their steps, water their way with their tears, stain the white snow with the blood of their wounded feet! We ask it, in the spirit of love, of Him Who is the Source of Love, and Who is ever-faithful refuge and friend of all that are sore beset and seek His aid with humble and contrite hearts. Amen.”       

The Wondering Wanderer’s blog pick of the day.

Bean’s Pat: The Iris and the Lily http://tinyurl.com/crn8hbt After that I needed a bit of Mother Nature to calm my soul. Perhaps you do too.

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Walks by the Water

Water and birds often go together, just one more reason I like walking beside water. I found this great egret at the Sea Center in Lake Jackson, Texas. — Photo by Pat Bean

            “Rest is not idleness, and to lie sometimes on the grass under trees on a summer’s day, listening to the murmur of the water, or watching the clouds float across the sky, is by no means a waste of time.” – John Lubbock

Wet Your Eyes and Drink in the Ripples

I’ve been told that a monsoon is coming to Tucson soon. It’s hard to imagine as I pass by dry gullies and creek beds — and even rivers with nary a drop of water to be seen.

sight.

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Standing Above the Virgin River in Zion

             I rate enthusiasm even above professional skills.” – Sir Edward Appleton

To enjoy the view from above, one first has to get to the top of Angel’s Landing in Zion National Park. — Photo by Pat Bean

Weekly Photo Challenge: Above

My enthusiasm to get to the top of Angel’s Landing in Zion National Park every year on my birthday was motivated by my belief that if I could make it, I could handle anything the next year threw at me.

My immediate reward, however, was a view of the Virgin River and the winding canyon below, where birds flew below me and  people were dwarfed to bug size.

It was an exhilarating experience made even more awesome one year when a pair of peregrines flew below the edge of the ridge. For the first time I got to view the back of these falcons and not just their bellies as they flew.

I suspected the pair was nesting below in the rocks, an occurrence that closes down Angel’s Landing to rock climbers every year. I also suspected that the rock climbers had an even more exhilarating enthusiasm for the view from above after their strenuous efforts to get to the top.

It’s been a few years since I stood on top of Angel’s Landing.  Thankfully, since my children are grown and I’m now into the joys of grandchildren and great-grandchildren, life isn’t throwing me as many curves as it did in my earlier years.

So walking my canine companion, Pepper, up and down three flights of stairs for her four daily walks, has become my motivating challenge to keep me in shape to handle life’s more difficult moments.  But who knows. These efforts might get me into good enough shape that I might once again stand on the top of Angel’s Landing for yet one more view from above.

Ahh! I made it! — Photo by Pat Bean

            Bean’s Pat:  Wild Junket: http://tinyurl.com/buy5x2e Take an armchair exploration of St. Vincent

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Book Friday: Anne Bishop

The woods play a big role in the Tir Alainn series by Anne Bishop, so I thought I would illustrate my blog with one of  my favorite tree photos. — Photo by Pat Bean

Across the bridge  and into the woods, just like in “Shadows and Light.” — Photo by Pat Bean

            “The gift of fantasy has meant more to me than my talent for absorbing positive knowledge.” – Albert Einstein

I  Kept Turning Pages

I’m a bit groggy today. It could be because I stayed up way too early – like until around 3 a.m. – to finish reading Anne Bishop’s “Shadows and Light,” the second in her Tir Alainn trilogy.

I only discovered Anne last month when I was browsing the science fiction and fantasy section of the local library. I’m always looking for good fantasy books and new authors. And after I had read the first in this series, “The Pillars of the World,” I was hooked on Anne.

The  main characters are the Fey and Witches – and strong women. What’s so fun about the creativity allowed in fantasy writing is that Anne’s characterization of Witches and the Fey are quite different from how other authors portray them.

It reminds me of the many different King Arthur versions floating around out there. My all time favorite is Mary Stewart’s Merlin series that begins with “The Crystal Cave,” published in 1970. I was a big fan of Mary long before that, hooked on her historical fiction, with mystery thrown into the mix.” I think I read just about everything Mary ever wrote, including “Nine Coaches Waiting, “My Brother Michael” and Moonspinners.

Just thinking about Mary makes me want to go and revisit some of her work, particularly the Merlin books.  But then there’s also my desire to read Anne’s third book in the Tir Alainn trilogy, “The House of Gaian,” – and her other books as well. I find that if I like one book by an author, I usually like their almost everything they write.

I wonder how much sleep I really need?

The Wondering Wanderer’s blog pick of the day.

  Bean’s Pat: Life’s Total Immersion http://tinyurl.com/c23slef This blogger better expressed some of my own thoughts about why I like fantasy.

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Bull Snot!

I’ve seen the Atlantic Ocean from Maine’ coast … — Photo by Pat Bean

“I always pass on good advice. It is the only thing to do with it. It is never of any use to oneself.” Oscar Wilde

“A word to the wise ain’t necessary – it’s the stupid ones that need the advice.” Bill Cosby

 

You Shouldn’t Always Follow Advice

I’ve wanted to use the phrase bull snot for a long time. I translate it as meaning: “Ha, you’re wrong,” but more dramatically.

And the Pacific Ocean from California’s coast …

I came across the perfect instance this morning when I read an article called “The Biggest Blunders New Retirees Make” from U.S. News and World Report. I name the source so you’ll know it wasn’t written by some fly-by-the-seat-of-his/her-anus.

If I had followed most of the advice in the article, I wouldn’t have had the awesome life I lived for the past nine years.

Don’t jump the gun into a new life, the writer recommended. I jumped. Bought an RV two weeks before I retired, quickly sold my home and took off for the road. It was something I had dreamed of doing almost my whole life and I wasn’t about to delay it one more minute.

I also didn’t take the article’s advice to wait until I had accumulated more money than I could have in another lifetime, and by ignoring the advice not to spend too much on travel and hobbies.

The only financial advice I had followed was that I did make sure I had adequate health insurance before I took off.

My financial solution to limited money was to downscale my wants and needs, and come up with the least amount I would eventually need to live on when I quit the road, and then try to make the rest last for as long as I could.

And now I’m watching the desert bloom — because I didn’t follow anyone’s advice. — Photo by Pat Bean

Having recently traded in my nine-year road life (well I still have my RV,  and a few trips left in me) for a small apartment in a nice area of Tucson, I think I succeeded in that.

But then I broke yet another piece of advice in doing it. Don’t move where you don’t know anyone, the article said.

Except for one daughter, who lives on the other side of town, I didn’t know anyone else in Tucson when I settled here in January.  I use the past tense in saying that because I’ve already made friends, and I find starting my whole life anew energizing and fun.

But then I’m me and not you. The article’s advice might actually be good for some of you. Just don’t lose your dreams over the wrong advice.

The Wondering Wanderer’s blog pick of the day.

Bean’s Pat: Why Blog? http://tinyurl.com/ccfzx3j I sometimes ask myself this question, and this blogger answered most of them.

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What Makes a Perfect Day

            “If  you laugh, you think, and you cry, that’s a full day. You do that seven days a week, you’re going to have something special.” — Jim Valvano

The Difference a Half Century Makes 

It’s got to be a perfect day if I get to go out birding with old friends. — Photo by Pat Bean

A perfect day at 24 and at 74 is like two different worlds. In one I would be rafting down the Colorado, and making mad, passionate love under the stars with a soul mate that night.

In the other, I would be happy to have just met my writing goal for the day and to have learned or seen something new.

Watching an awesome pink and purple sunrise and a fiery orange and red sunset would be included in both worlds, however, as would be a good book to read, a nice stiff Jack and Coke (well it would have been a Virgin Coke in the first world because I didn’t drink until I was 37) before a gourmet dinner that someone else cooked.

And seeing birds, like this California quail only makes the day more perfect — is that even possible? — Photo by Pat Bean

A perfect day would also include feeling loved, which is easy at 74 but was nigh impossible at 24.

The truth is I’ve had many days I would consider perfect – and the closer to 74 I became the more abundant they’ve become. Hmmmmm?

Sure it would  be grand to tackle the Mighty Colorado through the Grand Canyon as the lead paddler in a six-person raft once again, but that’s something I’ve had to accept my 74-year-old body isn’t up to doing.

The end of  all my days on the river were all perfect days, but for some odd reason I find today’s  mellower activities  have a way of leaving me content and satisfied with my life in a way that I never was at 24.

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Bright and Bold and Brassy

” Live Life as an exclamation, not an explanation!” — Unknown

Life as an exclamation is how I saw this northern cardinal.

Today’s Illustrated Journal Page

I came across the above quote early this morning and immediately jotted it down in my newly started art journal. Ideas for illustrating it flowed through my head all morning, and then I thought of the beautiful, cheery northern cardinal.

The two just seemed to fit.

It was a quick draw and watercolor job — 15 minutes — in which I went for boldness and not perfection. I think the fellow is a little humpbacked.

The Wondering Wanderer’s blog pick of the day.

Bean’s Pat: Red Rock Hike  http://tinyurl.com/a63twt2  My broken ankle is still not up to trails, so for now I’ll just have to do them from an armchair. But then this also brought back memories because I’ve taken a few hikes in the Sedona area. Catch one if you can.

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An Illustrated Journal

“If you hear a voice within you say ‘you cannot paint,’ then by all means paint, and that voice will be silenced.” – Vincent Van Gogh

It was supposed to be 30 cats. — Pat Bean

“The purpose of art is washing the dust of daily life off our souls.” Pablo Picasso

The Goal to Not Take Art so Seriously

Before I became a writer — which I accept that I I was at the age of 25 forward, but didn’t acknowledge until I thought I was skilled enough at the age of 50  – I also wanted to be an artist.

A voice inside me said you can’t do both – silly voice. Occasionally over the years I ignored the voice and did a few paintings, most of which I threw away or which ended hanging up in the homes of children, whom I assumed only said they liked them because they loved me.

          And that’s probably true. Although I have to admit, I do know viewing art is like reading. What one person loves another can just as easily hate. Neither writing nor art is like math, in which two and two always add up to four.

Recently I’ve had the urge to keep an illustrated journal just as I do a daily written one. To that end I was reading Carla Sonheim’s “Drawing Lab,” which is about making art fun. The first exercise was to get in bed and draw 30 cats.

I got bored after six, which is how my journal page “Six Cats” evolved. I do so love color and I had to fill the page with something.

The next page in my daily art journal is a collage. My three youngest grandchildren made me large homemade cards for my birthday. I adored them, but really didn’t want to begin cluttering up my small apartment with this kind of thing.

I didn’t have the heart, however, to throw them away. So I snipped bits and pieces from all three of the cards and created the collage you see here. I added the photo of J.J. because he gave it to me on my birthday.

Since it took me 25 years of writing before I could call myself a writer, I’m certainly not ready to call myself an artist – and might never be.

But I am having fun.        

The Wondering Wanderer’s blog pick of the day.

    Bean’s Pat: An old tale  http://tinyurl.com/ajhdxkw More is not always best.

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