Dedication to anything is
as a bird in flight
muscles and mind
working in harmony
to get to the nest,
to forage for wants and needs
flying through
rain clouds,
open air,
against hostile winds.
At the end of the day
to rest and sleep
readying for
the next day’s flight.
“Our self-acknowledgement has to be bigger than our fear.”
~ Rod Stryker, author
This is the day…..
Otherwise, I would….
Dedication to ……
Any other day….
Yesterday went……
“Today is a most unusual day, because we have never lived it before;
we will never live it again it is the only day we have.”
~ William Arther Ward, author
(1921 ~ 1994)
Straight forward ~ take the #40 straight to the Golden Mile Plaza. First stop: Old Fashioned Foods; around the corner to Good Earth for coffee with Louise Penny’s Kingdom of Blindness; down the sidewalk and across the parking lot to Superstore for groceries. Home. Should only take about 2 hours.
My first detour: Wasn’t that cold today, but I took the first bus that came along………….wrong bus! Got out at the next bus stop and hustled back to a correct bus stop ~ #7 saved me. Everything went as planned until I had coffee in hand. A lady was standing up, buttoning her coat… “Are you leaving?” (it was my favourite table.) “No, but you can sit down here.” We visited for an hour and a half! Great conversation - we covered all the important topics - grandkids, dogs, family, politics, money…….. No more detours! Got my groceries for making granola on Friday, got the correct bus home……….Took me about four hours! It was fun though!
“Life doesn’t always go the way you planned it to go.
Sometimes you have detours you have to take.”
~ Andrew McCutchen
beached logs relax
on a warm spring day.
“…..and then, I have nature and art and poetry,
and if that is not enough, what is enough?”
~ Vincent Willem van Gogh
 |
| 2014 - Calgary Olympic Rink |
Now: I watched through plexiglass as a gaggle of four year olds attempted to skate. Wobbly or flat on the ice. Held up by their parent or sliding on little bums; skating like some were born to it - baby steps. No one was crying though. I loved watching them all - especially my own little skater - a very special great grand-daughter.
Then: I really miss skating! The slicing sound of blades cutting the ice, the laughter and music of the skating rink, the ice-cold wind in my hair as I skated really fast (sometimes with out falling), and twirling and trying to skate like the bigger girls….
“Sometimes my skating allows me to do things I never dreamed possible.”
~ Kurt Browning
to sprout, to rise to the sun,
gifts from our ancestors bones.
“When in doubt, remember that our ancestors
eventually found their way. You will too.”
~ Lauren Lola, Dasig
natures white background
was laid just for them.
“Unless you show off you’re not going to get noticed.”
~ Elton John
Michael J. Fox was diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease at age 29. Keeping it secret from everyone but his wife in those early days, he was frightened. His struggle with alcohol, already in progress, didn’t help the situation and he sobered up four years after his Parkinson’s diagnosis. This back story provided the foundation for the rest of his lively life.
Mike, as he calls himself, doesn’t dwell on the details of those days. Rather, he writes plainly and humorously about his declining health and his annoyance with it. His stubborn optimism, a life long belief, faded as Parkinson’s has him more strongly in its grip. His amazing family always support him ~ wife Tracy, son Sam, daughters Schuyler, Aquinnah and Esmé all make him laugh, care for him, let him get away with what he can ~ even when he severely broke his arm in a fall because he insisted on being alone. For just one night. This after he had finally healed from back surgery and removal of a tumour. He punished himself about that. His life long friends who golf with him despite his decreasing coordination keep him participating in life. They all attend concerts, go on holidays (one was a safari) and generally enjoy a solid family life. He doesn’t neglect to write about the Parkinson’s Foundation that he founded but doesn’t go on about it. Even though I think he’d like to. In his acting and writing careers, he writes with pride and gratitude about all the people he works with. Spike Lee asking him to do what are called ‘arc shots’ that can be filled in - especially when he had to put it off because of the broken arm.
Mood changes from Parkinson’s and the increasing physical limitations steadily narrows his options. He had always been known as someone who made lemonade out lemons, but at one point he didn’t want any more lemonade. Despite being only 58, he feels like an old man too early. A huge challenge to his optimism. It frightens him to know that 'getting better' is not an option, while he is still a young man. His epilogue shares how their family dealt with the pandemic. All the kids coming home, their family sheltered in place at their beach home.
I related to much of what he shared in this memoir and am grateful that I picked up NO TIME LIKE THE FUTURE as my next read. It stays on my shelf, as a good read and as a resource when I am feeling my own aging in the midst of my own chronic condition.
“With gratitude, optimism becomes sustainable.”
~ Stephen Pollan,
Michael’s father-in-law
Title: No Time Like the Future ~ An Optimist Considers Mortality
Author: Michael J. Fox
Copyright: 2020
Publisher: Flatiron
Type: Hardcover
Format: Memoir
ISBN - 978-1-250-26561-6 (hardcover)
ISBN - 978-1-250-26562-3 (ebook)
Thinking it Over
“Martha, did you bring the mail in?” James Digby was home for supper. “Yes, dear. There’s a letter here from Thom. And the hydro bill. Nothing much else except some flyers.” James could hear Martha’s careful setting of the table. The plates had to be just so, the cutlery lined up properly. She had learned her table setting craft for the Estate and insisted it continue in their home. James didn’t mind at all. He preferred precise. “I’ll be right there, supper smells awfully good.” Martha laughed. “Well, it should. It’s a gift from Elizabeth. One of her lamb stews that she had set aside for us - the rest are in the big freezer. All I had to do was heat it up. She sent some scones too so we’ll eat well tonight.”
James barely heard her, he had opened his brother’s letter. Since their visit the previous year, he and Thom had been corresponding regularly. “We may be having company again this winter. Thom and Sonja are planning a trip to the Island to get away from the snows. Says it’s not too bad right now so they don’t know exactly when they want to come.” He folded the letter and put it away. “Now what’s this about Elizabeth’s stew?” His wife was already sitting at the table, patiently waiting for her husband. He kissed the top of her head as he passed. “You didn’t hear me? Doesn’t matter, I’m just glad you’re home.” She served them both a good portion of stew and passed him the basket of warm scones. “Wonderful that they’re coming again this year! Did he have anything else to say?”
“That is a delicious stew, Martha! Sorry I couldn’t answer you right away.” Buttering a scone and taking a second helping of the stew, he went on. “In my last letter, I told him of the developments Miss Emelina is making. Getting more active in the garden and orchard. ….and the apiary. I let him know my concerns about how she would manage. She’s always been so gentile in her life.” His wife frowned. “Now, James, really. I completely disagree. She’s much stronger than you and Samuel think. And apparently, Dr. Jeremy too.” She got up to make their tea. “You men. Take a look around you. How many women work and have worked on this place….and hard work too. Certainly we’re not outdoors like Samuel. And you’re an insider yourself.” She set the teapot down with a thump. James knew he had crossed a line with his wife. He should know better than to even suggest that any woman was weak. “Here, let me pour the tea and you know I wasn’t demeaning Miss Emelina. I just worry about her.” Her face still a mask, she said “Well you needn’t worry about her. After all she’s a grown woman who finally knows her own mind. That pandemic was horrible for many, many people, but for Miss Em it was a God send.” James started clearing the table. “Thom reminded me of all you women and the work that gets done when the rest of us aren’t looking.” He saw the pie on the counter. Time to change the subject. “Peach pie, Martha!?” He took dessert plates down and cut generous slices of pie. Topped them both with ice cream and took them to the table. “Smile, dear. Let’s have a nice evening.”
~~~~~
“Dez. Can I ask you something?” The two sisters were in the upstairs living room after supper. “Of course you can! What is it?” Emelina had been quiet throughout supper, often staring out the window. “Well, I’m not sure. Have you heard anything from Jeremy? I know it’s only been a couple of days, and he does text me every night to say good night, but……I don’t know. Was I wrong to walk out on him? And why do I get strange looks from people when I tell them I’m going to be involved with the outdoor work? And why are you grinning at me like a cheshire cat?” Dez had been happy that her big sister was taking the situation seriously. There had been a time when she would have wanted…..no expected….. someone else to take care of it. Blamed Digby or Martha or anyone she could find. This sister was the girl she had grown up with, always with her finger in every school activity. Running them, participating in them, getting others interested in participating. “Em, you’re back to who you used to be. No I don’t think you were wrong to walk out on Jeremy. That’s what you would have done when we were growing up. Didn’t take anything from anyone. Even if you did have your nose in the air most of the time.” She hit the mute button on the TV. “The strange looks? I think that’s only because you have been a ‘helpless female’ for a long time. I know you’ve never been helpless, but you’ve never had a problem getting others to do your work for you. You’d been doing that so long, that no one knew you could do anything else.” Emelina leaned her head back on the sofa and laughed.
Then sat up. “Really. You don’t have to be so mean……but I guess you’re right. Jeremy was being a jerk and had been for too long. And no one ever suspected that I could do anything outside but walk the track.” Dez sat forward. “Remember that first night of the pandemic when you had to come to pick me up?” Em nodded. “Yes! I was terrified at first because I was all alone, but when that police officer called and asked me to come get you I didn’t even think about me. I just knew I had to find the car keys and get to town. Bring you home. Didn’t matter that we’d been mad at each other for years.” Relaxed, she smiled and picked up her phone. “Thanks Dez. It’s time to call Jeremy.”
“We leave something of ourselves behind when we leave a place,
we stay there, even though we go away. And there are
things in us that we can find again only by going back there.”
~ Pascal Mercier, Night Train to Lisbon
 |
| Imagine this soaking in snow!! |
Autumn yesterday ~
Crisp flakes of nature’s gold
collecting in gutters and corners
Winter today!
flakes of nature’s gold: soggy and
mashed into yellow dyed slush.
“I think it’s the duty of the comedian to find out
where the line is drawn and cross it deliberately.”
~ George Carlin
“The past beats inside me like a second heart.”
~ John Banville, The Sea
“Nature is the source of all true knowledge.”
~ Leonardo da Vinci
has not always been smooth
will not always be smooth
Dedication behind the wheel
needs intention and hope
needs humility and gratitude
“And I realized that there’s a big difference between
deciding to leave and knowing where to go.”
~ Robyn Schneider, The Beginning of Everything
Pittosporum tenuifolium ‘Silver Queen’
Leaves more lovely as they fade
Precious homosapien ‘Grandparents’
Faces more cherished as they age.
“Even with all my wrinkles! I am beautiful!.”
~ Sarah Louise Delany, educator
Shards of pottery will be scattered all through this earth when dedicated archeologists sift through sand or soil a million trillion years from now. What can be decomposed will have vanished leaving no trace of their presence, unless some scientific technology can trace a distant past. In a vain hope, all the plastic bags, bright coloured plastic toys, plastic forks and knives, plastic anything will have been compressed by the weight of our refuse to the oil they came from. Our emails and text messages and videos and music and films and electronics and television ~ where will they be? Will the world we left behind still vibrate with the brilliance of them all. Where will the brilliant art of Picasso and Monet and our grandchildren, the fantastic symphonies of Mozart and Beethoven and Chopin be stored? In some kind of a technological array worthy of StarTrek fame? I think of all these things as I look around my home or when I am wandering through a museum. In the moment, what surrounds my bones is my precious home. Is that what the archeologists will discover and put back together? Pieces of ourselves and our homes?
“Anyone who has lived
Is an historian & an artifact,
For they hold all their time within them.”
~ Amanda Gorman, Call Us What We Carry: Poems
