Change Is Hard

…but change is certain.

Category Archives: family


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Saturdays

When I was a kid my parents had a list of chores that had to be done Saturday mornings.   The list was generated after we were in bed on Friday nights, and awaited us on the kitchen table when we got up the next day.   Chores were grouped in relationship to how hard they were.  And every chore had a little box in front of it where we would put our initial, indicating we’d do the work described.  We each had to chose one of the harder ones first, and had to finish it before we could choose another easier task.  We were allowed to sign up for only one chore at a time.

Here’s the trick and the reason this worked.  There were four of us.  And if any of us wanted to make sure we didn’t  have to do the really yucky jobs we’d be up and out of bed before our siblings so that we could claim the least worst job for ourselves.  And we didn’t dawdle doing the work either, because we wanted to make sure we got the next least horrible chore.

So this Saturday as I mentally list the things I should get done I picture that chore list with it’s little boxes ready for initials.  And I smile.  We might have thought it was terrible back when we were teenagers, but right now I’d be thrilled to share my list of jobs with my three siblings!

Cause there isn’t anyone else here that’s going to initial the boxes on my list of things to do!


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Blueberry mist

My aunt called me the other evening and suggested we meet midway between our homes and pick a few blueberries.  While it’s still blueberry season.

It’s been so hot.  Oh yes, I think I already told you that, but anyway…it’s been so hot I haven’t wanted to go out and pick any fruit, though as a kid we always went strawberry, cherry, and blueberry picking.  And as an adult I used to try really hard to carry on the tradition.  But picking fruit alone turns out to be less of a fun adventure and more like hard work.  Especially when it’s hot.  Which it is.  As you know.

Anyway, we decided to get there when they opened, early in the morning before the heat became intolerable and as luck would have it we drove into a heavy mist as we approached the blueberry farm.

And I confirmed once again that picking fruit with someone on the other side of the row is much more fun that wistfully listening in on other family’s discussions.

Yum!


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Someone's mother

Someone’s mother died yesterday.  Though it wasn’t unexpected it must have been heart-wrenching. She was a warm and funny lady with many many friends and though her name was Virginia everyone called her Boom Boom.  Evidence of her personality I guess.  Once she was sort of related to our family but divorce changed the relationship.  Still.  I feel for her daughters and  her son, for her close friends, her church, her grandchildren.  Tonight  I sit on my deck and think  about her… what a wonderful day she missed today… and how much she is being missed by her family.

Then I realize that perhaps she did have a wonderful day today – wherever she is.  And that life after this was enhanced measurably yesterday by the arrival of a woman named Boom Boom.

God speed.


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Morning discoveries

This morning I went out to the attic over the garage to look for an empty box that I could use for my brother’s Christmas present.  I figured it made sense to wrap it up here in the South and leave it with him rather than ship it down later.  On my way to the garage I noticed the normal spiderweb over the walkway that gets rebuilt every night.   Then I saw the smallest, most beautiful web being spun about 4 inches beyond the first, bigger and more rustic web.

Can you see it?  Look up near the eves of the garage, though it is really right in back of the bigger web.  It is about the size of a CD, and the sun shining through makes it glow.  I watched the tiny spider move around and around, making close, delicate webbing.  It was fascinating how quickly she was building it.

Then I went inside and up to the attic in search of a box.  Searching for an empty one I noted how organized Mom was, boxes neatly labeled, stacked under the eves.

Each box was inexplicably tied with twine that over the years must have loosened with age as none of them were tight anymore.

There is a box covered in wallpaper filled with my grandmother’s china painting supplies, duly labeled.  The box itself reminds me of the wallpaper in my grandmother’s front parlor in the big old farmhouse where my mother grew up.

Grandma’s box reminded me that I’d been wanting to look for my mother’s pastels.  I used to use them as a kid and somehow the pastels I’ve purchased since then just aren’t the same.  Given my mother’s organizational skills it was easy to find the box of her art supplies.  Maybe she was a librarian in another life!  It made me sad to think that these things were tied up in boxes in the attic, and that I hadn’t found them being used in the house.  But it made me happy to find them at all!

I’ll take them home and see what I can create, with a little bit of her spirit for inspiration.

As I headed back to the welcome of air conditioning in the house I stopped by to check on my little spider.

Her web was complete, absolutely perfect, shining in the morning light.  And right in the center the little spider sat, waiting for her breakfast.

I smiled as I headed inside to make mine.


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A new day

Early this morning I was sitting on the deck looking out at the lake.  It’s the first morning of my entire 3 week stay that hasn’t dawned sunny and calm.  This morning the lake has little ripples on it and the sky is gray.  I’m eating my blueberries and cheerios, feet up on the deck railing contemplating nothing much at all when I happen to glance over at the neighbor’s pontoon floating gently at their dock.

It’s the pontoon we used to spread Mom’s and later Dad’s ashes.  The pontoon that held my remaining family and my parents’ minister as we said our last goodbyes.  I could see us all standing on it, crying and tossing flowers into the water.  I remember the words their minister used to try to console us.  I remember the deep, dark place we were all in.  And tears slid down my face.  Mom died six years ago this Sunday and this morning I am sitting on their deck eating my breakfast and remembering.  Missing them.

Then from across the lake somewhere a dog barks, a lawnmower starts, a fishing boat chugs.  A new day has begun and I take a deep breath and head out to the airport to pick up my husband.


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Life lessons learned from water-skiing

When I was a kid we lived on a largish inland lake and we’d go water-skiing most summer evenings after Dad got home from work.  We had a little blue boat with a 35 horse power outboard engine and all four of us plus Dad and sometimes Mom would pile in the boat along with our skis and life vests, towels and other debris.  We’d ski till it got dark, then we’d head home exhausted, sopping wet and very happy.

Lots of time has passed, I haven’t lived on a lake in thirty years and now if I’m lucky I might ski once a year.  Sometimes not even that.  It has become more intimidating, less familiar and much scarier to try.  When I was a teenager I could stand on one foot ankle deep in the water, ski on the other foot resting on the surface, yell “hit it!” and pop up behind the boat with no problem.  I’d land back at the same beach barely damp.

Now we ski in deep water and I struggle to get the unfamiliar ski on my foot as the life jacket floats up around my ears and the ski rope slides by behind me and the boat idles as everyone waits on me to get ready.  I panic a bit as the line pulls taut and I’m not at all sure I’m going to be able to heft my larger self out of the water.  Different boat.  Different ski.  Different me.

This week I went skiing with one of my brothers.  I was kind of afraid to try, sure that I wouldn’t be able to get up, but it was just him and me, and the water was a sheet of glass, what we used to call “water-ski water” when we were young.  So I decided it would never again be a better time to try.  Into the water I went, but two attempts later I couldn’t get myself up.

Lucky my brother is ingenious and he gave me a different, flatter, less competitive ski.  Part of me rebelled because I had always been able to use the fancy competitive ski, but part of me was resigned to accept the changes in me that meant I was less athletic.  And of course part of me thought that if I couldn’t get up on this “beginner” ski, well… I won’t go there.   But even though I was tired from being dragged twice along behind the boat, I tried a third time.  And guess what?  YES!  I popped right up! *

It was magical.  Nothing but flat water, mountains and clouds reflected as if in a  mirror, nobody else out there but us.  It’s as close as I’ll ever get to flying like a bird.  You float effortlessly through the images of trees and clouds, soaring across the water toward freedom.  It’s a feeling that is almost indescribable. 

So here’s the lesson to be learned from water-skiing:

Sometimes if you just hang on you can fly.  And sometimes you have to let go in order to regain your freedom.   The feeling can’t be bought;  if you find yourself in a position to experience it – do it.

Even if you’re really really afraid.

*disclaimer:  these aren’t pictures of ME skiing, these are my two brothers who went skiing on a previous day this week.  It’s so much fun to watch them!  And I had my camera on a stupid low resolution and didn’t realize it…so they’re grainy…but you get the idea…right?  🙂


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DUCK! Literally…

Just a funny…

My brother and I were what we call “bobbing” last evening off the end of our dock.  Bobbing is sitting on a flotation device, up to our shoulders in water, chatting about stuff.   We’ve noticed a female mallard duck that seems to be quite the popular lady with the male ducks; they chase her all around our little section of the lake.  Last night as P and I were bobbing the female started flying, low and fast across the water, a mallard in hot pursuit.  I saw her coming out of the corner of my eye and yelled “DUCK!  Literally!” at my brother just as they flew past inches above our head.

So cool and so funny all at the same time!


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Into the "jungle"

This week my brother and I took the canoe up to the end of our slough.  A creek feeds into the lake there,  winding it’s way  through cyprus trees and grasses, then on back into the hills.

Want to come along?  Here we go!

I loved the shapes of the cyprus tree trunks…and the reflections.

It was fascinating how the dappled light played along the water and the trunks.

When we were inside a circle of cyprus trees I imagined what a great camp site this would be. – till I remembered that I was floating on 3 feet of water.

Then we paddled further upstream.

The creek began to narrow…

…and there were more branches overhead and below the surface.  We were taking lots of pictures…

…and we realized it was dark enough in there that our flash would go off.  Hmmm….wonder what that would look like?

The photo above is of grape vine roots.  The vine is above and the roots have grown down to the creek.  They didn’t show up well till I used the flash.  Very cool!  And even more spooky looking!

Now Diana, I know what you’re thinking…”there could be snakes in there!”  And you’d be right, but we didn’t see any, and trust me I was looking!

Eventually we couldn’t go any further upstream, so we edged ourselves around.  The trip downstream went much faster, as I had already broken through all the spider webs! LOL

Back through the cyprus trees,

with a look at their seedpods…

…and back out into the open water…complete with sunshine!

It was a really fun adventure, and reminded me of a time several years ago when the same brother and I paddled up another creek on this lake, but we did it after dark.  With no lights shining.  The sounds of the bugs (and tigers and grizzly bears and monsters) were SO LOUD I was totally freaked out and finally, even after my brother told me not to, turned on my flashlight to realize there was nothing there.  No giant snake ready to drop from the trees, no scary bug weighing at least 10 pounds ready to fly in my face!  I still laugh (sort of) when I think of that adventure.  This one was much more sedate.

But then – we’re much older now.


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Celebrating

I celebrated the 4th down here in Alabama with family and friends.  And a whole lot of boating, swimming and eating.

When we were kids we lived on a small inland lake and always took our boat out to watch the fireworks the city was shooting off from the boat launch.  We’d pull into that bay and watch all the action directly overhead.  Sometimes bits of burned out fireworks would fall sizzling into the water nearby.  It was a wonderful way to spend a late evening, and I was always sad in later years that I  couldn’t watch fireworks with my family bobbing in a little boat, covered in bug spray, sweating slightly in the warm, humid Michigan night.

Well last year and again this year I got to watch fireworks from a boat filled with family and friends!

It’s just the best way to enjoy them.  Saturday night we were in my brother’s big boat on a big lake and along side of us are at least 1,000 other boats, bobbing peacefully in the evening sunset filled light.  As darkness sets in the crowd settled back and we all enjoyed the amazing colors and loud bangs of a first class firework show.  We munched on homemade salsa from my sister and smoked chicken tenders that my brother made.  What a life!

The next morning we took the boat out again, this time to watch the annual jet ski parade on the lake.  This year close to 50 jet skis, most decked out with flags and red, white and blue tinsel, gathered near an island, then took off in single file to run the entire circumference of the lake.

It was sort of heart stopping when they all took off, and in an odd sort of way it made you tear up when the long line of people proudly flying their flags roared past.

My sister was standing in the back of our boat playing patriotic songs on her bagpipe as they flew by and the jet ski drivers waved and grinned back at us.   I was grinning too, at the absurdity and beauty of it all.

After the last buzzing jet ski was long gone up the shoreline, we moseyed over to the “church island.”  It was, after all, Sunday the 4th, and there was going to be a preacher doing a church service there.  Every Sunday boats anchor off shore while a minister or preacher provide a service from the island.  This Sunday I listed while floating with my family in the cool lake water, boats bobbing all around, the sound of music and prayer filling the air.

Sunshine, flags, blue skies, music, good food, family.  Can’t think of anything else I need right now.

Well…maybe my husband and my Katie girl.


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An afternoon on another lake

Yesterday I popped over to my other brother’s lake house.  It was a cloudy day, but when one is visiting a lake, one must take a boat ride!

We stopped at a friend of his who also lives on the lake (visiting by boat…how fun!) and got to meet her dog.  Such a cutie!

The clouds were dark and ominous, but it only sprinkled a little bit.

All in all, a refreshing afternoon out on the water!  Maybe the next time I visit I’ll take out his rowing scull.  But the lake would have to be a bit smoother for that!
Just another relaxing day in the south…