The birds are exuberant this morning. By the dozens, tufted titmice, rose-breasted grosbeaks, cardinals, gold finches, black capped chickadees, blue jays, mourning doves, and an oriole sing and flit from branch to nearby branch in a riotous clamor just outside the living room windows. One of the delights of spring is the way one can luxuriate in the bookends of the day. Morning unfolds slowly as the light gathers until the sun crests the horizon, and then all at once the day bursts open like a flower. Evening lingers before the day finishes. It is at these times that I especially enjoy watching the birds come and go.
Posts tagged #personal essay
What if You Are the Plucky Comic Relief?
I’d like to think I’m a relatively bright person. By traditional measures, this is certainly true. I have a wall full of degrees and fond memories of being a professor to prove it. And yet, I continue to surprise myself with the levels of idiocy I am capable of. I’m thinking about this right now as I can’t swallow, having tried to gulp down near boiling, extra spicy kimchi soup that I overheated in the microwave. So far, I’ve been too embarrassed to go to the doctor on this one, but I’m pretty sure I have second degree burns on my upper palate and throat.
Guilt, Judgment, & Forgiveness
Earlier this year an obituary in The New York Times caught my eye. It was of Clint Hill, who died in February at the age of 93. Hill was the Secret Service agent who, on November 22, 1963, immediately after President Kennedy was shot, jumped on the back of the presidential limousine and shielded the President and First Lady Jacqueline Kennedy with his body as the motorcade sped from Dealey Plaza to nearby Parkland Memorial Hospital.
Coincidence, Compassion, Competence, and Courage
Some years ago, I read about a study which concluded that one of the main factors in instances of heroic action is a feeling of competence. In other words, the man or woman who runs into rough surf to rescue a struggling swimmer or jumps into an icy lake to pull out a child who has fallen through the ice acts partly out of a sense of confidence about their ability to swim. There are, of course, additional factors. There is the essential one, even if merely accidental or coincidental, of being in the right place at the right time. But, even more important, is having a strong capacity for compassion, and for courage, the ability to set aside fear and act, despite danger and risk.
Three Generations of Fathers
Earlier this year, we celebrated our daughter’s 30th birthday with a small ritual that has long been a tradition in our family. On every birthday, and on our wedding anniversary, we make time to review some of the best moments of the previous year. Since this was a significant birthday for our daughter, we upped the ante. This time we reviewed the highlights of the past thirty years! Unachievable in a week, preposterous in an hour. Still, we tried. Over a leisurely, celebratory breakfast, the three of us recalled and reminisced about favorite family vacations and outings, special concerts—ones we played, ones we attended—plays we’d seen, books we’d read, graduations, weddings, and other milestones. And we laughed about misadventures that were not funny at the time but have, with the passage of time, become hilarious.
Out of My Comfort Zone with Brian O'Donnell and Linda Bender
Life is calling me out of the comfort zone of middle age to the forbidding territory of old age. Middle age isn’t exactly my comfort zone either. If I’m honest I’m still clinging to youthfulness.
Your Nodal Axis Knows
Years ago, my friend Lorraine and I were comparing junior high report cards which, back then, were much more than a letter grade representing your academic successes and failures. Teachers actually wrote a list of everything they wanted your parents to know you were or weren’t doing. In my case, the list was long and critical.
The Magnolia Blooms Spoke
I had three big dreams for my adult life: to be married, to have one more child planned within a marriage, and to live at a location that was within walking distance to most necessities. In the winter of 2020, I had a deep soulful conversation with my reflection
A Lament for Winter
On a recent morning, the sun rose just above the horizon, shooting spires of light through the trees and tinting the snow-covered ground orange. My exhalations froze in plumes as I walked our dog—or he walked me—amid the trees that cover most of our backyard.
Prophecy, Legacy, and Trees
I have dreams that come true. Not all of them, of course, but enough that I now accept this strange unbidden gift as a natural part of who I am. For example, I once dreamed that a dear friend’s daughter was pinned underneath a huge tree that had fallen on her. In the dream, she was alive, but she was unable to move the tree, and she was hurt. The next day I found out this same 16-year-old girl, had been driving too fast on a gravel road, went airborne over a bridge, and hit a telephone pole in her dad’s Dodge Ram. The pole fell, totaling the truck, and trapping her inside. She was banged up, shook up, but alive and safe. Before she had fully recovered, her dad received a bill from the city to replace the telephone pole.
A Singer, a Song, and Memories
I first heard Steve Goodman’s song, “The City of New Orleans” over fifty years ago. I remember seeing him sing it at the Mariposa Folk Festival sometime in the mid 1970s, but I heard Arlo Guthrie’s much better-known version even earlier. I thought it was a terrific song, but I felt no special pull to learn it. I continued to come across it occasionally over the years, especially in the mid ‘80s after Willie Nelson’s version came out, and always felt the same about it.
The Role of Our Autobiography in Our Present and Future Life
Our past deeply impacts our present. Our childhood experiences have a huge impact on how we view the world today. We are deeply influenced, for better or worse, by the dynamics in our family, our religious upbringing, our cultural experiences, any bullying or trauma we endured, and the list goes on. All of these experiences are part of our autobiography and influence how we behave, think, and feel. In addition, how we experience life today, will impact how we experience life tomorrow.
Quietly Noticing
I stood about twenty feet away from my two-year-old waiting to push her on a swing or do a count down while she hyped herself up to glide down a slide. I had just gotten done with a three-mile run with her in a stroller at the loop at Hudson Mills. The only way we get through these runs is a lot of snacks and the promise of playground time, and I was ready for the playground time. To me, playground time is a time that I don’t have to keep my brain on high alert. Rinoa would play and I would catch my breath and not have to figure out how to run, push, grab, and unwrap a snack all at once as I had been doing for thirty minutes prior.
The Power of Ancestry and Personal Discovery
My sister Lisa and I often joke about our rabbit hole research inquiries. The thrill of the potential finds keeps us searching. What started as separate hobbies eventually merged to combine into writing local history as well as GENMEMS (genealogical memoirs and house histories) for clients. Lisa summed up her genealogy enthusiasm by saying, “It’s like a puzzle, or mystery, to see how everything connects or impacts each other.” That connectivity is what we all need to take a closer look at to understand our inherited (yet transformable) tendencies, how we can gather strength from our ancestors’ stories, and finally, how to keep descendants and future communities in our conscious decision-making.
Picture of My Past
In November of 1997, my brother and I were visiting our parents to celebrate their fiftieth wedding anniversary. We’ve known since we were sixteen, when our mother let slip one day that she was our father’s second wife, that our father had lost his first wife and three young children in Auschwitz. And long before that revelation, we’d heard about our father’s other relatives who were also killed in Auschwitz. Our father occasionally told us stories of those people. The stories often ended with, “They were taken to Auschwitz.”
How Humor Helps Me Over a Hurdle
I’m working once again to lose my post-pregnancy weight…it’s been 25 years since the baby. There have been peaks and valleys, fitness regimens and meal plans. Just when I thought I had things under control, menopause slapped me in the face. I hit a plateau. A brick wall. A stand-off.
Roadside Marsh
The westbound traffic on Interstate 94 is at a crawl this morning and I couldn’t be happier. It’s a Wednesday and brilliant sunshine glints in my rear view mirror.
The Past Rarely Stays in the Past
Sometimes it’s hard to uncover the truth about past events. Other times the past reveals its truths almost unbidden. Either way, the past rarely stays only in the past.
Beautiful Ways
I was raised in rural Colorado and on the Navajo Nation reservation in Arizona, in what is known as The Four Corners region. On a map, this area appears as a cross where four right angles meet to join Colorado, Arizona, Utah, and New Mexico. This is the original home of several Native American groups, including the Navajo people, also known by their preferred name of Dine’ (dih-neh), meaning “The People.” I feel fortunate to have been immersed in such a unique culture, and I often reflect on the experiences that taught me some valuable life lessons.
Out of My Comfort Zone: Dare to Be with Lauren Crane
I look at a comfort zone like a backyard garden. Plant seeds—let’s say tomato—in rich soil and they’ll grow in fat and juicy abundance. Really cool, you say, this will be my tomato patch forevermore. Not so fast. If you keep planting the same crop in the same plot season after season, you’ll deplete the soil and, sadly, your bushel basket will be bare. But throw in parsnips the next year, plug in peas the year after that, and you’ll keep the soil balanced and fertile, ready for the next good thing. I’ll stop pretending that I have a green thumb and get to the point of this metaphor.
