Fall wonderland…just doesn’t have that ring to it, do you think?
Author: Anne Doyle
Look who passed by
K arrived home for lunch and said, “You want to see what’s on the deck? It’s really big!”
We followed her and she was right.
Where was it going? From where did it come? Did it know about the snow that was coming?
We put it out in the garden. I hope it found a cozy spot…away from the pumpkins.
A great idea that values others
Yesterday I attended a luncheon held by a new friend that I haven’t known very long and don’t yet know very well. The invitation read:
I’m organizing a lunch for the most interesting women I’ve met recently on Sept 25 (Friday) at my house. Could you come? As it turns out, I think that none of the women know each other except for me! So it will be especially fun. Please say yes.
My response? “Of course! How could I decline?!”
I am really glad I went. We were ten and I, in fact, only knew one woman other than the hostess. And what a group they were: artists, statisticians, counselors, teachers, writers, volunteers, aging specialists, researchers, listeners, social activists…and that’s just what I remember from their personal descriptions. Wow!
The conversation was wide ranging with participation by the entire group; no one was silent. Each story stimulated a new story with no sense of one-upping. There were no awkward silences and yet no prompts were necessary. No one took over the floor but no one held back. The group was dynamic, interesting, and interested.
The meal was delightful: a composed salad of all sorts of vegetables and greens, crusty bread with butter, and a perfect dessert of vanilla custard with a chewy cookie. It looked so lovely on the table that we hardly wanted to sit down to devour it.
What a truly special event! I felt valued by someone that I knew only a little. And I felt honored to be included among such a fine group of self-aware, competent and articulate women.
Thank you, Gretchen.
Perhaps we need to learn to break frame?
For most people, to understand something new requires a cognitive antecedent. When members of the Me’en tribe in Ethiopia were shown a coloring book that included an illustration of a local antelope, they didn’t recognize the animal. They would smell the paper, twist it in their hands, feel its texture, listen to its sound, and even taste it gingerly, but they couldn’t discern any animal from its picture alone. When anthropologists transferred the drawing to cloth, a material with which the tribe was familiar, a few of the tribespeople could make out something…Scientific experiments repeatedly show that groups of educated, urbanized people pay no attention to unfamiliar objects directly in front of them if they focus too strongly on the familiar ones. What we already know frames what we see, and what we see frames what we understand.
—Blessed Unrest, Paul Hawken, 2007
Ms. Tobin
One month ago today a friend of mine died. She was 94 years old and by all reports had a rich and full life. I first came to know her just a few days after her ninety-third birthday so what I knew of her life I learned when she told me her stories.
She and I visited almost every Friday afternoon in the hour and a half before they served dinner in her residence. It was a good time to go because the day for her had been long but when I left she was ready to join the other diners. She would leave me to bound up the stairs (literally…I couldn’t keep up with her) and cross over to the other building so she could avoid the crunch in the elevators. She didn’t like to go down too early and have to wait for a long time, but she definitely didn’t want to be late.
I say we visited most every Friday because I didn’t see her at all during the summers; she went to Montana in early June and stayed until late August. She loved Montana. It was where she was born and raised, along with her many siblings. From the time she was knee-high to a grasshopper, she spent the summers with her family on the lake. At first it was just an outdoor campsite, but as more children came along and her father sought refuge fishing and hiking, her mother made it clear that she needed walls and a roof to house them. So, Ms. Tobin’s father built a cabin. And despite the destruction of that place and the relocation to a new spot higher on the lake (what a story that was!), she returned there every summer, eventually with her own brood.
And this summer was no different. When she packed to go back in June, I stopped by to see if there was anything she needed. She was up to her elbows trying to sort and sift. Her daughter and her family were going to pick her up on their way from Kansas City and Ms. Tobin didn’t want to take up too much room. The air crackled with excitement as she considered the right sweater, which jewelry, how many socks. We didn’t even sit down to talk as she was busy with her preparations. She had notified her residence of the date she would leave so they wouldn’t worry when she didn’t show up for dinner; she had organized her papers and pictures. When we parted, I hugged her and gave her the French bisous as was our custom. She took my hands in hers and thanked me for coming and for being her friend. I wished her a bon voyage and said I looked forward to hearing all the stories of her summer when she returned. She waved and blew a kiss. She was ready to go.
The next thing I heard was that someone had called from Montana to say that she ill and asked if her name could be added to the prayer chain. I worried that this was ominous news but waited to hear more. Finally on the twelfth of August as no updates had been forthcoming, I felt like I just had to know how she was and called her son who lived nearby. There was no answer so I left a message. He called back the next day; she died the day that I had called.
It’s sad to think that I won’t see Ms. Tobin again. I will miss her stories of Montana, the adventures of her childhood, how she played the organ in Gunnison, when she become a sorority mother, how she built the new cabin, the happenings of her children and grandchildren; but what a blessing that she was able to return to spend the summer on the lake with her family one last time.
Ms. Tobin loved God and her family. And I loved Ms. Tobin.
Art & Spirituality
I went with the Art & Spirituality group to see the exhibit, 2009 Pastel Society of Colorado: Mile High National Exhibition, and found it delightful. If you haven’t been, go! It is at the Longmont Museum until 27 September.
One of our group said he found that most of the pieces were “heart-work, not head-work” suggesting that they offered something at all levels. Our discussion ranged from technique to style to color to context. Wow!
(If you have an interest in art and spirituality, we meet once a month, the second Thursday morning. Sometimes we visit exhibits together and “process them” ensemble; sometimes we share the works from within the group and offer comments; sometimes we listen to writings and talk about the words. Let me know and I’ll provide you with more information.) In the meantime, go see the pastels!!
Threads
I’m looking out my office window at a humongous spider web. Impressive in its design, it is intricate, delicate and sturdy. I took my camera out earlier this morning hoping to capture an image of it, but alas, my skills are too paltry. I spied while there, though, the web’s creator. A big, brown arachnid with legs tucked sat right in the center of its domain waiting, waiting, waiting. Now, though, it has moved on to some other venue leaving his creation to do its work. Thus far I see only a small bit of leaf blown onto the sticky net by the passing lawn mower. I feel for any creature that might find itself ensnared and yet that’s nature’s way.
Funny to think that I might have missed seeing this altogether if those incredibly fine silk threads had not caught a glimmer of the early morning sun light. It pays to watch for glimmers, but that’s another story…
I’ll keep an eye on this awesome work through the day and see what happens.
It’s big, it’s amazing, it’s a…
…what? Go ahead…guess!
A visit to the past
As the photo in the previous post suggests, I visited the Denver Museum of Science and Nature yesterday. It was like a trip down memory lane since we used to go there quite often with a trail of youngsters in tow. Now my little one is taller than me, but she was still enthralled by the dinosaurs. And she knows so much more science now that it makes wandering the path through the various exhibits a new experience.
I was glad to find however that there is a younger set (yes, even younger than sixteen) that still runs there. Their loud exclamations of surprise and wonder fill the halls. But it’s the little side comments that I love. Here were the two snippets that I overheard that almost put me on the floor rolling with laughter:
- A tiny little boy all of three feet tall looking up at the humongous T-Rex that was fifty tall if he was an inch, said, “He isn’t so tall; he must be a baby.”
- A little girl in the Egyptian room held her arms stiffly at her side and hopped on both feet while singsonging, “I’m hopping like a mummy…I’m hopping like a mummy!”
It tickled me good, but maybe you had to be there…
Guess where I went today?
This has to be one of the most popular places in Denver for kids…of all ages! We went again today after at least a nine year hiatus. And it was just as cool as it ever was. Have you been to visit this guy?
And yet I wonder…
…is this what’s meant by dead wood??
On My Walks
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The other day walking along the trail next to my house, these signs drew my attention. Who passing by would need reminders of these basic practices? And yet, just a few steps away there is dog poop on the path…left, I’m sure, by someone completely surprised by and consequently ill-prepared for Fido’s need to relieve himself while outdoors.
My question is, would anyone behave differently if these signs weren’t present? If that is true, then do these signs qualify as litter themselves?
Care to voice an opinion?
“This is a test, this is only a test…”
These words never fail to strike fear in my heart despite their intention to calm. Yesterday was test day for the Emergency Broadcast System in Boulder. Thank goodness we have this available. Let’s just hope we never need it!
Let there be light!
Words
Always remember that it is impossible to speak in such a way that you cannot be misunderstood.
–Karl Popper, Unended Quest: An Intellectual Autobiography (1976)
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