Summer's End

It's my last week in my Summer Palace for the year, and summer seemed to finally arrive the last couple of weekends.

The squirrels are back (where do they go?), and Blue Jays have started to disrupt the peace around here. They must be coming through on their migration down south. The chipmunks are madly gathering food for the winter, and soon will disappear underground to have their 2nd litter of the year. Today, a whole flock of wild turkeys marched through my backyard on their way to wherever they were headed.

Two weekends ago, many of the lake people had pulled out their docks for the season, and only a few fishermen were enjoying the gorgeous weather. We went to the "sandbar", which during the summer is covered with beached boats, kids, and dogs. This day it was empty except for its native residents - the gulls.

Changing Reality

We all have notions about what is real. And our perceptions of reality and potential outcomes to our actions make us behave in a certain way. Especially if we fear the outcome.

I used to live my life in fear when I was younger. I feared social situations because I was overweight and thought someone would make fun of me. I feared getting my oil changed because I thought that the mechanic would tell me that my oil was really dirty and I was a horrible car owner.

Seriously.

Instead of overcoming the fear, I changed my perception of reality. I wasn't a bad person just because I didn't my oil changed regularly. People liked me when I was fat the same as they did when I lost weight.

I took my niece to Chicago for her cousin's wedding over Labor Day weekend. It was her first plane ride, first trip to Chicago, and a lot of other "firsts". At the wedding dance, her girl cousins and I tried to get her to come on the dance floor with us. We had already worked up a sweat bopping the night away, most of the time without a dance partner. My niece said no, she didn't want to dance. As her cousins became more insistent, I saw that familiar fear in her eyes. I felt it before. I knew what was going through her mind.

"People will see me. I can't dance. I'll look stupid. Oh my God how am I going to get out of this?"

I took her hands and led her onto the floor, promising her that nobody was watching. After a few minutes, the fear in her eyes was replaced by wonder. Nobody WAS watching! Then the wonder was joined with pure joy. Letting go and dancing is an expression of great joy when nobody is watching. My niece changed her reality, which dissipated the fear.

Dance like no one is watching.
Love like you'll never be hurt.
Sing like no one is listening.
Live like it's heaven on earth.
-William Purkey

Flawed But Loved

Senator Edward Kennedy died late last night, and the news networks have been busily reporting on his life and his life's work. At dinner tonight my friend from Ireland asked the table why Teddy's death was so important. After a couple of replies, he said, "ah, so he's like American royalty then."

Teddy was the last of the brothers that included a president, a World War II hero, and a Attorney General assassinated before he could (possibly) win the presidency. He was also the only brother that died from natural causes.

But he is also known for his very public car accident at Chappaquiddick, where his car plunged into water, he fled the scene, and his passenger died. Later, he pled guilty and apologized for his actions, and let the citizens of Massachusetts decide whether or not they would allow him back to public service.

He was known for his work in the legislature, known for small acts of kindess, and also known for his drinking and carousing with women.

In the end then, he was like most of us - flawed; damaged by what life's blows have dealt. But in spite of everything, he was also greatly loved. Even those who didn't agree with his politics are celebrating his life and his work.

I wish only this for my own life. That I live fully, and that people love me in spite of my flaws. In the words of Teddy Kennedy when eulogizing his own brother Bobby:

"My brother need not be idealized, or enlarged in death beyond what he was in life; to be remembered simply as a good and decent man, who saw wrong and tried to right it, saw suffering and tried to heal it, saw war and tried to stop it.

Those of us who loved him and who take him to his rest today, pray that what he was to us and what he wished for others will some day come to pass for all the world. As he said many times, in many parts of this nation, to those he touched and who sought to touch him: 'Some men see things as they are and say why. I dream things that never were and say why not.'"

30 Years

I swore a long time ago that I wouldn't go to a class reunion. I hated high school - I was so shy, wore glasses and had braces, and liked to read - all things that painted a target on my back that said "geek - please ignore".

I didn't go to my 10th, or my 20th (nobody even bothered to contact me for the 20th, and for the 10th, they asked me to come 2 days prior to the reunion). So when I heard about the 30th, I figured that no way wasw I going to subject myself to feeling like a geeky girl with braces and glasses again.

But I live an hour away from my home town now (during the summer), and I've changed so much since then. If I can charm a room full of Egyptians, or Greeks, or Canadiens, or Maltese, why can't I do the same for people I haven't seen for 30 years?

I spent all day Saturday getting ready. I colored my hair, put on fake nails, flattened my hair, and put on an outfit I last wore in Miami for a conference. I stopped by my brother's house to say hi and goodbye to my niece who was visiting, and the girls told me that my thong was showing through my white pants. Horrors.

So I went home and changed clothes (it was raining anyway, and my white pants would have been ruined). I drove an hour in the rain to my hometown, and arrived at my brother's house, where I would spend the night or not. I still thought that I would duck out early and drive back to the lake if I hated it.

I drove downtown to the park and searched for my classmates. I was clutching my senior class yearbook, thinking that maybe someone would recognize me. Once I found them, the game was on. I plastered the smile on my face, and said "nice to see you" so many times I thought I might die. Especially since I didn't recognize hardly anybody from their class pictures, which I had studied for several weeks before the event.

The boys - well, a lot of them lost their hair, and some gained a bit of weight. The girls though, they pretty much looked the same - hairstyles have changed, and some lost weight, or gained a couple of pounds from babies, but really, they looked the same.

And the cutest guy in the class? Well, he's still cute. He still has his hair, but it's gone all white now. He still has the build of the football player he once was, and has the scar on his arm from the sports-related accident he had our senior year.

We've lost one classmate to death, in a grain elevator accident. Another one might be in trouble with the law, but nobody has heard from him in a few years. Amongst my former classmates there was an accountant, finance director in a plastic manufacturing company, farmers, truck drivers, window manufacturing workers, housewives, teachers, and rancher.

Someone said that our class was nothing special, but that was okay. I beg to differ - almost all of us survived , and several of our classmates have had 20 or 30 year marriages, with kids and grandkids to show for it. And while no one was rich or famous, we all seemed happy...at least for one special night in the park 30 years after high school.

Challenged Chipmunk

This little chippy has been a frequent visitor to my deck, probably because I put food where he can get to it. I don't know how he lost the use of his back legs, although there seems to be marks in the middle of his back like something bit him. Every time I see him I'm amazed that a predator hasn't gotten him yet.

Hope and Faith

Late Monday night, I got the phone call that I've dreaded.

"I found one of your cats just laying there, and he's dead".

For 5 months of the year, I leave my house in Texas to come to my true home of Minnesota, leaving my 6 cats behind in the care of a competent, caring, pet sitter. 4 of the cats are over 11 years old, and were born in my bed (much to my surprise, because I didn't even know Grace, the mama cat, was pregnant). Blue Bell was the first kitten born that night - he was pure white, and would later get the Siamese marks his father probably had.

Grace had 4 kittens that night, but I moved out of her way after I saw Blue, and didn't see the rest of them until the next morning. The rest is history - I knew that I would have a hard time finding them all homes, and wasn't sure I could bear to part with them after they were weaned anyway.

All day Tuesday was gloomy, rainy, and all-around depressing. Everywhere I looked I found more sorrow. Intervention, a TV program I watch, featured a father of two that went to treatment only to find out he had cancer of the throat, and died 3 weeks after returning home.

I saw a chipmunk struggling towards the deck dragging a useless foot behind it. I'm still not sure if it was a result of a birth defect or an injury.

My air conditioning isn't working properly in Texas, and it's sure to cost a pretty penny when the repairman fixes it.

Late in the day yesterday, I was watching some TV program I had recorded, and the lead character said something like this: "Look for the bad and you'll find it. Look for the good and you'll find it too."

So this morning was chilly and rather gloomy too, and I woke up grieving for Blue. But as the day wore on, I noticed the chipmunk with the bad leg again, and he seemed to get around just fine. In fact, when I went out to see him, he ran so fast there's no way I would ever be able to catch him.

And a Mama and just-out-of-the-nest baby bird visited outside my window, and I got to watch Mama patiently open sunflower seeds and feed the nut inside to the baby, who was already bigger than she was.

The bunnies are cavorting again, which means more baby bunnies are on the way.

And the sun is back, the air smells sweet, and I'll have tomatoes in a couple of weeks.

Not perfect, but hopeful. Maybe that's all we have when we're deep in the caverns of sorrow, or loneliness, or depression. Hope that it will get better, and faith that it always does - if we only know to look for it.

Occupations

There are a lot of interesting people that come to the campground. Some have campers here, some just come to visit.

• The designer of the house in Minot built for a deserving family and shown on "Extreme Makeover Home Edition"
• Two martial arts instructors who have previously competed in the UFC (Ultimate Fighting Championship)
• A pediatrician, who runs TV ads on the local channels
• A couple of nurses (including a school nurse), a couple of hair dressers, and a daycare owner
• A dog groomer, formerly an IT professional
  
• A guy who used to maintain and fix crematoriums
• Owner of a deck building company
• Seller of farm equipment, and seller of insulation
• The owner of a motel
  
• Employee of the mapping company that does Google Maps (only the coolest thing ever)
• A fashion buyer
• A lawyer (my brother, who visits occasionally)
• The CEO of a hospital (my niece's husband), who is a paramedic on Life Flight as a hobby

Some people I wish I could meet:

• A professional chef
• A park ranger, or somebody that knows a lot about the wildlife around here
• An organic farmer
• A professional photographer
• The owner of a tree service company so I could get good firewood
• Someone with a house actually on the lake (preferably single, straight, and good-looking)