Whose Counting

The past two days of deluge from the heavens was much needed for our dry land, but it also brought more than just help to my flowers. Yesterdays downpours were so hard I had to pull over and wait many times for a clearer view of the road. The slower driving pace allowed me time to reflect on the happenings of my small-town world which these past few days has been all about getting older.
One of my dear friends, Jean Ruckman, is celebrating her 80th birthday this week which takes her into an age bracket which these days is just the beginnings of older age. The church family and a few other close friends surprised her with a party and as I looked around the room I realized how many of my friends are all over 80; Jean this makes you a youngster. It's becoming nothing to be 90 these days. I asked my neighbor Bill Corbitt a few weeks ago what it felt like to turn 90 (really such a silly question) and he didn't really have an answer other than he couldn't believe it himself. "I never really thought I would live this long," he said in amazement. Both he and Jean told me they really quit counting the birthdays a long time ago.
The chronological age really doesn't matter; although it is an amazing milestone to hit those big numbers and a cause for celebration. But again looking around the room I decided I must get busy and spend some quality time with these people. The sad reality is that the odds are starting to work against them and time isn't on their side.
What can we do about it? We can stop counting the years and start counting the hours we spend with them. Jean began to recall stories to our group about the year she was born. Hard times and The Great Depression fell on the 1930s and her mother took on boarders, fed them from the garden and had time to deliver a child while taking care of the other siblings. I tried picturing the scenario and was tired just thinking about it. Jean said her mother never complained and always remained upbeat at least as far as the family or boarders ever knew. I want to spend time with those who have witnessed over eight decades of American life and have lived through the changing times. I'm coming to the realization that those who can best adapt to the changes are those who seem to sail through the years with little trouble; those who stopped counting and started living.
Jean uses e-mail and Facebook as does my mother who is a young 80. Bill never stops moving. He uses a cane, but never misses his lodge meetings and gatherings. He is always visiting with someone on a daily basis. He checks on us all in case we need something. My friend Charlie Landsettle led our church service as a layreader and did a fantastic job.
Of course I have many friends who have had no other option, mainly because of mental illnesses,than to have their loved ones placed in housing where they can be taken care of on a daily basis. There are no words to describe the pain that causes a family, yet many times I see their loved ones take on new roles in their new living quarters. They become the helpers and keepers of those in need and find new purpose.
If we must count, lets count the blessings these folks bring to our lives. It doesn't matter where they have to live only that they are living and that we can spend time with them and still learn from them. I have a friend whose mother isn't sure whom everyone is and in her mind she is a young gal living on a farm. It's tough for the family, yet, through all the fog and mist there has arose a laughter in us all that just goes to the farm with her and makes sure she's alright. New memories are being created and more time is being spent together around her. She has, without even knowing, forced everyone around her to slow down and spend more time together. Its been a tough,yet,good thing.
I can't imagine what would have happened to me if people such as Jean, Bill, Charlie and many others hadn't taken time for me. It did take a village to raise me. I can only hope that someday when I'm 80-plus years someone can say I helped them in their life. If that happens, I will have lived my purpose. We are here in this world to be mentors and to bring joy, love and happiness to others. The greatest gift we can give to these octogenarians is to pick up where they left off and to continue in their footsteps.
Many times we have to move the mist and wait for the rain to stop falling to realize we have many blessings yet to gather. Lets go count the hours with our friends and family and stop using the excuse we don't have time. What's more important - a reality television show or the reality that we can make a difference in people's lives.

Instinct-That little voice inside to which we should listen

Kittens were born at our house on the Fourth of July. Well, not at the house, but in our boat of all places. The momma cat, whose name is Chicken because the nieces and nephews all under the age of seven decided so, is a young mother who has known exactly how to take care of everything. It's just instinct; a part of nature and nurture. Its amazing to watch in action. Chicken chose the boat, I'm sure, because it was protected from the sun, comfortable in the carpet and the ground predators wouldn't find them. We needed the boat so we moved them and she tried to take them back until we all settled on a good place. She cleans them every day and feeds them and this morning brought them a dead mouse- I'm not really sure what that was all about - but I'm sure it was something important to her. She is the proud mother of four; two with bobbed tails like hereself and the other two have long tails. I think Chicken is some kind of Bobcat or Lynx mix and the daddy, our neighbors cat, is a black and grey tabby. Being born of the 4Th, I couldn't resist to name them Yankee, Doodle, Dandy and Sam and they are all as cute as their names. They already have homes and we couldn't be prouder and happier.
It was while watching Chicken take care of her little ones that I realized we all have that innate nature within us but we many times just don't listen to our inner being or soul. Over and over again in my life I've caught myself saying, "I knew I shouldn't have done that," yet I did it and it went wrong. I truly believe in the mind, body and soul connection and if we would take time to listen to all three, we would be better people.
I've had a weight problem for years. I keep telling myself its just because I finally gave up cigarettes and needed to replace them with something. Well, what an excuse. I gave up the smokes over 14 years ago and I'm still using them as my excuse for stuffing myself with everything I shouldn't. The key word here is stuffing. I've been reading everything I can about diet these days and what these large amount of sugars and fried foods do to us. I realize its not the sugars or even the type of food, they've been around since Eve ate the apple, but simply how much we inhale. Our bodies tell us when we are full, but we ignore the signals and keep shoving it in. It doesn't matter what we eat if we only eat a few bites. The best advise I've read and I will pass on is....don't eat if you're not hungry. It's simple. Our mind and body tell us when we are full and when we are hungry if we listen. Chicken cat knows when to feed her babies and clean them and protect them just as we know how to take care of ourselves if we listen. We can instinctively take care of all our needs if we take a moment each day and get quiet and really listen to ourselves. Many call it prayer, some call it meditation and others don't have to give it names..its just instinct. Stop and listen. Make time not excuses.

Spirit

I've spent the better part of the last three days burning up highways between New Martinsville and Charleston, WV, in an Americana-type mood in honor of our Independence Day. I have always been impressed with the show of flags through Paden City. This is a city that shows its American pride throughout the year with flag draped streets but its never more beautiful than during the Fourth of July celebrations. I had to stop by my favorite small-town hardware and take in the ambiance of an era gone by. Its hard to keep mom and pop stores open these days and even if I spend only a dollar, I try to patronize these hard-working private-owned retail locations. Having grown up in a corner grocery store with wooden floors and penny candy I enjoy nothing more than strolling through the isles and soaking in the scents of my youth. I feel like a kid again with a few dollars in my pocket needing to be spent. I purchased a couple of sheets of sand paper and a utility knife. I'm not sure why, but I know I'll need them someday. We need to keep these few little markets going. I believe in a time the world will not be dependent on huge box stores anymore.
After attending the memorial service for Sen. Robert Byrd and marveling that most of the power in the free world of America was sitting before me in Charleston, WV, I headed back up to the calmer world of the Ripley Arts and Crafts fair. I reacquainted myself with Sunny Hollow Farms products and the great culinary talents of its owner Jill Brookover Goff and then went on to watch the art of rope making, wood turning, and to the sounds of bluegrass music. I would never be one to give up my electronics and go to a time when we had no electricity when everything was hand-turned, but for a day, an Independence Day, its great to reflect on our forefathers and the sacrifices they made - so I can blog and facebook. I jest, but we will never really understand what spirit it took to fight for Independence. We take it for granted that we will always be free, yet many of those early freedoms are already gone. I love history and what it can teach us. Robert Byrd always made sure new Senators read a copy of his history of the Roman council just to give them an idea of what can go wrong. Small independent stores can't begin to freely survive with the same opportunities as the large box marts and such arts as gardening, wood working and jewelry making are becoming popular again not because we are free to explore that past, but because our poor economy is forcing us to learn to do redefine how we exist; not just for art or show but for survival. When times get tough, the tough get going and we can always turn to that early American spirit to guide us in a new direction, even if it has a twinge of old support.