Picking up the torch

It began in October, at Art's daughter Laura's wedding in Akumal, Mexico. All but one of his six kids were there. And his ex-wife Nancy and her husband Clete were there. And Art and me. We spent six days there - some of it as a group, some in smaller groups, some in couples or singles. Everyone got along. Effortlessly. It seems that, 20 years after their divorce, the bride's parents were amicable and glad to be there. Laura had both her parents, and both her stepparents, sitting in the front row at the ceremony. And, before the vows, she gave each of us - all four of us - a long-stemmed red rose and a hug.

It continued last Saturday, when Nancy and Clete and Art and I cohosted a family gathering at a local venue. Laura and her husband Brian flew out from New Jersey, and Laura's sister Melissa and her husband Scott flew up from San Diego, and Laura's three local brothers drove over. And 46 people - Laura's aunts and uncles and cousins from both sides of her family - celebrated the season, with a toast from Laura's brother Jason welcoming his new brother-in-law.

And in conversations with some of these grown offspring over the weekend, topics included what Art and I would like as we grow older and what our expectations are - or are not - from our kids; suggestions from people further along in their careers as to financial strategies for the younger ones that might lead to a values-driven life and/or a comfortable retirement; who might be able to help someone get a job in a company they work in; possible destinations for future all-family gatherings (Sand Point, Idaho or Yosemite or maybe Lake Tahoe).

The "torch" part is that most of these conversations were initiated by the offspring rather than us, the parents. No one is passing the torch yet - it may be another decade before Art and I are ready to give up our driver's licenses or downsize to a single-level house or move to a drier climate - but we can see the next generation is ready to pick up the torch as it's needed. To give their younger siblings - or us - a hand. I told Melissa if she had any questions about our plans for our later years, she could ask. And she did. I told her where the "executor stuff" is and she didn't say, "Oh, we don't need to talk about that yet."

I've been in Art's kids' lives for 20 years. I've been an involved stepmother. Two of the six have lived with us at some point. Now I see that they have been raised well by their parents. They are taking care of each other, and they're willing to give us a hand if we need it.

They're picking up the torch. And that is a good thing.

Season of darkness and light

Twelve more days until the winter solstice. Then it starts getting lighter again. For those of us in the Pacific Northwest, it's dark when we get up unless we sleep in, and it's dark before the 5:00 o'clock news. And, west of the Cascades, it's rainy, or shrouded with low clouds with no snow on the ground to reflect available light. Every few days the sun comes out for a time. Then we go for a walk and squint gratefully into the sky.

Some people like this time of year. They say it's cozy. Others, like me, feel heavy and dark inside. I double up on my vitamin D, take a homeopathic supplement, and turn on a lightbox for half an hour every morning. Even then, it's a long slog through this time of year in the darkness. Even though I know it's coming, it's a shroud on my spirit.

And yet, here we are in the holiday season. We have lights and little ornaments on our artificial ficus and a small LED-lit tree in our bay window. Last year's live tree spent the season in a pot in our living room; it's now planted along our walkway and festive with lights.  We have 22 stockings hung on the banister - including one for our potbellied pig, Bud, who passed away over a year ago at the age of 18. This week I have family visiting, with a small, laughter-filled gathering last night over a lovely shrimp pasta dish, and another larger one this afternoon. 

We are honoring Art's daughter Laura and her new husband Brian with a holiday gathering attended by both sides of her family. Laura's mother Nancy and I have collaborated on the planning. It will be a festive, fun day. Next weekend we'll host several of our children and grandchildren at a family dinner and generic gift exchange. And then our holiday season home events will be finished until we welcome our 12-year-old granddaughters on December 26 for their annual holiday visit. 

Yesterday, Art and I went to the funeral of an elderly neighbor. Once again we were sitting in a church - a place we rarely go these days except for weddings and funerals. Years ago I was a liturgical musician, and this Advent season was a busy one for us as we prepared for the coming of the Light. Those songs still reside in my spirit, and yesterday I sang one of them at the funeral. I noted I can still read music after all these years.

"The music of the spheres" is a phrase from a hymn I remember from my childhood. It seems to me that this season of darkness and light is all a part of it. The music, that is. 

On January 1 we leave for Tucson and the sun. 

They always come in threes

The answers always come in threes for me.

Usually I'm fairly competent at getting through my life. Sometimes, though, I get stuck on a problem. I don't realize I'm stuck for a while, though. I keep on examining the issue, from various angles and "what ifs", and my feelings get exhausting, and I lie awake at night.  Then I find myself in a willpower-induced corner, surrounded by ugly barking dogs - pretty much trapped. That's when I realize I'm stuck. And, as a last resort, I say, "Okay, Universe, I'm stuck. Please give me the insight on what I should do, and give me the willingness to do it."

You know what? I ALWAYS get the answer. It comes within just a few days, and from three separate places I wouldn't have expected. That's how I know it's the answer.

Here's a very recent example.

Back in May of 2011, I was on vacation and sat in a chair that was a couple of inches lower than its companions in the room. Immediately I felt the nerves in my back objecting in my legs, and within two hours both of my feet were tingling.  Within three days the accompanying balance issues had resolved, but not the tingling. Apparently there had been a major nerve root insult, and nerves take lots of time to heal. They have been healing for a year and a half now, and while improved, they're still annoying.

Over the next six months I saw two doctors and had three MRIs. The doctors assure me these things take time, or sometimes they never heal and I should live with the sensations in my feet, and the MRIs look normal. Still, I worried this issue in my head nearly every day, and lay awake at night with my feelings.

Finally, about three weeks ago I said to the Universe, "Okay. I've been asking for over a year now to be a good sport about this, but now I'm changing my request. I want this issue to be healed." And then I said the magic words: "Please give me the insight on what I should do, and the willingness to do it."

Then I flew to Alaska to spend Thanksgiving with my sister. She is about three quarters through nursing school. In my dozenth, at least, conversation with her about this back issue, I commented that the tingling in my feet is somewhat positional. When I'm in my car, for example, with its lumbar support, it's much less annoying than when I'm lying on the couch.  And she said, "Then at least part of the problem is postural." Had I never told her about the positional issue? It had honestly never occurred to me. That's ONE. 

Last year, when I whined about my feet in a blog, a blogging friend named Murr suggested an exercise followed by a "get back to me". I did.  She recommended a book called Pain Free. I bought the book immediately, did the back exercises for three days. Nothing changed. I put the book away. Last week I was going through books I'd planned to donate to the library and came upon the book. I decided to read it! By the time I'd finished the first three chapters, I knew my back issue was at least partly postural. The book suggested ways - not just back exercises, but others - to help. I started doing the exercises. That's TWO.

I got a massage last week. I talked to my therapist about my back. He said, "That postural thing makes a lot of sense. The muscles that need to be supporting your lumbar spine are weak, and the right exercises can strengthen them." That's THREE.

So I made an appointment for next week with a practitioner specializing in the techniques recommended in Pain Free.  I am hopeful.  

It could be that my foot discomfort is here to stay. But maybe not. The point is that, when I pay attention, I get answers. If I rely upon my willpower and then sink into victimhood, I may not.

Here's to the Universe! And thank you again, Murr.

Running out of propane

We're in Kenai, Alaska for Thanksgiving week. We stay in my sister and brother-in-law's motorhome, in their driveway.  They have four cats and my husband Art is allergic to every one of them. The motorhome is quite comfortable. Except it's heated with propane, and the temperature outside last night got down to -4, and the propane tank emptied during the night, and when we woke up this morning it was 32 degrees in the RV.

We're glad we're here anyway, though. I laugh a lot with my sister, and Art loves making Thanksgiving dinner all by himself, no matter whose kitchen he's working in. We brought four suitcases with us on the airplane yesterday, plus a carryon, and two and a half of them held fresh fruits and vegetables not available in Alaska. Art took them out and laid them on the table and my sister Alyx took a picture and posted it on her Facebook page.

We're having Thanksgiving today, Wednesday, because my brother-in-law Virgil works at WalMart and his hours tomorrow are 2 p.m. to 11 p.m. That will be our leftover day, plus we've been invited over to my cousin's house for dessert. Once Art finishes with the turkey, he'll start in on his famous biscotti to take to the dessert.

My sister and I are seven years apart in age. We haven't always been close. That's happened since our mother passed away four years ago. We're now both doing things we love - she's in her second year of nursing school and I've taken up mediation. We were talking today of the family we came from and what we've accomplished. We're grateful to all the people who came before us, no matter how dysfunctional or difficult they were!

Thanksgiving blessings to you and yours!

Certified!

I've just been certified as a Mediator Practitioner by the Dispute Resolution Center of my county after 140 hours of training and practice. I started this program in June of 2011 with a 40-hour basic mediation class. I took a 24-hour family mediation class. I observed eight four-hour mediations, then did a mock mediation for my Professional Standards Evaluation. Then I co-mediated twelve three- or four-hour sessions. I observed five mornings in small claims court, one morning in family court, spent the day in a women's prison, and took five workshops. As a certified mediator, I can now finish up the requirements to join the Washington Mediation Association, which is my personal goal.

Why did I do this and what am I getting from it?

1. I wanted to be useful after I left the workforce, but

• I found out I don't have the stamina to build all day for Habitat for Humanity. 
• I found out I don't want to teach English as a second language. 
• I already knew I don't want to be a volunteer who crochets baby blankets for the hospital or reads stories to kids at the elementary school - I'm not crafty and reading stories to my grandchildren is sufficient.
• Neither did I want to work with computers as a volunteer when I already did that for 20 years as a professional.

2. I am a good listener, and mediation requires it.

3. I've wanted to be less judgmental and critical and more open minded. In mediation I've learned that everyone has a valid perspective, and that understanding has carried over into my life. What a gift!

4. We travel and have other activities, and I need a volunteer interest that can accommodate that. I get an email a couple of times a week listing upcoming mediations, and I can choose which ones I want to volunteer for. I don't have to skip my morning exercise or meetings of my writers group or classes I sign up for, and I don't have to drive at night unless I feel like it.

5. I am greatly appreciated for the mediations I sign up for, and greatly valued for the outcomes achieved at those mediations.

6. When clients walk into the room they don't know what is going to happen, and neither do I. When they walk out, usually they've made agreements they can live with - whether it's for a marriage dissolution, a parenting plan, a workplace dispute, neighbor disagreement or something else. They almost always give credit to the mediators. But always, always, the accomplishments belong to the clients. All we've done is facilitate their work.

7. I am learning to be flexible. Most mediations at the Dispute Resolution Center are done by a team of two mediators. Sometimes when I walk in I have never met the person I'm going to be working with for the next few hours. It's a give-and-take process throughout the mediation. By the end, we mediators appreciate each other and have learned something new.

8. I use my mediation skills outside of the Dispute Resolution Center. I've been helpful to family members and friends - usually in unplanned situations that just come up in the course of a conversation. It amazes me how much can happen when a person is listened to.

9. I'm grateful for the aptitude for mediation, for the woman who first told me about this field five years ago when I was still working, for the excellent training provided to me. And, especially, for the continuing support of the mediation community - they are good people.

10. Someday, sometime, someone may pay me to do this work, but I would do it for free. And I do. I'm grateful that I can.

Welcoming our soldiers home

To publicize our book Return to Viet Nam: One Veteran's Journey of 
Healing, I sent emails to most of the newspapers in the Pacific Northwest.
I told them our book would be appropriate to include in features about
Veterans Day.

One of the responses was from Elizabeth Griffin, editor of the Journal
Magazine, which serves communities just north of Seattle. She
interviewed Art and me a couple of weeks ago. In addition to our book,
we talked about others engaged in service to veterans. This week,
Ms. Griffin's article appeared online. We're honored to be included
in her discussion. You can read the article here.

Tonight there's a swing dance at the local high school.  There will be
music, food, a silent auction, and a magician. Veterans are admitted
free.  Ms. Griffin invited us to attend, to perhaps say a few words about
our book, and to donate a copy to the silent auction.

We will attend, for sure, and will provide a copy of our book. We might
even dance! I hope lots of veterans will attend so that I can thank them
for their service.

I watched this video for the first time yesterday. I cry every time.

A sincere thank you to those now serving our country, and to all the
veterans.

The Bag Lady thinks about Africa

Back in August we were excited to be planning a trip to East Africa for next summer. We'd had houseguests, Ed and Jeri, who said it was the trip of a lifetime and referred us to a friend, Tom, with a direct connection to an outfitter in Nairobi. We were fascinated by the stories and started corresponding with George, the outfitter.

The price quotes came back disappointingly high. The amount of that one three-week trip would exceed our yearly travel budget. We'd need to dip into spare money. And what if we needed it later on? After a lot of thought and a couple of months we decided to forego the custom trip to Africa and take a group tour. I sent an email to Ed, Tom and George last week and thanked them for their help.  Then we decided maybe we should wait a bit before signing up to go to Africa at all. I was disappointed, but felt comfortable taking my usual play-it-safe position.

Then I read a recent blog post by Bob Lowry at Satisfying Retirement. I've been following Bob for a couple of years now. I like his informative style and his attitude about retirement and his ideas about finances. He's sensible about money and he has the same kind of curiosity about things that I do. He was a careful saver and he and his wife are now benefitting from that.

Bob and his wife Betty recently rented an RV for a few weeks to see how they liked it. They loved it. They loved staying a few days and getting to know a place, and discovering new places. Now they are considering taking a risk. Should they buy an RV and travel for several months a year?

I read Bob's post with fascination. My Bag Lady read along with me. It was very clear to both of us that Bob's well planned retirement makes a lot of sense, and we could completely understand his hesitation about buying the RV.

But there was not a doubt in my mind that he and his wife should buy it and go. Not a single doubt. I commented, "A ship in the harbor is safe, but that's not what ships are built for."

Then I thought about our Africa trip. I wondered how it differed in the least bit from Bob's pending RV purchase. I couldn't come up with a single difference. Both are somewhat of a splurge in a carefully planned retirement.  Both will undoubtedly yield pleasure and personal growth. And, most likely, neither will turn out to be the boondoggle that transforms us from retirees in a decent space to Bag People.

I said I'd told Ed and Tom and George we'd changed our minds about the personalized safari.  Both Ed and Tom responded immediately. They talked about the difference between a customized safari and a "group grope" one. They talked about the quality of the trip that the outfitter would create for us. They said that, for this once-in-a-lifetime trip, we should do it exactly the way we want it rather than going along with the more generic group itinerary. They told me we could shorten the trip or economize in other ways. They both said, "Don't give up on this dream. Go to Africa."

I ran it by the Bag Lady. She reminded me that, after all, we don't live on a shoestring budget, and there are other ways to pay for the trip than by holding a cardboard sign at the freeway offramp. She actually was a little curious about all those animals.

So yesterday I sent another email to Ed and Tom and George. I said "yes". Tom made a few suggestions for changing the original itinerary: forego three days at an orphanage in Nairobi, consider dropping Tanzania. Ed added an idea: visit the British ex-pat working farm. I told the men we'd like some Kenya culture included, and I'll be calling Tom later today to talk about possibilities.

We're personalizing this trip.  It will still be expensive. But I think the Bag Lady will enjoy going along. She likes animals - especially giraffes and elephants and the creatures who move outside a tented camp at night.

The risk may not be a trip to East Africa or an RV. It might, instead, be a flight across the country to visit grandkids, or dinner out and a movie, or a pair of comfortable shoes.  It's good to be reminded that we're all in this together.

Thanks, Bob.