When I am 90

I am getting forgetful. I wish I had a delete button to clear out a lot of things that I've absorbed over the years, such as other people's senseless chatter. That would be my first priority, of things to delete.  I wish it were that easy.  I met a woman today who was 90 and sharp as a tack. She opened a dialog with me about avoiding the spicy soup at my favorite restaurant. She sat alone, at the table next to mine.  At first, I was a little leery about her cognitive competence. A closer look revealed a petite classy lady, who had driven into the city in search of some specific clothing at a local dept. store. She decided to stop for lunch at this restaurant, on a whim, before heading home. She took a chance, alone, at a new place. What moxie!  As we both finished our meals, we continued to talk about her life.  She loved to talk! She lived through the Depression, raised children, worked for a Doctor's office,  and learned the value of not buying more than she could afford. We found that we both loved to ice skate on frozen creeks as children.  We discussed politics and Chihuly glass. This woman was amazing! I could have talked to her for hours. We parted our ways, never even knowing each others name.... When I grow up, I want to be just like her, interesting, adventurous and appreciative of Chihuly glass.

My Point of Reference

This is a view of my backyard tree line that forms a  " V ".  It faces North East. I have admired this view through each season for the past 2 decades.  It is my favorite place on this Earth.  In the Summer, when the leaves are full, the V becomes a canopy over my perennial garden.  This view is observed from my patio and reminds me of my children playing in our backyard over the years.  When I die, and by God's grace, I am taken to Heaven, this will be my room there.  This will be my view, with my children playing in the yard and my husband fixing something and I will be sitting on my patio chair taking it all in... gazing up at my big V.

Advice for the New Year 2011

Good bye to the old and on with the new.  Oh... and what ever you do, don't turn around and pick up that carcass of old baggage and carry it with you!

Home for Christmas

It is early Christmas morning and all are still asleep. The light is soft and there is only the faint sound of wings fluttering, rejoicing the gift to the world, in the form of Mary's baby. Oh, how her heart must have felt that day! Every Mother knows that feeling... and no one can tell you how you will feel until it is your moment. The nurse places that child in your arms and you are complete.  You wonder at this miracle that God picked just for you and you question if you can be trusted with the responsibility.  I recall asking God about His decision, at that moment. What on Earth, did I know about any of this?  I was so scared and humbled at the task before me.  The nurse puts you in your car and you go home a family, ready or not.  I believe in Divine intervention.  Those two children in this picture are the result of God's ever lasting love. They are my special gift, and I am somehow deserving of these precious spirits.  Perhaps, they are "Angels unaware" sent to watch over me, instead of the other way around.  I am a blessed woman!

Expectations

This is the Season of Expectations. We are all waiting for something. We wait for the season to start and once it gets too hectic, for it to be over. Children expect Santa to bring them the items on their list on Christmas morning. Parents expect their children to dance with joy and love their gifts. The merchants expect this seasons profits to keep them solvent  for the months to come.  Mothers expect Hallmark moments around the family gathering dinner table with picture perfect food and design.  We all have expectations of just how this season should play out.... the best ever, perfect, appreciated, loved, and paid for.  I loath expectations, personally. I have been know for avoiding people and the expectations that relationships bring. Even friendships are a little treacherous for me.  I fear I will not be able to live up to other's expectations or demands and somehow let them down.  This season brings people and relatives a little too close for my comfort level.  I wonder if Mary needed some personal space and quiet time away from angels singing, shepherds standing around, and foreign men bringing gifts, that she had no idea what to do with?

Where Artists Go

This is a copy of a photo that Kate did for the opening of the IWU gallery. It was the first piece the gallery sold.  She has a name for it, which I can't recall.  I think it should be labeled "Leap of Faith".  It also reflects the place where artists live... in between. It is a place of neither here nor there, then or now. It is a peaceful place of "1/2 way" where the mind can relax, to listen and create, to let what needs to, come out. When my children were little, and I was the last to come upstairs to bed, I would love to sit on the stairs, just 1/2 way up.... thinking of the day. It was a place of nowhere.... a place of the moment. Our cat would sit with me, waiting.... in the "in between'".

Aunt Stella giving Anesthesia

Really... this is my Great Aunt Stella.

Why aren't they smiling?

My Mother is one of 11 children. She is the girl standing next to her Father, to his left. She is not smiling. Not many are smiling in this photo. The story behind this picture contains a dark secret that no one wants to talk about.  My Mother saw something, that happened to a child who is not in this picture.  He has no grave marker, nor record of his death.  It is like he vanished. 

Family Not Included

Kate Collins Photography

The Wildcat Creek

 Childhood swimming and ice skating creek.