Freedom's Just Another Word For Nothing Left to Lose

A year or two after my husband died I realized I really didn't mind being single. My kids, my job and my friends were enough. I loved solitary walks, the freedom to choose how I would spend my days off and the opportunity to just "BE." That was then. This is now. BEing semi-retired and single, is, well, lonely. My friends say their retired husbands drive them crazy. Sounds really good to me.

Like Emptiness In Harmony

My cooking gene kicks in with daylight savings time. When the fall fog rolls in I want to chop, saute, stew and roast things while listening to NPR. Is it the early darkness? Maybe the cooler weather? Who knows what makes me absolutely NEED to cook something savory, bake something pumpkiny, and sip something cidery? When I was a kid I hated the chore of starting dinner for the family before my mother got home from work. When I was a young wife, I was filled with anxiety and dread whenever I had to cook for anyone with the title "in-law." When my kids were at home, cooking dinner was what I had to do after I had worked all day. In the autumn of my life I cook because I want to.

Hawaii Five OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Six days in Hawaii. Five of the six days the hotel workers were on strike. Five nights at $300 per night and do it yourself housekeeping - "the sheets are on a cart in the hall." Five days with no on-site restaurants, no pool service, no sweet ukulele music playing throughout the resort and no refund, no offer to move us to another hotel, no perks whatsoever. Five days and nights of exhausted managers listening to thousands of complaints. Day two cookies and juice in the lobby, small consolation for being awakened (each of the five days) at six am by strikers on bullhorns, picketers banging drums, pots and pans and chanting at the top of their voices. Two days of listening to ugly yelling every hour - "We're Local Five.Go home! Go home!" - Day five finally becoming crazed and joining the thousands of complainers. Day six, the strike is over. Clean sheets, sweet music, all restaurants open, silence in the morning. Alas our day to go home. I don't think I will ever stay at a Hilton again. The tired managers credited our bill with a token $250 - for the inconvenience of staying in a luxury resort without even the basics. Today I made my own bed in my non-luxurious home, put on a CD and danced the Hula.

Ya Can't Win for Losing

I've been trying to help a young man who has made just about every mistake a guy could make. I am stunned by the incredible obstacles the "system" puts in the path of a person who wants to change his life. I am embarrassed by judges who sit in their robes and insult young people with their sarcasm and jibes. I am incensed by probation officers so jaded by their clients that they believe nothing, acknowledge nothing, offer no hope, no encouragement and no support. I am enraged by landlords who charge outrageous rents for roach infested rooms - because folks with records can't get anything else. I am dumbfounded by courts that impose fines that people can't pay and then send them to collections who compound them with maximum interest. I am dumbfounded by a jail sentence for not paying fines. I am furious with a system that asks a guy with no drivers license and no money to travel 200 miles from his home twice a month to "report" and then return 200 miles within 24 hours to "report" again to his probation officer in his home city. You can't win for losing.

Loves You Like a Rock

I am sorry I have been away. I am still reading your blogs if we have connected in the past, just haven't had a chance to write much.
The Northwest Summer has arrived (and disappeared momentarily ) I almost missed it. They say it will return.
This week I made several trips back and forth to Portland to help out my son and his family. Each trip I quietly blessed my ten year old Honda Civic. You may remember that I have never felt any affection for this reliable but unremarkable car. For the very first time in our long relationship I felt some respect and admiration for this little vehicle who in car years must be nearly as old as I am. Though we have traveled together for 125,000 miles it has definitely been a love/hate relationship and I have very much been looking forward to saying good-bye for good as I purchase a new car. Each trip up and down the highway this week I wondered whether the two of us could do it again - And after each round trip I was stiff and tired, silver civic just old and worn. Neither of us complained too much, but by Thursday night at 11:27 PM both of us were glad to be off the road after hundreds of miles of togetherness over the past four days. Yesterday I had a massage and then slept sixteen hours. SC just sat, quietly resting by the curb. Today I will treat her to some lovely high grade oil and a carwash. I guess I should admit publicly that we have become friends.

Sit Down, Shut Up, Think about God

So today I was attacked by a crow. There he was: sitting all black and shiny and huge and evil on a fence as I walked by ON THE WAY OUT OF CHURCH!!!! I swear we made eye contact. HE (aren't all crow's male?) snarled something at me in badbird vocabulary. Really, I mean it, the critter snarled and curled his lips before screeching a menacing crowish growl...well it looked like curled lips. He flew straight up and away all nonchalant. I sputtered a silent message of gratitude. A few seconds passed. Without warning crowmonster popped a sly and speedy turn back and dive-bombed my head. What's that about? I said more than a few non church words. A dark rainbow reason to stay home on a Sunday morning.

I barely learned the tune....

Lonely Rivers was almost retired.
That was last week. Returning from a professional conference on the east coast, I was asked to consider an "interim" - with a nice pay check. With guarantees that the search and selection of the perfect real and permanent director will be swift, I've agreed to help out. The plan is to re-tire in a few months, maybe less.

We'd like to help you learn about yourself.......

From my senior citizen perspective looking back through the haze of decades, I am suddenly wondering what was real and what has been romanticized. Stories over years of telling take on a life of their own. For example, Camp Kowaunkami. Though I say I loved camp - I am now remembering a piteous week of punishment and humiliation when the counselors forced me to sit on the beach and "watch but not participate" because as a clumsy camper I had steered my rowboat into a canoe full of counselors (mature women of 17 and 18)) who screamed insults at me once they came up, recovered from the dunk and got the canoe righted. Looking back, hazy or not, they were cruel. Still I say I loved camp. I think I did. I guess I wasn't scarred for life - I went back the next year without incident (that I can remember!) and lived all these years thinking I loved camp.

I hear the drizzle of the rain...like a memory it falls

Walking to work in spring rain is pure joy! I love stepping out, pulling up my hood, opening my umbrella and inhaling the sweetness of the neighborhood gardens. Raindrops on my umbrella chant a delicate meditation carrying me back to my childhood GS camping experiences when I loved the rain on the tent while drifting off to sleep. Picture this old lady yesterday blissfully dancing in the rain singing "K-O-W-A-U-N-K-A-M-I - we're girl scouts at Kowaunkami!" - thumbing her nose at the years and years of driving white knuckled down greasy rainy freeways.

Gonna Paint A Sign...So You'll Always Know

My sister gets the cool award in the department of MOM. When her kids were little she let them choose the new color for the shutters on their stately home. The boys argued and couldn't agree on the color. Wise as the ancient Solomon, sis bought the paint and the grumbly painter grimly followed her directions and grumbled and grunted, sputtered and spat. For the next decade the neighbors to the south enjoyed the red shutters - while the neighbors to the north had their own view: blue shutters. Every kid need needs a mom like my sister.

Like a Window In Your Heart

Life Choices.


J. is leaving Seattle to return to the Northeast. The Northeast of cold blustery winters, hot sticky mosquitos and grandchildren. At sixty-seven and after fifteen years of loving everything Northwest she has chosen to head east to spend her remaining years getting to know the grandchildren she has only seen three or four times a year since they were born. She chose a vibrant college town - two hours in different directions from each of her three kids and six grandchildren. Her kids lead busy lives. She doesn't want to be on top of them - just in the same time zone.


Life Choices. J is leaving her life partner whose Northwest business is thriving, who can't justify leaving this timezone to be near J's children and grandchildren who leads a busy life and likes this timezone just fine. They say it will be a long distance relationship.

Or not.
Life Choices.

And Follow Your Memory Upstream.....

A quick trip from Seattle to DC to spend Mother's Day with my siblings and my mom. Since she fell in October, mom has been wheelchair bound and less able to fully track some conversations. She is still bright and alert and sooo gracious. At ninety she is tiny and frail and needs the assistance of a caregiver eighteen hours a day. We three - her "kids" 2/3 of us gray, 1/3 of us about to retire ourselves, 3/3 of us confronting the reality of aging - took her on a memory tour which included a drive by Hickory Hill, the Bobby Kennedy compound, and then all of the DC sights by car - with the addition of Hillary's DC digs - ending our tour at the hotel that used to be the Sheraton Park.
This still beautiful and luxurious hotel is a treasured family memory - It was 1962. My young father had died after a long illness. My mom even in her own grief understood that her three kids needed something fresh in our minds - something wonderful and happy. We traveled to DC and spent a week together at the Sheraton Park - our twelve year old cousin Steve came along too because he was always funny and she said he would make us laugh. He did. Yesterday on our Mother's Day tour we called Cousin Steve (in Alaska) from the SP to remember together. It was day to say a very special thank you to our Mom.

You Better Start Swimming or You'll Sink Like A Stone - The Times They are a Changing!

Yesterday I took the day off to pretend I was retired.

I went swimming: Daytime Adult and Senior Swim

The pool was divided into three sections: 1) Arthritis Underwater (catchy, right?) 2) Lap Swim (Three separate lanes: Plodders, Splashers, and Killers (my labels, not theirs) 3) Adult free swim. I chose adult free swim.

My companions in this area were:
1) a very nice looking younger man who held on the side of the pool for a full sixty minutes 2) A very large lady who used a snorkel and swam up and down the pool for an hour without ever once taking her face out of the water, 3) A very slim and annoyed athletic woman who should have been over with the splashers and killers 4) A lovely grandma who reminded me of SophiaGoldenGirl (without the purse!) - who told me she used to be in the Arthritis class but had graduated to Adult Swim. Maybe one day I will graduate to plodder or splasher - I promise I will never join the killers - If you are a lap swimmer, you know what I'm talking about. The best part of my pretend retired day was in the locker room/showers with the Arthritis Ladies. Lots of talking and laughing about dropped this and that, aches and pains and IRA's, Social Security and Medicare. I joined right in. Not one person guessed I was just pretending!

Just Drop off the Key, Lee

As soon as I announced my retirement my email lit up. "Ah," thought I, "they want to say something nice, thank me, wish me well.." And of course they did - lovely lavish thoughts, thanks and good wishes. And then they asked for letters of reference -just in case we lose touch. Though the list of letters to be written is daunting, I will take great pleasure in thinking over my years of association with each member of my staff, as I outline their strengths and contributions for a future employer. Not sure I will ever capture on paper the times we stayed late to finish a project, laughed ourselves silly when something fell apart or discovered together a great AH HA that took us all forward. There's no room in a letter of reference for the life events we've seen each other through, the highs and lows of spending our workdays together these may years. Writing a sincere letter of reference for each of these folks gives me one more chance to remember that I have worked with fabulous people. Just in case we lose touch.

Slip out the Back, Jack

Someone figured out that I now have 33 days left to work before my retirement day. After 40 years, I am happy to step out of a high pressure but very rewarding leadership position. I am thrilled that a person I have mentored for seventeen years in two different settings is next in line for my job. I am proud of the employees I hired and have watched them grow into amazing and productive leaders, themselves. I am blessed to have worked with a group that believes in honesty, compassion, integrity and effort. I am pleased that our organization has undergone significant changes, is thriving and focused, and is ready for new, young vigorous leadership. We are all pointed in the right direction. I feel good about the work I have done over the years and know that the time is exactly right for me to move on. I am looking forward to my next endeavor - whatever that may be . I will miss the big salary, but I am intrigued by the challenge of living simply on less. I didn't expect to feel nostalgic or a bit sad at this juncture - but I do.

In Restless Dreams I Walked Alone

J and I walked around Greenlake yesterday. She had just returned from a wonderful long vacation. They stayed in a fabulous house at the trail head. They hiked in the desert and she took 200 pictures of wild things. She climbed rocks and scrambled canyons. They visited family, sailed a bit, ate port marinated figs with dark chocolate. They went into SanDiego for a few days. She didn't want to come home. Maybe they will go to Puerto Rico, or maybe they will go to Australia. Now she is looking forward to getting the boat in the water for evening sails and so they can cruise this summer, that is if the kids don't need her to babysit. Three miles we walked and for three miles she talked. And talked . And talked more. Nonstop. My few lines were strategically placed: "oh my" "wow!" or "hmmm..." She is my absolute best walking partner. She has never noticed that I can't talk and walk at the same time.

...And with All Your Soul

B's father called her at work. A lot. "My darling daughter, how are you?" "Daddy! I am so glad to hear your voice - I hope you are having a fine day." A few hours later, he would call again. "Daddy I am so glad to hear your voice! I will see you for dinner ."

Recently I stood outside with other mourners as B's son shared a quiet eulogy for his Zayde, a brilliant scholar and leader. Throughout his life Zayde wrote several books, hundreds of articles, held a PHD and was a respected and honored religious leader for decades. And then he started to forget things.
Throughout Zayde's life with Alzheimer's his family cherished their time with him and never allowed anyone to compromise his dignity. Like the broken tablets, Zayde in his last years, remained the honored elder. His caregivers were relentless in preserving for him a quality of life, no matter what the state of his mind. He was included in every event, every celebration, every outing until it was clear that it wasn't pleasant for him. His grown grandchildren came regularly to visit, to take him on outings, or to just sit with him. B read to him daily from his own scholarly works, The New York Times, and the same sweet children's books that he had once shared with her.
The family said the traditional Jewish prayers daily. While Zayde might forget family names and faces, he never forgot the words and tunes of these ancient prayers. His soul never lost its memory.


******* From a commentary: "The purpose of wisdom is the performance of good deeds. The elderly individual while engaging in Torah study in the past, also acquired knowledge resulting from good deeds throughout his life, and for this reason a residue will always remain in his soul of righteousness and correctness.

Even if he has forgotten his learning, this only means that he has lost the details, but the pure encompassing concepts that are collected within the soul as a result of the great quantity of his former study, can never be forgotten. Similarly, even while one is in full possession of his learning, he can never verbalize the entirety of what he knows; it is only a person’s inner spirit that recognizes the truth of the pleasantness of the principles corresponding to his accomplishments.

The residue, the aura of holiness and goodness continue to be associated with a person as well as an inanimate object, regardless of the ravages of time and circumstance, and therefore continued reverence for such people and things is appropriate. "

Springtime of My Life

I love the new blogroll on the right - just a few of the places I go almost everyday for nourishment, inspiration and connection. I love that blogs roll to the top when something new has been added. The very last tab "Dancing in the Light" doesn't roll up often - But I hope you will click on it to see a beautiful slide show of my friend Jan's photos - (make sure your speakers are on!) That girl sure knows how to enjoy retirement!

In anticipation of own my rapidly approaching retirement (June 30)I have added a few other blogging goals to my yellow notebook. Lonely Rivers began as a simple place to capture and record small moments. Little did I know that there was a "blogworld" and that I would find myself connecting with others and cherishing the thoughts of new friends.

Because I may soon have lots more time devote to writing and blogging, I am going to play around with the format a bit and continue to try out some of the things that I've noticed and appreciated in other blogs. One goal has already been accomplished: I figured out how to add a photo - at least to the header..time will tell whether I will remember how to change it!

....Sat on their park bench like bookends

Book club tonight at my house. I love these gatherings of food, years and years of shared friendship and fabulous conversation. This month our group read The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie - A Flavia DeLuce Mystery. It was a fun read. To be truthful, this is just not my kind of book. Try as I might, I am just not enchanted with English Mysteries,even when the sleuth is a charming, witty, precocious,quirky eleven year old. I prefer novels that stir my soul, pique my curiosity about life, challenge my understanding of human nature, and open up new vistas. I love details and metaphors, and characters vivid enough to accompany me on my morning walk. Though I predict that several of my dear friends will have loved the book, I did not. When I finished this book I was done. I like books that linger.

Mr. Cellophane

My temporary home in the city is a beautiful apartment in an block of mansions. A hundred years ago the early and newly rich of Seattle built these homes and lined the street with trees. They preserved vistas of lakes and mountains. I am thrilled that on most days the sidewalks are alive with adults and children who love being in this neighborhood. I never tire of watching the bikers and strollers from the six windows of my living room. I know that I am blessed to be able to walk to work, coffee shops, great restaurants and a bus to anywhere from this wonderful spot.

I am also struggling and miserably conflicted - because recently an older van/suv has been parked on the street near my building, and clearly it is a man's home. He keeps the van clean, and he appears himself to be clean though a bit ragged. He talks to himself and sputters and coughs a bit. He is gone most of the day, and returns to sleep each night. He moves the van a few inches a day to avoid parking fines. I wonder if he is down on his luck, out of work and homeless, or working nearby and saving his money, or if he is a psychopath.

I feel like I should do something but I do nothing. I wish I wasn't a little afraid. I want to live in a country where people are not forced to live in their cars or in tents or cardboard boxes. I feel guilty that I have two homes at the moment and this guy has just a car to sleep in. I want to feel safe and at the same time I want to be a compassionate and generous human being. I wish this guy (some mother's son) would move on. I wish I was Mother Teresa.