Before I die

I ran across this blackboard sign on the beach in McCall, Idaho yesterday. The two columns read "Before I die I want to __________________"
Passersby have written their wishes on and around each line.  I stopped to read a few of the wishes of those who have taken the time to contribute.

Some were frivolous -
Marry Kelly Clarkson ...
Meet someone famous ...
Go to Disneyland ...


Some were unrealistic -
Cure death ...

Others were solemn and touching -
Cure Cancer ...
Make peace with my family ...

Many were goal oriented and I was surprised to see how many of them I had actually accomplished without thinking that they were "Before I Die" worthy -
Ski on water ...
Write a book ...
Publish my manuscript ...
Visit a foreign land ...
Run a half marathon ...

The experience made me think about a few of the things I have pursued and accomplished. Am I ready to die?  No, but I haven't missed out on too many opportunities either.
 
I would like there to be a cure for cancer.  I would like everyone to make peace with their family.  I don't see curing death as valuable, because death is not an illness.  Death is a step in progression - a transition to the next thing.

I didn't write on the blackboard.  I wasn't sure what to write.  I thought about answering to the book writer, "You can!  Call me ________!"

Mostly,  I pondered about the comments and the people that made them.  Who were they?  What had happened to the individual that wanted to repair family relationships?  How young was the one that wanted to marry Kelly Clarkson? Should I be setting some loftier goals?

What would you write on the board if you had a chance?

If you win, I lose. Really?

There is an idea being widespread that, in my opinion, is both false and disturbing.  Many in today’s world, especially in the USA, are under the impression that if one person is wealthy it will automatically make another person poor.  That is like saying, “If she loses weight, it will make me fat,” or, “If your house is clean, then my house must be dirty.”  It simply does not make sense.

In my world, those who have more money not only spend more money, thus contributing to economic health, they also give more to charity, thus helping those in need. 

Surely there are those enslaved in poverty from which they have very little hope of release.  They often had no hand in creating their circumstances. However, to blame their poverty on the wealthy is an incorrect assumption.  This is not intended to be a political post, rather an observation of a thinking trend that is handicapping all of us.  If we adopt this attitude, we deny our own accountability. Think about it.

“I am unhealthy because there are too many fitness fanatics around. It has nothing to do with my choices to hang out on the sofa and eat junk food.”

“I didn’t finish high school because there were too many smart kids in my class.  It had nothing to do with my failure to show up for class.”

 “If he has four cars, then there will not be enough cars for me to have one, because he bought all the cars.”

Have you got the picture yet?  Here is one more just to help you see …

“If he is happy, then I have to be sad.”

It just does not make any sense.  However, it is a very effective tool for those that would have us remain in a state of unhappiness and discontent.  Denying one’s accountability only fosters an attitude of disappointment and inevitable failure, because there will always be those who succeed and according to popular thought, if somebody succeeds others must fail.  Don't get caught in this thinking trap.

That is my opinion.  What is yours?

Reality Check?

I had to renew my driver's license this week.  That's right - I am having a birthday.  It's not a significant one.  That happened last year. 
I don't know why, but the driver's license renewal is just unappealing to me.  It is especially bothersome since Idaho went to the eight year plan. Daily stuff like making my bed and brushing my teeth do not present themselves as nuisances.  It's the annual things that get to me - taxes, vehicle registrations, and physical exams.  I just don't seem to have time for those! Those things on an eight year rotation ... why bother?
The driver's license renewal is a bit of an honesty check, is it not?  I'm really squeaking to pass the eye test!  I forgot and left my distance glasses home. (I seldom use them!) The weight question always gets me. 
"Is your weight still the same?"
"Well, no, it has gone down a bit, but actually it is closer to the weight listed.  Just leave it." (I've been lying about my DL weight for years!)
Hair color?  That changes all the time!
It is good, too, that they do the eye test prior to snapping the photo.  I couldn't see a thing afterwards!  I hope I recognize my signature.
Friends have been complaining about the "new" Idaho license design.  I don't think it has anything to do with the new design.  I think we just hate the whole experience.  It's just too revealing.

Just Run, Write?

I have raised a family of runners. Now one might think that because I run and my offspring run they must have taken after me. Not so. In this case the egg really did come before the chicken. The truth is these Greens run because we are not good at sports requiring a lot of equipment, especially balls. Baseball, basketball, football, volleyball, tennis, and golf just have too many parts to coordinate. So we run … and we do math.

“But in order to run 400 meters in a minute I will have to run every 100 meters in 15 seconds...”

“If my opponent runs his/her best time then I will have to run this time to beat him/her...”

“There are 10 hurdles in the race and I have to clear every hurdle...”

“If you run a 6 minute mile pace you will be way under 19 minutes on a 5k ...”

And so on …

My advice to my mathematician runners was always this, “Just run!”

If they would just stop fretting about the obstacles and run, they might clear all those obstacles in the process. They often did.

I don't heed my own advise.

I write because I enjoy it. I am better at writing than I am at crafting, scrapbooking, record keeping. So I write .. and I make excuses.

“If I take time to write and nobody ever reads it, then I have wasted my time ...”

“I have other things I should be doing, like housework ...”

I have writer's block!”

And so on …

What advice might I heed?

“Just write!”

I'd Rather be Writing?

Why is it sometimes so hard to write?  When I don't have the time, all I can think about is writing.  When I have the time, here is what I do ...

Turn on the computer and check my email.
Start a load of laundry.
View my checking account balance.
Look on facebook to see if I have any new friends.
Grab a snack.
Check my blog stats.
Check my other email account.
Look to see if I have written anything in the past worthy of posting today.
Google literary agents.
Read the blogs I follow.
Wonder how to get more followers on my blog.
Look for a cute photo to post with a blog I have not yet written.
Bake something.

And the list goes on ...

Ice Rink Hi-jinks!

My sister, Kaye, is nothing if not charitable. She is also very creative and crafty. If there is a useful item that can be crafted by hand, Kaye will attempt to reproduce it. So it was that seven-year-old Gary came upon his Clown Pants. They weren’t really clown pants they only appeared to be such. Bright colors and parachute fabric were not to become popular apparel materials for many years to come. Gary’s pants were definitely before their time.

The bitter winters in Eastern Idaho call for added protection from wind and weather, especially for recent Floridian transplants. Kaye, the Do-it-yourself-er, fashioned a pair of baby blue “warm-ups” to keep her offspring dry and comfortable as he trudged to and from school. Unfortunately, the bounteous yards of fabric she used gave one the impression Gary was wearing a pair of Princess Jasmine’s harem pants! He dutifully donned the voluminous pants and marched to and from school enduring the bitter teasing of his school mates – and his aunts!

Hoping to ease his transition from tropical Florida to near Arctic conditions, Gary’s aunts determined to teach him to embrace the cold. We took him ice-skating!

In addition to his clown pants, Gary wore several layers on his upper half and a fuzzy stocking cap. He was forced to wear a nice white pair of girls’ ice skates. When he took to the ice, it was as if a cartoon character had come to life. Rather than wait for instructions, Gary attacked the rink with gusto! He began at one end of the rink using the toe pick – the jagged teeth at the front of a figure skate blade – for traction. Running the length of the rink, his legs whirring like fan blades, the sharp length of the skate blade never making contact with the ice, Gary stopped with only a few yards left before running out of rink. He appeared suspended in air as his legs whirred past one another. Then Gary would suddenly flatten his feet. They promptly slid in front of him as his softer more cushioned parts dropped onto the ice. Most victims of skating falls take a moment to evaluate well being and examine for broken body parts. Not Gary! He bolted upright facing the direction from which he had just arrived, and repeated the activity – step by step – whir by whir – crash by crash!

His enthusiasm was enviable. We had not, however, the energy to join him as we were spent from chuckling.

At length, his doting mother could no longer contain her curiosity, or maybe it was her concern for his welfare, and she joined us. Few can emit a full bodied laugh as does my sister. Our entertainment was now twofold – Gary, whirring and splatting while his mother shook with glee.

We tried to teach. Our attempts to slow Gary’s efforts in hopes that he might gain some control over his movements were futile. He repeatedly attacked the ice with gusto. The silly looking pants added to the visual effect. He truly appeared as a cartoon character and his enthusiasm never waned.

How often do we quell a person’s zeal in an attempt to improve his skills? Would it be better to let them be that they might live in the moment? I don’t know the answers, but I do know that I will never lose the image in my mind of Gary on Ice!

New Again

Several years ago I was suffering from a physical ailment. It came on so gradually that I did not know how poorly I felt until I began to recover. I felt a bit like these shoes … Let me introduce you to my running shoes. I put six miles on them last Saturday. I can't begin to imagine how many miles they must have covered in their career. I am a bit afraid to know. Running gurus would chastise me for keeping them for so long! Notice the gel heel inserts in the right shoe. They (yes, there are two of them) were placed there to lessen impact and alleviate the discomfort of an inflamed Achilles tendon. Closer inspection will reveal fabric wear at the top of the ankle and on the inside edge of the ankle as well. The first from sliding these shoes off after a run, and the second from rubbing the opposite tread against it on the run! The mesh on the outer toe is also beginning to break down.


Take a look at the tread. What tread? There should be much more pink, but it has worn away, especially on the outer edge of the heel. Why, one might ask, did I let them get so out of shape? Well, much like my health concerns of a few years ago, it came on gradually. After all, if they were good enough to wear on a run on Wednesday, then they should have been good enough to wear on my Saturday run. If they were good enough Saturday, wouldn't they still be good enough today or tomorrow? And so it goes. It is easy to delay change. Change, as we all know, is frightening. What if I purchased new shoes and discovered I didn't like them. What if the change was a mistake?

Look at my new shoes! Pretty, aren't they? I have yet to take them for a test run, but I love them already! No wear and tear! No gel inserts!

Check out that tread!

It wasn't until I brought them home that I realized how truly awful my old runners were. They even look faster! I can't wait to take them for a test run!

The moral of this story is:

Don't be afraid to try something new. That old comfort zone of yours may not be as nice as you might think!

A Snail's Pace

Spotted in a rainforest in Puerto Rico, this little guy didn't seem at all disturbed as I invaded his space for a photo op. I thought, "How would I know if he was disturbed? It isn't like he can run away. He's a snail!" And a rather large one at that! His shell had nearly the same diameter as an Oreo cookie. (Pardon the food comparison, but it is effective, is it not? Everyone knows the size of an Oreo.)

I wonder if he knows he is slow, or ... does he consider his pace to be sufficient for his needs? Does a cheetah know he is fast, or does he simply use his speed to fulfill his needs? I know. I know! They probably don't have the capability to think about it at all, but what if they did? Would the snail competetively say, "Hey, I bet I can move slower than you!" Would the cheetah challenge, "Let's race!"

Is that what sets us apart from the rest of the Animal Kingdom? Our competetive natures? Our drive? Our need to always do more? Citius? Altius? Fortius?

Isn't a snail's pace enough at times?