Summer Solstice

While I'm on a roll, I decided to post something a bit lighter. This past Sunday night, my husband and I attended a Summer Solstice celebration held by our local Audubon group.

Please note, that is NOT a live tree in the picture, it is a pruned branch stuck in the top of the woodpile. If they were burning a live tree, I would be protesting, not joining them.

The evening started indoors with music, song, poetry and readings, mostly related to summer, nature and hope.

Then we went outside where they lit the fire. Two baskets were passed around with Juniper sprigs. One would take the sprig, say a prayer and toss it into the flames. Immediately the flames tossed it straight up as it disintegrated into bright embers, rising well above the 20-foot flames. One could literally watch prayers ascend Heavenward.

I prayed for Peace in this world, healing for friends (and myself), Love to overcome and end hate, violence to end, compassion and mercy to be as common as stars overhead on a clear night. One-by-one, I watched the prayers rise to God, and I felt with certainty that God was there... LISTENING.

There was also a bowl of rosemary. One scooped out a small handful, thought about what they would like to remember from the past, and what memories one would like to create in the future. These too, where tossed into the flames, as if to give Light to those memories.

In the recent year of pain, I did want to remember the good days. Lately, I've learned to treasure them all the more.

I also prayed that I remember God, always - every situation, every moment. God always remembers us. It is something for which I strive.

Then participants linked hands in a long chain and wove our way around the fire and each other as drummers kept the beat. Vaguely reminiscent of the old Celtic traditions, this was a celebration of life, of summer, of community, of humanity, and of our relation with each other and the Divine - regardless of how each individual perceives the Divine to be. Everyone was welcome.

I especially remember a woman who had two autistic children. She confessed she usually avoided public events, as her sons might disrupt. But here, both parents and children felt welcome. One of the children even read his favorite poem; the group listened patiently with gentle smiles on every face -- not pity, but rapt attention and empathy of what the words meant to the reader.

When flames burned low, people went back inside to an assortment of refreshments and friendly chat.

Some, like myself, wandered back outside to sit quietly and watch the glowing embers. The flames were white with tips of orange at that point. One could see the ethereal fire dancing inside the large glowing coals.

As I sat silently, I would swear God sat down right beside me on the bench. I felt such a wave of Peace and Contentment wash over me. Tears slid down my cheeks.

When we are open to that relationship, when we are still and silent, God can touch our soul: A gentle reminder that no matter the past, no matter the future... We do not walk this world alone.

~ ESA

Driving Down Memory Lane

When I was a girl in the 1970's, numerous siblings crammed into our family car for hours to literally drive over the river and through the woods to grandma's house. Back in the time before car seats and even rear seat belts, let alone iPods and portable / built-in DVD players, my family played games like "I-Spy," "Geography" (where you name a place that began with the last letter of the previous place name), "Traffic Bingo" and one of my dad's favorites -- "Spot the Straightaway."

While I now understand it to be urban legend, my dad explained that President Eisenhower designed the US Highway System to have a mile-long straightaway without overpasses "every so many-miles down the highway," so a plane could make an emergency landing. While easy in flat open sections of the mid-west, we lived in the Northeastern US, where highways built in the 1950's and 1960's meandered around existing cities and large towns, as well as wove through rolling hills and mountains.

But if we were quiet (hint-hint) and observant, we would be able to find those mile-long stretches. As a reward, the observer would get a window-seat at the next pit stop change. Having been crammed in the middle of the bench seats (front and back), we all knew the value of the prized window seats.

Two weeks ago, a small plane landed on a normally crowded New York City highway. This is not the first time; this will not be the last time. But when I heard about it, I smiled and remembered the "Spot the Straightaway" game of my youth ~ years after my dad, and now one of my siblings, passed away.

The reason I share this particular drive down memory lane is this:

• Share the time we have with each other, we never know when someone will no longer be in our lives.
• Even when we don't realize it, life's trials and tragedies shape us -- like a highway cutting straight along mountainous terrain -- to prepare us for future emergencies.
• Be observant; while the US didn't intentionally plan emergency straightaways, God does. There may be crisis in our lives, but God opens up a place for emergency landings too.

~ ESA

Invasion!

I have been at my mother's house to help her following knee replacement surgery. I brought a small duffel bag with some clothing (frequently laundered), a hairbrush, a couple of books, and my toothbrush. 

Toothpaste, shampoo, conditioner, washcloth, towel and bedding are provided by my mother. What more did I need?

Yesterday, my almost 17 year old niece arrived to help this week. Within fifteen minutes, she had invaded the bathroom with a veritable army of things she could not live without!

I am fortunate for the dual sink bathroom or my toothbrush (on the right) would have been completely lost as the invasion swept across the counter!

I thought that was all it it, until I turned around and found another contingent ready to attack the unwary who showered half-asleep! At this point, the shampoo and conditioner I used was now detained at a hidden location elsewhere in the shower. Don't even ask what the invaders did to the washcloth!

Granted, it has been many years since I was an almost 17 year old. Vague memories recall that I once carried more than a toothbrush, that I had my collection of hair care, make up, zit-be-gones, etc. Maybe I even had one or two bubble bath containers.

But I am quite thankful that those years are behind me. Over time, I learned that I don't need all that stuff.

I travel light today.

All I need day-to-day,

I carry within.

~ESA 

***Images Source: my cell phone. :D

Memory Lane

I hope my readers let me indulge in a jaunt down memory lane. Though I swear I had that hairstyle with my "banana seat" bicycle when I was in high school, I will only scroll back to the time I was in college...

It was the late 1980's. OK - while some of you weren't even sparks in your parents eyes, some of you probably just thought, "That isn't that far back!"

That was a time before CD's, when being able to play a cassette tape in the car was a cool thing. Though it was a bit better than the first cars of my parents' generation, where they only had AM radio.

It was a time before the public access of the world-wide web (a.k.a. the internet). Computers were no longer huge machines with punch-cards and spinning reel-to-reel machinery that took over a whole room. By then, there were humble desktop computers that ran on a new language called DOS.

This was a lot better than strings of ones and zeros. I remember typing in lines of DOS code in my computer class. But I had a hidden asset; my kid brother was a genius on using those blinking boxes since he was in the 8th grade. He taught the teachers how to use the school one.

The time when we would dial up over the phone lines to "post messages" on a virtual "bulletin board" didn't arrive until well after collage. So I declined to learn more than the basic requirements of this blinking box.

It couldn't even help me type up my school reports. There were better tools for that. I had transitioned from manual to electric typewriters in high school. For those younger readers, "manual" means one without ANY use of electricity. The electric ones had no screen, but replaced the keys that would jam together if you typed too fast, with a spinning ball that could fly out if you typed too fast. For those my age and older, remember typing a page and making a mistake, where you would have to retype the WHOLE page?

I had a "high-tech" typewriter as my graduation gift before college. This would let me scroll through one whole line of type and correct it before I hit the "Return" key, which acted like today's "Enter" key and typed out that line. (Before that, for you youngsters, the "Return" key was how you got to the next line on a page. What wordwrap?) This technology saved on correction tape. If I missed a typo on the screen, though, I still had to manually scroll up with the roller on the side (not the "scroll-bar"), space over to the spot, and use the typewriter's version of "white out" to cover and re-type the error. If it was more than a few words, I would just crumple up the page and begin again...

We were well before the age of the "spell-checker" too. One would hire an English major to proofread a school report before handing it in.

Phones were another thing that changed over the years. Hands up ~ who remembers what this is? This was still on the phones at my parents' home when I was in college. My grandparents had this on their sole house phone too. But their phone number dated to an even-older technology: IVANHOE-6-3015. While we no longer needed to have an operator connect us, we did have to use the rotary phone letters to dial "IV" and the numbers. (And I bet you youngsters thought letters on the keypad had to do with texting!)

My college roommate and I had the luxury of sharing a phone (and our first regular bill). But ours was a newer technology - the push button phone! (We paid extra for "touch tone" dialing.) It was still connected to the phone jack in the wall, and the hand-held receiver was connected to the base with a long spiral cord. If I wanted a private conversation, I either called when my roommate was in class, or I hid in the closet like I did at home... until someone tripped over the phone cord and yelled at me! :P

The phone bill was different too. I paid per minute on local calls and a small fortune for long distance. But for some reason, when there was someone we loved (as boyfriend or girlfriend), we wouldn't count those minutes. We would spend an hour or more in either conversation or just listening to each other breathe in the silence. Maybe that didn't mean much to the guys, but it did to the girls. I wasn't the only one who would curl up around the receiver and shut my eyes listening...

The world keeps changing. There are generations today that will only know of what I speak from old stories and history class. Now we connect over cordless phones that work anywhere (or at least where we get a signal). We touch our loved ones over the internet, even in a virtual "face-to-face" conversation.

Is it really the same? I remember the old AT&T commercials: "Have you ever tucked your kid in from 10,000 miles away? You will!" We never did get those video-phone booths we were promised though. In fact, finding a working phone booth in the US today is a rarity. My husband is screwed if he ever has to use one; we can't afford cell phones. Mine is a company phone.

There is something my husband mentioned about today's technology that makes me think: "When a person is chatting, texting, tweeting or whatever online or on the phones, they are NOT where they are physically. Their mind -- and maybe something else -- is elsewhere."

It's sad to see a family having dinner together in a restaurant, yet all of them are using either hand-held video games or their smart phones. They don't speak to each other; they  barely notice the food they are eating. The only thing they have in common at that moment is where their bodies are.

Will we actually go to the extent of sci-fi, where our bodies are connected to some machine to keep us fed and alive and our minds are ... out there?

As I grew up, there was growing interest that started in the 1970's (maybe earlier, but I wasn't around much before 1969...). In grade school, I was assigned a science fair project on Extra-Sensory Perception (ESP). Ever since then, my ears would catch conversations about those studies. In college, there were lectures on telepathy, empathic ability, telekinesis, etc. There was curiosity about the spirit and how we could reach out and connect beyond the copper phone lines that were strung overhead everywhere.

In college, we would hug the phone close to our ear just to listen to a distant loved one breathe. There was a connection, despite the miles between. Perhaps there is a connection through the electronic world today, as well. Could our spirits have adapted to some degree that we use the technology to reach out and touch another spirit, even when we can not physically touch that person?

I am not a techo-phobe, and would likely have an iPad and smart phone if it was in my fiscal ability. The laptop I use to type this is also a company tool (with permission). But I also consider how this technology changes us.

Can I be the only one that found addictions to Twitter, FaceBook (and countless other online stuff) eating up all the time I can spare, and even more late into the night? Am I the only one that has seen online activities killing time I should be spending with family or visiting a friend who's struggling with illness?

Am I the only one that needs to unplug?

I've even been diagnosed (temporarily) with Adult-ADHD. I never had it as a kid, nor did I show any signs of it as a child, in my 20's or even 30's. Why now? Technology overload? Is that what happens when I try to keep up with all the things online? Instead of letting the doctors put me on medications that screw with my head, I sought prayer and looked for the root cause.

Unplugging helped -- significantly. It also brought me closer to my family members again. I have more time to volunteer and talk face-to-face with my neighbors and co-workers. Though I wonder if they will become jealous of my time when I go back to Twitter again...

In my life, my goal here is to find balance. I do enjoy reaching out and connecting to people worldwide. Perhaps there is a spiritual element. I've found the same "connection" when I pray for someone at a distance, as well as when I tweet back to folks online in rhyme. Perhaps it was there when I hung onto the phone and listened to a loved one breathing... just sharing that moment in time.

But I also know, too, that face-to-face connections are required. We are not spirits with minds alone. We are also spirits with bodies. While some consider the body "evil temptation," there are benevolent uses for the body too. A touch, a handshake, a hug, a kiss, ... a look when eyes meet eyes.

What do you do with your time

When you are no longer online?

~ESA

Priorities

This particular blog post is dedicated to my "little" brother (who ended up being the tallest of our generation).

When my brother was 12 years old, he was diagnosed with AVM, which is a malformation in his brain. Granted, medicine and technology have come a long way since he was first diagnosed in the early 1980's; he one of the first cases in the United States.

They told my parents that he would not likely live to see adulthood. They could try to prolong his life a little by alleviating the pressure on the brain. The first of many brain-surgeries opened a place in his skull, so he could no longer participate in track - a sport he loved. In fact, with nothing but hair and skin between a potential impact and his brain, he was banned from all sports, including the school's gym class.

I don't know how much my brother realized his time in this world was limited; he did know that each time he went into the hospital (yearly at times) may be his last time. But beyond that, he continued to live his life as though nothing was different. He laughed and lived each moment to the fullest.

In school, he was one a handful selected to learn the newest "rage" - the computer. Like my dad, he had an exceptionally sharp mind and uncanny ability to figure out the technology with very little instruction. Soon he was teaching the teachers on the school's first computer (which, if I recall correctly, was in a storage room next to the mimeograph machine they still used at the time).

My brother always looked at the positive side of things, though, and found humor in the strangest places. He would get such a thrill when he told people to place their hand on a certain part of his head. Then he'd lean forward so they would feel his brain slosh against their fingertips, laughing at the expression on their face. It was certainly something they couldn't do.

But his medical condition wasn't the only thing he laughed about. He'd enjoy laughing at everything. It was this sense of humor that lifted the entire family, through both his problems and ones we faced in our own lives.

Because of my little brother's example, we all held onto a child-like heart through life's ups and downs.

 
Needless to say, despite the doctor's warnings, my little brother reached adulthood. He went on to become a Director of IT for a company, got married, bought a nice house and had three beautiful children.

While his kids were still young, my brother's health began to decline. He could no longer drive long distances safely, so I helped him work with his HR department to arrange a telecommuting option. This was a golden opportunity, as it enabled him to spend even more time with the ones he loved dearly.

Then came the terrible news, his marriage was ending. While loosing his wife was horrific enough, being separated from his children was unbearable.
So he fought hard to have the kids with him every other day as well as alternating weekends. He was there to walk them to/from the bus stop, check their homework, make them dinner, read to them, and tuck them in at night. He attended school plays, games and every function that was important to the kids.

I think the kids realized something was wrong with their daddy. Unlike other dad's, he went to the doctors a lot and had many brain surgeries; they'd visit him in the hospital when they were old enough.

Just as the last of the kids entered grade school, my brother needed to use a cane to manage his balance. They had no qualms about his handicap; they'd play with his cane or hang on to it instead of his hand when they walked together. It was part of who their daddy was.

As they grew older, I could see how even the youngest instinctively knew when to use her slight weight just enough to counter the way dad would suddenly lean when he was distracted, helping him to stay balanced.

In 2010, we needed to rent a scooter for him at our annual family trip to a local amusement park. The kids had the best time with that; they'd fight over who got to ride with daddy on the scooter between the rides. In fact, riding the scooter with daddy was the BEST ride in the park.
...

My brother had a stroke around 8pm on April 1st last year (2011). His ex-wife had just dropped off the kids for the weekend. They were worried when the ambulance came to take their unconscious father to the hospital. It wasn't the first time; he's been rushed to the hospital many times in their short lives. But he always came back home.

Always.

This time he didn't. He lasted a few more hours, enough for my sister, mother and I to arrive and say goodbye. My other brother had only just landed in NY on his mad-dash flight from San Diego when our little brother breathed his last.

* * *

It wasn't until I was going through some pictures following his death that I realized there was something my little brother did consistently. He always did things with and for the kids first. His house was badly in need of repairs and cleaning at times, but there was always time to play.

Even when low-points of his condition created severe migraines or caused him to sleep deeply for hours through the day, his kids would play quietly around him, being near to him. Some day's he'd wake up to discover his daughter had surrounded him with little paper tanks she folded when he was sleeping. There was even the time their mischievous aunt helped them build a playhouse over daddy- couch and all.

The middle-child was the one closest to my brother. He was the one who had his own head shaved every time  daddy needed his head shaved for surgery. He was the one that laughed the loudest and stuck by his dad's side through thick and thin....

He was the hardest hit when daddy was no longer a part of his young life.

 
The video shows the last birthday this child shared with his daddy. It was a common moment perhaps shared countless times between the two, but none of us ever knew it would be the last time...

A few months ago, the anniversary of their dad's passing, this child asked for some things he wanted to have. While the house they spent many happy memories with their dad had since been cleared out and sold, my mom kept a few items that belonged to my brother.
The first item he asked for was my brother's cane. This I think is a very big part of their memories of daddy. This was a part of him. In the last few years, he couldn't walk across the room without it. Now he is in a place where he no longer needs it.

The youngest had made a drawing to place in her daddy's casket. It was her memory of the two of them picking apples. He was holding her up so she could reach the apples on the tree branches. Leaning in easy reach against the tree's truck is that ever-present cane.

The second item the middle-child requested was a surprise to us. When my brother decided to try to meet someone new, after the divorce, he tried to create a roguish appearance. His hair, after all those surgeries, was thinned if not completely gone in sections. So he shaved it all off and grew a goatie instead.

Then one day the family noticed a new image on his FaceBook account. My brother had gotten a new hat, and wore it quite frequently at family gatherings as well as on dates.

His son wanted that hat.

When we dug it out, I expected that it would be far too big for his young head. After all, my brother was 6'7" and had a big head to match. But, remarkably, it fit the son's head perfectly! He was a dapper young man wearing his dad's hat and strutting with his dad's cane.

It was the first time I've seen even a hint of a smile on that child's face for a year.

---

Like my little brother, each of us are only here a short time. We never know when our life will end, we only know the moment we have in our hands. If my brother had worked long hours, or only saw them every-other weekend, or focused on the to-do list at home, I don't think he would have built the close ties he had with his kids. It's true he only had a short time with them; none had yet reached middle-school when he died. 

But they do have some beautiful memories that they can share for the rest of their lives.

Happy Father's Day - may you share it with those you love.

~ ESA

Father's Day Memorial

I had created this video for my dad a few years ago, months after he passed away. While my little brother (pictured at 0:32 in the video) is also gone now, I haven't been able to generate a memorial video for him yet. Next year, hopefully both will be posted together as I have no doubt they are now side-by-side in Paradise.

Happy Father's Day!

~ ESA

9/11 Memories & Thanks

While many news stories cover memories of Americans from the terror that struck us one decade ago, I'd like to share a few stories recalled from those days - and thanks to many non-Americans.

When all traffic was grounded, several inbound flights were re-routed to our neighbors to the north in Canada. Canadians opened their hearts and opened their homes to displaced Americans who just wanted to get home to their loved ones after hearing the devastating news. Some even got into their cars and drove hundreds if not thousands of miles to get people home.

In Europe, not only did local residents share the news with visiting Americans and offer their heartfelt support on that day. A few days later, they held a three-minute moment of silence for us. One-minute is standard; three-minutes is unprecedented. And they didn't just bow their heads a moment. People eating lunch, put down their cups and utensils. People driving - local road and highway - as one pulled aside, stopped and gave us the full three minutes of silence. People stopped talking; radios were silent. This wasn't just in America; this was in Europe FOR America.

These are just two stories I've heard in the last 24 hours. There are many, many more cases where we were supported by others around the world. As we celebrate the 10th Anniversary of 9/11. Let us not only share our memories, let us be thankful for the support and heartfelt compassion shown by others around the world.

- ESA

Looking Ahead

I can not write the Looking Behind post without also adding this one. While I believe it's important to listen to the stories and connect with those who have gone before us in life, I also believe it's critical to connect with those who are to follow.

While this world makes our lives ever-increasingly busy, and our schedules are overwhelmed with appointments, meetings and events. We need to take time out, unplug from the non-stop stream broadcasting from the radio, TV, computers and internet. Instead, spend some time with others.

There are untold treasures in the quiet moments.

• A young babe sleeping curled up on a father's chest.
  
• An adult re-living the joy of finger-paints with a young child.
  
• Building things together with leggos, without using the directions that came in the box.
• Passing on baking and other traditions around the holidays.
  
• Sharing stories, and listening as they tell you ones of their own.
  
• Helping as they struggle to learn school lessons (and digging frantically through internet sites and other resources so we don't let them know how much we've forgotten since our own school days).
  
• Trying not to leave fingerprints embedded on the passenger side of a car when a teenage driver is behind the wheel.
  
• Connecting over a cup of tea or coffee with a younger adult as you listen to the trials and tribulations that you have been through yourself - though they may seem so strange compared to the way things were in the "our days."

These are some of many moments that impact both the elder and younger people who share the experience. These are the building blocks of life that connect us to each other, both before us and behind us. These are what we take with us, and what we leave behind.

What do we leave for the future to find?
Do we leave loving memories,
Or say we don't have the time?

-ESA

Canceled Plans

Like many who work through grief following the sudden death of a friend or family member, I've been plodding along numbly the last few weeks, following the passing of my "kid" brother, who was only 38.

While the wake and funeral are behind us, my family kept busy between our own lives and cleaning out his house, helping his ex-wife with the kids (he had joint custody), closing bank accounts, canceling credit cards, subscriptions, memberships and appointments, returning work property, paying his bills, and dozens of others little things that follows one in life.

Then there are the moments of silence...

And in those moments, you realize that all the plans you had with that person are no longer going to happen. Pinned to our bulletin board at home are season passes my husband and I purchased for the local amusement park so we could take my brother and his kids there this summer. There were also all the events we planned: the fireworks, the bar-b-ques, birthday parties, vacation, visiting an old abandoned rock quarry to find quartz, and many other plans...

I realized the same thing created a lump in my throat and tears following both my dad's death and the miscarriage of our only pregnancy a few years ago. They are all plans where my life was interwoven with another's -- and that thread was suddenly cut, leaving me to feel suddenly alone and disconnected.

We never know what the future holds. We don't know when our last moments with loved ones are. We don't know what will cancel the plans we make for our life. The only thing we can do is make the most of the present. That is the only thing we truly have in our hands.

The last time I saw my brother alive was a simple weekend visit - less than a week before. We laughed, we joked, we helped him with some work around his house, and we watched some movies while chowing down pizza. Not a major event in anyone's mind, but the last moments I interacted with him face-to-face.

I spoke with him not more than 40 minutes before; none of us had any indication it would be our last words. I called him with a quick question, we traded a few more words, and ended with a laugh and "talk to you later." Fifty minutes later, I received the call from my sister that he had a major stroke and was en route to the hospital. There was no "later" for more words.

I consider myself very blessed that the last visit - the last words - were with smiles and laughter. I recall many who lament that if they knew it would be the last, they would not have said the words they did, would not have fought, or yelled, or told someone they didn't have the time...

I am very blessed indeed. Even though what I planned for the future will never come to fruition, I had made the best of the present. And I now have good memories that will last forever. :)

Plan for the future.
Live in the present.
We never know.

- ESA

Archives (Poem)

I wanted to post this blog yesterday, but never got the chance until now. While gathering stuff for Saturday morning's yard sale, something I wrote many years ago came to mind. When I was tasked with organizing 75 years of archival items for a nursing home's anniversary celebration, I wrote the following poem:

Archives

When all the tomorrows
Become the yesterdays,
The shared laughter
Of long, long ago
Has become tears of loss,
And then faded away
To the dusty nothingness
Of the archives.

Photographs, files, notes
That were put aside
To make more room for
The coming todays,
That became yesterdays.
Now, they sit together
In the dusty nothingness
Of the archives.

One far-of, future day,
Someone will question
Of where, when and how
It all came to be.
They will open the door
And ask the residents
Of the dusty nothingness
Of the archives.

Treasured clutter of the past.
Memories that last.
Archives

-ESA

For My Dad (Video)

This is a video I made as a tribute for my dad.

Happy Father's Day to all the fathers, step-fathers, foster-fathers, father-figures, big-brothers and other male role models. :D

-ESA