Vicariously

   
        When I was younger and looking ahead to the future, the year 2000 seemed so far away. It does once again, though now in retrospect. When I foxhunted with the Elkridge-Harford Hunt Club there was an "elderly" 69 year-old lady who kept up with the younger folk, galloping and jumping. I decided back then that I wanted to be like her. Other older adults whom I cared for as a nurse, who didn't exercise, who didn't seem to care for themselves, perplexed me.

       In the last few years I have been diagnosed with osteoarthritis and--far off from 69--I am unable to foxhunt anymore. Cantering a horse can be painful, much less galloping and jumping, and so  along with golf and skiing, hunting is added to the "I used to..." list. It's really easy to become self-absorbed and sad about it. When the feeling hits hard I watch Go-Pro videos of others' foxhunts. But one great thing about having children is that we truly can live vicariously through them.

       I am doing that right now as I write, warm and dry in a small ski lodge. Snow Creek must be the tiniest ski resort anywhere with three runs and a vertical drop of, like, 300 feet. But we're talking the Kansas/Missouri border! So it is a wonderland, a paradise for kids and mid-westerners who haven't the time nor means to travel farther. I might have once joked that more time is spent riding the lifts, with only about 30 seconds to ski down to the bottom of the longest slope, but how misplaced that humor would have been. I'm looking up now as people schuss and pizza and jump and wipe-out and laugh. There is challenge and there is joy on this hill. 

       I just met a beautiful couple in their seventies and eighties. There was a twinge of sadness: I had wanted to be like them. But the feeling was quickly replaced when I saw their joy in life. It made me joyful, too. They let me take their photo.

       As the morning goes on I've watched Stephania (who is visiting again from Columbia!), Gus, and two of my friend's girls take lessons and hit the slopes. 

       The tentative, jerky first forays have transitioned into more courageous, smooth runs. And wipe-outs. Gus is snowboarding for the first time. He just came back from the longest run at the slopes. While brushing snow off his helmet and from inside his coat, he told me with a huge smile about how he fell, rolled and landed back on his feet to continue down the hill. I remember well. And I've let loose the feelings of yearning to be right there with them. Watching is good. Listening to their first-hand accounts is exciting.

       Bruce likes to say, "Enough is a feast." It is enough to watch, to remember, to take part even through the window, in their fun and excitement. And so, today I participate in a feast...of abandon and the joy of living vicariously.

Ch- ch- ch- ch- Changes!

       ...turn and face the strange changes...

       I was a teen when I first heard David Bowie sing Changes. I don't think I ever contemplated the meaning. How old was he when he sang those lines? Thirty? Did he think himself old? How he must sigh now.

       What changes we have seen in the last forty years! I'd wager they are more than in any forty-year period, previously. Horses to cars. Cars to planes. Planes to a man on the moon. Man on the moon to the iPhone.  Eve took a bite of the apple for what? To know everything. I know virtually all that one can find out in a question posed to "Siri." And on the back of Siri's housing? A bitten apple.

       Oh, the changes.

       Bruce and I flew to Maryland and, thankfully, had no calls of accidents back home. We attended the wedding of our friend's daughter, who is also our daughter's friend. It was in Annapolis and we were able to walk the historic streets. So beautiful.

       And the water! I miss it in Kansas. I miss the seafood, too, so we ate as much as we could of it!

     The State House in Annapolis has had some renovations. My friend's son is a master-plasterer, and participated in the work. In tearing out some damaged plaster they found vestiges of old designs. History is so fascinating, as are the people who walked in it. George Washington gave his resignation speech in the State House. America became governed not by the militia, or a king, but by the people.

       I took a long drive through my old stomping grounds in Northern Baltimore County. My Lady's Manor was about 10,000 acres of land when inherited by Lord Baltimore's daughter, Charlotte. It was apparently deeded back to her father-in-law to pay off the debts of her husband. I knew it as the land I took hayrides through, partied with friends in, and fox-hunted over. It is as gorgeous as any English countryside. Even past the autumn peak of colors it is breathtaking.

       I was probably at someone's party in Monkton when I heard Bowie's Changes. I'd never have imagined that decades later I'd be looking back on them. When we are young it seems we are immortal and indestructible. I wouldn't jump the four foot post and rails I did back then! The incredible memories. I am thankful for them.

       Things have inevitably changed. The Baltimore beltway is always congested now. Even on some of the country roads, people drive and pass with such urgency. What was a pumpkin patch in the 1970s, and then the Hunt Valley Mall of the 1980s built "in the boon docks," is now a redesigned outdoor mall with a movie theater, scores of restaurants and a very crowded Wegman's grocery. I told a man at the DSW shoe store that I worked at the original mall. " I remember it, too," he said, " I was just a little boy!"

       Big smile, and sigh.

A Flashing Cursor and Poised Hands

     I recently ordered a book I remembered reading as a teenager. Lionors: King Arthur's Uncrowned Queen by Barbara Ferry Johnson, tells the tale of King Arthur's truest love. There is a poem at the end of the book which I remembered. It came within two days, thanks to Amazon Prime. I have not reread it yet, but I recall a pond and an island on it where they played as children.

       We have a lovely pond on the Abbey Farm. I've spent some time there the last two afternoons; the weather sunny with a crisp chill in the breeze. It really is some of my favorite weather. I told Marie, who accompanied me one day, that we go on vacations to experience this. Though we only had an hour, I decided to make it a memorable one. I tried to be as fully present as I could. So I didn't have a week--couldn't I gain some benefit from an idyllic 60 minutes? I have decided that the answer is yes. I am convinced that living fully in the present, and having a grateful attitude are key to aging happily.

Marie, pencil in hand, I am sure

       I move furniture when I don't want to do dishes and laundry. I changed around the small room where I have my desk and a sofa. I put things up on the walls that have been put away for years. I even hung my saddle, and it smells so very good in there now. I look up at my meager-yet-meaningful ribbons, my bits, my polo mallets, a picture of me foxhunting...I can't do any of those things anymore. But instead of sadness, I have intensely beautiful memories and gratitude. I call it the sitting room now. Maybe I've watched and re-watched too many Downton Abbey episodes!

1987

1991

     

1996