It’s the stuff that most people only dream about…being on a journey with no end in sight. Such is the journey that my friend of 35 years is on. Through his path, he has taught me much.
My driveway seems so empty right now. For the past almost month it has been the home to a huge RV. That’s right – just like cousin Eddy from the movie “Christmas Vacation”. We were just another stop on the adventure of a lifetime: traveling the country in an RV. They are exploring all the terrains of the land while learning about all the various American cultures, people and food. It is a dream of many, yet so few have the wherewithal to accomplish such a feat.
The first few nights we sat enthralled listening to him and his wife tell the tales of the road. I felt like a kid around a campfire waiting for the next exciting story to be told. Once we got to know each other again (we haven’t seen each other for well over 20 years) the conversation got livelier. It didn’t take long; I soon discovered some friends don’t lose their connection regardless of space and time. Our talks around the dinner table turned to religion and politics and who we had crushes on in high school. We tried to explain each other’s belief systems, and what our true life passions are. The conversations ran deep – and at times long into the night.
I believe in serendipity. I believe that people come into my life for a reason. In this case, it was for many reasons. I am on the journey of simplifying my life. I struggle daily to downsize and get rid of the clutter – mentally and physically. After meeting someone that makes their home an 18 foot room on wheels, I realized how hard I am making it on myself.
They gave me advice on how to part with so-called treasures I’d never thought I could live without. They taught me that a woman really can live with only 3 pairs of shoes (now, I’m not going that far, just so you know). They taught me that it is the here and now, that living in the moment, is much more important than all the beautiful furniture in the world. They taught me that people are more important than knick-knacks, and that if you really miss your knick-knacks you can always find more. I learned that the person you are speaking to right now may just be a speck on the radar, never to be met again. That moments spent, regardless of how insignificant they may seem, are far richer than any “stuff” one may have sitting around. I learned that it’s not all about the neighborhood, since I found out that one can meet some incredibly nice people while camped in a Sam’s Club parking lot.
Our last few days in Dayton were spent showing them our town; the eclectic bars and restaurants of the Oregon District, the beauty of Riverscape, and most importantly our friends and family. We took them to Oktoberfest at the Dayton Art Institute and they showed me again why I love this town. They soaked in the beauty of the skyline reflected in the river, under dark, fresh, clear skies.
Our last night was spent around a campfire, drinking wine and talking deep talks. We ended up in a drum circle (it’s exactly what it sounds like), and he taught me the nuances of playing my new instrument.
The end came all too soon; even though it was time for all that they moved on. I look forward to the day that they criss-cross the states again, so I can get my fix of learning about life on the road. Living on four wheels is nowhere in my immediate future, but living in the moment and appreciating what I have surely is. Thank you my friend. What a long, strange trip it’s been.
Showing posts with label friends. Show all posts
Showing posts with label friends. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
To Friend or Not to Friend
To friend or not to friend: that is the question. Unlike Hamlet, my choice won’t lead me to death…for no matter how many Facebook friends I have, I definitely like “being”.
I had no worldly idea I had 526 friends. Wow. My house isn’t that big. When I started questioning if it was time to purge some of my friends, I did a little research. I went through the list, and surprise – I do have a connection with them all. I mean I don’t have a glass of wine or lunch or even exchange forwarded emails with them all, but I do have a connection with them.
The friend-types vary: I went so 2nd grade with them. I dated their best friend’s brother in High School. I sang with them in 6th grade choir. I lived next door to their uncle. I worked with them at Disneyland but never knew them. We like the same music. We like Newfoundland dogs. We like inspirational quotes. They are my mother’s friend’s neighbor’s sister. The list goes on and on and on.
They are semi-close friends, every 526 of them. How could I even think about purging them, even if I do think that Facebook is a little self-serving? I really don’t care what my “friends” had for their mid-morning snack or if they went to bed a half hour late. I have enough of my own issues. But on the other hand, it’s fun to catch up with a Facebook thread and throw in my two cents worth. Many of my friends are very witty. At times it’s fun to read some of the comments, and even to “chat” with a “friend” that I have never met. It’s also fun to catch up with the people I really do care about.
What I don’t want Facebook to be for me is an emotional crutch. I don’t want to be the Sally Field of Facebook – “You like me, you really do!” I don’t want to depend on my 526 friends for validation that someone cares or someone is paying attention to me. However, it is nice to know they are there for me if I am struggling with something, want to share a funny joke or an inspirational quote. It’s fun to see pictures of my friends from High School, most who look totally amazing. It’s nice to hear about new networking groups and restaurants and events in my area. So for now, the 526 friends stay. I’m not in the right frame of mind to “unfriend” anyone.
So if you are among the throng, you are still my friend. Nobody was cut. I mean, how else will I find out which of my friends had Fruitloops for breakfast?
Karen Kelly is a freelance writer and welcomes your comment at karenkellybrown@aol.com or http://bleachblondemind.blogspot.com/. Oh, you can also “friend” her on Facebook.
I had no worldly idea I had 526 friends. Wow. My house isn’t that big. When I started questioning if it was time to purge some of my friends, I did a little research. I went through the list, and surprise – I do have a connection with them all. I mean I don’t have a glass of wine or lunch or even exchange forwarded emails with them all, but I do have a connection with them.
The friend-types vary: I went so 2nd grade with them. I dated their best friend’s brother in High School. I sang with them in 6th grade choir. I lived next door to their uncle. I worked with them at Disneyland but never knew them. We like the same music. We like Newfoundland dogs. We like inspirational quotes. They are my mother’s friend’s neighbor’s sister. The list goes on and on and on.
They are semi-close friends, every 526 of them. How could I even think about purging them, even if I do think that Facebook is a little self-serving? I really don’t care what my “friends” had for their mid-morning snack or if they went to bed a half hour late. I have enough of my own issues. But on the other hand, it’s fun to catch up with a Facebook thread and throw in my two cents worth. Many of my friends are very witty. At times it’s fun to read some of the comments, and even to “chat” with a “friend” that I have never met. It’s also fun to catch up with the people I really do care about.
What I don’t want Facebook to be for me is an emotional crutch. I don’t want to be the Sally Field of Facebook – “You like me, you really do!” I don’t want to depend on my 526 friends for validation that someone cares or someone is paying attention to me. However, it is nice to know they are there for me if I am struggling with something, want to share a funny joke or an inspirational quote. It’s fun to see pictures of my friends from High School, most who look totally amazing. It’s nice to hear about new networking groups and restaurants and events in my area. So for now, the 526 friends stay. I’m not in the right frame of mind to “unfriend” anyone.
So if you are among the throng, you are still my friend. Nobody was cut. I mean, how else will I find out which of my friends had Fruitloops for breakfast?
Karen Kelly is a freelance writer and welcomes your comment at karenkellybrown@aol.com or http://bleachblondemind.blogspot.com/. Oh, you can also “friend” her on Facebook.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Bleached Blonde Mind: Being a Princess
Princess. Noun.
1. A woman member of a royal family other than the monarch, especially a daughter of a monarch.
2. A woman regarded as having the status or qualities of a princess.
Princess. Adjective.
1. Me.
2. My granddaughter.
3. My future granddaughters.
4. Several of my friends.
There are times when people use the term “princess” like it’s a bad thing. I mean what in the world could be bad about being a princess? I own three tiaras. Being a princess is just the right place to be. If I were a Queen, I’d have to make all sorts of decisions, and it would cut into party-time. Besides, the crown isn’t as pretty as a tiara.
Being a princess in this day and age is a wonderful frame of mind. I don’t expect to have anything handed to me on a silver (or silver plated) platter. I don’t expect to wear ball gowns all the time. I don’t even expect to have a servant. Although someone to do the dishes and laundry every once in awhile would be nice. (Oh wait, that’s called my husband, also known as the prince- just don’t tell him I said that).
In the past, being a princess would infer that someone is spoiled. And being spoiled means you get every little thing you want and ask for. Not the case in those of us that are modern day princesses. Most of us work for a living. We can’t have fake nails because we scrub our own toilets and wash the dog. We buy our clothes on sale or at the Goodwill. We wait a few extra weeks to get our roots touched up. We change diapers and we drive cars that have dog slobber on the windows and Happy Meal toys strewn about.
Being a modern day princess definitely has its’ pluses. It means you don’t run into the grocery store in the rain – your prince will drop you off and meet you with the umbrella. It means the bartender will pour you an extra ounce or two of red wine at the tasting. It means eating dessert before your dinner. It means that when you start dancing alone on the dance floor, all your fellow princesses will join you. Being a princess means your granddaughter looks at you with adoring eyes as you paint her tiny fingernails blue. Being a princess means your dog can wear a rhinestone collar. Being a princess gives me an excuse to wear glitter on New Years.
Most of all, being a princess means you get to hang out with all the other wonderful princesses in your life. I am blessed to have quite a few – young and old. And for those that just don’t get it yet, they can gladly be my princess in training.
After all, if we didn’t have modern day princesses, who would wear the pink boas and drink out of wine glasses with crystals on them? It’s a tough job, but it beats being called a commoner!
1. A woman member of a royal family other than the monarch, especially a daughter of a monarch.
2. A woman regarded as having the status or qualities of a princess.
Princess. Adjective.
1. Me.
2. My granddaughter.
3. My future granddaughters.
4. Several of my friends.
There are times when people use the term “princess” like it’s a bad thing. I mean what in the world could be bad about being a princess? I own three tiaras. Being a princess is just the right place to be. If I were a Queen, I’d have to make all sorts of decisions, and it would cut into party-time. Besides, the crown isn’t as pretty as a tiara.
Being a princess in this day and age is a wonderful frame of mind. I don’t expect to have anything handed to me on a silver (or silver plated) platter. I don’t expect to wear ball gowns all the time. I don’t even expect to have a servant. Although someone to do the dishes and laundry every once in awhile would be nice. (Oh wait, that’s called my husband, also known as the prince- just don’t tell him I said that).
In the past, being a princess would infer that someone is spoiled. And being spoiled means you get every little thing you want and ask for. Not the case in those of us that are modern day princesses. Most of us work for a living. We can’t have fake nails because we scrub our own toilets and wash the dog. We buy our clothes on sale or at the Goodwill. We wait a few extra weeks to get our roots touched up. We change diapers and we drive cars that have dog slobber on the windows and Happy Meal toys strewn about.
Being a modern day princess definitely has its’ pluses. It means you don’t run into the grocery store in the rain – your prince will drop you off and meet you with the umbrella. It means the bartender will pour you an extra ounce or two of red wine at the tasting. It means eating dessert before your dinner. It means that when you start dancing alone on the dance floor, all your fellow princesses will join you. Being a princess means your granddaughter looks at you with adoring eyes as you paint her tiny fingernails blue. Being a princess means your dog can wear a rhinestone collar. Being a princess gives me an excuse to wear glitter on New Years.
Most of all, being a princess means you get to hang out with all the other wonderful princesses in your life. I am blessed to have quite a few – young and old. And for those that just don’t get it yet, they can gladly be my princess in training.
After all, if we didn’t have modern day princesses, who would wear the pink boas and drink out of wine glasses with crystals on them? It’s a tough job, but it beats being called a commoner!
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Fighting the War in My Rack
They were pink camouflage, and the words on the front said “Fighting the War in My Rack”. And it had a little pink ribbon in the corner.
We were at a party for a friend. She needed us to rally and so, we all did. In pink t-shirts. Even our guys.
She found out through a routine mammogram that she had to have a mastectomy – possibly a double. And that it was going to happen quickly. She was overwhelmed by it all and was feeling very vulnerable; especially since she found out she had cancer while her husband was out of town.
So we all came, brought food and wine and hugs, and showed her how much we care – and told her that we will do whatever it takes to help her, her husband and her two young kids get through it.
“My doctor says one in eight women get it”, she said as she looked around the table. “You can all thank me; I am ‘the one’ in this group of eight.” Even in the gray light of cancer, she still was a beacon of brightness. Her humor was still intact, her smile showing through her tears.
It’s the fear of the unknown that is getting her down. It is the not knowing how she will look, how she will feel, how she will handle this big change in her life.
Knowing her as I do, I can pretty much guarantee that in a few months, when it’s all finished and she is mending and her rack is new and improved, she will have realized that she needn’t have been so fearful. But for now, fear is what is over-riding the calm.
On the way home, my husband was very silent. He finally reached over and patted my knee and said, “This was quite a learning experience for all of us men. We really didn’t realize how much breast cancer can challenge your femininity. And no matter what, if we tell you it doesn’t matter to us – I guess what we do have to realize is that is does matter to you – to a woman.” He was silent again but then said, “Just do me a favor. Remember that your rack is not why I love you. It does not make the woman that you are.”
He’s quite amazing my husband. And I hope that someday very soon, our friend will discover that we love her no matter what size or shape she is. It’s hard for us to remember that, isn’t it? It’s hard to keep in mind that no matter what hair color, clothing size, age, shape, weight or bra size we are, it’s the beauty inside that truly defines us.
In the meantime, we will all keep Fighting the War on My Rack, and show her that we love her through good times and through bad – and know that thankfully this war – at least for her – will soon be won.
We were at a party for a friend. She needed us to rally and so, we all did. In pink t-shirts. Even our guys.
She found out through a routine mammogram that she had to have a mastectomy – possibly a double. And that it was going to happen quickly. She was overwhelmed by it all and was feeling very vulnerable; especially since she found out she had cancer while her husband was out of town.
So we all came, brought food and wine and hugs, and showed her how much we care – and told her that we will do whatever it takes to help her, her husband and her two young kids get through it.
“My doctor says one in eight women get it”, she said as she looked around the table. “You can all thank me; I am ‘the one’ in this group of eight.” Even in the gray light of cancer, she still was a beacon of brightness. Her humor was still intact, her smile showing through her tears.
It’s the fear of the unknown that is getting her down. It is the not knowing how she will look, how she will feel, how she will handle this big change in her life.
Knowing her as I do, I can pretty much guarantee that in a few months, when it’s all finished and she is mending and her rack is new and improved, she will have realized that she needn’t have been so fearful. But for now, fear is what is over-riding the calm.
On the way home, my husband was very silent. He finally reached over and patted my knee and said, “This was quite a learning experience for all of us men. We really didn’t realize how much breast cancer can challenge your femininity. And no matter what, if we tell you it doesn’t matter to us – I guess what we do have to realize is that is does matter to you – to a woman.” He was silent again but then said, “Just do me a favor. Remember that your rack is not why I love you. It does not make the woman that you are.”
He’s quite amazing my husband. And I hope that someday very soon, our friend will discover that we love her no matter what size or shape she is. It’s hard for us to remember that, isn’t it? It’s hard to keep in mind that no matter what hair color, clothing size, age, shape, weight or bra size we are, it’s the beauty inside that truly defines us.
In the meantime, we will all keep Fighting the War on My Rack, and show her that we love her through good times and through bad – and know that thankfully this war – at least for her – will soon be won.
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