Danger
Growing up in a home with what today would be called helicopter parents, I was sheltered and well cared for, safety and security being key requirements for my well-being. Danger was strictly avoided. I attempted to provide the same sort of environment for my children, quitting my career to stay with them, rarely even using babysitters. So why is it that in my old age I have taken to living dangerously? Since age fifty, I have ridden in hot air balloons, done ride-alongs with cops, shot guns, gotten tattooed, ridden motorcycles and, most recently to celebrate my sixtieth year, jumped out of an airplane. Out of all these activities, the skydive adventure seemed the most dangerous. At least, it was the one to scare me the most, leaving me trembling for hours....
Gray
What causes hair to turn gray? I stopped coloring mine several months ago and have noticed only a slight increase in silvery streaks. Not too bad, for my ripe old age. But I did something the other day that seemed to speed up the process. I went skydiving. That’s right. I jumped out of an airplane. At 14,500 feet. Several hours after the dive, I looked at myself in the mirror and was surprised to see that the gray area of my head had doubled in size between dawn and dusk. Skydiving. Powerful pastime.
Words
I love words. They roll through my head all hours of day and night. Sometimes I’m searching for the right word to use in an e-mail. Sometimes, though, it’s just the answer for a crossword puzzle. I blame my daughter-in-law, Jen, for the crosswords. She stayed with us one summer and enlisted my help on the daily puzzle from the newspaper. By the time she left, I was hooked. Oh, joy. Some of the words used in puzzles are downright stupid. A clue such as, on the ocean, calls for this answer: asea. Seriously? Who uses a word like that? I like simple words that get a point across without causing someone to question their meaning. A Sunday sermon was once lost on me after the preacher used the word conundrum. I knew I had learned that word at some point,...
Cancer
A battle with cancer isn’t easy to forget, hard though I’ve tried. I no longer go to meetings at Gilda’s Club or attend After Breast Cancer programs at the YMCA because I would rather do just about anything other than share war stories. Life is too short to dwell on unpleasant memories. The memory is refreshed, though, with every annual mammogram, as is the question of why I got cancer in the first place. I wasn’t healthy growing up. I was born with a twisted foot and wore orthopedic shoes my first few years. I missed weeks of school due to mono, and then pneumonia, in first grade; measles, in fourth. Many bouts with the flu and strep throat. Surgery to remove ovarian cysts at age seventeen; rheumatoid arthritis that same year. Chronic...
Jennie
Ms. Jennie was a resident at Morningside Assisted Living when we first met. I play the piano there a couple times a month, and she was one of the regulars who enjoyed our hymn-sings and Bible study. She had a wry sense of humor that always caught me off-guard. Jennie, quite simply, made me laugh. I found myself arriving before our program just to spend time with her. We would sit in her room and…well, laugh. She had lived long enough that she knew truth and didn’t hesitate to speak it. Her honesty was refreshing, as were tales of her life, including the story of her fall off the Great Wall of China. I had never before met anyone who had even seen the Great Wall, much less fallen off of it. Jennie was an integral part of life at Morningside, routinely baking...
Polyester
I was a teenager in the sixties and seventies, so I know a thing or two about polyester. That’s right. Polyester. The wonder fabric. Why would a teen be interested in fabric? Because this teen’s father taught in the School of Textiles at the local university. Daddy was quick to examine the fibers in any new article of clothing in order to instruct me on its proper care. On one shopping trip with my parents, I tripped over my father as I came out of the dressing room. He was on his knees, examining the fibers in the carpet. No need to wonder about the source of my OCD. In 1974, one of Daddy’s students designed a fabric to honor North Carolina State University for being number one in every sport that year. The fabric was manufactured at a...
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