Welcome to My Street

Discover Prompt #4 – Street

BlogStreetFrontDoor (2) — View from my front door

The street where I live is actually a Circle. They tell me it’s about one mile all the way around. My furry Baby Girl and I walk half the length a few times a day. Sometimes, out my front door and past the parking lot, I feel like I’m stepping into a magic forest.

The Embers is an apartment community in the middle of a large city. I’m told the project was built inside a protected conservation area. It’s generally quiet and tranquil except for the occasional ambulance in the distance or helicopters flying to the Trauma Center at a nearby hospital.

The street is lined with all kinds of native trees and plants. The street lamps seem to have been strategically placed, so that during the hours just before nightfall or daylight, shadows can play tricks on your eyes. The soft light from the moon and stars seems to make the street glow, and it’s easy to forget that I’m not really out in the woods.

On our street, the regular small woodland creatures like possum, armadillos, snakes, and squirrels forage for food and make their homes in the thick vegetation. The trees are filled with all kinds of birds, each one signing a unique melody with the woodpeckers keeping rhythm with their tap, tap, tap.

There is a large population of cats – blacks, and tuxedo, marmalade, and tigers in grey and black. It’s hard to tell if they are all feral or just out for the day. Baby Girl loves the kitties, but whenever we come near, they scamper away into the tall grass just beyond the road where she can’t reach them. Each time she catches a whiff of a kitty, she gets so excited and desperately wants them to play with her. I can see them watching her from within the bushes. Sometimes I wonder what they think of all her enthusiasm.

BlogStreetwheresthe kitty (2) — Scent of a kitty

There are no sidewalks on our street, but boulders where placed near the ends of speed-bumps to keep drivers off the grass. Covered in moss and dirt, on days of dense fog, these boulders appear to be stunted creatures trying to climb out of the ground. I’ve wanted to photograph them, but these crafty creatures turn back to solid rock when they see me take out my phone!

BlogStonecreature. and Elizajpg — Baby Girl and the Stone Creator

My imagination ponders about the natural history of this place. Who were the first dwellers here, and how did they spend their day?

It’s great that this piece of land has been kept in some kind of land conservation trust. I’m especially glad that with all the social distancing regulation, I have a nice space to walk and let get inspired.

Welcome to my street.

eXes and Woes

A to Z Challenge Letter X

eXes and Woes

Clotilde Delsapo looked at the caller I.D. on her cell phone. She didn’t usually pick-up when she didn’t recognize the number, but the area code was from her old hometown, so she did. “Hey, hellooo,” said the playful voice on the other end. “Hi, what’s up?” she responded tentatively. She knew who it was. The call was unexpected, but somehow she was not surprised. It had been about three years since their last conversation. At that time Laurence Olivier Madioti was getting ready to settle down again. It was always the same story, and she’d come to understand this was going to be the last phone call – for a while. “I’ve learned so much from the past. She and I have so much in common. She has wonderful qualities. I’ve good a good feeling about this.” To which Clotilde would politely reply, “Great news; All the best. Really hope it works out this time.”

Now, he was rambling about how difficult it had been to find Clotilde’s phone number again. He wanted her new address to send his recent book. He was looking to get her feedback. “It’s different from what I’ve written before. I think you’ll like it.” Clotilde hesitated but shrugged, sure why not she thought, and she answered without emotion. “1300 Mockingbird Road, Paradise, Florida.” To which he responded. “Great, I’m here for a graduation, but I’ll send it as soon as I get back.” After a bit more mindless chatter, he added that he was single again. “Let’s just say we had irreconcilable differences.” Clotilde didn’t bother to feign shock but replied. “Wow, too bad. Sorry to hear it.”

Today Laurence O. Madioti was calling after a third long-term relationship fell apart. It had been 13 years since they had gone their separate ways but each time a relationship had ended, he called with a similar story. “I think I made a mistake.” Each time it started to sound as if he had regretted that their liaison ended the way it did. She listened carefully, but the words she waited to hear didn’t come. After a while, they were just friends again, former colleagues shooting the breeze.

A couple of weeks later he had called her again to let her know he was heading home at the end of the week. “Why don’t you pack a bag and come with me for a bit. We always have a great time together.” She shook her head and laughed at him. “Some things never change” she gently chided. “I didn’t mean it like that. You sound like you need a vacation. You can stay at the guest house. There is a pool, and it’s walking distance to the beach.” She didn’t know why she didn’t just say no, that’s a bad idea. Why was she always careful not to hurt his feelings? Instead, she explained that she couldn’t leave now. “Sounds like a great place though.” She would let him know when she could visit; after all, they were still “friends.”

She didn’t know why they remained “friends” for all these years. Maybe it was something about forgiving those that wronged you, not because they deserve it, but because you deserve peace. It seemed to have worked. She was at peace, and hindsight gave her a better understanding of their past history.

They had met over thirty years ago when they worked at Allen, Bradford, and Jones. Together they led an up-and-coming team breaking barriers and maximizing productivity, making it one of the most successful teams in the company’s history. In the midst of success, as they say at Disney, there occurred a Tale as old as time, True as it can be, Barely even friends, Then somebody bends, Unexpectedly… Neither one remembered precisely when or why things changed between them, but they did. It became their secret for many years after.

Some time ago, Clotilde realized that she had finally reached a place where it didn’t hurt anymore. She accepted what she had known all along but had refused to let it surface to her conscious thoughts. She had misinterpreted that friendly relationship. It was as simple as that. She was able to close that chapter and look back at the story as if it were a bad rom-com. She felt relief, her spirit was light, and she was at peace with herself and the world.

Laurence O. was a great guy as far as “friends” go. He was giving, supportive and loyal. A person knew he could be counted on to always have your back in a troubling situation. He was smart, funny, articulate and cultured. He spoke four languages fluently, had traveled extensively and could recite poems and sonnets by heart. He wasn’t handsome in the usual way, but there was an attractive, confident air about him. Women and men both admired him. They considered themselves lucky to be counted among his friends.

One could also say that Laurence Olivier Madioti was an incurable romantic in a temperamental way. He was the personification of the ads found in the personals. He loved walking on a moonlit beach, and dinners by candlelight accompanied with good music at a fine restaurant. He was also an excellent cook and enjoyed entertaining at his place. He loved picnics, red roses, and fruity red wine. He was an expert at helping to release the tensions of the day whether with a shoulder massage or cuddling on the couch watching a silly romantic comedy.

Unfortunately, although he said he longed for a stable relationship, Laurence Madioti had been unable to transition to happily-ever-after. After the second post-break-up call, Clotilde had told him that it appeared that he was in love with the idea of LOVE, the conquest, and romance. He had studied the novels, memorized the poems and watched romantic movies. Others would say that once the thrill of the chase was gone and things started to feel mundane, Laurence would find the nearest exit. For all his intelligence and insight, a part of him expected that once he found “the one,” the stars would align and life would be perfect for all eternity.

In the weeks that followed the book’s arrival, Laurence O. continued to call or email regularly. They would talk about the book, politics, and weather. They didn’t take that walk down memory lane. Clotilde could hear the uncertainty in his conversations, sometimes overstepping the boundaries of friendship. She found it sad that sometimes it was as if they were strangers with very little in common after all these years. She wondered if he felt the same. She had thought to bring it up because she didn’t want to continue this shallow friendship.

Clotilde wished they were face to face. At some point, she began to feel awkward about the phone conversations or video calls. It was not the same something was lacking. She didn’t know what but could not speak her mind. She had decided to go to visit him to end this semblance of friendship but then thought better of it. What if she felt different when she saw him in person, after having him in her arms from the obligatory hug between friends? What if she got lost in his the dark pools in his eyes or felt faint from the smell of his skin next to hers? What if she was flooded with a rush of all the emotions she had managed to put away for so long. She didn’t want to muddy the waters. She would wait. If history repeats itself, he would soon be on the mend from the broken heart and would get too busy to call.

And so it was. The calls stopped abruptly, and after several weeks, Clotilde sent an email to confirm her hunch. “Yes, he said sheepishly. We are in the beginning stages, but I have a good feeling about this.” Clotilde politely responded “Great news; All the best. Really hope it works out this time.”

AtoZ Challenge – JOURNEY

“Life is about the JOURNEY, not the destination.” I consider this quote one of my favorite expressions which continually renews the way I look at life. Whenever I’m with someone who is planning a wedding or a great vacation, I always remind them to enjoy everything leading up to the big event because it’s all over so quickly. People today spend countless hours and dollars planning for that special day, but then they are too busy or tired to enjoy it. I love to look at old photos of fun times, but I also warn people about trying to capture too many moments with the phone, you may be missing the opportunity for adventure or special moments that you can’t rewind. Laugh about the stressors and mishaps for someday they’ll be great stories to tell the grandchildren or reminders for yourself before you put your head down to sleep.

I often remember people that I’ve met on my JOURNEY and I acknowledge that whether it was for a moment or a season, a blessing or a lesson; those who’ve crossed my path have touched my life and added a bit to who I am today. One friend was especially attentive to enjoy the JOURNEY and life’s offerings. “Why stress about where it’s going tomorrow if it’s wonderful now?” Over the years, I’ve come to understand the importance and adapt that philosophy to my life and my JOURNEY.

To give proper credit, I went searching for the author of the quote that has become such a part of our everyday language (and of course memes). I found that Ralph Waldo Emerson is often credited with “Life is a journey, not a destination” but in fact, several ministers and Bible teachers of the time used similar language in journals or teachings. https://quoteinvestigator.com/2012/08/31/life-journey/

It makes sense to me that such a quote would also have religious connotations. I’m glad some preachers and teachers have tried to redirect their communities. If you’ve read my previous blog posts, you may have guessed that my JOURNEY has been via a road with twists and turns. For part of my life, I was teaching that the most important thing in life was the final destination on the other side of those Pearly Gates. For that, I’ve apologized.

Somewhere along the way, I stopped to take a break and look around me. I noticed that some people were too focused getting to the Promised Land, the mansions, walking on the Streets of Gold that they lost the purpose of their JOURNEY and forgot the words of Jesus Christ. “For I was hungry, and you gave me something to eat. I was thirsty, and you gave me something to drink. I was a stranger, and you invited me in. I needed clothes, and you clothed me. I was sick, and you looked after me. I was in prison, and you came to visit me.” … ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’Matthew 25:35-40.

After a while, I took up my satchel and changed direction – same JOURNEY, different route. Rather than waiting to see all the wonders “over yonder,” I’ve decided to enjoy JOURNEY, and make the most of the blessings in my simple life.

A to Z challenge – INTENTIONS

I started blogging again past the ides of March 2018. Inspired by a page I was following, a few days later I signed up for the A to Z challenge for April 2018. I was ready to go. As things go, I started five days after everyone else. No big deal. I’ll post twice a day until I catch up. Well, that didn’t work out and alas all my good INTENTIONS have left me feeling frustrated but not quite discouraged.

I’m not going to lie; I was ready to say OK, maybe this daily blogging is not for me. I put too much pressure on myself, and it stops being fun. I want to be creative, thoughtful and if a post calls for it, I want to be accurate. It feels lifeless, mechanical and automated. I went back to my Reader to find a wonderful post I read a few days ago in which I saw myself. The writer described her process, and I recognized it was how I’ve been operating all these years – Binge Writing. Something or someone will trigger my imagination which makes the sparks fly, and I’m out the gate writing every chance I get. I’ll make notes any time of day on my phone, on the back of an envelope, store receipt, etc. and stitch it all together to make a story. I’ll go at it for a couple of weeks, maybe a couple of months but then I seem to hibernate. I am keeping this blog entry for future INSPIRATION. https://brevity.wordpress.com/2018/03/26/staying-out-of-the-headlights-on-finding-my-own-writing-process/

I was about to try something different and throw in the towel for the A to Z challenge when I remembered that this blog was about ME. I took on the challenge with the honest INTENTIONS to get myself back in the habit of writing- period. Yes, was hoping that after 26 days, a natural part of my daily routine will be for me to get on my computer to write – after I walk the dog and have my tea with mini protein cakes. My apologies to the bloggers in the community that have diligently kept up with the challenge as described in the instructions but I’ve decided then that I will take a detour and resume my challenge for the rest of the month with the ninth letter corresponding to April 9th – I.

Onward to J!

Five Minutes of Fame

Every two weeks in the city where I live, a small group of bloggers and affiliates meets at a locally owned coffee shop to chat, troubleshoot, or share tips and ideas. I had been blogging somewhat consistently for a couple of weeks and wanting to keep the momentum; I finally made it to a meeting. As luck would have it, a journalist from a local news outlet had just surprised the group facilitator to do a story about Blogging and was asking to interview a few group members – today.

In one serendipitous moment, I found myself as one of only two bloggers to show up for the meeting today. I agreed to interview as an honest to goodness “blogger” with about ten posts under my belt and a page in the middle of reconstruction. The interview went well considering it was spur-of-the-moment. I was surprised at how relaxed I felt as I enthusiastically spoke of my “Self Censored” page for my five minutes of fame.

I watched the segment air this morning which caused cobwebs and dust to blow around those corners of my mind. I remember watching myself after another interview in what seems to be another lifetime. My dark brown hair was blown dry in a smooth shoulder length bob with professional, understated makeup. The dark gray skirt suit that I wore to important meetings was freshly out of the cleaners, and I wore a royal blue sweater because everyone still tells me that is definitely my color. I was to talk about a new independent living housing program for our clients and a family group which would help everyone with the transition. I had practiced and had index cards, and yet I froze. If not for my co-worker’s help, I would have been completely lost – what a disaster I thought. Whose idea was this anyway?

Today as I watched myself, I chuckled. I looked so comfortable in my own skin. My hair is short, gray and wild. My clothes were not pressed or laid out from the day before; plus my voice was still hoarse from a recent bout of laryngitis. I wasn’t prepared for the TV that day; I was flying by the seat of my pants, and yet I wasn’t afraid.

All is not perfect. My GPS doesn’t work very well, and the road is still crooked with plenty of bumps and ridges. I am content in my journey though, and I’m looking forward to seeing what’s around the bend. I think my younger self would be proud and relieved.

How would you answer the age-old question? What would you say to your younger self?

AtoZ Challenge – oh, BEHAVE

Here I sit on my second day at the challenge. I realize other members have very clear goals for their themes, but because I was living in the moment, I jumped in without thinking it through. So far I’ve started to think about the next theme B, as soon as I posted the first letter A – ABOUT. This morning I started to write about BEING: Existence. In keeping with my mantra of keeping it simple, I chose the definitions from Oxford Dictionaries. These include being alive, living and my favorite – the nature or essence of a person. This “essence” is really who we are; it’s the spark, it’s what makes us act the way we do depending on the circumstance. It’s what stirs inside when we are excited and hopeful or feels like a lead brick in our stomach when we get bad news.

I was just getting warmed up on this topic, or maybe I saw it was eventually heading towards that other B-word – Boring when a thought crossed my mind “Oh behave!”. It was Austen Powers in my head. True, I didn’t want to get all deep and philosophical about my existence. Getting all straight-laced, proper and preachy is easy. I decided instead to switch topic because as the oldest child, it seemed that “oh behave!” was all I heard from my mom.

I suppose she thought my being alive had a particular purpose. She reminded me to be a good girl, to get good grades, to stop whining or being mouthy or whatever because I needed to be an example for my younger siblings. To be fair, it certainly wasn’t the only thing I heard, my mom was pretty cool, and because I loved her, when I was home, I behaved, the way she wanted for her higher purpose.

Now and then I needed to take off my nerd hat and shake out my uncontrollable hair. Not that I was a wild thing or at least I never really thought myself in that way, but the other day in my memorabilia box I found a note. The note is probably 50 years old. It was from one of my best friends in high school, and it appears that she passed it to me when we crossed in the hallway during a change of class. In her note, she said she had to talk to me in person about something urgent. To which she added,” I know you’ll understand, I’ve seen your crazy side, I don’t think many people have, but I know ….”. I’m not one of those people who need a little “something, something” to get the party started but she was a quiet and serious girl; any number of fun things may have felt crazy to her. We loosely stay in touch through social media now, but I didn’t contact her to see if she remembered what that was all about. I wonder if she’s learned to get “crazy”.

I am fully aware that I still I have a “crazy side.” I have great fun with friends and family, but mostly I keep it contained until I’m with my granddaughters or my grand nieces and nephews. Sometimes I hear “oh behave, Mom!” from behind my daughter’s stern grin. I enjoy the payback though. It doesn’t take much; a silly walk, a funny face or changing the words to a favorite song as you are singing as loud as you can. I love when we all get to that place where our bellies ache from laughing.

Enjoying those moments is the essence of my being, of my existence. When I’m feeling out of sorts and not very jolly, I seek out chances to laugh or even scavenge for some giggles. I try not to let the well run dry because that’s how I manage to keep it together. These are the memories that I summon up when I need enough energy to climb uphill or swim against the current.

How do you do it? What is the essence of you?

A to Z challenge – About

Today, as I’ve started to feel human after a terrible allergic episode, I’m trying to engage in the A to Z Challenge that I signed up for last month. I’ve decided to keep it simple and start the Challenge with ABOUT and perhaps try to explain why I’ve decided to write a blog that seems to be about me.

I had been writing a blog with a running title of “Self-Censored/ A blog about me. Verbal snapshots of a simple life”. The other day I was discussing my blog with someone who asked, “why would you write a blog about yourself, it’s not like you are someone famous … You need to write about something that your reader will value and come back for …”. These were good points, so I took the information and filed it in my brain under “THINGS TO PONDER.” Here I am, trying to ponder as I participate in the A to Z challenge. Please join me.

Over the past few months, I finally had the chance to go through boxes of old photos and family memorabilia – which is probably why my allergies are out of control. The treasures I found prompted me to contact some people and take an opportunity to sit and talk. Some of these folks I’ve known all my life, some all of theirs, and others for at least a couple of decades. A constant theme in these conversations has been what was going on beyond the photo, beyond the eye of the camera.

It was in those memories that we learned things about each other that were hidden in plain sight. For example – who knew that you sang and played guitar on stage at a coffee house in New York City when you were in college? Or that you had looked up who Ty Cobb was and were proud to be part of the team, wear your uniform and play at those little league games that your Dad dragged you to each weekend. Who knew you didn’t really get lost on the subway that day when everyone was so worried – instead, you had a crazy adventure with friends. Who knew you stepped up to take care of the family dog and neighborhood strays when your older sister went off to college? Who knew that at age ten you already knew how to make something beautiful out of repurposed materials? Who knew that you always wanted to play the clarinet but when it was your turn to chose, the trumpet was the only instrument left, and yet you thoroughly enjoyed jammin’ with the band? Who knew all these things, these little sparks, you would carry in your heart alone until the time was right to shine?

I want my reader to feel a smile creep across the face as he or she joins me in the memory. Do you remember walking out of the comfort zone and then feeling ecstatic and relieved all at once. What a feeling to know you survived – you did it, and you enjoyed it! What if you haven’t yet? Well, why not. Tomorrow is another opportunity. What if you don’t have an experience readily available in your toolbox? I’m hoping you can borrow the energy from one of the stories I share.

I worked in a state-run system of human services for many years where I provided rehabilitative and supportive counseling for countless clients. Some didn’t have much of an opportunity to make happy memories, but somehow they knew there was something better, and that’s what kept them going. Some folks, knowing that they had nothing more to lose, took more chances. The strength and resilience I saw in these people were a blessing to my own life.

Those are the kind of stories I want to share – true stories of simple everyday people, putting one foot in front of the other walking the path before us. Few of us can skate through life on Easy Street. Most of us will follow the scenic route with all its twists and turns. Let’s take plenty “snapshots”.

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