Ghosts of Christmas

Every year we see many versions of Dickens Christmas Carol…there are cartoon versions, Disney versions, old black and white movie versions and even contemporary versions with role reversals and updated business settings…but they all have one thing in common, the lead character is always plagued by his or her past decisions and given a chance to see where this lifestyle will lead if left unchecked. But what if we would look at our own lives, without the visits of the specters, and see our lives from an outside perspective/. I say this because every Christmas, no not just Christmas but every holiday season I go through a period of introspection…ok a bit of depression…which many others experience as well

So this year I was coming up on this season and beginning to feel the pull of the “sads” and I began to think about why. Why do we go to the sad things, why not the good things or even more importantly perhaps, why not a balance? All of us have good memories, and I suspect all of us may also have some not so great ones as well. For example, I wanted to change Christmas to Holiday not for political correctness but rather because for me these sad experiences really begin at Thanksgiving. In 1987 my father passed away on Thanksgiving Day. He was living with us at the time and the house was under construction to provide a new suite of spaces for him so he could have a bit more autonomy…ok, privacy. We went to my in-laws for Thanksgiving dinner, a meal that had been at our house for years but because of the construction it had been moved to a temporary home about 10 miles away. Dad did not go with us, he was never really close to my in-laws for a variety of reasons known mostly to him alone. We came home to find he has had another, his fifth, heart attack and passed away alone…on Thanksgiving. It definitely affected Thanksgiving celebrations for years…memories. But now days I mostly miss Thanksgiving Dinners with my mother’s family…wacky, crazy, fun loving, happy people who knew how to celebrate almost anything. Those happy memories outweigh the negative one from 1987 by orders of magnitude.

You know what is interesting though? It isn’t just the celebrations. I remember specific foods,..cranberry fluff, cranberry tarts, stuffing made with nuts, dried fruits and a good deal of sweet vermouth I remember Aunt Vada’s pecan pies….she use a bit of buckwheat flour in the crust to make ti stand up to the gooeyness of the pie as it sat waiting for dinner to be over. I remember the laughter, and us kids running around without much parental supervision. While all of those are good memories…there is still a ghost, a nagging specter of it isn’t here anymore. Today Thanksgiving day will be quieter, there will be some family, a nephew and his wife and child but no bigger group. This is so true of almost all the holidays now that we are getting older.

The memories, or ghosts, of holidays past are nagging reminders of aging, changing lives, changing times. They remind us of the good times, but they also make us long for those very same good times. Don’t hear something I am not saying…I am not wanting to go back to those times, they are great memories, but we live in the present. So like the Dickens character we need to see or more accurately for us, remember the past holidays, but live in the present holidays, and if we want to be cynical we want to make new memories that the next generation will look back on and equally miss when they are get older. I remember, for example, driving from the San Francisco Bay Area all the way down the length of California with my daughters new bicycle for Christmas in the back of our Plymouth Voyager minivan while she sat not more than a foot from it in the seat. It was buried under bundles of heavy jackets from our trip to Yosemite and visit with Uncle Larry and Aunt Marie in Northern California. That is my pleasant memory but I doubt it even registers as a memory for my children. I remember the trips every year to Yosemite valley to the Ahwahnee Hotel. That in itself was a new memory for our family when my mother’s family ceased having the big dinners. We created our own family memory. Sitting in the lodge next to, or inside, the large fireplaces drinking hot chocolate after building snowmen in the meadow. Dressing up for dinner and eating with far to many pieces of silver flatware for my daughter…she was always trying to give some back to the waiter since we didn't not let her have knives at that point.

You all have those kinds of memories…they are different because they are yours. They are also ghosts in the sense that in some ways they are past, not present, not future, but past experience. When they no longer are possible to maintain we begin to miss them. We look back fondly on them and long for those days. Like Ebenezer, those memories are of happy times, they are sometimes thought of as simpler times, though I suspect from my own experience that they did not feel simpler when we were creating those experiences. Sometimes our ghosts are good things from our past, and sometimes they are not quite the memories we want to have. But, all in all, it is those memories that plague our present. The good ones because we want to recapture those good times to offset our current loneliness or the changes the time has brought us whatever they might be. Other times they are the ones that remind us of things that we wish had not happened. But all of these ghosts are part of not just our past but our present…and they should be pointing us toward a future where we can create new memories, future ghosts,

If you remember the Dickens story you will remember that the ghost of Christmas past took him to see and remember the good times of his youth. The ghost of Christmas present was the one that showed him the bitterness that had invaded his life. I like to think that it was the memories of those happier times and their absence of those who shared them with him as they happened that made him so unhappy, so driven to put anything good or happy out of his life. I know some folks who do much the same thing today, they remember the good times from days of yore as it were and long for those and become bitter because they are gone now, How very Dickensian of them. I would suggest that like the ghost of Ebenezer’s past Christmas experiences we should look at the past for those good time to remember that they existed, that we created, or at the very least, participated in those memories. We were happy and should be happy. Allowing the longing for times past to dominate our present only serves to bring us down. Live today for today, or maybe better said, live today for tomorrow. Create memories that will sustain us in the challenging times we face and set us up for a brighter future.

Yeah, I have ghosts, but this year I am determined to not let them overwhelm me. I am going to look back on those good times, use them to launch more good times, and share them with others.

Love

I know it has been quite a while since I last posted and for those who have been kind enough to follow me I apologize for the absence, perhaps we will get into that in coming posts. But I’m back and let’s see were this goes.

I’ve been spending some time over the past year thinking a lot about the nature of love. No, not that sort of theological discussion about the nature of love that seeks to define love in terms of the biblical Greek where love can be defined differently based on the usage. No, I’ve been thinking about love in the good old American view…we love someone, a parent, a spouse, a child and even a grandchild. Sure there is a different, more intimate meaning of love when we speak of our spouse, but, by and large, when we say we love someone we have a general understanding of what we mean. But then again do we?

For me, the boundaries of love have been tested this past year. It is sometimes easy to love someone and other times it is, well, at best difficult. I found myself in a situation where although I loved someone very dearly and would give up anything for them, including even life itself, that love was not returned. Do we truly love someone who does not return the love or is love really love because we love someone regardless of the reciprocity.

There were days where I spent a lot of my time worrying and thinking and ruminating on this very issue. Can you love someone who does not love you, or at least makes no attempt to show or share that love? Some days I would have told you that it was impossible, those were the days that I allowed myself to feel victimized by the lack of reciprocal love. Those were, to say the least, the dark days. I would find myself not wanting to get out of bed or if out of bed to not do anything. Some days were spent just driving aimlessly just to get out of the house and change the scenery so that I did not get trapped. There were occasions over the past year where those days turned into weeks and the weeks into months.

Then there were days that I felt compelled to love anyway. As a Christian I feel that we are called to love everyone, but even without the call we cannot help but love our families and those closest to us. Then there was the revelation…if we are called to love, then love. No where does it say love IF you are loved…just love. The darkness began to lift. I began to see that while I truly want to be loved and even liked by people I still need to love them anyway. This was freeing in many ways. Removing the conditional clause from the act of loving allowed me to love wholeheartedly, to love without any expectation on the other.

The outcome of that is finding out that I am much happier…no less loving, no less giving, and still wanting to have a relationship, but still loving even if I am not loved in return. It means that I am much happier recognizing that I can’t change the way others feel, but that I don’t have to change the way I feel. It is incredibly uplifting to think that you don’t have to stop loving just because someone does not love you in return…and even more, that in loving them you find yourself happier for giving the love and less bothered by the lack of a return. Sure, someday the other may come to love me again, but I will have never stopped loving them and that love will continue to grow.

Back in my youth there was a popular musical group, The Seekers, who recorded a very popular hit song…”Love isn’t love until you give it away.” So, for the time being I’m just going to live by that; I’m going to keep giving my love away and hope that in doing that it grows, blooms and bears fruit.

Joyfully, ~V

The Heart of a Giver

When I was growing up, my family was not wealthy, middle class and not even upper middle class. But I was raised in a family that truly believed and lived the motto that it is better to give than to receive. It is not just a Christmas phenomenon, or even linked to any other holiday for that matter. My family, well more precisely my mother’s family, were just givers. Not every gift was a “thing” in the traditional sense of the word. Once when it had rained for three days my mother got on the phone and called the other young moms in the neighborhood and went around in her station wagon collecting everyone’s wet diapers. I was raised in a time before disposable diapers so women had to wash stacks of white cloths practicallyeveryday and with rain there was no way to dry them on the traditional clothesline. My mom had one of the first dryers in our neighborhood so she took in everyone’s washed, but wet, diapers and dried them in her turquoise, Frigidaire dryer. She folded them, stacked them and tied each bundle with a ribbon just for effect and took them back that afternoon to the much appreciative mothers.

Sometimes she would collect all the kids in the neighborhood as they got off the school bus and take them all in to our house to decorate sugar cookies she had baked...dozens and dozens of them. She made what must have been three or four gross of cookies that day. Many would go to the school PTA for after the Christmas pageant, but each child took home a plate full of cookies to their parents. Oh and by the way...not a weird thing because she set it up with all the moms in advance so that they could go Christmas shopping or wrap presents without the kids for an afternoon. A gift.

Holidays were always magical. The anticipation would build before any holiday as we would decorate the house...Valentine’s Day, Easter, July 4th, Thanksgiving, Christmas all had their own special decorations and each year more were added. Holidays were big in our house. And perhaps not quite as big in our house now, they are still celebrated and decorated probably beyond necessary, or even reasonable, levels. At least sometimes.

Christmas was especially exciting. Who doesn’t get excited about Santa coming, the Christmas tree, presents, toys, and just the sound of the music? There would be presents under the tree beginning about two weeks out from Christmas...small at first, odd ones, not many but enough to make the search under the tree every day after school a wonderful experience to see what was new and if it was for you. Sometimes yes, sometimes it was for your brother, but still something new. Most of these presents were actually for other people. Teachers, the Principal, Dad’s boss, Grandma or Granddad. These were not from Santa, those came on Christmas eve, to be seen for the first time on Christmas morning. There was an ebb and flow to the presents under out tree. Some went out to the teachers or principal others got mailed or boxed up for delivery to the extended family at the Family Christmas dinner, but as they left, others would make their way under the tree.

Christmas morning was magical...Santa came, still does by the way,...the tree would be lit with magic lights when we came down the hall of our 50’s ranch style house to the living room, a sign that Santa had been there. And it was the magic of this sight that remains in my memory today.

When our kids were little we no longer had the big family Christmas dinner, it stopped when my Grandmother died. But the tree, the decorations, the anticipation were all there. The tree would be piled with gifts, some big, some small, but enough to make you think that Santa could not possibly get them all in his sleigh. This is not to say we forgot the reason for the Holiday...on the contrary that too was part of the tradition and decorations. Church on Christmas Eve, mid-night mass for many years with the kids in tow. But this is a story about the magic of giving.

Birthdays were the same. They were your special day. The gifts from aunts and uncles, and grandparents were always fun to get and to open and there could be weeks of anticipation about birthday presents just as there was for Christmas.

The funny thing is that it is not the number of presents I remember of the image of a huge pile, it is the feeling of magic...of wonder...of amazement. We tried to pass that same thing along to our children. It is not what you get, it is what you give. To this day I am still, both genetically and by tradition, a giver. I am the guy who puts money into every bell ringers pot at Christmas. I give presents to people for no reason at all, anytime I feel like it. I think giving gifts is a great way to encourage, or affirm somebody. I give books, I give gift cards, I give any help I can to anyone who asks. I’m the guy who pays for the person behind me in the drive-up at Starbucks just because, not just at Christmas. The drive-up host at Starbucks told me that the gift I gave once led to an eight car follow-on...until someone had a big order of coffees for a meeting. I have paid for people’s groceries when they did not have enough money, I bought a set of tires for a church worker because someone asked me to help this person out. I just find that giving is a part of who I am. I give anonymously as much as I can. I don’t look for the recognition, I prefer not to have it if possible. I want to give because that is what I was taught, it is what was modeled to me growing up.

I know not everyone grows up that way. I know some people grow up without the means to do that. I know that some people by their nature are just not givers, it is not that they dislike people and if asked to help they would probably do so. But to just give is not in their nature. Cheers to them. They are who they are by God’s grace. But I am who I am also.

~V

Content

The last of the decorations were up, the lights turned on and the house was ready, or at least as ready as it was going to be, for the holidays.  I was sitting in my chair, fire in the fireplace, some Christmas jazz playing in the background and I felt content.  Happiness during the holidays is often elusive for me, a lot of family baggage I suppose, but contentment is a great feeling. You feel as if you are not missing anything, nothing more could be needed.  There is even a sense of calm and peace that comes with contentment.

As I sat sipping my Irish glass of Irish Whiskey, in honor of my roots, it occurred to me that we use the word content sometimes to mean something less than happy, close - but no proverbial cigar.  I remembered my recent French lesson where I discovered so much about the French, the word for happy in French is pronounced much more like "error" than the uplifting, smile inducing "happy" that we use.  The French also use "content," same spelling, though with a variation on pronunciation, to mean a form of happiness just as we do.  But, true "happy" seems to be an error in French...I just can't get my Irish mouth around those sounds and make them come out correctly.  It seems that happiness is much more elusive for me regardless of what language I use.

I know, you are probably thinking what is with this guy.  He writes about being happy in the Pacific Northwest and then goes on to say happiness is elusive.  Listen to yourself.  But, while I do have moments of happiness, that true joy created happiness that makes one smile from ear to ear and want to shout from the roof tops, I find that for me I find life general to be much more contented than happy.  Case in point, the decorations are up, the rooms feel quite comfortable in their holiday dress, the sounds of the Christmas music, the fire in the fireplace and even today's smell of fresh baked cookies all just give me a feeling of contentment, a sense of peace, I can feel my shoulders drop a bit, my jaw relax a bit, and I suspect even my heart slows down a bit, but that is not happiness. 

Where did the happiness go?  How did that feeling of excited anticipation that use to be the Christmas season get buried so deep that it is now just a content feeling and not the exuberant joy that use to be part of my holidays.  I miss the fun, family time that was so much a part of the season to me as a child.  Getting together with extended family, aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents, and life long friends .  I miss the craziness of the Traynor clan celebration each year...forty people gathered in a house sharing drinks, food, stories, laughter, even football games in the street or on TV.  All those special dishes, Aunt Vada's pies, Great Grandma's plum pudding, the stuffed date cookies, the sugar cookies, and the occasional bourbon ball sneaked from the table when the parents weren't looking and even the hiding of Grandma's cranberry tart so that nobody else would get any.  There were the three sisters singing in the kitchen, nothing Christmas oriented that I remember here, it was Shirley Temple's Good Ship Lollipop as they danced a soft shoe across the greasy floor when the turkey spilled.  Where did those days go?  Where did that "happiness" go?  How did we lose track of that over the years?

It is not just that we grow up...I remember happy times with our own children at Christmas.  The trips to Yosemite each year to have some quiet family time.  The dressing up for dinner...you silly man you gave me four forks.  There was hot chocolate in front of the fire, board games, walks in the snow, and snow angels, and those enormous Christmas trees.  I remember surprising my daughter with a bike that rode three hundred miles in the back of the van behind the seat she was sitting in and she never saw it until Christmas morning.  I remember driving around to see the lights, the nights at Grandma and Grandpa's house after church with cousins to open family gifts. It was smile inducing to see the cousins play together and share the children's table.  

Today, for so many Christmas seems to be a chore.  We "have" to put up the tree.  We "have" to put up lights on the house.  We "have" to shop for gifts.  We "have" to bake cookies.  I miss the spontaneous joy that came from walking in the door after school and smelling the cookies that had been baking all day.  I miss the party to decorate the tree.  I miss the happiness that came from the anticipation or excited expectation of things to come.  Maybe I'm just getting older, maybe my memories are filtered though the lens of time, maybe it is just the times in which we now live that are different. I don't know. 

But, still, I think it is good to be content as you sit and enjoy the fire in the fireplace, the Irish coffee, the music, and smell the cookies the lights on the tree.  But happiness would not be an error.  

Why the Pacific Northwest?

I don't want to move there.  It rains nine months out of the year.  It has the highest suicide rate in the country.  There are a million reasons why I did not think I would like the Pacific Northwest.  But, the truth is I have come to love it here.  It took a while, maybe a week or so, to come to that conclusion.  We have gotten use to the "liquid sunshine" that seems to envelop the area on and off for several months but we have also come to love the blue skies and white clouds that appear all those other times.

Every day as we drive toward our home we can see the amazing profile of Mt. Hood. We have watched it covered in snow, adding snow, losing snow and now almost void of snow.  But it isn't just Mt. Hood.  There is Mt. Adams, Mt. St. Helens, Mt. Rainier and for those who like their legends there is even Mt. Multnomah.  The mountains are spectacular and on clear days define the region.  But they also create beautiful hiking trails and waterfalls.

I have seen my share of waterfalls over the years and I have to say I do have a favorite.  I love Yosemite Falls and even more Vernal Falls and the mist trail.  But I have never lived anywhere where there were more waterfalls so close to home.  On our recent visit with our son and daughter-in-law we visited several of the falls along the Columbia Gorge.  The hikes were beautiful, the falls wonderful and the scenery magnificent.  Each was better than the last.  Where else can one live and within a few hours hike up to three or four waterfalls. 

These waterfalls don't just spring into existence.  They are all fed by streams and rivers as they make their way to the Columbia.  Which brings me to another reason for loving this area...the Columbia river.  Oh I have lived along the concrete banks of the Santa Ana River and seen the bus drivers school in the Los Angeles River bed and we have seen the Brazos river jump its banks and create havoc in towns all over eastern Texas.  For many years we drove along the Potomac river every day on our way to work.  All I'm trying to say is that rivers have been a part of our life for years but the Columbia is a special entity.  It is huge, it is strong, it is beautiful.  We live just less than a mile off the river and we can feel the winds that come down through the gorge.  We often take a drive up highway 14 running parallel to the river and cross the river on the Bridge of the Gods just to enjoy the views. 

Speaking of drives...we try to find time every few weeks to take US Highway 26 out to the Pacific coast.  We love the little town of Cannon Beach and the beach there is spectacular with its haystack rocks and constant breezes.  Even on those days with liquid sunshine the we find the community a lovely place just to walk around and visit galleries and restaurants and some of the best coffee I've found in a a region known for its love of coffee.  But, Cannon Beach isn't the only place.  We have been to Seaside, Tillamook and Astoria as well and loved each for different reasons.  Astoria was the first American settlement on the west coast, name after John Jacob Astor as a hub for the fur trade.  We are just a short, relatively speaking, drive to Seattle and all the beautiful scenery to be had there. 

Perhaps one of my favorite places to see is the beautiful Japanese Garden in Washington Park.  It is amazingly peaceful, and serene.  One can almost feel the calm come over them as they walk the quiet narrow walkways and look over the Koi pond or waterfalls.  I plan to go back there many times. 

Then there are the Farmer's Markets.  I know I love the farmers' markets in Paris and have commented on their quintessential "Frenchness" but these are different.  There is a mix of craftsmen and gastronomists in addition to the farmers.  There is an abundance of "organic" produce and even local coffee roasters.  One can buy not only food or home goods but also plants to grow on your own for herbs and vegetables.  They are a different breed, much larger than the farmers markets in Virginia, much broader than the ones in Paris that I visited. 

But perhaps the best part of life in the Pacific Northwest centers around two little boys.  There is nothing more heart warming than having a cheering section when you arrive somewhere.  Reed shouting across the yard "I love you Didi, I"m painting my tree house come and see" or Everett yelling "Didi, Didi Didi" when he sees you in the parking lot for a visit to the museum.  The times when Reed sits on my lat to listen to a book or helps me build a very curious looking bird house.  there were the sleep overs where the boys loved their new room upstairs and then loved running down to jump on Didi in bed in the morning.  These two little wonder boys are taking years off this old man. 

All in all there are a million reasons that I love living here in the Pacific Northwest, the river, the falls, the beaches, the coffee (you have to try Dutch Brother's for a wonderful Barista experience) but none are more wonderful than the time with two little boys who make me smile from ear to ear and give me hours of joy-filled happiness.

~V

The Pursuit of Happiness

I know there is no guarantee of happiness in this world and yet sometimes it actually seems as elusive as Sasquatch or the Loch Ness monster.  Don’t get me wrong, I am not an unhappy person, but still, there are days when I feel more content than happy.  Not a bad feeling, certainly there are a lot worse conditions to be in than content, but what ever happened to those days of our youth when we were always happy...happy to get up and go outside to play, happy to be with friends, happy for all kinds of reasons.  

Since moving to the Pacific Northwest I have been on a quest...searching for signs of “happy” in the world.  There are plenty of signs to be found.  We have found a new “happy place” at Cannon Beach.  We love the local community, the artists, the restaurants, and especially the beach with its big “haystack” rocks.  It is a beautiful place and we enjoy visiting as often as we can find time.  On a recent trip with our grand children and their parents though, I realized that while I am quite happy to go there, it is the gentle tranquility that comes from the constant flow of the waves over the shore, the fresh air, the sound of the waves and the birds, the breeze that blows constantly, they all combine to give me a great sense of peace.  I wonder if that feeling is the same as what I remember as happy….carefree.

While our son and daughter-in-law are in town we have been visiting many of the “landmarks” in the local area including the beautiful rose gardens.  We have been there several times since coming to the area but we had never gone to the Japanese Gardens. Last week we did.  In fact, these beautiful gardens may become my new favorite spot in town.  There is something so serene about the sound of the gentle water falls and the sounds made by the bamboo water works that make the place almost magical.  The pathways were tight or close but comfortable, the aesthetic of the entire space seemed to be reflected in the Zen garden with its raked rock waves andripples that makes this, too, a place of great contentment.  I was very happy once again.  

We took in several of the local waterfalls and hiking trails.  They too were beautiful, quiet, and a source of...well, peace.  At the end of each of these days I realized how much I need and enjoy not only the time with my children and grandchildren but also thetime spent in natural settings away from the hustle and bustle of city living.  The chance to get back to a world where there is so much less stress and so much more quiet, and gentleness.

So, while I am enjoying these spaces and the pursuit of happiness that comes from visiting these places I am also reminded of the great joy and happiness that comes from the time with family...children and grandchildren.  The time to just talk to my son who lives so far away, time with his beautiful wife, time with my two amazing granddaughters, the princesses Emma and Scarlet.  In the larger context we are also spending time with our daughter and her husband who, while they live close by, are often busy with their own lives….and our grandsons who continue to amaze me and bring me great joy with every visit.  

I would not want to avoid the trips the beach or the mountains or the gardens, they are amazing places full of serenity and peace and reminders of God’s presence in our lives.  But I think I will always cherish the time with the grandchildren for the great "happiness" they bring, a sort of joy with life itself.  We may pursue happiness in a variety of places, but when it comes down to it...it is often under our noses.  Happiness is really most easily found and kept with the simple pleasures of time with family and friends.  People who not only get us but make us.  They understand who we are and love us for that but they also, somehow make us better people for the time they invest in making us incredibly HAPPY.  

Emma, thanks for joining Buddy and I on our early morning walks.  Reed thanks for sharing the wonderful science museum, Everett, your smile lights up any room and who doesn’t need a cheering section in the parking lot when they arrive, and Scarlet...you fill my life with great joy just watching you; you will go places my dear.  Thanks to you helping me find real happiness and learn that it isn’t really that hard to find if we just open our eyes and hearts.  

~V

Doors

We're not talking about Jim Morrison here.  I want to talk about "doors" real solid doors.  Or maybe more accurately the metaphoric doors that we close in our lives.  As we transition through life we seem to be always closing doors on some portion of life and opening up a new one.

As I was thinking about this it occurred to me that the metaphor of the door worked pretty well, actually.  Consider how you close doors.  Sometimes you just push it to...a gentle push that doesn't quite close the door but rather leaves it maybe just a little ajar or touching the frame but not latched so that a gentle breeze or wayward cat can just push it open again.  I've closed a few of those doors.  We moved from California to Texas and closed a door just so.  It never really closed.  We had family and friends still in the Golden State and we were traveling back frequently.  For a while we kept the door open by continuing to own property there.  It just did not close quite all the way but for all intents and purposes we had shut that door and opened a new one for our family.

There are other doors that we close a bit more securely.  You know those doors that even when you close them you have to turn the knob or give them a bit of a push to get the latch to click.  These are perhaps the most difficult of doors because they require intentionality.  You have to actually push them, turn the knob, click the latch.  Once you do that they are closed and it will take an effort to reopen them if we want to go back. Sometimes we do grab hold of the handle and give it a turn so that we can revisit the past, but, for the most part we closed that door for a reason and it stays that way.  There have been more than a few of these doors in my life and I suspect most of you know at least a few of them as well.

But, when we actually slam a door shut we know that it is closed.  We have made a bold statement about how important it is to us to close that door and we don't care who knows that we closed it.  We close with gusto and turn like the apostles in Matthew 10 who shake the dust off their sandals as they leave as a sign that they will have nothing to do with that again.  It is a statement that not only are we moving on but we are actually finished with that part of our live and have no interest in ever going back.  I don't think I have really ever slammed a door closed when I left, though there are a few that not only did I latch the door but I also turned the deadbolt and hooked the chain.

So why the discussion on doors.  Well I was struck by something someone said today in another post about locking the door on a home they had had for a long time and saying a bittersweet good by to that part of their life.  It made me think about those moments in my own life. It also made me think about the doors that opened.  My grandmother was quite fond of using the expression "When God closes a door He opens another one."  I know some folks say He opens a window but grandma probably knew that would be all the incentive I needed to try and climb out a window just to see what it was like (but, I digress).  

If we hadn't closed the door on my early career with Disney I would never have had the chance to become the CEO of several companies.  We would not have met so many of our friends, people with whom we share our lives.  I might have missed my children growing up and all things considered their lives, too, would have been very different.  There is a plan for us and doors close and open to move us along.  Sometimes more than one door opens and we make choices and sometimes we really wish we could close a door but there is no other door to go through if we do.  

At the end of the day, though, I have to say that as hard as it was to close some of those doors I would not have wanted to stay where we were.  The doors that opened led to wonderful surprised and great experiences.  We found new friends we tried new things and we continued to grow and mature in ways we could never have anticipated.  So to my great friend who closed her door today...Godspeed, there is a whole new world waiting as you go through that new door.

~V

Unconditional Love

Every parent that I can think of has had the same feeling.  The instant that you find out that you are expecting or your wife is expecting you fall in love with this little miraculous gift.  You begin thinking about it above yourself and you have never met.  You worry about diet, exercise, music, sound levels, schools, neighborhoods, car seats, even who the doctor will be that you trust to bring this life into the world.  The instant that you hear that cry, see that little scrunched up face, you know...it is a love affair that will last a life time.  

Sleeplessness becomes the activity that seems to consume your life.  At first you worry that they might stop breathing so you feel you need to check on them.  Then you hear a cough or a moan and you worry that they are sick.  They get older and you stay up later...at first doing the work that you didn't finish at the office or studying for your own classes.  There are nights of worry as they spend their first night with a friend and then the horrible dating years when you worry about not just their safety and whether that boy knows how to drive or if your son will keep from getting distracted while out with friends.  

You pack them up and send them off to college worrying about their future.  Did they really pick a future that suits them or will the chosen profession provide employment opportunities and realistically cover living expenses.  Will they be happy?  Will they find the right spouse?  Will they still need me...when I'm 64?  They graduate, start careers, become successful if you're lucky and begin building their own lives.  Oh sure...at first they need you.  They need furniture for their apartment, they need a car, they need money to cover rent...whatever.  But then it becomes less and less and all good parents begin to look for ways to remain relevant.  

Children get married, buy houses, move to new cities or communities and that little boy or girl you held in one hand, that you paced the floor with while they cut their teeth, the one that you rushed to the emergency room with when the took a spill on their bike or scooter, they have a life of their own.  There is another person who now fills that opening when they need help or want to talk.  

But the funny think about love, it never really stops.  You loved them from before you knew them and you will love them for the rest of your life.  Your hopes and fears for them will remain part of your heart and soul forever.  You will continue to want to make their lives better; to give them the best.  When their car fails we want to step in and help fix it.  If they are painting their house we want to help.  We will buy them tools, offer support and try to do whatever we can.  But there are just some limits to what we can do.  

Parents are always going to be parents.  They love their children unconditionally and always will.  But loving them sometimes means letting go.  Letting them figure out things regardless of how much we think we can fix it for them.  Sometimes life will present them with challenges, just like we had, and we will not be able to do anything about it.  We as parents are not relevant, or at least we can't be the most significant part of their lives in all situations.  Sometimes what we do or say is not what they want.  Sometimes what we say is not what they want to hear.  Sometimes they would like us to just let them do it.  And then, just like when we taught them to ride a bike, we need to learn to step back...let go...and hope and pray that it will turn out...and trust them handle the challenges themselves.

Love...that amazing emotion that does not allow us to just walk away.  We may know in our minds and even in our hearts that they are adults but somehow it is hard to take the step back from someone you have loved for so long, someone you nurtured, taught, and encouraged and that you promised yourself you would never let anything harm them or hurt them or even stub their toe.  But we have to let go.  

Letting go does not mean that we stop loving.  It just mean that we hold them in such a place in our heart that we know we can let go and the bicycle wheels will keep going around.  They can do and we have done all we can for them.  But if ever they think they need help, want an opinion or feel that we have something to offer all they need to do is ask.  

V

Even Children Get Older

And a landslide took me down...it has been a long time since those words were made so popular by the band Fleetwood Mac. It is in someways another of those iconic songs that defined an age or period of our lives. For me this song was popular on the radio but it wasn't until I was a newly married man and we began to spend some time at a place called Mione's that this song actually came to be part of our lives. Quiet evenings on the patio, red wine, mozzarella sticks and maybe a pizza and the band would play this among other songs. Somehow it struck home.

There is another line in that song, one that I often repeat to the dismay of many friends..."Time makes us bolder, even children get older, and I'm getting older too." Sometimes the aging process takes you by surprise. Going to the movies and being asked if you want the senior discount or being told you can get in for a very reasonable, read cheap, price on Tuesdays. Or maybe more importantly going to the movies on Tuesdays just because you get the steep discount. Perhaps it sneaks up on you like the time someone asks you for your occupation and you say after a moment of hesitation, retired or being reminded that you need to find a new primary care doctor before medicare kicks in since so many doctors are not taking new patients with Medicare as their primary insurance.

But this post is not really about those practical implications of getting older. It is about the psychological implications of getting older. Most of us who are even close to this age remember when we thought we were invincible. We can remember in the haze a time when we thought it was not wise to trust anyone over 30 because they just did not understand the reality of life in "today's" world. Then we passed 30 and realized either we couldn't trust ourselves or we had to expand the age range a bit.

There are many in the business world who bemoan the so called Millennials and their lack of drive or their inability to care about anyone but themselves. We can fall into the trap of thinking they are lazy or bored or feel entitled but in reality I don't think they are all that different. Every generation thinks it is the best or at least the most in touch with the reality of the day. To some extent that might be correct...at least at some level. The world changes. I am old enough to remember the advent of the personal computer and the time when a gigabyte of memory was considered more than anyone could possibly need. I remember when cell phones first appeared on the scene and when the fax machine was considered high tech for transmitting documents quickly. Today's Millennial generation does't know a time when there weren't computers, they expect speed and don't care about the gig of memory but the gig of speed to upload to the "cloud." Cell phones are now smart phones and there is more computing technology in the palm of your hand than in the space craft that took man to the moon.

They face interesting challenges in finding employment. We told them that they needed a college education to get a good job but then there are no jobs and they wonder what the degree is for as the make my drink at Starbucks. We told them if they worked hard and got good grades etc...they would be able to do anything. And then they find the new reality makes that a lie. They are in someways cynical...no wonder they don't trust us let alone believe we understand the reality of their world.

Against this backdrop they are carrying on life. They are hooking up, moving in together and sometimes even getting married. They are having children and raising families and making life work. But this perspective makes their lives very different. Where we might have longed for the presence of our parents in our lives and our childrens' lives this is not always possible for this new generation of families. Mobility...jobs...take them away. They seek position anywhere because in this post internet globalization the world has shrunk, at least in our minds. They look for places that are safe, sustainable, green, with good wifi and feel they can work from anywhere. And where does that leave us. We are getting older too...we want to be close to doctors, close to hospitals, close to friends and family if possible. We are not invalids, we are active, more than our parents generation, but, we come from a different perspective...we value different things in life.

Out of this comes tension....not a new phenomenon. Parents trying to help their kids, kids thinking about themselves and their families and what is best for them and resisting the "old ways." It is, in fact, a story as old as time. Generational differences will always exist. We tend to grow more conservative over time, we want to hold on to what worked for us. We forget that we too did things differently. Letting go is still hard.

Just a thought, but we need to remember that even children get older and we are growing older too.

V

So Goes The Winter Of Our Discontent

For those who have been following along...my apologies for the last post.  I promise I was not in as much of a funk as that might lead you to believe.  But the good news is that the weather has turned positively sping-like here in the Pacific Northwest and it somehow brought to mind the line for Richard III.  To paraphrase the bard...

"Now is the winter of our discontent
Made glorious summer by this son of Vancouver;
And all the clouds that low'r'd upon the Columbia
Now In the deep bosom of the ocean are buried."

...and you can see why nobody will be beating a path to the door of my little house Vancouver on Columbia.  But the point is still true; the weather has turned and with blue skies and puffy white clouds and grass growing and flowers blooming it is hard to think about the winter and all the overcast and grey days that filled our lives. 

I sat outside last weekend on the patio drinking a great glass of Washington's finest wine and enjoying the sun.  We grilled dinner on the barbecue and ate on the new outdoor table.  I even mowed the lawn last week for the first time.  Yes, I did buy an eco friendly electric mower and it took all of twenty minutes to do...but still, it was nice to get a chance to do some yard work. 

As I was mowing the lawn I could not help but think of the promise of spring.  It is an amazing time.  The blooms and buds on the plants and the bulbs coming up all hold such a wonderful sense of hope.  Following the cloud filled skies of winter to see the new growth and the first blooms is amazing and they signal the impending arrival of spring and summer.  Now I have to say I have never been a big fan of summer...nice I guess but for me a bit too warm and muggy...but spring is a sight to behold.  I love the time outside, the gentle breezes of March, the big white cumulus clouds and the crystal clear skies. 

All this got me thinking of the promise that was made to us in the spring, or perhaps better said the fulfillment of a promise that we all received in the spring over two millennia ago.  Spring brings not only the promise of warmer weather and beautiful days to enjoy, but also of a promise for all our lives. How fitting that that promise of a new life, made so many years ago, would be linked so tightly to the promise of new life we see each spring. Coincidence, probably not, but still a great reminder each year of the new life.

So perhaps the winter of our discontent is a thing of the past and with the blooming of spring, the hum of the lawnmowers, and aromas of the neighborhood grills all starting up we are about to turn the corner.  But as we sit in church on Wednesday evenings the think about this season of Lent, we can also appreciate, though comprehension is likely to never be possible, the new life we have been given that is far more that we can imagine.

Live is good,

~V

Oh No Not You Again...

Sorry I have not been too faithful in writing.  I know there are some folks who wish I would never write again and some who are wondering where I have been.  But to tell you the truth I've been a bit depressed lately.  I don't know why...before you ask.  Things are going fairly well.  The number of boxes still to be unpacked has grown fairly small and we are finding places for most stuff...even if it is at the Goodwill.  We've seen some good movies lately, if you need a recommendation let me know.  But still some days it is all I can do to convince myself that getting out of bed is a good idea.

Depression is a sneaky thing...you, or at least I, never know when it will rear its ugly head.  Nothing happened last week to make me depressed.  But, without warning I spent most of then week in a dark funk.  To be somewhat fair...the weather was a bit more grey than it has been and we had "Washington Sunshine" drizzle for several days.  We had the chance to have our grandson spend a couple of days with us and though they were marvelous and we had a good time...I was still down and not myself with him. 

Sometimes I think it is the lack of sunshine that gets me down.  I know I am affected by that but that alone cannot be the problem since I have also had some great days when the weather is bleak and we have visited the beach to walk around the art galleries and shops. Sometimes I think that living on a fixed income is a challenge that gets to me but then again I can't say that is is a real problem.  We live pretty much as we did before retirement.  But still...when you realize that it will be several hundred dollars to buy a "green" electric mower for the yard or that you need to buy more window coverings to take care of the deteriorating ones left by the former owners of our home.  But really these are not big deals, and yet, somehow they were part of last week's depression.  

I thought for a while it might be that I just needed a bit of time to myself...a commodity that is sometimes priceless in the post retirement era.  But in reality I am better when I am around others.  Walks on the beach, trips up the Columbia Gorge, lazy lunches at restaurants overlooking the river all were among the things that made getting through the last couple of weeks possible.  I can't imagine what life would be if I was left alone too long. 

One morning I was looking at my "To Do" list and realizing how much there still was on the list.  Candidly things are coming off pretty well and the list is down to one page.  Most days I am able to drop at least a couple of things.  But then almost every day has a couple of things to add...or three or four.  Now that the weather is warming up there is the yard to be added...bushes to trim, trees to trim, lawns to mow, sidewalks to pressure wash.  But these are all things that are satisfaction inducing.  You do them and you can see the results pretty quickly and once done you may not have to do them again for another week, season, year.  Sometimes I think yard work is a lot like the laundry.  As soon as you finish it you know it is on the way to needing to be redone.  But still, there is the satisfaction of seeing the yard look so well when you are done.  The new lawnmower comes next week. 

So to be clear...I have no earthly idea why I was depressed the past couple of weeks.  It snuck on me and grabbed my from behind.  It would not let go.  I tried all my usual tricks to chase it away.  I read, I took a ride away from the home.  I changed tasks to get some variation.  I turned on more lights.  I even tried to get more sleep.  But it would not let go.  I spent time reading my Bible, reading my current book, watching movies. Nothing shook my mind free from the blue funk. 

Then today...just as mysteriously as it arrived the depression lifted.  I was able to get up this morning and get to work.  I knocked off several things on the old To Do list.  I did some shopping for the parts I needed and enjoyed being out.  It was good to do the tasks and even better to see them completed.  It was good to work with my hands again and to see things come together.  I don't know where it comes from or why it leaves but I dread the former I am always glad for the latter.  Today the sun was shining again.  We had two days of beautiful sunshine, no precipitation.  Things are getting easier to find.  Life is looking up. 

So tonight I sat on the porch with a glass of wine and the love of my life and we just talked as the sun set.  I got a great note from a friend in Chicago.  I don't know...but somehow life seems a bit better and I am smiling and even the music playing in the house is more upbeat today. I wonder how those around me deal with the times that I drop down into the dark valley.  I wonder what they think and I am amazed at how much they try to pull me back up.  But it still goes away, quietly.  It leaves and I am slowly back to my jovial, happy self.  (yeah, really I am jovial and happy)

So my friends...I will try to do better about writing and I will work on finding a way to stay ahead of the down times.  Thanks to all those who had to hang in there waiting for me and thanks to all you others who did not know but if you had you would have been the first to step up and help me out of the hole.  Now...I think I will have another glass of wine and some wonderful pot roast, maybe even some homemade biscuits.  Life is not only good it is wonderful.  God is good...all the time,,,my friends. 

~V

What A Difference A Year Makes

Pull the trigger...pull the trigger...it was the thought that was going through my mind about this time last year.  Oh not that trigger, I had been thinking about retirement for some time.  My job was just not what I had been hoping for and I'm at a point where if it doesn't make sense then why keep doing it.  So just over a year ago I pulled the trigger, bit the bullet or what ever term you want to use and retired.  At first it was like a vacation, it was relaxing, it was in many ways a relief to the stress I had been under.  As the weeks went on it became a bit scary and then it became sort of normal.

In the past year we have moved twice...well maybe one and a half times.  We sold a house, we moved to Paris, we bought a house and moved to the Pacific Northwest.  We survived life in a country where we did not speak the language, at least not well enough to want to try. We lived without a car, I lost my wallet twice and cell phone once to pick-pockets.  We bought a house online, sight unseen, we found a mortgage banker online and we closed a deal to purchase a house from more than five thousand miles away.

We moved our household goods from the Midwest to our new Pacific Northwest home, we have been unpacking for over a month.  I might finally get a car in the garage next week.  Who knows maybe even both of them my this time next month.  We've remodeled the kitchen, we are beginning to repaint.  Pictures are getting hung and I have my computer back up and running on my new "desk."  All in all life is truly good.

But this year also brought some other changes.  Finding myself without a job to go to each morning is strange after all these years.  I am still wondering what I will do once the house is all settled.  There are those satirical pieces you read about couples when the husband retires and the wife gets tired of him always being around.  Well I can see how that happens.  But I think it is a two way street.  Finding time to be alone is much harder than you think it would be.  It is not because your presence is required or even expected by the other it is because you don't want to seem like you are avoiding them or not happy with them.  But time alone is as important at the time together. 

It is easy to perseverate on small things.  When you are working the small things just don't have time to come to the top.  When you retire, life can sometimes become about the small things.  Oh sure we say we want to travel....but where.  It is not as easy as when you are working and you plan a vacation, you know how long you will be off, you know what else you have to do while you are off, you may want to be with some other couple or see someone in particular.  It is not easy but you have boundaries.  Now...no boundaries baby.  Where would you like to go?  How long do you want to be gone.  Do you want to go there first or would you rather go there?  Should we drive, we could see <fill in the blank> or should we fly.  I know all this sounds pretentious, but it is true to some extent for any decision now.  What would you like to do today?  Unpack boxes upstairs, unpack the garage, work on the closet organizers for the upstairs bedrooms. go see a movie, go shopping?  The world was much more defined or constrained before. 

But still...I would not trade this for anything.  I am enjoying time with my partner in crime even if he is only three and a half and can't drive the get away car he is still the best partner one could ask for.  I am enjoying seeing movies again with the love of my life, and we can avoid the crowded times.  I enjoy sitting on the porch swing just reading in the afternoons...after I've upacked all the boxes I want to for one day. 

Some day I may look for something to do.  I may volunteer, I may do some mentoring, I may just learn to sleep in.  But for now, I think I will work on this new phase of life and learn to not sweat the small stuff as much.  I'm going to enjoy reading and getting reacquainted with my favorite authors and learning about new subjects and topics.  I am going to see if I can get even the least bit interested in yard work.  Life is truly good.

~V

The Big Move

There is nothing simple or easy about a move.  Someone once told me that three moves was a good as a fire...you get rid of stuff with each move and other things get broken, repaired or replaced.  Our move was no different.

Most of the stuff arrived OK, no worse for the five months in storage.  But there were some oddities.  The Bose Sound System is missing its remote.  I had allowed the packing team to use it for music in the house as they worked so it was the last thing packed...the remote was not.  Funny thing; you can't even turn the unit on without the remote.  New one is ordered.  My favorite chair, a 40 year old  Eames style lounge chair was taken apart for storage or shipping, don't know which and the bushing that keeps the swivel mechanism working was damaged beyond use.  Don't know where to find another one of those...chair is not usable. 

Most of the household goods made it into the house after all the downsizing we did in Illinois.  Of course by house I am including the attached garage.  I have build shelves in closets and hung new cabinets in the laundry room, increased the storage capacity in other places but still there are boxes stacked three deep and 8 feet high in the garage.  And of course there are the two extra couches, three extra chairs, desk, book case, coffee table and assorted lamps.  But all in good time. This experience has given us a new perspective on the idea of prioritization. 

The new stove comes next week, the new refrigerator is here and working well.  The new granite counters come tomorrow and the kitchen plumbing will be reconnected on Monday...Superbowl party on Sunday, no problem.  We have painted a couple of rooms and settled on a color for most of the house.  I have a new streamlined desk to assemble in my new "study/hall"...got to get the boxes of books out of the hallway upstairs and my computer back from my grandson (that might be hard to do).

But if you ask I will tell you that the move was worth it.  I am spending Wednesdays with the best apprentice project doer in the world.  Though I do have to answer a huge number of questions as a form of compensation for the labor.  Most of the questions are short, one word or at least a simple thought that is proceeded by the simple three letter word WHY?  Oh the joys of being three and a half.  But, he does know the precise timing for the use of the "That Was Easy" button from Staples .  We are having fun.  Yesterday we went out to lunch...Costco for hot dogs.  He is a cheap date. 

This weekend we will watch the Superbowl with our daughter and her family.  Snacks and meals will all be on paper plates and cooking may be in disposable pans but it will be great to be together.  The older I get the more I realize how very important family is and spending time with them is the greatest in the world.  But while we will be spending time with one we will miss the other.

Being in the Pacific Northwest means that I am no longer able to pick up Emma after school.  She doesn't understand why we had to go back to America.  We missed seeing Scarlet begin to crawl.  She is now in a "creche" with a young caregiver named Maxim.  I like to think she misses walking around Paris on my chest.  My son starts a new job on Monday and we will miss all the changes coming in their lives.  So it is bittersweet to be here in the PNW.  We gain time with grandsons and lose time with granddaughters.  We gain time with daughter and lose time with son. 

Somehow through all the transitions and moving we always seem to have to give up something to get something.  I know is it wrong to want it all, but it would sure be nice to be able to be all together somewhere.  We are settling into the house...the boxes are all emptied on the first floor and most of the second floor.  The furniture is sort of placed in proper locations we are beginning to find our way around the community but there is still a big hole in our hearts as well.  In time we will settle into a sort of normalcy, the Sunday Facetime sessions will settle into a regularity, and we will begin to feel like we are home.  But for now...I miss walks through Montmartre with Emma and baguettes, and the simple smile on Scarlet's face when she wakes up from her nap.

~V

The Thousand Words

You've heard it said that a picture is worth a thousand words...well that might be true but in the day of Photoshop and digital cameras, not to mention the use of wide angle lenses the picture may not be quite reality. 

As I mentioned before we bought a house completely online.  Perhaps "completely" is a bit of an exaggeration since we did have some eyes on the ground as it were,  but we relied pretty much on the online photos to give us an image of the house we bought.  Well...it turned out to be pretty much as advertised.  No major surprises and in fact if we had seen the house in person we would still have made an offer.  We truly like our new house.

That is not to say there are not some things that we would like to change.  Pictures taken from a distance do not tell you the age of the appliances for example.  They did not show that the stove was an old coil burner electric stove that needed some TLC at a minimum and most likely replacement.  The pictures did not show that the carpet in the master bedroom was older and more worn than the carpet in the other bedrooms.  Should have been expected, i know, since there was just a couple of "old folks" living in the house but we did not see that.  Still, none of these things are things that would have stopped us from buying the house.

We were fully prepared for the fact that real estate photographers use wide angle lenses which make the rooms seem bigger than they are.  We had had some experience with that as we were looking or a house to buy.  But in this case the dining room is much smaller than anticipated.  Perhaps this is the one single surprise we found when we saw the house.  The master bedroom walk in closet looked big enough in the photos to lead me to think we might be able to put the dresser in the middle of the closet as a sort of island.  Well, the dresser will not fit, not even a three drawer chest, but still not a deal breaker.  We will just have to be more creative. 

We expected that the paint would need to be updated.  Even if it had been painted for the sale it was all pretty much builder white or off white and we knew we would want to warm it up a bit.  But, it turns out that the walls probably have not been painted since the house was purchased so they are pretty dry and definitely in need of some revitalization.  We can do that over time, not a big deal but the major rooms all have vaulted ceilings and I have a bit of a fear of ladders but we will survive.  Now to agree on a color, and wouldn't it be great to get it painted without furniture.  Not going to happen.

We knew the yard was going to be small but from the photos we had been looking at small yard landscaping ideas.  Well it is small but really not much to actually landscape.  We will do some work as spring comes to the northwest but, the good news is that we will not be putting an inordinate amount of money into the landscaping. 

Making arrangements for the move was pretty straight forward, not much different than if we were buying a home in the next city over.  But getting them in place when we got here was a bit of a challenge.  Even so, we now have a phone and internet working in the new house and when the household goods arrive and the TV's are ready to install I can do that myself they say.  Or spend $40 to have them do them right. 

We had always known that we would have more furniture than we needed, we were, afterall, downsizing.  So we will have a lot of furniture in the garage and listed on Craigslist and trying to move it all as quickly as possible so that we can get the cars in instead.  Ironically we will be buying some additional pieces...a reduction in scale for the downsized house. 

But overall...the online purchase of a house went well.  We could not be happier with the house.  It will need some updating but it is just what we were looking for at this point in our lives.  Today we are off to look at new kitchen appliances.  Maybe we will look at paint as well or even some new light fixtures.  But we are anxious to get our stuff in and start the new chapter of our lives.  Life is good.

~V

Panic in Paris

Just as our plane was taking off from Charles De Gaulle Airport a team of Muslim extremists attacked the editorial offices of a French news publication in Paris.  We did not hear of this, of course, until we landed in Seattle Washington but I have to say I am deeply saddened by this turn of events.

The first reaction was where in Paris.  Having lived there we know the city a bit, but more importantly we were concerned about our children and grandchildren.  No mention of any others involved in the shootings, mind you, but parents can't help themselves.  They were all safe.  Trevor was out of the city at one of his sites and Sophie was not working in the office on Wednesday so she was home with the granddaughters.  Panic ensued however, subways were shut down, traffic was snarled, sirens were everywhere for several hours.  Then it calmed down.

I confess that I don't understand a religion that feels the killing so many people over a cartoon was revenge.  My God says that vengeance is His.  He tells us to love those around us and to show compassion.  I don't understand an god that tells his people to kill others over words or images. There has to be a better way to win people over to your view than to kill them if they don't come.  There has to be a real way to convince me or others that your religion is right other than to kill innocents.  My God would not do that.  Even as I write this there are Christians around the world praying for the men who committed this act, praying that they would come to find a God who is loving and accepting of them as they are, in spite of what they did.

How does one find a way to forgive this kind of atrocity or at lest those who commit it.  I am always reminded at times like these of the Amish community in Pennsylvania who lost their daughters to a gunman who opened fire at their school.  If they can forgive that, if they can feel love for his family and pray for them then surely I can learn to be more forgiving too.  But, for now, I am still recovering from the sinking feeling in my heart as I heard of the shootings in Paris while I stood in line customs in Seattle.  

Just my random thoughts,

~V

Good bye Paris

Well our time in the city of lights has come to a quiet close.  It has been a wonderful nearly five months here is Paris with the exception of the three pickpocket events.  We have made many new friends...we will miss Mr Elie who greets us with a quiet bow when we pass his upholstery shop, I will miss the butcher at the farmers market as well as the produce sellers who have helped me to learn about French cuisine in a very primitive way.  I am going to miss the lady with the graying curly hair at at the local Coquelicot.    I will even miss the man who sells chestnuts that have been roasted over a charcoal fire in a shopping cart at the top of the Abesses Metro steps.

We have found some good friends at local hangouts, the folks who own and work at Koff the "American" restaurant across the street from our apartment...thanks for the burgers on lonely days,  We will miss the couscous at the Rendezvous Au Montmartre bistrot across the street and the kind folks who work there who have become friends as well.  We will miss hot chocolate at Angelina's and walks through the Tuileries. 

But more than all of that we will miss the time with Emma and Scarlet and the special time we have had to get to know them better.  I will miss Scarlet's big smile/grin when I walk into the room.  I will miss the walks home from school with Emma and our conversations about princesses and the assorted people we pass on the walk. I will miss stopping to look at the dancing flowers and looking for the dancing Santa in the shop window.  And then again there will always be Arthur or Frozen or our all time favorite George.  It will be a much quieter life without those two in our daily patterns.

We will miss Trevor and Sophie.  The time with them has been more than special it has been magical.  It was the first time we were able to just spend time with them and not be in a hurry because it would end in a week or two. There is something very different about seeing and being around your grown children...you see what they have become, you see yourself in their actions, you see their values and not just the front they put up when they visit.  I can honestly say I am very proud of our son and will always cherish his beautiful French wife.

So now it is off to sleep.  The car will be here very early to take us to Charles De Gaulle airport and the beginning of the next chapter...stay tuned for life in the Pacific Northwest.

~V

Gifts

Every year you hear the same thing...what am I going to give________ (fill in the blank).  We all know people who seemingly have everything or at least the resources to get what ever they want so we seem to be at a loss for gift ideas.  This made me stop and think.  I am of a generation and demographic that usually acquires what we want...and at this point in my life I have more than I need. 

Our recent downsizing was enough to make us stop and ask if we really need anything ever again.  And then I hear it from my children..."you are so hard to buy for."  Well, in point of fact, there is nothing to buy.  More importantly, though, is the idea that there seems to be a sense of obligation to buy me something.  We all have people that we feel obligated to buy a gift for...your boss, your child's teacher, your great aunt Mable or maybe it's the neighbor who always brings  you a plate of homemade cookies.  Gifts were never meant to be thought of as obligations.  They should be something we do as a sign of gratitude for the friendship, the relationship, the closeness of friends.

This got me thinking.  What are your favorite gifts of all time?  What did you receive that you still think of when you think of Christmas.  I remember a bicycle when I was 10 years old.  A blue ten speed.  But the things I remember most about Christmas are not the gifts.  Think about this question...what is your favorite memory of Christmas?  I'll be it is not a gift.  It might by some cookie or food dish that is a family tradition, maybe going to your grandmothers house, the time snow fell over night and you woke to a white Christmas, maybe it was, as it is for me, the simple gathering of the family.

I was blessed as a child to have a warm and loving extended family.  We did not all live in the same city but we were all within an couple of hours of each other.  We would get together on the Saturday before Christmas for a large family Christmas dinner.  Everyone was then able to be home as a family on Christmas but still get together.  It was to say the least a wild and crazy party when my mother and her sisters got together and the Christmas holiday was certainly no exception.  All of us cousins would play and sneak cookies and goodies when the adults were partying.  There was laughter and smiles and hugs more than anyone could possibly need but they were never unwelcome.  We saw family at Christmas dinner that we did not see at any other time.  In fact "family" was used a bit loosely.  Friends of my mother and her sisters from as far back as high school would show up and join in, there would be aunts that you often forgot about.  But it was not any gift other than the love that was shared. 

Back to the topic of gifts.  I think maybe we spend to much time trying to find someTHING that we can give to that person rather than remembering exactly why we are giving it.  I would be happier by far with a gift of time with my son or daughter or grandchildren than any sweater or tie.  I have all the tech stuff a person could really want but time...that is far more limited.  Time does not mean you have to spend a day with me or even an evening.  It might just be a commitment to be more connected...to share a bit more about what is going on in your life. 

I don't think I am alone.  I bet that teacher of your child's would love to have you come and spend an afternoon helping her grade papers or sharpen pencils, make copies or help assemble the student books.  I bet the neighbor would love to have you drop in and spend an hour just chatting over the cookies, maybe with some coffee or hot chocolate more than a coffee mug or a Starbucks gift card.  WE all can use more human interaction, we can all use more time with friends but we, especially in today's world, crave more time with those we value. 

So next time you ask...what can I give ___________, ask yourself this; have I got some time to spend with them.  Can I call or Skype or FaceTime?  Can I do something with my time to let them know how much I value their role in my life.   This is not a new idea....remember the greatest gift ever give was a gift of time, of love.  God did not send us things, or give us what we had on some Christmas list, He gave us what He knew we needed and wanted.  He gave us life...He gave us hope...He gave us himself.  In that gift we have found, and we share, great JOY.  It was never meant to be about giving something...Christmas was always about LOVE. 

~V

It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas

Every year it happens...there is a hue and cry that Christmas is stepping on the toes of Thanksgiving or more accurately possibly that Christmas is being accelerated for profit.  You know the arguments, stores are debating whether to open on Thanksgiving to get a start of "BLACK FRIDAY," by now there are signs of Christmas sales, Christmas "best gifts" selections are appearing and the public is divided...they want the sales, they need to get the best deals.  On the other side of the coin, the side I am usually on, there is a desire to keep Thanksgiving for what it is a day to give thanks to God for his many blessings to us as individuals, as families, as a country.  There is also a desire to keep the real meaning of Christmas in place, the birth of our Savior, God's fulfillment of His promise made to Adam and Eve, the salvation of the world. 

Then there is Paris.  This is a country that does not celebrate Thanksgiving, it is not that they celebrate it at some other time, like the Canadians, but they truly do not celebrate a day of Thanksgiving.  Perhaps it is because they see very little to be thankful for or perhaps it is because they don't know that they should thank someone for the blessings they have.  But, in any case, there is no turkey day, no pumpkin pie, no cranberry sauce, no green bean casserole, no Norman Rockwell vision of a family sitting at the table carving that big plump golden brown bird with the Eiffel Tower showing in the window in the background.  So without that moment to pause and give thanks the French move directly from Armistice Day in early November to Christmas.

The Marche de Noel is already on the Champs Elysee.  There are decorations up in the stores and on the streets.  The little street we live on in Montmartre even has lights strung across it waiting to be turned on on Illuminations day...whenever that is.  Window displays on the Champs Elysee are already showing children and adults with bright red sweaters and scarfs.  We were at Disneyland Paris a couple of weeks ago and they already had Christmas decorations up.  They went up the week after "All Saints Day" (the French do not celebrate Halloween, yeah right).  They had even converted about 30% of Small World to be Christmas themed with Christmas carols instead of that oh too familiar Disney song...It's a Small World After All. 

So is this really bothersome?  We are living in a country that does not have the same holidays so we miss Thanksgiving but they don't.  Are the decorations up too early or is this the right time?  I don't really know.  I just know I miss Thanksgiving.  We will celebrate it here in Paris with our son and his family.  In fact, we will have a guest from the United States here with us to help us celebrate.  We will try to hold off on Christmas in our house until after that.  But for the little French girls that have stolen our hearts, Christmas is coming and things should look like it.  They are out shopping for a tree and we will join them, later today, in decorating their house for the Christmas holiday.  Yes, we will celebrate Thanksgiving with a Christmas Tree and Rudolph and Santa and maybe the beautiful Advent Calendar that grandma is stitching as I write this post.  It will seem really odd but then we are in France.  

But, all that said, it is really nice to see the children get excited.  It makes me realize that maybe Auntie Mame was right...We Need a Little Christmas Now.  With all that has gone on over the past few months my life was kind of gloomy.  Perhaps I need a little Christmas now.  I was walking Emma home from school on Tuesday and we stopped and bought a little Santa figure that sort of dances using power from a small solar cell.  You may have seen other versions of these figures, waving cats, dancing flowers, and so on.  I know it is early but she has been looking at it almost daily for several weeks so it was time.  She got it only by being very good for mommy and mommy got to decide when she was good enough.  

On Wednesday, our day off from our nanny job, we went down to the Champs Elysee and walked the Marche Noel.  We saw Santa, we had hot chocolate, there were even animated moose and reindeer and a Santa in a snow globe that you could have your picture taken with sitting beside him in his sleigh.  We did a bit of Christmas shopping, new Christmas dresses and pajamas for the girls.  We started looking at catalogs for Christmas presents for our grandsons in the US.  We talked about going to the Marche Noel in Strasbourg, often celebrated as the most beautiful in Europe.  So maybe I did need a little Christmas after all.  

In the mean time we are looking forward to a visit from a dear friend.  We are going to spend some more time sharing Paris with those we love. We will celebrate Thanksgiving in some fashion here in Paris.  We may not do any real Christmas gift shopping until after that but for now...it is nice to see the city coming alive after a dreary spell of fall weather and more than anything it is great to see the excitement growing in the eyes of a very special 3 year old. It truly is beginning to look a lot like Christmas...and maybe that is a good thing.

~V 

An American In Paris

...without the love story, the singing or the dancing.  Yes, I am an American in Paris and I am trying not to be an ugly American, one of those who feel somehow whatever we do in America would be good for the world.  But, still I have to wonder.  

So many people think of Paris as the “City of Lights” the “City of Romance” but to me, I have spent too much time in the company of the “seedy underbelly” to think I would ever really like living here.  In the past three months I have been pickpocked three times.  I have had to replace all my credit cards and drivers license and lost many other notes and cards and stuff one keeps in a wallet.  I have taken to keeping my wallet at home and only taking one credit card and a small amount of cash and keeping that in a front pocket while walking with my hand in my pocket to protect it.  And still, while getting on the Metro carrying a child’s assortment of necessary supplies I was pickpocketed again.  This time I felt it and turned to see the pickpocket who dropped the wallet on the floor of the Metro train.  

Then yesterday, hand in my pocket with my money and credit card, carrying a stroller I happened again.  This time it was my iPhone that was taken.  I don’t usually take the iPhone with me since I have the cellular data and telephone turned off.  I only use it for the Wifi connectivity, and on occasion the camera...such was the case yesterday.  We went to the Tuileries Garden with our grand children and their parents.  Ten of us all together.  It was a great day. The kids had fun on the playground, we enjoyed the fountains and the trees and the parents had some time to talk and we burned off a whole lot of childhood energy with the hope of good night sleeps.

We got on the Metro for the ride home and it was very crowded...not a good situation if you are trying to avoid the pickpockets of Paris but that was the situation and...it happened.  My son saw the guy take the Phone and signaled to me but I had my hand in my pocket and knew I had not lost my money so I said it’s OK...never thought about the other pocket having anything but keys and they were still there.  Paris won again.  

One has to wonder is this socialist country with its motto of freedom, equality, and brotherhood has any idea of how they are seen from the outside.  It is a city where there are signs posted in public places to remind you about pickpockets...they know they exist.  It is city that thinks that it is your responsibility to protect yourself.  It is a country that has a higher than average unemployment rates with hundreds of thousands of young men and women without jobs.  It is a country that allows its borders to be crossed by all who are looking for a new home where social services are available as long as you come from within the EU.  This increases the unemployment and the number of beggars and thieves.   People only trying to make a living by what ever means they know.  

I am for the most part a generous person.  I give money and food to beggars on the street, see my earlier post about the woman and child.  I try to protect my belongings from those outside the law but one cannot always be so careful...well maybe they can but we are not taught to live that way in America.  I have walked the streets of Buenos Aires, Rio de Janeiro, even Bogotá.  I have never had problems in Tokyo, or London, or Liecester, or Cardiff, or Krakow, or Budapest, or Frankfurt, or Stuttgart, or Amsterdam, or Barcelona, or Palma.  I’ve been pickpocketed three times in Paris. I’ve been left alone in New York, Washington DC, Atlanta, Chicago, Los Angeles, San Francisco, even Detroit but I’ve been pickpocketed three times in Paris.  

So my love of this city has pretty much been taken from me.  I really have not desire to visit this city other than to see my grand daughters and my son and daughter-in-law.  I use to think my problems were mine and would go away if I learned some French but, clearly the pickpockets of Paris don’t want to talk to me.  I have to say that if someone asked me about visiting France...I would tell them of the wonderful people, the great food, the lovely fresh produce in Lyon, or Provence but I would tell them to stay away from Paris.  If they have to come here don’t walk the streets without a security belt to stash your valuables, don’t take a phone, hold on to your camera and doubt everyone you see.  When you think you want to take a bus or Metro, don’t get on if the car is crowded and if you have to...put all your valuable in one pocket and keep your hand on it.  Your metro tickets may get demagnetized by the phone but it is worth the risk if you want to keep what’s yours, yours.  

This is not a city that likes people.  Walks on the sidewalks turn into one constant game of “Chicken” to see who will move over to give way to the other.  I’ve had young single men and women stand their ground forcing me into the street to get around them while carrying a baby on my chest and two bags of groceries up the hill.  It is a city that will become exasperated with you because your credit card does not have a chip and has to be swiped.  They offer big deep sighs when you don’t have exact change...which you may have it they would only speak a bit slower so you could understand or put the screen on the cash register where it can be seen by the customers who can’t speak French rapidly or understand they mumbling French.  

If I sound a bit bitter about life in Paris you are getting the message.  I was trying to love this city.  There were some evenings when I would look out my window over the street and think this city could be OK.  There were some people, the man across the street who owns a wonderful bar/restaurant who smiles even if I don’t speak his language.  He is patient with me and says the numbers slowly.  We get along and I think maybe this city is going to be OK afterall.  Then that gets stolen from me along with my wallet or my phone. Three time is too much for me to get over.

It is not the phone that matters.  It is just a thing…it was destined to be replaced once we got home to the States.  It is the loss of what was on it.  The photos and videos taken yesterday of the grandchildren bouncing on the trampolines, the pictures of the family/families just being together. It is the loss of Apps that will have to be replaced.  It is the contacts...email and phone numbers...that I have lost.  It is all the stuff that we keep on our phones now that matters.  The Apps are all password protected...the accounts they access are password protected...but the phone was not, too much bother I thought.  

But now...who knows.  Two months and we go home to the US.  This may be our last extended stay in Paris.  Next time and the rest of this visit...we will only go out into the streets of Paris with a wary view of the people.  I will keep all my valuables in one pocket and keep my hand in the pocket.  I will not take much money with me and only one credit card….easier to cancel.  Paris won...it proved itself to be a very un-welcoming city.  It replaced the idea of an ugly American with the very real experience of the ugly Frenchman...or at least the ugly Parisian.  

~V

You've Got To Be Kidding...

Some days I lie in bed in the morning and think...I'm getting old.  The thought of getting up, knowing that your back and shoulders will be stiff and take some time to readjust to the land of the living, is just too much to deal with so early in the day.  Laying there I remember that I was awake for a couple of hours during the night...no reason mind you, just couldn't sleep.  My youngest grandchild comes over first thing in the day and I am forced to remember that I am indeed getting older.  Yes...I know...even children get older.

Then there are days that surprise me when I get up and am excited about what we are going to be doing.  I can't wait to get out into the world...breakfast at our favorite bistro or boulangerie, a day walking the streets of Paris or taking an excursion outside of town.  Mind you I don't feel like a spring chicken but I really don't feel bad at all.  So I think maybe this idea of feeling older is just a state of mind.  It depends on our perspective. 

"I can't believe you did that" were the words of a great friend.  He was reacting to the news that we had just closed on the purchase of a new home.  Those words in and of themselves would or could be appropriate for so many reasons, but in this case, it was because he said you are more modern than I am that made it worth  noting...he is afterall, half my age.  And what we did was buy a house online...lock stock and barrel as my grandfather would have said.

We found the house by subscribing to a service that provides new listing in zipcodes you are interested in and then we applied for a loan with a bank officer, we never met, completely online.  We used a Title company and Escrow officer we have yet to be introduced to in person.  We chose the house by the pictures posted online...knowing the ability of photographs to lie a bit about the size of rooms depending on the lens used.  We also had a great realtor who checked out the house for us and used his daughter as an impartial second set of eyes.  Our daughter and her husband checked out the house for us as our surrogate eyes and all pronounced it suitable and in fact "a winner."  Then the five weeks of almost daily emails went on and in the end we closed on the house this week.

Now I dont' think of myself as some unusual example of my generation...I am pretty technologically literate, but so are many of my friends.  I don't think of myself as some sort of pioneer in this area.  I could have waited until we returned from France to buy that house, but it just looked too good to pass up. We had been looking for a home with a first floor master, about 1800 square feet with three bedrooms and at least two baths.  OK so many of those may have existed but this was so clean and relatively new...sort of like buying a 1998 Cadillac with only 2500 miles on it.  And the visits by family and friends verified what we thought. We did not know if we would find another one like it when we got back.  So we made an offer and it was accepted and the rest is history as they say. 

But then last week, we signed the documents the loan closed and we owned the house and I as I was trying to go to sleep I thought to myself...you've got to be kidding.  You bought a house you haven't even seen.  And yet, I somehow feel very comfortable with the decision.  Without even seeing the house I feel like it is just what we needed and wanted.  I feel like it will be home for many years.  I am planning improvements and slight changes to accommodate our lifestyle, but all in all it seems to feel good. 

So to all our friends who say...I can't believe you did that...I say; come and see it.  We will be home in a couple of months and you are all welcome to see what we did. 

~V