I guess that is how life works: Pay Here.
Gratitude #83 - Sweet Biddies!
11 years ago
Saturday, April 5, 2008
homecoming
Miriam and I went to high school together.
It was and is a rather quaint school in many ways. Owned and operated by a church that takes education quite seriously, it had less than a hundred students when we were there in the ’50’s. The school accommodated students who lived in or near the school, or those who lived away, with a dormitory. Miriam’s family lived 165 miles up the road, so she lived in the dorm, while I lived in what we called “the village.”
My family, and to a lesser degree Miriam’s, have been involved with the school for generations. My aunts and uncles all went to school here, as did most of Miriam’s siblings. Our daughters are graduates, but it looks like that is the end of our family’s involvement. Our grandkids go to other good schools (or home school).
This weekend is homecoming for the alumni, and the school is celebrating it’s 90th year. Graduates and former students come from a good ways to spend a weekend with friends remembering the old times. The Alumni group spend a lot of time finding and encouraging the classes who graduated 10, 20, 30, 40, 50 and 60 years ago to attend. For church tomorrow, we will have 600 people.
It is a minor big deal. Since the school is located in the town we live in, we attend every year. I have been secretary, vice president and for the last two years president of the association.
So it was particularly relaxing last night, to go and not be in charge, to not have the be concerned about much of anything, but enjoying the program and friends.
Miriam saw a few old friends, but they seemed to confuse her a bit. It was the first time I have seen her just plain mixed up on that level. Her friends know of her disease, and were wonderful to her. Lots of hugs and “how are you Miriam”.
When we left, it was way after dark, and as we walked along I noticed her having trouble judging cracks in the side walk, of not handling curbs as well, and of the usual questions about where the car was.
Times like that are hard on the old guy.
This evening, the program was mercifully short (some of mine were way too long), and very interesting.
Once again I was reminded of friends and of how important they are, and to you Miriam, thanks for being my friend for all of these years. I love you.
It was and is a rather quaint school in many ways. Owned and operated by a church that takes education quite seriously, it had less than a hundred students when we were there in the ’50’s. The school accommodated students who lived in or near the school, or those who lived away, with a dormitory. Miriam’s family lived 165 miles up the road, so she lived in the dorm, while I lived in what we called “the village.”
My family, and to a lesser degree Miriam’s, have been involved with the school for generations. My aunts and uncles all went to school here, as did most of Miriam’s siblings. Our daughters are graduates, but it looks like that is the end of our family’s involvement. Our grandkids go to other good schools (or home school).
This weekend is homecoming for the alumni, and the school is celebrating it’s 90th year. Graduates and former students come from a good ways to spend a weekend with friends remembering the old times. The Alumni group spend a lot of time finding and encouraging the classes who graduated 10, 20, 30, 40, 50 and 60 years ago to attend. For church tomorrow, we will have 600 people.
It is a minor big deal. Since the school is located in the town we live in, we attend every year. I have been secretary, vice president and for the last two years president of the association.
So it was particularly relaxing last night, to go and not be in charge, to not have the be concerned about much of anything, but enjoying the program and friends.
Miriam saw a few old friends, but they seemed to confuse her a bit. It was the first time I have seen her just plain mixed up on that level. Her friends know of her disease, and were wonderful to her. Lots of hugs and “how are you Miriam”.
When we left, it was way after dark, and as we walked along I noticed her having trouble judging cracks in the side walk, of not handling curbs as well, and of the usual questions about where the car was.
Times like that are hard on the old guy.
This evening, the program was mercifully short (some of mine were way too long), and very interesting.
Once again I was reminded of friends and of how important they are, and to you Miriam, thanks for being my friend for all of these years. I love you.
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
damocles
Remember the story Damocles and the sword?
Hero Damocles was the courier of a very rich and fortunate Greek ruler/tyrant named
Dionysius. Dionysius offered to trade places with Damocles for one day just to show him how it was to be the ruler. In the evening they had this huge feast, Damocles enjoyed himself as he ate and drank.
Then he looked up and there was a large very sharp sword hanging over his head, held up by a single horse hair. Damocles lost his appetite. The ruler had conveyed the message of how, as ruler, their lives are shadowed by constant fear.
Well I am not a ruler, but there is a certain dread in my life.
For a long long time I have had this rather unsettling feeling. It is hard to describe, sort of like the lights being turned down a notch, or having a fish net thrown over your head.
It might well be part of this Az thing. We know the first chapter in the book, but not the last ones. We would gladly read ahead, but that is not allowed. We have to do this thing, literally, a day at a time.
One week Miriam is working at the job she loved, and the next she is unemployed, retired and soon she was diagnosed with Early Alz. It was the sentence of death, and we both knew it.
In a way when we are born we are sentenced to death. The end is part of the beginning, in ways we don’t find comfortable.
And even if I can’t describe it accurately, I have come to understand the courier Damocles.
Hero Damocles was the courier of a very rich and fortunate Greek ruler/tyrant named
Dionysius. Dionysius offered to trade places with Damocles for one day just to show him how it was to be the ruler. In the evening they had this huge feast, Damocles enjoyed himself as he ate and drank.
Then he looked up and there was a large very sharp sword hanging over his head, held up by a single horse hair. Damocles lost his appetite. The ruler had conveyed the message of how, as ruler, their lives are shadowed by constant fear.
Well I am not a ruler, but there is a certain dread in my life.
For a long long time I have had this rather unsettling feeling. It is hard to describe, sort of like the lights being turned down a notch, or having a fish net thrown over your head.
It might well be part of this Az thing. We know the first chapter in the book, but not the last ones. We would gladly read ahead, but that is not allowed. We have to do this thing, literally, a day at a time.
One week Miriam is working at the job she loved, and the next she is unemployed, retired and soon she was diagnosed with Early Alz. It was the sentence of death, and we both knew it.
In a way when we are born we are sentenced to death. The end is part of the beginning, in ways we don’t find comfortable.
And even if I can’t describe it accurately, I have come to understand the courier Damocles.
Sunday, March 30, 2008
bring down the flag, Emily has gone home
It is a bit quieter here now, and more than a bit lonely.
We love you Emily, come back soon.
And thanks Linda for sending Emily.
Grandkids are all special. We have eleven (maybe even 13, depending on the method of counting). Time with each of them is special.
None of them come to visit as often as I might like.
But when they come here or when we go to their houses, it is so good to be in their company.
As you can tell, I am very fond of each of my grandkids.
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