Goodbye Leaves

And so once again we say goodbye to summer and fall. The leaves have colored and are falling everywhere. A few track into the house. The butterflies have flown south, along with many of the birds. The air has turned brisk and it is time for sweaters and jackets and the warmth of cozy bathrobes while sitting by the fireplace.

There is a sadness to saying farewell to the casualness of summer, but now it is time to greet the coming of the cold that sharpens the senses and reminds us of how change is inevitable. Along with this inevitability comes the promise of the return of the bees, birds and butterflies.

In the meantime some of the birds have remained to brighten the day. The blue jays have taken over the feeders and the solemn owl hoots in the silence of the early darkness.

The coming season is a reminder of the shortness of life and the importance of holding close to those we love and the beauty of nature in the world around us. We should never take life for granted, nor those who are important to us on our journey through life.

Goodbye to the lengthy days of light and hello to the season of snuggling in with a hot cup of cocoa, a good book and a crackling fire.

Bitter-Sweet

My kitchen window faces the neighbor's back yard. From early in the spring to late in the fall I enjoy a view of a perfectly kept yard. The flowers always give me enjoyment, from the reds and lavenders of the daffodils and tulips to the hydrangeas, sunflowers many others which I cannot identify. Each day I drink in the vibrant colors with pleasure.

For the past eight years I have seen the 90 some neighbor lady out in her yard, tending to her flower gardens. She has a small rolling cart that she uses when she spends the day weeding and trimming.

Each time she is out in her yard I marvel at how such an elderly lady can do this tiresome work. When she sits and takes a rest Bob or I visit with her while she shares her love of gardening. Lately she has been increasingly complaining about the stress of her efforts. It cannot be easy for a women in her nineties to continue this strenuous activity.

Today as I tend to the kitchen chores I look out that same window where for many years I have taken pleasure in the plethora of colors that I drink in for a lengthy season of delight due to the constant efforts of our neighbor. The sunflowers are in full bloom, attracting the birds, bees and butterflies.

At the same time I savor the sight, I feel a tinge of sadness. This weekend she has been moved to our assisted living facility in town. I will miss seeing her, not only bending over her gardens, but the sight of her walking her dog, resting for a brief time in her lawn chair or going out, immaculately dressed, to attend church or some other function.

She has been an inspiration to me and I will treasure the memories and, as long as they last for this season, the careful array of hues growing proudly in her back yard.

Thank you, Nancy, for the beauty you left behind as you follow a new path.

Two Sisters

She was an only child, bringing a lifetime of joy to her doting parents. They spoiled her, but she was not spoiled. She was generous, thoughtful, caring and loving. When she married, spending her life teaching and being a master teacher because of her excellence, her parents moved from their long time home to be close to the daughter who they adored. Throughout their lifetimes she shared her life with them and at the end of her mother's life she shared her lengthy decent into Alzheimers. She was always there for her parents. As their only child they were most fortunate to have had her in their lives.

She had two daughters that she doted on, encouraging them to follow their talents and their dreams. One became an excellent teacher, working with those children with special needs. The oldest one became at the top of her field in various industries, moving around the world to advance to the top, sought after by many companies.

Her youngest daughter lived near her mother, finally recognizing that her mother needed long term care. It was a painful decision but she moved her mother from assisted living, to a memory care unit until recently when her mother is receiving hospice care.

Both daughters were at her side when she went to the hospital, the eldest traveling from the east coast to share time with her mother.

Yesterday I received a call from one of the daughters. "My mother is in Hospice and they predict that she has six months to live. Can we call you tomorrow and you can talk to her? She may not remember much from the present, but she does remember you through the cards you send each month."

This morning I talked with my friend, the one who has been my friend the longest. After our brief conversation, her familiar cheerful voice brought back a flood of memories.I remembered when we became fast friends in junior high. She was younger than I was but we clicked in every way. We shared our hopes and struggles, double dated and had secret gatherings with friends at her house when her parent were both away.

After high school we both went on to college and careers and husbands, moving miles apart, but always keeping contact through phone, letters and visits. We continued to share about our spouses, children, careers and struggles, loves, hopes and joys.

She had her share of difficulties during her life. She lost her parents and then her husband at an early age. She suffered a life altering car accident, having been left with burns that required plastic surgery. She had the usual pain and pride of a any parent watching her two daughters grow, make mistakes and changes in their lives. She touched the lives of many young children through her thoughtful, patient teaching.

Now as the end draws near she has two daughters who look after her and care for her. I said to the youngest today, "Your mother is lucky to have you."

She responded quickly, "We are lucky to have her."

I guess it does work both ways. She, as an only daughter, shared her care and love with her parents. Today her daughters do the same for her. Her life has come full circle, but I still cry for my oldest friend. When she leaves our shared memories will be gone. In her case they have been fading for the past year. That will leave me alone to remember.

Time Outs

Weather is cyclical and if we take time to notice, so is life. Oh there are a few who ride the waves on a regular basis, but that continual stress, in the long run, take its toll.

Today the weather is gray and drizzly after days of beautiful fall sunshine and mild temperatures. When I went out to take care of the chicken chores the neighborhood was unusually quiet, dampened by the weather I suspect. The chickens were less fussy. It is peak molting time for them and their egg laying has ceased. They are anticipating the onset of the cold of winter.

It took some effort to leave the warmth of the bed this morning. The gray on the outside seeped into the house. It helped to sit by the glow of the fire, listen to our favorite music and wait for the whistle of the teakettle announcing the imminent arrival of our hot tea.

This day strongly suggests that I slow down, enjoy the pleasures of the moment and get ready for the colder, blustier days ahead. I follow the hint from the chickens. There will always be the return of the noise and chaos, but for now. at this time, I will take time for reflection and rejuvenation.

Thank you, chickens, for reminding me there is a time to work and a time to sit back and ignore the blather from the outside world.

Those Were the Days

My brother emailed me a photo taken sometime in the 1930's. (He's the one on the right). Ah, yes, those were the "good ol' days"! If you look at the photo, it was a time of innocence. The boys were skinny dipping and were told to put the branches in front before they posed for the picture.

I don't even want to begin to think about today, definitely not a time of innocence. We, both youth and adults, are very aware of the dangers surrounding us, imaginary or otherwise. We are inundated with the news, detailed and gritty. It is difficult for us to escape the bombardment of the sensational and exploitive news. From the politicians to the media, care givers, neighbors, friends, enemies alike, we are saturated with FEAR, DANGER,WARNING, WARNING, BE ON ALERT, THE WORLD IS A SCARY PLACE, ALONG WITH THE NEIGHBORS DOWN THE STREET.

There is a time to fear and be wary, but for our youth? Ah, yes, I remember a time when the main fears were the boogey man under the bed, a stern note from the teacher, a possible spanking, a cold shoulder from the group, or listening to Inner Sanctum on the radio.

Those were our fears, but as far as the rest of the world? Well, look at this photo and it says it all.

A Depression Christmas Tree

Oh, the memories brought back by this photo taken in our dining room in the 1930's! The black telephone on the wall was a party line shared by neighbors who, at opportune times, listened in to others conversations. There was no TV, cell phones, computers or any other instant messaging. It took longer to get the news. We actually learned the latest through the newspapers, magazines, radio or the gossip line. That allowed time to reflect during bus rides, meandering walks, fingering through the garden dirt, biking, cleaning the house, washing, hanging and ironing the clothes, petting the cat, peeling potatoes, washing the car or putting a puzzle together.

The Christmas tree selection each year was a lengthy process. We joined our Dad in venturing out into the woods to pick that perfect tree. If it wasn't to Mom's satisfaction, we drove back out to choose another one. Some years it was a spruce, another year a balsam or pine, but each and every year it had to be perfectly formed to meet my mother's approval.

Next came the lights, and that was not a simple task. Every year there were some lights that were burned out and needed replacing before we could place the decorations, carefully and individually wrapped, on the tree. Last of all, and most agonizing, was the final touch, the silver tinsel that had to be, and I mean, had to be, hung straight and with utmost care on each branch of the tree.

Although we all contributed to this holiday perfection, most of the work was left to the oldest in the family. I, being the youngest, gave up the fastest. This tinsel hanging was difficult and tedious and the final touches were often left to my oldest brother. After the season when the tree was taken down, each piece of tinsel was carefully removed and wrapped around a cardboard sleeve to be re-used the following Christmas.

Looking at this photo taken so many years ago (although it seems like yesterday), I marvel that we took the time to slowly and carefully hang each piece of the shiny tinsel. But then we had more time, with less distractions, to create perfection. We were not bombarded by the instant media and demands of today. Perhaps we achieve more today than yesterday, but in the process do we lose some of the thoughtful creativity that comes with time, peace and quiet?

Inventions are wonderful and I appreciate them to no end, but at times, during moments of solitude, I can't help but wonder. Have we lost more than we have gained? These thoughts filter through my mind as I look at this fading photo from long ago.

Through the Eyes of a Child

When do things change? When do we lose taking the normal breathes from our stomach as a baby does? When do we lose our daring to hope? When do we lose the dreams?

Somewhere between childhood and maturity we discard the sense of wonder at the beauty around us, long taken for granted. We become jaded, afraid to love and be hurt.

We become wise and cautious. We learn to be careful. We have been hurt too many times to count. We choose safety, but somewhere in the tangle of our lives we lose the marvel surrounding us in each sunset, flower, bird, butterfly and crawling insect. When I was a child I studied everything around me.....rocks, turtles, chipmunks, salamanders, night crawlers, trees. I watched them closely, at times touched them, held them and admired them.

Children observe and listen to all around them. As we mature we tend to listen less and spout our views. There is much to be said for acquiring wisdom, but in the process, let us never lose our sense of amazement in the world around us. Let us listen, behold, and age with grace and a dogged belief in miracles.

Neighborhood Watch

Our neighbor is a spunky, going on ninety, white-haired active lady. I have a view of her comings and goings from my kitchen window. It overlooks her back door, yard and garage. She attends many meetings such as card playing at the senior center, alumni groups, church activities and what-all. With the exception of gardening in her immaculately groomed back yard, she lights out dressed fashionably in dresses, hose and heels.

Now I gave up all my dresses and such years ago when I retired. When we moved to the Black Hills only jeans and a few dressier pants remained in my wardrobe. My life style is to remain comfortable and that includes no nylons, heels or dresses, but as I am doing the dishes and watch this elegant lady stride to her next event, I admire her carefully matched clothes. It brings back fond memories of my mother and those "good ole days."

This morning as I was working at the kitchen sink I saw our neighbor sitting on a lawn chair in the warm sun waiting for her aging miniature poodle to finish its daily routine. She had her hand up to the side of her face and I casually thought, "Nancy is on her cell phone." That would be the usual "today" thought to think, but following quickly on my first thought I looked more closely and realized that her hand was up to shield her face from the sun. I sighed a soft sigh of relief. She remained stolidly in those days swiftly disappearing from our modern world. She had no cell phone. She could wait until she got inside to take any messages. She was enjoying the spring warmth and enveloped in peaceful quiet. It was her time of quiet reflection.

As I write these words I realize that those brief moments I have of our neighbor bring warm memories and comfort. For me it is better than watching an old movie. It is real and today. Thank you, Nancy. You bring the past into this day. Long may these treasured moments remain!

Ring in Another Year!

Do you remember the old comic strip, "Calvin and Hobbes"?

Calvin expounded to Hobbes:

"I'm getting disillusioned with these new years. They don't seem very new at all! Each new year is just like the old year! Here another year has gone by and everything's still the same! There's still pollution and war and stupidity and greed! Things haven't changed! I say what kind of future is this? I thought things were supposed to improve! I thought the future was supposed to be better!"

Hobbes response:

"The problem with the future is that it keeps turning into the present."

Bill Watterson, the creator of this comic, got to the essence of things in a single strip. We may not have the genius of this cartoonist, but we can mull over his wisdom.

There will always be issues such as conflicts, greed, corruption, bribery. Those things will not change. What will change is our willingness to continue the fight to make the world a better place. Determination, fortitude, and an "I care" attitude do, and will continue to improve our world, piece by piece by piece, bit by bit. We may not see it, but this I believe, that we ourselves during this struggle to better our world, change ourselves. Each year we can become a stronger, wiser, more compassionate person. Some of this wisdom, filled with hope and love, may pass on to our children and those we touch during our passage through the many new years of our life.

Happy new year to all of you from this serene corner of the Black Hills of South Dakota!

The Winds of Change

Today a couple from England stopped by. "Everything is going to pot in our country. The authorities are afraid to go after the minorities who have arrived en masse since we joined the European Union. When they commit crimes such as the recent scandal regarding the sex trade of children by mainly the Pakistanis, the police turn the other way for fear that they will be labeled racist. Some of the new arrivals do find employment while others take advantage of our system to receive all the benefits without trying to fit into our culture. We have no strong leadership to take control. After we retired we moved to Wales. I guess we will wait it out and hope for change."

You hear complaints from tourists from other countries, tourists from our country and from all around. "Our leadership is corrupt, the corporations run the country, the rich get richer, the poor are losing ground and the middle class is disappearing. We want change, but no matter who gets elected they owe their votes to those with the money who got them elected. No one listens to us. Just follow the money and you will follow the votes."

"Perhaps", the couple from England said, "Perhaps when things get bad enough and the people have had enough, things will change."

Some complain, some give up and try to ignore everything going on around them. Some move to Wales. Others keep on trying to better the world in any way that they can. Every person needs to do what they feel is best for them and what they can handle at any time in their lives. I cannot possibly judge what others do or don't do. I have not "walked a mile in their shoes." This I do know, I hope that I can continue to hope for a better world, whatever that may be, and be grateful to those who keep on working for change and living with hope.

We are So the Same

In my first book, A (not so) Simple Life, I often compared my life in the Southern Black Hills to my formative years growing up in Northern Minnesota. The likenesses were more striking than the differences, or perhaps the differences were more alike than I realized before I began to write down my reflections.

The comparisons were separated by years and location, and yet there they were for me in my writing to recognize; things change, but people do not...not really. We learn, mature, love, hate, fear, control, envy, strive, give up, suffer, create, teach, work, enjoy, err, forgive, or not.

My home town paper arrives weekly after 60 years of having moved away to produce my adult life. I am amazed when I read the news from my former home town that they struggle with issues so similar to our community that I sometimes imagine I am reading the news from my present home town. They disagree over issues such as elections, building a new library, the morality of the war in Iraq, and allowing mining in the area that would create temporary jobs but could damage the water in the Boundary Waters, the main tourist draw for the area.

Some of the "old timers" resent the "new-comers" with their disquieting viewpoints. Others welcome a new infusion of ideas; they enjoy expanding their outlook in spite of the discomfort during their conflict to reject the familiar in exchange for the unknown.

Different places, different times, but we still find change difficult, growth a challenge, relationships a continual effort, commitment scary, emotions disconcerting, power corrupting, and the world confusing. One generation can't understand the next one, and living in the "black and white" of certainty fades away as the gray of "maybes" intrude on former beliefs.

Everything changes....nothing changes. I live with this: we are born, we live, we die. That does not change. It is what we do with the living part that makes us who we are.

"The Times They are A-Changin'" *

We have all heard it many times before: "The only constant is change." Nevertheless, change is not always easy. There is a comfort level to what we know, even if the known is difficult.

After many years of living I still find some changes annoying, hard or discombobulating. The word out there, however, is that reacting to change can sharpen the mind, especially  as one enters the senior years. "Keep learning new things, be it knitting, dancing, a foreign language or new computer skills."

Hello! I just received a wonderful gift....a brand new computer with all of the latest bells and whistles. It is beautiful and I certainly am enriching my vocabulary with many new swear words as I struggle to find my way through this maze of jargon.

Over my lifetime I have adjusted to television, Netflix, printers, computers, email and other helpful additions to a person's life. I have rejected others, such as cable TV, cell phones, call waiting and I Pads. I miss the peace that comes with too much "connectedness" and have chosen to opt out of some of the new inventions while choosing others that simplify my life.

In my heart-of-hearts, I still enjoy the old-fashioned radio shows, classical music, the old standards, popcorn in the movie theaters and the rare snail mails. Actually I miss receiving "thank you notes" of any kind. Too often this generation does not respond to gifts or acts of kindness even with an email or a phone call. Yes, things change and it is best to go along with them, but, if I do resist some, it is, for me, at least, a choice to simplify my world and ignore those gadgets that crowd out the best part of who I am.

*Note: Thank to Bob Dylan for his wonderful song.

Those Puzzling Puzzles

Life is strange, and I guess I never will have it figured out. Just when I understand one part, another rises to confuse me. Perhaps it was meant to be that way, to keep me humble maybe...or human. There seems to be more than one side to every issue and somewhere along the road each of us make choices and align ourselves with a group, a position, a belief. We cannot choose to stand alone as there will always be someone out there, somewhere, who stands with us no matter what we take as our own.

In this process of living through the numerous puzzles that come our way, sides taken, or not, decisions made and, at times, re-made, issues slid over or confronted, we stand at the edges of many paths and in choosing one or another, we decide our lives, for better or worse and everything in between.

Decisions, decisions, every day, each moment. I do learn from listening to others, reading wisdom from those who have "been there", but, at the end of each day, it comes back to the steps I choose to take...or not. That is what I must live with, look back over, and, hopefully, come to greater understanding for my choices ahead.

The Annual Countdown

We came around the corner of the store pushing a cart. There was the sign - Ten Shopping Days Until Christmas!

Ten shopping days left. I had given only passing thoughts to the holiday, being absorbed in my many volunteer activities. But the countsown sign reminded me that I had personal tasks...gift wrapping, card writing and overall unwinding before the holidays. It was time to pause for personal reflection and a re-charge of my batteries.

I began my yearly connections with old and new friends. As I wrote cards,  the music from the radio was interrupted by a shocking news story. I had long learned to tune out "fiscal cliff" arguments, waiting for the final decisions, but this story gripped me along with the rest of our country.

Another tragedy for so very many because of the demons in one lost soul. After the intial shock and conflicting details, the news was filled with the same old gun control issues. It was to be expected, as always, after a mass killing. This time the tone was sharper, but the extremes came gushing out....from "ban everything" to "arm the teachers".

It made me pause. Do you suppose the next step will be "arm the kids?" This may sound ridiculous but I have lived through a lifetime of extremes in our culture. Where is the middle?....."in medio", as my old Latin teacher would say. We cannot seem to really listen to the "others", foreign to our view of the world. Getting into their skin, walking around in it for a while, might, just maybe, bring us closer to agreements that would work, and smooth out the rugged paths of our lifetimes.

Meanwhile, some things never change. I find comfort in rituals that remind me of safer times and places, devoid of violent television, computer games, and the constancy of the noise of instant communication. It is no wonder that the photo of Mr. Rogers went viral in no time. It seems that other people yearn for the presence of a man who exemplifies calm, understaning, acceptance and warmth.

There are only a few days remaining until a holiday with familiar carols, rituals, family, friends, feasting, and, hopefully, acceptance of the best of who we are and who we are becoming.

Mr. Rogers, you touched many children and adults. May your words of comfort remain with us long after this holiday, this crisis, and during conflicts to come. You taught us that safety lies within.

Autumn, Welcome, Autumn

It was not only the first day of autumn, but a gorgeous one, to boot. My energy level was high as I scurried around doing the chores best left for that perfect fall day. I was highly motivated to transplant all of my indoor plants for the winter, shop for larger planters to accomodate those plants that are becoming root bound in last years pots, purchase and arrange the bird seed in the shed for easy access during the blustery days, and, in my eagerness to be prepared, I even put out my suet feeder usually left for the chilly November days.

The feeling of satisfaction is always there in late September as I stand by the stove cooking up my first pot of chili for the season. Somehow chili always tastes at its prime on the first day of autumn after a summer hiatus of salads and grilled meats.

New neighbors have just moved in. I saw them painting, cleaning, hauling and dumping. They must be exhausted. I told Bob that he should bring some chili over. It is one of my comfort foods and perhaps it will be restorative to them. Bob responded, "That is so old-fashioned to bring food over to new neighbors."

Well, maybe I am old-fashioned. I have that right since I have lived for eight decades. My mother always greeted new neighbors with a friendly hot dish and homemade baked bread. But I suppose in those days neighbors were around for many years and spent more time on their front porches and chatting over the fence with the folks next door. I know times have changed and we all spend more time isolated in front of our televisions, and on our computers and tweeting with our many unseen facebook friends, but down deep, part of me remains in that distant neighboorhood, along with my parents and our neighbors long gone, Mr. Rogers, Andy Griffith, and the Fonz. We knew everyone face to face, eye to eye, blemish to blemish, busybody to busybody and, most of all, helpful to helpful when the need arose.

The arrival of this new season reminds me that times have changed and much of it for the best, but I can still try to keep a spark of the warmth and graciousness of the old days around, maybe as more of a reassurance to me than to my new neighbors.

Our Back Yard Militia

Back in my college days I had a Latin professor who left me with one thought that I remember to this day. "Remember, in medio. Strive for the middle. Avoid extremes. If you can't find the middle, look for an alternative." These words have merit, but what about the extremists who found no other way than through revolution? Our American Revolution is one example. Does one group of radicals emerge in opposition to the extremists who are in power? Perhaps it is through the clash of the extremes that we find a middle ground.

During my years of working, following politics, and life in general, especially during times of upheaval, I hear his words, "in medio". I spent many years in education and lived through education swings, one of which was the "no phonics theory" versus "all phonics". Children differ in how they learn, and many of the wiser educators quietly continued to use both ends of the spectrum in educating their students, reaching more of them by choosing to teach according to each child's needs, rather than the "latest trend".

Of course, our political system swings back and forth from one extreme to another, it seems even more so today than ever. We cheer for "our side", black or white, and badmouth the "other side" as completely out of touch with truth, reality, the best way, or the only solution to what ails us.

What would our world be like if everyone took time for reflection, debating, compromising, searching for alternatives, and truly trying to understand what may be best for all involved? History has recorded attempts at compromise that have failed. When the Hitlers and other fanatics rise to power, they do not allow compromise. Their way is the only way, no matter how many suffer or die. Not all leaders are as wise as Solomon. He knew how to solve a debate.  Unfortunately, all of the problems in life are not that easily solvable, or perhaps, too many leaders today are lacking the wisdom of Solomon during these times of increasing complex issues.

It has been refreshing to listen to some of the Occupy Wall Street protesters. They have found themselves in agreement with many from all parties, ages and economic groups. They agree that reform in the banking, mortgage and wall street industries are needed. Even some in the top 1%  agree with the tax issue. It is a welcome change to see many citizens trying to reach some level of accord, especially when politicians have become increasingly acrimonious and beholden to the major corporations rather than their constituents.

On the other hand we hear from many frightened individuals. They are terrified of this latest movement. Change brings fear to many. We find comfort in what we know. Just look at those in abusive relationships who move from one abuser to another who respond to their comfort level, ugly as it might be. Change is difficult for all of us. We prefer our rut to the unknown. David Kelley, a writer for television and movies, who brought us "Picket Fences", and more recently, "Harry's Law", has a keen ability to bring both sides of an issue into our living room for us to ponder and, perhaps, cause us to move a bit in our understanding and awareness of those with an opposing viewpoint to ours.

Fearing change, we often find solace in the company of others who have our viewpoint. It is lonely out there in a disruptive climate of discontent. A recent example is occurring right here in our county. A group of individuals are trying to begin a militia made up of ex military and law enforcement who will help defend our county against economic or political upheaval on a national level that could, in someway, harm us here in this peaceful corner of South Dakota. They want to protect our cattle and fuels from these potentially dangerous protesters. I kid you not! If you want to check it out, go to our local paper, the Hot Springs Star, for November 22, 2011. The article it titled, "Commission permits citizens group to proceed."

Extremes can be disquieting. Fear, belief in our way or the highway, an unwillingness to listen to another viewpoint, ignorance and prejudice have always been with us. Change has never been easy and never will, but there are always the few who climb out of their comfort zone to make change happen in reaction to oppression. Hopefully their change will make life better for us all.

It Is Never the Same

September 11, 2001.  None of us who were around will forget it. "They" say that our country changed and it will never be the same. "They" are correct. We who were here before that day are very aware of the changes. The media brings that fact to our attention at every turn.

As I was reading and listening to this week's media I thought, "It has always been so."  Since the time of our early ancestors there have been changes; some subtle and some dramatic:  fire, animal domestication, agriculture, trade, the industrial revolution, the American Revolution, the Arab Spring, wars, and numerous inventions such as the wheel,  printing press,  automobile, radio, television, computers, cell phones, and on and on. Natural disasters and mass migrations have certainly brought striking modifications to the world as it was known before those events.

Change can be for the better and it can also cause pain. It is difficult for me  to adapt to most changes. I resist the internet world and instant communication and the loss of a quieter life....unhooked, uncharged, unconnected. Yet I use the latest gadgets when necessary and they can make my life easier and bring me more information about the world around me. I find that I do not digest it all, however. At times I have information overload and it passes over, soon forgotten or muddled in my head. The books I read in the quiet of the night do stay with me, in some cases for my whole life. The moments I spend with myself, my thoughts, and nature bring me a calm that soon shatters if I become too involved in the world of distractions.

My husband and I manage to resist some change. We are back on the grid for now but we have limited television, no cell phone, no call waiting. I find that I can lose focus so quickly when inundated with the noise of the world. We make choices every day, for better or worse, and my hope is that I may keep from either extreme of too much connectedness or too little, whatever that might mean.