what can i say about my new 'drawing with colored pencils' class? it's fun, different, relaxing, and challenging. two of us students are brand spanking new; the other 11 have taken the class before. i chose this class for two reasons: 1. to explore something artistic that wasn't messy or high-maintenance; 2. i wanted to get out of the house.
since monday, i have spent a lot of time practicing basic techniques of blending, layering, smudging, and highlighting colors. particularly striking is seeing colors i haven't always noticed. this morning i drew an indoor plant. this 'green' plant revealed to me not just green, but forest green, greenish yellow, lime green, yellow, gray, and highlights of white. wow! no wonder foliage looking so fascinating.
retirement is a means of discovering... rediscovering who i am. it is exchanging an 8-cylinder high-endurance model for a more leisurely 4-cylinder that takes less petrol. it is taking turning off the cruise control on a high-speed interstate and driving at my own speed. it requires re-imagining time, perspective, and meaning. perhaps the greatest joy is that i can find what my limited physical capacity can do. choosing interests that require less energy and more satisfaction gives me motivation to stay as active as possible.
envisioning retirement is like seeing the world not as green but as greens and yellows and purples and blues in infinite combinations. the only way to make a new color is to try a new combo of colored pencils. what appears is yet another possibility.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Monday, January 17, 2011
100 years
my parents made sure that each year we had a vacation. it might be a 3-4 day stay at a motel (complete with a swimming pool) at the lancaster ohio holiday inn. or it could be a trip across the country to attend our church's general assembly. i have retained that love of travel and adventure because of their commitment to 'get away'.
and yet, one of my fondest childhood memories was returning home. we would leap out of the car, not to unload the luggage, but to see grandma hughes. she always, and i mean always, would say, "it seemed like 100 years!" as we attacked her with hugs.
grandma was not a relative by blood, but a next door neighbor who attended our church. she and her husband, mun, made their house our second home. btw, mun was actually named haymond, but we called him mun, because we thought grandma was saying "hey, mun!" rather than "haymond!" when she wanted his attention.
grandma was the most loving person i ever knew. every sunday was spent at her house. after washing the dishes, we would play games. animal, rock, or mineral was a good one as was charades. but the game that stays with me, both literally and figuratively, is chinese checkers. i still the the very board on which she taught me how to play.
frequently, we would take a sunday walk, sometimes as far as the st. mary of the springs school (now called ohio dominican). there were two statues of lions at the entrance, mouths wide open. grandma suggested putting a gum wrapper in one of the mouths. on our return, we look to see if the wrapper was still there. and it was!
grandma was a listening ear, even when i was an adult. i would confide in her about things that i would dare not tell anyone else. and she seemed to understand, or want to understand. bottom line, telling her things was safe and secure. she could straight-forward, sometimes gruff, and quite opinionated. yet, i always was sure of her love for me. always...
what i didn't fully realize until i was older that she was in constant pain. i really didn't know the extent of it until my mother told me when i was a teenager. i remember going up to my room, lying on my bed, and crying. i couldn't stand the thought of her suffering. it broke my heart. and from that day on, i feared her eventual death. and in february of 1985 when i lived in saudi arabia, she died.
one of the many joys of my relationship with grandma is that she never really left. i talk to her daily. i hear her words of wisdom. i feel her arms around me. and listen to her admonishments. i laugh with her. recalling all the memories of her would be impossible. but when i need her, she reminds me of something that helps me.
i am the one in constant pain now, whether it is dull, burning, or intense. in moments of clarity, i am reminded, "if grandma could deal with it, then i can too!". and i keep on truckin'.
note to self: chat with grandma this morning.
and yet, one of my fondest childhood memories was returning home. we would leap out of the car, not to unload the luggage, but to see grandma hughes. she always, and i mean always, would say, "it seemed like 100 years!" as we attacked her with hugs.
grandma was not a relative by blood, but a next door neighbor who attended our church. she and her husband, mun, made their house our second home. btw, mun was actually named haymond, but we called him mun, because we thought grandma was saying "hey, mun!" rather than "haymond!" when she wanted his attention.
grandma was the most loving person i ever knew. every sunday was spent at her house. after washing the dishes, we would play games. animal, rock, or mineral was a good one as was charades. but the game that stays with me, both literally and figuratively, is chinese checkers. i still the the very board on which she taught me how to play.
frequently, we would take a sunday walk, sometimes as far as the st. mary of the springs school (now called ohio dominican). there were two statues of lions at the entrance, mouths wide open. grandma suggested putting a gum wrapper in one of the mouths. on our return, we look to see if the wrapper was still there. and it was!
grandma was a listening ear, even when i was an adult. i would confide in her about things that i would dare not tell anyone else. and she seemed to understand, or want to understand. bottom line, telling her things was safe and secure. she could straight-forward, sometimes gruff, and quite opinionated. yet, i always was sure of her love for me. always...
what i didn't fully realize until i was older that she was in constant pain. i really didn't know the extent of it until my mother told me when i was a teenager. i remember going up to my room, lying on my bed, and crying. i couldn't stand the thought of her suffering. it broke my heart. and from that day on, i feared her eventual death. and in february of 1985 when i lived in saudi arabia, she died.
one of the many joys of my relationship with grandma is that she never really left. i talk to her daily. i hear her words of wisdom. i feel her arms around me. and listen to her admonishments. i laugh with her. recalling all the memories of her would be impossible. but when i need her, she reminds me of something that helps me.
i am the one in constant pain now, whether it is dull, burning, or intense. in moments of clarity, i am reminded, "if grandma could deal with it, then i can too!". and i keep on truckin'.
note to self: chat with grandma this morning.
Friday, January 7, 2011
Seniority rocks!
yesterday i joined a senior center, which accepts people 55 and older. today, i apply for a 'golden buckeye card' which gives me a 10% discount at many businesses. and it's ok with me.
i have dreaded the 'senior' label, for it seems to define a person as nearing the end of life: old, sickly, arthritis, gravity-controlled body parts, retirement with nothing to do, cataracts, 'depends'. and worse of all... loss of independence and freedom.
having arrived now at the official age of senior, i am beginning to relax into my new life. i see now that being a senior has no real meaning to who i am. what defines me are my choices. what shall i do with my life?
today i will sign up for a painting class. later this month i will give a presentation to a group at the university of dayton. i plan to do have physical therapy in a pool. donna and i are reorganizing our roll-top desk so that i can assume responsibility of our finances. i am listening to books on cd because holding a book hurts after a short time.
i am free to make choices within my physical limits;
free to explore and expand my interests;
free to define myself.
ok, so not everything is so rosy. i deal with constant pain, with shortness of breath, with a limited immune system. some days are more difficult than others. i have nine doctors attending to my needs. i will revisit this post when life seems bleak. sometimes i need to be reminded that i freedom of mind and that i always have choices.
i have dreaded the 'senior' label, for it seems to define a person as nearing the end of life: old, sickly, arthritis, gravity-controlled body parts, retirement with nothing to do, cataracts, 'depends'. and worse of all... loss of independence and freedom.
having arrived now at the official age of senior, i am beginning to relax into my new life. i see now that being a senior has no real meaning to who i am. what defines me are my choices. what shall i do with my life?
today i will sign up for a painting class. later this month i will give a presentation to a group at the university of dayton. i plan to do have physical therapy in a pool. donna and i are reorganizing our roll-top desk so that i can assume responsibility of our finances. i am listening to books on cd because holding a book hurts after a short time.
i am free to make choices within my physical limits;
free to explore and expand my interests;
free to define myself.
ok, so not everything is so rosy. i deal with constant pain, with shortness of breath, with a limited immune system. some days are more difficult than others. i have nine doctors attending to my needs. i will revisit this post when life seems bleak. sometimes i need to be reminded that i freedom of mind and that i always have choices.
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