Another sticker
As my cousin said:
Someone else’s tension doesn’t work.
Something to Look Forward to
I’ve just had the privilege of spending a week with three of the most successful and happy people I know. All of them are over the age of 70 (honestly I just don’t know for one of them how many years he has lived) and one is more than 83. What gives? Is it New England, where ancient things like stones or buildings are practically worshiped? Or is it just something in them? And if that is true, what is it in them? They are not without medical problems but their zest, their purpose, and dare say, their creativity must play some role in their making their age just a number. I observed them (so to speak) without asking directly those NPR questions and have come to the conclusion I have a lot to learn, a lot to emulate, and a lot to look forward to. Bring ‘em on (those years)!
The bumperstickers of life
If I won the lottery (improbable because I don’t play) I would use the money to buy a machine to make bumperstickers. Pithy statements appeal to me. I am likely to compose bumperstickers when I feel something, notice something and don’t know what to do about it. Here are my current bumperstickers:
Small Matters.
Cultivate Interdependence
I am unable at the moment to use type and color to make art (or more sense?) from my stickers…but you aren’t reading them on a moving vehicle either!
A view from the gutter
I had occasion recently to walk in the gutter of a busy city street. A construction site forced pedestrians to walk into this tunnel of wood and plastic. I noticed a stream of water, muddy and turbulent, coursed closest to the sidewalk’s edge. I walked along wondering about waste and muttering Mother Earth thoughts, silently condemning developers and construction men alike. Then I noticed the water was no longer in the gutter but that the curb was wet. The volume of water in the gutter was invisible on the broad lip of the curb. And that made me think of change. Change is like that water on the curbstone. It is visible not necessarily in itself but because something is different – the difference between wet and dry is noticed, even by the inobservant eye – but the volume of water is only noticeable when it flows in the gutter. Small things are different every day, small things make a difference every day but change is noticed when a sufficient volume of small things, such as water droplets, form a flood in the edges of our world. Maybe there is justice in that. Small matters!
A synergistic moment
I know I may pay a bit more attention to Alzheimer’s and dementia than most people but it seems the world may be catching up with me! If the world is defined as central North Carolina, any way. It isn’t just that some recent events in town have spotlighted the perspective of people with dementia (through some of the events in the Center for Creative Aging – North Carolina‘s own Create & Celebrate) but then the local powerhouse research university, UNCG, has announced a conference for later this summer: Living Well with Memory Loss: Finding the Balance. If this isn’t enough to think that dementia is finally getting its due then consider the world of fiction. Not one but two books tackle this difficult subject: Still Alice by Lisa Genova and Samantha Harvey‘s The Wilderness. I rave about Still Alice every chance I get and now I’m eagerly awaiting my experience with Jake, the main character in Harvey’s novel. A recent book review in Books & Culture alerted me to Harvey’s book (thank you David Brooks for introducing me to them through your column!).
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