Who's your daddy, who's your momma.

I once knew a man with 8 children, and periodically he would disappear from his family because no one had called him anything but daddy or grandpa for so long he was forgetting who he was.  He wanted to hear someone call him by his name.
That is what he told me.
That is what he was afraid of---losing himself in a single role.  No one remembering anything about him except in the context of his role of father.
While I suspected at the time there was more to this than just identity loss, I did understand.

I have worked in a few nursing homes where women carried baby dolls and only answered to "granny" or "ma".  They were suffering from dementia and had truly lost all of themselves except for this one role.

As an older person with children, I do recognize the possibility of losing parts of myself.  My world becomes more about family and the work part and friends part shrinks and falls away as the job changes, retirement looms and friends go through the same.

I know that my own parents experienced some of this.  In the last 10 years I heard about parts of their lives I hadn't known existed.

As a geneology/history lover, I enjoyed the stories, but as a daughter, I always wondered about the depth of our relationship.  I never doubted the love or support, but while we talked--a lot, and shared time--a lot, they had lived over 30 years when I was born.  They also lived over 20 years after I was grown, and while I was probably around more days than was necessary for any of our sanity, there was a lot of time in which I have no idea what they were doing.  I definitely didn't know what they were thinking or talking about with their friends and each other.

I just assumed they spent all their time being my parents.
Kids don't stop being egocentric just because they pass toddlerhood.

Now my own children are grown.
I'm pretty open about who I am now.
I tend not to talk about the past unless a particular thing is pertinant to a current topic of conversation.  (past life experience makes excellent illustrative examples in conversation)  I tend to be a good listener and a minimal talker in the small talk social setting.

I know who I am.
I am not at all sure my children know who I am.
I'm not sure any of us really know who our parents are.

So, if I were to go back in a time machine, these are the questions I would like to answer.
Mom?  Dad?
Who were you?
Did you have a life goal?
Did you have a bucket list?
What was your all time favorite movie?
Who was your best friend in all your life?
What place did you most like to visit?
What was your favorite color and why?
What did you think was the most important part of living?
Did you consider yourself a good person?
Did you consider yourself successful?
What did you want to do that you never really got to do?
Do you have regrets?
Did you have a good childhood?
Did you daydream?
Did you have hopes and fears?
Did you really know your parents as people?
What else would you have talked to them about?

Are we all just doomed by the very age differences and developmental stage differences  to a relationship in which we only know each other through our roles.

I thought I knew my parents fairly well, but everytime they rolled out a story I had never heard before, it was a shock.
A shock that there was more about them than I knew.
A shock that I had not recognized that, while they were huge in my life, bigger than life for half my life, they were mostly 2 dimensional characters in my life.
I knew them through a relationship.
I knew them through a role.

Maybe that is just the way that is supposed to be.

But please don't ever let me forget the sound of my own name.

Time

 When I was 7, I would go to bed after being tucked in and having a story read, after requesting a drink and getting a goodnight kiss, and cry.

For some reason that year brought with it a terrible realization.

Time. 

Time was not kind. 

Time stops for no one. 

Time changes us all and kills us all and takes us all away from the people we love.

That was not the first time anyone had died in my family.  It was not the first time a pet had died or, for the rude kindness of it all---disappeared.

It was not after the teacher had a class about telling time or after my first watch or after some time bandit TV show.

I did lose an uncle. A Great Uncle or a great-great uncle more specifically.  And he was like a grandfather to me after my grandfather had passed when I was 2.
 I went to the funeral instead of staying at the house with the other little kids for the first time. 
But I think the time obsession started before that.

Time, it was going to kill my dog and make my parents old and eventually die and make me old and eventually die.  It had made every little child that was ever born grow up and get old and die.  Or worse, they had not gotten to grow old.

It had made my father's parents gone long before I was born.

It had filled cemeteries and leveled houses and seen the end of endless animals.

It was relentless.

I cried about buffalo who were then going extinct and about dodo birds.  I cried about lions and tigers and bears.  I cried about the deer and cows and rabbits they ate. 

I cried.

It was all so sad and hopeless.

Eventually I learned to not think about time passing and taking everything with it just before I fell asleep.  Eventually I learned to avoid thinking about time---most of the time.

Then, I learned about geologic time.  And astronomic time.  And Eternity.

But, eventually I learned to see time--not as the enemy but as a gift.  It's what I have.  It's what I get to spend.  And while I don't know when my time ends, I know I have right now.

I do think that I'm recognizing with each passing year that my time is becoming more valuable to me, and more valued.  I don't want to sleep in very often and never till noon.  I don't want to spend too much time on things I hate doing or with people that aren't really my people--unless they are new, then the newness, the discovery time can be fun and educational.  I definitely don't want to just waste time.

But in the general scheme of things, in geologic time or on the space-time continuum, every second I have lived may have been like nothing. I'm not going to become a fossil unless I'm killed in some bizarre situation that prevents my cremation when I die (hopefully at home, in bed, totally unexpectedly).  I have not changed the world in any way that can be seen.  My children or great great great grandchildren may not significantly change the world.

But time, my time, is more important to me than money or souvenirs of life or fancy cars and houses that mark  so many as important.
I can't buy my time.
I can't guarantee my time.
All I can do is try to use every moment to the best of my ability--not just for productivity.  We humans might just be more productive than was ever good for the world.
Not for the betterment of the world or for mankind or for the glory of god, but because, when I got here, a squalling, naked girl child, all I had was time.  An unknown amount of hard to describe stuff that can not be given to anyone else, cannot be sold in a way that gives another more, and even in the wasting--can be enjoyed.
Now, I'm going to go have a day. Hopefully, we will all have one and enjoy every loud or quiet, long or rapid, soft or energetic moment.

Wandering

One of the things that cause me to exercise (It is not my habit although I know it's good for me) is a wooded path.
The longer and more twisted the path, the better.  And the first time is always the best, but I'm not above trying a path a few times in case I missed something the other times.  Truly, I would probably try it many times, because every time is an adventure.  There is always something different, a spider's web, a snake hole a strange lichen on the side of a downed tree.  And every trip is also dependent on who is with you.
I've gone alone with a camera and alone with nothing.  I've gone with other adults and with children of various ages.  Each change of companion changes the trip.  And season causes changes and weather causes changes and every changes makes the trip unique.
But the best thing, the very best part, is when i see nothing more intrusively human than a worn path in the forest floor.
No human activity.
No sounds but birds and insects and wind and rustling leaves from feet of whatever size.
No smells but forest smells.
No sights of buildings or cars or utility poles; just greens and browns interspersed with bright birds and pastel flowers and glittering rocks for miles.
After that, is the time, for time is a part of any trip.
And while I walk and listen, while I look and wonder, the problems and duties and conflicts and worries slowly fall from me, shed like my own old fall leaves.
Time cures all ills, and wandering forest path time is the most healthful of all in my neck of the woods.
I strongly suggest a wandering walk for today.
May the weather be with you.

IMAGINE

I have always been told I have too much imagination.  I am not realistic.

According to these people, we live in a democracy.  Democracies are always capitalistic.  Supply and demand should always be allowed to control everything--it will keep things fair and real.  Good people always come out ahead in the end.  Bad people always get their comeuppance.  Hard work always pays off.  Honesty is the best policy.  Poor people are just lazy.  We live in the best country in the world.  People in our state are the salt of the earth.  There is only one true religion--that is why they follow it.  And last but far from least--quit rocking the boat.

I have, at one time or another thrown serious questions at every one of those truths.
I might be a boat rocker.

I thought as I got older I would realize that the real world would take over my world view--maybe even had to.  I expected to come to agree with those people that constantly explained so patiently what was wrong with my imaginings about a better world---a better system of human governance.

I'm older.

It didn't happen.

The world is full of different ways of doing things. It has always been full of different ways of doing things.   As a child, I loved history--history movies, family history, history classes--but only later, when I went from the required American history class to those odd  history classes that were elective unless you actually had a history major--did I get to see behind the curtain.  Our official history is not very similar to every other place, culture, people, religion and country's history.  To understand a single war you must read many books from many perspectives and even then, you must be aware that its a book and does not cover everything.
The same is true of every leader's record and every religion's story.  To think you can memorize some dates and the names of some wars and presidents and know what happened, what was real, what caused what---ridiculous.  There is always more.  And in that more, there are people, millions of people, diverse people, rich and poor people,  all kinds of people with all kinds of imaginings.

The world is full of people that would love it if the world was more peaceful, more equal, slower paced, more cooperative.  Those people would be happier with sharing what they have more of than they need in exchange for what we have more of than we need.  They would be happy to show us their customs, their cooking, their clothing and jewelry designs and in exchange, we could show them ours.

We teach toddlers to share.  Sharing is not oppositional to our humanness.

I used to tell my parents that if we all had a job we liked, one we felt good about:  that used our strengths without being too boring or too unchallenging or too stressful.  And because all any of us really have is time--and not a known endless supply of that, we could all make the same amount of money for the time we do for our job. Because aren't we just trading our time for money?

Oh--the warnings I received.  The horrors described to me.  The awful people that would want to do easy work they weren't suited to and the lazy people that would do jobs too easy for them and---how would we know who was successful?

I argued, and explained, but ultimately the response was that without competition, no one would actually accomplish anything.  No one would strive.  Nothing new would ever be created.

Kind of funny, as my father created new things all the time, for free, because he needed something that did something and either no such tool was for sale or it was way too expensive.   Sometimes he made stuff for no other reason than he was bored.

He was terrible at business and hated working for other people because they wanted him to build things the way they said--even when it wouldn't work as well.   He spent his life doing work that was both boring and hateful to him and only at retirement did he get to do what he wanted.  He worked everyday after he retired at 63 until he was 76.   Then he focused on gardening until his health gave out entirely.

So many years doing what he hated then 13 years he loved.

I fear I follow in his footsteps.

I am capable of doing many things I enjoy.
They pay less than my bills each month.
So I do whatever job I can find that does not make me dread every day so I can pay my bills and dream of retiring--to the work I want to do.

I imagine a world in which every life is valuable enough to not be wasted in such a way.  A world in which those things that are doable by most people but held in low regard and given low pay will allow everyone to do what they love some of the time and allow those that actually like that work to make a living at it.

We hold our reality too close.  We lose sight of potentials that are not impossible--just not currently the way we do things.  We stop people with imagination from helping to make the world a much better place.

We are governed by sheepherders that don't like sheep.

The world can be better.  Most of us believe that.  Most of us have to believe that to keep going.

Just imagine a world doing what you love---every day--with people you love--every day.

No more losers that day--every day a special day worth living.

Just imagine....




https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t_YXSHkAahE