Before I keep my storyline going (get it - reminiscing...stories....storyline...it's kind of late), we have had a busy sunny weekend. Boo had a soccer jamboree Saturday and we had to be there at 8:30AM. It was lovely weather in the morning and got a little hot for us Washintonians in the afternoon (80 or so.) Her team played 5 games and were undefeated! I was so proud of her and her team. They played one team with a particularly physical player. She had 20 lbs on Boo and so when they collided, Boo went flying. She came out of the game and was frustrated and mad and upset. I told her she couldn't out-manhandle her, but I suspected she could out-dribble her. Boo got a big smile on her face and went back in the game. Sure enough, this physical player came up to defend Boo and instead of taking her on, Boo did some fancy footwork and left this player in the dust. Can you tell I am a proud mama?
We hosted a neighborhood BBQ last night. We had about 40 people bring their plastic or folding camp chairs and a dessert or a side dish and join us for the evening. We live in an older neighborhood, which we love. Julia down the street has lived here for over 50 years. The Ackermans and Sullivans have lived here over 40 years. Back when the area was farmland and dairy cows and full of giant fir and cedar trees.
As the hostess, I am usually busy running around making sure there is a knife in the mayonnaise jar or a serving utensil for the German chocolate cake. Last night as I was taking care of things, I noticed all of our senior neighbors gathered together, hugging and smiling and reminiscing. I wanted to drop what I was doing and plop myself in the middle of their conversation and absorb their history, their stories. There is the retired junior high counselor, the retired high school band teacher, the man from somewhere in Eastern Europe. There is so much I don't know about our neighborhood. About them. About life.
By the time I got to the point where everything was mostly taken care of as far as the BBQ goes, it was getting late and they were all saying their goodbyes. I'm a hugger and made sure I got many as our neighbors left.
Next year I will remember the average age of our guests and start dinner a little earlier than 5:30 so I can enjoy more of their stories.
Sunday, August 26, 2012
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
Reminiscing
Rereading some posts today and looking through the pictures - what a special time we had! My eyes were quite misty looking back.
I love to reminisce. I think this is a trait passed down from my Dad. He LOVES to tell stories in the same vein as Mark Twain (just watched a documentary about him last night) and Garrison Keillor. His stories are funny or just a little bit dangerous or recount a struggle or hardship. I think of him as a modern day storyteller.
Gaston knows that a great date night for me includes remembering how we met, our first date, watching home movies of our babies.
I love reminiscing because I love reliving. The best memories are the ones with the full body experience. Remembering how I felt emotionally and physically, what the moment sounded like, smelled like. I am hoping in heaven there will be a time machine of some sort where I can go back and hold my babies again and enjoy them. I'm kind of counting on that.
I think I also love reminiscing because I hate change. I cried when I turned thirteen, then sixteen. I cried when I got married because the man in my life was changing. I cried when Boo and Bud turned 5 because five years old isn't little anymore. I cried for weeks and months when we stopped homeschooling and the kids went to school. I think I am just afraid of what's next. Will it be as good as what I've got now?
I love to live in the world of the past. Is that bad? I think sometimes it is, because I can be tempted to resist moving forward, change, risk. Can anyone relate? Or give advice on balancing remembering vs. making the memories?
A friend of mine was telling me how she lives in the future. This was a very strange thought to me. She imagines what her family will be doing in 5 years. I don't think it's imagining in a "I want this to be my future so I will force it to happen" kind of way. I think she just kind of imagines it in an attempt to prepare herself for change.
On Monday a very life giving friend and I went to the park. We talked and talked and talked while our kids had a great time playing. We hiked down to the lake and all of our kids jumped into the water fully clothed. As the sunshine sparkled off the water, the boys bobbed out in the lake and her 3 year old daughter sang multiple versions of "Call me maybe" in an impossibly high, lispy, gravelly voice. Great memory. All senses engaged.
I love to reminisce. I think this is a trait passed down from my Dad. He LOVES to tell stories in the same vein as Mark Twain (just watched a documentary about him last night) and Garrison Keillor. His stories are funny or just a little bit dangerous or recount a struggle or hardship. I think of him as a modern day storyteller.
Gaston knows that a great date night for me includes remembering how we met, our first date, watching home movies of our babies.
I love reminiscing because I love reliving. The best memories are the ones with the full body experience. Remembering how I felt emotionally and physically, what the moment sounded like, smelled like. I am hoping in heaven there will be a time machine of some sort where I can go back and hold my babies again and enjoy them. I'm kind of counting on that.
I think I also love reminiscing because I hate change. I cried when I turned thirteen, then sixteen. I cried when I got married because the man in my life was changing. I cried when Boo and Bud turned 5 because five years old isn't little anymore. I cried for weeks and months when we stopped homeschooling and the kids went to school. I think I am just afraid of what's next. Will it be as good as what I've got now?
I love to live in the world of the past. Is that bad? I think sometimes it is, because I can be tempted to resist moving forward, change, risk. Can anyone relate? Or give advice on balancing remembering vs. making the memories?
A friend of mine was telling me how she lives in the future. This was a very strange thought to me. She imagines what her family will be doing in 5 years. I don't think it's imagining in a "I want this to be my future so I will force it to happen" kind of way. I think she just kind of imagines it in an attempt to prepare herself for change.
On Monday a very life giving friend and I went to the park. We talked and talked and talked while our kids had a great time playing. We hiked down to the lake and all of our kids jumped into the water fully clothed. As the sunshine sparkled off the water, the boys bobbed out in the lake and her 3 year old daughter sang multiple versions of "Call me maybe" in an impossibly high, lispy, gravelly voice. Great memory. All senses engaged.
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