tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-53087334717898105612024-03-13T14:19:33.989-07:00CalliopeSoulsearcherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01594638230147775665noreply@blogger.comBlogger96125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5308733471789810561.post-61443045421411889622009-02-05T12:05:00.000-08:002009-02-05T12:12:42.026-08:00UninspiredI don't know why I haven't written lately except to say that I just don't feel inspired. Well, I feel inspired, but not inspired to write.<div><br /></div><div>I know that some of you are waiting to read about my Washington DC trip and inaugural experiences, but I really don't have the words that would do it justice. </div><div><br /></div><div>So if you have been checking in occasionally, as I know some of you have, I apologize. </div><div><br /></div><div>Maybe I will just move on to other things. </div><div><br /></div><div>If I include my inaugural experiences in my memoir, you will just have to purchase it. Or, perhaps by then, I will be ready to post pieces of it online.</div><div><br /></div><div>In the meantime, think of me occasionally and check back now and then. I hope to eventually get back into the groove.</div>Soulsearcherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01594638230147775665noreply@blogger.com57tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5308733471789810561.post-48975693011124669772009-01-30T09:24:00.000-08:002009-01-30T13:54:21.407-08:00Catching the BusI was on my way. I got up about 4:00 AM and started my car, just to be sure that it WOULD start. It was 17 below, after all. Clicking the remote from the warmth of the kitchen, I watched nervously, breathing only when I saw the exhaust start billowing from the tailpipe. <div><br /></div><div>"Okay," I thought. "I won't have to wake up Terry to take me to the bus."</div><div><br /></div><div>I was glad about that because I didn't want to have to make arrangements to be picked up upon my return. </div><div><br /></div><div>I dragged my luggage to the car. One carry-on: check! One personal item: check! One garment bag: check! Yes, now I would have to submit my belongings to the handling of the baggage handlers, but there was no way around it. I needed everything I was bringing.</div><div><br /></div><div>I drove to the bus station, leaving plenty of time to spare. After purchasing my ticket, I, along with the other travelers, watched the TV in the station lobby. </div><div><br /></div><div>"Unseaonably cold," said the reporter. "Don't go out unless you have to!"</div><div><br /></div><div> Lucky us! We were getting away from this latest deep freeze.</div><div><br /></div><div>Looking around, I wondered to myself, "Where are these other people going? Hopefully, somewhere warmer."</div><div><br /></div><div>Two women walked in together, embarking upon some joint venture, noticably excited about their trip. They deposited their bags in the appointed place.</div><div><br /></div><div>"One-way tickets for two to Midway!" One woman paid for both, treating her friend to the ride. They helped themselves to coffee and plunked down heavily on the small sofa.</div><div><br /></div><div>Next to me sat a solitary traveler. He wasn't dressed in a business suit, just casual attire, work clothes actually. He relaxed with his eyes close, perhaps dozing or maybe just resting his eyes. I wondered about where he was going and why: was it a family gathering or something job related? He didn't look like the frequent-flyer type. No briefcase, no garment bag filled with suits.</div><div><br /></div><div>The announcement came.</div><div><br /></div><div>"The First bus goes to O'Hare; the second bus goes to Midway. Have your tickets ready."</div><div><br /></div><div>This was it. Everyone jumped to attention, anxious to board the waiting coaches. </div><div><br /></div><div>"This the bus for O'Hare?" I asked just to be sure. </div><div><br /></div><div> "Yes ma'am. Let me take your bags."</div><div><br /></div><div>I walked up the aisle of the bus, surprised by how crowded it was. Sitting down, I looked through the window and viewed the darkness that still made up this morning. We drove down the street towards the tollway.</div><div><br /></div><div> The familiar sites of this oft traveled street looked different at this time of day, as if they had not yet awakened. Only night lights shone within the buildings. Signs were blackened, lots empty. No line of cars awaiting the changing of the traffic light. The driver handily maneuvered the long curve of the ramp and merged quickly into light traffic.</div><div><br /></div><div>"This is it! I'm on my way," I thought. "The first couple of steps are completed. What will the rest of the day bring?"</div><div><br /></div><div>It would be a long morning of travel, sure to be exhausting. But while riding that bus I felt exhilarated and ready for adventure. Travel can be like that, after all: an invitation into the unknown, even when the final destination has been chosen and all details have been tended to. Adventure is in the eyes of the beholder. And it can be experienced in the most unlikely of places.</div>Soulsearcherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01594638230147775665noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5308733471789810561.post-47619326512823452722009-01-27T09:09:00.000-08:002009-01-30T14:13:29.988-08:00At A Loss for WordsThe trip to Washington went very well. The flights were on time, I made all my connections and there was very little turbulence. All the flights were on small planes, fifty-seaters that made boarding and unboarding quick and easy. True, leg room and aisle space were scarce, but other than that it was really enjoyable.<div><br /></div><div>My six day excursion was jam-packed with so many exciting events that I find myself at a loss for words that adequately describe the experience. The inauguration events were not just exciting, they were more than that. Words, even pictures, don't do justice to the spirit that permeated the cold Washington air. "Surreal" comes to mind, but that's not quite it. Makes it sound weird, I think, and it wasn't.</div><div><br /></div><div>So, I'll wait another day, perhaps putting pen to paper to help me focus and identify what I was feeling and still feel about all that went on.</div><div><br /></div><div>In the meantime, allow me to say that I had a great time with my son... He started his new job while I was there and seems to be very excited about the opportunity to work for the president. Who wouldn't be I guess? We spent a lot of time together, but I also tried to give him the space to spend some time with friends without his mom in tow. I read, I watched TV and just relaxed. It was nice to be away from it all.</div><div><br /></div><div>So, news and impressions of the inauguration will follow in the next couple of days. The channel becomes how to write about it all without banalizing it? I hope you will check back to see if I succeed. I invite you to share the experience with me as soon as I know what to say.</div>Soulsearcherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01594638230147775665noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5308733471789810561.post-14561660043621234412009-01-16T02:43:00.000-08:002009-01-16T02:44:42.038-08:00This Is It--I'm on My WayThe day has arrived. I am on my way to Washington D.C. Please check back later to read all about my adventures at the inauguration. I may even have pictures!Soulsearcherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01594638230147775665noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5308733471789810561.post-2205160078683949092009-01-13T14:19:00.001-08:002009-01-30T14:14:54.076-08:00Rain Isn't the Only Thing I Wish Would Go Away!Today as my secretary and I came back to the office after grabbing a late lunch, we passed by a home where the front sidewalk and stairs were covered in deep snow. It was a beautiful, pristine drift of pure white fluff that had obviously been there for several days.<div><br /></div><div>At first I thought the home might be unoccupied, but there were two vehicles in the driveway. The driveway was free and clear of any snow, so obviously somebody was there caring for the place.</div><div><br /></div><div>"How do they get mail delivery?" I wondered. And then I saw it. There in the window of the front storm door was a poster, with printing large enough to be read from the street: "Go away!"</div><div><br /></div><div>That says it all in no uncertain terms. Go away! </div><div><br /></div><div>Today is one of those days where I could see myself saying "Go away!" to people who annoy me. I just wish that one Tuesday would run smoothly, that every volunteer would show up, that all the kids would behave and do what they're told. But already three people have called off and it's only 4:20. The likelihood of at least one more person bailing on us is high. </div><div><br /></div><div>It's hard, I know, to commit to volunteering. It's a lot of work for very little reward. But, people are counting on this service. It's getting to the point where both my secretary and I have sleepless Monday nights. Instead, we lie awake wondering what problems Tuesday will bring and how on earth we will get through another full day of damage control.</div><div><br /></div><div>Yes, I'm stressed today. I can't feel hopeful or positive; I'm just worn out. It's one of those days where I myself want to Go Away! Anybody want to go with me?</div>Soulsearcherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01594638230147775665noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5308733471789810561.post-34670601990140170742009-01-12T16:25:00.000-08:002009-01-30T14:15:33.923-08:00Erica Jong Holds No Copyright on Fear of Flying!Well, one thing about not writing for a few days is that I have the opportunity to apologize once again. At least it gives me something about which to write! So, please forgive me yet again for not posting; I have been busily preparing myself, both physically and emotionally, for this trip to Washington.<br /><br />Those who know me well know that I don't necessarily enjoy flying. This trip, scheduled for mid-January, is no exception. Not only that, but for the first time I am flying alone--no friend, no family member, no group of wayfaring wanderers...just me! By myself! Yikes!<br /><br />Add to that the fact that I have a connecting flight in Cleveland--yes Cleveland!--(heavy sigh here!) with only one hour between landing and take off. With each passing day, the stress is building. Do I check luggage or try to just carry on? What if the Chicago flight is delayed? Can I really see myself running through the airport in Cleveland trying to drag my carry-on, which surely will be overpacked and unbalanced, as usual? Yes, in my dreams I see myself tripping and my luggage tipping all the way to the connecting gate. Only to find... Well, I think you can imagine how the nightmare, I mean dream, concludes.<br /><br />It's not that I'm not looking forward to the trip because I am. But for goodness sake--a direct flight to D.C. takes only one hour and forty-five minutes. Do we really need to transfer in Cleveland? What's that anyway, about forty-five minutes away?<br /><br />I want to go, I really do. I'm excited about the inauguration and the inaugural ball. I've gotten myself a new dress and I'm ready for a night on the town. I just wish there were an easier way. I wish I would have invented my tele-transporter--the one where we can just decompose into molecules and relocate ourselves in another location instantly. I should have paid more attention in my physics class, I guess.<br /><br />Instead, I sit and nervously watch the weather. How much snow are they predicting? The temperature will be how low? It might be a comfort to be getting out of town to avoid Chicago's winter if it weren't for the fact that the jet streams pushes the weather East. By the time I land, the weather here will be well on its way to where I'm headed. (Another deep sigh here!)<br /><br />Well, what can I do? After a point it's all out of my hands. I'll get in my car, drive to the bus station and head for O'Hare. From there on, the airlines will have to do its best to get me safely to my destination. On time? Well, that's another matter entirely, I suppose. Maybe it's good that I'm leaving a few days early. By leaving Friday, I should be able to get there by Tuesday, I'd imagine. So, that's the silver lining I guess. Should I bring my sleeping bag just in case? No! Checking that would be the straw that breaks the camel's back. Can you imagine me running to the gate with a sleeping bag, sure to be unrolling, in tow? I guess I'll take my chances. Perhaps there'll be an extra cot that I can use. And maybe things will go smoothly after all. One thing about expecting the worst is that it's only up from there.Soulsearcherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01594638230147775665noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5308733471789810561.post-26045205109650753082009-01-09T15:03:00.000-08:002009-01-30T14:15:55.938-08:00Washington BoundMy son called early this morning to let me know that we definitetly had tickets for the inauguration. We will be in the section in front of the capital, somewhere in the "standing section" before the split that extends to the mall area. This is great news for us. Every rally or event that I've been to has offered only standing positions, so it's what I'm used to and what I expected. To be in the area surrounding the capital building is a bonus; I expected to be in the public viewing area outside of the mall, blocks away from the actual event. Nevermind the fact that people are going to begin lining up at 4:00 AM. We'll play it by ear, hopefully arriving at a time that is reasonable while still getting into our section.<br /><br />The bonus is this: We'lll also be attending an inaugural ball! It's not the Illinois ball, but one of the official ones, so there is a chance that the new president and first lady may stop by... Though my son told me not to, of course I went out and bought a new dress and shoes. I have to look my best, just in case! One never knows. And one of the most important persons in the world will be there--my son, who works for the federal government and who has made me so proud with his own personal accomplishments. There's no way that I'm taking chance on embarrasing him with a dress that's out of date. Not when he will be wearing a tux. Not when his boss is there.<br /><br />I'm looking forward to my time in Washington. Most of the time I will be in jeans and sweat shirt, probably wearing either uggs or hiking boots--whatever the weather demands. At night I will be crashing on the floor of my son's rented row house. But at night--well, that's when we'll put on the ritz and drink champagne. I will be celebrating the new president, but I will be beaming at my son, Jeff, one of the men behind the man. I'm looking forward to this time,, not only for the hope it inspires, but because it means to much to him.Soulsearcherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01594638230147775665noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5308733471789810561.post-33075937929918460812009-01-07T14:17:00.000-08:002009-01-30T14:16:53.666-08:00The Only Thing You Can Do With Teens is Meet Them Where They're AtLast night I had five volunteers not show up to teach in our religious education program. Each Tuesday night is stressful as we wait for calls and then frantically try to find substitute volunteers, of which we virtually have none. So when the last teacher did not either call or show up, you can imagine how stressed and angry I felt.<br /><br />The only solution was for me to take the class, which I hate to do because I can't do any of the other things that I am supposed to be doing, i.e, meeting with parents, handling discipline, administrative duties like attendance keeping and photocopying and observing and evaluating the volunteers who are there.<br /><br />After resigning myself to the inevitable, I hastily made a copy of the class roster, grabbed a student copy of the book (the absent volunteer had the teacher's manual) and ran down the hall to meet with this group of junior high students. Their reaction to my presence was less that enthusiastic, can you imagine that? But then, what group of teens wants to be taught by the director of the program instead of the young, pretty and hip mom who normally leads this class? I guess I couldn't really blame them.<br /><br />Nevertheless, I was resentful that I had to be there and I lost my temper, not at their lack of enthusiasm, but by their unwillingness to co-operate under difficult circumstances. The truth is, I wasn't angry with them necessarily, at least not at first, but at the fact that the entire evening was one problem after another. I had already had enough! And now this.<br /><br />I ranted and raved for a few minutes about their crummy attitude. At least now they weren't laughing any more (which was appropriate but also a shame when you think about it.) When no one volunteered to read from the book or to answer the question, I called upon students randomly and eventually the class got underway. Once we all relaxed a bit, we began to establish a guarded rapport. Eventually, I compromised: if they weren't willing to talk to me, let them talk to each other. Instead of answering the questions in a large group setting, they discussed them in small groups, coming to a group consesus that could then be reported to the class at large. The pressure was shared among the persons of the group as they worked together. They responded to this approach very well. I repeat: imagine that!<br /><br />It never ceases to amaze me how stress or unexpected circumstances can cause me to act less than my best self--as if I'm taking all I know about teaching or about adolescents and throwing it away! I revert to that teacher that so many of us remembers but who none of us liked. Once I was able to move past my own annoyance, and remember why we are all there, we began to accomplish something together. I need to remember what it's like to be in seventh grade and to imagine what it must be like to come to class at night after being in school all day. Like me, the kids had already experienced a full day's worth of tasks and pressures. The best thing to do was to meet them where they're at. I think we were all really in the same place--a place where none of us felt like being.Soulsearcherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01594638230147775665noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5308733471789810561.post-80035995482254968222009-01-06T08:01:00.001-08:002009-01-06T08:29:53.795-08:00Less Work, More Play--for a Healthy Change!Whatever you think about Oprah, one thing that I personally have to admire is her latest commitment to take time for herself. "Hooray!" I say. How many of us really take the time to care for ourselves? I know that I have been putting off both doctor's and dentist's appointments, only because I am so caught up with putting in extra hours on the job. <div><br /></div><div>I used to work out at the gym at least three days a week with a good friend of mine until I was required by my boss to take a Spanish class. Unfortunately, the class conflicted with our gym schedule and it was inconvenient for my workout buddy to go later in the evening. Once you lose your buddy, you may as well just hang it up; the motivation is gone. Neither one of us have been to the gym since then.</div><div><br /></div><div>I used to play the guitar and take piano lessons. But I stopped when I went to work full time. It seemed pointless to spend my time that way when there were so many other things that needed to be done--laundry to be washed, dishes to be done, beds to be made. Sigh! All work and no play...</div><div><br /></div><div>I plan on joining Oprah in her quest for self-care. My Spanish class has ended and now it's back to the gym. I'll call the doctors and dentist this week to schedule long overdue appointments. I hope to go back to making healthy choices and to doing other things that fulfill me: writing more, painting, music, etc. Yes, life is just too short to continually put my favorite things, and my very self, on hold. "Less work and more play!" may very well become my new mantra.<br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>Soulsearcherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01594638230147775665noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5308733471789810561.post-84816004234609785672009-01-05T06:22:00.001-08:002009-01-05T06:37:44.407-08:00An Attitude of GratitudeWell, I'm back at work full time today. I've been coming in the last couple of weeks, except for the holidays, of course, to answer phone and email messages, get a few things done in the quiet of an empty school building. I find it relaxing to work in total quiet and enjoy those days of peace and quiet.<div><br /></div><div>Now, the hustle, bustle and noise that make up a school are in full swing. The kids seem actually happy to be back and excited about seeing their friends again. Teachers, too, are ready to get back into the routine of their days. A couple of new students arrived today and I can't help but think of the Obama girls who are also experiencing their first day at a new school.</div><div><br /></div><div>The same thing happened to me when I was 8 years old. My family moved from Blue Island to Tinley Park over Christmas break. The first day back in January, I joined my new third grade class. I can still remember that day, how shy and uncomfortable I was in joining the already established group mid-year. I felt every bit the newcomer and odd person out. Shy by nature anyway, my bashfulness was multiplied several times in this new, unusual environment. This school and this classroom were nothing like the place I left behind. Who are these people? What would this teacher be like? It was almost too much for me.</div><div><br /></div><div>Needless to say, eventually I befriended people. Still, I never felt quite comfortable or at home in that school. That move was a turning point for my family and not in a good way. My mother, always a city girl, hated being out that far in the "country." She never drove and there were no buses to get around. She felt trapped in this beautiful new home and she never was able to get over it. The downward spiral that began that winter accelerated with each passing year.</div><div><br /></div><div>I remember this now with sadness, but also with the realization that it didn't have to be that way. When I feel trapped, I hope I will remember to adjust my attitude. I'm not happy every minute of every day. Nevertheless, an undercurrent of inner joy continues to operate. This comes from being grateful for the good things that I do have. Yes, attitude is everything. And gratitude reminds me that things are never all that bad.</div>Soulsearcherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01594638230147775665noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5308733471789810561.post-26862633901401601982009-01-03T10:57:00.000-08:002009-01-03T12:12:32.383-08:00War is Not Healthy"War is not healthy" the poster read<br /><br />as it hung upon the wall,<br /><br />"For children and other living things,"<br /><br />this icon of the 70's,<br /><br />symbolic of the songs we sing<br /><br />as we march upon the street,<br /><br />hoping that the peace we'd bring.<br /><br /><br /><br />As students we remembered that<br /><br />our friends were being shipped to fight;<br /><br />victims of low GPA's or<br /><br />lottery became their plight.<br /><br />We read the names of high school friends<br /><br />killed those days in Viet Nam<br /><br />well aware it could be us,<br /><br />we rose up on the campus lawn.<br /><br /><br /><br />Across the room another sign<br /><br />"Nuclear free zone"<br /><br />this one read.<br /><br />How obvious its message was<br /><br />as daily we record our dead.<br /><br /><br /><br />The war that lasted far too long,<br /><br />"not war," they claimed, but "occupation."<br /><br />We didn't know the difference then--<br /><br />we stood with posters at our station.<br /><br />The arm bands worn then<br /><br />said it best,<br /><br />we will not put our friends to rest!<br /><br /><br /><br />Our voices heard,<br /><br />they headed home<br /><br />to country that rejected them<br /><br />as if the choice was theirs alone<br /><br />to plunder villages and folks...<br /><br />No acceptance of the burden<br /><br />that they carried as their yokes.<br /><br /><br />War is not healthy... !<br /><br />we stood firm and<br /><br />marched each night in steady stream...<br /><br />Where is that girl who believed<br /><br />but now no longer owns that dream?<br /><br />Who wonders if this current war<br /><br />will last beyond her daughter's term<br /><br />who will be called upon for years,<br /><br />duty bound, to again return?<br /><br /><br />Beautiful girl, beloved by all,<br /><br />a princess in her parents' eyes,<br /><br />upon the duty of the call<br /><br />she must obey and then arise.<br /><br />A daughter trained to protect, defend,<br /><br />Does she, herself, awakened lie?<br /><br />Why must she bear this burden now--<br /><br />prepared to fight, perhaps to die?Soulsearcherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01594638230147775665noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5308733471789810561.post-27675105097984610742009-01-02T07:18:00.000-08:002009-01-02T07:34:50.784-08:00Bucket List Visit is OverdueLast night my husband and I watched the movie "The Bucket List." While I have my own bucket list, I had never actually seen the movie. I just made my list after seeing trailers and in hearing about the movie from others. My daughter and son-in-law enrolled my husband with a membership in Netflix as a Christmas gift and this was the first movie that he received.<div><br /></div><div>While watching it, I was reminded of how quickly life passes and how I often forego my own dreams to focus on the expectations of others. I go to work each day, do all the things expected of me, and then head home to complete all the chores and tasks that await me there. Each day seems routine, running like clockwork, with little in the way of variation or excitement.</div><div><br /></div><div>A few years ago I was diagnosed with cancer and at that time I vowed that I would no longer continue to do things that made me unhappy or caused me stress. Of course, that was unrealistic to a degree; no one can avoid doing some things that are unpleasant. Nor can one completely avoid stress in his or her life. Even positive events can be stressful.</div><div><br /></div><div>No, I think the point of my vow was to move generally in the way of living a more positive, joyful life. Looking back at the years since then, I realize that I have, to a large extent, failed in my attempts to do this. Perhaps it is because of poor choices. More likely it is in my own attitude toward things. Sometimes one is helpless to change their circumstances, but one can usually adjust his or her attitude toward the events by which he or she is surrounded.</div><div><br /></div><div>Frank has made me a member (in good standing, I hope!) of the Joyous Rebellion. I think that the first thing I need to do is to create more joy in my own life. I will do some of the things that I have been continually putting on hold--fun things that bring life and fulfillment. By doing that, I make a conscious decision to life a joy-filled life, one that I hope will reflect joy to others. I want to radiate joy, becoming a beacon to others. </div><div><br /></div><div>There are always going to be plenty of reasons to mope and to be pessimistic and fearful. By focusing on the positive, I may bring hope to others. There is just as much reason to hope as to fear! It's a choice, an attitude toward life that I hope I will own more fully in the coming year.</div>Soulsearcherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01594638230147775665noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5308733471789810561.post-29527183174739678122009-01-01T07:41:00.001-08:002009-01-01T07:42:12.119-08:00Happy 2009!Happy New Year to all of my writing friends! 2008 was a great year because I met all of you. Now, on to 2009. May all of our efforts be life-giving!Soulsearcherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01594638230147775665noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5308733471789810561.post-44206890884232313292008-12-31T07:13:00.000-08:002008-12-31T07:35:41.748-08:00Seize the DayIt's New Year's Eve, the day when people tend to pause and reflect on the outgoing year. Both television and newspapers are filled with the events of the year--headlines made, people who have died, tragedies, failures and successes. That's what we do when something comes to an end, it seems, reflect. What made history this year? What did we accomplish? Where did we fail. We pause, and then we pack the year up and move on--new year, new goals...hoping that somehow our lives will get better.<div><br /></div><div>In years past I have done the "resolutions" thing, only to discover that an idea is doomed to failure once it receives this label. If I really want to do something it will get done, with or without my resolving to do it. The need to promise only indicates to me that it is not something I really want to do, or maybe I want to do it but am not yet ready to commit to the process of accomplishing it. Yes, for me, resolutions are things that I feel I should be doing--not things that I want to do. Good, old fashioned guilt--that's from where these vows arise.</div><div><br /></div><div>So, I'm not making any resolutions this year. True, I have goals, hopes, dreams. I'd like to return to playing my guitar and piano on a regular basis. I hope to get back to painting and I'd like to check out photography as an art form. And of course, I desire to keep writing. Maybe this year is the one in which I'll write my novel. I don't want to disappoint Frank, after all. But, that being said, I realize how my novel writing may come from someone else's expectations and hopes...perhaps not yet my own. Still, writing a novel is something I will keep on my bucket list. </div><div><br /></div><div>Bucket list! That reminds me...I'll go back to my list this year and see what things can be accomplished. Maybe, with the new year, my list will be revised. I'm getting older, after all, and the last few days I have been feeling it. My joints are stiff; my bones rattle and crack.The aches and pains that come with cold, damp winter days remind me of my own mortality. </div><div><br /></div><div>If I were to make a resolution it would be to do the things I long to do, the things that are life-giving and joy producing. Joy is contagious, so why not treat the world to this gift? I will choose to live my life more authentically, creating an inner joy that I hope will spread. If not now, when? "Carpe diem!"<br /></div>Soulsearcherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01594638230147775665noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5308733471789810561.post-75085935451438636682008-12-30T06:00:00.000-08:002008-12-30T06:29:08.204-08:00Fancy is as Fancy DoesIf you have a young girl in your life, you may be familiar with the "Fancy Nancy" books. Like anything marketed to young children, a whole line of spin off products are now available, including a Fancy Nancy doll, dress up clothes, stickers and colorforms (remember those?) Kathryn, my oldest granddaugther at 4 and a half (you know they're growing up when they start counting in halves) is a huge fan of Fancy Nancy. In fact, she takes pride in being a fancy person herself.<br /><br />Kathryn is a very outgoing and talkative child. One can barely get a word in when spending time with her. She is confident and take-charge. For a long while now, she has been picking out what she will wear each day. It's always a dress or skirt and she comes up with the craziest combinations: vertical striped blue and green skirt with horizontal striped pink tights topped off with a sparkly pink shirt and red cardigan. You get the picture! But on her, somehow, it works. Perhaps because it reflects her unique and rather complex (for a 4 1/2 year old) personality.<br /><br />Today we are going to visit her. Now when I go there, I have been given strict order from Kathryn--I must be fancy too. So I took a shower, slathered myself with scented lotion and put on my makeup. True, I am still wearing jeans, albeit with my fanciest thermal top--all flowery and feminine. I may wear nice shoes instead of my usual hiking boots.<br /><br />I have to go now. I still have my nails to paint and my hair to do. But if I don't get around to it, that's okay. Kathryn will be happy to do it for me once I arrive. Purple and green nails--nothing says "Kathryn" like those!<br /><br />Keeping up with Kathryn by being fancy isn't easy. But it is fun! It's an easy way of making her happy and it's nice having something in common. Oh, to be 4 and 1/2 again!Soulsearcherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01594638230147775665noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5308733471789810561.post-21008347267043928942008-12-29T06:47:00.000-08:002008-12-29T07:02:14.168-08:00Looking Forward to a New Year!I have changed the title of my blog from "Soulsearcher's Stories" to "Calliope." I just wanted something a little bit more imaginative. Sure, it's only one word, and yes, its a musical instrument, but what the heck? If Lin can have "Duck and Wheel with String" I figured I could go musical. I sometimes think I'm more musical than literary anyway. Or at least AS musical as literary.<div><br /></div><div>This weekend I bought two CDs--those ones they feature at the kiosks in target where you press the picture and hear a sample of the music. I bought one featuring Mozart compositions played on violins; the other is a piano version of Beethoven. I find classical music to be very relaxing. I draw a bubble bath, light a scented candle or some incense and turn on classical music. It's my personal, affordable spa experience.</div><div><br /></div><div>One of my hopes for the New Year (I refuse to use the term "resolution") is to blog more often and to be more creative in my writing. Maybe relaxation is a way to tap my right brained-ness. I don't know if it helps, but it can't hurt. </div><div><br /></div><div>I do know that I am ready to pack up 2008 and put it to rest. It's been a hell of a year--too much in the way of turmoil. Another hope is that 2009 will be a better year, even in spite of Amy going to Iraq. </div><div><br /></div><div>I read a small article this morning about a new year's celebration or ritual (?) in which you can shred something you want to forget about 2008. The article listed some samples of the choices people were making. Some were shredding bank statements; one person was shredding a lone sock that he found in his dryer. As for me, I think I might shred the following: pictures of my daughter's former fiance, a Christmas card that I received complaining about our family dynamics, the many unkind and small minded articles that appear all too often. In fact, I might decide to shred my entire calendar. There were some good things about the year, but those are already imprinted on my heart. The rest of the year can be put to rest. It's time to move forward.</div>Soulsearcherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01594638230147775665noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5308733471789810561.post-22294875176652438382008-12-23T07:59:00.000-08:002008-12-23T08:14:40.683-08:00AnticipationToday is one of my favorite days of the year--December 23rd. With it comes all of the anticipation of the holidays without any expenditure of the excitement. It is the same reason that Friday is my favorite day of the week--I'm all about the anticipation, I guess.<div><br /></div><div>Yesterday when I left work I reported that if the predicted snow came I might not come in this morning. And yet, here I am. The roads weren't that bad. True, I worry mightily about being rear-ended by some nut in a hurry to get somewhere. Especially since I did get hit from behind one clear and sunny afternoon while just sitting at a red light, minding my own business. For some reason I just wanted to come in today. Hardly anyone is here, and I like that. It's quiet and there is a total lack of stress. I can write on my blog, in between answering the few calls that come in and scheduling post-holiday appointments. Yeah, it's dark, quiet, lonely even and I love it. It's the anonymous hermit in me coming out again.</div><div><br /></div><div>On the way home I'll stop at the grocery story for a few last minute items: milk, something to bring to the in-law's tomorrow, maybe a snack or two for Christmas. I really enjoy these pre-holiday days, the ones where everything I'm going to buy in the way of gifts is wrapped and under the tree, the cookies are already eaten and the egg nog is almost gone. Now I can sit and listen to Christmas music or watch another holiday movie without guilt. Of course, there are always things to do--the empty boxes from decorations still need to be put away. Another bottle of wine needs to be picked up for dinner. Those things will always be there. Nothing is ever 100% after all.</div><div><br /></div><div>Still, Christmas magic is in the air. We'll spend it with two of our three kids this year. Amy will be celebrating with Johnny in Japan and I'll shoot her an email or a facebook message. She'll be okay for Christmas. We had our celebration with her last week.</div><div><br /></div><div>At midnight mass, I'll say prayers for family, for safe travel, for peace. And I'll express gratitude for all that I have, even now, in spite of the poor economy. I'm more than content, I'm joyful. Joy is better than happiness, which can be fleeting and dependent on circumstance.</div><div><br /></div><div>So for any readers out there, whatever you may be celebrating, whatever plans you may have, I wish you joy! Joyeau Noell! Feliz Navidad! Happy Hannukah! Peaceful Kwanza! Happy Holidays!</div>Soulsearcherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01594638230147775665noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5308733471789810561.post-18244313997482453262008-12-22T07:29:00.000-08:002008-12-22T07:47:23.287-08:00No More OrdinaryIt was a good day for a family dinner. All three of our adult children were in town. It's been a long time since that has happened and it was wonderful. The weather was unseasonably warm for December and our granddaughters, Kathryn and Lea, played outside with the bubble makers that Amy brought them from Japan. Millions of bubbles, or so it seemed, floated all around the house. It was a beautiful sight, the bubbles catching at just the right angle, creating a prism effect. "Magical," I thought.<div><br /></div><div>More beautiful than the bubbles was seeing my children together after so many months apart. Adults now, they were close growing up and they are always able to pick up right where they left off. They played with the bubbles, delighting in the fantasy world they created, as much as the little children did. Laughter floated through the air as well, tinkling upward melodically to reach me at my vantage point, standing by the large kitchen window and holding my grandson.</div><div><br /></div><div>The smells of the dinner added to it all--roast beef, ham and freshly baked rolls created a symphony of aromas. The wine was poured, the dishes placed upon the table. We all sat down for a family feast--a celebration of the goodness of just plain being together.</div><div><br /></div><div>It ended all too soon. The predicted ice-storm cut the day short, ending early in the evening. Erin and James longed to get on the road early. Before their departure, we took family pictures--all of us together--as well as individual shots; our recorded history, this is what we looked like at this time in this place.</div><div><br /></div><div>It will be many months before we can all be together again. Jeff headed back for Washington, DC the next morning. Amy has since returned to Japan. Like many families these days, ours is scattered far and wide. We don't have many days that we can all be together, just the occasional opportunity like this one day a week ago. There is no ordinary any more, only special events, one at a time. One day--one dinner, marking a special occasion, an event in the lives of us all.<br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>Soulsearcherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01594638230147775665noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5308733471789810561.post-68444308191782397202008-12-19T08:04:00.001-08:002008-12-19T08:27:48.644-08:00Shopped 'Til We Dropped!It was our first of several visits to the mall. Amy and I had left in a hurry and not taken time to eat anything. As soon as we arrived, we realized that we were famished.<div><br /></div><div>"Are you hungry?" she asked.</div><div><br /></div><div>"Yes, are you?"</div><div><br /></div><div>"Yeah. Should we get something now?"</div><div><br /></div><div>"Well, it's still a little early. Let's shop for awhile first. It's not that crowded so we should be okay."</div><div><br /></div><div>We wandered through the mall, looking for something to jump out at us. It's hell not knowing what to buy for presents. We looked and looked, but nothing really caught our eye or our interest.</div><div><br /></div><div>We sauntered into the Gap, not really expecting much, but ending up with two sweaters. American Eagle, PacSun, Eddie Bauer--nothing! Amy had few ideas of what to buy and I had fewer.</div><div><br /></div><div>"Let's just eat now," we agreed.</div><div><br /></div><div>The food court seemed just as uninspiring as the rest of the mall. Taco Bell? No way. Never. Great Steak? Hmmm....not today. Frulatti? Too cold for a cold drink and sandwich. </div><div><br /></div><div>We settled upon the Japanese place, I forget the name of it. Because she lives in Japan, Amy eats with chopsticks; they don't offer forks or spoons at their restaurants. As for me, well, I have never been able to master the art of the chopstick, but I was willing to give it another try. Of course, I picked up a fork as well for my backup plan.</div><div><br /></div><div>Sure, our Japanese fare was Americanized, with soft drinks instead of tea and loose white rice instead of the usual sticky rice that the Japanese serve. Nevertheless, we enjoyed it. Amy was amused by my efforts to use their traditional utensils. To our surprise, I mastered it pretty well by the end of the meal, using the fork only for my last few bites of rice.</div><div><br /></div><div>The sustenance provided the energy needed for a couple more hours of shopping. More successful now, we both lugged shopping bags of goods of to our car.</div><div><br /></div><div>Reaching the exit, the door opened for us as we were greeted by the cheeriest of bell-ringing volunteers. </div><div><br /></div><div>"I have no cash," I sadly reported. Yes, I was actually disappointed that I could not donate. "Wait!" I remembered the change in the bottom of my purse. Digging around, I counted out about a dollar's worth of it.</div><div><br /></div><div>"Sorry, I only have change"</div><div><br /></div><div>"No problem! Any little bit helps! Merry Christmas!"</div><div><br /></div><div>Amy and I walked to the car arm in arm, talking and laughing. </div><div><br /></div><div>"It is a merry Christmas," I thought to myself. </div><div><br /></div><div>We turned on the station with continuous Christmas carols and began our drive. We would have to return to the mall another day, but this was a good one, happy and satisfying. We were exhausted, in a good way and looked forward to the warmth and comfort of home.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Soulsearcherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01594638230147775665noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5308733471789810561.post-69040430907426906322008-12-18T12:00:00.000-08:002008-12-18T12:50:11.442-08:00Return TripsWell, Amy left today. I brought her to O'Hare at about 8:50 for her 10:45 AM flight. Just as I expected, her time with us went all too quickly and we were unable to do all of the things and see all of the people that she would like to have seen. We tried, really we did, but ten days doesn't really amount to much.<div><br /></div><div>I was supposed to work yesterday because we had a staff meeting scheduled, always a priority event for us here. Nevertheless, I took another vacation day at the last minute. It was Amy's last day in the states, and we decided to drive down to see Erin, James and the kids in Mahomet, just west of Champaign. I let Amy sleep in for awhile and then off we went--our last adventure together for a long time.</div><div><br /></div><div>Amy has a couple of Marine friends who live along I-57 in the small towns scattered along our route. One friend, I think his name is Matt, lives in Manteno, just north of Kankakee. She brought her camera along to take pictures of the road signs along the way so that she should show them to her friend in Okinawa. </div><div><br /></div><div>"Yes, we drove right past your home town!" I imagined her saying. "See, here's the sign for Manteno, here's another one for Kankakee..." and so on. Amy has a very sociable demeanor and bubbly, enthusiastic personality, enabling her to make even a rather mundane road sign into something of grand significance. </div><div><br /></div><div>The only problem was that she was also working on her laptop while I drove and she missed all of the signs on the way there. The sun was shining and the pictures would probably have turned out very well. Now, we had to initiate plan B--that I would be taking the pictures while we drove by on the way home--in the dead of night, windows down, cold wind blowing. Sigh! yes, that's the way things happen for us.</div><div><br /></div><div>After a nice visit, I was happy to oblige. Truth be told, I was happy just to let her do the driving. I-57 is long, winding and dark during the night time hours, wreaking havoc on these tired and worn eyes. Taking pictures sounded like a reasonable alternative.</div><div><br /></div><div>I was actually able to capture most of her requests with more than adequate success. My best shot was the one of the Manteno sign--clear as a bell and centered perfectly, it was! I burst with pride in my accomplishment, especially since this is the sign she most wanted to record. It wasn't easy, we had to decrease our speed considerably will pulling onto the shoulder, not quite stopped and parked but very nearly so. </div><div><br /></div><div>"Great shot!" I bragged. "Okay, that's the last of them." I rolled up my window for the last time and relaxed into the warmth of my surroundings.</div><div><br /></div><div>Arriving home later than we'd planned, we began the process of packing up whatever clothes and belongings Amy decided would make the return trip. Folding, sorting, and refolding, all the while people called or stopped by for that one last hug or one more "fare-thee-well." Amy took several more pictures--our two dogs, my husband and I, the dogs and both of us. We passed the camera around to each other so that everyone could get a picture with her. Every passing minute of this final day became digitally recorded.</div><div><br /></div><div>The washing machine continued to churn while Amy critiqued her photos. "Delete, save, save, delete..." the litany continued for each and every shot.</div><div><br /></div><div>"Ughh! Oh no!" was her dire warning cry.</div><div><br /></div><div>"What?" I cried, panicking. Had she lost her wallet with her military ID and debit card? Perhaps her orders had been misplaced. </div><div><br /></div><div>"She left something in Mahomet, I just know it" I thought. "What?!" I demanded to know. Immediately!</div><div><br /></div><div>"I accidentally deleted the picture of the Manteno sign," she wailed. "I meant to delete the picture of your coat, the one you took when you were holding the camera backwards..." </div><div><br /></div><div>"Is this a criticism of my photographic ability?" I wondered. "Hmm... well, if so, it's justified." I just don't have it when it comes to cameras. Especially anything other than a point and shoot.</div><div><br /></div><div>"Well, we'll get in the car and drive out and take another one."</div><div><br /></div><div>"Really? Can we really do that?"</div><div><br /></div><div>"Sure," I replied. "After all, we have to wait for the laundry to be finish up anyway. And you can always sleep on the plane. It is a fourteen hour flight. Plenty of time to sleep."</div><div><br /></div><div>We put on our coats and jumped back in the car, warming it up for a few minutes before we drove off to Manteno yet again. What better final adventure or memory for her last day at home? There was nothing more important that needed to be done at 1:00 AM this dark Thursday morning. And never will there be anything more important to me than her happiness. It was such a small thing to do for her, compared to all the big things that she continually does for all of us.</div><div><br /></div><div>"And now because we can get off and turn around, we can take some pictures in the town, too. That way you'll have more to show than just the road sign."</div><div><br /></div><div>"Great idea!" she smiled.</div><div><br /></div><div>Before her return trip to Okinawa, we had our own return trip. Moments and memories like these make her departure a little bit more bearable. They create the images that I will savor in the coming months. There were many moments like this in the past few days. Stay tuned and I will be happy to share more of them with you. It is my way of reliving our time together and a way of remembering Amy. Return trips...a way of revisiting our lives and love...together.</div><div><br /></div>Soulsearcherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01594638230147775665noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5308733471789810561.post-1323886111512567052008-12-10T06:10:00.000-08:002008-12-10T07:58:54.067-08:00No DealYesterday I went to work late. I wanted to let Amy sleep as late as she wanted; she is still on Japan time, after all. Add to that the jet lag from 14 hours plus of flying, and you can imagine how completely exhausted she was.<br /><br />Before she awoke, I had thought maybe we could spend some time together--do breakfast or something like that. But, by the time she got up, I had already eaten and so instead we went to the DMV to replace her lost driver's license. She had tried to replace it while in Japan, but all the Illinois DMV would do was to send her a 30 day permit. With the mail delivery being the way it is, by the time it reached her in Japan, it had already expired.<br /><br />Isn't it funny (weird or ironic--not "ha-ha" funny) that the Illinois Secretary of State will do little to assist a Marine half a world away, but that so many of our governors are corrupt--either serving time or being arrested for deal-brokering? What a strange place, this state called Illinois. Well, maybe not the place itself, but the people who run it. No influence, no cash--no deal!<br /><br />That was it--going to the DMV was sum and substance of our adventure for the day. I dropped Amy off at her old high school, to visit her dad and the other teachers and then off to work I went. Yes, Tuesday is the day I always need to show up. But I'm on vacation now--taking my remaining few days of time off to spend with her.<br /><br />Perhaps today we'll go to the mall. We have a way of making it fun, laughing at the silly things we see and do together. We're looking forward to a Fruilatti and maybe going to Panera for lunch, if not today then some day soon. It's all up to her. When I don't see my kids for long periods of time I tend to spoil them. We'll go to their favorite restaurants and I'll buy them things they don't really need, fun things they wouldn't buy themselves. I already have a few things in mind.<br /><br />Still, this is Amy's leave time--her last few days of complete freedom. She has no schedule now, but can just sleep in. She doesn't have to report, can wear what she wants and can just be herself--literally and figuratively letting her hair down. And so I'll let Amy make the decisions about who we see, where we go and what we do. It's all about her for the next few days. I'm just happy to have her home again.Soulsearcherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01594638230147775665noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5308733471789810561.post-36222865680030011232008-12-09T04:56:00.000-08:002008-12-09T05:02:58.481-08:00Celebrating AmyLast night a friend of mine unexpectedly dropped by the house. When I answered the door, she was there with her daughter. <br /><br />"I needed to drop something off," she said. "I don't know if we were still meeting tonight and I wanted to be sure you had this."<br /><br />At that point, out jumped my daughter, Amy, from behind the bushes. Yes, Amy, my marine daughter is home for a ten-day visit. Sure, it's not the 30 days we hoped for, but it's better than nothing--much, much better. It's been a long seven months since we've seen her.<br /><br />She looks great, tan, fit, healthy and, most importantly, happy. She seems to be doing well and she seems glad to be home.<br /><br />Needless to say, I am putting my entire life on hold. I won't be writing much unless she is out visiting or sleeping, like she is now. I will only be going to work for the inevitable and necessary meetings and events. I am even giving up my tickets to "Dirty Dancing" and my trip to Navy Pier. If it can't include all three of us, Amy, my husband and I, it is off the table.<br /><br />Sorry Frank, but my novel will have to wait. To be honest, it isn't that good anyway. But when I get back to it, I may have more twists and turns from this very unexpected and happy surprise.<br />Thanks for your understanding and patience--this is top priority right now and the time will go by so very quickly.<br /><br />In the meantime, please check the blog now and again. I may be posting some of our activities for all to share.<br /><br />Off the radar for now--see you all soon!Soulsearcherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01594638230147775665noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5308733471789810561.post-28154866013158109172008-12-05T04:33:00.000-08:002008-12-05T04:39:16.198-08:00Off to Work--TGIF!!I am going to be heading off to work shortly. First, I need to look at the bills to see what's due, maybe write a couple of checks and get them in the mail. Then, off to work I go! At least it's Friday, and it may be a shorter day for me to boot!<br /><br />I have to admit that I'm looking forward to the weekend. I'll take time to consider options, but there aren't many these days due to this bad economy. At least the weekend offers some respite, a chance to just be myself, without pretense, without worrying about the constant criticism that comes during the work day.<br /><br />Maybe we'll go see a movie tonight...what's playing? I wonder. I'll take a look later today, hoping to find something that takes me completely away, the same way that a Calgon bath might...remember those old commercials? "Let Calgon take you away." Ah, that sounds so good right now.<br /><br />But for now, it's off to work. Just wanted to write some musings as I may not have a chance later today (see previous posting.)<br /><br />Onward and upward--trying to stay positive and hopeful!Soulsearcherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01594638230147775665noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5308733471789810561.post-22982014281328932052008-12-04T09:24:00.000-08:002008-12-04T09:27:41.188-08:00Down, but Not Out (Yet)Today is a hard day. Everyone at work has been called on the carpet--not doing enough, not quick enough, totally incompetent. These are the words being bantered about by the boss. Hardly uplifting, I'd say.<div><br /></div><div>Some days it's hard to stay positive. Does he really believe that we come in here only to do a "bad" job? I don't know but it feels that way.</div><div><br /></div><div>So I don't feel I can write much today--even while on my break. Big brother is watching, it seems, assuming the worst in all of us. (sigh!) See you all later...</div>Soulsearcherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01594638230147775665noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5308733471789810561.post-25407115998766383702008-12-03T05:59:00.001-08:002008-12-03T06:06:58.059-08:00Back to the BlogOkay, so I haven't written, but I have to say that's because I have been busy, very busy--busier than usual. I had a house full of out-of-town guests over the weekend and every minute was consumed by either eating, visiting or Christmas shopping. Our computer is in my son's old room and since he was camped out there I was unable to spend any significant amounts of time on the blog. So, nothing has been posted, but that doesn't mean I haven't been writing or that I don't continue with my novel. Oh, yes, I have ideas--some of them good, others not so much, but I will continue on, working hard to complete this challenge.<div><br /></div><div>I'm not sure if I am ready to post my novel in it's entirety. I want to be able to print it out and bind it together for those who have requested a copy. These will probably be the only ones in print...will that make them a collector's item? Could be!</div><div><br /></div><div>In the meantime, I will continue to post more often. Probably everyone has given up on even checking my blog by this time. But in a surprise moment, my son confessed to me that he has been following it regularly. I felt excited when I heard that. He hasn't commented yet, but its good to know that my adult children are interested in what I have to say. It's been a long time coming. I guess I'm not so "square" after all...</div>Soulsearcherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01594638230147775665noreply@blogger.com3