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an everyday life

an everyday life

Author Archives: Janell

Escaping the Heat

23 Thursday Apr 2009

Posted by Janell in Life at Home, The Great Outdoors

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Everyday Life, Writing

I’ve slept with the windows open the last two nights in our upstairs bedroom that is patterned off an old fashioned sleeping porch, with six windows facing in three directions.  Being lulled to sleep by the sounds of the night and the stirring of a gentle breeze carries me back to my childhood, in the days before most homes had acquired the cooling luxury of central air conditioning.

 

There were other ways to escape the confining heat of a hot house in those days.  One of our favorites was to load up our Chevy and drive over the Dairy Queen in Seminole to indulge in a Hot Fudge Sundae.  The one in Shawnee was closer, but Daddy always found the local franchise chintzy with their chocolate fudge, so we would drive twenty miles out of our way to ensure we received our fair share of chocolate.  I guess the extra sauce and Dad’s personal satisfaction were worth more than the cost of gasoline—which at that time was only 18 cents a gallon—and the drive over to Seminole with all the windows down was part of the entire cooling down experience.     

 

We often took in an afternoon matinee at one of Shawnee’s two movie theatres.  A sure sign of the times, the marquee carried the words “Air Condition Comfort” right beside the title of whatever movie was being featured.  I went more with Dad than Mom, who probably just appreciated being left in a quiet home without children underfoot.  I remember seeing Cleopatra with Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor and a personal favorite to this day, a film called Marnie, an Alfred Hitchcock film starring Sean Connery and Tippi Hedren.  I recall many Walt Disney movies, especially those starring Hayley Mills, like Moon Spinners, Pollyanna and Summer Magic, which left me with an affected British accent that quickly evaporated in the Oklahoma heat.

 

Then there was always water – sometimes we kids would be go swimming at one of the local municipal pools, but much more often within a small aired up plastic pool in our own back yard.  Sometimes we just ran through an oscillating water sprinkler, or dived belly first on a Slip ‘N Slide or tried to get that water blasting Water Wiggle to work like the one that performed so well on television commercials.  Summer afternoon picnics often took place at a water park, like Roman Nose or Tuner Falls.

 

The ways of escaping heat require less imagination and initiative these days.  When we lived in Texas, my husband and I had this gorgeous outdoor pool that was rarely used.  The kids mostly stayed inside, watching a movie or playing a Nintendo game.  I can’t say that I blame them, as where we lived on the Gulf Coast, it was common to observe steam rising from the ground.

 

But it’s nice to know that the magic offered by a warm evening waits just beyond our doorstep.  It’s as easy as taking time to sit in a lawn chair to wait for the lightening bugs to come out.  And to drink in the sounds and smells of an Oklahoma spring day, knowing that summer is just around the corner – as is our central air conditioner, for those days and nights that stifle all desire for fond reminiscing.  

The Final Word?

22 Wednesday Apr 2009

Posted by Janell in Life at Home, Soul Care

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Aging, Books, Death, Parents, Soul Care

There is something different about daddy. 

 

This week and last, daddy appears sad.   His eyes look sunken.  When I speak to him, it takes a while to capture his attention.  He goes from hanging on, as if he never wants to let go of my hand, to an almost complete withdrawal that is hard to describe.  While he’s there in body, his mind seems far away.  It’s a kind of blowing hot and cold, and I’m not sure if there’s a way to adjust the thermostat or whether we are past the point of fine-tuning.  Is Daddy’s body on its last legs?

 

I am sad.  Yet, I know Dad will be okay.  Not because he will continue to hobble along in this world, but because I possess this abiding sense that Dad’s life will continue in some altered state once his soul flies free of his body.  Daddy may be taking the first steps of his final dance on earth, but there will be other dances with partners more attractive than his much ignored walker and the walls and pieces of furniture he uses as support to shuffle his way around the house.

 

Some will find this all to be just ‘wishful thinking’ on my part.  “If wishes were horses, then beggars would ride.”   Or the cuter variation my friend Ann recited with her daughters, back in the days of young family when her husband Jack was still alive:  “If wishes were Crisco, then beggars would fry.”  In response to either of these proverbs, I would simply smile and echo the words my youngest ‘grand’ so often says.  “That’s otay.”  I’m not too bothered about what other’s choose to think about matters, like life after death, that are based solely on belief rather than first-hand experience.  It’s just as easy to believe as to not.  Or as expressed more eloquently by Blaise Pascal:  “In faith there is enough light for those who want to believe and enough shadows to blind those who don’t.”

 

But there are those near death experiences one reads about.  And those personal stories I’ve heard from others.  One story was from Ann in fact.  Hard to believe it happened almost four years ago now.  Her son-in-law Stuart was on his last legs, after a two year battle with leukemia.  When no more could be done, M.D. Anderson released him to Hospice.  And in an apartment within the Houston Medical Center complex, his wife and children gathered around Stuart to say a month’s worth of final good-byes. 

 

Close to the end, perhaps it was during Stuart’s last days, he shared a final gift with his gathered family.  Stuart told Ann that he had seen Jack, who by that time had been dead fourteen years.  From all my reading on death during my time as a Stephen Minister, this ability for the dying to see the dead is not uncommon.  I read a book written by two hospice nurses that reported case after case of near death experiences like the one Stuart shared with his family.  I pulled it out last night and begin flipping through it, wondering if my sister might like to skim though it as well.  Appropriately, the book is called Final Gifts.

 

This word ‘final’ that weaves through my words — final dance, final goodbye and final gift – I should not have used if death is not the final word. 

Great Expectations

21 Tuesday Apr 2009

Posted by Janell in Life at Home

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Ethiopian Food, Everyday Life, Langhorne Antiques, OKC Dining Out, Parents, Writing

I sit at my ‘new’ mustard colored writing desk with grateful heart but no great expectations.

 

I prefer to hold no expectations as I write.  Whatever comes of my writing practice is fine by me.  For too long, I have suffered from having hopes and dreams that too often proved false.  I no longer wish to carry the burden and pressure of great expectations only to suffer their disappointment when they remain unmet. Where I sit, great expectations grate.

 

Taking the opposite tack, Darla Langhorne of Langhorne Antiques — the lovely proprietor of my favorite little vintage store in all of OKC–wished great expectations on all my writings from this little desk.  I felt blessed by her sentiments and her support of dreams I no longer wish to dream.  But I’m left with the thought, is it better to hold or to not hold great expectations from that which fills your heart with joy? 

 

The Spiritual Exercises of Ignatius have instilled in me this attitude of holding ‘lightly’ the things of this world.  Dreams are born and dreams die.  People are born and people die.  Puppies are born and puppies are given away to new owners, much to my father’s disappointment.  It’s easier on the heart to not get too attached.  Maybe Dad would agree, as he nurses a broken heart from a home grown too quiet without sound of puppy piddles and paddles. 

 

My son Bryan kept secret our dining destination for this month’s moveable feast.  He wished us to harbor no false expectations that might keep us from attending.  But even so, two family members backed out upon arrival, as their expectations of the restaurant’s ethnic food held them back from the experience.  Those who stayed may never go back, but the novelty of eating our first Ethiopian food together made for an unforgettable evening.  We laughed and anticipated what certain dishes might taste like, which a few of us ordered with some trepidation.  But as food arrived, I was pleasantly surprised.  I ate all these wonderful vegetables and meats with cool spongy bread rather than with fork and knife.  And while I enjoyed the food and family gathering, what I most appreciated was that, in spite of busy work and school schedule, Bryan had taken the time to prepare a place for us, taking on the hard work of pulling us together and making the reservations. All that was required of us was to show up and remain open – and hold back expectations that would hem us in.

 

Being open to a sense of adventure whose destiny is unknown until the ending is written seems the better choice, rather than to limit and define our journey by holding a map of false expectations.  Because truth is discovered only as we live out our stories in the land of everyday life rather than in our wild imaginings and expectations, whether they be great or grate.

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© Janell A West and An Everyday Life, January 2009 to Current Date. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given.

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