Give a little bit!

This morning as I climbed on the bus and I swiped my bus pass bidding a good day to the driver - the Indigo Girls song: Galileo began to play. My morning ritual is so intact that I could do it in my sleep and I often do - for those of you that know me well, you know that mornings aren't a peak time for me. But this particular morning was different in several ways, so when this particular iTune began to play I knew that the day would be a good one.


My Aunt Judy always comes to mind when I hear this song, she is among a group of people in my life that I owe a great deal. Our life's paths have crossed so many times at just the right juncture. It is funny how that happens. Times when you know you need something or someone and you just can't pin point what or who that may be. Each time I learned that that person was Judy a grin would appear on my face and the thought: "this should be fun," would pop into my mind.

With an innate ability to come to a higher understanding she tackles life's ups and downs with grace and always humor. And over the years she has opened my mind to so many ideas and so many things that seemed off the beaten path that shouldn't have been. I love her for that but not that alone. I think in time we learn that there are times in our lives when we need a co-pilot, so to speak, a sort of guardian to our own life. Times when our mind becomes clouded with the dreariness of problems and insecurities. Thankfully she was the guardian to mine during one of those short lived dark periods. In a time that I felt very needy and helpless at the same time, I struggled to dignify my place in the world and understand what it was that I had to offer, she gave me these wise words. "Sometimes all you have to give is your time." How true.

We all live through those periods and we certainly need those people that conveniently pop up to lend a hand. Sifting through boxes of her life's travels and treasures we came to a greater understanding of one another. With alarm clock radios turning on and off in the back ground and the occasional outburst of laughter we both worked diligently through separate hard times. Not knowing which direction the wind would blow us next, we patiently waited for that breeze to rise and when it did we smiled again. But this time a wider smile.

Words about time coming from a lady who has given her time to loved ones, friends, and all those who come into her company for a lifetime: time. The same person who told me with a laugh that if she won the lottery she would give it all away, and I believe that too. It's usually not one thing that draws you to person it's the collection of qualities that make a person unique and interesting. Judy has a myriad of these types of traits. That's why when hearing "Galileo," this morning my mind went straight to a thought of my dear Aunt. A song that illustrates questioning, growth, and thought - things that MY Aunt Judy is never afraid of. Thank God for people like her, wildflowers that bloom over and over again, raising their heads to the sun as if to say: "Thank you!" Thank God for her!

The best part of knowing these types of people is that you have the opportunity to learn from them and their journey. I have distinct privilege of knowing many people of this kind. When I look upon these kind souls, deep within I hope that I may have the opportunity to touch and reach out to others as they have. It's people like Judy that remind me to live life to the fullest, to smile wider, to try harder, and to go farther. Knowing all the while that my time is valuable to others and in certain situations that is worth more than anything. Knowing this to be true after having experienced it myself. After a lifetime of benefitting from others giving of their time to me. What a simple concept from a not so simple lady: Judy Tomlinson.

Treasure

I dance very poorly, but I still love to dance - a blessing and a curse I suppose. One of life's very small obstacles that I have repeatedly stepped over, around and on the feet of so many to enjoy. I guess we can learn from even the smallest things, that we are better off to know the joy and feeling of dancing even, rather than never trying it at all. I would even go so far as to say that I am somewhat reserved and a little shy at times - an unbelievable statement I know! However, sometimes I have to push myself to speak first or join in - but it never stops me.

Life is a collective process of which we are always learning and growing - simultaneously adding to our wisdom and our persona. A process that so few expose - our motives, our insights, our passions, strengths and weaknesses. The things that we know and often never share make us mind boggling creatures to think about. We begin our lives knowing nothing and we end it knowing "only" everything that we allow ourselves to learn and experience. The lives that touch us so ordinarily throughout our time here make us who we are. The things that we come to understand help us to develop our own perceptions of the people and places that surround us. Uniquely, we create our own ideas and personalities, no one is the same. Isn't that wonderful?

Saturday night I enjoyed time with friends as I often do - thank goodness for friends. I laughed so much and felt so happy to be alive. The company definitely had a great deal to do with it - maybe the weather added to it too. Maybe the atmosphere, who can tell? Regardless of any of these factors, days and nights like Saturday stand out to me as days that I lived fully from the time I opened my eyes until the time I closed them to sleep in the evening. And if I could go back through my mind and remember every conversation I have ever had, if I could remember the long talks I have had with strangers on bar stools or in waiting rooms - what would I do but smile. To go into that thought and march around a bit like it were a room with furniture and pictures hanging on the wall. If I could go there and think more about those conversations I would realize that it was these scenarios that taught me or even made me force myself to open my mouth and speak first. The thought of missing something. That same desire to know and hear and live that keeps me up at night reading one more paragraph or talking to another friend a million miles away. I realize sometimes that on a daily basis we push ourselves to go farther, to think harder, to overcome certain insecurities that would normally hold us back. We often refuse to let that happen.

I am more proud of my friends and family than they know. I am proud to know them, to share in the experience of life and to be a part of the time period that we all share. Knowing that ages from now when the pages of history open to a section of time that we call "now", a section that will be thought of as an ancient "then." I know that I would not want to walk life's path with any other group and this time will be marked how we live and how we progress. The sadness of knowing that we can't go on forever evaporates in the idea of the things out there that I have yet to know. The people that I have yet to meet and the laughs I have yet to have.

It shouldn't be a challenge to live life - it is our treasure. Every day I know that there is more out there, but I don't know exactly what is out there for me. What will be there for me today? And if goodness and mercy have followed me thus far, why should it not keep following me? As I type these words I listen to music created by a friend. I hear in that music her vision - her insight and her love for music (Molly). The magic of it is too splendid for me to put into words - although my excitement is very deep. The thought of creating something that would urge people to dance…amazing!

Words, what can I say about words to magnify my love for them. My love for the poet who can pour his or her heart into phrases and imagery that change lives and spawn romances. The writers who describe dew drops on a lilac leaf - something so pure yet insignificant. Why do they bother? It's beautiful, that's why! My Grandfather is a poet - words spinning in his mind that are also spinning in mine. Do we share that gene? Should I even put us on the same plane? Probably not - but the thought of it makes me proud. The well spoken phrase - there's nothing like it. Changing sentences into perfect compilations is a wonder to me. And should life be explained in this way it might resemble a picture of little pieces of paper spread out on a million tables with scraps of fortune cookies lying about. I hope someone takes a picture taken by someone who refused to forget the moment. Or maybe not. Life being the mystery that it is, keeps ups running the race - fighting the fight - working hard for all those passions, using our strengths to fight our weaknesses. We blink, October is gone and now November, what next? I suppose the only thing we have to learn is not to bury our treasure - there will be no joy in that.

New Deal - Cemetery

When I was growing up our house was on the same street as the towns Cemetery. Rosedale Cemetery a dignified garden of stones and artificial flowers arranged among old cedars and walnut trees. The cemetery was one of the gifts left to the city by the Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC) or the Works Progress Act (WPA), who can remember? Now that I think of it I was never afraid of living a couple of doors down from the cemetery. That said, I don’t remember ever going over there at night either, and maybe that wasn't out of fear as much as out of respect.

As parts of Franklin Roosevelt's "New Deal," the CCC and the WPA were a work relief program specifically for men between the ages of 18 and 33. This program existed from 1933 until 1942 due to the lack of jobs for men of this age during the Great Depression. I have heard of many stories about the CCC and the WPA's Camps coming to Dawson Springs bringing men that would work to repair and replace streets, build the state park, the cemetery and other landmarks of my small hometown.

Rosedale cemetery is surrounded by a rock wall and rock retaining walls made from native stone and now seems like a sea of granite divided by concrete paths. Monuments of all shapes and sizes dot the terrain with names to be read silently noting the presence of he or she or both. I use to ride my bike over there and many people walked the paths for exercise - my Mother included. I, as almost everyone in town have family members buried there and I remember as a child often seeing widow creeping through those paths in long cars, somberly checking on the resting place of a husband, a father and mother, a child or even a friend. My own grandmother was one of those diligent ladies. An emblem of our temporary existence right down the street.

The CCC built those walls along with a grounds keepers work shop, a crypt, a pavilion and a grand arch to mark the entrance. What a depressing job I think now - building a cemetery - but these things must be done too. I wonder if those young men knew the importance of this small southern town's cemetery…and if the events that would take place there couldn't possibly resonate? The rainy days and green tents covering green chairs and Astroturf? There is no way that they could have really known the important moments that would go down there.

Driving into Dawson Springs from the Western Kentucky Parkway, those that come and go there drive past Rosedale Cemetery, where an American flag waves day and night. Where the names of those that founded, built and lived in my hometown now lie and even though this might seem crazy, Rosedale Cemetery is a peaceful place. A dignified place to rest for the ages under stones that have not the space to list all the things done in one's life and I suppose that is the point. Epitaphs should exist in the minds that are touched and not etched on any stone. I don't know why this came to mind today…maybe it is the dreary weather that has been lingering. Who knows?

Regardless, why not? Who says I can't write about cemeteries - I'm still not scared of them.