Happy happy birthday, baby

My baby Jennifer is 40 years old today. We have been having some amazing weather in Pacifica and San Francisco this week -- just like the several days before she was born. I was so uncomfortable -- edema, too much weight gain, pregnant and overdue. It was a beautiful afternoon, so Jim grilled some steaks and we had baked potatoes and salad for dinner. I called the doctor and he told me to have a glass of red wine: maybe the contractions would stop. I did, and they didn't. So off we went to San Francisco for a pretty easy natural delivery (only because the anesthetic didn't work) and Jennifer was born in the wee hours of September 28th. Such was the beginning of changes in our lives that we could never have imagined. I'm so proud of Jen and the woman she is. So, happy happy birthday, sweet child o' mine.

Last Grandparents' Day Celebration at School

I grabbed this photo from my daughter's blog page -- it just kind of says it all about Jace. It was taken when he played baseball this summer and got to play catcher. I used to think Jace would need a helmet to get through life, but he seems to have learned how to land better when he crashes!

So, today - with mixed emotions - I graduated from attending Grandparents' Day celebrations for my grandchildren. Jace is the youngest and his event was today. I so loved seeing him in his classroom and watching him take care of us by getting chairs, carrying the game out to the picnic yard and serving us our lunches. Afterwards we returned to the classroom to complete with him an art project the teacher will be sending home later.

There is a huge difference between Kindergarten and First Grade. Jace has matured a lot over the summer and he is somewhat timid in the group setting. The look of relief when we made eye contact was so cute. He was so very sweet, and I have memories from today I will cherish. How fortunate I am to have been there today and to be able to spend so much time with my distant grandkids, as well as those at home.

I am blessed beyond measure when each and all of them give me giant hugs, draw pictures or make cards for me, sing songs or play music for me, eat 3 servings of pasta for me, and best of all, love me to the moon and stars and more.

God is good -- all is right with my world tonight. I have enjoyed and treasured this day.

Future challenges

I had lunch yesterday with a friend who has Parkinson's. He is 60 years old and was diagnosed ten years ago. We had a good time -- laughter and concern was a big part of our time together. He has a wonderful way of looking at life with sort of "gallows humor," my favorite kind. It is fascinating to me to listen as he expresses questions and as he faces a somewhat known future, hoping to get information about how to plan better and more accurately for what lies ahead. He is in the unique position of having no choice but to prepare. He is a man of faith and so I know he will rely on God for strength and help. He has a large family for support emotionally and physically.

I wonder how differently I would live my life if I prepared for what comes my way, instead of responding with typical "deer in the headlights" surprise.

Note to self -- no paper trail

This morning my daughter Lisa was a guest on "Good Morning Sacramento" for a segment filmed at her home. It was about organizational tips for busy Moms. The host of the segment was also named Lisa. The featured guest was Kelli Wilson, an organizational expert who has just released a book on the subject of helping Moms get organized and helping them learn to let go of things that have neither a place in their lives nor in their hearts. Her approach is mental, physical and spiritual. I got to be there for moral support and I thought she was right on target. Lisa's home is beautiful, yet she expresses concern about keeping organized, as do we all.

While listening to Kelli offering supportive advice, both on the air and off, I was startled by the realization that I know all the secrets and I know all the self-examination that is involved. I also realize I have chosen to stagnate in certain areas of my life, including holding on to things that no longer have relevance in my life. I'm not talking about 'things' with genuine sentimental value -- I believe those things are important to maintain continuity between from where I came to where I am going. But there are many superfluous objects that do nothing more than clog my house, my mind and my energy. And when I am no longer here and my daughters have to go through every single piece of paper to be sure there is nothing of value, they will be frustrated by the process and confused at the need to do it.

So my additional challenge will be to start getting through it -- start clearing the way -- start making room for those things in my life that are meant to be with me to allow me to become the person I'm supposed to be.

Note to self: It's never too late to reinvent yourself or your circumstances. Learn to live in the present by first looking back, purging what is of no value, and look forward to the joy and happiness of starting each morning with fresh energy and motivation. Get rid of paper reminders and downsize paper clutter, including magazines, old bills, coupons, idea sheets, recipes and everything else that can be available on-line or in some other form instead of paper. Eliminating a paper trail (or evidence and reminders of past mistakes) will clear the path to independence from material constraints. Lofty goal. Not impossible.

Remembering is a beautiful thing

Today marks the anniversary of the passing of two very special people who left our family on this day, August 12, four years ago and one year ago. Remembering those actual days is painful; remembering who they were is beautiful. I know it can take a lifetime to appreciate all that someone has been in our lives, and even though they are gone, we can continue to learn from them.

I have lived long enough to realize that there are more family members behind me than in front of me. But those who are here provide what I am supposed to have. Every single day I think about how much family means to me. Some days I might feel aggravation; some days I might feel elation. But all days I feel gratitude and love.

It is impossible to perceive how anyone can survive in this world without the love of family and the continuity of memories and experiences. Whether those memories are good or not so good, to me the prospect of having no memories is a catastrophic prospect. There is a quote that goes something like, "God gave us memories so we might have roses in December."

Thank you Bob Derby and Judy Roque for the memories you have left for us to cherish. They help us live, laugh and love. Today.

The sun will come out tomorrow....

I was given two tickets to see "Annie" at the San Mateo Performing Arts Center. Sydney and I went today. What a stellar cast. The lead was an 11 year old (entering 6th grade in the fall) and she was nothing less than fantastic. She's been acting and singing for a few years and is very comfortable on the stage. She emanates confidence and pleasure in doing her role. Kids don't know so much about being afraid or to worry about criticism. There is such sweetness and innocence about them.

Of course the repeating theme is positive thinking. In the play, Annie even teaches that principle to FDR. Its a great way to think: the sun will come out tomorrow. Tomorrow will be a different day. No matter what is going on. You only have to (or get to) experience this day right now. And it has to be experienced fully, for it will never come again.

My first grandson Owen (pictured above) turns 7 tomorrow. He is so smart, so enthusiastic about life. He knows how to live in the moment. I learn from him. Grab the moments. They make up the days.

Happy Birthday, Daddy

Today marks the 100th anniversary of my father's birth. I will celebrate 65 years this October. How much the world has changed since he died at the age of 80. My life has certainly changed -- I'm divorced, retired and an orphan. My sister's profile would state the same.

My daughters are mothers and my grandchildren are thriving, beautiful people. Jennifer was 20 when Grand-Dad died, still in college and wondering what her life would be like. Lisa was 23 and working in a job where she would meet her future husband. So the twenty intervening years have been rich with change, filled with mystery and wonder. He would have loved all the grandkids, but would especially have gotten a kick out of the sense of humor each of them displays. Humor was my Dad's nourishment. And he would have loved their physical abilities, courage and intellect. Thanks for being born. I miss you still.