A Bold Move

My brother in law loves to tell this story: When his father was in his early 90’s he went out and bought an expensive piece of exercise equipment. Given his father’s age, it most definitely was a bold move. But the bold move got even bolder when the 90-something year old opted to buy the non-transferable lifetime warranty.

And that is what flashed into my mind as I stood in Home Depot deliberating over the purchase of light bulbs I was charged with buying for my 84 year old mother. The package of new-fangled bulbs priced at $19.99 each claimed that they (the bulbs)  had a life expectancy of 22 years with normal usage.

Justification of the expenditure of the bulb(s) would not only require my mother to live until she was 106 years old; it would require that she live to be 106 and still be dwelling in her 3^rd floor walk-up co-operative apartment.

I had to wonder how this scenario was likely going to play out.

  

Ultimately, I opted for the purchase.

Because light bulbs are transferable, and life expectancy is never guaranteed---either for a human or a $20 light bulb.

Exercise? Ugh.

The doctor handed me 2 prescriptions—the first was for an anti-inflammatory drug. But the second one, while medicinal, was not an oral medication at all. It was a physical mandate. It read: Walk 30 min 5-7 days/week.

Ugh.

The only saving grace was that the purpose of the doctor’s demand was about my staying in motion for 30 minutes not about me breaking  into a sweat. His demand was about the physics of inertia. It was about:  a body in motion stays in motion.

But it still was exercise—something I hate. I would rather scrub bathroom grout lines with a toothbrush for  half an hour than stand on a treadmill or an elliptical machine.

Exercise is not “playing sports”-- which is something I did joyfully for many years.

Exercise is ruefully boring.

I was going to have to make this lemon into some kind of lemonade or better yet Tom Collins.

Which is what I did—by officially becoming a nosy neighbor. I walk the neighborhood not to get exercise but to get ideas—to scope out renovations and lack thereof. I study plantings and light fixtures and color palates. I note architectural details and imagine how the amassed information applies or does not apply to my own house.

Exercise is the by-product of my research.

I perceive walking as data gathering in motion.

And yesterday morning my neighbor Andy yelled to me from the other side of the street Karen-- you are not walking fast enough!

  

Clearly he believed that I was engaged in an unenterprising workout.

But he was wrong.

I was working out my brain and not-so-much my heart.

I was working out my fall plantings in my imagination.

And so I yelled back That’s not why I walk—I only care how long I am out here and laughingly muttered to myself And by the way your masons did an amazing job laying that blue stone on your front walkway---it looks so much better and nicer than the slate you had before.

Aloha Ciao Shalom

What ciao, aloha, and shalom all have in common is that each word means both hello and good bye.

I never quite understood how that could be…

I can tell you for sure that Samantha and Briana were positively aghast, mortified, and incredulous.

I had not intended to do it.

It was not premeditated.

I did not wake up that morning and think Hmm today I am going to cross that line.

Words cannot adequately describe what had actually come over me. All I can say is an overwhelming wave of joy, love and respect befell me—and then opportunity knocked.

Because as Joan Rivers left the stage and walked towards me, I stepped out of the aisle, opened my arms, and full-on embraced her.

I needed to say hello.

I needed physical contact.

Joan graciously and tentatively hugged me in return.

Afterwards and until recently I regretted being a little bit creepy.

I regretted being that person.

But my perspective has changed.

Joan is gone—taken with no warning.

I am so very happy to have had the privilege of watching her perform and then (inappropriately) shedding proper decorum with an embrace.

What I did not know then and what I know now is my hello was a good bye.

Both words can be one in the same.

All beginnings are endings; all endings are beginnings.

And so aloha, ciao, and shalom Joan Rivers.

When I think of you I will always laugh—and remain thankful that no restraining order ever was issued.   

Another Year

Slaves of the Roman Empire constructed the coliseum in Rome.

   

It was not exactly a union job.

The owned workforce had no 15 minute coffee breaks or a scheduled lunch.

The slaves most certainly worked on weekends and did not have a 40 work week.

They and their lives were considered worthless.

And yet what struck me as I stood in the great Roman edifice was the utter grandeur and size of the building—and how it still remained. I pondered how many generations of people stood in my very place and saw what I was seeing.

I doubted that an enslaved worker who chiseled and carried stone ever could have imagined that their labor and sacrifice might be appreciated a thousand years later by a tourist like me.

It was and is fascinating to think that those who did not matter created something that did.

A thing of worth was built by the worthless.

It proves every life has significance.

And that is what I try to remember as my birthday comes and goes and I am left with universal existential questions like: Why am I here? And does my life have meaning?

I realize that they are questions that might never be answered in my lifetime.

Clarity from afar cannot be reached when you dwell within a capsule.

And so I can only trust that somehow in some way or ways known or unbeknownst to me, the world is better because of or in spite of me.

 Everything we do---including the mundane, has worth and meaning—even if it takes a thousand years for that worth and meaning to be determined.

     

And so I’ll keep doing what I am doing and think about it all again next August 30^th—when I am another year older and another year wiser.