Showing posts with label happy birthday. Show all posts
Showing posts with label happy birthday. Show all posts

Sunday, March 31, 2013

Happiness is Horse Poop and Ant-hills


Pondering Horse Poop and Ant Hills:
That Is How I spent my 45th birthday.

Pondering Horse poop, and Watching Ants was not exactly how I had planned to spend my Birthday, But It turned out to be exactly what I needed to make this Birthday a wonderful day!

I had thought I had The Perfect Birthday all planned:

I was going to go explore a new lake I had found. I was gonna be naked most of the day, soak up the sun, swim, and relax. I was gonna watch trains, play on the tracks, and Be Naked while I did. I was gonna take lots of pictures, use a few silly props I brought along, and grin the entire day. I was gonna be in the ultimate escape from the madness of the city I live in. I live in Las Vegas. Any time I can find a nice little slice of nature tucked away amid the concrete and neon, it can seem like I am miles from the concrete jungle. 

Vegas is notorious for eliminating any remnants of nature. In just the two years I’ve been here, I’ve witnessed horrific destruction of anything resembling nature. Any living plant is removed. Any natural place is bulldozed and paved with concrete. The water-district actually paid everyone to remove their lawns. Even places that have been years in the making to establish trees, shrubs, and natural brush suddenly get bulldozed, and then replanted with very sparse new trees and shrubs. That is The Vegas way. Everything old must be made new. Nothing established remains for long. Every tree that looks full and healthy gets pruned to the bare limbs, with only a few sprigs of green remaining. Then within the next few months that tree dies, so they rip it out, and plant a new one… smaller, more sparse, very tidy, minimal green. Vegas likes to rip out real cactus, shrubs, and trees, and replace them with metal-sculptures that are supposed to look real. Vegas likes to take even a dirt-path, and scrape it clear of any actual rocks, or imperfections, and place a layer of fine-packed gravel for a smooth surface. After just being here a short while, it is evident Vegas is Not just looking for a concrete place, they also are more Anti-nature than any other place I’ve explored.

Even one of my favorite escapes which when I discovered it two years ago, was one of the most beautiful pieces of nature, with well-established trees and shrubs. It Was the Wetlands. I say Was, because in the past 9-months, they have gone and ripped it all up, and paved it with concrete. The water that flowed used to flow free, a meandering river, with trees, shrubs, and life. They bulldozed it all, and have made it a concrete channel… But to make it “Natural” they have piled rock on top of the concrete. Sometimes I think the people in charge of planning these “Nature” areas have never been in nature, and to them, a sterile, constructed “nature” is as realistic as it gets. It is sickening.

Last week, I was out in The City of Henderson exploring. I was exploring The Pittman Wash. A small section of wash that is still natural. It also has a train trestle I had heard about I wanted to explore. I found it (turns out I was only half a mile from it the last time I explored here, and I would have found it the next time I went out there, even if I had not heard about it otherwise.) I had a wonderful day, and when I got home, I looked-up on Google Maps where I had been, and to get a better idea of where that wash meandered for future explorations. Imagine my surprise when I saw on the map, just about another two-miles from where I was ANOTHER Purely natural Area. And It Had a Lake, too!
I studied the map, and birds-eye-view, so I could go back there again on my birthday. This is what I saw on Google:

It was perfect! I looked it up in other web-searches. It was called Railroad Lake.  It was an old quarry-pit that was used ages ago by the Railroad. It has since filled-in with water. That is why it is called Railroad Lake. According to the map, there is still an active rail line alongside the lake. (Not shown in the pictures above, but it runs across the north side of the lake) It looks perfect! It looks like a forgotten space in the mad-dash to pave everything. I searched many write-ups and all the info I could find. I found that the park on one small corner, called “Cornerstone Park” was actually in the process of adding a few features, but from what the maps showed, it was still only a small portion of the wild and natural Railroad Lake. Even the roads all around seemed to be minor roads, and not terribly crowded. It did appear that the development had stayed well-away from the lake. It made me wonder if the lake was toxic, or why it was still so untouched. So I planned to go there for my birthday. I figured that even if the water was not clean, or not safe to touch, I could still find plenty of beauty in the natural remnants of a time long-gone in this region.
I had the perfect day planned. (Actually it started the night before when a friend, Kara had me over for Tacos for dinner… don’t laugh. If ya knew, you’d understand the importance. It was a perfect Start to my Birthday!) As I began my morning, I was heading-out right around 8am. I was a bit sad, because I was earlier than I had hoped. Kara was working the day-shift and I had hoped to stop and say hi before heading out. But then, I realized that I still needed to get some photos of The Ducks for Easter. The photos I had in mind were needing to be done in the daylight, and I knew I’d get home after dark, so I took a few minutes to gather, and go shoot the ducks. 

Of course, a few minutes turned into an hour, but that is ok, too, because I enjoy getting lost in my creativity, and play. As I headed out, I was happy to see it was just about 9. That made me smile, because I’d get to stop and visit with Kara.

As I walked toward Fremont Street, I pondered Breakfast. I was thinking of just grabbing McDonald’s, and heading out. Nice n simple. I was even gonna ask Kara if she wanted anything… cuz she is always hungry, and often cannot escape from work to grab a bite. But then, I remembered “It’s My Birthday!” That triggered me to think about spoiling myself a wee-bit. I remembered that I’d wanted to go to The New Denny’s On Fremont. (Yes, Denny’s… It’s a new one, it’s On Fremont, AND it has an outdoor patio…. Yes, Denny’s always is consistent, and a safe place to find food ya want at fair prices… But This One is Different!) I decided I’d stop and see Kara, and see if she wanted anything from there. She was not at Her kiosk, but I noticed her tip-jar was empty. (It was just the beginning of the day) But a tip-jar does much better with a little seed-money, So I put some in. 
As I did, I noticed one of the bills had a red-heart on it. That made me smile. Then she returned. She was thrilled to have me bring something back… in fact she was craving The Biscuits n Gravy. That made me smile, too! 

I went to the new Denny’s on Fremont for Breakfast, and ate out on the patio. Then took Kara her Biscuits n Gravy. She was excited (and did not know I’d seeded the tip jar...yet) that she already was getting lotsa tips!

Then I headed out, map in hand, on the buses to find this lake. I knew roughly where I needed to go, and figured with an over 200-acre natural area, it would be easy to find. As I went I knew from the map, I was getting close to where the lake would be. But I was slightly dismayed to find that the roads were a wee-bit more crowded, and the area around The lake was a Lot more crammed with mega-apartments, mega-shopping centers, and More traffic than the aerial views on Google portrayed. I was beginning to think the Google view may have been many years outdated. As I neared where the lake should have been, I was quite amazed to see the ten-lane roads, and endless strip-malls, and mega-apartment complexes all over-filling this area. I saw that the area was bursting-at-it’s seams with meg-everything… everything except anything resembling nature. I began to suspect my “natural” lake would no longer be what the picture showed. I am not extremely familiar with The Henderson Area, but I am beginning to learn that it is just a Mega-Overflow of Vegas… without as much neon…. And the only ‘natural’ to be found is pristine landscaping, and manicured hedges. Ugh.

I got off the bus where I figured I was close to the lake. From here, I should have been able to see the hills, trees, and area where the lake was. But I could not. I was only half-a-mile from The Lake, but the amount of traffic cramming the roads was incredible! This was a Saturday morning. I could just imagine how horrible the traffic here was on a weekday! Even standing there, I knew that I could still find something beautiful. I always can. That is part of what makes my adventures so meaningful… I can find beauty in ANY Situation. But I gotta look for it… and it was painfully clear that today, I would have to search hard. The noise and pollution surrounding me at the moment was enough to almost make me get outta that region as fast as possible! But I was determined to go find this lake, and find something beautiful to enjoy amid this Chaos of Concrete and Noise…. 
The same chaos that so many who live here find to be what they want, and need… not knowing what a bit of nature can do for their soul. Yup, I know I live in a land where people do not understand peace, nor seek it… a land where anything natural is obliterated, anything created by God, or showing the way natural beauty is calming is forbidden.
I put my map away, because I knew from here where that hundreds of acres escape from the city was supposed to exist…

Often, I find my escapes in many ways. One of those I find to be extremely comforting is in what I listen to on my headphones. I still listen to old-fashioned broadcast radio. To be more specific, I listen to NPR… Yup Public Broadcasting. One of my all-time joys is the ability to actually listen on a weekend. The weekend shows are different than the weekday shows. With my work-schedule, I seldom get to listen on weekends anymore. But On my Birthday, it was a Saturday… and I was able to listen. This is one of those things that I can find peace, calm, and comfort in… especially in the chaos I suddenly was immersed-in on my quest to find this lake.

As I walked, listened to the radio, and tuned out as much as was possible the concrete jungle, I began to notice the area I was seeking. I was correct… It was no longer a natural area at all…



























heart sank. I pondered it a moment, then decided to continue on, and at least explore what remained of the lake.  As I approached, I saw a sign stating “Progress Ahead”. It was a City-construction sign, intended to show what they call progress was under way, and those walking here may encounter construction. It made me hurt more. The reality of where I live sinks in hard sometimes. The incessant need to eliminate anything beautiful and natural, make it sterile, and then call it “natural” by the humans here is absolutely disgusting. I still cannot grasp why so many people here will not go where nature is, until they have re-created it in a sterile way. Yes, I am aware that these places cater to the masses, and in this world, the masses drive everywhere, park their vehicles, and then walk…with frappucino in hand from the Starbucks only a block away. Then they go for “A Walk in Nature”, wearing their perfectly-fitted yoga outfits, hair combed, and makeup-unsmudged by any existence of real-life. They walk on paved paths, in pre-determined routes with no appreciation of what nature really is. 
To the masses, here, This is nature.
I cringed. I almost cried. BUT, I decided that I needed to make the best of it, and find something to enjoy about my Birthday. That is what I do. I find Beauty… somehow. I went on down to the edge of The Lake. I could tell there was something not right about the water, but that would take me a while to grasp. I saw some birds, and ducks. I knew I could find a spot to just be still, and get lost in what was considered ‘nature’ by this standard. I found the entire region was sterile. Not sterile as in “germ-free” but sterile in the sense that nothing existed here, except what man had created. There was not a single insect on the ground. There was not a pebble out of place. Yes, there were ‘dirt’ paths… but those were even perfectly manicured, and so smooth, I could have roller skated across them. I found there were places to sit along the shore of the lake… 
But even these were almost-square rock chunks placed on concrete slabs. Very sterile, very tidy. Ugh. Oh well… I Decided to sit a bit.
I was wearing my jeans and t-shirt, planning to either strip completely naked once I found the lake, or to at least change into my shorts. Once I saw the way the people here looked at me down their noses, and disapproved of my comfy-torn-holey jeans, and tie-dye shirt, I decided to not change into anything more comfy. This was not a safe place for me, and the last thing I needed was to be “on display”. This was clearly not a world for me. (I could not help but miss Oregon, Washington, and Virginia... where a setting like this I could easily lay out naked, and nobody would even look twice... heck often people would come and join me...But this was not that kind of accepting environment.) But I was determined to find something of beauty here. I sat. I watched.

Once I allowed myself to fully forget about those who occupied this place, I was able to see many wonderful birds. 
That was good. But as I watched, I also noticed the birds were the only life-form here. My suspicions about the toxic-lake were correct, and I was seeing it… or NOT seeing it, as it may be. I noticed there was not a single insect on the ground, flying or even on, or in the water. I noticed my lungs felt as if I had suddenly inhaled some form of pesticide, or vapor of toxin, poison, or something that was brewing deep in the waters of this old pit. I admired the birds, but wondered how they suffered. Birds are always amazing in how they manage to exist… even in the worst places. But as I sat there, I noticed more and more how bad this area was. This is Insect season… The end of March is when the ground begins to crawl with insects. The waters begin to have tadpoles, insects, and fish eagerly consuming their snacks.






I DID Find much beauty in the birds, but I could tell this was a bad place. I got some great shots of the birds… But even as I did, I was painfully reminded of how this natural lake was no longer a place of nature.















I decided I had inhaled enough (more than enough!) toxins, and went for a walk around the lake to see if I could discover anything else. As I walked, I could see how deep the waters were. The water was clear, and not cloudy… which also was strange. That told me Nothing lived in it. On some of the bridges, I marveled at how sterile this water was. So Strange. Not one fish, frog, insect, or critter existed here. Only the birds, and ducks. There was not even a single tadpole, lizard, or other type of critter. It was sterile (and toxic) beyond the ability to sustain even the simplest of live-forms.

The water really did look inviting, and I wanted so badly to go for a swim. I even touched it to see… it was warm enough! But it had a feel to it that told me it was instant poison. 











On a bridge, peering into the water... No Life here.
I really had my heart set on playing here for my birthday. It was hard to not get down about it, but I realized I really was glad I came. I had come, and learned. I had gone where I had previously not known. If I had not come, I always would have wondered. But I came. For that, I was glad. This is what makes me who I am. I go, explore, learn, discover, and add a wee-bit more to my understanding of this world in which I live. It is not always easy, and not always positive, fun, and pleasant… but It Always has a purpose, and Always takes me to the next step in this journey of life. With that in mind, I headed on to The Next part of this Birthday Journey.

I decided I would spend the rest of the day in a place where I Knew I could at least get naked, get into the water, and lay comfortably in the sun. A Place where I could see fish, critters, insects, and nature. A place where others did not look down their noses at me. A place where even when others saw me naked, they did not care. A place where there was not a Starbucks within six miles. That place was The Wetlands.

I walked to where I could catch a bus, and found I would be waiting another 45-minutes. I pondered walking… but it was at least another five or six miles to where I needed to connect with the bus that would take me out near the wetlands, and figured if I walked that far, I would not also want to go out and walk to, or through the wetlands. I waited. … and again was stuck in the middle of the Urban Jungle. As I sat there, I laughed… Here, I live right in the Middle of Downtown Las Vegas, and where I live is so peaceful, and has more nature than a place miles from Vegas! The place I live has two-lane-roads, is quiet, and comfortable…. In the middle of Downtown Vegas! Yet, out here, it is far-more polluted, unbearably noisy, and has ten-lane roads. The Irony is incredible.

Once I got to the bus-line that would take me out near The Wetlands, I laughed. That bus does not run on Saturdays. Ugh. Oh well… more adventure, right?

I decided to catch a bus that would take me about five miles from The Wetlands. It was still early afternoon, so I figured I could still have plenty of time to go explore, play, and enjoy that region. After I took that bus, I began walking towards The Wetlands. I got a feeling that I was not supposed to go there this day. I know better than to go where I feel I am not supposed-to. Fair-enough, I thought. I clearly am meant to do something else today. It was now well-above 80-degrees, and I was wanting to change into shorts. But I decided not to. It just did not feel right, so I stayed in my jeans. The irony is, I know I gotta trust my instincts… Every time I began to ponder just changing right where I was, A Henderson police officer would cruise by. That woulda been just perfect… get arrested on My Birthday for taking my clothes off in a public place. Each time I pondered changing, within seconds, another officer would come by, slow down, and watch me. I just laughed... And decided I was meant to stay in jeans this day.
The Henderson Police Department

Ironically, as I walked, still not sure where I was headed, since I knew I was not going to The Wetlands, I pondered all the new sights I’d never before seen out here. I discovered the New Henderson Police Station. Ironically, It had more nature than any other place I’d been all day! 









And even Lizards! 
I smiled, and enjoyed the irony.
Then, as I walked some more, I remembered seeing pictures from someone I knew online about a trip they took to Henderson, and very recent pictures of The Henderson Bird-Viewing Sanctuary. I did look at the map of where they took those photos, because two-years before, I had tried to find the same place… And ironically, that was how I found a new section of The Wetlands. That sanctuary did not exist where it was shown on the maps, and even on a Google-earth map. At that time, I went where the maps showed, and the aerial photos showed… and it could not be found. The roads did not exist. (That is something I am learning about Vegas, Henderson, and this entire region… Because of the mentality that exists to obliterate everything, and constantly change what exists, No Road matches what is shown on the maps, or Aerial Views. I need to stop trusting that a map is accurate here. I tend to go on life-long lessons, and trust that maps are created to be accurate… as has been the case in every other region I’ve ever explored…. But not here.

But I felt I was near the Bird Sanctuary, and kept walking. Sure enough, I found this sign.
Oh, whoops... it seems it is a "Preserve" not a Sanctuary. Ha! :)


As I walked down the long road, I was surprised to find that at each place where it seemed to end, and where I hoped I would find The Sanctuary, there was yet another sign: 




This continued for well-over a mile, with many new turns, and many more signs. I was beginning to wonder if This Place Really Existed, or was it just like so many other things here… Long gone. 










Finally, I found This sign:  Yes! Finally!...
….Then I turned the corner…. 










All I could do was laugh! I asked out loud, “Couldn’t you have placed that sign a mile-back??” I had to pee, and since I did not for the past hour because every time I turned around a police officer was watching me, I decided This was the perfect spot! I knew no officers had come down that road, and I could pee right here. I Pee’d On their Fence! Right there, right then. I pondered peeing on the sign, but decided that would just be wrong.

I was hungry, and had plenty of food in my pack, but had not previously found a place I wanted to sit and eat… But I needed to, so I went to a concrete retaining wall, and ate. While I ate, I saw lots of insects, and could smell Horse-poop. To me, this was good. It was nature… well, sorta. But I watched the red ants, and wondered where the horse-poop smell was wafting from. Anyone who has ever been around horses knows that horse-people are often caring, outdoor-type people. They are not usually into eliminating nature, paving everything, and fighting with others. Horse-people tend to be kind, and want to be peaceful. So, the smell of Horse poop was a good thing.




I saw this insect, and got down on the pavement at its level to watch it move. Nature is a wonderful thing.












As I walked back, I was not sure where I’d head next. I found some of the strangest things… Here is a shooting range that no longer exists. 







This sign had no reason. there was nothing facing it.











I saw signs that made no sense… out in the middle of nothing. 





















As I walked, I could smell more horse-poop. That made me smile. As the horse-poop smell got stronger, I noticed more red ants. I wondered of the red ants somehow thrived on horse poop. When I began seeing not just red ants, but massive ant-hills, and watching the ants, I realized why I had come where I did on My Birthday. I realized how tiny I am on This Huge Earth. I realized that while the earth goes on obliterating what is natural, and I am seeking to find something I could enjoy, perhaps I was looking at too big of a picture. I was seeking something different than the peaceful places I had already discovered. I already know all-too-well how it’s the littlest things that make life worthwhile. As I watched the ants, and noticed what they accomplished, I was happy, amazed, and a wee-bit humbled. 

Ironically, IF There had been any living form at The Lake, I likely would have appreciated it then, too… But since I traveled at least twenty miles on buses, and so far had walked well-over twelve miles this day, and it was only once I smelled the Horse poop, and saw the ants that I truly found happiness, it is an interesting feeling. I watched those ants haul pieces of gravel which were bigger than the ant, and marveled at their ability. 


The anthills were perfectly formed, with a perfect flow of ants in and out of the tiny openings. There was not a single conflict, and each ant knew what it was supposed to do. As each piece of gravel, wood, sand, or dirt was carried out, it was precisely placed to help build the grand-mound surrounding their hole. 

I walked further, and found where the Horse poop originated from. I noticed the ants seemed to thrive in the actual piles of horse poop. This, too made me smile, and appreciate nature. It only helped to prove what I say is wrong with our Earth today. I noticed how life thrived in the poop-pile, and also how the ants made their homes in what those who destroyed the lake and its surrounding would find appalling. The ants did not live in a sterile environment, but they seemed healthier and more adjusted than the humans I saw this day. 















A Mega-road with 6-lanes... right now it is empty...

The ants had lots of traffic in their little paths they made into and out of their homes, But they knew how to get along, and how to work with the others they shared this home with. The ants had only one lane, and hundreds shared that one lane for all directions. The humans build mega-roads, and still can't seem to move anywhere.The humans seemed to thrive on being angry, honking, and yelling at others who shared the crazy world they had created. The ants appreciated what they had, and used it to their advantage. The humans did not. The ants had a wonderful balance in how they went about life. They used what nature gave them, and made it work quite well. The Humans felt they needed to change their world to make it fit their lives… yet they are not happy. 

Later that night, after I had gone home, I decided to go get a pizza for my Birthday dinner. There are many pizza places near me. In fact in the past month no less than 5 new pizza places have opened. I could have gone to any one of those brand-new, shiny, glitzy, sparkling-clean, and not a speck-of-grease having yet accumulated on the fixtures places. All these new places have lines of people wishing to experience the newest, the brightest, the fanciest, the still-unblemished, and the fancy uniformed-workers without a spot of grease yet on their aprons. 

I chose to go to The Oldest Pizza-joint in Downtown. Uncle Joe’s Pizza is not bright, not sparkling, not fancy, and definitely not boasting about its fancy uniforms. Uncle Joe’s is one of the oldest, but most-wonderful pizza places I have discovered in Downtown Vegas. They do not have a door-person to evaluate if you fit their criteria, match their dress-codes, or are the look they want others to see in their pizzeria. There is not a line to get in, and no fancy sings, lighting, or even menu-boards. Their menu is on a piece of paper, taped to the window. The employees have t-shirts as their uniform with years of wear-and-tear, grease-stains that a gallon of bleach could not touch, and have no intention of trying to pretend to be anything they are not. The counter is worn with the use that comes from years of providing service to the community. The restaurant feels like it is comfortable, and welcoming, because it has welcomed thousands over the years. It has forged a spot in this community, working with the community, not against it.When you place your order, they do not give you a number. They remember each customer, and when your pizza is ready, they know who you are, and which order is yours. You could say that Uncle Joe’s is comparable to The Horse poop. 

For those who know and appreciate real life, Uncle Joe’s is thriving with life. Much like the ants do not find horse poop to be offensive, this is the same with the humans who call Uncle Joe’s comfortable, and will continue to eat there. We appreciate what is real, tried and true, and know that without a doubt, we will always find what we need in our lives among the poop. The people who go to those new pizza places look down their noses at a place like Uncle Joe’s. Those are the same people who won't visit a natural place, until it has been bulldozed, sterilized, paved, and planted with perfectly manicured plants. Those are the people who will not visit the outdoors if the is life to be found in it. It is sad, because they are so afraid to go where there might be life, they actually miss out on the most important things… the little things....LIFE.

It only made me smile and realize how wonderful my life is. I can appreciate some of the seemingly most-simple things on Earth. Those simple things that are fast-being obliterated by my fellow humans. All my life, I have tried to get others to come along with me, to see life from my perspective… the perspective of an ant in the horse-poop. I like my world to be a bit on the poopy-side. I like my world a bit less-sterile. … Natural. Life thrives in the poop. Nothing lives in a man-made setting. The visit to The Railroad Lake was exactly  what I needed for My 45th Birthday. I can appreciate that I found someplace I had not been, learned from it, and because of this exploration, have yet a better understanding of The World in which I live. Now, I just wonder what it will take to get the rest of The Humans to understand that The Poop is where life really happens. 

Sometimes, ya gotta wear the jeans, when you’d rather be naked. Sometimes ya gotta find a lake, only to realize this was not the day you were supposed to go swimming. Sometimes, ya gotta walk for miles, just to discover an ant hill amid mounds of horse poop. Sometimes, it takes many buses, many hours of your day, and Many unpleasant sights to discover what is really important in life….

Vegas needs so much more than rain...
As I walked to get my pizza, I saw this quote on a plaza. Ironically this was next to one of the oldest buildings downtown… not near one of the new places. This sums up quite well what I saw and experienced on my 45th Birthday. Vegas thrives on removing all life-forms. Rain is such an important ingredient to life... yet Vegas and Henderson have worked to remove what would benefit from the rain, So this quote hits it right on the head... Rain would do no good to an environment that does not appreciate life. The Irony is lost on those who plan these cities. We live in a desert. Rain creates and sustains life. Now All forms of vegetation have been removed, so no water can remain, the air cannot be cleaned, the water that exists is toxic, and we have droughts, and flash-floods. It's not hard to grasp... but for those who have been here too long, it seems the heat has warped their brain. Water is life. Nature heals itself. Concrete, and lack of living forms destroys itself. I live in Vegas. I still seek life.

Monday, October 29, 2012

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, GRAMMA!


Happy Birthday Gramma!

October 29th. That date always makes me smile. It is my Gramma’s Birthday… well, it Was. She has long-ago left the living side of this place we call Earth. But every time I see that date it makes me smile. I still wish her a Happy Birthday every time.

This Gramma I refer to is My Mom’s Mom. Ironically, this is the one I call ‘Gramma’, not the proper “Grandma”.  Why is this ironic? Because My Dad’s Mom was actually more casual in most ways, yet I called her by the proper of “Grandma”.  The one on Mom’s side was often the one who was VERY Formal…Well, some times. It really does make me smile to consider her more ‘formal’, because in the ways she connected with me in life, and why she was so important usually were all the times she was less-than formal. (Far Far less than formal!)

You know, it really is ironic. Gramma was often the most formal person I ever knew. She was a high-society, Country-Club (Golf, not boots, hat, juke-box style), world-traveling, Pearl and Diamond wearing High-class lady. She was the one who felt children should be seen, and not heard. She was the one who was all about the image, the way others perceived you, the standing in society, the finer-things in life. She was the one who had formal dinner parties where the men wore their finest suits, and the ladies wore their heels and pearls, with obligatory shrimp-cocktails, and proper silver at each place-setting in her formal sparkling dining room, under the crystal chandelier.

Why is it Ironic? Simple: While she was all that, she also knew how to be The Most Casual person you’d ever meet. She was The one that when the pearls came off, she would be the first to be a nudist. She would be the first to help any person in need. She would be the first to make sure her Grandkids had a Coke, some Triscuits with cheese, and a Banana. She would be the first to volunteer to take a carload of kids to the local amusement park. She would be the first to welcome any of our friends over at any time. She would be the first to allow us to make a sheet-fort in her formal dining room for a sleep-over. She would happily take her grandkids, and any of our friends out to some of the best restaurants… and allow us to be kids. She would proudly introduce us to all the people she knew in her high-society world, yet not be embarrassed one bit to relax, and even be a kid herself.

While she was a stickler for proper grammar, and proper English, she would be the first to speak fluent Pig-Latin at any given moment. While she was the first to promote proper English, she was the fastest with the zingers of any word-play puns. While she was almost hell-bent on anyone speaking any language in America other than English, she was the first to want to understand every culture she ever came across, including learning their native tongue. When at her house, it was not uncommon to hear her interacting with someone of a different culture, and attempting to have a conversation using the language of that individual. She knew how and when to let the rule of Proper English be thrown out. Likewise, anyone who ever had a conversation with her also valued being let-in, and cherished that she would actually want to learn and converse in their own. Yet, they also knew there was a time and place for Proper English in her presence, and a time to allow the native-tongue to come out.

While she sometimes could not let some article of clothing go past her without pointing out a flaw in the stitching, or a flaw in the fabric, or note that it was not properly pressed, properly starched, or any other imperfection, she would also be the first to let us take a pair of scissors to our good pants to make raggy cut-offs at a moment’s notice… then the next day, or later that same day, take us to a store to buy new pants. She would be the one who always made sure we had clean clothes if we stayed at her house, yet the first to encourage us to get dirty in her garden. She would be the one who had an immaculate garden, yet if you watched her after dark, you got the pleasure of watching her go snail-hunting. Yep, even after a formal dinner… if you knew when to watch, you would see her in her dress and pearls, with a flashlight, and an old shoe… she would hunt for those pesky-snails every night, using her flashlight, pluck them with her bare hands, place them on the brick, and smash them with the old shoe!

She was the one who always presented a clean house, an immaculate yard, and the last to ever have a visible clothes-line for drying her laundry. Yet, she hated to waste money running the clothes dryer. On any given day, you would see all the laundry, including the torn-tattered underwear carefully placed on every chair, bench, patio table, the diving board for the pool, the fence-boards, or any other surface she could utilize… but she would not have a visible clothes-line! She did have some discreetly hung lines under the boat-port that she often used, but would never be caught with a visible clothes line in the yard. Her yard was always clean, so often she would even just lay the towels, clothes, etc directly on the patio to dry. As funny as he was about not running the clothes-dryer, she would run it when you least expected, too. She loved to surprise any guest at her house with clean clothes when they least expected it. Often when we had been helping in the garden we got unexpectedly dirty. Naturally we would just strip and go skinny dipping afterwards, not worrying about the laundry, or whether our clothes we had removed were clean, or not. But, by the time we had finished skinny dipping, laying in the sun, and decided it was time to put clothes on again, we always were pleasantly surprised to find that Gramma had gathered, washed, dried, and folded what we had previously been wearing! Any time us kids, or our friends ended-up spending the night, but had not planned on it, she would gather any clothes we had been wearing, and when we woke the next morning, our dirty clothes from the day before were cleaned, dried, and neatly folded at the foot of the bed. Often, we were baffled and amazed by the magic of clean clothes. We often wondered how and when she had pulled off such magic!

In My Blog, I have written more individual blogs which contain references to how much of an impact My Gramma made in my life than I have about any other individual. It is ironic too, that She was so important in so much of what makes Me who I am today. Because, as a kid, I really did not understand, nor realize how much of an impact She made. Only once I started discovering who I am really am, after years of struggles as an adult, did I understand the impact she made in my life. I ALWAYS Knew she was a Huge Part of my life as a kid. I Always Loved when I got to spend time with her. I always cherished the freedom she taught me. I always cherished the acceptance she gave me.

These things, too, are very ironic. The valuable things she taught me are often puzzling, too. She showed me how much importance she placed on how a person’s body looked, yet she was The One Person who Never, Ever made me feel uncomfortable about my body. She was the one person I never had to hide Anything from, yet she was the first to condemn a person for so many things they would do.  She was The Only Person I never felt ashamed in front of, no matter what. She was not at all worried, or condemning toward me on things I would be mortified to ever allow another to see. She showed and taught me Acceptance of another. This acceptance she taught was so valuable, because she showed acceptance toward me in things she openly admitted she was not comfortable with, did not like. She taught me how to learn to love another, even if I did not like what that person did, or how they looked.

But she was not this way toward just me. While she was openly against so many things that did not suit her lifestyle, she also welcomed ANY lifestyle of those who were our friends. She did not always think they were appropriate, and she likely would make those feeling known, But she still welcomed Any we brought into her home. Even those who she made very clear she was not happy about their choices, they were still welcome. They knew how she felt, but she was careful to not push them away. There was an odd respect that was truly admirable.

While I am sure I missed some, Here are some of the Blogs I mention Gramma in… even tho’ some deal with some of the hardest times in my life, there is also fun, love, and some darned funny life-lessons, too. You might find some fun in any one of these!
~The one when I learned My Family moved out of state while I was at camp: http://enterwithanopenmindorclosedeyes.blogspot.com/2011/09/surprise-your-family-moved-out-of-state.html
~And of course, the Hilarious Summer When My Grampa and I became naked Smurfs… (Yes, Gramma is highly featured here, too!): http://enterwithanopenmindorclosedeyes.blogspot.com/2012/05/summer-grampa-and-i-became-naked-smurfs.html

There are more references to Gramma in some of the other Blogs, too, but these show much of her character, and some of my connection to her.

Another interestly ironic thing about My Gramma: I do not have a single picture of her. Not One. Many times in the past year, as I am sorting old photos, attempting to get all my past into some sort of organised mess, I ponder why this might be. It is not that there weren't ever any cameras around. heck, I was even a fanatic about capturing everything on film even as a kid! Amazingly, I have very few photos of any of my life at Gramma n Grampa's... yet I spent so much of my first twelve years at their home. 
But, Fitting enough, I happen to have one photo of a Birthday at Gramma's... This one is Me n My Mom, celebrating our birthdays in 1980. I was 12. Mom was... well, a little older. This shows us blowing out our candles in Gramma's home made pies! 
Me n Mom, Grammas homemade Bday pie. Campbell, Ca. March, 1980

On This 29th of October, I say:
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, GRAMMA!

Monday, September 26, 2011

Happy Birthday To My Favorite Sister!

 Happy Birthday to My Favorite Sister!



Jodi with Sonja San Jose, Ca. 1978 by JOn's ~=:-) view
Jodi and our cat in 1978
Okay, she happens to be MY ONLY Sister...
But she is still my favorite!
I have had the pleasure of having some of the most wonderful people in my life. Some have been life-long friends, some have been only briefly. Every single person who has been important to me has played an important part of my life. Each has had a special purpose, and a special connection. Each has fit into my life in different ways. Each has understood differing aspects of my unique personality. Seldom has any totally understood me. I treasure the bits each person does understand, and where we connect. There is only ONE who has been understanding, and even accepting of who I am completely.


 
Jodi watching Grampa carve the turkey. Campbell, Ca. March 1980
Jodi watching Grandpa carve a turkey in 1980

 That one person is My Sister, Jodi. Today is Her Birthday. I can’t tease her too much about getting older, because she will always be younger than me, and when I tease her about her age, it seems I feel the effects of aging even more magnified. I won’t even say how old she is now. (I am 43, and she was born a year-and-a-half after I was…..depending on how you do the math she could be a couple of different ages today.)
It is kinda funny, though. She was (and is) NOT a Morning-person. I am Definitely a Morning-person. We often went places as kids that required us to be up, and traveling before the sun came up. Jodi would manage to always be ready to go, and barely awake… until well-after the sun had come up. Then she was unstoppable. Her and I often were buddies in so many of the activities we did. I ALWAYS Enjoyed the sunrises, and would tell her about how wonderful they were. We connected on many activities in life, but not the sunrise issue. What was always amazing was how we could go skiing, to flea-markets, road-trips, vacations, to the beach, to visit relatives, to amusement parks, and just about ANY activity you could imagine, and I would see such wonderful sunrises. Jodi never saw any. Then one day, as adults, she called me at 7:30 in the morning, and was excitedly telling me about the sunrise she had just seen. She was excited, and wanted to tell me she was up for the sunrise. She was thrilled to be able to finally tell me she saw one! I was thrilled, too, but I knew there had to be a catch! It only took me a second to figure out this phenomenon. For over thirty years, I had not succeeded in getting her to see a sunrise. I asked her if she was in Vegas. She said she WAS In Fact in Vegas. She saw the sunrise, because she had stayed up all night, and just happened to still be up when the sun rose that morning.


Jodi, n Me. Glide, Or. Spring, 1991
Caught us smiling...Again! 1991 in Glide, Oregon

Last week, Jodi was in Vegas again. I currently live in Vegas, and had not seen my sister since before I moved from Oregon in February. I probably had not seen her for many months before I moved. She came to Vegas, and decided to show up at my work to surprise me. It took her three attempts to actually find me, because my schedule is kinda whacky, and she was just winging-it, hoping to catch me by surprise. When she came and found I was not there, she had to make those who she talked-to promise not to tell me she was there. She was playing it the same way I often had when I stopped-in and surprised her. She finally caught up with me, and we got a chance to chat, and visit. Turns out she did not see the sunrise during this visit to Vegas, but She and I shared a good laugh about that one time she did see the sunrise.

Me, Jodi, Highlife with our carnival painted faces. San Jose, Ca. 1978
Yup! Two Funny Faces... Do you see how people say We Look alike?

The funniest thing I always hear from people who meet my sister for the first time, is “She looks just like you!” (my apologies to you, Jodi). They reference the eyes, smile, and face. It makes me laugh, too. I remember one manager in Medford who had not yet met her. She came up to him and asked where to find me, and his reply to her was “Agh! It’s a Female-Jon!” (again, my apologies to you, Jodi.) There are some I am not happy to be compared to, but my sister is not one of those. I always find it to be a good thing.



When the topic of creativity comes up, she swears I took ALL the creative genes in our family. I think she has just forgotten (old age will do that to a person) all the fun we had doing creative things as kids. We once made play-doh from scratch, and subsequently learned to paint walls because of it. We often made play-doh, and had endless hours with all that we could do with it. We made it different colors, would shape it, and often let it dry in the different shapes. We would make some really thick, and see how tall we could form it. We would make some really runny, and see if we could still work with it as a liquid. There were times we managed to wear more of it than seemed possible, and of course the food-coloring would stain our skin funny colors, and often mom had the "pleasure" of teaching us how to scrub the residue out of our clothes before throwing them in the washer. It was not uncommon to make art, ornaments, or just blobs for others. This one particular day, we made HUGE amounts of it. We had a huge room downstairs with lots of counter-space for spreading-out our messes. For whatever reason, on this day, we decided to throw it against the walls, and see what shapes we could make stick to the walls. We did this with clay of every color, shape and size for endless hours. It was only after we had finished playing that the evidence, and damage of our adventure became obvious. It turns out that the oil in the home-made play-doh soaked into the paint on the walls, and permanently stained the walls. That was when we learned how to scrub, prime, and paint walls. Mom was always eager to teach us, along with making sure we learned from our mistakes.
Mom always encouraged us to play, learn, and even make messes, knowing we would always learn something new every time.


Highlife, Jodi n Me. 100-mile an hour winds, Cannon Beach, Or. Spring, 1988
Spring, 1988 on Cannon Beach.
Yup! We went out to play in 100-mile an hour winds!

Jodi and I took swim-lesson, ski-lessons, cooking classes, and assorted craft classes together as tiny little kids. We learned together, and pushed each other’s limits, enjoying the thrills and challenges. We often could be found making wonderful art creations to sell at a card-table on the sidewalk. We were creative, and adventurous in our coming up with fun things in the kitchen. Sometime the messes we created were bigger than the total combined food we were attempting to make. But no matter what life threw at us, we always made the most fun out of it.





Me n Jodi on Summit of Mt Bachelor, Or. Spring, 1989
Spring, 1989
Jodi and I on Mt Bachelor Summit


























Of Course, there were tons of differences, too. But, we always have had a wonderful connection, and shared many of life’s adventures together. I am sure I will share more wonderful stories of growing up with The Most Wonderful Sister ever!



Jodi, 1977









Happy Birthday, Jodi! May you see the sunrise… at least once more… and call to tell me!
For any of you who have not had the pleasure of sharing life with The Most Wonderful Sister, I might be willing to share mine! (of course she may have something else to say about this...)
~=:-)