Archive for September 2nd, 2009

Phone calls

September 2, 2009

You know the ones.
You have a bad feeling, but you hope you just forgot something.
My mother called earlier this evening and left a message – OK to call to a reasonable time.
But of course I was working late at a sustainability function selling water conservation (really giving away all manner of items to help folks use less water).
So I didn’t hear of the call until after the reasonable time had passed.

I need to call my mother in the morning, and then call my son – with one of those calls.
But mostly right now I just miss my Aunt Betty, who passed away this morning.

Betty on her deck

Betty on her deck

Bubs & Betty - Sisters

Bubs & Betty - Sisters

I only know that she has always been a kind of a beacon of what you can achieve if you just do and be yourself.
Breaking trail on cross country skis at twice my age, and I am struggling to keep up (some 25 – 30 years ago now).

And I am happy that my son got to spend a summer with this wonderful woman 2 years ago – sharing and learning. Taking her to her first (maybe?) professional baseball game, but not thinking about the dynamics of an older person sitting on a hard bleacher for 9 innings, which was the enduring memory of the game. And birding hikes and Cohen brother movies.

And I am happy that we got to visit with Betty this summer, the last time just a week ago in fact.
And her eyes still lit up with spirit and energy. 

There is so much more to say, but I didn’t want to say good-bye.

Wol

September 2, 2009

I don’t remember exactly how A.A. Milne spelled it in the book, but that is my recollection of how it is said.

Carl & I were out tonight, watching some friends play baseball. (And I don’t mean the Mariners.)
As we were leaving for our respective cars I followed the outfield fence around to the parking lot.
I glanced up at a shape at the top of the 8 foot fence immediately to my left.
There was a bird. A rather largish bird. An owl to be specific, a big barn owl I think. I was only about 5 feet away. (The face looked like a barn owl, but this was bigger than any barn owl I had seen before, so maybe not.)
My enormous brain first processed the danger quotient, “No, I don’t think it will attack me.” [I hardly look like a mouse or rabbit.]
I then jumped a bit, and called quietly to Carl & motioned for him to come back toward me.
As I moved away and Carl got closer the owl flew from the fence to an adjacent tree, but was still visible and showed us his face again.

Sorry I didn’t have an IPhone to document the event with. I don’t think my cell phone would have done it any justice.