Stories from the life of a stranger

It's been quite a while since I've written anything. I haven't felt that I really had much of anything interesting to say, and now I find myself conflicted with the desire to share two different incidences from my day. I suppose I'll just have to make two entries, as they don't really flow together as one topic. But anyway, down to business. I would like to share a story with you. Perhaps it is not put forward as eloquently as many others could do, but it is a story from true life and I want to share it. There is no moral of the story, no lesson to learn, and no real point in sharing it beyond the fact that it put a smile on my face and completely made my day.

Though it is only in the last couple weeks of March, the temperature has gotten up to 80 the last couple days and you could not ask for more glorious weather. I unfortunately had to work yesterday and was unable to enjoy the day other than to open my window for the latter part of the day. Today, however, was my day off. I had been putting off getting my oil changed for the last thousand miles and finally made an appointment to bring my car in late this morning. The door to the sitting room was open, allowing me to soak in the warm breeze and the ambiance of a beautiful day as I read my book. As I was on my way back home I kept thinking about what a shame it would be to just end up in my room the rest of the day. Even if I had my windows open to let in the day, it would still feel like a waste. I had almost determined to simply take my book into the tree in the front yard with me when I realized that I would shortly be passing the levee, and made the impulsive decision to stop there and take a walk.

I have only been on the levee a few times in the past couple years, but as I walked I remembered all the times from my childhood when we'd all go to the levee together. It was very rare that we would ever make it all the way to the end, as the youngest kids would get to tired to go more than a certain distance, or there was the occasional mishap resulting in a skinned knee or other such injury. Back in those days, we had so much energy to burn and mom and dad decided to let us run along the portions of the walk that actually had the fencing on the sides. We had to stop at the end of those sections and wait for the parents (and probably the youngest sibling) to catch up and walk with us until we got to the next section with fencing. These memories, combined with the warmth of the sun, the light breeze, birdsong, and just the general feeling of beauty everywhere put a perpetual smile on my face.

As I neared the end of the walk, an elderly man passed me slowly on his bike, commenting on how lovely the day was. When I reached the end I saw the same man sitting on a bench looking out on the view with a pair of binoculars. I stood at the fence looking across the dam for a bit, and then as I turned to make my way to a picnic table next to the bench, the old man invited me to come sit with him for a bit. If the day had been less lovely, if I had not already decided to sit down for a bit, had I not been in as open and happy of a mood, or had I even had any other commitments for the day, I would have most likely felt a bit of inner panic and awkwardness at social contact, and from a stranger at that, and would have made some sort of excuse and left. But, as I was in such good spirits and the day was really too glorious to enjoy alone, I smiled and accepted the invitation with only the slightest feeling of awkwardness inside. (I will most likely always retain some degree of inner, and sometimes outer awkwardness for the rest of my days. There is no escaping it.)

I am so glad I decided to sit there for a while, for I spent the next hour chatting with a very interesting 77 year-old character named George. He's not one of those old men girls would refer to as a cute or adorable old man, nor was he spry, impertinent, cheeky, feeble, or somewhat confused. He was a very real, genuine person who belonged to an older, simpler time. He had so many stories to tell me about his life, his friends, his older relatives, and little-known facts and tidbits from history. His grandmother was one of the passengers on the Titanic, and he told me bits of things she had told him from that time as well as his own theories about the sinking of the ship (which his grandmother insisted was the fault of the Germans). I don't feel that it is quite right to share all the things he talked with me about on here, as his stories are not mine and I don't have the right publicly post what he had to say. But all the same, I want to give an idea of the intriguing nature of many of the things he talked about.

This man collects binoculars from tag sales and flea markets, primarily war time binoculars. The pair he had with him today was a recently acquired small model of German make, from the second world war. He told me many stories of other pairs he had found, facts and stories in history having to do with binoculars, and of a pair of long, brass binoculars he once bought for $30 that turned out to be originally from a Russian ship that had been sunk by the Japanese fleet when they crushed the puny Russian fleet. The Japanese converted the Russian binoculars to the Japanese style by adding lines in the viewer that would assist them in shooting down other mortals. George found out the history of the binoculars when he took them to an antique shop where he was offered $600 for them. When he visited the same shop a week or two later, he saw those same binoculars he had sold sitting in the window with a $2000 price tag on them. (George also collects glasses and watches from tag sales and flea markets, but I won't go into any of those stories.)

I also got to hear stories about various friends and people he had known, things he had seen and done, and other random things of life. I found out that he believes in UFOs. "They're out there, you know. Always have been." Supposedly a friend of his had seen a UFO a few years back while doing some early morning fishing in a cove in that area. For, as you know, "they like quiet, secluded places." George told me about wildlife in the area, birdcalls, a white coyote he saw once, and how he once mistakenly pet a bear cub, assuming it was the dog from a nearby house that would visit him from time to time at one of his resting spots. I mostly listened and occasionally made encouraging responses or asked questions, doing little talking about myself, but that's the kind of conversation I like best, I think. I love listening to other people, especially when they have such interesting stories and lives. That one hour spent in conversation with 77 year-old George made my day, and I'm hoping that I brightened his day a bit by being such a willing and agreeable listener. I'm afraid not many people have the time or take the time for that kind of thing. As we prepared to part ways, George told me that he wished he were about 30 years younger. I laughed a bit at that, but refrained from telling him that as he would still have been old enough to be my father at that point, he would really have to be more like 50 years younger to hope for anything. (Though I am obligated by my boyfriend to say that even in that case, I am still spoken for :P)

I have no real point to make with this post, other than that people should really get out there and enjoy the weather, appreciate God's creation, and take time to talk with others and listen to the stories of old people. I fear that most people view the elderly as an inconvenience, as having outlived their time, incompetent, feeble, and useless. But I believe that most of them have so much more knowledge and life experience than any of the rest of us have, and they are more than worth talking with.

From the safety of a tree

There is this tree on campus, right in between one of the academic buildings and one of the fraternities, that I have been wanting to get into for a while now. It is a pretty big tree, which is part of the problem. The limbs are all quite large and pretty far apart, but they'd also be perfect for sitting on. I decided that today was the day to get into the tree. (I have tried once before, but I wasn't totally committed at the time.) This time, I was determined to get in it, no matter what. I was not going to "try", I was going to "do" it! So, changing into bum jeans and sweatshirt (for it is just about 50 degrees out there), I made my way to the tree. The lowest branch is about level with my head and about as big around as my torso. I attempted to wrap my arms around it, then my legs, so that from the position of hanging underneath it, I could potentially rotate around until I was on top of it. Ha, that didn't work. It was too big and there were no handholds I could use to pull myself around. After several failed attempts, I went around to the other side of the tree. Another large branch, about half a foot higher up than the other one, split into two segments about a foot out from the trunk of the tree. Those two sections were about as big around as my legs, or slightly smaller. Using both of them, I was able to finally pull myself up. There were some scary moments, but I had finally made it into the tree. Once on that branch, I realized that I was stuck. All the other branches were so big and far apart that I couldn't really get to them. One giant limb split out of the tree at about the same level as my branch, a little over a foot around to the right of my branch. My branch felt really exposed, and was not really a very safe perch. The other limb looked like the perfect, safe, and strong place to be. But I couldn't get to it. I had finally worked up the courage and determination to get into the tree. Through several attempts and near disasters, I had made it to the first level. But when it came time to progress further and get to the next level- one of safety and security, I couldn't do it. I couldn't work up the faith to make the dangerous leap to that place. I tried to shift my position little bit by little bit so I could try different approaches, but still couldn't do it. There was no branch above me that I could use as a handhold to pull myself to standing, and no smaller branches to the side I could use. Everything was so big and removed from me, and I was stuck, exposed, just sitting on that one limb. After sitting in disappointment for a while, I slid off my branch and walked away sadly.

My mind was called by the memory of an overlooked little tree, hiding in a corner of the rarely used courtyard outside of the music building, buried between the two Comm wings. I quickly made my way over there and decided to renew my acquaintance with the little thing, and become friends. The little evergreen was still young, but it was strong and wiry. There were plenty of handholds, and the branches were the perfect size to wrap my hand around and enabled me to pull myself up with confidence. It was a little tricky weaving my way through all the branches of the young tree, and the size of the branches diminished rapidly as I ascended, as well as becoming denser. But it was wonderful. Here was a challange I was ready for. I stopped just above the one-story roof of the music building beside me. Sitting on one branch, left leg tucked slightly behind me braced on one branch, and right leg braced on a branch directly below. My left arm hooked around the trunk of the tree and over a branch right in front of me, while my right arm draped across a branch that extended from the trunk out accross me, almost like a seat belt, only chest height. My left side was braced against the tree trunk, and the side of my face was pressed into the tree. In that position, I felt so safe, secure, and hidden away. As the tree was an evergreen, the branches were not bare, and provided a cover in the gathering darkness as I enjoyed the tree's company in solitude. It began to mist out in the world around me, but I was safe and sheltered within the covering of the tree. I began to relax and release some of the tension I had been holding onto. As I felt the tension slipping away, I  began to see what was lying under the tension. And in that place, so removed from the reality of everyday life and hidden from the eyes of those who wouldn't see me anyway, I could explore where I was and dig into those things lying underneath all the tension. As such issues cannot be easily or quickly solved and cast away, I eventually had to end my reflections and leave the tree. I have only begun to wrestle with the issues I have uncovered, but at least they are no longer buried deep down and festering in the darkness.

Climbing Trees

I climbed our old maple tree today. It was wonderful. Growing up, we all referred to that maple in our front yard as "the climbing tree". We all enjoyed clambering into it and sitting in that perfect seat, or climbing up as high as we could. We have some old pictures of various children in it, and I think we have one somewhere with Geoff, Sarah, myself, and Nathan in it somewhere. I've always loved climbing trees. I love the exhilaration and challenge of pulling myself ever higher, and I love just perching somewhere and enjoying the feeling of sitting in the tree. There aren't many trees that are good for climbing at school. There are a couple that I can find a perch in, but can't really "climb" them. One of my last nights there, I found a tree with a friend that I could actually climb up a ways before sitting. That was really fun. There was a few weeks that I didn't have the opportunity or make the time to climb up into a tree and sit. It was nice to have that one night at the very end of the semester. Now I've been home for two weeks, and I finally went up in a tree again. I don't think I've sat in our climbing tree since two summers ago, and I don't think I actually climbed higher in it at that point. It's been a while.

I spent the middle of the day working at pruning our rhododendrons, which for two of them involved a bit of climbing. Those bushes had gotten big! I didn't want to risk that rickety ladder to get at the higher branches, so as much as possible, I just reached and pulled a branch down until I could cut the tops. The middle ones were too tall for me to do that on two of the bushes, and I ended climbing up the center of the bush a ways before I could do some cutting. I got pretty dirty with showers of bark, dead bits of flower, seeds, leaves, and branches falling on my head and all down and in my shirt. When I finished my pruning, it was just such a lovely day that I didn't want to go inside yet, and as I was already quite dirty, I decided to climb the tree.

Some of our best branches are now missing cause Daddy removed them a few years back. It made me sad, but at least I could still use the rounded stumps of some of them as footholds to climb. I couldn't sit on some of the old branches anymore, but at least I could climb. I went up higher than I think I've gone before,  but I could only climb and lean against various points of the trunk; there were no places to sit up there. Later on when I was back on the ground, I looked up and located a crotch that I may be able to sit in, if I can get up to it. That crotch is pretty high up, higher than I've ever gone. It might be rather dangerous to attempt to get up there. After my climbing excursion, I went back down to the original crotch of the tree to just sit. That first crotch has got to be one of the most comfortable sitting places in any tree. I will have to get a picture of it later and add it to this post.

I don't know how interested anyone will be in reading a post about a tree, but I really love trees. It's always so calming for me to be able to sit in a tree. I love nature in general, but trees hold a special place in my heart. Maybe it's because in a tree, I can hide in a sense; in a tree, I can sit back in the security of strong branches; in a tree, I can breathe in the smells of nature; in a tree, I can have color and life all around me, above and below; in a tree, I am removed from all the normalness of life and can escape the stress and pressures; in a tree, I can revert to innocent, childish days. Maybe I'm just rambling, trying to explain just why I love trees and how being in one feels to me, but I don't even really understand myself.

Anyway, I'll stop rambling now. I will get pictures of the tree (and perhaps me in it...) to put in here eventually. I will also keep you updated if I ever climb up to a higher spot to sit. (cause I know you're all so very interested...)

Earthworms

So I like to go across the way to this little place, never sure whether to call it an athletic trail or a park.... I think it's known as both.... but anyway, I like to go there in the evenings/at night to walk or just sit. It has such a peaceful atmosphere at night. Almost no one ever goes there at night. There were a couple evenings, before it was too late, that I saw some people jogging around the park, but not in it. There were two other evenings that a few people came to walk the labyrinth, but for the most part I'm the only one who occupies it at night. I will have to take pictures and put them up sometime.

Tonight, I actually didn't walk the labyrinth, or the paths, or the circumference of the park, like I usually do. I didn't even sit on the edge of the slight decline into the field hockey field. I actually just sat on one of the many rocks lining the paths. I spent an hour and a half just sitting there. After a few minutes of sitting, I started to sense motions in the grass in front of me. At first I thought it was just a very slight breeze, more noticeable because the grass was wet and glistening from the light rain earlier in the day. Then when I looked closer, I saw that what was actually causing the disturbance in the grass was the stirring of several earthworms, starting to poke their way out of the dirt. We had thunderstorms last night, a few few light showers today, and we're supposed to get some pretty big storms tonight.

As I sat watching the worms wiggle their way out of the dirt, I started to think about the strange concept of instinct in animals. In all the times I have been in that park I have never seen worms coming out like that, but this time was different, because this was after one rain and right before an even bigger rain. These simple insects somehow knew that rain was on its way, and they were making their way to the surface so they wouldn't suffocate in the too-saturated soil. As cool as it was to think about that, a touch of sad irony came with that. Whenever there's a big rain the sidewalks on campus are covered with worms of all sizes and it's pretty gross. The picture is quite different after the rains abate. As the sidewalks dry, the majority of the worms are stranded and begin to dry out, but by the next morning there are very few remains left. I assume the birds had a lovely little buffet in the morning. Here the worms are preparing to escape one threat on their lives, only to lose to another threat.

I personally think worms are really gross, and hate it when they get all over the sidewalks and spoil my enjoyment of the rain. (I would totally continue to walk barefoot in the rain too, if it weren't for the fact that I really really do not want to be walking on slimy worms with my bare feet.) Though I am not fond of the creatures, I did begin to feel a sympathy towards them, and even felt sorry for them and their fate. Their simple existence is limited to fertilizing the soil and providing sustenance for the birds. It almost seemed unfair to me that the worms would escape the suffocation of the wet soil only to be eaten by the birds. But then I looked at it the other way, and thought about how it benefited the birds. These thoughts on how the food chain works led to thoughts on God's design in creation. From that point, due in part to the conducive atmosphere of the park, my thoughts turned to God's design in life. The fact is that there is a Designer and a design, but it can be so hard to see both at times.

Right now I kindof feel like one of those worms. I am slowly crawling out of the safety of my habitat in anticipation of the storm that is to come. I am shivering as I lay cold, exposed, and alone, hoping that I survive the threat of a predator snatching me up.