Category Archives: Pause Points

Ordinary legacy moments in time.

Little League Musings

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I had the honor of attending my friend Daniel’s Little League game the other night and it was so reminiscent.  The beautiful green field, the dust, the bugs, the bleachers, the parents (Yogi said it best, “Little League baseball is a very good thing because it keeps the parents off the streets”) and the bench.  I haven’t been to a game in about a hundred years, probably not since himself was coaching, and really not much has changed but then again so much has changed.

The bench was filled with all manner of equipment.  The usual bats, balls, helmets, protective equipment for the catcher, and Gatorade bottles.  One of the things I remember about going to the games with himself was lugging the big orange cooler with the spout everywhere we went.  We’d set it at the end of the bench with a stack of waxy Dixie cups and the kids would go through gallons of water laced with Gatorade at every game.  Who knew plastic bottles filled with the stuff was in our future.

And then there was a girl on the team, not only on the team but on the mound, oh was that fabulous.  Hadn’t seen that before but how would I, not having kids of my own, there was no way for me to know the progression of girls in sports.  My understanding is that girls were formally permitted to join the teams in 1974; we didn’t see it in 1977 when we were attending the games it was far too early.

My friend Daniel was playing first base but he would later find himself behind the plate catching.  The kids were moved around, everybody batted and even though they took quite the beating the coaches were supportive and patient and the kids looked up to them.  To this day, I’m sure that many of the kids who played under himself remember him fondly.  He was a hell of a coach, the wonderful mix of discipline, educating and fun.  They might not remember me, I just kept the book, but I know like I know they remember him.  It never failed that we would be having dinner somewhere and one of them, all grown, would come up to us with wonderful and thankful greetings for himself.

In all the games I attended in the “old days” I don’t ever recall hearing the kids being told it’s still a live ball.  Of course it’s a live ball, what else would it be?  Well apparently a few of the kids get easily distracted.  The live ball thing was a given back then.  Maybe because the kids had only one or two extracurricular activities not the nonstop schedules they have today.  Maybe because the prevalence of ADD/ADHD (or recognition of ADD/ADHD) was pretty much unheard of the kid’s heads were in the game.  And there was practice, there were the endless drills, there were consistent coaches.   Dads weren’t working the perpetual over time hours that are needed today to make ends meet.   Whatever the reason everybody knew the ball was live.  Could not stop chuckling about that all through the game.

And it’s funny how it all comes back to you.  Just watch the ball hit the bat, just hit your cutoff man, don’t try and be a hero, just get on base, singles.  The barrage of baseballisms came back in a flash and so did my Jersey girl.  I can get loud, no surprise to anybody, so when things were really looking grim and everyone got quiet I don’t have to tell you what happened.

I did notice there is now a covering behind the plate so you can’t stand behind and see the pitches coming in.  Oh that used to be fun to second guess the ump, gone are those days.  You can’t yell “swing” now when the pitch is coming in to spur the opposing batter on.  Sorry, I couldn’t help it back then.

I had my camera with me and got some wonderful shots, all easily downloaded and up on Pinterest http://pinterest.com/slc1toby/a-night-of-little-league/ , no such thing as Pinterest then and the film from my Nikon FE had to be developed.  Oh boy…

I must say I had a moment’s hesitation about going to the game, not knowing what might be stirred up in my still adjusting head after my divorce.  I’m so glad I decided to go, for Daniel’s sake and for mine.  Even though there is a K in the book for my marriage,  the further from the later years I get the more I am able to appreciate the wonderful person himself was back then and how his legacy will be cemented for those boys.  I know like I know they were good times worth savoring again.

 

 

Happy Mother’s Day from a Father’s Daughter

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With two you get eggroll

She loves her Chinese food, me not so much.  She has a million quips and quotes that somehow grew us up and we remember to this day.  She is eighty three and like most people her age she concentrates on herself, some amazing survival instinct of the aged. She truly made a silk purse from a sow’s ear, she scrimped and saved and has a wonderful nest egg, me not so much but she is generous.

In the eight years since my Father passed we have become…something.  Something more than we were and less than we will ever be.  I have developed a certain respect for her charm, her ability to bring people to her and to make them feel…something.  Loved, important, heard, special.  She has a long line of people who will always remember how she made them feel.  Including me.

But she and I couldn’t be more different in many ways.  I am hopeful that I’ve been able to cultivate that ability of hers to bring people to me.  Maya Angelou said today that her second greatest blessing has been her ability to turn people into children of hers.  I’ve had a string of people that I believe turned into children of mine but have now moved on into wonderful and satisfying lives through new jobs, new relationships or reestablished relationships with their own mothers, and new…something.

You never really know the effect you’ve had on people, there are no Mother’s Day calls when people have taken your love and lessons and moved on to send those lessons into their own worlds.  You can be grateful for the love and lessons you’ve received from a Mother you’re only now getting to know, love and respect.   I am grateful for both the sending and the receiving.

Happy Mother’s Day to all.

Brutto Bello

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ugly beautiful

Ugly Beautiful was the photo prompt on today’s Treasure Hunt.  The challenge was to find beauty in an unlikely place.   Make it come alive through the lens, see it into beauty.

This is not an uncommon concept.  According to urbandictionary.com:   Beautiful ugly is a term used in modeling, when a model has such striking or odd features that they could be considered quite beautiful or very ugly. This is especially rare, and highly desired, especially in couture shots.   They insist that very few “beautiful uglies” exist, as many are simply labeled unattractive, and unsuitable for any type of modeling.

I wouldn’t know a thing about modeling, having spent a good amount of time shying away from the camera.  But I understand the concept of beautiful ugly, in my case brutto bella.  I don’t LOOK beautiful but I AM beautiful.  There is a distinct difference.  I embody that difference and I’m now learning to embrace that difference.

Being beautiful is about a life well lived, lessons learned, attitude and resilience.  Being beautiful is about others, service and what motivates your actions. It’s about the mitzvah itself I heard a rabbi say this weekend at a bar mitzvah I attended.  My dear friend Linda’s grandson did so beautifully she could have bust.

Beautiful is about being comfortable in your skin while being comfortable in your clothes.  It’s finding your style, enjoying your own company, never feeding anything but yourself.   It’s about passing the mirror and recognizing yourself.  That took a bit of time.  It’s about having your picture taken, over and over again, looking in the lens each time knowing you ARE beautiful.

San, Lina and Toto too

It’s about passion.  Until recently I didn’t know what passion was.  I thought it was grand.  I never understood what all the damn fuss was about.  But I’m getting it now.  When I sit down to write, when I pick up my camera, when I read and when time slips away from me I know I’m engaging in something I’m passionate about.   Can’t quite put my finger on it, I’m not saving the world but in my own backyard I’m doing good things…with passion…more often than not.

Is that to say I never have a good solid stamp your feet pity party?  No, just had one thank you.

It means trying hard not to get stuck in your ways by declaring yourself a lifelong learner.  Remain curious, listen to people half your age, let them pick out your sunglasses, and strive for cool in your own way.  It will confirm you are beautiful, to them too.

Maya Angelou said it best; “I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.”   Make the people around you feel wonderful and heard and important and they will only ever see you as beautiful.

Capture Life

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cottage 960 capture life

Photo credit: Maureen Nichols, Cottage 960

Is it that you don’t know how things work for me?  Picture this (pun intended)…I’ve got a great camera, Nikon, I’ve got perspective, someone once told me, and I’m not using it.  Why the hell not?  Who the hell knows?  I believe, no, I know like I know that it’s the getting started that’s got me.  So….I put it out there and it’s just amazing what happens.

Maureen at Cottage960 (www.cottage960.com ) puts a really cool new pendant on her FB page of a woman in a beautiful 1940’s era suit, that alone was right up my alley, snapping a picture with her brownie camera.  On the back it says, “Capture Life”.  You know I own it now, right?  When I take the girls to get groomed the cashier says to me, “So when you capture life, what are you going to do with it?”  Here I am back at who the hell knows.

Then I get an email from a blog I follow called Super Hero Life (www.superherolife.com )   Subject:  Sad bananas and finding our joy again.  Ok, I’m listening.  Andrea Scher, creative force behind Super Hero Life is sponsoring a Treasure Hunt course starting May 1st.  For a small fee (from the email):

  • A creative photo prompt each day in your inbox
  • Photo tips + creative musings to inspire your work
  • A warm, encouraging community space on Flickr to share your work and support your fellow treasure seekers!

Come on that’s perfect and I am in.  I’m all about sparking creative juices.  So I’m signed up and looking forward to getting back into my camera and my perspective.

Then, I’m reading something on Upworthy.com and there’s a tiny little glimpse of an ad for this movement, seminar, thing called One Picture Saves a Life.  You can sign up for a seminar at St. Hubert’s Animal Welfare Complex (www.sthuberts.org ) to learn how you can become a volunteer to photograph shelter dogs to bring them closer to adoption.  Send an email and if there’s room, first come first served, you’re in…for free…being taught by Seth Casteel (www.littlefriendsphoto.com ) of Underwater Dogs fame.  You know I sent the email, you know I got invited.

So Saturday morning I take a ride to Madison NJ to St. Hubert’s and participate in this seminar that blew me away.  Go to www.onepicturesaves.com to get the full story.  Suffice to say Seth Casteel is an awesome dude, and all of you know I never use the word dude. Generous with his knowledge, he (along with Petfinder, Greater Good, the Animal Rescue Site, and John Paul Pet) put this program together down to the last detail.  He even tells you what lens you need, camera settings, best backgrounds, shelters looking for volunteers.  I tell you I am stoked about this….who better than me, one part of Two Aunts and a Chevy fame to take this on.  It was a great way to spend a Saturday morning, learning with like-minded people, about how to help shelter dogs when you’re condo association says you can only have a minimum of two dogs.  I hope the other half of the Two Aunts and a Chevy is listening…just saying Toots you hated Chevy’s picture too.  But I digress.

The thing is I don’t have the lens, 50mm straight, and you know I looked on line and they cost a small fortune.  So I think let me go down to Bergen County Camera ( www.bergencountycamera.com ) and just look,  yeah right.  Do you know what downtown Westwood, NJ is like on a Saturday afternoon? It’s sunny and perfect for a day in one of the best downtowns around so it’s jammin.  Oh come on, you know I got a parking space, you know there was an hour left on the meter and you know like you know that BCC had a used 50mm for $79.00.  Of course they did, my sister is saying as she reads this.

My two most willing (not really) subjects (victims) Toto and Lina are being snapped a frame a second. They are giving me the Moooooooom look.  They are taking themselves to bed and having no more of it.  Not to worry I will find other willing (maybe) subjects to snap.  I know like I know that as Karma would have it anything animal related, carried out for their greater good, will only serve to increase your personal Karmic equity.  I will be golden my friends…

 

 

 

 

 

 

Today Was That Day

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Front Garden

Coffee.  Garden.  Coffee.  Does a good morning need anything else?  ~Betsy Cañas Garmon

Standing on my deck looking out at the enchanted forest with coffee in hand, today was that day when the poor old bush/shrub/wannabe flowering something had to go.  I’ve been trying to help it flourish since Mama Blue Jay had her babies there four years ago (https://www.ordinarylegacy.com/word/2009/07/05/pause-point-the-blue-jay-legacy/) but it just has not cooperated.  Jeanette told me long ago not to feed the dead stuff and usually I listen, but not this time.  I had a sentimental attachment to this poor old, light starved, only bloom at the top excuse for a flowering something. I can’t blame it; it was planted long ago too close to the building by people who had to use up all the plants that came on the truck.  I’m sure of it.

It was ready to go, the roots were easy to chop through, the soil loosened up around it and with a bit of push and pull all twelve feet of it came down.  I dragged it into the enchanted forest so that it could be reclaimed by the grubs and woodpeckers.  Its smaller twin went too.  I planted the tree that Muriel and Martina brought me and made a little cage for it so the landscapers, should they find their way around to the back of my building, didn’t stomp it to death.  Raked all along the edge of the enchanted forest and cleaned up my almost visible shade garden.

And then that thing happened that always happens when I’m sweating and dirty and my hands are starting to hurt…I become obsessed with the next thing and keep going.  It was the perfect day to keep going; early this morning when I started it was in the 40s.  It smelled like spring, that combination of dew and soil and growing things.  After my third latte and a bit of breakfast with Muriel there was no stopping me.  I was fueled and everything that needed to be done became perfectly clear.

Around to the front of the building to the side of my stoop I cleaned and pruned and weeded my little sunny bed.  Not much to be done there except find a new home for the mystery shrub I discovered last year.  It kept growing and growing until it blocked my azalea, sage, and the stella d’oro so I whacked it back with the intent of moving it this spring.  It’s now this Spring.  Let’s see what it becomes this year.

In order to move it to the other side of my stoop I have to clean up over there.  This is how it happens with a garden my friends.  You think you want a tiny little patch of land to water and prune and next thing you know you’re weeding the entire complex.  Garden obsession is at once satisfying in its therapeutic/creative/sensory ways and insufficient in that you run out of room quickly.

As I make my way down the front of the building, yes I did weed the entire front of the building, my neighbors are keeping a safe distance from the crazy woman in a bent over (at the hip) yanking and tossing trance.  Smart people, I’m working here.  My back is behaving beautifully since I learned from some posture guru that the waist is not a joint, clever no?  My knees are performing perfectly thanks to the zillion squats that somehow have worked their way into Zumba classes and I have the perfect number of layers on to keep out the chill.  I can feel the warmth of the sun as it makes its way over to this side of the street and I can’t think of anything more perfect to be doing on a Sunday morning.

So now the mystery shrub has a new home and the only thing annoying me now is the empty space left by the tree we lost in some storm, I don’t remember which, a few years ago.  Perfect solution is to go dig up one of the duplicated spirea at the edge of the enchanted forest and move it over here.  More digging, more hauling and more chopping at roots and my work is almost done.

Something is going to have to hide the electrical meters in the back so off I go, filthy from head to toe looking like someone who is happy to finally have dirt under her nails, to see if my local nursery has the red twig dogwoods I’m after.  They are perfect for that shady area and I had my eye on them yesterday when I stopped in at Willow Run.  It was a force of enormous restraint that I didn’t come home with anything because there was PLENTY I was lusting over.  My local nursery had nothing but pansies…really it’s almost the end of April for crying out loud.  Yes I did come home with a flat of pansies because I am color starved at this point and well it’s that pansy time of year.  I can assure you I will haul it over to Willow Run (http://willowrungardencenter.com) next weekend.

Pansies set in, aches setting in also, I make my way toward the shower but not before stopping for the requisite three Advil and a long overdue tall glass of water.  I am spent, happy, and proud of my work and already chomping at the bit for next weekend to come. I know like I know my garden sustains me, arthritic hands be damned.