Pushing My Limits

Each of us has our areas that are our strengths. I know that I can plan and organize. Few things are too overwhelming in this area unless they come too many at one time then that can overwhelm but in a different way. I know I can accomplish the task, I just have to figure out how to be super organized. I also know how to interact with others, especially in an individual, personal way. Even with hard problems, this is usually more satisfying than challenging. For me, my strengths are head and emotional connections but I have never felt very secure in the physical part of me. I always have wondered if this would have been different for me if I would have been a teenager during a time when girls sports were available like they are today. I was a tall teenager and I think I would have had athletic skill but there wasn't girls sports during my high school time. Girls could be cheerleaders or on the drill team. I did love dance, but never felt secure in that are either. So I spent the next 30+ years developing my head. I can pull off smart beyond my actual ability and I have confidence in this area of head. So what do you do when the man you love not only has the strength of head but also confidence in the physical. He wants to hike, walk through the backwoods, carry a pack across desert canyons. He does go to some beautiful places and I do enjoy time with him, so I decide to try "pushing my limits."

We planned this hike for quite sometime. We even found the other couple to trade cars at each side of the river. We would start in Harris Wash on the west side of the Escalante River. They would start in Silver Falls on the east side of the river. We would hike the 16+ miles across, meeting in the middle. We started putting together the things we would need to take for this over night hike. I overthink every possible scenario, therefore, planning too many clothes for me to pack in my backpack, too much food for two days. I'm nervous for days before. I plan and plan because that is my strength. I don't know my body well enough to know if I will be able to meet the task. I don't know if it gets too hard if I will be able to find what I need to finish. The middle of a sandstone canyon without water and a two hour drive to the nearest town, is not the place you want to find out you don't quite have it. My husband can compensate a bit, slow down, move some of my load to his, but he can't carry me back to the car and he sure doesn't want to hear me cry outloud, the whining is almost more than he can take. The beauty of the places we go and the enjoyment of going together, forces me to take on the challenge. I go, scared to death. I go in search of the limits of this body that would have been so much easier to test 30 years ago. I go to prove to myself that I can do this too. And it is always incredibly beautiful and it is time well spent with the man that I love. And I will go again because I have that thing that helps women forget what having that first baby was like and then we have another. And I will put too much stuff in the backpack, and I will cause my stomach to gurgle with nerves, and I will plan with every possible solution at least for the problems I have planned for, and I will find out the boundaries of this 50+ body. And maybe I will love this body even more than I did when it was young and firm.

Quilts

I'm thinking about quilts today since I'm working with Sheree on trying to put together a video presentation about quilts that will be shown at both the Escalante Heritage Day and the Boulder Heritage Festival. I have collected some pictures of old quilts and taken a lot of pictures of the process of putting together a quilt that I did for my son's wedding. I also have my sister and her husband busy tying one of the quilts they did this winter. The quilt picture I have posted was the camp quilt that I received from my Grandma Roundy for my wedding. I love this quilt because it is so much of the time period it was created. If you looked at it, you would know I was married in the seventies because all the pieces are made of polyester. If you knew my Uncle Claron during that time, you would recognize many of the shirts Aunt Ruby made for him. It is tied with a crowfoot stitch and my Grandpa said that it was so warm you could just put it in the room with you. This tradition of giving a quilt for a marriage is long standing in my family. I'm not much of a quilter (yet) but I still feel compelled to get the quilt done for the wedding. A camp quilt is easier since it doesn't have to be perfect. When babies are born, that's also the time of the quilt. My sister just finished 6 or 7 baby quilts for Haiti children. Her husband is great at the tying. I have one picture of him that says "Real Men Quilt." I love that because he is a real man that has no qualms about quilting. I haven't done baby quilts but I usually crochet around flannel blankets. My grandma made beautiful quilts. I have a beautiful tricot quilt she made and also a pieced quilt that she made for my wedding in addition to the camp quilt. My step mom also gave me one of Grandma's old pieced quilts that I dearly love. The hardest part with quilts is that they are too beautiful to use so they end up in a cedar chest waiting for the next generation to own them. I think I might put them out and enjoy them if I didn't have dogs. Maybe after the dogs are gone, I will enjoy my quilts. I also have a quilt that my Grandma King made that was on my Mom's twin bed when she was growing up. That is an interesting quilt. I always loved quilts my Aunt Ann made for graduations, weddings, and babies. Her quilts were useful and get used. Every quilt has it's own story, I'm sure. Maybe I'll start working on those quilt stories. I'm thinking we will have the quilt display on Friday of the Festival and the Saddles on Saturday, both are so impressive. And then let the stories begin. Tell me your quilt story.

Poetry and Dreams

In this last week, the dreams are battering me, one after another, each strong and filled with potential meaning. As the dreams come, so do the poems. Arriving one after another. So since all my writing is coming in poetry, it probably should appear here as well. (brand new hot off the press)

Boulder Love Poem

This place has always held me,
from the cradle of sandstone to each rock,
each curve on the road, to the tops of towering ledges.
They have witnessed those who came before me,
each generation linking one to another
to culminate in me.
At fourteen, I was drunk with this place.
Overwhelmed by all it possessed,
maybe it was that time of life when I could not control
the effect or I may have chosen
not to ignore it. I was madly in love,
the passion of place consumed me like a fire,
threatening to destroy me with intensity.
I was released from the hold just a little
when I found the one who would become my husband,
sharing my desire between place and man.
I learned moderation of this place,
small doses, a weekend, a week,
creeping up to three weeks and a month.
I would once again be dragged back
to the edge of desire, to sit on a sandstone peak,
wade in Calf Creek or allow the sun
to hike across my body while I leaned on a rock
at the edge of Grass Lake.
As I ride my fifties, I am embolden,
for the children are raised and a retirement check
arrives each month. I have lived a good life.
I return bravely to sleep night after night
on the banks of Boulder Creek.
I invite the beautiful of snow on Maggie’s Ledge,
to burn my eyes. My legs carry me
to each entrance of the Escalante River.
I embrace Upper Falls as winter breaks to spring,
allowing myself to fall so deeply in love
that I should be afraid. I will never escape
something this beautiful.

Next Generation of Mothers

Tonight my only daughter returns to work after having her own little daughter just 3 months ago. I'm so glad she had the three months with her daughter. Her last child was born before she was ready and pushed her to adulthood. This tiny girl came when she wanted her most and was ready with a marriage, health insurance, and a means to support her. Even in this time of preparation, the day comes when Mom returns to work. I remember going back to work when she was just almost 6 months old. I had enjoyed my time with her but I had also made her unwilling to drink from a bottle so I would race to the sitter's house down the street from the school I worked at and feed her at lunch. She also moved to cereals and other foods sooner so she could get through the day. We had a glorious time after school, sitting in the rocker and reconnecting with a little nursing time. I went back to work sooner with my son, but the sitter was his Dad, so that felt like a good time for them. I still raced to where ever he was for the next several months to have a quick feed during the lunch hour. He was so easy because he could eat both sides in a matter of minutes and send me back to work.

My son-in-law has duty tonight with his tiny daughter who is spending her first night without her mom. It will be good for both of them to learn how to meet each others needs. But I know that tonight my daughter is fretting on the 3rd floor of the Medical Center. Wishing she was home with her daughter and wondering if she still knows how to be the nurse those patients on the 3rd floor need. On the news tonight, they talked about the scientific research on the benefits of breastfeeding for 6 months but yet even in the best of circumstances, 3 months is what mom and baby get. In this time of health care debate, I wish we were further along the debate to be talking about getting at least those 6 months that they are finding to be so critical. I hope my daughter can find a way to keep the breastfeeding going beyond this go back to work time. I hope that we can become a nation that can adapt to what we find is most important for babies and for helping mom's to make it work. Good luck my daughter and kisses to Dad and baby tonight!!

Going Political

One of the interesting parts of retiring, especially retiring at 50, is that you really have to think of another half of a life of things to do with yourself. Also knowing that you are on the short end of life, you try to think of things that have meaning, importance, durability, significance to others, and on and on. I had some ideas of what that might be before I retired. I knew that I wanted my tasks on this side of retirement to involved more creativity. I also knew that I wanted to be my own boss. I also wanted to make contributions to the things that matter most to me. I do believe that I am an educator at heart and my mission is education. Even with the Boulder Heritage Foundation and the Festival, I want to learn more and I want others to learn as well. That's why I'm in charge of the educational components of the festival and have added birding and creative writing as additional projects. But I also believe in the importance of public education. All children must have the opportunity for a free, relevant, rigorous education. It is the most important thing that we should spend our tax dollars on. So one other goal in retirement was to find ways to be involved in strengthening public education. I was always interested in the Garfield educational system and conducted inservices in Garfield County every chance I got. Well I'm taking my next step as a resident and have recently filed to run for school board for Garfield County School District. The area this position serves is Boulder, Antimony, Ticaboo, and Hatch, an interesting collection of the smallest of the small. Garfield Co. has struggled recently with some major financial problems and lawsuits. I hope these issues will not get in the way of providing the best possible education for these students. I look forward to this run and getting the chance to hear from parents, students, teachers, and other residents in this area. It will be interesting since I think the last family member that ventured to the political was Aunt Nethella and she served in a democratically dominated house right here in the State of Utah. So it's been a while. But venturing to this new arena should definitely shape my retirement and the goals I have for this new place in the second half of my life.

Girl Friends

Had a wonderful evening Saturday night at Dianne's house where she taught us about making sauces and gave us the opportunity to eat all of the amazing food she was instructing. It was an evening of girlfriends. I am feeling very lucky to be included in a group of amazing girlfriends so soon after moving here. They truly are incredible women. Another added advantage was getting to take my daughter with me as well (Steve may not have seen it as such an advantage since Taylee cried most of the time she was gone). It was great to let her see how important girlfriends can be and also the interesting and creative ways in which you can gather. She left talking about how she should do this - invite her friends over and do something as unusual as cooking great food together and serving it beautifully. I hope it will inspire her connections with other women as much as it has inspired me. When you go to this much trouble in the connecting, it is such a valuing of those friends in your life and a message about how special they are to you. I was also inspired to be more adventurous and bold in the kitchen. I have always felt like a terrible cook but I now have the recipe for Orange Beurre Blanc Sauce. This evening could change my perception of my own adequacy in the kitchen and therefore change my life in small kitchen kind of ways. I'm getting my shopping list together so I can have all necessary ingredients to make Roasted Red Pepper Sauce and Balsamic Syrup. I may even venture to Hollandaise Sauce so I will be ready when those asparagus heads start peeking out of the grass along the creek. (I have plenty of time to practice since there is about two feet of snow down there now.) Once again thanks to Dianne for allowing me to be a part of creative and delicious cooking, beautiful table settings and stemware, and most of all interesting and intelligent women of Boulder.

History Keepers

Why is it that some of us are so fascinated with the past and not just our own past but with the stories and the events of dead great grandmothers and their grandfathers. Women and men that we have never known. Yet we search those black and white photos looking for eyes that resemble our own or the lips of our children. We tell their stories over and over as if we were there or maybe we believe there is a secret message that if we listen closely and often to the story, we will know the answer. What is so interesting about looking through genealogy pages to see how families grew and connected? Like the most amazing jigsaw puzzle we have ever worked.

I am the keeper of the history of my family. A family that includes little diversity with most all family members being brought to Mormonism from Wales, Scotland, or New York. Coming to this new church early as a grandfather Hyrum supporting brother Joseph in this quest or other grandfathers and grandmothers called to travel with Joseph to each new place that would be called Zion for a time. Faith never waivering with moves further and further west until Shadrach helped deliver Brigham and the first group of settlers to Utah. Creating a lineage from Shadrach to Lorenzo to Napoleon to Bert to Otto to Vernon to me, seven generations in this place. Consumed with the stories of Lorenzo's drowning or Napoleon's shooting match.

Now I seek understanding of two friends coming from Millard County to run cows in Boulder. John Black and John King bringing cows here, first someone elses and then their own. Clearing the land of sagebrush, pinon, and juniper to make green fields in the center of a sandstone circle of cliffs. How one man's granddaughter and the other man's grandson found each other for just a moment to make me, the history keeper. The one who will spend retirement looking back and celebrating this incredible history through the Boulder Heritage Foundation. Legitimizing the role of the history keeper. Giving more and more ways to explore and share the past. There must be some reason for it all.