The Caregiver’s Tales: A Blog
The Caregiver's Tales (A Blog)
I mostly feel rootless. Like mosses or liverworts. I drift along on the surface of wherever I am, perfectly content to be there while actually being nowhere. Today I’m in Virginia. And I could live here. Easily. But then again, I could live in Big Bend, or Taos, or London, or New York, or the Black Hills. They’re all places I’ve been and all places where I felt comfortable once there. Of course, being rootless means I’d never stay. But why should that stop me from living somewhere?
I took a look-back trip the other day to see the high school I attended when I left home at fourteen. It was a nice trip as previously reported, but unfortunately it opened the window for more looking back. For several early mornings, I found myself in re-live mode, re-examining old life decisions. Not a profitable exercise. Eventually, I broke free, but it was semi-exhausting.
I miss my mother. She died when I was twenty-one in the middle of my two year tour of active duty in the US Naval Reserve. I was in Charleston when I got the call the morning after she passed. I’m not sure I ever got over it although I wouldn’t know how to tell. I left the base for most of thirty days, and when I came back I picked up where I left off.
I stepped back into my past yesterday. It went better than expected. Most the past was still there visible through the vibrant new schools built on and in the shell of the old. In 1960 I was in the first class of a new minor seminary just outside Richmond Virginia. I lasted two years. I think the seminary lasted about fifteen. These days the grounds are home to two college prep schools.
I spent most of my formative years bouncing back and forth between two states, California and Virginia, with intermediate stops in Louisiana and Texas. Eventually, I ended up in Texas, but that’s another story. The bottom line is this. I have lots of sweet memories in states where I no longer live but only get to visit.
My first experience with the new assigned seating on Southwest Airlines felt successful. I liked picking my seat in advance and knowing that it would be waiting for me no matter how long it took to board. Although I’m not sure what it bodes for the airline’s future because now they’re just like every other carrier. They’re still the affordable alternative, but it’s going to be hard to keep prices low with fuel costs soaring. I wish them luck.
Spent an evening last Saturday in the company of a group of young musicians. They were contestants in a contest, but it was hard to tell from the laughter and overflowing camaraderie the winners from losers. They were simply musicians. Young. Full of life. Little fountains of potential. There were libations and a good fire, so they sat around and sang to one another late into the night.
I had a nice grandpa week. Got to spend time with the newest grandson, barely eight weeks old. He smiled when I held him, but it might have been gas. I think babies and old men have the same constitution. We like to sleep, be fed, and be rocked. And some of us, if we’re unlucky, need our diapers changed. Maybe my time will come. Who knows. A bridge to be crossed.