Rethinking Ballpark

I love my Dad.  He’s dependable, steady, hardworking, a great provider for his family, and uncomplaining.  It wasn’t until I could actual get a “visual” on him that it really made sense.  He’s a straight and narrow kind of guy, blinders on, nose to the grindstone, who forgets to look up sometimes and see what some other options might be.  I have learned from his regrets at not acting or taking a risk because of some internal should.   The house by the river where he first lived as a new father slipped through his fingers, and the hugging and kissing of his children that was too effusive was shut away until we had left home.  I hear his disappointment in himself, and even though I tell him how amazing it is that he learned that and changed has not seemed to soften that hurt.   I’m visiting him next month and wondering if he has more regrets in his life than joy.  I hope not.  What a terrible legacy to leave behind.

So here is the visual on my family.  My Dad is the straight line, just like the ones running down the middle of the road.  My first daughter is the jagged up down up down of a crazy day on Wall Street.  My second daughter is the wave, gently undulating, with highs and lows but without the thunder. 

And me, I want to be a ball park.  I’m at home base with a wide V of options and opportunities open to me.  My home run can be anywhere from first base through third base and even off to the edge a little bit.  I am at the mid-point in my life, the year that I have lived just as long away from home as I did living at home.  I have passed the age where my mother died and I get to see my grandchildren.  I am happy and healthy and looking to transform my own regrets.  My business card will read “What next?”  and my goal is to take as many people along that  journey of self-discovery as I can, making sure each and every one has that chance to see an open field and be able to go where ever they want to follow that dream.

Isn’t this beautiful?

The sign of a vacation – pictures of the most common daily occurances elevated to art, with predictable conversations of it’s magnificence, why we don’t do this more often, there’s never enough time, next time, one day, some day, if…the excuses lasting as long as the vacation, then back to “real life” and it’s all forgotten. 

So here’s an “aahhh” for a Monday morning to get us going.  That’s all.

Found Things – Writing Prompt

Oh, it’s been too long, dear friends, and what jarred me out of my slump?  A quick dash this morning to the community dumpster with my little bag of refuse, I slid open the door and there was a crate of partially drunk bottles of liquor, ranging from Meyers Rum to a 15 year old bottle of scotch.  The crate was stamped with an exotic distillery name from a hot country, the bottles were a little dusty, with one upside down in the little space that was left.   What a find!  But what to do?  Cave in to dumpster diving, leave be, pour them out and recycle the bottles…some many options.  My head was spinning!

What it really did was get me thinking about my old writing circles, how the prompts we were given would stir up all kinds of stories, and the pleasure of listening to each woman’s version or experience.  There was always magic there, stories that seemed to flow together with a common theme over and above the prompt in front of us, the heads nodding in agreement, “yes, me too,” the circle becoming more intimate with each story. 

The writing circles were also we played with Found Things, after reading about this latest trend in the NY Times.  We all had fun gathering, hunting, and trying to catagorize our own Found Things.  I considered myself an expert, having been a long-time admirer of Pippi Longstocking and her adventures in Thing-Finding with her demure, sheltered neighbor children, Peter and Anika.   I was much more like Anika than I cared to admit (read: no fun), so studied hard to be Pippi Longstocking.  I have succeeded somewhat.

So now I offer up this Found Thing, this crate of liquor left as an offering in a dumpster, from someone who had to throw it away, but still saw value in it, we can see who will take it or not, or what other options anyone can come up with.  Share some of your stories with me, but keep them short. 

Thanks for playing.