Regrets?

            I learned that in a survey when old people (I’m middle-aged, if I live to 150, so they must be really old) were asked about their “regrets,” that most regretted things they did not do rather than things they wished they had not done. Of course, these were people who survived their stupid mistakes, but still . . ..

            Lately Kim and I have been discussing regrets about the Big Thing that we recently did: uprooting ourselves from our rather comfortable life in Florida, surrounded by family and friends, and from our life in Southeast Michigan, ditto, to move to Traverse City. We know why it was the “right” decision, when we think with our brains: The drive is too long to do twice a year, the two homes too expensive, the far-away home too worrisome, and we need to make the change while we are still ambulatory enough for the rigors of the moves, as documented earlier in this blog. Since Florida’s summers are so unbearably hot and humid (only so many clothes you can take off), Michigan got the nod. And a couple of visits to Traverse City – admittedly, in the beautiful summer – gave Northern Michigan the nod over our familiar Ann Arbor area. So here we are.

            That’s our brains talking. But when we think with our hearts, we are not so sure. We miss our family and friends, and texting and the telephone can only go so far. We’ve had a few visitors so far, but we don’t as yet have people who will stop by for a cup of coffee or a glass of wine, or who will want to go for a walk or photograph birds or landscapes. Our best friends up here so far are the waiters and shopkeepers downstairs from our condo – but that’s not the same. We will meet people at the local Audubon meeting tonight, and Friday Kim is taking an Art and Socializing class downstairs, featuring wine and snacks, and that will probably lead to new connections. My closest friends are the ones in my computer whom I imagine reading this blog. These are known as “imaginary friends.”

            Our sense of regret is not the same as thinking or feeling that we made a mistake. And maybe it’s not regret that we are experiencing, but the pain of transition. So much new stuff to learn, so many new attachments to grow, and we are not as young, flexible and attachable as we used to be. We are convinced, perhaps mistakenly, that we are the kind of people that others will want to befriend – last night we had wine and stew with a new friend, Mike. And we are blessed by the companionship we find in each other.

            So rather than chewing over possible regrets about what we have done, let’s reduce our regret by turning our attention to the stuff we have not done yet. Time to get that house designed and built on Torch Lake! Time to finally meet Penny June in Albuquerque. To find and photograph that Snowy Owl. To make reservations for our Valentine’s dinner. To see the bird migration at Whitefish Point. To attend weddings.

As always, comments welcome at dstring@ix.netcom.com. Any regrets you'd like to share?

            

Repurposed

            “Repurposed” is one of my favorite new words. Now that I know the word, suddenly I see how I am surrounded by things that have been repurposed.

            The most obvious of these is The Village at Grand Traverse Commons, the official name of the place where we now live. Its original purpose was to help the mentally ill become well through exposure to beautiful architecture and the healing power of nature in its parks and gardens. The Commons has been repurposed as a place whose purpose is to make me happy. Come to think of it, this may not be a good example of repurposing . . ..

            Repurposing has become a major theme of the way we live:

·      An antique rack once used in the manufacture of shoes now serves the purpose of storing our wine. 

·      What now has become an antique distressed metal vase for flowers previously was purposed as litter on the New Mexico desert. Before that – some sort of tin can.

·      We’ve repurposed a French parlor stove into a plant stand.

·      Bookshelves? One of them now holds modem, router, Roku device, etc. This is progress.

·      The slab of stone on top of our dining room table is now the top of our dining room table. I can only guess that its previous purpose was to support a hillside somewhere in France.

·      We have repurposed red wine as a heart medicine, and Pinot Noir in particular as a cancer preventative (really!).

·      We often repurpose paper grocery bags. Just yesterday one was transformed into an absorbent pad for cooling Kim’s molasses cookies.

            In some cases what happens is not exactly a repurposing but an expansion of purpose:

·      What was once just our living room couch has assumed a secondary purpose: refuge from snoring.

·      Our morning hug is repurposed as physical therapy when I use pressure to break down muscle spasms in Kim’s back.

·      The four flights of stairs leading to our “suite” have been repurposed as a cardio-enhancement device.

·      Our shower has been repurposed as a humidifier for our condo – accomplished by leaving the door open and the fan off.

·      As I am getting older certain body parts are being repurposed. I choose not to provide any details.

The objects being repurposed most likely enjoy the experience, provided there is no humiliation.

            Kim and I are gradually repurposing ourselves, and we anticipate more repurposing as we become “vintage” if not actual antiques. Our new purposes are not entirely clear – yet – and it’s exciting to go through the process of redefinition. At the moment my former sense of purpose has been replaced with my daily to-do list, but that’s not quite the same. I don’t yet feel like a dented and discarded can with a rusty patina that is a charming contrast to fresh flowers, but what am I?

. . .

            I always ask Kim to read through my entries before I post them, and when she saw this one she said, “I want to live an unpurposed life.” She explained that she did not want to be burdened by her duties to look or act a certain way or even, she said with a smile, to make her husband happy. She imagined her friend Beth East saying, “If he ain’t happy, he ain’t happy!”

            I suspect that it won’t be easy to unpurpose my life, but it’s certainly worth a try.


Comments about your purpose, or lack of it, welcome at dstring@ix.netcom.com

Bison

            What is it about bison (aka, incorrectly, as buffalo)?

            When we lived in Gainesville and volunteered at Paynes Prairie State Park, visitors always wanted to see the bison, the second-favorite attraction after the gators. Bison were apparently present in North Florida a few centuries back and were reintroduced to Paynes Prairie in 1975. But the herd grew to over 70, and individuals would occasionally wander off the park into roads and neighborhoods, so the state authorities saw castration as part of the solution. To me, castration is rarely a result of quality governmental thinking.

Looks peaceful, doesn't he? But don't get too close!

This is Ralph, father of many Paynes Prairie bison.

            There is something very appealing about the ruggedness of bison, and they come bearing a lot of frontier American history on their shaggy shoulders. They are not as prehistoric as the call of a Sandhill Crane, but they still remind us of our primitive (from the Latin for “first”) selves.

            So we were delighted to discover a herd of bison about three miles from our condo in Traverse City. Kim and I set out to photograph Snowy Owls and Snow Buntings recently sighted just south of town. Our pictures didn’t turn out, mainly because we didn’t see any. But on the way home we pulled onto a side road (might have been dirt – couldn’t tell under all the snow). The herd was fenced in and obviously fed by the ranchers, and we could not get very close – probably a good thing for both them and us – and the high contrast between snow and bison hide made for difficult shooting. But Kim did get some photos.

A portion of the herd. Calves typically are reddish in color.

Mother and Child

Sibs

Lunch

The patch of snow on its back shows the insulation quality of the hide and fat.

            One reason we moved Up North was to get away from crowded cities. Gainesville was not exactly a crowded city, though it did have its traffic issues, and Southeast Michigan even more so, especially around our apartment in Novi. And yes, Traverse City has its own traffic issues, even in the winter. But still, we wanted to be where we could see Snowy Owls and Loons, and the bison are a bonus.

            I feel tougher having met my new neighbors. I don’t mind looking a bit shaggy, and seeing a little snow in my hair doesn’t bother me. I may be developing a small hump, but I try to see it as a positive, as a bison’s hump is made of muscle used to power its head as a snowplow. I have not yet tried that, but it’s still early winter.


Comments welcome at dstring@ix.netcom.com

My Resolutions

            It’s usually easy for me to come up with my New Year’s Resolutions. I just say, “Same as last year’s,” Kim rolls her eyes, and it’s done. The process might be a reflection of the truism that women want their men to change while men want their women to remain the same.

            As we have talked about our 2017 resolutions, Kim keeps coming back to one idea: to be more kind. While I hardly see any need for improvement there, it’s hard to disagree with the prospect of any more kindness flowing my way. But what I think she really means is to suggest a more global change: kindness toward people we encounter, if widely practiced, will make for a better world. Think and act small. She often points out how, if everyone swept the sidewalk in front of their own house or shop, the world would be a much cleaner and better place. Consideration is another word for it: Consider another person’s perspective and experience. Kindness.

            That’s all very well, but I need to come up with my own resolutions.

            Kim elaborated on the theme of kindness. “But first of all, we need to be kind to ourselves.” Now, that’s one I can get behind, and I quietly resolve to treat myself to a massage as often as I can afford it. And to keep our wine rack well stocked with Pinot Noir, our drug of choice.

            That’s all very well, but I need to come up with my own resolutions.

            I made a mistake in my first marriage when I suggested that Nancy and I come up with resolutions for each other. You can guess the results. Nevertheless, Kim suggested that I resolve “to be more present,” to which I replied, “What? Did you say something?”

Pause

We pause, now in our 70s,

to stop the downward

drift of time

moment by moment:

in your perfumed

embrace, of course,

but also when I pause

to taste the perfect

pork chop with green beans,

rice, and your homemade

applesauce, and we

linger over wine.

Time stops when, just outside

our window,  a mourning dove

raises a wing to salute us.

(It’s easier for me to write about being in the present moment than for me to actually do it.)

            I think it’s important to come up with Resolutions that are actually achievable. Realistic. This is part of thinking and acting small. With that in mind, here are a few that I’ve come up with:

·      Be more whatever it was that Kim said I should be.

·      Listen better.

·      Do something each day that can be considered “exercise.” This does not include walking across the room to get the pretzels.

·      East less sugar. Not easy while living above a cheesecake shop and across the street from a bakery, and with Kim’s scones, cookies and pies always a distinct possibility. But I said “less sugar,” so I suppose that’s achievable.

·      Floss. Upcoming dental work makes it likely that I’ll do OK with this one. Sometimes negative reinforcement is a powerful tool for change.

·      Keep my shower clean. (If everyone cleaned their showers, then . . ..) Let me amend that: Keep my shower cleaner than I have in the past, possibly approaching how clean it is when Kim cleans it.

·      Don’t get a dog.

·      Tell Kim I love her. I do remember when I was courting Kim and told her, which was a big deal for me, that I loved her. Her immediate response: “Prove it.” Wise woman. So I’ll revise this one: Prove it.

Do you have resolutions to share? Send them along to dstring@ix.netcom.com.