Comings and goings...

“Life and death are one thread, the same

line viewed from different sides.”

–      Lao Tzu: Tao Te Ching

Coen was bouncing on my knee, giggling and chatting away, his recognizable vocabulary still in its infant stages. That, of course, did not dampen his enthusiasm for energetic verbal expression. Children inherently understand that success comes from practice, practice, practice whether Carnegie Hall is in their future or not – they just do it. No doubt, this little fellow had no ‘barriers to entry' in this regard.

Holding children is a most satisfying experience. I am never around them when I do not marvel at the unrelenting oomph (between naps) and boundless curiosity with which they are blessed. Life cannot go fast enough for them; their hard drives absorb every sound, touch, sight, taste and smell – all of it new. Once they have successfully left the safety and comfort of the cocoon in which they gestated, it is full-steam ahead!

After a few minutes of rhythmic activity, Coen and I leaned back into the couch to snuggle a little.  I’m pretty sure each of us felt this was a good deal – being together and all. While I reflected on how pleasant this was, he absent-mindedly reached up behind him and poked around my nose…a successful strike unlikely. For me, it was one of those lovely brief moments of quiet repose. Resting my hand on his tummy, I was struck that it felt like an oddly shaped basketball.

When I put him down, I stood up and patted my own tummy.

Hmmm, my stomach was also like an oddly shaped basketball, but way bigger!

I knew as he grew, his stomach would flatten and become muscular. It made me think that mine had once been muscular and flatter. Time was working for that little tyke while, time and gravity were working against me! The paradox of the early and latter parts of life was unavoidable.

Another thing caught my eye.

Coen just started walking, and as it is in the early stages of this task, he shuffled his way across the floor. You know, an intermittent gait, sometimes smooth, other times uncertain with his arms flailing for balance – each step laying down the neuro pathways that would eventually lead to smooth movement.  In the beginning, all things move forward with energy and undefined purpose. In the end game, however, things drift away as the neuropathways and strength and balance of older people slowly ebb away. The similarity between his walking patterns and that of seniors was noticeable.

HEY! Wait a minute! I’m one of those people! Okay, I have lost a little strength and my balance isn’t quite what it used to be.

All of this led to a cascade of amusing thoughts about what happens between the slices of bread – you know birth and death…the predictable arc of life that explodes in the beginning, levels off in the middle, and then moves in an unavoidable downward path. 

I thought of other things that are nearly the same on both ends of life’s trajectory.

For example, potty training had just begun. It is an exercise he performed on a plastic toilet sitting on the floor by the kitchen counter. By the time I arrived, Coen understood where it was and how to use it. He is not one hundred percent trained (he still wears diapers), but when successful in using the temporary toilet, he receives a rousing cheer to reinforce his behavior. The best part is when he throws his little arms in the air in jubilation after a successful evacuation. It’s as though he just scored the winning touchdown in a close football game.  

Watching him move diaperless across the floor to the kitchen, I noticed his bottom was kind of wrinkly.

Hmm, I thought to myself, my bottom is kind of wrinkly.

I, of course, do not run around the house with no pants, nor do I expect to be cheered with each successful metabolic expression, BUT there is little doubt entering life ‘stage right’ and exiting it ‘stage left’ has intersecting commonalities. As his life grows and moves forward, mine will diminish slip away.

There are more things I could write about this, but I am sure your imagination can provide you with a few thoughts.

I look forward to seeing him again in a few months. I suspect much of the early challenges will have given away to other experiences of growth.  I, of course, have no idea what is in store in either of us, but I look forward to finding out.

I wonder if I’m gonna need diapers?

-ted 

Something old, something new...

 “…very little indeed is necessary

for living a happy life…”

– Marcus Aurelius

Prologue…

The Baltimore visit had been planned for early December but got delayed. My niece, Mariah was about to have a baby – her second. It was due in early February, so I headed east. There would be less distraction by coming before the birth. Baby Robertson number two would require a lot of attention, as would helping this ‘unexpected arrival’ for Coen, Baby Robertson number one, understand. I know because the appearance of my younger sister Nancy into our home was a surprise to me. Mum was gone for a few days and the next thing I knew there was another creature taking attention away from me. Where the heck did she come from so suddenly!!

Mariah is a second-year resident at Johns Hopkins Hospital and Dan, her husband, an orthopedic surgeon. That meant, after arriving Wednesday evening, I would have most of the day Thursday and Friday to myself while they worked. I had plans for Thursday morning and knew there would be plenty to do the rest of the time.

There were a couple of events that took place during the trip making parts of it transcendent. Transcendence, is one of the great illusive things in life. I sense it when finding myself in situations where I feel time stops.  Most frequently it comes from resonance with another person. Resonance is the undercurrent for this short piece.

Thursday:

I didn’t hear the doorbell ring. Maybe it was because I didn’t have my hearing aids in or maybe because I was on the bottom floor and it rang upstairs. Probably a little of both. I’d been waiting for him to come, so when Shirese the nanny started down the stairs, I was pretty sure someone had arrived.

I opened the door, and there he stood, solid frame glasses, a brownish coat buttoned to the top and a stocking cap to keep his head and ears warm. Off came the cap and on came the familiar, ‘you will never know what I am thinking’ impish smile. In spite of the short snow white hair atop his aged, but wisdom etched face, that look had not changed since junior high school.  Yep, it was my old friend Ron. He had taken the time to drive in from Philadelphia to hang out for a little while. We hugged, chatted for a few minutes and then headed to the Southside Diner for a late breakfast and a ‘breaking of the fast’ from the last time we had seen one another other.

If I were to try to describe what it is that I find appealing about this man, it would not be easy. I could more fully portray his looks, his background as an attorney, and give the ‘book report’ of events where we interacted as youngsters and a few times as adults.  I could suggest he has a unique mind and intellect. I could say he is a student of words, a quick wit, and a man of insight – you know, the ‘what is’ of life. That might provide a small window, but it is the resonance I feel with him that is not so easily described…for resonance is an elusive mistress. She appears in our peripheral vision, defying you to look directly at and depict her in detail…she does not permit coherent explanation. Like the people she connects together and the friendships she encourages, you know when she is present but must accept her refusal to allow clear description.

One of the more interesting people I know, we chatted quietly for two or three easy hours, before we walked back to his car and he headed home. I watched him drive away and smiled with a warm gratitude as his taillights disappeared in the distance. I had been elevated – you know, a little transcendence.

Back at the house, Sherise had just put Coen down for a nap. I was drinking mint flavored green tea and writing when she came into the kitchen. She was substituting for the regular nanny. This was her business, being available in emergency fill in situations. This thirty-eight-year-old African American woman, with sparkling liquid brown eyes, sat down across the table. After the brief, ‘how long have you been doing this’ and a couple of other questions, we slipped into an easy conversation that, as I have come to love with people I do not know, took on a life of its own. Yep, we were in early stage resonance. As with Ron, but for completely different reasons, the conversation was smooth and relaxed…the ‘flavor’ comfortably unique.

A lot could be said about the hour or so we found ourselves in the warm soup of conversation, but the details are not so important. What is important is that we were engaged. Sometimes serious, others joyful and places in between. The free-flowing exchange between us stilled the hands of time, and for those moments we shared, we were free from the world. Her ‘watchful ear’ ended our visit when she heard Coen stirring from his afternoon nap.

Shirese and I were energized, edified, with the notable sense of satisfaction that comes when one knows time has been well spent. As the day ended and she was leaving, we acknowledged how many unpredictable things had to have happened for the two of us to have found each other. We chuckled about that, hugged, and she was out the door, in all probability I’ll never see her again.

As I thought about these events, I became more certain that one of the steps to enlightenment is active edifying engagement with other human beings. These events have been a hallmark of my adult life, but seem to happen more and more frequently. Perhaps this is because I have learned to become a better listener to the universe around me, or possibly because God knows how they please me. Maybe He delights in reminding me that left to my own devices, this chess game with its millions of variables could never happen without the hand of the Chess master.

I fully acknowledge the joy these events bring and that I am gratefully unworthy.

ted

The second annual twelve miler...

"It always seems impossible until it's done."

– Nelson Mandella

“Hey, Ted, I have an idea,” she said last year a few weeks before Christmas, “Let’s walk to the Ranger’s office at the entrance to Catalina State Park and renew our park pass.” 

Not giving it much thought, I replied, “Sure hon. Sounds like it could be fun.”

As it got closer to Christmas, she said, “Let’s do it on the day before Christmas. You know Christmas Eve day.” “Yep,” I said distracted by other thoughts.

You see, while Molly is very active, exercising on balance five to six days a week, she is not an aggressively intense participant.

So I’m thinking, If I don’t bring this up again, she will come to the realization that the park is somewhere in the neighborhood of six miles from our home.

As the day got closer, Molly, the queen of organization, would look at a map and say, “You know what, let’s not really walk over there. I hadn’t realized how far it actually is.”

I wasn’t very concerned about doing this because I was sure it wasn't going to happen. Additionally, I had little interest in walking twelve miles on any day!

Two days before Christmas, she said, “Do you think we should take some snacks along with us?” Now I was getting mildly concerned.

Still confident that in the morning, the day of, she would say, “Ted, you know, I’m not feeling like doing this walk.” To which I would reply, “Well, okay hon, whatever you think.” Smugly thinking myself, I know this woman!

I was confident for a couple of reasons: Twelve miles is a long way to walk, and while Molly and I are in pretty good shape for our tender ages, I knew this would be a magnitude greater than the energy sapping morning exercise classes at the YMCA. Jumping around and wiggling to rock and roll music for 50 minutes in the morning is NOT TWELVE MILES!!! I know, because I do most of these classes with her.

As this woman has done to me any number of times in our marriage, I was wrong. While I was prepared for her to pull the plug up to the very minute we walked out the door, she DID NOT.

Off we went, and while in truth, we stopped a time or two along the way, for metabolic purposes as well as, well, just because…we got to the Ranger Station in two hours and in good shape. By now we were ‘…middle of the desert…’ and the only way back to the beginning was the impending six-mile trek home. Would we be in good shape then?

On the way back, we stopped at a small restaurant for lunch, leaving the last three-mile leg until we had fortified ourselves. The final leg seemed much longer to me, and to be honest, the overwhelmingly consistent thought was a self-image in a horizontal position in my bed!

When we got home, we were spent, but she seemed particularly pleased with herself for having accomplished this moderately outrageous goal. I, on the other hand, was also happy to have completed the walk and put to bed, not only myself but the idea of ever doing it again.

A couple of months before Christmas this year, Molly said, “Hey, Ted. Let’s walk to the Ranger Station at the park again this year. We can renew our pass for another year.”

This year, because of rain, we waited until the day after Christmas before heading out the door. As it had been twelve months earlier, our adventure was an exhausting success.

My biggest, fear looming like the inevitable movement of the tides, is that this will become an annual event. Dare I say it? A tradition!

“Hey, Ted, I have an idea…."

- ted