Memoirs – Page 2 – The Hermits' Rest

Book Report: Spare

I’ve read a few books lately. This was the first. I picked it up at the airport on my way to Hilton Head and finished it when I got home. Honestly, I’m not a huge fan of the British Royal family, nor do I dislike them, but I read so many conflicting reviews of this book by England’s Prince Harry, so I decided to read it.

Spare was a pretty interesting book, really. It showed how human and fallible Harry was, for sure, and how utterly strange the world the Royal Family exists in. I don’t know how anyone could survive in that setting without some big time PTSD and anxiety.

I mostly ended up feeling sad for these folks and blaming their blind adherence to outdated traditions for how things have ended up today.

Prince Harry came across as very honest about his own failings and his sincere desire to do something that mattered. Wow, that young man could use drugs with the best (or worst) of them. He really seemed to crave numbing and distraction. His love of flying helicopters and of ascetic African pilgrimages both seemed to be ways of keeping his brain occupied with something other than Princess Diana and all those Royal protocols.

The writing is surprisingly good and Harry’s voice is clear. I do hope that he’s able to keep helping others and gets some peace after being chased by paparazzi for so long. That has to be difficult even for people with strong boundaries and good mental health. For sensitive people like Harry, well, I can see how he got so messed up.

After reading this, I feel empathy, which I guess was the goal of the book. I’m aware, though, that there are other sides of this story. I wonder if any other aspects will clarify Harry’s story someday? At least he’s no longer needed as a “spare” anymore.

Trip Down Recent Memory Lane

Yesterday I was feeling all sentimental, as well as in need of some different sites, so I took my walk by turning left instead of right from my driveway, to look at the part of the ranch we sold and the part that was my friend Sara’s ranch (visit her new projects on the Wild Type Ranch website).

I enjoyed seeing all the late-spring wildflowers on the roadside and marveled at how fast river cane (Arundo donax) grows back after mowing.

I checked out the abandoned farm next to the Shuffield/Tyson place, which keeps falling down more and more, but that’s just fine, because now it’s host to many birds, and judging from the scat, either a bobcat or feral domestic cats.

Eventually I turned and walked down the road connecting our two ranches and leading by my son’s cabin residence. Wow. There were some beautiful vistas of black-eyed Susans in the fancy pasture.

I got all nostalgic looking at where Aragorn and Spice used to live. There’s a great view looking down from there.

By the way, Spice must miss her old pasture, because she made a break for it when the gate was briefly opened. Luckily some beautiful oats distracted her, making it easy to take her back. She can’t help being so obedient. She’s well trained.

Next I enjoyed the huge tree next to the old chicken coop where I tried to care for all the chickens no one wanted anymore. Maybe my son can fix it up and use it.

I’ve spent a lot of time under that tree, and now my kid can.

The final stretch is where I admired the vistas looking west. There were always beautiful sunsets there, and you can see a long way, which you can’t from my house, due to the woods.

What I saw next gave me a laugh, the tank/pond where I went on my first ride on Apache outside of the round pen.

He followed Spice and Sara up to the berm that makes the pond, straight at a mesquite tree. Rather than get mauled, I bailed.

That was my first unplanned dismount from that boy. Memories.

Back at our pasture, I hung out with the chickens and horses and once again expressed gratitude that I have an opportunity to explore this area in Central Texas. It’s not much, but at least for now, some of it is still ours.

Being Judgy Isn’t Cool

I’ve been called judgmental before, and that’s one of the labels that really stings. And, well, often labels that sting hurt because there’s some truth to them. I now cringe when I think of how my little in group talked about others in high school and college. What privileged elitists we were, or more likely, we wanted to be (remembering some of our non-elite backgrounds).

A fortnight lily *Dietes bicolor –* native to South Africa

Being judgmental does nothing but make me look bad, so I’ve spent a lot of years trying to un-learn that trait. I can say now that I deeply regret acting this way, and if anyone I was ever unkind to reads this, know I’m ashamed.

Squirrel would also be ashamed but he’s too busy eating.

Does that mean I’m little miss non-judgy now? I wish. Nope, I’m slightly-less-judgy old bat now. I know because I had an Easter lesson in humility today.

I am, by the way, back in Hilton Head, hoping all the horses are ok.

What’s that in the sky? ANOTHER blimp! I’m quite the blimp spotter! (Golf tournament was here)

Once I was settled in, talked to my stepsister, and ate a sandwich, I decided my back hurt from all that plane riding and sprinting from the end of Terminal A to the end of Terminal E in Charlotte. So, I went down to the hot tub.

There was a group of elderly people sitting nearby (definition: people older than me). Also as I arrived what appeared to be a distinguished older man with a much younger woman getting into the pool and acting all mushy and giggly. I thought the woman looked like a stereotypical trophy wife. I was feeling all superior and judgmental, floating around with my green hippie hair in a granny bun.

I was so wrong. The couple came into the hot tub to warm up from the chilly pool. I found out they were there honoring her mother who had just died, who owned the condo membership. We had a lovely conversation, and talked about how weird families get after a death…blah blah.

As the woman (who turned out not to be significantly younger than her husband, just with good hair and makeup) left I heard her say how nice I’d been. That warmed my heart and at the same time drove home the old saying of not to judge a book by its cover.

I deserve to step on a jellyfish and get stung. Oh, wait, then I’d be cruel for hurting an innocent sea creature. Never mind.

I’m chastened. Geez! One reason I enjoy traveling is to get to know people who are different from me. I can’t do that if I’m putting them down in my head.

These volunteer pansies watched me silently, with judgy pansy faces.

Lesson learned, or at least reinforced. I hope to see these folks again this week, since they will be here.

Other highlights of the day were talking to a nice young man on the plane, getting the same friendly Gullah taxi driver I had last time, being remembered by two staff members, and getting a great book at the Austin airport. It’s called Eve and is a history of women’s bodies. It’s some of the best science writing for lay folks I’ve read in a while. The footnotes are funny sometimes but there are 100 pages of endnotes and references for the scholars.

Off to read my book and not judge its cover.

Georgia on My Mind

Who was your most influential teacher? Why?

I’m lucky to have had many wonderful teachers throughout my life, many of whom are also friends. That’s a privilege. I’m interrupting my travelogue of state park visits to once again mention my most influential teacher (because I’m pretty sure I’ve gushed about this before), Georgia.

I’m not splashing pictures of her in this post. She knows who she is.

She taught me syntax and pragmatics (among other things) in graduate school in Illinois. The academic stuff was great—the staff at that school really made my favorite topics interesting. But it turned out that I didn’t have what it takes to be a linguistics professor after all (though I loved teaching it).

Me in the 1980s when I was mentally unstable.

How convenient it was for me that I learned ideas and skills I’d use for my whole life from Georgia’s examples. Her examples as an instructor, editor, spouse, parent, political activist, and critical thinker are with me every day. For example, I learned to write, proofread, and edit after reading her corrections on my work. Thanks for the career skills, Georgia!

How she raised her children greatly influenced my own parenting, since I lacked a sane role model in the mother department. I admire her children so much today!

The most important thing she taught me, though, was to accept others as they are. She knew me in my worst years, when I made one bad decision after another, and thought more with my hormones than my brain. Georgia was still kind and gracious to me and still is today. That in itself is one of the greatest lessons she imparted, that people don’t have to be perfect to be loved.

This guy and I are still teaching each other that lesson.

Enough mushiness on that topic, except to say that we are all taught by so many people and teach others as well. Let’s try to teach positive lessons!

Now I Can See Those Dang Birds

One thing Lee and I did in Austin yesterday was get a zoom lens for our Cannon camera. It goes 150-500, and is pretty big but not ridiculous. We went to Precision Camera, a store I’ve patronized off and on since I moved here. I am glad they sell used equipment. New stuff is pricey.

The first time I went to Precision Camera it was a much smaller store near the current one. I went with Mary Jo, the school librarian at my kids’ school, to get a digital camera so I could put photos on the school website. We got the best we could get in 1998, since it was a new school and we had funds. This fine camera could take ten pictures on its memory card. Then you’d have to slowly download to a PC to clear out space. Getting even one photo per class was tedious (plus no photos of children’s faces—we had already figured that out).

I’m pretty sure this was it. You can get your own here.

I digress. The current equipment we now have holds lots more photos, and we download them via the camera’s wifi, which even our mid-level Canon camera has. So see, some things are better now. My goal is to get photos of birds that will look good enough to ID on iNaturalist. I have no illusions of becoming an art photographer at this point in my life.

New lens triumphantly produced an identifiable White-crowned Sparrow.

Today was not a great day to try the new lens out, since it was misty and drizzly all day. The temperature only varied by 6° all day!

Even though it was a gray day, I took many bird photos, some with the phone, which also has a good zoom but not as many pixels. I wanted to compare.

The lens is heavy, so I’ll have to build arm strength. It has stabilizers, which is quite useful for shaky arms.

Luckily, whatever this thing is didn’t move.

Mostly I practiced taking pictures of our Great Egret as it preened its damp feathers. It’s great to be able to see it up close.

On a sunny day I could do more, but I enjoyed trying different modes. I’m nowhere near able to manually manipulate settings. I’ll get there.

I look forward to seeing what I can do around the ranch. I get plenty of bird variety here! Maybe I can get better photos out camping, too. Identifiable ones will suffice. I’ll leave you with a few of my experiments.

Cute Birds and Bittersweet Memories

It was the best day in a long time for bird watching. Between my observations and the Merlin Bird ID, 51 species were found on our property. That’s pretty exciting for me. But more exciting was how entertained I was by all that I saw. Yes, I’m easily entertained. You knew that.

I swear this little White-crowned Sparrow looks like an egg with a tiny head on it.

I saw a beautiful Harrier swooping over the fields late this afternoon when working with Apache the Wonder Steed. We both watched.

Then right at sunset, while I was watching and listening to the sparrows (Harris’s, White-throated, Chipping, Song, and White-crowned) as they rustled through the leaves looking for bird stuff, something flew by. It was the Great Horned Owl heading to a tree. Thirty seconds later, it hit the ground. I guess it got a mouse. Spectacular.

I didn’t like that. What if the owl was after us cute songbirds? Circle of Life, yeah yeah.

That really helped me get through a hard day. It’s now six years since I heard from my son. He was a great kid. I hope he’s enjoying life. I think he is, and that’s good. I just miss this little charmer.

33 years and 8 months ago, 4 generations.

As the two older generations in that photo are no longer here to talk to, I’m the older generation now. My cousin Jan and I have been talking about that, since her dad, a good friend of my dad’s, passed a way a couple of days ago. We’re the elders. That feels so strange.

Three generations, me, Mom, and Aunt Belle, my grandmother’s twin. I was a senior in high school.

I hope I can stay in contact with the generation after me. Maybe someday my son, but if not, it’s his decision and I respect it. And I’m fine. I just allow myself one day a year to mourn the loss that I really don’t understand. Grief is always lurking.

My parents and me in 1958. I knew they loved me, even if none of us were perfect. Dad was 27. Mom was 36.

Once again, I ask you to stick close to your loved ones, your friends who support you, and your community. We need each other.

Wossamotta U?

What’s your favorite cartoon?

Since I was young I just loved the Rocky & Bullwinkle Show. It probably started me down the road to my love of puns. Every single segment just cracked me up, even when I had to ask my parents about some of the humor.

Jay Ward, the creator of this weirdly wonderful cartoon show, was a genius. I had many serious scholars of his work as friends during my academic years, so I may have overdosed on the reruns and analysis, but I still chuckle if I see a clip. If you are young, look it up and read about it in the article linked above. Then binge on Moose and Squirrel, Boris and Natasha, Mr. Peabody, and Dudley Do-Right.

I’m still thinking about things and issues, but more kindnesses from neighbors and some pleasant weather helped a lot today. I got things done that are hard for a person whose brain is not firing on all cylinders.

Still, the three days of much-needed rain put me way behind on bur removal, with only Apache done. I’ll try to get someone else in the herd done before my lesson tomorrow—since the horses finally have a round bale again, they won’t be so invested in getting tidbits of grass from between cocklebur plants.

An Ancestral Home

Do you have a favorite place you have visited? Where is it?

There are a few places I would call “favorite” of the relatively small number of locations I’ve visited. I wrote about one, the springs at the head of the San Marcos River, in October. Like my other favorite spots, this resonated with me, like I was meant to be there, or attached in some way I don’t understand.

Often such places contain oak trees or springs/wells

Today I’ll tell you about another place where I felt an overwhelming sense of connection. I’ve only been there once, when my sons were very young. We had spent some time in England while the kids’ dad worked, then we visited members of his family and other friends. The time had come, however, to go to Ireland to see the boys’ grandparents and other kin.

We had a rental car, so we intended to take the ferry to Dublin, which was extra conveniently located near the grandparents’ home on Dublin Bay in Clontarf. I doubt you give a fig about these details, but in case my mind is going, I’m writing them down.

This isn’t exactly where they lived, but this was the view of the harbor.

To get to the ferry we had to drive through Wales, one of the most ruggedly beautiful places I’ve ever been (outside of quarries, mines, and such). After oohing and aahing at little trains and slate roofs, we crossed over into Anglesey Island, to catch the big car ferry out of Holyhead.

Here is where you get proof that my previous husband is a good guy. We didn’t go on the zippy motorway. No, we went all around this amazing bit of land that’s just crawling with my favorites: standing stones, stone circles, and holy wells. It would have been more fun if there weren’t a gale wind blowing so hard that waves went over the road occasionally. There were even places where streams or creeks crossed the road. The kids liked that.

I made that poor man stop at many of these. Neolithic wonders. From Pexels.

At one point, on the east coast, there was a sign saying something about ancient dwellings. It was a place called Din Lligwy and it’s one of the oldest ruins of ancient dwellings in the islands off of Europe. There are very early Roman ruins and evidence of people living there long before Romans showed up.

These photos are from this lovely article.

I got out of the car and asked for ten minutes or so to see it. Rain was falling. Waves were crashing, and a bitter wind blew. I barely noticed. I stood there amid the foundations of the homes that were beside workshops and barns. I felt as if I could see my foremothers tending fires, nursing their babies, and creating homes, just like I was doing with my little family. This place felt like a home to me.

Of course I ran back to the car all wet and jibbering, but my ex was used to me and my ancient landmarks, and the boys liked my stories. I’ll never forget the short time I stood looking at the Irish Sea during a storm, like so many other mothers had before.

By the way, the weather did not improve and we all got very sick on the ferry. But it was an adventure!

Committed to Telling People What They Mean to Me.

This afternoon, Lee, our friend Martha, and I drove back to our old haunt, Live Oak Unitarian Universalist Church in Cedar Park. Due to some PTSD (at least on my part), it doesn’t happen often. But there we were, right where we used to be.

And there I was, doing what I used to do, singing with Bill. He asked me to join him, so I tried to remember how to sing.

A dear friend, Esther, passed away recently, and the Celebration of Life was today. This couple was a role model for our marriage, support when Lee’s dad was ill. I sang in the church choir for many years with Jim, and he brought me fish and game from time to time (I loved threatening to make squirrel stew from his bounty). He hated squirrels as much as Anita does.

As I listened to Jim share the touching story of their long and loving marriage, followed by funny and moving stories about Esther from their children and more, it occurred to me how Esther would have enjoyed the evening. Gee, most of the family are professional writers, so anyone would have enjoyed it.

My choir and women’s group friends with Jim.

What sparked in me was a desire to let all my old friends I saw at the service know how much I appreciated them and their contributions to my life. I did a lot of extra-hard hugging of my women’s group buddies and former choir friends. And a few people were probably a bit embarrassed to hear me tell them how much they mean to me. I was sorry a couple of people had to leave early. I’d have blubbered even more.

I blubbered at Ricky because he called me “Sue-Nanna,” which is what he always called me. Then we talked about football and golf.

But, in these uncertain times, I don’t know when I’ll see some of these kind and loving souls again. If I didn’t tell them now, when would I? I just looked into their faces and wanted to savor every moment.

I see them on Facebook all the time, but their in-person faces. Ahhh.

Please, if you get a chance to see people you care deeply about, tell them. Show them. It won’t hurt to tell them multiple times. It helps counteract some of the negativity. I’m glad Lee, Martha, and I got to do it.

I’m committed to telling everyone I see that I care about how much they mean to me now, while I can.

Ring of Fire

What’s the coolest thing you’ve ever found (and kept)?

I wish I was at home where I could photograph it, but I found a very cool item in about 1977 when I was a college freshman at the University of Florida.

My roommate, boyfriend, and I were walking to the oldest dorms on campus, which were surrounded by huge camellia trees (too big to be shrubs). It had recently rained very hard, so the ground was moist and musty. I went to look at a camellia blossom in the ground and saw what appeared to be the round top to a soda can.

I kicked it around a bit, and it came up as a big lump. My roommate said I should clean it off, so I did my best, as it was all muddy. It became clear that the object was a ring!

We didn’t think it looked like much. Still, we took it back to our room and washed it. There was an oval, milky white stone in a setting that looked like flower petals. It was dark with age. But we shined it, and lo! It was 18 carat gold! We then realized the stone was an opal.

Plus it fit! We figured it had been lost years ago and only resurfaced after the hard rain washed soil away. Our guess was confirmed when Mom and I had the ring cleaned and looked at by a jeweler, who remarked that the setting was very unusual and said I shouldn’t try to replace the stone.

I’ve had the ring for nearly 50 years now! I do wear it on occasion.