Marcel Proust's multi-volume first-person narrative "A la recherche du temps perdu" is literally translated as "In Search of Lost Time." It starts with the narrator sitting in a cafe with a cup of tea and a cookie (a "petite madeleine," to be precise). When he dips the cookie into the tea and takes a bite, the sensory experience puts him in touch with all these past experiences. Wow! That's some cookie!
The point is, I think, that we are tied to the rest of our lives by all of our senses and that even a small thing can trigger the retrieval of a memory long buried in the far recesses of our minds. These things are not actually lost after all.
The brain is an amazing organ. Research has shown that vivid mental images can be virtually indistinguishable from the actual experiences from a brain and body chemistry perspective. This is the science behind visualization therapy, for example. So the taste of a tea-soaked cookie -- or our creating a detailed picture in our heads -- can bring it all back.
I am thinking about this because my family is presently making plans to put my mother's ashes in the ground in the family plot in Charleston, WV, where my Dad was buried in 1973. That is the last time that I was there. Thinking about this trip later this Fall, looking at pictures of the family plot sent to us by the cemetery manager, takes me back to that graveside and then, by extension, to that of paternal grandmother 12 or 13 years before, my first experience of death and death rituals.
The night we heard about Grandma, I remember playing with the dog and thinking that we shouldn't be having fun. I loved Grandma tremendously and had no idea what no longer having her at holidays -- ever again -- was going to mean. My dad was sad and withdrawn in a way that I had never seen in him before, even though he was always a quiet, gentle person. Of course I had no idea what to do with that either.
We flew down to Charleston in what was my very first plane ride. Talk about mixed emotions! It was a time of year when the weather was chilly and rainy -- November, I think. At the funeral home, we were in a side room most of the time, although they had the family come in before the service to view Grandma in the open casket. Then we went back out. I remember thinking it didn't look like her, and also that this was the last thing on earth I wanted for myself. That thinking has stuck to this day.
At the graveside, it was gray and wet. There was the hole surrounded by some kind of ground covering, and the casket on a lowering mechanism. I don't remember what was said there or what we did afterward. I am sure that some kind family friend had a meal of some kind. Then my parents stayed on to settle things, sending the three of us kids home on the overnight train, my 17-year-old brother in charge of my 13-year-old brother and me. Friends met us at the station and life went on. It was all a bit surreal, a kind of anti-climax. I wonder if I really dealt with it or knew how.
When my Dad died suddenly in 1973, it was June. He was cremated, so we did not have to deal with the whole casket thing. Down we flew again and stood at the graveside. It was a beautiful sunny day, for which I was monumentally grateful. And there was this tiny box instead of a large casket. I remember looking at it and thinking this was way too small a box for a person (and the plain casket he was cremated in), way too small. Cognitive dissonance and then some. Family friends had a lunch for us afterwards. And we made our own ways home. I flew back to Connecticut, where I was working, by myself and went on with my life, surreal and anti-climactic.
I don't know if I am better prepared this third time or not. I'd like to think so. It has been a while since Mom died and now it is more a question of getting this last thing done for her and getting the final bit of closure. The weather will hopefully be pleasant. I am looking forward to seeing this place again, with my grandparent's stones and my Dad's stone, and now my mother's. Any contacts with family friends are long disappeared with the passage of time and the changing of the generational guards. We will all go home, and life will go on. Not as surreal this time, I don't expect.
I doubt I will be back there again. This is not what I see doing for myself.
So what does this have to do with being retired, being 60ish, etc? I guess because this is the last thing I have to do for the generation before me. Now I am solidly in the senior generation in the family. It's scary. It also makes me think about how to make the best use of this time in my life. Now is the time.
Carpe diem.
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Friday, August 20, 2010
Post-Vacation downtime
It seems ironic that returning from vacation should result in a period of reduced activity, but that is the way it is for me right now. Maybe when you are retired, vacation has a different function. I really don't know where to go with that, though. I mean, I don't have a routine that consumes my entire week, as I did when I was employed full time. But I do seem to have quite a few things going -- workouts twice a week, bike riding, some running, church work at my local church and in a committee at the Presbytery level. That seems to suck up enough time that my husband said, as I worried about having missed a meeting, "You mean there's something at the church that you aren't going to?" Oops. Might want to rethink the word NO and its relevance to my life. Remember that comment about church work being something wherein it is the volunteer who sets the limits? So true.
I had a great time at Chautauqua and recommend it to one and all. Now I am home and have to find a reason to continue. No, that sounds way to serious. Life is sweet, as I realize over and over these days. There are things that confound, confuse, irritate and downright scare me. But overall...
I am going to pick out a 5k to run this fall. That will give me some focus. Sigh.
I had a great time at Chautauqua and recommend it to one and all. Now I am home and have to find a reason to continue. No, that sounds way to serious. Life is sweet, as I realize over and over these days. There are things that confound, confuse, irritate and downright scare me. But overall...
I am going to pick out a 5k to run this fall. That will give me some focus. Sigh.
Thursday, August 12, 2010
CHQ -- Journal #3 --- Doing the NFO run
I ran the 3 miles again, only this time I went the other way. The advantage here is that, instead of having to go up this one really steep hill near the beginning of the run, you get to go down it near the end. The up runs are shorter and less steep. The path I have been running is the one that is used every year for an annual run call "Old First Night" for no reason I understand. On the pavement, to indicate the turns for the runners, are spray painted arrows and the letters "OFN." I call my run the NFO run.
The NFO run starts and ends at the same spot and follows the same route as its more recognized (at least here at CHQ) cousin. It follows the same path in reverse, and when I see the spray painted notation "1/2 mile," I know I am almost done, not just beginning.
Today's run is great in most ways. At 6:00 am, there is almost no noise or air movement. The lake is almost as smooth as glass, as cliched as that phrase is. Boats anchored off-shore point their masts to the overcast sky. and their reflections in the water are betrayed as copies by delicate ripples teased into existence by a feather-light breeze. A ragged tear in the cloud cover lets through a glow of light from the rising sun. Priceless.
Then the route turns away from the water, turning and going up the hills in short rises that are almost like steps. It is always interesting to see the houses and their varying architecture and the well groomed plantings of carefully tended gardens.
The run past the main gate and the firehouse is relatively easy -- flat and smooth. There is more activity along here, as the Farmer's Market vendors arrive and begin setting up. The bus drivers who loop the grounds all day are arriving, and other joggers and walkers begin to populate the path. Some say hi and wave on the way by. Others have a misty look in their eyes and iPod wires hanging from their ears. No greeting there.
On past the new Jewish Life Center, a beautiful pale yellow building with Victorian design elements and a wonderfully welcoming porch.
Soon I am at the southernmost part of the grounds, a seldom-traveled area comprised mostly of private homes. As I turn to go down that wickedly steep hill for the final half mile, I see a whimsical diorama of little wooden bats, a bluejay and a "Welcome to Chautauqua"sign. Another sign in the exuberantly ungroomed plantings declares that this is a backyard wildlife habitat certified as such by the National Wildlife Federation.
As I slow down enough to be sure I am not going to be going down the hill head over heels, I see a couple -- somewhere in their twenties, I think -- jogging up the hill, talking! I look over at the gray-haired woman laboring up the hill behind them. I raise my eyebrow, toss a thumb in the couple's direction and shrug. She laughs and says, "What's up with those people?" Funny how quickly common ground can be established.
I go carefully down the hill and turn into the final length of road, running along the lake again. By now, though, I am dripping sweat off the back of my hair onto my neck and repeat to myself silently, "Just a little further. Just a little further." It's hard to enjoy the scenery, at least for me, when I have to work at breathing. I know I am okay, but I am definitely pushing the envelope for a flatlander.
The century-old Athenaeum Hotel sits grandly along this stretch of shoreline, presenting its guests with a soothing view of the lake and all its activities. I wish there were any way I had the energy even to turn my head. All I could focus on at this point was the last spray painted remnant of the OFN (now NFO) run -- the Start/Finish line.
Finally I reach the sports club building ahead and the shuffleboard courts. The finish line. Huffing and puffing, I cross it, do my little arm-raised victory dance, and start to walk, to slow down my heart rate and see if I can't get my red face to cool down a bit.
Back at the house, I go for a shower, fresh clothes, clean hair, breakfast. Let the day begin.
Begin??? Are you kidding?!?
The NFO run starts and ends at the same spot and follows the same route as its more recognized (at least here at CHQ) cousin. It follows the same path in reverse, and when I see the spray painted notation "1/2 mile," I know I am almost done, not just beginning.
Today's run is great in most ways. At 6:00 am, there is almost no noise or air movement. The lake is almost as smooth as glass, as cliched as that phrase is. Boats anchored off-shore point their masts to the overcast sky. and their reflections in the water are betrayed as copies by delicate ripples teased into existence by a feather-light breeze. A ragged tear in the cloud cover lets through a glow of light from the rising sun. Priceless.
Then the route turns away from the water, turning and going up the hills in short rises that are almost like steps. It is always interesting to see the houses and their varying architecture and the well groomed plantings of carefully tended gardens.
The run past the main gate and the firehouse is relatively easy -- flat and smooth. There is more activity along here, as the Farmer's Market vendors arrive and begin setting up. The bus drivers who loop the grounds all day are arriving, and other joggers and walkers begin to populate the path. Some say hi and wave on the way by. Others have a misty look in their eyes and iPod wires hanging from their ears. No greeting there.
On past the new Jewish Life Center, a beautiful pale yellow building with Victorian design elements and a wonderfully welcoming porch.
Soon I am at the southernmost part of the grounds, a seldom-traveled area comprised mostly of private homes. As I turn to go down that wickedly steep hill for the final half mile, I see a whimsical diorama of little wooden bats, a bluejay and a "Welcome to Chautauqua"sign. Another sign in the exuberantly ungroomed plantings declares that this is a backyard wildlife habitat certified as such by the National Wildlife Federation.
As I slow down enough to be sure I am not going to be going down the hill head over heels, I see a couple -- somewhere in their twenties, I think -- jogging up the hill, talking! I look over at the gray-haired woman laboring up the hill behind them. I raise my eyebrow, toss a thumb in the couple's direction and shrug. She laughs and says, "What's up with those people?" Funny how quickly common ground can be established.
I go carefully down the hill and turn into the final length of road, running along the lake again. By now, though, I am dripping sweat off the back of my hair onto my neck and repeat to myself silently, "Just a little further. Just a little further." It's hard to enjoy the scenery, at least for me, when I have to work at breathing. I know I am okay, but I am definitely pushing the envelope for a flatlander.
The century-old Athenaeum Hotel sits grandly along this stretch of shoreline, presenting its guests with a soothing view of the lake and all its activities. I wish there were any way I had the energy even to turn my head. All I could focus on at this point was the last spray painted remnant of the OFN (now NFO) run -- the Start/Finish line.
Finally I reach the sports club building ahead and the shuffleboard courts. The finish line. Huffing and puffing, I cross it, do my little arm-raised victory dance, and start to walk, to slow down my heart rate and see if I can't get my red face to cool down a bit.
Back at the house, I go for a shower, fresh clothes, clean hair, breakfast. Let the day begin.
Begin??? Are you kidding?!?
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
CHQ -- Journal #2
It's Wednesday night and the time already seems to be winding down. Two full days of programming are ahead, then home again on Saturday.
The theme for the week is Sacred Spaces, and lectures both secular and religiously oriented have centered around this concept. We heard Ken Burns speak twice this week -- once about William Seagel and a place in France called Vezelay (very contemplative), and tonight about battlefields, which have their own sacred nature in a "lest we forget" kind of way.
In the afternoons, the Department of Religion lectures have been Abrahamic in nature and have focussed on Jerusalem and its role as a sacred place from different points of view. So far we have heard a Muslim, a Jew and a Christian speak. They have taken very different tacks, but it has been so interesting and surprisingly not contentious. The Jewish speaker was Rabbi Melchior, who must be well-known, though not by me. At any rate, he has been, among other things, a member of the Israeli Knesset, and I wondered if he might not be more of a hard liner. Never assume....
I have been taking an acting class this week from a woman who works in NYC as an actor and is lots of fun. As there are only two of us students, we get a good amount of time to do actual scene work. I do love the stage and wish there were more opportunities for me to indulge this hankering closer to where I live.
Only two days left. I am beginning to feel sad already, but I don't want to give any of that time away, either, in premature grieving. In the morning, I will run again and then let the rhythm of the day proceed in its customary way. In a right/left brain exercise, I will get some needlework done during lectures, a cultural thing here that I love.
Tonight we go "off campus" for dinner at Andriaccio's, an Italian restaurant near enough to walk to, and then back for a symphony concert. Tomorrow is leftover night, in an attempt to use up what is still hanging around in the fridge. And so it goes!
CHQ, you're the best!
The theme for the week is Sacred Spaces, and lectures both secular and religiously oriented have centered around this concept. We heard Ken Burns speak twice this week -- once about William Seagel and a place in France called Vezelay (very contemplative), and tonight about battlefields, which have their own sacred nature in a "lest we forget" kind of way.
In the afternoons, the Department of Religion lectures have been Abrahamic in nature and have focussed on Jerusalem and its role as a sacred place from different points of view. So far we have heard a Muslim, a Jew and a Christian speak. They have taken very different tacks, but it has been so interesting and surprisingly not contentious. The Jewish speaker was Rabbi Melchior, who must be well-known, though not by me. At any rate, he has been, among other things, a member of the Israeli Knesset, and I wondered if he might not be more of a hard liner. Never assume....
I have been taking an acting class this week from a woman who works in NYC as an actor and is lots of fun. As there are only two of us students, we get a good amount of time to do actual scene work. I do love the stage and wish there were more opportunities for me to indulge this hankering closer to where I live.
Only two days left. I am beginning to feel sad already, but I don't want to give any of that time away, either, in premature grieving. In the morning, I will run again and then let the rhythm of the day proceed in its customary way. In a right/left brain exercise, I will get some needlework done during lectures, a cultural thing here that I love.
Tonight we go "off campus" for dinner at Andriaccio's, an Italian restaurant near enough to walk to, and then back for a symphony concert. Tomorrow is leftover night, in an attempt to use up what is still hanging around in the fridge. And so it goes!
CHQ, you're the best!
Monday, August 9, 2010
Chautuaqua (CHQ) Journal #1
I am in heaven right now, although on the map it is called Chautauqua, NY. (For brevity's sake and to give my keyboarding skills less of a workout, I am going to say CHQ instead.) If you have never heard of it, all I can say is that it is like sleep-over camp for grown ups, only way better. CHQ started as a summer lecture program for Methodist Sunday School teachers. The program was held in a small town on a lake in upstate New York (Chautauqua), and the organizers brought in interesting lecturers to illuminate the listeners' lives.
More than 125 years later, the town is a gated community for 9 weeks in the summer. Lectures are held in a huge covered ampitheater, instead of the park by the lake, with audiovisual equipment out the wazoo, plus classes in a huge variety of topics, from personal finances to digital photography to yoga and zumba and conversational French for beginners. If you feel like vegging out, just go down to one of the three swim areas, or take a walk along the lake, or sit and listen to enterprising young musicians playing chamber music at the central plaza, an open violin case in front of them, seeded with a few hopeful greenbacks.
Because CHQ started as a place for Sunday School teachers, the spiritual aspect to the place is still integral to its identity. There are numerous "denominational houses" on the grounds who provide housing and a refuge for their followers, plus the interfaith service in the Amp every morning. In the last ten years, there has been a further expansion of ecumenism in the form of the Abrahamic Initiative (now a Project), with a goal of bringing new understanding among peoples of the three traditions -- Christianity, Judaism and Islam. Sunday night, for example, there was a vesper service that was put together by three young persons (one from each tradition), including calls to prayer, and other worship elements from all three traditions. It was very moving. At least it is a start. How can we figure out how to get along if we don't know anything about the others?
Don't forget to bring the kids. There is a day camp for kids from 7 to ll and a half-day option of daycare for littler ones, all designed to give the parents a chance to enjoy some of the less kid-friendly programming, like lectures on the cosmos, or a few words from Sandra Day O'Connor or Jessie Jackson, or (as happened yesterday) Ken Burns of the PBS series on National Parks fame.
Central to the town is the plaza, a wide open green area with a fountain in the center. The library is at one end and the administrative office building at the other. Then there is the Post Office, Bookstore, Refectory, and a number of stores. Don't forget the kiosk where those of us who are espresso-dependent can get their grande latte.
Wander around the town in your spare time and revel in the variety of Victorian architecture. "Life is a porch" is a favorite t-shirt saying. Owners have spent a lot of time coming up with multicolor paint schemes and elaborate floral plantings. Outdoor sculptures sprout in the most unexpected places, and you never know when you will stumble on to a little garden with a bench on which to rest your weary self and get back in touch with nature and the mystical aura of CHQ.
There is so much more to this place -- like opera and theater and student art and dance programs. There is an orchestra, comprised of off-season or retired symphony members, that performs once or twice a week. There is a movie theater and a golf course and a fitness center. Seriously, if you can't find something to do here...I just can't imagine that, actually.
I am in heaven. I fell in love with it 5 minutes after arriving and it has stayed that way for 10 years now. Before I went the first time, at the invitation of a couple of friends who seemed to keep going back every year, I said to my husband, "I just don't want this to be the last place I ever go to for a vacation." Well, it hasn't been the only place. Although I have gone other places as well, I have only missed one summer in CHQ since that first visit.
It looks like I will not be able to come next year, because of some other things going on that need to take precedence. I can tell you that I will miss it and will eagerly anticipate my return in 2012.
Heaven on earth.
More than 125 years later, the town is a gated community for 9 weeks in the summer. Lectures are held in a huge covered ampitheater, instead of the park by the lake, with audiovisual equipment out the wazoo, plus classes in a huge variety of topics, from personal finances to digital photography to yoga and zumba and conversational French for beginners. If you feel like vegging out, just go down to one of the three swim areas, or take a walk along the lake, or sit and listen to enterprising young musicians playing chamber music at the central plaza, an open violin case in front of them, seeded with a few hopeful greenbacks.
Because CHQ started as a place for Sunday School teachers, the spiritual aspect to the place is still integral to its identity. There are numerous "denominational houses" on the grounds who provide housing and a refuge for their followers, plus the interfaith service in the Amp every morning. In the last ten years, there has been a further expansion of ecumenism in the form of the Abrahamic Initiative (now a Project), with a goal of bringing new understanding among peoples of the three traditions -- Christianity, Judaism and Islam. Sunday night, for example, there was a vesper service that was put together by three young persons (one from each tradition), including calls to prayer, and other worship elements from all three traditions. It was very moving. At least it is a start. How can we figure out how to get along if we don't know anything about the others?
Don't forget to bring the kids. There is a day camp for kids from 7 to ll and a half-day option of daycare for littler ones, all designed to give the parents a chance to enjoy some of the less kid-friendly programming, like lectures on the cosmos, or a few words from Sandra Day O'Connor or Jessie Jackson, or (as happened yesterday) Ken Burns of the PBS series on National Parks fame.
Central to the town is the plaza, a wide open green area with a fountain in the center. The library is at one end and the administrative office building at the other. Then there is the Post Office, Bookstore, Refectory, and a number of stores. Don't forget the kiosk where those of us who are espresso-dependent can get their grande latte.
Wander around the town in your spare time and revel in the variety of Victorian architecture. "Life is a porch" is a favorite t-shirt saying. Owners have spent a lot of time coming up with multicolor paint schemes and elaborate floral plantings. Outdoor sculptures sprout in the most unexpected places, and you never know when you will stumble on to a little garden with a bench on which to rest your weary self and get back in touch with nature and the mystical aura of CHQ.
There is so much more to this place -- like opera and theater and student art and dance programs. There is an orchestra, comprised of off-season or retired symphony members, that performs once or twice a week. There is a movie theater and a golf course and a fitness center. Seriously, if you can't find something to do here...I just can't imagine that, actually.
I am in heaven. I fell in love with it 5 minutes after arriving and it has stayed that way for 10 years now. Before I went the first time, at the invitation of a couple of friends who seemed to keep going back every year, I said to my husband, "I just don't want this to be the last place I ever go to for a vacation." Well, it hasn't been the only place. Although I have gone other places as well, I have only missed one summer in CHQ since that first visit.
It looks like I will not be able to come next year, because of some other things going on that need to take precedence. I can tell you that I will miss it and will eagerly anticipate my return in 2012.
Heaven on earth.
Monday, August 2, 2010
When early isn't early enough
I decided to get back to the running in an organized way. After all, I have that new long-term training goal of doing a triathlon sprint next spring. The thing is, I puff up in humid weather and this is shaping up to be a humid summer. Bleah! That means that I have to get up and out before it gets too beastly. So far, I have not managed to do that.
It turns out that 9am is too late. I ran "the Southern loop" last Wednesday -- our house down West River to Groh across to Meridian up to Hawthorn Glen Drive and back to West River -- and made it home red-faced and dripping. At that time, whether there is humidity or not, the sun is already up above the trees along the bike path, and there is no shadow to be found.
Last night, I decided I would do the loop again today, but earlier. Out the door at 8 am. So there was still some shade available on the path. But not enough and none for that final leg through Hawthorne Glen Drive. I managed to "run" (remember, slow is the new fast) two and a half miles before my heart rate got too high to do even that. Well, that's my reason and I'm sticking to it.
Next run is Friday, at 7am. If that isn't early enough, I'm waiting for a new climate.
It turns out that 9am is too late. I ran "the Southern loop" last Wednesday -- our house down West River to Groh across to Meridian up to Hawthorn Glen Drive and back to West River -- and made it home red-faced and dripping. At that time, whether there is humidity or not, the sun is already up above the trees along the bike path, and there is no shadow to be found.
Last night, I decided I would do the loop again today, but earlier. Out the door at 8 am. So there was still some shade available on the path. But not enough and none for that final leg through Hawthorne Glen Drive. I managed to "run" (remember, slow is the new fast) two and a half miles before my heart rate got too high to do even that. Well, that's my reason and I'm sticking to it.
Next run is Friday, at 7am. If that isn't early enough, I'm waiting for a new climate.
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