Find Your Thing

To Satch
Samuel Allen

Sometimes I feel like I will never stop
Just go on forever
I’m gonna reach up and grab me a handfulla stars
Swing out my long lean leg
And whip three hot strikes burnin’ down the heavens
and look over at God and say,
How about that!

Joe DiMaggio called Satchel Paige “the best and fastest pitcher I’ve ever faced”. His pitching was amazing and his showboating was legendary. His career highlights span five decades. Pronounced the greatest pitcher in the history of the Negro Leagues, Paige compiled such feats as 64 consecutive scoreless innings.

This is the kid who didn’t want to pitch this season. First year in AAA/kid pitch division of Little League. This is the kid who who got seven strikeouts in 2 innings in one of his games, six in another and more games just like that. This is the kid who showed me how he can fight his way back from walking three batters and hitting the next, only to strike out the next three.

This kid, with that look in his eye. Alone on the mound, pitch after pitch, the game resting in his glove, his elbow, his brain. His eyes. His confidence.

Yes, I am proud. Of course I am proud, I am his mother, so pride is a given. But it dawned on me, it goes so much deeper than that. I get it now, what my own mother said to me so many times growing up, ‘find your thing’.

Proud, yes, of course. Absolutely.

But it is knowing, by that look in his eye, and watching him fight back after a few bad throws and seeing him focus; knowing that he knows what my own mama knew. I don’t have to tell him. He’s got it.

Me:    So, what do you think about when you are on the mound, ready to throw?

Him:  Nothing.

Me:    No, really, what do you think about out there on the mound?

Him:  Just getting the ball into the glove.

This is the kid who said he didn’t want to pitch this season.

I never rush myself. See, they can’t start the game without me. – Satchel Paige

Professional Be-Bop

Yesterday I was feeling blue, but moving through the day as if, as if all is well. I ran some errands over my lunch hour and had the music playing, loud, to soothe my soul and boost my spirits, as it usually does.

One of my favorite beat inducing artists came on and I found myself tapping my foot lightly, patting the gear shifter, nodding my head just ever so slightly and mumbling-almost-lip-syncing the lyrics – truly a lackluster  attempt to be moved by the music as I drove through town.

Still pondering my mood and it’s source,  I noticed, or rather felt movement, on my left as I pulled up to a stoplight.  The woman in the car in the lane next to mine was simply, rocking out. She was totally jamming to the music!  She was behind the wheel of a fancy black sedan, shiny and well maintained. Without staring, I could tell she was a  professional woman, probably in her 50′s and maybe even early 60′s. Short dark hair nicely done, but not quite coiffed. Styled. Stylish. Yes, I could even tell she was wearing a suit. She looked so well put together. Fancy sunglasses, some highlights in her hair. I promise, I didn’t stare. Or stalk. Or snap.  I really wanted to take a picture and I didn’t.

You can exhale now.

I couldn’t help it; she was really rocking out. Hands in percussion-like movement across the steering wheel and gear shifter, lips moving with the words, body engaged in car-dancing. Completely in tune with the music.

Before I knew it, I was smiling.  My heart lifted, my eyes brightened. I was delighted by her joy, her lightness and her pure enjoyment in the moment.   I was moved by her obvious happiness.  I was actually disappointed when the light turned green and as I drove on past her, I turned and gave her a quick smile; I somehow wanted her to know that her happiness was contagious.   I have no idea what she was listening to, but I decided in that moment that she was grooving along with the same song I was. She just had to be.

As I turned up the stereo a little bit more, it occurred to me how we can make an impact others when we don’t even know it. When we have no idea that others even see us, notice us. We matter.

My professional be-bop lady was happy, she was IN her moment; all she had to do was be happy and I got to benefit.  From that point on my day took on more shades of yellow and much less of the blue.  I wish I could thank her, let her know how much she brightened my day, lifted my spirits and gave me something to smile about.

Have a be-bop kind of day; go ahead and rock out – you just might make someone’s day!  Here is what Bonnie and her Be-bop lady were listening to:

Outnumbered

So, yesterday I had made a ‘committment’ to spend my Sunday drinking and browsing, but as it turned out, I was outnumbered and outvoted by the men in my house. Which doesn’t take much, as I am the token female in our family. The cat doesn’t count.

But, if I couldn’t spend the day in my pjs curled up with a cup of coffee and the world wide web, at least I could spend the day in my second choice favorites: shorts and a tank top and instead of the couch, here

The boys would have none of this lounging bit, so off we went for a day hike up in one of my favorite place, Desolation Wilderness.  I find it ironic how something known as desolation somehow lifts my soul no matter how many times I traverse it’s stark, surface-of-the-moon like terrain.

It was this guy’s first foray into the wilderness, and he held his own and set his sights on vistas far and wide.

We made our contributions to the ‘community rock garden’

and despite the fact that I was out voted on the pajama day, I managed to wrangle a lizard like nap in the sun

And when I am a middle-aged woman, I shall, I will,  (I do now – thanks to the clearance rack at the REI on the way up the hill)  wear purple hiking shoes; for in my middle age, I somehow forgot to bring my hiking shoes, for our day of hiking. Tally one for ol’ Twinkle Toes!

And at the end of the day,

I’d say it was more than a fair trade; the wildnerness in place of the couch, and purple shoes instead of pajamas, to spend the day in one of my favorite place.

There’s always tomorrow!

Tales of the Camping Mamas

I remembered the underwear, a plethora of underwear actually that magically needed no laundering upon returning home. Little boys are funny.  But I forgot the swim trunks and my hairbrush. Thankfully, neither are absolutely necessary when camping; where improvisation is key.

It was two moms, two boys, two nights and countless fun and moments to remember.  Having paid our dues in prior years, with tent set up + take down and sleeping on the ground [or attempting to] on air mattresses that never quite have enough air, we upgraded ourselves to a yurt this year. For the non-campers, a visual aid is provided.

This was like the Ritz-Carlton to us – actual beds, a lamp, a heater [that was never needed] a skylight, and a real door that could be passed through without feeling like we had entered a page in Alice in Wonderland or The Hunchback  – no shrinking of our tall selves was required.

We weren’t the only ones who loved the yurt, while the boys were chillin’ on the bunkbed,  a bird flew into our humble abode. After an unsuccessful attempt to nicely have the bird find it’s own accommodations, we engaged the help of the park ranger.  This is big stuff apparently, our bird in the yurt was the talk of the park staff meeting.  That, and the keurig coffee machine we saw plugged in- in the ladies restroom.

Surrounded by pine trees, amazing mountains and quiet, except for the wind rustling through the aspens, we surrendered our phones, computers, iPods, etc. Our entertainment came from books, trees, lakes, sticks, bed-heads of epic proportions, our own imagination and for the boys, the campfire.  I don’t have a daughter, so I am not 100% sure, but there seems to be a genetic vein of pyro that runs through boys…can anyone dispel my theory?

There is something so soothing and nourishing about focusing on the simple tasks at hand, preparing food, rolling a sleeping bag, walking to the showers – the simple day to day tasks are admittedly more of a challenge in Mother Nature’s house, but it’s as if she is gently pulling us in, saying, ‘sit down and rest my dear‘. While in her house, we are allowed to rest our brains for a few days, slip into the rote actions of life and forget the rest of the world and all it’s worries.

The food tastes better.

Sipping wine among the trees and around a campfire with a perfect friend, is well, nothing short of amazing.

Hiking into the forest, while heart pumping and sweat-inducing, is awe inspiring

But it’s these boys that take my breath away.

But, what photos cannot capture are what will remain etched in my memory: two boys asking, in one moment, how far they can wander into the woods without supervision and in the next, asking their mama’s to snuggle in zipped-together sleeping bags. Two boys, who with such confidence, blazed ahead on the trail well beyond our sight, feeling proud beyond measure and then being overheard saying they wished mother-son camping lasted three nights.

The smell of campfire smoke in my still clean, unworn and overpacked clothing, that upon returning home, I refuse to wash. I want to keep that scent of days away from it all with my boy reminding me of a special time, even if  just for a few lingering days.

Two friends raising  their boys together sitting side by side without a word needed because we know that we are the kind of friends where the silence is just like having another friend along.  And asking each other, ‘what percent are you at?” while reading the same book on their kindles.

Driving down the highway and hearing the words, “mom crank it up”  and then the sweet voices of two boys uninhibited and free, singing along and knowing all the words, and the  knowing glances between moms with grins from ear to ear. We are full with the moment; we know it is fleeting. And really hoping they have no idea what the lyrics really mean!

The cleanest clean that comes from a 3 minute 4 quarter shower and the feeling of slipping on a fresh pair of pants, socks and sweatshirt after a day of living in the dirt.

The first sip of wine around the campfire.

Waking up and seeing the clear blue sky and the tippy tops of amazing trees through the skylight in our Ritz, yurt.

I surveyed my posse, “what is your favorite part of mother son camping?”:

Boy 1:  the campfire

Mom 1: the quiet, the unplugged-ness of it

Boy 2: roasting things in the campfire

{ I tell ya, it’s genetic! }

Mom 2 {me}: here is the best way I can give you my answer: As we started driving down the mountain, sun-drenched and beginning our trek home, the sun shining, blue skies and a gentle breeze blowing through the car, this song played on the radio. We sang along and I answered, “it’s right here. Right here”

As we drive away, all these memories are tucked away safely, imprinted upon us.

But, we will be back!

Oh, and how could I ever forget the campfire cones!?  Oh my, campfire cones! They deserve their own post, so check back tomorrow for the full scoop!

I need to think about it

School starts next week, which means the sudden return to schedules, routines, lunch bags, homework, practices  and games. Don’t get me wrong, I love it all. Well, except for the making lunches part, that is one of those tasks that I completely over-estimate in my mind and that for some reason  always seems far more difficult that it really ever turns out to be.

But first, one last hurrah of summer. My friend and I have a tradition of taking our boys away for a few days of mother/son camping as the last thing we do before school starts. Just the moms.  Just the boys. We love the one-on-one time with our guys, getting dirty, cooking out, being free of distractions, chucking most of the rules, except the ones that preserve our safety, and well, just soaking in the last bits of summer.

So, I am trying to pack, get all the items on my half of the food list, make sure we have the essentials and nothing more. Ok, a few glamping items are on my list, I must admit.

I am running around thinking I am quite busy, and so efficient in my planning, but I soon realize  that as I go to switch the laundry, I remember I need the flashlight; so I go to the cabinet to grab it, when I realize it probably needs batteries. So, I turn to add that to my list when I see that I need to buy the hot dog buns, which jogs my mind that I need to pack the sausage we have in the fridge. When I open the fridge, it dawns on me to check to see if I have a bag of edamame in the freezer, or if I need to buy that.  Which of course reminds me that I need to be sure to pack clean underwear and a toothbrush for my kiddo. Edamame to underwear. Somehow, I know you follow. And yes, I do realize this is more for my sake than his.

So, do I finish the laundry or run to the store first?  Or should I throw in the laundry, find the flashlight, pack the underwear, charge the camera battery and then head to the store? I need to think about it but while I think, I will take a nap. Or do I take a nap, and then think about it?  Or do I throw in the laundry, then take a nap after plugging in the camera battery and checking my list one more time? One thing I do know, I am not the only one who suffers from this…

See you all in a few. While I am away, please remember to change your underwear and buy the hot dog buns. Oh wait, that’s on my list.

We Ran Away…

We hit the road to find cooler temps in the city by the bay.

It was sweet to dodge the heat

And we savored every detail

Especially the characters we met along way

This fellow wanted to know if we were jolly.

And while tempting, we did not interrupt the serious negotiations about the lunch box.

With ocean breezes we felt invincible,

Until we witnessed the toughest fish in the sea…

But we did spy

A room with a view

and directions at every turn.

And now that we are home, again, this is how I feel…

Happy Monday! Stay cool wherever you are!