Mary Ann Hayes

Fire up the Super Grill!

Fire up the grill! It’s Labor Day! A celebration of working America. Now, I’m wondering…does this mean non-working America should sit this one out? I mean, there are a lot of unemployed, layed-off, no work to be had, people in our country right now. People who would love to be celebrating Labor Day because they are part of the labor force that drives our nation forward.  What if they’re collecting unemployment, using food stamps, and have medical paid for by the rest of us?

Not to put a damper on Labor Day or anything, but it’s not quite the celebration it used to be. Maybe this year we should focus our attention on the state of the union. On how the countries staggering debt could be managed more effectively for the benefit of the people of the United States. The people who’s taxes allow for such benefits.

As a tax paying, law abiding American, I would like to receive the same advantages as foreign people do who come here to live. As an American, I should be able to get a loan to start a new business easier and at a better rate than an immigrant who isn’t even a citizen and has never contributed a dime to our economy.

There comes a time when we, as the bleeding heart of the world, need to face reality. We should be able to trust our government to look out for our own first. That isn’t happening. We should be able to trust our government to secure the future for our children and grandchildren.  There should be no doubt that English is the official language and that our country was founded on a belief in God.

I think it’s time for a change. I think it’s time to reclaim our nation for the benefit of it’s citizens. I thank God I live in a country where I am allowed to voice my opinions without retribution. At least for now, anyway.

Happy Labor Day!

Later,

Mary Ann

Fall is here. I can hardly believe it. There is a hint of cool air behind every warm moment.  I sat outside for a while, eating my lunch today. As I faced the sun, tiny beads of perspiration gathering at my hairline, yet a chill ran down my spine.  It’s was still summer to the side of me facing the warm rays of our friendly fire-ball, but it was definitely a different season to the side facing the shade.

As much as I love fall, I hate to see summer go. We have such a short warm weather season, there never seams to be enough of it. But fall shows up, ready or not, with crisp chilly nights and surprisingly cool mornings. Time to dig out those sweaters and sweat pants. They say we’re in for a cold one!

Fall comes to us in shadows, here in the Pacific Northwest. We’re noticing shaded areas on the mountains looming over Puget Sound where only weeks ago the sun was melting the remains of last winters snow. It won’t be long before a fresh new dusting appears. I’ve noticed the spiders are taking up residence inside now. They always surprise me, the way they move indoors and claim space.

Has anyone noticed the year? My gosh, it’s 2010! Next on the agenda – the winter of 2010/2011!  How is it that time has taken on such mighty wings? The seasons seam to instantly appear, then vanish in a blink.  One right after another. Funny how it never moved fast enough when we were kids. Now, I’d give anything to have it just slow on down. Take a deep breath, time. Don’t be in such a hurry to kick out one season and usher in the next. Not all of us are in such a mighty hurry.

As much as I try, I cannot ignore how the leaves are starting to turn and the summer flowers have all died away.  I had to cut back all the dead daisy’s the other day, surprised it was that time already.

The good thing about fall is it’s astounding beauty. The other is sweaters and boots. Think I’ll go clean out the closet. Start packing some of the summer stuff downstairs and move a few of my fall favorites up. Maybe the wings of the seasons will take a break and let us soar for a while. Ease in to it a bit. Maybe Mother Nature will take a nap and just let things be for a few more weeks. One can only hope!

Later,

Mary Ann

Sea of Dreams

There is a lot of work involved in keeping the boat afloat. It needs constant care and attention, plenty of elbow grease.  We’ve noticed whenever we let ourselves slack off, we end up having to haul it out of the water and scrape off barnacles that shouldn’t have been allowed to latch on in the first place. That’s what happens when we let things go. Little inconveniences turn into problems; narley things start to attache themselves. It always ends up being a job we could have avoided.

Leaks are something we need to keep an eye out for. They’re not an everyday occurrence, but occasionally we notice a little water sloshing around where it shouldn’t be.  If we get right on it, we can patch it up before there’s a major hole in the boat.  At times, we’ve been too tired or just too lazy to take care of it. By the time we got around to fixing them, things were out of hand and a huge mess was taking over. When the life vests float out the boat and the gas tank is empty, there’s sure to be trouble on the sea of dreams. Why didn’t we pay attention? We should never let it go that far!

The problem then is finding a dry dock available to do the work and the funds to take care of all the repairs. When the ship begins to sink, it take a lot more of everything to fix it back up like new again. Sometimes, it’s not possible, which can be disastrous. When it is possible, all hands must be on deck, willing to throw hearts and souls into the restoration. Of course, there are rare occasions when the restored version is better than the original, but I don’t think it’s worth taking the chance. Like I said, it’s rare.

Pay close attention to the waters of our times and the boat your floating. Button down the hatches.  The forecast is stormy on the sea of dreams.

Later,

Mary Ann

Ain't Getting Any Younger

Oh, my. America is getting old. All of us “kids” are in our fifty’s and sixty’s now, even Mick and Harrison and Demi and Cher.  Our children are entering middle age, filling the spot where we used to be. And our parents? Well, they have become impossibly old! Suddenly, we’re kind of old, and they’re antiques. Not only that, but us kids with our sore hips and bad knees are having to step in and take care of them. Something I never thought of myself doing. Something I never thought of my parents needing.

Didn’t we just raise our kids? I can still hear the door swing shut after the last one left home. The echo is still in the hall. Yet, an urgent knock at the door hung on the shirt tail of the echo merely a minute or two behind. A Currier dumped the situation in our laps before we even had time to catch our breath. Look out. When it happens, it happens fast.

I remember the day the torch was passed from my mother to myself. I knew it was happening even though she had no idea. She was struggling to regain consciousness which made it pretty difficult for her to keep up on anything else going on. With him, it’s been a struggle. Once the head of the household, always the head of the household. It never ceases to amaze us how tightly he clutches his shield and sword. We step around him carefully, fitting suggestions and advise into every nook and cranny of our conversations, ducking and diving to avoid a be-heading. It must be so difficult to step down after all these years.

Yet it is happening everywhere. The great aging of America. So I arrogantly demand of my adult children; don’t ever let me…if I ever end up like…when I’m in that condition…if I’m ever in that condition…

What? What would I have them do differently than we are doing for our parents now? And why do I feel above all problems associated with aging? Oh, I can accept getting old- it’s just the problems associated with getting old that I cannot accept. I will not end up like, well, you know.

There is no solution, but there are many lessons to be learned. I hope I can accept it all graciously and be grateful for every good part of every day, even as they become few and far between. I hope the memories are only the good ones. I also hope that I do everything for my parents now that I would like to have done for me. It’s all part of the pay it forward plan, because let’s face it – doing our part now will determine how it will be done for us later.

Yes, even hard rocking Mick is headed for a rocker of a different kind!

Later,

Mary Ann

As a country of legendary marketing finesse, “they” have sold “us”, the general public, a bevy of brilliant and powerfully positive slogans; Today is the First Day of the Rest of Your Life, Just Do It, Count Your Blessings, Live in the Moment, Because You Can, Take Nothing for Granted, Go for the Gusto, etc.  All suggestions with the best of intentions, directed at encouraging our society to search out the positive in every situation. Chin up, ol’ boy! And you know what?  “They”, are right!

It’s not only good advise but necessary for survival in this doubtful, unpredictable time where fear prevails. We are afraid to think, do, or say just about anything. Our government lies to it’s people daily as does our media, we are afraid to leave our money in failing financial systems, our property isn’t worth what we paid for it, and who knows what’s in our food let alone where it came from.

Planes, trains and automobiles are recalled, derailed, and flown into buildings, mountains, and rivers. Traveling abroad has lost it’s glamor. To many places abroad don’t seam to like us any more. Never mind that we’ve been the bleeding heart financial aid package that has bailed out an astounding number of those countries abroad that shun us today. Speaking globally, it appears short term memory isn’t the only memory we are having trouble with. Does anyone remember our history?

So, how do we shore up against the gloom and doom of our times? It is my belief this is accomplished through faith in a powerful higher being and in the concept of paying it forward.  God is my higher power. I take great relief in unburdening my heavy load onto His shoulders. And paying it forward is easy and a lot of fun! I think it’s time to bring back the goofy practical jokes of old, the ding dong ditch that leaves a basket of flowers on the door of an elderly lady, and fresh baked cookies delivered to the new family on the block.  Now that’s a tricky one; to do that, we’d have to find out who our neighbors are in the first place. Imagine the possibilities!

I think the best slogan I’ve bought into came from the Bible;  “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.”  If we believe in what goes around comes around, then practicing paying it forward will benefit everyone that hops on the band wagon. For some, greatly.  I actually do it for selfish reasons quite often. I tell myself I may be in this or that situation some day and help will surely come my way.

So, just do it! Get out that gratitude journal and start logging. Never look back, for today is the first day of the rest of your life! Do it because you can and never say never.

The only way out for us, is to go back to the basics. Love thy neighbor as thyself. Treat each other with dignity and respect, kindness, acceptance, and love.  Honor the elderly in their wisdom and care for them as they grow fragile. Cherish babies as God’s greatest creation and love children enough to bother with discipline and education. Find the value in every human being, no matter how much we don’t like them.

Maybe we can start changing the world by changing ourselves. Just a thought.

Later,

Mary Ann

We pulled up logs and gathered around the camp fire, roasted marshmallows and anxiously waited for the big show to begin.  We were all very hopeful this years fireworks show would be the best ever.  Come to think of it, the 4th of July has always been one of those hopeful holidays.

Most of the time, the weather is questionable so we spend a lot of time with the weather channel, hoping for a favorable forecast.  We call traveling family and hope they’re safe and getting close enough to start the barbecue. Then we hope there is enough propane in the tank to cook all the burgers and hot dogs. We hope the corn on the cob is sweeter than last years.

Many of us hope everyone gets along and has a good time so they’ll want to come back again next year. Then we realize how many made it and we hope there’s enough food and beverages to last the weekend. We also hope for a reserve of energy to get us through the weekend without a breakdown. We hope the dogs don’t go too crazy. Did everyone with a dog bring a kennel?  I hope so!

Then we get a little uptight hoping no one gets hurt and no roofs catch fire. We kind of hope it all comes to an end pretty soon so we can hopefully relax!

We spend so much time hoping, we forget to celebrate Independence Day.

Independence from more than just Great Britain? Possibly.  I think there were a few collage kids who no doubt hope fall comes quickly so they can go back to their newly acquired independents. There were parents of grown kids happy for the independence of empty nesting, and toddlers celebrating the independence that comes with learning to walk. When you stop and think about it, as a society we value our independence in many ways although it all started with separating ourselves from a foreign country.  It’s something to think about when we consider how much we rely on, well…say…China or Venezuela and maybe Saudi Arabia.

Just a thought.

Later,

Mary Ann

I spent the morning in our crawl space going through box after box looking for old photographs of our kids when they were babies. Anyone beside me have packets full of unmarked photos from forgotten vacations, ancient Christmases, birthdays where you hardly recognize yourself?

Well, I was shocked to discover how thin I used to be! Not only that, but Patrick used to have hair! It’s been so long, I nearly forgot. The kids smiled at the camera with metal braces cemented to their teeth, the dog was still alive and the grandparents looked just about how we do right now. Scary! Time flies is a serious situation. It literally does.

I remember being so light on my feet, I could run like the wind. My cheekbones were prominent and my hair was a long mess of curls and tangles without any grays.  We were so young! I held the pictures in my  age spotted hands and felt my heart ache. I took a deep breath and held back tears.

There was a time when the kids were small and hung on our legs to be lifted up and loved. Wrapped in our arms was the best place to be. I remember when they listened to every word we said as if we were wise as God. They found comfort and contentment in being within winking distance and were sad when we left for even a few hours, let alone a whole day of work.

Okay…So…Who were those people anyway? I know it wasn’t a dream because I have pictures to prove it. Without them, I could be easily convinced it was all in my head. Does anyone listen to anything I have to say anymore? No. Only the dogs and only if they are bored. Does anyone ask my advise anymore? No. Only if it has something to do with menopause. Does anyone want to borrow a dress or a pair of shoes or anything of mine anymore? No. Only if they’re dressing up for a geriatric costume party.

I don’t think any of us remember the way we used to be. I’m planning to build a shrine to Patrick and I and our lost youth. I will set up an exhibit using an old tie-dyed cloth as the background. I’ll pin up a few items of old hippie keepsakes such as embroidered bell-bottom jeans, old leather headbands, giant earrings with peace signs dangling in the middle. Pictures of us being young and carefree, thin and fit. Then, he and I as young parents with them as tiny children clinging to us for their dear lives; smiling at us, hugging us, adoring us.

That’ll show em.  Sometimes it’s good to remind them just exactly where they got the smarts to be such a bunch of smarty pants. Who do they think taught them everything so they would have the right to become such know-it-all’s? Us, of course! They think they’re looking so hot! Well look at these old pictures and see who you look exactly like! Think I’m fat? Well, I used to look just like you! Just look what you all have to look forward to!

Yes-sir-eee. That’ll show em.

Later,

Mary Ann

He was there the day I was born. I wasn’t able to see him but I could feel his presents. Come to think of it, I actually don’t know of a time when I wasn’t aware of him even if only in the background of my life, occasionally blocking the tracks I was screaming down in a near head on collision. There was no escaping him, like hiding in a closet or anything. There are those you can’t really hide from, no matter what, and he has always been one of them.

It was hard to grow up in the 60′s and 70′s without becoming overly immersed in the culture. There was a lot going on back then and hundreds of ways to get lost, drop out, anything but join the establishment. I really tried though, because it seamed to be the thing to do. As if there was a threat of losing ones only chance of becoming something out of the ordinary if a rash decision wasn’t made. None of this weighing the pros and cons for us. The time to act recklessly was growing short, adulthood was just around the corner. Action needed to take place immediately.

I’d almost made the decision to go for it, stick my thumb out and hitch a ride with the next VW bus heading to California. As long as it had flower power painted on the sides and exhaust spewing out the back, it would be fine with me. Specifically, my dream ride would be heading to  San Francisco where they were required by law to wear flowers in their hair and smoke pot.

But then he’d make an appearance and without so much as a word, enter my heart and turn it around. Why couldn’t he let me be? I wanted to screw up like the best of em. I wanted to have memories of meaningful protests and free spirited travels. I wanted to meet others who’s theme song was Girls Just Wanna Have Fun. What was so wrong with that?

But then I’d wake in the night and his eyes would say, “What in the world is wrong with you? What are you thinking?”  Oh, well… funny you should bring that up. I’m not.

It’s been an on-going training session between the two of us. I venture out there, look around, think it might be interesting to walk in a different direction for a while. But I can always feel his eyes on me. Not condemning, not judging. Just loving eyes letting me know he’ll always be there, watching out for me, reminding me of his love. Ignoring my plea to be ignored.

The sigh stems from the bottoms of my toes and travels all through my being. “Fine,” I resign. “As always, you are right.” I smile and feel content. No one that counts, will think less of me for thinking twice, changing my mind, reconsidering. He won’t accuse me of chickening out or say I’m a coward.

This much I know; I’ll never be alone, never forgotten, never left to muddle my way through this life alone.

You’d think by now I wouldn’t need him. But it’s just the opposite. The little herb garden we started with has expanded to an all out working farm producing more than one person should keep for themselves. So, as is his desire, I revel in the abundance of his love and pass the overflow around wherever he directs me to. It’s not hard to do and I realize it’s part of my purpose. I’ll also acknowledge that following his lead makes life a lot easier. As I’ve gotten older, easier has gotten very attractive.

I guess I’m sort of glad he’s ignored my plea to be ignored, after all.

Later,

Mary Ann

We gathered around the first beach fire of the summer last night. Not a giant roaring bon-fire, but a fire big enough to keep us warm, yet small enough for safety. The stars and the moon were out. Moonlight reflected across the water from one end of the bay to the other. There was no movement in the air and the water was smooth as glass. Pure magic!

At one point a small boat raced through the illumination as if a spot light found it for a minute and then lost it. I was hoping for a whale! What a sight that would be, breaching by moonlight for only a few to see. A private show for moon groupies like us. We take advantage of every night the wind doesn’t blow and the rain stops. We have so few, you know.

Even as a child I was enamored with the moon. It lit the path to the outhouse when we were young and Dad was building the cabin. The outhouse stood behind the cabin and off to one side, visible yet tucked away among the evergreens. There were spiders living in it and monsters for sure and Lord only knew what was getting ready to jump out of the hole at any minute. But the moon lit the path and never ran out of batteries. It was the best flashlight a kid could ask for. “Just leave the door open,” mom would say. “That way it won’t be so dark in there.”  It felt a little indecent yet we did it.

Beach fires are mesmerizing. I love it best when the flames are low and the logs are hot and glowing. That’s the best time to roast marshmallows and the best time to wrap up in an old quilt and think about the rest of our lives. Are we where we wanted to be by this time? Are there bridges to mend and paths to cross?  Have we said I love you enough?

Thank God summer time rolls around once a year. We need the chance it offers to play outside, especially us adults. And it allows for a few warm nights with stars and moonlight and beach fires. I wish it would last a little bit longer. My battery is nearly dead by the time summer shows up so I plug into the long bright days and the soothing nights, recharging once again for another year; just in time to save me from completely running out. Nothing quite as magical as recharging our batteries by the light of the moon and the glow of the flames.

Later,

Mary Ann

Coming or Going?

I’ve been gone a while. I think a little too long, actually. Stepping through the front door last night was like slipping back into my own skin.  Oh my, how good it feels!

Travel is wonderful for many reasons but sometimes I think the most important reason is the appreciation it gives me for home. Even the never ending layer of sand and dog hair was a welcome sight as I scanned the kitchen and great room wearing a huge smile and sighing contentedly. It’s so good to be back to all that smacks of me, him, us.

As Patrick and I have gotten older, the need to live in a space that identifies us and that we identify with, has become essential to our well being. I truly believe the feel and comfort of our home reflects the kind of people we are and what matters in our lives.

When I think back on my childhood, I remember my sister and I agonizing over colors and patterns for our bedroom draperies. After all, the draperies would affect what coverlets we selected for our beds. The entire look and feel of our shared room would be determined by these choices. Being very different personalities made a joint decision rather difficult, yet in the end we compromised on rich shades of blue and green. The colors reflected our mutual love of the outdoors, the forests and trees, lakes and streams. Blue skies. Serenity.

Perhaps that was good practice for married life; two different personalities joined together to form an entirely new identity. One that reflects the needs, desires, and the best of both. Color is important to us; colors rich, warm, and vibrant.  Comfort is most essential.  Smells of rain and salt water, of real wood burning in a real fireplace. The snap and crackle when flames mix with tree pitch. Coffee.

Every time I excitedly scurry out the door, suitcase over packed, anxious to get wherever, I end up coming home with a whole new appreciation. I exhale as if I’ve been holding my breath, as I turn down the gravely road, past the familiar homes of our neighbors, over the bumps and pot holes, stop to check the mail, and pull up in front of the house. I love the way the gate creaks open. The small patch of lawn needs mowing. Most of the flowers are in bloom. The porch needs sweeping. The key goes in and the door swings open, welcoming me  back to myself.

Nothing’s ever quite as good as home sweet home!

Later,

Mary Ann