Showing posts with label childhood. Show all posts
Showing posts with label childhood. Show all posts

Friday, June 27, 2014

Rights of Passage


In Münster, Germany



June is one of those months, you know!  Weddings, graduations, and more weddings.

Did you know that in the Netherlands, when you graduate from secondary school, you hang your backpack outside your bedroom window…or somewhere in the front of your house, even on the flagpole!  The other day while walking in nearby Utrecht, we saw four backpacks hanging from a row of houses next to each other.  They’ll be friends for life, you can be sure.

Oh, and don’t forget all those June birthdays.  In my birth family, 3 of us 10 were born in June.  Yesterday Mom would have been 98.  Tomorrow brother Bennett would be 66, 3 years my junior.  He made it to 47.

Which leads to death, of course.  We don’t like to talk about this rite, even though it’s the surest of them all....

But where Astrid and I live in our senior community, it’s closer than I’ve ever experienced, except for when working in assisted living.  And it's here, surrounded by those so close to death, where I am learning to cherish the beauty of this rite, especially after a life well-lived.

For instance, Pie (pronounced pee), at age 98, is one chic lady who attends every Friday’s Happy Hour with the grace and stateliness of a queen.  If you ask her how she’s doing, she might mention the pain in her back but will add, with a serene smile, “Other than that, I’m just fine.”

And there’s Arend, age 86, who walks past our apartment two times every day to eat with his lady friend, Bettie, who’s 91.  He’s a widower, she a widow, both still wearing their wedding rings from past lives.  They do everything together, including cruises, bus trips and flights to nearby countries.  Though she’s quick to tell you they are NOT married, they are definitely companions…a right they both enjoy.

Speaking of Arend, I’m quite sure he is the model Shel Silverstein used in The Giving Tree for the caricature of the Boy who became the Old Man.  Every time I look at Arend’s wrinkled, gnarled face at Rummikub on Fridays, I see the boy a tree loved....

And I see death as a rite that is…a beautiful right to cherish.  Our last rite.  Our last right…even if totally unexpected (as with Marcie’s mother) or seemingly before its time (my brother)!

But way before that…and the Holy Communions and bar/bat mitzvahs, the sweet-16s, the driver’s licenses, the coming of age, giving birth, the marriages and divorces, job promotions, retirements....

It’s this Pacifier Tree that stops me dead in my tracks.

I suppose we chose the rite of birth for our own children but did we know then anything about these trees popping up all around the world today?  They’re usually in neighborhoods near schools where the youngest siblings of school children get strolled by their parents.

When exactly the light goes on that the binky in the child’s mouth is like those up in the tree, I don’t know, but one day the wee child “gets” it and decides it’s time to “hang it up.”  Whether encouraged or prodded by others, she’s lifted up on the shoulders of Mommy/Daddy and SHE does it.  SHE gives it up.  I don’t know if she’ll remember it the rest of her life but…it’s as much a rite of passage as any that will follow.

Let’s call it the first rite of passage:  giving up the pacifier.  Do you suppose it'll be a good kick-starter for those other rites/rights to follow?

Tuesday, July 9, 2013

The Capacity to See




“Youth is happy because it has the capacity to see beauty. Anyone who keeps the ability to see beauty never grows old.”
--Franz Kafka





Monday, April 1, 2013

Short of Eyes




(Seen in front of the Cathedral of St. Stephen in Vienna, Austria.)

“I look; morning to night I am never done with looking.”
  Mary Oliver

After 15 days of looking at incredible sights on our European river cruise, with extra days now in Budapest, I am so “short of eyes” I hardly know where to start.

It’s my favorite Dutch phrase:  ogen tekort = short of eyes.  When you don’t have enough eyes to see it all, in spite of looking from morning to night, sometimes you just need to sit back on your haunches and rest for awhile.

That's what Astrid and I plan to do when we return home on Wednesday.  In the meantime, for those of you who celebrate the second Easter Day (Easter Monday), a continued Easter blessing to you.

“Almost nothing need be said when you have eyes.”  Tariei Vesaas


Wednesday, February 24, 2010

Innocence




When I lost mine, I'm not sure.  My innocence, that is.  I didn't have a childhood to speak of, growing up in a conservative, fundamentalist preacher's home.  There were 8 of us kids, not allowed to do many "normal" things because of what people would think.  No card playing on Sunday ("they" might think we were playing Bridge!), no school fundraisers of chocolate bars ("they" might feel obligated to buy from us because they were Dad's parishoners).  Serious.

Add to that not believing in Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny.  No recollections of any Christmas or birthday presents, though surely I must have had them?  No doll memories.  Nothing personal just for me.  We had adjustable strap-on, skate-key roller skates that we shared and an over-sized tricycle.  We took turns.  And Grandpa gave us a gigantic, sturdy swing set that our grandchildren still use to this day at the family cottage.

Oh, and did I mention that I was the sickly one of the bunch.  A therapist once told me I was so scrawny-looking I had an invisible sign across my chest that said "FRAGILE:  DO NOT TOUCH." I had my 9th birthday in the hospital when diagnosed with mild, non-paralytic polio.  That was all I knew. That was what life was like.  Serious.

Nor did I know about Ash Wednesday or Lent or giving up anything.  The mystery of Easter was simple for me, summed up in the Easter weekend of death and resurrection.  Nothing more and nothing less.

So if I tell you I had no clue whatsoever about Mardi Gras or Carnival, you know I'm telling the truth!  Right now on my
photoblog I'm posting a series of children at our Carnival here in the small city where we live in Holland.  It happened on Saturday, February 13, just 2 blocks from our apartment.  I couldn't stay away.  What would I see?  Total debauchery and licentiousness??  HA!  What were "they" afraid of?  Those voices in my head.

What I saw took my breath away.  I can't tell you anything about the floats or costumes of the adults.  Just the faces of innocent children, expectant and full of pure delight.  Dressed up on the sidelines like kids at Halloween, they waited for confetti and candies tossed to them.  Totally innocent.  Totally children.

Please tell me that when we capture our Visions we regain whatever we've lost or thought we never had.  Please tell me it's within us and we just get those lucky moments to see who we really are...and maybe always have been?