Riding in the Rusty Wagon

It’s Thanksgiving and so many blessings have come to me it’s overwhelming. I remember saying when I was younger that although I didn’t necessarily want or need to become rich, I wanted to live in a rich community. I wanted to live in a big house with lots of fun and interesting people. And I wanted to have two children. I reflected today that I have all those things. I have two wonderful sons. I live in a great big house full of fun and interesting people. We certainly experience no lack of material items. And we are rich in laughter, ideas, insight, and compassion. It’s a fabulous place to live.

Laurie Childers wrote to me today. She was one of the people who showered me with riches when I asked for contributions for my healing notebook. She and her kids made many pages that I still enjoy when I flip through it. And she compiled a CD full of songs that she wrote and songs of others that she enjoyed and passed along. She has such a generous spirit. She sent me the story of the grateful whale, thinking that I might identify with it, and I do.

We had a lovely day of cooking and preparing for the meal. I tried not to do too much, but I’ll know tomorrow whether or not I succeeded. I have a tendency to feel great, then overdo and pay the consequences the next day. I’m still tender from the port operation. I felt fabulous on Tuesday so I ran around town doing errands, vacuumed my bedroom, and took a yoga class. That night I was up much of the night in pain, despite taking pain killers and had a ragged day on Wednesday. Today I felt great again, and tried to lay low, but I kept running around, checking on the turkey (and it was a good thing I did), making stuffing, and setting the table. I loved doing it, but I never know when I’ve blown it and done too much until it’s too late.

The song “This May Be the Last Time” keeps running through my head. A few weeks ago I dyed my hair for the last time. I packed up tampons and pads, perhaps for the last time as I head into an abrupt chemically induced menopause. I washed my hair today, perhaps for the last time at its current length and color. It may fall out in the next few days. I’ve been playing When I’m Sixty-Four on the banjo: “When I get older, losing my hair, many days from now…” We are so aware of first times, but we are often unaware of last times. For instance, one always knows when it’s the first time one has sex, but how often do people know that it’s the last time they have sex?

Jasper tells me that the world is supposed to end in 2012, or at least our present concept of the world. That will be interesting, maybe even fun. I saw a cartoon in Funny Times that was a great version of the rapture, where all the bicyclists get raptured up, leaving the SUV drivers behind. I hope I’m on a bicycle when it happens. I certainly have a lot more hope for the fate of the world than I did before the last election. I no longer feel that we’re going to hell in a handbasket. Instead, I feel like we’ve switched to a vehicle that may have more of a steering capacity, perhaps more like a rusty wagon careening down a hill. It’s far from ideal, but there’s a bit more chance of avoiding utter ruin. It’s more Calvin and Hobbesish. Besides, Calvin often careened into disaster and came out relatively unscathed. May we do the same. God bless us, every one.