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THE WAVES OF OUR LIVES!

Having recently been invited by a dear friend to spend a week at a beautiful cabin on the North Shore of Lake Superior, I’m reminding ...

Thursday, May 31, 2012

"FRIENDSHIP ISN'T A BIG THING--IT'S A MILLION LITTLE THINGS."


family friends of long ago

a Halloween party with my friends

friends in Germany

German pals hanging out on an Audi
me (on left) with my skating pals

English pals
my birthday with friends

childhood friends and neighbors who became lifelong friends--my mother and Verna

I’ve often reflected back on my childhood friendships with fond memories.  Tom Stoppard, British playwright once said, “If you carry your childhood with you, you never become older.”  The anonymous writer who expressed, “Friendship isn’t a big thing—it’s a million little things” rang true for me. Through these photos of mine and those shared by others, I hope to express the joy of childhood friendships, remembering, as Dag Hammarskjold, Swedish writer once said, “Friendship needs no words.”

Wednesday, May 30, 2012

REMEMBERING PRINCESS DIANA!




It was my English friend Angie who shared her fascination with Princess Diana nearly twenty-five years ago.  I hadn’t paid much attention to British royalty, but I was curious about why Angie found her so interesting.  I quickly learned that it had a lot to do with her genuineness, her love of children, and her willingness to take on causes that many wouldn’t think of, including AIDS.  She was the “people’s princess” and she went everywhere to honor them.

When my friend lived in Portsmouth and Princess Diana came to the city for a visit, Angie took her children to get a glimpse of her.  Princess Diana was pre-occupied with dignitaries, but Angie, with her usual persistence, waved a box of Smarties and pointed to her children.  Diana, without hesitation, walked over to her and greeted her family. It was a natural thing for her to do.

On July first, it will be 51 years since Diana’s birth.  In 2007, on the tenth anniversary of her tragic death, her sons William and Harry held a special concert to raise money for charities that she supported.

To honor her, I’d like to share some of her memorable quotes:

“Anywhere I see suffering, that is where I want to be, doing what I can.”

“Every one of us needs to show how much we care for each other and, in the   
 process, care for ourselves." 

“Hugs can do great amounts of good—especially for children.”

“Carry out a random act of kindness, with no expectation of reward, safe in the 
knowledge that one day someone might do the same for you." 

“I don’t go by the rule book. . . I lead from the heart, not the head.”

“I knew what my job was; it was to go out and meet the people and love them.”

 "Nothing brings me more happiness than trying to help the most vulnerable people in society.  It is a goal and an essential part of my life--a kind of destiny.  Whoever is in distress can call me.  I will come running wherever they are."

     “Only do what your heart tells you.'

Years ago, Mr. Rogers, the American television personality who loved
children, as Diana did, said:  "The thing I remember best about successful 
people is their obvious delight in what they're doing and it seems to have
very little to do with wordly success. They just love what they're doing, and
they love it in front of others."  He went on to add, "The greatest gift you 
ever give is your honest self. "  Diana reflected that, as did Fred Rogers.    





***A postscript--A few days ago I attended the Princess Diana exhibit at the Mall of America in Bloomington, Minnesota.  It was a wonderful four-month tribute to the unique, kind, compassionate person Diana was.  The exhibit was in Minnesota for four months and now goes back to England for Diana's birthday July 1.  It will return to America after that for another tour of different cities.  I'm including a photograph I took at the end of the event, which was very moving for many of us.  For any who might have a chance to visit this exhibit in the future, I think you'll long remember it.***
  

Tuesday, May 29, 2012

THE GNOMELY'S THOUGHTS ON LIFE!



The Gnomely’s, Inger and Elsa, have had a grand life together, filled with adventure and excitement, as well as enough busy moments to last a lifetime.  They’re now enjoying life more than ever and wanted to share a few of their thoughts on “slowing down” and appreciating the everyday moments in life.  These are the highlights of our time together, in their words:

“Nothing matters more than love.  I love you is not "above you."  Say it often.”

“If you want to be wise, be kind.  Be kind to yourself as well as others.  Remember the Japanese proverb:  “One kind word can warm three winter months.” 

“Small acts of kindness can make a big difference in someone’s life.”  Like Mark Twain once said, “I can live for two months on a good compliment.”

"There’s an old proverb that says, “You cannot do a kindness too soon, because you never know how soon it will be too late.”

And just to prove that they’ve maintained their wonderful sense of humor, Elsa told me about their favorite poem at this stage of life.  It’s called—

A LAZY THOUGHT    (by Eve Merriam)

                                    There go the grownups.

                                    To the office,

                                    To the store.

                                    Subway rush,

                                    Traffic crush;

                                    Hurry, scurry,

                                    Worry, flurry.

                                    No wonder 

                                    Grownups

                                    Don’t grow up

                                    Any more.

                                    It takes a lot

                                    Of slow

                                    To grow.



And not to be outdone, Inger mentioned how much he’s always enjoyed Charlie Brown and his friends.  He laughed as he remembered what Sally said to Charlie  in a Peanuts cartoon a while back:

                                    “I’ve decided to try to be a better person. . .

                                    But not right away of course.

                                    Maybe a few days from now.”



So, one final piece of advice from Elsa and Inger:  “Laugh often and find a bit of joy in every day!”

Sunday, May 27, 2012

Gully C. Gully and the Passionate Ponderer




I first met Gully C. Gully about ten years ago on the beach at St. George Island in the Florida Panhandle, the Forgotten Coast.  He seemed so different from other seagulls that just kept milling around begging for food.  Gully was the quiet type, walking to the edge of the Gulf waters and just staring out at sea.  I was fascinated with him and couldn't stop watching his every movement.  He often came near me, but never to beg.  We bonded in “ponderment.”  Because of him, I was determined to learn more about seagulls, even if Gully didn’t fit the seagull norm.

I learned that seagulls could live to be 25, but that 10 was probably more the average.  I also learned that when fresh water is hard to find, seagulls can drink salt water and often choose to stay near large bodies of water.  I wondered what Gully liked to eat, other than fish or bread or rodents.  I guessed that he liked to keep it simple—my choice as well.

Beyond that, I was wishing I could ask Gully where he went at night and if he came back to the same spot every day.  Gully no doubt found somewhere remote to spend his evenings.  Seagulls are not known to live near humans and Gully seemed more the solitary type.  I certainly could relate! 

Even though seagulls can travel thousands of miles to find better pickins’, Gully had a perfect place to hang out and the other seagulls didn’t seem to bother with him.  St. George Island is one of the most beautiful places imaginable.  I didn’t want to leave—why would he?  I was envious.  My simple little pal had it made!

I often thought of myself as the “passionate ponderer.”  Gully C. Gully was definitely my match in the seagull world.


So Gully, my pal, here’s to you and all your buddies, courtesy of Ogden Nash, one of my favorite poets.  If you ever have a yearning to get away and travel north, check out Lake Superior, another beautiful place to ponder to your heart’s content.



Hark to the whimper of the seagull,

He weeps because he’s not an ea-gull

Suppose you were, you silly seagull.

Could you explain it to your she-gull.













Saturday, May 26, 2012

Henry, Joe, and Eddie and Baseball Memories




Fifty-five years ago my mother and I celebrated the magic of baseball as our team the Milwaukee Braves won the 1957 World Series against the New York Yankees.  I was only eight then, but I’d already listened to countless Braves baseball games.  My mother was an avid baseball fan and she knew as much about the star players as I did.  Milwaukee had only been a baseball town for five years, so everything about the game and town was filled with excitement.  Besides that, we subscribed to the Milwaukee newspaper, so I could keep up with all the statistics of every game. 


There are three players on that 1957 team who will always be heroes to me.  One of them, Henry Aaron, is one of the top baseball players of all-time, but he’s also a dignified, gracious, and inspiring person.  He’s 78 now and still passionate about baseball and the city and state where he got his start.  In a recent commencement speech at Marquette University in Milwaukee, he received a standing ovation.  Aaron talked about the city where he had spent much of his baseball life:  “The city of Milwaukee helped to shape my dreams and my life and mold me into the man I am today.  I can never forget that here I found acceptance, encouragement, self-confidence, and lifelong friends.”  In another interview with the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel, Henry said, “I think about all of the good things that happened, not only here in Milwaukee, but Eau Claire, Wisconsin, the first place I played professional baseball.  The people here in Milwaukee and Wisconsin molded me into the person I am today.  I was a young kid when I came here, unfamiliar with everything.  I met so many good friends, people who were dear to my heart and taught me what life was all about, other than baseball.”

As a kid Henry’s family was poor and he grew up picking cotton on a farm.  There was no money for baseball bats, so he improvised and hit bottle caps with sticks.  That young boy grew up to hit more homeruns than Babe Ruth, 755.  Before he accomplished that feat, some people were angry because they didn’t ever want Babe’s record to be broken.  Aaron received hate mail, but he handled himself as always, with a great deal of class and dignity.  Recently Bud Selig, current baseball commissioner and a good friend of Aaron’s for nearly 60 years said, “Hank’s dignity and grace in the face of bigotry was and is inspiring.”

Henry’s nickname during his years in Milwaukee was 'Hammerin’ Hank.  He played on  21 All-Star teams and was elected to the Baseball Hall of Fame on the first ballot.  When the Braves moved to Atlanta it was a sad day for me and my mother because we loved Aaron and the Braves.  But thanks to Bud Selig, a Milwaukee resident, Milwaukee eventually acquired another team, the Seattle Pilots, and became the Milwaukee Brewers. Selig traded for Aaron and Henry spent the last two years of his career in Milwaukee, a fitting tribute to a beloved player in all of Wisconsin.

That special 1957 team also included two other fabulous players—Eddie Matthews and Joe Adcock.  Joe is most memorable to me because he was a homerun slugger like Henry, who surpassed Aaron in one career feat—he hit four homeruns in one game, against the Brooklyn Dodgers in 1954 at Ebbets field. I remember listening to that game and feeling ecstatic. Joe had 18 total bases in that game, second in the history of baseball.  He finished his career with 336 round trippers and over 1,100 runs batted in. 

And then there was Eddie Matthews, another amazing slugger for the Braves. He was on the first cover of Sports Illustrated in 1954. Ty Cobb once said about him, “I’ve only known three or four perfect swings in my time.  This lad has one of them.”  Nine years in a row he hit 30 or more homeruns.  He wound up his career with more than 500 homers, but probably his most famous was in the fourth game of the 1957 World Series against the Yankees.  How sweet it was!  Together he and Aaron had more homers (863) than Babe Ruth and Lou Gehrig of the Yankees, and along with Aaron, Eddie is in the Baseball Hall of Fame.  How poetic too that he was the manager of the Atlanta Braves when 'Hammerin’ Hank hit his historic number 715 to surpass the Babe. 

My mother and I followed the Braves for many years following that 1957 season and were crushed when the Yankees beat Milwaukee in the 1958 World Series, winning four games in a row after Milwaukee had won the first three. 

Milwaukee was a small market team in those days and didn’t receive much attention, so it was a source of pride that they made it into the World Series against the powerful Yankees.  No doubt if Henry, Joe, and Eddie had played in New York, they would have received a lot more publicity, but we were thrilled to have them in Milwaukee. 

Recently I read a quote by Robert Brault that sums up my feelings about those memorable baseball days with my mom, listening to our heroes:  “Enjoy the little things in life, for one day you’ll look back and realize they were the big things.”


Monday, May 21, 2012

Mamie and Ellen--Two Special Country Teachers


Can you imagine being a rural school teacher in Wisconsin in 1920 and having to agree to not ride in a carriage or an automobile with any man except your brother or father? You shouldn’t consider leaving town without getting permission of the chairman of the trustees either.  And, of course you wouldn’t even think of getting married; it would nullify your contract.  If you considered leaving your home between 8 p.m. and 6 a.m., it had better be because of a school function.  It would also be a good idea to wear two petticoats if you wanted to keep your job, and your dresses needed to be no more than two inches above your ankles. And here’s the “topper”—loitering in ice cream shops was totally discouraged. I would have had a hard time with that.


Those teaching restrictions seem unbelievable today, but they were the “norm” in the early 1900’s.  Recently I had the opportunity to visit Reed School, a rural school outside of Neillsville, Wisconsin.  My Aunt Ellen taught there for several years in the early 1920’s and earned about $75 a month.  Today children from the surrounding area have an opportunity to visit and spend a day there as a student from that era.  During the summer the school serves as a part-time museum.  It was fascinating to learn about the changes it had gone through during its 36-year existence, from 1915 through 1951.  It closed because there were fewer than 10 students. I came away from that experience wanting to learn more about rural schools in my home state during the early part of the 1900’s.


Because my grandmother Mamie had also been a rural school teacher in 1900, I went out on a discovery mission.  What I learned was that she became a teacher at age 17.  I was astounded that she could be a teacher with a minimal education of her own.  There were county teacher institutes where young women could learn in a short time what was needed to become a teacher, and it wasn’t expensive—just a few dollars, which most women could afford.  These institutes were not run by professionals, but the prospective teachers learned to teach arithmetic drills, grammar, reading, spelling, human anatomy, and various other subjects.  I was excited to obtain a copy of my grandmother’s scores in various fields of study.  I studied a little information myself—she did well in orthoepy, a Greek word emphasizing the study of the way words are pronounced, and orthography, the study of correct spelling and how letters are arranged.  That had been part of her testing as well.  As a teacher she earned a little less than $40 for three months in 1900.  Most of the teachers in rural schools were women because men had more career choices. If men did become teachers in rural schools, they were paid substantially more.  Many women teachers lived in areas away from their homes and stayed with farm families.  Some of them wrote about experiencing loneliness and homesickness.  Often pupils were not able to attend school because they needed to work on the farm, and at times there was a great deal of sickness.  Despite all this, by 1900 illiteracy was dramatically reduced in Wisconsin, as well as other Midwestern states.  Teachers were expected to be role models for their students, and most of them lived up to those expectations.


I discovered that my grandmother had taught at Merry Vale School in the Town of York, near Granton, Wisconsin.  She had 54 pupils in 1901-02, but within three years the enrollment had dropped to 35 students.  I don’t know about all of her responsibilities, but often teachers were required to build a fire early in the morning.  Teachers often acted as janitors, including scrubbing the floors.  I was surprised to learn that teachers even used Sears Roebuck catalogues to enhance reading and math skills.  Of course there were plenty of fun activities as well—box socials, Halloween and Christmas programs, Thanksgiving dinners, picnics, which included ball games between pupils and parents, and reading and spelling contests.  There was even a bit of square dancing. 

I feel exceptionally lucky to have learned more about the early teachers in my family.  I never saw them in the classroom, but I remember them as gentle, kind, dedicated women.  My grandmother’s school bell still sits on a ledge in my room, as well as the old country phone that she used.  Call me sentimental and a bit old-fashioned, but I could easily jump back in time and fit right in, at least for a day. 


Saturday, May 19, 2012

A SLIDE BACK IN TIME!




Some of my most memorable times growing up in Wisconsin centered on the delightful trips our family made with our pop-up camper and the simple campers that followed. My parents loved to travel and their three children were the lucky beneficiaries.  My dad had his own hardware and furniture store and worked incredibly hard, but for two weeks of the year he wanted all of us to learn more about different regions of the U.S. and to have fun doing it.  He and my mother spent weeks planning for each trip.  His childhood was spent working on the family farm and there was no time or money for vacations, so he was proud that he and my mother could provide different opportunities for us.  I will always treasure the time we spent traveling throughout the U.S. because the trips he dreamed of making after retirement never materialized. His life was cut short by cancer at age 60.

                                                            my mother on the left

In 1948 my mother wrote in a scrapbook of our family:  “We were able to purchase a new car this fall—a new Studebaker to make our trips more enjoyable.  We will have a new brother or sister for the boys within a short time also.”  Even when she was waiting for my birth, she was looking ahead to trips down the road.  The following year she wrote, “We celebrated our eleventh anniversary with a trip to Canada.  We had a wonderful time and caught lots of fish.”  A few years later she wrote, “Had another lovely trip in the summer to Canada and Niagara Falls.”

During the summer after I finished second grade we made a trip to Glacier Park and the Canadian Rockies part of our annual trip.  The following year my mother proudly reported, “We took Terry (my oldest brother) along on our vacation this year—a fishing trip to Yellowstone.  He did so enjoy it.  Fished all day long.”


In 1960 my parents decided to take us east.  My mother wrote:  “We bought a trailer and went east to Washington D.C., Philadelphia, New York City, and Niagara.  Lovely trip!”
Probably the trip I remember the most was after visiting my oldest brother in Tully, New York.  He was recently married and the area where he and his new wife lived was simple and beautiful.  We drove to historic sites all over the east, but on our return trip home, our car caught on fire in Ypsilante, Michigan and nearly burned up.  It was horrifying, but miraculously, a policeman was traveling on the same highway and stopped to help us.  He took us to his home, where we stayed for several days.  My mother wrote, “We were taken in by some wonderful people, the Maxwells. We will always remember them.”  And indeed they did, as they corresponded for many years.

The following year we traveled to the World’s Fair in Seattle during the summer and to Arizona in the winter.  My father had a rich uncle who lived in Phoenix and he would let us park our camper on his yard and also have use of his house when needed.  I remember that he was quite cranky, but my dad was always grateful that he let us stay on his property.  Uncle Rella had been married five times, but that was of no consequence to my parents. They weren’t judgmental.  We all loved going there and it was wonderful getting away from snowy Wisconsin in the winter.
My dad always took a lot of slides on our trips and it was fun to come home and look at them on the big screen while sitting around as a family and enjoying some popcorn.  It was better than being at the movies.  Recently I looked through some of those old slides and it was like being transported back to those happy traveling days.  I know how lucky I am to have had such memorable experiences.  Thanks Mom and Dad—I’ll always be grateful!                    
                                                                                                           


                                                                                                    

Thursday, May 17, 2012

CHEROKEE PARK and THE CALL OF THE RIVER


The park I am frequently drawn to as an adult is the same park that seemed magical to me as a child.  When I visit Cherokee Park near Colby, Wisconsin I feel as though I’ve walked back in time.  I can still picture swimming there among the huge rocks with my church youth group as a young teen.  It was always a race to see who could reach the biggest one first.  That would set off a wave of giggles as a group of us gathered on one rock or another.  After that we often went for walks through the beautiful wooded path nearby.  It was fun to follow the river, which often changed its path depending upon the current.  The culmination of our visit to the park was having a delicious barbecue in the old log cabin nearby where our youth group often had picnics and retreats.

Now it’s been nearly 50 years since those magical days, but I can still hear the raucous laughter of my friends.  Now I appreciate the stillness of the park and its natural beauty.  Kids no longer swim among the rocks, but I still love climbing on them and just sitting and listening to the rush of the river.  The path nearby seems more beautiful than ever and I feel an amazing sense of calmness.  Sometimes I’m lucky and spot a deer across the river’s edge.  I feel the poetic sense of nature.

A few years ago, a friend and I visited Cherokee Park with our two dogs, Dallas and Martha.  Dallas, a small dainty terrier, was always the scout running on ahead, checking everything out and then coming back to urge us on.  Martha, my golden lab, usually trailed behind.  There were so many little objects and animals to capture her attention.  Their puppy-like joy at running freely in the woods was infectious.  Thereafter Cherokee Park became a unique and wonderful place for all of us to visit. 

Our loyal and adventurous friends, Martha and Dallas, are sadly gone, but their spirit, as well as that of my childhood, will always be a part of Cherokee Park.  There are few places like it, at least for me.  Its essence is its simplicity and natural beauty, which also drew my ancestors to the area nearly one hundred years ago.  It speaks volumes about slowing down and letting go, trusting that all is right with the world.  I will always treasure time spent there.  I wrote this poem several years ago while sitting on one of those rocks, as time stood still and the river raced by.



CHEROKEE PARK

          Memories of shared glories, and treasure coves of years past.

          Waters rushing, through the rocks, of distant times.

          Flooded memories of childhood days, when life seemed infinitely simpler.

          Jumping from rock to rock, listening to the call of the river,

          Beckoning us to sit and reflect.

          A magical, enchanted place, like no other.

Wednesday, May 16, 2012


ABC ALPHABET BUNNIES




This is dedicated to Albert, a gentle man and wildlife protector who read passionately, and Max and Rich, my special bunny scouts.

An amazingly large and talented family of bunnies lived in the enchanted A to Z forest.  They loved their wooded home, but at times. . .

THEY YEARNED TO VISIT THE CITY--ALPHABET CITY.


Looking for fun and adventure, one day the Alphabet Bunnies packed their trusty little bags and set off for ALPHABET CITY.  Upon arriving they eagerly explored city life in their own unique ways.

ABIGAIL and ALVIN adored their roller blades.  Again and again they skated around Lake Agatha.

BERT biked quite happily on his own.

CLEO cleverly arranged bouquets of flowers.

DOROTHY dazzled folk with her cake decorating skills.

EMILY enjoyed quiet poetry readings.

FRED’S fascination was firehouses.  Fire station #5 was his favorite.

GINA gathered goods to sell.  Today’s specialty was ginger lemonade.

HARRIET’S hobby was hockey; she was happiest when hurling a puck.

ISABEL imagined a world of fashion.  Immediately she became a star.

JACK jogged to the library just in time; JUDY’S duty was about to end.

KIP kicked the ball confidently in the net; KEN was clearly confused.

LUCIE loved numbers; luckily the legion of bunnies liked her logic.

MARVIN’S main interest was carrots—munchy crunchy ones.

NANETTE noted new French words in her notebook; she was never happier.

OLIVER occupied his time with fishing, often sharing his catch with others.

ROSIE really loved dancing; she rarely went anywhere without her dance slippers.

SAM sprinted safely to the finish line as the crowd spurred him on.

TIP traveled on trails throughout the city; he never tired of trying new things.

ULLI’S uncommon interest was dog walking; his dog WOOFER led the way.

VANESSA volunteered to play her violin at the VIBS  (Very Important Bunnies Special) at Alphabet City Concert Hall.

WILLY’S wonderful portraits won widespread approval.

XAVIER’S extra effort paid off when it came to video games.

YOLANDA yelled excitedly as she breezed through the air in her yellow flying machine.

ZACK zipped along on his skateboard in his own zany way.

The time soon came for the Alphabet bunnies to return to their wooded home.  The townsfolk waved their sad goodbyes.  The Alphabet bunnies would surely miss them too, but the A to Z forest was their home.  And home is, after all, where THE HEART IS HOPPIEST.


Friday, May 11, 2012

BABIES BEFORE BRIEFCASES


The young man professionally dressed, good-looking, and pulling a cart with several briefcases reached the intersection at the same time as Max and me.  I motioned to him to go ahead and he replied, “No, babies always take precedence over briefcases.”  I’m sure he had no idea of how importantly his words had impacted me.  Immediately I felt a flood of emotions stirred up inside me, and a gratifying sense of acknowledgment, which I hadn’t expected.  It was, as I later described in my nanny notebook, “a memorable moment.”

For decades I had struggled with the question of how I would find an enjoyable, fulfilling career.  I had given up on connecting with my passionate side and agonized endlessly over it.  Some people jokingly suggested that it might take several lifetimes before that fulfillment would come.  Even that felt depressing, and yet in a strange way, it was a relief.

Many years before, my father advised me that I did have a choice.  His words were simple, but to the point.  “When you graduate from high school, you either need to go to college or find a job.”  College seemed the logical choice considering I had no idea of what I wanted to do and plenty of fear of "the real world.”  My list of jobs over the years was endless.  Some of them included:  hospital admittance clerk, market research interviewer and supervisor, junior high school German teacher, substitute teacher, special education assistant, student essay scorer, political phone bank supervisor, and advertising account representative.  It took me countless years and thousands of dollars before I finally discovered that in my life babies do take precedence over briefcases. I’ve finally come to experience passion, joy, and laughter as essential components in my everyday work-life as well as at home.  I’ve felt an overwhelming desire to nurture young children as well as myself, to be spontaneous, to giggle and laugh at the simplest of things, and to explore and appreciate nature.  Being outdoors surrounded by nature nourishes my soul and allows me to share my love of plants and animals with Max.  On our walks we stop and listen to the sounds of birds, the wind rustling through the trees, and the little chipmunks and squirrels scampering about.  We observe what we so often read about in children’s stories.  It makes me feel alive.

About a year ago another of my many projects at my previous job concluded and I struggled with the reality that I needed to move on and explore new avenues of work.  Initially I felt a real sadness about leaving a “safe job,” which was education-oriented, even though the work became sporadic.  I wasn’t sure where to turn and wondered how I could use my education and yet work in a nurturing, caring environment.  It was important to me that my many life experiences would be appreciated.  I knew that it was no longer possible to go the corporate route.  Ironically, it felt as though I had finally “made it” in that world, at least moderately.  My reality, however, said that sitting at a desk all day felt suffocating and depressing.  Someone else’s important deadline no longer mattered to me.  Somehow I needed to make a dramatic change and not worry about how the rest of the world viewed me.  I no longer needed to prove anything to anyone.  My intuitive nature told me that it was important to be connected with kids again, on a one-to-one level.  I searched through the want ads and discovered an ad for a nanny agency.  At first I had real doubts about what I was doing.  Wasn’t that just for young people, I wondered?  For once I shoved that thought back down and trusted what my heart felt.  I knew that I had a lot of love and knowledge to share, a youthful spirit, and a quirky, sometimes mischievous nature, which I felt kids could relate to.

Amazingly, almost from the start, Max and I did relate.  I began to care for him when he was two months old, and now 10 months later, he’s been my nearly constant companion.  Whether it’s reading and laughing together, strolling through the downtown Minneapolis skyway, or walking along the Mississippi River, we have wonderful adventures.  Part of the fun is the interesting array of people we meet every day.  Those connections seem as important as the link with nature.  It’s fun and it’s funny, from the discount store employee who remarked, “I can think of a lot of people who’d like to be in that stroller right now” to the grocery store sales clerk announcing that “the king is here.”  Max spreads joy and I love being a part of it.  His smile is clearly infectious.  As we were walking down the Nicollet Mall, the busiest street in downtown Minneapolis, a policeman spotted Max and said, “Looks like the boss is going on a walk today.”  One day we were heading toward the river and a lady walking her little poodle said, “I don’t think he’s ever seen a stroller before.”  I chuckled as I remembered being in New York City the year before and seeing a DOG in a stroller for the first time, a POODLE.

We’ve seen so much on our walks through downtown, including a young boy playing the bongo drums.  His mother said that he had to earn a living somehow.  Another time we spotted a construction worker with a teddy bear atop his truck, and a saxophonist who smiled at Max and kept right on playing.  Recently we met a woman over 90 years old at the downtown post office.  She was fascinated with Max.  She said that he was sure to be a mathematician someday because he was very smart.

We frequently ventured through the skyway this past winter; it was nearby and it was our link to the city and its vibrant downtown life, at the same time sheltering us from the cold.  One day as we were walking through the skyway, a carpet layer seemed eager to talk with us.  He told Max how cute he was and then reminisced as he told us that he used to have a stroller where he could move the handles either way, but he felt selfish because he wanted to have it so he could always look at his kids.  That was a genuine, connecting moment.  The fact that it was unexpected made it even more endearing.  How could I forget the coffee shop clerk who pulled out a little finger puppet for Max, who had been squealing?  The clerk seemed unaffected by it and obviously wanted to make our stroll a little easier.

The endearing people we’ve met are only part of the reason why I’ve chosen babies over briefcases.  Apart from so many other things, I’ve truly come to value “slowing down” and experiencing life moment by moment.  I have time to appreciate the way Max makes direct eye contact with people, unlike so many of us adults.  He has no fear or hesitation.  Wouldn’t we as adults be wise to learn from that?  Babies have an innate wisdom that I’ve come to appreciate.

I’ve also come to marvel at how excited I feel watching Max discover his first snowfall and seeing little sparrows pecking for food on a downtown street.  We laughed at spotting my dog Martha peering through the front door of Max’s apartment building. 

I also love the chance to just be myself.  Where else can I be my absolute silliest and be appreciated for it?  While putting on my shoes to go outside one day, I made a game of it with Max.” This is my SHOOO, Max ,” I said, bouncing my foot in an exaggerated motion on the floor.  This went on for several moments; it was followed by uncontrollable laughter and giggling, first by him, and then by both of us.  So many similar moments come naturally and spontaneously.  One day we formed a special rock band—the BLOCK BANGERS.  Max started by banging some of his blocks together and I followed his lead.  He stopped and looked at me curiously; I stopped then too, and he realized what he was capable of—being the DIRECTOR in charge.  Sometimes I get to be the CONDUCTOR in charge when I play different kinds of music and play my imaginary baton.  Whether we listen to Frank Sinatra, Beethoven, Louis Armstrong, or Linda Ronstadt, Max seems interested and excited.  Now and then I goof and my silly ways create a problem, unintentionally of course.  Recently Max and I played a simple game I taught him, shaking soft little objects off our heads.  It was great fun and we got very silly and giggly, but now Max doesn’t want to keep a hat on; he just wants to shake it off.  He learns fast.  I’m not always the teacher I want to be.

I do LEARN well however.  Max has taught me that simple joys in life are irreplaceable.  No amount of money or corporate offer will fill my needs again.  I could read stories for hours on end, laugh at silly new words and songs every day, and sit by a lake or river and soak up the goodness of life and babies.  I delight in a small child’s everyday joys and achievements.  We clap and cheer each new one, whether it’s learning how to turn the pages of a book by himself, spinning around in his Jump-up, rolling over for the first time, imitating new sounds, or delighting in the fun and power of his voice.  Together we can be spontaneous and creative and happy.  We can lie on a blanket and look up in the ceiling in wonder.  We can stop and listen to the curious and enchanting sounds of nature and tune in to the stories of everyday people. 

Some time ago an elderly gentleman asked me if I was the mother or grandmother.  I said, “Neither, he’s my buddy. “  He replied, “All babies are.”  Max was my sensitive little buddy recently when my mother died.  I was feeling very sad and tender.  I wrote about her and what she had meant to me.  Max seemed to understand my sadness.  Maybe intuitively he knew that I needed extra hugs that day, the day after she died. Because of my mother’s death I have also come to value so many things more and to understand the fragile nature of life.

I am grateful to the stranger on the streets of Minneapolis for reminding me of what I already knew in my heart—BABIES DO TAKE PRECEDENCE OVER BRIEFCASES.



my own special baby thirty-five years ago

***A POSTSCRIPT—I wrote this story over 10 years ago as I made an important shift in my life from the business world to being a nanny.  It was a very healing time and a chance to slow down dramatically.  Recently I found a poem by Eve Merriam that sums up my feelings now and makes me chuckle every time I read it.



          A LAZY THOUGHT

          There go the grownups

          To the office

          To the store

          Subway rush,

          Traffic crush;

          Hurry, scurry,

          Worry, flurry

          No wonder

          Grownups

          Don’t grow up

          Any more.

          It takes a lot

          Of slow

          To grow.