The Simple Pleasures

 He holds his hand up, fingers curled towards him like a little cup and slowly raises his index finger like a shoot straightening to the sun, then lowers it down just as carefully. The other fingers follow along and his eyes take that in as well as the up and down movement. Over and over, he watches his own body respond to his own will. No stargazer is any more intrigued than this six-month old discovering his world.

The little sweet rice puffs are there for the taking. Both hands curled down attack the table, all the fingers on each hand contract quickly to try to grasp the small puff. He can't yet use just the thumb and index finger, so the puff ends up in the middle of his palm. It sticks and is hidden from sight, but he seems to know it's there, but not how to turn his hand to look for it. Fist to mouth, but no treat.

He tries again. And again. And again. Daintily, purposefully, but to no avail.

Finally, his grandmother has pity and picks up a piece, holding it close to his fist, which is still repeating the fruitless movements. He knows this is different; he can see the rice puff, so instead of bringing the fist up to his mouth, he dives headfirst and "chomps" on his fist, victory at last.

Here he is with his aunt, reaching for popcorn.

I Love The Way It Sounds

My mother's high school reunion is tomorrow, and she said this:

"They've opened it up to graduating classes from 1945-1950 because they couldn't get enough people who weren't dead."

Classic

Conversation between my mother and her lifelong friend:

Ann:  It's your birthday, Joanne, so I want to do something. You see, I've got this Backyard Burger coupon and it's buy one, get the other half off.

My mother:  That sounds wonderful. I love Backyard Burger.

Ann:  There's just one problem. I'm just not sure how it's going to work out.

My mother:  What's that, Ann?

Ann:  Well, it's like this. It's buy one, get one half off, but the thing is, I know what I like on my hamburger, but I don't know what you like, and I don't think this will work out. You see, I like mine with pickle, lettuce, mustard and onion, and I know you like something different.  I really wanted to do something for your birthday, but I just don't know how it will work out with me liking my hamburger one way and you like yours another way.

My mother:  I'll tell you what Ann. You order you hamburger the way you like it, and I'll just order mine the same way.

Ann:  But this was for your birthday, Joanne. Are you sure that will be alright?

The Sailing Life

 Pat has always wanted to sail - a book on sailing has graced his nightstand as much as any other book, and after 30+ years of waiting, last spring we purchased a 1970ish sailboat, (the O'Day Daysailer for those who might know or care.) Emily the Craigslist Queen found this boat, and it was perfect for us. Small enough to learn with, big enough to keep it from being a solitary activity.

Sailing enthusiasts will tell you, "There's nothing like it." It's true. To experience movement across water without the sound of a motor or the sweat of rowing is sublime. To know that with a watchful eye on the wind, the ropes and the tiller in hand, you can position your boat to make use of nature's gift is magical.

In addition to the wonderful way it feels to sail, Pat and I are enjoying seeing why our language is filled with so many sailing metaphors.  Almost each time we go out, we learn something new about life from sailing.

For the past few weeks, I've neglected my morning time with God. I simply have wanted the extra minutes of sleep. Nothing in life has been too pressing, spring is in the air, the school year is winding down, so I've been slacking off.

In our sailboat, there is a moveable keel called the centerboard. It's a narrow, long piece of wood underneath the boat that provides extra stability. We lower the center board almost immediately after launching and leave it down until we're ready to get out of the water. Yesterday Pat was "running", that means sailing with the wind at his back, so he pulled the centerboard up to reduce the drag.

He then tried to turn the boat with the wind coming across the side of the boat, but he forgot to lower the centerboard. Consequently, the boat started sliding sideways and he lost some control. The instant he lowered the centerboard, the boat stablized and he was able to go where he intended.

My time in the morning where I read the Bible, journal and pray is my centerboard. These "disciplines" are foundational and essential to my life being on course. Without them, I am adrift, without a destination. I need the stability, the "centering" that these disciplines afford.