Archives for posts with tag: self-exploration

Entering His sanctuary

As they say, “a picture is worth a thousand words”, I’ll let this beautifully preserved part of the Jedediah Smith do all the talking for me. It truly is where God lives.

Burl is caused by a fungus which causes abnormal growths to form. They’re amazing as you will see.

Gaining some perspective…

it’s all about perspective, isn’t it?

And your little dog, too!

Perspective

and more…

Precious – posing…see! she is trained! LOL

I have a picture of my niece, Mandy, standing on this exact same stump from 15 years ago!

Faces in the redwood burl. What do you see?

Faces. Lions, tigers and bears? Oh no! Turtle? Oh yes!

or trolls?

or octopi?

or ME & Montana! Surprise! Nice guy from Tennesse took this!

Burl heaven!

See Ava? She’s up a tree!

Ava – close up

Same path we all took 15 years ago!

more perspective w/ Montana as we walk down the path

more faces in the burl…look closely toward the left

and the grand finale

Right after taking this picture, Montana and I continued down the path as I remembered there being a beautiful meadow just a little further down. But, as we walked on, Montana started getting jittery and wasn’t showing a whole lot of interest in going further. I heard some stomping or heavy walking which gave my heart a start. You’re in complete silence so every noise is magnified. I stopped and waited to hear more. Montana turned to go back toward the truck but quickly looked over her shoulder in a nervous, quick jerk. “Hmmmm, I said. We’re in Sasquatch country…don’t wanna be his woman! What say we get outta’ here post-haste?”

Back safely in the truck, I remembered seeing where an elk had pawed the ground so it probably was notifying me I was getting a little too close to the meadow. If you were raised in the city, don’t go to the forest without someone who knows what to look for and listen to in order to be safe.

Now that my camera is all charged up again, I’ll go check out more of the area as recommended by Rod this morning here at the KOA. So much redwood history…so little time!

I want to give a shout out to the KOA owner Joan Fallon fo Crescent City Redwoods KOA. She booked my stay here the other day and took care of me putting me right next to the restrooms in a pull through site. I was pleasantly surprised to find this KOA site to be very small and homey and not crammed packed with pavement and people. I was also impressed by the video they had playing this morning during breakfast which told about the redwood forest history and eco system. By the way, there is NO pavement in this KOA but there IS a redwood grove where the tent section is! The personnel here are so friendly and helpful plus they make a mean pancake breakfast (all you can eat for $3.50 which includes coffee) which charged me right up for the day! They’re at 4241 Hwy. 101 North, Crescent City, CA.

Now off to see the Crescent City Lighthouse!

Like I say, “It’s Motel 6 or KOA for me!”

Happy Trails!

Pacific Coast Highway (PCH a/k/a Hwy. 1) at its best is just above Bodega Bay all the way up to where it meets Hwy. 101. WOWSER! But first let me tell you about this little Mom & Pop restaurant in Petaluma. Last night, I was hungry and cold (still had my Vegas clothes on) and didn’t want to hike around late at night so I found a place that would deliver to my fav place to stay, Motel 6. It was called the Round Table and, as always, I ask THEM what is their special. When they told me it was a garlic sauce pizza with vegis and meat I had to know more. Tomatoes, green onions, cheese, sausage and mushrooms on pizza dough. Hmmm. He said it was simple but really very good. Well, don’t ya’ know you always go for what THEY say is their best item even if you never eat pizza but have driven a bazillion miles, are cold, tired and hungry! It was delicious! I saved the other half to heat up in the microwave tonight and it was still very good after riding in the car eight hours being thrown around in the box all that time on switchback roads!

Wait. I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s get back to how beautiful the drive was just outside of Petaluma on the way to Bodega Bay…so quaint and pastoral…happy cows everywhere!

Beautiful countryside just outside of Petaluma on the way to Bodega Bay via Hwy. 116.

Get a feel of the road here. Pastures on both sides of the road. See those happy cows on the left?

Gorgeous, lush pastures

Great road!

Then, when I thought I was already livin’ the dream, I came into Bodega Bay where the Bay meets the Pacific Ocean. Dreamland. Pure Dreamland.

Bodega Bay is a cute little village community.

Bodega Bay

Bodega Bay meets the Pacific Ocean!

Now the trip triples in delight as I drive up Hwy. 1 along the coast with the Pacific Ocean crashing against huge boulders stranded a million years ago from volcanic eruptions and held captive by the unrelenting force of this powerful body of water.

Wind surfers! Wind must have been 30-40 MPH!

Small rocks probably broken off from the boulders

Pacific Ocean Majesty

Views just kept getting better!

…and better

And then the road turns inland…

…where past generations established their boundaries by planting trees along the road. Each of the villages had trees planted along the roadway. Quaint. Homey.

The vegetation was so lush and full of so many varieties of green and more wildflowers of every color!

So many rivers that feed all this vegetation to cross as they stretch toward the ocean. (left the side mirror in for effect!)

stretching toward the ocean

The road turns inland again for a hair-raising switchback road from hell where Montana and I both got queasy from the turns even going only 10 to 20 MPH which the sign said was only 22 miles but I think it was for 122 miles! And, right when I didn’t think I could stand another turn in the road…there they were! My first grove of redwoods! I cried. Ava was supposed to see these trees with me.

And then….there they are!

They aren’t as pretty or as big as the ones I’m going to re-visit tomorrow after a 15 year absence but they were redwoods and God knows I’m a tree hugger from way back and these particular trees talk to my heart like no other.

I just love the texture and color of new growth on young, healthy evergreens. There was a bunch of it to see, too!

Well, guess that’s it for today’s Great Adventure.

Happy Trails!

Ava and I drove through SW Colorado after her adventure at the North Rim of the Grand Canyon where she met Donna Brown when Ava hurt her knee and couldn’t climb back out of the canyon. Ava and I both both fell in love with SW Colorado.

As I drove up into the South Lake Tahoe area, I was reminded of SW Colorado. But it was when I actually got into the quaint little city wrapped lovingly with a river, meadows and beautiful snow-capped mountains that really took me back to last summer camping with Ava. Although it’s a busy little city, it still manages to keep its small town atmosphere where neighbors chat happily with a stranger needing directions. Dana and her two little ones walked with Montana and me to find Lake Tahoe. She told me she’d grown up here and came back to raise her children here and lived in the same neighborhood as she did when she was young. Says volumes to me.

South Lake Tahoe from bike trail where Montana was frantic trying to bark at each and every bike. I got quite a workout trying to keep her from freaking out the cyclists!

Montana waiting for her next victim on the bike trail!

Truckee River flows through the town

Snow capped mountains hug this wonderful, clean city.

Beautiful!

The coolest tribute to this area is how you won’t get any styrofoam for take-out and how you’ll see many VW buses of vary styles and years. Never saw this many outside of the State of Oregon! Does that mean they’re moving back to California? LOL

VW bus of yesteryear!

The original VW bus! Is that a gypsy wagon I see? Only in California!

A wonderful surprise was when Montana and I walked to the bank earlier today was finding a great Mom & Pop Mediterranean and Greek restaurant called Artemis  located at 2229 Lake Tahoe Blvd., Ste A, South Lake Tahoe, CA 96150 (www.ArtemisMediterraneanGrill.com).

I’m a bit of a Gyro meat snob as I’ve had the best at the now closed Shipfeifer’s which used to be located on Peachtree Road near Brookwood Station in my hometown of Atlanta. It was the absolute best Mediterranean restaurant in Georgia and I haven’t found another one of equal quality…until today. Too bad I had to drive all the way to California to find it!  Funny thing is that if I’d blinked, I would have missed it but I was hungry, looking for a place to sit outside (because I had Montana) and needed  something tasty. Interestingly enough, when Dana and I were walking later this afternoon, I mentioned this restaurant to her. Much to my surprise, she said it was her favorite in town!

As I had no room for all my lunch or to try their home-made desserts, I got a paper to-go box for my leftovers and for my Baklava. As I’m a Baklava snob as well, I just couldn’t resist getting it. After all, I’m on a quest and have to have things to write about, right? Well, let me tell you that their Baklava not only was the largest I’d ever been served but it was the BEST I EVER HAD!  It was fresh (as they advertised), not dripping in syrup but lightly dribbled with quality honey, the pastry was light and flakey and the filling absolute pleasure! It was so big I was sure I’d save half of it to go with my morning coffee. That did NOT happen. I found myself licking the cardboard container!

I was going to try to save this post until I’d seen Emerald Bay as I hear it’s an amazing view. Oh well, you’ll just have to wait for it like I do! I’ll go by there on my way to Petaluma, CA near the Pacific Coast. I’ll stay in a Motel 6 there before camping four days in the redwood forest where God lives.

Happy trails!

Numa (Ava’s husband) and I decided to head for Tonopah, NV where my son, Carl, used to have a gold mine. My dad owned quite a chunk of land there and every year Mom and Dad would take Carl out west for him to work his mine. I’d tried to find my son’s old gold mine before but ran out of road and time. This time, Numa and I were going to find it and we almost did! All we needed was a 4-wheel drive to get to it!

We stayed in my pop-up camper over night. The last thing Numa said before he fell asleep was that he hoped the winds didn’t pick up. Well, talk about foreshadowing! I thought we were going to end up in Kansas in those early morning hours! We did a little more exploring to find a ghost town called Belmont. When I looked at the lady’s map, it sure looked simple enough to me. No need to write anything down or get more details, right? WRONG! We did have fun driving too fast over a crazy road to that DOESN’T go to the ghost town of Belmont giving me screams! He thought it was funny flying through the air leaving my heart in my throat and Montana throwing up in the back seat! The road really wasn’t that bad but I get butterflies going over little knolls too fast and he, a person who loves a good thrill, thought this was a cake walk! It was awesome!

I left Tuesday morning, taking the back roads, of course. What an amazing drive! It was just what my broken heart needed to see. Some of this country’s beauty to help me through today. It was two months ago today that my girl, Ava, took her life.

I got momentarily excited seeing how diverse our country’s landscape is and how quickly it changes from alien lands to canyon lands to river basins to lush, fertile farm lands. These next few pictures show you some of that diversity I saw in a few short hours yesterday.

Alien lands north of Tonopah, NV. Large fields of sand butting up to craggy mountains. Surreal.

As I got past this alien land, I got into a more remarkable area called Walker Lake. Talk about strange! A HUGE lake in the middle of no where with crumbling rocky mountains all around and no greenery!

Walker Lake just on the other side of Alien Lands!

Walker Lake with a touch of green!

Walker River Canyon just north of Walker Lake, NV

Walker River Canyon, NV

Walker River Canyon, NV

orange lichen growing on the side of this rock wall of Walker River Canyon made the whol rock look orange in the late afternoon hours. Pretty darn cool.

Mom kept telling me about raging fires in Arizona and I reminded her that I wasn’t going that way at all. Lo and behold as I come out of Walker River Canyon, I see fire in the distance and think, “Boy, am I glad I’m not headed for there!” Boy, was I ever wrong! My back road took me right past it! They closed the road and I begged the officer to let me go through so I could get to South Lake Tahoe for my prepaid Motel 6 room for the night! (Motel 6 rocks). Thank goodness they let me through but here’s a close-up of the fire with a touch of truck window thrown in for the heck of it!

What started out as a 1400 acre fire turned (at last I heard) into over 4000 acres maybe more. It was near Smith, NV

More fire near Smith, NV. I’d never seen anything like this before. It was a little frightening.

Cleared the fire and went through a little town called Wellington, NV. Cute!

Wellington School House 1898. Cool little town.

I made it from Tonopah, NV to South Lake Tahoe, CA in about four hours taking the road less travelled. Lots of little towns and beautiful countryside. Just what a soul needs.

Today, I’ll stay over to rest and catch my breath from the last two months before continuing on to the redwood forest where God lives. See, I’d been telling my daughter, Ava, about this place for fifteen years and this year she was going camping with me to finally see it. The local funeral director, Jeff who is now and forever my best friend, sent me a small urn with some of Ava’s ashes to me while I was tending to her final affairs in Las Vegas so she could come with me on this trip. Thank you Jeff. Your Mom-n-Pop operation sure has been there for me, first with Carl and now with Ava. You made a terrible and alien experience into a simple feat. You arranged everything from Atlanta so I wouldn’t have to worry about the arrangements after I told you how simple I wanted it all to be and my timeframe. Donahoo-Lewis Funeral Directors in East Point, GA were remarkable, loving and efficient.

I plan on writing more about my daughter as I move along this journey. She wrote of herself as being a “revolutionary woman” and that she was. More to come.

Happy trails!

EXPERIMENT.

According to The American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language, Dell  Publishing Co. paperback, July, 1974 (obviously my college copy), the  definition of “experiment” is: “A test made to demonstrate a known truth,  examine the validity of a hypothesis, or determine the efficacy of something  previously untried.” 

There were very few times my ex-partner went with me to one of my therapy  sessions but, to give him credit, he did go when I requested. It was this last  request for him to attend with me AFTER the break-up that produced his  epiphany about the 16 years we spent together. I’d hoped that the session  would give me (if not us) some much-needed closure to this long, often  wonderful but rapidly deteriorating energy between us so we could move  forward more smoothly into our tomorrows.

It was as we walked after the session to our respective cars that he said blah- blah-blah “… it was an experiment…”. I can’t tell you what was said before  because I was still in very deep thought, processing the last ninety minutes to  “hear” much of what he was saying until he said the “e” word. Then, my brain  screamed, “WHAT?”

It wasn’t until I was in the confines of my car, safely in my own space, before I  could allow my brain to “go there”. Experiment. I chewed hard on his word.  After all, the man is a master craftsman of words (has to be — he’s a lawyer by  trade). And, after 16 years, he deserved my contemplation of his intentional use of this word, especially at this  moment in time. It was a pregnant concept.

As I’d witnessed my mom, the biologist, conduct many  scientific tests in the  zoology labs at Georgia State, my first gut reaction to his choice of words  produced a visual perception more akin to a clinical, sterile, intentional,  psychological labratory-rat-in-the-maze kinda’ thing than what I thought we’d  lived to suit me  but, in all reality, that’s why we were in this situation.

THAT’S when I got mad.

Believe me when I say it took me  m-o-n-t-h-s  of digesting, regurgitating,  spitting, spewing, chewing and, some internal and external screaming, before I could actually  think from my perspective if I felt the same about him. Was he MY  experiment? NOW I was getting somewhere.

Why months? Well, it took me a great deal of time to condense all those years  into one word, especially that one. It was such a  foreign concept to me. And,  slow isn’t always a bad thang when it comes to changing your thinking,  lifestyle, direction and choices (especially in the type of man you want or tend  to attract). Which brings me to the core of the process which I chose to work  through this whole epiphany. E-dating.

Purely in the interest of “research”, I joined a “free” on-line dating site, a  “average cost” one and the more advertised “costlier” version so as to see  what the 21st century experience would reveal to this Baby Boomer.

In a nut  shell? Not much of a surprise. I’m complicated. I know what I want  and, more  importantly, I know what I DON’T want. I’m looking for  the proverbial “needle  in the haystack” and I don’t mind waiting. I even stated  as much in my profile.  I was extremely honest from the beginning knowing I  didn’t want to attract the usual kooks.

From the free site, I was deluged with so many “matches” I couldn’t believe  these men were seriously interested. Some were thousands of miles away and  wanted me to come to them. Yeah, right. I’m the one who said I wanted to take  it slow in my profile, remember? Plus, I’d stated I wanted a  serious  relationship and marriage so why all this popularity? Fresh meat?

I changed my profile to be even less appealing and still got way too many  matches so  I started responding to some of the overtures with poignant  questions as to  their intent or how they intended to maintain a relationship of  quality with over 2000 miles between us or asking if there really was anything  in my profile that  led  you to believe I wanted to raise your children? Geez. I  never heard of so many widowed men looking for mothers for their children!

Finally, I settled  into getting to know via email several men within the  confines of  the site, careful to never give any revealing info. It was fun in a  voyeuristic kinda’ way “peeping” into someone’s life and  superficially getting  acquainted. Some were more genteel in making known their intentions by  insinuating “all my parts work” in the hope of luring you  into some response  that would encourage them into some 60-something-sex-craved evening with  aging bodies imbued with the little blue pill.

There was one man who was a very simple, less educated, retired military  country man who reminded me of my rodeo winning,  bronco riding cowboy  uncle. The man couldn’t type and I really don’t know  how he made coffee  without the help of his daughter but he was entertaining  for the mere fact that  he reminded me of my favorite (and only) uncle. I used  the “*67” code on my  cell phone to block my number and called him because of  all these reasons. He  was my exception.

He rarely knew what to say to me so I took the lead by asking him questions  about his life. At first, we talked about his horses (a soft spot in my heart), his  dogs (yet another) and what he did in the military. I loved listening to his  plain-spoken ways. It was refreshing after living for 16 years with a multi- lingual, overly articulate, deliberate, intentional being.

It was in our last conversation (of about 5) when we talked about his need to  jump into the 21st century (a conversation I’d had many times with my ex). He  said his daughter was the one who got him signed up on the free site and was  really pushing him to start by texting her on his phone. Half the time, he didn’t  know what she was trying to tell him because she’d throw a bunch of letters  together that didn’t mean nothing to him at all (I fight the urge to type this  phonetically in his country southern accent for which I’m quite renown).

I explained to him it wasn’t so hard to type messages these days as there were  so many abbreviations people use like, “LOL” and “BFF” which I translated for  him. He seemed to like that so I continued down that road. But, it was when he  proudly announced (quite in the middle of my lesson), “My lil’ ole’ pecker still  works, ya’  know!” that I said, “LMAO”, followed by, “That’s TMI!” over and  over. He  wanted to know what “TMI” was but I was laughing too hard to  respond. I could  just hear my uncle saying that! When I finally regained my  composure, I told him it meant “too much information”. We said our “good-byes” and that was the last time we spoke.

All the while this occurrence was overlapped by the two other on-line dating  services giving off their own energy. The mid-line model male participant was  less aggressive in expressing his carnal desires (thanks, God). I actually got to  know a couple of these guys via email but none really of great interest. Yes, I’m  picky but I plan on continuing in that vein as I’m not ever making me more  complicated by inadvertently becoming someone else’s experiment… again.

The more celebrated service has inundated me with matches of a much higher  quality supposedly within my scope of personality requirements, likes and  dislikes, haves and must-not-haves, ad nausea all of whom are no where close  to a “match” to my liking. They’re either too O.C.D. about how their body looks (comparing it  to their weight from high school… really?) or their work or their religion or  their politics or their children or their grandchildren to LIVE.

After being a single mom to two children since I was 18, I’m not in the martyr  mode any more. I want to reside where I want to and spend my day pondering  my next Great Adventure or creating something that I may take apart tomorrow  just because I can. I don’t want to be harassed by news because it gives me  indigestion. I don’t want to talk politics because I HATE politicians. I don’t  want to be bullied into liking someone else’s opinion, place or thing.

Don’t get me wrong, if YOU like this stuff, that’s cool. I just chose to not have it  in my life. Hence, my conclusion that maybe, just maybe, my ex WAS my  experiment after all. I learned emphatically what I DO NOT WANT,  which to  my way of thinking, is so much more valuable than what you DO want.

A much happier ME!

I created the mantra, “I refuse to let your confusion to be my confusion” when  we first started dating 16 years ago. It saved my life. It was also when I devised  the  “1+1=2” theorem: life boils down to very basic elements wherein 1+1 MUST  ALWAYS EQUAL 2.  Over analyzing, over-theorizing, over-dissecting, over-evaluating and over-thinking cause us much stress and  confusion. Example.  Instead of wondering why a person does or doesn’t act in a certain way, turn  the focus on yourself by asking, “Why do I care? Should I let  it impact my  quality of life?”

Yep, I’ve come full circle but that’s a good thang.

And, always remember: If your  dog gives you more of what you need than your partner, you’ve got the right  dog!

Montana doggie park 10-10 taken by Maya

Happy Trails!

It was a long time comin’, the break up I mean. We were together 16 years…    wonderful, adventurous, youthful, happy, miserable, exciting, dull, intimate,  frustrating, entertaining and distant years. We both knew that our differences would catch up with us one day but wanted to enjoy each other for as long as we would/could and then move on. I don’t believe anyone else understood that about us but I certainly did and I believe he did too, especially in that last couple of years we had.

At first, our differences were wonderful opportunities to explore another  thought process, or another perspective, or another way of living. I always  bought groceries for the whole week at once because time was precious to me  as a single mother of two. The kids always had something planned and I  wanted to be in the middle of whatever they were doing. He, on the other hand,  carried forth the European custom of going to the store every day to purchase  everything fresh. Once I adjusted to this concept, I was cool with it. It took a  great deal of heat off me to plan meals. I was tired of planning and cooking  anyway so this gave him the chance to do it “his way” which made us both  happy. That was one of those things that was different that I came to like.

The fact that he was Jewish didn’t interfere at all with my Christian beliefs  inasmuch as Judaism is the foundation of my faith. I enjoyed those early years  when he would read Hebrew to me and give me an impromptu translations  extremely similar to the verses taught in King James. But, I think it was the  fact that “faith” in something “outside the box” is a greater value in Christianity because you have to “believe”  in the virgin birth,  Christ as the Son of God, not to mention raising the dead, numerous miracles and, of course, the ascension. My understanding of  Reform Judaism doesn’t “require” their followers to “believe” in anything as remarkable (except maybe the parting of  the proverbial waters, which, if not  believed, doesn’t leave your whole religious convictions in a pile of ashes like it  would in Christianity).

My small town family farm upbringing in Sandy Springs, GA didn’t really seem  to be all that big a difference until the rubber met the road about 6 years ago.  His big city upbringing in Europe placed numerous colors on his persona  pallet including loving the “confusion” of smells, noises, activities  and bustle which are intrinsic in larger communities.

He took his “father of the family” role very seriously… too seriously to my way  of thinking. There comes a time when everyone is grown up. You allow them to  be grown up and to take the hits and tumbles that life deals out so they grow so  they’re strong adults. Blame the farm, if you will, but it’s life and anything  short of  this will make them delusional about their own futures.

I was always a writer, artist, thinker of fanciful thoughts and dreamer.  However, I was able to bring forth that “other side” of my brain to live in his  world of law long enough to support my family with the lifelong dream of  retiring early so I could do what I’m doing now… traveling, writing, creating  and any damn thing I wanna’ do when I wanna’ do it. As a very good litigation  lawyer, you’re cynical by nature and only believe in what one can see, taste,  touch or prove by scientific evidence. Vive le difference!

I believe that the DNA marker for creative energy brings along with it  wonderful gifts from God including telepathic communication, a “sense” of  things (I’ve got a “feeling”), as well as an umbilicus-like  connection with  those I love that can keep me up all night if they’re in distress or dancing all  day when they’re ecstatic. Some would call this Bi-polar  behavior but that’s  because “they’ve” been taught to think anything outside the  “box” is unnatural,  scary, treatable… or not, ; I’ve been known to lift up the “box” just to see  what’s under, beside, on top as well as inside it!

Now, to the point of my ranting. A couple of weeks ago, I saw my “ex” and he  asked if I was dating. I gave him that “Victrola dog” cocked-head look and  asked why he wanted to know. He proceeded to tell me he’d seen one of my  blogs about Ava’s fund-raiser and wondered if “Randy” was someone I was  dating. Frankly, I couldn’t remember a “Randy” and later had to go back to my  blog to figure it all out. Quickly shaking off his slant to the question, I told him, “Yes! I’m happily dating… MYSELF.”

Me enjoying dinner at Lucille's in Vegas - my first date with ME!

And it’s true. I’m thoroughly enjoying taking myself on long walks by the river  every evening, dining out, traveling, staying up late crying over a love story  gone sad,  watching anything on TV or not, sleeping in or not, working  outside keeping up my 7 acres or not. It’s liberating as hell not answering to  anyone about what you’ve done with your day.

Being raised by my father on that family farm made everyone accountable to  him for everything, every minute of every day. So did my work as a title  insurance underwriter or as administrator of a law firm or as a paralegal.  Creative people are not built to withstand such long periods of time with that  extreme  structure. Yes, education is different for us. We can handle that form  of  discipline as we love learning especially about our passions. We’ll get down  right reclusive when engrossed in our passions.

Some call it mania. I call it normal.

I signed up with Netflix for a free month after being introduced to it at Ava’s  this past trip. I love all creative energy that produces good thought-provoking,  healthy understanding of people, places or things. Movies with good casting,  script writing, character development, directing and filming about real people  are the joy of my evenings now that I have them at my fingertips.  “Nicholas and Alexandra” was the first biopic I fell totally in love with. It’s that  BBC accuracy and authenticity that “sends” me.

Well, this past week, I’ve taken myself to the movies every night. I’m still not  very comfortable with taking me on a dat to the theatre so I watched them in  my own living room. This week I’ve fallen in love with “Modigliani” (early  modernistic painter), “Amadeus” (Mozart),  “Pollock” (1940’s era modernistic  painter), “Frida” (early  modernistic painter), “Mrs. Brown” (Queen Victoria’s  years after Alfred’s  death), “Secretariat” (the horse that “couldn’t” but did), “The Soloist” (true story  of a genius cellist) and so many more.

These  movies gave me insight into my own sensitive, creative self I probably wouldn’t have gotten if I hadn’t taken the time to take me on those movie dates. It also helped me sort out a few other things about my own kids and life without the arts.

Both of my VERY creative, sensitive children suffered from not having more art early on in their lives… Carl’s painting and Ava’s music. It’s a retrospective view of my own life and that of my kids’ superimposed over these biographies which lend a new perspective of the importance  of creative energy in the world and how it helps to keep our equilibrium in the  midst of world insanity. I’d have to say my “ex” (or most men for that matter) would never watch and enjoy these movies which would, in effect, keep me from my next revelation: ONLY THROUGH DATING  MYSELF CAN I FIND MYSELF AGAIN AFTER BEING BURIED IN ALL THE  RUBBLE OF MY YESTERDAYS TO HELP CREATE A NEW TOMORROW FOR MYSELF AND THOSE I LOVE.

Ava performing her Junior Recital 12/10

My daughter, Ava (the opera singer), got me to thinking about this whole  concept when she said that Sarah Palin wanted to cut out funding for the arts.  The latest insanity comes from Michelle Bachman on this same line. What’s  wrong with these people? If they’re so “Reagonistic”, don’t they realize being  an actor is part of the arts?

The question then becomes, “What value do the arts  (writing, painting, sculpting,  singing, music composition, et al) bring to our  world?”

My conclusion is: “EVERYTHING!”

If we don’t have Mozart, our brains don’t  get smarter (right?). If we don’t have paintings, we don’t work that side of our  brain to enjoy being outside the “box” hence we don’t invent new ways of doing  things. If we don’t have sculptures, what adorns our cities? If we don’t have  ALL of the ARTS available to our sensitive, creative children they die a slow, painful death. How do I know? You’ll have to read my book when it comes out.

Ava and Carl in her swimming pool 1978

Europe has had, at least, part of “it” right in that it has centuries of history in  supporting the arts as a whole. The church screwed it up but the  Impressionists broke through that barrier and dared to be artists outside the  church’s realm. They weren’t  rich like the artists who did stay within the  “double yellows” of life but the ones who broke free were truly liberated enough  to explore their own genius. Take  Van Gogh. He suffered terribly, as most  artists who were driven to be true to themselves. Thank God he lived in an  environment not  totally alien to his genius and for his brother’s love and  support of him.

I truly believe we must stop dropping important areas of growth and  development of our children in the name of economy. We’ll have an abundance  of dysfunctional people living on the streets because they have no venue within  which to express their own genius. Not everyone is created equal. Some of us  are created “outside the box”.

So, my children, lend me your ears… from the woman who thought love could  conquer all, I lied. From the woman who thought differences only made the  relationship richer, I lied. From the woman who still embraces everyone to be  true to themselves, I celebrate. From the woman who is excited to be dating  herself at 63 in an effort to continue to understand the inner workings of herself, I  celebrate and recommend it at any age.

Since my “decoupling”, I must say I’m quite happy. People are telling me how  much happier I look, think and feel. It’s true. I’m very happily dating myself  and exploring my next great adventure… myself. Would I “do” the 16 years all  over again? You betcha’ I would. I wouldn’t take all those learning  opportunities away for nothing in the world.

I’m just sayin’.