Midwest Gypsy

Even if she weren’t my granddaughter, I would probably take note of this little person. She is definitely unique. She is only seven years old, and what a character she is!

She loves to cruise in the car with the sunroof open while listening to the music on Pandora. Her favorite singers are Taylor Swift and Pat Benatar and she really, really wants to have hair like Cyndi Lauper–cut-and-colors, of course. And why not? She’s worn a pixie haircut with a colored stripe for more than a year.

She’s hilarious. When her mom answered her question, “What’s the name of this (Rolling Stones’) song?” with “You Can’t Always Get What You Want,” she replied, “I know! But what’s the name of this song???”

Unlike most people, Maeby knows who she is. At day camp this past summer she was asked what she wanted to be when she grew up and she answered, “I’m already an artist,” and indeed she is. She was greatly inspired by another artists at the Torpedo Factory in Alexandria, Virginia, and now she creates embossed greeting cards that are displayed and sold at a downtown art gallery. Every month she takes the commission check she earns to the bank; she’s saving to buy a bike. Of course, the people at the bank love her to pieces.

And now she can already claim being an award-winning photographer..her entry was selected as the the Youth division winner of the local USO’s photography contest and an enlarged canvas print of it will hang in the lobby of the newly built Fort Campbell USO Transition Center. Early one morning, she noticed the beauty of the sunrise reflecting off the clouds and grabbed her mom’s phone to capture the moment. For that she got kudos from the USO rep, who encouraged her to always take the time to capture those moments and to not delay because that particular moment will be gone forever. Good advice for many things, I thought.

Maeby’s an Army brat who has already moved three times in her short life, and it seems that her artwork gives her the ability to not only express herself, but to be independent, not having to rely on others for entertainment. How amazing is that? Probably as amazing as watching her grow up will be.

Today is only Day 3 of the writing challenge and already the thought “I have nothing to blog about,” crossed my mind, so I sought a prompt from WordPress’ Blogging U. One of the first on the list was ‘Introduce Yourself.’ I immediately froze.

I know the importance of “credentials.” After all, who is going to pay attention to someone who knows nothing about the subject? Oftentimes I check out the “About Me/Us” tabs on a website to find out something about the author. 

But to write about my self seems so…so conceited and ego-driven. Things I truly dislike in people who are. And as “different” as I’ve always felt and as different a lifestyle I’ve had (no doubt fueled by years of living on a boat and in an RV), I’ve never wanted to stand out. 

But, if I’m ever going to take this blog to the next level, whatever that may be, the About Me will have to be addressed. Although my long-distance physical travels have been curtailed temporarily, I’m still having adventures. Every single day.

“Maria Russell is a 60-something whose gypsy-spirit is alive and well, in spite of settling down in recent years. She’s discovering that life’s journey does not have to be on the move physically. Rather, one’s own transition can be just as exciting, just as educational, just as fulfilling. Follow her as she blindly delves into her Golden Years while still maintaining a foothold in her youth, at least in her mind.”

After breaking up with it more than a year ago, I have had to get back on Facebook. It was NOT my choice. I rather enjoyed being oblivious to what ‘friends’ were doing and, if truth be told, I enjoyed the distinction of being one of the seemingly few in the world who were not on it. After all, I’ve always been inclined towards being different. 

With reluctance–kind of like how I approach getting into a swimming pool–I’ve been dipping into Facebook slowly. I don’t have many ‘friends’ this time around, and I’ve ‘unfollowed’ some of the ones I do have. I just don’t need to know all of that extraneous information; I have enough going on. 

What IS different about this second go-around with Facebook is that I’m ‘following’ people and topics that feed my head or lift me up. These days, I’m all about learning and growth. Grandma Moses said that “life is what you make it,” and I agree. So I’m following Facebook pages about health and food and creativity and nature…and these are inspiring to me! I find that after brief interludes with Facebook, I feel good. I don’t remember that my first go-around with Facebook made me feel that way usually.

As my reason for getting back on Facebook continues to solidify over the coming months, I’m going to learn a lot. Not because I want to. Because I have to. Just like I did when personal computers were just introduced in the 1980s. 

My husband, a computer systems analyst back then, would laugh at my complete lack of appreciation for the tremendous capability that was now at my fingertips. Literally! He would say, “I’m going to carry you, kicking and screaming, into the 21st century.”  

I’m getting there. 

This time last week, I was thrilled to be starting a four-day weekend. I’m off on Fridays anyway, and Monday was President’s Day. It was also Valentines weekend (meaning that lots of chocolate was coming my way), and all was right with the world. Shortly after I awoke on Monday, snow began to fall. It fell hard and fast all day, and by the time it ended, western Kentucky had received ten inches of the white stuff…what the area usually gets in an entire winter was received in less than half a day.

The thick blanket of snow was exquisite, and I was ever so grateful that my employment was not of an emergency nature; that is to say I’m not a policeman or a fireman or a nurse or any of the occupations that warrants one’s presence no matter if the day is a holiday or if the weather conditions are abominable. With ten inches of snow on the ground and temperatures hovering around zero, I knew classes would be cancelled Tuesday and probably Wednesday, which was fine by me. What I didn’t expect was that the rest of the week would be cancelled, as well. So, I am in the midst of a unexpected ten-day sabbatical, which possibly may be extended because more snow is on the way.

More than once this week I had the thought, “if only I’d known then what I know now,” and I wondered if I would have gone out of town had I known I’d have this much time off. Probably. Both of my kids and their families live hundred of miles away, and I don’t see them nearly as much as I’d like. But no one could have predicted the surprise vacation, so everyone who works at the community college was on a daily need-to-know basis. This week has been an exercise in living one day at a time. By Thursday I was OK with that.

But with lots of time to think, I wondered about other times in my life when it would have been nice to know what the future had in store because then I would have done some things differently, right? My first instinct was to think, “Yes, absolutely.” But hindsight is 20/20. And there’s no use wishing things would have been different because wishing won’t change anything.

It is what it is.

Everyone’s life journey is filled with events–big and small, difficult and easy, sad and happy–that collectively make up who we are today. The challenge, I think, is to learn from the experiences and resolve to mindfully become.

Become what?

Kinder.

Patient.

Thoughtful.

Mindful.

Understanding.

Generous.

Nonjudgmental.

Accepting.

Calm.

Nicer.

Grateful.

Vulnerable.

Empathetic.

Honest.

Authentic.

In other words, better.

We can’t change the past. And since we don’t know what the future has in store, all we have is right now and the chance to make right now the best we can. By living mindfully EVERY day, our lives will be enriched beyond anything we can imagine and, as a bonus, our new pasts will be ones that are free from regret. And that’s a future of which we can be certain!

“So, a little excitement in an otherwise dull day.” Harry Tasker, “True Lies”

Last month, for the first time ever, I was summoned for jury duty. Unlike everyone I mentioned this to, I was very excited about the prospect. After all, I have a passion for writing, and I viewed this opportunity as a possible gateway to an experience I could parlay into a blog or maybe more, like a magazine article or even a book, depending on the trial. Little did I expect the setting of this story to be the women’s bathroom on the second floor of the Christian County Judicial Center.

The morning proceeded, more or less, like I was told it would. I wasn’t surprised that, out of forty or so jurors, I knew six of them (this is a very small town) so I felt comfortable despite this being my first time. There was a lot of waiting and a fair amount of boredom. After taking a while to get rolling, the show finally began with roll call, followed by the judge’s explanation that some of us would be called upon to serve on a grand jury, an assignment I did not wish for. Admittedly, it was because of purely selfish reasons: to be a grand juror meant a two-month commitment instead of thirty days, and it required one’s presence every Friday during those two months. I have Fridays off, and frankly, I love my three-day weekends. So when my name was not one of the fifteen called, I breathed a sigh of relief.

After those chosen for the grand jury were escorted out of the courtroom by the Commonwealth’s prosecutor, the judge explained that jury selection was going to be a little different because a trial was scheduled to start today and some of us would be called upon to serve immediately, which I would not have minded at all. Then he called for a fifteen-minute recess, a welcome break. I headed to the ladies’ restroom.

After finishing what I had gone there to do, I opened the door to exit the stall. What happened thereafter is a blur; all I knew was that there was a loud crash and somehow I ended up on the floor, my right leg in excruciating pain. The lady who was washing her hands abruptly stopped and came to my aid immediately. I looked behind me to see that the bottom hinge of the bathroom door had broken and it was the door that had crashed onto the tile floor and slammed against the side of my knee. I can’t even imagine what the women who were still in the stalls must have been thinking! Even though I didn’t think anything got broken, tears filled my eyes. I can be such a baby, but it really did hurt.

After ensuring that I would be alright, my savior went off to get help and before I knew it, two security guards appeared, one on each side of me. They asked if I thought I could stand, and I felt I could, though I was reluctant to put much weight on my right leg. One security guard was insistent that I go to the hospital, but I really didn’t feel that was necessary. And besides, I didn’t want to miss out on any excitement that might happen in the courtroom.

I was asked to fill out a report, and as I did I chuckled to myself thinking that some unscrupulous people might find this incident the perfect grounds to sue…and how ironic that there was a plethora of attorneys right here in this very building! Again it was suggested I go to the E.R., but there really was no need. Someone–I don’t know exacting what his position was–appeared while I was writing the report, broken hinge in hand, voicing his amazement that a steel-reinforced hinge snapped like it did and commented that that had never happened before. Well, considering my luck, if it’s going to happen, it’s going to happen to me.

Back in the courtroom, preparations were being made for the trial of a man accused of breaking and entering with intent to commit a crime, and although I was selected as one of the first potential jurors, I did not make the final cut. So I, along with the other twenty or so wannabes, was dismissed with the instruction to call back this afternoon after five o’clock to find out if our service was needed tomorrow. So even though it was disappointing not being chosen, my time at the Judicial Center certainly was not a waste of time…after all, I ended up with enough fodder to write a blog anyway. Que será, será.

“Bad door” being made to stand in the corner