Cook Forest

  I have a place in my mind’s eye, as I sit here in my office.  There is a hint of what I envision surrounding me as I sit in my swivel chair.  The hint is found in the wood paneling.  The place in my mind is Cook Forest.  Let us be clear on the Cook part.  There is no 's making it Cook’s Forest, a common mistake my kids like to correct each other on.  I know this for a fact because I used to give Cook an extra S until the rustic timber signs, that grace most State Parks, corrected me as I got older.
  Cook Forest is a place of history, my family history.  I have been going there since I was 16 years old.  Wait, I take that back.  I was 16 the first time my Mom took all my siblings while I was left to stay with my Dad, who had to work.  Something about teenage attitude.  Whatever.  It’s been over thirty years that this forest has welcomed my family for a week out of every summer.
  We started in a single River cabin when it was my family of origin.  My Mom and Dad and us twelve children.  I can still hear shouts of laughter mixed with the scent of popcorn as it softly rained outside, calling for game night inside.

  Eventually, as we grew into family units of our       own, we moved to the Indian cabins.  These tiny,
single-room, log cabins with chinking, held us for a few years until the babies kept coming and we returned to the original large River cabins on the upper tier.  This is the best place to see if the Clarion River is full enough to go tubing.  It’s amazing how laughter from the river can bounce its echo up into the trees, like a call beckoning us to come play.

  There was one summer, July of 2004, when there were more tears than laughter.  That was the summer my Dad died.  Still, Cook Forest gathered us in.  Hugged in her trees, bathed in her river, we held one another and remembered Dad.

  My husband and I now bring our seven children to these rustic cabins that ALWAYS smell the same.  Each year, our vacation begins the same, with the kids running into the cabin, inhaling loudly and exhaling the words, “Coooook Foressst”.

  Traditionally, our cabin is framed in majestic trees which open to frame bright clusters of stars at
night while a campfire draws all of us together below.  We number about 60 now and take up all the River Cabins and three quarters of the Indian cabins.  You can imagine our campfire circles are pretty big.  When we descend on the Cooksburg Café for ice cream, we often fill every metal table, log bench, and every inch of standing room.  This is right next to the Café sign where the bats like to roost. Just a bit of extra fun.

  Yes, I like looking at this wood paneling in my office.  If I close my eyes long enough I can almost hear the whooshing of the wind that rustles through the tall trees in Cooksburg, PA.  I know what you’re thinking…Cooksburg has an S.  Just trust me on this…it’s COOK (no S) Forest and you should go if you get the chance.  Listen for the screams of laughter up on the hill.

Obituary Assignment Inspires

I’d never been so thrown by a class assignment. Yet, there I sat,

staring at a blank screen, waiting for the words to come as I tried to write my own obituary. I began with my name. I moved on to the “dash” part which would include: born on…dash…died. I chose not to fill in the date I died, but did take note of how old I was.

I was 47 years old.

I’d been alive for 47 years. That’s 17,155 days to get it right. I looked at the prompts for this writing assignment. What do I want my life to reflect? I thought I’d take a creative approach and write about the dreams that I’d had for an entrepreneurial venture. Who were the people I wanted to impact? I wrote about my family and the throngs of other creatives who would be loved to live by words I had written.

So full of life!

And then it hit me. Or should I say, SHE hit me, and spoke to my heart in the way of one who had been there. My sister, Mary, vibrant, strong, energetic, driven. Yes, Mary who had taken her role as the eldest of twelve children and blazed trails for the rest of us to follow. Headstrong, resilient, yet vulnerable and self-protective. Mary called to me in this assignment. I felt my eyes drift to her most recent business card that rested on my desk, Director of Veteran Affairs at the Erie County Courthouse. I knew that assignment had been a joy to her. My sister passionately embraced her role of helping veterans receive the benefits they’d earned and deserved. I was one of those veterans and had the privilege to see my sister’s work in action.

Though she loved her job, what made her zest come to life was love for people. She didn’t have a clique, Mary loved everyone. She

Mary with her family

didn’t see color, age, size, or financial status…she saw fellow travelers in the journey of life. Her special tribe was her children and husband. She’d been married three times. Her belief in love and a desire to provide a caring home for her family kept her heart open to possibility. Her capacity to live the line, “Hope springs eternal,” led her to open a shop as “The Cookie Lady,” take on several jobs within the realm of her Criminal Justice degree, joyfully serve in a comedy club,  seek and win ribbons for various baking competitions, and even enter competitive body-building after having her six children. She had trophies that nodded to her drive to succeed. Yet, with all her accomplishments, I was most grateful for her generous kindness.  I remember her knock on my door when I was a single mother. Opening the door back then, let in the whirlwind of my sister and her bevy of children for a ten-minute visit to bring me a meal. No matter what turmoil was taking place in Mary’s life, she dealt with it by internalizing the phrase, “Fake it til you make it,” pasting on a smile and helping others.

Even when the cancer diagnosis was delivered.

I was in the car with my sister when she had to make a quick stop, to drop off one of her long blond wigs to a co-worker who wanted to dress up for a hot date with her husband. Mary had sass. Mary had pizazz. She had style, fun, and a bravery that allowed her to try on all sorts of looks…even as she dropped down to under a hundred pounds.

I am so grateful that I had enough sense to accept her offer to hand out Halloween candy at her house that final October in her life. She was in full-form with her striped stockings, black silk pointed hat, full make-up, and of course, a fantastic wig. She smiled and called each neighbor by name. She giggled with the litany of compliments to her fabulous persona. “Well, why wouldn’t I dress up?,” she laughed.

Susie, she now seemed to whisper as my keyboard sat untouched…do something. Do it all. That dream to touch people and bring your ideas to life doesn’t just happen. Take the steps to bring it to life.

I am 47 years old…turning 48 this year. Mary was 48 when that date was filled in after her dash. I want to live and love others. I will write the obituary as a list of my goals…and I will take steps toward those goals with gratitude, courage, perseverance and the memory of those who have led the way.

Living Life Large

Spring Is In The Air

  The sounds of summer are upon us...even if the weather is yet to catch up.  Through the closed, pane glass window comes the whine of a vigilant neighbor's lawnmower going to town on the Spring grass.  I, personally, am thrilled at our progress in this department- we bought a new lawnmower. Yes, the tags are still on it while the grass continues to inch it's way skyward, but this purchase signals our intent.

  More often than not I hear bursts of children's laughter through that same window indicating the air is warming up enough to lure them away from electronic devices and beckoning them to tear up the grass and good ol' fashioned dirt.  Maybe those tags can stay on the mower a bit longer...

  I've been treated to the long-awaited chorus of peepers over the last few weeks- though it's now a bit of a drive to hear them.  Not like in the past when we lived on 17 mostly wooded acres where every night was a full on symphony.  Peepers can always lift my spirit in a nod to my childhood, when dirt wasn't old fashioned- just fun.  Now, I'm sounding old as dirt...  In truth, that sound mixed with Spring's earthy scent breathes new life into my imagination.  Possibilities abound within this season.  Flowers are blooming while birds return in flocks.  Life seems to rebounding from laying dormant so long.

  I love that there are spectacular peculiarities within each season.  It's a reminder to embrace each one without wishing for the next.

Hmmm, this reminds me of a conversation with my sister about our children, on her son's 15th birthday.  We were marveling at how fast time has flown.  I shared a pearl of wisdom that was passed down to me years ago, during my angst over my oldest changing as he matured, "It is the parents that can not accept these changes that suffer the deepest empty nest depression.  Learn to embrace each season of life and you will be able to enjoy the change that comes. Then, it will be a natural progression to let go as children ready to leave the nest, rather than clinging so tightly to what once was."  I have found that tidbit to be a golden nugget.  

  When my children were all very young and close in age, I had to remind myself of the truth: it is possible to wish away the journey of life while rushing to the destination.  This was a challenge during the stage when I had three in diapers!  Or the time I opened my mini-van and realized all 5 back seats were fitted with car seats.  I've applied it to my my own progressing age- not getting hung up on what number of birthday I face.  I will only be this age once, might as well enjoy!  If this thought is lived out- there can be no regrets.

  Nature continues to guide and teach us about the intricacies of each numbered day...

 Enjoy each moment, with eyes wide open.  Live in the present and presents will be gifted.

The Sandwich Generation

  I've heard we are called the "Sandwich Generation."  Yes, those of us who have the honor, privilege, and hefty work load of caring for parents and children at the same time.

  It is an interesting place in life to exist.  The demands are tough yet the rewards are fulfilling.  To be able to care for your children and to care for those who cared for you while you were a child... it probably is poetic justice.  After all, you are being taught what sacrifices your parents made for you, in real time, as you make
those sacrifices for your own youngsters.

  My husband and I have discussed this very concept in our 5 minute meetings that are placed sporadically through the afternoon and evening.  We exchange thoughts on this topic in passing between running our kids to practice or heading to his parents house or the hospital to ensure they are fed and cared for.  We tend to pick up the conversation as we regroup during dinner prep or most likely dishes clean-up for our own children.  If I'm honest, lately it's been after the kids are tucked in bed that we have an opportunity to catch up on each other's day.  I pray, for his parents sake, that the in-depth care they currently require is temporary and once his mother has healed from her emergency surgery she will be able to do much more for herself.  She has always been so independent- she's like a different woman without her Polish, feistiness in full force.

  I don't know if it's the tone in the house that caused my youngest daughter, who is 6 years-old to look me in the eyes and tell me when she's grown up she will take care of Mommy and Daddy.  I don't quite know how I feel about that.  I suppose my response is a murky mixture of gratitude for a love so great, swirled with resistance to hinder her freedom, along with a hint of dreaded foreboding that we might actually need our children's care one day.

  Yes, the Sandwich Generation has a lot on their plate alongside a healthy dose of much to ponder about the past, present, and future.

Update

One funny side effect of going to school while my children do is the shared experience itself.  I no longer casually say, "I know you don't want to roll out of bed, get your rear in gear anyway!"  I now grumble along side them while we elbow each other in our fight for bathroom mirror prep time.  We're all in this together.

  Funny how diving into a shared experience can give a more insight into moments I used to pass judgment on.  Of course it makes sense- I'm living through similar experiences they face day in and day out.  I no longer chide about the dragging feet and forlorn faces on Monday mornings- I sympathize.  Yet, I am not as understanding about bad grades as I once was- I've been reminded of the need for hard work and I want to help my kids create great habits involving preparation and accomplishment.  If I can do it- they certainly can too.  My mantra of, "Turn OFF that stinkin' TV!," is heard more regularly now that I know what they are putting off in stall tactics.

  Over time, I will be curious to see what their memories of the time "Mom went back to school" bring about.  And there are days that I wonder if I will remember much of what currently feels like a foggy blur as I try to fit it all in and get it done.  My husband's parents have had recent serious health issues.  This has been effective in reminding me to: breathe, slow down, and remember what's important.  In the midst of the schedules, homework, and chaos I'm forced to face my own limitations and concede that when giving it your all- let my best be good enough.  If I am to succeed at this thing called school- then I must remember that the best education is within the school of LIFE.  At this stage in my life, the process of receiving a formal education must somehow blend with my, my husbands, and my children's lives- and not take center stage.  It is very sweet to witness how they do champion my efforts and pull together to allow me time to work.  It makes our play time that much more cherished.

So far, so good...albeit hectic and without much down time.  I know this too shall pass and soon it will be time to graduate- for my children and for me.  I've never been one to wish time or seasons of life away or to cling to certain ages.  I've sincerely tried to embrace each moment as it's lived, knowing it will only come my way once.  I think this is true for this unique time in my (though it's actually "our," since lives are entwined) life as well.

  Even with the end of the term nearing and finals breathing down my neck, I was blessed this afternoon to be able to visit my mother-in-law in the hospital, visit my oldest at his work, take a quick snuggly nap with my youngest, attend a son's lacrosse game, take two other sons shopping, treat one daughter to a big bag of m&m's for cleaning the house, and look through my jewelry with my oldest daughter for her formal dance tomorrow night.  I did get to give my husband a hug and kiss on the sideline at the game and I look forward to catching up on his day when he comes home from caring for his father.

  Life continues on while increasing in speed.  I find it a comfort to see my University's motto etched into the face of many a cornerstone around campus, reminding me: Carpe Diem!