I LOVE this Town!

  I LOVE my town, Erie, PA!  I can't help it-- the thought bursts through me every single time I walk the Peninsula.  I started my strolls there back in August and the beauty is mesmerizing no matter the day's weather or season.

   This summer, my daughters and I were captivated by the varying reactions from fellow walkers, runners and bike-riders.  We revisit these responses regularly...mostly while convulsed in giggles. 

   If you've walked Presque Isle on any sunny day during the warm months you'd already realize that the Karl Boyes multipurpose trail is exactly that, multi-purpose.  This is a shared path, with equal privilege given to all.  There is a courtesy reminder painted on the walk every so often asking all to KEEP RIGHT.  For those who travel...well, faster than I (ie, bike riders, roller bladers, skate boarders, and anyone jogging even at a snails pace,) the word seems to have secretly spread that you are to say, "ON YOUR LEFT," to let me know you are approaching behind me.  There's an element of excitement that is inherent in the fact that I will be run over if I don't move.  I truly appreciate the relish with which some announce this phrase, a sort of giddy power that I have no problem respecting.  This "On your left" is not posted anywhere to my knowledge-  therefore, a huge Congratulations to the verbal trendsetter who made it wildly popular!

 I've also noticed a genuine joy emanating from those bike riders who like to use their bell to alert us that we are about to be speed bumps if we choose to not share the path.  My teen-aged daughter and I delighted in the bikers who were prepped and ready to ring the bell with the lever in position, fingers quivering with anticipation to let it RIIIING...when we hear them coming and move over before their arrival.  The let-down of the moment is announced in the deflated "ting" as they depress the lever and utter a sad and unnecessary, "on your left" as if we'd just stolen their glorious, metallic punch-line.  

  Then there are the wonderfully gleeful "Good morning!,"  "Beautiful day today," and "Hello"'s  that highlight what a pleasant microcosm of our town's friendliest folks I am sharing the walk with.  Of course these greetings have offered their share of mirth based on the level of exertion said greeter is in whilst exercising.  A+ for effort to the perspiring runner who tried extending a "Good morning" which morphed into a breathy, croaked out "Meeahh" with a two fingers raised in a tired salutation.  I could only giggle because my level of breathing was barely challenged at my slowpoke pace. 

   There is a sense of comradery, civility, and kindness that seems to be inspired by the beautiful environment.  And it's no wonder, the panoramic view of Erie's skyline is stretched along views of an ever changing Bay.  At times I'm energized by the stark white clouds that invade the bluest of skies over top choppy waters that reach up to tempt birds that dare fly so low.  In contrast there have been moments that seem to have read my mood and offer serenity in the mist that hovers over tranquil waters which lap the low stones in a soothing effort to offer compassion.  With all this beauty in one tiny corner of this place I call home- I recognize how blessed I am to have been raised here and returned years later to raise a family.  I LOVE my town <3


 
 

 

Blessed Relief

The humidity was oppressive.  My clothing felt heavy and damp with perspiration.  Every inch of my hair was pulled back with elastic and bobby pin but even those attempts to stop the beads of sweat covering my forehead were weak at best.  My sole companion of the blistering weekend was a spry Sister of Mercy in her seventies.  She wore a veil, blouse, and skirt without the hint of a grimace as she led me in conversation and meditations to ponder during our times apart.  One highlight of our time together keeps returning to my mind: we were walking through one of the rooms in the Mercy mother house when an unexpected breeze came through the open screened doors.  "Oh Blessed relief!" was Sister's simple comment.  This phrase accompanied my gasp of delight and pretty much summed up the short-lived removal of our moisture-laden circumstance.  I don't even think Sister was aware she uttered the words...maybe she was.

  That day was a few weeks ago and that very moment comes to my mind now as I struggle with an inability to fall back asleep...yes, note the time of 5:15...awake since 3:20 a.m.  I first tossed and turned trying to return to that unencumbered state of sleep.  Then I simply lay and stared at the shadows made by the ceiling fan on the ceiling.  "What are these?" I asked of the slow rambling incoherent rivers coursing through my mind.  "These are your thoughts," I answered "let me introduce you to them."  It was then I was reminded of the "Blessed relief" moment.  There I lay in complete silence able to hear and explore thoughts as they burst then faded and dimmed into my consciousness- "Oh blessed relief!"  This was a stark contrast from a snapshot minute in our home earlier this evening: my 11-year-old daughter changing her two-year-old sister's diaper asking "did you lick your hand, why did you lick your hand?"  while our 10-year-old daughter tapped danced on a sheet of bubble wrap to the music of our five-year-old and eight-year-old sons disagreement on whose lacrosse stick was stronger, my husband was vocally searching for his new reading glasses that he had JUST bought and lay down RIGHT THERE!, while our 12-year old son continued to adjust to his new medication and moaned and whimpered for the "sicky bucket" (poor kid...I hate nausea too.) 

  As I pondered this contrast between the lively exchanges and the current state of our homes stillness, a breeze rustled through the window eye-level to the head of my bed.  I merely had to roll over and look out the window to witness the tranquility of the trickling waterfall-pond my husband created to be heard where I lay.  There was a gentleness to the soft brass wind chimes that occasionally rang while the breeze lifted the monstrous leaves of the sunflower plants which had surprised us with their stalky height where they sprouted up around of our water feature...good pond water I guess.  I figure you'll think I'm making up the fact that the solar flowers placed amidst the beach wood and river rocks were still doing their own lighted glow-dim-fade dance...but I'm not.  I couldn't stand the beauty of the moment without being able to share it---so I slipped from my bed to write and share it with you.  And now after type-type-typing, "yaaaaawn," I am tired again and ready to fall back asleep---"Oh Blessed relief!"