The legacy for me

July 20, 1969.  Were were leaving on vacation late at night (to get a head start on driving) with a family friend, and we sat around Mrs. Grogan's black and white TV watching Neil Armstrong step down on the moon before we left.  Now tributes are pouring in on what an extraordinary man he was, how he could have had anything after his milestone journey, but he chose to stay out of the spotlight and shun publicity.  I even read where he didn't make a habit of signing autographs "to be sold to the highest bidder."

So don't offer me any money for this little gem above.  Maybe he took pity on me since I was in high school, maybe my letter was irresistibly eloquent (unfortunately, I didn't keep a copy), but for whatever reason, after I wrote him an admiring letter, Neil Armstrong mailed me this photograph which I have treasured ever since.

All the tributes in the media really made me think.  Society has the custom of heaping praise on people once they're dead.   Everywhere there are eulogies, documentaries, dignitaries weighing in on the important influence this or that deceased person has had on society.  All well and good.  Do we ever think to tell them while they're alive?  Sometimes not, at least not to this degree.

I remember on my mom's 70th birthday, we held a surprise party for her in the hall of her church.  Old friends came, relatives from near and far as well, and all the guests signed their names in the guest book.  I recall as I looked through the guest book, I had the vision for a moment that it was a memorial book - you know, the kind they have in funeral homes.   But it wasn't in memory of - it was in honor of - and I can tell you with a smile how much fun we all had that day.  My sister and her husband had made a video of Mom's life up to that point, with interviews from family and friends, which Mom just about cried through - and all were extolling Mom's generosity, her caring nature, her compassion, her faithfulness - in other words, everything one would say at a funeral except the honoree was very much alive and getting to hear all the wonderful comments.

I'm glad Neil Armstrong is being hailed as a humble hero, for he truly was.  I just hope he realized how much he meant to this country and to us as individuals before he left us.  I wish that for everyone.  This week, call someone up, write a letter, or go visit the people you care about, the people who have made your life better, the friends, role models or teachers who have influenced you in unforgettable ways, whether famous or not, and let them know how much they mean to you, while they are still around to hear it.

Farewell, Neil Armstrong.  Thanks for making a high schooler's day brighter.

A room of my own

Well I thought I’d come over here and play for a bit because my head’s frazzled with working.  Words words words more words and religion and more words aaaaagh stop. 

So I decided to take a break and show you round my tiny room like I promised.

This is the way in – to the left of the door is a wonderful painting by Hebe – okay you can hardly see it.  I’ll get a better pic to show you.  Here you are:

Inside my room feels big but is really small.  It’s nine feet along its long wall and six feet eight inches along its short wall.  If I stand at the edge squeezing myself into each of the four corners I can show you around.

So if you just come in the doorway, on the opposite wall under the window is my bed.  There are only four pieces of furniture in this room (the bed, the chair, the shelves and a tiny table/stool), and the Badger made two of them and gave me one (the tiny stool) as a gift.  He made the frame for this bed.  

I sleep on it (when he’s away during the week), work on it, sit and read and dream on it.  It goes from wall to wall, so if someone comes in to chat there’s room for a second person to take two of the pillows and sit at the other end.

At the moment the bed is covered with book proofs because that’s what I’m working on.

If you stand at the foot of the bed in the window corner and look back towards the door, this is what you see.  

If you stand at the corner by the head of the bed, this is the view.

The Badger made me this big set of shelves to store all my things.  This is what it looks like without the curtain on the front.

It takes up all the wall with the door in it.  

It has my general life bag hanging to the left of it and my laundry bag hanging to the right.  I also use the laundry bag for my wooding bag sometimes.

There’s a fixed shelf handy for a candle, with a picture our Alice did of a peaceful person thinking.

The Badger took out the electric light for me (though there is still one socket to charge my computer and cellphone).  I put a blessing over the plate where the electric light switch used to be.

Alice did the calligraphy for the blessing.

On the ceiling is just the place where the electric flex was, in case someone needs to put it back some day.

Here’s the Badger who came in for a chat.  

The chair is an old one that gets handed round the family.  Alice had it for a while.  She crocheted the seat cover.  The cushion used to be Hebe’s.  It’s made of patchwork from old saris.

Here's St Francis up on the windowsill.  The window looks out onto our neighbour's cherry tree.

A better view of St F.

The Badger took a photo of me 'cause I took one of him.  This is where I always sit, on my bed by the window.

And you saw the graffiti pic from my wall, that Hebe and I did, before:

 So that's about it, really.  I love my room.  It is a place of happiness and peace, where I can concentrate and feel intact, and get my scattered head back together.  A hermit crab shell.

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365 366 Day 238 – Saturday August 25^th  

You know I’m not totally sure what these keys were for.  So there was no point in keeping them, was there?