The weather in New England last October was certainly a mixed bag, but by the end of the month, "Indian Summer" had finally decided to perform an encore of its earlier appearance that fall. The timing couldn't have been more perfect, as I was scheduled to spend some time with "M" while her daughter was out of town. Even better was that we would visiting "M"s home, which is not far from the waters of the Atlantic Ocean.
When "M" was a young girl, both of her parents were members of a nearby yacht club, and racing sailboats was an important part of their family heritage. "M" spent a great deal of time at the club, which was directly located on Long Island Sound, and often recalled very fond memories of her experiences there. The beautifully preserved black and white photograph of "M" sailing one of the racing crafts at the age of twelve, which sat prominently on display in her living room, was a testament to that. Every time we passed by the picture, "M" would point to it with great pride and say, "That's me!"
That was indeed "M"! Before taking to the bright blue skies, "M" had first mastered its' reflective sister directly below: The sea! As a young sailor, "M" had developed a love of the water that she would carry with her throughout her long and quite colorful life, which has now, not surprisingly, brought her to a new home near the spectacular Gulf of Mexico.
Often, "M" would pick up the photograph and cradle it in her hands. Then she would sit down with me, both of us at opposite ends of the seashell table, and talk about her youthful sailing adventures, embracing the picture throughout the entire conversation.
"I won this race, you know," she boasted every time. I never grew tired of hearing her stories. "That's my Mother with me in the boat!" she added, a bit of melancholy in her voice. If you looked very closely at the image, taken by a skilled boating photographer from an adjacent boat, you could see the back of "M"s Mother, distinguished by a beautiful hat that was probably all the rage at that time. And even though she was only around twelve years old, "M" was completely recognizable... her determined countenance, her bright eyes... all still the same seventy-eight years later!
After describing the race, and her other adventures on the Sound, "M" took out the trophy that she had won. The writing was hard to distinguish, a victim of tarnish and time, but the pride in "M"s voice as she clutched the prize close to her was clear and current.
"I didn't always win," she told me one afternoon. She recalled the time that she was in a very publicized race that was to be covered by the biggest newspaper in the area. The disappointment in her tone was still evident after all these years. "I came in second, and there it was in the paper for everyone to see." I could hear a sense of self-deprecation in her words, and my heart went out to her. She grew up trying to do everything the "right way" so that other's would approve of her, while at the same time struggling to preserve the part of her that marched to a different drummer.
With great empathy, I told her about how I had come in second in my graduating class in high school. Salutatorian they called it. The Valedictorian received much of the praise, including local publicity. I remember being interviewed on the radio, noted in the newspapers, and getting a small second place monetary award, but I was still in the shadow of the girl who was number one. It was probably my biggest accomplishment as a teenager, however, and I could tell by the look of genuine concern on "M" expressive face that she could relate to my story.
"I guess that's another thing we have in common," we both agreed with a smile. "Second place!"
We also agreed to embark on a picnic one warm, sunny afternoon. I packed up a lunch that included our usual fare - sandwiches, fruit, bottled water, and of course, cookies - and I told "M" that we were going down to spend the day near the beach. "Oh good!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands. Some days, "M" did not have a lot of energy and preferred staying at home. Luckily, the beautiful late Autumn weather, combined with a high level of enthusiasm, led to what would be a wonderful walk down memory lane for "M".
I'm not sure if "M" knew exactly where we were going, although her daughter and I had already discussed the plan, and agreed that it would be a wonderful outing for both her body and spirit. The directions were tricky, and although I am quite adept at getting from point A to point B without a map (after all, I was able to find the Pacific Ocean by driving straight across the country on Route 80!), I needed to resort to a download from the Internet for this particular trip. The route was not very long in terms of mileage, yet there were a number of twists and turns involved, and I wanted to make sure we actually got to where we were going!
"M" always enjoys riding in the car, especially on sunny days, so she was quite content to be my passenger as I weaved my way through unknown neighborhoods en route to our final destination. I confess that I made a few wrong turns here and there, but "M" didn't notice unless I exclaimed, "Oh Shoot!" and even then, she didn't seem to mind. She was happy to look out at the colorful foliage that made Southern New England so spectacular at this time of year.
Finally, I found our picnic location... a park located on a point that was surrounded by the waters of the Long Island Sound. It was a place that "M" had been to many times throughout her life, and as we drove through the entrance she began to recognize certain aspects of our surroundings. I was almost as excited as "M", and felt as though I was rediscovering a part of my past as well, even though I'd never been to this particular area.
"Is that the ocean?" she asked as we drove into a parking lot near the beach, pointing to a rocky shore that bordered the beautiful blue water. "Yes it is," I replied, on the verge of letting the cat out of the bag about our location.
"It looks familiar," "M" added, recognition continuing to unfold in her mind. I'm not sure exactly how long it had been since she'd been to this particular spot on the Long Island Sound, but I'd venture a guess that it had been a number of years.
Her eyes were misty as the realization of where she was sunk in. The parking lot by the beach was adjacent to a series of docks overflowing with sailboats of all sizes, indicating the presence of a nearby yacht club. Seeing the sea crafts, "M" said with wonder in her voice, "I used to sail boats like that!" I smiled, inside and out. "Yes you did," I replied, growing a bit misty myself.
Thanks to her handicapped parking sticker, I was able to park close to a bench that looked out over both the marina and the waters directly south of the point. "Here's where we're going to have our picnic!" I announced, much to "M"s delight.
I helped her out of the car, and handed her the cane that she used whenever she was walking. With the cane in one hand, and her other arm entwined with mine, we very carefully made our way to the bench, where I helped "M" sit down. Although her mobility was mostly intact, "M" had a great fear of falling, which led to a great deal of trepidation when she ambulated. I assured her as I always did on our outings, "Don't worry. I won't let you fall." I noticed that her gait had gotten a but quicker as we got closer to our picnic spot.
After I was certain that "M" was comfortable and safe on the bench, I returned to the car for the cooler that contained our lunch. Seagulls were flying around all above, anticipating a handout our two, and the sound of their screeches was actually soothing to my ears. I took some deep breaths, and relished the feel of the ocean breeze on my body, and the scent of salt in the air. There was yet another similarity between "M" and I... that feeling of rejuvenation, almost a rebirth, that only comes from being near the ocean.
As we ate our lunch, "M" and I enjoyed watching a variety of water craft navigate the sound. Because the day was so unusually warm, there were many motor boats out and about, along with sailboats and cargo ships and even a few jet skiers. What an odd, yet incredibly awesome, sight, especially on a late Autumn afternoon!
We made some friends as we slowly savored our peanut butter and jelly sandwiches (my creativity in meal preparation was a little off that day!), but they soon became quite petulant in their demands to share our food. It was the soothingly screeching seagulls, who had now landed close to our bench. Funny how they didn't seem quite so serene now.
Of course, "M" the animal lover wanted to give all of her lunch to the "poor starving little critters," but I (not so easily) convinced her that the persistent birds had more than enough to eat, as people picnicked at this park all the time. "I don't see that many people," "M" challenged, and indeed she was right. It was not only a weekday, but also a school day, and there really weren't very many folks and about. Luckily, the ones that were must have been animal lovers as well, and "M" was able to see at least one couple tossing pieces of bread to our new feathered friends who had far overstayed their welcome. "See?" I pointed. "The little critters have plenty to eat!"
Satisfied, "M" placed her hand over her eyes and looked at the water that lay so majestically in front of us. In that position, she actually looked like a sailor! I wondered what exactly was going through her mind at she viewed the very area where she had sailed as a small girl almost eighty years ago. As if reading my mind, "M" began to tell me the tale of how she used to race boats like that. I didn't mind. I never grew tired of her stories, even if they were told several times in one day!
After lunch, we drove around the point to a sandy area on the north side that had some accessibility to the water. After getting settled on another bench not far from the car, "M" watched with great amusement as I hopped from foot to foot in an awkward attempt to take my shoes and socks off. (I could of sworn I saw those seagulls, bellies full of bread, snickering at me from across the parking lot!) As I recall, I was too filled with too much excitement to sit down on the bench and take them off the easy way. I felt like a little girl myself, and wanted nothing more than to run across the sand and stick my toes in the bubbly water.
"I'm afraid I'm too old to do THAT anymore!" "M" joked, laughing at my antics. "I'd be more than happy to help you over to the shore if you want to go," I offered, and I truly believe that if she had wanted to, I would have found a way to carry her. "M" smiled warmly and said, "Go ahead. I'll just enjoy watching you." By this point in our relationship, I wasn't sure who was living vicariously through who anymore! Either way, what an absolute joy to be able to share such a wonderful moment in time with a dear friend.
The shore was extremely rocky, and I heard "M"s voice trailing cautiously after me as I rushed towards the beach, "Be careful!" I had every intention of being as cautious as possible. Even though I was only on the verge of fifty, I knew that my bone density was not exactly where it should be. Not enough milk, I suppose! Or exercise. My bones may not have been as vulnerable to breakage as "M"s were, but I wasn't quite willing to test this theory out by tumbling over a rock outcropping. I've also been told that my head is definitely dense, but again, not a good time to test this out...
As I waded through the shallow waves gently breaking along the shore, I felt truly invigorated. The water didn't feel nearly as cold as I thought it would for this time of the year, and I carefully fished for for seashells with my toes. There were some broken mussels scattered along the sand, mixed with the bits and pieces of other crustaceans, but I thought I'd have better luck finding one in tact within the water itself. Much to my surprise, I was right! I didn't find many, but I held the few I did retrieve proudly up in the air, waving for "M" to see. She nodded her head and waved back at me, but I seriously doubted that she could see the shells from where she sat.
When I had a handful of treasures, I hurried back to the bench to show them to "M". "Beautiful," she complimented approvingly, applauding my efforts. They weren't, really, but to us, they were as magical and mystifying as a fossil dug directly from the dirt of an ancient archeological site . I put them in the pocket of my windbreaker, never dreaming that less than two months later, I would be engaging in the exact same activity in the company of "M" along the spectacular shores of Florida's Gulf Coast.
We ended up spending much of that afternoon bouncing from one beach, and bench, to another along the New England side of the Long Island Sound that was closest to "M"s home. It was truly a wonderful afternoon, and a far cry from the blizzard we had spent together a year earlier. But despite the vast difference in Mother Nature's demeanor, I don't know if I could say which October day was more memorable. With "M" as my companion, every day is joyous!
After describing the race, and her other adventures on the Sound, "M" took out the trophy that she had won. The writing was hard to distinguish, a victim of tarnish and time, but the pride in "M"s voice as she clutched the prize close to her was clear and current.
"I didn't always win," she told me one afternoon. She recalled the time that she was in a very publicized race that was to be covered by the biggest newspaper in the area. The disappointment in her tone was still evident after all these years. "I came in second, and there it was in the paper for everyone to see." I could hear a sense of self-deprecation in her words, and my heart went out to her. She grew up trying to do everything the "right way" so that other's would approve of her, while at the same time struggling to preserve the part of her that marched to a different drummer.
With great empathy, I told her about how I had come in second in my graduating class in high school. Salutatorian they called it. The Valedictorian received much of the praise, including local publicity. I remember being interviewed on the radio, noted in the newspapers, and getting a small second place monetary award, but I was still in the shadow of the girl who was number one. It was probably my biggest accomplishment as a teenager, however, and I could tell by the look of genuine concern on "M" expressive face that she could relate to my story.
"I guess that's another thing we have in common," we both agreed with a smile. "Second place!"
We also agreed to embark on a picnic one warm, sunny afternoon. I packed up a lunch that included our usual fare - sandwiches, fruit, bottled water, and of course, cookies - and I told "M" that we were going down to spend the day near the beach. "Oh good!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands. Some days, "M" did not have a lot of energy and preferred staying at home. Luckily, the beautiful late Autumn weather, combined with a high level of enthusiasm, led to what would be a wonderful walk down memory lane for "M".
I'm not sure if "M" knew exactly where we were going, although her daughter and I had already discussed the plan, and agreed that it would be a wonderful outing for both her body and spirit. The directions were tricky, and although I am quite adept at getting from point A to point B without a map (after all, I was able to find the Pacific Ocean by driving straight across the country on Route 80!), I needed to resort to a download from the Internet for this particular trip. The route was not very long in terms of mileage, yet there were a number of twists and turns involved, and I wanted to make sure we actually got to where we were going!
"M" always enjoys riding in the car, especially on sunny days, so she was quite content to be my passenger as I weaved my way through unknown neighborhoods en route to our final destination. I confess that I made a few wrong turns here and there, but "M" didn't notice unless I exclaimed, "Oh Shoot!" and even then, she didn't seem to mind. She was happy to look out at the colorful foliage that made Southern New England so spectacular at this time of year.
Finally, I found our picnic location... a park located on a point that was surrounded by the waters of the Long Island Sound. It was a place that "M" had been to many times throughout her life, and as we drove through the entrance she began to recognize certain aspects of our surroundings. I was almost as excited as "M", and felt as though I was rediscovering a part of my past as well, even though I'd never been to this particular area.
"Is that the ocean?" she asked as we drove into a parking lot near the beach, pointing to a rocky shore that bordered the beautiful blue water. "Yes it is," I replied, on the verge of letting the cat out of the bag about our location.
"It looks familiar," "M" added, recognition continuing to unfold in her mind. I'm not sure exactly how long it had been since she'd been to this particular spot on the Long Island Sound, but I'd venture a guess that it had been a number of years.
Her eyes were misty as the realization of where she was sunk in. The parking lot by the beach was adjacent to a series of docks overflowing with sailboats of all sizes, indicating the presence of a nearby yacht club. Seeing the sea crafts, "M" said with wonder in her voice, "I used to sail boats like that!" I smiled, inside and out. "Yes you did," I replied, growing a bit misty myself.
Thanks to her handicapped parking sticker, I was able to park close to a bench that looked out over both the marina and the waters directly south of the point. "Here's where we're going to have our picnic!" I announced, much to "M"s delight.
I helped her out of the car, and handed her the cane that she used whenever she was walking. With the cane in one hand, and her other arm entwined with mine, we very carefully made our way to the bench, where I helped "M" sit down. Although her mobility was mostly intact, "M" had a great fear of falling, which led to a great deal of trepidation when she ambulated. I assured her as I always did on our outings, "Don't worry. I won't let you fall." I noticed that her gait had gotten a but quicker as we got closer to our picnic spot.
After I was certain that "M" was comfortable and safe on the bench, I returned to the car for the cooler that contained our lunch. Seagulls were flying around all above, anticipating a handout our two, and the sound of their screeches was actually soothing to my ears. I took some deep breaths, and relished the feel of the ocean breeze on my body, and the scent of salt in the air. There was yet another similarity between "M" and I... that feeling of rejuvenation, almost a rebirth, that only comes from being near the ocean.
As we ate our lunch, "M" and I enjoyed watching a variety of water craft navigate the sound. Because the day was so unusually warm, there were many motor boats out and about, along with sailboats and cargo ships and even a few jet skiers. What an odd, yet incredibly awesome, sight, especially on a late Autumn afternoon!
We made some friends as we slowly savored our peanut butter and jelly sandwiches (my creativity in meal preparation was a little off that day!), but they soon became quite petulant in their demands to share our food. It was the soothingly screeching seagulls, who had now landed close to our bench. Funny how they didn't seem quite so serene now.
Of course, "M" the animal lover wanted to give all of her lunch to the "poor starving little critters," but I (not so easily) convinced her that the persistent birds had more than enough to eat, as people picnicked at this park all the time. "I don't see that many people," "M" challenged, and indeed she was right. It was not only a weekday, but also a school day, and there really weren't very many folks and about. Luckily, the ones that were must have been animal lovers as well, and "M" was able to see at least one couple tossing pieces of bread to our new feathered friends who had far overstayed their welcome. "See?" I pointed. "The little critters have plenty to eat!"
Satisfied, "M" placed her hand over her eyes and looked at the water that lay so majestically in front of us. In that position, she actually looked like a sailor! I wondered what exactly was going through her mind at she viewed the very area where she had sailed as a small girl almost eighty years ago. As if reading my mind, "M" began to tell me the tale of how she used to race boats like that. I didn't mind. I never grew tired of her stories, even if they were told several times in one day!
After lunch, we drove around the point to a sandy area on the north side that had some accessibility to the water. After getting settled on another bench not far from the car, "M" watched with great amusement as I hopped from foot to foot in an awkward attempt to take my shoes and socks off. (I could of sworn I saw those seagulls, bellies full of bread, snickering at me from across the parking lot!) As I recall, I was too filled with too much excitement to sit down on the bench and take them off the easy way. I felt like a little girl myself, and wanted nothing more than to run across the sand and stick my toes in the bubbly water.
"I'm afraid I'm too old to do THAT anymore!" "M" joked, laughing at my antics. "I'd be more than happy to help you over to the shore if you want to go," I offered, and I truly believe that if she had wanted to, I would have found a way to carry her. "M" smiled warmly and said, "Go ahead. I'll just enjoy watching you." By this point in our relationship, I wasn't sure who was living vicariously through who anymore! Either way, what an absolute joy to be able to share such a wonderful moment in time with a dear friend.
The shore was extremely rocky, and I heard "M"s voice trailing cautiously after me as I rushed towards the beach, "Be careful!" I had every intention of being as cautious as possible. Even though I was only on the verge of fifty, I knew that my bone density was not exactly where it should be. Not enough milk, I suppose! Or exercise. My bones may not have been as vulnerable to breakage as "M"s were, but I wasn't quite willing to test this theory out by tumbling over a rock outcropping. I've also been told that my head is definitely dense, but again, not a good time to test this out...
As I waded through the shallow waves gently breaking along the shore, I felt truly invigorated. The water didn't feel nearly as cold as I thought it would for this time of the year, and I carefully fished for for seashells with my toes. There were some broken mussels scattered along the sand, mixed with the bits and pieces of other crustaceans, but I thought I'd have better luck finding one in tact within the water itself. Much to my surprise, I was right! I didn't find many, but I held the few I did retrieve proudly up in the air, waving for "M" to see. She nodded her head and waved back at me, but I seriously doubted that she could see the shells from where she sat.
When I had a handful of treasures, I hurried back to the bench to show them to "M". "Beautiful," she complimented approvingly, applauding my efforts. They weren't, really, but to us, they were as magical and mystifying as a fossil dug directly from the dirt of an ancient archeological site . I put them in the pocket of my windbreaker, never dreaming that less than two months later, I would be engaging in the exact same activity in the company of "M" along the spectacular shores of Florida's Gulf Coast.
We ended up spending much of that afternoon bouncing from one beach, and bench, to another along the New England side of the Long Island Sound that was closest to "M"s home. It was truly a wonderful afternoon, and a far cry from the blizzard we had spent together a year earlier. But despite the vast difference in Mother Nature's demeanor, I don't know if I could say which October day was more memorable. With "M" as my companion, every day is joyous!
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