We’re too old for this!

We’re too old for a mud run I argued. We went any way.

I looked around. We were the oldest in the group. I could only imagine what the teenagers thought as we showed up for our assignment. This was my daughter’s fault. She always volunteers us. We were in a kid’s world.

“I’m not going to let you grow old.” Allison, my daughter said as she handed me a bright green shirt. “You can do it.” She gave My Sweet Al and fifty other staff people shirts, which read STAFF. This shirt had been splatted with brown paint. It looked like mud on the shirts, as if we had already run the course. We weren’t fooling anyone. We took our lawn chairs and umbrellas just in case we got tired of standing. I’m all about comfort, even at a mud run.

I was an official member of the Pirate Plunge Staff.  I had entered another world, which I had only known about on television. I had seen the American Ninja Warriors on Television. They get beat up, climb through hard obstacles and drop into a tank of water in defeat. A few make it all the way to the Red Button on to Mount Midoriyama.  I squirmed as I watch this show with the rest of the family, thinking, Who would put themselves through that? That’s crazy.

I surmised the situation. Who was standing in front of me? Not only, but Ninja Warrior, Brian Arnold from the television show, who had completed an impossible course and had gone the furthest in the race? Of course I had to get a picture hugging a Ninja Warrior. In case anyone questioned me about the mud run, I’d post it on Facebook.

I said to my friend who was visiting with us from Minnesota, “I want to call them Ninja Turtles.”

She said, “You’re showing your age. If anything, we are the Ninja Turtles, they are the Ninja Warriors.”

I couldn’t believe over two hundred hardy young people would pay to run through a thirteen-obstacle course. This course went through mud holes, tires, and ropes all the way up Pirate Hill, where they faced a giant slide. Soapy water was sprayed from a cement truck to make it slippery. The first two to pass the Finish Line were David McCree and Tate Drane.

Later in the afternoon, they all ran it again. This time David McCree and Tate Drane changed places for 1^st and 2^nd places and a first prize was handed to David. They out run the real Ninja Warrior, Brian Arnold. Good job, boys.

Many of the runners wore costumes. I recognized Coach Mike. He was wearing Denise’s bodice over his hairy chest. Now that’s a sight to see. Then there were those who struggled to get over the tire obstacles. I looked up to see two black bottoms with attached tutus hanging upside down on the top railing. They pushed and pulled to get over. I pointed my camera and got a shot. This was one shot I wouldn’t forget. When they made it over to the other side, I recognized them as two of my friends, Melanie and Denise.

Several construction companies of Pagosa came with their water trucks and earthmovers to turn Pirate Hill into a professional three-mile course. The volunteers for the Booster Club thought of everything. They had worked a whole year planning for this event. They had key people who knew how to put on a big event like this. There were over one hundred volunteers, but one person stood out to me, Mr. Alley from the La Plata Electric Company. Apparently he had been there day in and day out helping where ever he could.

Almost everything was donated. People brought their company vehicles from their businesses. If rented, they would’ve cost the club literally tens of thousands of dollars. The water trucks kept the paths and mud holes filled with water. The excavation company donated several trucks including a cement truck.

My Sweet Al and I and our guests were placed at the water station. Everyone warned us that we needed to get out of the way of the runners. They would run past, grab a little cup of water, throw down the cup and keep running.

I told My Sweet Al, stay out of the runners’ way. Don’t try to strike up a conversation with them. They are not in the frame of mind to talk. They are focused on running the race. Don’t become part of their obstacle course, just hand them a cup of water. There were over 400 cups of water handed out to hot, muddy and sweaty runners who ran up the hill and down the hill in this July sun and heat. They were thankful to have a cold cup of water. They didn’t care how old we were.

I know they will sleep well tonight. For us, even the umbrellas and lawn chairs couldn’t help Al and I. We had to come home and take a nap.

This event was a win-win for the community, the school and the Booster Club. My daughter and son-in-law are already talking about next year. We’ll probably be there if my daughter has anything to do with it.

Final Brushstroke! People care about the things of this town. Everyone gave what they had, walkie-talkies, water tanks, an American Flag, and someone had soap to donate. They pulled together to make a small town like Pagosa do something big. Collectively they put on a professional and great event. Remember to give thanks to all those who ran the race and the people of Pagosa who made it happen. The funds will go to the Pagosa High School Athletic Program.

What Are We Missing? Nothing!

My friend said, “Pagosa is ten years behind times.”

“That’s good. There are so many crazy things going on in this world. I’m glad we are sheltered from things we hear on the news. We’re not missing anything living in Pagosa. ”

She said, “In a way, I feel our kids are protected.”

“I’m glad we raised our kids and grandkids here.”

Then she said, “Our son is going to Brazil this year for his senior year as an exchanged student.  I don’t know if I need to be concerned.”

“I don’t think you need to worry. When I was in Brazil ten years ago it was like I was stepping back into time, it felt like kinder years and it was refreshing to be a part of a simpler life. The men opened doors for the women, and the women dressed like they stepped out of the fifties with hats and gloves.  The Brazilians are a beautiful, gentle, hard working people, they are so polite, and they have servants’ hearts.

“When I was there, the people in Brazil wanted to come to the United States. Their goal was to learn to speak English, come to the United States and get good paying jobs. They wanted what we have in this country. I just remember thinking The Brazilian people are such a sweet and naïve people. They would be eaten up in our country.”

Back to our small town, at the wrestling banquet in the park the other night, I enjoyed sitting and listening to the High Rollers. The lead singer called on his dad to sing. Mr. Janowsky, who is turning eighty years old, came to the front of the platform and sang. He yodeled and still has a beautiful voice and talked about his wife, Mary Jo, who passed away this year. It was such a beautiful family moment. We all enjoyed reminiscing with him because we all loved her and we knew the joy she brought when she walked into the venue.

I watched this beautiful Pagosa family interact with each other and I thought, We have so much more here in Pagosa. We have what counts. We are not missing anything.

The annual wrestling banquet is all about helping the wrestlers in the Pagosa High School to raise travel money for the kids to go to Regionals and State. Coach Dan Janowsky heads up the wrestling program in the school and continues to invest in our kids. It’s so much more than that. The boys learn to set up, serve, throw a good time for others, then tear down and put away till next year. They are taught how to work hard for the joy of others, even though they don’t know it.

When I returned home from the wrestling banquet, on my screen saver was a picture of Coach Janowsky and Creede, our grandson. Our grandson was wearing his graduation gown and he had his arm tightly wrapped around his coach. They were both smiling.  You could see the warmth and respect of their friendship. I just sat and stared at it. The whole evening was about a Pagosa family, and a coach who has a heart to help young boys grow into their potential. I noticed a lot of new faces getting ready for their life lessons.

In Pagosa, families stay behind. Teachers are teaching grandchildren of friends they went to school with. Pagosa is interlaced with parents, families, teachers, and coaches who they have long history with.

The picture brought me back to that graduation day. Our grandson had the privilege of awarding his coach a special honor and his Coach in turn presented our grandson with an award for his accomplishments in the athletic field.

I just remembered thinking how our grandson has graduated and gone on, but these faithful teachers are staying behind for the next group of young people. This coach, in particular, has been such an enormous influence in our grandson’s life. Our grandson is carrying with him confidence, a champion’s heart, and a belief in himself, which this teacher has invested in him.

I said to my Sweet Al, “Thank the Lord, Coach Janowsky is here for the kids. It’s interesting how these teachers give of themselves for their students. The students go on and the teachers stay behind. But these young kids take a part of their teachers with them.

Final Brushstroke! It all happened on a summer evening in the park in Pagosa. Are we missing anything living in a small town, which could be ten years behind the rest of the world? Not at all! 

In Flux As We Sit

Everything is changing as we sit in the same place. We haven’t moved, but everything around us is moving. Our conversations are changing since the grandchildren have left home. At our family dinner this week, we actually talked about something else rather than the kids. We talked about us. We discovered some new things about ourselves.

I was really getting in to our conversation when I looked up and everyone had moved away from the table and had their coats on. I was still talking. Then someone said, “We’re going to miss the fireworks. We have to go now.”

I said, “I was enjoying our conversation, I forgot about the fireworks, we were actually talking from our heart and we all heard each other.”

My daughter said, “Mother, It was because you were talking about yourself.”

“Well, it was enjoyable to me, anyway.”

That morning for the 4^th of July parade, we sat in the same place as we do every year. It’s our tradition to do what we always do.  I said to my daughter, Allison. “There weren’t as many floats this year. I remember when I was a kid how the parade was a big deal. They started in March working on their floats to win First Place. In my small town, there might be thirty entries of floats alone. They built a frame on a trailer, wrapped it with chicken wire, then stuffed tissues in the chicken wire, making carnations and decorating floats with them. What happened to those beautiful floats?”

She was quick to answer, “If you notice the Senior Citizens aren’t sitting around quilting, needle pointing, canning, making carnations, or whittling. They are on the four- wheelers in the parade and actively doing things and living life. They’re in the 4X4 club, hiking and meeting for a latte. The 70’s are the new 50’s.”

“Back then older people were sitting on the front porch in the evening talking to their neighbors. They thought they were living life. Well, for sure, the kids today are running faster and aren’t going to sit around and make carnations. We’ve lost something, but maybe we haven’t. I don’t want to stuff tissues in chicken wire, either.”

July is in flux. It has come and is almost gone. So are those little annoying bugs that come to the Lower Blanco in June and won’t leave until July. The Wrestling Banquet in the park with the High Rollers is happening, yet there’s been a change of guard. New kids and their parents are stepping up to make the sports year a success. Things are in flux whether we want change or not.

Changes are happening as I type. I never thought about teaching art students from their homes as I sit in my home. I e-mailed one of my On-line art students and told him that his next watercolor exercise was to “Paint in Flux.”

He wrote back, “What is that?  And how am I going to do it?”

I e-mailed him, “In flux is the movement that is flowing in and out. I want you to sit in the same place and paint the same thing three or four times. It will probably take three or four hours. You will see different things in each painting, which you didn’t before. Don’t move. Let it happen around you. If you’re outside, the light will change and the breeze will move the leaves. Try it. If you sit inside, you will be changing in that moment toward that subject and seeing different things in it as you paint.”

I was telling my Sweet Al about what I asked my art student to do. I used the poem that T.S. Eliot wrote to explain my thinking. The moment of the rose and the moment of the pine tree are of equal duration. I said to my Sweet Al the present and future is in the same moment. Whatever is happening right now will be your future. I seized the moment over coffee as we sat in the same chairs as we always do every morning.

I continued to expound on the poem, even though I knew I had lost Al in MY moment. “You can sit still and look at a rose bud change into its full potential. The rose is in its moment. It’s going to take a hundred years to see the full duration of a pine tree. The two, the rose and the tree are in an exact point in time, but the rose’s moment is visual and is changing to the eye, but not the pine tree.”

My Sweet Al’s eyes rolled as he drank his coffee. Does Al care about my great discovery? No. Not at all. But he does care if I got his NASCAR race taped for Sunday. For Al, watching cars going around in a circle for hours is like watching a rose bloom. For me it’s like living in the duration of it and watching a pine tree grow.

Final Brushstroke! We are all in flux and living our moment. Our present will influence our future. A good conversation is always My Moment even if everyone puts on their coats and leaves me sitting. Watching NASCAR is my Sweet Al’s Moment.

A Few Nuts in the Mix

I was mixing up a carrot cake for a meeting I was going to the next day, when my Sweet Al ran in the house.

“Call the fire department, I’ve got a grass fire.”

“Al, what have you done?” I questioned him as I dialed 911.

The neighbor called. “You have a fire going up the hill, call 911.”

“I have.”

“We’ll be right there.” The neighbors showed up with shovels and a tractor.

I threw the carrot cake in the oven and went to see what mischief Al had got himself into.

The fire department came with trucks and firefighters. The fire marshal came to the scene, also the police and the ambulance came. The fire marshal asked Al if he had read the pamphlet when he purchased his burn permit.

Al sheepishly said, “No, I didn’t know there was one.”

Our neighbors were already digging a trench around the fire. Dan has a state-of-the-art irrigation system. He went to the pump, filled up his big plastic container, drove his truck over and used his tractor’s front loader to spread the water. Two of our neighbors are firefighters. They worked diligently to put out the fire.

I said to my daughter. “Our neighbors worked so hard and moved so quickly, they didn’t let any grass grow under their feet, burnt or otherwise.”

“I feel an article coming on.” My daughter responded.

“All I know is we sold our round house this week and your dad could have burned it down in the same week.”

We’ve got good neighbors. They came to our rescue once again. If they see Al struggling with something in the yard, they come over and help him. Al won’t ask for help, but they insist. They watch over us as if we were their own parents.

Meanwhile my cake was baking and the fire was still burning.

The fire department stayed until every inch of the fire and smoke was gone.  I was amazed at the care the Fire Department and the others gave us.

When Al came into the house, I said, “What more mischief can you get into?”

He said, “I think I’ll stay in the house for the rest of the day.”

“Good call.”

On my way to the meeting the next morning, I picked up a friend and told her about the fire. Then it hit me. I said to her, “I don’t think I put nuts in the mix. A carrot cake isn’t worth eating without nuts. People brag about my carrot cake because I always put in double nuts.” I went on and on.

When we arrived they saw the cake pan and were excited. “Oh Betty brought her Carrot Cake.”

“No, no, no. I have to apologize about the cake. Al was burning trash and started a grass fire. We had the fire department and the neighbors all working to put it out. I forgot to put in the nuts, but I brought the cake anyway.”

I think what I learned, is until we have a need, we don’t know how precious and beautiful the people are around us. The fire department and our neighbors were there to help us.

Final Brushstroke! Yes, there were a few nuts in the mix after all the big to-do I made, and I’m looking at this sweet nut sitting across from me. I don’t think I’ll ever crack him. It’s going to take the Lord to crack this one.

In my recent article, Who is taking responsibility, my nephew, Dave, wrote these words. “Perfectly fine to share Max’s story. But some of your facts were not correct. Total expenditures were about $75,000 for drug rehab and reform schools; Max was not with his ex-girlfriend when he died. He was with three drug buddies, none of whom took him to the hospital. He was taken to the hospital in an ambulance by the paramedics. Other than that, good story. Very compelling and hopefully, it will move some of your readers toward action.” Blessings, Dave Slade