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Mom's
This one says: SUCCESS Travel Journals I am a theatre critic OK...so it's a new "career", but if you're interested in reading my reviews, go here Updated 2/11/01 WHAT I'M READING Christmas gift from my friend, Diane, who felt it was time I learn more about Australia That's it for today!
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17 February 2001 You’ve probably seen this Mary Engelbreit picture. The signpost to the left says "Your life" and the one pointing to the right says "No longer an option." When you reach the ripe old age of 58, which I have done today, you realize that the chances of your living to 116 are slight (and who would want to?), so you stop for a bit, turn around to look back over the road you have traveled all these years, check the roadmap and see if it can help you see the signposts up ahead. With diminished visual acuity (in spite of the new glasses), things are still a bit blurry. The road behind me has some twists and turns and a few bumps, as well as some real peaks and valleys, but basically it’s been a pretty straight shot from February 17, 1943 to February 17, 2001. The view has generally been pleasant along the way. The point of origin for the journey was San Francisco, California. A simpler time, when there were many fewer skyscrapers, when the city was neatly partitioned off into ethnic neighborhoods, when you could get on a cable car without waiting in line for an hour, and it only cost a dime, when the air was still clean and power was plentiful. It was such a pleasant point of origin that I stayed there for 18 years, enjoying the scenery, and gathering around me all of the luggage I would need to take with me on my journey--the love and support of my family, an education, a (very little) life experience, a couple of marketable skills and talents and an optimism about the future. But it was eventually clear that it was time to start my "walk-about." I didn’t go far. Just across the bridge. But for the first time I was on my own in the big world and how would I cope? I spent several years at this new destination. Like Dorothy, I met some friends during my stay who would accompany me along the rest of the path (and a little dog too!) I went to school, dropped out of school, went to work, married Walt, conceived a child, quit work, had the child, conceived another child...and another...and another...and another. We were now a family moving along the path and it was time to move the family farther from the point of origin. Again, not far. 80 miles. A straight shot. We settled in a small suburban town and integrated into the life here. The physical road didn’t go much farther than that, but the emotional road went in all directions. Back to San Francisco for involvement in theatre. Hooking up with Gilbert Russak. Working for years, writing, learning computers...burying Gilbert. Learning about death. Closer to home, all those kid-oriented activities with the attendant social circles that go along with them. Going to work, and losing the kid-centered social circles. Writing...writing...writing... Bringing in kids from other countries. A decade dealing with foreign languages, immigration, and adjustment problems of exchange students. Watching the kids graduate, shoulder their own backpacks and head off on their own roads with their own signposts. Briefly traveling to other lands, getting a taste for how some other cultures live. Losing David. A big valley to struggle across, which we managed to do, holding on to each other, supporting each other. Leaving my job. A dip in the road, with the attendant loss of self esteem. Feeling the need to "make a difference" in the world. Hooking up with PFLAG and Breaking Barriers, becoming more aware of gay issues, working for safety of gay kids and people with HIV and AIDS. Meeting Steve... Just as I began to pass out of the valley, we lost Paul and were plunged back into the next valley. Made you understand what it must have been like for the Donner Party, encountering one difficult valley after another, now standing in cold snow in the dead of our emotional winter. Renewed dedication to making a difference. Feeling surrounded by the love of friends. Knowing that somehow you will survive. Eventually even feeling like living again. Meeting Peggy. Onward, ever onward. Now watching the remaining kids making their own lives. Taking stock of the place where you now sit and looking at the forks coming up in the roads ahead. Realizing that, all things considered, despite the valleys, God has been pretty good to you. You’ve had a pretty good life, a lot of opportunities, wonderful people in your life to love and to love you. You know now that the road ahead doesn’t look so scary. You’ve weathered a lot of difficult road conditions and undoubtedly there will be more difficult ones coming up. The choices made at various forks in the road have worked out OK. You’ll never know what lay beyond on those "no longer an option" paths. But you know in your heart of hearts that you made all the right choices for you, and that you are a strong woman who can do whatever she sets her mind to do. And that’s a nice thing to know as you head down the gentle slope to the next fork in the road and beyond that to the final destination. I start to whistle...... |
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Some pictures from this journal |
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Created 2/13/01 by Bev Sykes |
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