Thursday evening, a belly full of fry bread taco and red wine; an impeccable combination. We have been on the edge of rain all day. About a half hour before quitting time southerly gales ripped whitecaps from the green waters of Lake Irving and peppered the windows with rain that fell like driven hail. By the time I mounted my bike for the ride home the rain had let up and I arrived home, only damp instead of soaked. At suppertime our friend Susan called with a chicken emergency and Karen ran up there to help. It remains to be seen if she will geek the chicken or help stuff prolapsed innards back up inside the Pope's nose.
The tomato plants struggle to support the weight of numerous green fruits. I suppose it is time to pick green beans again, maybe cukes too. Squash continue to appear and the older ones get larger every day. Last night we made chokecherry syrup with berries I picked on Saturday. The goal was jelly but I probably didn't cook it long enough. No worries, I love chokecherry syrup.
I picked the berries between races, from a tree at City Hall. I was paddling on the City's team in the Lake Bemidji Dragon Boat Festival. Put about 20 people, not necessarily skilled or motivated paddlers, in a long 'canoe' and sprint to the finish line some distance away. We came in about 37th out of nearly 70 teams; a big improvement from last year's standing so I guess it was a success. I got to paddle hard, got wet and came home with 3 1/2 gallons of chokecherries. It was my first time participating in an event like this and I will wait till next year before I decide whether or not I choose to do it again.
That was last Saturday. This Saturday I will participate in my first Relay for Life. I know Karen mentioned it in an earlier blog. I am looking forward to this though I have to confess I sometimes have difficulty thinking about the event without tears welling up in my eyes. I do not really know what happens except we get to walk and I think I really need that. I like to remember the line from a Greg Brown song "We used to think we could walk all night and we could and we did.." I like to think I was born to walk, to cover distance; not necessarily fast, but steady. Being able to walk and walk well was something I was always proud of; a bit vain actually but not so much anymore. My stride is uneven through lack of practice, and hip and foot problems contribute to my uneven, sometimes jerky perambulations. I do not to end up with the halting, staggering gait that visits so many people as they get older. As I said, I am a bit vain about that.
Because I do not know what will happen at the Relay for Life, I can easily imagine enough time and space to open up, to let my stride find its natural length and rhythm, to recover in part, one of the joys of my life. I will have plenty of time to think of the people I know who are struggling with cancer now, as well as those who have passed on. In either case, the list is too long; the list is always too goddamn long and participating in the Relay is a way to raise money to fight cancer and raise awareness and honor the memories of those who have survived, and those who haven't.
I can't say why it has taken me this long to be part of something so vital, so generous and affirming. I know I have thought of participating many times in the past but didn't and I don't really understand why. Maybe I will have a clue come late Saturday when we return home footsore and weary. Maybe it is just because someone asked if we wanted to join. How many opportunities pass us by because we have not been asked? How many riches have we squandered because we did not ask someone else to join us in something as noble as a Relay for Life, or as simple as setting down to share a place at our table?
Paddle first, then walk. That pretty much sums up what portaging is all about. A year ago Karen and I were not sure where we were heading, we did not know how long we would have to walk before we reached the other end of the portage, nor what we would find when we set our packs down on the other shore. I am, we are, grateful beyond words to find ourselves still together and alive. Surviving was main priority. Figuring out what to do afterwards was something we had to put off till later.
Later is now and we are still feeling our way on this new portage, though this one is not so dire or full of foreboding. This one is unveiling itself slowly, allowing us the time to consider, to deliberate on the choices ahead of us. We are given this one life and Karen and I want the time left to be a reflection of goodness and peace and love. And adventure, in whatever form that it chooses to take. Really, I think most of you would agree to wanting these things in your own lives. Sometimes we have to be asked; sometimes we just have to smile, open our mouths and let the words come out. As Karen says, "The answer is always no if you never ask."
If you're in the area come join us for a lap or two at the Relay for Life at the Beltrami County Fairgrounds on Saturday. Join hands with survivors and others who walk in our memories. It is not too late to pledge if you're interested. Go back a few blogs to find the link posted there.
Peace and love to you all,
Mike
2 comments:
The chicken was successfully "geeked", Karen aka "Ruby" did a fine job so she says. She told me not to come outside and not to look out the windows, I didnn't. All was done in a matter of minutes and beer was had, she didn't like MY whiskey, harumph. Good girl talk and now she is on her way home to you my dear Mike.
Ah Susan,
Thanks for making my love laugh so hard. You should have heard her guffaw when I explained what, or whom, a geek, was. As I understand it the geek was the 'creature' in old-timey carnival sideshows, who used to bite the heads off live chickens and perform other feats that defied normal behaviour. Maybe you were a fan of the X-Files and remember the episode where Scully and Mulder investigate a death in a carnival. The carnival had a geek that ate small dog belonging to one of the other carnies. Great episode and proof that the secret is not always in the sauce.
Mike
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