Milk and Lingonberries Revisited

Now that i'm writing again. Essays that is. I'm concentrating on mothers. My mother in particular and archtypal mothers and I guess my role as a daughter and surrogate mother. I've been rereading posts from my long-sleeping blog, Milk and Lingonberries, and finding stories I want to revisit and others I want to write. And while I'm here, I'm going to redesign this blog. It needs a refresh. It's my hope and sort of plan to post weekly and I'm already a couple of days overdue but I'm going to count this as a post. 

M & L was last posted in 2014, about the time I relocated from Georgia to Florida. I'm still thinking about mom, especially since I have become my older sister's caregiver/roommate. There are lots of similarities and lots of differences; many lessons I've learned from life with Mom and new lessons with Rose Marie. Both women are very much alike but there are differences; differences I won't go into, at least now. In families, all families there have to be similarities. We spent way too much time together. As always I ask you ignore my punctuation odd approaches to sentence structure or lack there of. 

Just click here to connect to  Milk and Lingonberries.

 

Mothers

 I'm at this crossroads in my life. Looking for my next big thing which doesn't really have to be big to the world, just to me. I'm working on photo essays now since my ability to create visual art has been diminished by my health in the past couple of years. It's just not easy or delightful or meditative any more. I've mentioned before that I'm purging myself of art supplies. Still more to go but the urgency isn't with me any longer. It will go in it's time as I find new owners for the pastels and pencils; as I finally relinquish the notion that I will ever be a visual artist again. 

 I read a friend's post on Facebook this morning; about my dear friend, his mother, Rachel Shipley. She was remarkable and fearless and on some level shy and always stretching always moving on to the next big thing as life's currents changed. When I first met Rachel I was a librarian and she was looking for a bit of information on Brazil. She was an international consultant. She and her very supportive husband Jim, worked out of their home. There were no employees. No staff. There was Rachel and clients who adored her and trusted her. I continued to help her with reference and in time she decided she wanted to learn more of history and the world and people. I introduced her to biographies; biographies of queens and presidents and diplomats and captains of industry and artists. Her mind never stopped. She never stopped. We became friends. I became friends with her husband Jim. I met her children. Attended the ceremonies and family parties that marked not just their lives but hers as well. We met regularly for lunch and talked. We were friends.

She had already made her connections with Israel and with China and in Central Florida when we met. If you wanted to make a connection to do business in China you came to Rachel. Still no staff. Just the Public Library and her many connections. I don't think she ever forgot anyone she had worked with and everyone remembered her. She helped people get rich. She was everyone's Mother.

 Meanwhile back at home, Rachel was mom. She was loved and respected and worked on her relaltionships with her children including sons and daughers-in-laws. She wanted real relationships with all of her family. Everyone one supported everyone. Really, just like my family. We love each other, we help each other, we somethimes drive each other a little crazy but we are family and for Rachel, in time, everyone she did business with became family. Her marriage was strong. In fact, Jim wrote a book about their marriage. It's out of print now with Jim's passing but the cover tells the story. Those smiles are genuine. That respect is real.  

My next big thing is this. Like Rachel's last business, "Write your next chapter," I'm  writing. This article was fun. So many more memories came to mind as I typed away but this is an essay, not a novella. It's meant, I think, to give you a taste, a whiff, a snippet of life, of my life, my memories; my experience. Maybe to get you to remember someone from your life. 

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My Pink Jeep Journey

As I write this essay it occurs to me that I should let you know that, even though I took this journey over 20 years ago, you can still take a Pink Jeep Tour in Sedona, Arizona. So, don't be jealous. Except for changes in the plant life; nothing drastic but plants grow and die and grow again; the rock formations and mountains are the same to the naked eye. If you have issues with my punctuation please let it go. I do my best but the rules of grammar continue to change. I mean what's up with dropping the extra space after the period? 

Just in case you may wonder, I used a Sony Cyber-shot which I still have. Yes, your phone can take photos of the same or better quality but you can't really do telephoto shooting with a smart phone no matter what attachment you use. Next, I enhanced all of the photos with Adobe Photoshop and this is actually where the healing began. So lets get on to the tale of my Pink Jeep Journey. Click on the image above so see my PowerPoint presentation of this journay.

About 20 years ago, well maybe more, I took a vacation to Sedona, Arizona. I was burned out. Work and family had taken its toll on me and, having been to the Southwest before, I knew I would be able to relax and get out of my head. While walking around downtown Sedona I happened upon a shop sporting a bright sign with pink letters. You guessed it, Pink Jeep Tours. I stepped into the office and chatted with the clerk who sold me on a journey. I think it was the Broken Arrow Tour but I don't remember and they may have called it something else that back then. There was limited hiking so I was happy. The next morning I showed up, met my driver who's name I have forgotten and took my place by his side since I was the only single on the tour. Three couples came along. It was cool. He, I'll call him John,  like so many others in Sedona was a transplant from some faraway state who had come to visit Sedona and stayed. I met a few people with similar stories and I found it odd that they selected to tell me the story as if it was a message. Join us. Maybe they sensed my aimlessness; my need to just be. I don't know. Maybe they told everyone they met. 

I was very impressed with John's handling of the jeep and our bumpy trek up and over rock formations. During the journey he told us how much to deflate our tires if we drove over these surfaces alone. He was so good. It seemed as if he was speaking to just me. 

We landed on Submarine Rock. It sort of looks like a submarine. We all got out and looked around taking photos of the surrounding mountains. It was spectacular and the sky was so big. If you have never been to a big sky state, I recommend you visit one. It's like the 8th wonder of the natural world. The 7th wonder, because naming a number one was impossible for me, were the rock formations created by the great rivers and oceans that came before us. The world they created is truly a master piece of sculpting and painting. The brilliant blue of the sky, the red rock and layer upon layer of rock and sediment visible from these formations were striking in their singular beauty. 

I didn't take this trip to make friends and aside from general greetings I didn't try to make connections with people; just Nature with a capital N. I've been to Sedona at least twice that I can recall. My journeys to the Southwest all seem to run together in one expansive land voyage. I've always had difficulty with time. In history classes I would associate period clothing and art with the events. That's how I got As and Bs in the subject. That said, I rested there, in Sedona. I dreamed there. I was told stories there. I ate savory and spicy and sweet foods in restaurants made to cater to me, the tourist. I woke when I woke and slept when I slept. It was a vacation I couldn't afford to take or to forego.

But the real healing didn't  end there. It continued when I returned to Florida with the stories and visions of my Pink Jeep Journey; of the mountains surrounding Sedona; of the State Parks. I began to work on my photographs. But I knew then as I know now I was and am still in the wrong place but I pray I am finally doing the right thing.

Here is the link to my photos, both original and enhanced: Pink Jeep Journey  

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Thank you for reading.

This is the link to "How the Earth Came To Be: a creation myth". I used photos from this journey in the creation of this story.  Creation Myth