Leave the Island and Find Your Tribe

          It’s right there in the first book of the Bible- “And God said, ‘It is not good that man should be alone’” Of course, there are times when we want peace and quiet and solitude, but to be happy and healthy, we need contact with others. In other words, if you’re going to be stranded on an island, hang out with Gilligan, rather than Tom Hanks and his soccer ball. Sharing an interest with others also means learning to speak their language.

          When hubby and I were dating, I wanted to be able to talk to him about the things he was interested in. It was not really too hard for me to learn to speak “car.”  My first real job out of high school was at the switchboard of a new car dealership. After my college classes were over for the day, I spent a few hours in front of the huge plate glass windows, watching the passing traffic. There were not a lot of phone calls coming in after 5:00.  I made a game out of trying to guess what model of vehicle was approaching, by the configuration of their headlights. The salesmen that worked there helped too, as knowledge of all things automotive was literally their bread and butter.

          My Prince Charming cheerfully accommodated me, as well. There were lots of things to learn, I am sure. If I wished that one of my friends would “break a leg” I really meant them no harm. This came from the school plays and summer theater productions I had been involved in. Actors, like athletes, are a superstitious lot. To guarantee that a performance would go well, there were rituals and traditions to be maintained. Before each show, we would gather for a short “pep talk” that always included an odd ceremony. Since I’ve not been in the habit for a long time, the details escape me, but I remember it involved standing in a circle holding hands and hopping on one foot. The “break a leg” thing was actually a form of reverse psychology. Wishing someone good luck would cause some catastrophe to occur. When I hear of an accident happening onstage, I always wonder if these actors skipped the “circle time” that night, or heaven forbid, someone yelled “Good luck” just before they ran out of the wings.

          We did share several things in common, as all good couples do. We both had a love of music, so driving around with the stereo cranked up was a perfectly acceptable date night for us. We both became very good at “Name That Tune” and would often challenge each other to guess the artist of a song we heard on the radio. As children were added to the back seat, they tolerated our duets, and became our biggest fans. Though I was born in Kansas, and he hailed from right here in Central Arkansas, we can belt out “Louisiana Woman, Mississippi Man” almost as well as Conway and Loretta did.

          Not every aspect of my husband’s life came so naturally to me. He loves working with wood and building useful and beautiful furniture. I have listened as he extolled the virtues of one power tool over another and watched hours of television programs where the main objective is to transform a mediocre or inconvenient room to a modern and practical showplace. I put up with hours of watching a sink being installed so that when something slips or breaks in our own castle, the “king” will know what to do, or at the very least, who to call. The only drawback to this interest of his is that my car barely fits in the garage, which is now doubling for a well stocked workshop.

          The major leap for him, I know, has been to adjust to my love for reading and writing. He has grown used to seeing my nose in a book, and weathered the addition of reading glasses, and the flickering light of my Kindle reader. He endures my constant chatter about agents and publishers, and even my need to run off for long weekends of workshops and writing retreats. Some evenings, he wishes I would be sitting next to him, learning about his latest DIY project, instead of retreating to this keyboard to tap away on the story that won’t let me go. But, after years of togetherness, we have both adjusted.

          Last weekend, I quietly walked away as he conversed with a fellow woodworker, deciding on which new tool to add to his arsenal. This week he gamely accompanied me as I soaked in the beauty of a Shakespearean play. We both understand that, just like on the old TV show, “sometimes you want to go where everybody knows your name.”

          

Know Your Limits- Then Give ‘em a Nudge

When we were young, the words “I can’t do that” were rarely uttered. We wanted to try it all, and were pretty sure there was nothing beyond our capabilities. There was also no reason to say no to adding more and more to our schedule. We had limitless energy, and thought there was no reason we couldn’t fill every hour of every day with fun activities.

 In junior high school, I was a little taller and a little heavier than most of the other girls. Since my physical education teacher was quite a bit shorter, she didn’t feel comfortable “spotting” me when we were learning gymnastic moves. So, while the smaller girls were doing hand-springs and cartwheels, I was mastering somersaults and other things that kept me closer to the ground.

I also remember not being the fastest one in gym class. When we did laps around the small lake across from the school, I was satisfied with completing the race, and didn’t worry about having the fastest time.

The closest I ever came to being an athlete was when I was a member of the marching band in high school. This appealed to me first because of my love for music, but the marching thing turned out to be fun, and provided a way to stay in shape in the bargain. This is also when my sister and my mother and I learned about time management. Mom was adamant that we participate in as many school activities as we wanted, so we were not allowed to have jobs that would interfere in any way. I picked up a little extra cash babysitting, but enjoyed being a member of the band, the choir, the drama club, as well as church activities and Girl Scouts. If there were limits imposed, we never felt them.

After hubby and I started a family of our own, things seemed to change. First, we pushed our own interests to the back burner, as the kids took up all of our time. We both had to work long hours just to keep them in food and diapers, and then when they got in school, to allow them to participate in their own activities. With three offspring, choices were made, and limits on the number of things they could be involved in were a difficult reality.

Eventually, all three chose the same two things that had been most important to us as  children, Scouts and band. This kept the whole family plenty busy, and soon every night of the week was packed with one activity or another. We learned several quick and easy recipes for suppers on the go, and go we did, in the typical all-American mini-van. We were on the sidelines, hauling equipment, chaperoning band trips, serving refreshments tail-gate style.

We eventually became the folks who stood in front of the school cafeteria to try to convince parents to become leaders. The script we were reading from said “Isn’t your child worth just one hour a week?” I didn’t read that part, because in truth it took a lot more time than that. But the sentiment was the same. They were worth it. Their childhood would be short, and in the blink of an eye, they would be gone, with families of their own to support.

Limits really boil down to priorities. For those who choose to be athletes, staying in condition and practicing becomes more important than anything else. Adults who want to spend time with their children find the time by sacrificing other things.

The older we get, the more our bodies play into the scheme of things. If we didn’t make exercise a priority when we were younger, it becomes harder now. So, when our time is freed up as our children require less of our attention, our bodies won’t allow us to try those long suspended activities. Limits become very real.

There is a fine line, though, between recognizing limits and giving up. It would be easy to dismiss an idea with: “Sorry, I haven’t been able to do that in years.” Or “I just don’t have the time for that.” Oh yes, sitting in that recliner in front of some meaningless display on a flickering screen is relaxing and appealing. The more we do it, the easier it is to continue.

I know that my body needs more rest now.  But, I know that even though it may be tougher than it used to be, I need to continue to get up and move. And maybe I won’t be the voice at the front of the room, or the one riding the school bus to the next competition, but surely there is time to be a part, to stay involved. All I need is an occasional nudge.