Remembering When We Were Young

Good morning. It is two- thirty in the morning and I have slept most of Sunday. Saturday we held a writing event and it was great fun, but today I am tired from helping set up the room and taking a car loaded with stuff down to the library. Now that it is over, I have a car loaded that I have to unload.
 

In my mind I can do anything I want to do. I forget that my body sometimes refuses to do what my mind wants. I forget that it takes longer to do the simple things I once did without thinking.

If you are of my generation or if you have disabilities, does it frustrate you that what once seemed an ordinary feat, now is a major effort?

I have great ideas, I'm told, but I need a company of hired help to accomplish those ideas. When I had my other half of me, he took on the physical chores and I was confident my plans would be completed. We built a bridge and a small storage house on our lot in Georgia. We even cleared the wooded lot ourselves. We were in our twenties. We could do anything! But the years go swiftly by and that energy dwindles away.

We had great vacations when we were young. I will share a poem I wrote about my first skiing trip – in fact, my only skiing trip, when we could tackle 'most anything.

I almost died from the altitude the first night I arrived, and was a little light headed the next day when everyone hit the slopes. I took lessons from the most handsome young instructor. The brochure for the resort used his picture on the front.

He was not gentle with me. In fact he laughed at my clumsy attempt at skiing. You might have seen this poem already, but it is one of my favorites because it brings back memories of that delightful trip to Colorado with Barry, my brother Rex, and his wife, Mary, so long ago.

  

High in Colorado         
By Glenda Council Beall
 
He poses, hip cocked in red and blue,
sun-glistened face of Eros turned to me,
a fledgling atop the icy slope. My
breath quickens in foolish adoration

at the sound of my name from his mouth.
Knees bent, I push on poles and slide
down to him, past him, racing for the edge.
Sit down, Glenda! My legs collapse,

long shoes shoot sidewise. I try to rise,
but can't. He twirls, zips toward me,
digs in. You know a mogul is a South
Georgia girl who falls and can't get up.
He laughs, his teeth like sparkling icicles.
Giddy Aspen air heliums my brain,
overflows my heart that dances in triple time.
He yanks me up, skims powder to the lift.

At sea level, snow dreams
melt into arrogant soap bubbles
as his smiling face yellows
on a faded brochure beneath my ski apparel.

Have a good week and I'll be back next weekend.

  

 

 

Maybe . . you should try to live your life to the fullest because when you were born, you were crying and everyone around you was smiling but when you die, you can be the one who is smiling and everyone around you crying.

Tonight I have come from the sight of my dear sweet brother , Rex, lying in his casket while many, many people gathered and told stories of their lives with him. A lovely video had been created with photos of him - some in snow and some in warm climates. He was a traveler. Nothing made him happier than climbing behind the wheel of his automobile and taking off to distant places he wanted to see and experience. His wife was a trouper and accompanied him wherever he wanted to go.

His death, so sudden and unexpected, shocked all of us, his brothers, sisters, children, grandchildren who stood looking at his kind face with numb disbelief on their faces.

Rex was a generous man with compassion for others. He could diplomatically negotiate any reasonable deal that had escalated out of proportion, be it family or non-family. He kept his emotions out of the argument. Logical reasoning and his quiet demeanor made people to listen carefully when he spoke.

I listened to his good advice on many matters and I'm so, so happy I did.

Over and over tonight I heard, "what will we do without him? What will Nancy do?"

We will learn the way and we will go on, but it won't be easy. Every person who called him friend, lost a major part of their lives on February 14, when Rex left this earth.

He lived his life to the fullest. He enjoyed driving in the mountains, looking at the wonderful scenery. Once I went with him to Colorado to ski. He was good. I was terrible.

He loved to laugh and enjoyed his family. He loved to sing and had a beautiful voice. It hurts to know I'll not hear that voice again.

He taught me that if you want to do something, don't hold back. If you think the view is better on the other side of the mountain, go over there and see. He took flying lessons and earned a pilot's license. For a number of years he enjoyed flying.

If the weather report says you can't get from Denver to Snow Mass by plane, rent a car and drive through a blizzard but go on. He never felt there was anything he couldn't do if he thought about it, planned it and worked on it. I could write a book on this man. But I'll wait and do that later. Tonight he sleeps in the arms of angels.