Musing

today’s Musing written and published from south Calgary, near Fish Creek Park

12C/53F (high 22C), some cloud, calm; cars drift by, no one out aside from us and a few ducklings on the lagoon, Gusta enjoys her romp in that tall grass a little more each day as it grows taller/thicker, her undercarriage dripping with dew , my right foot cramping for some reason cut our walk short – or maybe I needed to walk slow for other reasons

long before my walk, long before I read my pile of papers, before wading through e-mails, voice mails and other ‘stuff’ that stands between me and my day, there is usually something that comes first - not thoughts as I stumble through my ‘visiting’ routine, not a treatise on how I poured water into a cup I thought was half empty (1/3rd tomato juice) to produce something really strange to wash down a pill, not the reflections on a dream or last night’s ‘whatever those thoughts were’ as I drifted off on the couch around 9PM to wake at 3:45AM just long enough to wander to bed for a couple of hours more rest

just as we were about to head out for our walk, the phone rang - I didn’t recognize the name displayed, but distinctive voice immediately identified PT; lengthy conversation ensued - the subject, my thoughts, my focus now altered - resonating these last few hours; sure, I’ll do my tasks this weekend, I’ll keep my appointments but I will have an altered focus in my mind because the phone rang

I’m thinking on two things; first, how important and powerful that ‘first major influence of the day’ is to mindset, productivity; the second, the content of that call; an acquaintance from Toastmasters – she’s not been around for more than a year; she called to report that the friend (TK the cookie baking machine) who came with her and encouraged her to show up, had met a guy, married, moved to Houston and moved back again and extolled how fabulously TK is doing; it went on and on and on and on - OK, OK, but . . why, really, is she calling?

it took a while - (by then I was shuffling feet, anxious to exit the call, I even said ‘I was just on my way out when you called’ [I was] in hopes she would wind up); she indicated ‘thanks to everyone at our Toastmasters club’; that experience, she explained, was key to her having the ability to write and deliver a eulogy – asking that I pass her thanks along to our members, she also said she called to say thank you to me; I asked ‘for what?; ‘for listening’ she said

on June 7th her son, at 37, died after a lengthy hospital stay (the last of many in his short life); a PDD fellow (person with a developmental disability) I’d heard about many times, his issues relayed to me in many a previous lengthy call - those calls always about ‘issues du jour’, to brainstorm solutions or at least discuss ways to get him better services, avenues to pursue, that kind of thing; today, joy has replaced the sadness in her voice I remember from those other calls – I could hear the sound of relief in her voice too; her son had, in so many ways she told me about, lived a rich life to his fullest, had touched many more people than she had ever imagined, his suffering finally relieved – I am sure it was an outstanding eulogy

I cannot imagine the horror of losing a child for any reason in any way; I suppose those who see it coming, who lose the game by inches over time, have a better opportunity to prepare for an inevitability as opposed to those who get sudden shocking news; celebrating a life lived, however fragile it might have become, celebrating someone who experienced joys, accomplishments and influence of others in his struggles and triumphs

that first strong thought of the day - the kind of thought that overrides everything else that day - is, for me, powerful - it sets the train in motion on a track that is often slowed by a day's events but not often derailed; it comes without regard to how much coffee has been ingested, without reference to time on a clock - sometimes it shows up early, some days as late as noon, but rare is the day it fails to show up at all; it showed up early today

(I'm often reminded of lessons learned in the past from inappropriately telling someone else's story when it was not mine to tell - now and again exceptions are warranted and this is one of those days)

Mark Kolke
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Musings need not be a monologue, but to make it a dialogue is dependent upon your responses, which are welcomed - please write me with your feedback/comments.