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A Tender Hello

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Father & Son Reunion

Father & Son Reunion

In airports, you often see the best and worst of people. Tired, cranky, and sometimes scared, they can be a field of emotional land mines to navigate through as you edge your way past bag drops and security check points. Frequently, it’s the people traveling for business who are at their worst. Believing themselves to be masters of their own universe, they can make life uncomfortable for everyone within hearing range when life changes the plan ever so slightly. I’ve traveled for business in the past and I understand the stress of getting to a distant location where people wait for your presentation. I know what it feels like to sink into believing that a missed flight is a missed opportunity that will be difficult to recover from. Rarely is that the case though. If what you offer is what’s needed, people will still want to hear you no matter when you arrive. 

In the last year, my travel life, business life, and love life have all gone through dramatic changes. Airports look different to me now. Instead of moving at breakneck speed towards departure gates or rental car pickups, I travel for love. Flying these days is about reuniting with family and friends or exploring places I’ve never been before. Since moving to Cornwall to marry my darling Englishman, my life has slowed down to a pace where I can breathe again. More importantly, I can see again. Instead of rushing about with my focus always on the future or getting things done, I have time to see what is in front of me. It is a gift of astronomical proportions and one I don’t take for granted.

It is with these fresh eyes that I captured the image you see above, a father and son reunion at the Atlanta airport taken last March while waiting for John to arrive. Although I was still working ferociously long days through a fog of must do items and endless lists, I was beginning to be able to see more clearly what was happening in the rest of the world. With love filling my own heart, I could pause to recognize it in those around me, even those who were strangers. Like the tender hello of the father to his son, I began to welcome the heart of me, perhaps the best part of me, back home where it belonged.

 

Today’s post was inspired by Karen Walrond’s post over at Shutter Sisters…take a look if you’ve never been before…it’s a good place to look for things you thought you’d lost.

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So Far Away

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Not So Far Away

Elizabeth, John, & Nik - Not So Far Away

 ” But you’re so far away
Doesn’t anybody stay in one place anymore
It would be so fine to see your face at my door ”

– Carole King

Making a decision to move away from the familiar is not so easy for most people. To move so far away that it requires an extended plane ride or maybe even several to reconnect with those we care about is becoming more common and a little less painful thanks to the many ways that exist for family and friends to stay connected. Yesterday, John and I paid a little visit to Alaska all the way from England for my nephew Nik’s birthday party. Thanks to the internet, iChat, and my sisters willingness to shift her desktop Mac around, John and I were able to “be present” for the family gathering. 

It was great fun to watch Nik open his presents, blow out his candles and sing a rousing round of Happy Birthday to him with his older brother Sam accompanying us on electric guitar. Sam would have made Jimi Hendrix proud as he opened the party with a raucous version of the Happy Birthday tune.  

The world’s a different place than when I turned eleven in 1971 and Carole King was singing, ” So Far Away “.  Far away isn’t quite so far now and although we couldn’t taste the yummy looking (no trans fats included) cake my sister Margaret made, we could gather together for a photograph with the birthday boy… bringing ourselves virtually into the living room though still not quite a face at the door.

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Eleven

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11

Today my nephew Nik is eleven.

 There are many things I’d like to say about him, but at eleven, he’d like a bit of censoring.

 Say too much and I’ll embarrass him, say too little and I’m afraid I won’t properly convey how much I like the person

he’s growing into.

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 He’s interesting to talk with and teaches me something whenever we speak.

Like a typical eleven year old, he has a dog he loves.

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She’s a sweet little beagle named Ingrid. 

Unlike a typical boy his age, he likes to makes movies rather than just watch them.

 Sometimes, Ingrid has a leading role.

Nik taught himself how to make movies using a small Nikon and a Mac. 

His movies vary.

Sometimes, they’re black and white with special effects like slow motion.

His sense of humor is easily apparent in the images and story line.

He made a movie for my birthday last year when he was ten.

He read here about an experience I had in England

and made this movie to mirror my story.

Home schooled in Alaska, I think he’s exceptional.

When I visited last December, I was able to see his skill with his electric guitar, a Fender.

It’s a great guitar for a young musician partial to Jimi Hendrix, Deep Purple, my personal favorite Bruce Springsteen, and okay…KISS. (not my favorite)

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He’s a builder and a doer, creative and kind with a scientific mind and an enthusiastic spirit.

Nik - First Place On Trans Fats Science Project

Nik - First Place On Trans Fats Science Project

Last week he won first place with his science fair project on Trans Fats. He’s been trans fat focused since last summer

when he talked his mom (my sister, Margaret) into buying him the book, Eat This, Not That. After the science

competition, he went book shopping again, for volume 3 of Eat This, Not That so my sister figures he’s not done yet.

 

Today he’s eleven.

Happy Birthday

Nik.

 

Nik's Art Project

Nik's Art Project

 

 

 

 

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Resurrection Sunday – Ghosts

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Resurrection: Middle English, from Old French, from Late Latin resurrēctiō, resurrēctiōn-, from Latin resurrēctus, past participle of resurgere, to rise again. 

or this

The act of bringing back to practice, notice, or use; revival

I’ve been thinking a bit about my first blog site where I left a few things behind that were important to me. Intimate and personal, they just sit there now waiting for someone to stumble across them. After reading today’s post by Sarah-ji over at Shutter Sisters I thought a good bit about one sentence she wrote and what it meant to me…it’s a request really and one that inspired me to look back through my memories and resurrect some for another look.

Here Sarah-ji asks, ” Will you share with us today your images of the weathered, beat-up and forgotten that nevertheless convey to you a hope and beauty that’s raw and real? ” I appreciate the inspiration provided by her question today and the gifts for me in remembering what remains raw and real. What about you out there…how about a Resurrection Sunday of your own. Perhaps you can provide a link today to what is “raw and real”, ” hope and beauty ” as Sarah-ji asks or something else. I’m interested in what you have to share today…..

Ghosts

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“Let it go” she said. Standing in the remains of the church on the edge of the rocky coast, I could almost hear her voice whispering to me, “forgive yourself and let it go.”

Looking around the dirty room thick with years of dust, I wondered about the last time someone had sat on the rough pew waiting for the minister to get to the point. Simple in their design, and looking as uncomfortable as the wind felt blowing in through the broken glass, I pulled my coat tighter and considered the history of the tiny church. The room was poorly lit, the shadows in the corners near the old pulpit were scary in the dark space that John seemed to disappear into and out of sight. Nervous and not sure why, I stepped closer to the low light drifting in through the only window not boarded up.

Before when we were still outside, John had pulled on a door that was wedged shut to keep people out while had I hung back thinking about how what we were doing was less adventure and more intrusion. This ruin of a church, isolated and abandoned on the Isle of Skye should have drawn me in rather than triggering my fight or flight response, but as he slipped in past the half open door, I found myself tight behind him not wanting to be left alone, even outside.

Once inside I came part way down the aisle and considered my feet were walking where hopeful brides had walked, one hand lightly resting on their father’s arm anxious to take the final steps that would take them from their parents home into one of their own making. A home and life they would struggle to build with the man smiling and nervous waiting at the front of the church.

Flashing quickly forward I imagined the hardships of life here years ago when this church might have been alive with activity and the energy of the fishing community.

Would the women who married and later baptized their children here also have gathered to mourn and bury their hope along with the men they loved in this little church. What dreams had been lost to the things they could not control. What words had they left unsaid and what things once done could never be forgotten.

I knew then why I didn’t want to go into this church. This building had once been light and bright with possibilities and warmth. It had been a gathering place for worship and reflection, for celebration and for sorrow. Standing in the darkness, all I could feel was a sense of loss and the echo of those who had called this place a sanctuary.

“Let it go” she said, “move on with your life and live well while you can.”

Acts of contrition, reconciliation, absolution, sometimes all you can do has to to be enough….let it go.

 

(Posted originally on August 6, 2008 at http://giftsofthejourney.com)

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Breaking Up

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Children all over England are running free for the next two weeks as schools broke up for the Easter holiday on Friday. Two things stand out for me as being different from what I’m used to in America…Easter holiday and breaking up. I think in America you only hear the term Spring Break being used to denote the time period when children get a week off from school rather than Easter break. While it would not be considered politically correct to use the term Easter break in America, using Easter and Christmas to denote a school break in England is still the norm.

The children here have an interesting schedule that varies a bit from what my daughter went through in the American school system. The schedule in England has a more liberal time off period during the school year, but a shorter break for summer. American children are out for roughly 11 weeks in summer while 6 weeks is typical here. English schools start later in September and break up for summer around July 20, but they’re off for 7 weeks at various points during the school year plus 4 additional days referred to as Bank holidays. American children have 4 weeks off with a few miscellaneous days thrown in such as MLK’s birthday along with a few others.

The size of the schools vary as well. The village school here has 20 students and  3 teachers along with 1 teaching assistant. It’s a primary school and accepts children ages 4-11.  Surprisingly even though it’s reminiscent of rural schools that don’t exist anymore in most places in America, there is a computer for every child and musical instruments of various kinds as well.  It’s set in the sweetest location and the children seem very happy and well connected despite the mix of ages. The older children help the younger ones in ways you wouldn’t see in larger schools in America where the grades are separated and the different classes tend to stay within their own age group. Here in our village school, the oldest child has a chance to be a leader and guide to the younger children and it seems to work very well.

I had a chance yesterday to snap a few photographs at the School Fete where teachers, parents and students along with some community members gathered together sell home baked goods, plants, and toys, to raise money for school trips and extras. Even though I don’t have a child in the school, I have an interest through my friend and running partner Tina, who has twin daughters who attend there. I sent some cookies I made (Bear Scat, a recipe I picked up on my recent trip to Alaska) along for the sale and John and I purchased a couple of chances on the duck race that capped the days fun. The school has a bridge right next to it with a lovely bit of water that the ducks were released into a bit further upstream. The children along parents and grandparents stood on the bridge cheering as the ducks floated down with different numbers written on their backsides in waterproof ink.  It was a wonderful bit of fun for the children on their last day before breaking up for Easter break.  The Head teacher, Mr. Ratcliffe along with two other teachers, Mrs. Webber and Mr. Knibbs got into the spirit of things by dressing in costume for the big scoop out. They did a great job chasing down the little yellow ducks that most of us would associate more with a hot bath rather than a cool river run.

I scooted down to the waters edge and stretched out on a big rock to capture a few memories of Duck Race 2009.

 

Mr. Ratcliffe (Center In Chicken Suit)

Mr. Ratcliffe (Center In Chicken Suit)

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(L to R) Mr. Knibb, Mrs. Webber, and Head teacher, Mr. Ratcliffe

The Newspaper Photographer Getting Her Shot

The Newspaper Photographer Getting Her Shot

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Mrs. Webber Breaks The Net

Mrs. Webber Breaks The Net

 

Ready, Set, Go!

Ready, Set, Go!

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The Big Scoop

 

The One That Got Away

The One That Got Away

 

 

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A Hopeful Heart

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Hope pulls the heart of tomorrow into the body of today

-Sri Chinmoy

Keeping Hope Close To Your Heart

Keeping Hope Close To Your Heart

Life isn’t always pretty. For most us, the delicate balance between wishing and believing is stitched together with the common thread of hope. It binds us as a community and a civilization. For some, hope may be all they have. My ivy heart above has fallen away from it’s vine. It lies on the earth, muddied and stepped on, but still with a message for those who would look. The heart can take a serious battering and come back again like the green growth of spring after a winter of bitter cold or a hot summer with no rain. Hope lives in the heart, sometimes a flicker, sometimes a flame, but it’s there, tucked in tight…waiting.

A few weeks ago, I read a little message on Shutter Sisters, one of my favorite places to visit. It was a story about two women trying to win a chance to show those who may have forgotten just what hope looks like. They need a little help from the rest of us…it doesn’t cost anything, but a moment of your time. Please go now and vote here for hope. Today is the very last day you can vote for these two and this project. I know what hope looks like for me, but I’d like to see hope through their eyes and in the eyes of those they’ll reach if Picture Hope is chosen.

 

 

Go now please…if you wait, it may be too late.

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Soaking Up The Spring Sun

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Sleeping In The Sun

Sleeping In The Sun

At a glance, this kitty cat picture might look a bit disturbing, but I assure you…he’s fine and only doing what we’re all doing here in Cornwall…soaking up the sweet warmthof the spring sunshine.  With all the lovely spring flower photographs I’ve been enjoying on the blogs I read regularly, I thought I’d post a few of my own for you to enjoy.

It was February 2008, when I first arrived in Cornwall, meeting John face to face on Valentine’s Day. After two lovely weeks with him, I went back to Georgia and didn’t return until May, when the colors of Cornwall had shifted dramatically. It’s a great gift to see the seasons transition this year with the sweet man who is now my husband. I love how he seems to know every plant and bird species by name and everyday feels like a field trip as we explore the places around us.

 

 

Kitty Cat Closeup

Kitty Cat Closeup

 

A House Just Off The Village Green (16th Century)

A House Just Off The Village Green (16th Century)

 

 

 

A View From The Village Green

A View From The Village Green

 

 

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Jackdaws (Crows) Flying Home To The Church Tower

 

Building New Nests For Spring

Building New Nests For Spring

 

Where Do You Want This...

Where Do You Want This...

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Magnolia

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Close To The Heart Of It

 

Almost A Flower

Almost A Flower

 

Golden Explosions At Sunset

Golden Explosions At Sunset

 

Fragile New Life

Fragile New Life

 

Flowering Buds

Flowering Buds

 

Future Pine Cone?

Future Pine Cone?

 

More Growing On The Pine

More Growing On The Pine

If you’re still in need of something sweet to make you smile …head over to Chookooloonks where you’ll find a tender love story that might make you cry, but you’ll be smiling on the inside.  

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ER-Bound

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Air Ambulance To The Rescue

Air Ambulance To The Rescue

The Air Ambulance above is ER bound or as they say here, A & E for accident and emergency. While I was working at my computer yesterday, I heard this terribly loud noise. It was not a sound I’d heard here before even though I spent the better part of last year in this village with John. It took me a second to realize that the sound I was hearing was not a plane landing on the house, but rather a helicopter flying in tight and low looking for a place to land. Just about the time I realized what it was, it shot over the house past a window and I was up off the couch as John came inside saying, ” Elizabeth, that’s an air ambulance …”  Grabbing my shoes, I was reaching for a light coat when John said, ” Do you want your camera?”  Want my camera…most of you know I don’t leave home without it and I was scooping it up practically as he spoke. It circled twice and headed in the direction of the village green, but there are so many trees on the green, I knew it wouldn’t be putting down there. I ran out the door with John following at a more leisurely pace and ran down just past the pub to find two women directing the odd car or so away from the lane (small road bordered by tall hedges) because there had been an accident.

It seems a group of about ten walkers had been been having a Sunday hike and were passed by three people on horseback. I often encounter riders when I’m running or out for a walk with John. The horses usually seem as used to people and cars as we are to them, but yesterday…one carrying a teenage girl of about sixteen spooked and dumped her. In trying to find it’s footing, her horse trampled over her according to the two women at the top of the lane who were directing cars. They were part of the group of ten who were there during the fall. 

In this country, when something occurs that we might call an ambulance for, or if you’re sure you should go to the A & E , if you call the emergency number (999) you may see any one of three main types of vehicles and medical people show up.

All three were present yesterday. These next two photographs were taken after the crisis. A Rapid Response Vehicle may get there first before the ambulance arrives, “Rapid Response Vehicles (RRVs) RRVs are normally staffed with a single Paramedic or Technician who can get to the scene of an emergency quickly and provide patient assessment and advanced life support techniques. If possible the RRV may transport a patient with minor injuries or it may have to wait for back up from an accident and emergency ambulance or urgent transfer vehicle. Alternatively the crew may refer the patient to another health agency.”

Rapid Response Vehicle

Rapid Response Vehicle

Or you might see this a larger vehicle show up with more equipment and medical personal such as an Accident and Emergency Vehicle, ” accident and emergency ambulances are normally staffed with a Paramedic and a Technician crew. The ambulances are fully equipped to deal with most circumstances and can transport a patient either sitting or lying down on a stretcher.”

Accident and Emergency Ambulance

Accident and Emergency Ambulance

Finally, you see the Air Ambulance which I followed on foot. For those of you in America, you probably think like I do that air ambulances are reserved for the most critical situations…well, you’d be surprised how often they’re used here and for the types of accidents or emergencies that most of us wouldn’t think of as requiring a flight out to the nearest trauma center. If you’re interested in knowing more you can check out this site for more information. The quotes I used above were taken from it and I was intrigued to see that they have medical people responding on motorcycles and mountain bikes as well.

Last thing…something I don’t think you’d get in America anymore due to privacy laws..the ambulance attendant gave us an brief update on the way out of the village by saying they thought the girl would be okay. The attendant said she might have a fracture, but it was more for precaution that they were taking her by air.

 

Picking Up The Patient

Picking Up The Patient

 Look low to the ground…it’s sitting in a field near the injured girl.

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Up Up And Away!

I have to share what I was thinking as I ran down the road following the path of the helicopter. As I paused to snap a photo in mid run…I thought , “Elizabeth you’ve turned into an ambulance chaser.”

Good News Update:

I received an update on the injured girl after a trip to our village shop today. The postmistress who was present yesterday for all of the watching and waiting told me today that she had been told the teenager was going to be fine. She had two stitches to her face and was released.

 

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Bird Song – Wake Me Up Before You Go Go

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It begins before dawn with a lighter pattern of  tweets and sounds I have no name for and by the time I push back the duvet and slip from the bed, it sounds as if a chorus has joined the few who began the morning wake up.  There are a variety of reasons birds may sing in the morning. I found an interesting bit of information explaining why the music is so loud in the early morning hours on a BBC site here.  

Spring it seems may have a good deal to do with the frequency and volume of  the bird sounds that wake me each morning like a natural alarm clock.  Bird songs are important in the breeding cycle which is why if you’re a light sleeper like I am, you can count on waking to a chorus of  males each trying to out sing each other as mating season begins. It puts me in mind of a bird form of American Idol or Simon Cowell’s original version, The X Factor. 

According the the BBC link above, some of these birds even imitate the  songs and sounds  of other birds just to add to their repertoire. It’s kind of like Danny Gokey choosing to sing some of Daughtry’s tunes rather than his own…it may show a bit more versatility, but does nothing to attract the female (bird) fans who are looking for a fit healthy male of their own species.  So if you’re moving to the tunes of nature early in the morning like I am, you can put away your alarm clock for a while because the music of the morning will last from January through July as the votes are counted and the winners fly off to begin another round in the cycle of life.

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Did I Hear Someone Say...Birds?