Reflections on life

Flaming trees and me

Yesterday on the walk with the ladies, we saw this beautiful tree, which was even more beautiful than the picture shows. I had walked up to see if I could see where the other ladies had gone, as we were all in the back of the group, snapping pictures and taking our time. When I saw that the others were waiting for us, we hurried to join them. It was a lovely morning and, as I've said often, a wonderful way to begin the weekend.

Some of the ladies are still working, but it's been almost a decade since I retired and moved to this part of the country. Had I remained in Colorado, I can see what my life would have looked like through my Facebook friends who still live in Colorado, and it's beautiful pretty much everywhere right now, except of course in California, where the fires rage on. The natural disasters that have been occurring on a regular basis now are truly difficult for me to wrap my head around. Has it always been like this and I'm just paying more attention right now? Or is it the constant drip, drip, drip of catastrophes that are wearing me down?

I consider myself a native Californian, since I was born there and spent many years of my life in the Fairfield area. My dad was stationed at Travis Air Force Base, which I just now discovered after checking out the website for the town of Fairfield, is its largest employer. He went through training to become a navigator on air refueling jets while there, and we spent more years at that place in California than many places he was stationed at afterwards. I think of it as my childhood home, although we moved often, even back then.

We were there when the B-29 crash happened that killed nineteen people. I found on Wikipedia that it happened in August 1950, when I would have been seven years old. I slept right through it, and it must have made a tremendous sound, since a huge crater was created from it. I found this on that website:

About 20 minutes after the crash, the high explosives in the bomb detonated, spreading wreckage and burning fuel over a 2-square-mile (5.2 km2) area. The explosion blew a crater in the ground 20 yards (18 m) across and 6 feet (1.8 m) deep. ... Only in 1994 was it revealed that an atomic bomb was involved, when an interview with Holsey was published posthumously. The Mark 4 nuclear bomb contained a depleted uranium tamper as well as radioactive material inside the electronics making up the arming and firing circuits.

 Yikes! Needless to say, it could have been much, much worse. The air base was renamed after General Travis, who died on the plane. That link is fascinating, to me at least, to find out exactly what happened when I was a child. I do remember my parents asking me when I woke that morning if I was all right. Another one of those memories that must have remained because of the emotions generated through fear and anxiety, even though they were not my own emotions. I must have realized how bad it was for them to be so worried. Who knows? My sister Norma Jean was only five, but I suspect she remembers the details better than I do; she always does.

Although Fairfield is not on evacuation orders right now, it's on high alert, as the fires continue to burn in the entire area. As of this morning, 41 people in northern California are confirmed dead, and more than 5,700 buildings are gone. Most of them were homes, and I suspect that the death toll will climb. It's heartbreaking to imagine what those who survived are going through right now. I have stopped reading articles and news flashes about the fires, because it's not doing me any good at all to sit in front of the TV and weep.

My memories of Fairfield are almost all very positive ones. I started school there, and I still remember a few childhood playmates. A few years ago I wrote a post that included a picture of an elementary school class. So many of those young children are still present in my memories, although I cannot recall the name of even one of them. I wonder where they are today, if they are still alive. I realize that when one reaches the venerable age of 75 that many who started the journey with you are no longer around. But I still am, and my sister is, too. Somehow we became elderly while we weren't paying attention.

Some of my blogging friends grew up their entires lives in one place, and they remember much more of their childhood than I do, since we were constantly picking up and moving on. Fairfield, however, holds a very special place in my mind and heart. I don't think I would like to return there, since nothing would be familiar any more. As an adult, I lived for many years in Sacramento and worked for the Department of Education. I could probably return there and discover many places that are the same, but even so, I don't think I will return for a trip through Memory Lane. They exist in much more detail and more perfectly in the memories I carry inside my heart.

In a few weeks, we'll have another time change, this one where we gain back the hour that was snipped from the morning hours so that we could have an extra hour of sunlight at the end of the day. This ridiculous activity will cause me some disruption as we return to Pacific Standard Time for four months before the whole thing starts over again. I think Arizona made the right choice; they don't change. I found this article on USA Today that explains why:

For a half century, Arizona — but not including the Navajo reservation — has refused to perform the standard-to-daylight-saving-and-back-again dance. In 1968, the state Legislature decided it was best for Arizona to opt out of the Uniform Time Act of 1966, which mandated the saving of daylight.

I wish we would all stay on one or the other. Once we return to standard time in early November, the sun will be setting before 5:00pm and those who work all day long will leave the office to get home in the dark. Sigh. It makes less and less sense to me as I get older. And I hear the grumblings of others about how much they dislike it, too, so I know I am not alone. But I'm not capable of changing it, so I suppose I should just stop complaining. I found it curious (in that article above) that the Navajo reservation observes DST. Must be interesting to go from one time zone to another if you live close to the reservation. Wonder if their smartphones keep up? Now that's worth a smile.

I have just traveled through many time zones in my head, and it's getting to be time to wrap up this post. It's still dark outside and will be for a bit longer, and I'll do my exercises and head to the coffee shop before too long. Partner sleeps quietly next to me, and the tea is long gone. My Sunday morning routine is back in full swing, and it feels really good to me. As a treat to myself on Friday, I bought the latest compilation of Mary Oliver's poems. She selected what she considered to be the best from her many years of work. I will leave you with one that brings me joy every single time I read it.

At Blackwater Pond the tossed waters have settled / After a night of rain. / I dip my cupped hands. I drink / a long time. It tastes / like stone, leaves, fire. It falls cold / into my body, waking the bones. I hear them / deep inside me, whispering, / oh what is that beautiful thing / that just happened?

May you find that water and drink of it yourself, dear reader. I am happy to be on this journey called life with you and all my dear friends and family. Be well until we meet again next week.