Memorial Day weekend

Sky, clouds, water, trees

Yesterday I went to Lummi Island with my walking group, and I took this picture of the water through the trees, hoping to show how pretty it all was, but unfortunately the picture doesn't do it justice. I decided to use it anyway, because for me, it evokes the feeling I had while we walked. A brisk breeze and cool temperatures made it fairly easy to cover the seven miles. Most of the time, I love my environment, although there are times when I get tired of the incessant rain. We didn't have a drop yesterday.

Memorial Day weekend in Belllingham is filled with an unusual amount of traffic. The Ski to Sea race is today, with many hundreds of competitors in town. This relay race has seven legs and starts up at the Mt. Baker ski area and ends in Fairhaven. There are eight people on each team, starting with cross-country skiing, then downhill skiing, running, road biking, canoeing (two people on this leg), mountain biking, and then a final leg in a kayak. A timing chip is passed from one participant to the next, and it gets very competitive. There are people who do the race for fun, but many come from afar to try to win or place.

For a couple of years, I've gone down to Fairhaven to watch the kayakers come into the bay and climb out of their kayak, run up the hill from the beach to ring the bell and finish the race. It's fun to watch for awhile, but there are so many people everywhere, a bit overwhelming unless you wish to be jostled shoulder to shoulder in a raucous throng. Being short, I feel lost in the crowd and can see so little except the heads and shoulders of those around me. So I'll skip going out today. Instead, I'm planning to make a nice stew with my new Crock Pot.

One of my blogging friends sent me a couple of books to read, and I just finished one, which is the reason I bought that Crock Pot. The book, Walking with Peety, is "an inspirational and informative story about recovery, redemption, hope and achieving dreams, made possible by a doctor who listened and cared, the unconditional love between a man who thought life was over and a shelter dog who wouldn't let him quit" (from the link). Eric was way overweight and miserable and finally found a doctor who was able to help him. One of the first things she suggested is that he adopt a shelter dog to get him moving.

He had never had a pet in his life and didn't know the first thing about how to care for a dog. He also changed his diet completely, becoming a vegan following a whole food plant-based diet. Although I know a lot about food (and diets), I was moved to learn more about the difference between it and a regular vegetarian diet. Yesterday I watched Forks Over Knives, a documentary on Netflix, which was what made me decide to buy that Crock Pot and find out how I might be able to make some interesting dishes that require little work. Today it will be a vegetable stew; I'll head from the coffee shop to the co-op and get the ingredients. Looks easy enough; I've never used a slow cooker before.

On Memorial Day, lots of people visit cemeteries and remember their loved ones. I've got so many to remember, and no graves of my family anywhere, that this post will have to be my way of bringing to mind that which is never far from my consciousness: my son Chris who was serving in the Army when he died of a heart attack at the age of 40, my father who died at the early age of 62 of a heart attack, and my sister PJ who (you guessed it) died at 63 from heart disease. I take a statin to keep my cholesterol in check, but now I'm wondering if I followed this diet if I'd be able to stop taking it. Not likely, but it's worth checking out.

Right now I am re-reading a wonderful book by Paul Kalanithi, a neurologist who died at the age of 38 from lung cancer. When he realized how sick he was and that he would probably not survive for long, he and his wife decided to use IVF to have a child. He was able to be present for his daughter's birth, and he was given so much pleasure from watching her develop. He wrote the book, When Breath Becomes Air, in part as a legacy so that she might hopefully remember something of him. This beautiful book has a piece that I cannot forget and will share this long-ish quote from it with you:

Words have a longevity I do not. I had thought I could leave [Cady] a series of letters–but what would they say? I don’t know what this girl will be like when she is fifteen; I don’t even know if she’ll take to the nickname we’ve given her. There is perhaps only one thing to say to this infant, who is all future, overlapping briefly with me, whose life, barring the improbable, is all but past. 

That message is simple: When you come to one of the many moments in life when you must give an account of yourself, provide a ledger of what you have been, and done, and meant to the world, do not, I pray, discount that you filled a dying man’s days with a sated joy, a joy unknown to me in all my prior years, a joy that does not hunger for more and more, but rests, satisfied. In this time, right now, that is an enormous thing.

Each time I read this, like right now, I tear up. I can't help it, it's so beautiful and says so much about how I feel about loved ones and life and love. On this Memorial Day weekend, when so many of us remember those we have lost, I'd like to also say thank you to Paul for his determination to finish this book. It was actually published posthumously by his wife early last year. In the second reading of it, many parts of the book resonate even more deeply. I cannot recommend it highly enough.

And to you, my dear readers, I give you my most sincere wish that you will have a chance to remember all your departed loved ones, and will give those you still have with you a hug (virtual or physical) and be grateful for their presence in your life. I know I am thrilled to have such a fine virtual community, and I send you my love. I wish you all good things. Be well until we meet again next week.