Five-minute free writes, Day 12 - "First"

Being the firstborn in a large family is a mixed bag of good stuff and bad stuff.

Good stuff:  My memories are the most accurate.  I say this because of the many interesting conversations I've had with my six siblings, and the fascinating differences in our perceptions.  None of us is incorrect, exactly - we just see through different lenses.  And I have few memories that predate their births, some of them quite vivid.

Bad stuff:  I was the first, and consequently, the trial-and-error kid.  Actually, this probably isn't really bad, it just seemed like it at the time.  Lots of the ways that I am resilient today are as a result of my having to overcome a few challenges back in the day.

Bad stuff: I get the eye rolls. I think being bossy is just the natural lot of the firstborn. In that big family, I was assigned to kid duty a lot, had to fend for the whole herd a lot, and worked under a bit of pressure to make sure all was smooth in kid world. That natural leadership position that is thrust upon the oldest also makes for a pretty controlling adult.  Just sayin'.

I do realize that birth order is an accident.  I got a LOT of things the others didn't, simply because I was the first.  Best education. Trip to the NY World's Fair in 1964. And, I think, maybe a bit of a special place in the world.

Good stuff.

Five-minute free writes, Day 11 - "Deep"

Let's talk about phobias.  I know they are supposed to be merely symptoms of an underlying anxiety, dredged up from the lizard brain to give those unconscious fears an outlet.  Whatever - I definitely have one, and that is an irrational panic at the idea of deep water.

A recurring nightmare is that old driving over a bridge and plummeting over the side into the river thing. The concept of ocean cruising and the image of all that deep, deep water puts me into a cold sweat.

I completely understand the phobias of others.  I don't have a particular fear of heights, other than a healthy respect for the edges of the Grand Canyon, the Empire State Building, and Mt. Aetna (which is totally unfenced). Snakes don't bother me, as long as they stay outside and don't invade my space.  Spiders - I know they eat terrible pests like flies and mosquitoes, and they are welcome in my yard. But deep water? Surely if I were intended to venture out into the ocean or even to ride in a glass-bottomed boat over Wakulla Springs, I would have gills somewhere on my body.  Oh, no. I'll be content with river cruising where I can see the shore on each side and the cruise director assures me that if the boat sinks I can go to the top deck and the water won't rise above my knees. 

That, my friends, is a sensible water environment for this old lady.

Five-minute free writes, Day 10 - "Scared"

Okay, this prompt is a tough one for me.  I don't particularly care for the feeling of being scared.  I can still remember my first horror movie - "Them," about giant ants.  I was six years old, and watched the movie through a buttonhole on my raincoat. Mostly I didn't watch.

I think not enjoying scary things is a way of self-protection. As an almost-always optimist, I prefer to focus on the happy parts of life. I'm certainly no Pollyanna, but also am a huge advocate of mental health, and trust me, mental health is far more than simply the absence of mental illness. I can't see the value of scaring myself.

One issue does scare me, though:  I'm terrified of what is happening to our environment. Reading a headline about bird extinction is a horrible exercise - as I gaze out my kitchen window at the bird feeder that has every perch occupied, with a few little guys waiting their turn in the azaleas.

People scare me. And, as I mentioned, I really don't like being scared.

Five-minute free writes, Day 9 - "Join"

This is a total trigger word for me - "join."  I swear that when I am asked to join anything, whether it be a club, a movement, a church, even just a dinner party, my knee-jerk reaction is "yes."

This impulse has gotten me into trouble many times over my life. Yet, I do not learn.

I joined a club a few years ago (and in my defense, I had said "no" many times to the friend who kept after me about it) and I tried, I really tried, to fit in.  This group has, at first glance, the purest of missions and the kindest of members. For me, however, the whole vibe was just uncomfortable and unengaging.  These folks seemed to actually play at good works - they reminded me of friends of my mother, way back in the 1950s.  The good deed ladies, in fact.

The true passion with this club was in the minutiae of their bylaws, the real and imagined slights in their conversations with each other, the wrestling to bring their own passions to the forefront of the planned events - and on and on and on.  Lots and lots of energy was wasted. Some good things were accomplished. But frankly, I didn't even want to have lunch with most of them.

The problem with joining is un-joining.  It's not pretty.  Since many groups count their members as though they are assets, numbers to plump up reports with, they are extremely reluctant to let go.  That club still calls me .....

Five-minute free writes, Day 8 - "Gather"

As I age (and I am in my third thirty, actually more than a third of the way through it, I will remind the reader), I have to make a conscious effort to slow down and gather my thoughts.  I'm pretty busy for an old lady, with volunteer commitments, caregiving duties for both my husband and my disabled sister, and the usual issues that come up with adult children and young grandchildren. Not to mention that I really need to make a dermatology appointment ....

I digress.  Let me gather my thoughts.  I find that if I sit at my computer and simply gaze out the window into the branches of the beautiful magnolia tree that's only a few feet away, and through the branches to the sky and the trees in my neighbor's back yard, I can let my thoughts roam and scatter like so many sheep in a pasture.  Then that little border collie who lives in the front of my brain begins to work busily with her sheep and brings them towards the pen. I remember - oh, yes, let me call and make that appointment. This weird thing on my nose doesn't seem to be going away. I should get it looked at.  The border collie flops down and takes a break - another job done, all is well until the next rambling of those sheep.  Gathering, gathering, gathering.

Five-minute free writes, Day 7 - "Same"

Thinking about the word "same," and what pops into my head is kind of a hybrid word (something Americans are good at creating) - sameness.

Sameness is comforting to me.  I eat the same breakfast every day of the week (and try to duplicate it even when I'm traveling). I go to bed at approximately the same time every night and get up at approximately the same time every morning (and am extremely crabby when I don't follow this routine).  I wear the same clothes for seven days just for walking the dog, and always do laundry on Sunday. 

Boring? Not to me.  I think this type of structure works for me because, during my formative years, I felt that very little of my life had any structure at all.  Blessedly I have treated this basic insecurity in what I regard to be a healthy way (repetition, list-making) rather than an unhealthy one (anorexia, perhaps).

Luckily, my husband is quite content with this way of living, being pretty much stuck in his own sameness. We are a perfect fit! An occasional burst of spontaneity is good for us, but we're both much more comfortable slipping back into our routines. This lifestyle is also very useful as we age; we don't have to remember much!

Five-minute free writes - Day 6, "Notice"

I work with a local nonprofit, and like all little nonprofits everywhere, there's never enough money.

We proudly occupied a very small office space in January of 2019, the first actual physical location we have had since, long ago, free space vanished.  We've worked very hard at fundraising to establish a reliable enough donor stream to squeeze out a very few dollars for this space, and we love the building we are in and the other service groups who are our neighbors.

But now, we must give notice.  We are in need of a bit more space, and our landlord needs our little office.  We have become accustomed to having a bit of room to call our own: a place for our printed materials, a private room with a door where we may have confidential interviews with prospective volunteers; a central hub around which our all-volunteer group can revolve; and, very special, a large conference space where our board can meet monthly.

So - we venture out into the world of local rentals, searching for an affordable home with enough room for all the many years' worth of stuff that has lived in board members' closets and garages.  This time we are going to be a bit bolder.  This time we hope to find some permanence.  This time we want to have all of our records, materials, signs, equipment, and people in one spot.