Sheilaclapkin's Blog;

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I just want to die in my sleep, not midstream, but in the stream, close to where it melds into the sea. That will be just perfect for me. I know, I know, we cannot choose. Still, I want to be in the stream and in my sleep. Okay? Just for the record.

This afternoon I opened the front door and beheld the sight of blooming day lilies. They are magnificent and straining, as you can see from the photo, to attain the most outstretched fully and wholly into the environment they can be. Why stretch so hard, work so completely, so totally and abundantly? It is their only day on earth and the only time they have to show their worth. So be it. “Here today and gone tomorrow.”

Now, tell me, what does here today and gone tomorrow, mean to you? Perhaps, it is describing an opportunity that does not last. Certainly it means lacking permanence, fleeting. But referring to humanity and alluding to the briefness of the human life span, this phrase was first recorded in John Calvin’s: Life and Conversion of a Christian Man (1549) “This proverb that man is here today and gone tomorrow.”

Sometimes I feel myself stretching, not as fully as earlier in life, but still stretching to reach a goal. Have you watched the flowers come and go? They are buds, open slowly, begin the stretch, out for the full stretch of life, then, begin to soften the stretch until it is gone and the petals fall off. What have you then? You must remember, if you pick flowers to gladden and create more elegance in you home, you must keep them in water, trim the stems at an angle, keep away from direct heat and sunlight, but in any case, you have the final, out of flower time. When you are out of time, hopefully we will meet somewhere in the stream.

” Too soon old; too late smart,” is a quote from my dear elementary school chum, Linda’s dearly departed mother. Linda quoted to me what her mother had told her when we were lamenting the ages we have become since our Blue Bird and Camp Fire Girls days. How far have we really come? In our individual human lives we have not even made a dent in cosmic time, but we ourselves are all we really know first hand. Our memories take us and move us around a bit, but in my opinion we need to improve upon it before we go to the great beyond.

I am not looking at a Science lesson, but again, Linda’s mother’s quote applies to us in this nearly infinitesimal space of time, living our tiny lives in this great big place. When we were young, did we ponder how to spend the time in our lives? Of course not, we had little concept of time moving on. Can you imagine trying to tell any young person, “Too soon old; too late smart?” Again, of course not, they have no concept of its meaning. Now that you know and now that I know, what are we going to do about it? I do not know what you will do, but me, I am going to ponder and percolate.

Getting older and very old is a privilege, so what do you do with the privilege? Being privileged is full of choices. So where did ours in the aging dimension go? Did they die off in a cellular way? Did they disappear with the slowing of the neuron flap? Did they wander off by aging, or did they get swept under the carpet when we were not paying attention?

None work. When we realize we have been duped, we will try harder. Oh, yes, we cannot pull back words instantaneously, but when you think of it, there has been a lifetime of pulling back words and it takes longer only because we have so many more words, can make so many more choices, do so many more things and use so much more knowledge to order our days that we slow down by resting between orders. I used to blame myself for letting some opportunities slip by. This is not a complaint; it is a wonder of day-to-day, minute-to-minute choices. I look at choices across the ages and think to myself, I have lived many choices available and let some slip to the side. What was I thinking when I let some opportunities slip by? At the time, I did not and probably you did not see them as opportunities, and still may not deem them as useable choices. So you sit and think, what will I do NOW! Right now you will look into some magazines and find out the ages of the people writing about aging. They are pipsqueaks and know little first hand knowledge about the truth about maturing. Listen to yourself. Remember what your parents and grandparents said. Ask your friends.

There is a chocolate chip cookie in the cupboard waiting for me, and a charity bag to fill. Do I have to make a choice?

You would think you have earned the right and can do anything you want. The old age ads show seniors doing so many things. Mostly, none of them would I choose, and who says no one is clocking or watching. That’s a Crock. My kids watch and clock. I hear you; you say no one is watching, you are wrong. No one watches you as much and with as much scrutiny as you watch yourself. Yes, I watch myself every time I put a foot down to walk somewhere. I am terrified of falling and causing my own demise, so I practice what my friend Barbara M. taught me. Good shoes and heel toe, heel toe, heel toe all the way, and NO way can you fall with those magic steps. Let me know how it works for you. “Heel toe, heel toe.”

Back to, ” Too Soon Old, Too Late Smart. We’ve medaled into old, now let is dabble into smart.
Smart is not a privilege; it is a duty. When you learn something, you get smarter, and as you age you become smarter and smarter with the gaining of knowledge. With this gaining of knowledge, you were and are to pass it along. That’s really smart. You don’t loose it; just use it. However, memories do fade and you have to replay your tapes. It takes awhile. Wait.

Possibly you might like to believe the quote, “Today is the first day of the rest of your life.” Now what will you do? I will eat the chocolate chip cookie in the cupboard, first! Then, I will think about filling the charity bag.

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My mother and father’s long time friend Allegra, the only one left from their large circle of friends called to say Good Bye. She is 98 years old. She said,” It looks like it is very near the time I will be going and I want to thank you both for taking me out and for being such good friends. Thank you for telling me you love me and I love you. Be patient with your family and keep doing what you are doing. Don’t forget me and think of me once in awhile.”

I can’t say Good Bye to you Allegra, so I will not. I told you to take my love with you and someday I will be there too. I only hope I can be as clear headed and laugh and chuckle my way through the rest of my life with the patience you gave me. It was always a pleasure to see you and share some delights eating, conversations, shopping for unique items and remembrances. We loved walking from restaurants exploring the stores along the way back to the car. One day we had to park across the street from our favorite restaurant. Allegra, as we crossed the street, you on your walker, an ambulance started to squeal and we could not get out of the street fast enough. With our hands waving in the air and our wild struggles to cross the street in time, the ambulance, stopped mid-stream and the driver made a bowing wave to scoot us along and waited for us to get past his lane.

We enjoyed being with Allegra in her later years as much as we did in our younger years. Allegra, Phil, Alan, Dean and Marcia lived kitty-cornered across the street from our house on California Street. My mother, Rose, and her kitty-corner neighbor Allegra had a wonderful relationship. They would do anything for each other. The only interference that I knew about is that they constantly copied each other in some little things hoping the other would not notice. They noticed, even the teeniest, tiniest little copy. That was all part of the fun. Passover is a hard holiday because the preparations and the setting of everything necessary to carry on the ceremony is a huge time consuming task. Allegra and Rose solved that problem. One year Allegra took on preparations for the two families and the next year the Rose took on the two family preparations. One year you worked your tail off and the next you and your family came as guests.

Allegra was thin, beautiful and had an enormous amount of energy and zeal in all of her years. She seemed to be a humming bird, always doing, going, fixing things, talking, achieving, accomplishing, participating, and happy to be everywhere. She was successful in life. She always smiled or laughed her fun to hear chuckle laugh. When you were with Allegra, she focused on you and you were her main topic. She asks her questions continually. She wanted to know all about what was going on in your life. She wanted to know everything you were doing, thinking participating in, and what you were planning, so she learned to be an expert question architect.

Allegra became a widow early in her life when she lost her beloved Phil; everyone misses Phil. He was the genius who knew everything about everything and had all the answers to complexities as well as everyday issues. He was kind and cared about family and friends. Allegra and Phil loved each other very much.

Allegra always went straight ahead and never looked back. Everything to her was good. She never had any complaints and if she did she kept them to herself. She was patient and kind to me. My mother seldom complimented me or said much about some of my hard won accomplishments, so Allegra did. Every time we would meet or talk she would say my mother would be proud of this and that. I thank you kindly dear Allegra, I have begun to believe you. My mother would be happy with me, you are right. Thank you!

Remember, we planned that you would buy my lunch on my birthday and I would buy yours until you were 100. I guess we are on our own now, but I hear lunch made by angels is quite good and you can have all of the fried sand dabs you want.

I cannot say goodbye, but I can say I love you Allegra now and forever.

Henry David Thoreau wrote about the Forget-M-me-not, ” It is one of the most interesting minute flowers. It is the more beautiful for being small and unpretending; even flowers must be modest.”

The colors have not begun to fade if you look at it all in the shade.

The Forget-Me-Not flowers are blooming, their soft pale blue is enviable.

So if spring is not your thing, stop thinking about it.

God named all of the flowers according to their true forms.

The tiny exquisite flower waited for its turn with hope.

The little flower was delighted to wear such a light shade of blue.

Still waiting and worrying that little flower’s small amount of blue might be forgotten.

The waiting began to way heavily on little flower and soon there would be no more pretending.

The unnamed one called out, “Forget-me-not, O Lord!”

God replied, “That shall be your name.”

And therefore when we see the little Forget-me-nots blooming,

We shall remember those we have lost and they shall know we have not forgotten.

Mrs. Watkins, an English lady used to live next door to my family on California Street in Huntington Park. She used to paint forget-me-nots on bone china cups. She was the first to make me aware of forget-me-nots and I have always gazed at them with fondness every time I see them growing and opening up to the world. Thank you, Mrs. Watkins for the treasure of your memory and your love for forget-me-nots.

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Bertha Baker Baldwin died after 94 years of living a fairly ordinary life, but on the day they buried her, she was a queen.

The things they said about her were astounding. She received a standing ovation as her casket preceded the group of mourners to the burial site.

She never learned to drive, so she walked everywhere and kept most of her strength for the full 94 years. Everyone knew Bertha and when she would pass by them on her walks, lots of hellos were said and lots of hand waving flew in the air.

She had 11 children. Four mentally challenged, one death and the rest relatively normal. Her 9 grandchildren hardly knew her, and the youngest two did not have the opportunity to meet her. She worked in a factory making airliner parts and rarely missed a day. She was the family cook and everyone seemed to just wait to eat until she got around to making something. She was soft-spoken, sweet, kind, a regular wife, mother and grandmother. She did not stand out in a group, she was modest, never wore make-up, hardly combed her hair, and she dressed from clothes that had graced her closet for many years, plus she kept herself clean as a whistle at all times. She was honest and trustworthy. She possessed characteristics that do not make you a queen but make you a good woman.

On the day of Bertha’s funeral, and as the first hymn was played, she began in the minds of the living participants to become raised up. The praise began with her relatives, friends, church members, neighbors, and many from the community at large.

Bertha was hailed as a woman of great character. When someone was ill, she would put her famous pot of Sunshine Soup on his or her doorstep. They were quickly cured. When someone needed help at home, Bertha was there. It was told that she was a master fixit person. There is nothing she could not make-work again. She would sing hymns as she walked to her destinations. The children would follow her and learn her songs. She fed popcorn to barking dogs. She volunteered at the retirement home singing hymns and passing out her homemade chocolate chip, oatmeal, honey flavored cookies with no nuts. She left the retirement home, singing her hymns all the way to the village center. Once there she sat down under the walnut tree and began to read stories to apparently no one. As if by magic, soon children were sitting spellbound at her feet laughing, singing, clapping and smiling great big wide smiles.

Reverend Hollister was telling the story of Bertha, when a storm hit the village center and inched along to encompass the little church that held the body of, the family of, the friends of and the admirers of Bertha Baker Baldwin. The storm raged through the kind stories, phenomenal stories, incredible stories, astonishing and unforgettable stories of Bertha. Everyone sat spellbound, and it was like a supernatural, enchanted moment when everyone blinked in unison.

In the mystical moment when they all blinked, a crown was placed on the head of our dearly departed and most deserving, Bertha. God Bless Queen Bertha!