Orkney Captured My Heart

Only two times in my life have I enjoyed a vacation longer than a week. The first time, I was in my early twenties, and I went to Wisconsin to visit my boyfriend and accept his proposal to marry him. Well, we were young and both a little foolish at that time, and our words and actions tripped us up, and instead of getting married, we became lifelong friends, which is a very good thing, a relationship to celebrate in its own right; but I can't say that the visit, which included a lovely time in Chicago, was a very good indicator of how one spends a two week vacation.

In 2007, when I unexpectedly inherited some money, enough for a two week vacation for two to my dream destination, the British Isles, my elder two children, Amy and Gavin, encouraged Grant and me to go. They would watch their dad, taking turns around their work and college schedules.  Wow, how exciting, but the question was, where should we go? We tossed around the idea of Wales and Ireland--Wales because I love all things about King Arthur and Ireland because my best friend lives there. However, Orlagh couldn't have visitors at the time we could visit Ireland, and I was afraid that I had too many romantic notions in my head for Wales to live up to them. So, we decided on Scotland.

I am one quarter Scottish, and my children are 5/8 Scottish, so Grant and I decided to explore Edinburgh, a place I always dreamed of visiting, for our first week and Orkney Mainland for the second week. Naturally, on our way back home, we would stop in London for a couple of days to visit the British Museum, British Library, and Westminster Abbey.

I can almost hear you asking, "Why Orkney? Where's Orkney?" Orkney lies off the northern tip of Scotland, where the North Sea and the Atlantic Ocean meet, and is made up of several islands. My husband's grandparents came from two of its islands, Rousay and Stronsay, but our destination for our week was Orkney Mainland. We had two goals--the first was to visit the archeological wonders like Skara Brae, Standing Stones of Stenness, and the Ring of Brodgar, and the second was to search for family.

Our first week in Edinburgh was a dream come true. I vividly remember the sense of delight and freedom and joy that I felt when I awoke that first morning in Edinburgh, and Grant and I roamed the streets on our way to the castle. Both Grant and I felt like we'd come home. That may sound crazy, but everything felt so natural and right. The week flew by. We loved every minute of it and rued the fact that we barely scratched the surface of Edinburgh. We vowed to return.

Our week at Orkney began well with Susan greeting us at the airport and taking us to our car rental. Then she guided us to their charming guest cottage at Blinkbonny where Grant and I would spend our week. The late April day was warm and sunny, the sky the most brilliant blue we'd ever seen. After dropping off our bags, we decided to go exploring and buy provisions. We had chosen Blinkbonny for the gorgeous views, the neighboring cows, and the fact that we could cook many of our meals. 

Off to the market we went, and, as I've done throughout my entire life, I got completely lost. Grant tried to save the day by telling me where to turn, but it turned out to be a one way street, and we were going the wrong way. With a car headed towards me, I reacted instinctively, completely forgetting I was in a British car on a British road, and crashed into a wall. Suddenly, all I wanted to do was get back to our cottage. I was mortified. The only way we could get to the street was to keep going the wrong way, ignoring the stares of the people walking along the street, and making our way to what we hoped was the correct road.

It was not. Before we knew it, we were driving on a narrow road with land, sea, and cows all around, but not a house in sight. I pulled to the wrong side of the road, again forgetting I was not driving in America, and had a total meltdown. I was crying and frightened at being lost. Here I was surrounded by beauty, but I no longer could see it.

Grant, very sensibly, got angry with me. I came to my senses, and we somehow got back to the cottage, where I curled into a sobbing ball of misery. I felt like such a failure. How was I going to drive Grant and me to the archeological sites if I couldn't even get us to the grocery store? I decided we would have to go home. I called two friends for help, but thankfully neither was home. Grant, meanwhile, called Amy and Gavin. Gavin called me and was very sweet. He told me to rent a favorite movie and drink some wine and not make any decisions until the next day.

So, that's what we did.  Grant and I made our way, successfully this time, to the grocery store. We parked and walked down the main street of Kirkwall. We found a movie rental place and rented some movies. On our way back to the grocery store, we found the library and checked the internet and our email. At the store, we bought steaks and wine for dinner and headed home to our cottage.

The next morning dawned grey and drizzly. We decided to visit Saint Magnus Cathedral, the Bishop's Palace, and the Earl's Palace, which we could get to by parking in the grocery store parking lot and walking the rest of the way. Well, this is when Orkney captured my heart. I'm not a fan of grey, drizzling days, but somehow it didn't bother me that day. Grant and I explored and had a marvelous time. All the people we met were so nice. They were charming, commonsensical, and delightfully a tad whimsical.

The next day, Grant and I explored the town of Kirkwall, and I spent hours in the library with the people working in the Archives looking for Gordon's grandpa's relatives, and I had fantastic success, or so I thought. We found Shona, whose husband owned a store in town. One of the archive ladies directed us to the store, and Grant and I cheerfully announced that we were relatives from America. Roy burst our bubble by telling us that his wife did not have American relatives. I was crushed. I was so sure I'd found a cousin.

Finally, I got my courage up to drive to Skara Brae. It was another gloriously sunny day with brilliant blue skies and tulips lining the roads. We stopped at the Stones of Stenness first, and then we got to Skara Brae. My imagination was completely captivated by the people who had lived there 6500 years ago. I felt a longing to know them, to understand them. It was a feeling I had not felt before.

One thing that tickled our fancy was seeing how many people had scratched their names into the stones at the Ring of Brodgar. I was struck by what is an archeological wonder to one person is merely a stone another person has grown up seeing every day, and what better place to carve your and your beloved's names than in one of the stones. It's all, I guess, a matter of perspective.

Grant and I got into interesting conversations with many residents and learned one amazing fact--everyone we met wanted to live on Orkney for the rest of their lives. One young woman, a waitress at the amazing restaurant Foveran, told us that she wanted to go to Glasgow for a couple of years to party, but she wanted to return to Orkney when she married because she said Orkney is the best place in the world to raise children. Several others, too, said that they would leave or had left Orkney for a bit of fun, but they always wanted to come back to Orkney. We marveled at the hold Orkney had on the hearts of its residents.

About Foveran we cannot say enough. We had an outstanding meal one evening during sunset. We had a window table overlooking Scapa Flow. Every once in awhile, while Grant and I were talking, we'd suddenly be silent, overcome by the serene beauty, reveling in Orkney's enchantment.

And Orkney is completely enchanting. Grant and I spent hours taking walks or sitting on the porch, soaking up the beauty and the peaceful atmosphere. One afternoon, we saw a vivid, brilliantly hued complete double rainbow. I could feel the pain in my heart (from Hugh's schizophrenia and Gordon's dementia) start to lessen. Everything seemed handleable on Orkney. I know in my head that no place is perfect, but I feel that Orkney comes close.

Grant and I finished up our archeological visits on Orkney with a trip to the Round Kirk at Orphir. It was another gloriously sunny day, and we meandered through the graveyard and walked along the pebbly beach, so very different from the white sand beach at Skara Brae. We talked about the Vikings that afternoon.

We also made another trip to the library, and I made a genealogical tree that I wrote down for Shona. Grant and I again made our way to Roy's shop. I urged him to show his wife the family tree, and we are so grateful that he did. Shona called the day before we were flying out, and we made plans to meet just before the plane left. We got to meet many cousins that day--Anne, Tina, James, Inga, Christina, Roy, and, of course, Shona, and we have stayed in touch ever since. Last year, my nephew Bob from Washington D.C. went with his wife to Orkney, and so more cousins are connected. Soon, my niece Lynn  from Ohio plans to visit with her husband. All these new connections and bonds make me very happy.

Even more than our wonderful family there, and even more than the marvelous archeological sites, Orkney itself captured my heart.  Recently, I wrote this to Shona: "Orkney captured my heart. I think of Orkney as this lovely gem with a mighty spirit that has seen thousands of years of people living on it because they discovered its special magic and didn't want to leave, so they made it their home." I long to live on Orkney for at least a year so I can begin to understand the secret of Orkney's elusive yet pervasive enchantment.

Take care,

Kate

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Becky's Ultimate Gift

Most of us moms say that we would die for our children, but few of us are ever called upon to do so. Becky had a choice to make--fight her cancer and have a chance at life with her husband and daughter or give birth to a healthy child. She chose her unborn child, and Becky died soon after Ben's birth.

Becky is a hero to me. I never knew her, but I went to high school with her husband Gary. We were buddies then, but we lost touch over the years, and only renewed our friendship about eight years ago through classmates.com. When Gary told me Becky's story, I cried for her and for her children. I felt awe for this brave, loving, selfless woman. 

Becky was happily married and pregnant with her second child. She had a young daughter named Maija, who she loved with all her heart. One day, Becky felt pain in her leg. She and her doctor thought sciatica, which so many pregnant women get, but the doctor decided to run some extra tests to be sure. Cancer was the diagnosis. I can only imagine the thoughts that raced through Becky's mind. So little time to think because a decision had to be made quickly, and there would be no time for second guessing.

What made me think of Becky today? Well, actually I've been thinking about her all weekend, thinking about how proud she would be. Her Maija has grown into a lovely women, who I've had the pleasure of spending time with twice over the years, and she graduated magna cum laude from college this weekend with her proud papa and loving brother watching. All weekend, I kept imagining Becky as a strong, though invisible, presence at the graduation, her eyes full of joyful tears at the delightful, charming, intelligent, caring adults her children have become. I imagine her happy pleasure with Gary, who honored her trust in him as the man she chose to marry by shouldering the mantle of single parent, and with the help of Becky's family, raised his two children with grace and unwavering love, even though his heart was broken by the much too early death of his beloved wife.

So, today, I raise my glass to Becky and toast her with all the love in my heart from one mother to another, and I bow my head to her in humility. Becky was one very special mom; she gave the ultimate gift of love, her life for her son's, and her unselfish, unconditional love shines on in the world through her daughter Maija and her son Ben.

Take care,

Kate

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My Evening At A Gala

I love new experiences. I also enjoy going out in the evening, but nowadays I can only go out in the evening if one of my children or a friend drives. I have nightblindness, and I have no sense of direction (I've been getting lost wherever I go since I was five years old and got lost at Knott's Berry Farm), making it unwise for me to venture out alone at night. So, when an opportunity to have a new experience in the evening pops up, and I have someone to drive me, I seize the opportunity with gusto. Just such an opportunity occurred last night, when Grant and I volunteered to help his girlfriend at a gala.

Leanne, Grant's girlfriend, works for the Carmel Foundation, and each year they hold a fundraising gala for their transportation program to help seniors. Leanne had enlisted her mother, dad, and Grant as volunteers, and when one of the other volunteers had to bow out, I was delighted to fill in. I had never been to a gala before, and I eagerly anticipated the experience.

Grant and I arrived at the event promptly at 5:00 PM, arriving at the same time as Leanne's parents, Sheila and Harvey. We were all dressed nicely, but it was Leanne who stole the show. She was stunning in a gorgeous little black dress. Sheila also looked lovely in a little black dress. I no longer wear little black dresses because I think they look best worn with heels, and a broken foot almost twenty years ago makes it impossible for me to wear heels anymore. So, I was dressed in a pretty blouse and black pants. Harvey looked nice in a shirt and tie, and Grant looked incredibly handsome in his clothes; he could be a GQ model.

After hugs all around and introductions to Leanne's colleagues, we got to work greeting the attendees. We handed them their table seat number and their bidding paddle number and sent them into the silent auction to find items on which to bid. I met a charming Scot and his wife. He was surprised when I asked if he were Scottish, and he brightened perceptively when he learned about our Scottish family members. He had been to Orkney, as have Grant and I, so we had a chat about that, agreeing the Scapa single Malt whiskey is divine.

After a bit, I ventured into the silent auction room, though it was anything but silent. The attendees were drinking wine and chatting while looking over the goodies. I had donated a copy of my book, Dueling With Dementia: Not The Love Story We Planned, but no one had bid on it. I told Leanne if it didn't sell, she should put it in the foundation's library. 

At 7:00 PM, we were finished greeting the attendees. Grant and Harvey were going to be spotters for the live auction during the meal. Two people did not show up for the gala, so Leanne's boss told Sheila and me to go and sit in their spots. The dinners were paid for, and she said they should not go to waste. Sheila and I were seated at the table where the foundation's CEO and husband were sitting. We ate the very good dinner, and I idly mused about what it must be like to have enough discretionary income that you could bid $3500 on something for charity's sake and not bat an eyelid. The emcee was resplendent in a tux with a red cummerbund and bow tie. He did an excellent job of entertaining us while he cajoled the most money he could out of the attendees for the various auction items. 

A highlight of the evening was when Bill, the main Foundation driver, told us stories about driving seniors to appointments and shopping. We could see how much he loves the people that he drives, and how much they love him.

But the pièce de résistance of the gala was Susan Egan, a former Broadway star with one of the most amazing voices I've ever heard. She was funny and heartwarming and the perfect entertainer. We gave her a standing ovation, and she rewarded us with an encore. If you do not know Susan Egan, you can youtube her and hear her glorious voice. I cannot possibly say that one song was better than another; they were all wonderful because her voice and personality put you under her spell, and you become part of her joy. Susan sang this lovely song, "Nina Doesn't Care" http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jKdLJo2_6hQ, that she wrote awhile after her first daughter was born, and there was not a dry eye in the room.

After the gala was over, Sheila, Harvey, Grant, and I sat around an outdoor fire pit and talked, while Leanne took care of paperwork. My book did sell. Sheila, bless her heart, bid on it so that my book wouldn't be the only item not purchased. Grant told me that another person had bid on it too.

The four of us wondered back into the building, found Leanne, and took photos to remember the lovely evening filled with bonhomie and goodwill. A good time was had by all, and the foundation raised lots of money to keep its program to drive seniors going for another year. With hugs all around, we said our good-nights, and headed home happy that we had all, in our way, helped make the world a little bit better.

I'm already looking forward to next year's gala and hope that Leanne will want Sheila, Harvey, Grant, and me to volunteer again.

Take care,

Kate

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My Children, My Blessings, My Joys

Tomorrow is Mother's Day, and I shudder when I remember how close I came to missing out on my greatest joy,  being a mother. 

Before I had my children, it would be accurate to say that I did not like children in any way, shape, or form. I despised babysitting, avoiding it whenever possible after the dreadful summer of 1969 when I babysat three unruly, spoiled children under the age of five, who tormented me every day for twelve long weeks. Now I know that the problem was the parents, but then I thought it was the kids, and I decided that having children was absolutely not going to be part of my life.

I hummed along, happy in my childless existence, until Gordon shared his desire to have four children with me. Four?! Not one, but four. Who was he kidding? I was an educator, a scholar. I only liked children once they got to college and not before. That's why I never got a teaching certificate--I had no desire to spend time with people under the age of eighteen!

Gordon wisely suggested that we start with one child, and because I loved him, I agreed. I was terrified about how my life would change. Would my brain shrivel up? Would I become a Stepford wife? How would I talk to a baby? How would I change a diaper? Eek! What was I getting myself into?

 

Well, the moment arrived, and Amy was born, and I fell in love for the first time in my life! Yes, of course, I loved my family and friends and husband, but the love I felt for Amy was not like anything I'd ever felt before. It was transcendent. It was pure. It was joy. For the first time in my life, I knew that I would die for someone, for Amy, because she was the most important person in the world.

I fell in love three more times when Gavin, Hugh, and Grant were born. With my four babes, my angels, my darlings, my life was whole and complete. I felt connected to the world and other people in ways I never imagined possible. I understood how God could love us humans, even though we're often unlovable. My children show me the world through their eyes, and it is a lovely world indeed. Because of Amy, I see fairies in the world; because of Gavin, I understand the simple truths in country music; because of Hugh, I marvel at all the ocean's creatures; and because of Grant, I get a glimpse at the answers I'm seeking to life's big questions; my children show me all these things and so much more that I would never have known if not for them. And, because of all four of them, I know goodness.

So, while tomorrow is a day to celebrate mothers, I also want to spend it celebrating my children who made me a mother with their love, patience, and understanding. As I bumbled about, reading T.S Eliot's poems to them along with fairy tales, serving oven baked chicken for dinner far too often because I hated cooking and didn't know what else to cook, and worrying aloud about every little thing, my children somehow managed to grow up to be the kindest, gentlest, most caring individuals I know. And, wonders of wonders, they are so well-adjusted. I'm in awe of them, and I am blessed.

Roger Whittaker sings a song called "Tiny Angels." It is a Christmas song, but these words from the song perfectly express my feelings about Amy, Gavin, Hugh, and Grant every day of the year.

 

"You changed the world, my angels - when you came to me.
Now Christmas day and every day is the same to me.
The only gifts that I could want are you, my darlings."

Have a lovely Mother's Day tomorrow celebrating your mothers and your children!

Take care,

Kate

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My Beloved Porch Swing

The idea of a porch swing always enchanted me. I imagined that all sorts of everyday magic could occur while rocking in one. I can't recall any porch swings in my childhood, though I have a faint memory of one on my maternal grandmother's porch, or maybe it's just wishful thinking. I do know that my great-grandma told me that gentleman callers courted her on her parent's porch swing, so maybe that romantic story is what sparked my desire for a porch swing. I can't say for sure, but I have wanted a porch swing to swing on since I was a child. Nine years ago this Mother's Day my wish came true.

On that Mother's Day, we still lived all together on our mountain paradise, and on special days, like mothers everywhere, I would embrace all that was good and true in our family, and do my best to fill our celebrations with love and joy. On Mother's Day 2003, however, it was my sons who gave me a gift of love and joy--they gave me a porch swing. They did not buy me one; they did something much better--they made me one. Gavin designed the swing, and he and his brothers, Hugh and Grant, built it together. They did this in secret. On Mother's Day, all three boys carried the swing out to the point, our special place on our mountain that overlooked another mountain, where we could watch glorious sunsets, fierce storms, or magical, waterfall-like fog, and where we walked to each evening. 

In the late afternoon of that lovely Mother's Day, we took our family walk to the point. Imagine my delighted surprise when I saw the swing. I laughed and cried and jumped for joy. My heart felt like it would burst with love and happiness. My loving sons had given me one of the best gifts ever--hours and hours of peaceful swinging, while looking out over an idyllic pastoral view.

When we had to move off our mountain nine months later, I was determined to take my porch swing to our new home. This did not prove easy to do, but, in the end, I prevailed. Now, my porch swing sits in my backyard on the patio. I can sit there and talk with Gavin and Grant when they barbecue, but mostly I sit there by myself, swinging back and forth, thinking back on my happy family memories, or trying to figure out solutions to problems, or just basking in the warmth of a fine day,  comforted by my swing that was made for me with love by my boys.

My porch swing is even better than I imagined it would be, proving that sometimes reality can be much better than my imagination.

Take care,

Kate

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