Good

 

Ok. In my last piece the title was, ‘Evil’. There is evil out there, I had to write about it. And I stand by it. 

But.

There is also the ‘Good’. And I think right now, I have to see it and write about it and put it out there because I need the balance just as much right now. I think we all do. 

We need to believe in the Good. 

We need to see the good in the people around us. The good in our family, our friends, our neighbors. Even in our parks, our streets, our schools, our hospitals, our libraries. 

There is a lot of good out there right now. 

Here’s some more on a personal level: my husband was helped by EMT’s, doctors, nurses, lab techs and volunteers. He is well and home and fine, thanks to all of these people. I was helped by family and neighbors and friends who ran errands, walked my dog, cleaned my kitchen, brought us dinner, sparkling water, soup, Kleenex and warm cranberry cake. 

Good people live all around us. All the time. 

They share. They ask how you’re doing and listen. They hold the door open for you.  

They protest. Make signs. Bring wet wipes and food. 

And help you survive the bad. 

They are the good. 

We need to see the good right now. 

So we can all survive the bad. 

Everyday Dads

I grew up in a family of boys. As the only girl, I was the odd ‘man’ out always trying to be tough and at the same time hoping to be seen in the crowd. 

It was my Dad, not my Mom, who always had my back. It was my Dad who reached out when I was overwhelmed. He drilled me in math. He gave me his books to read. When I wondered ‘why’ about anything from the Bible to history or science, he answered my questions truthfully. And counseled me to keep the knowledge to myself around the nuns who taught by sending me to the coat closet for asking too many questions. 

I loved him and thank him for everything he did for me. Yet, he was a traditional man of his time. He traveled a lot. He did not help around the house. He was not an ‘everyday’ Dad. 

A new kind of Dad. 

I married a man who is the best kind of Dad I could imagine for my children. He’s been all in from the moment they were born. He diapered, rocked, bathed, fed, played and loved our children. He built them play sets. He read them books. He took them to work with him. 

Now my children have their own children. And my son has diapered, rocked and fed his daughter. Today on Father’s Day, he made her a delicious egg and potato breakfast. He got her dressed, took her shopping and played with her. 

 

This is my son-in-law’s first Father’s Day. His son is not yet a year old and yet, he has also been there from the moment that baby was born. And he’s diapered, fed, and rocked his son. Today, he set out his ‘Dad’s’ day dinner for his wife and himself while their son napped. 

Everyday Dads. 

My Dad was there for me and he was a good Dad for his day. 

But my children had a Dad who was there for them everyday. And he still is. 

Now, because my children had an everyday Dad, they are there for their children everyday, too. 

Wandering, waiting and wondering.

Through the woods, I go. I lean against my two favorite trees. I look out over the water. I count the baby geese. I stare at the sky. My feet move and my mind wanders. 

During these last three months, my wandering helped me, soothed me and befriended me. I even have my best friend wandering with me. And we are not alone in these woods. There are so many joggers and bikers and hikers and dog walkers that sometimes it feels like rush hour. 

But the best sounds we hear are the giggles and shouts and running feet. Children not allowed in school or the park playground have found a new place to play. I remember my summers in the woods near my childhood home and smile with delight. One playground is closed but they have discovered another much bigger and more creative one. And it’s a joyous sound. 

Waiting. 

As a self-employed artist, I still work in my studio and at my wheel five days a week. I wedge and roll and paint and glaze. This was a ‘glazing’ week. It’s not my favorite part of the process but it’s necessary.

After sanding, wiping and waxing, each piece needs to sit overnight before glazing begins. The next morning, I need to rearrange my entire studio. I clear table tops, put tools away and take out others, lay newspapers on shelves, towels on the floor and open the windows. 

I stir and dip and wipe and repeat. Then I wait. After a day or two, I load the kiln and start the firing process. Then I wait some more. Hopefully, when I open the kiln everything inside will be bright and shiny and ready to use. 

Wondering. 

All this wandering and waiting has me wondering. When will this all end? When it does what will life look like? Will people stop looking at each with such fear? Will I hear people laugh out loud, reach out to lend a hand and a hug? Will my grandchildren think that it’s normal to wear a surgical mask everywhere?

But most important, once we are all back to our lives and going through the motions of living in a world of endless routines, will we remember how to wander? Will we forget how long we had to wait? And will those children forget the joy and the magic of their own playground in the  woods?