Diligent Change

We drove back to the ranch and spent the night. The journey followed a rain-soaked gathering in Brooks, Oregon where several dozen descendants of Marie Dorion met to share stories of their families. Marie was the remarkable woman who with her husband, two sons and 60 men crossed the country in 1811-1812 as the first expedition to the west after Lewis and Clark returned.  It's the 200th anniversary of that journey and the founding of Astoria (www.abc.org). She was a remarkable Indian woman and in both August and September I'll be helping to celebrate her life. (See schedule).

We drove out of the rain up the Columbia River Gorge into sunshine back in Sherman County where we had dinner with friends and heard Seneca stories told by Terry Cross, the Executive Director of National Indian Child Welfare League and as part of a fundraiser,  actually cooked the traditional dinner for ten.  Jerry, as the eldest present, was served first by Terry, an act that surprised.  In that moment I realized that my husband is indeed an elder and all the extra driving, coordinating and scheduling were made worth it to watch how moved my husband was by this gesture of esteem.

I've known he was an elder, of course. At 81, he meets the age criteria. But he's also an elder in keeping counsel, learning from trials, continuing to seek wisdom and share it, caring deeply about the well-being of children.  He still questions and is open to new thinking. As difficult as the move has been for him with now new health concerns, he sets his pace, exercising, keeping his cardio rehab appointments, and putting up with my telling him how to drive -- yes, he's back driving again. I tell him a good elder listens.

After dinner, we drove to the ranch. The dogs perked up a mile away and once we stopped the car they were happy- happy to run in the yard they'd ruled. We noted that the river was higher than usual for this time of year, snow melt moving in the streams gathering at the John Day.  We cried a bit for what had been.  Not a sadness really but a remembering. Building a life on Starvation Lane was a grand adventure that shaped us and many others. Neither of us wishes we had not made that trek to dream and build and make a way beside that river, wandering down the reptile road. But neither do we regret the move. This is a good place to be in one's life: happy for past choices; happy for present ones.

Driving out from town I had that old anxiety wondering what the road condition would be and worrying a little that snakes might have started to reclaim the yard without as much activity as before but it was fine, the road dry and without ruts once we started down the grade. Matt had the yard watered and mowed to park-like perfection and we saw no sign of snakes. Funny how in just a few short months old fears could rear.

Vigilance is required to keep the fears at bay. It was a lesson learned and I thought remembered from our years there as I learned to trust that if I needed to leave, the road would be passable,  bills would get paid, we'd recover from accidents we didn't prevent.  I learned there to take deep breaths and not to wonder what the future held but to  Instead cherish what there was.

The futon folded out and was a good bed for us.  The pellet stove started right up which was good as the night was cool, black and still. Not even coyotes howled. Only the hum of the refrigerator still plugged in lulled us  asleep.

We're home now. This refrigerator is nearly silent (green technology) as it serves our needs. The dogs have a new DogWatch underground fence enabling them to roam the back two acres though they must don their special collars. I mow the lawn here...it's much smaller. The pond area is a riot of wildflower full of color; so is the labyrinth surrounded.  And we are too.  Surrounded with memories not meant to hold us hostage but to transform.  We are reminded that even as an elder, we can change, make a new way, drive down new roads and find blessings wherever we're allowed to bloom.  I hope you've discovered those realities, too regardless of the age you are.