Zoomer Chronicles: Hometown Tourist

     Today, Zoomer and I have been exploring my home of 28 years--downtown St. Paul.  Zoomer took me to places here at home that I have heard about--seen on a map--but, never explored as I did today.
     When was the last time you explored the town where you live as a visitor?  Are there any plaques on buildings?  Have you read them?
      Some years ago, I did just that.  Although from then til now, what sites I visited--what the inscriptions said--have long escaped my memory.
     Life has given me time-- Zoomer has given me the energy--to acquaint myself anew with Downtown St. Paul.  It seems counter-intuitive to set out on an expedition without a destination--without an ETA.  Yet, that is precisely how my expeditions have proceeded.  I thought I had to have a destination in order to have an interesting adventure.  Quite to the contrary.  Am I aimless?  No. Quite to the contrary.
     Temperate weather for pedestrian pursuits in Minnesota is a rare commodity.  It is to be treasured--life, however imperfect it may be, is to be treasured.  So, I shall not squander the snow-free days shining on me.
     Goals??? Yes.  Identify safe curb cuts.  Gain confidence crossing intersections.  Find as many new routes for Zoomer and me to travel.  Zoomer bores easily.  She needs stimulation.  She needs challenge.  
     Today, Zoomer and I passed a new threshold--the Robert Street Bridge over the Mississippi River.  A plaque passes my eyes.  Joy the Joystick jolted us to a halt.  She called our eyes, and ears to the words etched in stone.
     Robert Street Bridge.  When did it open?  It opened on August 6, 1926, after a two-year construction period.  Nearby Shepard Road.  Was it named after anyone?  Yes.  George M. Shepard, who was the St. Paul Department of Public Works director from the 1920s to the 1950s.
     This is hardly vital information.  This is hardly worth losing sleep over not knowing.  Yet, it is an invitation to keep our eyes, and ears open for all life that crosses our pathway.
     Thank you Zoomer, thank you Joy the Joystick, for awakening me to what I overlook that is right beneath my nose.

Zoomer Chronicles: Leaving Home

     Zoomer is having problems leaving home.  I remember having problems leaving home as a child....going to camp....college....embarrassing to admit.  St. Paul was a half a world away from Golden Valley after all....well, OK, so maybe just half an hour by car.
    Zoomer is OK once she gets out of the door, but, it is getting out of the door that is proving challenging--leaving home.
    Hmmm....So, how can I pull her out of her shell, and have the door close behind her, so she will not chicken out and wheel back inside?  Hmmm....
    Aha! I've got it! This should do the trick.  An elastic therapy band secured by a fabric "door anchor."  Let's try....Buckle up, Patty, its the law.  OK. Cell phone in my purse for safety.  Bright orange flag topping Zoomer for safety.
     Ready?  OK. Tie the elastic band with two knots.  Put one small knot behind the door anchor.  Put the fabric door anchor around the doorknob. Tie the other end of the elastic band into a knotleaving a much bigger opening to insert my right hand loosely.
     OK.  Ready.  Set.  Go.  It works!
     Or, so it did for several weeks:)  Yesterday, the Yellow-Banded Bully took Zoomer and me for a ride.  He snapped on us.  I was not hurt.
      I really AM careful.  I swear, I am.  The Bully wouldn't DARE hurt me.
      But, the Yellow-Banded Bully DID get herself stuck arm-in-arm with Zoomer.  I have yet to determine whether it was just an accident, or whether it was a premeditated act of the Yellow-Banded Bully.  He may be a bully but, he will not Bully me.
     I'll show him.  You thought you were the only show in town?  Well, you've got another thing coming, let me tell you, Yellow-Banded Bully.  I have here Orange-Banded Butler fully dressed with the same door anchor.  But, my Orange-Banded Butler will serve me differently.  He will stand--or hang--at attention on the doorknob.  He will await the reach of the Ready Reacher to close the door behind Zoomer.
     The Orange-Banded Butler, and Ready Reacher will not let Zoomer, and me chicken out.  The Butler, and the Reacher are banded together ready to see that Zoomer and me dare the streets.
      Now that we are leaving home, where shall we go?  What shall we do?

What Do You Want To Be When You Grow Up???

     Last night, a friend reminded me of the ever-present quest for a perfect job--a perfect life--abundant in fulfillment, and accomplishment, and free of frustration.  Oh, and could you give me meaningful days free of boredom, and monotony.
     To some degree, I live a life of luxury. Well...I could eat bon bons, if I wanted.  I have the time.  But, truth be told, that is not the life I want to live.  I do not have the responsibilities of a full-time, or a part-time employee, for that matter.  So, it is easy for me to make pronouncements about a perfect job---a perfect life.
     My struggle with finding the perfect job were put to an end with the failure of my body.  My mind-filled wish for the perfect job was no matter for my consideration.
     A perfect life???
     Hmmmm....I am still working on that one.
     Any delusion of keen listening--of being able to offer constructive suggestions solely by virtue of listening with a keen ear--were dispelled, when my conversation with my friend ended.
     What are my job responsibilities today?
I have tended to apologize for my current life, as compared to when I was employed by a large corporation.  I am not providing any quantifiable product or service to my "customers," in the lingo of corporate America.  So, what contribution am I offering?
     What are my job responsibilities today?  Who are my customers? What contributions am I offering. 
     Tending to the needs of my body.  Exercising it to make sure that I take the actions within my power to preserve this vessel I was given 51 years ago in the best condition possible.  I cannot take on responsibilities beyond my real or intended capacities.
     For many years, I have had a mutual understanding--offering--with a different friend.  Both of us serve one another as ceiling therapists.  This service is not daily, per se.  As a ceiling therapist, I have agreed to lend an ear, when the need arises.  My friend and I have committed a willingness to be available to do nothing more than listen, while my friend gets off her chest whatever problems, or situations are out of control.  As a ceiling therapist, I agree to pull my friend off of the ceiling after such overwhelming problems, or situations occur.
    At other times, I have served as a control panel specialist, when the need arises.  What? A control panel specialist.  I provide my friend with basic understanding of how to make the computer, most oftentimes the basic software applications sing as they are designed to sing.  Once again, my service as a control panel specialist is provided on an on-call, as needed, basis.
     I feel I am falling short of another job I have undertaken--a prison correspondent.
     I set high expectations.  I fail to give myself credit for what I am doing.  The same is true for volunteering that I am doing.  Yet, with my volunteering, I know that the sheer contact with people is tremendous.  That is the part of my job commitment to myself.
     So, does any of that contain a pearl of wisdom that I could have offered my friend last night?  I do not intend to present myself as some sage--some sole source of wisdom to my friend.  I knew most of what I expressed here last night.
     Yet, as much as I value words, I could not find the words to convey an oftentimes unattractive truth:  Life isn't perfect.  I couldn't bring myself to say, "The party's what you make it," as a travel acquaintance once said.  Both truths seemed to trivialize the desire of my friend to create for herself a life of service--grand service.
     For many years, I resisted sage advice my mother offered over and over and over.  "Focus on the positive, and ignore the negative."  I resisted her advice.  Though the first part, "Focus on the positive," made complete sense to me, I could not reconcile, "ignore the negative."  The "negative" that I was fighting was hurtful reality hurled at me repeatedly.
     It took me many years to understand a difficult, yet extremely valuable truth that I try to live by today.    
     Each problem--each situation--whatever it may be, has some lesson that it offers me to learn from.
     I have a choice.  Do I want to attend to the lesson--seek answers--or do I want to wallow in life's imperfections?
    My choice may be warped by the many years I have been in formal classrooms, be they pre-school, special education, the regular classroom, college, or graduate school.  Yet, again and again, I come back to my choice--I must attend to the lessons.  I must seek answers.
     Yet, who among us live lives of grand service--or grandiose service?
      Do we lose track of the gifts we have been given to offer, when we try to pursue grandiose service?
      Do we lose track of what good there may be in grandiose service, when we try to create it for ourselves?
      I don't know the answers.  Yet, I commit to seek the answers as a friend, as a daughter, as an aunt, as a sister, as a neighbhor, and as a seeker of truth, who has been blessed with an amazing worship community.

Zoomer Chronicles: Bridge to Exhilaration

     Zoomer and I are having a blast.  Saturday it was Lowertown Downtown St. Paul.  Sunday it was Lowertown and then along the south side of Downtown St. Paul following the Mississippi River for several blocks.
     Today, this weekend's confidence led me to a new direction--north to the Minnesota State Capitol.  The best days for my new expeditions are Saturdays, Sundays, and holidays.  With today being Memorial Day, the State Capitol was a fitting destination.  As the crow flies, the Capitol is several miles from me.  Yet, no crows fly over Downtown St. Paul.  We are not on their flight pattern.
     The rule of the day was light-rail transit line construction.  Many streets, intersections, and sidewalks were closed.   Yet, construction made the trip more of adventure than it otherwise might have been.
     Construction was not the only factor to take into account.  Curb cut quality--even terrain--was prime.  Traffic.  Oncoming traffic.  Any reckless abandon I might have felt was mitigated by one, two, or three cars, or trucks headed my way.
     I surmounted them all.  I turned on Jackson Street, said a prayer, and crossed the bridge over I-94....I made it!
     Now what???
     The State Capitol???
     Zoomer, do you have it in you? Can we surpass our past adventures???
     OK.  I am game if you are.  I know there is construction.  I don't know where.  I will navigate.  I submit to your power.

Zoomer Chronicles: Driver's Training

     With no driver's training, Zoomer was entrusted to my care.  Our partnership arranged.  I expressed need.  Zoomer was assembled

     Some intersections are for daredevils.  Others are not traveled by chickens.

     Chickens never open their doors.  Chickens dare not strap themselves into Zoomer's comrades.

      Peacocks strut their stuff on sidewalks.  Rush hours pose no fear.  Peacocks fly through as the colors green, yellow, and red flash by the whites of her eyes.
      Peacock the Primadonna--my alter ego--was poised to prevail.  Joy the Joystick blew her top.  Though willing to be accelerated, she has her limits.  1...2...3...4....Slow as a tortoise.  Fast as a hare.
     The peacock ever so elegantly presses the envelope.  Joy the Joystick would not be jilted.  Peacock the Primadonna was pushed into action--into submissive service to Joy.  Peacock the Primadonna acted. With grace, she pranced onto the curb cut.  Then, with the flow of her feathers, she repositioned Joy's top.
      Will Peacock the Primadonna and Joy the Joystick join in an adventurous partnership?  Will Zoomer zap the two with a spirit of cooperation?
      Only time will tell.