Reflections on What A Beautiful Life is For Me

These last several weeks have stirred up lots of things for me. These thoughts have been sparked by many things some of which are: the reading of "Schulz and Peanuts;" the state of the economy; and my father-in-law's life threatening illness.




"Schulz and Peanuts"

It is no secret to people who know me that I'm a big Peanuts fan. I have been crazy about Snoopy, Lucy, Linus and the Peanuts Gang since I was a little girl. I've just finished reading "Schulz and Peanuts" by David Michaelis and for a fan like me it was an incredible insight on Charles M. Schulz. Peanuts represents to me a time from my childhood when everything felt secure. I was a young budding artist when I first discovered Peanuts and I wanted to be just like Charles Schulz. To this day, I still think of developing my own comic strip. The book also brought up my time living in Santa Rosa (some twenty years) and the two times I got to met my hero Charles Schulz. The book spans his whole life so it ends upon his death in 2000. The year 2000 was a very pivotal year in my own life. I lost my own father in March 1999, my Uncle Marvin in January 2000 and my childhood hero (Charles Schulz) in 2000. These were three men I lost in less than one year who were big influences on my life. It marked a beginning of me thinking about how I wanted to live out the rest of my own life.

The Economy

The state of the economy weighs heavy on my mind and heart. I'm doing fine compared to many and I count my blessings every day that my husband and I have jobs. Everyday the newspaper has another big story about a company closing its doors or laying off workers. I read about foreclosures on homes, people feeling depressed and desperate. It makes me think that I need to examine my own future more closely. I'm not sure where this will lead . . . but I feel a need for change in some way.

My Family

My father-in-law has been diagnosed with two life threatening illness. My family is discussing how we will deal with the days to come. I am mostly in the role of support. I want to protect and nurture my husband but I know that at times like this everyone has their own way of dealing with the daily horror of the situation as well as the grieving process.


As horrible as it is in the loss of a loved one - I feel fortunate in the lessons I have learned with each one of my losses. The lessons I learned while sitting on my own father's death bed I consider to be true gifts from God. Most people described my father as a difficult man. He had a hot temper. He yelled a lot. He had many other difficult qualities too but I learned that there was a good side. He was very gifted and talented with making things and he was very generous with material possessions. If family was in trouble he would give you his last nickle to help. I learned that even with all his faults he was a lovable man. This in turn taught me that I too could be loved even with all my faults. This wasn't just a lesson I learned on my father's death bed but it was on his death bed that I reflected upon memories that made me realize this truth.


The second lesson I learned on my father's death bed was when it came down to it - it didn't matter where you lived, what job you had or what car you drove that made you happy. It was the connections you made with living things that determined how you felt about living. It was the memories of times together which made the heart glow with happiness. This isn't to say that I don't believe we don't get some form of happiness for our home, our clothing, our car or our favorite possessions. What I believe to be true is that the objects we love in our lives connect us with good memories which can bring moments of happiness.


One of the happiest times I ever saw my father was one of his last days in the hospital. He had a stroke which had made it rather impossible to understand his speech. My father's face lite up when I walked into his hospital room. When my oldest brother arrived a short time later he stood on one side of my father's bed and I on the other holding my father's hand. My mother and my father's oldest sister Ora were standing towards the bottom of his bed. I will never forget the way my father looked first at my brother and then at me. He had this beautiful look that nothing else in the world mattered to him. He had one of the biggest smiles I have ever seen on his face and he looked peaceful. I remember he closed his eyes and kept the same peaceful happy look on his face. We stayed like this for a while with no words being exchanged. That was the moment that I understood that his happiness was determined at that moment by the connections he had made with his loved ones. I too felt it was one of the happiest moments I have experienced in my life. It was the experience of feeling loved and knowing that no matter how much money I had in the bank, how many toys I owned or what I looked like determined my happiness. It was rather my sense of connecting with others and appreciating the interaction with something larger than myself.




So Where Does This Leave Me . . .

So this has me thinking about my current situation and future. Since moving to Oregon I have felt a little lost. I use to blame this on my allergies but in reality I've just checked out of life. I've done a better job of keeping up with my old friends in California then I have with establishing and maintaining a beautiful life here in Oregon. Yes, I have two beautiful homes and I do have some friends here in Oregon. But let me tell you about the life I had built in California. I was involved with many organizations and I was a strong business woman. I had a sense of purpose to my life and that purpose revolved around relationships. I was always getting people together for dinner, for a movie, for a vacation, spending the day together. If I felt a need in my life for an organization and I couldn't find one to join I would start my own. I did this with the Sonoma County Film Society and it was fun. It was work but it was so much fun. I use to always remember peoples birthdays, the things they told me about their daily lives. I was interested in the interactions of people. Sometimes weekends here in Oregon I can stay inside the house all day and not venture out except to get the newspaper. I miss the connection. I've always wanted my house to be the one people could drop by any time and visit. I want to have large gatherings at holidays and I like doing large dinners at my house once a month. I actually tried all this when I first moved here but it seemed hard maintaining the connections with my new friends. I gave up too easily.


So here is a poem that I wrote a couple of years ago about my feeling of being lost.





I Try To Find Her

I try to find her.
I remember her child like imagination and playful spirit.
Her contagious self-assurance that makes herself and anyone around her believe that anything is possible.
I miss her strength, which has helped so many.
I miss her intuitive soul, which brings magic into the world.
I wonder why has she left when I need her this time.
I look through all the different corridors and rooms wondering where I can find her?
Where has she gone?
When will she come home?






It is time to find home.



Until Next Time. . . .

Kathleen