Thank You, Ann Arbor

“We begin to find and become ourselves when we notice how we are already found, 

already truly, entirely, wildly, messily, marvelously who we were born to be.”

— Anne Lamott

Our life in Ann Arbor was often idyllic.  The unspoiled charm of a small town is the polar opposite of our beloved, crowded, noisy Chicago. There are people in Ann Arbor who never want to leave town because they think there is nothing else for them to see. Often we took several of the boys' friends to Chicago with us and they were terrified.

We knew two men, one Black, one white, both in their 60s, who had never left the county and never wanted to leave. Both had the funds and ability to leave; they just could find no reason to visit anywhere else.  I could never wrap my mind around this no matter how hard I tried.  To them, Ann Arbor wasn't the center of the universe, it was the universe. I tried to understand how they had no interest in the outside world, but I couldn't.

We had mixed emotions about the city. It is a beautiful, tree filled city. The town and gown metaphor is appropriate.  Perhaps that is why our emotions were mixed.  We weren't used to being identified with only one group, and we refused to be restricted. There were speed bumps along the way but we survived.

Memories of Ann Arbor include the many conferences and seminars we developed, consulting trips, dinners, luncheons, more meetings, and learning to golf. We were active in clubs and fraternal organizations, served on charity boards and mentored many students.  I shouldn't forget Hash Bash.

In early April the campus is flooded with thousands of pot smokers who smoke in broad daylight. The atmosphere is festive for Ann Arbor is know for being tolerant of pot.

In spring, the blooming forsythia, crabapple, and redbud trees encircle the city and you are dazzled by the beauty.

In summer the town feels deserted.  The students are gone and you enjoy the empty spaces even though you know visitors will flood the city for the Art Fairs, a group of five award-winning art fairs that take place annually, the Summer Festival, and the Blues Festival.

Over 500,000 visitors attend the Art Fairs each year, which always take place during the third full week of July, running from Wednesday through Saturday.  Many locals leave the city because it is so crowded. In addition to art exhibits, the fairs also feature music performances and children's activities.

In a twinkling students return and the city comes to life again.  Soon, all too soon, the leaves begin to change.

Brilliant reds and audacious yellow leaves are everywhere. There are so many leaves that the city sends trucks to gather the fallen leaves.  By Halloween, you know that winter is coming and you pray for just one sunny day a week.

Cold winds and drifting snow are on the way.  Hurry, hurry, spring.

Did I like Ann Arbor?  Yes.  Am I glad to be gone? Yes. Do I miss it? Sometimes, I miss the intellectual stimulation and our friends.  It was the perfect place to raise a family and perhaps that's the problem.  It can dull your senses to the rest of the world.  Because of Ann Arbor we were able to travel all over the world.  We had dear friends and neighbors, an exciting lifestyle,  and incredible professional opportunities.  So, thank you Ann Arbor, for 31 endearing years.

Home is a place you grow up wanting to leave, 
and grow old wanting to get back to. 
 ~John Ed Pearce

Thanks, Blogger Friends

You didn't know this, but I was going through a difficult time in my life when I started this blog.  I was depressed and looking for something to do while wondering about my purpose in life and what had I contributed to this world after being in it for 72 years.  Yes, I know that's selfish, but what is life is we don't know our place? My life has always been full with family responsibilities, work, travel, clubs, friends, and other activities, yet I still felt there was something I wanted to do.

As you can see by the pictures, I am blessed with a beautiful family: one faithful husband of 54 years who has watched me do many wacky things in life and shook his head in amazement as I continued along my own, not always sterling path; three successful sons who grew up with me and brought me much joy; two wonderful daughters-in-law, who call me Mom; five exceptional, witty, intelligent grandchildren; and five surviving, supportive siblings, who never got the breaks I had.

We have fun as a family and they give me lots of love but I was still struggling with many issues, especially from my childhood and being young at a time when low expectations were held for women and Blacks. I was itching to do something...didn't know what, but something. My head felt like it was exploding with pleas for an outlet.

I tried painting, after retiring, as something to do, but most of my paintings ended up stacked in my garage or in the hands of friends and family who knew I needed a pick-me-up and wanted to let me know that I was OK.  Painting was an experiment in learning something new because I just like learning.  The journey is what is important to me and I plan to continue learning as much as I can about painting.

One day, with nothing to do, I was surfing the web, and accidentally ran across an article about blogging.  What the hell is that?  I read some more and thought, "why not?" Give it a try.  I stumbled, got up, and tried again. I tried blogspot and wordpress and thought that blogspot was easier.  I timidly put my foot in the water, and walked out into a beautiful, welcoming pond.  I knew about my life and hoped that if I poured those memories into the pond, perhaps a ripple in the water would bring me some comfort and knowledge.  It's also cheaper than a therapist.

I'll never forget the feeling when I saw the first comment.  What?  Someone actually read what I wrote!  What a thrill.  Then someone else read it (or looked at my artblog) and I felt rejuvenated.  I visited other blogs and began to connect with other bloggers, people, I called in my mind, blogger friends.  I even visit blogs in foreign languages that I don't understand and feel connected.

So, this is my tribute, to you, my blogger friends.  You and your blogs have helped me more than I can tell you.  I won't call names because I will forget someone, but offer a few examples of how you helped:  kudos from family members, encouragement from a teacher, a crucial perspective about my life from the Village Idiot, (that's not an insult, that's what he lists as his occupation) intellectual stimulation from someone in advertisement, and the joys of motherhood from a baker.

You have done more than you will ever know.  You have erased my depression.  It might be an online virtual life but if it helps me with my offline life, it has done its job.  I am more at peace and grateful for your presence in my life.

Thanks, hugs, and kisses.

I am old and need to remember.

You are young and need to learn.

If I forget the words

Will you remember the music?

from Swaziland