Category: Grandmothers

I was not a cheerleader as a girl. I was the one stalking the sidelines of whatever the event, scribbling frantically in a spiral notebook and nudging photographers in the direction of the pics I needed, glad that the attention was on the stars.

I was a yearbook and newspaper kid. Also student council. Not nearly as cool as a star, perhaps, but much more me.

This week, 40-some years later, I became a cheerleader. A cheerleader stalking the edges of a community pool, clutching my cell phone camera, and joining in on cheers echoing from my own school days.

I cheered for my girls, of course. And their swim team members. I also cheered for the visiting team. And I cheered especially hard for the ones who finished last and still rejoiced in cutting seconds off their previous times or trying really hard.

I cheered for all the good sports and for the shy kids brave enough to leap in and give their all, whatever the process at hand.

And I cheered for the young man with the neon yellow tutu, a vibrant image of all-in, though I have no idea whether he won his races or not.

I cheered for paintings of Cosmic Cat and Daisy Dog and for baking and a fabulous first guacamole lesson.

It was a week of good reminders for me that we can all do some cheerleading in our lives, even if we’re not the pleated mini-skirt or yellow tutu kinds of folks.

Sometimes cheerleading involves jumping around, yelling, and clapping our hands sore.

Sometimes it involves a quiet Way to hang in there! and the awareness that we all need to feel seen and heard and significant.

Sometimes it involves a bigger-than-usual tip for the kind guy with the wheelchair who got me safely through the maze of trains and elevators and ramps at Dulles Airport, while beaming about his son in college and the one in med school.

Here are a few more glimpses from our week. May you find chances for cheerleading in the weeks ahead, wherever you discover yourself!

Kleenex alert…

We memorized a whole lot of things in my 9th grade biology class.

You probably remember the one about the very educated mother who just served her crowd nine pickles, in which case I suspect you’re still missing Pluto, too.

The entire kitchen patrol company of Girl Scouts business by which we learned the classification of animals and plants wasn’t my favorite. Especially the part about spelling them all in Latin.

I was however, a big fan of Roy G. Biv, also known as the colors of the rainbow.

That was before I knew the legend of our dear fur kids crossing the rainbow bridge when they leave this life.

We had one of those episodes this week when our beloved Sarah passed on. And writing this is hard because Sarah never met a stranger. She loved everybody and many, many of you loved her.

Honestly, I’m not up to all the details just yet. The important part is that the fear and the pain are past.

And, because we live in a house built before the “discovery” of seasonal affective disorder, which we’ve attempted to solve with lots of filtered skylights, there have been what feels like even more rainbows than usual.

There are two things I’m counting on right now. The first is a vision of Sarah romping under the rainbows on a gorgeous beach with a whole tribe of Newfoundland friends.

The second appeared in some words of wisdom from the young man who lives next door and is a paint buddy and a big fan of the studio angels.

“I don’t think you should be sad,” he said. “Sarah won’t hurt anymore.”

“I think you should be happy because of all the people she helped.”

While I’m practicing his particular form of wisdom, I’m painting and then, blessedly, heading off to spend a few days painting and baking and gluing buttons to things with my girls. There will also be swim team involved!

For today, a rainbow for you. And huge hopes for whatever comfort and peace you might be seeking.

Phoebe and Luther will fill you in when they rest up after Camp.

The painting pictured above is a Heart of Gold process known as Our Lady of Flowering Earth, gone completely rogue. I suspect Sarah is in charge!

Back in the dark ages, when I was a kid, I liked passwords. I liked the game show on TV that was fun to watch with my Granny. I also liked the sleuth-y sense of the Nancy Drew books.

I do not like passwords these days!

A recent encounter with a phishing scheme and some overlooked need for updates found me, trusted laptop in hand, at the Apple Genius store last week.

My personal genius was a delightful young woman who knew lots of things and was willing to repeat them as often as I asked, all while asking me to put in my password about 97 times.

She pushed a lot of keys having something to do with making malware go away, showed me some photo editing stuff (which is actually useful!) and even showed me how to know what a particular update would change.

Or at least what it was supposed to change.

I was feeling oddly comfortable. Enough to cruise through Dillards and snag a few of my all time favorite paint shirts at the 66% off Fathers Day sale. Yay!

Then, as instructed by the Genius, Bill did the big update, because apparently it took too long for me to take up space in genius land.

And, to his credit, it seems to work great.

Except for the minor fact that it kicked out all my passwords and doggedly insisted that I change them. As I mentioned, I do not like passwords these days.

Fast forward 4 days or so, and I’m still not enjoying the password thing. I’ve grown to actively despise the tattered little spiral notebook that’s never worked really well but was at least a place to start.

I have, however, spent way too much time feeling frustrated and pissed at whomever thought up this whole evil system.

Then, a new thought appeared like a miracle in some distant corner of my brain that wasn’t totally occupied with being annoyed.

I could get a new book! One chosen for it’s rather cool, old-ish design that almost has a Hobbit-like feel to it.

And I could take it with me on my trip to Grammy-land next week. You see, I know some girls who would be delighted to pick 3 or 4 random pages each and color me some surprise pictures in my snazzy new book.

I will probably still find passwords annoying, but I won’t mind looking them up and writing them down nearly so much.

And, way better even than that, my girls will have a chance to feel significant because they will truly be helping Grammy with something they’re no doubt better at than I am.

Win! Win! Win!

For now, I’m off to feed the dogs and hope that my friends at Amazon have made my magical new book appear so I can take its picture for you.

Magic, of many kinds, abounds!

Including the kind where Amazon doesn’t bring your magic book in time to post the blog so you whip out your magic cell phone, take a pic off the Amazon page, edit a bit, and post that!