After the hospice benefit

A return to blogging, borne of the need to divest myself of thought.

See, I am tired of thinking. Absolutely, positively burned out.

I watched the final presidential debate tonight after attending a benefit for Francis House, a hospice staffed by angels who kindly and gently help the terminally ill with their journeys into peace. Well-fed, well-entertained and well-wined, I find that I am exhausted. Completely sick of thinking about democrat vs republican, bailout bills, out-of-control spending, abortion rights, an unpopular war and an economy that threatens to drift back into the 1930s. I am so tired of trying to figure out college financing, home budgets, career decisions. Should I vote this way or that? What do I do with seething anger over the economic crisis? How can I convey to my kids the enormity of the debt they are undertaking in getting through college? How do I rail against a system that has crushed the middle class, without taking responsibility and initiative?

But, the benefit reminds me that we all will die someday, no matter how much we own, what party we lean toward, which career path we take. In the face of death, all else becomes irrelevant. Small. Well, almost everything.

As I just now settled in to ponder all this on a warm couch manned -- er, beagled -- by an even warmer dog, I was grateful to retreat from it all with my animals. I can come home from the world and pet the birds, and they don't care what my politics are as long as I'm here and I hit the right spot just above the beak. My dogs will curl up in the bend of my knee backs, contentedly oblivious to my status and my ability to buy a better blanket with which to cover us. My Lab was happy today simply to splash in the cool water of an autumn lake, cheerily retrieving sticks regardless of apparent agenda; she cares only that she is not separated from those she loves. My animals eat when they're hungry, bark when they feel protective, go outside with their excretions and always, always show love when they feel it.

I want to live so simply. But my humanness won't let me. That is why I share my life with animals and why -- as I did tonight -- I drink wine with people I love whenever possible, especially when it can benefit others, too.

She's home

I have a daughter to whom the world just opened itself.

See, she's 17 1/2 -- a soulful, sensitive, intelligent and beautiful girl who stands at the crossroads between childhood and adulthood. From here on out, everything changes. And from my middle-aged point of view, I know that the rest of life is fraught (or blessed, depending) with change, like a sky's parade of clouds and sun, storms and blue.

She came home today, breathless after her very first weekend away from home without me. After her first plane ride, her first out-of-state college visit. And now there's no going back: She knows.

In one short weekend, she's discovered that the stage on which high-school dramas play out looks very, very small from 35,000 feet in the air. She's learned that her life can take her anywhere, with the right ticket... that education is a multifaceted experience that happens both inside and outside a classroom... that kindness can be found even in a great wide frightening world (thanks to a certain friend's grandma who played a very gracious host)... And most importantly that even as she flies from the nest, the nest stays put. Home is and always will be home, and her family will always be the one constant -- the keeper of histories, the protector of her soul, the solid, unshakeable sanctuary in a world that shifts with the wind.

When the time comes for her to go to college, I will miss her beyond words. But I will relish watching her open her life like a big birthday present, like I've done so many times before.

She is my heart, the tiny baby who changed my life, the little dynamo who knows me, perhaps, better than anyone. So for the time being, I am happy and relieved that she is here, and will be for many months yet. It's easy to talk to her about change. It's much harder to listen.

Educational disconnect

Here's an intriguing, thought-provoking piece on the daily lives of college students. Based on what I'm seeing with my high school senior and sophomore, I'm guessing it's dead on -- except for college debt, which I gotta believe will exceed $20k for most students. (I'm still thinking about the video, but the first question it makes me ask is, how have we, in such a "connected" world, become so disconnected?):