I woke up this morning at my usual 3:30 and laid in bed reflecting on life as it plays out here on South Road. I have a dumpster in my back yard and it is about 2/3 full. I really need to either finish filling it or just call the pickup man and have it taken away. That is when it dawned on me the reason for my indecision about a lot of things is that I am trying to save everything as well as everybody that I come in contact with in this world. I function best when I make lists and check things off as I go. So here it is a little after 4:00 AM and this is my black and white list.
1. I can not save the world. The world can not save me.
2. I can not change people. I can change my perspective of people.
And here my list peters out. Not doing so good, am I? #1 is a given. It is simple and to the point and there is no room for arguement. I run myself ragged trying to make sure that everyone has a roof over thier head and a belly full of food, but I miss the big picture. The world exists outside of my little realm. There are more homeless kids then just the few I see at Posada. There are more immigrants then the few I see at Los Pobres. And they change. The ones I saw last year or even last month have moved on and forgotten about me. New ones have come in their place. I hope some where something I did or said helped someone, but I have no way of knowing. So I move on as they have moved on.
Now as to my perspective of people. I tend to project on people I deal with the personna I want them to have. Most of my friends have become my friends and stayed my friends from the first day I met them. Frank and Clifford have been my friends since I came to this place from Kansas. I go years without even speaking with them, but they are there and when I need something they are the first to respond. I like to think I serve some pupose in thier life as well.
My circle of friends changed from when I first came here and again after I divorced that husband and again after the stint in college and working at Liz's cafe in Bessemer, and another divorce. I settled into rather a loose routine when I married Kenny. That was when I began working in the LGBT and later in the AIDS venue. After the loss of Kenny and then Mark the circle of friends morphed into the immigrant and/or the homeless sector. I did a stint at Hospice and dabbled in the indigenous sector. Along the way I picked up a (for want of a better word) "boyfriend".
Now what I was thinking on that little trick, I will never know. I, once again, projected on him what I wanted him to be, which was a fine Christian believer who would not tell a lie and could always be depended on when I needed someone. As that turned out he seemed to morph into someone I did not even know. So while that one is dying a slow, painful death, I am re-evaluating and giving serious thought to selling everything in my garage in a yard sale. I guess, if the people who stored it there, wanted it, they would have it. Right?
But all that is neither here nor there and has naught to do with my life today. Since I seem to be the "on call" person for getting donations from point A to point B, I am going to pick up a load of clothes for Sister Nancy and then come home and get out in that tin shed and get to sorting. One pile is going to be garage sale stuff and the other is going into that dumpster. Then I am going to start on this house. I have 2400 square feet of floor space crammed with stuff I never used, will never use, and have no idea why in the hell I drug it all in here anyway! I have 2 floor looms, for godsake! I have more sewing machines than Singer! I have boxes of thread for sewing, weaving, knitting, crocheting. I have boxes and boxes of books for weaving, knitting.....you get the picture?
So there you have my life in a nutshell! One passing thought. Years ago I gave a plaque to my first husband. It read "If I had known I was going to live this long, I would have taken better care of myself."
When he died I inherited that plaque.
When next Spring comes, there is going to be a "For Sale" sign up on South Road and there is going to be an empty garage and an empty house here on this little acre. My little Honda Fit is going to hold everything I need to finish out my days on this big blue ball. I am trading my purse for a billfold with a debit card. My dogs are old. My cat is mean and I keep remembering "He who travels fastest travels light....and alone."
1. I can not save the world. The world can not save me.
2. I can not change people. I can change my perspective of people.
And here my list peters out. Not doing so good, am I? #1 is a given. It is simple and to the point and there is no room for arguement. I run myself ragged trying to make sure that everyone has a roof over thier head and a belly full of food, but I miss the big picture. The world exists outside of my little realm. There are more homeless kids then just the few I see at Posada. There are more immigrants then the few I see at Los Pobres. And they change. The ones I saw last year or even last month have moved on and forgotten about me. New ones have come in their place. I hope some where something I did or said helped someone, but I have no way of knowing. So I move on as they have moved on.
Now as to my perspective of people. I tend to project on people I deal with the personna I want them to have. Most of my friends have become my friends and stayed my friends from the first day I met them. Frank and Clifford have been my friends since I came to this place from Kansas. I go years without even speaking with them, but they are there and when I need something they are the first to respond. I like to think I serve some pupose in thier life as well.
My circle of friends changed from when I first came here and again after I divorced that husband and again after the stint in college and working at Liz's cafe in Bessemer, and another divorce. I settled into rather a loose routine when I married Kenny. That was when I began working in the LGBT and later in the AIDS venue. After the loss of Kenny and then Mark the circle of friends morphed into the immigrant and/or the homeless sector. I did a stint at Hospice and dabbled in the indigenous sector. Along the way I picked up a (for want of a better word) "boyfriend".
Now what I was thinking on that little trick, I will never know. I, once again, projected on him what I wanted him to be, which was a fine Christian believer who would not tell a lie and could always be depended on when I needed someone. As that turned out he seemed to morph into someone I did not even know. So while that one is dying a slow, painful death, I am re-evaluating and giving serious thought to selling everything in my garage in a yard sale. I guess, if the people who stored it there, wanted it, they would have it. Right?
But all that is neither here nor there and has naught to do with my life today. Since I seem to be the "on call" person for getting donations from point A to point B, I am going to pick up a load of clothes for Sister Nancy and then come home and get out in that tin shed and get to sorting. One pile is going to be garage sale stuff and the other is going into that dumpster. Then I am going to start on this house. I have 2400 square feet of floor space crammed with stuff I never used, will never use, and have no idea why in the hell I drug it all in here anyway! I have 2 floor looms, for godsake! I have more sewing machines than Singer! I have boxes of thread for sewing, weaving, knitting, crocheting. I have boxes and boxes of books for weaving, knitting.....you get the picture?
So there you have my life in a nutshell! One passing thought. Years ago I gave a plaque to my first husband. It read "If I had known I was going to live this long, I would have taken better care of myself."
When he died I inherited that plaque.
When next Spring comes, there is going to be a "For Sale" sign up on South Road and there is going to be an empty garage and an empty house here on this little acre. My little Honda Fit is going to hold everything I need to finish out my days on this big blue ball. I am trading my purse for a billfold with a debit card. My dogs are old. My cat is mean and I keep remembering "He who travels fastest travels light....and alone."
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