An Anniversary, A Cold, A Decision, A Boy
My wife is ill at the moment, some sort of upper respiratory infection that she’s been nursing through the weekend and her day off yesterday. It was kind of a personal anniversary, January 21, and as she pointed out she was also sick on our wedding anniversary last July. I barely remember that, only that we eventually decided to stick near the house, or maybe we ended up staying home. Neither of us lose any sleep over less-than-ideal anniversaries, not after 35 years.
Because sleep is too important, for one thing. Are you kidding?
I guess it’s been 36 years now. We moved in together on January 21, 1983, six months before we were married, which sounds like a pretty normal thing and not necessarily worthy of remembering. I was 24 and she was about to turn 28; we were young but hardly kids, both of us lingering a little just outside of the real, adult world for completely different reasons. We knew what we were doing.
But it’s a crazy story, that I won’t go into. Just complicated and kind of scary in several ways, and for weeks we kept it a secret as much as we could. Not from our families or close friends; just everyone else, just until some time had passed and people could slowly get used to the situation.
I always remembered the date, just through a trick of timing, and now it’s become something we always share and remark on. We don’t make a big deal out of it. It’s just funny how many details I remember about that day. The Germans wore gray, you wore blue. Details are funny anyway.
I just sent my grandson a book on quantum physics. He got interested in the subject somehow (I assume he saw a science video; the wealth of educational material available to parents and kids today would stun you if it’s not on your radar). Theoretical physics fascinates me, if only because it seems to combine science fiction, philosophy, and then just science into one discipline. The mind boggles, even if it can’t understand (my mind can’t; obviously other minds can, and probably his).
My wife bought him a book on philosophy, in fact. It’s here, so she could look through it and make sure it was appropriate before passing it on, but it’s a fun book. Deals more with ethics, it seems, and morality, thinking about concepts and how we act. All age appropriate, given that he’s a little advanced for his age (we aim for the fourth-grade level, pretty much, even though he’s only 5).
I’m not sure why he’s the way he is. It’s just fun to note the interests. As I said, it’s science all the time, although he dips into sociology and he likes cartoons as any kid would (and not just kids; I learned to love Kung Fu Panda with him, which is a really, really fun movie, although I’m unclear about the sequels).
Yesterday was the first day I felt the boy bliss start to slip away. I’m grateful it lasted as long as it did; those two separate trips did me a world of good, just brightened up everything, made me oblivious to problems. There are plenty of problems, but only one Bixie.
I’m in the midst of reevaluating my church life. It’s done wonders for me to belong to this community, to serve, to participate, to do something useful for others. To sing in the choir. To arrange weekly potluck dinners where we just meet and talk, no subjects, no topics. To hold movie nights in the summer. To maintain our social media and website and various other technical things that we can’t afford a person to do.
There are just some problems with my current status as a church leader (an elder, in Presbyterian terms, which just means I’m like a committee chairman; no one comes to me for wisdom). First, I hate committees and find them wastes of time (based on the fact that I’ve worked along for 30 years, surely). I’ve done all right, grabbing ad hoc team members when I need help, and much of the time doing it all myself (always the most efficient way).
But I’m too far away, and with a one-car family it gets very hard. It’s either two hours on the bus, or a complicated commute that occasionally gets really complicated. When we have monthly leadership meetings at church at 7pm, I typically leave home between 4 and 4:30pm and get back around 10pm. All for a 90-minute meeting where sometimes we’re just rubber stamping.
Anyway, my three-year term is up in June, and while it’s typical for members to re-up for another term (two in a row are allowed by the bylaws, then a break), and while we’re always going to be drawing from the same pool of people who like to participate, finding new people is a hassle. I trust the committee, though, and I’m on it, and they’re aware that I might not return. Someone will attempt to change my mind. We shall see. I do enjoy it, but there are ethical issues about my wife being a church employee and some of that bothers me, along with the lack of proximity. All shall be well.
I have so much more I want to spill, although I’ll pass on the rest for the time being. Stick with a topic. I’m just trying to write, since I’ve lost my voice and rhythm and this is the only way I know to get it back.
Again, all shall be well. I just might need to find a way to get back to Texas soon. And write something good.