Stranger in Her Backyard

Maris wasn’t a light sleeper, but her ear would catch unusual sounds in the house at night and wake her for investigation.  Her husband of twenty-seven years literally slept through lightning striking the tree outside their open window once, so she knew, if there was ever a noise, she would have to look around the house on her own.

So when she woke to the sound of running water, she lay still in her bed, listening over the hum  of the ceiling fan, to determine the source.  Her first thought was to wonder if it was Sunday or Thursday, her automatic sprinkler days.

” No. No, that’s not it because it’s Saturday… Unless my timer has screwed up.

“That sounds like the water faucet just outside our bedroom window.”

Without thinking, she reached out and touched the spot next to her where her cat always slept. He wasn’t there. She rolled around to look toward the bedroom window where she saw him sitting on the edge of the sill, staring at something outside. His head was slowly moving back and forth, following motion outside the window.

Maris got out of bed and tip – toed to the window, hoping to peek out the sliver of a gap in the curtain made by her cat’s body.  No luck. She leaned forward so her head was at the same level as her cat’s. Still no luck in having the right angle needed to see what was going on.

The water shut off. She froze.

“Did he see me? Why do I think he is a he? It could be a woman. Would that make a difference? Why am I thinking all this right now?”

Maris walked to the den, which also had a view of the backyard. She peeked around the corner, but saw no person and nothing unusual. The house was quiet again. She thought about doing something else to see what was going on, but, for some odd reason, decided not to. So she went back to sleep.

The next morning she looked to see if the backyard faucet hose was off its holder or looked disturbed.  It was slightly jumbled, “but it always is,” she thought.

It happened again three nights later.

The sound of running water. Her cat in the window watching something. This time though, Maris decided she would pull the curtain back far enough to see who was out there. Again, she thought about waking her husband but knew he would simply say, “What do you want me to do?”

“What if, like a horror movie, his face is right outside the window and he’s waiting for me? I have to know what’s going on.” That was Maris’ approach to life, always curious, fearless in that curiosity.

She peeked through the curtain to see a bearded man, bare-chested, scrubbing his shirt under the running water.  He was very thin, gaunt. Maybe only 150 pounds on his 6’4″ body. His collar bones jutted out like sticks.

His boots and socks were sitting off to the side.  The socks appeared to be laid out to dry. The heels of the boots were worn almost flat. His tan workman’s pants were cinched tight with a brown belt blackened by use. A small backpack was sitting nearby on the grass.

He laid his shirt out on the hedges then turned to the faucet and started washing his face, neck, chest, underarms… He was meticulous in how he cleaned each part of his body. He cleaned his fingernails by running one nail under the other until all were clean. Or, at least, Maris assumed they were clean.

The moon was full and bright.  The natural light and the fact that he was only about four feet from her window made it easy for her to see that his skin was tanned mahogany, his hair was touching his shoulders and parted in the middle, his beard was full and hung mid-length at his neck, he stood very straight and appeared “refined, cultured, dignified… how to describe it?” wondered Maris.

He turned off the water and sat on the grass beside his drying clothes. Knees tucked under his chin.  He closed his eyes and seemed to fall asleep immediately.

She stepped away from the curtain.

“Who does he think he is coming into my backyard?” Maris tried to be angry and offended, but wasn’t.  “I need to lock the gates.”

“But why?” said another voice. “What has he done, but use a little water to clean himself?”

Her cat stepped away from the curtain and looked up at Maris as if to say, “Let’s go back to sleep.”  Bootsey jumped on the bed and started cleaning himself.  Maris peeked out the window. The man and all his belongings were gone. Disappeared.  It was just moments before that he looked like he was sleeping and now he was gone. “Is he a ghost? Or an angel? Or a test?”

Maris had a theory that anytime she encountered something that needed care it was a test by God to see what kind of person she was.  How did she respond when something, or someone, in front of her needed help.  It could be as simple as picking up trash to nodding “hello” to  homeless people, or giving them food.

“Food. I bet he’s hungry.  He certainly looks hungry. But is he coming back?”

Four days later, again before Saturday morning sunrise, Maris woke to the sound of running water and her cat sitting in the window sill, watching. Maris didn’t bother getting out of bed. She knew what she was going to do.

On Monday night, after her husband had fallen asleep, Maris filled a water bottle and put fresh bread and bananas in a zip lock bag.  She sat these items in a basket next to the water faucet outside her window.

On cue, before dawn Tuesday, she woke to hear the running water, saw Bootsey in the window watching, but decided to return to her sleep rather than getting up.  “Let him have his privacy.”

In the morning she checked the basket outside.  The food and water bottle were gone. The basket remained.

Maris sat food and drink out every Monday and Friday night for the next six weeks.  And every Tuesday and Saturday morning before dawn, she heard the water running outside. She added Ensure (“That’ll give him more nutrition”) and sandwiches to the basket.  She only used soft food because she assumed his teeth were bad and he wouldn’t be able to chew well.

When the first cool breeze of the fall came, Maris added a sock cap, scarf and socks to the basket.  She didn’t look out the window anymore when she heard the water.  She’d just look at Bootsey watching the Stranger and then return to her sleep.

Then it stopped.

One Saturday morning she woke on cue, but heard no running water.  Bootsey was asleep beside her. She couldn’t go back to sleep and just laid in bed until sunrise. While her husband still slept, Maris went into the backyard.

The food and drink were gone. In the basket was a note that said, “Thanks.”

Maris smiled. She knew he was gone. She’d passed the test.

New York City Hotel “Find” -Club Quarters Midtown

Just three blocks from the neon chaos of Times Square, this quaint, elegant, neatly appointed, Euro-style boutique hotel located on the prestigious address of 45th between 5th Avenue and the Avenue of the Americas.

It’s a delightful and very reasonably priced “find” in the heart of Manhattan and I wonder how I’ve missed it before.

Fewer than 200 rooms scattered over six floors, its tiny elevator and small hallways could cause concern that the rooms are cramped.  They aren’t.  The rooms are comfortably sized with small, but functional bathrooms.  The decor is relaxed modern.

The lobby is inviting and has a spacious bar with conversation-encouraging seating.  The restaurant, “Restaurant Patrick,” is owned and operated by award-winning chef, Patrick Wilson.  His wife joins him on the weekends from their home in Connecticut. The “American Cuisine with International Flair”  menu is limited, but delicious.

The staff is still refining their front desk processes, but any flinch in service is easily overlooked by their pleasant personalities.

The name, Club Quarters Midtown-Times Square, sounds more stiff  and business-like than its warm, cozy reality.

Survived First Cruise

I’m a liar.

I have always said I would “never take a cruise.” Then I did.

I blame my lifelong best friend who happens to also be one on the top sales people in her profession. There’s a reason for that; she can convince you to do something you really don’t want to do. Like a cruise.

I joke I’m just thankful my friend doesn’t try to have me do something illegal, illicit or immoral. I’m not weak, she’s just that good.

Taking a cruise ship that spews waste into the ocean and is eleven stories of gluttony is pretty bad. I’m convinced if you made every one lose weight to reach a normal weight you could fill a second ship with the leftovers.  Do you really need a discount pass so you can have fifteen alcoholic drinks a day? Or the pass that allows you to pump your kids with unlimited sodas? Yikes!

So how did I enjoy myself?

I decided I was going to enjoy the trip.  Once I said, “Yes, I’ll go,” I decided I was just going to “go with the flow” (within some parameters).

I went with my best friend and we traveled with four other women she knew from work. We had three sets of close friends, but enjoyed each other enough to easily rotate various combinations of who was doing what with whom.

We didn’t always  stick together.

We participated in a few activities on the ship, but selected carefully.

We took naps.

We had our own private balcony for quiet escape.

We found the “quiet deck” on the ship to be near others reading and napping but not interacting with them.  Isolation in community.

Our one excursion was to a private island where we did nothing but watch the waves.

I was mesmerized by the ocean and saddened to know it needs more care. Aware I wasn’t helping by being on a ship.

Would I cruise again? No.

I would, however, like to sail on a boat large enough to be out to sea for a few days. Hear nothing but the waves.  No night lights except the stars and moon. Silence.

Next time.

 

 

That Moon Still Catches Me

Yes, all of us on earth “look up and wonder at the same moon,” but it still thrills me to know that we do.

I stare at that shine in the night and imagine people in different parts of the world and wonder what they are thinking right now as they, too, look at the moon. And what did those on the other side of the night where its now morning think when they saw the craters that look like a face.  Or does everyone think it looks like a face? A man? What are the traditions around the world?

People living in places that  may be very different from my home…a city, a field, a jungle, a mountain, war ravaged terrain, lush garden… I imagine they have that same feeling inside. The one that catches us off guard and reminds us we’re just one here together on this planet.  We really do all look up and “wonder at the same moon.”

And I believe in that surprising moment we share a longing to connect together.

Sometimes that’s when I ask the moon beams to thread us together.  Remind. Just one. Together. All here. Same planet. People. Sharing feelings.Love.

i CAN do SOMEthing

I recall a grade school game where we would emphasis various words in the same sentence by shouting the word to give a different emphasis to the message. “YOU are going to take out the trash.” “You are GOING to take out the trash.” “You are going to take out the TRASH.”

I was thinking about this play on words after listening to the news headlines about global warming and another report confirming that it’s not “on it’s way…it’s here.” That ‘s why the weather patterns are so extreme.  (duh) Heat, floods, and even avalanches and earthquakes all seem to be Mother Earth trying to purge herself of..us?!

Always the optimist, I wondered if we couldn’t just all adopt the practice of believing, “I Can Do Something.”

Then I started playing with the emphasis of the words…

I can do something.  Yes, me.  I don’t have to wait on anyone else.  I can walk not ride.  I can not use, but instead reuse and recycle. I can do little things every day that add up to taking care of MYSELF by taking care of the air I breathe, the water I drink, the land I live on. I really have so much power over my life, but most people spend endless amounts of time and energy waiting on and blaming others for just about anything and everything.  “I” really determine my life.

i CAN do something.  CAN means it is possible.  There is always something that CAN be done right now to improve the environment around you.  CAN gives us hope.  I hear the despair in friends, newscasters and world “leaders.”  Have we really given up? CAN makes us think about options.  It opens our minds to wondering what else CAN I do today that helps…drink from a mug at the coffee shop, not a paper cup.

i can DO something.  For thirty years, NIKE has told us to “Just Do It.” I agree.  Quit the paralysis analysis. A very trite phrase, but true, yes?  DO something, anything productive right now.  Act, stop thinking.  DO, don’t wait on “proof.”  Your gut tells you that using plastic bottles and plastic bags can’t be good.  So don’t use them, starting now.

i can do SOMETHING. Just pick one thing, right now.  Several easy solutions have been mentioned already in this essay: walk don’t ride; no plastic; canvas bags reused, no plastic or paper bags. Imagine if you only did these things every day starting today.  Walking will improve your personal health and the environment.  No plastic reduces the need for petroleum production (plastic is an oil based product) plus animals will be safer from choking of plastic trash, and earth will just be cleaner.

It’s not complicated.  Don’t make this a big deal that overwhelms you.  You don’t have to save the whole world at once.  Just save your part of the world today.  Believe …

I Can Do Something.”

Marie Antoinette “Leaned In” and Look What Happened to Her!

I’m skeptical about the book, Lean In, by Facebook executive Sheryl Sandberg and its affiliated women’s power movement. Let me explain.

I completely support the concept that girls and women should “lean in” and actively participate in “the conversation.” To be actively engaged in your life and not a passive bystander while others make decisions. To realize your full potential as a person…being as smart as you can be, exploring, developing ideas and initiating action, and so on. I believe in equal rights for all people, I just don’t think the world (not even the supposedly more “progressive” US) allows for fair and equal treatment and opportunities for women.  In fact, my direct experience is that if you are female and “lean in” you’ll have your head chopped off.  In some countries, literally.

In America, only 23 of the Fortune 500 companies have a female CEO; women only make 77 cents for the same job as a man who makes a dollar; and women have always held significantly fewer seats in Congress, and that number is declining.

When the economic crisis of 2008 was in affect, there was not a week when an experienced professional working woman didn’t contact me to say she had been “downsized out” of her company.  I didn’t know one man with similar circumstances.  When a man lost his job it was when the entire company went under.

While I have been fortunate to be a high ranking executive in my current and previous institutions, in both cases I am “training” my (male) boss. In both jobs, the man was placed in his position with the CEO knowing he was not skilled or prepared. I accepted my current job knowing this and taking the chance that my boss was going to become the next CEO and I’d move up into his slot.  (That didn’t happen) In my previous job, however, the CEO actually asked me to train a male “peer” who was later promoted to a level higher than me.

It’s not just me.  I know women all over the world who regardless of profession or age are “moved over or moved out” when they become more visible and more successful in their organizations. A good friend of mine from London, was the international director for an organization based in the US when the CEO began an obvious campaign to “improve the international presence.” She was allowed to save face and resign.  Rather than replace this very successful executive with an internationally experienced professional, the American CEO hired another American, a male with an “exotic sounding” name.

While I continue to hope that all people can have fair and equal treatment based on skills, experience and personal characteristics, I don’t see it happening.

 

This Day, A Collision of Joy

This day, a collision of joy
This day of birthdays and religious contemplation
This day of sunshine and happy smiles
This day I was touched when my teenage son came to take an afternoon nap in the sun with the cats and me as we slept curled up on blankets on the floor
This day I rode my bike which always feels like freedom to me, memories of my childhood when two wheels let me go farther away from my home on a safe explore and return before dark
This day I said several prayers several times for the sherpas on Everest, the teenagers submerged on the ferry and the passengers on the still missing Malaysian plane
This day I live knowing little things can change the world and we can all do them: no plastic bottles, no plastic bags, walk, eat less meat, be kind to all living beings…and all is living
This day I remember joy is a choice

Walking Flatlands To Prep For Mountains

I’m a very healthy and athletic person, but have a “desk job” with a long commute by car so there’s only so much I can do each day to walk.  I walk at lunch and now am adding an evening walk of one to two hours.  All of this is on flatland.  Actually, flat concrete sidewalks.  Not anything near what I’ll experience hiking 6-8 hours a day up and down 4,000+ km.

I bought hiking shoes this week with proper soft wool socks.  They help my feet and legs feel less stiff and tired. The thirty minutes of yoga after each walk is when I feel the real relief from mild aches.  How will I practice the intensity of what I’ll experience four days and three nights on the trail between Cusco and Machu Picchu though?

My husband suggested we go to Colorado this summer and spend several days hiking up and down various mountains. Good idea, but I wonder if that’ll be enough prep?  I think I just have to assume yes and prep my mind for success as much as my body.

Can’t We Just Walk?

Since I don’t speak Spanish or the local Peruvian language, and I don’t really camp, I knew I would need a travel company of some kind to assist me in my desire to reach Machu Picchu on foot. So far though my searches with Backroads, REI, and Intrepid have yielded results that all involve sleeping in hotels. Every night.

This probably is a more realistic option for my urban living, but the dream of this trip is to be outdoors.  Sit by a campfire, stare at the millions of stars, listen to the night noises… Surprisingly, my even more city-living husband agrees.  He wants to walk from site to site, progressing from Cusco to Machu Picchu, not take day hikes from each night’s hotel.

Stunning. My husband doesn’t like yard work or the beach and now he wants to walk and camp for a week in Peru.  I’m beginning to think this trip is more than just a hike in the mountains.