Live Like a Movie Star

Day 254

It’s a parking spot reserved for the stars.  In front.  By the door.

It’s a reward for clean living. 

It’s a spot that makes you feel lucky all day. 

I turn my steering wheel to the right, ready to glide my SUV into the open space.  At the last minute, I change my mind.  The car jerks to the left and I continue driving.

I feel like a lucky, lucky girl most days.  Great husband.  Super kids.  Wonderful life.  Most days I feel I won the lottery. 

I pull into a spot furthest from the front door. Let someone else feel lucky today.  I’m full up.  

Shake Your Senior Thang

Day 253

We arrive early for the Ohio Senior Olympics.  The race walk event is slated to begin at eight am.  Sharp. 

The boys and I spent last night making signs to cheer on Aunt Marty who will be participating in today’s 1500-meter race walk.  She’s got a great sense of humor so we don’t worry that our anthem of “You’re not too old to go for gold!” will offend.  

We’re also working out a small cheer (who says high school cheerleaders have no skills?) to perform when she walks past the stands. 

It goes a little like this:

Shake it!  (Shake to the right.   Shake to the left)

Don’t break it! (Dramatically grab hip.) 

Repeat. 

I know.  Great, right? 

The boys and I hike up the stadium stairs to find a good seat with a view.  Water from last night’s rain beads on the aluminum benches. 

“Wait! Don’t sit!” I tell the boys.  “Let me get towels from the car.” 

A benefit of rarely cleaning my car is I have at my disposal lots of problem solving tools: A stack of fast food napkins?  Kleenex!  A half-eaten box of crackers? Emergency snacks!  Towels from the pool?  Bench dryers!

I return with four slightly damp towels and give the boys each one.  I. dries the seat we plan to sit on then runs to the top of the stands.  F. follows.  They systematically dry each row for fans that may arrive in the next half hour. 

What good sports, I think.   

Cold As Ice

Day 252

I wake in a full-blown panic.  The alarm clock blinks 4:32.  I roll away in hopes of snuggling back into sleep but know it’s no use.  A slideshow from a movie we watched yesterday keeps replaying in my mind.  It’s enough to give one nightmares.   

While visiting the Great Lakes Science Center in Cleveland, we bought tickets for To The Arctic, a 3D IMAX experience that shows the magnificence of the wildlife and habitat of the arctic region.  It’s the magnificent splendor of the glacial waterfalls that’s kept me tossing.  Scientists say they prove the polar ice continues to melt at a significant rate.  To put it simply: The ice is disappearing.  Experts predict that by 2050 the polar ice will no longer exist. 

For those that doubt global warming, go see the movie.  In less than forty years, the absence of polar ice will significantly alter the temperature of our planet.  I don’t claim to know enough about science to understand all the ramifications of this catastrophic event but know enough to know it’s bad.  As my boys would say, “It’s really, really bad.”  

I left the movie panicked.  Hopeless.  “It makes it real when they give a date in our lifetime,” Chaz whispered to me as the credits rolled.  Yeah, I think.  I’m already six shades to Sunday with worry.  I get how real it is.  

Chaz and I will both be in our eighties when the last ice melts but our boys might be parents.   Their kids will be young.  What keeps me up is the state of the world we’ll be leaving them.  They are the ones who will live with our consequences. 

But what can one person do? 

Support elected officials who care about environmental issues.  Be mindful of how you use energy.  Conserve it when you can.  Talking about protecting our environment isn’t a random act of kindness.  It is a deliberate, mindful act of kindness.  Start the conversation.  It’s a first step to action.    

And go see the movie.