Sunday Scribbings: Sports

Sunday Scribblings asks us to consider sports.

Ugh, sports! My connection with sports has always been as a spectator: enjoying a sunny day at the ball field. Candlestick Park, to be precise. Go Giants! With maybe a few trips across the bay - it was warmer there.

Now I have children. And I don't want them to grow up to be incapable of participating in any sports, as I am. I would like them to be able to engage in "picnic" sports, at least - volleyball, softball, shooting hoops. Swimming? That too. I don't think of swimming as a sport, more of a necessity - something they must learn and be at least competent at. Unlike their mother.

But, other than a few preschool classes and summer sports daycamps, we didn't really do too much with sports. In his 2nd grade (I think) year, the boy did Little League and didn't like it too much. I didn't like the schedule, or, um, the coach.

We took a break and last year he asked to do it again. Most of the guys in his Cub Scout troop were in, so he was a little more interested. Never a very coordinated kid, he... stunk. (He would agree with me on that.) He earned the nickname "Statue" because he would not, could not swing the bat. But, he maintained a good attitude and when the season was over surprised me by saying he couldn't wait for next year.

Next year is here. We signed up last week. He's been working on improving his coordination and flexibility since last fall so we're pretty sure he'll be better this year. Well, hopeful, anyway.

Also last year my girl decided to stop thinking about ballet and signed up for soccer. She had maybe kicked a soccer ball around a few times in her life and was, I think, the only first-year girl on the team. But these were nice girls, and they were kind to her and helped her out. When she made her first (maybe only?) goal of the season, she just glowed and floated above the field for the rest of the game. Her teammates were also excited for her. She was, unofficially of course, the most improved player on her team. She can't wait for the fall season to start.

And, inspired by her success, the boy is going to try soccer this year too. I am not sure how I'll like having two kids in sports at once, and the schedule juggling that may entail. (We are a two-parent, but one-car family.) It had been nice having one kid in one sport at a time. And I guess having 2 kids in soccer means I'll have to work two shifts in the snack bar. Hmm... think I should try to talk them out of it?

Sunday Scribblings: Art

Sunday Scribblings asks: What do you make of art?

Look around. Indoors or out. Anywhere you look, there is art.

A child's hands, a flawless red pepper, sunbeams shining through clouds, your dog bounding across the snow-covered lawn, the delicate fronds of a fern, a perfectly smooth egg, a cardinal at the feeder, a Love-in-a-Mist bloom.

Look at this art, and then tell me there is no Creator.

Sunday Scribblings: Regrets

Regrets is the theme of Sunday Scribblings this week.

I don't think about regrets very often. Why? There is no point to carrying around regrets unless there is something to be done with them. Sure, there are plenty of things I wish I hadn't done: I wish I hadn't made a bad marriage at an early age, I wish I hadn't embarked on some of the other relationships I've had. But, there they are; I can't change any of it. I might regret that I had my children so late in life, but if I hadn't waited for my husband, how would I have had them at all? I might regret things left unsaid to people who have gone, but... they are gone. I might regret lost friendships, but there is usually a reason for that loss.

But when I think of the word "regret" three rather inconsequential things come to mind:

I regret that I didn't go away to college. I went to a local school for 2 years, dropped out, then finally returned as a working adult. I graduated when I was 35, I think, or thereabouts. I loved college and I think I would have loved it more if I'd done it "right." However, I never regret the time I spent finishing, even though it was one of the hardest and loneliest times of my life.

I regret buying a pouffy princess-y wedding gown. I should have picked the elegant tea-length number I saw first. But no. I allowed myself to be talked into the princess gown. 'Cause every bride is a princess, right?

And, I never learned to swim well enough to be comfortable in the water.

So, what can I do with those regrets? That is one of the great things about having children: turning regrets into opportunities for them. I can...

... encourage them to go away to college, if that is their dream.

... teach my daughter how to withstand the wedding gown consultant sales pitch, and raise my son to choose a bride who can and will do this too.

... get them swimming lessons.

They may have their own regrets, but they don't need mine.

Sunday Scribblings: Pilgrimage

Every now and then I come across someone's Sunday Scribblings and think "hm, maybe I should do that sometime." Well, it's Sunday night, and the topic is Pilgrimage, and I have been thinking abut that very thing. Serendipity.

I've spent most of my life 3,000 miles away from my hometown, and last visited there in around 1982. Now I'm living, probably temporarily, only about a 6-hour drive away. So while we're here I'd like to take my kids to see my old home: the house I lived in as a kid, my church, the old cider mill (which is still in business), and some of the surrounding area, including Niagara Falls.

I'd also like to bury my parents' ashes there. They are currently residing in an urn in my possession. My sibs and I have talked off and on over the past 7 years, trying to decide what to do with them. Scatter them in the Pacific Ocean? Bury in a cemetery - but where? No one lives in any city with any connection to our folks anymore. Our Dad's first choice was to be scattered over the city of Reno (he liked to play the slots) from a small plane (he used to fly), but that seemed expensive and impractical, if not possibly illegal. Throughout all the dithering, I've held on to them.

Now, I'm thinking about taking them to my, and their, hometown to be buried there. The sibs can come out, and maybe we'll reconnect with some long-lost cousins too. After a brief ceremony at the cemetery, we can all go to Niagara Falls, just like when we were kids. (My brother would like to send the ashes, urn and all, over the Falls, but I am pretty sure that is illegal not to mention impossible - or impossibly dangerous - to do.)

I figure that the way we manage things like this, it'll take a year to plan, so I'd better get on it now.

I think that would count as a pilgrimage.