The wonder of it all
My mother died in 2003. My father in 1969.
My memories of both are fading, slowly, but I still remember the important characteristics of the two people who molded me for much of my life.
Mom and Dad were both children of the Great Depression. They had a deep distrust of banks. They believed strongly in hard work. They were strong advocates for helping the downtrodden, of giving a helping hand. They were pragmatic realists. I don’t believe, for a moment, that they had dreams of grandeur. They were hard-working Midwesterners who carved out a small portion of the American Dream for themselves, a very small portion. I think they were visionary enough to realize they were never going to experience financial riches. They expected their lives to continue on as they had, scraping by, getting the bills paid, doing yardwork, going on two-week vacations, staying one step ahead of the creditors, until the day arrived when they could no longer keep pace in this race of life.
The idea of seeing the wonder of it all never occurred to them; at least I never witnessed any sign of it during my time with them. They were not wired that way. There were not random exclamations of joy about what they saw. They did not pull the car over, on Sunday family drives, to smell the roses or soak in the beauty of a scene.
And, yet, I grew up exactly the opposite of those loving people.
The shy introvert sees all
That’s what it always felt like for me, growing up, that I was bombarded by an avalanche of sensory perception, and I was amazed by it all. The butterflies, the stars, the slugs, ants, budding plants, seaweed and shore crabs, rolling on grassy slopes, laying in tall grass, watching clouds float by, filtered by the branches of the willow tree . . . and I wondered about it all, what caused it all, what did it all cause, how intertwined it all seemed, connections upon connections upon connections, meaning everything, even the smallest of things, was important in the tapestry of life.
Stepping on ants, as young children do, wasn’t something I was willing to do. To my young mind, the ant, the bumblebee, the Monarch butterfly, they all had a home on this planet, they all had purpose. Mind you, I could not express those thoughts as a pre-teen, but I knew, I just knew, that to harm any of the other creatures, no matter how small, was to harm myself and those around me.
Yes, I am an environmentalist.
And then life took me on a detour
It’s funny how that happens, yes? Once you enter the work-for-life portal, once you choose financial debt behind Door #2 in this game show of life, well, it is a path which is difficult to leave. Spending begets debt, and debt begets working longer hours, which in turn means more spending . . . and then a family is formed, and a whole new universe of responsibilities are piled on, and, well, I’m sure some of you understand. I was much too busy to see the wonder in practically anything. I had priorities, and none of them were related to the wonders of life.
Mind you, I have no regrets. It was all necessary. It all taught me valuable lessons. And it all brought me forward, at times kicking and screaming, to this moment in time, my seventh decade, and the decision to say “to hell with it all,” shuck the rat race of responsibilities, and once again dedicate my life to improving the quality of life by getting back into contact with that shy, introverted kid.
And “As We Wonder” was born, with an eye towards the future, near and far, with my equally-excited wife, as we seek out, soak up, and thoroughly immerse ourselves in this wonderful thing called life.
And, we are so happy you have joined us! Thank you for being a part of our journey. You can find our website at www.aswewonder.com, and we hope you will leave comments there, and on YouTube, so we can form a more meaningful friendship with you.
I think it cleaned up quite nicely.
Thank you, Bill. I’m pleased you liked it. Apologies for the formatting. I wrote it out first on Notepad, copied it but forgot to clean it up before I posted.
Zulma, that was absolutely beautiful. I was smiling broadly as I read your comment. Yes, very much like that. I think I’m making up for lost time. The bucket list is not shortening, and I’m not reversing the aging process . . . so let’s see what kind of trouble we can get into in the time remaining. 🙂 I hope you are well. Drop me a line and let me know what you are up to.
As read this, I got a mental image of you reconnecting with your inner child.
He sits under a willow tree, scribbling his thoughts and observations in a small notebook while small dog naps by his side. For many years, they wait patiently under the tree.
One day the boy squints into the distance and sees his older self, bearing the scars of battles won and lost
approaching. The dog begins yipping excitedly as you come near. The young boy smiles as you stand before him.’I knew you would come back. Shall we go and rediscover life?’
You return the boy’s smile as you take his hand. ‘Yes. Let’s pick up where we left off.’ As you amble along a path
less travelled, the dog trots along beside you, stopping every now and then to investigate an interesting scent.
I hope the two of you have wonderful adventures together.
Have a glorious day, Bill (and Little Bill)
I just knew you would understand, Ann. Yes, through the eyes of a little child. If you are ever looking for wonder, look no further than a five-year old. Everything is filled with wonder for a five-year old. The world is a magical place at that age.
Hugs for sure, my friend. One of the great regrets of my life is that I won’t meet you and others like you in this lifetime. It’s wonderful that we became friends, but oh how lovely it would be to sit down over a cuppa and enjoy each other in person.
I think I’m going to have a banner put on our vehicle, and the banner will say “Meeting American one handshake at a time,” or something like that. I am so looking forward to spreading my wings.
Thank you, my friend!
What a lovely comment, Liz. Thank you so much. I’m so happy you enjoy my ramblings, and I must say, you are wonderful company on our journey. 🙂
You right with great clarity, Bill. Through your words you take all your readers on the journey with you. It’s great that you have the opportunity and the courage to set off on this adventure. Even better that through your writing you are taking us along for the ride too.
Isn’t it always the way? As youngsters, we have no fear (most of us), we can play every day (most of us) and we have parents who teach us what’s right and wrong (most of us). Then reality kicks in and we realise that we actually have to work for that stuff – which actually does us good because we no longer take it for granted.
I was always in awe of the world around me and still am. Maybe it was because my Mum was a gardener, a seamstress, amongst other things, and therefore a creator of beautiful things. My Dad was a photographer (when he wasn’t working hard as an optician) and therefore looked closely at the world around him, capturing moments of something beautiful, a mood, a bird or an architectural masterpiece, sometimes a brooding industrial scene, whilst he also took care of his patients. So between them, something must have rubbed off. And we laughed. Home was idyllic, though without riches, so I was taught the value of money, was grateful for small presents and was wrapped in a sense of humour.
Now I’m seeing the world through the eyes of my grandchildren, and I have more time to enjoy it with them, so I too am enjoying the wonder of life the second time around. It’s amazing! It’s a joy! And, like you and Bev, I intend to enjoy it as much as I can while I can. Just look at a big bumble bee and marvel at the wonder of it! Or a daffodil! Or the wonder in the sparkling eyes of a child..
More power to your elbows, Bill and Bev! Go for it! I bet, too, that your’e both spreading that wonder to all those you meet along the way, because I know you’re those kind of people.
Love these bits of wisdom you send out from your new site and your new adventures. Look forward to lots more. You told us all on HP to spread our wings and fly – now you’re doing the same yourselves! I hope you soar far and wide…
I would like to give you both a huge hug, so have a virtual reality one or two! ((()))
Ann
What a lovely comment, Sue! My goodness, taken from my own personal reflection page. How did you do that? 🙂
I have no regrets, I guess. I’m not big on regretting, which leads to a sense of loss, or guilt, or other negative emotions . . . but it would be nice to know, then, what I know now, and, as you said, savor those special moments just a bit more. My son sleeping on my chest, weeks old, his entire life ahead of him, all of the possibilities, him totally trusting in my care . . . and me clueless. 🙂
My favorite song is The Pretender by Jackson Browne, for a number of reasons. The lyrics are exquisite, and it speaks so much to me and my looking back, at the times I sold out and accepted the norm rather than setting out on paths unknown. But now I have a chance to rectify that, at least partially, and I will do it. I don’t know how much time I have left, but it’s going to be a blur of activity while I live it.
Blessings and love to you
bill
The tulip is easily my favorite bulb. I love that they never disappoint, you can always count on them, and their colors are so vibrant. It is impossible to be in a bad mood when surrounded by tulips. 🙂 Thanks always, my friend. We would have been great friends as kids.
I used to be that little kid who marveled at just about everything. Then I grew up in a lifestyle you summed up quite well here. Now, as an adult, there is one of a few things that capture my attention the way it did when I was a child. The inside of a tulip mesmerizes me to no end. It is one of the things that keeps me believing in God. The tulip is indescribably perfect. It is hard not to believe a higher being created it; in my case, the Almighty God.
Argh…. yes Bill…. Life gets in the way as we grow and
have to make ends meet.
Our parents of the same era I feel, mine born in the 1930’s worked
hard and made do and mend… As a result I feel we grew up valuing
and respecting hard work and what it took to save and own our own things.
So likewise we worked hard for our own homes providing for our families.
Like you I dislike intentionally killing any insect… Including ants… and was very distraught the other year when we moved our washing machine to see where ants were getting in, and a stone tile came loose and we discovered a whole colony of ants had made their way in from underground….
I’m afraid more than a few ants had to die and I called in the Deva’s of the insect kingdom to tell them to go else where…. And Touch wood! I have not seen an ant in the kitchen since.. 🙂
Wouldn’t it be great Bill and Bev, if people could ENJOY life as we are doing now in our retirement… I often look back and I was very busy being a full time employed working Mum… And those quality times with the children and having more time for them in an evening instead of rushing around preparing meals, washing, ironing and prepping tomorrows menu.. LOL… Yes, we wouldn’t change a thing I guess.
Except I would Saviour those years when the children were small more… Because Time, has flown…. It goes quicker than you realise.
So I am pleased you and Bev are taking time to Wonder, and Ponder upon such details of Life Bill…
For each and every moment is a wonderful Gift…
Much love to you both .💚 Sue x