Trees, Hikes, Strangers, Music, and Political Action

 In one weekend last week I fulfilled five repetitions of the 75 items on my list.

      1. Take 75 hikes (Phil Straffin, Marion Haddon). The Cameron Meadows trail, in the Siskiyou Mountains of Southern Oregon, was a great way to add one more hike to the 75 I intend to do this year. (See  dianacoogle.blogspot.com for a description of this hike.) So far I've done 29 hikes since July 20.

      2. Hug 75 trees (Laura Martin). Not only was the trail spectacularly beautiful in its autumn finery, but it provided me with some great trees to hug – salmon-leafed dogwoods, yellow-splashed maples, and some huge old-growth cedars, firs, and pines. That I couldn't get my arms around the cedar didn't make the hug any less sincere than the one I gave the dogwood I could wrap arms and legs around.

I love incense cedars.

      3. Do 75 political actions (Mariposa Kerchival and Verne Underwood). Earlier in the week I had realized that with the election coming up in about two weeks, I had better step up my political actions now, so after Saturday's hike, I hurried to town to take part in a postcard writing campaign to get out the vote. The emphasis was on getting Jamie McLeod-Skinner elected. I started each post card: "Let's oust Walden!" It would be so exciting if McLeod-Skinner won this race. I, like a lot of people I know, would breathe a sigh of relief to send her to Washington instead of Walden.

      4. Listen to 75 pieces of new music from around the world (Chelsea and Tyler). The next day I went to the Rogue Valley Symphony concert and heard the world premier of Malek Jandali's Concerto for Viola and Orchestra. Jandali is Syrian-American and had incorporated Syrian folk songs in his concerto, so it was certainly "new music from around the world." 

      5. Talk to 75 strangers (Sharon Coogle). During intermission, I turned to the woman sitting next to me, a stranger, and started a conversation. Was she with the two children and woman sitting on the other side of her? I was interested because the children were there on the voucher program the Friends of the Symphony have provided to bring young people to these concerts, and I wondered if the children were musicians. Yes, the woman was with them but not related, just a friend, and then she talked and talked and talked about herself, all about her HUD housing and moving here from Ashland and a long story about doing research on some little known event in World War I or the Revolutionary War or something I couldn't keep up with and wanting to go to Washington D.C. to look things up, something about her ancestors; I stopped trying to follow the story. I listened politely, but I was glad when intermission was finally over and she had to stop talking. It was not a good experience. It reminded me of why I don't talk to strangers.

      I had rather hug trees.

Doing "75 Things" in Georgia and Alabama

      Last week I made a trip to Georgia for a wedding in Alabama. Before the wedding my family and I walked through the Birmingham Botanical Gardens, where I had the great pleasure of hugging some trees.

Swamp magnolia

Toshino cherry

Common banana

      Usually, on an airplane, I sit in my seat and keep to myself, but on this trip I was determined to take advantage of the opportunity to talk to strangers. (I think I can;  I think I can.) My seat mate on the first plane looked Indian or mid-Eastern, so I was excited about asking him how to say "hello" "good-bye," and "what is your name?" in his native language, too, so I could check off two boxes in the 75s columns: "talk to 75 strangers" and "learn hello, good-bye, and what is your name? in 75 languages," but he seemed too involved in his computer work to interrupt, so I shrank into my usual shell and didn't bother him. On the return, however, I sat next to an interesting young woman with whom I had a nice conversation. It was easy.

       I took a hike on the Appalachian Trail with my brother and two sisters, too, while I was in Georgia. (I have now done 27 hikes and will do another today, so I'm doing well with this item.) It was a steep trail but a beautiful day, and we met a lot of people also hiking – families,  couples, day-hikers, backpackers. My sister, in front of me, chatted easily for a moment with each hiker. Behind her, I smiled, said, "Hi," and passed on by until I pointed out to her that I was the one who needed to talk to strangers. After that, she said, "Hi," and passed on by, letting me be the one to say, "Where did you camp last night? How long have you been out? How did you fare in the rain?" 

      It's my general modus operandi to smile, say, "Hi," and pass on by, but I'm learning that it's not difficult, in such a situation, to talk to a stranger and that it's pleasant and friendly and makes everyone feel good.

       I drank some new wine with my siblings, had three swims in Lake Lanier (where the four of us spent a couple of days at Laura's lake house), and gave a ton of compliments – Laura on how well she played Beethoven's piano sonata, Sharee on her new svelte figure, Lee on beautiful photographs from his raft trip in the Grand Canyon.

      When I returned home, I got a 75-minute massage. 

      I have now completed 23 of the 75 things to do in my 75th year.

Volunteering 75 minutes somewhere new

      Last week I fulfilled one of the suggestions I like most for my 75x75 project: to volunteer somewhere new for 75 minutes. (Dave Dobbs and Jen Thoennes both suggested this item.) I thought a lot about where I would like to put that time: a food kitchen, answering phones for the Jefferson Public Radio on-air fundraiser, trail maintenance for the Applegate Trails Association…. And then, last August, partly in response to my book, At the Far End of Life: My Parents' Aging – and Then My Own, I was invited to tour Medford's new hospice facility, the Holmes Park House. 

(I wrote about the Holmes Park House at dianacoogle.blogspot.com on August 10.) I was so impressed with the beautiful facility and the compassionate and friendly staff – and I feel so strongly about easing the process of dying – that I decided, by suggestion of Sue Carroll, the volunteer coordinator, to be a volunteer reader at the Holmes Park House. Sue said I could read to the residents in their rooms or do readings for residents and their families as well as staff and volunteers in the living room or library.

The beautiful library at the Holmes Park House

      Last week I did my first reading at the Holmes Park House, in the living room, to six staff members and volunteers. Although the hospice is a place where people come to die, so that death is a frequent occurrence, having eight deaths in the week preceding my visit had left the personnel reeling. That sudden emptiness, from ten residents to two (now three; another has moved in), leant a poignancy to the essays I was reading and determined, to an extent, which ones I chose. 

      I read from two of my books, Wisdom of the Heart, a "metaphysical journey through life," and Living with All My Senses, my book about living close to nature in the house I built deep in the Siskiyou Mountains. I didn't have a program but chose essays spontaneously, led by the conversation. When Sue told me about the tradition, at the Holmes Park House, of putting a rose in a vase on the vestibule table to honor the passing of one of their residents (the vase was full of roses that day), I read "The Peace Rose, the Still Mountain, and the Heart of the House" from Wisdom of the Heart. The essay about touch in that same book led to a discussion about the importance of touch to people who are dying: other senses diminish, so touch becomes a great communicator (something I should keep in mind for readings to residents). That discussion led to an essay from Living with All My Senses about synesthesia, which ends with an image of a flight of geese with an albino goose in its midst: "Keeping up wingbeat for wingbeat in the rhythmic pulse of flight, it was like a negative of its neighbors, like a placeholder. It must be like that to have a beloved companion die: an emptiness in the shape of that person where that person had once always been."

      One of the best things about my 75x75 project is the effects of doing the various items. I learn something new every time I do one, or doing one leads to something bigger and longer lasting than doing it just that one time. That 75-minute reading at the Holmes Park House has encouraged me to put in more volunteer hours there. Next time, I look forward to reading to the residents, hoping to bring some pleasure to the individuals who are experiencing those last days of life.