Square dancers, Washington County Fair

  August 29, 2008 – Since we are usually honest with one another here, this was a tough day. It is fashionable to sound philosophical about tough days – they are a gift, etc. – but they are just tough days.  Good days are better. In any life, there are good days and bad days and neither is a surprise to me.
  I got a bunch of e-mails talking about my idyllic life, and I did want to strangle somebody. That’s my problem, though. You can’t fault anybody for liking your life, especially from the outside in. I think it’s those cute photos of animals.
 I am learning to take responsibility for my own life, and I often don’t like it. I get angry, defensive, whiny and evasive when confronted with the reality of my judgments and decisions, and I am learning to get over myself and take responsibility for what I do and have done.
 I call it saying what I mean, and it is difficult to do. I have a lot of decks to clear. Old habits, reflexes, things that once worked, hiding places just keep cropping up and overwhelming me.
  I feel sorrow, even mourning, for the amount of time many of us spend trying to repair the damage inflicted on us, and that we inflict on ourselves. A therapist told me recently that I am not big on wasting time, and boy, is that the truth.  I’m done with getting stuck in misery and fear. It is a waste of time.
   Today, for the first time in months, I decided to put the camera down, let the batteries cool, rest my fevered imagination. I don’t want to get sick of it, and I was sick of me today, thus sick in the soul. I offered my photos to the Washington County Historical Society today, and they accepted them, and I am grateful. I have nearly 14,000 photos now, almost every one of Washington scenes, sunsets, farmscapes, parades, fairs, animals, landscapes and farms.
  I am growing up enough to understand that I will die, and was realizing I ought to make provisions for the donkeys, cows and goats, should anything happen to me. Many of these animals are likely to outlive me, and part of being an adult is knowing where you are. If I don’t make provisions for these creatures, they will be at someone’s mercy, and I am responsible for them.
 I was struggling with the idea of what would become of all these photos, a record of one person’s life in a particular time and place, and some slices of history as well.
  I didn’t really like the idea of them molding on hard drives in a cardboard box. Who would sort them out, see that they are seen?
  Working as a hospice volunteer, I have seen a lot of death, and I have to say it has altered my perspective, given me a new view of life. I can imagine sometimes what I will look like, sitting on a bed, hoping for Izzy to come through the door and shine his light on me for a few minutes. I hope he’s there.
 Tomorrow or the next day might be a good day, and I will brighten up. I look forward to that.