Time Passages

This month is particularly unusual. I have a son graduating college and a daughter graduating high school. I  clearly remember sitting in Washington Square Park in New York, with my son only a couple of months old, looking at all the college guys passing by. I would fantasize about what my son would look  like when he was on his way to a college class.

I also envisioned what my daughter would look like in high school. In part my visions were correct but who my children have become and who they are yet to become in full adulthood still remains a mystery. The journey has been long, the journey has been short. Fast, slow, uphill, downhill. The road of the journey bumpy and smooth. Just like the road of my own journey and the journey I continue to travel.

My children are different from each other, so very different. Each one a unique combination of him and her self and of us their parents. Their potential is still unfolding with much strength yet to be developed and manifested. They are interesting individuals my children. 

Sometimes, I have stopped and asked myself “how did I get here”  surprised that I am where my feet have landed. But in truth, it doesn’t matter. Time keeps moving me forward. Sometimes I travel the road with grace and calm while other times I stomp my feet and step backward. Usually my backward steps are unintentional. But, once I regain my balance I move quickly forward. 

My son told me last month, “Mom, you were a good mom. You did a good job raising us”. I appreciate his statement. I know I wasn’t a perfect mom. I would try to be present and supportive though I know I didn’t always do it in the best way. I am emotional. Most of the time my children would laugh about it. I tried to bring laughter to our lives, sometimes I succeeded better than others. I tried to be sensitive and compassionate with both them and their friends. My son and his friends were far more open to me than my daughter and her friends. I am the type of person who is direct. It can make some uncomforable.

It seems that now my mom job takes on a different form. I look forward to sharing my children’s lives with them in the future and hope that I can still do a good job — even if the job description  changes a bit. My children have kept me going at difficult times and continue to inspire me. I want to be just like them when I grow up.


The World of Techno: Communications and More

I have been writing professionally for a long time. I had resisted writing for the web for longer than I should have but that changed several years ago. The world of writing for the web is different than the print publication. I do like the printed word on a page. I do enjoy holding a book in my hands and turning the pages. I have not yet experienced reading on the Nook but I suppose that the day is drawing near.

So I made the transition to web writing and it was well different. Since those first days several years ago, I have become quite proficient at the skill. But, I still desire a long tablet to work with, the ability to write complex sentences, and perhaps wax poetic. I was to an internet marketing event last week and the gentleman speaking was from a notable marketing firm. He spoke with glee about connecting all levels of  marketing etc., well that made sense, and glowingly about the near future where one’s every like and dislike will have been categorized and stored so that upon awakening in the morning an individual will be  bombarded with specific ads directed toward that individual. I think I must be getting old, because it didn’t excite me in the least. It felt like Big Brother was closer than I would like to think.

Following that experience I went to an Earth Day event where a gentleman was expounding upon the glories of a new form of city. Reinventing civilization he said. Large skyscrapers where one would live, work, shop, educate the children. I asked, “how do you get outside” , “oh”, he replied, “through one of twelve doors.

Not my idea of new world. I will stick with living in one place, walking to work, and frolicking in some open field.