Ken

 

Ken

We met 59 years ago. I was 19, he 24. It was my second job out of high school, and my first experience working in an office for a large company.

He worked in the engineering department.

The culture there included many single young people just starting their careers.

He was a quiet person, with a dry sense of humor and a sharp wit. I found him a little mysterious. He drove a big, shiny black 1965 Chrysler 300, and somehow that car seemed to add to his mystique.

At the time, he was interested in one of my co-workers, and I had a steady boyfriend.

But I was quite taken with him.

I remember one day he passed by the doorway of my office, saw me, and gave a small wave. I found myself blushing. Someone else noticed and said, “Hmm… I think you have a bit of a crush.”

One day he asked me to lunch. He wanted to show me his new red 1967 Corvette convertible.

My boyfriend was away at school, and his interest wasn’t interested.

We began to spend time together as friends. Lunches, a movie here and there.

Personality-wise, we were very much alike. Quiet, reserved, a little introverted, sharing the same sense of humor. Part of my attraction may have been that he was five years older. He had served four years in the U.S. Navy, and I thought him more “worldly” than I was.

It took a while, but eventually one thing led to another, and we began to officially date.

We shared the same goals—marriage, a home of our own, a family.

By then, the Corvette was gone, replaced by something more practical—a wagon.

Like our personalities, our marriage was steady and quiet. I still found him a bit mysterious, not one to reveal too much.

But I knew he was kind—someone who would do anything for me, for his children, for a friend or neighbor.

Our marriage didn’t last. I think I understand why now.

Our paths were different.

But we remained friendly.

I married Ross a few years after our divorce.

When Ross became ill, my ex-husband—the father of my children—reached out and said he would “do whatever you need.”

And in the two years since Ross has passed, he continued to be supportive and caring.

Yesterday, Ken passed away.

He suffered through the last seven weeks of his life, trying to recover from heart surgery.

I visited him a couple of times in the hospital and in rehab. Seeing him ill and vulnerable brought back so many feelings—of our early years, of the loss of our son, of the life we shared as partners and co-parents.

My heart aches for our children and grandchildren.

And for the young man in the black Chrysler, who once made me blush with a simple wave.

Rest in peace, Ken.

 

Joiner 

As mentioned in my previous post I live in an age restricted community.

There are many activities offered, from needle arts to pickleball. 

I’ve been living in the community for about two years.

Every once in a while, I scroll through the list of clubs I might be interested in.  

One time I did attend the weekly session of the knitting/crochet group.  I had met the leader of the group when I first moved in.

When I walked into the room that day, there was a group of about 25 women sitting around an L-shaped formation of two tables. They each had a project they were working on sitting in their lap. They were all chatting with each other as old friends who get together on a regular basis will do. 

I’m not sure how much knitting or crocheting was going on, though. 

The only person I recognized was the leader, the woman I had met before. She invited me to sit next to her.

 She and I chatted throughout the two hours.  Well, I should say she filled me in on the current gossip of the community. 

Now mind you, I’m not opposed to a juicy bit here and there, but it was a little uncomfortable when in hushed tones, she started to complain about certain other members of the group.

She told me that she originated the group about five years ago and decided that it would be nice to have refreshments at the meetings.  She proposed the idea and everyone was agreeable. 

The group decided that a nominal fee of $3.00 a month per member would be enough to cover snacks and such. In addition, at the end of each month there would be a themed fare.  Such as “Hello Spring” or “Happy Holiday”.

All sounded okay to me.

But, the leader, as most often happens, has been, in her words with a scoff, “stuck with getting the refreshments, setting up and cleaning up.  She also has to be the one to come up with ideas for the themed meetings. 

She subtly pointed out the members who rarely help and those who often forget to chip in the dues. 

I don’t know... there was something about the interaction, well mostly her monologue, that was off-putting. Was she looking for an assistant? Or maybe, for me, it was the thought of having to commit to something on a regular basis.  

That was the first and last time I attended the knitting group. 

It’s been my experience with groups that there are some who take the job of leader a little too seriously.

Perhaps one day I will find something suitable and the right fit for me. 

But for now, I guess I’m not much of a joiner. I’m okay with that.

Ideas

Gratefully, I've been able to easily come up with ideas so far for the A-to-Z challenge.  

Now that I am in writing mode, I'm thinking about the next letter as soon as I finish writing the last one.

My favorite writing/thinking spot is by the window in my den/spare-room/art-studio. 

It gets the late afternoon sun streaming through. 

I can sometimes sit for hours in my wicker glider chair, rocking back forth, staring out the window, while mulling over the next idea. 

My view from this window is of the gate entrances and exits to our community.  This particular gate can only be opened by vehicles that have a bar code sticker on their window.   This rule is clearly marked with large signs at the entrance and exit. 

It's quite entertaining to watch non-stickered cars coming or going.  Inevitably, the person will sit at the gate, waiting several seconds for it to open. 

 Depending on the time of day, traffic can back up with residents behind the non-stickered car waiting for the person to realize, "the gate is not going to open"! Then all the cars have to back up so the non-stickered car can turn around. 

Sometimes a non-stickered car can speed up behind a resident and sneak through.

Because I live right next to this particular gate, if you enter my address in a GPS app, the app will direct you to this gate.   One time I ordered groceries to be delivered to my home. The delivery person followed the GPS directions and wound up at that gate.  Instead of reading the sign, which would have directed her to the main visitor gate, she just left.  She sent me a text and said she couldn't enter the community, so she was taking the groceries back to the store!

Since that happened, whenever I order groceries, I add a note directing the driver to the main visitor entrance.  

Beyond the gate on the other side of the road is a stream.  Well it's a body of water, perhaps a detention basin.  But it does attract water birds.  My favorite is a white Heron.
 Perhaps an idea for another post. 

Sometimes good ideas come from watching the world right outside your window.