The Done List

Yes, I have a list too. I'm constantly adding to the list: Things to do before I die. I'm a huge advocate for putting check marks on my list. I like to dream big, but I like to see things move from I wish into reality. I don't list the impossibles. Going to the moon is not on my list, neither is running for office in a presidential election. I'll never have the satisfaction of checking them off, and that would just depress me.

I'm not posting my Things To Do list. Maybe another time. Maybe not. This is my Things Done List. And there is already a beautiful check mark by each of them.

• Taking a canoe down an African river
• Climbing the Eiffel Tower (3 times)


• Hiking in the Swiss Alps



• Eating snake


• Kissing the Blarney Stone
• Climbing an active volcano
• Observing a surgery in a third world country
• Helping deliver a calf
• Bottle feeding a lamb in the Pyrenees Mountains
• Seeing the original Mona Lisa
• Diving off the side of a schooner into the Carribean
• Seeing the sun set over the Atlantic Ocean
• Snorkeling under the "Pirates be warned" rock
• Sleeping in a jungle
• Listening to a stalactites pipe organ
• Touring the Palace of Versailles
• Skydiving

Contentment On a Moonlit Night

I watched the lunar eclipse tonight. It brought back memories. The first time I ever saw an eclipse of the moon, I was in 4th grade. I was living in Africa that year. It's actually one of my strongest memories. We and about 5 other families set up lounge chairs in the yard and watched the eclipse, the entire thing from start to finish. I remember as a child not daring to look away from the sky for a second for fear I'd miss it.

Africa was a different world. There wasn't a lot to do. We didn't have electricity let alone TV. Even then, I loved to read, but with no libraries, you can only get so much from reading the same books over and over. Creativity had a different meaning back then, and my brother and I were masters at it. Watching the eclipse was one of the biggest events for us that year. There we sat, mesmerized, all facing the same direction. The Africans would walk by, look at us, look the direction we faced. What are you looking at? We pointed to the moon. Monsieur and Madame has never seen the moon? And they walked away shaking their heads.

Sometimes I wonder if I could still be that content. Could I live someplace that hard again and still love it? Could I give up internet and cell phones and paved roads and clearance racks and ice cream and libraries and Starbucks and every other amusement? Could I give it up and have as much joy as i did that night? I don't know.

But tonight I watched the lunar eclipse, and I remembered. And I called up my family, my parents next door, my brother 4 hours north, my sister 3000 miles west. And I told them to look. And I wonder if they remember too.

Turkey Tragedy

It's too funny to be tragic.

I'm sure imagining it is funnier than the actual event. The only thing funnier is wondering what the headlines tomorrow will read.

This morning, kids from all over the valley started pouring into the park across from my grandmother's house. They were preparing for the annual Thanksgiving day race. Joining the festivities was some poor girl convinced to dress up in an outrageous turkey costume. The thing with these big costumes--you can't see anything. So what most people were interpreting as a grouchy turkey was just a blind bird. All the kids were running up trying to high five the Thanksgiving turkey, not too easy for a bird that can't see.

So picture the turkey, standing at the finish line. Everyone's excited. She's jumping up and down, flapping her wings. All of the sudden, the winner crosses the line and, victorious, runs over to hug the turkey. She never saw him coming, and in one foul swoop, he knocks her to the ground. She hits her head on the curb. And the ambulance comes and takes her away, feathers and all.

Now I'm not one to find an injury humorous, but I can't stop thinking about a turkey showing up in the emergency room on thanksgiving day. It doesn't help matters that our town's school mascot is the redskins. "Running Bear takes out turkey on Thanksgiving."