Hey, That Just Isn't Right

Sometimes life kicks you in the shins and you want to stand up and raise a fist, yelling, "Hey, that just isn't right!" We stumble through and when it's all over, we are stronger and more resilient, or at least that is the hope. But sometimes the result is more permanent. A life is changed forever, or worse, a life is lost in its prime. It always seems to happen to the nicest people--the neighbor at the end of the block--the one with the barrel full of daffodils every spring, a teacher you remember loving so much, a kid that struggled in school and finally made it in the world . . . Tragedy strikes and they are snatched from our world here on earth forever. And when we finally catch our breaths, all we can say is, "Why?"

Sometimes it happens to someone or people we have never met before, but we relate to them on a human level. We grieve as a nation, as a community, and alone. This morning I read in the newspaper about a British couple I would never meet. They were living the life of their dreams, bicycling around the world and chronicling their journey in a blog called Two on Four Wheels. 

On Monday, they were struck and killed by a pickup truck in Thailand. The driver survived. Peter Root and Mary Thompson, both 34, lost their lives doing what they loved most, exploring the world on bicycles, a journey that had begun in 2011 (from Guernsey, in the Channel Islands). They had traveled through Europe, the Middle East, Central Asia and China, and had plans to visit New Zealand next.

"They were camping wild, as they called it," said Jerry Root, father of Peter Root. "What helps me is to think of how happy they were with each other. They were leading the life they wanted to. It was the happiest, the most fruitful of lives." (Associated Press, 02-19-13)

I truly hope it was, and although they died tragically on a remote road in Thailand, I am almost certain they were in love with that beautiful country. It is sad we will never hear their impressions. Their last blog post had a photo of Cambodia, taken over a week ago. I include a photo from my own files of Thailand in 1995, in their memory.

 (Thailand - author's trip in 1995)

Copyright 2013 © Sharon Himsl 

Pining for Ski Days Past

Snow was abundant for a while here in the Pacific Northwest. To the south of us in Utah, my daughter said they were buried up to their hips a week and a half ago. It's melting now, but part of me misses it. There is something serene and centering about the snow when it falls. I love the feel of snowflakes melting on my face and the crispness of the air. And despite the lure of spring gardening (seed catalogs are already filling my mailbox), I find myself pining for ski days past, wishing for one more time on the slopes.

Postcard from Ragnar in Norway sent to Karl in Tacoma, WA (ca. 1918)

 I wish I had a photo of me in the 60s, flying down the slopes of Snoqualmie Pass in Washington state, with my pig tails flapping in the breeze. Those were the days when ski boots were laced tight around the ankles and ski clothing went on in layers: jeans, double socks and gloves, long underwear, sweaters, turtle necks, hat and parka. I did fork out money for bibs later, becoming more stylish, but in the beginning, paying for a ski pass and gas was all I could afford. A day on the slope in the late 1960s was $5.00. It sounds cheap now, but with wages at only $1.10 an hour (my first job), it isn't a whole lot different from today's cost.

Vince - 1971 (Germany)

I received my first pair of downhill skis in the ninth grade. My parents had never learned how to ski, so transportation to the slopes  meant trips on the KJR ski bus, rides in the back of a neighbor's car, or cramming into a high school friend's VW bug. When I later married, my husband and I also skied.

This was a new sport for Vince and he had his first lesson in Germany, while on military leave. We took a ski train to the highest peak in Germany, the Zugspitze (near Garmisch), and spent one incredible day. The lesson was challenging. Vince's knees were too stiff from a previous injury and wouldn't bend enough for the standard "snow plow" stop. He was a scary sight going full board down the hill trying to stop. 

Zugspitze - highest mountain in Germany



 Sharon - 1971
(Germany)

We continued to ski with our two children, but stopped when the budget grew too tight. We paid for their downhill passes and stayed home. I have regretted that decision, and have been campaigning to resurrect this sport ever since--even cross country skiing. Big hint to "you know who." I MISS it.

I can honestly say that skiing is in my blood. Most of my family in Norway are skiers, which hardly comes as a surprise. Wasn't skiing invented in Norway? I have received more than one photo of the family cross country skiing somewhere. Maybe I can join them someday . . .   

Reidun in Orvos, Norway - 2008

 

 Copyright 2013 © Sharon Himsl

[Postcard from Gravseth family archive]

Sharon M. Himsl

Writer/Author. Blogging since 2011. 
Published with Evernight Teen: 
~~The Shells of Mersing

Focus - Stay the Course

Josiah, Asher and Elisha with Grandma Sharon

I am back from California after spending 2-1/2 weeks with two adorable grandsons, so Mom and Dad could adjust to the birth of son  number three. Looking back when I first took on 'nanny' duty taking care of my daughter's two children for 3 weeks in July (while Mom finished her Master's degree) and my son's boys in Calif. in August for 3 weeks (while Mom was in China), I realized that I had committed over 8 weeks of my time this year to young children. The need was there and I would not change it for the world, but it was more than challenging trying to meet a book goal this fall (i.e., November), added to the fact I also came down with a case of pertussis, more commonly known as whooping cough.

Huh?--you might say. A year ago I would have told you this is a childhood disease, but so many parents are opting not to vaccinate their kids these days (Washington and Idaho being two of the worst offenders; I live on the WA/ID border), adults are suddenly vulnerable to this serious respiratory disease. Doctors now recommend that adults get the Dtap vaccine, because--guess what? More and more adults are coming down with it, especially those who work with children.

Well, I have no idea how I came down with it (fortunately, my grandchildren didn't succumb). It is a serious disease and I wouldn't wish it on anyone. It took weeks to recover, and then on top of it--after feeling better and suddenly getting my energy back, I went bicycling and fell, whereupon I broke an already sore and stretched rib (due to coughing) and added to my recovery (more than 6 weeks!). On top of this, a beloved nephew died suddenly at age 30.

The potential setback in my writing was all there, lining up in perfect order, standing there at the finish line yelling and threatening to stop me in my tracks, but guess what? It didn't happen. My faithful writing coach got me through, encouraging whatever time I could eke out in writing as well as exercise. So, here I am with a completed manuscript (80,000 words) in hand, and except for line edits (2 more weeks to go), it's almost ready for review by the writers' group I belong to. I am now researching agents and publishers. I am so excited, and once again have proven that life events do not have to deter you from your writing (or any goal for that matter).

Focus, it is all about FOCUS. Moreover, I also have greatly enriched my life experience, which continues to be an excellent resource for future character and plot development. I can still hear the pitter-patter of little feet and those precious giggles and untold tears. Will their voices show up in a new book? Who's to say at this point--I don't know. But use what you have been handed, I say, and stay the course, whatever sail you have set. Your writing will soar to new heights--at least that is what appears to be happening to me.

Copyright 2011 © Sharon Himsl

Courage, the Other Side of Fear

It has been 10 years since we bought our sailboat. We were so excited at the time, it's hard to believe we are actually thinking about selling it. Looking back through some files, it's easy to see just how excited we were.

“We have our entire lives to become wise and jaded. Let’s be excited about the newness of it. So what if we don’t know anything. It’s fun to have something new to learn. Later we can be the sages and the experts. Let’s enjoy the ride.”

Those were some of my husband's words on driving down to California to pick up our new Montgomery 15. He was right of course. Not knowing how to sail or what was in store for us was all part of the adventure, and indeed it has been just that - right from the start. 

We had an interesting solo outing on the Snake River that still gives me the giggles. To begin with, it took us well over an hour to attach the rigging in the parking lot (this boat can be rigged in less than an hour, 30 min with experience). That done, we backed 'Duet' down the loading ramp--so far--so good--we thought with pride. The wind was gusting a bit, so we decided we’d pull the sails up after we motored out a bit. But for some reason the engine kept dying, so our confidence level was failing fast by the time we got out to the middle of the river.

Still, we did find the courage to finally hoist the sails. Whomp! Yikes! The wind almost knocked us flat on the port side. Fortunately, our friend who'd given us some sailing lessons in advance, had told us to just deflate the main sail if that ever happened and let the boat right itself. Boing! Duet popped back up like a cork. Of course, by then our nerves were pretty frazzled, but eventually we braved the wind again and before long we thought we looked pretty graceful out there.

After about 3 hours, it was time to dock. GULP—oh boy—were we ever dreading that one. With our motor trouble, we couldn’t begin to imagine what would happen if it died again. Well, of course it did and with the sails down at that point--we started drifting ashore--straight for the rocks!! I jumped out and kept the boat from taking any damage, while my husband cussed the engine. It was then he noticed that the bow line had wrapped around the motor shaft!! Long story short… Never, Never, Never have a bow line longer than the length of your boat.
After this one experience, we had a number of nice camp outs with friends, including one to the San Juan Islands. We may think we're too busy to sail right now, but I do miss the ripple of the water and that whispering wind against the sails. It's slow getting there, yes, but that slow pace is what drew us to sailing to begin with, and there's something else. Sailing takes a certain amount of courage that for me involved overcoming some fears. Learning to guide the rudder in a steady wind was scary, but also empowering, not to mention a lot of fun. At least that's how it turned out for me.

Courage on the other side of fear is also something I'm exploring in the novel I'm writing. I love how life connects with what we write.   


Copyright 2011 © Sharon Himsl