March 18, 2004
Tenacious and infinitely patient with my students, I sometimes wonder that I lose all patience with lines in Wal-mart or traffic jams in Atlanta and businesses that send out mailings with errors in them. I hear clocks ticking in my brain, ticking away the seconds of my life to lines. I see Gabriel with his horn at his lips. I want to push a button and have my vehicle rise above it all, to fly off on its own power above all that ties me to the world of lines and traffic jams.
Mary Ann Ellis
Where I stand—then and now
Sometimes I pretend to be elsewhere. My mind carries me to a cool mountain stream where I can bare my feet and meander the rocky bed as long as I wish. I feel the cool waters soothe the ills of my heart as I touch the smooth cold surface of the rocks. Yet I worry that time will escape me. How can I do something so mundane? I should be reading, writing, dusting, mopping, grading essays. Then I cry at the state I’ve reached. I have come so far that leisure seems a waste of time to me. Something is wrong in my psyche. I cry hot salty tears for me, for the child I used to be, and I let them course from the corners of my eyes and run down into the corners of my mouth.
I understand that nothing gold can stay. Everyday brings change. I say that today I will do better with my life. I’ll say no when someone calls and asks me to chair a committee. I’ll go home a bit earlier from school. I’ll work in my roses and I’ll stroke Polly’s soft white fur as she meows full power. I dream of the day when I’ll be able to relax without guilt. Will it ever come? I try to plan time for pleasure in every day—a few pages of my book, a visit with my grandchildren if only by phone, a conversation with my traveling family. I need to reverse the intensive training I’ve given myself and learn to relax.
March 29, 2015
After church today, I stopped by Wal-mart for a couple of items I forgot yesterday. I intended to grab 3 items and hurry back to the car. After all, lunch was only half cooked. I’d set my oven to come on at 10:30 and cook the ham while I sat in church. Oh, the luxury of modern appliances. Inside the store, I ran into a former student and stood talking for a while. It was good to see Jerry after all these years. Then I roamed about the store, adding detergent and toilet paper to the cart when I’d come for mayonnaise and milk. The sky would not fall from the heavens if lunch were late, hence no reason to hurry my life away. Once at home, I cooked macaroni and cheese, corn and the last of the home-grown Brussels sprouts. We finally ate about 1:30. Then I indulged in a long, lovely nap on my couch, throwing to the wind any lingering cares.
After spending a half hour with my book, I dressed and went back to church for the evening service, knowing full well that I’d return to that book at bedtime. I sat in church cherishing the music and savoring the whole service, thankful that I’d come. On the way home, I even stopped for a quick visit with a young friend.
As I started pondering a topic for this week’s column, I came across the journal entry from 2004. After perusing it several times, I discovered that I had worried for naught. Four years into retirement, I have no trouble relaxing. I frequently say no when I’m asked to chair committees or even serve on them, but I also say yes on occasion. Woe be unto anyone who interferes with my Bridge days and I have on occasion read all day long in my recliner if the book were really good. I’ve learned very well my lessons on relaxing. Actually, I’m an A+ student in that area.
I understand that nothing gold can stay. Everyday brings change. I say that today I will do better with my life. I’ll say no when someone calls and asks me to chair a committee. I’ll go home a bit earlier from school. I’ll work in my roses and I’ll stroke Polly’s soft white fur as she meows full power. I dream of the day when I’ll be able to relax without guilt. Will it ever come? I try to plan time for pleasure in every day—a few pages of my book, a visit with my grandchildren if only by phone, a conversation with my traveling family. I need to reverse the intensive training I’ve given myself and learn to relax.
March 29, 2015
After church today, I stopped by Wal-mart for a couple of items I forgot yesterday. I intended to grab 3 items and hurry back to the car. After all, lunch was only half cooked. I’d set my oven to come on at 10:30 and cook the ham while I sat in church. Oh, the luxury of modern appliances. Inside the store, I ran into a former student and stood talking for a while. It was good to see Jerry after all these years. Then I roamed about the store, adding detergent and toilet paper to the cart when I’d come for mayonnaise and milk. The sky would not fall from the heavens if lunch were late, hence no reason to hurry my life away. Once at home, I cooked macaroni and cheese, corn and the last of the home-grown Brussels sprouts. We finally ate about 1:30. Then I indulged in a long, lovely nap on my couch, throwing to the wind any lingering cares.
After spending a half hour with my book, I dressed and went back to church for the evening service, knowing full well that I’d return to that book at bedtime. I sat in church cherishing the music and savoring the whole service, thankful that I’d come. On the way home, I even stopped for a quick visit with a young friend.
As I started pondering a topic for this week’s column, I came across the journal entry from 2004. After perusing it several times, I discovered that I had worried for naught. Four years into retirement, I have no trouble relaxing. I frequently say no when I’m asked to chair committees or even serve on them, but I also say yes on occasion. Woe be unto anyone who interferes with my Bridge days and I have on occasion read all day long in my recliner if the book were really good. I’ve learned very well my lessons on relaxing. Actually, I’m an A+ student in that area.
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