Category: Life

Posted in Life, Moments of grace

What’s the deal with birthdays?

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

A granddaughter will turn two in a few days. In preparation, my daughter (her aunt) called my son (the dad) to let him know a present was on the way. The birthday gift overheard the conversation, smiled and said, “I wait for present!”

First birthday? You’re oblivious. Mom and dad will have a party, but you won’t understand or remember it. A year later you’ll be up to speed. For the past month or so, everyone’s been reminding you, “It’s almost your birthday!” They’ve been asking, “How old will you be? Grown-ups have helped you master the art of hold up two fingers and proudly saying, “Two.” And somehow you’ve caught on to the reality that there will be presents. You’ve become a little consumer.

Big birthday celebrations every year for every child are common now. Some people spend a whole week observing their birthday. When did birthday celebrations begin?

To my surprise, the birthday celebration is a recent idea in the United States, from the mid-nineteenth century.1 Before that, birthdays were for the rich or the nobility. Everyone knew when George Washington’s birthday was. For everyone else, the day passed unnoticed.

The change came with industrialization. With clocks on the wall and watches in their pockets, people became more aware of time. Trains and streetcars ran on schedules and workers punched in and out of their factory shifts. Sensitive to the passage of time, students were separated by grades. Doctors treated older patients differently. Talk of being on time, ahead of time, and behind the times entered our conversations. Age – and birthdays – became significant.

Cake dates back to the Roman empire. Candles are a German tradition. Birthday gifts grew out of old fashioned western capitalism.

It’s a mixed bag. Little ones can’t wait for their next birthday. Some adults stop celebrating as if ignoring the date will prevent aging. My birthday is clustered with a daughter and two granddaughters in July, so it’s always fun. Giant cake for four? Sweet! Four cakes? Even sweeter.

1https://www.theatlantic.com/family/archive/2021/11/history-birthday-celebrations/620585/

Posted in Life

“I know that face!”

Posted on by William Douthwaite

I got caught by facial recognition. Twice.

I was at the gym and just about to get under the bar for a second set of squats. A young lady who was doing some personal training came up and said,  “I’m sorry, I just have to ask – did you used to help out a summer program at the church just down the road?”

“I used to. I’m retired now.”

She told me her name and said, “That used to be my favorite thing every summer!”

I remembered her. “You went to our preschool, too, didn’t you?”

“Yeah. I loved it there!”

Every once in a while, someone from the past will recognize me. They’ve all grown up so I don’t know them. But when they see my head of gray hair and they remember me!

Fifteen minutes later, as struggled through another exercise, an older gentleman came up to me and asked, “Didn’t you used to meet with a group of men at the restaurant over there?”

“Yes, I did. But I stopped doing that last summer.”

“I thought I recognized you. I used to sit at the table one row over on Thursday mornings, too.”

He kind of looked familiar, but I had never actually met him. I think one of the men in our group had invited him to join us, but he preferred to eat by himself.

He said, “I retired in 1999.” Then he added, “Keep up the good work.”

Facial recognition technology is amazing. But so is the ability of the human mind to see a face and recognize someone from someplace and some moment in life.

Posted in Life, memories

No one said I couldn’t, so I climbed

Posted on by William Douthwaite

I was sitting on the back patio in late afternoon and I found myself wondering how tall the scrub pine trees were in the two vacant lots on each side of our yard. As they swayed in the breeze, I suddenly recalled the giant maple trees I used to climb when I was a kid.

These two trees were five feet in diameter at the base. They were meant for climbing. The trunk divided into two just a few feet off the ground. Either route was filled with foothold that quickly got me up above the roof of our two- story house. But that was only the halfway point. I was able to keep going until the trunk was less that six inches across. On a windy day I really had to hold on, swaying back and forth, fifty-plus feet up, looking out over the neighborhood through the leaves.

This episode doesn’t include any falls or injuries. Sorry. I didn’t tell my mom what I was up to, other than, “Climbing the tree.” She probably knew. Moms just do. Maybe I was the reason she smoked and drank. My dad never said I couldn’t, so I climbed.

I remember the feeling of accomplishment. I felt strong, fearless, and daring. I would wrap some tape around the branch I reached so I could break my record the next time I climbed.

The trees in my yard aren’t climbable. Fifty-feet tall with no branches to step on or hold onto. Besides, I would never let my kids or grandkids climb like that. I’d be the one yelling, “Get off of there!” But they’re smart. They’d wait until I wasn’t watching.

Posted in Life

Who do I see? Who’s watching me?

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Edi Libedinsky on Unsplash

“We worry too much about what others think, when the reality is they’re thinking about themselves, not us.” 

I believe those words, or something close to it, are from an interview with graphic novelist Leanne Shapton. Those words contrast with most of us who are hyper-sensitive to who’s watching us, who’s sizing us up, and who likes us. Are people paying attention and forming judgments about us? Or are they self-absorbed and oblivious?

I’ve been paying attention to who’s paying attention to me. There’s much wisdom in those words. Few if any are paying attention.

How about at the gym? Is anyone watching to see if my squats go past horizontal? Or if I’m lifting more weight now than I did a month ago? Does anyone notice if I re-rack my weights or not? (Besides the owner who spends a lot of time putting things away.) Does anyone know if I’ve skipped a week? Probably not.

I like to watch people at the gym. I recognize the ones who are there every week. I watch in awe as some lift a whole lot more weight than I do. I notice how many people have earbuds and are texting on their phones in between every set. I wonder what they’re listening to or who they are talking to.

How about at the store? No one notices me in the car behind them as they slowly walk down the middle of a parking lane. Few notice that I am trying to get past them as they park in the center of an aisle to ponder the choices of cereal on the shelves. One lady didn’t notice as she took off with my shopping cart. An attendant is there at the self-checkout lanes, but I don’t know if they are watching that closely to make sure I scan every item in my basket. (For the record, I do.)

I like to watch people at the store. I watch them as they stroll the aisles, glancing side to side, deciding what they might want to buy that day. So different than me. I have a list. I’m on a mission. I get in and out as efficiently as possible.

How about at the coffee shop? Does anyone know or care that I can hear their conversation? Or see what they are studying? Or notice that I am watching them?

I look to watch people at coffee shops. I look to see what the baristas have set out in the pickup area. What’s in that food bag? What is that pink drink? I like to peek at what someone is studying or reading. I like to listen in on interviews and conversations.

In many of the mystery books I’ve been reading lately, the protagonist spends a lot of time watching body language and facial expressions. Detectives, spies, and intelligence types notice a lot about the people around them. I’m inspired. The more I read, the more I watch. I want to notice, too.

What do I see? And who is watching me?

Posted in Life

The paint store: Wonderful colors and an amazing voice

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Image by Freepik

As soon as he spoke, I knew it would be an unforgettable conversation. He simply said, “How can I help you today?”

I was waiting at the Home Depot paint counter with paint chips in hand. The man behind the counter in the orange apron finished tapping a paint can lid closed and came over to see what I needed. It’s not what he said. It was his voice. With a deep, rich, smooth, resonate bass voice he said, “How can I help you today?” His voice was lower than Vin Diesel‘s voice. More like J. D. Sumner. Or Barry White.

I made sure I asked lots of questions just so I could hear him speak more.

“Can I get this stain in this color?”

He said, “Well, let’s look it up on the computer. Yes, we can mix that up for you. How many gallons do you need?”

“Well, I’m not sure.” I explained my project to him just so I could hear him voice his opinion. I could not get enough of his voice.

I wasn’t listening to what he said about stains and sealers, tints and hues, or colors and coverage. I could only think, “I wonder if he sings with any groups?” He’d make a wonderful addition to a gospel quartet or a Sunday morning church choir. His would also be a wonderful radio voice.

What is it about a low voice that is so soothing, so relaxing, so pleasing to the ear? I’ve read that those low frequencies can create a pleasurable vibration or resonance in a listener’s body.

All I know is I want to go back and buy some more paint.

Posted in family, Life

Hiding Easter eggs: Leveling up

Posted on by William Douthwaite

We had five of our grandchildren at our house for Easter Sunday supper and of course, an Easter egg hunt. I can just throw a bunch out on the lawn to keep the younger ones (two and fours) busy. The oldest is almost eight, and I had to level up my egg-hiding to challenge him.

This one loves to climb, so I used some tape to put one of his up high on the play fort. I’m not sure his mom was real happy about the altitude, but once he spotted it, he got up there with no problem.

A little more tape held some eggs underneath the deck of the play fort, just out of plain sight.

He quickly saw the one hanging from a tree with a pine needle pinched between egg halves hanging from an old bird-feeder hook.

The ones that stumped him? One was under an upside-down flower pot. Not hugely creative, but worked. The other was on the ground, under a pile of pine cones, with just the slightest hint of blue showing. I had to give him a couple of clues for these last two. Grandpa is still just a little cleverer than he is!

Posted in Life

It’s not so bad: Waking up before my alarm

Posted on by William Douthwaite

“Man, that’s loud!”

I reached over and found my phone and punched my finger all over the screen until the alarm stopped. I was already awake, just laying there waiting for the vibration and soft sounds that would have woken me up if I were still asleep. I could have sworn I turned the volume all the way down. My wife didn’t move. Maybe she didn’t hear it. She did. “That was loud.”

To be fair, I’ve got a new phone and this was the first time I’ve actually set the alarm to go off in the morning. One of the perks of retirement is that you don’t have to set an alarm. You can wake up whenever your body says, “I’ve had enough sleep.” However, I still wake up early, just like I used to. In fact, when I do set my alarm, I usually wake up a few minutes before it goes off. I rarely wake to the alarm. Why is that? How does my body know when to wake up? And why don’t I trust my body enough so that I don’t have to set an alarm?

I did a little internet research. Apparently it’s common for people to wake up just before the alarm goes off. If you usually get up at the same time each day, your “body clock” knows that and gets you going around that time. In addition, your subconscious knows you’ve set your alarm because you’ve got something going on and wakes you around the time you set on your alarm.

Well, my subconscious is pretty good at knowing what’s going on the next day. I don’t think I’ve ever overslept and been late in the morning. I never trusted my subconscious, though. When I positively, absolutely had to get up on a Sunday morning for church, I set two alarms. Just in case. I was never late for church.

And while we’re on the topic, here’s another thing that bothers me. Why does my mind wait until just before I wake up to have my most interesting and vivid dreams? Why do I dream the most just before I wake up? I’m sure there is some science behind this. Perhaps the most recent dreams are the ones I remember the most.

Anyway, I found out how to quiet down my alarm. It’s in settings, under “sounds and haptics.”

Posted in joy, Life

Make sure you find the Easter joy you’re looking for

Posted on by William Douthwaite

The yellows, greens, and pinks reached out to me, saying, “This way!” I had little choice but to follow my autonomous shopping cart into the maze of cellophane-wrapped Easter baskets. Fuzzy chicks and bunnies watched from the shelves, hoping to be chosen for a forever home. Yellow boxes filled with peanut butter eggs whispered to my subconscious, “These the the ones you’re looking for.” Rather than the stars in the sky or the grains of sand on the shore, God could have directed Abraham’s eyes to the myriad of jellybeans, promising, “Your family will number more than these!”

A couple of days from now, we’ll be filled with the joy of resurrection. Easter Sunday will celebrate the truth that Christ, not death, has the final word. Yes, we’ve adorned Easter with all these trappings and plenty of food. But none of that can drown out our voices proclaiming, “He is risen! He is risen, indeed!”

And yet, most of the people I saw in the Easter aisles at the various stores looked miserable. I did not see any smiles at all. Shoppers looked annoyed, frustrated, and tired as they scanned the shelves, shrugged their shoulders, and tossed a bag of whatever into their cart. If they had brought kids along it was worse. Angry voices scolded, “Put that back. Stop asking. One more time and you get nothing.”

Oh, come on! All of these things bring a smile to my face. In the retail world, every popular cartoon character has part in Easter, from Super Mario to the Avengers! I’m impressed by the creativity that goes into each year’s products. I don’t know about you, but the thought of Starburst jellybeans, Reese’s peanut butter eggs, marshmallow chocolate bunnies, and malted milk robin eggs makes me smile every year! I can’t wait for the fun we’ll have hiding and finding plastic eggs.

So here’s what I think. First, if it makes you miserable, you should just skip the holiday. It’s OK. The candy companies won’t go broke without you. Second, find someone (like me) who enjoys the holiday and find out why. Anyone with Easter joy is more than ready to give a reason for the hope they have. Finally, go back to the source of joy. It’s not stuff. It’s not candy. It’s not a bunny. Or eggs. It’s an empty tomb. Death has been defeated, sin has been forgiven, and God’s love endures forever.

Posted in children, Life

Story time: The fountain of youth

Posted on by William Douthwaite

Story time at the library was packed. When my grandson and I got in line, there were twenty preschoolers, parents, and grandparents ahead of us. There were enough sitting mats to go around, and we found our spot near the front of the room. I’m glad we did, because I enjoyed the three stories as much as anyone else in the room. Especially The Good Egg.

The Good Egg by Jory John and Pete Oswald made me laugh out loud over and over. It’s about a dozen eggs, one of who is good, joined by eleven others who misbehave and cause trouble. The good egg gets so stressed out trying to be the good one that his shell starts to crack. So he takes some time away for self care. Relaxation, meditation, and new hobbies soon have him feeling much better. But he’s lonely, so he heads back to join the others, having learned that you don’t have to be perfect in an imperfect world.

I am certain the children didn’t appreciate the story as much as the adults. We’re the ones who struggle with perfectionism, being judgmental, and putting up with difficult people. We grownups need to be reminded that a little self-care improves our capacity to understand the care for others, too.

I left story time wanting to read more children’s books. I want to read them to my grandchildren and for my self. I appreciate creative words and illustrations inspires my inner child and entertains the little one sitting in my lap.

When we grow up, we no longer see the world with the wonder, imagination, and curiosity of a child. But a children’s story can restore all of that like a fountain of youth.

I’m thankful my grandson likes to take me to story time.