One swim forward

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I work at a place that does digital scanning and microfilming of materials such as books, newspapers, documents, photos, slides, negatives, etc.  Almost a year ago, I switched from digital to the film department, where most of the material is newspapers. (Yes they still do microfilm, but it’s just for preservation, whereas digital is for access.) I don’t think I’m allowed to mention clients, projects or titles, but I’ll just say I was working on a project today that involves a variety of local papers from just the last couple of years. There was a lot of high school sports coverage.

It got me to thinking about my very un-athletic school days. In particular, some articles triggered my thinking about swimming, and the fact that I didn’t learn until my mid-20’s. Even at that time, it was just kind of learning on my own and not very well.

My sister had swim lessons when we were kids. She was the oldest, and she did nothing but complain about having to take the lessons. I guess that’s why my brother and I didn’t get them. My mom gave up.

There were many times over the years, when it became an awkward and embarrassing issue for me.  We were invited to friends of the family who had pools, and there were the pool party invitations, camp, school trips and such. Seemed like everybody knew but me.

I resented my parents for things like that for a long time. Then, I forgave them and learned to swim, even going pretty far out from the beach when I was at the shore one year. In fact, I got the whistle blown at me by the lifeguard to head back in.

Why didn’t I just do that as a kid, you might wonder? Well, I was very inhibited, shy, meek, and as mentioned, not at all athletic. I needed help. I was able to do it as an adult because I had overcome a lot of my issues. Not all, mind you, but a lot.

I feel blessed to have an independent and tenacious spirit. That helped me to conquer swimming, and many other things. With all of them, the first step was to put aside issues like self-pity, jealousy, and resentment. You have to take a good hard look at yourself sometimes and see your own part in things. Sure, it wasn’t my fault as a young kid, that I couldn’t swim, but couldn’t I have done something about it sooner than I did?

Maybe I shouldn’t have had to, but “shouldn’t have to” is the most useless phrase in the English language.

I’d be lying if I said I have no resentment left toward my parents about any issue. I still think about how little guidance I received as a clueless teen.  I’ll continue with that in another post.

In the meantime, I’ll just keep doing my best and try to keep looking forward, not back.

Mister Ritchey changes to The Muddlers

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Just a belated notice that I changed the name of my blog to The Muddlers. I didn’t feel like Mister Ritchey was catchy or descriptive enough. The Muddlers would be all of us just trying to muddle our way through life, doing the best we can.

So, if it’s not too late, don’t unfollow me because you didn’t recognize the name.

An Easter birthday scare

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Today, of course, was Easter Sunday. It was also my dad’s 86th birthday.  He saw fit to celebrate by giving us all a scare.

Since my parents moved to a very small senior apartment two years ago, we’ve had most of the holidays at my brother’s and my shared house.  So, it was the five of us, with my sister.  As my mom and I peeled some yams and my sister worked on other stuff, my dad came out to the kitchen for a drink. He had been sleeping on the couch in a half seated, almost lying on his side position.

He stood by the cupboard that holds the glasses for a moment. I had asked him something and glanced over to see that he didn’t look quite right.

I saw that he looked unsteady and, thankfully, was able to close the distance of a few steps to him before he could fall. He fell against me as I put an arm around him and held him up while my mom grabbed the nearby stool. He was all sweaty and clammy and pale, and kept yawning a lot and putting his head down like he wanted to just fall asleep.

I said what everyone was thinking, that we should get him to the hospital, but he didn’t want to go. My mom said he has had fits like this before. I also said about the yawning, that it means the brain needs oxygen. I feared something major was happening.

My brother had come out to the kitchen by then and we switched out the stool for a chair with a back. He sat a couple minutes then insisted he use the bathroom, which is what he was on his way to do when he came into the kitchen. My brother and I led him in, for fear that he might fall. Privacy was not the priority for the moment. It was a sitting down event. When he was situated, we went out and my mom went in to make sure he was okay.  My brother and I guided him back to his chair when done.

He sat for a bit longer in the kitchen with a coat over him and his color came back. I happen to have a blood pressure monitor, since mine has been running high for a while. We checked it and it was pretty low. He said it was low the morning before, and he only took a half pill of his blood pressure medication today. Well, that’s going to get checked on, I assure you.

It was a scary and humbling moment. Given his age, we all know there can’t be an abundance of time left for him to be here with us, but this was the first time it really hit home. At least, the first time since the day of his quadruple bypass heart surgery. That was at least twelve years ago. I think more like 14 or 15.  He came through that with flying colors, and even though it was a nerve-wracking day, the risks are fairly low and I felt like it was going to be okay.

Today was different. It was somehow worse. I guess because the end is nearer, and we didn’t know what was happening. Was it a heart attack, stroke, or something else?

It’s tough to see your parents become weak and vulnerable, when you love and respect them so much. You looked up to them with unquestioning faith as a child, for comfort, guidance and provision.

I will cherish the time we have. I’ve wanted to write down some of my dad’s experiences as he tells them, to share in his memories, and preserve them. A scrapbook, of sorts. Now is the time to do that, and anything else I’ve “always wanted to do” with him.

The cycle of life spins quickly. So, get out there and live it! And, share your experiences, because we’re all in this together.