My name is Barbara and I'm addicted to audio books. I don't leave home without at least one. I often tuck in a second just in case I've miscalculated my time frame or find myself trapped in heavy traffic. If I'm out and about, listening to my book, I panic when the reader says,"We hope you've enjoyed Listening Libraries' audio book, King Con, written and read by Stephen J. Cannell." I barely pop the last CD out of the player when I'm scrambling to insert disk 1 of a new novel into the slot. I'm a "chain listener!" The last book isn't even cold when I'm starting the next one.
I started seriously taking advantage of audio books when I was taking chemo. My hospital stay lasted several days and happened every other week. Chemo wears you out. It's a tiredness that starts somewhere deep inside and permeates through your entire body. Reading has always been my escape from the real world and chemo is as real as it gets. I just didn't have the stamina or concentration skills necessary to hold and read a book. But, audio books gave me exactly what I needed to distract me and deliver me from mind numbing boredom. I could put a disk in a portable CD player, hook up with headphones, and get lost in a story.
Now, years later, my audio books are my constant companions. I never leave home without one. I check them out of the local library most of the time but sometimes I'll buy one if I'm particularly impressed with it. I own 3 of the Harry Potter books on Cd and my goal is to buy all 7. They're pretty expensive so I don't buy them at once. Jim Dale, a British actor, is the reader on each book and he's captivating. Every character has a quality that makes him unique so you can follow conversations between characters without any confusion as to who is saying what and to whom.
I can listen to a book and do just about anything I want to do. I hate cleaning house but I can insert a good mystery into my CD player, put in my ear buds, and whisk through our little place in no time flat. When I get a wild hair to walk for exercise I do the same thing. I can cover a lot of territory while I'm being entertained by any one of my favorite authors. I used to carry my CD player in a cheap fanny pack around my waist but I've discovered that a certain style of Columbia shorts has the perfect pockets for a CD player. Now I just pack the player in a pocket and I'm good to go. From cleaning the bathroom to making a long drive, I'm never without a good book.
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Monday, September 10, 2007
A Gathering
On September 1st my parents celebrated their 68th wedding anniversary. This, in and of itself, is a remarkable feat. Add to that the fact that all five of their children, all eight grandchildren, and both great-grandchildren are alive and healthy. Everyone who is old enough to work is employed. Two of us are retired and another one of us will be soon. No one is in jail or suffering from an addiction. We speak to one another regularly. On top of all that, I think we're all pretty cute and I know we're all funny.
Saturday we all gathered at my youngest brother's home to celebrate Mom and Dad and each other. My sister-in-law can entertain our mob at the drop of a hat. Their house is the most centrally located and has the biggest kitchen. We're a "kitchen" family. I didn't inherit the gene that allows me to work in a kitchen with people surrounding me so I'm in awe of anyone who can prepare a meal for our large group and participate in the conversation while stepping around guests who are underfoot and munching on chips and salsa (home-made). This particular sister-in-law, Susie, has been part of our family since she started dating my brother, Mike, when she was 14 or 15 years old and opens her home to us anytime we feel the need to gather.
My family doesn't say a blessing over these feasts but one or two of us will speak from the heart about what we mean to one another. It's usually Buddy because he's oldest and he's not overly sentimental. We can reflect on our good fortune and give thanks for our bounty without crying.
This year I appointed myself as speaker. Because of my tendency to get nervous and ramble I wrote down what I wanted to tell my family and read it aloud as we stood, shoulder to shoulder, in Susie's kitchen. I have included this open letter to my parents and brothers and sister in this post.
Being retired, I have lots of time to think and what I think about most is us, this family. We’re unique is many ways but we have three distinctions that stand out to me.
1. We are all alive and functioning, some better than others, but without assistance.
2. We mostly like each other.
3. We are in contact with one another on a fairly regular basis.
Watch the news, read the papers, talk to friends. We are the exception to the rule if we believe these reports. It doesn’t take a genius to see how blessed we are.
Even when we aggravate one another (that’s our right as siblings), we have a bottom line. We love one anther. It’s unconditional. We’re stuck together with gorilla glue and there’s no escape. None of you could commit an act so heinous that I would quit loving you. I asked Mom, one time, if she’d love me if I killed somebody. Her answer was an emphatic, “Of course I would, but I’d be mad as hell you’d done something that stupid!” That’s unconditional in a nutshell.
I try not to take this gift for granted. All of you have been there for me. I’ve never faced adversity without backup. We’re a well rehearsed ensemble troupe. We all have roles to play in our “life drama” and all of us step up to perform our parts without doubt or hesitation. In 1984, after the removal of my first tumor, Mom and Dad and Neanne, and I were getting into the elevator at the Medical Tower building. We were on our way to Dr. Kyser’s office to hear what my treatment would be. Just as we started to step in, Buddy came through the door and announced, “Circle the wagons! I see Indians!” Can it be any plainer than that? I have thousands of examples and anecdotes that illustrate this reaction to a threat of danger. Our solidarity as a family is our legacy and that legacy is a gift from Mom and Dad. Our unity is no accident. They modeled a lifestyle that didn’t allow anger or negativity to fester. That’s not to say that we have lived a life of “goodness and light” 100% of the time. No one can do that, it’s unrealistic. Instead, when strife reared its ugly head, we dealt with it. No one can hash, rehash, and analyze a topic like a Simmons kid. Mom and Dad allowed for individual differences in each of us, even when we bewildered them with some of our decisions. And somehow, they were able to meld us into a formidable and unshakable union. Good, bad, or indifferent, our circle remains unbroken.
Saturday we all gathered at my youngest brother's home to celebrate Mom and Dad and each other. My sister-in-law can entertain our mob at the drop of a hat. Their house is the most centrally located and has the biggest kitchen. We're a "kitchen" family. I didn't inherit the gene that allows me to work in a kitchen with people surrounding me so I'm in awe of anyone who can prepare a meal for our large group and participate in the conversation while stepping around guests who are underfoot and munching on chips and salsa (home-made). This particular sister-in-law, Susie, has been part of our family since she started dating my brother, Mike, when she was 14 or 15 years old and opens her home to us anytime we feel the need to gather.
My family doesn't say a blessing over these feasts but one or two of us will speak from the heart about what we mean to one another. It's usually Buddy because he's oldest and he's not overly sentimental. We can reflect on our good fortune and give thanks for our bounty without crying.
This year I appointed myself as speaker. Because of my tendency to get nervous and ramble I wrote down what I wanted to tell my family and read it aloud as we stood, shoulder to shoulder, in Susie's kitchen. I have included this open letter to my parents and brothers and sister in this post.
Being retired, I have lots of time to think and what I think about most is us, this family. We’re unique is many ways but we have three distinctions that stand out to me.
1. We are all alive and functioning, some better than others, but without assistance.
2. We mostly like each other.
3. We are in contact with one another on a fairly regular basis.
Watch the news, read the papers, talk to friends. We are the exception to the rule if we believe these reports. It doesn’t take a genius to see how blessed we are.
Even when we aggravate one another (that’s our right as siblings), we have a bottom line. We love one anther. It’s unconditional. We’re stuck together with gorilla glue and there’s no escape. None of you could commit an act so heinous that I would quit loving you. I asked Mom, one time, if she’d love me if I killed somebody. Her answer was an emphatic, “Of course I would, but I’d be mad as hell you’d done something that stupid!” That’s unconditional in a nutshell.
I try not to take this gift for granted. All of you have been there for me. I’ve never faced adversity without backup. We’re a well rehearsed ensemble troupe. We all have roles to play in our “life drama” and all of us step up to perform our parts without doubt or hesitation. In 1984, after the removal of my first tumor, Mom and Dad and Neanne, and I were getting into the elevator at the Medical Tower building. We were on our way to Dr. Kyser’s office to hear what my treatment would be. Just as we started to step in, Buddy came through the door and announced, “Circle the wagons! I see Indians!” Can it be any plainer than that? I have thousands of examples and anecdotes that illustrate this reaction to a threat of danger. Our solidarity as a family is our legacy and that legacy is a gift from Mom and Dad. Our unity is no accident. They modeled a lifestyle that didn’t allow anger or negativity to fester. That’s not to say that we have lived a life of “goodness and light” 100% of the time. No one can do that, it’s unrealistic. Instead, when strife reared its ugly head, we dealt with it. No one can hash, rehash, and analyze a topic like a Simmons kid. Mom and Dad allowed for individual differences in each of us, even when we bewildered them with some of our decisions. And somehow, they were able to meld us into a formidable and unshakable union. Good, bad, or indifferent, our circle remains unbroken.
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