January - Out with the Old - In with the New

January heralds a new year, new resolutions and a new outlook. I tossed the wreath and stashed the holiday decorations with ease. I went through all of the holiday cardsone more time before tossing them out. Some of the cards are from people I only hear from during December. Our lives the other 11 months don’t seem to get on the radar. I don’t get that. Truth is it feels to me that the cards are a perfunctory action. Sometimes long letters are attached. Why? A once a year hello feels more like a “have to” than a “want to.” It is like flossing once a year before visiting the dentist. Flossing regularly, staying in touch regularly I think matter. Those once a year cards are easy to recycle.

My old running shoes too need to go. I am a careful aging runner. I know how important good running shoes are. I watch my mileage and strap on new shoes every 300 miles. This pair, though tired, is difficult to discard. These shoes have been regulars for three months. They are predictable, reliable and travel well. These shoes have been to Morocco and Tunisia in December. They accompanied me on my birthday in Marrakech which means Running Away in Arabic. Isnʼt that fun? Marrakech is known as the city of roses. My birthday morning I ran the main avenue that is lined with roses wishing everyone a “Bonjour!” I have sand from the Sahara in my shoes. These shoes were with me when I loped through cities that were built before Christ was born. Rarely did I see runners and certainly not women. The gate keepers at the hotels would smile, shake their heads and watch as my flashlight and I disappeared down the road. I often would run to town liking to watch the store keepers prepare for the day. I like watching a city wake up. My runs are “peeping Ada” through the neighborhood. Other days I would greet the day on an empty road watching the sun rise over the desert, barely able to breathe because of the beauty - the quiet and wonder.

Both Morocco and Tunisia are Muslim countries with long histories and traditions. Coffee is usually served at the table in heated pitchers with accompanying heated milk. After every morning run, I would wander into the dining area, sweaty and smiling. In my best Arabic I thanked well dressed waiters as I took two cups of coffee, one with milk, and headed for the hotel room. The waiters dressed in pressed shirts and pants would look curiously at the panting woman who kept smiling and saying “Bonjour.” More often than not, my running shoes have been my constant companion on many adventures. I love the stories that are part of the dirt, the sand, and worn soles of these shoes. I guess that is why some holiday cards are easy to throw away. They too are notabout shared stories. They might as well be addressed to occupant.

Rocks Mark The Spot

January brings change. Our Sunday dinner is different in 2010. My family
comes to Sunday dinner. I celebrate the Sundays we share by noting the
change in our candle supply. I always think it is a positive sign when
I need to purchase more candles for the dining room table. This January
Abigail Mae, soon to be one, has joined us at the table. Where to put
her high chair changed the seating arrangement. Jack(9), Charlie(6),
Alison (5) and Ella(3) were consulted regarding my dilemma. Originally
I had considered moving places in a way that made sense to me. However
upon reflection, I remembered how important it was to Charlie where he
sat. I remember how worried he was when Alison wasn’t seated next to
him. I remembered how much Jack liked sitting next to grandpa. Jack and Charlie use special knives at their place settings. They are fancyhandled knives that we inherited from my husband’s mother. Alison and Ella
like smaller water glasses. Our daughters and their families have resulted in our using all of the table inserts on Sunday. I give thanks every time I grab a table cloth and napkins. I also thought about the many parenting stories about sharing power and teaching problem solving.


I asked the four older grandchildren to please solve the seating
arrangement riddle. The four of them disappeared requesting paper and
crayons. While making the salad, I heard involved conversations. The
children asked their parents for suggestions and input. Eventually I
was presented with a carefully drawn diagram of our table and where each
person was to sit. In addition, every family member signed his or her
name, approving change. The chart was given to me so that when I set
the table for the next Sunday dinner, I would be able to make the
appropriate changes. To add to the wonder, during our Thanksgiving
dinner celebrated at a resort on the north shore, the children had
painted small rocks with everyone’s name to help guide seating. The
rocks came home with us. They too have become part of the ritual.
Indeed some of the “ Alden Way” is a place for everyone and everyone
has a place.


This Sunday, we celebrated my husband’s birthday. The table was
carefully set following the diagram. Charlie likes putting the rock
place holders on the table to be sure there is no confusion. As I
looked around the table noting everyone seated in his or her designated
spot, I knew about blessing, grateful and a sense of inner peace. Long
after the table had been cleared and the bird shaped birthday cake had
been cut during a joyful round of “Happy Birthday” the children
continued to sit at the table participating in the conversation. Alison
leaned over and said, “ Grandma, we are growing up.”


We are all aging. We also know where at our dining room table there is
a special place for everyone. At our dining room table, we know about
belonging. At our house, a rock marks the spot.