In Memoriam

Because my mother had just one brother and my father was an only child, my sister and I weren't long on extended family. We had only two first cousins. Now we have just one.

Liz Sedler 1941-2014
Photo taken in 2011 at
Davenport Hotel, Spokane, Wash.

Our family (mom, dad, and two daughters) lived in Seattle. Our uncle's family (uncle, aunt, and two daughters) lived in Cleveland. Between gasoline rationing during WWII, the lack of an Interstate system, and very different interests and focus, our two families rarely got together. By the time the four of us cousins were adults in the early '60s, all of us had gone our separate ways--and very different ways they were.

After our sibling-parents died (many decades ago), contact between families completely ceased. We might as well have had zero cousins. Then, in the late '90s, my sister located the older of the two, Margaret, living then in South Carolina. Margie put us in touch with her younger sister, Liz, who was living in Idaho. Over the subsequent years we developed a comfortable rapport with Margie, thanks to the Internet, telephone, and an in-person visit my sister made. It's lovely to be connected with Cousin Margie, a funny, smart, selfless woman whose present life is dedicated to rescuing animals (click on the link and follow the path).

Liz, although gracious, was less available--less interested in cozying up to long-lost cousins. 

Sis and I finally arranged a meeting with her a few years ago when our mutual, long-deceased grandfather was honored at a centennial celebration in Spokane, Washington. Liz drove several hours from her home in Idaho to have lunch with us. We had a lovely time chatting about our shared family heritage, and promised to keep better in touch. Compared to the first seven decades of our existence, we did do better--but we never progressed beyond the 'barely know you' stage.

Liz died last month. As I read online homage to her, I began to comprehend what a remarkable a woman she was. I'd like to share this lovely tribute to her, which appears on the Kootenai Environmental Alliance Web site.

May she rest in peace.

Spring Break-ing: Bad?

Watching the sunset at Mallory Square, Key West

Never having been to South Miami or the Florida Keys, I didn’t know what to expect as I anticipated my first visit. Of course I’d read about the locale in travel books, but I wasn’t ready for the ambiance of “Spring Break,” the youthful Bacchanalia celebrating a temporary release from academic studies, as well as life-giving  sunshine.

Hubby and I traveled for two weeks this month in a group of age-peers, Road Scholars, sponsored by the Elderhostel travel organization. The trip was varied and interesting with varied exposure to sights and insights. In addition to the usual scenic and civic highlights, we had opportunity to hear special presentations on Truman’s ‘Little Whitehouse’ in Key West, Flagler’s railroad to the Keys, South Beach’s hosting of troop training for WWII, 400 years of Cuban history, as well as a talk by two veterans from the Bay of Pigs. We enjoyed architectural tours, visits to animal rescue and research centers, botanical gardens, state parks, scenic boat rides . . . the list goes on—rich and varied. One of the most interesting, to me, was a tour of America's Orchestral Academy, "New World Symphony," housed in a gorgeous building designed by Frank Gehry.

South Beach, South Miami

What wasn’t in the published trip-description, however, was interaction with thousands of college-age ‘kids,’ who’d come to the same places we were visiting. We came to learn and relax; they came to party and relax. In South Beach the streets were swarming with the "Breakers," sometimes to the point of barely being able to share the sidewalks. The South Beach walking path along the ocean was jammed with rented bikes weaving through walkers, runners, lovers, and rowdy goof-offs. The line at Walgreen's Collins Avenue store   extended out the door in early evening with Breakers buying snacks, rude tee-shirts, sunscreen, and booze.

Initially Hubby and I were off put by the presence of so many high-energy young people, but not until we arrived in Key West did sharing the time and place become intimate and challenging. Many in our group were awakened the first night by loud crowds of Breakers returning to the hotel at 3:00 a.m. Much breakfast table conversation ensued that first morning in Key West. “How dare Elderhostel plan a visit for our demographic during Spring Break!” was the prevailing opinion. As we gathered to meet the guide for our first walking tour of Key West, we watched carloads of arriving Breakers as they unpacked their cars in front of the hotel—bottles of orange juice and Margarita mix rolling around in cargo space, as towels, pillows, and backpacks were offloaded. Beautiful young bodies scantily clad in hot-weather beachwear, giggling, high-fiving, hugging and yelling out, Dude!” More harrumphing ensued.

Versace's former house brings gawkers
by the hundreds in South Beach

But something wonderful happened during the course of the five days in Key West. As we interacted with the Breakers, especially while sharing hotel elevators, Hubby and I began to appreciate their energy, their zest for life, their healthy release from stressful studies, their high hopes. We realized that it was good for them, too, to share their hotel with people who’d lived on Planet Earth five or six decades longer than they. Our mutual presence benefited each other and brought a ring of sensibility to our respective vacations. Together we represented the cycle of adult life. 

By the end of our visit, we were genuinely glad that we’d been in south Florida during Spring Break, but we may have been in the minority. All the individuals in our group were—it’s safe to say—past our prime, and some were still angry about having to share our time in Key West with “those kids.” But for me, sharing the space with people yet to reach their prime served only to enhance our trip.