Bucket List #19,157

52nd Annual
MACKINAC BRIDGE WALK

So, yes, that is a slight exaggeration. I don't have more than 19,000 items on my bucket list, but I do have one item on my list that was shared by thousands of others every year- walking the Mackinac Bridge.
On Monday, September 7, I was #19,157 across the bridge.

On our way across to the St. Ignace side.
We caught a charter at the hotel. For the same price as the school buses, we avoided standing in the lines that snaked around like an amusement park ride. The AC and on board restroom came in handy as well when traffic slowed to a crawl with long frequent stops. The 5 mile stretch took us more than an hour.

The fog rolled in when it was time for our turn to walk.
Within the last 15 minutes of our trip across on the bus, the fog had rolled in. As we set out, you couldn't even see the first tower. Our paced picked up a bit, because we knew once that fog lifted, it would begin to heat up.

An annual pilgrimmage.
I understand the addiction, as I want to improve my finish next year. Start off earlier. I understand the buses start rolling at 4:30 am.

My First 50 Years

I am not trying to mess with my karma by implying I have another 50 years ahead of me. I am just trying to put a positive spin on the fact that I AM OLD.

My sister says it is just a number, but, 1) she is younger and 2) it's NOT her number. It is the number that you remember as a little kid your grandparents being, and thinking that was sooo old. Yet, here I am looking it in the face now.

It is the number when things start to change. Your body begins to remind you that you are getting old. Your hair falls from your head, yet grows on your upper lip and chin. And while plucking those hairs, (with the help of a handy magnifying glass-because it is the number where your eyes have gone bad), you notice fat aging spots on your face and leather where the soft skin on your neck use to be.

It's the number where the bones in your body start to make strange noises, and your muscles stiffen during the night, so you spend 15 minutes stretching and rubbing them before you can get out of bed. (Not to mention the hobble into the shower).

Most importantly, it is the number where the shifts in your family start to make an enormous impact on your life, and you can't help but to reflect, and even miss, the days and years that have rapidly gone by. And it is the number of years you hope are still ahead in your life, because you realize there is still so much more you want to see, feel and do. Aging is a cruel lesson on how wonderful, but brief, life is.

But whatever the "numbers" left, I am thankful for the great life I've had, and the beautiful family I've been blessed with. And I think to myself.... what a wonderful life....so far! (And thank you to the late, great Louis Armstrong, for a song that always keeps things in perspective!)

Meeting Dooce

I have never been one of those people who go gaga over celebrities, a sighting of one never sends me into a state of frenzy. It is actually always the opposite. I go into PANIC mode. So the couple times I've passed a celebrity in the street I act all uninterested, and afterwards, I spend hours rewriting the experience In my head, and develop these wonderful, clever one liners that I think would have impressed them. And then I'd walk away thinking, NAILED IT! (Of course a psychiatrist might be interpreting this differently.)

Luckily for me, I have managed to keep from making a complete ass of myself in front of these famous strangers. (I just save it for other random strangers, friends and family) And I go on believing I'm just too unimpressed with celebrity, rather than the truth, I am petrified. I turn to stone, except for my mouth, from which a river of stupid flows and flows and flows.

So it seemed pretty out of character of me to schedule a trip to Chicago around attending a book signing (IT SUCKED AND THEN I CRIED) by the rockstar of mommy-bloggers, Heather Armstrong of Dooce.com. Somehow, I talked my dear friend Abby into riding along with me. She is always a good sport, and supports my fantasies. Abby is my talk-you-off-the-ledge friend. She tells me what I want to hear with complete enthusiasm, and then manages the chaos of the aftermath, cleaning up behind me. She is that person who keeps the others from pushing-me-off-that-ledge! She is also the person who didn't let me talk myself out of going to the book-signing. I kept making excuses during the day and suggesting we didn't have to stay if SHE was tired. She kept saying, no, this is what we came down for or it is silly to come all this way and not go, etc. (Maybe Abby is a therapist in disguise? If not, she should be.)

Anyway, we left Michigan early (7:30 am) and made it to the Oak Brook area by 11:30 am. After spending the day stimulating the economy, we found our way to Borders for the book signing. (I just typed Barnes and Noble and erased it.) Only three people will get this inside joke: Abby, the helpful woman at Barnes and Noble who directed us to the right location of the signing and the hostess at Borders who I felt I needed to apologize to because we bought our books at Barnes and Noble, because, well, we felt bad that the helpful woman at Barnes and Noble went to all the work to give us the competitor's address and directions. Here is a link to buy the book at Borders.
FYI. It is available at Amazon.com too (and cheaper!)


Heather came in around 7:30 pm for the book-signing. She read two-excerpts from her book, and then did a question and answer session. Then it was time to get in line for the book-signing. Standing there waiting for my turn I had that sense of dread. I would have to say something to her, what would it be? Would I be able to control my mouth? Would my thoughts be clear, or would I start to babble on and on.

As she signed my book I thanked her for humor and sharing her life so openly to encourage others. And then it was off to the races. I started to babble. I mentioned we drove all the way down from Michigan to see her because no one ever comes to Michigan. I meant it as a joke, but I think she might have interrupted it as a complaint, as she said she wasn't in charge of the location selection. This is what happens when I don't stay with my rehearsed speech and don't stop talking. I said, no I know, that's okay. So, I hang out and wait for Abby's book to be signed, Abby, of course, politely waits to be talked to, and when Heather asks what part of Michigan we are from, she says the Central area. Of course, I am now completely immersed in idiot-mode, and feel compelled to chime in. So I do that hand thing...holding up the right hand and pointing and making some lame joke about, well, we Michiganders like to point out where we live with our hand, ha,ha,ha. Only...I am the ONLY one laughing, because as I said before my mouth is a river of stupid that constantly over flows its banks.

So, Heather, what I meant to say, and why I am a writer and not a public speaker, is this: "Meeting you was a pleasure. Thank you for your daily humor that helps keep life in perspective, and thank you for sharing your story so openly that gives support to others struggling through the same daily dramas. The book is fantastic, thanks for signing it. Best wishes to you and your family."

PHOEBE PHOLLOW UP

Back in August I reminisced about my grandmother Phoebe and her love of wildflowers. In that post, I suggested renaming Queen Anne's Lace to something more meaningful like "Grandmother's Lace".

Shortly after writing this post I decided I should put some ACTUAL ACTION behind the words. So I started with a google search, and ended up at a botanical garden and research center, where I posted the question below.

After reading some of the answers, I thought I'd give it a couple more weeks to see who would respond. And then, like everything else, I forgot about it as work, family life, the presidential election and holidays absorbed the remaining functional cells of my brain! 

("The advantage of a bad memory, is that one enjoys several times the same good things for the first time" -Friedrich Nietzsche)

So, five months later when I remembered I had a blog, I was also reminded of my lack of follow up. But, of course, by now I couldn't remember what the heck the name of the website was. This resulted in yet another search. I knew I would recognize the site when I saw the name in the search results, seemed so simple, right? Yeah...no. It is amazing what will come up, and how far down the list things can get buried if you don't use the same words IN the same order. After a couple dozen different combinations, I found it. The University of British Columbia Botanical Garden and Centre for Plant Research.

I had 28 responses to my question, mostly from the same 4 or 5 people. As it turns out, even the experts don't agree. I found the comments interesting though, and even enjoyed the "digs" at each other. The recommendations varied from contacting state legislators and writing proposals (complete with credible evidence to substantiate the request) to lobbying naturalists, horticulturalists, authors and publishers.

My favorite part of the entire discussion was the disagreement on which country has "ownership" of the plant. Michael from Britain seemed a bit frustrated with everyone on "our side of the pond". I am sure I should also be insulted about the "least educated in society naming things" remark, but in fact he now inspires me to keep going. Thanks for the motivation Michael.

I thought I would share with you the dialog in the actual thread form. You can read those by clicking on the word ANSWERS below.

FYI, I am looking into the idea from Post#19 TOGATA57 from Columbus, Ohio. He had a good suggestion, an example of a precedent in Michigan, and very similar memories too.

So, stay tuned for more Phoebe Phlower Phollow up.

MY QUESTION: What is the process for renaming a wildflower? I am curious about who you contact or write to in order to petition for a name change of a wildflower? Has anyone ever heard what the process is? Or if it has ever been successfully done?

THE ANSWERS

"The world has changed, and we must change with it."

While I don't use this blog for politics (my family and friends are PAINFULLY aware of my political leaning), the meaning of today was too significant to let pass without mention.

Today, Barack Hussein Obama took the oath of office as the 44Th president of the United States. The only way this day could have been any better for me was if I had been in DC.

I had planned to do this, I had booked the hotel rooms 11 months ago, after hearing his speech when he won the Iowa caucuses. I continued to talk up my plans every time he won a primary contest and when he sealed the deal in November. But life doesn't always go as planned, and I had to cancel the trip.

While, I am okay watching this historic event on television, I know deep down inside, I will always regret not being there in person. (My sister has suggested that we practice some fictional revisionism for our future grandchildren. I think with some creative photoshop work, we might be able to pull it off. Of course, I'll have to rewrite this portion of my blog, and make sure none of our children are in the room when we weave our story for the grand kids!)

I was originally moved by Barack Obama's speech of hope and change. His intelligence, eloquence, and sincerity touched me. I had never been involved in politics (well, there was a couple days during the Mondale campaign - but that was mostly about a helping a friend), but Obama's message was different than the other politicians I'd heard. It rang of patriotism and humanity in the style of Lincoln, Kennedy and King.

I started my contributions to his campaign and signed up to REALLY work on my first Presidential campaign. My passion was about his message, the fact that he was black didn't really impact me until a precinct meeting I attended in June for the campaign. At that meeting I had the opportunity to meet people who worked on the Bobby Kennedy campaign. After his and Martin Luther King's assassinations, they had given up on politics. They believed their dreams and the dreams of hundreds of thousands like them had died too. They saw in Barack Obama fulfillment of what they had fought for during the Civil Rights Movement, and the dreams of equality that Kennedy and King had strived for.

I was honored to have the opportunity to work along side them. As President Obama has said, "It is not about me, it is about you". I believe that is true. And, it isn't only limited to our generation of Americans, but those who came before us. Our liberal forefathers and their visionary founding documents laid the path for these ideals. Obama's message for change and equality reaffirms the journey our nation has always been on. Our country was built on the shoulders of men and women who were dreamers and risk takers. And by those who have fought and died for more than 200 years to bring change and to do the right thing.

The election of Barack Obama was the right thing. His acceptance speech reaffirms that fact, as he reminds us "a man whose father less than sixty years ago might not have been served at a local restaurant, can now stand before you to take a most sacred oath". I am only sorry it took so long for our nation to truly embrace the meaning of liberty and equality. Now, we can truly say ANY American boy or girl CAN become America's leader. I am proud of my fellow Americans who, by electing Obama president, have chosen the politics of hope over fear, inclusion over exclusion and intelligence and compassion over fundamentalism and greed.

My hopes and dreams are now lifted for my children, nieces, nephews and their children. I believe with hard work they will have the same opportunity for success our generation did, but they will also be more compassionate human beings not driven by greed. I see an opportunity for them to learn to give back to their communities, and strive to enrich the lives of all.

In the words of President Abraham Lincoln, let us remember that: "The mystic chords of memory, stretching from every battlefield and patriot grave to every living heart and hearthstone all over this broad land, will yet swell the chorus of the Union, when again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature."

I've borrowed this image from Central Michigan Life photographer, Matthew Stephens. I like to picture myself right about here in the crowd, sharing the enthusiasm and feeling the pride of the history of this moment. For more images please visit Matt's blog at: A Sunday's Drive