Friday, March 28, 2003
I had the thought today of trying to document the angst of the process of becoming a female senior citizen. As I inexorably move toward my 55th birthday, I look forward to bed early in the evening to relieve the back strain probably caused by sagging, large breasts. I monitor my food intake - trying each day to make it smaller and smaller. Often of course, I fail, as my weight has not noticeably reduced. I walk regularly during lunchtime to do my best to maintain health and on the weekends my dogs insist upon their "walk with leashes". All the walking doesn't help the back strain, but I persist because of the health benefits. And I love the fresh air, the sunshine. Even the cold of winter didn't deter me as I sometimes sloshed along in galoshes, a long, heavy leather coat, ear muffs, hood, scarf covering my nose and mouth -- the wintery sunshine dispelling seasonal affect disorder.
Now that springtime is here, it is marvelous to hear the birds singing, the spring breeze massaging and the sunshine warming my face. And on weekend walks, the rushing sounds of the creek, full to the brim with snow runoff and spring rains create a mesmerizing, soft background roar. The dogs can only explore the creeklets as the creek itself is too high. They can swim but do not like to get water in their ears.
Of course, all this spring beauty is spoiled by the war now going on in Iraq. The young men and women fighting, getting wounded, dying, being captured. They are fighting to preserve my way of life, my springtime walks. I am grateful, but I feel guilt over the misery of the Iraqi civilians whose springtime has been ruined. Is my way of life worth more than the Iraqi's? Will our promises of freedom from Saddam and his regime outstrip the misery of the present, the cost in lives both American and Iraqi, the destruction of countryside and cities? What about the dangers and risks of chemical and biological warfare and all the ill will now raised against the USA?
So many questions. And a feeling of barrenness, as I realize my only input is a vote once every two years and prayer. Nobody wants to hear my voice or pay attention to it. So I hide in my home, making as small a footprint as possible, taking my walks and hoping that my fervent prayers for peace really reach the Almighty and help to make a difference.
Thus my angst -- installment one.
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Rosalind 10:21 AM
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