A Simple Life...

The longer I live, the more I delight in quiet times and simple things. Oh, I go through phases where I want the big house with the grand piano, the loaded truck, the fancy vacations, but underneath all that whimsical tendancy, what I most enjoy is hiking in the mountains, spending time working with my critters, enjoying a good fire and sitting down to eat with the ones I love.

I have heard too many people in recent years dying with regrets. Most of them were not regrets of wishing for some material things they never got to own. No, the longings were for lost relationships or for loves never known. I do not so much crave things as I crave experiences. I want to make good memories with my kids. I want time to laugh and cuddle again. Yes, I will probably have to work from here on out, but if I could put in half the hours I'm doing now, that would be great. Full-time work is too much to handle and still be a person with enough energy left over to do my household chores and enjoy my family.
Honestly, as stressed as we've been the past 3 years, the tension's been heavy in this house more often than I care to admit. I am now a part of the rat race. Working more than living, really- always in a rush. I have writer's block poetically and musically. In order to write, I must have time to feel, to contemplate things and put my thoughts together. I must be inspired by my surroundings. Right now, there is very little time for that.

I remember a man & his common-law wife whom we be-friended when I was a girl. Dad was always gone trucking, so Mother was lonely and would try and connect with someone- anyone in order to feel human. Bucky & Shonee took us in as friends. They lived a very simple life. He was a burned-out Vietnam vet who looked Scandanavian. She was a Native American woman- beautiful too! She still did things the traditional way. They had a smokehouse and she tanned deerhides. They lived in a little cabin on our mountain. They didn't have a phone, so when we wanted to visit, we would just drive over and they would always invite us in. We sat on log furniture that he had made. Their house smelled of sweet-pipe, leather, coffee and woodstove. They had a dog that looked half wolf and laid by the fire. He was not a friendly dog, but not unfriendly either. He would simply lay his head on his paws and doze. I was still very young when we knew these people, but I remember the cozy feeling of acceptance I had while sitting at their fire eating popcorn and listening to Bucky's wild hunting and war stories. Shonee was quiet- always busy with something and loved to serve. Her dark eyes were shiny and I envied her looks. To me, she was like a deer. Bucky had rigged up 4 big timber posts in the bedroom and had their bed hanging from it. You had to climb steps to get into the swinging bed- which my brother & I enjoyed sitting in. They used to bring us firewood every so often.

We were really strict religious at the time. Had to keep it secret that we visited Bucky & Shonee, but when they offered my Mom coffee, she would gladly accept. For some reason, the church frowns on spending time with non-believers- unless you are actively giving a Bible study. Phooey on that, I say!! To be a Christian doesn't mean we no longer have the disease called "sin", it merely puts us in remission. We need not fear contamination from "sinners", for we ourselves are yet sinners. Okay- so let's not fool ourselves- we still mess up on a daily basis. The difference is that when we make mistakes, we have the hope of being forgiven. To mingle with people of other backgrounds & persuasions is healthy and stimulating to the mind & spirit.

Anyway, I often think back to my 7th year of life. It was the first and last time that I ever felt secure. Bucky & Shonee eventually relocated farther down the mountain where they raised Llama's for wool- which Shonee spun into thread and knit into hats, gloves and sweaters to sell. After that, my parents split and we moved to MO with our Mom. I don't know what ever happened to them... they were their own people- nobody owned them. A dying breed of rugged, independant survivors.

Today, we really are kinda wimpy. We rely on grocery stores for most of our food, power companies for heat & lights, and the entertainment industry for enjoyment. We pay out the nose for this stuff- which means we have to work harder just to keep up! It's easier in some ways, I suppose, but perhaps this is our loss. Why not work hard and be more independant? There's a pride that comes from bringing in your own food, gathering wood for heat, sitting around in the flickering glow of lanterns & firelight and making real life memories. People criticized Bucky for his backward ways, and my Grandpa Campbell was misunderstood for never "getting modern", but nobody owned them and they weren't begging help from anyone. They lived debt free and fed themselves. Grandpa delighted in raising stock, growing things, feeding hummingbirds and listening to the frogs croak from his lawn chair in the cool of the evening. There is more of him in me than I formerly recognized... I just want to live a simple life.