Wandering and Wondering

We are over halfway through 2026. Mid-year, just as much as the new year, seems like an appropriate time for me to take stock of how life is going. I believe in self-help. I am, therefore, always thinking about how I can be a better person and enjoy life more. I gave up on new year’s resolutions years ago, but I do think about intentions I might reinforce when a new year (or half year) presents itself.

My life is unfolding quickly. Some people my age have not lived as long as me. I am grateful for my seven decades and, at the same time, recognize that my time on earth may be limited. I try not to pass judgment on my life, and yet, I like to pause to think about what I might re-set as I prepare for the days ahead.

I have been thinking about ways to move psychologically toward or away from experiences to cultivate well-being and protect my mental health. First, I want to move toward staying focused on the present. It is easy to ruminate on past mistakes or catastrophize the future.

Second, I want to focus on what matters most to me such as kindness and personal growth. My daily actions should support those principles. I also want to move toward authentic relationships by sharing myself honestly and actively listening to others.

In the philosophy of yin/yang, moving toward also suggests moving away. I work on moving away from thinking that I must be perfect with everything that I undertake. Sometimes, “good enough” is good enough.

I intend to move away from toxic people who do not allow for positive opportunities in life. Life could always be better. The people who believe they are doing all they can to make their lives good are the ones I want to interact with. I do not want toxic attitudes to sway me. Most of my associations are with positive people, and I want that to continue.

 In summary, as I move into the last half of 2026, I am working on remaining psychologically present and fully conscious of my here-and-now experiences. I plan to have positive interactions with people with whom I may have only casual experience as well as folks that I want to maintain long-term friendships with. I find it useful to remind myself of these moving toward and away intentions year around.  

I love animal butts. Please don’t think I am odd since I like all the body parts, but butts make me smile.  I hate to see those butts moving away from me, and yet I find them most amusing.

Although usually fleeting, my favorite butt to see is the swishy tail of a marmot sashaying across rocks, meadows and the tundra. Their most common butt behavior is flipping, flagging, and wagging their tails. Territorial adult males display this behavior to patrol boundaries and assert dominance. During aggressive interactions, a marmot may arch and raise its tail stiffly to appear larger and more threatening. My favorite action is their swirling tails when they are running quickly. They use their bushy tails in an erratic circular or figure-eight pattern to maintain balance.

Another rearend type that frequently makes me laugh out loud are duck and goose butts as they dip into water to eat aquatic plants (e.g., pondweed, algae, and roots) and aquatic invertebrates such as insects, snails, small fish, and crustaceans. Sometimes when I walk around Lake Estes, I see numerous ducks submerged with only their butt feathers showing.

The rear ends of bighorn sheep look like long john bottoms. I don’t see those sheep often, but when I do, their rears are noticeably distinctive. The most definitive feature of the sheep is their horns. Males (rams) have curled horns, while females (ewes) have much smaller slightly curved spike-like horns. Nevertheless, regardless of the sex they have light bottoms that extend all the way down to their knees.

Bighorn Ewes and Lambs

Elk also have a much lighter bottom compared to the rest of their bodies. An elk’s backside is characterized by a light-colored patch (buff, cream, or stark white in color) known as a rump patch. The visible rear rump patch on these animals is so iconic that “Wapiti,” the Native American name for elk, translates to “white butt.” This butt beacon helps members follow each other through brush or low light,

My kitty, Gitch, thinks he has an adorable rear end and frequently lifts his tail as I run my fingers down his back and along his gray tail. Cats use their tails to signal their emotions. For example, a low, quick flick or slow swish may indicate that Gitch is irritated, and I need to stop touching him. A rapid side-to-side swish or a “bum wiggle” may mean he is playful. A tail held high in the air with a quivering tip shows excitement. Gitch demonstrates this behavior often when he greets me or before mealtime.

As you can see, butts intrigue and amuse me.

This coming week marks the 6^th anniversary of scattering my parents’ co-mingled ashes over the Iowa farm where they had lived for 50 years. Seeing the ashes flutter across the corn rows carried by a warm west wind was one of the most precious memories of my life. It reminded me of life on the farm particularly in the summer and the secure world that my parents created for me and my sisters.

I thought that town kids had a better life than me when I was growing up. They didn’t have daily farm chores and were near other kids for opportunities to play. In retrospect, however, I am glad that I grew up on a farm in a rural community. I am particularly reminded of summer evenings when my parents could relax from their usual 15 hour days.

Summer nights were special when neighbors and/or relatives were (usually spontaneously) invited over for dessert and fellowship. For example, my mom made the best apple pie I have ever tasted. I think her secret was the tangy green apples that grew on our big tree in the yard. Plenty of sugar and cinnamon (not other spices) along with a lard-based crust, made those pies delicious. I can make a pretty good apple pie but not as good as mom’s.

Sometimes we had homemade ice cream with the pie or sometimes we just had it by itself. Part of the ritual of eating the ice cream was making it. The cream and sugar had to be slowly churned to incorporate air ensuring that the final product was smooth, light, and creamy. My dad supervised and made sure it was done right!

Watermelon season was a special time in the late summer that also offered an opportunity to get together on summer evenings. It usually included a fun watermelon spitting contest. My uncle always won the contest, and I never figured out his technique for spitting the farthest. Mom reminded us kids, “Don’t eat too much watermelon or you will have to pee all night long.” We didn’t pay much attention to her warnings.

Summer evenings also meant fireflies, or lightning bugs as we called them. We anticipated seeing the first one of the evening, and then the game was to try to catch as many as possible and put them in the bell jars where they could create a lantern. Unfortunately, by the next morning, they were usually dead. Today fewer fireflies exist and maybe my generation of kids just collected too many.

I remember fondly those summer nights and the love that my parents showed to family and neighbors all times of the year. As a kid, living was easy.

One area of my identity that I embody frequently but do not talk about much is being a musician. I use that description carefully as I consider myself very much an amateur. Nevertheless, I love making music, and I get to do that year around as a member of the Estes Park Village Band.

I have been an active musician for over three decades while living in North Carolina and now Estes Park. I have been a member of several community bands.

 A community band is an instrumental ensemble that usually includes woodwinds, brass, and percussion. The members are local volunteers. These groups provide an accessible, low-pressure environment for musicians of all ages and skill levels to rehearse, perform, and connect with one another.

Our Village Band includes teenagers to retirees. Some individuals have been professional musicians, composers, and teachers. Others, like me, played growing up and then came back to music making in mid-adulthood. For over 30 years, I have enjoyed the camaraderie of other band members who love music.

Our “season” in Estes Park is primarily the spring into summer, although we always do a Christmas concert. We rehearse once a week and perform several times a year. We perform mostly “crowd pleasers” such as marches, Broadway medleys, and light arrangements although we also tackle more challenging modern concert band music. We perform outdoors in the summer and at the local high school auditorium in the winter and spring. Our concerts are free with an invitation to donate if desired.

I play a cornet. It is like a trumpet but has a mellower sound. In 4^th grade when we started taking band lessons, I did not choose the cornet. There was one in my family that had belonged to my uncle David who passed away in a tractor accident. I inherited his cornet. If I could have chosen, I am not sure what would have been my first choice. I did play the French horn in high school as well and always loved it. However, upon my return to music-making, I knew I was not talented enough to make a musical contribution on a French horn. I enjoy playing trumpet parts.

Music evokes emotions in me. I recall some of the marches that I remember playing in high school. I have bittersweet memories when we play Christmas music that I know my mom loved. Tunes from classic Broadway musicals are always fun. I enjoy playing modern compositions too, as I am making new memories for myself.

The community band is both a social and artistic outlet. I am not a great musician and have no desire to be much better than someone who plays easy 2^nd or 3^rd parts, but I enjoy the opportunities.  I am proud to contribute to the cultural arts of our little town.

My feelings are mixed about the celebration of 250 years of being the United States of American. I will be glad when July 5 comes. Fortunately, this year also marks the 150-year birthday of my newly adopted state, Colorado, and I am proud to be a resident of the Centennial State.

I recognize the privilege I have as a US Citizen. I believe in the Constitution and the preamble statement: “We the People of the United States…do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America.” To defend our Constitution, I believe we must protect the rights of everyone. I do not think we are doing a respectable job at this 250-year mark. I am deeply troubled.

I believe in the central tenets of our democratic republic. I love my country but am embarrassed by my federal government. I am chagrined by the cruel policies and disregard for the integrity of the law that today undermines progress made in the past 250 years.

I am a patriot in that I appreciate what my country has historically stood for and against. Loving my country, however, does not mean that I do not see the faults and mistakes made during these 250 years. We can always do better and that sentiment has made us great for the past two and a half centuries.

In 1976, looked forward to the celebration of the country’s bicentennial. That time was also politically contentious, but optimism prevailed in the idea that the coming years would be better. I had returned from living in Turkiye on an exchange program the year before. Living in a developing country where the residents saw the US as a beacon of hope humbled me. I recognized what a privilege I had as an American. Upon my return, and to this day, The Star-Spangled Banner always brings tears to my eyes. I cannot support, however, the malice and absurdity of our current national government.

I am an unabashed defender of kindness, learning, decency, science, diversity, justice, social solidarity, and empathy. I believe as Barak Obama noted recently, “It is our greatest inheritance, the story of America at its best, because it reflects a basic faith in the decency of our fellow citizens and the possibility that despite all of our differences, we can see each other and understand one another and make common cause together.”

I cannot let this 250-year celebration come without noting my hope as well as my concern for the rhetoric and actions of the government. I celebrate what has guided our country in the past and the hope for a much better future.

I will celebrate our nation’s founding despite my concerns. I will play the patriotic songs with passion at our 4th of July band concert Saturday night. I will recommit to how important the November midterms will be. I will not let the current predicament spoil the holiday and will continue to believe in the basic principles of civility and humanity that provide the foundation for our country.

I have just surpassed volunteering over 13,000 hours at Rocky Mountain National Park in the 12 years I have lived here. My career in retirement is volunteering. I am delighted to have this part-time “job.” I am privileged to have the means to spend hours everyday volunteering as a way to contribute in my remaining years.

This volunteering is a labor of love. I do it out of personal passion and enjoyment, rather than for financial compensation or external praise. Something a person willingly works hard at without being paid is a labor of love. Labors of love occur in many ways and benefit oneself or other people. Some friends are actively engaged in taking care of grandchildren. Others have creative hobbies that they do for fun even though sometimes the projects are marketable. Others are involved in promoting community causes.

“Service to others is the rent you pay for your room here on earth” noted Muhammad Ali. I met an individual years ago who told me he would never do something in the community if he didn’t get paid for it. I pitied that person and hope that he has changed his mind over the years. Nevertheless, I know that I do not do things for others unless I feel some intrinsic reward that matters to me. I am not altruistic. I believe good deeds always come back positively to the doer.

Even if the service requires significant physical or mental effort, my primary reward is personal satisfaction. My work in the park is motivated by my deep interest and love for natural environments. Believing that I make a difference carries me forward. I also admit that volunteering is my means for social interaction. It helps me feel needed with others who share a purpose. Volunteering negates feels of isolation for me.

I keep track of my volunteer hours for the park service because reporting volunteer hours is tangible and of value in making a case for this organization. Doing things that do not receive recording are really labors of love. For example, I have proclaimed myself the murderer of invasive weeds in my neighborhood. After years of slaying the weeds, I am beginning to see the results. My pursuits are not selfless as I walk in these areas every day and delight in seeing wildflowers rather than the noxious weeds that can take over.

Labors of love vary from individual to individual. I am grateful for all the opportunities I have in my community.

“I haven’t laughed so hard for a long time” is a phrase that I love to say. Laughing in all its manifestations can be a wonderful gift. I have been fortunate recently to recognize how much I enjoy laughter with good friends. Humor is a powerful tool available each day. I do not want to take for granted the opportunities to enjoy laughter alone and/or with others.

Bob Hope noted, “I have seen what a laugh can do. It can transform almost unbearable tears into something bearable, even hopeful.” Research tells us that laughter and humor can reduce stress hormones, boost immune function, ease physical pain, and improve overall mood. On a social level, sharing a good laugh strengthens relationships and fosters trust. A good belly laugh stimulates the brain to produce endorphins as the body’s natural painkiller.

Chuckles as well as belly laughs are all part of a laughter continuum. I confess that I am addicted to cat videos and especially enjoy singing cats. They amuse me and make me smile and/or giggle and for a moment take my mind off any tribulations that I might be facing in my life. A belly laugh is a loud, deep, hearty expression of joy and humor. Belly laughs are most often shared with friends and the very act of laughing together is reason to laugh more!

Everyone has a different perception of what is humorous. I am not a fan of slapstick, which is usually exaggerated at the expense of others. I enjoy dry humor delivered straight-faced and in a matter-of-fact manner. I am not a fan of dark/black humor as it usually strikes me as grim or morbid. Laughing at grim things is not funny to me. I like satire and see it frequently mocking or criticizing social issues and politics. I do love wordplay and puns as well as one-liners.

I don’t enjoy humor that is derogatory. For example, birthday greeting cards often refer to sexist or agist humor. Although that can be funny, I prefer to offer greetings that build people up and do not make fun of the aging process. I know some people think I am stodgy about this attitude, but it makes the most sense to me.

I need opportunities to laugh in this world that often seems absurd. Laughter is good medicine. I agree with Charlie Chaplin, “A day without laughter is a day wasted.”

Visiting new places, whether in the US or elsewhere, as well as living in a small community opens my eyes to the breadth of creation. The recent photos of the earth and the words of the astronaut, Christina Koch, emphasized my understanding of an environment bigger than me, “a group bound by shared purpose, sacrifice, grace, and accountability, urging humanity to act as one.”

The words of Joyce Vance also help me feel positive each day. She always concludes her analyses with, “we’re in this together.”  What happens anywhere has an impact on me.

At a recent writing workshop, the instructor made a casual comment that stuck with me. She said, “In life, you can’t do anything by yourself, not even eat.”

The idea provoked my thinking about how I might eat alone. Food, regardless of what it is was grown, harvested, and transported to me by others. I also recognize that my involvement in a community garden means that I am never alone in growing and harvesting the vegetables.

Recently I have had friends with health issues. They have required drivers for doctor appointments as well as the need for emotional support. I am glad to be able to help. I have also recognized how difficult it sometimes is to ask for help even though most all people want to be “helpers.” Fred Rogers’ famous “helper” statement always inspires me, “Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping,” is so true.

I had shoulder surgery to repair a torn rotator cuff several years ago. I could not drive for three weeks. One of the feel-good moments of my life was when one of my neighbors remarked to me, “You sure have a lot of friends helping you out.” That statement was a profound compliment.

Aging literature suggests that social relationships are at the heart of healthy living. As more of an introvert than extrovert, I sometimes do not feel like being around others. I force myself to go to social events because I know it is good for me. I know, however, that this contact is essential to my longevity. I am fortunate to live in a community where I know people from various like-minded associations, and I embrace the idea that I cannot do anything by myself.

Gitch and I reflected on our lives since Mog passed away a year ago.

Gitch: It has been over 365 sleeps since Mog left us. I never really understood what happened although Mog confided in me that she thought she wasn’t always feeling good. She waited until mom came home from her vacation and then her soul left her furry body. I am now an only cat. I am adjusting.

Karla: Both Gitch and I miss Mog. Since she left, Gitch has my whole heart. Although they were litter mates, they had vastly different personalities. Mog was a cuddler who wanted to be close to me as much as possible. Gitch was more aloof and tolerated gentle pats on his terms. After Mog, things changed.

Gitch: I always thought mom and Mog had a special connection—maybe because mom chose her first. It was all fine with me. I knew that mom loved me and would do anything for me as evidenced when she rushed me to the pet emergency hospital for surgery and four days of hospitalization. She warned me that I might have to get a job to pay the medical bills, but that never happened. After Mog left, however, I was not sure of how to react.

Karla: Gitch has changed over the past year. He has, perhaps, had a change of heart, or he just wants to ease my pain from Mog’s death. It is now his chance to show me he appreciates me. Mog used to sit on my lap when I watched TV or read in the evenings. Now Gitch does that.

Gitch: Mog always slept on the bed when she was alive. I slept wherever I wanted-sometimes on the couch in the living room, sometimes at the far end of the bed. Since Mog is no longer here to protect mom through the night, it is my job. I now sit with her when she reads. I sleep at mid-bed so I can hear her breathing. I move as she moves during the night.

Karla: I find great comfort in having Gitch nearby. I feel a little guilty sometimes that I am not home more since I am off volunteering or being social, but Gitch seems to enjoy his long naps.

Gitch: Napping is good and I am always glad when she returns each day. Mom talks to me all the time. I listen and sometimes respond. She needs reassurance. I hope my warm gazes let her know that I support whatever she is thinking. I am not sure how much she listens to me when I meow. She sometimes says, “I know, I know” but does she really? I believe she does. I am a lucky kitty.

Karla: I am a lucky cat mom.

Changing circumstances had a different agenda for me. You may have noticed that I did not post a blog for a couple of weeks. I had not intended to write while on my hiking trip to Scotland. It was a chance to live in the moment and reflect on future ideas. I planned to jump right back in when I got home.

I consider myself a healthy person, but I fought a chest cold on the trip and eventually succumbed to it. The trip was mostly wonderful, but I had minimal energy the last couple of days. I came home with walking pneumonia. In addition, I jarred my back on one of the hikes and had chronic back spasms that were worse than the pneumonia, especially when I coughed.

I do not mean to have a pity party about my misery. Nevertheless, I did not feel well. I had no energy for sitting at my computer and writing about anything. I am feeling better now and am grateful as my life moves back to normalcy. Having this period of illness and extremely low energy has given me insight into how difficult it is for people who experience acute and chronic illnesses of all kinds.

Although I have minor chronic conditions that are easily controlled by drugs (e.g., hypothyroidism, hypertension, osteopenia), I have seldom experienced prolonged acute conditions. My pneumonia/back condition felt chronic in that I experienced a constant cycle of unpredictable physical pain, fatigue, and mental fog. I looked fine on the outside but was unwell on the inside. I continued my volunteer and social life as I recovered, but it took energy bursts compensated with resting with a heat pack on my back.

I feel better now, although not 100%. I remind myself not to take feeling good for granted. I also appreciate that there is temporary help to regain my health. Further, as I recover, I realize that I need to be patient with myself and take each day for what it is and how much better I feel.

Many people have far greater health challenges than me. I also am reflecting on how I can be most helpful to others as we all aim for a healthy journey through life.