It's Been A Long, Long Time

A lot has happened since I posted my last thoughts. I published a book of my "Common Sense at 60" newspaper columns and called the work Life in a Tin Can because that's where I live. The book is available on Amazon.

Here's something to consider on this fine April morning:

Outside my study window is a bird feeder filled with sunflower seeds. The chickadees, sparrows, blue jays, nuthatches, and other birds that stop by provide enjoyment during the winter months, but the squirrels are another story. As uninvited intruders, they gobble up the seeds, jump from the spruce trees to the roof of my trailer, scurry across the roof, jump to the tamarack, run down its trunk, and bury the seeds in the snow. This is their routine all day, every day, and the sound of their feet hitting the trailer’s tin roof is annoying, especially when I’m trying to concentrate.

A few years ago, I was the typical old maid. I shared my trailer with three felines, Sweetie, Smoky, and Little T. By now you’ve probably guessed I’m no more a “matriarch” than you are an astronaut. I chose that word for this column because it carries a ring of authority. My “matriarchal” duties extended only as far as caring for my cats, but they were old and have passed on. Occasionally a stray wanders into my yard.

One freezing cold day last month I took a break from writing. I wrapped my hands around a hot cup of coffee and listened to the squirrels. Jump, scurry, jump. Jump, scurry, jump. The thought came to me those squirrels had more ambition than anyone I knew, including myself. The little mammals chatted with each other as they worked, and they worked from first light until dusk. I knew they worked to keep alive, but isn’t that why most of us work?

I drank my coffee and finally decided to make peace with the jump, scurry, jump. Now when I fill the feeder and find a squirrel’s tail laying on the ground, I pick it up and put it in the garbage, but instead of thinking one less varmint to deal with, I think how busy that little fellow was until he was eaten by a stray kitty. So, if this story has a moral, I guess it would be that busy is good, but awareness is better. Busy keeps you alive for the short run, but awareness will give you pleasure long after the work is done.