The Amazing World Around Us

“Sometimes I go about in pity for myself, and all the while, a great wind carries me across the sky,” an Ojibwe saying reminds us.

Images and memories followed me this past week, so I decided to try and capture a few and share them with you. We’re all a treasure chest of wisdom and surprise, so here are some of mine—those that made me laugh, those that gave me a sense of gratitude.

Every White Elephant sale at the Auburn Heights Elementary school fair, where my donations were lackluster, but tables in the room held prizes to be carried home in triumph.

The annual surprise of Daffodil Hill at Cranbrook Gardens, the otherwise grassy slope near a patch of white pines dotted with daffodils in springtime.

Feeding four crows in my front yard after learning they travel in families—Alpha father, mother, and two juveniles who haven’t yet begun their own. Cereal, peanuts, bread—whatever I could find, I tossed. Since the crow family (crows, ravens, jays, magpies, rooks, jackdaws, choughs, and nutcrackers) is intelligent, especially ravens and crows, these learned to recognize me and announce any offerings.

One morning, while watching from my picture window, Alpha Crow walked from the oak at the corner of the yard to the window and trilled. He returned to his family while, surprised, I called back, “You’re welcome.”

One weekend at St Mary’s Retreat Center in Oxford, Dave and I stayed in a detached building, a former convent. Saturday morning, after leaving our room, I heard the sound of happy laughter, dishes clanking, and the blessed aroma of freshly-brewed coffee.

I hurried to the kitchen to beg a cup, but as soon as I turned the corner, sounds and coffee fragrance vanished, and I stood in a dark, empty room. When I mentioned it in the conference room later, I was told I wasn’t the only one to hear the “happy ghosts.” Still can’t explain it, but never forgot the experience. And yes, I did smell fresh coffee.

I’ll also never forget the woman in the wheelchair at a restaurant during the Oakland Mall’s glory days, after I opened the door for her. She stopped and gave me a beaming smile. We exchanged a wordless greeting before each of us went our own way.

“And that’s why I hired you,” my friend and boss said. “You pay attention to people.” Really? I thought everyone did. We should. She did.

An occasion I laughed so hard, I couldn’t retell the story was, surprisingly, because of a gathering at St John Fisher Chapel on Walton Road. No one told Frank or me why we’d been asked to go, and not one host explained the purpose of the meeting. Instead, they showed a film. Or tried to.

First came the attempt to locate switches and turn off lights. Ten minutes of, “Here? No, what about this?” set the mood, but when the picture and sound didn’t synchronize, it got worse. Music dragged and voices were pitched so low, words were lost.

Unfortunately, the man’s voice attached itself to the elderly woman until her mouth and his growling drawl began to match. By that time, I couldn’t look at Frank. His shoulders were shaking. The hosts must have decided to let the film play to the last droning end, because it went on and on. I tried to contain myself, but burst into a loud guffaw and bolted, Frank behind me.

We never learned what the purpose was, nor were we invited back. Go figure.

Surprises and amusements can pop up any time, with plenty of small pleasures to savor:
Rain against windows, the perfume of freshly-cut grass, walking into the (now gone) Crabtree & Evelyn shop at Somerset, inhaling. That first cup of morning coffee. Any view of Michigan wilderness.

The Au Sable lighthouse, where I wished to live for a year and write a world-changing book to the sound of the mighty Lake Superior crashing against cliffsides. A scrumptious new journal and pen.

Thinking about heroes I’ll never meet—Soupy Sales, Carl Sagan, Luke Skywalker.

The bright green grass snake on an asphalt road who coiled and began shaking at the sight of a human. Would work well in a tree or bush against green leaves, but not so much on the dusty road, although the performance went on until I took pity and continued my walk.

Think I’ll make a pot of grapefruit green tea and let the wonders of the so-called ordinary world entertain me.

Entertain is right. I still laugh when I remember the film of the couple and their poor old mother.

I still feed my current family of crows and wish to spend a year in that lighthouse.