Someone once called me a Wise-Ass

They were 1/2 right

I don’t remember if I was already awake or awakened by the sounds. What I do remember is looking out my bedroom window into the moonlit darkness, watching my Dad help my mother into the car. She appeared to be in pain and needed assistance. As they drove away, I made the assumption that they were headed to the hospital. It was only a mile away, a four-minute drive. I knew it well after a short stay when my tonsils were removed and a subsequent trip to the ER one summer after stepping on a piece of glass hidden in the gravel of Cindy Mobley’s driveway. Bleeding, I hobbled the four blocks home, afraid to tell my mom as if it was my fault for roaming the neighborhood barefoot. She was so flustered in her rush to get me to the ER that she walked out of the house in her slippers. Mrs. Taylor, the neighbor who Mom called to come watch over my little sister, shouted, “June, you’re still in your slippers.” But I digress.

Standing at my open bedroom window that warm summer night, as they snuck off in the dark, I wasn’t scared or worried. I felt calm and mature as if they had somehow silently acknowledged the competence and capability I always thought I had. My five-year-old sister was fast asleep. I got back in bed and eventually fell asleep. I didn’t hear them arrive back home. I didn’t want them to feel bad, so I never mentioned that I saw them leave. I was 9, maybe 10.

I came into this world as an observer. I remember watching other children my age and trying to understand why they behaved the way they did, liked the things they liked, and enjoyed spending time at activities that seemed, well, childish to me. I was 7.

One of the greatest days of my life was the first day of 1st grade. I was sitting in the front row in a classroom of 60 children. I saw the reading flip chart in the corner of the room and was euphoric that I could already read the word - LOOK. I always wanted to be in the front row. There was something about its immediacy and the direct line of learning between the teacher and me. (I later learned that I get easily distracted if I am not in the front row.) Learning to read was fast and easy for me. I LOVED IT. I wanted to complete all the pages of all my Think and Do books on the day I got them. But, not wanting to incur the nun’s wrath, I didn’t.

And speaking of the front row, in 1976, I resumed my interrupted college education. At the first meeting, I sat in the front row of the lecture hall filled with about 300-400 students. I was a somewhat older student with a pre-med major. I seriously wanted to succeed. After the lecture, I went up to the Zoology Professor and filled him in on my situation (married, mother of a 5-year-old, and working part-time), asking him for advice on getting through the course. His response was, “I was wondering why a pretty girl like you was sitting in the front row.” I was insulted and taken aback. I was 24.

I was always a voracious reader. Fortunately, my mother was, too. That meant we went to the library once or twice a week. I remember walking through the library to the Children’s room while looking longingly at the Adult section. I decided that I would read every book in the library over the years. Little did I know that over my lifetime, there would always be more books written than one person could ever read. The day I got my very own library card meant more to me than getting my driver’s license ten years later. I was 6.

Looking back over the years, including the stupid stuff I was totally aware of but did anyway, there was always a life lesson or new awareness gained. I was an observer from the start and still am, even observing myself in the midst of doing.

I recently read the meaning of my life path/birth path number (8) from a trusted source. “They instinctively pick up the subtle energy cues of others…..and their demeanor can seem aloof and often cold, yet they’re incredibly warm and loving souls.” This makes sense to me and explains a lot. I can appear aloof, but in reality, I’m observing and reading energy while also assessing the situation, room, space, and flow at hand. I am almost 72, and it finally makes sense. There is still so much left to observe and learn from. Oh, and my energy forecast from the same trusted source also said, “You’ve matured incredibly over the last 18 years, as you now begin a new 18-year cycle based upon expressing yourself authentically.” I did the math. I’ll be 90! I can’t wait to see what lies ahead.

Quote of the Week

Learn to observe the ordinary. That’s where you’ll find the answers.  Lesley Riley

One looks, looks long, and the world comes in. Joseph Campbell

To acquire knowledge, one must study; but to acquire wisdom, one must observe.
Marylin Vos Savant