ISO of a Wild Flower

Whatever happened to Virginia Waterleaf?

That’s what a friend of 40 years asked during last weekend’s visit.

Virginia Waterleaf is a woodland perennial plant. It gets its name from the water-stained appearance of the leaves. Its range, like mine for the last 40 years, is the eastern United States.

A biologist and nature lover, my friend had pointed out the wildflower on a long-ago hike. To me, a child of the suburbs, the plant seemed fine enough, but I surely loved its moniker. I immediately claimed it as a pen name.

Wouldn’t “By Virginia Waterleaf” look grand on a dust jacket?

I was in my early 20s and was going to be a writer, not just any writer but an important one, a writer with a capital W.

Four decades later, I am a writer, just not of the dreamed-of novels and stories or scripts and screenplays. Yet, I made a living with my words and wits. First, I wrote  “corporate fiction.” Next, I moved to government service where I put words in other people’s mouths and excised them from other’s people’s material.

And, while Oprah never called and the only book signings I attended were to see other, published authors, being a lowercase writer was satisfying. Because as Bulwer-Lytton wrote, “The pen is mightier than the sword.” Words, well put and placed, can move minds and mountains.  Even save lives.  My words may have helped make a difference.

But, back to my friend’s question. I realize that more than being about a published writer, my woodland persona was about me. About who I was before a lifetime of demands and commitments as wife, worker, mother, mentor, and more.

Whatever became of Virginia Waterleaf? It’s a good question. Thank you, dear friend, for asking. As a retiree, I have the time to find out. Now, I need the inclination. Maybe I’ll start tonight on Halloween and discard my sheet and ghostwriter costume and see if I can start the transformation into a flower. Maybe even one with a little wildness.

As Long As You Have Your Health

Health, it’s the new album by the Canadian orchestral pop group The Heavy Blinkers. It’s also a topic that weighs heavily – with each passing year, to be sure, and with my husband’s recent surgery, recovery, and setback.

The lead track on the Heavy Blinkers album offers a fresh interpretation of “As long as you have your health.” As I adapt from working fulltime to retirement and to caregiving, fresh interpretations are welcome.

To quote The Heavy Blinkers, as I “walk the tracks until my time is done” and go to the drugstore or take my husband to appointments, my list of retirement activities that start with the letter P grows. Pedaling and paddling have been joined by patient advocacy, physician visits, prescription refills, and physical therapy.  

And, in the waiting rooms and at the pharmacy counters, I see other family members who are caregivers. They all seem to be more proficient and patient. Yes, I am struggling with this role. Work was easier. 

We have encountered many caring and dedicated healthcare providers. And, we've experienced some not so wonderful, to be kind. The most vivid was the intake administrator at the ER. With her rod in her neck and missing vertebrae, she said the most important thing for rehabilitation is to “Keep moving.” Now, as I encourage my husband to exercise, thanks to our musical neighbors to the north, his rehab program has a soundtrack. 

Taking Root

I was never a gardener. I didn’t have time. Or didn’t make the time. As a retiree, time is not an issue. We surely have the location.  According to my green-thumbed neighbors, our new yard has the best soil they’ve ever seen.

So certain of our soil, they pick out plants, deliver them, and plant them for us. Our soil is now nurturing several newly acquired oxygen generators – a fig tree, a bay tree, and four laurel bushes. I’m especially watching to see if the four laurels take root; they are supposed to grow tall and fast.

At the same time, I wonder how quickly and firmly I will take root in our Tar Heel soil.

Did we find our garden spot? And, can I, will I, take root here, especially after decades in one area and an extensive root network so many miles away?

With the laurels, it should be clear-cut. Taking root requires the essential ingredients of soil, light, and moisture.

For a person, it’s more complicated, but you can substitute a plant’s soil, light, and moisture with home, health, and heart.

Hearth, or home, is shelter and, ideally, more than protection from the elements. We feel safe and secure in our stone house surrounded by trees and, more importantly, surrounded by friendly neighbors, notably those experienced, helpful gardeners.

Two, health, and that’s a big challenge for us as it is for our entire cohort. We are working on it. My husband got a new hip “installed” right after the laurels arrived. I’m exercising my creaky knees. My eyes are on the prize:  mobility.

Three, heart. We are lucky. Ira Gershwin had it right about “Someone to watch over me.” My husband and I are together and working at riding these waves of transitional waters.

But, back to the laurels and soil, light, and moisture. Scientists and researchers are learning there may be more to plant sustenance. There are mysteries still.  Right now, there’s an experiment about talking to plants. Except it’s modern talking and the Denver Museum of Nature and Science, along with an ad agency, are calling for people to Tweet to a plant. Fortunately, there’s some traditional communication involved, the Tweets are read out loud to the plant – no propped up smartphones; they might block the light.

The Denver experiment provides an important lesson. As I strive to take root in new soil, I need Tweets or any communication, traditional or trendy, to sustain me as I explore my new territory. That takes work and me texting, calling, emailing, even writing my friends who are important to me, wherever they are. My smartphone has been an unexpectedly valuable lifeline.

Lesson two comes from earthworms.  A recent report in Science Magazine said scared earthworms help plants grow. When beetles are nearby the worms migrate deeper, breaking up the soil and bringing water and nutrients. 

Perhaps the earthworms are telling me, “Get out of your comfort zone!” Confront the unfamiliar. Dig deeper. Both may be needed to take root in unfamiliar soil. In short, I’ve got to put myself out there if I am to meet new people and start new pastimes. 

And, that’s scary.

Yet, the piano teacher, the photography instructor, the political activists, and others … none are going to come knocking on my door to ask if I would like to participate.

It’s on me. I’ve got to turn toward the light.

So, I started with two of my “Ps” (October 3, 2013) – Pilates and politics. Okay, I substituted yoga for Pilates, but how could I resist the opportunity to work on balance and flexibility and strength at the aptly named Yoga with an Edge.

It’s a start. 

And, like our laurels with their nurturing soil, my new community's warm and welcoming people encourage me. 

While it may take a growing season or so, I am hopeful the laurels and I will both fully take root.

Syntax, Semantics, and Style -- Finding My Voice

I worried I wouldn’t be able to find it. After all, I’d ghostwritten for a baker’s dozen of clients over 35 years.  Among others, I’d written for lawyers, a baggage handler turned airline executive, an Italian-American former NYC cop, a female executive from the deep (really deep) South, and most intimidating yet, a former English teacher. I’d written for people twice my age, with far more life experience, and then for those nearly half my age where I held the life experience advantage.

I knew my clients’ preferences and priorities. How one always inserted “you know” every few paragraphs and specifically requested it appear in the prepared text.  (It sounded fine delivered.) How another liked quotations. Lots of them. From current to historical figures. Another client liked stories – meaty and metaphorical stories. Still another client liked both quotations and stories and a big theme with bold use of repetition.

For my first client, a Harvard-educated lawyer, I spent long summer drives listening to recordings (audiocassettes!) of his speeches to learn his voice. 

To capture a voice, you must hear it.

For subsequent clients, it came easier, but always required access.  (Yes, gatekeepers, here comes that pesky writer again.) Two minutes face to face with a client and well-chosen questions such as, “What do you want the audience to think when you leave the room?” could replace hours of recordings and easily replace many minutes with minions.

It’s been a privilege to help leaders articulate and advocate their policies.

Still, I worried about the solo scribe in the windowless room. (Yes, dear managers, writers, like plants, need daylight.)

What would the scribe say if she had a platform? Would she say anything? Did she have anything to say?

I may have completed one journey – moving 400 miles away from 40 years of personal history. As for that other journey of finding my voice.  Why, it is just beginning.

Daylight and inspirational scenery on my bike commute.

P is for Pause

There is no operator’s manual for retirement.

Ralph Warner’s Get a Life (Nolo Press, 2004, 5^th edition) comes darn close. My copy is a gift from a dear friend who taught retirement planning. There’s only one chapter on the crucial topic of financial planning; the other chapters cover equally vital subjects:  health and fitness, the importance of family and friends, and pursuing personal interests.

Jeff gave me the book several years before I was even eligible to retire. My husband was doing a great job with financial planning, I had health and fitness pretty well covered, and we chose to move down the street from dear friends.

I turned my attention to pursuing personal interests. What would fill my days with as much focus and fun as work and colleagues?

What could come close?

I chose the letter P. After all, it took care of writing (prose), which had provided so much satisfaction and a living for so many years.  The 16^th letter also covered many activities and interests: pedaling my bicycle, paddling (the kayak I want to buy), re-learning photography, local politics, piano lessons, Pilates, and spending time with my puppy.

Wasn’t this enough Ps for a plan?

Nearly two months after leaving work for the last time, I find myself adrift. Sure, there’s plenty to do.  I hadn’t realized how much was involved with relocation. That’s another P:  packing and unpacking.

I also had no idea of the time and energy and focus that it takes to help a spouse recover from surgery. He is my priority.

I need to shift gears. Neutral would be nice. I need to accept that retirement will mean redefinition and it’s okay, even necessary, to take time for reflection.

Here’s a new P word for my list:  Pause. 

P is for puppy