Piper Rain

Research or The School Of Seuss?

2012-02-16T07:14:00.000-08:00

I don't know if you heard yet....

but I am writing a book!

And like all authors,

I know I must do some ground work,

some research.

But because it is a children's book,

my research will be different and

I'll begin with.... of course, the master.

My long time

rhyme writing mentor, Thedore Giesel,

known as Dr. Seuss.

Fortunately, for me,

I don't have to cross any continents

(or maybe unfortunately,

I'd like to have

the same excuse Elizabeth Gilbert did

with Eat, Pray, Love.

And go to Bali

and live with MY spiritual mentor

but...)

Sigh, what I NEED is right here.

In my own office/studio~house.

Because within these four walls

is everything Seuss.

Either collected or given as gifts over the years,

all versions of my favorite books,

some copies containing all of them,

which could be considered

the encyclopedia of Seuss

(Encyclopedia?

Who has those anymore?

An old fashioned word for

...um... Google, I think)

One red striped office wall

'Cat in the Hat' like,

two custom designed converse shoes

and my own Cat in the Hat~ hat

(okay, time to abbreviate that)

and even an old CITH doll.

All which is rather strange because as

previously stated

(in a former blog)

THAT character,

The Cat in The Hat?

Has always been my least favorite character

of all of them.

(Had to do with the fear

of never wanting to get in trouble as a kid.)

But I have since resolved that

and embraced my 'Inner Hat Cat!'

Which NOW, means taking chances,

making messes,

AND not listening to 'the fish in the pot'.

Who will always tell you, "you better not,

be careful, don't do it".

You know 'the fish' who are afraid to have fun

and if you actually do? Best not to tell anyone!

So my research involves this:

Looking through the books again and again,

the drawings of imaginative animals,

the wild perspective of odd shaped,

fantastical buildings,

while listening to various celebrities

read the stories out loud on I Tunes.

(BTW My favorite is the rendition of

The Grinch read by scary man

Christopher Walken...yikes!)

Course this then becomes very intimidating

because there is no way I will ever

capture his rhythm

and should I even try to?

I mean ripping off Dr. Seuss,

just seems wrong,

kind of like trying to copy

Michelangelo.

And Dr Seuss's drawings?

Although, lacking in the vivid

color department for me

(maybe the print palette back then

just had less colors?)

I just love their wild outrageousness.

Spanning whole pages after whole pages.

Inviting the imagination to participate

full throttle and at any age.

But soon I begin to wonder

what am I really doing?

Sitting here with my CITH coffee cup,

trying to channel and copy Dr Seuss.

When does inspiration become

more like intimidation,

and a poor replica

of someone's masterpiece?

BUT still what if there was a school

I could go to....

you know like....ahhhhhh, YES,

The School Seuss!

Hmmmm.

Of course the address

would be 123 Mulberry Street

and there would be.....

(More tomorrow!)

Pam Piper Rain

Page 3~ While Playing Around

2011-12-07T08:59:00.000-08:00

In case you just tuned in?

I am in search of words,

ones that will hit the page perfectly,

as if they we were just waiting

for me to lay out the paper...

for them to land on!

So far it's not happening sitting at a table

with the right clothes on......

and perfect cup of coffee!

SO...I decide to...!

Get Out! In the world,

Away from the desk,

and the uninspiring outfits,

the rabbit invasion outside the window,

where the dog will be happy

and see what the desert has to say!

With new running shoes on,

I head to the lakes edge.

In Rikii MuZe's world,

it's the Whacka Whee River.

(Try saying that over and over really fast!)

Across the Bridge to When,

to the Island of What If.

It had been suggested early on

that Rikii and company would

live somewhere like Lake Havasu City.

Because from their very first visit,

John and Lee, while having lunch next

to the famous London Bridge,

(They are from England, remember?)

They felt it was a unique and wacky place.

This desert paradise on a large river

in the middle of nowhere.

I loved it... and the name Myz Tikkle Town

was scripted to the paper doorways.

This island is where I come for exercise

and inspiration.

My wide open playground of possibilities

outlined in a fringe of liquid indigo.

Running, my long time form

of moving mediation.

I wind my way along

the dips and inclines of the landscape,

and breath it in, drink it even.

All of it.

The barren beauty, the winter light,

so different than the summer kind!

High contrasts of shadow play.

The lake (or River) reflecting color

as deep as an ocean's hues,

brilliantly frigid looking

in it's Brrrrr Blue.

Oh, just a note, I DID leave

the fleece pants behind!

Phew! (see prior post)

There is no defined path here,

just edges that fall away,

trailed mini mountains that invite you

into their valleys

only to make you climb straight up again

on the other end!

Sometimes I take these,

sometimes I don't.

The terrain's, ever changing

and unfamiliar.

Like life, I suppose.

(oh, that was far too obvious to write,

I suppose...and yet?)

And there this tree,

The Allowing Tree,

that is never in the same place,

I swear!

Light on my feet this am

after writing virtually nothing,

in my new tennis, black

and surprisingly? YES, pink!

Dog flying by my side with happy ears,

over hill and dale!

When my new partners

and I initially met,

we discussed backgrounds,

because although

the dried banana leaf paper

had been sufficient enough

for the Wild Women series,

it wouldn't be for children's stories!

"And where will they live?" they asked.

This question sent me into

a panic, last April!

Live? They don't live anywhere!

And certainly nothing as mundane

as a house or rabbit hut.

Winnie the Pooh images flooding in

and it felt too cliche for the characters

I meant to create.

So where then?

And just like Rikii's name,

(while running one day,)

it suddenly came to me.

They will live in Lighthouses!!!

Of course, it was perfect!

Magic lighthouses that move around

the island (like the tree)

never in the same location,

where they were last seen.

In whimsical colors,

designed with slides, funny door knobs,

odd shaped windows

and bucket like roofs.

Because on the island... in MY real life

and along the edges of the lake,

are lighthouses!

Years ago, a group got together to create

a series of lighthouses

that are exact replicas

of famous ones from around the country.

These lighthouses,

(and I wish I knew more about this)

are not just for looks,

they guide boaters around

the sharp cliffed edges of a night time shore.

They are cool and fun, candy striped,

East coast looking, castle like,

one is even from my hometown cliffs

of Lake Superior!

There is one of these lighthouses,

in the distance,

it becomes my destination,

realizing I have never really sat on

or near one before.

Running near, paddling by

or boating past, yes,

but not sitting with them.

Or lets say, I have not yet 'experienced' one.

I reach it and lean on this particular one

that is half red and half white.

There is graffiti all over, but nice graffiti

epithets of juvenile love.

And in the spirit of the candle party,

I attended the previous night,

where we had to guess the fragrance,

of samples as they were passed around,

in which I was inspired to come up

with names like

Baby Butts or Bazooka Pink and Dirty Feet.

I started to think of descriptions!

Hmmm? So,

this lighthouse could be called,

Half Licked Lollipop.

That's it! The lighthouses need names!!!

Of course...like Briggiedy Blue Saturday,

One Stripe and Periwinkle Pockets !!!!!!

Thats's good! Quick, write it down....

Crap, no notebook it's two miles across desert

in my jeep.

So it is a race back to the paper,

while being chased by idea after idea!

And this when I know...

THIS is how it works...

how it has always worked.

I don't sit in

my dining room waiting for it to find me...

staring out the window....

For me? It is in the act of movement,

participation, interaction,

paying attention to the world,

in the voices of lighthouses

and herons, even the seagulls

(who don't seem to like me, much.)

in looking for heart shaped stones,

building stone people,

having a kite strung from my hands.

THIS is where the magic finds me,

in acts of playing and silly communion

where imagination becomes ignited

with 'what if after what if?'

In synchronistic confirmation,

there is an email from

my friend 'hippie gypsy mother of four,'

who had just read my last

post about the Unprocess of Writing,

and writes most profoundly:

(and it seems I am not the only one

thinking in rhymes....these days.)

"Your job today, is to get out and play

follow the flow, catch and release rainbows.

Frantastic, spoonastic, make it hoohoobulus fun.

Then pull out your pen and dream up some drum,

Putting flow to paper and swirling colors round,

It will only be found when playing around."

And she is right!

But I DO think I might have to design

some paper pants

and maybe wear a pen on a rope around my neck!

for those inspirational moments

when that notebook is in the distance...

a long ways from that 'Barber Shop' lighthouse

on What If Island.

Pam Piper Rain

Page 2 The Un~process of Writing

2011-12-07T08:56:00.000-08:00

Rising from the thrashed

tangled tide of sheets, it's early...

(feline early,

meaning they are not up nor

are they getting up anytime soon.)

But I am and have to be!

It's time to chase the magic,

well, more like try to find it.

AND then chase it down and

wrestle it to the page, willing or unwilling,

good or awful, trite or profound,

something must be netted at this time!

Cause this is my job...

and I am showing up for it.

This time? From 5 to 7.

Before the world wakes up

outside my window, inside my computer

(social media distractions, stay away, stay away.)

Two hours to write something before

the dog starts to block my path,

(the one I walk the same time everyday

just in case I forgot I had ONE ,

she thinks tripping over her might

help her cause.)

Before the phone stars to buzz with texts

and demands and inquires,

equally impossible to ignore.

Before I start to get 'Leadership head'

more planning, more fussing, more fretting!

So I make the perfect cup of coffee,

sit at my dining room table,

not glancing in the direction

of the pouty dog

and stare out the window

for any sign of the sun and

I am ready to begin the process...!

The process?

This would be where I write about it,

I suppose!

Except... I don't really have one

and quite frankly I should BY now!

For me it's always been random.

like while driving somewhere

and making an erratic stop,

to jot a phrase that sometimes

feels handed to me from the heavens,

and usually a one shot deal.

A take it or 'we are finding someone else

whose NOT driving' to give it to!

It's the kind of gift

that can happen in the grocery store

or paddling

(a very inconvenient time for inspiration)

it happens in conversation.

In which, I get a certain look

and am handed a pad of paper,

by observant friends.

Before the Rikii MuZe

contract was signed,

I was on fire,

writing on butcher papered doorways,

wipe and erase boards, chalkboards even

on any scrap of paper I could find,

my house littered with them

and notebooks started, lost,

a new one started and lost!

But in that time of chaotic creativity

Rikii MuZe was born, his name brainstormed

on a June day...

with my closest friend,

bouncing the spewing nonsense back to me,

while paddle boarding.

His name had to be just right,

I don't even think

I realized the responsibility

at the time, it was just fun!

We'd laugh, knowing right away NO that's not it,

it had to fit and be the name of a poet,

a poet extraordinaire.

Wanting to incorporate lyric or limerick or rhymes,

some poetic reference!

Wish, I could remember the other names,

but I don't, only the moment I said his name out loud

on the west side of the island,

standing in the middle of the lake...

it was a 110 degree day and I GOT the chills,

and knew it was right!

Rikii MuZe, with two i's like bunny ears

and muse with a capital Z.

I had found him and he had found me.

This is the magic!

The magic, I am looking for this morning.

Hmm? Wondering if

those fuzzy fleece cloud patterned pants

will provide inspiration?

You know, like if one is 'reaching for the sky,'

it will be more likely to occur while

wearing cloud pants. Right?

I put them on , grab another cup of coffee

and close the door on the mopey popey dog!

And...still nothing!

Back to the story:

In the months to follow,

there were many more moments to match that one!

A list of funny names begin rattling in my head

collected from wherever they come from!

Tuttle Pod's name inspired by an email

from Tuttle and Page,

(some business I have yet

to get another e mail from????)

My hippie gypsy friend and mother of four told me

a story about a make believe

character her child believed in.

With the very complicated name of Toe Dee Knony,

(took awhile to figure out the spelling on that one.)

Another friends misspelled name gave me, Jillie Gee!

My favorite poet turned into Rumi Roo

and on it went.

I had so many ideas

soon, I was running from papered door to papered door,

scribbling the ideas as THEY chased me down.

"Wait, wait, I would yell I am out of paper!"

NOW! It's an hour later,

the sun is up and still nothing...

oddly enough, 'rabbits' have taken over the yard,

hopping here and there and everywhere!

The plain beige ones

that don't get Rikii's polka dotted pinkness.

Called Willy Nilly and TanDum Jack,

UGH, are they all taunting me?

Hmmm! Maybe my lucky race bandanna will help,

the one with the cross bones and skulls,

and of course the socks that match!!

Right away, I know these clothing additions

are NOT going

to provide any 'word juice' other than

probably... Arghhh!

So anyways the story:

Soon, I had 22 animal names,

a clear concept of Rikii's qualities

and philosophies and an outline of four stories.

At that time, it was ALL I could think of!

A road trip the end of June,

with my funny bright best friend, Mary Lou,

that should have

taken only six hours and instead lasted ten!

With nine U turns or more, we ended up in Mexico,

rather than our destination, San Diego.

But in the process...

we manage to connect the names to all the animals

and although lost more often than not,

magic was definitely on board for that trip!

So? Do I NEED to take a ten hour trip then?

Have paper ready at the drop of a thought,

wake up in the middle of the night

nagged by something, that won't let me sleep....

I guess so because....

Sitting here in my fuzzy cloud pants,

lucky skull and cross bones race bandanna on,

(& matching socks)

with the perfect cup of coffee,

and tattered rhyming dictionary at the ready,

while a whole family of rabbits multiplies

before my eyes,

is getting me nothing....

nata... no magic.

Its 7 and time to begin my other life

and all I wrote is this blah, blah blog

about the process or rather

the un~process of beginning!

So I decide to....

Pam Piper Rain

A Retrospective Beginning (Prologue)

2011-12-01T11:34:00.000-08:00

Words have magic!
Add an illustration to that
(or in the other order)
and you have something of wonder,
that could stay
with someone for years!

I KNOW this
because I have always loved children's books,
I poured over them,
taking the imagination destination ride,
devouring and committing
most, almost all of them, to memory.
Knowing early on...
the craft of
poetry and pictures was
an art form, unrivaled!

Dr. Seuss, was my unknowing mentor,
my illustrative rhyming hero!
Never really wanting to be him,
only to indulge in his delightful tales
read out-loud at any age
to 'anything' with ears!
(mostly my cats)

If we are lucky, we remember
who we really ARE
and are designed to be...
as children and THEN hopefully as adults
(and whenever that path becomes muddy)
we can look there for the answers,
to that ever guiding star,
leading back to our earliest passions!

I loved to write,
it was my natural language
(more so then the verbal one.)
And I was a devoted critic of illustrations
and cartoons.
Only because I knew what I liked!
(Bright colors, heavy outlines)

Although, my wide eyed angelic drawings
called Krippets were adored by my small hometown,
(yes, that is glitter in their hair. geeez!)
my fellow college students and professors saw them
as an artistic failure and an embarrassment.
(Paintings with Rainbows? Seriously)
But, I managed to graduate
(somehow) and
after teaching awhile, here and there
I took the chance and stepped out on my own.

Eventually, turning from a love for
highly realistic and detailed oils,
to a series of surrealistic and a dramatic images
in an exploration of religion and sexuality.
(Also, fairly angelic in nature...hmmm?)

Which, I worked on incessantly for years (and years,)
seeking that unattainable perfection...
until I finally, pulled them off the stretchers,
rolled them up and hid them (to date)
in my closet!

I was surprised in 1990
that I could actually sell my inspirational poems!
Ones taken directly
from my heart wrenching, self serving,
semi sniveling journals and with great shyness (and risk)
page by page, calligraphy by hand, placed on torn paper,
and mounted on mat board, I labored with love!
(My hands still hurt to remember that time.)

When I got over my antiquated philosophy
that "computers were the "anti art."
I found I had an amazing tool with which to
not only write,
but enhance my designs...as well as Voila',
print them myself and by the dozens,
with just a touch of a button (and a mouse)!

Then a series of petrogylph like characters found a following
with the use of bright whimsical color
and meaningful sayings.
It seems, I had created my first faceless stick people
that would become simple symbols of joy
dance and...all of "humanity."

As an avid cat lover, couldn't resist
adding some smirky feline designs and poems
called Brat Cats,
Then I rescued my first dog
and was 'puppy inspired.' (For life.)

Meanwhile, the non gender petrogylphs
became decidedly female,
with animal print clothing
and could only be called, Wild Women.
Faceless femininity, celebrating
our 'getting older and our getting bolder',
and the 'girlfriends' we travel the journey with.
Here, I found they had more meaning
more appeal, when I added
a ryhming poem to them!

The serious poetry continued
but in the background
and more for my private journaled musings!
And then for the Magnetic Women series.

In an effort to be taken more seriously
as a painter, maybe even a FINE art painter
(cause for some reason,
I bristled when called an illustrator!)
An ethereal and less controlled style
was attempted
and I wanted to tell short cryptic clever stories
with these (again) faceless ladies!
Which have proven to be my all time
favorite style and series!
With ten total in the collection,
I have yet to part with any of the originals
at this time.... for ANY price!

In due course, I found myself
with my own card/print company.
I wrote, designed, published,
painted, framed, marketed, packaged,
promoted, distributed
and 'schlepped' my sh—-, um, work
around to art shows
and retail stores across the country...
for...well... forever!

A contract with Blue Mountain Art
helped for awhile!
Then suddenly, it was twenty one years later,
and I was tired...very tired!

At which point, I was up to ten different collections
and possibly over 400 published designs.
(The Wild Women designs at nearly 90!)

Although, I continued to love children's books,
collecting them for my 'childless home'
and displaying them in my office.
(Which resembles a small children's library!)
I had no plans to ever write one!
Everyone seemed to want to do that
and it was too much of a cliche
to even utter it out loud or consider!

Yet, through a series of magical events
I discovered...
this is exactly what I was meant to do...
what I was always destined to do
and it took this long to know,
this long to believe...
this long to begin!

And I am doing so because
two English gentlemen
saw a white/pink polka dotted rabbit
on a Wild Women painting
last April, at a show and asked,
"have you ever thought
about doing a children's book?"
I don't remember my answer...!

So, I find myself
beyond humbled (and terrified) by the opportunity
to 'maybe' create images and words that
will be held in such long lasting and equal wonder
as 'Green Eggs and Ham' and 'Ping' did for me!

In an attempt to document this journey,
(and return to the practice of writing)
I have revamped my blog page... (finally!)

And this...is the first page of that story!

Pam Piper Rain

The Seed

2011-04-13T07:34:00.000-07:00

Then the day arrives...

and you know its time,

time to let go

and turn away from...

when the whisper in your ear

becomes a shout

and it's all you can hear

you recognize it

because its been stalking you

and it sits in your belly

like a weight needing flight

recognizing

holding on is no longer

the option,

truth and hope wear

a new outfit now,

and you want

to scream why? why?

and more why's?

until your voice is ragged

and there is only

silence in reply

and your fingers tremble

as you lift them

in a gesture of release

and what ever it is

flutters away in a flurry

to be free

your raised eyes

see it

knows it's what you

were waiting all along

....to finally do

and the seed of surrender

takes root!

Pam Piper Rain

If you found this poem

and this blog today...

you were meant to.

Peace surrounds you!

Proof

2011-04-11T07:20:00.000-07:00

Tempe Race Day!

It has its own breed of anticipation,

that which is imagined

and expected with historic

reasoning for a spring race...

things...like too much sunshine on skin

in shades of various reds,

lots of water, colorful chairs, the preview of

other teams enviable jersey designs,

a tunnel of high fives

to greet our many dock exits,

maybe even pinwheels and hula hoops,

but definitely tank tops, flip flops

Julie's (John's mom) now famous cookies,

and excited gleeful smiles on new

and seasoned racers greeting one another,

tons of medals, pictures and teammate-ship.

(not really a word but I like it!)

But it didn't exactly go that way!

Its 5:00 am race day we are up early,

maybe too early

when the hotel door is opened

to the sound and sight of pouring rain.

Really?

Naively, hopefully, we want the forecast

to be wrong and calls are made seeking

a desired 'cancelled' confirmation.

Because we are desert paddlers and simply?

We don't do rain!

Unless there is lighting the Race is ON!

We, my party of four,

keep our eyes to the sky for any sign!

Soon, it is evident that some of us are

more prepared than others,

also, some of us are inclined

to whine more than others,

and mental notes are

made for who will win the

Whiners Award! ( a pacifier)

it's a clear choice, without any contender.

( I won't mention her name here, ha)

So on we go, trudging our usual

abundant collection of accessories,

it seems all paddlers need for the day,

chairs, food, tents and stuff

we can not do with out for 6 hours!

Dragging it to our little patch

of soggy real estate at the top of the grassy knoll!!

It's grim, it's gray,

it's wet, it's cold

40 something for a typical 90 degree day

in April and there is no lighting in sight!

Pure misery?

Would seem so,

but this is what happens...

clothes are shared,

paddlers do without so

someone else can be

a bit more comfortable,

we sit in cars a lot

with the unpleasant smell of wet neoprene,

but are retrieved when our race is up,

we give up any

and all sense of fashion and

take after Anita's paddling version

of bag ladies,

for tolerable almost warmth,

people stay even tho WE all want

to drive home...

to sunny temps knowing if anyone leaves

others won't be able to race.

(That's commitment. )

We tease one another

and thank those who were talked into this

"its so much FUN" event, for coming!

Good with whatever seat is given

after many calculated reformatting

from Sara and her race chart,

now very shredded and wet.

There is still the high five tunnel off the dock

cause the host team is happy, encouraging

and grateful for every team that showed,

and stayed to play and paddle.

Most of THEM are traditionally barefoot..brrr!

A generous guest paddler

returns with two boxes

of hot coffee, and becomes

every ones best friend and hero!

The turns are flawless, lanes widened,

one of us steering most of the races,

two, the rest... and another,

for the first time!

We all rally and greet other teams

with happy

"great to see you's"

we share food, clothes, tents,

blankets with them

and Yes, Julie's famous cookies.

A sweet distraction as we huddle together like

prairie horses against the wind.

"What the hell, give me another cookie."

For myself I wore a big blue

kite like tarp, resembling Violet Beauregarde

(the blueberry girl in Willy Wonka's story)

it was goofy but it cut the wind!

And everyone wanted that poncho

when I left it behind to race!

Didn't' care that my hair

was stuck to my head,

mascara running,

or that the tips of my fingers

were frozen off or

was developing a rash from being in wet clothes

too long.

Decided to say, YES, to whatever,

while enjoying who was who

just by their ankles and eyes,

cause thats all that was showing.

Steered my first race in three miles of rain

deceptively telling the crew

"we are almost there!"

Was won over by MJ's hobbling attendance

after a knee surgery just to support us.

Loved that the host team
asked if we really had two 69 year old novices?
Yes we do!!!
Enjoyed a co ed race that was an exciting
cat mouse chase game,
that had everyone on their feet
wondering who would take it.
(It felt like first all the way!)
Loved that Carol brought the pinwheels
and John's mom always remembers.

And that as abundant as the rain,
the goosebumps and the cold crinkled faces
and blue lips, were bright smiles
and warmth and medals!
(one for everyone that raced)
...that there was that familar
feeling of "family,"
the one that has carried
many of us, over years
and years of "paddletics" and conflict
just to continue to be devoted
to a crazy sport we love,
in sometimes crazy conditions, like today...
with crazy people we ultimately
end up loving as well.

WHY? Because its what we do
and as Kuba our tireless race director
would say, "its all good"...
and today ...was proof!

Pam (Piper Rain)

Bumps and Rain

2011-03-07T09:39:00.000-08:00

Its starts with a seed

an inspiration,

and I believe it comes to more

than one person at a time,

whose ready, whose paying attention?

Whose going to run with it?

I love what the poet Ruth Stone said

about this,

"as a child in the fields of Virginia,

she could feel and hear

a poem coming at her

from over the landscape,

like this thunderous

train of air, she had one thing to do

and that was run like hell

to the house to get

that poem down on paper,

if she missed it,

it would continue on in search...

of another poet."

Having thought the same thing

since I was a child...

I had never heard it put like that!

My idea, was called Paddles and Pinwheels!
A playful (always ten)
way to not grieve but celebrate the life
of my very feisty, funny, sassy, sparkly
and missing friend Jennifer Andrews.
Who loved paddling, Easter baskets
of pinwheels, bubbles and candy necklaces.

After she left I was challenged with
the question...
how was I going to live?
Not just live but really LIVE?
That exploration turned into
a life's philosophy,
and I felt required to share it.

This would be the second annual event

of Paddles and Pinwheels

and it would bring

paddlers together,

all paddlers, for a playful event

that required a pinwheel

on all the water crafts

and a parade of 'wheees' on the lake.

Jennifer's favorite saying...

(Yes, we were 'wheeing' long before

Maxwell from the Gieco

commercial showed up!)

And a pinwheel garden of dedication!

Where a pinwheel could be tagged for

the celebration of someone/anyone loved!

So we get an inspiration,

which is fun and exhilarating...

its the buzz in the belly

that keeps you awake at night,

that universal magnet

that tugs and pulls and won't let go!

That one thought that won't leave you alone!

Yaay ...then what?

Follow Through!

The keep on, keeping on part

the research, the purchases

(like the suction cups I had to buy

that only came in a box

of three hundred and fifty!

Good grief...really?)

The social networking required,

(that some might say 'enough already'

with P nP!)

Then come the mornings

where the first thought is

Holy Crap! What was I thinking?

I can't do this,

I don't have time or the resources!

Yikes...

Then the spirit

of my very bossy friend, Jennifer

would come through,

not softly or subtly

but loud and clear.

"Come on girlfriend,

just get on your big girl panties

and do it."

So I did!

But not without a lot

of bumps... and rain!

The night before the "first" scheduled

Paddles and Pinwheels.

Fifteen wonderful people gathered to

assemble and tag almost 200 pinwheels.

The living room was covered

with blue, pink, and green twirly whirls.

After everyone left I sat with

my biggest supporter of the event, Mary Lou!

(She fielded a lot of panicked text messages)

As we gazed at the bouquet of pinwheels

on garden sticks she says very profoundly,

"everyone should be loved this much."

Yes, indeed!

The next morning woke up

to pouring rain...

so bummed...had to cancel that day

and the following weekend of more rain.

Evidently, I didn't get to choose

the date for this...

But March 5th was the gift

of the perfect windless calm water day

I had pictured all along.

So humbled to have forty

some paddlers show up,

grateful to my Outrigger club for all the help

and support for this silly adventure

(that requires some work and time on their part)

and to everyone who made

a donation to the Hospice!

(we also made 150. in donations)

This is part of what I said

after Jens story and 'thank you's,'

Cancer sucks! Not much more to be said

about it than that.

We have all been wounded by it

and grieved loved ones!

But if we learn to live better

because of it...

Cancer has some value! SOME!

And those who have crossed over

having fought that great fight,

have given us the invaluable gift

of their lives...

as a reminder to always

celebrate these temporary moments

with wonder and grace.

Jennifer's wish and mine would be,

to see this one precious and wild Life of yours

as a ride, an adventure,

live a BIG life

and as often as possible find

the moments that require

an impulsive uncontainable WHEEE

from start to finish,

seek the kind of laughter

that makes you stop breathing

and cross your legs just in case...

take uncensored chances,

dance on main street if you

get asked and even if you don’t,

create stories worth telling,

believe love never really leaves,

find friends you’d cross an ocean for

and hold on to miracles

and magic with an infallible faith

that never ceases to amaze!

Cause what if this IS

all we really have...this moment!

Ask yourselves will you embrace it

with a woe or a whee?

So it was a beautiful day

with hula hoops, bubbles,

lots of smiling, bright, happy people

who love a paddle in hand,

sharing stories

and a moment of beauty on the water

remembering to celebrate the temporary!

The best moment came

when a large flock of ducks/Coots

were interrupted by our parade

noisily scattering to get out of our way,

as paddles and pinwheels and 'whees'

invaded their space!

Don't think the ducks felt

very 'whee" about it!

Next year, I hope it catches on

and gets bigger

We still have pinwheels and suction cups left

and the work is mostly done

so my 'Holy CRAP' moments

will be fewer.

But what I really hope

is this idea is in the wind,

and coming across the landscape

on a thunder of air

for someone else to catch

in their net of thoughts

and pinwheels begin

to show up everywhere!

And the celebration begins!

Pam Piper Rain

Photos by Tina Benson

And the Winner is.....

2011-02-27T06:55:00.000-08:00

I love movies...love love them!

The lights dim and

I settle into the big backed chair

breathing in the anticipated ride

the ride?

The ride of superb storytelling!

Cause my reason for going

to movies is not to be entertained...

if that was the case I would have

never seen Million Dollar Baby

or Titanic, Schindler's List,

Monsters Ball or Silence of the Lambs

(which I watched admittedly from the hallway.)

I go for the craft of storytelling

its research. I pay close attention

to the wonderment of how the story is told.

And the Oscars for me is the prize,

the ball...

the event that celebrates that storytelling.

And every January I am on a missions to

watch every film nominated for Best Picture!

Friends and girlfriends start to appear

very busy and won't answer their phones

because they know Operation Oscars is in motion!

And they will be talked in to being

a part of that mission!

And tho I don't mind seeing movies alone

so much more fun to dissect them

at length with a companion!

Its is a daunting task I must say.

When they went to ten best pictures

over the former eight,

it became a full time job.

One I am paid for in only

pure indulgent joy!

And for the first time

EVER I saw all of them..

Yaay! Truly a silly feat to be proud of!

And ...most of my friends are still talking

to me even...

which was sort of touch and go over

127 Hours

when my friend M Lou kept

swearing at me under her breath

as Aaron begins to saw off his arm

to save his life....

Tho I really don't have time to do this

and the sun is out

for the first time in three days,

I will ignore the lake calling my name and

write this short review.

(Cause I do not think I can do this

again...I may actually

have a life next year...ha!}

The Fighter

This was my first movie for Operation Oscar

and maybe my favorite.

Mostly, for the colorful characters!

Amy Adams is at her feisty, sexy best!

The mother, Melissa Leo

is without argument

Best Supporting actress.

And if they could give those seven ugly

couch sisters an award

for their hairdo's alone. Ha!

I wanted more of them!

Without too much slow motion

flinging, spurting, sweat and blood,

as most fighting movies have,

they nail the inspirational part!

Black Swan

Artsy and avant-garde which I love.

What's real, what's not? It's a terrifying ride

thru the brutal world of ballet!

Natalie Portman should get Best Actress.

to quote a friend, "she made me

so uncomfortable."

"When an actor can do that you can't

take you eyes from them."

Tho the skin references

rough going personally,

the moment she turns into the

Black Swan feather by feather...

is worth the journey!

Kids Are All Right

At first I was excited a lesbian film

was a mainstream nomination.

Until I saw it... although intriguing

and Annette Bening and Julianne Moore

made adorable lesbians

I was bothered by the seduction of Mark Ruffulos'

character...found the whole story annoying

and wouldn't agree that it is Oscar worthy!

True Grit

Wasn't on my list at all to see!

Never saw the first one and

when the Golden Globes snubbed it

I was hoping the Oscars would too

but they didn't.

In true Coen Brother's style it

was extreme and grim.

Tho new comer Hailee Stienfield

was a wonder to watch...

Jeff Bridges hard to understand

with the marbles he seemed to

have in his mouth!

And the ending dreary dreary! UGH!

( M Lou was mad at me for this one as well)

Winters Bone

Super Ugh... just shoot me now...

a young girl has to kill squirrels and beg for help

in the Ozarks cause her family and neighbors

are horrible and mean and crack users!

And then she has to saw off the arm of her

murdered father who is anchored in a river

to prove he is dead.

Again, Best picture??? really?

Social Network

Hmm? Liked it, thought Jesse Elsenberg

believable and brilliant

and a movie about computer communication?

Wouldn't have worked without the screen play by

Aaron Sorkin.

Wins for the writing!

But I wasn't as moved by it as I wanted to be...

and feel like I missed something?

Did I?

Toy Story 3

As an illustrator no one is a bigger fan

of the rise of animation as an Art Form

and Pixar would be have been my destination

if I was younger.

Its incredible that a cartoon (so to speak)

can be in Best picture category

I don't think its a candidate but

a thoughtful and clever story...

will never look at old toys the same way.

Inception

Loved this concept very thought provoking

a little confusing which made watching it at home

a good choice...!

What? Replay....zzzzzzz okay

that makes sense...the special affects,

a hands down winner!

Kings Speech

Saw this one alone and wish I hadn't...

it was a wonderful piece of history

and superbly acted.

I am predicting a sweep for them

including Best Actor for Colin Firth!

127 Hours

Tho I left it for last

and treated it like something I

HAD to do like a smelly job!

(Not fan of blood or limb severing.)

I was so won over by

the story telling quality

and the editing was

amazing, for a tale that happens all in

one location, a claustrophobic cavern!

Metaphorically stunning!

The only movie that moved me to tears!

On my list of

"Only Watch Once But worth It Movies"

The Town

Tho not nominated I think it should have been.

A worth while watch!

Actor, writer, director, Ben Affleck

creates a action packed well

told story in this movie!

There I did it

saw all of them

and wrote a blog about it

and the winner is???? Me!

Yaay...now that's done

and my Happy Oscar Day messages sent

to my 'rolling their eyes at me' friends

have to fill out my ballot

(one for who will win

and one for who I want to win)

and then get out my cocktail dress

for the feigned red carpet...!

If you are an Oscar nut like me

...enjoy!

Pam Piper rain

Dear Jen

2011-02-17T06:35:00.000-08:00

We lose people we love,

a take for granted fact of life,

we grieve and hopefully,

learn to live better

because of it...

In honor of my best friend's Jennifer.

I am wearing my candy necklace,

blowing bubbles and adding pinwheels

to my garden

and reposting this letter

from February 2009.

Dear Jennifer,

I started this journey with you

promising myself

to trust and believe in miracles

to raise you up

and make you most important

someone in my life!

To hold on to the most insignificant

moments like shiney silver treasures,

to be strong and the most

necessary kind of friend,

a guarantee there

would be no doubt you were

absolutely loved!

Yet, I write this knowing you

won’t ever see it...

and I am weighted with wishes

I didn’t even know I would have

such a surprise collection

of raw regrets

I had tried to avoid...and didn't

so I say this...

Dear Jennifer,

I wish I would have kissed

your face more

and held your hands in random affection

I wish I had a 100 things

with your handwriting on it,

I wish the obvious like

finishing the cancer coloring book

and that you could have seen

Dashing Deliah in print.

I wish when you asked me

to tell you what I wanted of yours,

I would have boldly handed you a list...

ONLY, so you would have been touched by the

silly things I valued as parts of you!

I wish I had hours of you recorded

telling me what you wanted and

dreamed of and were afraid of.

I wish every time we had talked

I would have been courageous

enough to ask

“what frightens you today?”

or tell me something important...!

I wish I would have stayed

with you in Chicago that winter,

when you were so lonely and scared.

I wish I didn’t think it was enough

just to take your calls at any hour or

make you a CD of songs

so you would stop

watching the DVD

or that sending you a warm jacket

could remotely make up

for my not being there!

I wish I would have payed attention

more to the moments and the days,

slipping away.

I wish I could have heard

what you were telling me

when you said you didn’t

want a calendar this year.

To have seen it more fleeting

and in a brave way

than the “optimistically denial” way.

I wish, I didn’t think you would

beat this and there’d always

be more time, another day

another phone call, another race.

I wish I hadn’t made so many excuses

for not stopping by

and just pushed past them,

(maybe even knocking him down

in the process.)

I wish when you called that last saturday

I would have kept you talking

as long as you could,

and had known

how important that was.

I wish I had remembered

your chenile robe request earlier and said

I am coming even tho you said don’t.

Wish I had known the last time

I hugged you was the 'last time'

...but we never really do do we?

What I don’t have to wish for

is more pictures of you,

gratefully, we have thousands.

Don’t need to wish I had a

handwritten card that

said you loved me

I have that,

or some symbol of you I can wear

I have that as well.

I don’t have to wish for more memories

because three years of

your friendship gave that.

I don’t have to wish I said

I love you more, cause I did...

every chance I got.

Don’t have to wish

I knew how you felt about life and stuff

cause I do I really do!

Or that you were

surrounded by love and laughter

because you were, beyond so!

I don’t have to wish I knew

someone like you...

cause I did.

Dear Jennifer,

I wish you could have stayed longer

and paddled more oceans of turtles with us

and drank a vineyard of wine

(tho we came close)

and lie awake all night, giggling

until we couldn’t breathe

and nothing else matters

but that moment

of such hialrious joy

we were unable to name it

or remember it the next day.

Jen, you were my boat and my anchor

my safe place to land, my voice of reason

my "get over yourself" voice

my crush, my counsel and my confidant,

my best friend!

Dear Jennifer

I wish you a heaven full of stars

each one being someone your

life flashed on with your fiesty brightness

the ones who probably heard you say

this is just the way it is...

next! mmmHMM!

I wish you a giant swing in the sky

with the biggest “wheees” possible.

Do you have a best friend you adore?

For me, for Jennifer...tell them,

and don't delay...

"tomorrows" just a fleeting illusion!

Pam Piper Rain

A Paddling Love Story

2011-02-16T07:18:00.000-08:00

A Paddling Love Story

Have you ever had someone come into your life and leave you so altered you wanted to write a great novel about it, paddle oceans, perhaps sing a poem from a mountain top, dance on main street, or build a pinwheel garden just to tell the world "hey, because of this person, I am not the same!"?

Whatever we do in our lives, everyone hopes to leave something behind from their time on earth. One of the most significant things we can leave behind ...is our story...or stories. If you were loved and altered by someone's story, how their lives touched you...it is a story worth telling.

Cancer sucks! There really isn't anything else to say about it, but that. I hope you don't mind my telling this story...it involves magical friendships, courage, victories, loss, wisdom, and lessons learned. It is about celebration of life at its best and most temporary, and of course, paddles, bubbles and pinwheels.

Paddling came into my life five years ago by the arm twisting of a close friend. Since, I can't swim well and don't much like the water overall, being on a very narrow tippy boat on the lake (or especially the ocean) is NOT where I prefer to be! It wasn't right away, but over time the sport of paddling grew on me and I fell in love with the unlikely.

Soon after came the arrival of four other women who felt the same way (with a lot less arm twisting), all with strong personalities, yet very different, contributing to a team whose whole was more than the sum of it's parts. One of those women was Jennifer Andrews. The first time we met, I raved about the sport to her. And here was this woman, who told me how much she loved Hawaii, and who loved the water, but I thought she was way too glamorous to ever join us. Jen came out the next day and never left until she couldn't join us any longer...!

She became our best friend and confidante, hours on the phone, funny stories over wine, we were never without her support, compassion, and uncensored humor. One year she gave us all an Easter basket (she loved holidays) full of forgotten childhood wonders...a candy necklace (remember those?), pinwheels, and bottles of bubbles! It reminded us to play, enjoy, and believe in the moment!

The six of us did everything together, growing as friends, each contributed something to the group that made us all better. The friendship was intense, and seemingly exclusive, we couldn't help it...we were on "borrowed time". That camaraderie afforded us success in races, success we would have never dreamed possible. A novice team from the desert? Competing on the ocean? All over 45, two of which were grandmothers, winning medals? Nonsense! But we did. In our first race together, the canoe seemed to just glide with the magic of teamwork, and every race after that just got better. We were full of ourselves, reveling in the moments and the love that was "sixasone". And...we thought we had forever to continue the magic. We had no idea it would end so soon.

When Jennifer was diagnosed with stage four cancer, a year later, our worlds were rocked to the very core. We found ourselves in a different kind of race and everything changed. It was a long tough fight for her, in which she complained little and still laughed and bossed us around when she came out. Being the sass, sparkle, and spunk to any occasion, she kept us uplifted instead of the other way around. We sought to encourage her with themed gifts which, we left on her doorstep when she returned from her long trips to the hospital. One time it was a super hero stuff, with individual homemade capes, bubbles, another time, a pinwheel garden outside her window. There was even a flat cardboard version of her that went to every race in her absence, lovingly known among all the teams, as Flat Jen!

In 2008 she asked us to "pinky swear" that when she was done with Chemo, we would all do the Rig Run in Santa Barbara with her. It was the dream of doing that race that got her through two months of radiation treatments in the Chicago winter. That summer, on a perfect May day in Southern California, the six of us paddling together again, all of us believing in miracles, she was the happiest, strongest, ever and paddled 12 miles! We didn't win a medal but of course no one cared, our prize was so much more.

As hard as we prayed, paddled, and wished for a miracle for her, we never got one. That last January we went to help her take down her Christmas decorations, all together in one room," just like old sixasone times", she said smiling. The laughter was bittersweet, somehow we all knew it was over and it was... we never saw her again.

Now, I wear her silver paddle around my neck along with the words Kinipela which is Jennifer in Hawaiian...she is never far from me! I miss her more than I can say! There is so much more I would like to tell, so many stories of how she changed us, but that will require pages still to be written. But this is what I want to say most...Jennifer's death taught me to live...the only thing about cancer that is worthwhile.

Most of us have been touched by this disease, or know someone who has, and have to find peace with it in our own way. It is a journey for those who live and die with it and those of us who walk beside them. Who teaches who? Who inspires who? Who is the most courageous? We are all courageous who have been touched by cancer, but none more than those who fight it within their bodies every day!
Jennifer changed us, she made us better. But we were able to give her a gift as well...two years of adventures that felt like a lifetime to all of us. She did things she never dreamed of, and had five best friends to celebrate life with, and that knowledge makes us all smile whenever we think of her.

In her memory, I created an event called Paddles and Pinwheels, please join us on the water, wearing a purple shirt (her favorite color...or pink...or lavender, and place a pinwheel on your canoe to honor someone you love... someone whose story altered your life. Let's celebrate the temporary, celebrate the sunshine on the lake, smile and laugh, celebrate life...with paddles in the water and spinning pinwheels in the wind! Wheee whee!

Thanks You for listening! Pam

What If?

2011-01-06T07:48:00.000-08:00

What if

a note hanging in a tree

could change your life?

No really,

a little piece of random magic tied

to string bearing the words you

needed at that exact moment in time?

What if?

Would have not believed it myself

but two years later I see

the tendrils affects across my life,

of the Mabel Luhan Lodge note

I found in a tree in Taos.

To find myself saying shortly there after,

what if I CAN dance and did dance

and it was fun?

In which I joined friends

for the performance

of Thriller that fall and

everything transformed.

And took off on a rocket ride

of energy and wonder!

I began to look at everything

I had said 'no' to, 'couldn't, wouldn't

...nope not gonna try even!!!'

And wondered what if I saw this differently?

A large fan of words (obviously)

and affirmation cards,

I had been feeling the desire

for my own idea of wildly whimsical

cards forming

and the creative wheels starting to spin.

But for me I have learned

to trust the process

that the direction, the time, the design

will be revealed when it is right!

Good thing cause I had not a clue

how to begin

and although I have 200 plus poems

about the subject of life and growth

and becoming and believing

and blah blah blah...

they seemed too tired

and stiff for this project!

Or maybe I was! hmm?

Walking up to my rather large takes up

too much room

to park show truck and trailer unit

this fall in Tucson

I found a note on my wind shield wiper.

Never a good thing right?

Especially at an event where

city codes for parking

are impossible to understand

and in constant change!

"Okay," I thought, "this can't be good."

as I pulled it from my window and read it!

But it wasn't a bad note

rather a polite friendly

one saying they had boxed me in

and would move when I needed them to.

Hmm, what if a note on a

windshield was a NICE one,

something you wanted to read

and creating an energy shift

for just a moment

and if nothing else... a responsive grin?

That weekend,

I was have a "mopey popey" time.

Poor sales, too much uninteresting time

spent in a ten by ten space...

I wrote or lets say my pen

started to write line after line

starting with

What if, 'when pigs fly was today?' Look out!

This one made me laugh and on it went

until I had 57 of them numbered and

suddenly I was not glum anymore either.

I was actually feeling amazingly different!

What if indeed!

Naturally, I couldn't resist the temptation

to share some of these witty inspirations,

I wrote them on corners of notebook paper

and around the local neighborhood

I left them on cars.

No name, no website, just a random gift.

Not a fan of the Holidays,

the dread increasing as it grew closer,

I kept thinking of how I can change this?

Couldn't afford to adopt a family

and always do Toys for Tots and the food bank...

but something different was in order!

Something creative, clever and inexpensive.

What if notes in trees created

a difference somehow, some way.

Could it? Well I was certain it would for me but

that wasn't the total point.

So a week before Christmas I began

a What if Wishes Campaign!

Developing a design I sort of liked..

but after dispersing ten

handwritten ones in parks

and parking lots...

it was too much and I had to go to print!

The key was not to get caught or look back

or even return to see if they were still there,

AND not to expect any results!

Oh and not to tell my friends what I was up to...

but that didn't last very long,

I was too excited!

So twenty some notes

have been hung or placed!

I don't know if any of them

rocked anyones world but

doing this for me changed

the season into one

of magic and creative random

playful hope!

Although, I am certain, I was the subject for

some cursing the day we had the big storm

and the many people

from the Walmart parking lot

were not happy to see

a note flapping back and forth

with the wipers and rain!

Whoops!

The campaign is still in full gear!

I carry them in my car all the time now

and whenever it feels right, I leave one!

I suppose some will think its a nuisance

or ridiculous notion that

a mere note could offer

any valuable random insight.

But what if one note created

a ripple affect of change.

Why not try, I think!

And as a story teller and story collector

I hope to hear ONE of those story's someday.

So I added a cryptic signature of Piperain,

in the rare chance someone

WANTS to find me and report back!

What if it's YOU!

Pam Piper Rain

The Meaning of Make Believe

2010-11-09T06:44:00.001-08:00

Make Believe!

these two words

have outlined my life...

as a child in Crayolas,

as an adult in markers!

Make Believe?

Is it a childhood term only or...?

What would it mean as an adult,

how would it be defined, lived,

acted out at mid age...?

How do we pretend?

well I am sure there are all sorts of ways

but I am not referring to the kind

that requires us to live off the grid...

or deceptively...

just silly and simple acts

of believing in the impossible,

the imaginative!

Didn't plan on researching this

but in retrospect

my past week was exactly

a game in make believe.

My leadership development class

met for the second time for

the dreaded and scheduled

public speaking session.

Oh, so very yuck!

And I didn't sleep at all

the night before.

When speech number one, didn't go well.

due to the uncontrollable shaking

which shows up in voice and hands!

This happen to everyone ...right?

A professional guest speaker

gave us some amazing tips, like using props,

colored markers to section our notes,

halved paper for less nervous rattling,

eye contact, eye contact, eye contact...

tho I would use most of the tips successfully

I knew eye contact

wasn't going to be one of them,

no matter how hard I tried.

"Speak on a childhood memory,

you have twenty minutes to prepare,

and two minutes to speak."

I wasn't the first to volunteer nor was I the last

(...John was.)

With colored notes in one hand

and an orange Trick or Treat bucket

which I eventually placed on my head, I began:

"We all have our favorite childhood age,

when we share of a memory...

but for some reason

I am always ten in mine,

I am sure I had to be other ages tho,

right?

Anyways, I had a great imagination

and although,

I grew up in Duluth Minnesota,

I thought it was Africa.

South Africa to be exact,

and I knew everything about it,

where the different animals lived,

the names of all the countries

and their capitals...why?

Because I also believed I was...black!

One spring I found

a leopard skin piece of fabric

in a thawing ditch.

Brushing it off

I swung it across my shoulders.

And it became a magical vest,

a warrior's vest

and I wore it everywhere.

My mom,

my very Scandinavian

and fashion conscious mom,

was dismayed!

Not only did she have a daughter

who was a tomboy and running around town

with pretend leopard skin vest on,

while chasing imaginary wild animals...

her daughter also believed... she was black!

Never really grew out of this.

I loved to make something simple

into something magical

and let it take me places!

When I was ten,

we had this old shelled out

wash machine in a back yard field.

This scrapped piece of metal

became my fantasy transport

as a covered wagon,

a dog sled attached to a toboggan

and one time a rocket ship.

My girlfriend and I decided

to send my brother and his friend

to the moon in it.

We tied a rope around it,

stuffed them inside

with a football helmet on and probably

a bucket like the one I am wearing now."

Its here I realize there is too much of an echo

inside the bucket and

and although my eye contact problem is solved

cause it hangs low hiding them..

I try to remove it but

the handle is caught on my chin

and I can't get it off!

So I leave it on!

Hmmm? Not really the original plan!

" Anyways, my brother and his friend

are beyond excited with promises to bring

back some milky ways

and say hi to the man in the moon for us.

We hoist and hoist...

being evidently really strong little girls

until they get to the crook in the tree,

the end of the rope and

in a silent stillness...they swing back and forth

with blank sad faces.

Looks of great disappointment times four.

To this day I am still not sure

IF I really believed we could get them

to the moon?

That anything was possible.

Cause when you are ten...anything IS possible.

So I wonder, what might I do if I still thought

like a ten yeard old?

What might I be able to do?

What might we all be able to do?"

End of speech..thank goodness

and the bucket was removed...with help!

It turned into a week of make believe.

Starting with pretending

to still be a competive athlete

and dreaming about wanting

and winning medals.

Not Olympic ones but... hey?

(See previous blog)

Of pretending to be able to dance

and sort of really dancing...

(and liking it,)

of being a zombie and a pirate and getting

to return to my "Farrah hair" of the seventies.

And I pretended to be an activist for a park

even carried a protest sign!

And of course had a make believe moment

of being a comedianne

with a bucket helmet and an audience!

When I talk about always being ten,

I BELIEVE it

and wouldn't live any other way!

Have you been ten yet today?

Pam Piper Rain

Older than Dirt and...

2010-10-27T07:30:00.000-07:00

Its a week end of

"oh how I love this sport"

three medals, and two days

of wins, teamwork,

magic and silly friendship stuff

dorming it like wild college kids

and there is a thousand laughs

in the fun account

to feel very rich.

Hawaiianly charmed

and entertained

on a grassy hillside abundantly dotted

with reclining, dancing, drinking,

beautifully tattooed, smiling paddlers.

Our return here, marks five years

from our first race EVER!

Still can see us standing on the shoreline

naively novice in our big red bag shirts

that held rather than hid the smell of nerves.

We ran back and forth watching every turn

for tips, for clues

we had only discovered

the sport three months earlier

and we were, hmmm...

how should I say....terrible!

Without a coach or resident expert we

had learned

thru borrowed videos and books.

Even once simulating a way to dry paddle

using a picnic table and a cooler.

(Yeah, I know, odd to picture)

But for some reason

we were a crowd pleaser that day

coming in second

(don't get excited, out of two)

behind the intimidating Hawaiians.

Discovering immediately this was a sport

where teams helped other teams,

everyone friendly, good natured

and generous with information

and encouragement.

They LOVED us and still do it seems!

Charmed and seemingly pleased

to see us do well.

Is it because we are relatively new

or an unlikely collection

of older than average athletes

from the desert?

As much of a surprise to us,

as it is to them

when we claim firsts?

Or it it the new team shirts

with the cool logo

(a long ways from the red bag shirt days?)

No longer the nervous ones pacing

the shore line for our name to be called.

We are in the Silver Masters division now

(for women over 50)

or affectionately known as

"older than dirt."

Having earned this position for being

silver and seasoned! Finally!

We are kick back

casual, joking even before the race.

Getting around to figuring

out who will sit where

as we walk to our canoe.

Comfortable with the challenge

of dock entry

leaning left, one by one!

And we claim the water

as ours right away with a rolling start

and hold it with a fury

with clean technique and style,

Not worrying about the turn until

we get there, ready to do whatever

it takes to stay ahead and out

of the reed area we termed

"looking for Moses."

We do and we win.

I have found myself in seat one

as the stroker and

the water truly does belong to me

out in front in all ways

and its exhilarating, and thrilling

its my job, to get there and stay there

and it's...hard!

Very hard and grueling.

So, I try to get out of it for

the next couple of races

...and can't!

Seat one had always been

someone else's seat,

and I realized I had just been sitting

there waiting for someone else

to come and claim it,

so I could go back

to being a low keyed,

less responsibility, seat two again.

But what if this is my seat

and I claim it as such...

(no one else seems to want it either)

and train to be the best one

I can be and in better shape

for the job in the future?

Hmmm?

So what if we are "older than dirt"

and come from the desert?

We are winners and

a team to be reckoned with

and just like our first medal win

in Tempe five years ago when someone said

"and they are hot too"

It was heard again this past Saturday

as we claimed our over 50 hardware...

Better than the medal? Almost!

Looks like we must be

doing something right.

Oh, how I love this sport!

Pam Piper Rain

Farewell Dear Summer

2010-10-21T09:02:00.000-07:00

Where have I been?

I can only answer

that the words had left me!

As they do

sometimes...

or maybe they have followed me

at a distance

waiting for me to look around?

So I turned.

To see...it had become fall

and summer had fled

on its papery sun drenched wings

like egrets.

Left behind,

I am wistful,

melancholy...

grieving the things it takes with it.

The warm swampy smell of the lake,

rising like a fragrant steam

inviting and beckoning.

The long days of endless heat

and ways to play and stay wet.

The muted hum

of sounds while floating,

ears immersed in aqua.

The enchanting words and moments

that are called forward

while bobbing on our blue playground,

sprawled lazily about

on gleaming white seats,

toasting this and that with bubbles.

The brilliant reflection of red and yellow

and our dipping paddles,

a liquid ballet in the dawns light.

The desert doesn't have seasons

some will say,

true, not as dramatic as anywhere else,

with its desire to please

through hues of changing colors.

but ah... it is there

in the subtle beauties

that are gifted to the

ones paying attention

with watchful eyes.

Its in the light

and the way the water's color

deepens as if the putting on a heavy coat,

letting the heat sink and the chill rise.

It's in the Mud Duck's music

as they skim

the lakes surface in a chaotic chorus,

to escape that which interrupts

their serene drifting.

(Which is usually us and our canoe...

we can't seem

to resist the opportunity

to scatter and harass them.)

It's in that which is supposed to be green

and was before

the daunting days of high temps,

subtle displays of a lively perkiness,

as if to say "hey, look at me I survived

and am ready to shine again."

It's in the smile of my dog,

bounding mid morning

over cooled pavement, free and joyful.

Its in the color orange everywhere

and the anticipated smell of spice.

Its in the pointy hats and shelves

of bagged candy.

In Vincent Price's laughter and

roar turns and waz ups and

new dancers with cheers

for themselves and one another.

Its in the sky and the harvest moon,

torches filled and flames dancing

across the faces of friends

with new words.

But I will miss the hoop and board,

the water friends I must say farewell to,

my tan and the sunsets while being knee deep,

the purr of my boat prop taking me

out to the next adventure.

The music that says its been memorable,

the early morning race to do

it all, before the heat advances

from the east!

The days so long

and the light...so inexhaustible !

October.

It is both beginning and endings.

With a required vow to let "summer"

and all her wonders

...go!

She won't be held on to,

endless only in our imaginings

and the promise of another May.

One last look tho...

as I turn around

to take my words with me

and I think I can feel the whisper

of her fleeting wings

taking flight!

Pam Piper Rain

What was I Scared of?

2010-09-15T06:14:00.000-07:00

Recently, I celebrated my 51 st birthday

with that came the usual ways to celebrate

bubbles, balloons, swinging, playing with

and calls from friends,

the lake and paddling,

And this book by Dr. Seuss,

a gift from my brother!

One I used to be terrified of!

I remember being at my cousins and

although it was a part

of a collection of Seuss's best.

I would flip past that section quickly

with avoidance and trepidation!

Its about an empty pair of

friendly glow in the dark green pants

that today would have been

considered to be stalking pants!

Yes, really I was afraid of a story about

pants with no one inside of them!

Being sacred of something anything

is a funny thing,

it might come out of nowhere

or worse its been there all along and

you just begin to notice it

and ponder its root system

or something makes you sweat

and you wonder,

whats this all about?

Being pretty clear

and open about my general fears

like water, snakes, being surprised,

things that swim underwater,

mean people

dancing and speaking in public,

approaching a table

of people I want to meet,

opening presents in public,

things that swim underwater,

did I say that already?

Christians, (sorry) Republicans (sorry, again)

javelinas,

(they are surprisingly intimidating)

...and the list goes on and on.

Then there are the deeper more psychic

unmentionables like

being alone, getting in trouble,

having someone mad at me, rejection,

losing my dog!

In the book the spooky pants starts to cry

because it's afraid as well!

And of course they

become friends in the end

and greet one

another then on, with friendly waves.

(Ah, that Dr was so smart and clever!)

Full of metaphors and humor!

I tried my first reading on my dog

who was quivering over

an impending thunderstorm

Not sure it helped,

or she even heard it

from under the bed.

But I was enchanted

by the one story,

I had always feared!

(besides the Cat in the Hat,

still working on that one tho,

and there's 'Where the

Wild Things Are' too, not a fan!)

Coming face to face with one of

my most challenging times and year

I came face to face with

all of my scary 'empty pants'

all at the same time!

One of my birthday calls

came from a dear friend

whose support was immeasurable

during this time

and she graciously took the time to list

the things I had done in the last year

despite the

gravity of my situation!

"You danced on Main street,

you created the Bobble Bands

and learned to hula hoop.

Taught poetry workshops

and donated two paintings

for thousands of dollars

and learned how to paddle board.

You got around the country

without being able to drive.

You turned the grief of losing

a friend into a celebration

of bubbles and fun.

And don't forget you created

Paddles and Pinwheels,

an event in her honor.

And you wrote over a hundred blogs

documenting it all.

Look at what you have done!"

And I sort of did!

Feeling humbled and touched!

I wish everyone a friend

(or two) like this,

one who sees where you need to go,

believed you would,

is there to applaud your arrival

and reminds you of what you did!

Just in case you forgot!

So what was I scared of?

Before this year, I would have

had to say LIFE in general!

Terrified of what I couldn't

control or handle!

But it's all really...

just a silly pair of empty pants

with no one inside of them

determined to follow me around

until I simply, said, "hello!"

To quote a credit card commercial...

"What's in your pants?"

oh wait, thats "wallet!"

Pam Piper Rain

For these gifts, cheers to Scott and Mary.