The End of Arguing: That’s an Interesting Perspective

Over the holidays I witnessed several disagreements. Nothing serious, just typical quarrels, everyone involved determined to prove their point. Alcohol tends to bring out the debater in people, but even many sober people seem to genuinely enjoy arguing.

Some points are facts – medical issues for example, or how to properly take care of wool. Lots more are opinion. Should a certain book belong on the best seller list, or is it there only because of the author’s fame? Should underwear show above a young man’s pants, which are hanging down practically to his knees, or is respectful attire more important than personal freedom? Why does modern music have to include vulgarity?

Certain subjects are important and worth arguing, but many aren’t. And how often do we succeed in convincing someone else to change their opinion, especially on things that don’t really matter in the long run? Not very often – at least not in my case.

I remember one squabble Neil and I had years ago. It was a stupid one, as most of ours were. Frankly, we were only still arguing because we both had an intense need to be right and to have the last word. It went on for a ridiculous amount of time, as neither wanted to concede, even though on some level we both wanted it to end.  

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The Marathon Finish Line

Sometimes the small accomplishments mean more than the marathon ones.

Back in the 1980s someone dared my husband to run the Shamrock marathon without any serious training or preparation. Always up for a challenge, he accepted. He didn’t set any great records, but he did finish that race. He even had the runner’s patch to prove it. Now here I was, twenty-five years later, clutching that faded patch in my hands as I searched a new generation of marathon runners for my daughter.

Six months earlier, my husband was diagnosed with cancer. Our daughter, Jacquelyn, signed up to run that year’s Shamrock Marathon in his honor. She joined the Livestrong Cancer Foundation team and raised more money than anyone on her team except for the CEO of the foundation. She was even the featured runner for the marathon’s publicity newsletter.

Sadly, she was now running the race in her Dad’s memory. Although she wasn’t quite as unprepared as he once was, her training schedule fizzled down to an occasional walk in the last weeks of her dad’s life. Continue reading →

The Cure for Getting Lost and Giving Up

My oldest daughter was in second grade and the others were preschoolers when my sister-in-law and I decided to take our kids to Luray Caverns. We loved the enormous underground chambers filled with towering stone formations. We held our breath anxiously at the few moments of total darkness when the lights were turned off. We threw wishing coins into the crystal clear underground lake, and smiled at the music of the great the Stalacpipe Organ. But the most memorable part of the day, at least for me, came after we left the caverns and the kids talked us into walking through the intriguing Garden Maze outside.

The day was a hot, humid, typical summer Virginia day, and the contrast to the chill of the caverns made the maze a sweaty challenge. The sun was bright and directly overhead, which made squinting a necessity since we were not prepared enough to have sunglasses or hats. The bushes were 8 feet tall and four feet wide, and the maze itself consisted of a half mile of confusing paths. Various fountains and foggy misters helped a little, but the dead ends just seemed to keep coming over and over again. The kids ran from path to path with excitement, while I found myself growing increasingly frustrated and cranky by being lost and hot.
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