natural ability

In 1968 I attended Briarcliff Elementary School in Magnolia, a bedroom-community of Seattle Washington.  Magnolia had the advantage of small-town parades, a local movie theatre and local newspaper, a dime store, pharmacy, and school, within the vicinity of a large thriving city.  The 1960's was a time in American history of great change.  Man walked on the moon.  A highly favored US president was assassinated. Civil unrest was prominent throughout the nation. In Magnolia, for the most part, I was unaware of significant world events beyond the 1969 US astronauts on the moon.

In 2nd grade we participated in National Fitness tests and my goal was to beat, Billy Tacket, the fastest boy in the 30-yard race.  We raced during recesses and practiced in gym for what seemed like an entire season but was likely only 2 weeks of practice.  When the time came for the final test Billy Tackett won at "3 seconds flat".  I wasn't as fast as Billy, but I was proud of my own speed as it was my best time ever.

For reasons that I don't recall, I really didn't do any racing after that until I decided to try out for track in middle school.  I prepared even less than we did for my 2nd grade race, relying on my perceived "natural" ability, that was disproportionate to my actual ability.  I didn't make the team.  In my junior year of High School, I raced as a sprinter on an intermural track team at North Kitsap High School. After each race, I ran to the bathroom after each race where I could vomit before resting a bit. My body did not have "natural ability" to cope with the anxiety that overwhelmed me with each heat. 

I wasn't a good runner, but I was a good walker.  I walked often wherever we lived: up and down hills to school and back in Magnolia, from Parker to Egan Idaho along many paved and unpaved roads, traversing log cut properties in Suquamish, WA, and up and down staircases in the Rome, Italy Mission. For walking, I was well fit.

Throughout my life, I have aspired to accomplish things I was unprepared to tackle, believing that the minor efforts I had made would be sufficient to achieve my aspiration. 

As a young woman, I remained morally clean, completed chores and tasks, babysat children, attended school, and so on. I also dated, and that is an entire lengthy narrative for another time. I learned to bake bread, and cookies, and prepare simple meals.  When I was stuck, there was no Google, but a phone call to Mom or a sibling could usually remedy the problem. Naturally, dating would eventually lead to marriage, and that is where I learned that babysitting, doing chores, and being morally clean was grossly insufficient preparation for marriage and parenthood.  I have girlfriends who throughout young adult and young married deliberately prepared, planted, and perfected homemaking skills.  I still fly by the seat of my pants.  I can cook, and clean, but it happens in the course of doing other things and between spaces undelegated by other demands. Thankfully, my husband and I love each other and remain committed to one another and where I have weakness the kitchen, he has great talent. 

Loose schedules are my lifestyle.  I can plan, be prompt, and complete things, but I am more like the woman who stops one thing, noticing another thing that needs attention.  It is possible, had I been born in the 1990's, instead of allergy and asthma testing, they would have examined me for attention deficit disorder. I was a good student, friendly, pleasant, and sensitive to the feelings of others.  I also recall daydreaming especially between 1:30-2:30 pm. Fundamentally, not much has changed, but I am more frequently impulsive saying or doing things inappropriate for the situation, and when I am stressed, I can be melodramatic, and frenzied. It seems that I am finally learning to admit my weak homemaking skills because more than once in the last 4 months I have brazenly declared to fellow relief society members that I don't cook as though I earned a badge for lack of homemaking skills.  

At the moment, I have lost my train of thought, which is becoming a more frequent as "chemo brain" is a side effect of my current medication regimen. It is not altogether alarming anymore to lose my train of thought as it happens with regularity.  Where I was once admired for my clear penmanship on a blackboard, I frequently self-critique my now shaky scribble marks on chalkboards and whiteboards. It seems my abilities now require an unnatural focus and discipline to prevent misspellings and typos.

I am somewhat attached by thought, but the train is beckoning me to leave the tracks for the moment. Time has come to take a little nap.