Rock Fairy

Some weeks ago, someone in my senior community (now dubbed “the Rock Fairy”) began painting small, flat rocks with inspirational messages and leaving them, one by one, for residents to find. Folks have been taking photos of them, posting them on our community Facebook page, and speculating about who the mysterious person is. “Kind” and “lovely” are understatements for this type of behavior, don’t you think?

Dear Rock Fairy,

Thank you.

Okay, I confess that the little pink rock I found was clearly meant for someone else (since anyone who knows me knows that pink is really, really not my color). I wasn’t gifted with my rock. I didn’t walk out onto the front porch at dawn, stretch, yawn, and discover a small plastic bag containing a rock especially chosen for me. Like many other times in my life, I came into my fortune via a somewhat unconventional route. I found it in the street. Actually, it laid there for two days a few doors down from my house, looking like a piece of trash. I think it had been run over a couple of times. When I noticed it the second day while walking the dog, I only picked it up to throw it away (keeping my side of the street clean, as my sister-in-law would say, only I don’t think she means it literally when she says it).

But then I noticed the rock inside. So I pulled it out, washed the dirt off. Lo and behold, it was a Rock Fairy rock. With a message!

The thing is, even though the rock was clearly intended for someone else (as I’ve said), that message was for me. I don’t know if you dropped the rock while making your deliveries to other homes. (Rocks are heavy. How big is your wing span, anyway?) Or maybe you left it with great stealth and planning on someone’s lawn and the gardener, thinking it was trash, tossed it out into the street. (Oh shoot, who am I to blame the gardener? Maybe it was the homeowner.)

Anyway, the message was for me. Because it said, “Adventure is out there.”

This is what I needed to hear. I used to go find adventures all the time. Rocky Fairy, I could tell you stories all day long! I used to travel and take day trips and go to gatherings of like-minded people (which is challenging for an introvert, but back then, I could push myself out there).

But in the past couple of years, some stuff has happened in the world, in my life. It’s not important what it was. But… I have defaulted into safe mode, wherein, if I stay at home… with my books and my music and my dog and my cat and my garden, I am comforted. I am safe. Or… at least… I have the impression of being safe.

The difficulty there, as you can readily see (as I am convinced you are an incredibly insightful fairy), is that being safe doesn’t help me be stronger. It doesn’t help me overcome those feelings that caused me to shut down. And it certainly doesn’t lead to adventures. (Well, perhaps a few tiny ones, like rescuing a chicken from the side of the freeway. Different story altogether.)

Anyway, I started out to just say thank you. Adventure is indeed “out there,” and since I’d been contemplating (but quickly talking myself out of) getting “out there,” launching out on an adventure, I immediately determined that, while you meant this rock for someone else, in one sense, the rock—all by itself, miraculously—found the right person to deliver itself to.

So thank you for this rock and its message. Most importantly, thank you for your kindness, your willingness to put yourself out there, make an effort to make others smile or have a better day or cheer up or feel less isolated, less lonely. (In this park, there is a lot of loneliness. You have your work cut out for you there, Rock Fairy.) If everyone did one small thing such as this, reached out with one small gesture to others to say, “You’re not alone in the world. I care,” we would all be in a much better frame of mind, I think. We would all be in a much better frame of heart.

Love and hugs,

K

P.S. You might notice, if you happen to pass my house as you make your clandestine rounds, that there is a sign hung near the door. It’s rather large. You can’t miss it. Unless fairies don’t read English. It says “Fairies Welcomed.” Yep. I mean it.

Patriot

I AM A PATRIOT.

I was born on the Fourth of July. Truly. When I was a child, did I ever think those fireworks were for me? Never. Every year, I watched my dad carefully hang our flag in its post on the front porch, heard him tell the neighbors what a great country we live in, watched him place his hand lovingly over his heart at the VFW hall to say the Pledge of Allegiance or sing the National Anthem. I knew why we celebrated the Fourth.

I AM A PATRIOT.

Both of my parents enlisted in the army during WWII. My mother was one of the strongest women I have ever known. She survived the Great Depression, the divorce of her parents, a family split apart by public scandal, an abusive first husband, and all the oppression of women that was rampant before we burned our bras in the 1960's. She was always so proud of the fact that her country recognized her as capable of helping in the war effort. She worked in transportation, servicing vehicles by changing the oil and other formally testosterone-associated tasks, providing critical maintenance to personnel carriers, jeeps and other vehicles. She never liked to talk about her past--unless you got her talking about her years serving her country.

I AM A PATRIOT.

I have voted in every presidential election since 1972.

I AM A PATRIOT.

When we were kids, my brother played trumpet in a drum and bugle corp. Watching him march in parades, the drums beating, the music crisp and sharp, and oh my goodness, the stars and stripes being carried in front of all those young people in uniform, I wanted to be a part of it all. So I joined the color guard so I could march along with them.

I AM A PATRIOT.

As a child I had an epiphany, realizing all on my own that I had won the birth lottery by being born in this country, where "It's a free country!" was a slogan we used as kids to mouth off to people who told us to settle down or straighten up or be quiet. But it's true; I knew from a young age, from listening to my dad, that men and women had sacrificed a great deal so that we could live in freedom. My dad was the great-grandson of immigrants who, like many Irish, came from a land that could offer them nothing to a land that would offer them an opportunity to grow and thrive. My dad's family was just scraping by when he left for the war. When he returned, he became a cab driver, then a cop. Before he died at the age of 43, he studied law and passed the bar exam. He would have been an attorney in California. Talk about the land of opportunity....

I AM A PATRIOT.

I have sung the National Anthem at pep rallies, basketball games, and oh my goodness, at a minor league baseball game with 2,000 people in attendance--and that was one of the proudest, happiest moments of my life.

I AM A PATRIOT.

By liberal friends believe that I align with them, that I am wholly left leaning. My Republican friends believe that as well, though some acquaintances think I am as far to the right as they are. The truth is, I am somewhere in between. And what I love about this country is that I can have friends on both sides. I can engage in conversation with conservatives and progressives, but I'm not required to choose one side or align myself with one particular way of thinking.

Beyond that, I can have conversations with many, many other people who are not like me--Jews and Muslims and atheists and yes, even Baptists and Episcopalians and Mormons. And these people can be my friends, folks whom I love and embrace and cherish. Black folks and brown, Asian and Indian. We are all in this together, and none of us will get out alive. I am blessed each day in this fleeting life that this country--this big, magnificent, beautiful country--gives me the freedom to go where I please when I please with whom I please. To know that right now, if I chose to, I could marry a Black Muslim woman and all my friends--ALL MY FRIENDS--would joyously attend my wedding is something that makes me proud of my country every single day.

I AM A PATRIOT.

Do not dare to think that because you adhere to one particular ideology, you alone get to assume the role of "patriot" and others do not. I am a flag-waving, parade-marching, Star-Spangled-Banner-singing, whole-hearted lover of this country, no matter who is posturing in the role of leader.

This land is MY land.

(Bless you, Woody Guthrie.)