All I Want To Be Is A Simple Wooden Canoe
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Silly
childhood ditties often carry substantial wisdom. Consider “Row, row, row your boat”. On second
thought, I’ll come back to that in a moment.
First I
announced that I bought a finely maintained old-Mexican style casita in the
little village of Etzatlan. Next thing you know, Kathy and Richard from
Victoria, BC made inquiries about a neighboring casita. Then Crin, Kathy’s
sister, began asking questions, eliciting more interest in a possible
retirement in Etzatlan, a town with zero ex-pats.
Er, more like maybe seven of us
total once my cousin and her husband and I take possession of our new homes. Etzatlan
is a simple farm/ranch village like where I grew up, minus English language,
not a tourist destination. I keep banging people over the head with that
reminder.
Kathy
said, “Isn’t this exciting. You go first and be the ice-breaker for us.”
“Kathy,
I am tired of being an ice-breaker. All my life I am an ice-breaker. All I ever
wanted is to be a simple canoe.” She doesn’t understand.
“Row,
row, row your boat.” The wisdom is to row one’s own boat, not your spouse’s or
sister’s or your best friend’s boat. Your boat. Keep your oars in your own
boat, thank you very much. That’s a full time job.
One
morning I told another friend about my pending move. “Wow. Sounds like you’re
having quite the exciting adventure.” Translation: Are you out of your mind?
Have you lost your last wing-nut? Are you crazy?” This person, a self-appointed
Mazatlan gazette, could hardly wait to bust out my door and spread the news.
“Gently
down the stream.” Gently, without bursting blood vessels or breaking a sweat.
Down the stream, go with the flow, stay with the current, move in the direction
indicated. Don’t fight life. We are not spawning salmon.
Two
nights ago I overheard my neighbor telling his friends from Edmonton about my
plans. “Wow,” one man said. “She is one gutsy woman!” (Truth: I am a coward.)
That
same night Dorothy said to me, “You won’t be here next year when we come. What
will we do? You are the only normal person we know in Mazatlan.” (Normal???)
“Merrily,
merrily, merrily, merrily,” how else can one take those comments? Laugh? Cry? Run and hide? If many think I am
crazy and Dorothy thinks I am normal, well, let’s just let the conclusion to
that line of thought slide right into the stream of life and chuckle.
“Life
is but a dream.” Some days I have no interpretation. Some days I feel like I am
living an impossible dream. Other days I think it means we don’t need to burden
our day with a heavy spirit. In other words, I haven’t a clue.
I say
to my daughter, who knows me well, “So, two weeks ago I awake singing to myself
Donna Fargo’s ’I’m the happiest girl in the whole USA.’ Next day, I own a
house.
“This morning I wake up with Jo
Stafford’s ‘Take me in your arms and never let me go, (with lots of
ba-ba-ba-booms) and ending with come a little closer, make love to me.’ running
through my head, start to finish, the whole thing, in her voice, like radio.
“Dee
Dee, do you think I should be afraid?”
“Be
afraid. Very afraid.”
A very
small canoe, simple, unobtrusive, natural, cedar. Bobbing gently down a lazy
southern stream, a shallow river, one that never freezes, never floods,
overhung with willows and Spanish moss.
Fishing pole in hand, worm on the hook, umbrella overhead. Iced tea and
sandwich. Unnoticed. Is that too much to
ask?
Sondra Ashton
HDN: Looking out my back door
February 25, 2016
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