I have a photographic negative showing my grandmother, Fay Fletcher Jackson (before she married Gordon Keays Smith), standing on a Mount Hood glacier that mostly isn’t there anymore. This would be in the early years of the 20th century. She carries a small backpack because she is a very small person and wears heavy boots, thick leggings (no skirt), and a broad grin. She set no records, made no history, but she climbed.

That thing we do… remembering

APOLOGY

I lost my temper a couple of weeks ago at a bakery. I expected it would cause me agonies of regret for years because I could think of no way to undo my offense. I can say I’m sorry, and I am. But this accomplishes little. I am at heart a bossy person, and I will likely reoffend. And again feel regret.

We were waiting in line to buy a loaf of bread and despite the sign that asks people to “exit out the back door” in order to ensure distancing, a woman with a huge bag of pastries turned toward the entrance. “Go out the back door,” I said in my teacher-voice while also pointing, “the back door.” She complied. Then, encouraged by my success, I order two more customers to exit through the back. It should be noted here that the “back door” opens to a wide open concrete terrace and the front door of another shop, not into a dark place with trash cans, and everyone is required to mask in shops in Portland.

The fourth person who waited just in front of us had not maintained distance from the customer in front of her while in line. When she received her baked goods she turned to me and said, “I am going out the front door.” And she did. And I ranted to Gary about her rudeness for at least five minutes. Out loud.

[What good did that do? None. No good at all. For shame, for shame. mea culpa]

Gary laughs at me as I type this. He says, “People probably thought you were some homeless person.” Well, now, I am only someone who should know better. He says I got away with it and I didn’t get hurt—the best I can hope for. That and self forgiveness. He says I am the only one who will remember.

[Whenever I see her I say a greeting to the woman who occupies the sidewalk across the street from that bakery. Who knows what her life has been? Who knows the weight each of us carries?]

My mother was proud that my grandmother raised her two daughters alone without alimony during the Great Depression. Perhaps her ex-husband, my grandfather, provided child support. Perhaps there is another entire dimension to that story. I have no one to ask. The lesson my mother learned was not to trust marriage would last forever and to make decisions for herself. The lesson I learned from Mom’s stories was generally somewhat different from what she intended.

[Somehow I learned that a marriage is something you have to work at, that respecting your partner is essential, that trust and affection are more important than winning the argument, that once in a while you go 110% because the other person is doing that too.]

This year I accomplished goals, notably eating better, maintaining a healthy weight, running short distances—moderation in all things. I began to think of what I eat in a day as a single meal and to ensure my “daily meal” is healthy. I missed my 50-years high school reunion by choice. I wrote more than 50k words during NaNo and found more voices. We raided the Treasure Chest and gave away gift items we’d had stashed for years. Price tags were a giveaway to me since Gary showed me how they are date-coded—and tricky to remove after a decade or more! We bought a condominium and we expect we will soon owe more than it’s worth due to the repipe. (In a few years, that will right itself. We expect to be around for a few more years.) We furnished the condo with treasures and on a budget. My mother’s little wing chair is out to be recovered. We walked 324 days for a total of 989 miles in 2021.

[The rain pummels the skylights as I type. Even so, maybe we will get in another few more miles today and tomorrow to round out the year.]

For most of my adult life, my New Years Resolutions included losing weight. For many years I had a specific weight goal in mind and never got there. I cut my coffee consumption to 2 cups a day after resolving to do so—that was a fluke. Generally, my resolutions fall by the wayside. I am not alone in either the specifics or the general, but more about resolutions next time. I also made mistakes. The bakery incident comes to mind. Probably should not have bought the blue jeans when the black ones are so much nicer. Probably should have sewed more gifts. Should-have, could-have, would-have, and if only. All those I-wish regrets? I’m letting them go. I resolve to let things go. There is always next year—let that be the lesson to me.

Let’s pretend, just for now, we each learned our best lesson this year. And vow to do better in 2022. That may not be the best we can hope for but it should be enough. Letting go is a lesson. It’s worth remembering what each of us carry and how we got here. My grandmother hiked across glaciers.

Remembering, after all.

To Know the Dark
 — Wendell Berry 

To go in the dark with a light is to know the light.
To know the dark, go dark. Go without sight,
and find that the dark, too, blooms and sings,
and is traveled by dark feet and dark wings.