Here is a meme challenge for all you resolution makers. Keep it simple. How few words can describe where you would hope that 2007 will take you?

I am known far and wide for my grandiose listmaking and my ability to execute many words (no, I mean really execute them) in the name and manner of one small dissertatable point. Here, at the onset of 2007, I delight in confounding those would be experts who said it could not be done.

I simply resolve:

Six words. Not bad. I know I could have eliminated the "and" between joy and thankfulness but I think the two are irrevocably reciprocal and the "and" seemed necessary to get from each to the other. Or something.

And, I suppose I could have ousted all other words, leaving "love" to stand alone, but that did not seem directive enough. At least, not for me.  But that is where I am going.

It is Christmas and encouragement, thankfully, seems to rain: This from my friend, Margaret:

 Thank you, so much, my spider friend. I love that.

Faith talk:

Can you believe it?? My Linda Ann left a comment on my blog! Is that cool or what??

Linda is not a blogger nor is she interested remotely in any kind of fiber art at all (except I have seen her wander compulsively around an ICU room with a knitting mushroom, so I know she has potential ... and I know she has a fabulous stashed Christmas Tree quilted wall hanging packed away minus 15 years or so), but she is the best friend a girl could have. Recently, she has visited my blog and so (especially now that she has left a comment) I thought it only fair that I introduce you, all of my online friends, to My Linda Ann, the best real time friend a girl could have. 

We have been friends forever. We have nostalgia attached to ring stands, Trisquits and Cheez Whiz, Brown Dogs, and driving blind around a lake. Or two.

( I bet you didn't know I had that picture, did you, honey?)

But, listen. We are all grown up now and we have decades of friendship to look back on. Over I don't know how many (many, many) gallons of coffee, we have shared joys and sorrows and babies. She is an awesome Momma to Nolan, not to mention a fabulous auntie to my crew.

And, did I mention that she doesn't see her self as crafty?? You wouldn't believe it, though, by her actions. This is the sixth tee shirt of the day and that would be Nylah giving her request for that "70s rhetro rick rack around the neck line, please." And, Linda - despite her natural confusion about when it was exactly that the 70s became rhetro - made it happen. Happily.  : )

Don't you all think she should have a blog too?!

He is (and always was) a good boy and now, alas, he is all grown up (who's old?). His heart is enormous and sensitive, his courage remarkable, and his talent - a blessing.

I am proud of you, Honey. Keep on.   

I love Elizabeth Zimmermann. I remember that the first day I heard of her was right around the day she died. People at my guild were talking. I didn't think much of it at the time, but since then I have grown quite fond of her. Her view of knitting was brilliant, I think, but it is the humanity of her writing that draws me to her.

About two weeks ago, I saw The Opinionated Knitter on the shelf at Spirit Works. I thought it odd that I had not heard of this book before. That day, though, my budget was not big enough for the Punky Pie yarn and her book; I knew my return was inevitable. I only managed one week and every waiting day was irksome. The very next Sunday, I brought it home.  I am in my reading for fun stage, but I am thinking maybe after the holidays, I can knit with Elizabeth.

Here is a sample of why I love her writing; I just find her encouraging. From page 91:

I believe that M-squared over something equals X because I consider Einstein a sapient man and others whom I consider clever endorse this. I wouldn't do me any good to disbelieve it, as I have no way of proving the contrary.

For years I had a wonderful time believing in the Piltdown man. I also believed that spinach was the most nourishing vegetable, that if you ate an orange and then drank a glass of milk you might as well reserve a room at the hospital, that modesty is a desirable attribute, that books must be hoarded and never thrown away no matter how meretricious, that a dog is he and a cat she, that everybody has to get out into the lovely fresh open air every day or go into a decline, that you have to wait two hours after a meal before going swimming for goodness sake, that roast beef makes you strong as a bull, that riding back to the engine makes you throw up, that if you hold a guinea pig up by its tail its eyes fall out - I could go on and on. 

These charmingly archaic beliefs did me - perhaps - no harm, but they certainly cluttered up my head; I could have disproved every one of them if I'd given my mind to it.

I now put what I consider important matters to the best test I can find, which often regrettably boils down to my instinct and common sense. After over sixty years this turns out to be a reliable touchstone; it's all I have, anyway.  

I truly believe I know the best way for me personally to knit. I truly believe this to be the most beautiful summer in human memory. I truly believe what I have just discovered: that field campions, after sunset, smell just like carnations. As to the question of collecting schoolhouse, I truly believe it to be a manifestation of amiable lunacy, but it is our lunacy and harms no one.

Greg Liptak is a beloved developmental pediatrician who has taken care of Nylah for over 10 years. He is a nationally prominent expert in the care of children with neural tube defects and other disabilities. He is well loved and respected in our community.

Whenever Nylah had a medical crisis, which was regularly, I would always scout out someone in the hospital who had some authority and I would say, "Could you call Greg Liptak please." And he always came. Knowing that he would look at her (really, look at her) and be involved with her care was such a comfort. He taught me how to tweak my resuscitation efforts too, which I appreciated greatly.

I also called him whenever I had a sick baby. When Zakariah was born and spent 10 days in the NICU for undetermined problems, I asked: "Could you call Greg, please." And, he came again ... within the hour. And, as soon as dawn arrived the morning after Zain was diagnosed with dilated cardiomyopathy, I asked for him again. He came and we shook our heads in disbelief together. It helped.

Words can not really express my gratitude  for his contribution to my family's health and my personal sanity.  

Sadly, Dr. Liptak recently left the Rochester, NY area for a position of, hopefully, greater influence in Syracuse NY. I am very thankful that he remains close enough to be a phone call away. And, believe me. If I have another sick baby, I will call. Or, more likely, jump in the car.

We had a reception for him and he left our spina bifida community with a commencement speech. Many of the people who attended had been his patient for over 25 years. He wrote this "commencement speech" as a final effort to encourage his patients, many of whom had graduated from infancy into adulthood - which is no small feat when you have spina bifida.

Thank you so much, Dr. Liptak.

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This is a commencement address that probably never will be given. First, I am not famous and haven't given a lot of money to a school. Second, the message is not the usual one given in a commencement address. However, in case I am asked to give a speech, here it is. 

I've attended a lot of graduations, and most speakers tell you how lucky you are to be graduating from such a fine school (or graduating at all), and how exciting the future will be. They claim that your diploma is your passport to El Dorado, the City of Gold. They say that all you have to do to be successful is to apply the knowledge that you've learned in school. With hard work, vision, and these skills, the world will be your oyster, and happiness and wealth will follow as night follows day.

If this advice were true, the world would be populated mostly by scores of happy, affluent people.

However, that has not been my observation, and other people seem to agree. For example, the first sentence of the book The Road Not Taken by M. Scott Peck, which is said to be the most widely read book in this century, read: "Life is difficult." In another widely read book, the Bible, the Book of Job begins: "Man is born to trouble as the sparks fly upward." When I was helping my son study for a test in Social Studies, I learned Buddha's First Noble Truth: "Suffering is universal." Our family used to vacation in Cape Cod when our sons were younger. Over 10 years the tee-shirt that I saw most commonly read: "Life is a bitch and then you die." These are not exactly rosy observations about the world. So what is going on? Haven't they heard the commencement speakers?        

I think that entering the "real world" after high school is like getting onto a yellow school bus. It's not especially accessible. The driver is grumpier than the grumpiest driver you've ever had. She is older, her vision is worse, she is hard of hearing, and she seems to be yelling at someone or something all the time. 

The first thing you notice once you are inside is that it's not one of those motorized coaches like the one John Madden uses to drive around to NFL football games - there are no accessible toilets or videos. It's just an old yellow bus. The springs are shot and the bumps on the road, which the driver purposely seeks out, send shooting stars up your spine. Its hot outside and the bus is not air-conditioned, so your shirt sticks to your seat, and you're afraid that your wheelchair will go flying down the aisle at any moment.

When you are strapped in, you notice that the people next to you are not your favorite persons - they frequently have bad breath or even bad gas. Once the bus starts rolling, there's usually someone in the front who is about to get motion sickness and throw up all over the floor, which will trigger three other people to do the same. And someone in the back is singing "99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall" out of tune.    

But sometimes, the person sitting next to you will be the most beautiful person in your world and will talk with you as if no one else in the world but you existed. Sometimes, riding on the bus will be like the time you rode to the zoo on your first grade field trip. Everyone will be excited and happy - even the bus driver will smile and be nice to you. Sometimes, it will be bone-chillingly cold outside, but the bus will be toasty warm. Other times, the bus ride will be like coming home from the big victory that you never thought you could achieve. And everyone is singing "99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall" but nobody cares that it is out of tune. The bus driver will blow the horn when you pass the superintendent's house, and laughter and cheers will greet you when you arrive back at school. And, rarely, the bus will be like "The Magic School bus" in the children's stories and take you to places you can't even imagine an old yellow school bus going, like to the coral reef or to the rings of Saturn!

Interestingly, some people on the bus will try to get great power and money and believe that they can buy their way off the bus and get into a limousine instead. They have visions of stopping at a traffic light next to you, asking for Grey Poupon mustard, and then flipping the bird at your school bus as it drives by. They will try to drive as far away from that crummy old bus as possible and believe that they have escaped anxiety, cares, and fears in their limo. But when they get to Palm Springs or South Beach or wherever the rich and famous go, their limo will break down and right their waiting for them will be the school bus. And they will have to get back on it to get to where they must go. Because in reality, you can't get off the bus, you can only change seats on the same bus. Everything someone does on the bus affects you, while everything you do affects them, because the bus is a pretty small space.

Commencement speakers always give advice in their talks, so I feel obligated to give you some.

The first piece of advice is that things that happen on the bus are often hard to understand - like when you're trying to loosen a nut from a bolt but it keeps getting tighter because its threads go the opposite way. There are some things, like the stars, that you can see only in the darkness. So you have to have faith, which means making a commitment to something that you find hard to believe. 

And, if you have faith, you'll be amazed by who shows up on the bus. Someone who looks like your worst enemy amazingly turns out to be the kindest or the funniest person on the bus. And when you've been on the dry, hot, boring road for what seems like days, you suddenly arrive at the most beautiful beach you have ever seen, and you can smell the salt air and feel the cool breeze even before you get off.

But not every day. Riding the bus takes patience. 

You've all heard the phrase "seeing is believing." On this bus, it's often the opposite: "believing is seeing." That's what having faith means. And the bus can't take you to the places you are seeking like Joy and Peace, unless you first believe that it can. And there will be lots of other things that you will never be able to understand. But that's okay.

The second piece of advice I'd like to give is to pay attention to every moment of now that you can. John Lennon, the Beatle, once said: "Life is what happens while you are planning to do other stuff." So many people on the bus are worried about the final destination that they cannot see the mountain bluebird outside the window, or feel the sadness of their friend, or smell the fresh baked cookies, or experience what is happening inside themselves right now. Even thought it's an old yellow school bus, things happen every moment that can bring you great joy or a sense of being alive. But you have to notice them.

The final piece of advice I have for you is something your kindergarten teacher taught you: share and be thankful for what you have. Share your Hershey Kisses before they melt, even with the selfish person who has a book fag full of Jolly Ranchers and Sourpatch Kids. You will lose a lot of stuff on the bus. People always lose stuff on busses - change, hair brushes, iPods, sweat shirts, glasses, and even shoes. Despite what you lose, there is always enough left to be thankful about and to make it worth the trip (even if many people have more than you do). So, this school bus is not taking you to El Dorado. The bus ride is unpredictable, messy, bouncy, and noisy. But it is also full of unpredictable surprises and joys that can only be experienced on this bus. And ... it's faster than using your wheelchair.  

all copyrights belong to Greg, Liptak, MD