An Ordinary Life

An ordinary life consists of the day-to-day happenings that make us who we are, from the very moment of our birth.  Though still undecided as to whether my life has been "ordinary", I do consider myself an ordinary person.  Even when looking back at my childhood, I can't say my life was ordinary because as kids we were exposed to so many things that most kids never have the opportunity to experience. My parents were anything but ordinary.

I was born and raised primarily in Washington state, spending most of my years in western Washington. I am the fifth of seven children-- the youngest daughter of two very loving parents who, to this day, promote family togetherness as a way of life. Sometimes I think of my dad as "Pa" in Laura Ingalls Wilder's series of "Little House" books. A man of honor, Pa loved adventure and new places, and was described as having an "itchy foot"-- one who wanted to journey on, moving further and further west. My dad is also a man of great honor and integrity, and like Pa, had an "itchy foot"-- we moved a lot. Difficult as it seems, this was not without its perks, as you will soon see.

I think of my mother as a woman of courage. Though I am sure I must have worn her nerves to a fray, I have great admiration for her and what she has done with her life. Like Wilder's "Ma", my mother's intentions always seemed to be to make the most of every situation. She did the best she could with what she had. Like Ma, I see my mother as soft-spoken and quiet, and very wise. When I look back at my childhood, I have to wonder if she purposefully created learning moments for her children, because my life seems to have been full of them. I believe both of my parents contributed to my natural curiosity and love of learning. For that gift, I am eternally grateful.

Me (far left) with 5 of my siblings.

With every move to a new place, I found new adventure, and ease in re-inventing myself however I liked. As a child, I had the opportunity to experience things that many other kids could never claim. When I lived on San Juan Island, we farmed sheep. We learned to shear the sheep, wash and dry the wool; card, spin, and dye the wool. My mother opened an art gallery where we sold local artwork as well as art from renowned artists who lived or vacationed in the islands.  My father opened a cabinet shop where he catered to the beautiful custom-designed homes in the area.  My father and brother built these shops almost entirely without outside help.

I was 8 years old when my father and brother built the Twin Star cabinet shop on San Juan Island, shown in this photo.  I have a vivid memory of standing on the upper floor while leaning on the wood frame, looking at the ground far below.  It had rained, and I remember the smell of the wet lumber.  I asked my dad when I was ever going to grow up, and why it was taking so long.  I had dusty black buckle shoes on my feet.  I don't remember my father's specific answer probably because I didn't fully understand what he was trying to say.  But I do remember him saying that someday I would look back on this and wish I could be that little girl again.  As small and insignificant as this memory seems, it is one of my favorite memories.  Sometimes I want to be that little girl again: no worries or stress, and feeling unconditionally loved for my ordinary self.

When we lived in Yakima, we maintained an orchard, raising many varieties of fruits and nuts. When we lived in Hay River (Northwest Territories, Canada), we experienced life in the far north, viewing spectacular auroras almost on a nightly basis. No matter where we lived, we always had a garden. As a kid, I loved moving-- with memories like these, who wouldn't? Being painfully shy, however, I found it very difficult to make new friends and often crawled deeper into my shell. 

My "shell" included lots of things to do. I usually kept myself busy writing -- stories, movies, ballets-- wherever I may have been led by my thoughts. I also loved to draw. I became a people-observer and gained a great love for drawing portraits. I learned that some people were easier to draw, and others much more complex. For example, Marilyn Monroe was always easy for me to draw, while Henry Fonda was considerably more difficult. I have always wondered if personality had something to do with that.

Another love in my "shell" included music. Music was always a huge part of my life, both within my family and on my own. Music moved me, inspired me-- and it always has. I have often said that music is the language of the soul. And because I wasn't the most proficient in reading piano music (I played the flute), I made up my own music, and before I knew it, I was a "composer" of sorts-- though I never could call myself that. Composers were people who made a living at it-- the big names like John Williams and James Horner-- certainly not me. For a while, it was my dream to write music for movies, or write movie themes. As you can see, I was never bored in my little shell-- and never felt lonely or deprived in any way. I guess I always felt that bigger things were in store.

Perhaps my childhood was ordinary after all.  Perhaps it was simply that my childhood environment was so unique.  Maybe that is why I have always wanted to travel -- both as recreation and as education-- to constantly learn new things.  From learning how to be self-sufficient in farming to watching brilliant displays of the aurora borealis almost on a nightly basis.  Was it environmental?  My "shell" was my ordinary life and my ordinary self.  That is where I have always been.