On not missing the window

Last night was our annual church picnic.  For the second year, John & I were there laden with boxes of mini-cupcakes.  

Now, not having children clamoring to go to the picnic, not having grandchildren going whose presence would beckon us to prep & pack a basket, John & I had rarely been, if ever.  So, we were surprised when we arrived on the stroke of 6:00 p.m. to find the east lawn already filled with bustling groups of family & friends.  

The cathedral staff had set us up on the fringes of the lawn, separate from where they were handing out the traditional cups of ice cream.  We had about 20 kids stop by, if that many.  I remember we headed home with a lot of left over cupcakes.

THIS year, we got there at 5:30 p.m. - and at least 10 groups were already ready to roll, some with splendid table layouts.  We set up deep in the heart of the action.  No fringes for us.   

It took us all of ten minutes to realize that the heart of the action might be more soul satisfying, but it was not the wisest place to be.  It was a perfect space for a family or friends, not for dispensing gaily decorated mini cupcakes.

 

We moved to where they typically handed out the ice cream.  We went beyond the fringe, set up on the path & the parking lot wall, but it was the right place for our purpose. 

Much to our surprise - and the disappointment of many children & adults - there was NO ice cream.  For the first time in my memory of the picnic, no ice cream.

No ice cream meant way more demand for my minis.  I looked at my 100 mini cupcakes (vanilla with a choice of vanilla or chocolate frosting, covered with festive sprinkles) & wished I'd doubled the amount.  

While I regret that ran out before every child got a cupcake, we did better than I expected.  And both John & I had a fun time, sitting there as child after child came up, many quietly asking, "Does it cost anything?"  John would quietly smile as I'd lean across the table & ask, in an appropriately aggrieved tone with a dramatic flourish, "Would I charge for cupcakes on the Church's birthday?!"  

 

John is an only child, with very little experience with children.  Being with so many always seems to give him special pleasure, particularly since he is not familiar with the amazing things they'll often say.  Like the little one last night who very solemnly explained to us the it was the CHURCH's birthday, NOT the Lord's.  My hubster was undone by the innocence.

Together we sat, on the utter fringes of the east lawn, looking out over the hundreds of young & old having a grand time.  As were we!  All of them & the two of us.  They were making wonderful memories, so were we.  And when the last cupcake was taken - the spoils of a duel between two 12-year old boys - we stacked up the empty boxes, tucked the cake pedestal into the cooler, hiked them over to the car & lit out for our own supper, at the York Diner.  

And none of it felt in the least bit broken.  It's how John & I do the 19th of June, this year also Father's Day.  It suits us.

Getting ready to write a posting about this, over on DreamReweaver, I found myself oddly remembering a West Wing episode where two of the characters talk about missing windows of opportunity.  And I realized the posting was destined for right here, on older2elder.

As we grow older, move out of our forties, wade into our fifties, take the dive into the sixties & upward, it's natural to ponder the windows of opportunities that we've hoped to open but are destined to stay shut because we're somehow past an assumed expiration date.

Here's what I've learned since hitting the big 6-0 ~ ~ there is no missing the window of dreams.  That doesn't mean it will be easy.  As Danny says to C.J., "You didn't miss it.  Right now, you suck at it.  You're going to need a tremendous amount of training.  You're going to get good at it.  We're going to get good at new things."

 

"We're going to get good at new things."

If I could do a Vulcan mind meld with my older friends & impart one lasting bit of AH HA, that would be #1 on my list - no matter how old or apparently limited or even fragile we become, we are built to be constantly open to new things.  As much at 86 & 96 as we were at 6 & 16.  Knowing that was possibly my mother's greatest strength, one that fostered & nurtured her others - to her last days, her mind was open to hearing learning doing new things.

John & I - especially I I I - didn't miss the window to become more engaged within my little hometown community.  We just do it our way.   

The two of us were THERE, together.  And we had a blast! We we had the joy of watching little kids & big kids & itty bitties being carried by Mom or Dad approach us & carefully pick out THEIR cupcake from the laden cake pedestal.   
We didn't miss the window.  

Last year, I offered to do mini cupcakes for the church picnic.  That was new, for them & for us.  This year, I refined making & decorating the morsels, while the powers-that-be stunned us by cutting out the ice cream.  They opened their window! 

Baking frosting decorating mini cupcakes might not seem like a really big window to open.  But every window makes it easier to open the next.  And this window turned out to provide another to open - looking out over that sea of brimming connection & knowing that we'd connected, too.  Just in our own way.  One of the great advantages I've found in being older - letting things be what they are, celebrating that glorious reality.

At this moment, remembering the fun of last night - at the cathedral & later at the diner, having a cozy supper with my Keet - am so grateful for opening that window, am so excited to find out what comes next, to promise myself to always remember what Danny told C.J.   Right now, I might suck at what I want to do, I might need training - a lot of training - but I am built to get good at new things. We all are, at all ages, in all states of fitness or disrepair. 

Which leaves me wondering - 

what window will I open next?