February 2022 – Kay Foley

Posted on February 20, 2022August 19, 2022 by Kay Foley — Leave a comment

A Lesson in Perseverance

A few years ago I was headed to an art show in Des Moines, Iowa–The “Other” Art Show. It was the show held indoors at the Fairgrounds the same weekend as the big, fancy, downtown outdoor show, the one that was extremely hard to get into. I had a 4-5 hour drive and then set-up to do that day. As I was putting the last thing into my van, the heavy and awkward dolly, I pulled something in my hip. Damn! I was pretty annoyed as I got an ice pack from my freezer and headed off. I’d be able to refreeze it throughout the weekend at my friend’s house, but boy, I was grumpy about this turn of events. What bad luck.

I got to Des Moines just fine, with a stop at the Jaarsma Bakery in Pella, to pick up an Almond Butter Cake for my friend and her husband. I probably ate something yummy in the charming town square there, too.

At the show venue, as I was unloading all my stuff I noticed an elderly man hobbling painfully around his pickup truck. I wondered what he was doing there in the lot where we were all loading in for the show. He was clearly struggling. I went over and asked, “Is there some way I can help you?” and he replied, “Well, I have a broken hip.” He told me he had finished unloading all his stuff and I asked, astonished, “Do you mean to say that you’re in the show?” Yes. “And you’re doing the show with a broken hip?” Yes. “Do you have help?” No. I was flabbergasted. And embarrassed that I had been so grumpy about my tiny problem.

I asked again if I could help. He was trying to get into his truck to leave, since he was all finished. By then he was halfway into the driver’s seat, but he said, “If you could just lift my leg into the truck, that would help a lot.” I’m sure my eyes grew big. Well, okay. With much trepidation, I carefully lifted his left leg and got it in and he was able to drive off.

One of Ken Smith’s beautiful watercolors

The next day I went to look for him. His booth was very plain. No walls. No booth sign, that I recall. Just a folding chair and cardboard boxes full of his simply beautiful watercolor paintings. The boxes were sitting on upturned bins, covered with cloth. Paintings were all unframed and not even matted or encased in plastic sleeves. Just piles of them, with the unbelievably low prices in pencil on the back. I bought three. He just loved to paint and had amassed a lot of work. What else was he going to do with it but bring it to the show and sell it cheap? While sitting on a broken hip.

I found out later that his name was Ken Smith and the friend I was staying with knew him fairly well. They had taken a watercolor class together. When my sister saw a photo of one of his paintings she asked if he had a website. Haha. No website for this guy. Just an old gentleman who loved to paint.

He has since passed away, so I only saw him that one time. But he really taught me lessons about carrying on in the face of physical pain, sticking to your commitments, and doing what you love, at any age and no matter what.

“If it lights you up, just do it & throw away the logics.” ― Hiral Nagda

“Even if I knew that tomorrow the world would go to pieces, I would still plant my apple tree.” ― Martin Luther

Thanks for listening,
Kay

P.S. MerryThoughts is the name of my first book, out of print at the moment. The word is a British one, referring both to a wishbone and to the ritual of breaking the wishbone with the intention of either having a wish granted or being the one who marries first, thus the “merry thoughts.”

Posted on February 20, 2022August 19, 2022 by Kay Foley — Leave a comment

Grand Canyon Adventures

My sister and me at the start of our 2018 hike to the bottom of the Grand Canyon. We look perky, don’t we?

A couple of good friends texted the other morning, asking if I’d like to hike down to the bottom of the Grand Canyon. Of course without skipping a beat I said YES! I have done it twice before and it was amazing. I cannot imagine turning down any chance to do it. It is gorgeous from the rim, changes remarkably all the way down, and Phantom Ranch is simply magical. No cell phones, no internet, no TV, no kids. Quiet and beautiful.

My sister and I hiked down in 2005 and again in 2018. The first time, I was visiting her in Tucson in January and we wanted to do something adventurous. Of course, the Grand Canyon! We called and found there was a cabin available at Phantom Ranch, two days hence. We gathered up what we thought we’d need and drove to the park the next day. We discovered there was snow and ice for the first two or three miles (it gets warmer as you go down) but were assured that we could buy crampons for $3.50 in the gift shop and would be fine. I was wearing running shoes. At the time I insisted that I did not like hiking boots. Goofy. So we bought crampons and headed down the next morning. It was tricky but amazing.

Those running shoes were not even in good shape! What was I thinking?

At Phantom Ranch, dinner (you can choose Steak, Steak Stew or Vegetable Stew) is served in the Canteen at long tables, so you get to meet other hikers. They were all talking about their months of planning and training, so that was the first question they asked us. “We just decided to come day before yesterday.” That was fun.

When we went in 2018, we started down late, thinking we had it all going on. We knew the ropes. Seasoned hikers and all. But it is hard. Especially if you’re short. There are many many “steps” down, made from big chunks of rock, much harder to navigate if you have short legs. Hamstrings, oh those poor hamstrings! Pretty soon, we were both saying it was a lot harder than we’d remembered, mistakenly thinking we’d just made the first trek a few years prior. Nope. Thirteen! Seasoned hikers, my eye. Old hikers. I have to say I did feel vindicated, when I returned home, to realize that that much time had passed. But we barely got there in time for dinner and we were beat.

2018. We set out pre-dawn when we hiked out, a gorgeous crescent moon hanging over the canyon wall.

Even though we did plan that time, for months in advance, it was much harder to get a cabin and we had to spend that first night in a dorm. Not recommended! Five sets of bunkbeds, a single hook for all your belongings, no bench to sit on to take off your boots, a toilet and sink, ten people gassy and snoring all night long, and at 5:30 a.m. someone bangs open the door and shouts, “Early breakfast!” So even if you’re not having early breakfast, you’re awake for it.

But the cabins are sweet. Tiny and simple but lovely, built of stone, nice and quiet. Two sets of bunkbeds and a little bitty bathroom. Showers in the bath house down the path.

And so I am excited to go again, in March 2023. I admit to feeling guilty that I’m going without my sister this time, but one cannot turn down the Grand Canyon. It is, after all, grand! And I feel the need to go and do while I can. Perhaps she and I will go again, when we are even older and more seasoned.

“Crying – acceptable at funerals and the Grand Canyon.” – Ron Swanson, Parks & Recreation

“I had come to the canyon with expectations. I wanted to see snowy egrets flying against the black schist at dusk; I saw blue-winged teal against the green waters at dawn. I had wanted to hear thunder rolling in the thousand-foot depths; I heard the guttural caw of four ravens…what any of us had come to see or do fell away. We found ourselves at each turn with what we had not imagined.” ― Barry López, Crossing Open Ground

Thanks for listening,
Kay

Posted on February 20, 2022August 19, 2022 by Kay Foley — Leave a comment

Time

Lately, I’m feeling the reality of being 70 years old. What I mean is, I am keenly aware that 70 years of my life are behind me. The time I have left is limited. Of course, that is true for everyone, at every moment. I have these words of Jack Kornfield up on my refrigerator: “The trouble is . . . you think you have time.” I’ve had it there for a long time and I don’t think of it as depressing, but just as a reminder that we need to not waste any of that limited time.

So, in me, of late, being 70 manifests as wanting to do so many things! There is just so much out there to learn and do and experience–and less time in which to do it. I find myself signing up for all sorts of art workshops, learning about meditation, planning trips for the future (one more hike to the bottom of the Grand Canyon and possibly cycling the coast of Taiwan with my son!), and always finding another and another cool thing that I want to do while I still can. I just do not want to miss out.

Here is one of the poems I wrote as a result of a challenge I gave myself back in 2010.

“While I still can” are the meaningful words.

One thing that I love to do is accept and/or impose upon myself challenges. There is something about them that lights a spark in me and I usually go all in on them. I set myself the challenge of writing a poem a day for 49 days in honor of my friend Pam, who died at 49. I ended up doing it for over a year–and I loved the discipline of doing that, along with my daily morning writing. (You can find all of those poems here.) Then there are 14-day meditation challenges from Ten Percent Happier, 21-day challenges from Deepak Chopra, and right now a 30-Day Sketchbook Challenge that I have accepted. This is another one of those online art offerings. There is just so much out there that I want to do and learn and love.

Pages from Day 2 of the 30-Day Sketchbook Challenge

I am only on Day 3 of this Sketchbook Challenge but I have already learned or discovered several pretty great new things and each morning I can’t wait to get going on the next one. How cool is that? Very.

So what’s next? I don’t know but I am ready to find out. Oh, well, I’ve signed up for two free online workshops and I might take a third one using watercolor and gold leaf. Now it seems that everyone who has an art or meditation workshop on offer has my number on Facebook and Instagram, but that’s okay with me. Bring it! I want to know.

Think about it. The world and the internet are full of so many amazing things ready to fill you up! You think you have time? Fill it up with all the things. You think you don’t have time? You do.

“Time flies like an arrow; fruit flies like a banana.” ― Anthony G. Oettinger

“How did it get so late so soon?”― Dr. Seuss

“Time you enjoy wasting is not wasted time.” ― Marthe Troly-Curtin

Thanks for listening,
Kay

Posted on February 20, 2022August 19, 2022 by Kay Foley — Leave a comment

February

February can be a hard month. But many years back, I started something that made February into one of my favorite months. It was really a reset on my part. Tired of the cold and snow, I thought up a February event that would put some sparkle into the month. Sure, there was Valentine’s Day, fine for some. But my event was way better.

I started throwing a big party in February that I called MidWinter’s Eve. I aimed to have it fall on the Saturday night smack in the middle of winter, usually the first weekend in February. Oh, it was grand! I handmade the invitations and they were fabulous. I would have to say that it was kind of a big deal to receive one of those, if I do say so myself.

Since I love gowns and tuxedos and my two best friends did, too, I requested “formal/festive attire.” The three of us were all over it. Rex always wore a tux or a formal Scottish kilt, the whole nine yards. Pam and I searched for gowns, capes (Pam), shoes, jewelry, and accoutrements. Even the dogs wore fancy sparkly things around their necks. But many guests balked. Thus, the invitations’ requests for formal attire grew either more urgent or more accepting of my guests’ moribund reluctance to dress up, as follows.

“FORMAL ATTIRE REQUESTED, i.e., any & every fabulous finery, fine frippery, dashing haberdashery, adornment & accoutrement most warmly applauded, lauded, adored & rewarded.”

“FORMAL ATTIRE MOST PASSIONATELY DESIRED. However, if you are loath to dress formally, i.e., smashing gown, gloves, tiara, top hat & tails, bow tie, etc., so be it. I do what I can to illuminate an otherwise dreary winter. Sadly, the loss will be your own. Please do come anyway. (You know who you are.)”

“For God’s sake, would it kill you to pull out the old top hat & tails, do up your hair, slip on that long, luscious gown, toss a bit of sparkle around your neck, or otherwise fabulously dress up the night? You know you want to.”

I served fancy hors d’oeuvres, cheap caviar, and champagne punch with a decorative ice ring of berries and mint leaves in the bowl. I decorated the house with lots of sparkle and tiny lights. I made party “favors” which were small envelopes containing shiny confetti, an inspiring quote (no surprise there, eh?), and two self-stick labels the guests could wear. One of the labels would say things like “Trickster” or “Mad Hatter” or “Tart” or “Old Soul,” and the other, “Mentally correcting your grammar” or “Will talk your arm off ” or “Placing my thoughts elsewhere” or “Going to Hell in a handbasket.” Etc. Words (of course) constituted the promised mad frivolity.

That party gave me such a creative outlet, so much fun, and something to look forward to in the dead of winter, though I actually planned for it all year round. I always had an eye out for some glitzy, glimmery, shimmery something that would add to the greatness.

Now that Pam and Rex, my two partners in crime, are gone, the party’s lost some of its glittery appeal. Who, now, would enjoy every last bit of the planning, listen to my latest ideas for favors, go shopping for accoutrements? Who would rummage through my underwear drawer during the party and come downstairs with my bra or panties on their head? Who??

And though I haven’t had the party for years, I do manage to feel a little bit cheated of the possibility of having it–because of stupid old dumb old ugly old Covid. Shouldn’t it be my choice? But maybe next year . . . maybe next February I can bring back my fabulous party. You never know. But please! Formal attire requested!

If you’re looking for my cards or art, you’ll find all of that on my website. And if you enjoy these letters, feel free to forward this one to anyone you think might like it. And if someone forwarded this one to you, you can sign up here to receive the letters right in your Inbox. Finally, you’ll find past letters and poems here.

Thanks for listening,
Kay

P.S. MerryThoughts is the name of my first book, out of print at the moment. The word is a British one, referring both to a wishbone and to the ritual of breaking the wishbone with the intention of either having a wish granted or being the one who marries first, thus the “merry thoughts.”