FOX OVER THE HILL !!!!!!!

FOX OVER THE HILL!!!
1619 Grand Avenue

There was a fox on the hillside! We were about 5 and 6 years old. "Mommy! We saw a fox over the hill!" Anne and I looked at each other, waiting for Mom's response. I was so excited I could have just popped! Never mind that we'd been terrified when we saw it. We lived in North Fort Worth on a hillside over-looking Jacksboro Highway. All of us played along the hillside that ran along the highway, and invented games as we ran in and out of the Johnson grass and the cane that grew wild to cover the hillside. All of us eventually outgrew that wonderful time. Each of us eventually arrived at an age where we were too old for that stuff. To us it had been the greatest adventure in the world, and the very best source of inspiration for inventing games to play.

Anne and I had been nosing around the hillside and were playing on an old sycamore tree that had fallen years before. There was no bark left on it and we were just inventing a new game, when out of nowhere a fox appeared. As I recall, it looked exactly like the pictures in one of our storybooks. Wasn't there a picture of a fox in Grimm's Faerie Tales or Peter and the Wolf, or maybe Peter Pan? We were terrified and both of us started screaming. You know, that high pitched piercing scream that little girls do? Those are the kind of screams that would surely set off sensors at Carswell Air Force Base and probably ionize the lower cloud layer.

Finally our next-door neighbor appeared at the top of the hill. At last! Someone was going to come save us. We continued to scream so he'd be sure to know exactly where to find us. Finally he was close enough that he could see us, and then he shouted, "SHUT UP!", and turned and walked back up the hill. What in the world was wrong with him? Couldn't he see that we were trapped and in danger? Why didn't he come rescue us?

The little fox just sat there a few yards away, probably wondering what we were, and how we could possibly make a noise just like an injured rabbit. I think we'd both stopped breathing, eyes transfixed on the monster before us that would devour us if we even batted an eye. After what seemed like forever, the little fox almost shrugged and then trotted off. We looked at each other and wondered if it was safe to run up the hillside to the house. Would the fox come back and chase us? We ran all the way back up, just in case. Whew! That was a close one!

Mom wasn't even surprised when we told her that we'd seen a fox. She said, "Well, it probably came up from the river to hunt for mice to eat. Somehow, it took some of the excitement and adventure out of having been "trapped" by a fox. It only wanted mice? Our older sister didn't believe it, and said we'd made it up, and then she poked her nose back in her book. Our brother got all excited and ran out the door to try to find it.

After that, we looked for the little fox every time we went to play on the hillside, but we never saw it again. We never forgot the little fox and it proved to be another source of invention for games to play until we no longer needed to be chased by a fox.

A little break from growing up history................

THE TEMPLE OF MY SOUL
Women never get too old to hate their bodies, and I hear it's a sin not to be satisfied with what God gave you. I am also told it's a sin not to take care of the "Temple of Your Soul", and I've always wondered if I'll be punished for being vain. What I mean to say is; I want to regain and maintain my youthful appearance because that's what society says is acceptable, not because it's the Temple of My Soul. There. Maybe that's the best way to put it.

If I'd really been concerned with The Temple of My Soul, I'd have taken better care of it from the beginning. Didn’t Scat Man Carruthers say that first? No smoking, no drinking alcohol, no carbonated drinks, no coffee, no sugar and no salt; no sun bathing no stress, get plenty of sleep, all the right foods, at least 8 full glasses of water a day, cleanliness, floss, floss, floss, keep the skin lubricated, and don't forget to exercise the mind and the body! That alone would take up nearly all of a person's time. Can you believe that there are actually people who do this?

So, I still hated my body. Always had; my teeth, my towering height, my small breasts, and my thighs, long feet ... Why couldn't I have had blue or brown eyes like my siblings. Why couldn't I have perfectly straight teeth like Mom had? I didn't just want to be like someone else, I wanted to be someone else. So, since I couldn't be someone else, I decided to make do with what's just me, never letting myself get over weight, and always staying active, which wasn't a problem for me. I'm certified A.D.H.D., so, keeping myself busy and "presentable" for 55 years wasn't all that hard. Looking back, I think that the Powers That Be really gave me good stuff to start with. I was very fortunate. I just abused the hell out of it.

Now, I've seen enough at 60 to realize that I should count my lucky stars for the healthy years I have remaining. What would that be? Ten, twenty years? Only God knows. I've been through quite a lot, as have a number of my peers. My particular wrestling match was with treatment for a disease I caused myself, using my "free will" to smoke. I was diagnosed early enough, cut on and treated with chemotherapy and radiation. With that treatment, I lost about 25 lb. that I really couldn't afford to lose anyway. I looked drawn and gaunt, and my eyes were sunken in. My belly button actually rubbed my backbone. No kidding! My treatment had to be stopped until I could re-gain some of the weight. One of my oncologists told me to drink as many as eight Ensures a day. I also couldn't have done it without Roy’s constant love, devotion and help. He fed me ice cream and took me to Denny’s to eat pancakes. My many siblings took turns coming to help, and bolster Roy. Finally, I gained enough weight to resume treatment. I am truly grateful to have gained the weight back, because I would have had to start all over from scratch with the treatment had I not.

But hold on a minute !!!!! The weight just kept coming on until I could no longer wear the clothes in my closet. Geeeeeeezzzzze! I had to buy two sizes larger! I HATED MY BODY!!!!! It was imperitive that I slam on the breaks. It wasn't until about about two years out from treatment that it started to level off. I wasn’t happy at all with the weight. I simply could NOT eat the way I used to, all of anything and everything I wanted, and expect to not gain weight. One of the reasons is because I'm missing some of my breathing apparatus, so I can't be as active. Here's the truth of the matter. Shedding all of the extra weight I gained after treatment may not be a very good idea. Guess I'll need to keep some of this "extra" weight to fill in the wrinkles on my face and....oh, well... here and there and everywhere else. So, I'll do the best I can.

It's really not so bad, getting older. I just don't want to get old and useless. If I had my druthers, I'd like to just keep some of my so-called rational mind as I grow older and yes, OLD. I have a number of friends that have also been through the medical malady mill as well. Some of them haven't come out very well, and some not at all. For what I put myself through I'm pretty well off, and for that, I am truly grateful. The Temple of my Soul has made a remarkable recovery. I think I can say that I actually do like her. She’s amazingly resilient.

After having looked at my parents, and my mother-in-law, and having been to a few class reunions, I've come to realize that you just don't get to keep it. Beautiful youth has something to do with the survival of the fittest. If you look at it that way, it's absolutely true, and makes a lot of sense. In our youth, we strutted our cute and adorable stuff under the noses of the opposite sex, courted and snared one another, and spawned our very own successors. We are so busy with our own agendas that we didn't even think of the new generation we were creating as actually replacing us. We still thought of ourselves as invincible, irreplaceable and immortal. We'd always be here. This is a condition called burying our heads in the sand, not looking at the whole big picture, or....denial. We just never planned on getting old.

Society has delegated people of advanced age as "old and ugly", In our society youth is valued and synonymous with usefulness. No wonder our elderly clam up and get crabby. They are no longer looked upon as vital and useful, and it terrifies us. Here's another way to look at it. I think it's because everyone fears and dreads the unknown of getting to that point (old), and rejected. People fear getting old because they don't want to lose their usefulness; and death, because we don't really know what's beyond life on earth. Come on....we don't really know. My daughters have a nice petting zoo all picked out for me. I’ve told them that I don’t mind that at all, as long as I have everything I need and love. Really, it won't be bad at all.

I hope that when my number is up, I can don a red and purple hat and gracefully waltz out the door. There are no pockets in the shroud, meaning you can't take it with you. Maybe I won't even put that hat on. Just like that.....no drama or fan fare.....no lingering. I will have been here long enough....no procrastinating. I suspect there will be an agenda to attend to when I get to uh, some where else.