Vanity is Sanity

Dance Recital at the Coleman Theater.

All these many years my legs have pulled me through the

  times of growing pains and comparisons.

A Twiggy or Brook Shields I will never be.

When pimples and body fat appeared on my body,

  I winced and groaned as I looked in the mirror.
Sighing heavily, I shaved my legs while humming:

     

     “What the world needs now is love sweet love.

     It’s the only thing that there’s just too little of…”

                                 Lyrics by Burt Bacharach and Hal David

                                   What the World Needs Now (click to hear the music) 

USGA Jr. Girls Championship. 

  
Through childhood and college years these legs kicked and danced in recitals and drill teams.

They walked golf courses and campuses supporting golf clubs or books.

During the decades of raising kids, it was my legs that pushed me forward,
  that withstood days when I felt like buckling.
Our family Saturday outings took us to the Duck Pond where we jogged
  around the workout/walking path or ran the track,
Teaching our children the importance of commitment to fresh air and
  movement.
My legs glistened in the summer heat,

  reminding me that they held me fast to the ground, like roots of the trees.

Watching a lengthy downhill putt on #6 at Oakwood CC, Enid. 

For a decade I wore short skirts, just to show off my legs,
  a mere glance at my vanity. 

The next few decades I wore mid-length skirts and shorts, but by my fifties
  my knock knees caved inward, my feet gave out

  with arches falling and toes twisting.

What’s a girl to do?

"Vanity is sanity," the older women told me when I was young.

 I began to understand.

 

I dared myself in my sixties to wear skorts on the golf course,

  and sometimes felt self-conscious when I bent over to line up a putt.

I looked around and gained confidence watching women carry themselves

  proudly on the golf course in stylish clothing.

Vanity is sanity, I began to see it in their faces and posture.

Letty and Dawn laughing and posing in
 Bitch Wings at Belmar CC. 

One day, as I danced a step of joy after making a lengthy putt, my left heal 

  kicked my right shin bone, oh ouch!

It bruised immediately showing a bold blood red and purple splotch. 

  What happened?

Another day my dog pawed me with affection leaving a streak of dark

  red bruising down my leg, the next day it was my arms that bruised.

The decades were showing signs of aging, my skin was no longer lush 

  and rich with collagen. 

Don't they make a pill for this, I screamed in my head.
  It was pills for back pain that thinned the skin!

Vanity is sanity. Now I understand.

No defeat for a woman who walks with confidence.

     “I am woman hear me roar….

      You can bend but never break me

      ‘Cause it only serves to make me

      More determined to achieve my final goal

      And I come back even stronger

      Not a novice any longer

      Cause you’ve deepened the conviction in my soul.”

                                             Lyrics by Helen Reddy and Ray Burton

                                               I Am Woman (click to hear the music) 

There are clothes for this:  fitted pants still show the legs but not the scars.

These legs of mine stand strong but bruised.

  I work them out regularly at the gym keeping my posture upright.

Then treat them with tender loving care and lotions galore both night and day.

Vanity is sanity. Now I understand.

MHS Class of 65, Letty and Donna dancing the golf rock and roll. 

How long these legs will carry me, is one of the mysteries of our lives.

I can't prevent the effects of aging but I can love who I am.

Heading into the grays of the approaching winter days and decades,

  I am proud to be a Baby Boomer breaking in another decade.

Now I understand. Loving yourself is not vanity, it is sanity.

Glancing out to the North Sea off the coast of Scotland. 

Tribute to Trees

I stand by the windows watching natures winter wrath. 

Such chaos in the midst of fierce bitter cold winds
slapping trees from side to side;
slashing leaves before they hit the ground;
swallowing all colors remaining in the mums.
I imagine the metaphoric words from Robert Frost
'nothing gold can stay,' and Kilmer's poem of "A tree that looks at God all day, and lifts her leafy arms to pray. 
I am thankful that poets write the words to describe the feelings and pictures that I experience on this dismal fall to winter day. 

I think I shall never see

a poem lovely as a tree.

A tree whose hungry mouth is prest

Against the earth's sweet breast;

A tree that looks at God all day,

and lifts her leafy arms to pray;

A tree that may in summer wear,

a nest of robins in her hair;

Upon whose bosom snow has lain;

Who intimately lives with rain.

Poems are made by fools like me,

but only God can make a tree.

                                                                                           by Joyce Kilmer             in 1913

 NOTHING GOLD CAN STAY   by Robert Frost in 1923 

Nature's first green is gold,

Her hardest hue to hold.

Her early leaf's a flower;

But only so an hour.

Then leaf subsides to leaf.

So Eden sank to grief,

So dawn goes down to day,

Nothing gold can stay.