Thursday, October 22, 2015
Even Keeled Relations
This is my Aunt Lulu, with her grandson, Paul Marinoni.
Lulu is the person I call when I'm overwhelmed. She is calm and practical. She checks in with me regularly, and remembers me on holidays.
The other morning I called, from Shoshoni, WY, to check in with her. She asked me if I was in jail. I laughed, and told her I wasn't.
The next day, I called her from just over the Idaho border, because I had just driven through some treacherous territory, so I stopped at a corner store outside of Teton national Park.
Feeling funny from the altitude, and freaked out so far from familiarity, I called Lulu, and, after ascertaining again that I wasn't in jail, she told me about one of the trips out west she took, with my uncle Ed and their five young children.
My cousin, Edward Blute, was trying to get his dad's attention, when Lulu noticed that Ed, who was driving the RV down a treacherous pass, was silently breaking out in a cold sweat. Everyone stayed silent as he maneuvered the big rig down an almost straight down incline. It helped me so much to hear that I wasn't the only one who didn't know they had a fear of heights until I was going down a steep mountain grade.
That's the way Lulu is, full of perspective. She has helped me put blinders on when necessary, like the other day, when I needed to get through the mountains. She has also helped me to broaden my vision in really dark times, like those last months of my dad's illness, to see that it wouldn't be dark forever.
She has encouraged me to take this trip since I came up with this crazy idea. And she always lets me know that there's a place for me when I'm done traveling.
When Lulu finds pennies, she knows it's her mother, sending messages of abundance. A day has not gone by on this journey where I haven't found a penny, and I always think of Lulu and my grandmother.