Here We Go

The ritual is upon us. Leaves coming down in droves. Day upon day, hour upon hour. Raking, blowing, bagging -- you name it. Anyone with big trees must find a way to cope. Some fare better than others.

We've all seen it. One yard meticulously swept and cleared, the other untouched. It makes a difference. There are consequences. The problem does not go away. Sooner or later, you deal with it.

Rituals are not my favorite thing. I'd like to think we have more choice in life.

I used to think this way about mowing the lawn. It seemed like such a waste of time and effort. Back in the 70's it seemed like we had the perfect combination of rain and sunshine to make it grow. Every two or three days, it seemed, there we were, my brother and I, racing to mow the lawn before my dad got home from work. (We had chores, you see.)

I had this idea for an invention. Grass genetically designed to stop at a certain height. Thick and green, with all the attributes of a normal, healthy lawn -- but no maintenance. What a dream!

My approach to life often revisits this path. The search for simplicity. It's a never-ending quest.

In school, I tried to focus on the task at hand. Block out complications. Avoid distractions. (Believe me, there were plenty to be found.) It seemed like people all around me were running in circles, engaged in so many useless pursuits. They found trouble, all right. I kept asking myself, "Can't they see what's happening to them?"

I made choices all the time, in favor of more sleep, less grief. I wanted to streamline my life. Develop a pattern of doing things. Make my days predictable, with less to worry about. No surprises.

And it worked for the most part, especially in graduate school. It enabled me to survive on a huge college campus, get good grades, and walk away with my degree -- which was the whole purpose of going, in the first place.

But sooner or later, life gets complicated. People cannot be avoided. Problems must be faced.

So, I took my degree into the world, and tried to put it to good use. I tried to become a problem solver. Always looking for ways to fix things. (My dad did a lot of this when we were kids. Handy with tools, he tried to fix almost everything around the house.)

But eventually, I found (much to my regret) that some things could not be fixed. Some people could not be persuaded to give up bad habits. Broken gizmos could not always be patched with wire or glue. (To this day, my one universal solution to almost every mechanical failure still seems to be a paper clip.)

In recent years, every time my wife and I encountered any sort of health-related difficulty, we sought out home remedies. She had a fantastic paperback reference (Complete Guide to Symptoms, Illness & Surgery). These days we use it less often, in favor of searches on the internet.

We did the same thing with Diabetes. And I'm still seeking solutions. (Already a big fan of sugar-free Jello, yesterday we found sugar-free pudding. I'm so excited.)

Deep down inside, I know I can't "fix" my condition. It's a part of me, for life. But I'm still hoping to make it less complicated. (I've always believed the effort required to simplify anything is worth it.)

Someone told me the other day there's a device that not only checks blood pressure, but reads blood sugar as well. Is that possible? No sticking, no bleeding, no strips? That would be something. I need to look it up.

For right now, though, I must adhere to ritual. Daily checking of my blood. (At least it's getting easier. I used to poke more than once to get the right amount. Most days anymore, it only takes about a minute.)

I want to be responsible. Deal with it here and now. It's not my favorite thing -- but I know it must be done.

Here we go.