I learned to drive in a minivan - a blue 2001 Ford Windstar.
It wouldn't be until much later that he would get his name, USS Old Blue, but even then he was something special.
We traded in our giant Expedition when my brother went on a church mission to Chili and drove home to Illinois in Old Blue - our first cross country trip with him starting right off the bat (talk about hazing).
And that was it, Old Blue went with us everywhere we could imagine to go from then on. He drove and drove for miles and miles across the country to Utah and back home to Illinois again. Then down to Galveston, Texas and over to New York City, Niagra Falls and Ontario, until he dropped us back off at 1807 Ottawa St, Cortland, IL 60112.He would also take us to Yellowstone and the Tetons while we went camping on Kaylee's Senior trip, not to mention so many more trips to Virginia to drop Cami off at school and then later to watch her graduate, meanwhile also doing the menial trips in comparison to the stake center, temple, seminary, and school. He was a dream come true.
When I started to drive, my family had at that point added a little white mustang to the ranks. It was rusty when it came to driving to say the least, and would make the most horrid sounds at times when it decided to throw a fit. I would learn to love my 'baby girl' later on. But as a timid 15 year old girl, Old Blue was the smooth talking Son of a Gun who would calm me into getting behind the wheel on a regular basis.
It was in Old Blue that Dad took me driving on Airport Road the night before my first drive with my Driving Instructor. I was terrified and nearly drove us off the side of that country road several times. The speed limit was 55 and there was oncoming traffic like a steady fast-paced stream rushing towards us without letting up. I thought for certain that it was going to be the end of us. But Old Blue knew better.
It was also in Old Blue that I thought I would try out what I'd been learning in Driver's Ed by turning into the nearest available lane of traffic. With Mom in the front seat, I turned into the oncoming traffic's lane instead of my own. Mom screamed while Old Blue helped me seamlessly correct my course. I still laugh at the memory, though I'm not as sure that Mom found it all too humorous then... or now.
I eventually transitioned into the Mustang and she became my primary driving instrument until I moved to Hong Kong my senior year. The adventures Baby Girl and I went on together will be saved for another blogpost and time though.
Coming back from my year abroad, Kaylee had full ownership of Old Blue, and he was just biding his time before he and I could be fully reunited. He wouldn't share it openly, but I know my years with Baby Girl were not easy for him to watch. He was happy for me - and therefore us - to be sure, but nonetheless was even happier when he and I began sharing adventures once more.
So it came to be one creepy, late night that Mari, Old Blue, and I drove through Eureka in an attempt to find the Sand Dunes and all of our friends who we were supposed to be sharing the sunset with. I'm sure Eureka was not trying to be more creepy than usual, but Mari and I were beyond creeped out. As much as we could not find the Dunes and our friends, we did NOT want to go back to that 'town' to ask for directions. (I would like to pause here and beg the pardon of the townspeople of Eureka. We did not have the opportunity to have your pleasant homeland prove our perceived creepiness wrong, as I'm sure it would have.) Old Blue mustered something deep within him and nearly broke the warp speed barrier as he shot us from Eureka to the Sand Dunes in nearly no time at all. He had felt our fear growing and growing and would not let us become desolate and abandon hope on his watch. It is entirely possible that this near impossible feat was achieved partly as a result of the inner strength of Old Blue and partly because of the desperate prayer Mari and I had sent heavenward. Anyway you shift it, Old Blue was a factor and we are forever grateful.
I should probably at this point mention how Old Blue got his name and why he was so well versed in warp speed potentiality.
It was in this same summer that I submitted to grueling training under the tutelage of one Captain Kirk, of the USS Enterprise. As my grooming came to an end, he conferred a Captinhood upon myself and a United Space Shiphood upon Old Blue. As I took on the name of Captain Abby, Starship Old Blue became my companion through the space-time continuum. I had learned the ins and outs of running a crew and he had learned the ins and outs of warp drive and the universe itself it seemed. We soon left our old driving ways of the past where they belonged and took to flying at warp speeds heartily. We acquired a crew quickly enough, weeding through the hundreds of applicants in a timely manner so as to begin our space explorations as speedily as possible.
Our Crew was as follows:
Captain: Abby Yvonne Holyoak
Number One: NatAsha Lee Wallin
Helm Leader: Mari Katherin Cook
Medical Advisor: Sarah Beth Robishaw
Science Advisor: MacKenzie Ann Mayo
Beamer Upper: Annisija Kay Wallin
Vessel: USS Old Blue
We represent the best that Star Fleet Academy has to offer and from the moment we joined one another is space exploration have begun to change the universe one new frontier at a time.
Starship Old Blue has executed our missions flawlessly and has several times inspired song to burst forth from the crew as we have warped along.
A captain could not ask for a better vessel with which to explore the depths of space and mysteries of the universe.
Unfortunately all good things, must come to an end, even for a United Space Ship as faithful as Old Blue. He gave it his all. On this last mission I battled a dark and sinister evil. There were many moments I thought I might not make it back to my happy home one more time, but USS Old Blue pulled through again, and again. Despite all efforts in his behalf, the damage to his warp propulsion system has proved to be irreparable; I tried with all my might to restore him to his former, original glory. He has done so much for me, it would have been the least I could do for him in return. Alas, it was not to be so.
It is with immense sorrow in our separation and unspeakable joy in our magnanimous adventures that I bid him a final farewell. And most of all it is in his spectacular memory that I dedicate this post. We donated his body to science and to the Star Fleet Academy so he can serve his fellow space travelers one last time as a model and learning instrument for current and future students for many years to come. May you rest in peace, old friend; serving alongside you has been an honor.
Goodnight, dear void.
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Maeror
Grief is such an interesting thing.
It manifests itself in so many ways.
And just when you think you've moved on and things are getting back to normal again, something happens - you see something, hear something, or a random memory pops into your head - and you're right back there at the beginning of it all.
Sometimes you break down into inconsolable tears.
Other times you laugh at memories until your abs hurt.
Sometimes you take solace in the rain.
Other times you decide just to take a drive and be apart of nature again.
Sometimes you find time to listen to other people's grief.
Other times you find time to write about your own.
And slowly, very slowly sometimes, the grief begins to lift yet one more time.
There is not telling when any given grief cycle has come to an end. In some ways I don't know that the cycle ever truly ends. More I believe that we learn more and more how to make the cycle last longer so as to not repeat it so often.
In the moment of our grief, there are often many other's to share the load of the grief with. With time it seems to isolate you and make you feel as though you are the only one left with pain or sorrow inside, though you are never truly on your own. Because if we're all alone in our grief, we're all together in it too (P.s. I Love You).
Grief can be debilitating; it can be empowering. It can hold you back; it can propel you forward.
And in beautiful anomaly, you determine how your grief determines you.
Goodnight, dear void.
It manifests itself in so many ways.
And just when you think you've moved on and things are getting back to normal again, something happens - you see something, hear something, or a random memory pops into your head - and you're right back there at the beginning of it all.
Sometimes you break down into inconsolable tears.
Other times you laugh at memories until your abs hurt.
Sometimes you take solace in the rain.
Other times you decide just to take a drive and be apart of nature again.
Sometimes you find time to listen to other people's grief.
Other times you find time to write about your own.
And slowly, very slowly sometimes, the grief begins to lift yet one more time.
There is not telling when any given grief cycle has come to an end. In some ways I don't know that the cycle ever truly ends. More I believe that we learn more and more how to make the cycle last longer so as to not repeat it so often.
In the moment of our grief, there are often many other's to share the load of the grief with. With time it seems to isolate you and make you feel as though you are the only one left with pain or sorrow inside, though you are never truly on your own. Because if we're all alone in our grief, we're all together in it too (P.s. I Love You).
Grief can be debilitating; it can be empowering. It can hold you back; it can propel you forward.
And in beautiful anomaly, you determine how your grief determines you.
Goodnight, dear void.
Monday, July 18, 2011
Your Place in the Family of Things
We've all done it. We've all thought at one moment or another -wondered- what the world might be like if we weren't in it. Would the world fall to pieces because you weren't there to hold it all together? Or more likely, would the world go on seemingly unscathed by your absence?
I think at some point in all of our lives we truly believe the first to be true. How could the world possibly be the same if you weren't there anymore or worse, if you'd never existed at all?
And yet, as you get older and see the world for the big place it really is, you begin to realize just how it turns- with you or not.
I always thought that as I got bigger the world would get smaller, but it has continued to grow bigger somehow. Doesn't that seem to defy some law of aging, some right of passage that comes with entering adulthood?
No matter how big or how old I get, the world is bigger and older still.
My condo has a living room wall that doesn't reach the ceiling. It leaves a gap at the top so someone can stand on the second floor and look over onto the scene playing out beneath them.
It is amazing how easy it is to really see the world without you from up there. Sometimes it appears to be better with you removed from it. It seems to function and move differently - more perfectly as laughter and expressions of joy reach you eyes and ears. And you begin to wonder if they even notice that you're not there anymore. If you never came back down you could easily believe your existence insignificant and inconsequential; you could easily see the adaptations as progressions.
However, I truly believe that it is in these moments that it is the most important for you to return to the world from which you came. Because as you descend the stairs you discover just how dysfunctional the world had become without you. It still continues on, to be sure, but not the way it would have had you been there to smooth over the patches that could only be smoothed by you.
So you see, the world will always continue to spin; it is not up to you to make it do so. But you can help it along just by being you within it. And that is honorable too.
Goodnight, dear void.
You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and deep rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting-
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.
~ Mary Oliver. Wild geese.
I think at some point in all of our lives we truly believe the first to be true. How could the world possibly be the same if you weren't there anymore or worse, if you'd never existed at all?
And yet, as you get older and see the world for the big place it really is, you begin to realize just how it turns- with you or not.
I always thought that as I got bigger the world would get smaller, but it has continued to grow bigger somehow. Doesn't that seem to defy some law of aging, some right of passage that comes with entering adulthood?
No matter how big or how old I get, the world is bigger and older still.
My condo has a living room wall that doesn't reach the ceiling. It leaves a gap at the top so someone can stand on the second floor and look over onto the scene playing out beneath them.
It is amazing how easy it is to really see the world without you from up there. Sometimes it appears to be better with you removed from it. It seems to function and move differently - more perfectly as laughter and expressions of joy reach you eyes and ears. And you begin to wonder if they even notice that you're not there anymore. If you never came back down you could easily believe your existence insignificant and inconsequential; you could easily see the adaptations as progressions.
However, I truly believe that it is in these moments that it is the most important for you to return to the world from which you came. Because as you descend the stairs you discover just how dysfunctional the world had become without you. It still continues on, to be sure, but not the way it would have had you been there to smooth over the patches that could only be smoothed by you.
So you see, the world will always continue to spin; it is not up to you to make it do so. But you can help it along just by being you within it. And that is honorable too.
Goodnight, dear void.
You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and deep rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting-
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.
~ Mary Oliver. Wild geese.
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