Moments in Camelot

I came across this photo of myself and my firstborn the other day.  It happens to be one of my favorites.  I always smile at my barely adult self in a little hippie style dress, looking so happy.  I was 22 years old when my son, David was born, and I was over the moon at being a mom, even though at first I didn’t have a clue about how to care for a baby.  Probably the cause for his serious little face! :)

In retrospect it seems strange that I would have wanted kids so much.  It wasn’t something I remember consciously thinking about while growing up. Being a quiet, introspective and shy child, I was content to play by myself much of the time, drawing and painting, playing the piano, reading and exploring outdoors.  I had one much older brother who was off in his own busy world.  I never babysat and I don’t remember playing with any younger cousins as a child.

I recall a special trip on the train to Chicago with my mom for my birthday.  I have a December birthday and it was around Christmas that she took me to Marshall Field’s to pick out "any doll I wanted."  I must have been 4 or 5 years old.  I remember being very excited by the train ride and gazing at the incredible assortment of dolls in the big glass case at the department store.  I also remember that I really wanted a baby doll but that my mom wanted me to have a fashion doll.  We came home with the doll of her choice, and I still have that fancy doll that I rarely played with. 

Why I didn’t go to college remains something of a mystery and at times a disappointment since learning came easily to me.  My parents retained the old fashioned idea that higher education was not as important for a girl (translated "pretty girl") and it never occurred to me to disagree, since all of my interests were pursued outside of the structure of a classroom.  I loved to paint and was provided with all the time and materials to pursue it in my own fashion.  I learned to downhill ski at a young age and winters were spent flying down snow covered slopes.  I had a passion for playing the piano and happily took 10 years of private lessons.   I simply assumed that everything would magically fall into place and it did for quite some time.  It rarely crossed my mind that I might have to actually support myself someday.

I married my childhood love two days after I turned 20.   Soon after, our new home became a gathering place for an endless stream of neighborhood kids and extended family.  For the first time in my life, I felt like the center of the universe rather than someone who hung out on the fringes.  I felt like I truly belonged.

The family owned hardware business where my husband worked, provided us with a comfortable life that enabled me to be a stay at home mom.  Many of the other moms in the neighborhood stayed home and we developed a network of homes where our kids could be found at any given moment.  It was truly a unique little community where we all mothered and nurtured and fed each other’s children.  I dearly loved these wonderful families and spent many happy hours with them sharing recipes, laughter, food and great conversations.

Over the years I have often felt guilty that I had never developed a “real career.”  But when I look back over the years and the memories that come flooding back, I can’t even come close to describing the simple beauty of it. The images have become a huge and colorful collage of my children and their friends at different ages with their faces glowing in wonder at the lights on Christmas trees, telling stories around campfires, their eyes sparkling as they make wishes before blowing out the candles on so many birthday cakes and the long summer evenings where they ran in packs until dark and we knew that they were safe.  I had all the time in the world to devote to them and of course painted them at all ages as they grew.  I was never bored and went on countless little adventures with them over the years. What more could I have wished for?  My heart overflows at the gifts my life provided. 

As in all stories of Camelot, its perfection never lasts forever and perhaps therein lies its heartbreaking beauty.  The trick is to know that and never take a moment for granted.  My marriage came to an end after 31 years, but my former husband and I,  after some rough years of healing, have remained good friends.  I have no wish to share the details of its demise and my own subsequent run to the mountains here.  I am often accused of being a Pollyanna and have purposefully not shared the many hard and sad moments that happened in my Camelot.  This is a story of the beauty and joy of that time, that I wish to celebrate. As the final song from Camelot says,

Don’t let it be forgot

That once there was a spot

For one brief shining moment that was known

As Camelot.

I have a little slice of Camelot on Golden Lake now, and I am blessed to have my children and grandchildren gather often in this special place.  I have spent my life, for the most part, doing what I wanted to do and what I felt I was meant to do.  I have made some huge mistakes along the way, but without them I would not have come to appreciate what I have.  Did I make the right choices?  I have stopped trying to guess because all I have is this brief shining moment at any given time.

It can be hard to remain fearless at the age of 65 when you still feel like you don’t have a “real career” and the future is a mystery.  I don't think any of us wants to contemplate that we will one day be a senior citizen.  Jon Katz and his writings have helped me take a new outlook on aging gracefully, staying creative and recognizing the beauty that surrounds me every day.  I am deeply grateful for that!  It’s enough to wake up with hope everyday and believe that life still holds moments in Camelot.  

"None are so old as those who have outlived enthusiasm."  Henry David Thoreau