Wednesday, April 3, 2024

This Is Our Life. Live It

cheryloreglia

April 3

Cora and Sienna "The Prankters"

So come to the river of your imagination, or the harbor of your longing, and put your lips to the world. And live your life." ― Mary Oliver

Sunday was Easter, followed by April Fools' Day, which was considered a major holiday in my family of origin. While I was growing up, I was honing my skills and pranking with the best of them. My parents were big on practical jokes. Nancy and I got the gene. My sister and I planned, calculated, and pulled off a joke on our parents every year. We were quite imaginative for kids. One time we flooded the garage, so they would think the washing machine had broken down again.

That one was a little too realistic for our parents. That year, we learned that some jokes aren't as funny as others—an important lesson.

We did the usual stuff as kids: filling the salt shaker with sugar, switching out the regular milk for pet milk, putting records in the wrong albums, and books in their pillowcases. Then, we would lie in wait for our parents to react. I realize now that they were on to us, but they would always give us the exaggerated reaction we were looking for, and that only egged us on!

Little did I know that by fifteen years of age, I would meet a boy born on our family's favorite holiday and eventually marry him.

Is that too funny?

So, April Fools' Day continues to hold an elevated status in our home, as you can only imagine.

Today, I was wondering if my parents were up to their old tricks from heaven because the strangest things kept happening all day.

Larry wanted to do a tandem ride on his birthday, then stop at BAE's and order a sausage empanada for breakfast. We waited for the cool morning to warm up, then we slipped into our biking gear and hit the creek trail.

But we were confronted with one odd thing after the other, and seriously, I thought Candid Camara was capturing us. (This was a popular show when I was a kid. The producers would do something really crazy and then secretly film how people reacted; it was hysterical, but I imagine highly illegal.)

So we're riding merrily along the trail. It takes a few miles to warm up, get in sink with each other, and lose yourself in the ride. You know what I mean?

That moment when you are no longer thinking about being on the back of a bike, straining your muscles, and trying to keep your hands warm. You're gliding along, in the zone, and suddenly I'm detached from the motion of my legs. I'm flying through the morning, my mind drunk on endorphins, floating in a state of euphoria, and the only thing that can bring me back to reality is having to stop and get off the bike. This happened five times on the first leg of our ride.

I was so confused, endorphins coming and going, the rhythm of the ride obliterated.

The first detour was because the trail was underwater, and we had to get off the bike and walk around the water. Oddly there was a duck floating in the puddle, looking a little annoyed with us. Then, a few miles later, we had to get off the bike again because our chain fell off on a steep grade. Larry had to work it back on, hands covered in grease, and we forgot to pack the wipes.

Then we had to get off the bike again because they were working on the pavement, and they sent us down another muddy path to bypass the workers. Then we had to stop twice to get through narrow gates because our bike was too long to ride through.

When we finally reached Los Gatos, I commented, "What the hell? Five stops."

Larry agrees, "That's never happens."

"It is April Fools' Day."

"Not funny."

But with all these stops, I saw something I'd never seen before. They emptied Vasona Lake, which is now a muddy hole. And let me tell you, the ducks were not happy, and there was some serious quacking going on, no wonder one of them was floating in a puddle. I've lived here my entire life. This was the pond I fed the ducks at when I was little, and later, I took my own kids. I have never seen it empty. It's not as deep as you would expect. There was a rusted shopping cart half buried in the mud, a bunch of construction cones, and lots of debris from fallen trees.

There were workers crawling all over the dam, so I suppose it needed some updating. This is a good thing because I live downstream, on the other side of this structure, and it's better if it's in good repair.

We rode on.

When we were stopped at a light on Winchester, right by the Courtside Tennis Club, a woman rolled down her window from her car and said, "How far are you riding today."

I said, "Twenty-five miles." It's really only twenty-two, but I round up when I'm riding and round down when I'm purchasing something. But I think that's implied. Right?

She said, "You look great. Enjoy your ride."

The light changes, and I yell back, "Thank you."

Then I tap Larry's back and say, "Did you hear that? She said I looked great."

"I think she meant both of us."

"Did she now?"

So we're heading back to the trails for another loop, and we've come to our first detour. We're lifting our huge bike up over the curb when two solo riders pass us up because they can jump the curb without getting off their bikes.

One of the guys says, "We saw you earlier. You make it look easy. It's a lot of work riding tandem, especially for the stoker."

I know. Calm down. You heard that right.

He said, especially for the stoker, I wanted to make sure you caught that part. I'm the stoker and no one ever compliments the stoker. Never! Oh no, it's all about the Captain, the one who's steering, changing gears, watching out for hazards. Whatever!

I yell at the top of my lungs, "THANK YOU! THANK YOU! THANK YOU," as if I were accepting an Oscar.

Then I said to Larry, "Did you hear that? Especially the stoker part."

He acts like he can't hear me. Bahaha.

Then when we arrive in Los Gatos, we're trying to catch the green light. I sort of stand up while I'm pedaling to give us a boost, and some guy sipping coffee across the street starts clapping loudly and says, "Go Tandem! Nice job."

I'm pretty sure he was speaking directly to me!

What is up with the people today? I'm so used to everyone yelling, 'She's not pedaling,' but never, ever, 'Nice job, stoker!' The rest of the morning, I was pedaling like an Olympian, swollen with pride and smiling at everyone we passed. As Nicolas Boileau says, every fool finds a greater one to admire them.

But isn't it odd how one nice comment can brighten someone's entire day?

So, what does this all mean? I think it's simple. When we pay attention to the messages embedded in the events in our lives, we make our very existence miraculous, right?

Today, we encountered many detours, forcing us to stop repeatedly. This allowed us to actually notice what was happening around us, like the dry bowl of Vasona Lake, Dam construction, and bikers with a lovely message for the beleaguered stoker, and possibly ones that included the captain.

What I want to say is that this is our life, and we are capable of choosing what it will be by the things we stop to notice and give meaning to, the messages we give and receive from random strangers, or the sweet hand of your parents in Heaven forcing you to stop repeatedly until you take notice and allow those beloved memories to resurface.

"Here's to our favorite holiday, Mom and Dad."

Larry and I are always in training for our next ride, and I am continually amazed by the joy that bicycling continues to give me. It's challenging, yes, but traveling on a bike allows us to experience the landscape in a way that is intimate, revelatory, and invigorating.

Our next ride is along the Douro River in Portugal, which includes a visit with Tony and Thalita!

Anyway, we had an extraordinary morning, and it got even better.

The twins came over after school and spent the entire afternoon playing April Fools' jokes on anyone who would listen to them. They found these little white flowers that looked like teeth, and after asking for my assistance with some ketchup (fake blood), they ran all over the neighborhood, telling everyone they had lost a tooth at the same time. I sent a photo to Julie, and she believed them! (see top photo)

It was adorable. I think they got the gene.

Screenshot

Larry put me in charge of his birthday dinner. I was going to make fried liver with a dry onion, but thankfully Julie and Nic invited us over for jambalaya, Nic's specialty. While Nic slaved over a hot stove, Larry opened his gifts (one featured below), and we popped a few bottles of wine.

Happy Birthday my love!

In Mary Oliver form, I say come to the trails of our world, or the pond of our childhood, or the detours of life, put your feet to the metal, and pedal, damn it. This is our life. Live it.