My entire life I have felt different. My brothers would sometimes joke that I was an alien left on the doorstep that our parents took in. I was an intense child, endlessly curious, and full of enthusiasm for subjects and activities - paleontology, crystal growing, softball, chemistry, philosophy, writing (kept a journal and wrote poetry), religion (raised Catholic), horses, dogs, fishing. One summer I played in 3 softball leagues. I asked my parents to let me join the Wisconsin Geological Society - they would take me to meetings downtown where I was in way over my head. I started working as a sacristan at my church when I was 10 years old. I had more than one chemistry set. My closest friend was an adult.
As I matured, I dropped some passions, but gained others. Still loving horses, I spent academic award money while in college to pay for English riding lessons - learned to show jump and eventually bought a dappled gray Anglo-Arab gelding. I got married and learned to love the traveling that my spouse introduced me to. Traveled to Death Valley, to the Sonoran Desert, which sparked a passion that has brought me back to the desert time and time again. Dropped my involvement in Catholicism. Began running regularly and decided I was a runner. Turned my love of chemistry into a career. Had a son who has never ceased to fascinate me. Became a medical writer and reporter. Made friends who became as much a family to me as those related to me by blood. Ran 9 marathons. Began training my dog in scentwork. And, of course, began a love affair with photography.
And, as an adult, I realized, these passions, that haven’t dimmed with time, are why I feel different - why I am sometimes looked at askance. My observations seem to indicate that people shed their passions as they age. I have remained intense, a person of extremes. I am extremely loyal to my friends, in a way that has often made for lopsided relationships. I am always up for learning, formal or informal. Still curious after all these years. My closest loved ones are similarly “different” and accept me for what and who I am.
I really struggled to come up with one photograph to illustrate today’s entry. I thought about a picture of a special place in Death Valley - the racetrack, perhaps, or Teakettle Junction. Maybe an exuberant photo of flowers bursting into bloom. My dog and me with the ribbons she won in a scentwork trial. ME posing with a marathon finisher’s medal. Some place in Russia that I love dearly. A gorgeous landscape I was in awe of. But I finally decided on a joyous celebration with one branch of my chosen family - my Russian family. This celebration wasn’t for any particular occasion - just because we were together. We had caviar and cheese and black bread and vodka toasts. It was marvelous and it gave me the same rush of emotion that all of my passions provide and that make my life worth living.
So tonight I drink a toast to all of the people, the places, the creatures, the activities that I love dearly. Thank you for making me who I am, sustaining me.