Finding Direction: The Wind Vane Chronicles

"Dream as if you’ll live foreve, live as if you’ll die today."
  – James Dean

I found that quote on a poster of James Dean at Clines’ Corners Souvenir/Tourist/Gas Station/Diner place (and a real sight to behold, let me tell you) on old Route 66 (now Interstate 40) smack dab in the middle of New Mexico Sunday morning and nearly bought the poster because I like the quote so much.

But as Tom pointed out (and as you might guess), we have lots of paintings, tastefully framed artwork posters and prints of all kinds and really don’t have room or a place for another one, even if it is James Dean.

He was only 23 when he died in his Porsche convertible doing about 90 mph on a central California highway on September 30, 1965 so he died "before his time," as we’d say, as I wrote in the reflective piece "An Uncommon Love Found in ‘This Hallowed Ground’" over at Grace Notes back awhile.  (BTW, I’m moving Grace Notes to its own new website soon, so watch for that.)  Yet, he seemed to me a young man full of years in wisdom to have said such a thing and he certainly lived that way.

I’ve read a couple of extensive biographies about his life and he lived it fully and completely in his short 23 years.  I’ve lived much longer than that, myself, but try to live the exact same way and think that I do.  You’ve heard me say (well, read) many times that I face death with no fear.  In fact, just a couple of days before we left on our trip, if you’ll remember, I wrote about death and my epitaph and eulogy in "Journey to a Far Shore."

I don’t know how much you reflect upon your own mortality, nor do I think I dwell on mine.  Yet, somehow through all of my sufferings and my journey, God has gently led me to a place where I never expected to be in my younger years – a very safe place full of warmth and hope.  When the terribly upset and agitated ICU doctor read my blood test results and gravely reported them to me, I was not afraid, just surprised.  

Somehow it was not one of those profound moments in the sense that you suddenly realize your own mortality and are stunned beyond belief.  Instead, I tried to figure out if I could stay around for just a bit longer to see what surprises would come next.  (But, if I’d died, I’d have died happy.  I was very happy.  Just sick.)

Except I was thinking of poor Tom over there at the nearby motel unknowingly getting ready for bed while I was in dire straits.  As he later joked when I said I was glad I was still alive, "yeah, it would have made the trip home rather a big downer and terribly boring without you, as well, so I’m glad you’re here, too."  I mean, how can I not laugh with such a man who loves me so much as to be cheery I’m alive and with him!

Speaking of that – (you know how my mind wanders) – every one of the nurses and doctors found our relationship (Tom’s and mine) totally delightful and all said it was obvious we were totally devoted to each other and truly a single unit together in every way.  That was a high compliment I felt and was happy to hear that our joy with each other shows so much.

Which further reminds me – I have to tell you the funniest moment of our entire trip because it has to do with Tom and me.  On Thursday, after I’d been in ICU for 2 days and was feeling much better and rather "holding court," Tom was out wandering around Durango having fun and eating lots of great food and doing some souvenir shopping as a somewhat non-typical tourist, considering the circumstances.

As I say, I was the life of the ICU because they were down to 2 patients, and the other lady was across the way and sleeping all the time, although supposedly getting better.  So the action was all in my big room with the big patio sized double window door (curtains could be pulled across for privacy) and everyone hung around over there because I was regaling them with stories and laughter.

Toward the middle of the afternoon, I got very sleepy because I was rather tired out from the ordeal – lack of oxygen, lack of red blood cells and all, so I took a nap.  When I woke up, I sat up on the bed and  wondered where Tom was and so called him on my cell phone.  He quickly answered and I could hear voices all around him.  

About that time my curtains in front of my glass door opened and there he was with some nurses and staff in tow.  They pushed my curtains back, glad to see me and that I was up, again, and he said, "I have a surprise for you.  I brought you something."

I was very excited to be getting a souvenir and he handed me a navy blue folded up T-shirt.  I thought – oh cool – a T-shirt from Durango.  

Well, that’s not exactly what it was.  Everyone watched as I quickly unfolded it and held it up to see, waiting with anticipation.  It was the funniest shirt you can imagine.  Here’s what it said:

GOT OXYGEN?

Colorado Rockies.

Just like the "Got Milk?" commercials!  Isn’t that the perfect shirt for my trip and experiences?!  We told the staff they ought to go buy some to pass out to all their "altitude sickness" patients, and apparently they have a lot of them.  A lot.

I may add James Dean’s quote to my blog page here somewhere, what do you think?  (Tell me in comment, please.)  I mean – how else can and should one live than to dream as if you’ll live forever (which, if you stop to think about it, we all will and do) and live as if you’ll die today (which I’m always reminding each and every one of you is a very real possibility).  All we have, my dear friends, is today.  This is it.  Right now this minute.

Make the most of your life as God’s child sharing God’s love and goodness with all you come in contact with today.  Whether in person, on the phone, in your blog, in your work, when grocery shopping, when at home.  LOVE everyone and let them know about GOD’S LOVE.

Write to me.  Comment.  Cheers for today!  Dee

P. S.  Stay tuned because I’ve got a bunch more really good stories from my hospital stay and our trip.  We had such a great time.  It was so much fun.  Especially with me along for the ride home, Tom thinks!  Gotta love him!