Meditation

I was quite pleased with myself for having focused my mind on just my breathing for two breaths at mindful meditation practice this morning, which meant I immediately lost focus and wandered off into thinking how I would compose this post. I've not meditated since my fall. Too painful to sit up straight even with pillows. I solved that today by slumping. No more excuses to skip meditating.

Small Croc at Fob Beach 

My sisters left early today after spending the weekend here. We had such fun going to the beach which was absolutely clear of Sargasso seaweed. I could not believe it. When I had gone before, the sand was covered with it, and the water was filled with it. It was yucky to walk in and creepy to swim in. I mostly passed. (In late June, a small crocodile enjoyed blending in with it and wasn't visible unless it came ashore. American crocs aren't aggressive, but no one seemed to want to swim with it.)
Now the beach could not be better. We floated and floated at what we call the fob beach (one has to have a fob from the community center to open the gates.) Another day we drove down to the state park and walked in the water against the current. I guess Hurricane Dorian blew away the sargassum as it went up the Atlantic. I plan to go to the beach as much as possible before more floats back in.

Having all three of us together meant we could go through the four boxes of family photos and mementos I brought to the apartment. I have to admire our mother' and grandmothers' commitment to making scrapbooks. However, do we want them? We decided that Mother's diaries would be kept. We wept a little and reminisced about old family friends while going through all the sympathy cards and notes from flowers we got when she died, then recycled the lot. I still have a big box of photo albums and scrapbooks to look at, but now I know what my sisters want and what I can toss.




One find was a scrapbook and keepsakes from the Coe (paternal grandparents) and Spaulding (maternal grandparents) memberships in the Tin Can Tourists, a group of campers that began coming to Florida each winter in the 1920's. I think Grandpa Coe built their trailer, although my sisters aren't sure. The Spauldings had a tent then later bought a trailer. The TCT would make arrangements with different cities for the group to spend the winter in a local park, although they were not universally welcomed since TCT members tended to be frugal (cheap) and not spend much money in the communities.

Betsy searched the Web and found the TCT has been revived with all the hipsters' interest in vintage trailers. The president responded to her inquiry immediately. They would love to have our memorabilia and would pay postage to have it shipped. By the time I was back from my orthopedist appointment Monday morning, the scrapbooks, et al, were on their way. At first I was a little sad I hadn't had a chance to look at them more (like I didn't do for the 40 years it all sat in my garage), but that thought passed quickly and was replaced by the relief that it was gone.

The less I have, the lighter I feel. Occasionally I think of something I vaguely wish I had not gotten rid of, like the little wooden desk that I used to display books on. Mostly I remember that I really don't miss it. I have more than I need. This weekend was wonderful.

Plus, Peg has six more boxes of family photos in the eaves of her barn. Perhaps I should offer to come up so we could do the same triage on them. I will meditate on that.