Going where we naturally go

I was reading Pixel Charmer as referred by Zeldman. In her post she describes desire lines in architecture and posited applications in information technology.

I'm interested in how looking at desire lines help one to compose a life. Desire line are those pathways that users unconsciously travel in order to get from point a to b. It's how a person looking across a field decides to wind her way through the grass, or how a stream finding its own level meanders unimpeded toward the ocean, naturally joining with that larger body of water.

I'm at point a, my life now and I'm trying to get to point b, a different more fulfilling locus. What I need is to allow myself to flow toward my next stop on this journey rather than dam(n) myself up at this juncture out of blind fear of the unknown or a misplaced sense of grim inadequacy. What would Daddy have said?

"Hey Bubble head, get off the dime!"

I used to think my natural state was catatonia...but that was in my twenties...who knows who they are in their twenties???? Who am I now that I'm soon to be 43? Hmmmm.

Time helps

I have managed to move beyond the "cry-at-a-drop-of-the-hat" response. This is good since many people wish to talk about what happened.
What I find is difficult for people to get is that Dad was not a sleepy old grandpa Dad. He was an active Dad, a Dad who drove places and cooked great dinners, did laundry, and went grocery shopping. A Dad who paid bills, who made topical political jokes; who worked hard trying to figure out why his pool chemicals weren't doing the job and who went to the gym with Mom as many days as they were able.

As soon as I say he was 87, they conjure up images of father time...definitely not Daddy! If I'm talking with people I like, I dispell these preconceptions stating that he worked (and I mean worked!) a fundraising event up until 2 weeks before he died. All are uniformly shocked.

And though I know his pace at times wore him out, I'm proud that he never got bored, never felt useless, never felt unloved or not needed. He was the freaking glue, man, of his and Mom's universe and it'll take a while before Mom can get up to speed. Still, she'll get there, she had the best teacher.

I miss you so much

Francis Joseph Stulgaitis
April 2, 1918 to April 11, 2005
From early beginnings in Wilkes Barre, Pennsulvania, the All-American football star from Columbia University joined Eastern Airlines at the invitation of WWI flying ace Eddie Rickenbacker. Frank was the innovative Director of the Eastern Shuttle, opening stations throughout the country. At one of those stations, Los Angeles, he met Deanna, his wife of 33 years. They had many world-wind adventures together, including a two year stint in Nairobi, Kenya.

Frank retired from Eastern and American Express to Tempe, Arizona where he had an active and event filled life with Deanna as a tireless supporter of Arizona State University’s Herberger College of Fine Arts. After a short illness, Frank passed away on April 11. He was 87. We hold you deep in our thoughts, Francis Joseph Stulgaitis: husband, father, grandfather, great-grandfather, friend and extended family member to many; guardian to five furry four-footed charges.