Small Things are Big Things
Homeless encampments have increased over 50% in the last year, here in the 505, (Albuquerque). Aside from practically every intersection, residential areas are even seeing homeless activity increase. This is nothing new, right? It’s everywhere and it seems harder to cope with lately. Even with the guilt trip tactic of a subtle wave holding a cardboard sign with cliche words of help and blessings to having animals in tow to garner sympathy, I admit it, I ignore these people often and their problems. I have my own to deal with. I worked hard to get where I am. I pay my bills, taxes, and I’m late for a meeting, plus, the light just turned green and I don’t have time to look at you let alone roll down my window to help you while getting honked at because I’m stopping traffic.
I drove off, looking in my rear view mirror watching him drop the sign by his side walking close to the asphalt wall to wait for the next batch of cars. Don’t get it all twisted, I’ve given money, water, blankets, dog food, before to whomever needed it. I get it, if you feed the problem it grows, you enable helplessness. Doesn’t that apply to everything and everyone in life though? I thought to myself, “Hold up…where the “f” has my compassion gone?” I’ve been where he was. I’ve slept in my car and have lived in some sketchy conditions at one point in my life. I used government assistance when myself and my son really needed it. But I also used resources and tapped into getting an education that would help me create a better life. I never relied on anyone but myself. This is still true.
I know you’ve heard this before…If we want things to change, we have to start within ourselves. I truly believe in this.
Later that day, I had to meet with a few teachers at an elementary school. I had a few minutes and decided to stop at Wendy’s for a quick burger. The line was wrapped around the median as usual. As I got closer to order, I saw this young guy sitting on a blanket intently creating his sign for help. Sleeping beside him, was his dog. He kept outlining the words so they would be simple yet bold and big enough to read. As the cars passed by him, he never looked up. It’s as if he wanted the perfect sign but didn’t want to show it to anyone. I watched for a bit and then rolled down my window.
“Hey,” I shouted to get his attention. He lifted his head as he stayed hunched from writing. “What do you want to eat?” I said. He looked so confused and a bit intimidated by my initiation. I continued, “I’m getting a burger, do you and the doggo want anything?”
He got up and said, “Wow, ya, ok…a burger please,” he replied.
I’m like, “Honestly, anything you want, I’ll get it. Do you want fries? Coke? What about for your lil monkey?” (I call all doggos monkeys.)
He still seemed confused. He took a step closer and stopped as he said, “I’m sorry, I’m not used to giving my order to someone. I take what I’m given, but I’m not used to having a choice.” So he walked next to my vehicle and looked at the lit up menu. “Can I get a cheeseburger, no lettuce, but can I have bacon? And just nuggets for Lilly?”
“Of course,” I responded, “What about a drink?”
He smiled and said, “Would it be ok to get the mango lemonade? Have you tried it? It’s so good!”
“You got it. I’ll meet you around the corner.” I put in our order and he met me on the other side of the parking lot. He thanked me and I told him to be safe.
Now, call this post what you want, do what you want. I’m just saying, we all struggle, we stoop to lows we wish we could take back, we are selfish by nature, but we are all human. Do things without the need for reciprocation. Give that extra tip at the coffee shop, a random smile at someone you don’t know. It’s the small things that make a big difference.
Remember that.
Trish 💜
Catch & Release
Putting it all out there, because maybe, these words may help someone who feels a bit caught up in life at the moment or maybe you were, and you want to see if your feelings were valid.
After my dad passed, about five years ago, I turned our spare room he used to stay in into my fly fishing room. Everything that means anything to me is in that room, a plethora of reels, fishing pictures, photos of my dad, mom, and my boys. Tucked away in the corner of the room is a small, antique hand-me-down bookcase. One shelf holds stacks of dust covered photo albums filled with faded memories, old concert tickets (Earth, Wind, and Fire was amazing!), birthday cards, pressed flowers, that shift around with every turn of the page. The plastic overlay and crusty, once sticky backings have aged to the point where it no longer serves its purpose. On another shelf sits my yearbooks from high school with glitter pen notes from my “bff” who tagged each page with our first names and our boyfriend’s last names that never came to fruition. But the most important shelf to me is the one that keeps my library of Dr. Seuss books I ritually read every night to my three boys before bed when they were small.
I have to admit, I keep things others wouldn’t, like a torn piece of paper taped on the fridge since 2012 with a note from my dad in his perfect “all caps” penmanship telling me the fried chicken I made him for dinner “was, well, ok…” I kept a handkerchief my mom used to dab her red lipstick with after she had thought she put too much on. It’s stored in my old jewelry box. If I hold it close enough, I can still smell a slight scent of her favorite perfume through the silk threads…Calvin Klein’s Eternity. She passed 11 years ago.
In another part of the spare room, several dried Aspen leaves along with part of an Aspen tree branch rests aside a photo of where my daughter is buried at the old ranch in Aspen Park. Next to that, a collection of small sticks, I carefully selected from the rivers we fished or trails we hiked, lay tabletop strategically placed, marked with inked dates and initials regarding their significance.
I got caught up in a moment the other day sitting in that spare room, reminiscing about all of the “lifetimes” it seems I have experienced, and how those lives have somehow caught up with my present self. It’s true, I’m noticing that I’m doing more “old people” things lately like shuffling around the kitchen pausing for my brain to tell me why I’m there and what I’m looking for. I caught myself sitting at a stop sign waiting for it to turn green the other day and thankful the car behind me was patient. I’m even wanting to stay at home more often. I know, lame. If you’re not there yet, I’ll save you a seat…and if you are…save me a seat.
I remember watching my parents do the same thing, sifting through their past lives, all of us kids sitting on the couch or laying on the floor, eating homemade buttered popcorn waiting for my dad to string up the Super 8 reel to reel movies. We’d laugh and speculate what was happening in those films with no audio and how important it was for my parents to revisit and share their past and how, in my mind, I tried so hard to comprehend the memories they narrated into my reality.
It was at that very moment, sitting in that room, when I realized all those “lifetimes,” every storybook, that lipstick-smeared handkerchief, faded photos, and mementos were valid. It was the release I was longing for. The clarity of everything experienced in life fades like our memories. Slightly embellished recounts bring them to the forefront and allow us to resurface the euphoria of the past. That’s why you probably have heard your parents or grandparents tell that one story over an over…let them tell it as many times as they want and each time they do, act like if it’s the first time you’ve heard it. Validate the euphoria of the story they tell. Catch these moments, now that they are still here, and release the memories that are the foundation of who you are.
Volunteer or “No, Thanks”
It never crossed my mind when I was younger to volunteer. Giving away my valuable time…and for free? Nah, I wanted the dollars. But lately, my thought processes have shifted and all of a sudden, I wanted to give back. But with what organization and how much time should I invest? Maybe that’s why more people don’t volunteer, maybe they don’t know where to start? There are so many options to choose from, what do you consider? I had to ask myself, what do I love to do? That was easy. I love to teach and I love fly fishing. One day, as I was scrolling through IG, I came across The Mayfly Project. I clicked on the link and knew that this was the place where I’d pay to give my time and knowledge. TMP, a national organization, supports foster children through the magic of fly fishing, mentorship, and teaching skills – not only fly fishing, but through building confidence, social skills, learning about the outdoors, and the conservation of our waters. I signed up immediately. Keep in mind this is not just a sign up and go organization. TMP requires a comprehensive application process, strong references, a background and fingerprint check. Once you’ve been cleared and become a mentor, you still need to read the Mentor Manual, which teaches about:
· Children in Foster Care
· Trauma Informed Care and Inclusivity
· Communication and Behavior Response Guidelines
· Handling Escalation and Disruptive Behaviors
· Conflict Resolution and Mandated Reporting
· Tips for Being a Great Mentor
· Tips for Being a Great Fly Fishing Guide
· The Mayfly Project Program Rules
Rigorous, right? And rightfully so. As a special education teacher, I’ve seen the effects of trauma, abuse, and neglect on our children. But on the flip side, I’ve seen amazing growth and change in an at-risk child if they have a mentor they can trust and where that mentor allows the child to feel safe. Safe enough to see their strengths and capabilities. I cannot wait to go on this journey with these kids, this program and even more so, I cannot wait to learn from this experience and hope I continue to grow into a better version of myself.
The New Mexico / Santa Fe TMP is ready to go! We just need more foster children to sign up. See the attached link if you have any connections or want more info:
https://themayflyproject.com/mentee-registration-form/
If you want to become a mentor with The Mayfly Project or just want to learn more:
When the time is right for you…think about giving back. <3
Trish
Photos or Pictures?
Anyone can take a picture, right? Seems that way, especially with the capabilities smartphones have now. Social media is saturated with photos, filters, and unrealistic images. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for a little contrast tweak or upping the volume on saturation sometimes, but I’ve learned that nature gives you what you need. That’s where, I think, the line is drawn between those who take pictures and those who take photos.
I’m going to be honest, I hate shooting weddings, but I’m good at it, and I go above and beyond to give the bride and groom what they want. It’s grueling work and I applaud all the wedding photogs out there, but I’d rather work with inanimate objects.
My photo preference… unstaged, outdoors, and I work with what was handed to me. I don’t have a lot of fancy equipment. I have one camera, one lense. I use natural light and I don’t have an assistant. On occasion, my son, who is an amazing photographer, would help if it was shooting a big event, but mostly, it’s just me getting to know my clients so I can create their story. I honestly feel it’s not what you have, it’s what you see and how it’s presented.
So, what’s your story?