The Seesaw Of

When I was quite young, I didn’t have a great many dreams or ambitions.

Of course, I prayed that one day a Prince Charming would enter my life, and miraculously, that happened the year I was 19.

Other than that, I hoped eventually to have a bedroom with a window. Tenements traditionally only have windows in the kitchen and what was then called, the front room, or parlor.

And quite happily, that too came to pass.

Every home I have had since leaving 58th Street so very long ago has had a bedroom with several windows.

The home I currently have probably has one of the loveliest views I have been blessed to enjoy. There is a spectacular view into a massive park, replete with walking paths, benches and magnificent foliage.

I had a similar view in Massapequa, only on a smaller scale, when for 57 years I gazed out on the beauty of Bethpage State Park. The two landscapes do share a great deal in common and now still evoke many treasured memories of days gone by.

For most of my adult life one of the first things I do upon arising is gaze out the window.

For the past eight weeks as I continued this practice, I have had to chose one of two reactions.

I can think, “Oh, no, it’s snowing again!” or Isn’t our world startlingly beautiful?”

When tempted to think the former, I always remember the weekly Sundays when Dad took me to Central Park. I was still quite young and he taught me to use the seesaw. Eerily in those years, the playground was often virtually empty and became ours to enjoy without a need to share the equipment.

Since we were usually alone in the playground, he would push one end gently down and then as I ascended, do the reverse. While he did this, however, he also told me a story and gave me a subtle lesson about always looking up in life rather than down.

While I only vaguely remember his words, I still remember the message about appreciating the glorious world God gave us.

N9w this morning as I gaze out my frosted window, I see it is snowing again today and most likely will continue for quite a few more tomorrows. I also become aware of the magnificence of the landscape and realize I am astounded by its beauty.

Then I remember the Magician who always viewed life that way. He departed a very long time ago, but his lessons still linger.