ellen kanner

My dad hit his 70th birthday last week, and we celebrated with a party with 24 of his closest friends. A fun time replete with more than enough food, birthday cake and beverage. :photos
Amazing to think – 70 – and I remember when he was in his 40s and we moved to NH from NY. Wow, I’m 40.
But to see my dad ski, that is an AMAZING event. If he had started in his 20s, he would have been an Olympic hopeful… no doubt. Picture if you will Franz Klammer. And he’s still dive-bombing the trails like he would’ve in his 20s. My husband and I, both 40, can’t keep up.

But he was a good teacher when I needed it, and when I didn’t want to hear it. I remember cruising down many a New England slope with my dad yelling behind me, “Bend your knees, stand on the balls of your feet.” As a 30-something, I might have found that a bit grating. But, that’s probably why I can ski most any terrain today… though I certainly prefer the “cruisers” and none of that “boilerplate” stuff, thank you very much. Here’s the movie of my dad and I at Killington a year or so ago. I’ve improved greatly since then… And so has Ray. If one ever had the invite of skiing with my dad back in the 80’s, the most memorable part would be holding on to the director’s chairs in his brightly orange-colored van, racing to the ski area at some ungodly hour, to be in the lift line and on the ski lift while the chairs still had ice on their seats. Funny, the memories we keep.

I spotted a goldfinch at the bird feeder this morning. The sun is shining and it would have been my grandfather’s 101(?) birthday. A breeze is blowing and buds are asking to sprout. It’s also the day I say good bye to a long-time companion. It’s strange how we will do anything to keep a constant in our lives. To keep alive one who has been at my side since my first summer after college, through fun times, and heartbreaks, career changes and roomates, winters and springs, a constant, who life without can’t been imagined.
Nineteen is old for a cat, and having to make the desision to take the life of another is something I’ve regretted since learning Cecilia had Chronic Renal Failure about 3 years ago. She’s seemingly been on the edge of death a hundred times, and I’ve mourned each one, the seemingly endless healthy days followed by lows so low, such is life with a cat with CRF. She definitely used up more than her share of “9 lives.” I posted a small memorial to her life in photos on Flickr.
I came upon this poem, given to me by a friend, wondering if it was time to say goodbye:

You fought hard to stay alive, my friend. In the end, though you couldn’t conquer death.
But neither did death conquer you.
Death cures all diseases, mends all broken bones, breaks all chains.
And made you free at last.
-Unknown