The Calling

Our yard in Ghanzi, Botswana. The lilac breasted roller is
on the right corner of the arbor. Can you see her? 

I was home alone, sitting in our bedroom, curtains closed, laptop at the ready, not even music to distract me. I was in writing mode.

I’m not sure where everyone was? A rarity, the house was quiet. I don’t even remember having the dogs around or for that matter, the goat.

Maybe everyone evacuated so that I could concentrate on my writing, something that happened on occasion. And because I wasn’t comfortable in isolation, I tended to make poor use of my time, meaning, I often found excuses to do anything and everything besides write. 

And so, it’s not a surprise that I heard a bird outside. Now, there are many birds in Botswana. After several years living there, I tended to tune them out and would have to concentrate to really hear them; the caw of pied crows, our own pigeons cooing, chickens clucking, and a myriad of grackles, swifts, an occasional bird of prey.

Today, this bird seemed insistent, repeating her cry. Waiting. Repeating the deliberate series again and waiting, as if anticipating a response. Curious, as to whom this bird was calling, I went outside to see.

It didn’t take me long to spot her. She was a lilac breasted roller. I could see her brightly colored plumage from across the green expanse of lawn. She sat on the edge of a branch facing our front door, with each gurble, she craned her neck, making her plumb body, long and tall. I stepped outside. She flew closer and perched on a wire a few yards from me. I took a few more steps toward her and she flew a few yards toward me. A thought crossed my mind. She called and I answered. Huh, I thought, but how could I be sure?

This is an actual pic of this encounter. 

The answer came in her response. She flew even closer. Now she landed on our arbor and looked down at me, making eye contact, crooning in my direction. I watched her repeat herself and wished I could understand her. Instinctively, I answered in my own language and much to my surprise, she responded with a different tune. She flew under the arbor and landed on the doorframe. Did she want to go in? No, she was preventing me from doing so. From where she stood, there would be no way for me to open the door.

We regarded each other for some time. I couldn’t help wonder what it was she wanted from me, because by now, we both knew it was me she was calling.

Finally, she flew away and trilled a farewell of sorts.

Little did I know she would visit me the next day and the next. Surprised each time, after she’d left, I wondered if I should I have fed her? I didn’t think to, not knowing how many visits she would pay me. But each time, I thought how special this was. And how lucky I was to be the recipient of this gift.

At the time, I saw the exchange as a reminder of the precious moments we too often take for granted. There would not be any lilac-breasted rollers to see, much less, interact with in the US, where we were headed within the year. It was as if I was being reminded that there are so many things to see, warned not to waste my time behind that computer, writing sequestered away from the very experiences I would document into words. I should go out and see things, hear things, interact.

After all, time flies. Before long, our life in Botswana would be over. We wouldn’t know when we would return, if we would return. I do know that the time we spent drew us out of our comfort zone, into the wilds of Africa where I heard my calling and I answered it.

Today, I think of that little bird. I wish she would have stayed longer. I wished I knew when she’d return. I still wonder what she wanted. I suspect, the reason for her calling would always be a mystery. No matter, the call was for me and I’m so glad I answered it.

Advice for my daughter as she turns 21

Many of Macallan's friends had no trouble believing she
actually met these icons, they think she is that incredible!
Unfortunately, this pic was photoshopped.
(Thanks, Chris Espiritu for the great job!)

Dear Macallan,
Firstly, I love you more than I thought I could ever love anyone.
Secondly, you are a better daughter than I could have ever hoped for.
Thirdly, I love the woman you have become and I look forward to the person you will be.
Fourthly, I can't believe how fast the time has flown; and while I'm sad thinking about you growing up and going away, I am so happy to see that you are ready to make your own decisions, to live your own life.

And with that said, here's some advice:

1.) You are uniquely you, not a mini-me, not a fly-fishing chip off your ole dad, certainly not "just" someone's girlfriend or so-and-so's bff. There is no other Macallan as Macallan-y as you. Single-malt all the way!
Embrace her. Stay true to her. Love her and everyone who knows her will love her too.

2.) Appreciate your talents. Acknowledge them. Honor them. I'm so glad to see you use them!
How many people can draw, take photographs, kiss warthogs, charm chameleon, whisper to coatimundis, while riding Western in a sequined dress holding a gyrfalcon in one hand and reigns in the other as she goes forth to save the world?!?
When you were five and wanted to be a hairdresser/nurse/painter/teacher/mermaid, I knew back then, you were destined for greatness. I'm glad you knew you were talking about various stages in your life, because I thought you meant to do them all at once! While you may not be able to do everything all of the time, be sure to make time to do them - you'll be happier for it.

4.) Speaking of what you're going to "be", I'm sorry to say, I don't know.
You always thought I knew, but I didn't, and I don't.
Yes, the fortune teller I spoke to before we moved to Africa did tell me some things, but what did she know? Nope, I don't really know, and for that matter, you don't know what you will be either. You...we...actually, no one ever knows for sure. Life is funny like that.
     We can only know what we are. So, don't plan on being something...do something instead.

Just like when you were a baby and I was overwhelmed after changing your diaper seventeen times in one day, I was comforted in knowing that life wouldn't always be this way. Whatever you are doing now, I'm glad to tell you, you won't be doing it forever - being broke, getting very little sleep, wondering what bullshit your lab partner in moss identification will pull next. No. The beauty of life at your age are the transitions, the many, many manifestations of your adult-self that is yet to come. Enjoy every one, just as I have enjoyed watching you turn from a smiling baby, to a singing teen, to a self-righteous, opinionated, self-possessed woman. I loved going through it with you! And you should too!

5.) This woman I speak of has a body and hormones that will change over time - they say every seven years.
     Take good care of this human shell. It is tough but fragile. Strong but vulnerable. Watch what you eat, how you step, after banging your head on the leg of your dance partner three times, stop! And for gods sake, appreciate your curves! Baby, it doesn't get any better than this.

6.) ...and relationships too. The bonds you form with girlfriends won't be any closer than they are right now. Cherish and foster the ones that make you feel good, understood, cared for and those you care about. Get rid of the ones that cause drama, doubt, and dump on you out of spite. Life's too short to put up with bitches.

7.) ...or bastards. Get rid of those guys, you know the ones. The ones that dog around, put you down, drag you out and make you lose yourself. And if a guy brings out the worst in you, dump his ass. Life's too short for that kind of bullshit.

8.) What isn't bull, is love. There's plenty of time to fall in love and be in love. If you're in an exclusive relationship, it should be fun, flirty, romantic, and mutual. Give love. Get love.
     But don't weigh the relationship down with constraints. If it's good enough for now, go with it. Don't make it forever. Sometimes love is situational and that's OK. I was only 21 when I met your dad, so I know. I was prepared to let him go, let him fulfill his dream of going to Alaska or as it turned out, Africa. The best summer of our lives, we always say. Luckily, we had another chance and if I could do one thing over again, I would have enjoyed more and bitched less. I would have accepted what he had to give and not demanded a commitment. As you can see, we're still together 30+ years later so what was I worried about? Think of how great our lives would have been if I wasn't always afraid he'd leave me?
Enjoy what he has to give (whomever he is) and give what you have to him without fear of being hurt. That's what love is. That's what I want for you.

9.) ...Oh, let me rephrase that, that's what I would want for you. See, believe it or not, on a rare occassion, I'm...not...always...right (gulp). I do make mistakes (rare, but true). No, in all seriousness, I should set a better example because one very good lesson to learn is to admit when you are wrong. It's OK to make mistakes. Learn from them. I know, I know. Easier said than done.

10.) Also, easier said, don't be afraid to address an issue, confront a problem, call a bitch out if you have to, try a new hobby, make a new friend. Life's too short for regrets.

11.) Which brings me to time...please don't forget to make time for those you love. They won't always be here but they've been here for you in the past. Make it known that they matter with a phone call, a text, a hug.

12.) ...but alone time is important too. Don't say yes to invites knowing you don't want to go. You'll be doing everyone a favor by staying away instead of being a drag. Respect your own space.

13.) ...and don't let hangry be an excuse to be nasty. We all know I do this first hand, right? It's hard to recognize those low-blood-sugar blues, but try.

14.) And realize when you're going to that place, that space in your mind, in your heart that fills you with doubt and diminishes your shine. Sometimes it's easier to go to that deep dark place than it is to face something new or something that can fail you. Fear lives there and it doesn't like to live alone. Don't let fear take hold.

15.) Instead, gain courage by going to that special, unbroken, ultra safe place. For me, it was my grandmother's kitchen in the Philippines where she would let me help her cook. I felt whole there, not abandoned. Where is that place for you? Keep it close for the times when things aren't going your way. Go there, stay there and soon you'll feel safe enough to emerge stronger, wiser and happier still.

16.) Because, unfortunately, life's "not fair". Things, people, situations can't make you happy. So simple, right? Sorry. But it's true. You won't find happiness out there. Look for happiness within.

Linus and Macallan

17.) And regarding place - we may not have a room for you but there's always space for you in our lives. Don't let our housing, finances, location fool you. We are always here for you, wherever here may be.

Macallan and Clark

18.) And my next to last piece of advice, my sweetheart, my baby, is to see the world for what it is - see the beauty, the beasts, the bigs and the smalls, the pains and the gains and through it all be grateful. Be grateful for the experiences because life, the good and the bad, is worth living. Linus and Clark were worth loving, even if it hurt that much to have to say good-bye.


Less than two months from when you were born, I had lost my brother. I believe with all my heart that I was able to face each day after his death only because of you. It's astonishing how life happens. Who knew that raucous fishing trip where we drank a little too much Macallan would result in you, nine months later, when I needed you the most?

19.) Who knows what life has to offer? My best advice would be to take it, be grateful for it, and live, live, live it like there'll be no tomorrow.

You're 21, and your life has just begun! (Photo: Lindsay S.)

If you would like to give Macallan a present for her birthday, she is raising money for Cheetah Conservation Fund. You can help, here's how:

https://www.etsy.com/listing/266896485/great-shot-pic-of-cheetah