The "firsts" of life

Too bad we don't have Instant Replay for our first-time life events. I don't remember my first step nor the first time I said a word. There have been so many of both ever since that I'm sure they were briefly-enjoyed monumental events to whoever witnessed them. I'm also sure that once I got started, those folks wished the process would have reverted to "slow motion" rather than "fast forward."

I do remember the first time I ever saw a pregnant woman. It was in Spokane. I was maybe 5. For a while, I thought something had to be really wrong with that lady and that such sights must be a part of the big city.

I also remember the first time my son ever saw a Black man. It was in the Japanese gardens in Portland. Willie was about 3. So, when he saw the Black man jog by, he stopped dead in his tracks and stared. Later he said something about that Japanese man because, of course, we were in the Japanese gardens.

When you get to be 60, the firsts seem to come far and few between, but even with our senior memory, we tend to remember them better than we do the day we took our first step. I had a first on Sunday when I attended Brandon's homecoming party. While driving home afterward, I realized that the parade and the stirring church ceremony represented the first time I had ever welcomed home a wounded veteran.

There was much about it that made the event very special and memorable to me. Ever since learning that Brandon had been injured, I've returned to the image of that boyish face on the cute kid who sat over by the wall in fifth-period junior English. Brandon probably looked about 12 at the time. He was fun, just like all his other classmates, and when I left teaching, I left on a happy note, saying good bye to all my zany students in that class.

So, to see Brandon coming home after such a traumatic event in his life and in his family's and in all of ours who knew him and loved his happy-go-lucky charm and to see him roll that wheelchair up to the front behind the honor guard, and to watch him park it next to his family, and to hear him quip, "I'd stand but . . . ."------that was a moment to remember. It was a first for me, and I'd hope a last. But we all are realistic, and hope sometimes doesn't fall into place the way we wish.

I can't remember too many recent firsts, but I witnessed a few for others overnight. I wished for Instant Replay or maybe a doggie scribe and horsie scribe who could interview some young pets I know and ask 'em how it was for them to experience their first taste and feel of snow.

Just after telling my friend Mow last night that we were supposed to have snow by 7 p.m., I walked to the sliding glass door and discovered an early arrival. It was about 6:30, and the ground I'd been raking two hours before was white. I was glad that I thought to put those snow shovels out in easy-to-find places, cuz it was coming down fast.

I figured the puppies needed to check out the snow. So, out we went, and across the lawn they raced, stopping every few seconds to lick it up. Didn't take those little guys long to learn that you can eat snow and that you can play really hard in it. It has taken them a little longer, however, to learn that you can pee and poop in snow. We learned that this morning after Bill took them out to do their business. Their "business" went on hold until they returned to the house.

Well, since then, they've had another trip through the snow to the barn. It's about six inches deep, and it was pretty fun for them to leap their way through unbroken white deposits. While they played in their box stall in the barn, I gave the horses their breakfast.

Lily turned wide-eyed when she first noticed the white stuff outside, but she IS a veteran after arriving here in December last year from Oklahoma. Eating grass one day, slipping on the ice the next---and that's what Lily did for the rest of the winter, so she knows snow.

I know snow too, but I've known it so long that I didn't even think about little Lefty's introduction. It didn't take long, though. When we reached the barn door, I felt a little tug backward on the lead rope and quickly realized this moment was another first for him.

This little guy didn't know what to think about all that powdery stuff piled up outside his barn. He was even a bit reluctant to step in it, but eventually, knowing that a grain bucket awaited him at the fence, he took a cautious route to the barnyard. If only he could talk, I thought. We'd have a great story.

One thing about new powdery snow and frisky horses is the free performance of beauty that follows that initial reaction. In my mind, there's nothing prettier than horses racing through powdery snow with a brisk winter wind blowing their manes and tails. That was a first for the Winter of 2007, and I've set the Instant Replay button in my mind to savor that sight throughout the day and to record similar sights for weeks to come.

In the meantime, I've got to get outside there and shovel. Believe me, that chore is definitely not a first for anyone who lives in North Idaho. Happy Snow, and welcome to Winter.