jo burgess hannon

fit for today, fit for life

MLK had a LOT of wisdom

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Today as I reflect on the life of Martin Luther King, Jr. I realize he was so much more than ( I am paraphrasing) ” judge not by the color of my skin.”

While there are so many worldly MLK quotes, this really hit home for me today: ‘silence of our friends’. I am wondering if a friend silent is a friend. I hope I can be the friend who calls a friend just because. I hope I am the friend that acknowledges tough times. I hope I can be the friend to celebrate all the good a friend experiences even if I am not a participant.

How can I be of service?

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Yesterday we closed our doors at the Coal Creek YMCA, directed by our WA state governor, as a health and fitness club. Today a crew signed health forms at the door and got busy cleaning every single surface in the building with disinfectant. It felt like a cleaning bootcamp fitness class as we emptied racks of weights: I walked 5 miles back and forth and moved hundreds of pounds of barbell plates today.

One of the last items on our lengthy checklist was to pick up trash in the parking lot. I thought I was going home; with no else volunteering I found my hand in the air. What a humble experience to pick up everything from cigarette butts, bottles, cans, smashed LEGO’s, wrappers and gum. (Seriously people use the garbage cans! ) I worked through the lot with our Senior Healthy Living Director who’s amazing work ethic and can-do attitude sets an example for us all. 

I am proud to be associated with an organization that cares so much for our community. Tomorrow we open our doors, following state government directives, as a critical response center. We will be providing childcare for first responders and critical workers all across the King County at our YMCA branches. If you are a Y member and can, please continue to pay your dues as we are doing everything to put your $’s to good use.

Grief and a little joy

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I had a trail walk with a good friend. Well, actually it was a phone conversation , as our trails here are wet and we are a little water logged. Don’t even get me started on the all the soggy as I discovered a bunch of wet cardboard next to the house heater in the garage. And how is it that expensive house repairs can be a little bit like mystery car repairs and you don’t even know what work REALLY needs to be done?

Anyway, a friend listened as I vented and processed out loud what I needed to do about a furnace working but leaking water. And the conversation became about friends and surgery and a story about a.long.time.ago.in.my.life.

Sadness hits at strange times. Sometimes its in the shower as the water pours over my head. Sometimes its late at night and the tears stream making my pillow wet. Sometimes driving in the car alone, sometimes watching something on TV. Today it was about a child I lost 24 years ago to an ectopic pregnancy, about losing both parents by the time I was 50 and maybe feeling a little sorry for myself that these experiences were taken from me before I ever got to experience the future I imagined.

Grief is a tricky thing; you never really know when or how it will hit. And then the joy of a life I am proud of, a life that is so imperfect yet each moment leads me today and trying to be better, do better, hits me.

Life brings joy after joy. And today it was about a girlfriend who answered the phone when I called and we talked about the mundane and the important all in the same conversation.

Becoming a Clutch Driver

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Mhhhm…

What have I learned from my siblings?

When I was young, we had manual vehicles.  My dad’s truck was 5 on the tree, mom’s station wagon had a shifter on the column too.  A couple of my brothers had street motorcycles and of course they both had a clutch you worked with your heal.  There were dirt bikes and 3 wheelers at my aunt and uncle’s property that you had to manual shift as well.

Turns out I never got to drive the 3 wheelers or dirt bikes as a kid because, well, I was a girl and only the boys got to drive ’em. And, I was always ‘too young’. Looking back, that might have just been momma’s excuse to keep her only daughter off the bikes. Anyway, by the time I was driving, mom’s car was what we lovingly called the SS Burgess, a huge 4 door automatic Chevy Impala and dad’s ‘truck’ car was an auto shifting El Camino.

When I took possession of my first car I couldn’t actually drive it because I had not yet learned to drive a car with a clutch. My brother Keith helped my buy my beloved blue Mustang and he drove it home from Renton Ford with me riding shot gun. For the record, being 17 and leaving my car sit in the driveway was torture. Thanks brother Tim for teaching me how to actually drive the car I had sitting in front of our house.

It was Honey who taught me how to drive a motorcycle.  With him on the back, we rode around his couple acre pasture.  When it looked like we were going to end up in the irrigation ditch (imagine a 3 feet deep water canal running along the property line) Honey started yelling “TURN!” over the noise of the engine.  It still makes me laugh to think about him jumping off the back as we beelined for the crop water.

             Jeff’s motorcycle sitting along side the canal

Actually, I did not learn to drive a motorcycle: one and done.  Though I did not end up in the ditch, Honey was done with the lessons.

Oh,  I also learned to light matches but that’s a story for another day.