“Late Morning, Early Spring,” 15″ x 11″ Watercolor, © Donna Lyons 2018

“A mysterious stranger”

By Marty Coffin Evans © 2015

We looked up the little incline as we walked the Boulder Creek Path. There to our right, just below the 28^th Street overpass, was a man dressed in a dark brown jacket.

Leaning over, he carefully smoothed out a piece of cardboard. Nearby he had a green plastic bag.  Satisfied with his efforts, he quickly scurried into his concrete niche.

How old was he?  We never saw his face only his back as he gave methodical care to these items for his “home.”

Neither my friend nor I spoke as we continued walking. We passed another homeless man, this one smoking a cigarette while semi-sitting on the low wall by the creek. We saw him first as we walked west, then again as we made our walking loop back to our cars. Dressed in a light colored jacket, he appeared tall and possibly younger than the mysterious stranger living in his niche under 28^th Street.

Do you smile and say Hello? The creek side fellow seemed interested in those passing him by, whether on foot or bicycle.  We’ve heard about people feeling invisible.  Was this fellow invisible to the passersby?

Who were these fellows?  How did they end up living on the streets and underpasses in Boulder? Whose family members were they?

I thought back to a time in San Francisco when walking to a convention center meeting, we picked up free baguettes from a basket outside a bakery.  Armed with our two baguettes, we offered one to a fellow on Market Street.  His pleasure was not discernable. Later at Fisherman’s Wharf, we offered our second one to a fellow sitting on the sidewalk. Our bread was not the kind he hoped for that evening.

What do these snippets hold in common for me?  I remember the San Francisco experience although that happened probably 20 or so years ago.  I definitely remember our brown-coated mysterious stranger scampering into his makeshift home.

As I stand by the back door late at night watching the dogs make one last trip outside, I think of these men.  Rather, I really think about the one in the brown jacket.

It’s cold outside. How will he make it through the night? Will he become a statistic we read about at some later time in our newspaper?

Depending on life circumstances, some may say, “There but for the grace of God go I.” I hope our Lord looks out for these men (and women too) as they wend their way through life.

Gratefully, the Bridge House, Boulder’s Homeless Shelter and area churches provide a place for some to stay overnight during the colder months along with needed sustenance. Perhaps with spring’s arrival, the elements will be kinder to these strangers in our midst.

April 2025

“Tender Mercy,” 8″x 6, Gouache by Donna Lyons © 2023

“Making that Bucket List”

By Marty Coffin Evans © 2022

Not long ago, I attended a party celebrating my friend, Diana. Caring Bridge entries about her cancer journey likely prompted this. Realizing she didn’t have many months to live, she decided to host the party rather than our doing so as we’d planned.

What a great time to celebrate with others who matter in our lives – family, colleagues from different work locations, service club members and more. Her parting gift to us – “Diana’s Bucket List.”

Introducing her list, Diana noted she had done some of the listed things and wished she could do them again. She included activities she never got to do.

What would such a list of 21 items encompass? Hers contained ones pertaining to people (9), places (6) and things (6). The “people” examples included being a grandparent (devoted, joyful, committed), reconnecting with someone not spoken to in a long time, asking for or forgiving someone needing forgiveness, and practicing gratitude every day for family (daughters in her case), friends, relatives and furry friends.

“Place” examples take us on cruises whether with Viking up a river or one through the Greek Islands, touring Ireland, canoeing the Quetico and hearing the loons again along with sitting on a beach and listening to an ocean.

Diana’s “thing” items stretch us a bit as they included volunteering somewhere, taking a class in something new, reading a book outside of what we’d usually select, mastering (not just studying) a second language and picking up/ learning a new musical instrument or revisiting one previously played.

Tucked in the middle of her Bucket List: “Take time to notice the light outside, its changes throughout the day, how it modifies the look of trees, grass, sky, clouds, mountains, and how those differences make you feel.”

Diana hoped we’d do one or more from this list in her honor. How wonderful to remember and celebrate another this way!

March 2025

“Gift of Friendship,” 6″ x 9″ Watercolor, By Donna Lyons ©2008

“I love you”

By Marty Coffin Evans © 2024

“I have some bad news,” my friend Art said in a soft voice. He went on to tell me of his Stage IV lung cancer diagnosis.

We talked and shared memories from our 40-year friendship. Both of us recalled his presentation at an Industry Education Council meeting where he had described the upcoming Equestrian Events during that summer’s Los Angeles Olympic Games. We didn’t linger on those memories as soon others filled our conversation.

How often do we tell others of their importance in our lives? My friend was doing just that. He had a list of friends, beyond those in the family, where he was telling the story of his current health challenge. Certainly, family members will surround him, and his wife as will friends nearby.

In the coming days, he would learn about the treatment for his diagnosis. He did not want flowers, but, rather requested prayers. Cards and calls would be welcome. Perhaps now, these can come in a more regular basis instead of sporadically.

Years ago, I learned my lesson when calling my Aunt Lucille, former secretary Phyllis, and close friend, Nancy. Little did I know, they’d be gone months later. I was so grateful for making those calls where we connected over fun stories. I hope I told them how much they meant to me.

My friend’s gift of friendship, begun those decades ago, expanded with his caring call. I was most grateful to have a place on his list of those to call. It sounded as though he’d rest a bit before contacting another.

We said our goodbyes with “I love you” through our emotion-laden voices. I look forward to talking with him again soon.

Several days later, when I shared this writing with my friend Art, he responded, “I cannot tell you how much reading your thoughts mean to me at this hour. You have been such a wonderful friend for these many decades and even now you reach out with such kind words to reflect on the essence of our relationship. You are such a blessing to me in every way.” Love, Art.

We need to remember to tell others we love and care about them. It’s never too late, until it is!

February 2025

“What a Wonderful Life,” 14″x14,” Watercolor by Donna Lyons © 2025

“Who will tell?”

By Marty Coffin Evans © 2018

Several years ago, we attended the hit musical “Hamilton” at the Buell Theater in Denver. Loaded with history lessons involving many famous persons from our country’s founding days, a concluding comment caught my interest.

As the musical concludes, Hamilton’s wife sings a number which asks, “Who will tell our story?” Indeed, what legacy do we leave? Who will remember what we did in our lives, let alone write about us?

Memoir writing has become an encouraged exercise for many. Who better to tell our story than ourselves? Then again, who might be interested in what we did, accomplished, or not in our lives.

In one of my writing groups, the Low Writers, our most senior member periodically pulls out old notebooks and shares her writings. “How old were you when you wrote that?” we typically ask.

Sometimes the answer is in her early teen years. Other times, it might be writings from her collegiate times in Colorado as she wrote weekly to her parents in Indiana. What a treasure of stories from that young coed.

“Have you shared those with your family?” we also ask. Even with an affirmative answer she sadly reflects they don’t seem very interested in what she wrote about during her early years. We choose to believe her family members will greatly appreciate having these writings at some point in their own lives.

This “who will tell” question does become thought provoking. Family members often share their history as they tell stories of times past. On occasion, these are written down for others to remember. Capturing personal stories while that family member still lives is important.

We’ve heard the expression that we all have a story. We’ve heard too about someone passing away with their story still with them or untold. Both are true.

Have you told or written your story yet? I guess I better get busy on writing mine!

January 2025