Finding Peace – Like Finding Nemo, But Much Harder

Peaceful porch time with Mr. Kaminski.

By Patti Parish-Kaminski, Publisher

I was born in the 1960s, so I wasn’t necessarily a child of the decade from a movement perspective, but much about our culture during that period was prominent in my life. The tall, teased-up hairdos, the mini-skirts, the white go-go boots – and that’s just the description of Mother during the era. She was sharp dressed in bright colors from head to toe and very fashion-forward indicative of the times.

The word “peace” was used as a verb liberally. We all had tie-dye t-shirts and necklaces with the word – and symbol – emblazed. As a child I wasn’t certain why we wanted peace – or exactly what it meant – but I knew it was a big thing and my book covers, jewelry and clothing all sported peace signs. And, of course, our primary greeting consisted of the two-fingered V and the words, “Peace man.”

As an adult, the word “peace” has taken on an entirely new meaning. It’s no longer a verb; it’s a state, one that I consistently try to achieve. But let’s face it, I have raised two children, run my own business for years, volunteered for school and community organizations and spent 26 years married to Tim Kaminski. For decades it was virtually impossible to pencil in “peace” on the daily agenda.

Through the years, girlfriends offered up remedies. “Go to the spa,” they would say. So, to implement this plan all I would need to do is chisel out a couple of hours – likely between the hours of 3:00 and 4:00 am – locate a spa, make an appointment, change my extremely scheduled routine on said spa day, make arrangements for the children and the dogs, travel there while on the phone in the car and pen articles for the two-plus hours I sat there. Never sounded like the type of peace I was going for.

Obviously, the spa thing never really worked out for me, plus they play that soothing instrumental elevator music that gets on my nerves. Yes, there’s truly something wrong with me.

The state of peace still alludes me at times, but I’ve gotten better at finding it – like Marlin finally found Nemo. Funny thing though, it’s not really what you think. It’s not a spa, or a nap or sending all of my people out of the house so I can have a minute. Oddly enough, it’s something that I experienced in my childhood donning bell-bottoms and patch-covered denim jackets; it’s porch time. Whether it’s with family, friends or Mr. Kaminski, porch time is my peace. Because after all, where else can you act up, say what’s really on your mind and be accepted for as just you are – makeup or not? The answer is always on the porch.

See y’all next week on the porch!