Over the past weekend I was visiting friends and on my way home I happened to stop in to a Panera Bread company to get some lunch. I wasn't feeling very well and I thought some chicken noodle soup might just do the trick.
While I sat in my little booth observing humanity in all its forms an old man happened to be walking past. Well, ok..he wasn't really walking, more like shuffling. He appeared to be having some trouble balancing his tray and he looked about to fall over. I asked if he would like some help and he gratefully accepted. I had him sit down opposite me and I took his tray and dishes and disposed of them.
"Walter" introduced himself and thanked me for my kindness. I introduced myself and while I finished my soup and he drank his tea we chatted. He asked me if I could guess his age...and his eyes twinkled at me as if he were in on a private joke. "at least 50" I said with a grin. He admitted that he was 80 years old and that astonished me. He seriously didn't look a day over 60. We talked about life and philosophy and the silly ways of men and women.
He was hanging out in Panera Bread company waiting for his "GIRLFRIEND" to move out of their house. After a 3 year relationship they had broken up and now he sat waiting while "she and her kids pick through the rubble". He told me about all the money he had made and how well off he was...and he even asked me if I wanted to help him spend it now that he didnt have anyone to help him do that. I laughed kindly and told him "uh...no.. thank you, Walter...but it was nice to be considered.." He told me I had a lovely smile and I thanked him and asked him if relationships got any easier as we aged.
It was his turn to laugh and he told me that for as long as there are men and women on this earth, things were gonna be interesting. He had yet to find the "perfect" relationship. He said that his wife of 50 years was the closest he had ever come. He lost her several years ago to cancer. He nursed her through the final year or so of her life. He had the money and the resources to have a nurse there with them. He said he wouldnt trade that time for anything in the world. "She had a beautiful smile too, and even when she was real sick, she would give me one anytime I came near her.... I lived for those moments, wouldnt trade them for all the gold in Fort Knox"
Well...I finally decided it was time for me to leave...and "walter" said his son was going to be picking him up soon. As I was leaving... he again offered to let me help him spend his money....I again laughed and this time I gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Walter...I think what we have here...is a perfect relationship, though very brief. Lets just leave it at that ok?"
And with that.....I walked out of his life.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Even Superman Falls 5/4/09
Current mood: sad
It is the nature of this existence that we're given, that all things come full circle. Beings are born, beings die. This being said, sometimes even the inevitable is surprising.
My ex and I have maintained a distant relationship lately. Keeping it to simple e-mails and short messages. I know that he probably doesn't like it, but I feel it necessary to keep a little distance. He obliges me. Over the past year we've shared a journey. His father and my mother were both struck down with differing forms of cancer about this time last year. My mother finished her round of treatment for lymphoma back in March. I'm not sure what treatment course his dad was on. We kept in touch and asked after our respective parents...wishing the other luck in recovery. That sort of thing.
His father, Big Ned (the man was 6'4 and strapping in his youth...still an imposing figure well into his 70's) was a superman of sorts. That's how I came to regard him. The first time I met him some 8 years ago, he was competing in the senior olympics. He was beating men 10 years his junior. The officials said they hadn't seen a feat like his in quite some time.
The next time I saw him it was on his home turf. He took great delight in eating the last bit of whatever ice cream was in the freezer and then putting the empty container back into the appliance to frustrate his wife. He would then later ask her to get him some ice cream and act very indignant over the fact that there was none there. "Well, I wonder who ate the last of it....?" he would say, with an impish grin. He loved feeding the squirrels around his home and would go on "fossil hunts" bringing back rocks and pieces of rocks that he swore contained prehistoric creatures. Woe be to he who ventured into his "workroom" where he would hide all his treasures.
Big Ned did not do well in his fight against cancer. His once towering frame dwindled down pound by pound. Yet still he managed to sneak into the kitchen when the rest of the house was asleep and eat the last bit of ice cream.
He passed from this life into the next on Friday, May 1st. The love of his life was right by his side. Where she has been since they married as seniors in high school.
A toast to you, Big Ned. They don't make them like you anymore. I'm going to get some Blue Bunny tonight and toast with my son to his partner in crime and fossil hunting buddy.
You will be missed and remembered with a smile.
It is the nature of this existence that we're given, that all things come full circle. Beings are born, beings die. This being said, sometimes even the inevitable is surprising.
My ex and I have maintained a distant relationship lately. Keeping it to simple e-mails and short messages. I know that he probably doesn't like it, but I feel it necessary to keep a little distance. He obliges me. Over the past year we've shared a journey. His father and my mother were both struck down with differing forms of cancer about this time last year. My mother finished her round of treatment for lymphoma back in March. I'm not sure what treatment course his dad was on. We kept in touch and asked after our respective parents...wishing the other luck in recovery. That sort of thing.
His father, Big Ned (the man was 6'4 and strapping in his youth...still an imposing figure well into his 70's) was a superman of sorts. That's how I came to regard him. The first time I met him some 8 years ago, he was competing in the senior olympics. He was beating men 10 years his junior. The officials said they hadn't seen a feat like his in quite some time.
The next time I saw him it was on his home turf. He took great delight in eating the last bit of whatever ice cream was in the freezer and then putting the empty container back into the appliance to frustrate his wife. He would then later ask her to get him some ice cream and act very indignant over the fact that there was none there. "Well, I wonder who ate the last of it....?" he would say, with an impish grin. He loved feeding the squirrels around his home and would go on "fossil hunts" bringing back rocks and pieces of rocks that he swore contained prehistoric creatures. Woe be to he who ventured into his "workroom" where he would hide all his treasures.
Big Ned did not do well in his fight against cancer. His once towering frame dwindled down pound by pound. Yet still he managed to sneak into the kitchen when the rest of the house was asleep and eat the last bit of ice cream.
He passed from this life into the next on Friday, May 1st. The love of his life was right by his side. Where she has been since they married as seniors in high school.
A toast to you, Big Ned. They don't make them like you anymore. I'm going to get some Blue Bunny tonight and toast with my son to his partner in crime and fossil hunting buddy.
You will be missed and remembered with a smile.
For Good 3/09
I love lyrics. They say the things I wish I'd said. They express the feelings I wish I had, and some that I do have. Sometimes a song, just fits. It fits the situation, or it fits a particular person so well, that to think of that song, is to bring to mind that person. Instantly.
This song kind of fits in with my life philosophy. Every person that comes into your life is to teach you something or to learn something from you. If you're lucky, these people continue to do so throughout your life. Even if they leave you, off to their own paths, we are never the same again. We're changed. For always. For good.
"For Good"- (The musical "Wicked")
I've heard it said
That people come into our lives for a reason
Bringing something we must learn
And we are led
To those who help us most to grow
If we let them
And we help them in return
Well, I don't know if I believe that's true
But I know I'm who I am today
Because I knew you:
Like a comet pulled from orbit
As it passes a sun
Like a stream that meets a boulder
Halfway through the wood
Who can say if I've been changed for the better?
But because I knew you
I have been changed for good
It well may be
That we will never meet again
In this lifetime
So let me say before we part
So much of me
Is made of what I learned from you
You'll be with me
Like a handprint on my heart
And now whatever way our stories end
I know you have re-written mine
By being my friend:
Like a ship blown from its mooring
By a wind off the sea
Like a seed dropped by a skybird
In a distant wood
Who can say if I've been changed for the better?
But because I knew you:
Because I knew you:
I have been changed for good
And just to clear the air
I ask forgiveness
For the things I've done you blame me for
But then, I guess we know
There's blame to share
And none of it seems to matter anymore
Who can say if I've been changed for the better?
I do believe I have been changed for the better?
And because I knew you:
Because I knew you:
I have been changed for good.
This song kind of fits in with my life philosophy. Every person that comes into your life is to teach you something or to learn something from you. If you're lucky, these people continue to do so throughout your life. Even if they leave you, off to their own paths, we are never the same again. We're changed. For always. For good.
"For Good"- (The musical "Wicked")
I've heard it said
That people come into our lives for a reason
Bringing something we must learn
And we are led
To those who help us most to grow
If we let them
And we help them in return
Well, I don't know if I believe that's true
But I know I'm who I am today
Because I knew you:
Like a comet pulled from orbit
As it passes a sun
Like a stream that meets a boulder
Halfway through the wood
Who can say if I've been changed for the better?
But because I knew you
I have been changed for good
It well may be
That we will never meet again
In this lifetime
So let me say before we part
So much of me
Is made of what I learned from you
You'll be with me
Like a handprint on my heart
And now whatever way our stories end
I know you have re-written mine
By being my friend:
Like a ship blown from its mooring
By a wind off the sea
Like a seed dropped by a skybird
In a distant wood
Who can say if I've been changed for the better?
But because I knew you:
Because I knew you:
I have been changed for good
And just to clear the air
I ask forgiveness
For the things I've done you blame me for
But then, I guess we know
There's blame to share
And none of it seems to matter anymore
Who can say if I've been changed for the better?
I do believe I have been changed for the better?
And because I knew you:
Because I knew you:
I have been changed for good.
Unconditional Love 2/09
Current mood: blessed
Soooo...
I called my daughter this afternoon and since the "VALENDOOM'S day massacre" she's been kinda down in the dumps. I told her I was going to take her to dinner. She said she had a surprise for me.
She shows up with........a lower lip piercing. oooh boy.(for the record....it's tiny...and actually looks ok, when it heals she's going to get a little jewel).
AND a gift box for me.
She gave me a silver claddagh necklace. Because of all the love and support I've given her(and groceries..and gas money..and kitty litter).*grins*
But isnt that what we're supposed to do? as parents? Just give them all the love and support we can, UNCONDITIONALLY..even if they put holes in their beautiful faces? I just love her so much...and want so much for her. I just want her to see how freaking amazing she is.
Anyway...isnt it cool when you REALLY think your kid is cool and they like you too? No one ever tells you about that part when the baby cries at 4am and won't stop crying. They don't tell you that part when they fall off the monkey bars at school and break their arm the first week of kindergarten(that was curt...not cait). They just don't tell you how genuinely fun they can be when you can sit and watch TRUE BLOOD with them every sunday night on HBO and then have an actual conversation about something serious.
They should put that in the "how to raise kids" manual.
I apologize for the rambling...I do that sometimes. Go back to your normal life now..."move it along folks...nothing more to see here.....move it along...."
Soooo...
I called my daughter this afternoon and since the "VALENDOOM'S day massacre" she's been kinda down in the dumps. I told her I was going to take her to dinner. She said she had a surprise for me.
She shows up with........a lower lip piercing. oooh boy.(for the record....it's tiny...and actually looks ok, when it heals she's going to get a little jewel).
AND a gift box for me.
She gave me a silver claddagh necklace. Because of all the love and support I've given her(and groceries..and gas money..and kitty litter).*grins*
But isnt that what we're supposed to do? as parents? Just give them all the love and support we can, UNCONDITIONALLY..even if they put holes in their beautiful faces? I just love her so much...and want so much for her. I just want her to see how freaking amazing she is.
Anyway...isnt it cool when you REALLY think your kid is cool and they like you too? No one ever tells you about that part when the baby cries at 4am and won't stop crying. They don't tell you that part when they fall off the monkey bars at school and break their arm the first week of kindergarten(that was curt...not cait). They just don't tell you how genuinely fun they can be when you can sit and watch TRUE BLOOD with them every sunday night on HBO and then have an actual conversation about something serious.
They should put that in the "how to raise kids" manual.
I apologize for the rambling...I do that sometimes. Go back to your normal life now..."move it along folks...nothing more to see here.....move it along...."
The New Year 12/08
Current mood: luminous
I am usually dead-set against this....*sigh* but here I am, doing it anyway.
I REFUSE to call them resolutions, I will be calling them goals.
I'm going to be more open to the universe and all its possibilities.
I'm going to work really hard and get good grades because I have a bunch of people who are really proud of me and I want to give them good reason.
I'm not going to obsess about "what might have been" and focus instead on "WHAT IS." This time, this moment is all we have. Make the most of it. It won't come again.
I'm not going to search for happiness through material things. Yeah, a brand new shiny this or that would be nice...but it won't feed my soul and if the happiness isn't within me, it won't bring it to the surface.
I'm not going to be afraid of rejection. What's the worst that could happen? Someone doesn't like me? Um...I'll survive. I swear.
The word "spontaneous" is not a dirty word. I need to do more of that. Sometimes NOT thinking things through is a great adventure.
I'm not going to get myself so tangled up in someone else's life that I forget my own spirit or dreams.
I'm going to try sushi.(no....actually..I probably won't..but it looked good in print, didn't it?)
2009 is going to be a great year. I can feel it, it's getting closer...and it looks glorious.
I am usually dead-set against this....*sigh* but here I am, doing it anyway.
I REFUSE to call them resolutions, I will be calling them goals.
I'm going to be more open to the universe and all its possibilities.
I'm going to work really hard and get good grades because I have a bunch of people who are really proud of me and I want to give them good reason.
I'm not going to obsess about "what might have been" and focus instead on "WHAT IS." This time, this moment is all we have. Make the most of it. It won't come again.
I'm not going to search for happiness through material things. Yeah, a brand new shiny this or that would be nice...but it won't feed my soul and if the happiness isn't within me, it won't bring it to the surface.
I'm not going to be afraid of rejection. What's the worst that could happen? Someone doesn't like me? Um...I'll survive. I swear.
The word "spontaneous" is not a dirty word. I need to do more of that. Sometimes NOT thinking things through is a great adventure.
I'm not going to get myself so tangled up in someone else's life that I forget my own spirit or dreams.
I'm going to try sushi.(no....actually..I probably won't..but it looked good in print, didn't it?)
2009 is going to be a great year. I can feel it, it's getting closer...and it looks glorious.
Playing with my mind 12/08
Current mood: adventurous
If you are familiar with me you know that music is pretty important to me. ALL of the songs on my mp3 player (there are over 100) have some kind of meaning to me.
They remind me of people in my present and in my past, of events that I never want to forget, and things I wish I could. As you can tell by the multitude of words I have hanging out here in cyberspace, words mean a lot to me. Lyrics sometimes say the things I wish I could and even the things I wish I hadn't.
I have this person in my life that likes to play with my head a little bit. This person likes to send me little messages and try to keep in contact with me. Which is ok...except for one thing. Sometimes when this person sends me a message, it hurts.
So, I got this message and the person asked me about a certain song. Did I remember it? YES. I remembered it. It was the first song we ever danced to. It was the first song that I ever danced to with anyone in my life where I didn't trip over my own two feet. I felt like Ginger Rogers. I was graceful, I was beautiful. I will NEVER forget that freaking song. This person knows this, yet they asked me anyway. Wanna know why?
Because he likes to remind me of the "good times". What he doesnt realize is...with every little message, with every little memory is a cut. Little tiny paper cuts...that burn and irritate and just remind me of how I wasnt worth the effort. How I wasn't worth the time invested. How I am better off now than I ever was before. How much stronger I am without him. How the future is MINE now.
So...to this person(he knows who he is..). Stop thinking about the past. It's over, it's done. Quit messing with my mind. MY mind is fine. Work on YOURS.
I'm doing JUST FINE, thank you. I have really good friends who remind me every day that I AM worth the effort, that I am fine, just as I am. So maybe work on YOUR future. Mine...is gonna be GREAT!
ADDENDUM:
First of all...upon reading this a good friend pointed out that...MAYBE..just MAYBE I was ascribing something to malice, when it should really just be attributed to ignorance of my feelings. I think my friend was probably right.
And well....Ok...I had a talk with "the person" and...as it turns out, he finally gets it. He understands now...he gets it!! He finally realized what I had been telling him all along. He apologized for inadvertently hurting me. He had never intended it. We had a healthy conversation and got things out in the open. He understands that if he had just figured a few things out about himself 10 years ago, we never would have gone through all this. We could have been happy. Maybe.
But, all things are learned in their own time and in their own space. The things we go through are the lessons we have to learn. And we must learn or we never grow. I think he's growing..and I'm happy for him. and for me, I'm growing now too.
If you are familiar with me you know that music is pretty important to me. ALL of the songs on my mp3 player (there are over 100) have some kind of meaning to me.
They remind me of people in my present and in my past, of events that I never want to forget, and things I wish I could. As you can tell by the multitude of words I have hanging out here in cyberspace, words mean a lot to me. Lyrics sometimes say the things I wish I could and even the things I wish I hadn't.
I have this person in my life that likes to play with my head a little bit. This person likes to send me little messages and try to keep in contact with me. Which is ok...except for one thing. Sometimes when this person sends me a message, it hurts.
So, I got this message and the person asked me about a certain song. Did I remember it? YES. I remembered it. It was the first song we ever danced to. It was the first song that I ever danced to with anyone in my life where I didn't trip over my own two feet. I felt like Ginger Rogers. I was graceful, I was beautiful. I will NEVER forget that freaking song. This person knows this, yet they asked me anyway. Wanna know why?
Because he likes to remind me of the "good times". What he doesnt realize is...with every little message, with every little memory is a cut. Little tiny paper cuts...that burn and irritate and just remind me of how I wasnt worth the effort. How I wasn't worth the time invested. How I am better off now than I ever was before. How much stronger I am without him. How the future is MINE now.
So...to this person(he knows who he is..). Stop thinking about the past. It's over, it's done. Quit messing with my mind. MY mind is fine. Work on YOURS.
I'm doing JUST FINE, thank you. I have really good friends who remind me every day that I AM worth the effort, that I am fine, just as I am. So maybe work on YOUR future. Mine...is gonna be GREAT!
ADDENDUM:
First of all...upon reading this a good friend pointed out that...MAYBE..just MAYBE I was ascribing something to malice, when it should really just be attributed to ignorance of my feelings. I think my friend was probably right.
And well....Ok...I had a talk with "the person" and...as it turns out, he finally gets it. He understands now...he gets it!! He finally realized what I had been telling him all along. He apologized for inadvertently hurting me. He had never intended it. We had a healthy conversation and got things out in the open. He understands that if he had just figured a few things out about himself 10 years ago, we never would have gone through all this. We could have been happy. Maybe.
But, all things are learned in their own time and in their own space. The things we go through are the lessons we have to learn. And we must learn or we never grow. I think he's growing..and I'm happy for him. and for me, I'm growing now too.
Chemistry 12/08
Sparks, lightning, excitement. What is this thing called attraction? How is it that either two people "click" or they don't? Take two reasonably attractive people of the opposite sex and throw them in a room. Sparks will fly, or....they won't.
I can remember back in high school. Seeing the hot guy walking down the hall towards me. Sweaty palms, stuttering, panic. Did I affect him the same way??? um, nope. *grins* What was it about this person that made me behave like that? It was the hair. That perfectly layered hair. nahhhhh that wasn't it. There was more.
Ask 10 people this question"What turns you on?" and you are likely to get answers ranging from "big boobs" and "great pecs" to "a great sense of humor". The chemistry of attraction is a funny thing. It's so subjective to each person's individual history. There are triggers in our subconscious as to what makes us "click" with some people and not so much with others.
I was watching "GREY'S ANATOMY" tonight(yeah...ok I'm one of THOSE people). There was this moment, with Dr. christina (stoic, non-emotional) and Dr. Hunt(new guy, mysterious, smart, HOT). Well, they've kinda been building up to something, these two. Dr. Christina is visibly upset about something and struggling to keep it all together and Dr. Hunt sees how she is abou to cry and he takes her by the hand and leads her down the hallway and tells her to "wait...its something really special". He takes her down into the bowels of the hospital to the furnace room.
She's looking at him like he's a lunatic and he stands her on a grate in the floor. She starts to turn and leave and again he says"wait...this is really good...you're gonna love it". At that precise moment a rush of air comes up the grate and just like Marilyn Monroe's dress in "THE SEVEN YEAR ITCH", it blows up her entire body, causing her to laugh and giggle and catch her breath. Her whole face is suffused with such wonder and joy. Then he steps onto the grate as well and there is another big rush of air and they're both laughing and smiling like children. Then he just starts kissing her and they are so caught up in the whole thing and there's just all the air whooshing around them and time is standing still.
That's how great a mutual attraction can be. There are no words. After the attraction part...Well...then comes the hard part. What the hell do you do with it?????!!! Do you play it out...see where it goes? Explore the possibilities? Do you try to build on it, make a castle out of sand? Do you play it out, and realize that the attraction is better turned into a deep and lifelong friendship with someone who will always know you just a little bit better than anyone else on the planet?
The world is an amazing place when you just open yourself up to it. Smile at the charming stranger, give the girl with the pretty green eyes the once over. She may give you a look in return. It's out there. Waiting for you.
I'm standing on that airshaft grate, the air is whooshing all around me and I'm laughing at the sheer joy of it.
I, for one, am really liking the whole thing.
I can remember back in high school. Seeing the hot guy walking down the hall towards me. Sweaty palms, stuttering, panic. Did I affect him the same way??? um, nope. *grins* What was it about this person that made me behave like that? It was the hair. That perfectly layered hair. nahhhhh that wasn't it. There was more.
Ask 10 people this question"What turns you on?" and you are likely to get answers ranging from "big boobs" and "great pecs" to "a great sense of humor". The chemistry of attraction is a funny thing. It's so subjective to each person's individual history. There are triggers in our subconscious as to what makes us "click" with some people and not so much with others.
I was watching "GREY'S ANATOMY" tonight(yeah...ok I'm one of THOSE people). There was this moment, with Dr. christina (stoic, non-emotional) and Dr. Hunt(new guy, mysterious, smart, HOT). Well, they've kinda been building up to something, these two. Dr. Christina is visibly upset about something and struggling to keep it all together and Dr. Hunt sees how she is abou to cry and he takes her by the hand and leads her down the hallway and tells her to "wait...its something really special". He takes her down into the bowels of the hospital to the furnace room.
She's looking at him like he's a lunatic and he stands her on a grate in the floor. She starts to turn and leave and again he says"wait...this is really good...you're gonna love it". At that precise moment a rush of air comes up the grate and just like Marilyn Monroe's dress in "THE SEVEN YEAR ITCH", it blows up her entire body, causing her to laugh and giggle and catch her breath. Her whole face is suffused with such wonder and joy. Then he steps onto the grate as well and there is another big rush of air and they're both laughing and smiling like children. Then he just starts kissing her and they are so caught up in the whole thing and there's just all the air whooshing around them and time is standing still.
That's how great a mutual attraction can be. There are no words. After the attraction part...Well...then comes the hard part. What the hell do you do with it?????!!! Do you play it out...see where it goes? Explore the possibilities? Do you try to build on it, make a castle out of sand? Do you play it out, and realize that the attraction is better turned into a deep and lifelong friendship with someone who will always know you just a little bit better than anyone else on the planet?
The world is an amazing place when you just open yourself up to it. Smile at the charming stranger, give the girl with the pretty green eyes the once over. She may give you a look in return. It's out there. Waiting for you.
I'm standing on that airshaft grate, the air is whooshing all around me and I'm laughing at the sheer joy of it.
I, for one, am really liking the whole thing.
New Adventures 10/08
Current mood: adventurous
"There is something thrilling in the thought that you are drifting forward into a delicious mystery."
For so long...my life just drifted along and I along with it. I paid no attention to the direction I just 'went with the flow'. No more. Anyone who knows me even a little bit knows my situation. Back in June I made some major changes in my life. No longer "drifting". I got tougher, I got stronger and I'm still moving and changing every day.
The quote above is from someone unknown, yet it says a lot. Change is scary, its positively frightening, yet if we don't change, we don't grow. We stagnate and remain static. Trapped in lives that we aren't happy with, but we feel powerless to change. BULL SH*T!! The power to change is there, within you. You may not recognize it, but its there.
Every day opportunities present themselves. Are you lonely? Flirt with the cute guy at Starbuck's. If he ignores you...so what? What have you lost? Five minutes of your life?? At least you TRIED. Unhappy with your job? Look into further education, do some research, you might find a completely opposite field that uses your skillset. Unhappy with your body? Get off the couch and go for a walk. DAILY. In about 2 weeks....you will have dropped 5 pounds. Its a start.
The point I'm trying to make here is this. Life is too short to spend it bitching about how awful your life is. CHANGE IT!! Do something unexpected, have an adventure, the anticipation of something new gets your blood going, your heart pumping, your neurons firing. It brings a glow to your skin and electricity to your thoughts.
I've started my adventure. I register for school soon, start classes soon after that. I'll be meeting new people and doing things (like studying endlessly) that I haven't done in a long time. I'm working towards a new life. One of MY making. Not one I "settled for". I have a picture in my head of this life. It might come true...it might not. At least I'm doing something to make the picture come alive.
Drift forward(no..PADDLE yourself) into that delicious mystery, you never know what you might find, but I guarantee it will be different than what is making you unhappy. That in itself is worth the journey.
"There is something thrilling in the thought that you are drifting forward into a delicious mystery."
For so long...my life just drifted along and I along with it. I paid no attention to the direction I just 'went with the flow'. No more. Anyone who knows me even a little bit knows my situation. Back in June I made some major changes in my life. No longer "drifting". I got tougher, I got stronger and I'm still moving and changing every day.
The quote above is from someone unknown, yet it says a lot. Change is scary, its positively frightening, yet if we don't change, we don't grow. We stagnate and remain static. Trapped in lives that we aren't happy with, but we feel powerless to change. BULL SH*T!! The power to change is there, within you. You may not recognize it, but its there.
Every day opportunities present themselves. Are you lonely? Flirt with the cute guy at Starbuck's. If he ignores you...so what? What have you lost? Five minutes of your life?? At least you TRIED. Unhappy with your job? Look into further education, do some research, you might find a completely opposite field that uses your skillset. Unhappy with your body? Get off the couch and go for a walk. DAILY. In about 2 weeks....you will have dropped 5 pounds. Its a start.
The point I'm trying to make here is this. Life is too short to spend it bitching about how awful your life is. CHANGE IT!! Do something unexpected, have an adventure, the anticipation of something new gets your blood going, your heart pumping, your neurons firing. It brings a glow to your skin and electricity to your thoughts.
I've started my adventure. I register for school soon, start classes soon after that. I'll be meeting new people and doing things (like studying endlessly) that I haven't done in a long time. I'm working towards a new life. One of MY making. Not one I "settled for". I have a picture in my head of this life. It might come true...it might not. At least I'm doing something to make the picture come alive.
Drift forward(no..PADDLE yourself) into that delicious mystery, you never know what you might find, but I guarantee it will be different than what is making you unhappy. That in itself is worth the journey.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Daddy's Girl 8/17/08
Mood: Thankful
I've been remiss. The other night I was on my way home from work and my cell phone rang. Dad. "Hey, how about you meet me and buy me dinner." TRANSLATION- "meet me for dinner, I'll buy." Of course, I went.
The relationship I have with my father is different than the one that I share with mom. My mother likes to know every intimate detail of every day. Although I've told her that my life is not that interesting...it doesnt matter.
Dad, on the other hand has always been a "I'm going to let you go your own way..and if you need me..you know where I am" kinda guy. I love that. When my first marriage was ending..the person I dreaded telling the most was dad. I've always been afraid of disappointing him. When I did muster up the nerve to break the news to him, with tears in my eyes I said" dad, I'm so sorry to have disappointed you." He looked me straight in the eye and he said "Listen closely...this is how much you've disappointed me" Dead silence. Nothing. I looked at him funny and he said "In no way could you ever disappoint me."
Although I love my mom very much, dad is the person that I closest resemble in personality and temperament. It's his evil glare that I give to anyone who crosses me. It's his loud raucous laughter that greets anyone who amuses me. Its his twisted sense of humor that I unleash on anyone within striking distance.
Since I am a tomboy it was only natural that I do all the "guy" type stuff with him. I helped him install speakers in the Chevy Blazer. Instead of the PINK CAMARO that a lot of 16 year old girls got when they got their licenses. I drove a mustard yellow ford courier pickup truck, gunrack behind the seat, thank you very much. Camper shell on the back. Yeah...it was stick shift and I didn't know how to drive a stick shift.
Dad tried to teach me. TRIED being the operative word. Instead he turned the task over to a girlfriend of mine who had a drivers license. "Take her out on the levees....don't bring her back till she can drive the thing" Two hours later we returned...I parked it in the driveway(almost running into the garage). To this day, my car is a stick shift.
Instead of taking me to purchase a frilly prom dress, he bought me a mossberg .22 caliber rifle, a scope, a shooting jacket and signed me up as a member of a rifle team. Thats ok...I look stupid in frills and I would have tripped over the hem of the dress. The gun still fits and I can shoot the ears off a flea at 50 paces.
No matter what I or my sister need, no matter when, he's there. With a truck, with a room to stay in while we sort out our life, with a trip to mexico. He never tells us how to run our lives, or what mistakes we made. He just tells us "ok..what can we do to make this whole thing better?"
I need to thank him for that. Yes, I certainly do. Hmmm. Thanks Dad. I was, and am, a lucky girl.
I've been remiss. The other night I was on my way home from work and my cell phone rang. Dad. "Hey, how about you meet me and buy me dinner." TRANSLATION- "meet me for dinner, I'll buy." Of course, I went.
The relationship I have with my father is different than the one that I share with mom. My mother likes to know every intimate detail of every day. Although I've told her that my life is not that interesting...it doesnt matter.
Dad, on the other hand has always been a "I'm going to let you go your own way..and if you need me..you know where I am" kinda guy. I love that. When my first marriage was ending..the person I dreaded telling the most was dad. I've always been afraid of disappointing him. When I did muster up the nerve to break the news to him, with tears in my eyes I said" dad, I'm so sorry to have disappointed you." He looked me straight in the eye and he said "Listen closely...this is how much you've disappointed me" Dead silence. Nothing. I looked at him funny and he said "In no way could you ever disappoint me."
Although I love my mom very much, dad is the person that I closest resemble in personality and temperament. It's his evil glare that I give to anyone who crosses me. It's his loud raucous laughter that greets anyone who amuses me. Its his twisted sense of humor that I unleash on anyone within striking distance.
Since I am a tomboy it was only natural that I do all the "guy" type stuff with him. I helped him install speakers in the Chevy Blazer. Instead of the PINK CAMARO that a lot of 16 year old girls got when they got their licenses. I drove a mustard yellow ford courier pickup truck, gunrack behind the seat, thank you very much. Camper shell on the back. Yeah...it was stick shift and I didn't know how to drive a stick shift.
Dad tried to teach me. TRIED being the operative word. Instead he turned the task over to a girlfriend of mine who had a drivers license. "Take her out on the levees....don't bring her back till she can drive the thing" Two hours later we returned...I parked it in the driveway(almost running into the garage). To this day, my car is a stick shift.
Instead of taking me to purchase a frilly prom dress, he bought me a mossberg .22 caliber rifle, a scope, a shooting jacket and signed me up as a member of a rifle team. Thats ok...I look stupid in frills and I would have tripped over the hem of the dress. The gun still fits and I can shoot the ears off a flea at 50 paces.
No matter what I or my sister need, no matter when, he's there. With a truck, with a room to stay in while we sort out our life, with a trip to mexico. He never tells us how to run our lives, or what mistakes we made. He just tells us "ok..what can we do to make this whole thing better?"
I need to thank him for that. Yes, I certainly do. Hmmm. Thanks Dad. I was, and am, a lucky girl.
The problem of "Forever" 8/08
Current mood: blissful
"True love is like ghosts, which everybody talks about and few have seen."-La Rochefoucauld
If you know me at all, you know my relationships have been, to say the least, tempestuous. For those who don't know me... I'm what you would call a "serial monagamist". The first man I ever, really ,seriously dated, I married. When the marriage ended thirteen years(and two children) later, I spent a blissful five months single before I met bachelor number two. We married two years later. Now separated we are working on redefining ourselves as "friends". NOT the friends-with-benefits kind. JUST FRIENDS.
Here is where my problem lies. My faith in the word FOREVER has been a little shaken. I'm not so sure it's something that is attainable. Are we as humans really capable of that kind of commitment? In caveman times two people made the commitment(usually to the best hunter/gatherer) and it lasted till a woolly mammoth ate your mate or you were burned in a freak fire starting incident. Usually a couple years. Therefore, forever really wasn't that long a time. The mate that was left just moved on to the next best hunter/gatherer and the circle of life continued.
These days its not so simple. Advances in modern medicine have made FOREVER a really...really long time. The average lifespan is roughly 85 - 90 years. If you get married at say twenty, thats sixty five years at the least. WITH ONE MATE!!??? The cumulative nineteen years that I've spent in wedded bliss are enough to give me pause...but geez.
Then, it happened. During work yesterday, I had to go to the post office and drop the mail. As I was going in, there was this older couple coming out. They were at the very least in their seventies. The husband was so gentle with his wife. She could barely walk, and he helped her down the four steps coming out of the building. I held the door for them both and they smiled at me and wished me a good afternoon. I watched them both slowly shuffle to their car. He opened the door for her and helped her inside and buckled her seat belt around her. He got in the car and they left, pausing to smile at me and wave beforehand.
Still I stood there. I had never seen anything so beautiful. That was real love folks. Not the movie love we see in films, not the kind we read about in trash novels. The real thing. Something so rare it glimmers like a diamond.
The care and concern they showed each other, the mutual respect, was awe inspiring. Each was the other's number one priority. When do you see that these days? I walked into the post office and deposited the mail and then went back to my car, preparing to finish my work errands with a trip to the bank. I didn't even know there were tears until the droplets hit my shirt.
Amazing how you can yearn for something that you really aren't even sure that you want. I don't know if I will ever attain what that couple had. I'd like to think that kind of partnership is possible for me. Just knowing that it really does exist gives me hope. For now, that's enough.
"True love is like ghosts, which everybody talks about and few have seen."-La Rochefoucauld
If you know me at all, you know my relationships have been, to say the least, tempestuous. For those who don't know me... I'm what you would call a "serial monagamist". The first man I ever, really ,seriously dated, I married. When the marriage ended thirteen years(and two children) later, I spent a blissful five months single before I met bachelor number two. We married two years later. Now separated we are working on redefining ourselves as "friends". NOT the friends-with-benefits kind. JUST FRIENDS.
Here is where my problem lies. My faith in the word FOREVER has been a little shaken. I'm not so sure it's something that is attainable. Are we as humans really capable of that kind of commitment? In caveman times two people made the commitment(usually to the best hunter/gatherer) and it lasted till a woolly mammoth ate your mate or you were burned in a freak fire starting incident. Usually a couple years. Therefore, forever really wasn't that long a time. The mate that was left just moved on to the next best hunter/gatherer and the circle of life continued.
These days its not so simple. Advances in modern medicine have made FOREVER a really...really long time. The average lifespan is roughly 85 - 90 years. If you get married at say twenty, thats sixty five years at the least. WITH ONE MATE!!??? The cumulative nineteen years that I've spent in wedded bliss are enough to give me pause...but geez.
Then, it happened. During work yesterday, I had to go to the post office and drop the mail. As I was going in, there was this older couple coming out. They were at the very least in their seventies. The husband was so gentle with his wife. She could barely walk, and he helped her down the four steps coming out of the building. I held the door for them both and they smiled at me and wished me a good afternoon. I watched them both slowly shuffle to their car. He opened the door for her and helped her inside and buckled her seat belt around her. He got in the car and they left, pausing to smile at me and wave beforehand.
Still I stood there. I had never seen anything so beautiful. That was real love folks. Not the movie love we see in films, not the kind we read about in trash novels. The real thing. Something so rare it glimmers like a diamond.
The care and concern they showed each other, the mutual respect, was awe inspiring. Each was the other's number one priority. When do you see that these days? I walked into the post office and deposited the mail and then went back to my car, preparing to finish my work errands with a trip to the bank. I didn't even know there were tears until the droplets hit my shirt.
Amazing how you can yearn for something that you really aren't even sure that you want. I don't know if I will ever attain what that couple had. I'd like to think that kind of partnership is possible for me. Just knowing that it really does exist gives me hope. For now, that's enough.
The Relay.... 7/14/08
Current mood: intense
As many of you know, my mom is currently undergoing treatment for Lymphoma(cancer of the lymph nodes). When mom first had this disease years ago, she began participating in the Cancer Society's "Relay for Life". She does it every year. My sister began doing the relay a few years ago and this year I joined the family tradition. These "relays" are held all over the country on different dates. You get a team together and you camp out at a high school usually(because they have a track). One member from each team MUST be on the track walking or running at all times. The event lasts from 6:00pm on a Friday till 6:00am Saturday morning. It is an all night event to remind us that, since cancer never sleeps..then neither will we in our quest to find a cure or raise money for research.
Each team has a tent or canopy set up on the football field and they sell things or food or back massages or mile marker necklaces and beads and at the end of the night(usually 2 am) all the money is turned in and counted.
When my sister asked me to join her team I admit...I agreed reluctantly. I mean, who wants to work all week..and then go to some "charity thing" and spend all night? I sure didn't. However, on Friday night, I showed up, wearing my obscenely bright red and black Asics, and eager to "get this thing over with." During the opening ceremonies they had something called the "survivor's lap". All the survivor's( in purple shirts) came to the stage...stated their names, what type of cancer they had, and how long they had been "survivors". Listening to their stories and seeing their bravery, it hooked me. I was in. This was bigger than me and my petty inconvenience. This was for mom,Grandpa(deceased, bone cancer), Aunt Dorothy(deceased, pancreatic and liver cancer), and Aunt Maxine(deceased, breast cancer).
Throughout the night they had activities and ceremonies planned to keep everyone's spirits up and keep everyone awake. I started out with a bang...and did a mile on that track. Our team consisted of about 8 people. There were times when only one of us was on the track..and there were times when 4 of us were on the track. I banged out the first two miles in pretty quick order. A survivor was selling "mile marker" necklaces. It was a plastic necklace that you string different colored beads on. You chose a color for your beads..and every 4th bead was your mile marker and it was a different color.
At midnight they had a Luminaria ceremony. A luminaria is a white bag with a small candle mounted in a block of wood in the bottom. The luminaria were sold for 1.00 a piece, you would buy one in memory of someone who had passed or in honor of someone who was fighting. They lit the luminarias and lined the track and the visitor bleachers with them. at 12:31 they lit them all and shut off all the lights. It was beautiful. They read the names of every person on every luminaria.
I had been slowing down on my laps and my legs hurt and my feet hurt and then I started hearing all those names and I was walking around that dark track and the tears flowed down my face and I kept walking. I saw people in purple survivor shirts walking that track with canes and walkers and in wheelchairs and I kept walking. I saw women wearing bandanas on their heads to cover their baldness from the chemotherapy, and I kept walking.
The tears flowed and I kept walking. By the end of the experience...I had walked about 7 miles...eaten 1 funnelcake, had some nachos, gained four blisters, and had an experience that brought me a little perspective on what was REALLY important in life.
I talked to my daughter last night..she had to work friday night, but she's going to do the relay with me next year. I encourage everyone to get out there and if you don't want to walk, please find a "RELAY FOR LIFE" team and give generously. If you have the ability to walk. DO IT. It can change your life or someone else's.
As many of you know, my mom is currently undergoing treatment for Lymphoma(cancer of the lymph nodes). When mom first had this disease years ago, she began participating in the Cancer Society's "Relay for Life". She does it every year. My sister began doing the relay a few years ago and this year I joined the family tradition. These "relays" are held all over the country on different dates. You get a team together and you camp out at a high school usually(because they have a track). One member from each team MUST be on the track walking or running at all times. The event lasts from 6:00pm on a Friday till 6:00am Saturday morning. It is an all night event to remind us that, since cancer never sleeps..then neither will we in our quest to find a cure or raise money for research.
Each team has a tent or canopy set up on the football field and they sell things or food or back massages or mile marker necklaces and beads and at the end of the night(usually 2 am) all the money is turned in and counted.
When my sister asked me to join her team I admit...I agreed reluctantly. I mean, who wants to work all week..and then go to some "charity thing" and spend all night? I sure didn't. However, on Friday night, I showed up, wearing my obscenely bright red and black Asics, and eager to "get this thing over with." During the opening ceremonies they had something called the "survivor's lap". All the survivor's( in purple shirts) came to the stage...stated their names, what type of cancer they had, and how long they had been "survivors". Listening to their stories and seeing their bravery, it hooked me. I was in. This was bigger than me and my petty inconvenience. This was for mom,Grandpa(deceased, bone cancer), Aunt Dorothy(deceased, pancreatic and liver cancer), and Aunt Maxine(deceased, breast cancer).
Throughout the night they had activities and ceremonies planned to keep everyone's spirits up and keep everyone awake. I started out with a bang...and did a mile on that track. Our team consisted of about 8 people. There were times when only one of us was on the track..and there were times when 4 of us were on the track. I banged out the first two miles in pretty quick order. A survivor was selling "mile marker" necklaces. It was a plastic necklace that you string different colored beads on. You chose a color for your beads..and every 4th bead was your mile marker and it was a different color.
At midnight they had a Luminaria ceremony. A luminaria is a white bag with a small candle mounted in a block of wood in the bottom. The luminaria were sold for 1.00 a piece, you would buy one in memory of someone who had passed or in honor of someone who was fighting. They lit the luminarias and lined the track and the visitor bleachers with them. at 12:31 they lit them all and shut off all the lights. It was beautiful. They read the names of every person on every luminaria.
I had been slowing down on my laps and my legs hurt and my feet hurt and then I started hearing all those names and I was walking around that dark track and the tears flowed down my face and I kept walking. I saw people in purple survivor shirts walking that track with canes and walkers and in wheelchairs and I kept walking. I saw women wearing bandanas on their heads to cover their baldness from the chemotherapy, and I kept walking.
The tears flowed and I kept walking. By the end of the experience...I had walked about 7 miles...eaten 1 funnelcake, had some nachos, gained four blisters, and had an experience that brought me a little perspective on what was REALLY important in life.
I talked to my daughter last night..she had to work friday night, but she's going to do the relay with me next year. I encourage everyone to get out there and if you don't want to walk, please find a "RELAY FOR LIFE" team and give generously. If you have the ability to walk. DO IT. It can change your life or someone else's.
Life Isn't 7/08
Current mood: confident
This is something I read several years ago, it means a lot to me, it is framed and hangs on my wall. I look at it every day...and I thought I would share it.
Life isn't....
About keeping score, it's not about how many friends you have or how accepted you are. Not about if you have plans this weekend or if you're alone. It isn't about who you're dating, who you used to date, how many people you've dated, or if you haven't been with anyone at all. It isn't about who you have kissed, it's not about sex. It isn't about who your family is or how much money they have or what kind of car you drive. Or where you are sent to school. It's not about how beautiful or ugly you are, or what clothes you wear, what shoes you have on, or what kind of music you listen to.
It's not about if your hair is blonde, red, black, or brown. Or if your skin is too light or too dark. Not about what grades you get, how smart you are, how smart everybody else thinks you are, or how smart standardized tests say you are. It's not about what clubs you're in or how good you are at "your" sport. It's not about representing your whole being on a piece of paper and seeing who will accept the "written" you.
LIFE JUST ISN'T
But, life IS about who you love and who you hurt. It's about who you make happy or unhappy purposefully. It's about keeping or betraying trust. It's about friendship, used as sanctity or a weapon. It's about what you say and what you meant to say. Maybe hurtful, maybe heartening. It's about starting rumors and contributing to petty gossip. It's about what judgements you pass and why, and who your judgements are spread to. It's about who you've ignored with full control and intention. It's about jealousy, fear, ignorance, and revenge. It's about carrying inner hate and love, letting it grow, and spreading it.
But, most of all, it's about using your life to touch or poison other people's hearts in such a way that could never occurred alone. Only you choose the way those hearts are affected, and those choices........ARE what this life is all about.
~*~Anonymous~*~
This is something I read several years ago, it means a lot to me, it is framed and hangs on my wall. I look at it every day...and I thought I would share it.
Life isn't....
About keeping score, it's not about how many friends you have or how accepted you are. Not about if you have plans this weekend or if you're alone. It isn't about who you're dating, who you used to date, how many people you've dated, or if you haven't been with anyone at all. It isn't about who you have kissed, it's not about sex. It isn't about who your family is or how much money they have or what kind of car you drive. Or where you are sent to school. It's not about how beautiful or ugly you are, or what clothes you wear, what shoes you have on, or what kind of music you listen to.
It's not about if your hair is blonde, red, black, or brown. Or if your skin is too light or too dark. Not about what grades you get, how smart you are, how smart everybody else thinks you are, or how smart standardized tests say you are. It's not about what clubs you're in or how good you are at "your" sport. It's not about representing your whole being on a piece of paper and seeing who will accept the "written" you.
LIFE JUST ISN'T
But, life IS about who you love and who you hurt. It's about who you make happy or unhappy purposefully. It's about keeping or betraying trust. It's about friendship, used as sanctity or a weapon. It's about what you say and what you meant to say. Maybe hurtful, maybe heartening. It's about starting rumors and contributing to petty gossip. It's about what judgements you pass and why, and who your judgements are spread to. It's about who you've ignored with full control and intention. It's about jealousy, fear, ignorance, and revenge. It's about carrying inner hate and love, letting it grow, and spreading it.
But, most of all, it's about using your life to touch or poison other people's hearts in such a way that could never occurred alone. Only you choose the way those hearts are affected, and those choices........ARE what this life is all about.
~*~Anonymous~*~
Saturday, August 8, 2009
Leaving Paradise 7/1/08
Current mood: anxious
As many of you know, I've just spent a week in paradise. Well, ok, not exactly paradise, but Cancun, Mexico. My dad has a time share down here and he's had it for so long and built up so many "free" trips that to celebrate his retirement he took the whole family. YEAH!!! I know!! Pretty freaking fantastic, yes? This is no ordinary resort, either. It's all inclusive. That means all the food and drinks(regular and alcoholic..not that I would take advantage of that part...ahem..Pina Colada anyone?). The "whole family" consisted of:mom, step-mom, her mom, her aunt, my sis and brother-in-law, and step-brother and his wife, oh...and me. Well..to be honest, my husband was supposed to go but I'll get to that in a minute.
Ok, I'll get to that now, my husband and I had been having problems and..long story short, we decided to part ways, which meant that I would go alone. Scary prospect, huh? I'm soon to be 44(in October) and I had taken very few trips alone. I had never flown, never parasailed, never snorkeled, never rode a mexican bus to the local Wal-Mart(yeah...they have one about 10 miles from the hotel). But, I decided it was time to take the first step and get out of my "comfort zone".
At least I wasn't completely alone, the whole family was here and very supportive. I love them all. This experience has taught me a lot. Not only did I walk on a beautiful beach almost every morning, I also watched a huge sea turtle crawl from the carribbean come up to the beach, dig herself a nest, and lay her eggs. About an hour later she hustled back to the ocean(they have a sea turtle hatchery here-the staff collected the eggs and put them in a roped off beach area for hatching...3 months the new sea turtles will hatch..and go back to the wild). while we were here about 400 sea turtle eggs were collected.
I snorkeled and saw all kinds of ocean life(never swam in the ocean before either...thats 2 points..thank you) I was supposed to go parasailing, but the morning of the trip I woke up so ill I didn't get out of bed at all that day. Monteczuma's revenge? nah..I prefer to think I had a bad shrimp the night before. By the next day I was totally fine. I've seen the Ruins of the Mayan empire at Tulum, and on the one and a half hour bus ride there, I saw a life that most americans never get to see.
The people here are hard working, friendly, open and they scrape for every tiny convenience they have. We americans are so spoiled. We think we "HAVE TO HAVE" satellite tv, cell phones, internet access. You know what? 80% of the population down here collects rain water on rooftop receptacles. A lot of the workers in my hotel ride a bus 2 hours a day to earn about $30.00.
On the way to Tulum if you glanced past the shops into the streets behind...you saw a life that you never imagined. Tiny apartments house whole families, usually in the space of what you call your kitchen/dining room. You learn to appreciate the bounty that is ours, that we take for granted every day.
Today is my last day in paradise, tomorrow the flight home and I begin my new life. Since this marriage thing clearly is not for me...um...I'll be the lady who at 80 years old has a Harley and tattoos and wrote the book about the solo cross country motorcycle trip she went on back in the day.
Look for the book in about 10 years, and in about 15 years if you happen to run into a silver haired, tall woman with deep green eyes on a motorcycle(may not get a Harley..but I can dream). It's probably me, and my younger boyfriend. *grins*
Moments 6/1/08
Current mood: adventurous
I'm a big "moments" person. I believe that our whole lives are built on moments. It is our choice whether to accept the moments given us, or to reject them and move on with our plans....whatever they may be.
At any one time...a moment can break your heart, tame your spirit or bring you joy. Recognizing them can be a tricky business. You have to be on your guard always.
When your child asks you to please..please take them to a special place for dinner...just you and he(or she). This is a moment, people! Don't ignore it! Which do you think your child will remember more? The special evening you spent at Applebee's?Or watching mom fold clothes on the couch...again..for the 12th time this week?
When your partner tries to "make a move" and you're tired and you just don't think you can do it. Think about this....what are they doing? They are telling you.."I care about you...I desire you...I want you..right now, and I'm happy that I chose you to spend my life with." How much does it hurt when you playfully slap their hand away or tell them" I don't think so...i'm not in the mood". You'd be surprised how quickly you can "get in the mood" if you would just try, just a little.
The stranger on the street that you look right past. How much does it cost you to really look that person in the eye..and smile? So simple, yet we won't do it. Don't you know that they might remember the lady with the pretty green eyes that smiled, for years? If you walk right past them...you lose that moment to touch that person's life. Forever.
When you get a chance. Take it. You never know where a moment might lead.
"Sometimes...you just have to take the leap of faith..and build your wings on the way down."
Flying Free 3/29/08
Current mood: animated
My daughter and I have the typical relationship of most mothers and daughters. With a twist. When her father and I separated and later divorced, she chose to stay with him in the home she had known most of her life. I, being a supportive mom, did not force her. Instead I made sure that she always felt she had a place to be, wherever I am. I showed her love and understanding, knowing that eventually she would come to understand that leaving HIM did not mean, leaving HER. I was not a pushover. She did not get everything she wanted. I had rules and I expected her to abide by them when she stayed with me. For the most part, she did.
She was always a strong child, filled with her own convictions and ideals. I encouraged it. I like the fact that my children have their own minds and are not afraid to speak out. When she turned 18, however, I questioned my open attitude. As is most common with teenagers, they believe they know everything and you know nothing.HA. We had our moments of strife because of it. .
Recently, she and her father had been at odds over this or that. Her need to be an independent adult (she is now 20, to be 21 in May) and her father’s need to keep her a child are the crux of the problem. Her father’s need to control and her need to beat her wings against the cage that her childhood home had become were a constant source of irritation for both.
It became too much. Although she had been trying to find a place of her own, fate stepped in. Her old car finally died. The decision made, she bought a car. I admonished her to "please..please try to get along with your dad, so you can pay for it." She assured me that she would. Well..a week later, I get a call. She has to find another place to live. NOW. In five days.
(from my ex. What a sweetheart).
He can’t take it anymore, she’s disrespectful..yada..yada... I plead with him NOT to do this...This is NOT something you can ever undo. She’s trying to find a roommate so that she can still get a place of her own. Don’t do it. "I’ll think about it" he said. Again...what a jewel. He waited till she got home from work that night...he looked into her eyes..and told her. "you have 5 days to find somewhere else to live."
She called me tearfully that night and announced that "that man is no longer my father..I don’t know who he is." We met the next morning for breakfast. We went over her finances, her list of friends and possible roommates. I offered her a home with me. "No mom, its time. I gotta be on my own" He gave her 5 days. She did it in 72 hours. This all took place on Saturday and sunday.
Monday she had a place , two new male roommates(not my first choice..but they are good kids and she feels comfortable with them), and they and their friends were loading stuff up in trucks and moving her out. He came home and found her gone.
He expected her to cry, to beg, to stay his little girl. Instead, she said.."oh yeah...watch me soar!"
He expected her to cry, to beg, to stay his little girl. Instead, she said.."oh yeah...watch me soar!"
I am so filled with admiration and pride. I’m watching her...and her wings are beautiful.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Of reason and logic 3/08
Current mood: calm
Yesterday I asked a question. Why? Why did something so horrible happen to people who were so good? It made no sense to me. I could not understand the reason why the "higher power" would take such a good person, in the prime of his life away from his family.
What is it they say? 'ask and ye shall receive'? Well..yesterday I asked...today I received.
My mom called(like she does nearly every day....if you know me at all) to apprise me of the funeral plans. During the course of the conversation she mentioned that M(the deceased) was an organ donor. "well, of course he was....he was in the medical profession" I told mom. and she said..." No...you don't understand" she said" He has helped other people..since his death..50 gifts were given to other people'..That stopped me..
50. Think about that for a moment. Through his "gifts" he has perhaps given sight to a child, given a woman the chance to breathe freely for the first time in years, took a man off of dialysis, given a burn victim a chance at a normal appearance. So many things we all take for granted. So many lives changed in such a short time.
I get it. I understand. There is the reason. His children will grow up knowing that their dad in his ultimate act of selflessness, will live on. Not a bad legacy to leave your children, if you ask me.
Become an organ donor. Let your loved ones know your wishes. You are all my witnesses. If any thing happens to me. Have them harvest anything they need. I won't have use for it any longer, maybe I can do some good to someone else.
Yesterday I asked a question. Why? Why did something so horrible happen to people who were so good? It made no sense to me. I could not understand the reason why the "higher power" would take such a good person, in the prime of his life away from his family.
What is it they say? 'ask and ye shall receive'? Well..yesterday I asked...today I received.
My mom called(like she does nearly every day....if you know me at all) to apprise me of the funeral plans. During the course of the conversation she mentioned that M(the deceased) was an organ donor. "well, of course he was....he was in the medical profession" I told mom. and she said..." No...you don't understand" she said" He has helped other people..since his death..50 gifts were given to other people'..That stopped me..
50. Think about that for a moment. Through his "gifts" he has perhaps given sight to a child, given a woman the chance to breathe freely for the first time in years, took a man off of dialysis, given a burn victim a chance at a normal appearance. So many things we all take for granted. So many lives changed in such a short time.
I get it. I understand. There is the reason. His children will grow up knowing that their dad in his ultimate act of selflessness, will live on. Not a bad legacy to leave your children, if you ask me.
Become an organ donor. Let your loved ones know your wishes. You are all my witnesses. If any thing happens to me. Have them harvest anything they need. I won't have use for it any longer, maybe I can do some good to someone else.
The rest of your life 3/08
My cousin, D, has a great life. Three gorgeous children, suburban home, husband that is her true life-mate. I'm sorry. HAD a great life. Until last night. Last night was the night that her husband complained that he wasn't feeling well.
He was going to go and lie down for awhile.
D stayed downstairs with the kids, cleaning up the dinner dishes, doing homework, giggling over silly jokes. She thought she heard a noise upstairs, but she just figured it was HIM...snoring again...and she probably thought nothing more of it.
Then around 9:30pm while the kids were getting into bed, she checked on him. He was lying on the floor. His color was not good. She screamed for 911 to be called and she and her 15 year old son began CPR. One of her daughters ran up the street to fetch a doctor that lived 2 doors down. The doctor came quickly to help.
It was too late. Dead, at 48 of a massive heart attack. In a matter of a couple of hours, D's whole life changed. The dream of growing old and enjoying her grandchildren with this man, was now gone. Harsher new realities are coming.
That's how it is, you see. Life changes on a whim. There is no rhyme or reason. Bad things happen to good people every day. These are very good people. They give generously to charity, one of their daughter's has Cystic Fibrosis and was the poster child for the disease a few years back. Their children write thank you notes for every birthday gift, every christmas present. They are members of the community in every sense of the word.
HE was a nurse, had saved countless lives, brought babies into the world. why? Why them?
I don't get it. I just don't
He was going to go and lie down for awhile.
D stayed downstairs with the kids, cleaning up the dinner dishes, doing homework, giggling over silly jokes. She thought she heard a noise upstairs, but she just figured it was HIM...snoring again...and she probably thought nothing more of it.
Then around 9:30pm while the kids were getting into bed, she checked on him. He was lying on the floor. His color was not good. She screamed for 911 to be called and she and her 15 year old son began CPR. One of her daughters ran up the street to fetch a doctor that lived 2 doors down. The doctor came quickly to help.
It was too late. Dead, at 48 of a massive heart attack. In a matter of a couple of hours, D's whole life changed. The dream of growing old and enjoying her grandchildren with this man, was now gone. Harsher new realities are coming.
That's how it is, you see. Life changes on a whim. There is no rhyme or reason. Bad things happen to good people every day. These are very good people. They give generously to charity, one of their daughter's has Cystic Fibrosis and was the poster child for the disease a few years back. Their children write thank you notes for every birthday gift, every christmas present. They are members of the community in every sense of the word.
HE was a nurse, had saved countless lives, brought babies into the world. why? Why them?
I don't get it. I just don't
If I knew then... 11/07
Current mood: annoyed
It seems that parents are silly creatures. When I was 18, my own were going through a divorce and I had just started dating a guy 6 years my senior. This guy was divorced and had a 4 year old son. My parents, silly creatures that they were, encouraged me to RUN not walk away from this person. They forsaw major disaster in my future. I scoffed.
As it was....the marriage was not the major disaster that they forsaw. Thats not to say that it was Cinderella's happily ever after, either. It was the relationship between two very different people who grew in different directions.
Maybe, just maybe, if I had waited till I was a little more mature and had taken the time to have some adventure and independence(like my parents had wanted me to....huh..novel concept...parents with wisdom, who knew?) things may have worked out differently. I doubt it, but you never know. One thing is certain. The daughter and son I have now would not be the people they are. For that reason, alone, I choose not to regret those early years.
It does surprise me that I apparently did such an awful job at being a mother. hmmmmm. It seems my daughter(20 years old...knows EVERYTHING...about EVERYTHING) doesn't remember any of the good times about her earlier years. She doesn't remember the first four years of her life that were spent in a two bedroom drafty mobile home.
She seems to have blocked out the fact that she and I were constant companions during those years. I even had her half-brother over every weekend, whether their father was there or not. Her father was an over-the-road truck driver. He was home once a week, maybe. Sometimes, every couple of weeks.
She definitely doesn't recall how she and her half-brother would play outside. How he would jump things on his bike and she would clap and laugh. They would go down to the pond and catch frogs. They played with the dogs and made snow forts in the wintertime. So entertained and, yes, even happy. It was a chore just getting them to come in for lunch.
I, of course, was lounging around eating bon bons....riiiiight. No, I was doing laundry and cleaning house and feeling so completely isolated that my soul felt like a black hole. She doesn't remember that part.
But we were such awful parents. I signed her up for tap dance and ballet and her brother played baseball and hockey and if they wanted or needed something, we would try to find a way to make sure they had it. We moved into a real three bedroom house with a basement and a garage when she turned 5.
She started kindergarten. Dad got a local job. He worked straight midnight shift. Constantly. When he wasn't working, he was sleeping. This is the life of a truck driver. I worked days at a bank. We had another son. The children all had warm food..clothing...a roof over their heads, video games and electronic gizmos galore. Christmases, and Halloweens and Thanksgivings. But we were reprobates. We failed as parents.
Every bad thing that has happened in our childrens lives..is traceable to us. We are to blame for everything. Every traffic ticket. Every failing grade in a college class. Every missed opportunity. hmmm. I don't suppose it is possible to take responsibility for your own choices? Your own actions? I don't suppose it is possible that every choice you make has a direct link to the consequences of your life? hmmmm. Nah. That couldn't be possible, could it?
Maybe, just maybe. if we just stopped blaming every one else for the things that are wrong in our lives..and we TOOK SOME ACTION to change things, you know what the absolute worse thing that could happen would be? Things wouldn't get worse. You know what might happen? Our lives would become richer, and maybe...just maybe our dreams would become reality. We might even....perish the thought, be happy.
Huh. What a concept.
It seems that parents are silly creatures. When I was 18, my own were going through a divorce and I had just started dating a guy 6 years my senior. This guy was divorced and had a 4 year old son. My parents, silly creatures that they were, encouraged me to RUN not walk away from this person. They forsaw major disaster in my future. I scoffed.
As it was....the marriage was not the major disaster that they forsaw. Thats not to say that it was Cinderella's happily ever after, either. It was the relationship between two very different people who grew in different directions.
Maybe, just maybe, if I had waited till I was a little more mature and had taken the time to have some adventure and independence(like my parents had wanted me to....huh..novel concept...parents with wisdom, who knew?) things may have worked out differently. I doubt it, but you never know. One thing is certain. The daughter and son I have now would not be the people they are. For that reason, alone, I choose not to regret those early years.
It does surprise me that I apparently did such an awful job at being a mother. hmmmmm. It seems my daughter(20 years old...knows EVERYTHING...about EVERYTHING) doesn't remember any of the good times about her earlier years. She doesn't remember the first four years of her life that were spent in a two bedroom drafty mobile home.
She seems to have blocked out the fact that she and I were constant companions during those years. I even had her half-brother over every weekend, whether their father was there or not. Her father was an over-the-road truck driver. He was home once a week, maybe. Sometimes, every couple of weeks.
She definitely doesn't recall how she and her half-brother would play outside. How he would jump things on his bike and she would clap and laugh. They would go down to the pond and catch frogs. They played with the dogs and made snow forts in the wintertime. So entertained and, yes, even happy. It was a chore just getting them to come in for lunch.
I, of course, was lounging around eating bon bons....riiiiight. No, I was doing laundry and cleaning house and feeling so completely isolated that my soul felt like a black hole. She doesn't remember that part.
But we were such awful parents. I signed her up for tap dance and ballet and her brother played baseball and hockey and if they wanted or needed something, we would try to find a way to make sure they had it. We moved into a real three bedroom house with a basement and a garage when she turned 5.
She started kindergarten. Dad got a local job. He worked straight midnight shift. Constantly. When he wasn't working, he was sleeping. This is the life of a truck driver. I worked days at a bank. We had another son. The children all had warm food..clothing...a roof over their heads, video games and electronic gizmos galore. Christmases, and Halloweens and Thanksgivings. But we were reprobates. We failed as parents.
Every bad thing that has happened in our childrens lives..is traceable to us. We are to blame for everything. Every traffic ticket. Every failing grade in a college class. Every missed opportunity. hmmm. I don't suppose it is possible to take responsibility for your own choices? Your own actions? I don't suppose it is possible that every choice you make has a direct link to the consequences of your life? hmmmm. Nah. That couldn't be possible, could it?
Maybe, just maybe. if we just stopped blaming every one else for the things that are wrong in our lives..and we TOOK SOME ACTION to change things, you know what the absolute worse thing that could happen would be? Things wouldn't get worse. You know what might happen? Our lives would become richer, and maybe...just maybe our dreams would become reality. We might even....perish the thought, be happy.
Huh. What a concept.
Tis the Season 11/07
Previously published- November 26, 2001-The Telegraph
Current mood: contemplative
Now that Thanksgiving is over, and the turkey and all the leftover fixings are tucked securely in the fridge, it's time for the Christmas shopping season to officially get under way. Groan. Okay. Pull yourself up by your bootstraps and lets get on with it. Time to make your list. Who are you buying for? Do you have any ideas at all for any of these people? Well, write this down because I'm here to help you.
Grandparents love pictures of the grandkids in brand new frames, gift certificates to their favorite restaurants or maybe, if they are particularly handy, power tools. The mothers or ladies on your list would love anything from Bath and Body Works, an expensive bottle of her favorite perfume(it's a good idea to ask what that is if you have no clues) or, if she's really cool, a gift certificate to the local tattoo/piercing parlor. Christmas is NOT the right time to buy her household cleaning implements. That is, if you are trying to score any brownie points with her at all.
A lot of fathers or men out there are into sports, the great outdoors, or cars. If you are really lucky, all three. This opens up a wide variety of gift-giving opportunities. You have a HUGE array of gadgets and gear to choose from in those categories. If all else fails, tickets to a concert or sporting event is usually the perfect item.
Kids. They are a really tricky bunch. Advertisers are really pushing all their buttons very hard at this time of year. Listen very carefully for this phrase: "Mom, I want THAT!!!" This usually signifies that some commercial has just caught their attention and they simply MUST have whatever it is that is being advertised. I do have some ideas, even in the off-chance that you have not heard that phrase. If the child is a girl under ten, I have two words for you: Barbie and Bratz. Trust me, you will be loved. If the boy is the same age the words are TONKA and sporting equipment.
Any teenagers on that list? Boys are tough. Try a gift certificate to the local electronics store, a year's supply of hair gel or maybe some outrageously expensive yet completely useless accessory for their car. Teenage girls, on the other hand, are a different species completely. Don't try to predict what is going on in their heads, let alone what they might want. It can't be done. Run, don't walk to the nearest shopping mall and get a gift card or certificate. All those stores to choose from? She'll love you forever.
Are you ready for the actual shopping now? Well, before you hit the mall, or store, you should know a few things. First of all, and this is crucial, do you have your cash, debit or credit card handy? Better check now, because , trust me, you will need it.
When parking, it is customary to circle the lot at least 40 times so that you can find the optimal parking spot. When you do finally find a car that is pulling out, you should pounce on it immediately like a pack of hyenas on a wounded gazelle, because it is the last space you will see for another 20 minutes or so. I should warn you, however, that this space is usually at the northernmost corner, approximately three miles from the entrance.
The crowd inside will probably be thick, so maybe you should head straight to the food court and fortify yourself for the battle ahead. You probably worked up an appetite on the trek from the parking lot.
Okay, enough stalling, time to face the madness. Here are a few little known rules of mall etiquette: Beware the "mall walkers". They will be traveling in packs of two or three and at a high rate of speed in their quest to get some exercise and have been known to run right over small children and never even break stride. When riding the escalator, you cannot share a step with anyone unless you are actually with that person. It's considered an invasion of personal space. Please leave at least two steps between yourself and the person in front of you. Face forward at all times.
Watch out for the "Perfume Guerrillas" posted in the cosmetics departments of the major department stores. Their sole purpose is to spray you with some fragrance that you cannot possibly hope to afford. It probably smells horrendous and you will find that a nuclear explosion is the only thing that will remove the scent from your clothing.
No matter what you do, try to avoid taking small children into the toy store. I know its elementary, but you'd be amazed how many people actually forget this rule. There is no way to escape the establishment without a big struggle and probably a major tantrum - and that's just from the sales clerk behind the cash register. Then you have to deal with the child as well. Just don't.
Last of all, please remember that the salespeople are people too, and its not going to make your shopping experience any more pleasant, faster, or less expensive, if you scream at them about something that is probably beyond their control anyway.
You should know by now that this season only comes once a year and you won't have to go through it again until next year. Just try to picture all the joy your gifts will bring to your loved ones and how much fun you had finding them and the act of giving.
Most of all, let us all try to find the true spirit of goodwill to all mankind and carry that giving spirit with us throughout the coming year
Current mood: contemplative
Now that Thanksgiving is over, and the turkey and all the leftover fixings are tucked securely in the fridge, it's time for the Christmas shopping season to officially get under way. Groan. Okay. Pull yourself up by your bootstraps and lets get on with it. Time to make your list. Who are you buying for? Do you have any ideas at all for any of these people? Well, write this down because I'm here to help you.
Grandparents love pictures of the grandkids in brand new frames, gift certificates to their favorite restaurants or maybe, if they are particularly handy, power tools. The mothers or ladies on your list would love anything from Bath and Body Works, an expensive bottle of her favorite perfume(it's a good idea to ask what that is if you have no clues) or, if she's really cool, a gift certificate to the local tattoo/piercing parlor. Christmas is NOT the right time to buy her household cleaning implements. That is, if you are trying to score any brownie points with her at all.
A lot of fathers or men out there are into sports, the great outdoors, or cars. If you are really lucky, all three. This opens up a wide variety of gift-giving opportunities. You have a HUGE array of gadgets and gear to choose from in those categories. If all else fails, tickets to a concert or sporting event is usually the perfect item.
Kids. They are a really tricky bunch. Advertisers are really pushing all their buttons very hard at this time of year. Listen very carefully for this phrase: "Mom, I want THAT!!!" This usually signifies that some commercial has just caught their attention and they simply MUST have whatever it is that is being advertised. I do have some ideas, even in the off-chance that you have not heard that phrase. If the child is a girl under ten, I have two words for you: Barbie and Bratz. Trust me, you will be loved. If the boy is the same age the words are TONKA and sporting equipment.
Any teenagers on that list? Boys are tough. Try a gift certificate to the local electronics store, a year's supply of hair gel or maybe some outrageously expensive yet completely useless accessory for their car. Teenage girls, on the other hand, are a different species completely. Don't try to predict what is going on in their heads, let alone what they might want. It can't be done. Run, don't walk to the nearest shopping mall and get a gift card or certificate. All those stores to choose from? She'll love you forever.
Are you ready for the actual shopping now? Well, before you hit the mall, or store, you should know a few things. First of all, and this is crucial, do you have your cash, debit or credit card handy? Better check now, because , trust me, you will need it.
When parking, it is customary to circle the lot at least 40 times so that you can find the optimal parking spot. When you do finally find a car that is pulling out, you should pounce on it immediately like a pack of hyenas on a wounded gazelle, because it is the last space you will see for another 20 minutes or so. I should warn you, however, that this space is usually at the northernmost corner, approximately three miles from the entrance.
The crowd inside will probably be thick, so maybe you should head straight to the food court and fortify yourself for the battle ahead. You probably worked up an appetite on the trek from the parking lot.
Okay, enough stalling, time to face the madness. Here are a few little known rules of mall etiquette: Beware the "mall walkers". They will be traveling in packs of two or three and at a high rate of speed in their quest to get some exercise and have been known to run right over small children and never even break stride. When riding the escalator, you cannot share a step with anyone unless you are actually with that person. It's considered an invasion of personal space. Please leave at least two steps between yourself and the person in front of you. Face forward at all times.
Watch out for the "Perfume Guerrillas" posted in the cosmetics departments of the major department stores. Their sole purpose is to spray you with some fragrance that you cannot possibly hope to afford. It probably smells horrendous and you will find that a nuclear explosion is the only thing that will remove the scent from your clothing.
No matter what you do, try to avoid taking small children into the toy store. I know its elementary, but you'd be amazed how many people actually forget this rule. There is no way to escape the establishment without a big struggle and probably a major tantrum - and that's just from the sales clerk behind the cash register. Then you have to deal with the child as well. Just don't.
Last of all, please remember that the salespeople are people too, and its not going to make your shopping experience any more pleasant, faster, or less expensive, if you scream at them about something that is probably beyond their control anyway.
You should know by now that this season only comes once a year and you won't have to go through it again until next year. Just try to picture all the joy your gifts will bring to your loved ones and how much fun you had finding them and the act of giving.
Most of all, let us all try to find the true spirit of goodwill to all mankind and carry that giving spirit with us throughout the coming year
Storyteller 11/17/007
Everyone has stories. They are what define us, shape us. Its our history. Who we are and where we've been. They tell other people what to expect when they get to know us.
Stories. How wierd uncle Al got the scar. My first car. My first kiss.
Who we choose to tell our stories to is almost as important as the stories themselves. Can you trust anyone with that information? Whom do you trust?
Will they use the information against you? Will they understand? Its a risk.
Take it. Show someone a piece of you.
We each take different paths in life, but no matter where we go, we take a little of each other, everywhere
Stories. How wierd uncle Al got the scar. My first car. My first kiss.
Who we choose to tell our stories to is almost as important as the stories themselves. Can you trust anyone with that information? Whom do you trust?
Will they use the information against you? Will they understand? Its a risk.
Take it. Show someone a piece of you.
We each take different paths in life, but no matter where we go, we take a little of each other, everywhere
Sunday, August 2, 2009
Mom Called 7/07
Mom called
Mom called. I can picture her now, walking around her kitchen, the phone plastered to her ear. The summer sun streaming in through the window bathing the room in its golden light. She does small tasks while she talks to me. (Have you talked to your sister lately?) Splash, clank, the sounds of running water- she's doing dishes. (What's new at work?) Sizzle, pop, crackle, scrape - she's cooking dinner. (Your grandmother went into the hospital this week) silence- she must be folding clothes. She talks to me every day. Without fail. Every day.
I remember the summer I began dating my husband. We were still in that lovely "togetherness" phase that happens so often at the beginning of a relationship. I got into the habit of turning the telephone off on Saturday mornings because we liked to sleep in. Mom just couldn't understand that I didn't wake up at 6:30 a.m. every day of the week like she did. I told her not to call till after 10:00 a.m. She didn't hear that part of the conversation.
The next Saturday, just like every one previous to that, the phone rang at precisely 7:00 in the morning. Yes, I answered it - successfully breaking 'the mood'. The next weekend....the phones(even my cell phone) were shut off on Friday night and not turned on again until around noon. Apparently mom had tried to call and received no answer.
She was incensed."What if some emergency had occurred?" There had been none. "What if something had happened to your grandmother??" Nothing had happened. 'What if someone had died?" No one did, and even if they had, I reminded her, I would NOT be the first person on anyone's list to call. When I was reachable, the person in question would still be, I am sure, deceased. Silence on her end. "Well, if that's the way you feel about it, well that's the way you feel about it." Silence broken.
As punishment, my mother did NOT call me for forty eight hours. I'm sure I was supposed to feel guilty and chastised. Strangely enough, my future husband and I went to a movie and had a wonderful time. We went to dinner. No guilt in evidence, anywhere. Two whole days worth of guilt free life. I finally relented and called her. Tuesday.
She acted as if nothing negative at all had occurred and so did I, we fell back into the routine of our daily calls about nothing in particular. However, she never again called before 10:00 a.m. and I no longer felt the need to turn my phones off on a Friday night.
Mom called it was a Thursday. Her voice sounded strained and thin. "Are you sitting down?" she asked. I giggled a little and said that I was at my desk at work, so I was, of course, seated. A weird feeling passed over me. Like someone was walking across my grave or something spooky was about to happen. "I have some news," she said in that strange shaky voice that I had not heard before. "I have to have some tests tomorrow....don't worry I'm sure everything will be all right."
We talked for a few minutes more, I assured her that I just knew it would all be just fine. Bad things happened to other people, they didn't happen to me and they didn't happen to my family.
I called mom the next day. Test results not in yet. I called mom that night. Yes, she got the results and she was trying to work up the courage to call as soon as she figured out how to tell me and my sister. How do you tell someone you have cancer? It's not something you can write in an e-mail. Telephone conversations don't seem adequate either, but since she lived a few hours away, that was going to have to suffice.
Mom had passed out at work earlier in the week and was taken to the emergency room, where she had been admitted to the hospital. My sister and I had wanted to come to her but she insisted that it would be stupid, considering she would probably be released by the time we got there and we both had our jobs and families to attend to.
Her blood count was very abnormal. She thought she was just anemic. Her white blood cells outnumbered her red blood cells by about 1000 to 1. She had lymphoma and she just thought she had a bad cold. According to one of her nurses she was a legend on that particular floor of the hospital. Usually when people were admitted with blood counts of that caliber, they were already dead.
She had ignored the various signals her body had been sending her for weeks and even months. The swelling in her ankles and the fatigue were just passed off as minor ailments. She put her feet up a lot and rested. The anemia was treated with Iron tablets. Little things to be dealt with and quickly forgotten.
During the months of her treatment my sister and I would take turns going to visit her every couple of weeks. That way mom got to see us and we her, but we didn't have to take too much valuable time off from our jobs and families. She was one of the bravest people I had ever met. During this same period of time her own father (my grandfather) as well as her sister-in-law (my aunt) were also battling terminal cancers of their own.
My grandfather had bone cancer, my aunt had cancer of the liver and pancreas. Mom was single at that time. She had no husband or boyfriend to stay by her side. My parents had divorced ten years earlier. Between working her own job and going for chemotherapy and medication, she was also visiting hospital floors for her father and a woman who was as close to her as a sister. Watching them die was like looking into her own possible future she told me, and it frightened her.
On one of my extended weekend visits that summer, I took mom for her chemotherapy. I wanted to see what she was going through and I felt powerless to help in any other capacity. The poison they pumped into her system to kill the cancer cells made her nauseous and dizzy and she couldn't drive. This was toward the end of her treatment. She had lost weight, she was pale, her hair was gone and she was never seen outside the house without her wig(a horrible creation that looked nothing like her own hair at all) or a colorful scarf wrapped as a turban covering her head. She nicknamed herself "suburban turban". She was tired a lot and napped frequently when she could.
We went to the treatment center and the nurses there explained the whole procedure to me, I spoke to her doctor and he explained that her treatment was progressing very well.
Apparently if you are going to get cancer, the type to get is the type that she had. It responds well to treatment and the survival rate is very high. I never thought, in all my life, that the words, 'high survival rate' would make me happy, but on that day, I was ecstatic. I couldn't wait to get back to the house and tell my sister what I had learned.
I sat next to mom in one of the comfy recliners in the treatment center and watched as the medication dripped into the shunt that they had implanted into her chest. I watched a soap opera as the treatment went on. It would last for at least an hour, they had warned. I watched the other patients there. I thought about their various illnesses and I thought about how brave they were and how grateful I was that I was not one of them.
When mom was about five minutes into her treatment she fell asleep. Her face took on an almost childlike innocence. Her breathing was deep and regular as her body rested and her mind relaxed. I smiled a little as she snored lightly. Strange that I should find a moment of any kind of joy in that place. The nurse smiled at me and told me that she does that every time. I watched her as I know I have watched my own children sleep. Marveling at the peace that slumber gives us, watching her breathe, praying.
When we returned from the hospital, my sister and six year old daughter greeted us.
Catie drew grandma a picture and she asks if she can lay down with her when she takes a nap. Mom gratefully obliges, the treatment had made her very dizzy and she is looking forward to the rest. She takes off her wig while preparing to lay down and we all watch her. Her head is fuzzy, like a newborn chick, and her green eyes are huge in her pale porcelain face.
My daughter, in all her six year old wisdom, hugs her and tells her that she looks beautiful and should always wear her hair that way. My sister and I and our mother all laugh at that and Catie just smiles.
After that day, the wig and the turban were retired. If mom was going anywhere in public she wore a baseball cap to prevent her scalp from being burned by the sun or to keep her head warm in the wind. If she was indoors she wore her fuzzy head proudly as a badge of honor for the trials she was going through.
Her hair began growing back that fall. It came in very curly- unlike it was before. She was thrilled and said she would take anything that would cover up her head. My Grandfather died that winter. My aunt about a month later.
That long weekend in August was the last time I would ever see either of them.
Mom made it through that year, and the year after that, and the year after that. In fact, after her annual check up last year she was officially declared "in remission". Her doctor said that the chances of recurrence are very low. Again, a phrase I never dreamed would be a reason for any feelings of joy on my part.
I called mom today. I didn't really have anything of any great consequence to say to her. I asked after her husband(my step-father, her high school sweetheart and first love - they married a few years ago). I told her how her grandchildren are doing. She asked after my husband.
Most of all, I was just glad she was there to pick up the phone. I know that one day she won't be. Today, she is.
Mom called. I can picture her now, walking around her kitchen, the phone plastered to her ear. The summer sun streaming in through the window bathing the room in its golden light. She does small tasks while she talks to me. (Have you talked to your sister lately?) Splash, clank, the sounds of running water- she's doing dishes. (What's new at work?) Sizzle, pop, crackle, scrape - she's cooking dinner. (Your grandmother went into the hospital this week) silence- she must be folding clothes. She talks to me every day. Without fail. Every day.
I remember the summer I began dating my husband. We were still in that lovely "togetherness" phase that happens so often at the beginning of a relationship. I got into the habit of turning the telephone off on Saturday mornings because we liked to sleep in. Mom just couldn't understand that I didn't wake up at 6:30 a.m. every day of the week like she did. I told her not to call till after 10:00 a.m. She didn't hear that part of the conversation.
The next Saturday, just like every one previous to that, the phone rang at precisely 7:00 in the morning. Yes, I answered it - successfully breaking 'the mood'. The next weekend....the phones(even my cell phone) were shut off on Friday night and not turned on again until around noon. Apparently mom had tried to call and received no answer.
She was incensed."What if some emergency had occurred?" There had been none. "What if something had happened to your grandmother??" Nothing had happened. 'What if someone had died?" No one did, and even if they had, I reminded her, I would NOT be the first person on anyone's list to call. When I was reachable, the person in question would still be, I am sure, deceased. Silence on her end. "Well, if that's the way you feel about it, well that's the way you feel about it." Silence broken.
As punishment, my mother did NOT call me for forty eight hours. I'm sure I was supposed to feel guilty and chastised. Strangely enough, my future husband and I went to a movie and had a wonderful time. We went to dinner. No guilt in evidence, anywhere. Two whole days worth of guilt free life. I finally relented and called her. Tuesday.
She acted as if nothing negative at all had occurred and so did I, we fell back into the routine of our daily calls about nothing in particular. However, she never again called before 10:00 a.m. and I no longer felt the need to turn my phones off on a Friday night.
Mom called it was a Thursday. Her voice sounded strained and thin. "Are you sitting down?" she asked. I giggled a little and said that I was at my desk at work, so I was, of course, seated. A weird feeling passed over me. Like someone was walking across my grave or something spooky was about to happen. "I have some news," she said in that strange shaky voice that I had not heard before. "I have to have some tests tomorrow....don't worry I'm sure everything will be all right."
We talked for a few minutes more, I assured her that I just knew it would all be just fine. Bad things happened to other people, they didn't happen to me and they didn't happen to my family.
I called mom the next day. Test results not in yet. I called mom that night. Yes, she got the results and she was trying to work up the courage to call as soon as she figured out how to tell me and my sister. How do you tell someone you have cancer? It's not something you can write in an e-mail. Telephone conversations don't seem adequate either, but since she lived a few hours away, that was going to have to suffice.
Mom had passed out at work earlier in the week and was taken to the emergency room, where she had been admitted to the hospital. My sister and I had wanted to come to her but she insisted that it would be stupid, considering she would probably be released by the time we got there and we both had our jobs and families to attend to.
Her blood count was very abnormal. She thought she was just anemic. Her white blood cells outnumbered her red blood cells by about 1000 to 1. She had lymphoma and she just thought she had a bad cold. According to one of her nurses she was a legend on that particular floor of the hospital. Usually when people were admitted with blood counts of that caliber, they were already dead.
She had ignored the various signals her body had been sending her for weeks and even months. The swelling in her ankles and the fatigue were just passed off as minor ailments. She put her feet up a lot and rested. The anemia was treated with Iron tablets. Little things to be dealt with and quickly forgotten.
During the months of her treatment my sister and I would take turns going to visit her every couple of weeks. That way mom got to see us and we her, but we didn't have to take too much valuable time off from our jobs and families. She was one of the bravest people I had ever met. During this same period of time her own father (my grandfather) as well as her sister-in-law (my aunt) were also battling terminal cancers of their own.
My grandfather had bone cancer, my aunt had cancer of the liver and pancreas. Mom was single at that time. She had no husband or boyfriend to stay by her side. My parents had divorced ten years earlier. Between working her own job and going for chemotherapy and medication, she was also visiting hospital floors for her father and a woman who was as close to her as a sister. Watching them die was like looking into her own possible future she told me, and it frightened her.
On one of my extended weekend visits that summer, I took mom for her chemotherapy. I wanted to see what she was going through and I felt powerless to help in any other capacity. The poison they pumped into her system to kill the cancer cells made her nauseous and dizzy and she couldn't drive. This was toward the end of her treatment. She had lost weight, she was pale, her hair was gone and she was never seen outside the house without her wig(a horrible creation that looked nothing like her own hair at all) or a colorful scarf wrapped as a turban covering her head. She nicknamed herself "suburban turban". She was tired a lot and napped frequently when she could.
We went to the treatment center and the nurses there explained the whole procedure to me, I spoke to her doctor and he explained that her treatment was progressing very well.
Apparently if you are going to get cancer, the type to get is the type that she had. It responds well to treatment and the survival rate is very high. I never thought, in all my life, that the words, 'high survival rate' would make me happy, but on that day, I was ecstatic. I couldn't wait to get back to the house and tell my sister what I had learned.
I sat next to mom in one of the comfy recliners in the treatment center and watched as the medication dripped into the shunt that they had implanted into her chest. I watched a soap opera as the treatment went on. It would last for at least an hour, they had warned. I watched the other patients there. I thought about their various illnesses and I thought about how brave they were and how grateful I was that I was not one of them.
When mom was about five minutes into her treatment she fell asleep. Her face took on an almost childlike innocence. Her breathing was deep and regular as her body rested and her mind relaxed. I smiled a little as she snored lightly. Strange that I should find a moment of any kind of joy in that place. The nurse smiled at me and told me that she does that every time. I watched her as I know I have watched my own children sleep. Marveling at the peace that slumber gives us, watching her breathe, praying.
When we returned from the hospital, my sister and six year old daughter greeted us.
Catie drew grandma a picture and she asks if she can lay down with her when she takes a nap. Mom gratefully obliges, the treatment had made her very dizzy and she is looking forward to the rest. She takes off her wig while preparing to lay down and we all watch her. Her head is fuzzy, like a newborn chick, and her green eyes are huge in her pale porcelain face.
My daughter, in all her six year old wisdom, hugs her and tells her that she looks beautiful and should always wear her hair that way. My sister and I and our mother all laugh at that and Catie just smiles.
After that day, the wig and the turban were retired. If mom was going anywhere in public she wore a baseball cap to prevent her scalp from being burned by the sun or to keep her head warm in the wind. If she was indoors she wore her fuzzy head proudly as a badge of honor for the trials she was going through.
Her hair began growing back that fall. It came in very curly- unlike it was before. She was thrilled and said she would take anything that would cover up her head. My Grandfather died that winter. My aunt about a month later.
That long weekend in August was the last time I would ever see either of them.
Mom made it through that year, and the year after that, and the year after that. In fact, after her annual check up last year she was officially declared "in remission". Her doctor said that the chances of recurrence are very low. Again, a phrase I never dreamed would be a reason for any feelings of joy on my part.
I called mom today. I didn't really have anything of any great consequence to say to her. I asked after her husband(my step-father, her high school sweetheart and first love - they married a few years ago). I told her how her grandchildren are doing. She asked after my husband.
Most of all, I was just glad she was there to pick up the phone. I know that one day she won't be. Today, she is.
My Turn 11/3/07
My Turn
Current mood: cranky
I woke up in the most horrible mood the other day. So tired of the day to day grind. Get up, go to work, come home, laundry, dinner...yada..yada..yada. I thought about it and realized....I've been in the work force for 25 years. Let me say that again. 25 FREAKING years.
In that time, I've taken very few vacations and the only real length of time where I was not working was the six weeks following the birth of each of my children. Basically....I've had.......6 months off...in 25 years.
I've spent all this time....doing WHAT? Making humanity safe for checkbooks everywhere?? Helping others(ex husband number 1...present husband) achieve their dreams (Truck Driver, Educator) respectively and...where did MY dreams go?
What was it that I wanted to be? When will it be my turn to be the one taken care of instead of the one taking care? How long does a person wait to find their bliss? When is it too late?
Has it already happened? Is "too late" already here?
Current mood: cranky
I woke up in the most horrible mood the other day. So tired of the day to day grind. Get up, go to work, come home, laundry, dinner...yada..yada..yada. I thought about it and realized....I've been in the work force for 25 years. Let me say that again. 25 FREAKING years.
In that time, I've taken very few vacations and the only real length of time where I was not working was the six weeks following the birth of each of my children. Basically....I've had.......6 months off...in 25 years.
I've spent all this time....doing WHAT? Making humanity safe for checkbooks everywhere?? Helping others(ex husband number 1...present husband) achieve their dreams (Truck Driver, Educator) respectively and...where did MY dreams go?
What was it that I wanted to be? When will it be my turn to be the one taken care of instead of the one taking care? How long does a person wait to find their bliss? When is it too late?
Has it already happened? Is "too late" already here?
Comfort in Silence 10/18/07
Comfort in Silence
Some people are uncomfortable in silence. The indeterminate amount of time passing, with no sound to mark it, bothers them. The quiet reminds them of their solitude. They need words to fill the space. They talk of nothing, so they don't have to think about everything.
I find solace in the silence. It reminds me of the times I've spent with loved ones and no words were needed. It reminds me of whittling. For those that are unfamilar with the term, to "whittle" is a southern thing.
Most of my family is southern. My great grandfather would sit with me under a HUGE oak tree in front of his store - he owned a tiny combination grocery store and luncheonette out in the middle of the country. When I say 'out in the middle of the country" I mean, MILES...and MILES from anywhere. If ten cars came through, THAT was a busy day.
My great grandfather would sit out under the oak tree..on a bench that he had built. He would sit there for hours, carving(whittling) with an old knife on a piece of wood he had picked up(usually that morning). He would carve on it all day long and whatever shape it turned out to be at the end of the day, is the shape it would remain in for the rest of it's existence.
He hardly ever spoke. I believe I heard ten words from him the whole time I knew him. He could convey more with one look, than most people said in ten sentences full of words. When we would go to visit, he almost always motioned me over to sit next to him while he carved.
He taught me that silence really is golden and that the sound of the leaves blowing in the breeze and the noise that a knife makes as it carves away a piece of wood from a branch, is sometimes all the conversation that is needed.
Some people are uncomfortable in silence. The indeterminate amount of time passing, with no sound to mark it, bothers them. The quiet reminds them of their solitude. They need words to fill the space. They talk of nothing, so they don't have to think about everything.
I find solace in the silence. It reminds me of the times I've spent with loved ones and no words were needed. It reminds me of whittling. For those that are unfamilar with the term, to "whittle" is a southern thing.
Most of my family is southern. My great grandfather would sit with me under a HUGE oak tree in front of his store - he owned a tiny combination grocery store and luncheonette out in the middle of the country. When I say 'out in the middle of the country" I mean, MILES...and MILES from anywhere. If ten cars came through, THAT was a busy day.
My great grandfather would sit out under the oak tree..on a bench that he had built. He would sit there for hours, carving(whittling) with an old knife on a piece of wood he had picked up(usually that morning). He would carve on it all day long and whatever shape it turned out to be at the end of the day, is the shape it would remain in for the rest of it's existence.
He hardly ever spoke. I believe I heard ten words from him the whole time I knew him. He could convey more with one look, than most people said in ten sentences full of words. When we would go to visit, he almost always motioned me over to sit next to him while he carved.
He taught me that silence really is golden and that the sound of the leaves blowing in the breeze and the noise that a knife makes as it carves away a piece of wood from a branch, is sometimes all the conversation that is needed.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)