Over on Facebook, a friend's post mentioned how much she enjoyed this year's family reunion, how much she already looked forward to 2015. Got me thinking about our own Reynolds family reunion, the one we never planned & I'll never forget.
Looking back, can see that our wedding & all the days leading up to it were touched in so many ways by what's best called magic ~ unexpected, transcended any expectation, seemed e were many downright magical - as in unexpected, no logical explanation. Beginning with John, of course!
Even at the time, I was fully aware that having ALL of my Reynolds (Mom's family) with us to celebrate love was nothing sort of a wish fulfilled. And totally out of the blue! Will always remember reading Peggy's letter to a just-woke-from-her-nap Mom. Expected that she & Jack would come - they made it to my brothers' & got in a visit with Aunt Kay (Mom) every summer. As nutty about family as I am! But Mom & I did jigs of joy after learning that Jim & Renee & the girls would here, ditto Karen. Over the moon with happiness.
THEN, we got the letter from the Ripleys. Not only were Bob & Linda BOTH coming, so was their dad. Uncle Paul was tearing himself away from the ranch? Just didn't seem possible. And David would be here, too.
In his remarks at the reception, Peter said that the vast number of people surrounding him - close to 400 (not a typo) - had come to honor Mom. He was off the mark. Some came because they were friends of Mom's & wanted the chance to share her happiness, some because they were friends of Peter or Mim or Mike & Kerry and it was a chance to touch base with each or all. A lot came because of the bride & groom. But the Peddicords (Uncle Al's family) & the Ripleys (Aunt Betty's) came thanks to a great, deep magic - love of family
Tuesday, July 29, 2014
Saturday, July 26, 2014
wee small hours - MIM
Woke up in the wee small hours, thinking about my sister, Mim. At 62 to her 70, I'm just as baffled as ever. Will there ever come a time when thoughts of "What happened?" won't ruffle my rest?
When I was a very impressionable teenager, she totally rocked, was the embodiment of cool. Did a summer workshop in Greenwich Village's Circle in the Square Theatre, went to far off places for college, traveled to Hawaii & Ireland (by herself!), batted about ideas & become great friends with brilliant professors, lived in San Francisco in the height of the '60s, was nanny to a large family in northern NJ whose Dad was remarrying. Did amazing things.
But she never brought that personality back home. At least, not back home to me. When she was in her hometown, she blended as much as possible into the background. She had the gifts to host discussion "salons" - friends coming for something to sip & wonderful conversations on a wildly wide range of topics. Instead, we talked about politics & Pitcairns & the latest episode of The Big Valley.
She was brilliant abroad, incredibly small at home. From things she's shared, it seems that she felt confined within family, expecting that none of us expected anything brilliant or awesome from her, when the reverse was the reality.
To this day, am baffled by Mim getting her undergrad degree from NYU & masters from Rutgers. Not by her being accepted or graduating, but by HOW she financed such costly accomplishments. NOT the sort of thing discussed at home - talk about ignoring the elephant in the room. How do you make virtually no money, have no apparent independent means of support, yet afford getting not only your undergrad, but a grad degree, one from a top tier & the other from a highly respected university? I wondered, but it was a verboten subject at home. It just happened.
Woke up in the wee small hours contemplating the mystery that is my sister. Not the sort of thought that welcomes back sleep. Or, sadly, illumination. .
When I was a very impressionable teenager, she totally rocked, was the embodiment of cool. Did a summer workshop in Greenwich Village's Circle in the Square Theatre, went to far off places for college, traveled to Hawaii & Ireland (by herself!), batted about ideas & become great friends with brilliant professors, lived in San Francisco in the height of the '60s, was nanny to a large family in northern NJ whose Dad was remarrying. Did amazing things.
But she never brought that personality back home. At least, not back home to me. When she was in her hometown, she blended as much as possible into the background. She had the gifts to host discussion "salons" - friends coming for something to sip & wonderful conversations on a wildly wide range of topics. Instead, we talked about politics & Pitcairns & the latest episode of The Big Valley.
She was brilliant abroad, incredibly small at home. From things she's shared, it seems that she felt confined within family, expecting that none of us expected anything brilliant or awesome from her, when the reverse was the reality.
To this day, am baffled by Mim getting her undergrad degree from NYU & masters from Rutgers. Not by her being accepted or graduating, but by HOW she financed such costly accomplishments. NOT the sort of thing discussed at home - talk about ignoring the elephant in the room. How do you make virtually no money, have no apparent independent means of support, yet afford getting not only your undergrad, but a grad degree, one from a top tier & the other from a highly respected university? I wondered, but it was a verboten subject at home. It just happened.
Woke up in the wee small hours contemplating the mystery that is my sister. Not the sort of thought that welcomes back sleep. Or, sadly, illumination. .
Wednesday, July 23, 2014
from triggers to prompts
It's reasonable that some folks might consider a blog that touches on "secrets of the home" to be a bit... self defeating. Why hash over all the old rigamarole? Doesn't that perpetuate rather than resolve?
Those are interesting points to ponder. And quite wrong.
Growing up in a family & a culture that seemed to espouse wilfully NOT seeing what was right before us, I saw the harm done by not seeing what's right under your nose. It's intentional blindness that does damage, rather than an open sharing of issues & even sore points. By open discussion, people can see where they are in agreement with each other, where they respectfully (or vociferously) differ.
The intriguing things that happened throughout my life are no worse than a lot, maybe most people. It is the rare family that gets through a generational cycle without sturm & drang of some sort. We're supposed to use it as grist for the mill of understanding, not a millstone around our necks.
By writing about things as I experienced them - which is not to say it's identical or even close to how others did - stuff that were stumbling blocks & triggers for distress can become illumination & prompts for better understanding.
Those are interesting points to ponder. And quite wrong.
Growing up in a family & a culture that seemed to espouse wilfully NOT seeing what was right before us, I saw the harm done by not seeing what's right under your nose. It's intentional blindness that does damage, rather than an open sharing of issues & even sore points. By open discussion, people can see where they are in agreement with each other, where they respectfully (or vociferously) differ.
The intriguing things that happened throughout my life are no worse than a lot, maybe most people. It is the rare family that gets through a generational cycle without sturm & drang of some sort. We're supposed to use it as grist for the mill of understanding, not a millstone around our necks.
By writing about things as I experienced them - which is not to say it's identical or even close to how others did - stuff that were stumbling blocks & triggers for distress can become illumination & prompts for better understanding.
amory
A dear young friend is bidding adieu to a massively beloved member of her family this morning. My thoughts & hearts are with them. Milhouse has four legs & fur, but that pup is as much a part of the family as my friend & her husband. Her boys have never known life without their furry brother.
Their preparation for the parting - looking at pictures, showering him with all the love they've felt & will feel, giving him a saucer of beer - has me remembering Amory, the best cat in the universe.
We only had Amory for a year, but it was a year touched with magic & a deeper sense of all that animals bring to our lives.
Amory was our second cat. Chessie took a LONG time to adjust to life with us. We expected the same from Amory.
Neither John nor I had any intention of getting another cat, but the same friend who connected us with Chessie called up one bitterly cold January evening to say that they had a rescue cat from Doylestown in need of a home & could we take him, if only until they could find a permanent place. I'd just read The Christmas Cat, so was in just the right spot for saying yes, yes to everything. Yes to welcoming this unknown, from her description half-starved cat into our home, family, hearts.
When Leslie walked in the front door with this little, scrawny black cat, I thought, "This is going to take a while. He's had such a hard go, he's going to be even more distrustful than Chessie." HA!
John & I were surprised when Leslie put him down on the living room floor. We'd prepared the front room as his "introduction" chamber. No need. That cat took one look around, looked up at us, and seemed to say, "How lovely - the Plaza!" and made himself immediately at home.
Amory was a black short-hair of undetermined age, but everyone in the know agreed he was an older cat. He was small & thin as a rail & the most social creature I ever encountered, man or beast. With Chessie, he showed restraint & diplomacy, letting her make the overtures to something more than abject worship of her self. The two of them would become the best of friends, happiest by the other's side.
When guests arrived - back then, we had a lot of them & a lot of parties, which Amory loved - he'd greet them Peter, with whom he had an especially close relationship, said that he felt Amory always greeted him with, "So happy to see you! Can I get you something to eat, maybe a tweek of catnip?" It brings happy tears to my eyes remembering Sunday nights, when Peter would stop by late in the evening to read the Inquirer - my brother on the couch near the lamp, reading the paper with a cat, all contentment, on either side. When Peter stopped coming, Amory seemed quite heartbroken, like he'd lost a close friend & didn't know why.
Amory & Chessie shared the rare accomplishment of being published authors! Not just published, but part of an anthology that gets five stars from both Amazon and Barnes & Noble!! My heart is tender in telling you that their letter to Smarty Jones congratulating the local horse on winning the first two legs of the Triple Crown was NOT with the rest of the featured letters from humans & animals. There was no description of their "owners" or describing them as "pets." Instead, the letter is tucked in the very back, looking just as they wrote it, with the two of them given full credit, as deserved. How many cats do YOU know who can add a publishing credit to their cv?
It broke our hearts to say our adieus so soon. We took tender care with our boy's small, sweet body. John dug a hole at Amory's favorite spot, under the rhododendron. I layered it with fern, the rose petals. With Chessie close by, we lowered him down, then laid another layer of rose petals over him, completely covering every bit of our sweet boy.
Writing this, tears are streaming down my face. To this day - ten years later - either John or I will say to the other, "I miss Amory." He is forever in our hearts, as Milhouse will forever be in the hearts of the Browns.
Their preparation for the parting - looking at pictures, showering him with all the love they've felt & will feel, giving him a saucer of beer - has me remembering Amory, the best cat in the universe.
We only had Amory for a year, but it was a year touched with magic & a deeper sense of all that animals bring to our lives.
Amory was our second cat. Chessie took a LONG time to adjust to life with us. We expected the same from Amory.
Neither John nor I had any intention of getting another cat, but the same friend who connected us with Chessie called up one bitterly cold January evening to say that they had a rescue cat from Doylestown in need of a home & could we take him, if only until they could find a permanent place. I'd just read The Christmas Cat, so was in just the right spot for saying yes, yes to everything. Yes to welcoming this unknown, from her description half-starved cat into our home, family, hearts.
When Leslie walked in the front door with this little, scrawny black cat, I thought, "This is going to take a while. He's had such a hard go, he's going to be even more distrustful than Chessie." HA!
John & I were surprised when Leslie put him down on the living room floor. We'd prepared the front room as his "introduction" chamber. No need. That cat took one look around, looked up at us, and seemed to say, "How lovely - the Plaza!" and made himself immediately at home.
Amory was a black short-hair of undetermined age, but everyone in the know agreed he was an older cat. He was small & thin as a rail & the most social creature I ever encountered, man or beast. With Chessie, he showed restraint & diplomacy, letting her make the overtures to something more than abject worship of her self. The two of them would become the best of friends, happiest by the other's side.
When guests arrived - back then, we had a lot of them & a lot of parties, which Amory loved - he'd greet them Peter, with whom he had an especially close relationship, said that he felt Amory always greeted him with, "So happy to see you! Can I get you something to eat, maybe a tweek of catnip?" It brings happy tears to my eyes remembering Sunday nights, when Peter would stop by late in the evening to read the Inquirer - my brother on the couch near the lamp, reading the paper with a cat, all contentment, on either side. When Peter stopped coming, Amory seemed quite heartbroken, like he'd lost a close friend & didn't know why.
Amory & Chessie shared the rare accomplishment of being published authors! Not just published, but part of an anthology that gets five stars from both Amazon and Barnes & Noble!! My heart is tender in telling you that their letter to Smarty Jones congratulating the local horse on winning the first two legs of the Triple Crown was NOT with the rest of the featured letters from humans & animals. There was no description of their "owners" or describing them as "pets." Instead, the letter is tucked in the very back, looking just as they wrote it, with the two of them given full credit, as deserved. How many cats do YOU know who can add a publishing credit to their cv?
It broke our hearts to say our adieus so soon. We took tender care with our boy's small, sweet body. John dug a hole at Amory's favorite spot, under the rhododendron. I layered it with fern, the rose petals. With Chessie close by, we lowered him down, then laid another layer of rose petals over him, completely covering every bit of our sweet boy.
Writing this, tears are streaming down my face. To this day - ten years later - either John or I will say to the other, "I miss Amory." He is forever in our hearts, as Milhouse will forever be in the hearts of the Browns.
Friday, July 18, 2014
poolside
People look like I'm joshing when I say that until last summer, John & I were both lifelong social loners. Truth!
Last summer changed all that. Heather & Brett and Adrienne & Rick changed all that. Two totally different, back-to-back fire pits changed all that.
Now, we look forward to a long leisurely summer of going to the B.A. pool for supper at least once a week. John asks hopefully, "Are Adrienne & Rick have fire pit tonight?" (Alas, no lovely evenings over at H & B's - construction!)
We dangled our toes into the social swim & the water is great!
Last summer changed all that. Heather & Brett and Adrienne & Rick changed all that. Two totally different, back-to-back fire pits changed all that.
Now, we look forward to a long leisurely summer of going to the B.A. pool for supper at least once a week. John asks hopefully, "Are Adrienne & Rick have fire pit tonight?" (Alas, no lovely evenings over at H & B's - construction!)
We dangled our toes into the social swim & the water is great!
Wednesday, July 16, 2014
a life that makes sense
There are certain things that have an utterly involuntary hold on my heart. There is no shaking them.
My utter belief - my knowing - that we are meant to be tribal wasn't learned. It was in my heart since forever. That meant sticking by Mom when she needed me, even if it was inconvenient, even if it meant heart break.
I didn't give my support in an unthinking - "Anything you want, Mother." - way. Part of my support included doing what I could to help her get a better, clearer, more constructive experience of herself. In other words, I could be a real pain in expecting her to think for herself, which meant knowing herself - something she resisted doing.
That's what I believe families are meant to do. We didn't ask to be thrown together with these other people, some of whom we have nothing in common with other than shared genes. But we were. How can we help each other be our best self, meet our personal goals?
My utter belief - my knowing - that John is my own true love didn't evolve & grow over time. It arrived, full blown, on our first real connection, as close to "he is mine" & "she is mine" as you're going to get in this life.
He wasn't in the least bit convenient - my life was just fine, thank you, without a love interest. Just like my feelings about family & parents, I had no say over loving John. It isn't easy, but it is. I could no more part from John than I could turn my back on Mom - or Mim or Peter, for that matter, if I felt that what I could offer would really help meet their needs, without damage to mine.
My utter belief - my knowing - that life is meant to make sense to each of us has been part of my heart since forever. John makes sense. Being there in a healthy way for my family, especially for Mom, makes sense. But a large part of my life doesn't make sense, has never made sense. And I have been totally ineffective in getting it to make sense.
From my earliest days, I was a remarkably messy person. Until my teens, I shared a room with Mim. It was always messy. Occasionally, Mom would wade in & clean it up, which delighted me as much as it bothered Mim. But when I got my own room - which has been for most of my life - it was always a mess. Today, you wouldn't believe how the computer studio looks. It definitely does not work.
From kindergarten through college, my areas at school were always a disaster. Notebook, desk, locker, mail box - crammed with papers. In elementary school, I'd regularly have to miss recess to clean out my desk. You'd think that alone would shame me into doing better. Doing better never dawned on me. I was labeled "lazy," but it was much more. I don't know what, but I know.
it boils down to this - messy doesn't make sense. it just doesn't. When you're the sort of messy I am, life unravels. Important messages are missed, important dates are forgotten. it goes beyond not looking good - deep down in my heart, it doesn't feel good.
It's not laziness. It feels like a giant NO sign is in me somewhere. In the marrow of my bones? In my mind? In my heart? In my soul? In my spirit? Don't know where, but it's in there, aggressively keeping me from doing what makes sense.
And I really hate things that don't make sense.
My reality is that my norm didn't make sense. Not in my childhood, not in my adolescence, not in my adulthood. My norm didn't begin making sense until I did the most insensible thing of all - fell in love. Fell in love with the right guy. Fell in love with someone who embody healthy communication. Fell in love with someone who wanted me to be me, whatever that might be.
Now, most of me & my life makes sense. But something has clamped onto the part that doesn't & won't be shaken off, like it's making its stand by throwing up resistance to my literally cleaning up my act. If the mess goes, what will have happened to the Elsa who existed before this Deev appeared on the scene? That makes NO sense! But prying it out of my life... Ah, that's the rub.
Kim asked what I want to get out of seeing her once a month. I couldn't, because it would be a guess. It's not a question of what do I want to get from seeing her, it's what do I want, that seeing her is part of (confusing enough?). I want a life that makes sense to me.
That's not just some personal desire - it is an utter necessity. Doing what I can to change our current day culture's view of aging is a desire woven into the very fabric of my being, an expression of my belief - my knowing - that we are here to help others be the best version of themselves possible. And I won't be able to make any substantial contributions if I'm living a life that doesn't make sense.
Maybe that's why I'm ready now to face whatever needs facing & change whatever needs changing. Having life mechanics that don't make sense, that leave me with clogged living areas (the front room & car are tidy, which is a start) & whatever that does to the mind & spirit, will hamper what I feel called pulled pushed to do in the larger community nation world.
What do I want to get from Kim & other constructive influences? A life that makes sense, whatever it takes to make it so. .
My utter belief - my knowing - that we are meant to be tribal wasn't learned. It was in my heart since forever. That meant sticking by Mom when she needed me, even if it was inconvenient, even if it meant heart break.
I didn't give my support in an unthinking - "Anything you want, Mother." - way. Part of my support included doing what I could to help her get a better, clearer, more constructive experience of herself. In other words, I could be a real pain in expecting her to think for herself, which meant knowing herself - something she resisted doing.
That's what I believe families are meant to do. We didn't ask to be thrown together with these other people, some of whom we have nothing in common with other than shared genes. But we were. How can we help each other be our best self, meet our personal goals?
My utter belief - my knowing - that John is my own true love didn't evolve & grow over time. It arrived, full blown, on our first real connection, as close to "he is mine" & "she is mine" as you're going to get in this life.
He wasn't in the least bit convenient - my life was just fine, thank you, without a love interest. Just like my feelings about family & parents, I had no say over loving John. It isn't easy, but it is. I could no more part from John than I could turn my back on Mom - or Mim or Peter, for that matter, if I felt that what I could offer would really help meet their needs, without damage to mine.
My utter belief - my knowing - that life is meant to make sense to each of us has been part of my heart since forever. John makes sense. Being there in a healthy way for my family, especially for Mom, makes sense. But a large part of my life doesn't make sense, has never made sense. And I have been totally ineffective in getting it to make sense.
From my earliest days, I was a remarkably messy person. Until my teens, I shared a room with Mim. It was always messy. Occasionally, Mom would wade in & clean it up, which delighted me as much as it bothered Mim. But when I got my own room - which has been for most of my life - it was always a mess. Today, you wouldn't believe how the computer studio looks. It definitely does not work.
From kindergarten through college, my areas at school were always a disaster. Notebook, desk, locker, mail box - crammed with papers. In elementary school, I'd regularly have to miss recess to clean out my desk. You'd think that alone would shame me into doing better. Doing better never dawned on me. I was labeled "lazy," but it was much more. I don't know what, but I know.
it boils down to this - messy doesn't make sense. it just doesn't. When you're the sort of messy I am, life unravels. Important messages are missed, important dates are forgotten. it goes beyond not looking good - deep down in my heart, it doesn't feel good.
It's not laziness. It feels like a giant NO sign is in me somewhere. In the marrow of my bones? In my mind? In my heart? In my soul? In my spirit? Don't know where, but it's in there, aggressively keeping me from doing what makes sense.
And I really hate things that don't make sense.
My reality is that my norm didn't make sense. Not in my childhood, not in my adolescence, not in my adulthood. My norm didn't begin making sense until I did the most insensible thing of all - fell in love. Fell in love with the right guy. Fell in love with someone who embody healthy communication. Fell in love with someone who wanted me to be me, whatever that might be.
Now, most of me & my life makes sense. But something has clamped onto the part that doesn't & won't be shaken off, like it's making its stand by throwing up resistance to my literally cleaning up my act. If the mess goes, what will have happened to the Elsa who existed before this Deev appeared on the scene? That makes NO sense! But prying it out of my life... Ah, that's the rub.
Kim asked what I want to get out of seeing her once a month. I couldn't, because it would be a guess. It's not a question of what do I want to get from seeing her, it's what do I want, that seeing her is part of (confusing enough?). I want a life that makes sense to me.
That's not just some personal desire - it is an utter necessity. Doing what I can to change our current day culture's view of aging is a desire woven into the very fabric of my being, an expression of my belief - my knowing - that we are here to help others be the best version of themselves possible. And I won't be able to make any substantial contributions if I'm living a life that doesn't make sense.
Maybe that's why I'm ready now to face whatever needs facing & change whatever needs changing. Having life mechanics that don't make sense, that leave me with clogged living areas (the front room & car are tidy, which is a start) & whatever that does to the mind & spirit, will hamper what I feel called pulled pushed to do in the larger community nation world.
What do I want to get from Kim & other constructive influences? A life that makes sense, whatever it takes to make it so. .
Tuesday, July 15, 2014
sky above clouds
How joyous to have broken out of the clouds, into the endless sky & sun. Hey, only took over half a century!
Could look at it as "I spent 50+ years absorbed in resolving the unresoivable?!" ~or~ "Good for me, that I kept at it long enough to get clear & shake myself free." Definitely going with the latter!!!
The task I set out for myself - a family with what I considered healthier communication patterns - was just not going to fly with my surviving parent & sibs. Took me decades to realize it wasn't a matter of they wouldn't, but they couldn't. How they communicated was just fine with them; how I did it was NOT.
At last month's Creative Aging conference, one of the speakers used the term "sky above clouds" to describe aspects of dementia. the painting which inspired her inspires me, too - in a different way. in my current life, can look down at the clouds that once obscured my vision & see their beauty, possible now that I am above them. I can look around & see the beautiful sky, the sun, the endless horizons stretching before me.
For years, I was heartbroken that my parents always seemed to see Mim's side of things. An older friend - one of my oldest brother's classmates - would say, "She's being a mother." I never got that, because, hey - she was MY mother, too. Finally, I asked what she meant, because I was clueless (never been a mom). She explained that parents tend to give extra support to the kids they see need it, which can leave others that don't feeling ignored. That made very bitter, not too sweet sense.
I have always been a lot tougher, way more resilient that I gave myself credit for being. And tenacious, one of the core qualities that drove my family bonkers.
What was missing all those years was the ability to see & honor each member of the family & the family as a whole, as they & it truly were. Maybe not to like, but to respect.
The hard reality is that it wasn't possible, not as long as Mom was alive. Because if I had been able to do that, it would have meant making changes that were not acceptable, not to her, not to them, not to me. It would have meant Mom having to move down to Australia to live with Mike & Kerry, which seemed like a fine solution to me, but was absolutely NOT for her (for good reasons, which she sadly did not share at the time).
So thankful I don't have to dither over the great "what ifs" - - wasn't the right time. It's that simple. Maybe it always is.
Such goosebumps, thinking about how things have worked out in their own good time. Will probably write quite a few postings on that amazing fact - everything has worked out fabulously. It took an remarkably long time, but time is illusion.
For countless thousands of years, humans dreamed of what it would be like to soar above the clouds, to experience seeing what was below & above. That only happened in the last century. Some things take a long time & a lot of effort to happen. We needed more than the dream. We need the right knowledge, the right engine, the right boost of power & guidance to send us up up up to the sky above the clouds.
Could look at it as "I spent 50+ years absorbed in resolving the unresoivable?!" ~or~ "Good for me, that I kept at it long enough to get clear & shake myself free." Definitely going with the latter!!!
The task I set out for myself - a family with what I considered healthier communication patterns - was just not going to fly with my surviving parent & sibs. Took me decades to realize it wasn't a matter of they wouldn't, but they couldn't. How they communicated was just fine with them; how I did it was NOT.
At last month's Creative Aging conference, one of the speakers used the term "sky above clouds" to describe aspects of dementia. the painting which inspired her inspires me, too - in a different way. in my current life, can look down at the clouds that once obscured my vision & see their beauty, possible now that I am above them. I can look around & see the beautiful sky, the sun, the endless horizons stretching before me.
For years, I was heartbroken that my parents always seemed to see Mim's side of things. An older friend - one of my oldest brother's classmates - would say, "She's being a mother." I never got that, because, hey - she was MY mother, too. Finally, I asked what she meant, because I was clueless (never been a mom). She explained that parents tend to give extra support to the kids they see need it, which can leave others that don't feeling ignored. That made very bitter, not too sweet sense.
I have always been a lot tougher, way more resilient that I gave myself credit for being. And tenacious, one of the core qualities that drove my family bonkers.
What was missing all those years was the ability to see & honor each member of the family & the family as a whole, as they & it truly were. Maybe not to like, but to respect.
The hard reality is that it wasn't possible, not as long as Mom was alive. Because if I had been able to do that, it would have meant making changes that were not acceptable, not to her, not to them, not to me. It would have meant Mom having to move down to Australia to live with Mike & Kerry, which seemed like a fine solution to me, but was absolutely NOT for her (for good reasons, which she sadly did not share at the time).
So thankful I don't have to dither over the great "what ifs" - - wasn't the right time. It's that simple. Maybe it always is.
Such goosebumps, thinking about how things have worked out in their own good time. Will probably write quite a few postings on that amazing fact - everything has worked out fabulously. It took an remarkably long time, but time is illusion.
For countless thousands of years, humans dreamed of what it would be like to soar above the clouds, to experience seeing what was below & above. That only happened in the last century. Some things take a long time & a lot of effort to happen. We needed more than the dream. We need the right knowledge, the right engine, the right boost of power & guidance to send us up up up to the sky above the clouds.
Sunday, July 13, 2014
"Fox Chase"
My oldest brother is someone who's always expected perfection, from himself & others. In his sixties, he mused about what our parents might have done that resulted in such an over-demanding expection, or perhaps it was a teacher he trusted & let him down.
"Why, you were that way since birth," I responded.
He was not amused. Especially being fourteen years my elder, so how would I know what he was like as a babe? He expressed just that - what an absurd thing for me to say.
"Oh, I've always known that," was my explanation. "One of Mom's favorite tales to tell was of your first words."
"Well, I don't see any connection," Peter snipped.
Mom was worried about Peter, her first born. He was almost three & still hadn't spoken a word. This was back in the 1930s, before talk about childhood development & proper states of growth, but he was old enough for her to be concerned. She was considering taking him to the pediatrician when IT finally happened - he spoke!
The two of them were in the apartment at the top of the Alden house at Alden Road & Cherry Lane (now John & Lori's). Off in the distance, a train's steam whistle (pre-diesel & electric) sounded at a crossing.
Peter, who was near a window, looked out & then back at his mother, then perfectly enuciated his first words - 'Fox Chase."
Not a peep, and then "Fox Chase," one of the stops on the Newtown-Philadelphia Line.
Yeah, I'd say perfection (and quite a bit of showmanship) was in my bro since birth.
"Why, you were that way since birth," I responded.
He was not amused. Especially being fourteen years my elder, so how would I know what he was like as a babe? He expressed just that - what an absurd thing for me to say.
"Oh, I've always known that," was my explanation. "One of Mom's favorite tales to tell was of your first words."
"Well, I don't see any connection," Peter snipped.
Mom was worried about Peter, her first born. He was almost three & still hadn't spoken a word. This was back in the 1930s, before talk about childhood development & proper states of growth, but he was old enough for her to be concerned. She was considering taking him to the pediatrician when IT finally happened - he spoke!
The two of them were in the apartment at the top of the Alden house at Alden Road & Cherry Lane (now John & Lori's). Off in the distance, a train's steam whistle (pre-diesel & electric) sounded at a crossing.
Peter, who was near a window, looked out & then back at his mother, then perfectly enuciated his first words - 'Fox Chase."
Not a peep, and then "Fox Chase," one of the stops on the Newtown-Philadelphia Line.
Yeah, I'd say perfection (and quite a bit of showmanship) was in my bro since birth.
Saturday, July 12, 2014
"Happy Summer"
"There's a letter from Mim," John said yesterday, as he came in with the mail.
It gave me a moment's pause, listening to the tone & timber of his words. They made me smile, even before I opened the note, a card featuring a great photo of a squirrel. John's few words were filled with happiness & anticipation of my response.
How lovely to have a relationship with my sister. Doesn't matter whether it is grounded in shared confidences & long gabby visits ~or~ based on the occasional note or letter back & forth - relationships are what they are. That is, as I see it, their great value. When we wish they were more or make ourselves think they are different than they appear - that isn't respectful of what is.
I loved the card, the "Happy Summer!" message, and the sharing of a distance, sweet memory. What to send in return?
It gave me a moment's pause, listening to the tone & timber of his words. They made me smile, even before I opened the note, a card featuring a great photo of a squirrel. John's few words were filled with happiness & anticipation of my response.
How lovely to have a relationship with my sister. Doesn't matter whether it is grounded in shared confidences & long gabby visits ~or~ based on the occasional note or letter back & forth - relationships are what they are. That is, as I see it, their great value. When we wish they were more or make ourselves think they are different than they appear - that isn't respectful of what is.
I loved the card, the "Happy Summer!" message, and the sharing of a distance, sweet memory. What to send in return?
Wednesday, July 9, 2014
Don't get stuck with the uglies!
A few years before Mom was reunited with her O! Best Beloved, a close friend - who lives a distance away - called her up. The computer studio was right next to Mom's bedroom, so I heard the entire side of Mom's conversation, which went started with a cheery greeting & quickly sequed into dark-toned "Um...," "I see...," & "Really..?"
When the conversation finally closed & Mom came into the studio, I asked, "What was that all about?"
"Oh, my" Mom said, "My dear friend has a terrible daughter-in-law."
"Really? But she was so excited when they were married a couple months ago."
Mom went on, sharing with me all the girl's awful traits & all the terrible things she had done to distress her mother-in-law. Well, at least as they had been described by her friend.
After hearing the litany, I commented, "It would be wise to remember that you only have your friend's opinion to go on. You don't know the young woman. And you do know how fiercely - sometimes incorrectly - judgmental your friend has been in the past."
"That's what I was thinking," Mom replied. "Which was why I didn't agree with her."
"But you did," I answered.
"NO! I didn't agree, not once!"
"Mom, I heard you - your replies were all 'ums' & 'really!' & 'I see.' Not once did you question what was being said. She got what she called you for - validation of her point of view. Maybe the girl IS as awful as she makes out, but you don't know that."
Mom was horrified, realizing the truth of what I said. She'd totally underscored for the friend the rightness of trashing the young woman.
The sad scenario opened up an interesting conversation between mother & daughter. We talked about how dicey it can be when friends or family dump on someone & we make their opinion ours. I've certainly had this happen, so had Mom. We'd get all hot & bothered over the scathing opinion someone else had of a 3rd party. Although totally unfounded, we made it OURS.
Here's the problem with that scenario - when the friend's opinion changes, as it often does (and, in this case, did), they move on with a better healthier happier relationship & YOU"RE stuck with the bad feeling & negative vibes.
It wasn't easy, but Mom did touch base back with her friend & asked some questions about the woman's d-i-l. Turned out her grievances were typical in-law stuff. Mom shared her own experiences with Pam & Kerry, which surprised the friend since she knew how close Mom was to her sons' wives, something she'd been comparing her experience against. They talked about the dynamics of someone first coming into an established relationship like a family - the impact on individuals & on the whole is always a bit ... awkward. I like to think the conversation helped the friend.
It sure brought home to me the importance of not embracing someone else's opinion of folks you don't know, even though it might feel weirdly good at the time & waaaay easier than asking for more details to help you fill in a bigger picture. Jump right in & wholeheartedly agree, making someone else's negative feelings your own, if the situation changes & they build a caring relationship, you'll be the one stuck out in the cold with the uglies!
When the conversation finally closed & Mom came into the studio, I asked, "What was that all about?"
"Oh, my" Mom said, "My dear friend has a terrible daughter-in-law."
"Really? But she was so excited when they were married a couple months ago."
Mom went on, sharing with me all the girl's awful traits & all the terrible things she had done to distress her mother-in-law. Well, at least as they had been described by her friend.
After hearing the litany, I commented, "It would be wise to remember that you only have your friend's opinion to go on. You don't know the young woman. And you do know how fiercely - sometimes incorrectly - judgmental your friend has been in the past."
"That's what I was thinking," Mom replied. "Which was why I didn't agree with her."
"But you did," I answered.
"NO! I didn't agree, not once!"
"Mom, I heard you - your replies were all 'ums' & 'really!' & 'I see.' Not once did you question what was being said. She got what she called you for - validation of her point of view. Maybe the girl IS as awful as she makes out, but you don't know that."
Mom was horrified, realizing the truth of what I said. She'd totally underscored for the friend the rightness of trashing the young woman.
The sad scenario opened up an interesting conversation between mother & daughter. We talked about how dicey it can be when friends or family dump on someone & we make their opinion ours. I've certainly had this happen, so had Mom. We'd get all hot & bothered over the scathing opinion someone else had of a 3rd party. Although totally unfounded, we made it OURS.
Here's the problem with that scenario - when the friend's opinion changes, as it often does (and, in this case, did), they move on with a better healthier happier relationship & YOU"RE stuck with the bad feeling & negative vibes.
It wasn't easy, but Mom did touch base back with her friend & asked some questions about the woman's d-i-l. Turned out her grievances were typical in-law stuff. Mom shared her own experiences with Pam & Kerry, which surprised the friend since she knew how close Mom was to her sons' wives, something she'd been comparing her experience against. They talked about the dynamics of someone first coming into an established relationship like a family - the impact on individuals & on the whole is always a bit ... awkward. I like to think the conversation helped the friend.
It sure brought home to me the importance of not embracing someone else's opinion of folks you don't know, even though it might feel weirdly good at the time & waaaay easier than asking for more details to help you fill in a bigger picture. Jump right in & wholeheartedly agree, making someone else's negative feelings your own, if the situation changes & they build a caring relationship, you'll be the one stuck out in the cold with the uglies!
Tuesday, July 8, 2014
"I bet you think..."
Guess I was in my early 40s when Mim - then around 50 - said to me, "I bet you think that I talk about you all the time to my psychologist. Well, I don't, not ever."
That was an important statement, on several levels. First off, it seemed weird to me that she felt compelled to make it at all. Second, it interested me that she assumed I thought that MY issues were HER issues. Third, she was totally wrong - it never occurred to me that she was talking about healing family issues during her sessions.
What still, to this day, gives pause is WHY would she bring it up in the first place? Imagine if I had thought that she invested as much worth in our relationship as I did - hearing that she never sought ways to improve it would have devastated me. That still leaves me scratching my head.
My first phrasing was "she never sought ways to improve heal restore our relationship." The harsh reality, one that folks who knew us years & years ago find hard to accept, is that you can't heal & restore something that never existed.
Took me DECADES to figure that one out, a realization that possibly didn't fully hit until after Mom was reunited with her O! Best Beloved. Nothing expresses better than Mim's own words that while there was a relationship in my heart, apparently there wasn't in hers. That used to dominate my life; now, it is what is. What's not okay is pretending something exists when it doesn't.
There are so many wonderful things gleaned from our times together. So much of who I am is due to Mim's influence. And, right here, right now, I thank her for all those gifts. Especially that potentially stinging statement
On Monday, I have my first appointment with the amazing Kim Vargas. Kim is best known for helping coach women into motherhood, perhaps life's greatest, most challenging transition. I have seen the awesome work she's done with a grannie client, helping her transition from older to elder. And I look forward to her helping me transition into .. whatever lies before me.
And I can absolutely, positively guarantee you one thing above all others ~ ~ I won't be talking about my sister or ancient family issues.
I wasn't hurt that Mim didn't frultlessly fixate on family issues like I did. If anything, I envied her detachment from unsolvable gunk. Now, it's my time. At last!
That was an important statement, on several levels. First off, it seemed weird to me that she felt compelled to make it at all. Second, it interested me that she assumed I thought that MY issues were HER issues. Third, she was totally wrong - it never occurred to me that she was talking about healing family issues during her sessions.
What still, to this day, gives pause is WHY would she bring it up in the first place? Imagine if I had thought that she invested as much worth in our relationship as I did - hearing that she never sought ways to improve it would have devastated me. That still leaves me scratching my head.
My first phrasing was "she never sought ways to improve heal restore our relationship." The harsh reality, one that folks who knew us years & years ago find hard to accept, is that you can't heal & restore something that never existed.
Took me DECADES to figure that one out, a realization that possibly didn't fully hit until after Mom was reunited with her O! Best Beloved. Nothing expresses better than Mim's own words that while there was a relationship in my heart, apparently there wasn't in hers. That used to dominate my life; now, it is what is. What's not okay is pretending something exists when it doesn't.
There are so many wonderful things gleaned from our times together. So much of who I am is due to Mim's influence. And, right here, right now, I thank her for all those gifts. Especially that potentially stinging statement
On Monday, I have my first appointment with the amazing Kim Vargas. Kim is best known for helping coach women into motherhood, perhaps life's greatest, most challenging transition. I have seen the awesome work she's done with a grannie client, helping her transition from older to elder. And I look forward to her helping me transition into .. whatever lies before me.
And I can absolutely, positively guarantee you one thing above all others ~ ~ I won't be talking about my sister or ancient family issues.
I wasn't hurt that Mim didn't frultlessly fixate on family issues like I did. If anything, I envied her detachment from unsolvable gunk. Now, it's my time. At last!
life is good
Monday is my first appointment with the amazing Kim Vargas. Kim is a counselor who is best known for helping women transition into motherhood. I look forward to her helping me transition fully into a present moment - rather than a past rooted - life. Am proud of all I've accomplished so far on my own, but the rest of the way calls for expert help.
The great gift of writing this particular blog is being able to recast ancient gunk into present day insight or even lessons. For that, I offer up thanks to the Internet for providing such an incredible space to do such invaluable inner work.
It is sobering to realize how many years ticked by before it finally hit me that my life isn't that different from most folks'. How weirdly comforting it was to think of myself as vastly different from the rest, how stable THEIR lives were compared to mine. By casting myself as uniquely challenged, I also made it okay to not make much progress - my situation was SO much worse than anyone else's, it defied change.
At 62, I can totally shout from the rooftops - LIFE IS GOOD!!!! Challenging, yes. Long arduous roads ahead to get where I want to be - yes. Soul wrenching as I work to overhaul unproductive lifelong patterns - yes. But so very very very good. I owe it all - every bit of it - to everything & everyone who came before. And that is no secret!
The great gift of writing this particular blog is being able to recast ancient gunk into present day insight or even lessons. For that, I offer up thanks to the Internet for providing such an incredible space to do such invaluable inner work.
It is sobering to realize how many years ticked by before it finally hit me that my life isn't that different from most folks'. How weirdly comforting it was to think of myself as vastly different from the rest, how stable THEIR lives were compared to mine. By casting myself as uniquely challenged, I also made it okay to not make much progress - my situation was SO much worse than anyone else's, it defied change.
At 62, I can totally shout from the rooftops - LIFE IS GOOD!!!! Challenging, yes. Long arduous roads ahead to get where I want to be - yes. Soul wrenching as I work to overhaul unproductive lifelong patterns - yes. But so very very very good. I owe it all - every bit of it - to everything & everyone who came before. And that is no secret!
Friday, July 4, 2014
home free
Three cheers on this 4th of July for being free to celebrate in our own style. For the 1st time, with a fully vegan spread!! No more eggs or milk for moi. Almost a year after being instructed by Dr. Lehman to not eat "anything that had a face or a mother," am no longer simply vegan-ish.
Garden burgers with slices of onion & tomato; vegetarian baked beans; utterly YUM homemade potato salad with grated onion & chopped celery veganaisse; sunflower seeds & raisins as garnishes.
All served on the back porch, which John has cleared off & looking fine. Watching the last two episodes of Monk on our itty bitty dvd player!
We'll be home as comfort for any cat who wants to seek shelter under our legs during the BOOM! BOOMS!
Right where the two of us are happiest on the 4th.
Only took me 25 years to be fully okay with not thinking the "right" place to celebrate the 4th was at the Bryn Athyn picnic. Confession - I remember being relieved when I got sick on the 4th back in 1959 & we came home early from the picnic. Good thing we did, since it turned out Weitzel Lumber was burning to the ground & Dad was the only person with any authority who wasn't out of town & he wouldn't have heard about it if they hadn't been talking about it during the Phillies game on the radio. But the fact is that I would, even back then, preferred being home on the 4th.
Not true when we had guests. The 4th was our happiest family holiday. I remember Whitney at the swimming pool when she was just a baby (Peter was incensed they wouldn't let her swim with Pam in the main pool - "she wouldn't have an accident"), Reynolds riding his decorated trike in the parade (and the great pic Mom snapped of him amidst her red, white & blue peonies), Scott celebrating with us when he was in B.A., the special times with the Zeigler kids when they stayed with us before & after ANC summer camp. All the times before, when Mom would make her awesome picnics & we'd set up, as a family, under the canopy of shade trees that lined the old football field (now that Morna has gone will they name it "Hyatt Field"?). Watching fireworks set off from the bottom of Church Hill, people scattered all over the top. The Bryn Athyn Hill William Band, the March of Dimes, my "Let Freedom Ring" decorated bike, dressed in a hula skirt & carrying a "Me too Uncle" sign.
I have a treasure house of fabulous 4th of July memories. Years & years & years of stress-free family celebrations that are held inviolate in my heart. And years & years & years of stress-free celebrations ahead of the two of us, honoring the high ideals stated in the Declaration of Independence by partying in our own unique style.
Let freedom ring across the land!
Garden burgers with slices of onion & tomato; vegetarian baked beans; utterly YUM homemade potato salad with grated onion & chopped celery veganaisse; sunflower seeds & raisins as garnishes.
All served on the back porch, which John has cleared off & looking fine. Watching the last two episodes of Monk on our itty bitty dvd player!
We'll be home as comfort for any cat who wants to seek shelter under our legs during the BOOM! BOOMS!
Right where the two of us are happiest on the 4th.
Only took me 25 years to be fully okay with not thinking the "right" place to celebrate the 4th was at the Bryn Athyn picnic. Confession - I remember being relieved when I got sick on the 4th back in 1959 & we came home early from the picnic. Good thing we did, since it turned out Weitzel Lumber was burning to the ground & Dad was the only person with any authority who wasn't out of town & he wouldn't have heard about it if they hadn't been talking about it during the Phillies game on the radio. But the fact is that I would, even back then, preferred being home on the 4th.
Not true when we had guests. The 4th was our happiest family holiday. I remember Whitney at the swimming pool when she was just a baby (Peter was incensed they wouldn't let her swim with Pam in the main pool - "she wouldn't have an accident"), Reynolds riding his decorated trike in the parade (and the great pic Mom snapped of him amidst her red, white & blue peonies), Scott celebrating with us when he was in B.A., the special times with the Zeigler kids when they stayed with us before & after ANC summer camp. All the times before, when Mom would make her awesome picnics & we'd set up, as a family, under the canopy of shade trees that lined the old football field (now that Morna has gone will they name it "Hyatt Field"?). Watching fireworks set off from the bottom of Church Hill, people scattered all over the top. The Bryn Athyn Hill William Band, the March of Dimes, my "Let Freedom Ring" decorated bike, dressed in a hula skirt & carrying a "Me too Uncle" sign.
I have a treasure house of fabulous 4th of July memories. Years & years & years of stress-free family celebrations that are held inviolate in my heart. And years & years & years of stress-free celebrations ahead of the two of us, honoring the high ideals stated in the Declaration of Independence by partying in our own unique style.
Let freedom ring across the land!
Thursday, July 3, 2014
oh happy day
Celebrating the 4th of July was the most stress-free holiday of the year. Even the bitter memory - dismally losing a race I thought was a lock to win 'cause of my PF Flyer keds - has its sweet side - spotting Peter in the crowd lining the race route & veering away from the finish line to run straight into his brotherly arms. (He was possibly mortified, although every young lady who was it would have gone. "Ahhhhhhh... What a good big brother.")
Mom always knocked herself out on the picnic & Dad even took the whole day off (well, usually, and with one HUGE exception). Through the years, Peter & his family joined us, Mike & Kerry shared out picnic blanket, John went to several when Mom was still up for it.
For one day, we were the family I longed for all the other 364. Heaven!
Mom always knocked herself out on the picnic & Dad even took the whole day off (well, usually, and with one HUGE exception). Through the years, Peter & his family joined us, Mike & Kerry shared out picnic blanket, John went to several when Mom was still up for it.
For one day, we were the family I longed for all the other 364. Heaven!
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