A to Z Challenge: The Letter D

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D is for Departure: Another Family Story

A friend of my daughter, a thirty something business associate, lost her mother last week. In an email to my daughter she said “go call your mother, now”, and that’s why I got a nice, long chat with my eldest girl. I couldn’t help but think how blessed I was, at 60 something, to have my mother and dad visiting me for the past month. I went and gave my mom a hug and a good chat as well.

And this morning in the dark I drove the parents to the airport and watched them depart to their flight. Departures. Whole lists of flights going to everywhere. I wanted to go with them because their carry-ons were really heavy and Dad’s shoulder isn’t good. I wanted to be there to help hold things, find things, zip the zippers, turn off the devices, settle them in. But sometimes departure means you don’t get to go. Then there’s that final glimpse as the tram doors close.  I have that fleeting thought “what if something happens and I never see them again?”.  No one else thinks morbid things like that, right?

Back at home I have to look at the places where they sat at the table, the closet where their clothes were hanging. I have to change the bedding and put the bedroom back the way it was before they came. The pain of missing them has it’s very vivid moments when I can’t avoid the fact that they’re gone.  It’s a little like rehearsing for the last, big departure we’re all going to experience, not that rehearsing will make it any less sad, or easier – but maybe more familiar. It’s ok to be sad. I’m giving myself permission to miss them, for a while.

Fortunately, departures are only half of what’s on the board at the airport. We get to have arrivals too! If the snow ever melts up north, the husband and I are planning a car trip to Wisconsin to help Mom plant her garden. We’ll take Dad to Walmart to walk the aisles for exercise. We’ll help clean the attic, play us some Mexican Train, look through old letters and work on the memoirs, probably have a picnic and cook hotdogs in my brother’s yard. We’ll enjoy being a family! I am already looking forward to it with anticipation! Now that I think about it, I’m might be rehearsing something there too…  Yep. Just sayin’.

I Like This Poem

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I like many poems, but this poem about poetry explains to me why many people just don’t get it.

Introduction to Poetry

I ask them to take a poem
and hold it up to the light
like a color slide

or press an ear against its hive.

I say drop a mouse into a poem
and watch him probe his way out,

or walk inside the poem’s room
and feel the walls for a light switch.
I want them to waterski
across the surface of a poem
waving at the author’s name on the shore.

But all they want to do
is tie the poem to a chair with rope
and torture a confession out of it.

They begin beating it with a hose
to find out what it really means.

— Billy Collins, from The Apple That Astonished Paris

A to Z Challenge: The B word

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Birthday (not what you were expecting?). The one day of the year when a person should do something bold, rejuvenating, uncharacteristic of normal activity, all in an effort to offset the fact that another year has come and gone.  I have no idea what to do this year, except I’d like to avoid eating being the focus.  I’d prefer activity at little or no cost – the perfect combination – with a token of remembrance of some sort. Other years it’s been kayaking, or an epic hike or bike ride.  So far there is nothing on my schedule for that day except semi-annual AC tune up by the Cool-It Man. I don’t know what I was thinking when they called.

one more memorable birthday NOT
one more memorable birthday NOT

I was doing something memorable on April 2 thirty-two years ago. It had to do with “birthday” as well, but not my own. On that day our family went from three to four in number. As much as we could, we were trying to keep you (you know who you are) from life-long April Fools jokes, and there you were a few minutes after midnight, cooperative as usual. Today my heart celebrates you and EVERYTHING you have added to my life. All my love and Happy Birthday (!!), Mom

A to Z Challenge: A is for Atlanta

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this is not snow
this is not snow

There was something white on the trees, and on the ground in Atlanta this week – and it wasn’t snow, it was petals from the flowering dogwoods and other gorgeous trees.

this also is not snow
this also is not snow
Atlanta was wet, cloudy and lit with a subdued daylight that made the grass and trees fairly glow with green-ness. Rain makes Atlanta smell fresh and woodsy in spite of the thousands of cars emitting fumes on it’s frighteningly busy throughways. The parents and I were there this week for the graduation of a special niece who now holds a doctorate of chiropractic degree from Life University.wpid-20140328_123533.jpg Kudos for sticking it out girl, and creating another do-able family event for those of us within driving distance. 

We journeyed there by car on Thursday and met at the motel that evening.  Family breakfast on Friday morning sustained us through the graduation ceremony in the afternoon.  The after celebration at Darwin’s Burgers and Blues introduced me to the Memphis Burger. Who knew that putting bbq sauce and coleslaw on a burger would make it that good? Watching my brother and his family celebrate their eldest daughter’s accomplishment was a heartwarming family experience. Someone who not too long ago was a crazy kid is now an adult with a plan and a purpose.

Okay, and here is what really proved that to me.  Being in the “older” group of celebrants, I and the parents didn’t stay up for the 2 am (and later) partying but went back to our motel to prep for our early morning departure.  Elissa asked us what time we were getting up and when we were having breakfast before leaving town.  She wanted “family breakfast” again and said she would be there at 7:30 to have it with us. Mind you, I was not sure this could be accomplished… the girl is not typically a morning person and I wouldn’t really have blamed her for crashing in the wee hours.  Was she there?  WAS SHE THERE!

She was there!
She was there!

Yes, yes she was!. Family breakfast was eaten and a good time was had by all, even the sleepy ones.  Thank you Smiths for a meaningful, family memory of celebrating in Atlanta, beautiful Atlanta.

While it is day…

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I’ve heard this phrase used in various settings to show that every minute of life is unique. Every opportunity comes once, and there never is another quite like it. And some things must be done while it is day because the night is coming when you won’t be able to do it anymore.

I think along these lines every time I am together with family, as I am now. My parents are with me at my home in Florida and I am very aware of the limited time for the special project I’m working on with my mom. I am finding out who she is in different ways than I have used before. I am interviewing her. I am writing her memories of being a child, a teen, a young married woman.  I am realizing that just because I have known her all my life, doesn’t mean that I know her. She had a life before me that figured heavily in the formation of who she is now. As I hear of those years, those events, I see a story that is more compelling and inspiring than I knew. I became a part of that story and I feel a strong connection to it.

As mom and I sit and talk there are times when the details of the story aren’t clear any more and we wish for someone else who might have been there.  My mom has a brother who came down to visit us one day. He was closer to her in age than her other siblings and he knew many of her stories, having lived them with her.  His perspective was different and added extra color and depth to the family narrative. Another of her brothers passed away a week ago and I can’t help but wonder what he would have added. Did anyone ask him to tell about his life? Did he leave any of those details for others to know?

Our experiences make us who we are. There are reasons we think the way we do and react to life in certain characteristic ways. Many times I have had friends or acquaintances who I considered to be difficult people, until I heard their story. I’ve known some very remarkable people and wondered where they got their courage or their ambition, until I heard their story. Knowing the story is so helpful in loving and having compassion on others.  The stories need to be told if we are to become peacemakers, helpers of each other.

Do you have a living parent that you think you know? Or a husband/wife? Or even a child? As we look at life’s experiences through our own mental window, it is possible to entirely miss what is happening in someone else’s inner world.  Don’t be too sure you know them.  Don’t think it doesn’t matter. Don’t be slow to ask. Do it while it is day. 

The Hill

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There is a hill.  On a farm in Wisconsin.

At one time there was only one tree on the hill, an old white pine that stood guard alongside a lane that connected the fields. It was tall and imposing, standing out on the landscape as one looked north from the farmhouse to the horizon. I grew up looking at that tree, running to it for thinking time, listening to the constant, soft brush of wind through the pine needles. I would have liked to have climbed up in it but there were no branches I could reach.  It was a refuge.

One year there were cows in the field. My father had sold his milk cows but had a herd of young cattle that was like a band of unruly teenagers.  They would run the fence line looking for a place to go under, over or through the barbed wire. They had a great deal of energy and, something that most people don’t realize about cows, they had a crazy curiosity. Anything unusual within their sight would start them on an approach path, faster and faster until they were running in a stampede, a kind of mob mentality as I remember it.

I was visiting the tree one day when the cows were in that field.  They saw me on the hill and came rushing up to investigate.  Cows in a large group are intimidating. They’re big, heavy animals and they mill around, eyes wide and hot, moist breath sniffing at the object of their curiosity, all the time ready to bolt if startled.  I flattened myself against it’s trunk and the tree and I were engulfed in the herd.

It turned into a magical moment. As long as I was still the cows took turns pointing their wet noses at me and milling back into the group. I was the vulnerable one with only the tree at my back for protection. They were the free and dominant ones.  Eventually they were satisfied and trotted off in a different direction.  I still felt the awe and wonder of it as I watched them take off. I feel it again as I remember.

The tree was hit by lightning a few years later during a storm. Its twisted, split and broken frame lay on the hill for several years before it rotted away.

Now, there is just a hill.

They Left

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Crying lately, sometimes outwardly, mostly inwardly. I think it helps. Crying maybe leaves room for hope because I have never been able to cry forever.

Today my so ordinary life has been putting the furniture back in place. The air mattresses are deflated and rolled up. The sheets and towels are washed. The extra dishes are back in the cupboard. All my secrets have been exposed, like the rolls of cat hair under the sofa, the disorder of my physical, mental and emotional worlds.

I love to have family visiting in my home, so why didn’t I end up with a home that had room for visitors? Didn’t God know? That’s silly. He knew we needed a few things to be inconvenient/gross/dangerous in order to bond. In order to make memories. I hope they remember how much I love them. How good it was to know I could still put the kayaks in the water and paddle a ways. How good it was to know I could still survive a little sleep deprivation. How good it was to become more familiar with their ways, their sayings, their pastimes, their clothing, They were easy keepers and I loved every minute. Maybe they will come again if I don’t make them sleep outside in a tent, and if the dog next door doesn’t bark all night. But we would have figured all that out if they had stayed longer than three nights. We would have.

A small inward cry as I miss them.

Taking Things Back (How to Spend Twice as Much Time Learning Anything)

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I’ve been in computer class for the last week. I need to know about computers because I’ve come to depend on them for paying bills, keeping in touch with everyone, expressing myself to the world, finding out how to get places, … way too many things.  I tried to get along without one last week when my Dell darling started freezing at the worst possible moments.  It was hard, and I relented and took it to the computer doctor. It was suffering from hard drive failure – not completely dead yet, but time to call hospice.

Shall I buy a new hard drive? Shall I get a tablet? Shall I get another small laptop? I asked (begged) for advice from all three experts in my family and then went impulsive instead and bought a tablet at a big box store. After all, I had to check my bank balance and there’s no way to do it without some kind of computer, right?

After a couple days of frustration and a learning curve which was curving completely in the wrong direction, I called the computer doctor again. 

“So what operating system does it have?” he asked.

“I think it’s SOS, stupid operating system. It doesn’t have any of the buttons I’m used to seeing/”

“Well, what kind of tablet do you have?”

“It’s the same kind as my phone. I got it so they would sync.  But where are all my email addresses?”

“You have an android. Your Windows contacts won’t sync.”

My computer vocabulary was already stretched to the max. Everything after that sounded like blah, blah, blah… but the bottom line advice was “take it back”. 

I’m starting to see a common thread in my buying habits.  I need something. I don’t know much about the thing I need. I get tired of trying to figure out the best buy and just go buy something (usually something cheap). And then I learn that I shouldn’t have bought that thing and I take it back.  It’s a way of learning. 

The bike I bought at the pawn shop had a gear lever which I discovered later had no cable attached (what?! no Bluetooth gear shift?)

The used car I bought had unexpected surprises (only one key!?!! and a new one costs $500?!)

After two trips to the computer doctor, four trips to the stores and about six hours of tearing my hair out, I know a little more about computers today, and obviously I’m back typing in words on my newest purchase. We’ll see if I got the right thing this time.  I’m just asking, isn’t there a better way to learn? Maybe not.

P.S. The computer doctor told me that I was not the most tech ignorant person he had run into. Just thought I’d mention that.

 

I think this is true.

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“There is no such thing as an ordinary human. ”
I heard it today but can’t remember who to credit it to, sorry.  It’s really one of the points I want to make. We might do ordinary things, say ordinary things, act in ordinary ways but we are all pretty special creations. Don’t undervalue yourself. Your value is not in your job, your relationships, your wealth or your power, all of which will come to an end and disappoint. Your value is given to you by your creator, whose image you bear.  You are his crown jewel of creation. He values you.  I believe it.