Anniversaries - Moments Meant to Be

 

June 15, 2024

There are days to be commemorated. June 14 is one of them in my world. It marks, for me, the day my life turned in this direction to the here and the now - 43 years ago, We roll along in our lives never really knowing we are changing course. Is it changing course, or just really going in the direction we are meant to be in? Rarely do we know in a moment that yes, this is huge; this will send me in the right direction; exactly where I am meant to be.

When I was seven years old I had my first true epiphany. It was a moment of awakening, of pure consciousness. I have memories, or flashes of them, really, of moments prior to this seven year old awakening, but this was my first real conscious memory of being alive. I remember sitting at my desk in school; 2nd grade. At that moment as I sat, I remember the feeling of knowing. Of sitting there, feeling my legs dangling off the hard desk chair, hands clasped in front of me (I was such a good girl; a rule follower, especially back then). I knew without doubt that I was alive. It sounds crazy, perhaps. But it was as if the switch of life got turned on in my mind. I knew without a doubt that it was huge, I knew in every fiber of myself that at that moment I was truly alive, that I had a consciousness and it was awake. I knew the feel of the tights on my legs, the bend of my knees and the feel of the chair beneath my knees and under my bottom. I remember a deep knowing that I would always remember that moment of awakening, and I have. A lightbulb moment. I’ve thought of it so often throughout all the years since, and I imagine I have written about it, too. It was significant, though at the time I had no idea really what it all meant. There have been a lot of moments in time that have remained for me. The awful moment when my mother’s husband touched me the first time and I knew it was wrong. I remember a photo moment with Steve that first summer taken under a tree in my aunt’s front yard. I remember the feel of my favorite coral terry cloth one piece outfit, the warmth and hardness of his arm draped across my shoulders - our feet bare, the sun on our skin, love, youth and beauty on our faces. I remember the feeling of facing him on our wedding day, wiping a tear from his cheek and having absolutely no doubts. I remember the exact moment I realized I was pregnant; that hot intense joy and incredulity. And, I remember the moment, later on, when I knew I was losing our baby. I remember the moment I knew I had a choice to get up off the couch after I lost Steve and to move, or to remain on that couch and wither and die; to get lost in the mourning.

I had to step away for a while to compose myself again. I am so grateful for all the moments of joy and sorrow, yet reliving them sometimes can be overwhelming.

Memories and moments. They shape our lives whether we are conscious of them or not. I had no idea 43 years ago - the first time Steve and I were together - that it would shape my life as it has. Monumental. I wonder sometimes what life would have been life if I had not come to Florida, not met him, not ventured out as I did. For me, it is the Road Less Traveled. The paths were equally available, yet I took the one less traveled and it has indeed made all the difference. I was 18, learning how to navigate life, uncertain, unthinking, just doing, really. I remember that day in snapshots. The fan circulating the heavy air (no AC in that old cracker house, not for the next 15 years). I remember the gauzy curtains blowing gently, between what little air came in through the jalousie windows and the fan stirring them. The dim, but sunshiny room. His arm around me. The radio was playing Phil Collins In the Air Tonight, a song special to me even before that day in one of those beautiful prior imprinted memories which I did not know would impact my life as it did (a story for another day, but that song has been so vital in my life moments). I didn’t know how much my life would change at that moment; we never do until we look back. I was young, gorgeous, strong, healthy, and on an adventure. I was not in love that day, but I felt safe and valued. The love would come later; like a lightening bolt. Or not, maybe it was just gradual until I felt the trust come and I believed it was real. It was real. I still, despite all that transpired over the course of 21 years believe in that love. Because it ended makes it any less real years later. Regardless, it’s a beautiful day to remember with joy. I am so grateful to have it in my heart always.

I am grateful to have June 14 in my memory bank of moments which formed me. All of the moments of life bring us to where we are meant to be; we just are not always awake to know they matter. I’ve had a life full of blessings. Intermixed with the joys have been sorrows - incredible sorrows. Loss of grandparents throughout childhood, loss of friends, loss of a child and a husband. Loss of my mothers, both of them. Not getting stuck in those sadness’s is what truly matters. Recognizing we need the bad alongside the good; those are our lived experiences, and they help us become who we are meant to be; they help us learn and grow. I was fated to come to visit Florida, to meet Steve four days after I got here. To fall in love, to move here; to live our life together. I was fated to learn to live on my own, to grow into the me I am now, to have the experiences I have had since. As a child I did not have a perfect life, although it was pretty darn good. We were taught to be curious, to explore, to be inquisitive (to READ!), to blossom where ever we were. There was loss all along - there has to be. I have been on this planet nearly 62 years and I have lived through a lot of joy and sorrow. I have had love, heart ache, heartbreak, joys, fears, elation, beautiful, pride-filled moments, and I have been equally deflated, scared, frightened. All of that has led me to this moment of now. Mary Oliver asks “What will you do with your one wild and precious life?” I am not done finding out, and we shall see what the future brings.

Aging with Grace.

 Ooo what a day to read this! I went to a party last night – the same party my friends and I have had for over 25 years. The same, yet different. Their kids are all grown now, and for the first time THEIR friends outnumbered us at the party we created so long ago. It was…humbling. I look at their youth and think, wow – that was us, once. But the most humbling part was my dearest friend in the world; the one who picked me up off the floor so many years ago when my husband left…and picked me up when she delivered the news that my mother had suddenly died…that friend; that true, grounded friend. Her husband, 25 years ago, was the life of the party. An annoying, boasting, vibrant very heavy drinker. Yet he was fun, too. I can still see him, drunk, but supple – laying down on the floor where his children slept on a blanket in my living room. He looked at my friend and he said, we made these little beings – aren’t they beautiful? He annoyed me, but he was like that. A few years ago he had a drink related stroke. He continues to drink, in “secret” and it’s impossible for him to stop – one needs a zest to do so, and all the imploring in the world can’t make someone do that. So he fades, becomes wizened, feeble, frail. He slurs, he wobbles – partially from the stroke, partially from the drink. But last night he broke my heart. This little shell of a man, once that vibrant soul – he wanted to dance with his wife in the middle of rollicking Irish jigs and reels. She said I’ll dance with you soon; I think you’ll fall. He wanted to dance, though, so in the middle of this line of dancers in their 20’s, early 30’s and us, aging (but not old yet) “grown-ups” he joined her. And she slow danced with him – he shuffled in place and leaned heavily on her. Her hips swayed and she put her head on his shoulder and the crowd was brought to tears. It’s aging in the worst way for him, and it broke my heart. Aging gracefully is in the heart, mind, and soul – and sometimes how you dance with your weak, wobbly, ill husband.

From a post I read from Elephant Journal" In fact, aging sucks.
There is no question about it. It f*cking sucks. I mean, who are we kidding? There is nothing even remotely romantic about having lines on one’s face that show the world every single experience you’ve ever had. And who wouldn’t want to travel the world, imbibe several cultures, meet amazing people, and have life-changing experiences, but still stay a perennial 27?
There is nothing joyous about watching your loved ones go from being dynamic humans to become shells of themselves…just because they got old. Even the strongest of them, the most forward-thinking and positive of them all, eventually get so weak and tired that they simply want to let go.
It can gut you when you see the change and havoc that aging brings on people, including our own selves."

 This book was like comfort food. for me. I saw it advertised, read the description and requested it from NetGalley. Elin Hilderbrand ranks high on my list of women's fiction summer reading, and I was interested from the start.

A blogging sensation, Hollis lives what appears to be a perfect life sharing recipes, tips and tricks with her faithful, immense audience.. One morning before Christmas her life takes a tragic turn and she is left to pick up the pieces of her life, alone and devastated. After months of grieving she stumbles on an article describing a five star weekend in which someone invites friends from all the stages of her life to celebrate and share their stories together. She adapts it to her own purposes, and invites her own stages-of-life friends for an unforgettable five star weekend at her Nantucket beach house. As we get to know her friends and all of their quirky connections, we also learn more about our own chances and choices in life. Hollis discovers more about her life and marriage than she ever expected, and she learns that the gifts of healing come in unexpected, unforeseen packages.

Women's fiction is an interesting concept. In the literary world it is somehow communicated that women's fiction and women's life stories are of lesser literary value than fiction written by other writers on more "important" topics.. Personally, I find reading true-to-life fiction inspiring and relatable. It inspires me that anything can and does happen to each of us. No matter how perfect - or imperfect - our lives are, there is hope and promise waiting for us, even during our darkest hours. I am grateful to Elin Hilderbrand for writing such fabulous stories, and I am grateful to Little Brown for sharing a copy with me to read and review. 

Thankful

 

For the past 10 or more years I have traveled over Thanksgiving, and often Christmas break. I have missed two years of my travels over the years; one because I tore my hamstring and was on crutches for weeks; the thought of SeaTac or Portland Airport was far too daunting to maneuver. The second time I missed was the Covid year that we all stayed home. This was a third year missed.

The first year I was alone in my life - 20+ years ago, my dear friend Edel shared her family with me - and for many years after that we had Thanksgiving here. My own family were far away; my aunts and uncles came to Florida after Thanksgiving, but I had always had Steve and his family to cook for; my first year alone was so scary. I always loved to cook and entertain, and Edel was gracious and kind enough to continue sharing her family as her kids grew up. We had a joke when the kids were really little that I was in charge of their manners and etiquette. It makes me laugh, but the value of our long friendship sometimes touches my heart so much it brings tears to my eyes. God and the Angels put us in each others path that day - quite literally - at a time when I would need her the very most. We met walking. I was recently "retired" from Publix corporate office, not yet working at Barnes & Noble; not yet even thinking of being a librarian, and I had a lot of hours to fill. Her youngest, Rebecca, was very young when we met; just 18 months old. We bumped into each other, on the road between our houses; we live 1/2 mile apart and had never met before; Edel walking Rebecca in her stroller, me walking Cisco. She invited me back for coffee and that was the start of our friendship so long ago. Rebecca is now 25. In those years since then her family and mine have intertwined, spent hours and hours, and multitudes of holidays together chatting, sharing, growing, living, learning, celebrating. We've been through happiness, silliness, illness, life, and death. They've been to New York with me, I went to Ireland and spent time with them. True blessings of joy - thick and thin of all the things life has to share. Friendship that I never, ever take for granted. Edel grounds me with her practicality when I need it the most. She makes me think, and we have fabulous moments of deep discussion, and sometimes just moments of silence that are true blessings. The first year we spent apart for Thanksgiving, when I started traveling, was really difficult; yet I knew it was time for new traditions and experiences, too. This year I did not travel for a variety of reasons, and she had to work, so this year it was dinner for just John and I. I found myself ok, yet missing the Pacific Northwest and Edel and her family in equal parts. I still counted my blessings.

In our travels out west we stay up in the mountains until dark - and when you are in the far northwest, dark comes fairly early. The first year we came down from the mountains and discovered most every place to eat dinner - let alone Thanksgiving - was closed due to the holiday. And eating places in that more rural region are pretty few and far between as well. Out west, too, even McDonald's closes on the holiday - as they should! We found a little restaurant; Shari's, which is a little like Denny's but with more cozy, comfort food. It was fun and dinner was good. From then on we would have "Thanksgiving" dinner at Shari's or Denny's in Kelso, WA. A few years back we discovered, by accident, a place called Grumpy's on Rockaway Beach, OR, about 15ish miles from Tillamook. That was a true fun find; a local bakery which serves a complete Thanksgiving meal. Last year we went back to Rockaway Beach, but we missed Grumpy's - we went into the hills near Tillamook and it was not yet open. We ended up in Denny's in  Tillamook. My sister said yesterday "well, at least you don't have to eat at Denny's this year". True enough, but part of the tradition we created is the fun of looking for someplace open to at least eat something! I missed travel this year. I miss the mountains - they are calling me, and I can hear them even from this distance of 3100 miles all the way across the country. I also know when I get a chance to go back, the steady loveliness will be waiting to welcome me with open arms. I will feel that comfortable feeling of a deep breath taken and held deep inside myself; of being surrounded by the steady rhythm of life out there. I cooked dinner yesterday - turkey and all the trimmings, and it was really nice; a quiet day spent in my home. Still, I heard the voice of the mountains calling deep within me all day long. For now, Thanksgiving, quiet at home - and I am counting the blessings of all life has given me, for the memories, and also, gratitude for what is to come. 

Here's to friendship

Rockaway Beach, OR

Windswept Rockaway Beach

Mortality

 Life and death are on my mind today. Our friends in South Carolina lost their father last night. He lived a beautiful life for 93 years. He was one of the kindest, sweetest men I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. A long time ago - back in the early/mid '80s mom moved in to the house kitty-corner from the Thompson family; their backyards connected to a point, and both yards were fenced. Their grandson, Travis, was the first to meet mom, and soon the family became entwined. I think he told mom she would go to hell for cursing - or so the story goes - when he heard her out in the back yard. At first they used a stepladder to go over the fence to visit (going around the corner StreetSide was not nearly as fun!), and eventually they put a gate in for easy access. True backdoor neighbors. Mom and Jan drank coffee, smoked cigarettes, crafted and chatted for hours and years, seemingly on end. The Thompsons were second family to us all - even if we did not live close by. 

Life and death happen - mom died suddenly, then Jan a few years later, in a not so-sudden slower path. We have taken solace that mom and Jan were in heaven together watching all of us. Now John has joined them so many years later. His life without Jan was lonely, I know. Despite children and grandchildren close by - despite Kerri moving in with him this past year. He has to be at peace in the arms of his love again - and I believe that mom is right there in the house across the backyard, still.

Last week my friends lost their mother/mother-in-law, Veronica. She, too, was 93. She had 11 children and a plethora of grandchildren. Another beautiful life lived. She was a devout Catholic and supported her church in so many ways and capacities. Last night at the viewing I was enthralled by the family photos through the years; showing her young, progressing as the children came along, and life just continued into older age. Such beauty in a life lived so well and for so long. To be so adored by one's children; true blessings and joys. Life in a large family is not always easy. It is often messy and full of angst. But family, through thick and thin, bond in so many ways and it's lovely to live in the middle of that chaos.

Today is the "Deathaversary" of my friend Maryann's mom, Louise. Louise died just a few months shy of her 90th birthday. She was full of life - full of joie de vivre. She exuded it in her smile, in her appreciation for the smallest pleasures and her zest for being part of everything. Her death at 89 was sudden and unexpected; I truly believed she was a woman who would live until her 100th year at least. 

My own mother died young; just 63. Mom-Carole was 80. My mother-in-law was not yet 60, nor was my grandmother. Tammy's mom was young as well; just 70. Sometimes we lose loved ones when it feels they are not yet done living.

The legacy people leave behind is joyous, to me. So many experiences, so much happiness and sorrow; so many changes brought about by the world as a whole. To leave a family behind is to be remembered. I did not know Veronica, but I know several of her children, and I know that they live lives that reflect how they were raised. I knew Jan, John, Louise - my mom(s). I remember smiles and laughter; bountiful love and sorrow. I remember lessons learned, conversations both fun and heavy all around. Life is so very beautiful. And, in death, so are the memories. In a memorable movie line from Ghost with Patrick Swayze and Demi Moore, Patrick tells Demi - "it's amazing the love inside? You take it with you".

I started searching for photo's to share here with my words - and so quickly became flooded with thousands of memories. Mom's together, aunts, uncles, cousins no longer with us, yet preserved with smiling faces as we captured moments in photos. So many moments, so many blessings. The love inside - you take it with you, but it also stays inside to warm our hearts as we remember. 

     

Hallelujah

 I try to write at least a page daily - sometimes I manage the three page rule suggested by Julia Cameron in her book The Artist's Way. Sometimes it's just one page. I don't beat myself up over it. I've learned through that process of being too hard on myself that I just get stagnant and don't write or create anything for long stretches of time, and that serves no purpose. I've always known I was a Creative. When I was very young I asked Santa for a typewriter (and he brought me one) because I wanted to be a writer. I started writing (really bad) poetry when I was around 10. It comes and goes. I have reams and reams of it, but I also have blank holes of years where I've not written. It brings me joy, helps me purge my thoughts and helps clarify a next step or even just a next thought. In high school I knew what I wanted to do with my life. I wanted to move to Colorado and write poetry - that Rocky Mountain High life. But when it came down to it the general consensus was that was no way to live my life and I really needed to go to college because writing poetry in the mountains would not give me a life or pay my bills. I will not disavow college. It changed my life in ways I never dreamed of. But I also recognize now that that quashing of my dream also changed the trajectory of my life. Because it was instilled in me that I would never make a living as a writer, I never even tried - I've always been a pleaser. I would never blame my parents for their guidance. I will say I was unwilling to go away to school, but I did it because I am a pleaser, and it was scary to think of any alternative. And in the long run, I think that is the path I was meant to take - whatever happens in life is supposed to be exactly the right thing at each and every moment. (Hard medicine to swallow, especially in bad times, but I have to believe it is true). 

This morning while I wrote - it ended up as three pages - Jimi-kitty was stretched out on my left arm, my left hand holding a cleansing selenite palm stone. Other favorite crystals were lined up in front of my - a moon quartz point, a snowflake obsidian crescent moon, peach moonstone, black and peach moonstone, lepidolite, dumortierite. All are about obtaining balance, peace, new beginnings - strength. I believe in the power of crystals and essential oils. I believe in the love and support of my angels, of God, Universe, Spirit, Mother Earth. (I do believe in the power of modern medicine, too; I believe it should all work together). There's a song from the movie Hair which came out when I was a kid. I loved that movie then; still do today. One of the songs rolls through my head a lot - I believe in God and God believes in me. Actually the lines are more like "I believe in God and I believe that God believes in Claude - that's me". Yes. That's me. Oddly, the song Hallelujah by Leonard Cohen came on my New Age Ambient Pandora radio just now. Such a beautiful song about faith - life, love, loss. Yes, bad happens. But though it all went wrong, thank God for it all to begin with. I understand. 

Life can go wrong. But thank God for the good times. Patrick Swayze tells Jennifer Grey he'll never be sorry as he's leaving Kellerman's; forced out because he made the mistake of being with her. That line is like an arrow to the heart - I'll never be sorry. I've had great love; long, beautiful, all encompassing straight out I would-slay-tigers-for-you love. It's gone. I'll never be sorry. The joy it brought me. The Me it made of me. It's gone but it is still in my heart and soul and nothing can ever change that or take that from me. It molded me, both finding such beautiful love and losing it. It created my path, my life, my person. It helped me to become the Me I was meant to be; who I am now. Each day I miss that love, but at the same time I am so grateful for the loss, too. My body is aging, I ache all over sometimes. My career is filled with dis-ease; with incredible pressure from all angles. Every side; inside me, inside school, out-of-school, the district, the state, the country, parents, even non-parents. Everyone has an opinion about what should be done, how it should (or should not) be done. I can think of no other career with so many stakeholders trying to make and change rules about a job (well, perhaps political and government careers have more opinions, but I am not qualified to say). 

My point is, through all of that, that physical and mental strain; it defines me and I do not want it to continue to do so; I do not want such negativity to have control over my life. Loving and losing made me a stronger, better person. Perhaps all this career upheaval will too. I believe that each breath of my life has brought me to here. The incredible blessing of love and loss. The difficulty of my life right now. It's where I am meant to be. The aches and pains of my frustratingly aging body are indicators that it's becoming time to make changes. I just want to live a happy, healthy, free existence as a Creator. I want to follow my heart and not the "you should's" of well intentioned (and maybe not so well-intentioned) others. So, I look to crystals and oils, prayers, meditations, natural healings to help me along the way. I read books, poetry, I paint, I create, I dream. I remember beautiful touching lines from movies, or listen to music which calms or soothes me. I love the fur and purr of my cats; cold, wet kitty nose kisses. I love to travel and explore, to observe sunshine through leaves, mosses, and branches of trees; I adore trees. I love the blue sky as much as I admire deep, rumbly angry skies. I love stepping outside barefoot, toes in damp cool grass and earth (not so much cool, damp earth this far south, though). I love this gift of my life, and I am so grateful for every moment, good and bad - and I am grateful for Leonard Cohen's words, too:

"Now I've done my best, I know it wasn't much
I couldn't feel, so I tried to touch
I've told the truth, I didn't come here... just to fool you
And even though it all went wrong
I'll stand right here before the Lord of song
With nothing, nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah"

Every Vote Counts

 I stopped watching daily news a long time ago. I began to strongly dislike the bias and opinions I saw in increasing numbers. I remember thinking I don't need to hear anyone's opinion on what is happening - I just want facts, or I can research figure it own on my own. I still catch glimpses of news - I am not an escapist. I don't watch movies or television often; I just don't feel the need to be entertained in that manner. I read a lot (both fiction and non-fiction) and I watch documentaries if I feel the need for a bit of distraction or information. I try to not become swayed by general opinion or by the loudest voice in the room.

I was raised to believe that every vote counts, and I try to participate thoughtfully in every election. When I was in high school we were encouraged to register to vote so we could participate in the election process as soon as we turned 18. I remember talking to my parents - I was not sure if I should be a republican or a democrat, but I registered as they were at the time, and I have never felt the need to change it. I vote for who I believe is the best candidate, not for the party itself. Our country is so divided by parties and blanket statements of each party, and I choose not to participate in conversations on the topic. I bring it up now because it fits my mood about the current state of affairs - and about the upcoming election next Tuesday, August 23. 

I am an educator in Hillsborough County. We are being encouraged to vote yes on a sales tax increase which is ear-marked for education purposes. I would love higher wages - but I will not vote for this tax. I am also a taxpayer in the same county. I do not need higher taxes in order to be granted higher wages - that seems counter-intuitive to me. What I would like to see is county money - received from the county, state and federal government spent more wisely. I would like to know why education in Florida is ranked among the lowest in the country, and why teachers wages are in the same category. I would like to know and understand why our county spends so much money on this program and that program, and mandates that teachers learn, grow, teach more and more in a manner which is dictated; which is deemed the best, the most proven, cutting edge method. Just when one method is adopted and in place, another comes along to replace the old. The amount of wasted books, technology, and materials is appalling. There is little autonomy in Florida public schools these days. Schools are rigid and non-stop. There is little time for anything not academic, and that makes me sad. I remember Kindergarten and cutting, pasting, reading times, singing songs, listening to rhymes. There was play time, inside and out, and there was joy. But that is a topic for another time; I believe our education system has been politicized and is broken. I do not know the answer to fix it, but I do believe that those making the rules, pushing for tax increases, and more parental involvement in the choices for all children - not just their own; I believe this to be misguided and leading to further devalue of education. It, to me, speaks of violation of our First Amendments granted under our own United States Constitution: Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.

I normally do not share political posts, or even ever write them. Today I am haunted and compelled. Last night I read an article from WFLA (a Tampa News Station). The headline states "Florida is the place where woke goes to die". I thought I would be sick at the contents of the article. In it, Governor DeSantis said many things that are so strong; that children will not be indoctrined in Florida, and that ideology will not be tolerated. He blamed the teacher shortage on poor education in Florida Universities. He said that teachers are not being taught right or well how to be teachers, despite the state's efforts to raise teacher salaries; the problem is teachers may perform well in education classrooms, but that is not the real world. There is so much in the article that has stayed with me the last 24 hours. This is the governor of Florida; a man who is also a presidential hopeful for the election in 2024. 

To add to the fear and sickness inside of me; there is a bill in the Florida Department of Education (FDOE) now, called Bill 1467. In it is a call for parent work group members to develop online training for School Library Media. Why is this important? One of Governor DeSantis beliefs is putting more power in the parents for their children's education. As a trained, certified, degreed Librarian this is telling me that parents opinions are far more important than my actual knowledge and my training. Imagine telling a doctor that hey, your education doesn't count; lets get a random group of parents involved and they can order the right one-sized fits all medicine; that will solve the problem. Insert that same phrase in just about any professional walk of life; lets call to action and let parents decide for everybody - your education, training and experience have little meaning. In a nutshell, this bill is saying that these committee parents opinion is enough to correctly select reading materials based on their own opinions of right and wrong. There is a lot of darkness under this call to action. Each parent has every right to say I don't want my child to read this book or that book. But that same parent should never, ever have the right to decide that for all children in the state of Florida. The darkness is that we all want our First Amendment rights protected, and not only in the way we believe is the right way to speak, think, or act. Part of who we are as American's has always been a melting pot of ideas, and cultures and beliefs. This call to action is a covert action to exclude people who are considered undesirable because of race, religion, or sexual orientation. It is a devalue to education, to the state, to librarians - most especially, to the children.