A Poem a Day

January 16, 2017

Calm quiet
      Crept up on me today-
I'm not sure when;
       I wasn't looking.
There's been stirrings
      of turmoil in the air
       the last week or so;
It looked as if Turmoil wanted
         To move in.
It's a slippery sliding slope
      sometimes
           but I hold on -
I'm a master of that.
   Today when I realized
      that quiet Calm was here
I didn't rejoice...
   I welcomed him softly,
                               with open arms.

Things Are Spinning 'Round Me

I have so much to do. The truth is, I can't seem to get beyond my own thoughts to get anything done. Writing has helped all of my life – helped to clear my head; my mind. It's a purge or a catharsis, depending on the need. Today, a purge, I think. I began the year with high hopes, and my hopes are not dashed. I am subdued from goings on in the last week, but I still have not given up on the year, and I won't. Life happens. There are things that need to be done sometimes, before others can occur. I just have to be patient and continue to do housekeeping – not a term I like very well, but it is all I can think of. I need to sweep my mind from all the debris tangling there – thoughts of death and life and the huge amount of work piling up around me. 

There is a Jim Croce song going through my head - "Well, things were spinning round me and all my thoughts were cloudy and I had begun to doubt all the things that were me. Been in so many places you know I've run so many races and looked into the empty faces of the people of the night, and something is just not right". That is me the last few days. Spinning thoughts; things are just not right. It is plain what some of it is about – the death of my cousin's wife, the death of Jan Thompson, such a dear family friend. Those things in themselves are hard to wrap my head around. Jan's death –her life was so wonderful and the world she and John created together for 63 years are truly inspiring. Their family – my extended family – they are just the epitome of a family; not perfect, they argue, fight – but they love each other and they come together in times of happiness and sorrow both. I love them all dearly. And Jan will be missed. She and my mom are drinking coffee in heaven, I know. Jan might be sad to have left her worldly body behind, and my mom might be saying, but Jan – it's ok; you will adjust. They will adjust. I have watched my girls for 11 years now, and I promise, it will be ok. They will all join you one day, but for now, look - we can drink coffee and we can smoke, we can laugh like we always did, and we can shine down on them from heaven.

Eryka's death. That is something else. Not planned, not expected, not welcomed by anyone she knew – of course, whose death ever is, right? But she was young, healthy – beautiful; she had a beautiful young daughter who loves her, a mother who loves her – a husband, who, despite their differences, loved her a long time. They mourn her, all these people. I mourn her, and I did not know her as they did. I mourn the loss of her, and I mourn my family for their loss. It is heart-wrenching, and I cannot get my head around why she would take her own life. Suicide is not something I can fathom. I understand, logically, that people are unhappy, and I understand suicide happens. I don't condone it, and I don't believe in it – and I know it is not my place to pass judgment; I am not doing that. I just do not understand it, and my brain says why, why? Why would you do that? No man, no situation – nothing in life cannot be changed. Life changes, minute by minute; hang on; give your life a moment to adjust. I am not arguing for suicide and I am not arguing about it; it is truly not my place nor is it my intention. I just am having such a hard time with the depth of what it leaves behind. The beautiful daughter; the mother; the husband. The friends – the family. The world shifts a minute, immeasurable amount when someone dies. It has to. The course of history changes, even in the slightest bit; the air that is displaced when a butterfly flutters its wings, or a ripple that flows outward in a pond when a pebble is dropped, or someone passes from this world; it can change the world. I feel my heart ripping at the thought of the exquisite pain she must have been in; down inside her soul and how hard her last moments must have been. The depths of that agony are beyond my measure, but oh, the sadness it brings to me; the thought of another human being in so much pain.

Such thoughts are clouding my mind. I have other things happening in my life that just seem so trivial in comparison. I am not downplaying my own life and all that is filling my head right now, but those things – work deadlines and responsibilities I cannot seem to concentrate on; health concerns; daily more and more to do, bills to pay, plumbing issues, the need for a new roof, classes to take, books to read for deadlines; my step-mother's terminal illness and the changes that is bringing to life. It's all there, and it is all part of what makes up the fabric of my life. It is weighing on my mind. But it will all get done, somehow. Those things that we encounter each and every day – they do pass. This moments worries will, in a month, be behind me, taken over by the new worries of that moment. I know that. I just can't seem to stop my head from spinning a little out of control. This, too, shall pass. Life has a way of taking care of such things. I am blessed to be alive. Blessed to have these worries and concerns – these minor burdens. It means that I am alive. I am living my life. I am taking breaths, one after the other. My head is spinning, but it is thinking, and it is trying to come to terms with everything; everyone. I am so, so fortunate. Thank you, God, for life.

Villa I Due Padroni

Even before Frances Mayes enticed readers to visit Italy, I fell in love with all things Italian. My dream was realized in 2005 with a trip to Italy, alone, for 22 days. I stayed in a home much like Stef and Nico’s for 8 days, took cooking classes with the local Italian Mama’s, and have longed to go back since I boarded the plane to come back. To me that is the ultimate American dream – but I can see that it is really an International dream, too; living la dolce vita. Stef Smulders book Living in Italy: The Real Deal – How to Survive the Good Life shows that two gentlemen from Holland are living out the ultimate deal – and Stef wrote of their adventures. What is not to love about that?

I was given the chance to read Stef’s book by way of an advance e-copy from the author. I delayed reading it for a bit, but I am so glad I finally settled in and finished it! What a delight. The chapters are short, comically humorous snapshots of Italian bureaucracy, Italian thinking, and the Italian way of life. But there is more underneath; the story of two people who take control of their lives (as much as they can in a foreign country!) and make their own dreams come true; dreams that they secretly held, or had yet to discover. That is true adventure.

One of the things that struck me the most is the tone of the book. Stef is never judgmental of the Italians and their way of life or thinking. He accepts them as they are yet still maintains his own good humor despite all the very real struggles he and Nico encountered. To experience it is one thing, to write about it and keep the tone light and humorous is perfect for this narration. I am grateful for the gift of this terrific read, and I hope Stef writes more about their Italian adventures soon! I look forward to reading more – and to pay a visit one day soon to Villa I Due Padroni.

Living in Italy - Book Reviews
http://www.duepadroni.it/

Christmas and Family

Yesterday was Christmas. I've created a tradition of cooking the holiday meal for my family - whoever happens to be around at the time. Aunts, Uncles, cousins - friends of the family; whoever. It began long ago, even before Steve left, but it became even stronger after that. Family are those people in this world who know us best, despite our quirks, oddities, dysfunctions. My family are no different than every other family, except they are mine, and I am theirs - we are each other in so many ways, and different in so many others. My family, I am grateful to say, treat me with warmth, affection - love, above all. They make me feel special and appreciated. It makes my heart so happy and full. My husband did not love me enough to stay in spite of the fact I gave my marriage and our life together my entire heart and soul - for over 20 years. It was not enough for him, sadly. It was for many years, but in the long run it ended up just not enough. When the best of what you have; who you are; of everything you have to give is not enough, it is soul shattering. I was broken into a million pieces. But my friends and my family helped stitch me together. They rally around me still, and they succeed in showing me that I am worthy of love; of appreciation. Family are the root of who we are. We are born into each other forever, even if we sometimes try, we cannot lose those bonds. I am so fortunate to be part of a huge network of aunts, uncles - cousins. My father was blessed with 12 siblings, and all together there are over 40 of first cousins. They all have so much to do with who I am today. Thank you, God.

When we were growing up, my cousins and I, the majority of us spent Christmas evening together. We had huge Fields family gatherings all together at my grandfathers house; the house my father and all of his siblings grew up in; It was huge, dark, old, and it was the old homestead on the corner of Bridge and Homestead in Phoenix, New York. The old wooden house burned in the mid 70s and my uncle, who lived with Grandpa at the time, bought a new double wide modular home for them both to live in. The house was placed on the same old foundation, and the basement was still the same. The new house was much smaller, but we all still gathered in that house - 13 older siblings and spouses, all their offspring; friends of the family - it was a chaotic, frantic mess; 60 plus adults and children in one modular home for the evening! I can still remember the feel of all those bodies in one place, turning sideways to get by people, the noise, the heat - the smells; the feeling of completely belonging to each other, despite the chaos. The tables, kitchen - every surface was laden with food, drinks, presents, coats, hats, boots, scarves. My cousins and I still talk of those old days with warmth and passion - those were the days that formed so many of us. We gathered at Grandpa's on Christmas night, in each other's houses throughout the year for birthdays, graduations, weddings, births - deaths. We gathered at the lake for family reunions for weekends of celebrations. We gathered and we celebrated all of life's moments together, good and bad. There were arguments, laughter, loud voices, laps to sit on, necks to hug. There were copious amount of food, alcohol, coffee - cigarette smoke. There was always such a welcoming air and presence to all of our family gatherings, and there still are. Even as the Fields family grows and expands, that core group dwindles and the special gatherings are never as loud or large or intense, but they are still special. I think that is one of the reasons that I started having family gatherings here at my house - a longing for those far off gatherings at home in Phoenix. After I left home for Florida and Steve and I began our own holiday traditions, part of me always longed for those huge family events. I missed so many of them living so far from home. I know that as my cousins and I grew into adulthood our parents began slipping away from us, one by one, and the heart and soul of our family shrank little by little with each death, Now all that is left of my many aunts and uncles are the youngest two; my dad and my Uncle Gary. Aunt Betty and Aunt Carol are two of the spouses left to us, and we treasure the four of them, each and every one of us. We can never recreate our past, but those formative years stay with us. I think my holiday celebrations now are a way to pay homage to those days of youth, and as a way to say thank you to all of my family, far and wide - for being my family, for being part of my tribe; for loving me and for allowing me to love back. Family is the heart and soul of who we are, always.

Thank you, Amber, for creating this video of Chrismas Past -
Fields Family Christmas

My Not So Perfect Life

I read this book from Net Galley in exchange for an honest review. It made me laugh out loud and was just the light-hearted kind of book I needed for that particular moment in time. Sophie Kinsella has a way of turning our deep-down fears of personal inadequacies into laughable moments. Life in the big city was not all it was cracked-up to be for Cat (Katie), but she hated to throw in the towel and move back to the country. When her father and step-mother ask for her help, Katie believes she can help, but fully intends to stay just temporarily. This is the story of how our perceptions of people and places are not always based on truth. Katie faces her own truths and discovers herself along the way. I appreciate the chance to read it very much. 

https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/1836127864?book_show_action=false&from_review_page=1

River glass and the passage of time

It’s hard to believe it is already so late in the year. My great-grandmother’s voice always resonates in my mind when I think thoughts about how quickly time flies. I can remember being in her apartment one afternoon after school and for some reason the topic came up. I don’t remember her exact tone of voice, but her words stay with me, all these years later – when you get older time seems to go faster and faster and one day you blink and wonder how you came to be this old person. Her apartment was never sunny and bright. The sun rose and set at odd angles around her place, so I remember it as being dark; black and white almost, although I know it was not somber. That memory probably lies within the photo I took of her sitting at the window overlooking Cherry St. – her face was bathed in filtered sunlight and the lines on her face were so striking to me; she was beatific. The expression on her face says she was lost in thought, or in a memory. She was approaching 80 then, her husband had been gone for close to 25 years; my grandmother – her firstborn daughter - may have just passed away; she died when I was 17. From time to time her words echo in my mind; those afternoons spent in short visits to her remain part of the fabric of my teenage years.

The date was not on my mind as I decided to record my thoughts this morning, but as I typed the date and realized there are only four more months left in this year, my mind’s eye blinked, then the memory of Grandma Hooker came to mind. The thoughts first on my mind were waking to a dream of walking in a river with several of my friends. It was just a shallow river, flowing lazily in the late summertime. It was peaceful, calm, serene. They were standing on the banks talking, bantering, lost in their own conversations and I was searching for river glass. Searching for glass is a passion of mine. There is something in the hunt itself; something soothing and thrilling all at once to discover little moments of the past in the form of shards of glass – broken bottles, glasses, even dishes, polished with a soft edge, once whole, then discarded, lost, broken down with time, water, sand, and rocks. River or sea glass are little pieces of someone’s life, even if it was just a bottle of beer someone drank and tossed in the river or ocean. It doesn’t matter, it somehow becomes special with the passage of time. It’s kind of like a quest for antiques; they assume a character; a history; and if they could talk they could tell a part of someone’s life story.

But my dream - It was a soft slice of time; a moment of quiet and tranquility. Such are the moments I collect and use as a balm for my soul. I am a seeker of silence, of simple moments, of peace, serenity, quietude. It’s not always possible in our world full of noise and distractions. Many of us feel the need to fill all of our moments with something; a distraction, a sound, an activity. Maybe such moments make some people feel alive, with purpose, or action. I am discovering more and more that I like quiet, and I am finding the world more and more noise filled. Waking from such a dream this morning was something substantial or symbolic. There is probably some implication that dream interpreters might find – it was definitely a seeking dream (most of my dreams are searching dreams where I look for someone or something). Maybe it was just as simple as what I was searching for was just a few moments of peace and tranquility in a life full of activity and not nearly enough quiet time for reflection or for myself. I had such moments this summer, although they were spaced farther out than I would have liked. Maybe the dream is just a reminder to me to appreciate those few moments of silence as they come, and to treasure them as I do bits of river glass, or even moments of memories of loved ones who have passed on.

I Liked My Life

Book Review - Good Reads

This is the story of Madeline, her daughter Eve, and husband Brady. Madeline has died, but it does not stop her from trying to find her replacement in her families lives. Maddy watches and guides her family from where she is - somewhere in-between heaven and earth. As Maddy's death unfolds, we learn the backstory of her life and that of her friends and family. Both Brady and Even struggle to discover what hidden secrets Maddy had, and how she could have been so vastly unhappy without their knowing it. Both characters search deep into their souls and discover truths about themselves that are unsettling, yet enable them to grow into the lives they are meant to live.

Each life has a turning point - many turning points. Eve and Brady find themselves wishing to go back to any moment in time and react differently; live differently, speak differently. Their epiphanies are full of prose, poetry and words of wisdom; self-discovery moments they are guided to by Maddy from her place watching over them. One of the most beautiful pieces of prose is given to Eve by Maddy's sister Meg in the form of "Maddy's Truths". Such great words of wisdom.

As with every wonderful work of fiction the plot twists and turns, leaving the reader guessing at the truth until the very unpredictable ending - I did not want the story to end. As well as surprising me, it left me satisfied and contemplative all at once.

I have been sitting on this review, deciding just what to say. I read the book twice - I should say I devoured it once, then went back and reread it slowly, savoring it. It is such a unique story, and so well written; Abby's words are magic and beautiful. I am completely in love with this book, and I cannot wait for Abby's next , even though "I liked My Life" will not be on sale until January 2017. I was so thrilled and honored to have received an ARC of this book - thank you Abby, for the gift of your words and story, and for the opportunity to read it early.