It's been a rough week.....I have a bunion....AND a hammer toe - just starting to make themselves known. John's car died - really dead. Thanksgiving fell this year on the second anniversary of my nephews' passing. My visiting Sister In Law wound up in our local hospital on the day after Thanksgiving, and was their guest for a few days while they divested her of a multiplicity of kidney stones. Just last night, Baby Girl broke three toes while babysitting.....
When the alarm rang this morning at 6:00 a.m., for the briefest of moments I considered ignoring it and burying myself so far under the covers that Jethro Gibbs and the whole NCIS team wouldn't be able to find me. But there is no rest for the wicked, or for Children's Ministers either. This was the first Sunday of Advent AND a Lolapalooza day. Lolapalooza occurs on the Fifth Sunday - it gives the Sunday School teachers a well deserved break, and provides a chance for me to teach the kids....grade K - 5. It's kind of a mini Vacation Bible School - we have a lesson, craft, game, and a snack - all centered around the theme of the day. It will come as no surprise that today's lesson was the building of a Nativity. As we were gathered around the table, enjoying our appropriately themed snack of popcorn and Little Debbie Christmas Tree Brownies, the talk turned to pets. Baby Girl (who was serving as my assistant) mentioned how fat our CrackHouse Puppy is. Challenged by the assemblage to show just how fat, Baby Girl drew on the board - a very round Puppy Dog. A second grade boy jumped up to complete the drawing....pointy ears, glaring eyes, and a mouth full of sharp teeth turned my sweet puppy into a nasty gremlin dog. While we were discussing the merits of Canine Facial Expressions, another precious second grader stole to the board, picked up the chalk and made a quick scribble....whereupon she slyly announced to the room that she had fixed him good and well....the puppy was now "a boy". For a moment, I was unsure as to her meaning, until I noticed the additional appendage....yep - it was a boy alright. What exactly does one say to that? "OK, time to clean up", that's what!!
As we were over by the craft area, I grabbed my coffee cup to take a much needed fortifying swig. Fortunately, I looked down just before the cup reached my lips...."Blergh....there is GLITTER in my coffee", I moaned. (Yes.....there were glittering parts to our Nativity craft - what can I say? I am a big fan of glitter!) As one, my little charges shouted "oohh - let me see", so I put the cup down on the table for them to take a gander. "COOL!"....."That's so pretty"......."I've never seen THAT before"....They were thrilled with the glittery coffee. Where I only saw a disaster, they saw the beauty, the whimsy, the art. They laughed at the sight, and danced from the sheer novelty of the moment. It was then, that the students became the teacher....reminding me that the quality of your life has more to do with your perspective than your circumstance. A fine lesson to be sure, on this first Sunday of Advent....."And a little Child shall lead them.....".......Thus endeth the lesson.
Sunday, November 30, 2014
Sunday, November 23, 2014
All Good Gifts Around Us....
The first time I sang this anthem, I was pregnant with Babiest Girl....16 years ago - the Sunday before Thanksgiving. "All good gifts around us are sent from Heaven above. So thank the Lord, Oh thank the Lord for all his Love...." The words are familiar and simple....the melody and harmonies are haunting and soul stirring. I have never sung this piece, that it did not reduce me to tears - today was no exception.
The tears have actually flown freely in the last 24 hours.....First - it was a YaYa Weekend, so there were tears of joyful greetings, tears from laughter, and tears from worries and troubles shared. Sadly, I had to leave the Gathering early, to get to the Theatre for the final performance of my current Show. At Intermission, the Night Manager came to my dressing room, and told me I had a friend in the Audience. The name she offered rang no bells, and I momentarily feared for the state of my stellar memory. A tugging began in the back of my mind, as I thought - that must be a married name. I grabbed up my phone, and started going through my FaceBook friend list - and then....NO.....it couldn't be. My Childhood friend.....my Neighborhood Bestie.....how many hours had we spent, playing in the creek, skating in her carport.....putting on plays in my room, playing Monopoly, praying for snow days.....
I could hardly wait for the show to be over. Would I recognize her? Suddenly, her sweet face was in front of me...unchanged over the years. More tears, shrieks of joy and disbelief....her dear smile transporting me to long ago and far away.
This morning, surprise tears overtook me, as I learned that a young woman I have long loved had been named a Deacon in our Church. I taught this girl in Sunday School, Vacation Bible School and Children's Choir. As she grew to a Teenager, she became my babysitter, and as she grew to Adulthood, she became my friend. I had to lock myself in my office to cry tears of happiness and wonder, as I bore witness to the Circle of Life.
Which is how I found myself in the Choir Loft at the 11:00 service singing through my tears..."All good gifts around us are sent from Heaven above. So thank the Lord, Oh thank the Lord for all his Love". In that 8 pages of music I saw myself as a little girl, long hair flying as I twirled around a carport in my new boot skates.....I felt myself pregnant with my last child, happy and wistful...I was a naturally raven haired 20 something (no hair dye required), walking through campus with my friends....I was a MidLife Wife, astonished by how blessed life can be - even when it is bone crushingly difficult....
I lifted my voice in Thanksgiving....grateful to know that you can dance in the rain, mindful that I have been granted my hearts desire - a family to love and call my own. Grateful for the view from MidLife - where I can pause, and see the tapestry, woven by my years on this earth.....see the beautiful smiles of old friends, cry tears of love and remembrance, and hold hope for the sunshine tomorrow. So, thank the Lord......for all his love.....Blessed Be.
The tears have actually flown freely in the last 24 hours.....First - it was a YaYa Weekend, so there were tears of joyful greetings, tears from laughter, and tears from worries and troubles shared. Sadly, I had to leave the Gathering early, to get to the Theatre for the final performance of my current Show. At Intermission, the Night Manager came to my dressing room, and told me I had a friend in the Audience. The name she offered rang no bells, and I momentarily feared for the state of my stellar memory. A tugging began in the back of my mind, as I thought - that must be a married name. I grabbed up my phone, and started going through my FaceBook friend list - and then....NO.....it couldn't be. My Childhood friend.....my Neighborhood Bestie.....how many hours had we spent, playing in the creek, skating in her carport.....putting on plays in my room, playing Monopoly, praying for snow days.....
I could hardly wait for the show to be over. Would I recognize her? Suddenly, her sweet face was in front of me...unchanged over the years. More tears, shrieks of joy and disbelief....her dear smile transporting me to long ago and far away.
This morning, surprise tears overtook me, as I learned that a young woman I have long loved had been named a Deacon in our Church. I taught this girl in Sunday School, Vacation Bible School and Children's Choir. As she grew to a Teenager, she became my babysitter, and as she grew to Adulthood, she became my friend. I had to lock myself in my office to cry tears of happiness and wonder, as I bore witness to the Circle of Life.
Which is how I found myself in the Choir Loft at the 11:00 service singing through my tears..."All good gifts around us are sent from Heaven above. So thank the Lord, Oh thank the Lord for all his Love". In that 8 pages of music I saw myself as a little girl, long hair flying as I twirled around a carport in my new boot skates.....I felt myself pregnant with my last child, happy and wistful...I was a naturally raven haired 20 something (no hair dye required), walking through campus with my friends....I was a MidLife Wife, astonished by how blessed life can be - even when it is bone crushingly difficult....
I lifted my voice in Thanksgiving....grateful to know that you can dance in the rain, mindful that I have been granted my hearts desire - a family to love and call my own. Grateful for the view from MidLife - where I can pause, and see the tapestry, woven by my years on this earth.....see the beautiful smiles of old friends, cry tears of love and remembrance, and hold hope for the sunshine tomorrow. So, thank the Lord......for all his love.....Blessed Be.
Tuesday, November 11, 2014
The Actor's Life for Me.....
It is 8:00 p.m., and I find myself in the kitchen, running the water, trying to coax my bladder into releasing that which it is designed to hold.....it's just been that kind of a day. It started off well enough - Special K and Cheese Toast for breakfast. 2 Cups of coffee, Babiest girl out the door mostly on time to school. A couple of loads of laundry, and I too was out the door - headed to the next town over, where I had a matinee at the Dinner Theatre.
I believe I have mentioned before, that one of the perks of working Dinner Theatre is the meal that accompanies your paycheck. As I set my plate down at the table and joined my cast mates for lunch, I caught the tail end of the news of the morning....plumbing issues. A few toilets non functioning (unless you call overflowing functioning), but not to worry, the plumber was on his way. By the time I shimmied into my Act one Costume, the entire Women's Restroom was closed due to....ummm....malfunctions. The Men's room hurriedly became the Women's, and the Men came upstairs to the Actors Restroom (Theatre folk are resourceful, you know?)....that would be about the time I scared my bladder into submission. After having Three Children, AND not listening to my Doctor about the importance of the Kegel exercise, I find myself in need of the facilities.....often. Not entirely possible today....which is why I had prayer meeting with my poor aforementioned bladder before I stepped foot onstage.
About ten minutes into the show, out of the periphery of my left eye, I saw some sort of commotion in the audience. (The theatre is in the round - in the square, actually, and the stage is surround on all four sides by patrons). As I turned, following my blocking, I saw the sweet little lady with whom I had chatted in the buffet line, slumped over her table in a dead faint. As people rushed to tend to her, amid mumbles and rumbles, the action on stage continued. I had a fortuitous exit, and used my time off stage to ask about halting the show. The lobby was quite a scene....managers on the phone to 911, a family member pacing and telling me that he thought she was "gone". Another bemoaning the fact that the lady had no pulse....you get the picture. We managed to get through the scene, and then paused while the paramedics entered the Theatre to tend to the still unresponsive woman. To our great surprise, the woman we feared deceased was revived, and walked out to the waiting ambulance. (She later returned to the theatre, to sit in the lobby for the remainder of the show).
Toilets continued to fall to blockage, one by one, until none remained. After a quick costume change at intermission, and another stern warning to the old bladder, we finished the show...amazed that we were all still standing.
, As I left the Theatre, on my way to yet another town to pick up Babiest Girl from the Fancy Pants School, I realized I needed coffee.....badly. So, I stopped at the Sheetz before I got on the Highway, where I added a little Irish Cream flavoring to my Dark Roast - I deserved those extra calories after THAT show! Standing in a very long line to pay, I was happy to hear one of my favorite songs cue up on the Musak......"SHOUT!" You know, of Animal House Fame? The very same song that I broke my wrist to, at my Best Friends Wedding (but that is another story). As to what happened next, my only excuse is that I was still in Actor mode....you know....we dance to the preshow music in the Lobby, dance to the scene change music in the Lobby, dance to the curtain call music......I just zoned out for a minute. Imagine my surprise and extreme mortification, when I realized I was dancing. Not just tapping my feet, but DANCING in the Pay Line at the Sheetz.....during Rush Hour....holding a very hot large Coffee. I must have been pretty good, because by the time I got to the front of the line, Head down, trying to hide my blushing face behind my newly short hair, my coffee was free!!
20 minute drive, Babiest Girl secured....another 20 minutes back to the old hometown, dinner to fix and eat...dishes to wash....And that is how I find myself, at 8:00 p.m., trying to assure my Bladder that it is O.K. to.....Let it Go! I believe that it must be suffering from a wicked case of stage fright.....terrified to function after such a day.....oh....wait.....gotta run......fast!!
I believe I have mentioned before, that one of the perks of working Dinner Theatre is the meal that accompanies your paycheck. As I set my plate down at the table and joined my cast mates for lunch, I caught the tail end of the news of the morning....plumbing issues. A few toilets non functioning (unless you call overflowing functioning), but not to worry, the plumber was on his way. By the time I shimmied into my Act one Costume, the entire Women's Restroom was closed due to....ummm....malfunctions. The Men's room hurriedly became the Women's, and the Men came upstairs to the Actors Restroom (Theatre folk are resourceful, you know?)....that would be about the time I scared my bladder into submission. After having Three Children, AND not listening to my Doctor about the importance of the Kegel exercise, I find myself in need of the facilities.....often. Not entirely possible today....which is why I had prayer meeting with my poor aforementioned bladder before I stepped foot onstage.
About ten minutes into the show, out of the periphery of my left eye, I saw some sort of commotion in the audience. (The theatre is in the round - in the square, actually, and the stage is surround on all four sides by patrons). As I turned, following my blocking, I saw the sweet little lady with whom I had chatted in the buffet line, slumped over her table in a dead faint. As people rushed to tend to her, amid mumbles and rumbles, the action on stage continued. I had a fortuitous exit, and used my time off stage to ask about halting the show. The lobby was quite a scene....managers on the phone to 911, a family member pacing and telling me that he thought she was "gone". Another bemoaning the fact that the lady had no pulse....you get the picture. We managed to get through the scene, and then paused while the paramedics entered the Theatre to tend to the still unresponsive woman. To our great surprise, the woman we feared deceased was revived, and walked out to the waiting ambulance. (She later returned to the theatre, to sit in the lobby for the remainder of the show).
Toilets continued to fall to blockage, one by one, until none remained. After a quick costume change at intermission, and another stern warning to the old bladder, we finished the show...amazed that we were all still standing.
, As I left the Theatre, on my way to yet another town to pick up Babiest Girl from the Fancy Pants School, I realized I needed coffee.....badly. So, I stopped at the Sheetz before I got on the Highway, where I added a little Irish Cream flavoring to my Dark Roast - I deserved those extra calories after THAT show! Standing in a very long line to pay, I was happy to hear one of my favorite songs cue up on the Musak......"SHOUT!" You know, of Animal House Fame? The very same song that I broke my wrist to, at my Best Friends Wedding (but that is another story). As to what happened next, my only excuse is that I was still in Actor mode....you know....we dance to the preshow music in the Lobby, dance to the scene change music in the Lobby, dance to the curtain call music......I just zoned out for a minute. Imagine my surprise and extreme mortification, when I realized I was dancing. Not just tapping my feet, but DANCING in the Pay Line at the Sheetz.....during Rush Hour....holding a very hot large Coffee. I must have been pretty good, because by the time I got to the front of the line, Head down, trying to hide my blushing face behind my newly short hair, my coffee was free!!
20 minute drive, Babiest Girl secured....another 20 minutes back to the old hometown, dinner to fix and eat...dishes to wash....And that is how I find myself, at 8:00 p.m., trying to assure my Bladder that it is O.K. to.....Let it Go! I believe that it must be suffering from a wicked case of stage fright.....terrified to function after such a day.....oh....wait.....gotta run......fast!!
Wednesday, October 29, 2014
BLUE
Out of the blue....on a day I was blue.....came a bowl that was blue. Delicate and finely crafted, it arrived at my office this morning, in a box marked "Personal" and "Fragile". It was a gift from my friend's family. My friend that passed away in July.
Fred.
Baby Girl has asked me why I haven't written about Fred. I couldn't. It was too Personal. I was too Fragile.
Fred was my first love. We met in College. Oddly enough, we had grown up in the same town - his youngest sister was my childhood friend, yet our paths never crossed. I was shy, quiet, naive and sad.
He was Fred......Unbelievably Handsome, Wickedly Funny, Incredibly Talented, and sad. My Mother had just died.....He was just out of the Service.....Off again, On again, after a couple of years we split for good - knowing that the sad places in each of our souls only fed off of the other, making us worse. Amazingly enough, we were able to put the Romance to the side, and over the course of time, he became one of my closest, most enduring friends. I am blessed with a Husband who was never threatened by this friendship...John liked Fred too, and he respected the bond that had been built in our almost 35 years together.
Last spring, Fred fell ill. Cancer. It was quick, and brutal, and relentless. He gave me the greatest gift ever, by trusting me with his illness....his hospitalizations....his decline....his pain.....his Funeral.
The term Pole Axed may have been invented just for that day last July, when I learned that he had slipped away in the early morning hours, and then shortly thereafter, when I found out that he wanted ME to plan his funeral...to speak the last words over his beautiful, troubled, wonderful, burdened life.
Those days took more out of me than any since December of 1978, when my Mother died, and I still feel their effects.
It is Autumn....a time of change....when nature prepares itself for the onslaught of Winter. I feel like I am entering my Autumn. Gone are the halcyon days of the summer of life, when your family was new, your Children were small, and the future stretched before you like gifts under the Christmas Tree in the first week of December.
I am a MidLife Wife...bandying terms about like "downsizing", "Streamlining", "simplifying" - watching my Children....my Young Adults, one by one look to their futures - while I gaze, from the heights of Autumn, back at the seasons past.
So on this day....out of the blue, when I am blue, gazing at a bowl that is blue, I will remind myself that Autumn and Winter are my favorite time of year....the air is bracing, the sky is brilliant. There are festivals and Celebrations - sacred Holidays and beautifully wrapped gifts. There is adventure and coziness, and gathering of loved ones. If my life should run parallel to the seasons, there is much goodness yet to anticipate.
The Blue Bowl sits on my kitchen table, surrounded by the last of my red Zinnias, Beeswax candles and feathers. Every time I look at it, I will remember Fred, and his family. I will remember the gifts and lessons that He left me with....the Girlfriends he reconnected me with after more than 30 years - the YaYa's.....the reminder that life is a gift - fleeting and rare.....Personal.....Fragile.... delicate, finely crafted, and an object of great beauty.
Tuesday, September 30, 2014
The YaYa Nation
She sat on the floor.....drying her long black hair, reading as she did so. If it weren't for the grey dusting at the roots of her hair, and the fact that she was reading her emails, not a romance novel, it could have been 30 years ago. For a brief few days, this precious girl was once again my roommate, shaking her head and calling me "Bells".
8 Women - 4 days at the Beach. 7 Theatre Majors, 1 Music Major. 2 sets of former roommates. 30 some years stood between us and The University of North Carolina at Greensboro - our common denominator.
We have been separated by time, distance, neglect and circumstance. Some of us were very close, some of us were acquaintances, some were strangers, but in the magic of the ocean air and the smoke of a bonfire, bonds were made and renewed.
There, in the embrace of a clapboard beach house, we spent our days and nights in laughter and tears....often simultaneously. The Laughter of the variety that makes you bend at the waist and pound the table - the kind that leaves your cheeks sore and your stomach aching - The Tears of the cleansing, healing variety. Suddenly the mundane chores of cooking and cleaning, became a dance - choreographed by the Master Dancer Himself....golden and organic.
Coffee, eggs and cinnamon rolls....Scallops and spinach, Shrimp and Grits....Country Ham and Bagels, all were elevated to gourmet cuisine when enjoyed by the sea, at a table large and warm enough for all. Small private chats...group Gab fests.....shared remembrances and an unburdening of souls. Games, Photo sessions, shell gathering, movie watching, the crafting of crowns...days and nights were filled with a joyful purpose of spirit.
Yesterday morning, as we shared our last meal together we found ourselves the Audience as the Creator gifted us with an incomparable show. Dolphins appeared - following a Shrimp Boat. Not the two or three Dolphins that we are all familiar with seeing at the Beach, but 30, 40 or more - too many to count, undulating in the wake of the boat - churning up the water with their presence. Pelicans filled the sky, and shared it with multitudes of Giant Dragonflies and more Butterflies than I have ever seen in one place...orange ones, yellow ones, gracefully riding the wind. The Dolphins must have eaten their fill, because before we knew it, playtime commenced. Leaping, twisting and flipping, they treated us to a show better than any ever seen at SeaWorld or Marineland. Momentarily transfixed, we soon broke into Gasps and shouts and laughter....
What a gift. Not only the Dolphins, but the entire weekend. A time such as I have never experienced.....a time to reflect on the past....a time to embrace the present.....a time to welcome the future. We are the YaYa's.....warrior women - tired but not broken....older but not old.....searching, but not lost.....individuals, but never alone.
My friend Kathryn used this Thomas Wolfe quote to describe our time together...."Peace fell upon her spirit. Strong comfort and assurance bathed her whole being. Life was so solid and splendid and so good." So let it be said.....so let it be done......may it always be so.
8 Women - 4 days at the Beach. 7 Theatre Majors, 1 Music Major. 2 sets of former roommates. 30 some years stood between us and The University of North Carolina at Greensboro - our common denominator.
We have been separated by time, distance, neglect and circumstance. Some of us were very close, some of us were acquaintances, some were strangers, but in the magic of the ocean air and the smoke of a bonfire, bonds were made and renewed.
There, in the embrace of a clapboard beach house, we spent our days and nights in laughter and tears....often simultaneously. The Laughter of the variety that makes you bend at the waist and pound the table - the kind that leaves your cheeks sore and your stomach aching - The Tears of the cleansing, healing variety. Suddenly the mundane chores of cooking and cleaning, became a dance - choreographed by the Master Dancer Himself....golden and organic.
Coffee, eggs and cinnamon rolls....Scallops and spinach, Shrimp and Grits....Country Ham and Bagels, all were elevated to gourmet cuisine when enjoyed by the sea, at a table large and warm enough for all. Small private chats...group Gab fests.....shared remembrances and an unburdening of souls. Games, Photo sessions, shell gathering, movie watching, the crafting of crowns...days and nights were filled with a joyful purpose of spirit.
Yesterday morning, as we shared our last meal together we found ourselves the Audience as the Creator gifted us with an incomparable show. Dolphins appeared - following a Shrimp Boat. Not the two or three Dolphins that we are all familiar with seeing at the Beach, but 30, 40 or more - too many to count, undulating in the wake of the boat - churning up the water with their presence. Pelicans filled the sky, and shared it with multitudes of Giant Dragonflies and more Butterflies than I have ever seen in one place...orange ones, yellow ones, gracefully riding the wind. The Dolphins must have eaten their fill, because before we knew it, playtime commenced. Leaping, twisting and flipping, they treated us to a show better than any ever seen at SeaWorld or Marineland. Momentarily transfixed, we soon broke into Gasps and shouts and laughter....
What a gift. Not only the Dolphins, but the entire weekend. A time such as I have never experienced.....a time to reflect on the past....a time to embrace the present.....a time to welcome the future. We are the YaYa's.....warrior women - tired but not broken....older but not old.....searching, but not lost.....individuals, but never alone.
My friend Kathryn used this Thomas Wolfe quote to describe our time together...."Peace fell upon her spirit. Strong comfort and assurance bathed her whole being. Life was so solid and splendid and so good." So let it be said.....so let it be done......may it always be so.
Wednesday, September 17, 2014
Weighty Matters
It is a good thing that fingers are the only thing required to move when typing....I think they are currently my only functioning body part. Today, I put my pride to the side, and participated in a new (for Me) class at my Gym. I am stalled in my weight loss, and feeling kind of Rut stuck with Zumba. The cute little girl at the front desk told me I might really like "Active"...the name should have been my first clue.
The description went something like this -"part step aerobics, part weight lifting. It's fun....you'll love it......."
This morning I arrived at the appointed hour, and to my consternation, 95 percent of the room FULL of participants looked like Malibu Barbie! Golden tresses slicked back into a gorgeous high ponytail, or elaborate braids artfully tucked into a bun. And as a side note, may I say that I was unaware that spandex could actually BE THAT TIGHT!
Over in the far corner were a woman in her 40's and a younger girl in gym shorts and a baggy tee....MY TRIBE!! I made my way to that side of the room, introduced myself as new, and asked what equipment I might need. Before you know it, I was set up - step, risers, dumbbells, flat disc weights and yoga mat.
First up, the step....not too bad - my knees offered only the slightest of protestations, and it was a great cardio workout. Then came the weights.....I wisely chose lighter dumbbells. The instructor is shouting words of encouragement - 20 more - 15 more..."Ladies, don't lift the weights too high in this one - just to right under your chest".....ummmmm......I thought we were supposed to be lifting the weights - if I lifted to just under my chest, what with nursing three babies and gravity, well - lets just say I wouldn't get much benefit from the activity! I quickly looked at the beautiful people, saw how high they were raising their elbows, and followed suit. I will NOT say how far above my chest that movement required.
Next, some floor work on the angled step unit....not too bad, until the instructor shouted" Now quick, up on your feet"...........to the amusement of the lovelies around me, they were halfway through their next set of standing weight moves before I hauled my carcass up off the floor...the room is fully mirrored, so I don't even have to imagine what I looked like....I had a 360 view!
Sweaty, hair flying everywhere, I was overjoyed to hear "OK, now lay out your mats, this LAST section will be done in a prone position"....Down went the weights, I grabbed a Yoga mat off of the pile in the back, laid it in my space and..........I became a body in motion! My foot stepped on the mat, which was slicker than Goose S*#t, and away I went, surfing through the ranks of the young, beautiful, lanky, young enough to be my daughter populace. I must say, my balance was impressive, aided by the flailing of my arms, and the swaying of my hips. In a last ditch effort to stop my surfboard of a yoga mat, I hopped off, and stuck the dismount with a two footed landing. Mustering all of the dignity I had left, which let me tell you was minuscule, I gathered up my mat, returned to my place, and quickly laid down upon it.
I finished the class, returned my equipment to the proper place, and headed out the double doors of the class room to my reward. Just to the right is Nirvana itself.....a small passageway with a gigantic wall fan on either side. You push the big red button, and it becomes a wind tunnel. Given that wind is just about my favorite thing in the world, those 45 seconds of being buffeted by the giant fans is often the highlight of my day. There, standing in my unadulterated bliss, hair flying EVERYWHERE - I noticed the lovelies, exiting the class room, makeup still perfection, nary a hair out of place. They stared, aghast at my dishabille. I heard a few of them giggling, as they walked away.
And this is how I know just. how. far. I. have. come. I will BE their entertainment. Let them exit, laughing about that crazy older lady. I will return to this class tomorrow. Because the joke is on them. At 89 pounds lighter, I can lift weights. I can use a step for aerobics. I can get down on the floor, and even get up. I have won the victory.....thanks be to God, for the laughter of this day.
Oh, and By The Way - if I see you this afternoon, and give you that teenage boy head nod as a greeting, it's because I can't lift my arms above my chest (and we all now know how low that is) to wave.
Tuesday, September 9, 2014
Never. Dull.
I've cleaned everything that needed cleaning, I can't go upstairs, because Clancey the Crackhouse Puppy and I must stay downstairs and keep a watchful eye. I am unable to settle down enough to read, and I can't watch T.V. in the darkened Den where Babiest Girl lies in a drug induced sleep. "No visual stimuli" is how the Doctor phrased it....so here I sit, in front of the computer, drinking my umpteenth cup of coffee for the day....a day that really started yesterday morning.
Babiest Girl came downstairs yesterday, dressed for school, but without that usual spring to her step. As we got breakfast together, she casually mentioned that she had a bad headache - a not completely unexpected thing - the Barometric Pressure had changed in the night, and that is one of her Migraine triggers. As she was packing up to leave she said "I had the weirdest dream - I dreamed that I hit my head on the organ". Here I will pause for a word of explanation - College Boy, being the musician that he is, just happens to have an old electric pedal organ in his Bedroom. Babiest has slept in there the last few nights, as his room is vacant, AND has the best mattress in the house. "Honey", I said, "That wouldn't even be possible...the organ is too far from the bed".
Hippie Headache oil applied, pain meds taken, I helped Baby Girl out the door to the car - she was determined to soldier on, as she has so many times before, in the onslaught of a Migraine. With one last hug, kiss and "have a good day", she was gone....off to school....and to Field Hockey Practice, and then a special dinner and Smoosh Cake - a tradition at the Fancy Pants School.
We were in touch a few times during the day, via text....nothing alarming - a little nausea along with the headache...typical for her. When she walked through the door at about 7:30 last night, I knew that we were in trouble....as soon as her feet crossed the threshold, she said "Mom, I don't think it was a dream", whereupon she raised her bangs, and pointed to a lump that had NOT been there when we examined her head before she left for school. The full story of the day came out, and it included visual disturbances, facial pain, and memory lapses. A quick call to the after hours on call Doc had us headed straight for the local ER.
As we pulled into the the parking lot, we were enveloped in what can only be described as an unsavory looking assemblage of young people (P.C. for gang bangers). So many of them, that for the briefest of moments, I was afraid to get out of the car. Putting on a brave face, I put my arm around Babiest and propelled her forward and through the big Bay doors, wondering why there were so many folks out at 8:00 on a Monday night. (I later found out that there had been another shooting, and a couple of drug overdoses)
After a triage assessment, we were taken immediately to a room, and with mind boggling speed, my girl was being wheeled down to a CT Scan. The diagnosis - concussion with a 3cm. hematoma. Blessedly, there was no brain bleeding or swelling. She had INDEED fallen out of the bed and hit her head on the damned organ. As it was explained to me by the ER Doc (I will pause to say that the Dr.s and nurses were really terrific. We couldn't have asked for better), the Concussion probably brought on a Migraine (the visual disturbances were in both eyes - indicating Migraine not confined to the one side, which would have indicated pain from the concussion). The Doctor said that it would be best if we could stop the Migraine, giving the brain the peace and quiet it needed to heal. He recommended a standard course of the "Migraine Cocktail" - 4 different IV meds that used together had great success in putting the brakes on a Migraine.
Let me state right here, that we are NOT medicine people. It is with trepidation that I hand out Advil, much less anything else. I have always been blessed to have Doctors that respected my views. Consequently - we medicate very little....an antibiotic for Strep, and that's about it. So you can imagine my distress, as the list of medications were ticked off. "Breathe", I said to myself...."all will be well, and she will be helped". And it was.....and she was........after a terrifying reaction to one of the drugs (according to the nurses, and our own Doc this morning at a follow up visit, probably the Steroid). Almost immediately after they started to push the second med into the IV, a little voice piped up, sounding as if it were far away "Is it supposed to take affect so fast? I feel funny". And then, it was as if she were Linda Blair. Her limbs flailed and trembled so violently, I was certain she was having a seizure. Body stiffened, head pushed back with mouth wide open - her heart beating so fast and hard, that the little silver Anchor necklace she was wearing bounced up and down in a nightmarish dance. Out came the heart and vitals moniters.
I could hear the words coming out of my mouth, calm and zen like....encouraging her to start her breath prayer mantra....you know - three words inhale, three words exhale....I even gave her my Mantra to use - "Trust the Gift, Trust the Giver".....inside however, I was a hot ball of fiery fear....every nerve ending screaming "Help her Lord!"
In reality, the episode probably lasted less than 10 minutes, but it seemed like an eternity. Then she slept, and my eyes bored holes in the monitors....heart rate dropping....140....125.....110......99....eventually all vitals returned to normal, though they kept her for quite a while for observation. When she was cleared to go, the nurse (A wonderful Man - with a true giftedness for nursing) suggested I go get the car - he would get her in a wheelchair, and keep watch over her while I was gone.
I raced down the hall, through the doors and out into the night. I had forgotten about the assembled masses of unsavory looking young people. By this time it was after midnight, and my Mothers voice came, whispering in my ear - never walk alone at night.....Keys held between my fingers to function like a sort of brass knuckles (I read about that once, as a good defense....I needed it, after I gave up carrying my real set of Brass Knuckle on my key chain after college, but that is a story for another time) I jogged to my car. unlocked the door, and threw myself inside. My long skirt caught in the door, I pulled the handle to get it unstuck and.....nothing.....my door wouldn't open. Insert your choice of expletive here - you're bound to get one of them right....I used them all. You see, my window doesn't work (neither does my A.C.), and a few nights ago, John took the inside panel of the door off, to pull out the window motor, so he could order a new one. In so doing, he may or may not have broken the door handle, and then Jerry Rigged it. Always a man with a plan, he said "Don't worry about it - it should open, and if not....just crawl out the other side".....RIGHT.
The air in my car was blue with Kitchen Words as I pulled the car out of the lot and around to the ER doors. I rolled down the passenger side window, leaned over, wearing my best "please don't hurt me" face, and inquired of the multitudes of young men loitering around the entrance if they wouldn't please help me, by opening my door from the outside. There were several that were happy to oblige, and before you know it, I was out and opening the door for Babiest Girl. My new friends were happy to help me get her into the car, and wished us well as we drove into the the night...or early morning. However you want to look at it.
John was waiting in the Relaxation Pavillion (fine...Car Port) as we pulled into the drive, whereupon he opened the door for me (He has since Re Jerry Rigged it, so I should be fine). We got Babiest in the house and on the recliner, where she slept soundly - Clancey and I kept watch.
So now, it is late afternoon. She lies on the sofa in the dark room...I sit here where I can watch the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest....Sometimes,It may be dark..... Often times,It may be hard....but my Life? It is never dull.
Saturday, August 30, 2014
Another Mother
I can see her.....clear as day. Stooped and frail, neck held at an awkward angle, thanks to her dowagers hump. Glorious silvery hair, permed and done "just so", smelling of Aqua Net. I always loved how her hair matched the color of her glasses frames - deep silver with a smidge of charcoal . My Grandmother. My Father's Mother. My Father had her eyes. I have her eyes. We both had her heart.
I always thought it curious (My Father thought it highly annoying), how she could never let us go with just one hug. There was always something else to tell us, or show us, or give us. We could never make it to the car without her pressing something into my Father's hands....Some cake, or pie - some knick knack from Daddy's childhood. A plate or a glass dish, some money.....
She came to me today, unbidden but not unwelcome. She sat on my shoulder as I followed College Boy to his car - not once, but twice. She put her arm around me, as I cried through not one but two grocery stores after He left. She gently told me that I would now need to be Another Mother.
The word came right out of my own mouth. He was not the one to say it - it was me. Right on the heels of "Remember, don't drink and drive", and "Make sure you take the last of your Antibiotic" it came.
"Call me, when you get home."
And I was done for. Two weeks ago, (three days after we moved Baby Girl into College) we moved College Boy into his first Apartment. (I hope that doesn't mean I now have to call him Apartment Boy)
A year round Apartment - with a real kitchen, a washer and dryer, and a permanent address. He lives there now. Home. He visits here. "Call me when you get home".
As soon as those words left my mouth, I understood my Grandma. Every little thing she ever gave my Dad as we were trying to get started on the 2 hour trip home, even when he was 55 years old, was, for her, a tie to a time when she was his "Mama". Something that represented what she had been to him, before she had to become Another Mother. A tie to his first home....the first place that he belonged.....the place where he would always belong. It was her way of saying "Do not forget me"..."Come back again"......."I remember......"
I have no idea how to be Another Mother. I have no example. My Mom died before she could show me how to make the transition from being the Mother of a little child to that of an Adult. Another Mother.
So, College Boy pulled out of the driveway, laden with Sourdough Bread and Strawberry Freezer Jam, a couple of new shirts, and a travel mug of Coffee that I brewed, just for him.
This is what we all want, isn't it? To have our Children grow to adulthood, safe and happy? We read and we work and we do everything in our power to learn to parent children. And then they go off to College, and turn 21, and get an Apartment. And just like that, you have to start all over again, learning how to be Another Mother. On Monday, I will take Baby Girl back to her College. She will exit the car with a beautiful smile and a wave. I wager that she will not even look back, as she takes the wooded walkway to her dorm.
The first signal that soon, she will require Another Mother.....one that presses baked goods into her sweet hands as she drives away. One that prays unceasingly for her safety, her health and her happiness. One that watches as she pulls out of the driveway and heads off towards home. Hopefully by then, I will be a pro, but let me tell you.....it is going to be a steep learning curve - one best approached with caution....and a few tears.
I always thought it curious (My Father thought it highly annoying), how she could never let us go with just one hug. There was always something else to tell us, or show us, or give us. We could never make it to the car without her pressing something into my Father's hands....Some cake, or pie - some knick knack from Daddy's childhood. A plate or a glass dish, some money.....
She came to me today, unbidden but not unwelcome. She sat on my shoulder as I followed College Boy to his car - not once, but twice. She put her arm around me, as I cried through not one but two grocery stores after He left. She gently told me that I would now need to be Another Mother.
The word came right out of my own mouth. He was not the one to say it - it was me. Right on the heels of "Remember, don't drink and drive", and "Make sure you take the last of your Antibiotic" it came.
"Call me, when you get home."
And I was done for. Two weeks ago, (three days after we moved Baby Girl into College) we moved College Boy into his first Apartment. (I hope that doesn't mean I now have to call him Apartment Boy)
A year round Apartment - with a real kitchen, a washer and dryer, and a permanent address. He lives there now. Home. He visits here. "Call me when you get home".
As soon as those words left my mouth, I understood my Grandma. Every little thing she ever gave my Dad as we were trying to get started on the 2 hour trip home, even when he was 55 years old, was, for her, a tie to a time when she was his "Mama". Something that represented what she had been to him, before she had to become Another Mother. A tie to his first home....the first place that he belonged.....the place where he would always belong. It was her way of saying "Do not forget me"..."Come back again"......."I remember......"
I have no idea how to be Another Mother. I have no example. My Mom died before she could show me how to make the transition from being the Mother of a little child to that of an Adult. Another Mother.
So, College Boy pulled out of the driveway, laden with Sourdough Bread and Strawberry Freezer Jam, a couple of new shirts, and a travel mug of Coffee that I brewed, just for him.
This is what we all want, isn't it? To have our Children grow to adulthood, safe and happy? We read and we work and we do everything in our power to learn to parent children. And then they go off to College, and turn 21, and get an Apartment. And just like that, you have to start all over again, learning how to be Another Mother. On Monday, I will take Baby Girl back to her College. She will exit the car with a beautiful smile and a wave. I wager that she will not even look back, as she takes the wooded walkway to her dorm.
The first signal that soon, she will require Another Mother.....one that presses baked goods into her sweet hands as she drives away. One that prays unceasingly for her safety, her health and her happiness. One that watches as she pulls out of the driveway and heads off towards home. Hopefully by then, I will be a pro, but let me tell you.....it is going to be a steep learning curve - one best approached with caution....and a few tears.
Monday, July 7, 2014
A Moment In Time.....
It was a moment of perfect peace, in an otherwise wild, wonderful and chaotic weekend. Pork Chop and Pimento cheese biscuit in hand, I made my way to my old spot. The trees were bigger, tables and chairs had been added, but as I sat and tilted my head, eyes heavenward, the view was the same. It was unseasonably cool, a lovely breeze blowing - perfect conditions for remembrances. The high walled brick courtyard between the two Theatre buildings was my haven - my special place in College. It was the perfect setting to enjoy my breakfast before the madness of the day began..."The. Reunion." After all of the planning, the weekend had arrived. Thirty some odd years lay between most of us and our Graduation Day...
Between bites of biscuit (simmer down....it was a cheat weekend), I closed my eyes, and let the wind gather my thoughts and transport them to another day....another lifetime. Young, passionate artists tromped up and down the stairs of my memory....laughing, singing, arguing.....living. Tie Dye and leg warmers, gypsy skirts and gauze blouses, neckless tee shirts and tights - they were the dress of the day. Hair was long and crackling with vibrancy - beards were thick, and braids were king. Time steps, pirouettes and Jazz squares were more often than not modes of transportation. Emotions were worn on our sleeves as though they were precious jewels. We were friends, enemies, competitors.......family.
It was with a jolt of surprise that I opened my eyes to find myself alone in the courtyard wearing the modest dress of a middle aged woman - breakfast finished, break time over. As I stood and dusted the crumbs from my clothing, I wondered what the day would bring. Would there still be a commonality among us....those Theatre Major friends from long ago. Surely our paths had diverged and meandered so far away from each other....would we be able to recognize the original cloth from which we had been cut?
Never one to make social small talk, I nervously made my way towards the folks assembled in front of the Theatre that had given birth to our Adulthood. My fears were unfounded, as I found myself completely at home with the Grown Up persons that had once been my boon companions. The day raced by in a flurry of campus tours, Party set up, Donning my first Little Black Dress in 25 years, applying real eyeliner, and finally, walking up the polished marble steps of the Alumni House - having arrived at the Big. Event.
Stories were told....and retold. More than a few pictures of children and grandchildren were shown. Tears were shed when fallen comrades were remembered. Hugs and laughter and squeals of excitement filled the Alumni House with a golden warmth that enveloped each person there like a silk lined velvet cloak.
As the dancing began, we hit the floor to the disco tunes of our youth. Arms raised, heads thrown back - we spun in one accord, belting out the Chorus..."It's Rainin Men, Halleluljah,"...... The years melted away, and for an instant, all of those dear faces around me were as they had been, so many years ago. I was filled with a joy, the likes of which I have very seldom known. I was so present in the moment that it seemed frozen in a crystalline brightness. I was Twenty......and I was Fifty Three - all at the same time. I cherished the people that we had been, I marveled at the people we had become and I viewed the rugged miles and years between the two, as if in an out of body experience. My dance became one of Thanksgiving - for lives well lived, and a reunion of souls....long separated, but never forgotten. Thanks be to God, for the blessings of the day.
Between bites of biscuit (simmer down....it was a cheat weekend), I closed my eyes, and let the wind gather my thoughts and transport them to another day....another lifetime. Young, passionate artists tromped up and down the stairs of my memory....laughing, singing, arguing.....living. Tie Dye and leg warmers, gypsy skirts and gauze blouses, neckless tee shirts and tights - they were the dress of the day. Hair was long and crackling with vibrancy - beards were thick, and braids were king. Time steps, pirouettes and Jazz squares were more often than not modes of transportation. Emotions were worn on our sleeves as though they were precious jewels. We were friends, enemies, competitors.......family.
It was with a jolt of surprise that I opened my eyes to find myself alone in the courtyard wearing the modest dress of a middle aged woman - breakfast finished, break time over. As I stood and dusted the crumbs from my clothing, I wondered what the day would bring. Would there still be a commonality among us....those Theatre Major friends from long ago. Surely our paths had diverged and meandered so far away from each other....would we be able to recognize the original cloth from which we had been cut?
Never one to make social small talk, I nervously made my way towards the folks assembled in front of the Theatre that had given birth to our Adulthood. My fears were unfounded, as I found myself completely at home with the Grown Up persons that had once been my boon companions. The day raced by in a flurry of campus tours, Party set up, Donning my first Little Black Dress in 25 years, applying real eyeliner, and finally, walking up the polished marble steps of the Alumni House - having arrived at the Big. Event.
Stories were told....and retold. More than a few pictures of children and grandchildren were shown. Tears were shed when fallen comrades were remembered. Hugs and laughter and squeals of excitement filled the Alumni House with a golden warmth that enveloped each person there like a silk lined velvet cloak.
As the dancing began, we hit the floor to the disco tunes of our youth. Arms raised, heads thrown back - we spun in one accord, belting out the Chorus..."It's Rainin Men, Halleluljah,"...... The years melted away, and for an instant, all of those dear faces around me were as they had been, so many years ago. I was filled with a joy, the likes of which I have very seldom known. I was so present in the moment that it seemed frozen in a crystalline brightness. I was Twenty......and I was Fifty Three - all at the same time. I cherished the people that we had been, I marveled at the people we had become and I viewed the rugged miles and years between the two, as if in an out of body experience. My dance became one of Thanksgiving - for lives well lived, and a reunion of souls....long separated, but never forgotten. Thanks be to God, for the blessings of the day.
Monday, June 23, 2014
Calendar Days
The Mary Englebreight tear off calendar on my desk reads Thursday, June 12th.....nothing unusual there, except for the fact that it is June 23rd - so late on June 23rd that it is almost June 24th. I won't let my family rip the pages off, because I would really like for it to be Thursday June 12th again....please? (OK - fine...so denial is more than a river in Egypt)
June 12th is the day after June 11th, which is the day that Baby Girl Graduated. From. High. School. It is also the day that we let her in on a secret that we had been holding in for months...10 months to be exact. It took us that long to plan, and save, plan some more....save some more. John came up with the idea last summer. "Let's reward Baby Girl (He doesn't really call her that....I just use that name to protect the mostly innocent!) with something amazing for her graduation. Let's go on a trip - a big trip!" Because you see - School has been really hard for Baby Girl....I mean REALLY hard. And she NEVER. GAVE. UP....and beyond that, she excelled, and graduated with honors. So we planned, and saved, and had family conferences (minus Baby Girl, of course), and told enough other people that it is a blessed miracle that not one person let the cat out of the bag.
So....at lunch, on the big day, just hours before Graduation, we sprung the surprise - with a big wrapped box of seemingly unrelated items. She was required to guess what it might all mean - it didn't take her long to piece it together, and the memory of her reaction will be held close to my heart, until the day that memory serves me no more. At the HineyCrack of dawn the next morning (The aforementioned June 12th), despite my own emergency oral surgery 2 days prior, we were off in our rental van (SO nice - and such a pleasant change from my 10 year old van that has no AC, OR operating drivers side window - me slurping a liquid diet, and swigging antibiotic mouthwash like an old Wino). First stop - Orlando,Universal and Harry Potter World - our dream come true (Yes, fine....we are MAJOR Potterheads). Next, 5 days on the Gulf of Mexico, and then a few more days in St. Augustine - the birthplace of College Boy. What a time we had -All five Kennedys, together again.... hitting the road....living the high life!
As an aside, may I say that in no time in the last year has my 89 pound weight loss been more exciting to me. I got on rides, and never even thought ONCE about whether or not the safety bar would close. I scooted into my place in a tight booth at the Three Broomsticks, like I had been doing it all of my life. I walked for 12 hours straight in the heat - even with plantar fasciitis from too much Zumba...all the while wearing shorts and a sleeveless shirt (Who KNEW that the air could feel so amazing on uncovered limbs?) I wore my first ever tankini, I laid on a blanket in the warm sand, and got up, unassisted....more than once. I walked for miles, doing the Sanibel stoop - looking for shells....and actually stooped!
We laughed, and played games....fished and ate....we lined up our beach chairs, and read in the sun and the breeze and the quiet communion of souls that are happy, just to be together. We witnessed rainbows over the ocean, and storms that shook the beautiful old beach house on the Gulf. We retold favorite family stories, and finished each others sentences...and on the last leg of our journey, when we parked in front of the old farm house that John and I bought and restored in the first year of our marriage, I marveled at how quickly time had passed...I breathed a silent prayer of thanks for the Blessings of this life that John and I have made together. (26 years in 2 days!) I remembered how we brought College Boy home to that very house when he was less than 24 hours old.(He will be 21 in less than 2 months.)
We visited with friends that prove the old adage about the quality of friendships that can be picked up as if the years were days.
As we turned the car north, mostly grown children asleep in the back...my mind raced ahead of the Van, and I cataloged those things that were waiting for me at home. College Boy leaving for the summer J.O.B. within hours of our arrival. Vacation Bible School in One. Week. Big College Reunion (Did I mention that the last day features a cookout....at my HOUSE?!) in Two. Weeks. Mission Trips for the Girls. Things to gather and buy for Baby Girls Dorm Room. Things to gather and buy for College Boys first apartment. And then, there is my friend....my beloved friend, several weeks into a Cancer diagnosis. Must check in with him...first thing.
And now, three days since our return, there is today....when the Cancer diagnosis for my friend, took an unhappy turn...a scary turn....a wrenching turn. Which would be why I find myself out of bed, sitting at my desk....staring at the calendar in the deep dark of the night...willing it to be June 12th again...with the Rental Van loaded with five Happy Kennedys, headed South, for the trip of a lifetime...anticipation like warm ButterBeer in our bellies.....10 days of unadulterated bliss stretching out ahead of us...I mean REALLY...the calendar SAYS it is so..........would that it were.
June 12th is the day after June 11th, which is the day that Baby Girl Graduated. From. High. School. It is also the day that we let her in on a secret that we had been holding in for months...10 months to be exact. It took us that long to plan, and save, plan some more....save some more. John came up with the idea last summer. "Let's reward Baby Girl (He doesn't really call her that....I just use that name to protect the mostly innocent!) with something amazing for her graduation. Let's go on a trip - a big trip!" Because you see - School has been really hard for Baby Girl....I mean REALLY hard. And she NEVER. GAVE. UP....and beyond that, she excelled, and graduated with honors. So we planned, and saved, and had family conferences (minus Baby Girl, of course), and told enough other people that it is a blessed miracle that not one person let the cat out of the bag.
So....at lunch, on the big day, just hours before Graduation, we sprung the surprise - with a big wrapped box of seemingly unrelated items. She was required to guess what it might all mean - it didn't take her long to piece it together, and the memory of her reaction will be held close to my heart, until the day that memory serves me no more. At the HineyCrack of dawn the next morning (The aforementioned June 12th), despite my own emergency oral surgery 2 days prior, we were off in our rental van (SO nice - and such a pleasant change from my 10 year old van that has no AC, OR operating drivers side window - me slurping a liquid diet, and swigging antibiotic mouthwash like an old Wino). First stop - Orlando,Universal and Harry Potter World - our dream come true (Yes, fine....we are MAJOR Potterheads). Next, 5 days on the Gulf of Mexico, and then a few more days in St. Augustine - the birthplace of College Boy. What a time we had -All five Kennedys, together again.... hitting the road....living the high life!
As an aside, may I say that in no time in the last year has my 89 pound weight loss been more exciting to me. I got on rides, and never even thought ONCE about whether or not the safety bar would close. I scooted into my place in a tight booth at the Three Broomsticks, like I had been doing it all of my life. I walked for 12 hours straight in the heat - even with plantar fasciitis from too much Zumba...all the while wearing shorts and a sleeveless shirt (Who KNEW that the air could feel so amazing on uncovered limbs?) I wore my first ever tankini, I laid on a blanket in the warm sand, and got up, unassisted....more than once. I walked for miles, doing the Sanibel stoop - looking for shells....and actually stooped!
We laughed, and played games....fished and ate....we lined up our beach chairs, and read in the sun and the breeze and the quiet communion of souls that are happy, just to be together. We witnessed rainbows over the ocean, and storms that shook the beautiful old beach house on the Gulf. We retold favorite family stories, and finished each others sentences...and on the last leg of our journey, when we parked in front of the old farm house that John and I bought and restored in the first year of our marriage, I marveled at how quickly time had passed...I breathed a silent prayer of thanks for the Blessings of this life that John and I have made together. (26 years in 2 days!) I remembered how we brought College Boy home to that very house when he was less than 24 hours old.(He will be 21 in less than 2 months.)
We visited with friends that prove the old adage about the quality of friendships that can be picked up as if the years were days.
As we turned the car north, mostly grown children asleep in the back...my mind raced ahead of the Van, and I cataloged those things that were waiting for me at home. College Boy leaving for the summer J.O.B. within hours of our arrival. Vacation Bible School in One. Week. Big College Reunion (Did I mention that the last day features a cookout....at my HOUSE?!) in Two. Weeks. Mission Trips for the Girls. Things to gather and buy for Baby Girls Dorm Room. Things to gather and buy for College Boys first apartment. And then, there is my friend....my beloved friend, several weeks into a Cancer diagnosis. Must check in with him...first thing.
And now, three days since our return, there is today....when the Cancer diagnosis for my friend, took an unhappy turn...a scary turn....a wrenching turn. Which would be why I find myself out of bed, sitting at my desk....staring at the calendar in the deep dark of the night...willing it to be June 12th again...with the Rental Van loaded with five Happy Kennedys, headed South, for the trip of a lifetime...anticipation like warm ButterBeer in our bellies.....10 days of unadulterated bliss stretching out ahead of us...I mean REALLY...the calendar SAYS it is so..........would that it were.
Tuesday, April 8, 2014
The Roar of the Greasepaint....
The chain link of the fencing pressed into my back, as I bent over double....hand grasping the knob of the old red door. My eyes and nose were pouring. Fortunately, I had a kleenex in the apron pocket of my costume. Great spasms of laughter racked my body, but as I stood outside, between the snorts and guffaws, I could feel the sun on my face...smell the green of spring, mingled with the perfume of the dumpster that resides behind the Theatre. How many times over the years have I stood in just that spot - smelling the spring - watching thunder storms roll by - freezing in the winter wind.
It started off like any other Tuesday Matinee....pushed and prodded by the impatient senior citizens behind me in the buffet line (One of the perks of working Dinner Theatre? Free Food!), a meal shared upstairs in the green room with my castmates, too long of a lingering at the table with stories, news, and a few photographic highjinks, rushing to jump into costume at 5 minutes till places.
All was well, until the top of the second act, when in what can only be described as a momentary brain malfunction, I misplaced a couple of words. Where they went, I can not say.....but the words I replaced them with came haltingly, and were mostly of the made up variety....As rarely happens....ok, as sometimes happens.....fine.....as often happens, those of us onstage got tickled - me, I am ashamed to admit it, most of all. Thankfully, I was scripted to exit the stage fairly quickly, where I was met by the stage manager....we dissolved into fits of laughter. A quick moment back on stage - only to leave again with another actor, where once safely offstage,we resumed the laughfest (hopefully inaudibly!) Back onstage, I managed to finish my dialogue AND a song, and then finally - a few minutes to go outside and compose myself, before my next entrance - which is how I found myself wedged between the chain link and the door. I have, for Thirty years with regularity (other than the 5 years I lived in Florida) worked at this Theatre. It is as intrinsically linked to my life as are the homes in which I have lived, the Church in which I worship (and work), the corner shop where I purchase my coffee....For over half of my life, I have parked my car in the back lot, walked up the actors stairs, and "done my thing". And standing there today, in the sun and the liquid mirth - I had a moment of great clarity.
Now, there are those in the Thesbian world that might look down upon Dinner Theatre, and truly enough, it is not Academic Theatre...nor is it highbrow....You would be hard pressed to find a Pulitzer Prize winning script being performed on a stage in the Dinner Theatre Circuit. But that being said, I would offer up that the Shows and performances that are typically found in such venues are no less valid....no less art.
Is not the goal of the Drama to offer up a slice of life? To move people to both ends of the emotional spectrum....laughter, tears....highs, lows, and every place in between - to allow the story to envelope the audience, to the point that they become a living, breathing part of the story? I have been blessed over the years, to tell many stories, sing many songs...I have been blessed to have a place to work, to hone my craft, to work with incredibly talented actors and musicians. I have been blessed to bring a much needed paycheck home to my family....to be the working actor I aspired to be, when I was a young woman.
Well, I finally pulled it together, and went back onstage. The song at the end of the show, is about a quilt, given to a young Mother, by the 3 Church Women (One being her Mother) who have loved and nurtured her for the entirety of her life. The harmonies are glorious, the lyrics thoughtfully written. As I sang it today, I looked at each of my fellow cast members - men and women that I have known and worked with for years, and was deeply moved by the role they, and all of the other folks I have shared that stage with in days gone by, have played in my life. The tapestry of art and life that they have helped me to weave.
After the curtain call, we gathered in the Lobby, for the Traditional "Joyed It Line" (you know, where the audience members come out, shake your hand and, and murmur "Joyed It") I was hugged by Grandma's who still had tears streaming down their faces....I was slapped on the shoulder by old men with craggy faces and misty eyes, and for a moment, connected by the art - by the story - by the song, we were not strangers, but a part of each other's lives.
"Put a piece here, Put a piece there, the picture comes alive.
And row, by row, the story grows, and through each tale we survive.
Hands have stitched this quilt together, knowing the tales of your heart
And love has stitched our lives together, so tightly they won't come apart"
It started off like any other Tuesday Matinee....pushed and prodded by the impatient senior citizens behind me in the buffet line (One of the perks of working Dinner Theatre? Free Food!), a meal shared upstairs in the green room with my castmates, too long of a lingering at the table with stories, news, and a few photographic highjinks, rushing to jump into costume at 5 minutes till places.
All was well, until the top of the second act, when in what can only be described as a momentary brain malfunction, I misplaced a couple of words. Where they went, I can not say.....but the words I replaced them with came haltingly, and were mostly of the made up variety....As rarely happens....ok, as sometimes happens.....fine.....as often happens, those of us onstage got tickled - me, I am ashamed to admit it, most of all. Thankfully, I was scripted to exit the stage fairly quickly, where I was met by the stage manager....we dissolved into fits of laughter. A quick moment back on stage - only to leave again with another actor, where once safely offstage,we resumed the laughfest (hopefully inaudibly!) Back onstage, I managed to finish my dialogue AND a song, and then finally - a few minutes to go outside and compose myself, before my next entrance - which is how I found myself wedged between the chain link and the door. I have, for Thirty years with regularity (other than the 5 years I lived in Florida) worked at this Theatre. It is as intrinsically linked to my life as are the homes in which I have lived, the Church in which I worship (and work), the corner shop where I purchase my coffee....For over half of my life, I have parked my car in the back lot, walked up the actors stairs, and "done my thing". And standing there today, in the sun and the liquid mirth - I had a moment of great clarity.
Now, there are those in the Thesbian world that might look down upon Dinner Theatre, and truly enough, it is not Academic Theatre...nor is it highbrow....You would be hard pressed to find a Pulitzer Prize winning script being performed on a stage in the Dinner Theatre Circuit. But that being said, I would offer up that the Shows and performances that are typically found in such venues are no less valid....no less art.
Is not the goal of the Drama to offer up a slice of life? To move people to both ends of the emotional spectrum....laughter, tears....highs, lows, and every place in between - to allow the story to envelope the audience, to the point that they become a living, breathing part of the story? I have been blessed over the years, to tell many stories, sing many songs...I have been blessed to have a place to work, to hone my craft, to work with incredibly talented actors and musicians. I have been blessed to bring a much needed paycheck home to my family....to be the working actor I aspired to be, when I was a young woman.
Well, I finally pulled it together, and went back onstage. The song at the end of the show, is about a quilt, given to a young Mother, by the 3 Church Women (One being her Mother) who have loved and nurtured her for the entirety of her life. The harmonies are glorious, the lyrics thoughtfully written. As I sang it today, I looked at each of my fellow cast members - men and women that I have known and worked with for years, and was deeply moved by the role they, and all of the other folks I have shared that stage with in days gone by, have played in my life. The tapestry of art and life that they have helped me to weave.
After the curtain call, we gathered in the Lobby, for the Traditional "Joyed It Line" (you know, where the audience members come out, shake your hand and, and murmur "Joyed It") I was hugged by Grandma's who still had tears streaming down their faces....I was slapped on the shoulder by old men with craggy faces and misty eyes, and for a moment, connected by the art - by the story - by the song, we were not strangers, but a part of each other's lives.
"Put a piece here, Put a piece there, the picture comes alive.
And row, by row, the story grows, and through each tale we survive.
Hands have stitched this quilt together, knowing the tales of your heart
And love has stitched our lives together, so tightly they won't come apart"
Saturday, January 11, 2014
Songs in the Night....
Children to my left were dancing. Trombone and clarinet were wailing. Stomping and clapping ensued....and there was singing - lots of singing. My kind of funeral.
In the last month, I have lost three friends. Larry. My first college boyfriend. A boy with gorgeous eyes, dreamy eyelashes and a mischievous smile that reeled you in like a sea bass. His adult life - the years after we lost touch, were not easy. My heart broke for him, as we reconnected on Facebook, where he shared some of his journey with me. His death - sudden and unexpected.
Laura - a mentor from my early days in Professional Theatre. Just a few years older than me, Laura was the Cool Kid....she taught me how to laugh at myself, and made certain that I was accepted and at ease. Her death - sudden and unexpected. She died on the same day as my third friend fell ill.
Lee - A man with a spirit as large as his girth. A friend from the instant I met him, my Freshman year in College. It is Lee's funeral from which I have just returned. His death....not so sudden. Not totally unexpected.
I was honored and proud to sing with the choir today. Not my choir, but a marvelously large choir in a magnificent Church one town over. A choir in which Lee was a beloved member....in a Church where Lee was a vital congregant. Lee, with his chortling belly laugh.....Lee, who sparkled and oozed fun....Lee, who could put more syllables and intonation into the phrase "My, Dear", than any person I have ever met. Lee.....who was the embodiment of discipleship - a man who lived his faith. A man who loved children, music, theatre, movies and all things southern. A man with a wicked sense of humor, who was impressed by one's ability to accessorize. A man who didn't let the limitations of his body hamper his determination to live life to the fullest. A man who lived large....who loved large. A man who made no apologies for who he was. A man who shared his Joy with one and all.
All, gone too soon. Larry.........Laura.......Lee........... One month, Three L's.......LLL.......Live Like Lee.
We should all be so blessed - to live like Lee. To Love so deeply and openly. To revel in Laughter. To be such a good friend.To spread joy. To be an encouraging presence to those in our lives. To be fully invested in who. we. are. To Live Like Lee.
The text to one of my favorite Anthems was on the back of the Funeral Bulletin.....let us Live Like Lee - with a song in the night.....
"My life flows on in endless song, above earth's lamentation.....What tho' the darkness gather round? Songs in the night He giveth. No storm can shake my inmost calm while to that refuge clinging. Since Christ is Lord of heaven and earth, How can I keep from singing...."
In the last month, I have lost three friends. Larry. My first college boyfriend. A boy with gorgeous eyes, dreamy eyelashes and a mischievous smile that reeled you in like a sea bass. His adult life - the years after we lost touch, were not easy. My heart broke for him, as we reconnected on Facebook, where he shared some of his journey with me. His death - sudden and unexpected.
Laura - a mentor from my early days in Professional Theatre. Just a few years older than me, Laura was the Cool Kid....she taught me how to laugh at myself, and made certain that I was accepted and at ease. Her death - sudden and unexpected. She died on the same day as my third friend fell ill.
Lee - A man with a spirit as large as his girth. A friend from the instant I met him, my Freshman year in College. It is Lee's funeral from which I have just returned. His death....not so sudden. Not totally unexpected.
I was honored and proud to sing with the choir today. Not my choir, but a marvelously large choir in a magnificent Church one town over. A choir in which Lee was a beloved member....in a Church where Lee was a vital congregant. Lee, with his chortling belly laugh.....Lee, who sparkled and oozed fun....Lee, who could put more syllables and intonation into the phrase "My, Dear", than any person I have ever met. Lee.....who was the embodiment of discipleship - a man who lived his faith. A man who loved children, music, theatre, movies and all things southern. A man with a wicked sense of humor, who was impressed by one's ability to accessorize. A man who didn't let the limitations of his body hamper his determination to live life to the fullest. A man who lived large....who loved large. A man who made no apologies for who he was. A man who shared his Joy with one and all.
All, gone too soon. Larry.........Laura.......Lee........... One month, Three L's.......LLL.......Live Like Lee.
We should all be so blessed - to live like Lee. To Love so deeply and openly. To revel in Laughter. To be such a good friend.To spread joy. To be an encouraging presence to those in our lives. To be fully invested in who. we. are. To Live Like Lee.
The text to one of my favorite Anthems was on the back of the Funeral Bulletin.....let us Live Like Lee - with a song in the night.....
"My life flows on in endless song, above earth's lamentation.....What tho' the darkness gather round? Songs in the night He giveth. No storm can shake my inmost calm while to that refuge clinging. Since Christ is Lord of heaven and earth, How can I keep from singing...."
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