Nothing Else to Say

I have been searching for the words and they will not come. At times it is best to rely on others. This is one of those times.

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,

Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.


Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.


He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.


The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.



                    W.H. Auden

Landslide

Life was good, or so it seemed, as I cruised along in the comfort zone. You see, it’s rarely the obvious problems that get you. The thing that gets you, the thing that brings you to your knees, is the thing that you never saw coming. The surprise play, the unexpected, can send you reeling from your cozy little pattern that you call life.


It is a hard fact that most people look out for themselves above all else. That is true for almost everyone, except mothers that is (and fathers too). Once a woman becomes a mother, she will normally put her own needs aside, in order to care for these little people that have been entrusted to her. Some of us get so good at it that we keep it up until they are long into adulthood, and then….the grandchildren.

The grandchildren arrive and these little bundles of joy capture our attention like nothing else can. We love them with every ounce of our being. We weave them into our lives and households, our routines start to revolve around them and then… the unthinkable happens.  We learn that they are moving thousands of miles away.

News such as this sends a loving grandmother into a tailspin. Denial was my first reaction. I was convinced that it was never going to happen. “Surely they will change their minds,” I told myself.

Anger set in once I knew that the change ahead was real and unavoidable, as I did not like this feeling of helplessness. We all want to think that we are in control of our own destiny, but are only fooling ourselves when we try to control that of others.

Despair comes and goes as I realize that many of the things that I have come to love will be gone from my everyday life. No longer will I be able to throw the bikes in the car and head on over to pick up my best buddy for a ride around the lake. Afternoons spent hanging out by the pool, or banging sticks against a tree and hunting for frogs, are irreplaceable memories. Gone are the evenings of making yarn dolls and greeting cards from scraps and stickers. No one will tell me that I make the best pizza in the world or care to cuddle up beside me to watch Sponge Bob Squarepants. I know that the future visits will be rare and will have to be shared with other relatives and friends, so that the luxury of these times spent together will be a thing of the past.

They tell you that they will call and write and there is always Skype. Well, I can tell you that looking at a small picture on the screen, while it is better than nothing at all, will never take the place of a real hug and a “mooch”.

Who made up these rules that say we have to stuff our feelings down and pretend that everything is fine when it is not. I force myself to smile and get on about my day but I really want to throw myself down on the ground and have a temper tantrum, and a good one. I want to scream, and pull my hair, and tear at my clothes, and express the loss that I am feeling. Common sense must prevail and I force myself to carry on. Each day I cry a little, but each day a little less.

Finally, I take a hard look at myself in the mirror and I want to slap myself. “Snap out of it” I say! “There are people out there who have experienced real grief, real hardship, and real loss. What right do you have to carry on this way?”

And then I count my blessings and they are many…...

A wise person once said, “Do not cry because it is over, but smile because it happened.”

I thank god for the last eight years that I was able to spend with these little people and I believe that new gifts are in store. We will find ways to remain close as these are bonds that can’t be broken with time or distance. Each day I set out into uncharted territory with no one to look after or feel responsible for but myself. It is a freedom that feels strange to me and a little uncomfortable.

From here on out, IT IS ALL ABOUT ME!!

I pull the dusty old chapters of the half written novel from the shelf. I flip through it. No more excuses. Nothing is standing in my way. So many pages yet to be written…….

The Adventures of Jenny and Jody…..and Edna

My eyes danced from head to head, stopping for a second on each brunette. Finally, I saw her sitting there, my Jenny girl, reading a book in the airport lobby.

“Edna is waiting outside!” she quipped as she pulled my suitcase toward the door.

I was there to take part in her latest adventure. The first stop was New Orleans, where she attended nursing school. Oh how I loved the visits to The Big Easy and our walks through the French Quarter, the trolley rides, the gumbo, crab boils, gator cruises, and a fishing drip in the bayou. I must confess that I miss those drive-up daiquiris. Where else can you pull in and order a fully loaded, frosty cold beverage to go?

Then came Hotlanta, home of Margaret Mitchell and Scarlett O’ Hara. Hot it was, as we toured the plantations, took in a few ballgames and meandered our way down Peachtree Street. Sweat tea and Georgia peaches provided a break from the heat.

After she married, she settled in to work as a trauma nurse and provided aid to the sickest of patients in this southern city. She worked and she worked and she worked and she bought all of those things that were supposed to fulfill the coveted American dream. The problem was that even when we keep our parts of the bargain, others in our lives do not always do the same. It is an unfortunate fact of life that people will do the darndest things and not feel a grain of remorse, as the bells of entitlement ring in their ugly heads. Because, frankly my dear, they just don’t give a damn.

She has had some hard knocks lately, this daughter of mine, but she does what we do. We curl up for a while and lick our wounds, then get up and get on with it. So she packed up her belongings and hit the road for Canton, Connecticut, the plan being to better herself and move on to bigger things. And she will.

Jenny has always been a car person. She loves the shiny chrome and that new car smell, and the feel of a well made vehicle as it cruises down the highway. Her decision to trade in the shiny silver sports car for Old Edna, a sun blotched, brown, 1993 Chrysler Lebaron, was no small sacrifice. We giggled a bit as we loaded my bags into the spacious trunk. I sunk into the surprisingly comfortable, worn leather seats and we set off down the road.

Now Old Edna isn’t pretty and she creaked and groaned a bit here and there as we wound through the beautiful New England landscape. We coasted on into Captain Scott’s Lobster Dock for a bit of bisque under the stars. We were cruising in comfort as we bopped on into the Junk Store in Canton and trolled the greenhouses and antiques stores along the way. Old Edna made us feel a little bit safer when a wrong turn took us into the heart of the Hartford hood. We sailed through block after block of gangsta territory and noone batted an eye. Old Edna does not command much in the way of attention.

We spent our last day together as we tracked back to New London. There we located the apartment building that was the first home of my parents, Jenny’s grandparents, located in a romantic little neighborhood. This was where it all started, this 55 year love affair. They don’t make’em this way anymore. It seemed appropriate that she should end up here, rebuilding her life not far from this place.

When it came time to go home, we piled into Old Edna once more, as the tears lurked just below the surface. It is not such a sad thing to leave behind a loved one, when you know in your heart that they are there for the right reasons and that the goals they seek will carry them farther in life that any automobile ever could. I so miss her and I know the next several years will be busy ones, and that her graduate studies will make it more difficult for her to come home. So we will talk on the phone and text and e-mail the details of our days, until the next time that we reunite to take up our adventures with Old Edna there to carry us, wherever we may go.

Woman on the Hunt

Women are by nature gatherers. For centuries we have searched for things with which to fill our cooking  pots and to feather our nests. This fundamental need to collect and adorn the hearth and hall is not to be taken lightly. For many of us cooking is a means of therapy. We can create and nurture at the same time. Our kitchens provide an outlet for rejuvenating ourselves while sharing with others. The recent demands of the economy have reduced the rate at which we indulge ourselves, but we all need a little TLC now and then. Women can’t exist on Wonder Bread alone and if we are going to splurge a bit, it may as well be in the kitchen.

A funny thing about the fifty something era of life, is that I get excited about things like this. I can spend an hour in a spice store perusing the selections from basic to exotic. The smell of coffee beans is at times, as pleasing as that of perfume. Triumphs of shopping trips past may have revolved around the clothing boutique, but more recently an excursion to the cooking store is now equally, if not more fun.

A recent visit to The Peppercorn in Boulder, Colorado, the western queen of kitchen stores, further stoked this passion and my head was spinning after just a few minutes of being inside. “We may as well just let her go,” my husband remarked to the rest of our shopping party. “This could take awhile.”

They wandered off and left me alone for an hour or so. I formulated my game plan and walked the aisles in an attempt to scout the floor to ceiling treasures for items of special interest. My eyes glazed over as I eyed the gadgets, the cookware, the delicacies and the cookbooks. My heart went pitter pat, as I ogled the vast array of dishware, flatware and linens. So many napkin rings and so little time!

As I descended the staircase after a quick view of the items on the top tier, I was greeted by the voice of a strange woman looking up at me.

“Oh my god, you mean there is more up there?” she asked.

I saw the look in her eyes and I recognized it as a combination of excitement and exhilaration, bordering on hysteria, that look we women sometimes get when we find ourselves in the midst of the mother load with limited time.

“Yes, there is lots more up there,” I answered, “It’s almost overwhelming isn’t it, but in oh so such a good way?”

I stepped aside as she lunged for the stairway and quick climbed the stairs with the wild eyed look of a woman on the hunt.

“Deep breath, focus,” I told myself and I continued my quest.

I ran my fingers over the pottery, picked up the plates, and stroked the tablecloths. I sipped the coffee samples while reading labels and handling jar after jar before finally settling on a few saucy additions to our culinary routine. I selected linen napkins with delicate imprints of herbs and olives and some simple but elegant napkin rings. Frivolous, maybe, but fun, you bet!

Too soon, my patient shopping companions returned and feigned interest in my treasures and nodded politely as I rambled on about the platters and possibilities that remained there.

I glided out of the store onto Pearl Street, to be greeted by the street performers and the swell of shoppers and lookers on, all on some mission of their own that day. For me the mission had been fulfilled and I picked up my stride with a look of a fifty something female who was packing pure pleasure in a paper bag.

I came! I shopped! I conquered!



Ten Things I Wish I Knew

?…

As we jump the hurdles to fifty and beyond, we find that there are many things we know for sure. Alas, the things we do not know, intrigue us too. My list of things unknown is long. Fear not gentle readers. I will limit my rants and ramblings to just ten things about which, I wish I knew.

1. I wish I knew how to operate my TV. It seems that we always have extra remote controls. Where do they come from? Do they multiply? Why is it that the buttons are so small? I would prefer to have less buttons and be able to see them. I don’t use most of them anyway. I want one remote, with large buttons, that does not take an electrical engineer to program or operate?  Where can I find this? I wish I knew.

2. I wish I knew where stubbornness comes from. For several years in my teens and early twenties, I worked as a waitress. I would cheerfully place bubbling lasagna dishes on the table and say with a big smile “Please be careful. These are really hot.” At least fifty percent of the time, they would go ahead and touch the fiery things anyway and then quickly pull back and say something like. “Boy you weren’t kidding there were you? Har Har Har, Yuk Yuk Yuk!!” Naturally, I would bite my tongue and feign concern, as my tip would have been greatly reduced if I had said, “I told you so.” People hate that even more that they hate being told what to do. Why are we like this? I wish I knew.

3. I wish I knew where the extra socks go. How do they vanish so completely? I would think that someday one would find them, tucked under a sofa cushion, or behind the dryer. Does the washing machine eat them? Somewhere there must exist, a surplus of socks and mittens and the other halves of things that are supposed to come in twos. There must be a method to finding these things. I wish I knew.

4. I wish I knew north from south from east from west. You see, I am, and have always been, directionally challenged. Without map and compass I am a goner. When taking down directions I prefer left and right as I then raise my chances by 50% that I will choose correctly. I ride along to the same destination, over and over, and will pay absolutely no attention as to how to get there. I have no extra room in my brain for such trivia. Even a wrong turn can lead to the most interesting places. After all, I have GPS and my husband in times of crisis. Even so I wish I knew.

5. I wish I knew why most men are quite certain that they are attractive, capable and of superior intelligence, no matter what their age, size, or background and most women do not. Why are we not better at tooting our own horns? Why do we shoot each other down? Why don’t we stand up and pat ourselves on the back more often and then turn to our sisters and say.” You Go Girl!” I wish I knew.

6. I wish I knew how to play the piano. For those of you that have taken the time to develop your musical talent I salute you! As a girl, I fancied myself as a singer, even though I wasn’t. I took a few guitar lessons. I even sang and played once, albeit very badly, on a local TV talent show. My parents sat and dutifully watched and supported me, as parents do when their kids are attempting to excel at something that they have no real aptitude or talent for. Over time, responsibilities took over and the need to sing was pushed aside. Now I find myself at the age where I worry less and less about appearing foolish and I sing loudly and often, in the car, on the deck after a few glasses of wine, and even in the shower from time to time. I think that my hands would love to get into the action too. For this reason, I wish I knew.

7. I wish I knew where I put my ………(Insert, car keys, glasses, cell phone, portable phone, remote control, nook book, and any number of charger cords.) Try as I might I never seem to have them all in the right place. Quite often I empty the entire contents of my purse onto the countertop only to hear the phone ringing from another room. I lose minutes each day, hours each week, and days each year, looking for these things. Even with all of this searching and groping for lost items, my husband still finds that my skills in this area are stronger than his. He does quite often expect that I possess some form of tracking device that renders me capable of locating his wayward belongings too. How does this work? I wish I knew.

8. I wish I knew when the moment was when I suddenly became so..…(Insert, old, tired, discombobulated, invisible, hot!!!!) Sometimes I play the “what if” game and I stand in front of the mirror and speculate where a nip and a tuck might help my situation and I ponder how I may turn back the clock in some way, shape, and form. A night on the town takes time to prepare for as I pack myself into an under suit of licra that I call my “sausage casing”, apply makeup to my makeup and attempt to form my dry, graying hair into some reasonably acceptable style that fits within the current decade. How did this happen? I wish I knew.

9. I wish I knew why it seems to be a requirement to have fluorescent lighting in all dressing rooms. Hello marketing people!! We don’t really want to see all of the details. Lie to us! Dim the lights! Give us wine and candlelight! Make us believe we are beautiful and we will whip out those credit cards so fast it will give you whiplash. After all, if you believe you are, you are. I wonder why the same lighting is used for clothes shopping as it is for buying a shovel. I wish I knew.

10. I wish I knew when it became a crime to eat a cookie. Here I am, on that soapbox again! I can’t help myself. I try to be good, I really do. I wish I knew how to politely silence the dinner companion, who drones on about his or her diet and worries about each bite until you want to run from the table and hide. As good hostesses we try to provide choices for guests who do not care to imbibe in the vino or the carbs and only wish we could find a way to say, “Please make your choices and then suffer in silence if you must, so that you don’t ruin it for the rest of us.” The Europeans have this down. They have their cake and crème brulée too. How can we do this? I wish I knew.

Dear friends and readers please provide the answers to these questions of mine. I could use some tips, some helpful hints, even tid bits will do. How about you? Are there things that you wish you knew?