LIFE LIES DEAD AT MY DOOR

I am coming up on year three of widowhood.  What a journey this has been!  Our youth allows death to appear remote to us unless it touches us close to home.  Preparing for this time I believe is impossible, and I believe surviving this time period is a test of one’s core.  We are all born into a family, never alone until for many, we reach this time of life only to find all those that started out with us are, one by one, leaving this earth, allowing for us to stand more and more alone.

Life today is a yo-yo for me.  I enjoy being with family and friends—really enjoy it. It is easy today for me to laugh and have a good time.  Then the moment comes when it is time to go home.  Oh how I miss those moments of conversation that carries the good times on the journey home…”remember so-and-so and how funny?” or “Wasn’t it a great night, boy it was so good to…”

In life as a single, the moment lies dead as soon as you walk through a door.  You go home in silence.  Once inside your own place, there is just you.  You close the door and all you hear are your own footsteps making your way through the house.  

When you have that someone to share those moments with, it extends the good feelings.  You get to travel in the air of good times.  There is a contentment that fills you.  

Finding ways to embrace this stage of my life is my biggest challenge today and the one hardest for me to overcome.  I must learn to live alone and be okay with it. I cannot spend the rest of my life running from the silence. I must find ways to explore it’s existence for it is with me everyday now.  I must seize this moment to find my creative soul.  I must make it a positive in my life.  I have to in order to survive….no not survive, but live.  Complete, with joy in my heart and wings on my feet.  That is my goal.

But not today…for today, life lies dead at my door.  

HAPPY THANKSGIVING

The day it all began.
Thanksgiving Day 1966.
Joe Hart, Lucyann Ford Eyre
and Pat and I.  

Thanksgiving Day.  It is, of all the holidays, my favorite.  It is a time to just hang out with family and friends, to laugh, share, and acknowledge that the best things in life are surrounding us in that moment.  Even with the mixed emotions of this day for me, I am still surrounded by the memories of a life well lived and one that continues to grow.

I love my family.  All of them…warts and all.  I love the diversity of personalities.  I love the laughter that sings through the air during our gatherings.  I enjoy just sitting back and witnessing the banter that flows between them.  A special energy that never gets tiring.  The truth is, I just want more.  Thank God for this holiday, when we can get together to just share time together.  

I know from my childhood, that all family gatherings are not perfect.  And when loss is on the table, there is a longing that is deep and painful.  

It takes hard work, forgiveness, acceptance, and a generosity of spirit to be able to have year after year, the opportunities to share what is the best thing in life…our family and friends.

I know for me, it helps as I walk this world alone after losing Pat, that I am not really alone when it counts.  I wish all of you the same opportunity to enjoy the family and friends that surround you in your everyday life.

Happy Thanksgiving.

MORE MEMORIES FROM MY BEST FALL

We were so young!

Forty-eight years ago this fall was the beginning of a dream life with my new husband-to-be and a family who was built on love and kindness.  A six week whirlwind of activity and learning before getting married on Thanksgiving Day 1966.  

Navigating the winding roads of Montgomery County in Pennsylvania was my first challenge.  I came from Illinois where blocks were just that.  A square and easy to navigate.  Not here.  The name Cowpath Road should be your first clue.  I quickly learned that cows do not walk in a straight line because there were no straight roads anywhere in this state.  

Pat would give me directions on finding my way to the main highway to my new job.  “Just go straight to the first stop sign, turn right, follow that road straight to when the road ends, turn left and follow straight to the stop sign and turn right.”

The word “straight” should not have been used.  I would find myself driving down a road that contained 90 degree right angle turns and it would not take long for me to stop, pull over and forget where in his directions I was.  Did I turn?  Didn’t I?  Some turns were so tight I found myself turning on the turn signals.  

I have come a long way since those days.  Today I am a back road driver to anywhere I want to go and love the adventure of seeing where the road takes me!

Another moment I remember about this time period was when Pat and I found our first apartment.  November 1st we signed a lease for our first apartment in Lansdale, near the jobs we both had found.  When I tell you that Pat and I had nothing when we got married, believe it.  We not only had nothing, we had such a small wedding we even had nothing after the ceremony.  I would not have changed a thing.  We shopped at garage sales, auctions, and thrift shops.  It was fun.  One day while Pat and I were at the apartment that was soon to be our new home, preparing the kitchen for our move in time in a couple of weeks, a knock came at the door.  It was the apartment manager coming to tell us that Pat’s mother had called and wanted us to come home because she thought we had been there too long….alone.

I still laugh today as I did then, knowing that poor Mom, who was a widow of a couple of years at that time, trying to send off her oldest son in his new life without the love of her life by her side  and only today recognizing how difficult a time this was for her.  

Yes, that first fall of the rest of my life was a whirl wind of navigating, finding a job, setting up an apartment, preparing for a wedding, meeting members of my new family and learning that with love and kindness anything was possible.  

Fall will always remain a special time for me.  Surrounded by the signs of a dying summer and glorious displays of color and warmth to remind me that with every ending there is a glorious new beginning!

MISSING WHAT I HAVE LOST

I have gotten some calls with concerns because of some of my recent posts about loneliness and depression.  I believe our subconscious  often sends us messages when we are unable to recognize it any other way.  

As I sit and analyze what I had posted I acknowledge that I am in a tender spot these past couple of weeks.  I miss my old life and know that it can never be…and I don’t like it.

Fall was always a most happy time for me. As Christmas for me is a season and not just the day, so it is when Fall sets in, blessing us with the canopy of color and warmth.   It was 48 years ago this month that I moved from Illinois to Pennsylvania to start my new life.  From the first week of October until Thanksgiving Day, my memories are filled with the most joyous time of my life.

Pulling a 4 x 6 U-Haul trailer with my 66 VW from Ingleside to Harleysville was a most joyous ride.  We couldn’t travel more than 40 miles an hour as the U-Haul contained all my worldly processions.  Half way through the trip Pat asked me if we could spend the night at a hotel as he was getting tired.  “Can you promise to behave yourself?” I asked.

“I can’t promise that,” he said.

“Then keep on trucking!”, I replied. 

 And he did…for a total travel time of 23 hours.  When he pulled into his mother’s driveway, he backed in, walked in the front door with me tagging behind, and said, “Mom, take care of Marlene, I am tired and I am going to bed.”

And he did, leaving me to deal with the greetings to my new family to be.  So began a whirlwind six weeks of meeting and getting to know what life is like when it is surrounded by love.

My first introduction to this family were the family meals.  Every meal found the family hanging at the table after we finished eating, talking about the day and all that it brought.  I met new family members around that table and learned to laugh with abandon and joy at the teasing and camaraderie.  It was a tradition that got carried on through our own family.  No matter how busy we were, we spent many dinners at the dining room table in our home.  It was always special to me.

There were embarrassing moments too during that six weeks.  My husband’s grandmother, Muddy, lived with the family.  A proper Irish women with high standards who, although crippled with arthritis, was always doing what she could to help with the household duties.  

One day, after coming home from my new job, I found Muddy pacing back and forth in the living room waiting for me to return.  When I walked into the house, she grabbed my hand and took me up to her room.  I could not imagine what I had done wrong as she was visibly upset.  It turns out that she had found, in doing my laundry, that I was not in procession of the appropriate undergarments for a young women about to get married.  So bad. she thought, that she went up to the room I shared with Pat’s sister and went into my drawers and threw out all my underwear.  

Once she got them outside into the trash, she began to have second thoughts about her decision but before she could retrieve them from the trash the trash man had come and emptied the can.  There I was, standing before her with the only pair of underwear I owned on my body and Muddy slipping some money into my hands, apologizing for what she had done.

I wanted to run and hide I was so embarrassed.  What is worse I did not know my way around enough to know where to go that evening to shop for new ones.  I had to wait for Pat to return from work and ask him to take me shopping.  If I could have run away that very moment and never show my face again, I would of, but I could not find my way out of a paper bag at that time.  I was forced to stand and deal with the experience and process it all the best I could.  

It was the first time I learned the first lesson from my new husband to be…and that was, “when someone does something to you out of love, you cannot be mad at them. She only wanted the best for you and wanted you to be able to give your best to me.”  

My first taste of unconditional love…something that would take a few more lessons for me to learn, but learn I did.  He showed me over and over again, how to look at life with love in my heart.  With Pat gone from me, and this Fall season flooding me with memories of my early days in this incredible journey called life, I do find myself fluctuating in emotions.  

I miss my cheerleader and friend…

MY THOUGHTS ON DEATH WITH DIGNITY

I have been following the Brittany Maynard story.  In case you have not heard, she is the women who diagnosed with a brain tumor and no hope of a cure, moved to Oregon so she could take advantage of their Death with Dignity Law.  I have been aware that Oregon had this law for a few years now.  In 2011, a documentary titled, “How to Die in Oregon”, won the 2011 Sundance Film Festival award.  

I remember the impact that documentary had on me at the time as I was in year 12 of a 13 year battle of my husband’s illness which came after caring for my father, my husband’s grandmother, uncle, and mother-in-law through their dying days.  Some have floated off willingly and some, like my mother, went the hard way.  Death is never easy, the loss can be unbearable, and I believe on some level watching someone suffer is a gift to the survivor to be able to let go.  

But having walked this walk with others I have loved, what about me?   What do I want when it is my turn. If my death were as peaceful as my husband’s or my husband’s grandmother, then let it go “naturally”.  I believe none of us knows for sure how we will think or behave when we sit across from the doctor and he/she tells us that our time has come.  I have told my children that I want no heroic measures…let me go when that moment comes.  

But if my end would knowingly come with some major hardships and pain for me and for the family being asked to care for me, I think I would want the option to end it sooner...or not.  When I have had this conversation with others, they say, “but it should be God who decides when you should die, not you.  Just let God and nature take it’s course.”

I find myself thinking that because we have allowed medicine to take us into a realm of being, that if “nature had been allowed from the beginning to take it’s own path” we would have not reached, then why not allow medicine to stop the artificial lane we reached as a result of that choice.  

I don’t have the answers.  I know faith, fear, and hopelessness guides many decisions in each of us.  But having the right, when faced with an awful end, such as Brittany Maynard faces, then why not bless her with the peace and allow her to choose her own death with dignity.

All of us fear the end that is filled with pain and loss of dignity as those around us try and care for us.  Is this living or existing and then existing on what level?  I know I pray that when it is my turn, take me quickly and “please dear God, don’t let me die while on the toilet!”

TAKE CARE CARETAKERS

As I traveled these past couple of weeks I once again met some incredible people whose positive attitude and outlook on life can only impress once you hear what life has dealt them.  Each of us has a story to tell and in them all, the life’s lesson is that it is not what happens in life, but what you do with life once the hardship has passed.  

Possessing a positive spirit does not come without some pain in the background.  I easily see that those who carry a happy spirit make a personal choice to do so.  Being around people who choose this is nothing, if not a motivation for each of us to figure out the secret of living with a happy spirit.

One of the common threads of discussion this past week was caretaking our loved ones through illness and eventually their death.  Until someone walks this walk with a loved one, it is hard to think about what it is like.  Most will respond with, “Oh, I don’t think I can handle that.”  The truth is, that we often find ourselves in the middle of what we think we can handle before we realize it.  

Listening to the sharing that went on this past couple of weeks I am reminded of the lessons I learned in my own journey of taking care of my family through their end days on this earth.  The last 13 years was the hardest for me.  First, my Dad was with me the last 3 1/2 years of his life when my husband became ill a year before my Dad died.  

I too thought I could not handle what eventually I became good at.  The hardest part was caring for my Dad’s personal hygiene.  Quickly though, it became “doing what needs to be done” without thought of how I felt or how he felt.  The blessing for him was that by the time it reached that point his mental  faculties were lost and he did not realize who was taking care of him.  A blessing for both of us.

Caring for Pat for the years he was ill was the toughest yet most tender part of our life together.    Not because of how the fun things in life took a back seat to the caretaking, but because there is so many other issues wrapped up in the days spent by the side of a loved one who has entered the dying process.  There is the preparation of the loss.  Each day I found myself trying to give my best, because I knew how much I would miss him when he was gone.  I tried to soak in every good moment I could, yet there were the days when fatigue and depression would set upon me and I was unable to give him my best.  That would often be followed by guilt, which he would never let me own because he recognized how hard this was.  That would only be followed by more guilt because his kindness and love toward me was so complete and unconditional.  

As the years went on, and I became more and more teathered to the house, standing at the door watching the world go on while feeling trapped became the most challenging moment for me.  Pat deserved the best of me during this time, because i always knew that if it were me in that bed he would of given the best of himself.  But how to do that on a day in and day out basis?

People would offer up their help, but we believed in the commitment of “for better or for worse, in sickness and in health”.  This was our journey and we did not want to impose on anyone, especially our children until our need for them was required. As caretakers when we think of help, we don’t think of ourselves as much as we should.  When someone offers up their services to us, we immediately think of what can be done for the person who is ill.  The truth is, we should be asking what do I need so I can continue to do my best.  That is when I concluded that I needed to find every small way I could to refresh my soul.  

I bought a convertible so that when heading out on errands, I could put my top down and enjoy the ride on a back road to the grocery store, listening to music or just the sounds of the wind blowing in and the birds singing their songs.

I decided to bring in someone to clean the house at least once a month.  Seems silly on many levels to do this,  as my place is small and hearing my mother’s voice in my ear, “anyone can clean this in a minute.”  But the truth is when we are bogged down in the chores of everyday, it can get hard and be downright depressing.  Having someone come in and clean the corners lifted my spirit.

I needed a challenge not connected with death and dying. I decided to try something totally out of my comfort zone.  I took up oil painting.  Now I never have considered myself an artist, but I needed something so alien to me, that it challenged me and kept me engaged.  I bought videos, books, watched how to you tube videos and began to play.  I loved it (and still do) even though I still don’t consider myself an artist I just love to play.

These are just a couple of things I did to keep me engaged, challenged, and inspired by the world.  Instead of standing by a window watching the world live, go and do, I brought what I could into the house.  I was inspired and it brought a level of comfort to me as I was tethered to the house doing my best for Pat.  

By working to stay positive, even in the face of his death, we had happy times…laughing moments…and tender sharing moments.  All possible because I was in a better frame of mind…not a bitter one.

So caretakers….take care.  When you stand before someone who says to you, “if you need anything call me”, put yourself on that list of needs.  If you take care of yourself then you will have all you need to care for the ones you love.

Are you listening Dee?

LAUGHING IS THE BEST MEDICINE

As my Virginia and North Carolina trip winds down, and we start thinking about heading back home, I sit here laughing just remembering all the reasons we laughed these last few days.

As we traveled to explore retirement possibilities for Dee, we experienced things you don’t want to hear on a road trip, like, when we got out of the car we heard someone say in another part of the parking lot, “Ya know…some people just need killin!”  

That is one way to make a person perk up!

Out of my mouth, as we were shuffling things around the car in the parking lot, I shouted out “So how many drugs did you bring?” Laughing Lucyann, John and Dee began to watch over their shoulder to see if anyone heard us!

I mix up the words vibrator and massager.  To me they both vibrate so I don’t understand all the fuss…So while sitting in the dining area of the hotel in Asheville, rubbing a sore area between my shoulders, I say to my sister-in-law, “Sure wish I had a vibrator!”  A man at another table started for a long time at me as I finished my breakfast.  And I thought he was flirting!  

Going to the farmer’s market is John and Lucyann’s past time.  I know why.  Not only can you get a bounty of wonderful food, but there is entertainment too.  It makes for a great way to start the day.  But I also discovered another reason.  The friendliness of the people in the south is a great experience.  Here is why I say that:  I am wearing what I fondly refer to as “my people attracter” pendant that my friend Flo made.  It is a beautiful piece of agate created into a necklace.  No matter how many times I wear it, someone comes out of the crowd and let’s me know how beautiful it is.  A nice way to start a conversation with a stranger.

So here I am at the bread maker’s stand when the young lady starts her flattering comments about my pendant.  Then her male partner starts in.  As we were chatting I catch out of the corner of my eye a man standing there staring at me, quietly mouthing the word beautiful…beautiful…over and over again.  Getting all flush I thank them all and let them know I may just never leave this place because they have made me feel so good!  And they did.  Once again I thank Flo for her creative conversation piece!

Another moment that put a smile on my face happened last night.  John and Lucyann went out to the back yard for their evening ritual, while I finished up some emails in their family room.  I suddenly heard two young men chatting outside and realized they were on the property.  Soon they came walking across the front of the two windows in the room.  I called out, “Can I help you?”  

The one young man took off running across the street.  I went to the door, opened it and asked what they wanted. 

 “I can’t find my cat,” he said.  

“What does your cat look like?”

“It has spots,” he replied all the while fidgeting. (I’m thinking, spots?  I never knew a cat to have spots.)

“So why did your friend run?” I asked.

“I don’t know, maybe he is scared.”

“Why would your friend be scared of looking for a cat?”

“I dunno,” he replied.

“So what is your name?”

“Billie Bob,” he answered.

“What is your last name?” I asked.

“Billie Jones.”

“Can I bet on that?” I asked.

“No ma’am,” he said as he took off down the road.

I don’t know what they were up to, but I loved his honesty!

Another lesson learned this week is that you can’t be too literal with some people.  A young mother, with her four year old son showed up at her sister’s house only to discover that her son forgot to put underwear on.  So she told him to grab a pair of his cousin’s underwear as they both were the same age and near the same size.  Dutifully he did, not seeming to be bothered that his cousin was a girl.  As the visit was coming to an end, she called him back into the house.  He came running, with his cousin beside him.  

“Take Annie’s underwear off.  We are leaving now,” she said.

“No, I don’t want to.”

“I said, take Annie’s underwear off now!  We are leaving.”

Whining now, he says, “but I don’t want to.”

“Look,” the mother begins to shout, “take off Annie’s underwear right now or I’ll spank your butt.”

With that he runs over to his cousin Annie, knocks her down and pulls off her underwear!

Yes, as this week comes to an end and I find myself back home again, I will miss the side splitting laughter that was experienced over and over during this trip.  But boy do I have a million reasons to smile!!!

LIVING LIFE LOVING UNCONDITIONALLY

Beth, Michael, Marlene, John, and Lucyann

Spending these past few days with my sister-in-law, brother-in-law, and their friend, Dee, has been wonderful for me.  I love the life that Lucy and John lead.  They recently retired. Their days start out at the local farmer’s market.  In the afternoon, we plan a meal, chop the vegetables and begin the process of preparing the days food.  Hanging around the kitchen, drinking wine, laughing, sharing, and reminiscing are great fun.  Taking time out to watch the sunset and then back to the kitchen to put the final touches on the evening meal seal the day.  Before we know it, the night is over, our stomachs ache from the laughing, and it is time to head to bed.

To be with people that love you just the way you are is a wonderful thing.  Accepting each one’s idiosyncrasies is such a joy and more often just gives more fuel for a good laugh.  

The family I married into is a great example of how to live life.  From the first time I stepped into their front door I was greeted with love and friendship.  There has not been one day in the family that a fight occurred.  Now we are all not perfect, but they absolutely unconditionally love each other.  No jealousy about how much this one or that one has, only a celebration of each one’s success.  When the family would get together, even when distance and time separated us, a stranger would think we were together all the time by the joy and fun we would have.   

They have been a group that not only embraced each other, but outside friends too.  Few holidays are remembered without a friend or two joining the family.

I love the influence that being a “Ford” has done to my life and that of my kids.  I am sad to say that in my family, a family reunion often meant ducking beer bottles and hiding under a table to be safe.  I eventually came to a point where I could accept my family for who they were and tell the stories of life as a child without tears.  They were what they were.  But I feel so lucky to have become a part of this family who taught me how to live and love unconditionally.  

I will be sad to have to say good-bye to my sweet family and friends.  But I know I’ll always be welcome to return whenever I want.  

THIS WOMEN’S JOURNEY

AARP magazine  has printed  a few articles recently, about how important sex is in our lives.  And it is.  But when faced with the world of being single how does one handle it?  With the fog of widowhood lifted, I find myself waking up to a world, with new rules.  I struggle to know how to handle this new world at times.  In this place anything seems to go, and it appears to most, to be okay.

When I was young, there were rules and there were consequences to breaking those rules.  Men could often go through life and break them with few if any consequences, but women, got tagged with harsh names like, tramp, whore, or slut.  Even if she were a victim she often got told she asked for it by the way she dressed, or behaved, but a man was not made to accept the responsibility for his behavior in the same circumstances and definitely not the same level of responsibility.  He often was thought of as the conquering hero and words like conquest were often associated with his behavior.  

My daughter gave me a book titled “Getting Naked Again.”  In it, the author prepared the new single, from widow to divorcee, to face the new dating scene.  I thought she had to be kidding on some level.  Things could not of changed that much.  After all we are all still human, and there are physical consequences to playing a loose game, even if today women don’t have to hide the way they once did.  

So, here I am, desiring on some level to have those moments of intimacy with that special someone.  But here is where the dividing line occurs.  I cannot be a friend with benefits as they say.  I know some people can, but I am not one of them.  It is a vulnerability issue.  I have to have trust and a believe there is no intent to harm.  I had that for 45 years with Pat, who put me first in everything.  But I too, put him first in everything in my life.  There were times I didn’t feel like I deserved such unconditional love, but there was not one day while he was alive that I did not feel loved by him.

So someone please tell me, how we can go out, be that intimate and walk away as if we just shared a cup of coffee? I know some will be uneasy about this writing.  But this too is life and living the new life as a single person is something that many of us will face at one point or another.  I just wish I had the answers.

LONE CROW

I’m traveling with my sister-in-law's college friend, through Virginia and into Winston Salem.  She called and asked if I would drive her on her journey to find that happy place to live in retirement.  The trip has been a delight and we are all enjoying talking about the fun days spent as young adults.  

Our first stop was in the Bedford, Virginia area.  I met a women of Mohawk Indian descent.  She lives up in the “hills” of Virginia, surrounded by woods, animals, and the memories of a husband recently lost.  The isolation was overwhelming to me, but at the same time there was a peace on that hill.  She has a donkey, named Kia, over a dozen peacocks, an emu, ducks, chickens, feral cats, two wonderful dogs and over 40 cockatiels.  

She lives in harmony with her surroundings, reusing everything she can.  I found her home a refuge of peace and harmony.  Indian traditions abound throughout the house.  She and her husband hosted sweat lodges during the summers, and she shared some amazing stories about the healing and joy that came from them.  

Her husband gave birth to flutes.  Beautiful, harmonic sounding flutes.  They were not only wonderful to listen to, but the artist look of each was a joy to behold.  A gift to the eye as well as the ear.  Her life with him, was filled with strangers that they turned into friends.  People from all over the world came to their home on the hill to share time with the positive spirit of this extraordinary woman, and the man called Lone Crow.  

Our host shared a lot about her life on the hill and her husband.  You could feel his presence all around. Symbols of the Lone Crow were everywhere.

As Dee and I left the home of this incredible woman, reaching the end of her property, a black crow sitting on a tree to the left in front of us suddenly swept down in front of us--so close as to startle us, only to turn back and return to the tree.

Both Dee and I looked at each other and said "Leonard came to say good-bye to us."  Without a doubt we both knew it to be so.

We continued our journey with smiles on our faces….

MAKING FRIENDS OF STRANGERS IS THE BEST ADVENTURE

Suntaro Torigoe

I always talk about life as an adventure.  For me, it does not always mean where I go or what I do, but often it means by whom I open the door to.  

I am lucky, in that I love people.  All people.  Not just ones that think like me, or look like me, or live in my neighborhood.  I will talk to anyone.  This act alone has provided much adventure in my life.  Along the way, I have not only met some incredible people, but all of them have touched my life and often the life of my family in ways that cannot be measured.

This is a story about one such adventure.  In 1982, a young Japanese reporter was doing an internship at the Quakertown Free Press at the invitation of Charles Meredith, owner and editor.  His name was Shantaro Torigoe—he invited us all to call him Tori.  Tori was to write one column a week— an observation of us in America through the eyes of this Japanese reporter.  

With interest I began to follow his writings when one day I decided to call the paper and invite him to our home for a dinner and conversation.  That was the opening to a year of happenings that today our family still talks about.

Tori was an unusual man.  He was married, with two daughters, all still living back in Tokyo.  I use to kid that Tori would accept an invitation to a dog house for the experience.  He is a curious man, who even at this age (75) is still writing about what he is learning in this world.  He took to our family early on.  Damian, my oldest was studying piano and it reminded him of his own daughter, whom he missed very much.  It did not take long for our friendship to grow and become a close part of our family.

Before long we learned that he would have people with itineraries that would take them from Tokyo to London, to Paris, to New York, drive down and visit with Tori, then return.  He would entertain them at the Duncan Donuts in Quakertown.  

“What?!?!” I would ask…”why can’t you take them back to your place.”  

“Because the family I rent the room from won’t allow it,” he would say.

“Oh Tori, if you want to have a relaxed visit with your friends just bring them here…anytime,” I said. 

And the door opened wider to adventures we never dreamed of.  It turns out that Tori was the Walter Cronkite of Japan but we did not realize that in the beginning.  We were just Pat and Marlene with four loud kids inviting a stranger into our home.  

Tori and Tomoko at set for their TV Show

Tori is a writer, TV personality and editor of many publications in Japan.  But Tori was not your typical Japanese man.  He has a spirit of adventure in him and a curiosity that infected those of us that had the privilege to know him.  

Our first clue that something was different is when he asked if a TV crew from Japan could come and follow us, “a typical American family” around for the day.  They filmed us at the kids soccer game, driving Damian to piano and dance, and me and Pat just being parents.  

In the course of the year we spent with Tori, we met a movie actress, an author, and another film crew.  We were interviewed for two magazine stories (have the magazines, written in Japanese to prove it) and Tori wrote a book about his experiences in the year he spent in Quakertown.  For a couple of years after Tori’s book was published, we would get the occasional Japanese visitor trying to follow in the steps of Tori.  They never came without gifts.  It was always a pleasant surprise.

One of the best and most surprising gifts we received was from the movie actress that came to stay a couple of days with Tori.  We had taken them up to Jim Thorpe for a picnic and some down time.  As a thank you, she presented us with two 25 pound boxes of Godiva Chocolate and numerous cans of Dutch Cookies.  

Along with Tori’s friends, we hosted his wife and daughters, and his parents.  His daughters returned for a visit a year later and that provided another wonderful memory for my daughter, Joliene.  A friend of Tori’s had invited his daughters and Joliene to view CATS in NYC.  A limo picked them up and to say the least they were treated like notables for the whole day.  Joliene talked of the day for years to come!

Two highlights of the year with Tori come to mind that I have to share.  The first, was a hard one.  There is a group in Japan that buy up every inch of film on the dropping of the atomic bombs.  They show them all around the world to have people see the devastation that comes with the bomb in hopes that we abandon the idea of using one ever again.  They sent a film crew to the area to film a round table of people, from those military veterans who fought in the war, to the man who put the bomb on the plane, to another man who rode in the plane that dropped the bomb, to everyday people like myself.  They wanted to film an honest reaction from us after viewing the film for a documentary they were producing.  All they asked was that we not look away.

It turns out that the request was the hardest thing to keep.  The film was extremely difficult to view and I found tears coming down my face.  The conversation after the film was lively and honest.  When I returned home from the event, I found myself sitting on the couch and just bawling.  It was the only way I could release the experience of the film.  I will never forget the event.

2001 at my home in Perkasie.  Hosting party
for Tori and the staff that once worked as reporters
for the Quakertown Free Press.

The sweetest and most precious outcome of the year of Tori came about after Tori left us.  One of the people we had met in the course of the year had come with a gift of origami paper and sat with our children and taught them how to fold origami animals, especially the peace bird.  During the school year, our second child, Justin had a moment to shine as a result of this visit.  Justin, like all second children constantly search for their own identity.  In fourth grade there was a gifted young lady in his class, who stood and announced that she was going to present a program the next day on Japan and the art of origami.  She had indicated during her announcement that origami was so difficult to learn, that none of them could expect to learn it during her presentation.

Justin came home from school and asked me where the origami papers were.  He immediately grabbed them and put them in his school bag.  The next day I got a call from the teacher.  She said it was a beautiful sight to her to see how one so calmly and without making a sound proved a young women wrong.  While she stood in front of the class giving her demonstration on the very difficult form of origami, Justin sat quietly in the back of the class and made piece after piece of all the forms they had been taught to do a few months before.  

I loved the thought that opening the door to a stranger could in the end, provide a chance for my child to shine with confidence.  Nothing can be sweeter than that.  And for that reason, I will continue in life, to open the door to strangers and make them friends.

THE DRESS

As I mentioned in the past, I am working on a project that is providing me with an opportunity to relive my life through the pictures I have collected over the years.  This has taken me on a journey that is both a reminder of events and people that are no longer with me, and also of times and events that have caused pain.

We all have had those moments in our life that have seared a dark spot in our soul.  Eventually it may recede, but when you see a reminder through a photo, that moment can arise that makes you carry the feelings, as you did, those many long years ago.

Such a moment happened when I saw the photo of me in the print dress.  I must tell you, that in high school, my self esteem was way below a “zero” as it is for many students.  Nothing unusual.  I can only say I was not one of the “cool kids”.  My parents were what I call “working poor”, so dressing us in new clothes for school was not a family tradition.  I worked since I was in 8th grade to buy what few clothes I owned.  If things got torn, I would pin them.  I remember a moment when my Dad was so upset with the pins in my clothes that he ripped the outfit off my body and told me to put something else on.  The problem was, there was not a lot of something else to wear.  

So when my Aunt Berniece gave me a brown and white print dress that fit me perfectly I was in heaven.  I wore it a lot.  Too much it turns out.  I wore it to school at least once a week.  I happened to wear it on the day we had our school pictures taken.  In the mean time our school was preparing for our homecoming.  

Homecoming at Grant Community High School was a big event.  We had a parade in town with the school clubs and each class participating.  It was followed by a bon fire on school property that the senior football members spent the day gathering wood for.  The football game would be followed by a homecoming dance.

Now I never thought I would ever be asked to go to Homecoming, so I volunteered to work at the dance.  To my surprise I did get an invitation from a young man in my class to attend the dance with him.  I said yes but with the caveat that I had already committed to work at the dance.  To make things worse he also invited me to join his brother and his date after the dance before having to head home.

“Oh that is okay,” I said, “I have my Dad coming to pick me up.”

Now I realized in school, that all the girls going to the dance were out buying new dresses for the dance.  But we could not afford to buy me a new dress, and I did not have a job at the time, so I had to turn to my closet…and you guessed it…I decided to wear the brown and white print dress that I felt so good in.  

The evening was a disaster.  The poor boy spent most of his time at the dance waiting for me to stop working, and the little time left to spend at the dance was awkward to say the least.  It was a night we both wanted to forget.  Not because of him, but because I was such a dope.

A couple of weeks later, while sitting in study hall, (wearing that same brown and white print dress) our school pictures were handed out.  There I was, sitting in study hall next to the boy who asked me to the dance, looking at my school pictures of me wearing the same dress I wore the day the pictures were taken, and the dance, and as it went, the moment I was looking at my school pictures….when I heard him ask, “Is that the only dress you own?”

I was so embarrassed, that when I went home that day, I put the dress in the burn barrel and burned it along with the evening trash.  

I relived that moment every time i looked at him in school and prayed he would forget in time that he even knew me.  

I can laugh about it today.  But to a young girl, whose wings were just beginning to spread, it was a devastating moment that had to be carried inside of me for the rest of the school year.  In fact, I never attended any other school dance, not even my prom.  

How odd, it is to me, that the first picture taken of Pat and I was a snapshot taken during our first dance on the first day we met, not realizing that it was the first day of the rest of our life!  Now that is cause to smile!

CONTINUING LIFE WITH VIGOR AND THE JOY OF PURPOSE!

Why is it, that the older we are, the faster time goes?  Even slowing down and enjoying the simple moments of living, seem to go by fast.  I get up and before I know it the day is gone and I have to pause and consider what I have done in the day.

The hardest part of getting older is dealing with the loss of those around us.  For us, who find ourselves the oldest in our generation left standing, it is odd to see that no one who started this journey with us, is there by our side when it is our time to go.  We remember our youth when for many life seemed simple and free.  For people like me, it is my young adult life, when the freedom of choice lay at my feet and the world seemed mine to grasp.

I am working on a project that is presenting me with a look back on my life.  It seems a dream at times, and yet I can still smell the river water as I watched Pat fish, or the smell of my newborn baby’s head.  These moments fill me with unbelievable emotions and remind me of a life once lived.  

But today is life too.  What does it hold for a body that slowly moves on, and the mind is still full of youth and vigor?  What does it take to live the twilight years of our life with as much vigor and purpose as it did when we were 20, 30 or 40?  

I know one thing, staying in and isolating oneself is surely not the answer.  Getting out, doing for others, finding purpose and giving ones self away to others in need seems to me the only way to move along in this part of life.

As I walk through the halls of a nursing home, and see the far away look in the eyes of our aged, I wonder what they were like when their bodies had not failed them.  I find myself wondering what kind of a young person they were.    What were their dreams?  Who did they love?  What was their fears?  What brought them the greatest happiness?

When do we cross that line of not living fully, not giving of ourself completely, or searching for that purpose in life?  Is it  because our body won’t allow it?  Or, I wonder if it is the depression of loss that freezes us in time, shutting us down, and closing the door to living that life with purpose and joy that we were once capable of.  

My son and daughter-in-law know a ninety plus year old man who still gives to the youth in their church.  Not necessarily money (although he may very well do that also)…but his time and his energy.  I have thought a lot about him recently as I search for my own purpose in today.  I think, in him and others like him who continue to engage in the people around them, are the secrets to living fully and with joy in our hearts.  

The traveling that I have done this summer, along with observing those around me who are older and still engaged in the world have taught me much about what i want to do with my life as it continues.  I am content in the day, and at peace where I stand.  My children are all very self sufficient and their need of me is minimal.  So it is time for me to reach out and find that one place where I can be of service to others.  I want to continue to live life with vigor and the joy of purpose.  

TOURS ARE NOT FOR SISSIES--PART THREE

Banff with the snow capped mountains all around.

Our neighbor, Canada, is wonderful, in both it’s people and it’s land.  And according to the bus driver of our tour, Bill, we are too.  More than once I heard him say, how lucky for us to share such beautiful land.  And it is true.  

I am also lucky to have seen the Grand Canyon a couple of months before the beautiful Rockies in Canada.  Both areas are special places on this earth.  Our bus tour took us from Vancouver to Kamloops, Jasper, Banff, and Calgary.  The bus driver referred to this type of tour as “Rocket Rockies”.  He told me that it is designed to just give us a glimpse of what there is to explore.  Glimpse is right…more like a drive by shoot, as he would take us into areas and many of the pictures I have were taken out the moving bus window!  

Standing on the streets of Banff with the snowcapped mountains rising up at the town’s edge I wanted to just stand in the streets and soak in the view.  Being hugged by a sea of snow capped mountains is an experience to dwell in.  For the brief time I stood there I wondered what it would be like to wake every day living in this magnificent postcard of beauty.  

Driving around Banff.

British Columbia, Canada is definitely a place I want to explore on my own sometime in my future.  To walk into the piney woods and have it smell like Christmas, to see a caribou herd grazing in the wooded fields, to see the teal green of the glacier waters flow over the eroded rocks of the mountain, to drink glacier water from the top of a glacier…are all just some of things I want to go back to so that I can linger over the experience.  

This tour has taught me one special thing.  Life is too short to rush through it.  I like to wake up to the morning sunrise, and sit out on the front porch to stare at the peach and gold colored sunsets.  I like stopping in the garden and appreciate the flowers and watch the bees work on gathering the pollen needed to make the honey.  Standing by the rivers edge and watching the strength of the water flow by fills me with peace, gratitude, and a sense of how lucky some of us can be in this world that is not always kind.  

This tour has taught me one other thing too.  Living alone in this world is only hard when I stay inside of myself.  Reaching out, being with people, or moving about in life, can fill me in ways that satisfy my longings.  Oh yes, I still have those moments in the silence of the night that I wish I was sharing who I am and what I am doing with the “someone” who loves me, but at those times I must remember that I had it once….for forty-five beautiful years.  That is more than some and better than many.  

So I will continue to move about in this world and explore the beauty it has to offer, meeting people along the way that will fill me with new and interesting memories, so that in the end I won’t have to say, “I wish I would of done that.”

Mary, Judy, and Joan, my perfect roommate.

P.S.  I thank the three ladies who were a significant part of this journey.  Each has filled me with memories to carry me along in my sweet thoughts.  As long as I live you will each all live in my heart.  Thank you. 

A small cabin on Lake Louise. 

Just one of the many waterfalls.

Yes, that is snow on the roof.  Our Canadian brothers and sisters are a hardy group!

TOURING IS NOT FOR SISSIES--PART TWO

Our first stop of the four day tour.

I learned a long time ago when traveling, that most of the time when choosing public transportation you are never in control of anything.  The only way to get through the processes is to take a deep breath, be patient, and learn to enjoy people watching while standing in line, as it can be a great form of entertainment.

The trip started out great.  My lady friends and I were picked up by a limo and taken right to the airport.  Boarding the plane was timely and was seen as a great omen for the start of this wonderful adventure.  The plane started to taxi out on time and head out to the runway for takeoff.  We began to notice some animated conversation taking place between the airline stewards and a young women seated in front of us.  We could not make out what was going on but as the plane stood in the line readying for takeoff, the Captain got on the PA system and announced that we were returning to the gate to enable a passenger to leave the plane.  He apologized and said it would take a while until they located her luggage but we would soon leave the gate again for takeoff.  We sat.  And sat.  And waited.  

Soon the Captain came on again with another apology that we now have a problem with the air system and we were now waiting for a maintenance person to board the plane to fix the problem.  As the cabin heated up, people began to rumble and it became obvious that some on the plane were going to miss their connections.

An hour later we were able to take off.  Connections were definitely going to be missed but a promise to do all they could to help these passengers was made and the rest of us just hoped we too would not miss ours.  All this because someone got radical about being on the plane. Seems to me that this could of been thought out a bit more before she boarded the plane.

Joining a tour, set up by a sadist must also come with the recognition that you are not in control.  (Before I proceed any further, I must say, if I had a choice in the schedule, I would of done the bus tour before the cruise as I would have had more energy..I think) 

Just one view from our tour bus window.

The tour promotor prints out these nice brochures to inform you that your trip will include the opportunity to visit, see, and experience the wonders of the places they plan to take you.  Opportunity is the key word here.  To take advantage of the opportunity one must be in good shape, be able to walk fast in order to get to the places mentioned, and be able to experience the moments in fast forward motion.  Strolling is out of the question…no time.  Minutes count!  After awhile I guessed the purpose to all of this was to get our blood flowing so as not to get blood clots from sitting long spells on the bus.  By the time we got back to the bus, our hearts were pumping and beads of sweat were pouring down our faces.  

A day on the bus tour would start with a 6:00 a.m. wakeup call…hopefully.  Some complained they did not get the call.  You had just enough time to dress, put your large luggage outside your door, hopefully get breakfast (some hotel restaurants made this a challenge by their slow service) and be on the bus by 7:45 to 8:00 a.m.  

The days plans were drive two hours, stop, visit the site, drive again for 2 hours, stop, visit a site…until we reached the town we would be staying, at which point we would be given a driving tour of the town (in case we wanted to explore) and finally around 6:00 p.m. we would arrive at the hotel.  At this point exhaustion was setting in, so washing up and finding a place to eat became priority.  Touring the town did not because most of the time that meant hiring a cab to take you there and in the end that only added expense to the meal you were going to eat.  Shopping was the only other thing available and I am no shopper.  I hate shopping at home, I sure as heck am not going to spend big money for a trip to just shop somewhere else.  I want to feel the area by exploring the streets and get a glimpse of how the locals live.

After dinner, we found ourselves heading back to our rooms to shower, set up our clothes for the next day, and crash into a deep sleep until the next 6:00 a.m. wakeup call…starting the day all over again. By the fourth day of bus touring all 45 of us were getting a bit slap happy in our attitudes.  Couples were beginning to nip at each other, impatience was showing in attitudes of some, and since the crowd was mostly from Philadelphia and New Jersey, their Philly and New Jersey attitudes came through loud and strong!

My roommate, Joan and I just got silly.  (I must point out here that for me Joan was a perfect roommate.  She never complained, and when things got a bit crazy she laughed right along with me…perfect!) We were so exhausted by the fourth day, that when we were given our wake up call at 4:00 a.m. we worried that we may not get the call like some others had experienced.  So Joan tried to set the clock, and I set my iPhone alarm.  We repacked our bags to ready for home and the customs crossing, ate, showered and stretched out in bed early.  Both of us falling asleep, and managing to turn off the TV and lights.

Still in the dark, I awoke to laughter in the hallway, and noise outside our first floor window.  Thinking that we may have missed our wake up call and that we may be late, I jumped up to check the time.  Joan woke up at this time also.  “What time is it,” she asked.

“The room clock says 1:30 a.m.,” I respond.  

“Oh don’t pay attention to that,” she says.  “I tried to set the alarm and screwed the whole thing up.”  

Panicking at this point I checked  my phone.  It indicated it was 10:30 p.m.  “Oh no” I said, “something is wrong.” 

We turned on the TV and could not figure out from it what time it was so we called Room Service.  

“Excuse me,” I said, “but could you please tell me the time?”

“10:30 p.m.” she said.

Joan and I started laughing at ourselves and although we had a hard time settling back down we both were glad that we still had some sleeping time ahead of us.  

I remembered something my husband’s Uncle Bob would say to us long ago. “If you have never been somewhere, a good way to see it the first time is by a tour, then if you see something you really like, come back next time on your own.”  Yes, it takes stamina to take a bus tour in this way, but we did see some magnificent sites.  And yes, I would go back in a flash…on my own to really explore the area.

More tomorrow…..

TOURING IS NOT FOR SISSIES—PART ONE

Glacier as seen from the ship.

I like thinking of life as an adventure.  Discovering every day something new about the world around me as well as about myself.  Learning how to live as a single person and finding joy in it all, I will admit at times is a challenge.  The loneliness can be a killer.  But getting out on the road, meeting new people, seeing new places, and experiencing things outside of my comfort zone I have found to be very satisfying if not challenging.  But through it all I see life and living all around and know that I just have to keep getting out there and stay involved. This I realized as I took my first ever “tour”—part cruise, part bus.  Now I have cruised before and found a great pleasure in it,, but now having done 3 of them, choosing another one will depend on where in the world it will take me.  This one took me to Alaska.  

The Mendenhall Glacier

If you want to talk about a rugged state and rugged people this is a place to put on your list.  First I found it beautiful in many ways, but extreme also.  The rawness of it’s natural resources were a wonder to look at and experience.  We were lucky to have experienced a very passive inside passage of Alaska.  Lots of fog, but wait fifteen minutes and the weather would clear.  An ever changing landscape presented itself as we cruised down the waterway.  

Heading further up north from Vancouver, found us experiencing a drop in temperature with each passing day.  As we approached the glaciers it was bitter at times, but experiencing the glaciers and floating ice, took my mind off my numb lips and cold hands.  I was trying to imagine how the natives of Alaska survived the harshness this part of the world handed out.

Up close and personal

The cruise ship stopped in three ports during our 7 days.  Ketchikan, Skagway, and the capitol of Alaska, Juneau.  I discovered that the cruise lines work very hard to get you to shop at their shops often making you believe you are doing the local economy good.  But in Alaska there was an opportunity to find the local shops and in the end make out better doing business with the “real locals” not the cruise-line owned stores that filled the streets.  I made it a point to talk with a couple of locals and got directions to the locally owned businesses rather than to further pad the pockets of the cruise lines.  In doing this I saved money.  I was asked by a friend to pick up an Ulu knife, found everywhere in Alaska.  I found them in a locally owned business for $6.99 each.  But the shops owned by the cruise line was 13.99 and 21.99.  Same box, same packaging.   

Ketchikan as seen from the ship.

The towns were small, somewhat ragged (except for right where the port was) and it was easy to see that life was not full of many opportunities living there.  Juneau, the capital of the state of Alaska was not very pretty.  The tour guide who drove us through town described the capital building as the uglies capital he had ever seen.  He was right.  It was not very pretty or grand at all.  

One of the locals told me that the towns we were visiting were towns we had to drive to, not thru.  One way in and one way out.  

Totem poll done by a native carver.

I enjoyed seeing this part of Alaska but know from what I have read, that there are other exciting and adventurous places to visit.  Something to consider as I make my new travel choices.

Strolling the town with the clouds hovering close.

Tomorrow I will share the adventures of traveling with a tour group and the characters I met along the

way. 

Driving back from our road tour.