PARALLEL LIVES

I just spent the last 24 hours with a classmate from high school.  He is touring the United States on a motorcycle, by himself, exploring, discovering, and stopping in along the way to visit family, friends, and old classmates, all the while aiming for the four corners of this country—six  thousand miles behind him and four thousand to go.  What a trip!

We have not seen each other in 49 years, and even back then, we knew more of each other than really knew each other.  Facebook put us in contact and when I learned of his planned trip I extended an invitation for him to stop in.  “Just like Motel 6,” I said, “I’ll leave the light on.”  When he called and the next day came for that stay, I was both pleased and surprised.   

So here I was, opening the door to my past life, and in he walked.  We talked non-stop until he took off for the next leg of his journey.  The poor man, I may have worn out his ears!  Our nonstop conversation showed us both how our lives ran so parallel…in our approach to living and the attitude we have today.  “Choices”, he said.  “It is what it has all boiled down to.  We both knew we were the ones to make our own happiness”, he continued.   And we did.

We talked of the 50th class reunion coming up next year.   I have not been home for a class reunion since I graduated in 1965.  I left my hometown in 1966 and never looked back.  I have no regrets about that decision, but it has taken a long time to build bridges of memory that in time finally gave me a sense of grounding. I always looked with envy to those who were born in this area and experience such a deep set of roots where they live.  I have two such friends in my community.  I cannot be with them, that they don’t run into someone, somewhere that they know from their childhood days, old neighbors, school chums, or work friends.  My husband could not travel up or down the 309 corridor without running into someone he knew from back in the days…and I would always remind him of  how wonderful that was.

Because of this visit, I am, for the first time, looking forward to going back home.  Thank you John for that gift and thank you to Facebook, for keeping connected those school chums from days long gone.  In this world of easy travel and far away places it really is a wonderful thing to feel connected.  

THE BIG DREAD

It’s here!  The moment I have dreaded since January when I first started thinking of how to prepare.  We all go through it.  In January when thoughts first filled my head of the warm activities, I said to myself  “Okay, this is going to be the year when I finally do it!”  

I got out the books, read about all the steps to be taken to find success, even bought all the things I needed—I was ready!  This is it!  I’m going to do it!  Yep!  A new me, a fresh start, a real beginning!

January came and went.  Ah February—A short month, a reminder that I can do this, one step at a time.  A new beginning.  I like the number 1.  It is starting over.  There is still time.

Boy, February went fast.  Well, it is a short month after all.  To be expected, for sure.  

Okay, now it is March, and time is limited before I reach that goal, but hey, a start is a start, and one should never give up—right?  I look in the mirror and think, “you can do this!”  Yes you can!

It turns out March was hard.  The snow and cold you know.  Hard to be motivated when you are bundled up in layers.  I let March go.  I still had time.

April.  I now realize my goal won’t be reached, but hey, a start is a start and one can do this anytime.  I know this.  But now the realization that I must cover up what I have failed to do.  So as the magazines come in, I start looking for that perfect look that will hide my complete and total winter failure.  April into May finds me working on acceptance.  The truth.  It is sometimes hard to see in the mirror, but oh those pictures.  Not a pleasant moment for me.  Turning sideways does not really help!

Today has come.  The moment of reckoning.  I walk back into my bedroom and look at the purple suit that I purchased.  It was designed to make one look thinner.  I prepare to slip into the suit.  Well maybe slip is not the right word exactly.  Tug, yank, pull, slap…seem more like it.  But I made it.  It is on.  And as I stand in front of the mirror and gaze at the 67 year old, sagging body that stands before me, I give myself a talk about how I am not alone and others will show up at our community pool and show off their new hiding-the-winter-failure outfit that we all have purchased.  

Soon, after a few glasses of wine to toast Memorial Day, and some fun neighborly conversations, I will soon forget my winter failure and enjoy the heated waters of our annual pool opening!

And with some luck, the pool workouts will set me on the path to my goals that I had back in January!  I’m an optimist you know!

PONDERING FEAR

A friend asked me today, “What have you ever been afraid of?”  I had to stop and think about that.  The first thing that came to my mind was 9/11.  My daughter worked in New York City at the time and was on the subway when the first plane hit the Trade Center.  I was not intimately aware of where she was in relationship to the event, so I just worried and kept trying to reach her.  It was 10:30 a.m. when I finally got that call, that said she was okay, but her building was being evacuated and she was trying to figure out how to get back to Brooklyn.

When I heard her voice on the phone, I dropped to my knees and could hardly speak, except to say over and over that I loved her.  

That fearful moment will always take first place in my book.  Beyond that I have to work hard to think of any moments that filled me with fear.  I should of been afraid back in 1966, when after being proposed to, I moved East, unmarried, to follow a young man whom I barely knew.  (Our first date was June 24, engaged Aug 13th, moved to Pennsylvania Oct 7th and married November 24th of the same year.), but I wasn’t afraid.  Once he convinced me that he loved me, I never looked back. 

I should of been afraid when as a young women, when I would pick a direction on a Friday morning, armed with only a compass, atlas, a good book and an overnight bag, drive 8 hours, spend the night and next day in the town I landed in, then returned home on Sunday.  My sense of adventure and freedom is all I needed then.  No cell phone, no CB radio—I didn’t even call home to let anyone know where I landed—they didn’t ask me to.

Walking through life with my best friend and husband of 45 years always made me feel confident that nothing was impossible to overcome.  And today, over two years past his death, I still find myself feeling like that.  The adjustment to being alone has not been without it’s moments, but caring for the home, making financial decisions on my own were all done by me the last 13 years we had together as he was unable to do any of those things…not even with me.  It was always, “do what you think best, hon.”  So I did.  It turns out to have been a great gift of self reliance even though there were moments I would of loved to have had a helping hand.

Not even a childhood filled with too much drink, fighting, and abuse filled me with fear as it was my “normal” life and one that I learned how to dance in.

As an adult, I have always felt blessed in life.  As I ponder the question from my friend, I wonder if it because despite all that I experienced that was not great, there was only one moment filled with fear.  For that I am grateful.

THANK YOU CHICAGO CUBS!

Growing up in the Chicago area, I had two choices.  To be a White Sox or Cubs fan.  I was always a Cubs fan.  In fact in 8th grade at Gavin Grade School in Fox Lake, Illinois, I was listed as the potential first female baseball player on the Chicago Cubs team due to my ability to catch line drives.

It dawned on me today as a school friend of mine posted on Facebook information about the Cubs, that to be a Cubs fan you have to be an optimist.  How else can one explain a life time of cheering on a team that never has seen a World Series win.  

What does it say about a person who never gives up trying?  What character fills a person to go out week after week, day after day and never give up, even when in the eyes of others you have failed?

My older son had the privilege to play football for his high school team that lost every game of the season.  The boys were taking a ribbing from their fellow students, but the coaches would cheer them on along with the parents, and every week they would return to the field and go for it again.

I worked in the school at the time and also know how hard the coaches were taking these losses.  It was especially hard as a rival school was ending their season with no losses—not only for the year, but seniors were graduating with no loss on record for the whole four years.

During the season I watched my husband and son go over every game, not with any great negative intensity, but looking at the little things within the loss that one could hang on to as an improvement.  Week in and week out I would hear, “Now son, you did this great, now next week try doing two of those…”  The next week my husband would let our son know that he indeed had done two, now next week try this…and so it went until the season ended.  The end of every game they would find a way to celebrate in the face of losing.  What a gift!

I was so taken by these moments with father and son, that I wrote the coaches and asked, “So ask me what team I would like my son to be on…the one who lost every game, or the one who won every game?”

The answer of course was the one who lost.  How has a student been prepared for what life has to offer if they have not learned how to be a good looser—if they have not learned how to see the good that comes from a failure?  The gift that was provided this father and son during that season was priceless.

I like being an optimist.  I am taking oil painting lessons (I have never considered myself artistic or an artist) but wanting to take myself out of my comfort zone I jumped into the process.  For every painting that I have hanging on my wall, are ten that did not turn out.  But I learned with each failure, just as father taught his son, and the coach his team…for me, being an optimist is the only way to travel the road of life!

A QUIET REVOLUTION

As the news hit this afternoon that Pennsylvania is one of 19 states that declared unconstitutional the ban on gay marriage, I said out loud, “it’s about time!”  

I watched the afternoon news blasts with interest as counties and court houses announced how they will accommodate what they believe will be a rush on marriage licenses.  

I found myself wishing our Uncle could of been alive to see this day.  I have watched family who have lived the struggle of being themselves, and have seen first hand the pain caused by society’s hate filled words,  

I have a granddaughter who is gay.  As a child, she was quiet and withdrawn and spent much of her time alone and none of us understood why.  Then one day she found the courage to say, “I am gay.”  I was so happy with how our family responded to her at the time.  We all just embraced her and then stood back and watched her bloom.  

Recently, our community hosted a welcome to newcomers meeting.  Among the new residents was a gay couple.  After going around the room and each new resident introducing themselves, the one gentleman, asked for the floor to say, “I would like to make an announcement.  My partner and I got married a couple of weeks ago.”  The room broke out in applause.  Tears filled his eyes and afterwards when I went up to congratulate him, he said, “I never allowed the dream of the day anything like this would happen.”    It was a special moment for them, and for me, as I also recognized how times have changed.

I know this battle is not done yet, but I also know how far we have come.  I am of the age that I remember the days of segregation and am happy to see how far we have come from that time.  As each generation has passed through we have become more accepting of those that are different than ourselves.  I know it will not ever be perfect, but for now I’ll enjoy watching this quiet revolution and join those in celebration of a life allowed to be lived.  

OH THOSE KIDS

There is one comment that I hear too often that drives me crazy and that is when people comment about how bad kids are today.  I don’t believe for a second that they are any different from when I grew up.  They are just kids trying out the world and it’s consequences, just as we did. The truth for me is that I have observed through the programs from my grandchildren how incredible the young people are today!

Yesterday, I had the privilege to attend a poetry reading hosted by the Bucks County Poet Laureate Society.  They held the annual High School Poet of the year event and my granddaughter, Honor, was a finalist. I was spellbound by the talent of these young people.  Their passion, wisdom, and understanding of the human spirit was wise beyond their age.  

I have witnessed over and over, the talent that lies within the schools of today.  A $10.00 ticket to a show at the school is as thrilling to me as spending $50.00 to $100.00 for a professional performance.  Aida, performed at CB East this year was phenomenal.  In my school days we might have had one great voice in the choir that would do the standout performance on stage.  What I heard in the production of Aida, was any of the performers on that high school stage could have been a lead.  Their voices were outstanding and they carried themselves on that stage as wonderful as I had ever seen.

I make a suggestion to anyone who believes that kids today are not worthy of their admiration.  Turn off the news and go find a kid and get to know them.  I think you’ll be surprised.

EMBARRASSING MOMENTS CREATES CHARACTER

Yesterday, I wrote on embarrassing moments that came to us as we age.  When talking with my granddaughter, Honor, I realized that embarrassing moments are with us all our life.  Honor shared with me her embarrassing moment of her day in school.  I listen with great empathy as she talked about falling into the bleachers and the students having to leave the bleachers so they could pull them out to untangle her.  You see she has cerebral palsy that has caused her legs to not be strong. Falling is common for her. This does not stop her from giving it her all.  

In my own attempt to comfort her bruised feelings I share with her my own embarrassing moments from my school experience.  I remembered one morning, late to the bus stop, I ran toward the bus only to have my red petti pants fall around my ankle, throwing me to the ground, face down!  Our bus driver, Mr. Hanke, was driving a brand new bus, with a very large front window allowing the whole bus of students to watch my predicament.  

What to do?  I can’t grab them and pull them up.  I was too upset to pick them up and carry them onto the bus.  I just stood up, stepped out of them, and walked up into the bus.  I didn’t look back, I didn’t look forward, I just looked down and went straight for a seat.

The rest of the school day was uneventful until I entered into my history class where it was my turn to give my class report.  In the front of the room, as I turned to face the class I noticed my red petti pants under my desk.  As my face reddened I went on with my report, never acknowledging that I saw my petti pants and no one ever made a comment to me about them.  I never learned who picked them up or planted them under my desk.

The funniest embarrassing moment came when I was a Freshman in high school.  We had to shower after gym class and I was late leaving the class.  Pass in hand, I left the gym heading to my next class when I suddenly heard my name being called by the cutest Senior Boy at Grant Community High School.  There I was walking down the empty hall but for him and me…floating was more like it.  My name, “Marlene” filled the hall with his sweet voice and all I could think about was the fact that he knew my name and how wonderful that felt.  

“Marlene”, he called out again and once again the sweet musical way his voice carried my name through the hall, lifted me lighter and lighter in my step as I walked faster toward him to see what he wanted of me.

“Marlene, your skirt”, he said pointing to my bottom, with only a 1/2 slip and underwear between me and his eyes.  

“My skirt?”  I cried out, “My skirt?” and then I turned to see it laying on the floor just outside the gym door.  You see my school books that I carried in my arms had knocked the button off of my wrap around skirt, causing the skirt to drop off.  

My dear sweet granddaughter sat there listening to my story, laughing while at the same time, trying to show empathy back to me. I said to her through my own laughter of the memories, “See, one day you too will tell your grandchild about your most embarrassing moments while laughing too.  If we can’t laugh at ourselves then life would not be any fun!”

As we sat laughing at ourself and each other, I knew the moment together was a success.

ELDERLY? REALLY?

“An elderly couple died today,” said the news announcer.  John, age 66 and his wife Jane, age 64 were killed in an auto accident.”

Elderly?  Really?  What does that make me?  Elderly?  Age 66…elderly?  I am shocked at the word used to describe the age of this couple.  The one big surprise as I have aged, is that in my mind, I feel the same as I did when I was 20…30….40….50….60…(picture me laughing right now).  The only difference today from when I was 20 is that my mind and body are not in sync.  

I’ll be outside in the garden, doing what I love—forgetting time and enjoying the birds serenade while I dig, plant and weed.  Then I suddenly realize my bending is not bending so easy and my face, now beet red is throwing a sweaty flush on me that causes me to pant.  A neighbor notices me and comments that it is time for a break.  A glass of water, good neighborly conversation, and twenty minutes get me right up—-well sort of right up…maybe push/pull up is a better description.  There is no popping up quickly as I did when I started the day.  My body won’t let it happen.

There is another thing my body won’t do these days….hold it’s pucker power.  You know what I mean!  I cough…I wet.  I sneeze…I wet.  I lift a heavy item…look out, it is a flood until I put it down.  I went to the doctor and he says do exercises.  So every commercial on TV, I find myself, “squeeze—hold—let go….squeeze—hold—let go—until the end of the commercial.  When I go back to the doctor I tell him nothing has changed.  So he decides that he must check it out for himself.  I soon find myself up on the table, legs in the air and him filling my bladder with water.  

“On the count of two,” he says, “cough twice.” 

Seeing that he is on a stool  with wheels, a bit too close for my comfort, I warn him that I have this problem and he should look out.

With his nurse at my head, and him at my bottom, he says, “Oh I’m use to that.”

With that I cough, and he flies backwards with his stool into the wall, sliding onto the floor in his attempted escape from the spray.  I could see the nurse swallowing hard the laugh she wanted to have.  I was so embarrassed that I have not been back to that doctor.  Living with no pucker power is my body showing it’s age, while my mind still thinks it is 20!

Yes, getting “elderly” has it’s crazy moments and if I didn’t have a sense of humor about it, I would crawl up into a cave until it was all over.  But my 20 year old mind says, hell no…go out and live a little and once in awhile you’ll be embarrassed.  So what.  

I just want to get old enough that I can get away with pinching a young man’s behind, and him not taking me seriously!  That’s when I know that I’m elderly.  

CHALLENGES

I have joined a writing group and the challenge over the next 30 days is to write something every day.  

Something.

Boy that was easy!  I just wrote “something.”  I’m being silly here, but the truth is you cannot write unless you start with a word.  And then another and another.  Just as in life, when you have to put one foot in front of another, facing the challenges of the moment can, let’s say, be challenging!

Take aging for instance.  I saw a sign once that read, “aging is not for cowards.”  Just when you find yourself needing the most help, you often find yourself being the most alone.  The one thing that helps me get through these challenges, is humor. I am good at laughing.  I can laugh at myself louder than anyone else I know.  I have found this to be good—at least for me.  

Laughing at stressful situations may not be the greatest thing to do at times.  I remember once when Pat and I had a flood in our basement, I sat on the stairs looking down at the water, watching Pat struggle with trying to figure out why water was building up, laughing and telling him we should stock the basement with fish or how lucky that we have an indoor swimming pool.  A few minutes of listening to me trying to crack jokes, caused Pat to chase me up the stairs.  

I live these moments believing that at some point we will laugh at the absurdity of the moment and I am just getting a head start.  I once had a boss, when hearing me laughing in the office, would call me in and ask if everything was alright.  

Alright it is…peachy keen as I say.  Challenges?  A piece of cake!

LETTING GO

March 17 marked the 2nd anniversary of my new life as a single!  Losing my friend, lover, and husband of 45 years has not been easy, but from the beginning I knew I had to find a way to enjoy my new life.  Grief has never been linear, but it has never stopped moving forward.  Today, I can honestly say I am okay.  I am okay with eating out alone.  I am okay with going to a movie alone.  I am okay in so many ways I thought I never could be.  

It is time to end my blog widow2single.com and start a new blog “LIVING LIFE AND ACCEPTING CHANGE” ( wife2widow2single.blogspot.com ) about the adventures of living life—as a single person and a senior.  It is an adventure.  I find it takes courage, strength and a great sense of humor to traverse through some of things I face today…but life in general also takes those same qualities to move on.  

I thank everyone for the support and kind words you have shared with me in response to what I have written.  You were definitely the wind beneath my wings when I believed I had none.   These last two years have been full of personal growth for me.  The first year after losing Pat found me in a fog.  I was walking, talking, and doing things, but mostly in reaction to the feelings of the moment.  I also made mistakes and did things that I was not happy about after the moment passed, but I learned along the way in my journey, that being human and having needs is nothing to be ashamed of.  

At the same time, I have decided that I am important, and what I want to do in my life is important.  As a wife, mother, and caretaker, I put my own needs on the back burner of life many times, and now the sweet taste of freedom to be spontaneous feels so good I am not wanting to let go of it—at least for now.  

I want to be open to as many experiences and events as I can before my time comes to slow down.  I have traveled and plan for more.  I have made new friends.  I am taking classes and challenging myself by allowing myself to leave my comfort zone (up to a point).  

I invite you to join me as I continue to grow and learn.  I might make you cry, think, and even provoke you at times, but most importantly I hope I’ll make you laugh!  Together we can enjoy the day by accepting the change that is handed to us and find the courage to change the things that cause us pain.  

I’ll leave you with this:  My son told me about a sermon he heard at his church on letting go.  His Pastor ended by saying, “The last movement of an embrace is the letting go.”    And so it is time to let go of the pain of loss and embrace the life yet to be lived.