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.