NATURE'S SERENADE

Trumpet vines reaching for the sky

waiting for the hummingbirds to stop by.

Feeling alone 

but how could this be

surrounded by the songs 

of the birds and the bees.

The evening sounds pulsating 

by the cicada’s dance

Frogs and crickets darting about

taking a chance

while bats join 

in the evening flight

of birds gathering 

in the waning light.

How can one feel so alone

surrounded by nature's serenade

quiet I sit as the evening sun starts to fade.

I ponder, as the day is done

is it just me…am I the only one?

I am reminded by the frog's bullhorn blair

that I only need to look to see them there.

As one day ends and I say good-bye

to the pain I carry 

that could make me cry

I settle in for the night

surrounded by the moon’s guiding light

as the frogs and night birds sing

hoping that a new day will bring

the music of the birds in flight

showing that everything is alright

I’ll just step outside and wait

as trumpet vines reach for the sky

waiting for hummingbirds to stop by.

YOU MUST WALK YOUR OWN PATH

I enjoy reading biographies, memoir and personal stories of people whose beginnings were challenging yet found ways to overcome those challenges.  Tavis Smiley is a commentator on NPR radio, author, columnist and guest on various other news shows.  He wrote a book about his friendship with Maya Angelou, “My Journey with Maya.”  

I read the following clip on his work, “Tavis Smiley dictates a letter to a young American with inspiration from his late friend, Maya Angelou. No matter how much you seek the answers to life from external sources, the truth you seek can only be found within you. You must walk your own path without aid of shortcuts. And you need to acknowledge that the journey toward the authentic you is more important than the destination.”

I am reminded this week, through the journeys of a couple of my friends, that no matter the journey we are on, learning how to be a survivor of anything is something no one can do for us.  We can search for answers from other people in hopes of inspiring us, or we can want others in our life to “save us”, but the truth is, what we search for can only be found within us.  

A lesson I learned in my initial journey of learning how to survive childhood abuse is that I first had to decide that I was worthy of a life well lived, then decided what “I” was willing to do to allow that to happen.  Hanging on to old hurts and pain only keeps us hurting and in pain.

I am lucky in that I was married to someone who allowed me to find my own way while standing by my side and loving me through it all.  The tools I learned through that journey have helped me through my journey of grief too.   

In my case, my personal grief was a struggle because I felt so complete with my best friend and husband by my side.  With him gone, I felt the vulnerable side of me become exposed and it was as if I was learning all over again how to live life.  And in many ways I am.  Living life as a wife and mother was a 45-year adventure.  Now, living life as a single person is a new and often alien experience for me.  The most important thing I am learning is to look for the authentic “me” that dwells within.  

I resisted it for a long time because the completeness of being “a part of something” felt so good and comforting.  So when someone comes to me looking for those magic answers, they are disappointed that I cannot provide the secret code to the door that opens them up to life again.  I cannot save anyone.  Choosing to live as full a life as I can, I can by example, be a light to those in darkness, to show that if you want to live, you will find a way.  

TIMING

Kathmandu before the Quake
March 2015 by Brian

Timing.  How many times in our life has it happened to us?  The right time in the right place.  Wrong time in the wrong place.  Timing is what I thought about as I followed the events in Nepal over the weekend.  Brian, a friend of our family, just returned from Nepal.  He posted some incredible pictures of his visit and as he tells me, “so many of the buildings and temples are now destroyed.”

Is it luck?  Our guardian angel?  Intuition?  What makes timing often play such an important part of our life.

Like many, I have experienced many timing events in my life.  One evening returning home from a company holiday party, Pat and I were driving home on Route 378, a 4 lane highway just north of Bethlehem.  Driving in a pack, I suddenly said to Pat, “hit your breaks”.  He responded by tapping the breaks causing us to remove ourselves out of the pack of cars enough that when suddenly, a car came flying across our two lanes from the other side, taking out the four cars ahead of us while we had enough space to get out of harms way by pulling up the side of hill.

“Why did you tell me to back off?” Pat asked as we sat there in shock at what we were seeing.

“I don’t know,” I remember saying, “I just became overwhelmed with fear and all I could do was ask you to pull back from the pack of cars.”

The greatest impact of timing for me came when, while volunteering at the American Legion in Fox Lake, Illinois, it was time to end the day, but I decided to wait and help make sure all the wounded military men were on the bus heading home.  It was that moment that I met the man who would become my best friend and husband of 45 years.  

Back to our young friend Brian and his trip to Nepal.  He has a request.  With his permission, I am including it here.

“I hope everyone I know will take a moment and consider donating to relief efforts for Nepal's earthquake.

We always think of these things as being so far away. However, less than four weeks ago I was trekking in Nepal and had a medical situation requiring a Medivac from the mountains. The person who was most instrumental to my immediate care, my guide Madan, and the person who coordinated my Medivac and hospital care, Prem, the company director, both lost homes in the disaster.

We live with so much more than many people in the worlds, including the infrastructure to be able to respond to natural disasters. Please give something to those with less and who today need the most. Just give to a legitimate charity…

Thanks,

Brian”

http://www.redcross.org/news/article/Red-Cross-Responding-to-78-Magnitude-Earthquake-in-Nepal

So I ask again, is it luck, a guardian angel, or intuition?  

CHILDHOOD FRIENDSHIPS NEVER DIE

Tom, Pat and a friend from work 1966

Most all of us have walked through our life carrying the memory of an old friend within us.  That someone who lived through a portion of our life, leaving an impact and burning that special soft spot in our heart.  I have not had the experience, but I lived it through my late husband, Pat.  He had three friends through his childhood that he carried in his heart with great affection until the moment he died.

John, Tom, and Joe were the first three friends of Pat’s that I met.  I loved to see them together. They had a history, a connection…something, that in my life could only be imagined, never experienced.  I often told Pat how lucky he was, because he could not travel up or down the 309 corridor without bumping into someone who knew him from his childhood.  

John and Pat were close like brothers.  Their love and acceptance of each other was a beautiful thing to watch.  Of course it helped that John married Pat’s sister, but even so, they always carried each other close to the heart and being with John and Lucyann was always such a happy time.  Even distance did not put a wedge in their relationship.  

But Joe and Tom eventually drifted away physically, yet never in Pat’s memory, thoughts or feelings.  Right before he died he made me promise to try and find the two of them and give the message to them that they were never forgotten and how he carried them in his heart always as his best friends and with great affection. It was important to him that they all knew that he loved them.   I promised I would try.

I first found what happened to Joe.  Joe was the Best Man at our wedding.  We quickly bonded as a couple as he too was married.  Through the first four years of our marriage, we spent most all our social time hanging out with Joe and his wife.  Sometime after my first pregnancy, Joe and his wife separated and divorced and our friendship drifted apart.  Life, family and work filled the time available for both Joe and Pat.  Over the years we did get in contact with him once, but Joe was embarrassed about how his wife left him (he was a man of great pride) and we did not stay in contact.  But that did not mean he was forgotten by Pat.  As I went on a hunt for him I decided to search the obituaries and I was saddened to discover he died in 2004.  I called John to share the news of my discovery and you could hear the breath leave him for a moment as he processed the news.

I first met Tom thru Pat at the Navy Hospital at the Great Lakes Navy Base where I worked.  Tom and Pat went into the Navy during the Viet Nam days on the buddy system.  Pat never cared what he did as long as he could do it with Tom.  In boot camp where they filled in their dream sheet of what they wanted to do in the Navy, Pat chose to put down what Tom wanted to do…dental tech.  In the end, Pat was the one who was selected to go to A school for Dental Tech, while Tom ended up in Corp school to become a Medic and eventually off to Viet Nam.  Pat never made it to his school because on the obstacle course he broke his foot which left him unfit for duty and back home to await discharge.  Tom’s schooling was at Great Lakes which allowed for me to get to know Tom through Pat while Pat was in the hospital awaiting orders to return home.  Tom went off to Viet Nam, returned home, attended college and went off to live his life.  Our first born son carries Thomas as part of his name in honor of the love Pat held for Tom.  

I was recently lucky to have come in contact with a cousin of Tom’s who shared contact information for him allowing me to fulfill that last wish for Pat.  When I called John to share the good news of finding Tom, he too was overjoyed, as he had spent part of last year searching for Tom without success.  

We promised to meet up soon and catch up on the life lived between visits…and when we do, I know Pat will be there too with a big smile on his face.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY AARON!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY AARON

Thirty-nine years ago, on February 25th, it was 80 degrees and Pat and I were trying to push along labour by walking around looking at boats, dreaming of the coming Spring and all the time we will be spending by the shore line of any body of water….him fishing and me chasing kids.  Later that day, my 9 pound, 1 ounce boy was born…our third son, fourth child, making our family complete.  Damian (age 4), Justin (age 2 1/2), Joliene (age 1 1/2) and now Aaron would fill my life in unimaginable ways. 

How is it possible that I have a child who is turning 39 when I am only 39? In my head that is!!!!  This year I will have my oldest turn 45, my second turn 43, and my third turn 41.  This cannot be! I remember living those ages.  Where does time go?  Why does it fly by so fast?  

I was glad that I recognized those moments that filled me with as much happiness as is allowed. I always wanted to freeze frame the time period as it was happening.  I had many of them when my kids were younger…although I must admit there were also those moments where I wanted to give them away to the first person that passed by.  Parenting is never just one emotion.  Ever! Being a parent is the extreme of everything you can feel….Joy…Fear…Love…Hate…Happy…Sad.  You cannot be a parent without recognizing that at any given moment you can be taken on the wild ride of your life.  I remember there were also times at night that I was glad to have put my head on the pillow and not have killed a kid that day.

Ah yes, parenting was tough, but oh what I would give to be standing there in that place again.  

Wait. I do when I visit any of my children’s families and see, feel and hear the craziness that fills each of their homes.  Kids, making noise, with sounds of “Mom….Mom…Mom” filling the air and I am reminded of how tough it really is to be a parent, and me going home to the quiet is good.

I am glad for all of you.  Your choices in spouses, the grandchildren you have blessed me with, and the lives you are all living, fill me with more happiness that you can ever imagine.  Thank you….thank you….thank you!

And Happy Birthday Aaron!

THANK YOU

Jimmy Fallon does this very funny routine on his show where he writes “Thank You” notes for some off the wall ideas.  

It got me to thinking…I  have a lot to be thankful for…so here are my "Thank You" notes.

Thank you birds…for coming to my bird feeder and entertaining me through your dinner hour.  The cardinals, wood peckers, and nut hatches are my favorite, but I love you all.  Even the squirrel that visits from time to time makes me smile.

Thank you sons, daughter, daughter-in-laws, and grandchildren…even though you all live hectic full lives, you do stop now and then and invite me in and it reminds me of the hectic crazy life I once had…and I am given the opportunity to be glad for the quiet at home.  (But don’t stop inviting me in….I need it from time to time!)

Thank you neighbors…for being helpful when I need it.  You are the reason I love living where I do.  And when I entertain thoughts of moving I am taken back by the idea that since my husband died, you have become my family and confidant.  How can I ever leave you voluntarily?  

Thank you to the employees at Whitman Pharmacy.  You know my name.  You may not be the bar on Cheers, but you make me feel just as good!

Thank you “friends” on Facebook.  I shall never have another birthday where I am forgotten as long as I have you all as friends.  You have no idea what that means for me!  

Thank you Trudy at Giant Food Store.  Seeing your friendly face when I go grocery shopping (my least favorite thing to do) always makes me smile.  You always make a point to step up and say hello.  Life is made better when I bowl next to you during our Thursday league!

Thank you to the neighbors who allow me to help you from time to time.  You give me an opportunity to earn brownie points for my trip to heaven…and Lord only knows I could use all the help I can get.

Thank you to Bill Wood, my lawn guy.  Not only do you have the instinct to know when to do the right thing, but you do it when it needs to be done and not just because you can.  I like the way you help me preserve my finances and make me look good too!

Thank you John L.  for taking time to visit during your trip around the US on your motorcycle.  Our conversation about our high school's 50th class reunion, erased any fear I may have had about attending the event next September.

Thank you to the PA at the doctor’s office.  You are so kind and friendly, that no matter how I feel going into the visit, I am made to feel better by our conversation once I am there.  You, it turns out, are the best medicine!

Thank you to the men I have dated since I lost my husband.  You have made me feel like Goldilocks…..some are too old, some are too young….some are too hot….and some are too cold….I’ll let you know when I find the one that is just right!

Thank you to the trash men that come twice a week and clear away what I don’t want.  No matter the weather, you always smile at me and wave.  You always make me wonder if I would be thinner doing what you do when I watch you chase the truck down the street, all the while throwing the trash into the back.  You must sleep well at night!

Thank you Toyota Service Department.  You may be pricy, but your attention to my car gives me confidence that my 2008 Toyota Solara will continue to give me pleasure as I drive down the street with my top down….the car top that is!  

Thank you Eileen for showing me through your daily living and good deeds, what living life to the fullest is all about.  No one…and I mean no one…does it better than you.

Thank you David for your phone calls and conversation.  You remind me of how much hard work goes into a loving relationship.  You are at the threshold of the best time of your life and I envy that.  Enjoy.  You will have plenty of stories to tell of all the good times.

Thank you to Joan for sharing a bedroom with me!  You showed me that travel can be fun and interesting when you are open to new experiences.  (Now do you think people will wonder what I mean by this?  :-)  )

Thank you to Carol, my neighbor, whose shared love of gardening makes our places look like a park  in the summer...to be enjoyed by us and our neighbors alike!

And last for today…thank you to my grumpy old friend.  You remind me and help me plant the seed in my head to be always grateful to all who help me travel through the winter of my life.  For when we reach the stage of life where we need help, we must never forget to say, “Thank you.”

I AM NOT UNIQUE, OR DIFFERENT, OR SPECIAL

As a young mother I took a workshop on how to best communicate with my children.  During the course of the workshop I was presented with the idea that no matter how unique you think you are, or how special, if your eyes are open and you look around you will see, even in the dark, you are not alone where you stand.

To prove the point, the instructor shared the story about how he decided to order these very special red glasses.  He desired to stand out…be different…a one-of-a-kind man.  “How many times do you see red eye glasses on anyone?” he said.  He searched and searched until he found just the right ones.  Spending good money for these one and only kind of glasses they finally arrived.  To his amazement after a couple of weeks he began to notice others had the same red pair of glasses.  How come he didn’t see this before?

I equate this same phenomenon with cars.  I cannot tell one new car from another.  Not like the old days when a Mustang or Corvette looked like a one and only.  Or my favorite, a Thunderbird.

So you go out and buy that one car that calls your name.  What happens?  Suddenly you notice that car everywhere.  You see them in all colors, on every street.  Yet before purchasing it myself I could not see my car anywhere….that I noticed.

So here I am today…a widow.  Looking back on life we had family members die.  But as a young person you grieved and then quickly got back into the rhythm of living.  Gone but not forgotten are those that had passed on.  

Today, I feel like I am living a cascading event of people passing away all around me.  Yes, I do live in an “active adult community”.  But I have noticed since I became “one”…a widow…that it is not unique, or different, or special…and even in the dark, I am not alone in this journey.  I am one of many and a continuing growing community.  

I am not sure how I am suppose to feel about all this.  I know the world pushes me to say, “get on with it”, but no matter what we think we know about “getting on with it”, when it is our turn we each have to find our own way through the loss, grief, and new growth that will eventually follow.  

I know one thing, I am more keenly aware of those around me.  In a crowd, I watch couples and find myself even wanting to go up to them and say, “hold tight to each other, for these moments are as fleeting as it was when raising your family.”  When I hear a couple bicker, I want to ask them, “Is this really worth the pain you are causing each other?”

But I know this is just life…just as the life I lived and took for granted.   The good thing about this realization, is accepting the fact, that I do not stand alone in the dark as I once thought I did.  And this is a good thing.

WHAT ARE YOUR VALENTINE'S DAY PLANS?

"Embracing my singleness" was an answer option by AARP, who sent out a questionnaire asking what my plans are for Valentine’s day.  The question options were typical of what you would expect from such a questionnaire.  Sweets for the sweetheart or dinner for two, etc.  One answer was “Will embrace my singleness.”  After filling in my answer, AARP sent a follow-up message giving you the total answers to date.  I was struck when it showed that the number one answer was “Will embrace my singleness.”  Boy, there are a lot of us singles out there!

Valentine’s Day, along with New Year’s Eve remains the two hardest days to get through since Pat passed away.  Oh what we take for granted when we have it and what is missed when we don’t.  

What fills me during these times, is the reality of how much I miss the tenderness of touch.  I can close my eyes and still remember the moments, but it only succeeds in making me yearn for that long hug and warm embrace even more.  I don’t know if I will ever be able to say that to be without intimacy is okay, but I have to find ways to get beyond the ache.  

With so many single men and women out there, one would think some places would do something to create a welcome to those without partners.  

I have kept one promise to myself.  I have begun to invite friends in.  Oh not a big party kind of invite, but small, intimate groups so conversation and laughter can occupy the time.  I remembered, with my last invitation, how much I loved preparing the meal and planning for friends.  And when they came, the joy of conversation and the hugs hello and good-bye felt wonderful! 

I haven’t figured out what I will do on Valentine's Day, but I will do something…go to the movies, attend a show, have some friends over….something.  I refuse to sit home and endure the commercials on TV that remind me how alone in life I am.  So if you see me knocking on your door, remember it is just me looking for a little TLC.

Happy Valentine’s Day to all of you!

LORD, HELP ME PRESERVE MY DIGNITY!!!!

Me as I start my new chapter in life!

I am in a new chapter of my life.  And the goal?  To keep my dignity about me!  The chapter you ask?  Surviving working with a trainer and physical therapist.  Beautiful people in body and spirit, both of them.  I especially enjoy the young man, Dean, who is my trainer.  A brilliant young man who takes his work very seriously.  But he puts my body in positions that I haven’t tried since I was six months old.

Age I could last lift my legs
over my head.

I mean, when is the last time you put your legs over your head?  You know the position.  The getting-ready-to-change-a-diaper position!   Okay…maybe six months is pushing it, but not more than two years old for sure!  The worst part about this position is the fear I will fart in his face as he pushes my leg toward the back of my head!!!!

I look around the room and there is a younger women who, laying on her back, brings her legs up over her head and reaches back toward the wall with her toes.  I think to myself, “My God what I am doing here?”

The work I do with Dean is not cardio…but it sure makes me sweat.  By the time I walk away from him I am sweating as if I was in a sauna and my face is as red as an apple.  From the outside it looks simple.  At least he makes it look simple.  

“Just stand with your back to the wall, open your arms to your side and your elbows at 90 degrees, hands up in the air….touching the wall with the back of your hands.”  He demonstrates and I think, ah an easy one.  Sure.  I stand with my back against the wall, lift my arms as if I am surrendering to the gunman, push my arms back to touch the wall…pushing…pushing…I can’t touch the damn wall!!!!  

“Don’t worry,” he says.  “You’ll get there, just don’t give up.”

I want you to know that standing in this surrender position and lifting my arms straight up and then back down is very hard for this 68 year old body!  

Balance is my weak spot.  I mean it is so bad that if a policeman pulled me over for a DUI, I would just have to surrender because I could not pass his “stand on one foot and lift the other” test.  I would fall over on my face and he would haul me in!

I'll always love to cook!

And can I ask, why the mirrors?  In this place there are mirrors everywhere.  I don’t even like to look at myself naked in the privacy of my own home and yet here I am in a room full of young sweaty bodies who seem to be able to tie their legs into pretzel holds, unable to move without catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror.  Do you know how hard it is to try and do these exercises while seeing my “old women’s body” flopping around on the floor?  Most of the time I just close my eyes…and that does not help either!!!

As hard as this is…and it is hard…I will not give up on working to get my strength back into my muscles.  There is so much I want to do and places I want to see, and all require a good deal of walking and hiking and damn it…I am going to do these things!!!  Until then, Lord, please help me preserve my dignity!

LAUGHING AT AGE

Getting ready for bed last night, I broke out into hysterical laughter.  What it takes to get through a regular days activities today as compared to when I was younger….well…let’s just say it is time consuming.  Doctor appointments, funerals, and dealing with an aging body is what fills the time of most seniors today.  Me included.

When i was young and had to go somewhere, I would just grab my keys to the car and take off.  Didn’t think about anything except to count the heads of the kids with me and go.  Today, I must lay everything out (so as not to forget anything), then make a potty stop just as I prepare to enter my car to leave.

With some luck, I might be able to do that errand and return without having to stop somewhere out in the world to do a potty stop again.  If I am that lucky I almost always find myself scurrying into the house with my knees tight together so as not to drip and race to the bathroom.  I remember Pat would often laugh at me as I would return from my errands, shouting, “I have to go will be with you in a moment” as I flew into the house, past him into the bathroom.  Now and then I wouldn’t make it and I would get angry at his laughter as I was making right the mess I had created.

Another discovery about aging is that things are not as tight as they once were, and our pucker power is not as strong as it once was.  Having gone in for some tests lately, I try and warn the techs who are dealing with me that my holding power is not as good as it once was.  They usually try and assure me that everything will be fine.  Inside my head I am thinking…yea fine…wait until you age!  So they fill me up with water, tell me to hold it for a lot longer than I am able, and even make me move, roll over and sit up…all with potential disaster as my backdrop.  It is embarrassing enough to have to get naked in front of these whips, but the torture chamber that I believe on some level they secretly enjoy putting us through is downright devastating to someone who is trying to preserve whatever dignity I may have left.  

I remember a couple of years ago having to have a barium enema and again me telling them to please work as quickly as they could as my holding power is not what it use to be.  Well they filled me up, let me lay on the table and with every muscle I had, I tried to hold it back while they snapped the pictures, rolling me on my left, then on my right.  In the middle of the picture taking, another technician walked in and a conversation ensued.  Not about me.  About lunch and who was going where.  All the while I was trying to breath slow and hold….breath and hold….deep breath….in and out….slowly….holding as tight as I could…and oh my God I am not going to make it!  Needless to say their conversation was cut short.

I remember the day when bedtime came I just went in, washed my face, brushed my teeth, slipped into a gown, sprayed myself with a bit of cologne for my best beloved, slid under the covers and drifted effortlessly off to sleep.

Now I have to plan when to take my last meds of the day (because I need to have a bit of food in the belly), prepare my CPAP machine, put in my mouth guard (because the CPAP machine is causing me to grind my teeth and I cannot afford to break my front teeth), prepare the water for my night time dehydration (due to the CPAP machine), wrestle with the pillows to find the sweet spot where the elephant attached to my nose can be out of the way so I can sleep.  

Oh how I miss the simple days…a youthful strong body, good pucker power, and the ability to move about the world with little thought except for where I was heading.  There is one bright spot in all of this…I have a sense of humor about who I am today that I know I did not have years ago.  Why if I didn’t enjoy a good laugh at all of this, then it would not be worth it!

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.  

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…

RECALCULATING

This is being repeated by special request...just for you dear friend.

As each day was lived as a young woman and then a wife, I grew in confidence in who I was and how I lived.  I was sure-footed, capable, and if doubt ever came to me it didn’t stay long because I had a cheerleader in the friend and love that I was married to.

One of the difficult adjustments to my new life as a single, is making decisions with the same confidence I remember from my past.  A fear fills me like I don’t recall before in my life.  I find myself thinking, “What if this is the wrong way to go?”  “What if I make a mistake?”

Then I thought about my GPS system.  Often, I’ll put in a destination on my GPS and then decide to take a detour without adding it to my trip.  As I head off to the detour point, my GPS recalculates the directions to my end point by announcing, “Recalculating.”

That is when it hit me.  Why can’t we deal with life like our GPS deals with our wrong turns.  No finger pointing.  No scolding.  No anger.  No fear.  Just recalculating.

So what if I decide to change course, and it turns out wrong?  I’ll just recalculate a new direction from where I stand.  If my choices turn out to be a mistake, I’ll just pick new choices.  If I decide to try something new and don’t like it, I’ll stop.  If I decide to go somewhere and I don’t enjoy it, I’ll turn around and pick some place else or return home.  Why does it have to be any more complicated than that? No experience is ever worthless, just the opposite.  All experiences have value in lessons of living.

So the next time I am faced with a choice, and it turns out wrong, I'll listen for that gentle voice in my head that will reset my compass with the words, recalculating.

DEALING WITH LIFE'S PASSAGES

 I’m feeling uneasy these days.  Restless.  Antsy.  Still young enough to live and do and enjoy and yet, as those around me begin to die, and I enter their names in the family tree of life that I have kept for the family for over 40 years, I find myself looking back, trying to understand it all.  Searching for the meaning of life, for understanding of purpose and especially wondering how I will handle what days and time is left to me.

My body tells me I am one age, my mind is still that young girl ready to explore and enjoy the sense of freedom I first felt as a young adult, no longer bound to the adults around me, but on my own—me, doing what my own heart and mind tell me, and accepting the consequences of my own decisions and choices I make along the way.

In all the self-help world of books, my most favorite has been Gaily Sheehy’s, “Passages”.  Our children have been studied and their passages through their different age cycles are understood and accepted as being normal.  Until her book came along there was an impression that once we became adults it was one big plateau of life and we all just skidded along until we hit the middle age crises of life…or menopause.  But through her studies we all learned that passages of life continue right up until the day we die.

So living, as I have discovered, is a series of stretching yourself, challenging yourself, kicking back and enjoy the place you found in the journey and then starting all over again. 

My goals for today are to meet new people, see new places, do different things, take on a challenge that has me out of my comfort zone.  Some of these things I am doing and enjoying.  As I prepare for my trip to Alaska and remembering the three day trip I recently took with my daughter to the Grand Canyon, I think how small is my little corner of the world and how we all take for granted that which surrounds us.  

I’m not sure what it is I am searching for. I just want to be open to new ideas, new people, or new situations and carry that curiosity in the normal everyday adventures of living and with some luck I’ll find that new comfortable place discovered in my own journey of life.

THE ART OF AGING IS A MYTH

The art of aging is a myth.  It is not art, and it ain’t pretty.  What my body does today at 67 is sure a far cry from what it was like at 20.  I was looking in the mirror yesterday and I thought, “it looks like I stood in front of a heat lamp and my skin is melting.”  Everywhere skin is sagging.

I ordered a summer dress and it came yesterday.  It was from a catalogue that caters to women my size.  The magazine may cater to my size, but the dress didn’t.

I went back to my bedroom to try on the dress, excited that I may have another casual outfit to wear to the local theater.  

I opened the package and pulled out the dress.  “Umm”, I thought, not a dress that I can wear a bra with.  It should of been my first indication that I should not be trying the dress on.  But hey, it has been since the 70’s when we women were burning our bras and I was free to swing in the wind.  So heck, let me see what it does.

I put it on.  I started laughing so hysterically that I could not answer my daughter when she called out to see what was going on.

“Just trying on a dress,” I finally managed to get out through the hysterical laughter, “but I don’t think I should wear it outside my bedroom.”  The truth is, I should not be wearing it anywhere!

I stood looking in the mirror and saw a V shaped neckline so low that my cleavage looked like it was heading south to my belly button.  The part that made me laugh was that my breasts were still heading farther south than that!  It was not a pretty sight.

I asked my daughter, “Who on this earth would wear such a dress that was my size?”  

She smiled and said I should try on a elasticized shell that could be worn under the dress.  She pulled one out and brought it to me.  I slipped the dress off my shoulder and put the shell on.  It hugged me tight and wore like a sports bra cover, pulling in my breasts and giving them some (and the key word here is some) support.  Once I got it on my daughter informs me that I need to pull the “Ole girls” up.  

“What do you mean?”, I asked.

“You know mom, grab them and pull them up and tuck the material under them so they won’t hang so low.” she says.

So with a tug and a pull, I park them in place and then I put the dress back on, stood there and said, “This looks pathetic.”

Joliene, left the room and I slipped the dress off, upset that dressing with grace at this stage of my life is a challenge.  I reached down and grabbed the shell and attempted to pull if up over my head.  Laughing while doing this, I found my arm strength verses the tightness of the garment did not match leaving my arms trapped in a pointed up position. There I stood, naked from the waste up, my arms trapped in the damn sports bra shell unable to move, yank or pull. 

Laughing harder now than earlier,  I call out to Joliene, “Help me.”  Imagine the sight as she entered the room seeing me standing there, exposed, with my arms trapped in an upward position.  “I cannot get it off,” I said and she reached out and helped pull it off my head.  

I know I try to write about living life by accepting the changes in my life, but there is nothing pretty about an aging body.  And the more I think about it, the more I realize that I am better off alone in this world of sags and wrinkles.  I know that I won’t be responsible for scaring anyone to death if they should catch me getting out of the shower!  

CHANGE? WHAT CHANGE?

Marlene age 3

When I  ask someone, “What’s new?”

“Oh nothing, everything is the same ole same ole,” they say.

I know it is not the same ole—same ole.  You can’t tell them that.  But one only need to sit in front of a box of old photos to see how things have changed.  

Change happens every day in our lives.  We just don’t recognize it most of the time.  We go through each day filled with life’s activities and for the most part we don’t notice…until a “big change” occurs.  Then the world seems to stop, we catch our breath and then moment by moment try to get back on track with the living.

I found the following one day on my journey of learning on how to be single again:   “The universe had an odd sense of fairness; it took away things one did not want to give up, and then gave things one did not ask for.” — Laila Lalami

Marlene High School

Nothing more aptly describes the journey I have been on.  Getting use to the new cycle of this life has been a challenge to say the least.  But I find I push through it, keep moving, and when a moment comes that feels like it is going to overwhelm me I say, “Hell no!” and move out into the world and engage in conversations about nothing…everything…with anyone.  It helps.

This year has been one of those yo-yo years to say the least.  One moment I am excited to be doing something I once only dreamed about and the next the loneliness of the day chokes me until I almost cannot breath.  It is getting easier to live through each day.  I have learned how to handle those moments that seem to want to take me down, and when something great comes along, like the recent trip to the Grand Canyon, I do find extreme joy in the moments and adventure in the journey.  

Me making dinner for the family.

I am searching for that new way to feel connected while feeling alone in this universe.  I don’t know if it will ever come, but as long as I keep searching for that peace I live in hope.  In the end can I expect anything else?  

THE PORCH AT EL TOVAR LODGE

View from the Porch at El Tovar Lodge

By the second day of our trip to the Grand Canyon, I turned to Joliene and asked, “What have you noticed about the people who live and work here in the Canyon?”  

Her response was, “You noticed it too, didn’t you?”  

What we noticed was how rough everyone looked, like their life had not been easy.  Every face had a character about it, a spirit of toughness…both in men and women.  I found myself trying to guess how they lived when not here in the Park.  

Life cannot be easy because the Canyon and the desert that surrounds it is not easy.  There is a harshness to the surroundings that I have never experienced before.  I found myself wondering about those who first stepped foot on these lands.  

The area surrounding the dessert is full of pine trees and cactus.  Wildlife in the area was once bountiful according to a Native American I spoke with, who allowed me to pepper her with questions.  Grasses grew waste high at one time, but for the last 100 years the area became more barren with the droughts that have become common thru today.  

On the way out of the Canyon we had stopped at an outlook over the rim that belonged to the Native Americans.  I struck up a conversation with the young man behind his table of goods.  I was fascinated with his slow, thoughtful and deliberate way of speech when he spoke of the reservation we were standing on.  His pride at being a Native American and the fact that they survive in such harsh surroundings was prominent but not boastful.  He shared the history of his land and as he spoke i wondered how many times had he gently shared this story so that the rest of us would understand what had happened to his people when the white man came through.  

There was a well earned pride of toughness in the two Native American’s that I spoke to.  

Looking at the Porch at El Tovar Lodge

There was a sweetness among the guests I met on the porch of the El Tovar Lodge.  From an older gentlemen in his 80’s—83 to be exact—whose age seemed prominent in his life these days without his love  by his side.  I heard about his retired life to Sun City (Phoenix) with his beautiful late wife and how his children would join them every year at Christmas here at the Lodge.  He was planning one more trip with the kids at Christmas this coming year, but he told me this would be his last.  His heart, body, and spirit no longer could carry him to this place filled with so many memories of his beloved.  

Then I met a couple from San Antonio, Texas.  A lawyer and his wife, also taking a sentimental journey to the Lodge and Canyon.  The last time they were here was a year before they were married and that was 26 years ago.  They seemed to be reconnecting and deciding that life is too special to just work and not stop to play.  I wanted to tell them how right they are.  That life can turn as fast a switch for a light and I was happy that they had recognized this before it was to late.

I met a women who worked for the Lodge for 5 years.  This was her day off and she was on the porch with me taking pictures of the storm rolling through the Canyon.  Hers was a tale of love lost at a young age, and she came to the Lodge to work.  She had no place else to go and no one to go with.  She was from Indiana originally.  It was apparent her heart was here in the Canyon.  The passion that filled her conversation as she spoke about the Canyon and how unforgiving it can be, yet tender and mesmerizing too, was apparent.  She has seen death from carelessness here at the Canyon.  There is no forgiveness for mistakes on the rims edge.

Other conversations on the porch of the El Tovar shared with me were equally as interesting and thought provoking.  All of us in our own way searching for that connection, that belonging, that desire to be at home in our hearts and spirits.  The porch was a very meditative experience for me.  As a conversation would end I found myself mulling over my experience and what I learned, and it is this;  I may be emotionally alone, but one cannot ever be alone unless we put ourselves out in the wilderness into total isolation.  I need only to open my mouth and say hello.  I did it on the porch at El Tovar.  I kept saying hello to everyone that crossed my path and sat beside me.  I learned from those who spoke to me.  I invited conversation into my moment and I felt connected, even if it was just for the few minutes we spent together.  Then I let go.  And I was me.  Just me.  No one ran away from me.  I didn’t have to do anything to earn their friendship or kindness.  I just sat there, gave it away, and let it fly.  And it was good.

I also gave thought to how life is a risk.  If we don’t take them we will never know where we may land or what opportunities can be opened to us.  Risk does not come without failure, but failure is only an opportunity to learn and then move on.  

Most important I know that life is worth living every day.  Age is only a marker on the body, but the mind can carry you anywhere.  When Pat died, the vulnerability of my youth came flying forward and was my guide in getting through these days.  Without him by my side, I thought I lost that confidence in accepting who I am and what I am and how the world would see me.  I became that young vulnerable women again who was afraid to be me.

But the conversations on the porch at El Tovar, and the people who touched my life, taught me that I am okay, just the way I am.  And that too is good.

I HATE THE DENTIST BUT I LOVE MY DENTIST

I hate the dentist.  But I love my dentist.  But I really hate the dentist.  But I don’t know how I would get through it all without my dentist.  She is perfect!  I know I sound crazy, but crazy is how I am, at going to the dentist twice a year.  

I’m 67 and one would think going to the dentist would get easier since I have been doing it for almost 48 years now.  It is not. Although I have reached the stage where I no longer have to take valium before the appointment, my blood pressure still raises sky high when there. 

 I was the bride who after marriage saw a dentist for only the 3rd time in my life.  The first two times are the reasons I don’t like going to the dentist.  When Pat discovered that I did’t go to the dentist on a regular basis he immediately made arrangements for me to go to his dentist in Lansdale.  I was very nervous.  So nervous that when they put me in the dentist chair I immediately passed out.  Pat kidded the dentist and said, “If you work fast enough you could get it done before she comes to.”  

It started when I was first in kindergarden.  Toothaches in our home, meant you took a cotton swab and soaked it in lemon extract and placed it on the tooth that hurt until it went numb.  Sometimes it took a few days for it to settle down and go on to the next step.  Which in my case meant the tooth had to be pulled.  My parents were working poor, and did not have the money for regular dental appointments and my mother was not happy about wasting money on such things.  Both my parents had full sets of false teeth by the time they were in their 30’s.  Which is how many did it back then.  Wait until so many teeth were missing that false teeth  were the only solution.

The first trip to the dentist was traumatic for me.  Mom was a bit hissy about it all so when she took me into the dentist office and he said that she should be bringing me more regular to the dentist, she responded by a string of curse words and “You don’t tell me what to do with my children unless you are going to pay the bills!!!!!!!!”

The dentist was so upset at her behavior that he pulled my tooth rather briskly and quickly to get the maniac women out of his office.

The second time at the dentist happened when I was in 4th grade.  Another tooth did not respond to the lemon extract treatment so once again we had to find a dentist.  Once again, my mother was not happy about wasting money they didn’t have on my mouth, so when in another dentist office he recommended that I come back to deal with other cavities he saw in my mouth, she unloaded with a string of obscenities toward him, only this time they got into a pushing, shoving match.  The dentist kicked my mom out of the office and for a moment thought about sending me out after her, but seeing my obvious distress decided to end my suffering and pull the tooth.  Now at age 11 I had two holes in the back of my mouth from my adult missing teeth.  That was the last time I saw a dentist until I was married.

My first trip as Mrs. Ford, found me with thirteen cavities and two root canals that needed to be done.  What got me through all of this? Nitrous gas.  Without it and valium I don’t think I would have made it through those days.  

Today, I get nitrous gas for everything including the cleaning of my teeth.  Knowing that my dentist, (who I love to hate) understands my fear allows me to make my appointments every six months and keep them!  And I am always thrilled when I leave and she says, “See you in six months, no cavities!”

Now that is a great day!

THINGS ARE NOT ALWAYS AS THEY SEEM

I’ve lived long enough to have learned that not everything we see is always what we think it is.  A discussion is taking place regarding people on welfare and the abuse they believe is ramped in the system.  I am not so naive to believe that there is never any abuse, but when I read postings and hear people talk about how bad it is, I can only believe they have never walked the walk of having to take that step and apply for help.  I read a story in the Washington Post a while ago, from a women who wrote a personal essay about how she felt driving to the welfare office in her Mercedes.  Here is a link to the NPR story done on her essay.  http://www.npr.org/player/v2/mediaPlayer.html?action=1&t=1&islist=false&id=330680161&m=330940188

There are so many times in the course of any day, when I hear or read people slam someone for an issue they are outraged about, and I get concerned because we are all so anxious to jump to a conclusion, that we don’t take time to understand the whole story, just like in the case of Darlena Cunha, who found themselves in a position of having much to having lost it, and then needing help.  My husband and I found ourselves in such a position when we were a young family, with only him working and me being a homemaker and caring for our four children, when he was laid off from his job at Merck.  We found we needed a bridge of help until he could get back into the plant, so I went down to the county and applied for food stamps.  

I found myself, feeling embarrassed and it was especially hard for me to go to the store and spend the food stamps we received because I felt like all eyes were upon me.  It is not easy to do this.  Like the Cunha family, we were fortunate and only ever had to do it one time and went on with life once my husband returned to work.  But I can still feel how I felt when I sat across the desk from the social worker, who was abrupt and curt and non sympathetic to our plight.  But having four children to feed, and money running out, we needed help, even if it was just for a short while.  

In today’s world where men and woman can have a good paying job one day, and lose it the next, we can all find ourselves at the threshold of a welfare office.  If we show up dressed in clothes we bought and paid for when we had a job, with an expensive car (that also could be paid for) but out of work, out of money and out of food with a family to feed, does that make a person less qualified for receiving help?  From some of the conversations I see one would think that.  I don’t.  I have known people who have worked hard and lost that six figure job and have had to eat humble pie in order to move on in life.  I watched close friends of mine struggle to adjust from having making a great salary to making less than 30,000 a year.  It was devastating, humiliating and depressing for them as they went through the long adjustment to a new standard of living.  It took time, but imagine how much harder it was because of all the incriminating finger pointing that was done along the way because they still had “toys” from when they had a high paying job.   

I am not sure why we are so hard on those in need.  Are we afraid that it could be us?  Do we fear that poverty will spread?  I don’t know, I am only speculating.  The only thing I do know is this.  At my age, I have learned to be slow to judge.  Slow to condemn.  Slow to slam someone or something because it does not fit in my view of my world.  

RAMBLING THOUGHTS OF AN ELDERLY GAL!

Nothing like a good storm to energize you!

Nothing like having someone try to take advantage of me to lift me out of my funk.  I was so energized yesterday, that I was on a buzz all day.  I started the day by heading to the police and being directed to the post office with my fake money order.  Turns out this falls under the Federal Postal Inspector.  I turned everything in.  What bothers me the most about this whole process, was in finding a You Tube Video from 2011 with the same complaint and here it is 2014 and it is still happening.  This tells me that it is a daunting task trying to keep up with these jerks.

I just wonder, if they would put as much energy into legitimate work, wouldn’t it be better than running from the law every month or so?  Just saying!

Later, I joined some lady friends from my community for lunch.  Can I say how important they are to me?  This group was the first group of people that reached out to me after Pat died.  They pulled me back into the living and I will forever carry them in my heart for their act of kindness during that part of my life.  They get together now and then for lunch or dinner and they have a way to make me laugh.  Their attitude is spunky and they are full of funny stories.  

My life, like play dough, is always evolving and changing.  I am looking for volunteer possibilities to keep me engaged and help me make new friends.  

I started helping out at the Honey Hollow Audubon Society in Bucks County.  It is new to me, but already I find very interesting people.  I feed the birds, but honestly except for enjoying the entertainment they provide me while feasting at the feeders I am not an intense birder.  I love the property at Honey Hollow.  I volunteered this weekend at the Barn Tour, a fundraiser for the Bucks County Audubon Society.  I was assigned to Tyler Park at barn number 9.  I was a greeter at the entrance of the park out in the middle of nowhere directing attendees to go down a “do not enter” road to the barn.  

It was a bit lonely, and except for a couple who knew me and stopped to have a conversation, I was alone in the heat for the four hours.  I laugh at my thoughts when faced with these kind of moments.  I imagined what it must be like to be in a sweat box, with just the thoughts in my head…and there were some strange ones.  I was having a one on one with a squirrel trying to crack a nut.  He was not upset at my presence and he entertained me for a very long time.

Part time job or volunteer…which way to go?  I know I need the pull to keep me going, and I want to be with people and I especially need to have the purpose in my life.  In this world of widowhood, I am not afraid to step out of my comfort zone, and do things that fulfill my needs.  

Life, although challenging, is still an adventure to me.  I enjoy spontaneity.  I am filled with a desire to wander and explore.  I’ll keep moving, pushing and meeting new people.  I may be “elderly” according to some definitions, but I am young at heart and still ready to kick up some dust! If I have to do it alone, then so be it, but if I can find anyone to join me in my explorations, then that will be the frosting on my cake of life!