12

Feb

In the Beginning…Vernie

My mom…what an amazing woman. Over the years I have heard so many humorous, heartfelt, scary, wonderful, unpredictable, miraculous stories from my parents. Their tapestry of life has been one that has always been centered around family. Even though they didn’t have much in the beginning, they grew up together and didn’t even notice one another until that day when Hal saw Vernie grow into a teenager. That was it for both of them. With stars in the eyes and dreams in their hearts they built a life together. Over sixty years later they are such an inspiration to see. Now in their eighties, Dad with a walker and Mom with a hitch in her step, I’ve come to realize their love story and all the characters I call family just had to be shared. I began their story ‘Hal and Vernie.’ I’ve laughed, cried, and stayed up at night putting their story together as best as I can. The stories have been repeated so many times that I feel I have actually experienced them myself. The smells, the sights, the sounds, and…the heart. So I give to you the very first few pages of ‘Hal and Vernie’…the story of my truly remarkable family.

In the Beginning: Vernie

Vernie skipped along in her black patent leather shoes, loving the sound they made on the newly tarred road. ‘Tippity tap, tippity tap.’ As she came closer to Lincoln Oval Park her taps slowed down; tip-pi-ty…tap…tip-pi-ty…tap until they came to a halt entirely. Vernie gazed at the long expanse from where she stood to the other end of the park. Her mother had warned her and so had her grandma. “Be careful. There’re a lotta sick hobos in that park, but if any one of ‘em even looks at you sideways, we know every single one of their mothers!”

Vernie took in a deep breath. If she wanted that coveted penny candy reward for picking up a few groceries she would have to be brave and make it through Lincoln Oval. It was only a few hundred yards to the other end, but seemed like miles to an eight-year-old little girl. She wrapped her small finger around one of her hair ringlets, tugging and pulling on it and stalling for just a moment longer. She was again getting up the nerve to run like the dickens as she did every day when coming through this stretch. It was either the park or an extra mile through Elder Street, but that was even worse as far as she was concerned. The houses were lined up with mean ol’ dogs and snot nosed boys with meanness in their eyes. She would take the park any day over the way some of those boys jeered and yelled out to her.

She came upon the border of the well-kept park, the benches lined with the drunken old men, some looking dead on the ground with a brown bag in their hands, and some holding each other up while drinking from each other’s paper bags. They talked in their own alcohol laden language. Vernie didn’t know what was in those brown bags. All she knew is that mama said it was poison and could make a person turn into a monster. Vernie knew they were drinking from a bag full of sin.

She knew every step of the way even with her eyes closed. Grandma always said the first step was always the hardest. Vernie had to keep her eyes closed just in case one of those hobos turned into a monster. She had never seen a monster before, but her mind conjured up fangs and gorillas like in that movie she had seen at the movie house.  Her cousin Imogene took her to her first movie. It was a matinee. Imogene had bought her a bag of black licorice as a silent reward for having kept quiet about going to a movie. Imogene was there to meet a boy and since she had to babysit Vernie for the afternoon, she had to bring her along with a pinky swear oath and a pocketful of black licorice to keep Vernie quiet. The smell of the movie house was like none other. It was a mix of candy, roasted nuts, popcorn, sweaty bodies, and a hint of fruit soda pop. She breathed in the deeply sweet pungent smell. The theater room itself was pandemonium. Boys and girls alike were yelling, laughing, and throwing food at each other over the sound of a Tex Avery cartoon. Vernie’s eyes were huge. She had never seen a screen that big…ever!

When the real movie came on the crowd quieted down to take in the latest installment of ‘Terry and the Pirates.’ Imogene left Vernie in a front seat while she went to the back to meet her boyfriend. Vernie was enthralled but terrified.  She watched as a big ol’ gorilla climbed through the windows and took people. She had never even seen a gorilla before, let alone think that someone—like a big ol’ gorilla—would come and take you. Night after night she cried in her bedroom.  She just knew a gorilla was going to come through her window. She’d call out, “Daddy…I’m scared.” And daddy would yell back, “Go to sleep Vernie. There ain’t no gorillas in this part of the country.” But that didn’t stop her from pulling the blankets over her eyes and squeezing her eyes tightly until she finally drifted off to sleep.

Vernie took a deep breath and ran. Every once in a while she would open her eyes to make sure she was still on the walkway and not veering over to the men with their little brown sin sacks. They paid Vernie little mind, but she felt as if they were all about ready to make the big change from hobo to gorilla. Her heart was beating fast as she could see through her squinted eyes that the other side of the park was near. She was almost there. She closed her eyes once again, not seeing the drunken hobo lying right in front of the finish line. She tripped and fell down on her knees. Hard.

Vernie cried out and opened her eyes to see that her knee beginning to swell up and bleed. Vernie wrapped her arms around her knees and tucked her head into her chest. She rocked back and forth from the pain and couldn’t stop crying. She knew her fate. A gorilla was surely on the way to the park to get her.

She was being lifted off the ground.  It had to be the gorilla, she thought. My, gorillas are even faster than she imagined. She still hugged her knees waiting for the gorilla to carry her away. The gorilla was strong and smelled of wet trash and some fairly rancid aftershave, or what she thought was aftershave. Vernie didn’t dare look up.

The gorilla gently set her down at the finish line and gently placed something on her knee.  She opened one eye and saw one of the hobos walking away, brown bag in hand turning around long enough to ask, “You okay, little girl?”

Vernie nodded slowly. She couldn’t believe how fast the gorilla had turned back into a hobo. She looked down at her knee. He had placed a clean rag on her wound. Vernie looked under the rag to see if the bleeding had stopped. She put the rag on the ground and shouted, “Here’s your rag Mister. Thank you!”

She got up, wiped herself off, and skipped listening to the tippity-tap of her shoes. Now it was safe to think about the chocolate cream she would soon be buying with her penny. But first she had to get past Sailor Pete’s house.

12 days ago Short URL Comments

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31

Jan

Mother Knows Best?

I love my mom. She is an amazingly strong woman. She raised four children and worked in the family business for twenty five years during a time where women weren’t supposed to be working.  She has this strength that I knew had been passed down from generation to generation; my great grandma, my grandma, Mom, me, and my own daughters. And that strength was mixed in with old wives’ tales, cooking, and Mom’s own worries and fears for her family…overly so I might add.

Mom married young. She met my dad at the ripe old age of fourteen and she never looked back. She raised babies on Karo syrup and milk for formula, changed cloth diapers and plastic panties, scrubbed us clean after we played in the mud all day, got all four kids, her husband, and herself ready for church every Sunday, and she even fell down a flight of church basement stairs with my newborn brother in her arms. As she rolled down the full flight she kept him safe and sound. She didn’t know it at the time but she had broken her hip. She now walks with a distinct little limp where she found out in her later years had healed off kilter. Maybe this sounds like most moms in days gone by but Mom also took care of her own mom when she was eight years old and even cooked for her baby brother. They thought Mom’s mother was pregnant but after two years and no baby, but an ever growing stomach, it was much worse. She had a water tumor that weighed over fifty pounds. Not believing in doctors back then everyone hoped that she would just ‘snap’ out of it. Mom and her grandma took care of the household. Mom worked in a peach factory at the age of nine to help out the family. Eventually her mom had to have surgery but she couldn’t be moved so the surgery was done in the house. While Mom was at school she wasn’t sure if her mom would even be alive when she got back that day.  Her mom lost seventy pounds in that first day and they then transported her to the hospital.

Mom got back to a ‘normal’ life after that but inside she had already began to form her own perceptions about life and those perceptions carried over to raising her own children.

Mom and Dad have lived with Lee and I since Peanut was born. Peanut is almost thirteen now and has been lucky to have been raised by two generations of women.

I find myself laughing now at some of the things my mom used to say to me and I thought were true. I found that some of Mom’s wisdom was born out of fear and a need to know all the answers even if she didn’t.

I came along last. I was the baby of the family. Mom was so excited that I was a girl. Mom had a hard time with me in labor but why wouldn’t she?  She had a broken hip and had no idea. She retells the story on the eve of my birthday every year, “You just wouldn’t come out. You were stuck. The doctor used forceps and everything. The doctor said there was nothing more he could do and they were prepping me for surgery.  I yelled out “God, Universe, Angels…whoever is there just give her a yank!  I then yelled, “I’m your mother and you better listen to me…come out…NOW!”  She said at that moment I came flying out as if I had heard what she said.  She said ever since that moment I’ve always wanted to stay on the inside than be in the physical world.

We get along famously. Like a couple of girlfriends attached at the hip. We have a ball when we go to town and have Chinese cuisine together. She needs my arm to get from here to there. She won’t use a cane and she won’t go to any store that doesn’t have a basket to lean on. She doesn’t want anyone to think she can’t pull her weight at her age which is eighty.

She loves to overcomplicate a simple experience. It doesn’t come out of wanting to be overcomplicated; it comes from not wanting to ‘put you out’ somehow. If we decide on somewhere to eat she asks over and over again if I want to go somewhere else, “We don’t have to go there. We can go here if you want. I mean Chinese sounds good but if it doesn’t sound good to you…”

“It’s great Mom. I like Chinese.”

“So do I but maybe you don’t feel like it today even though I do. Your dad loves Chinese. We could always go with him instead when you bring him to town for his doctor appointment.”

Sigh…

When we are driving she hangs on to the handle and yelps, “Oh!” every few minutes. She has bad eyesight and that eyesight makes things appear closer than they are.

“Where are we going? You’ve never gone this way before,” she says as if I am doing something wrong.

“We go this way all the time Mom.”

“Well…I guess I’m just screwy then. I have no idea where we are. Are you sure you…”

Sigh…

She insists on buying me candy when I help her as if I am a little girl. This totally cracks me up. Don’t get me wrong, I love candy but I don’t eat much of it anymore especially since I’ve been releasing weight but that doesn’t matter to Mom. She is always telling me that I am too skinny and if I lose any more weight I’m going to look older than I am and that I’ll look gaunt.

“It just not healthy, Bethie.”

Sigh…

“Bethie? I made some pinto beans with ham and bacon in them. You will eat them won’t you?”

She doesn’t seem to remember that I haven’t eaten pinto beans since I was a little girl. They gave me the belly ache then and still do.

“You don’t like my beans, do you? Well fine…you know beans are not fattening?  They just give people gas…that’s all. I’ve figured out how to keep the beans from making people fart you know.”

I can feel the giggle coming up into my throat. I hold it together. I don’t want to hurt her feelings.

“How’s that Mom?”

“You soak them in baking soda.”

Sigh…

“Did you know that vinegar heals EVERYTHING?  If you just drink a cupful of vinegar everyday you won’t get cancer.”

I don’t say a word. She had cancer and it is in remission. She drinks a cupful of vinegar every day.

“Bethie? Do you know what drives me crazy?  When your dad sneezes. I’m afraid he’s going to blow his head off one day. You know…that happens sometimes.”

Stay down giggle.

“Bethie? I always heard that as a man got older he didn’t have an urge anymore. You know what I mean by urge don’t you?”

I nod my head hoping she doesn’t go further with the subject.

“He STILL grabs my bottom. Can you believe it?”

Yes I can believe it. Since his stroke he does it in front of all of us all the time.

“You know…I love that old coot. I wouldn’t take a million for him but I wouldn’t take a penny for another.”

I have to say living with my parents is a wonderful experience. They make me laugh every single day of my life whether it is intentional or not.

I know that all her worrying, all her stories, all her complaints; all her questions are a part of who she is.  And I will take all of it for just a few more years with this wonderful woman I call ‘Mom.’

As I cut up the guinea piggies’ breakfast, Mom comes up behind me and gives me a big hug, “I love you baby daughter.”

“I love you too Mom.”

“Can I feed the piggies?”

I hand her the tray full of vegetables. It is one of her favorite things to do. She walks into the guinea piggies’ room with that cute little limp, holds the lettuce up in the air, and giggles just like a little girl as they reach up with their little starfish paws.

My mom…one in a million…I wouldn’t trade her for the world.

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21

Jan

Flood Tales: Beth, Just Put your Coat over your Head

We live in a beautiful piece of heaven. Our home sits up on a hill overlooking an endless meadow. The view from every window is breathtaking.  Across the street, just a little ways up the road, we have a river that the town children cool off in during the hot summer days and the fishermen row down the stream in the wee hours of the morning looking for a catch in the winter months. The river is slow moving that babbles and flows faster as the rain comes with the fall and winter. We have mild rain all through the year which creates a painting of green rolling hills and mountains. But every once in a great while Mother Nature lets us know how powerful she truly is and this is her time to show us what she is made of.  This week…she is showing us her power.

As I look back on the other day I am able to really appreciate all the protection and love we receive in life. Sometimes when we are in the middle of a full blown intense experience we fail to see that there were many forces working for us and not against us. It’s part of my nature to always look at the bright side of life but sometimes we can get bogged down in all the outside elements that seem so important and fearful when in fact, by looking within, we know that we are truly being taken care of.

The other day it was my girlie day with my two girls. This doesn’t happen too often anymore since my oldest is in college now and my youngest is wrapped up in her friends and her own school work but we had cleared the day to enjoy together. We made plans to go watch a girlie movie, have a girlie lunch, some girlie coffee, and well…just be girls. Little did I know that it would turn into a strength day full of strong determined girls, never give up kind of moments, and well…outright bravery.

The morning started out normal. We were all piling in the car with our umbrellas, coffee to go’s, a Grease cd soundtrack, and our happy attitudes. My youngest, Peanut was growling at being up so early and the second she got in the back seat fell asleep. Sissy and I both giggled. We knew Peanut would be in a much better mood after a few more winks. We cranked up the cd and sang to our heart’s content ‘Hopelessly Devoted to You’ along with Olivia Newton John. We knew all the dance moves so we danced and sang as we drove up the road. We hit our first big puddle. The water sprayed all around the car and we decided we should slow down a bit. The wind was picking up and the windshield wipers were beginning to have a problem keeping up. No worries.  We kept singing as we hit yet another big puddle this time the length of a pool.

We slowed down some more and got ready to go up Mary’s Peak. Mary’s Peak was the only thing that would keep us from getting into town.  In the summer it was a beautiful ride with lush dense vegetation giving it the feel of a rain forest.  And in the fall it looked as if it has been set afire with the colors of red, yellow, and orange. It was during the winter months where it could be a bit iffy. There is a seven mile strength where the altitude rises and actually snows. Even though it is just as beautiful, it can be Mother Nature at her most powerful. We inched up the mountain and kept singing.  The run off on the side of the road wasn’t too bad and all the snow had melted from the night before.  The road was dark and black but wet and clear. Perfect.

Peanut woke up in an excellent mood. We all laughed and talked about what candy we were going to buy to watch ‘Beauty and the Beast.’ There is nothing as wonderful as seeing a Disney film up on the big screen. Sissy was the most excited. We had seen Beauty and the Beast when it first came out in the theaters and she wanted to be Belle for many Halloweens as a little girl and here the film was back on the big screen for a short time. We were excited for Peanut to see it as well.

We did our shopping and had an early lunch.  We got to the movie theater and picked out our seats. There was no one in the theater except a mother and her Down syndrome little girl who couldn’t speak.  But what she could do is make sounds of excitement.  She was more fun to listen and watch than the movie. She was verbally excited about the songs, the Beast, and the beautiful ending to the film. Everything was positive and felt positive. The only thing was…I felt off somehow unsure where to place the emotion but I shook it off and kept my focus on the film.

We stayed for the end credits and I waited in the lobby for the girls while they were in the restroom. I went to turn on my phone and I had two voice messages. I figured Lee was calling to tell me he missed me. He does that regularly when I go for a girlie day.

But this message was a little different. Back home he was in the studio and keeping an eye on Mom and Dad and the power was out. It had been for an hour. He then told me that there had been three mudslides at the Peak and the road had been closed. He wanted me to call him.

Hmmm…I have to say for just a moment my heart went into my throat but I quickly relaxed and took an ‘all is well’ attitude knowing we would figure out how to get home or stay overnight and extend our girlie day to a slumber party.

I went to listen to my second voice message.  This time it was Mom. She sounded worried but that wasn’t too unusual because she always sounded worried about something. She worries when one of the feral cats is sitting outside our door begging for food, “Do you suppose he is sick or hurt?” she’ll ask.

“No Mom…he just wants to be fed.”

“Are you sure?  He looks so…so…hurt.”   I check the cat and he is perfectly fine.

Then she moves on to something else, “Do you suppose we should go put gas in the car just in case we lose power and we can’t get gas from the pumps?”

“It’s okay. I filled the tank.”

“Oh…do you suppose…”  Well, you get the drift.

I listened to the voice mail message, “Oh, oh…I got the machine. (Mom was talking to Dad in the background) Bethie, it’s Mom. Lee just left to come get you. He said to meet him at Carl’s Jr. He said that the Peak is closed and the road on the other side is closed. I hope you can hear me. Are you getting this?  Please call me!” And she hung up.

Hmmm…heart in throat again then instead of ‘buying into’ the fear I stepped aside knowing we would be fine. It’s funny; when it comes to rain it gently falls and looks beautiful.  It doesn’t look like it could really do damage when you’re sitting in a parking lot with the sun peeking through the clouds.  Everyone was going about their business like nothing was happening that could be harmful.  It was just a little rain.

I then called Mom back.

“Bethie?  Oh thank God! The mountain is closed and you can’t get through.  Lee is trying to get through the back way but, but…”

“It’s okay Mom. We’re fine.”

“You are not fine, Bethie! You can’t get home and now Lee is out in the floods and he doesn’t have his phone! He forgot it as he hurried out. He wanted to get to you before dark!”

Okay…so my heart hovered in my throat a little longer this time but again, my nature is to shift into a calm mode but it seems a little more difficult than before but I manage it for myself, my girls who were looking at me, and Mom.

“Mom, Lee is a smart guy. He’s excellent at driving in this kind of stuff. I’ll go to Carl’s Jr. and wait, okay?  Are you and Dad okay?”

Lee and I always make it a point not to leave Mom and Dad by themselves anymore.  Each of them are independent wonderful elderly folks but they need us now and since Dad had his stroke Mom isn’t able to handle him on her own.

“Oh we’re fine. Your dad is sitting here like a little babushka in a scarf wrapped around his little bald head.”

The visual gets me to giggle. They sounded like they were fine.

“I’ll call you when Lee gets here, Mom.”

“You mean IF he gets there,” she says worriedly.

I left the girls at Carl’s Jr. while I went to pick up a few extra groceries. I thought maybe we might need some extras ‘just in case.’ As I walked through the grocery store I honed in on my intuition and found Lee there. He was fine and he was doing what he could to get to us. I could feel that. It created an even deeper sense of calm.

About fifteen minutes after I came back Lee came pulling up.  He looked relieved when he saw us sitting there.

“You made it Popshie!” Peanut said with relief. Lee has this way of being a knight riding in on his white horse in the weather. He has many times navigated in a snowstorm, ice, torrents of rain to get Sissy to work or school. He was a merchant marine when he was a young buck and he studied transportation as a hobby. He had the intuitive honing skills that a bird has been it comes to navigation.

I gave him a big hug, “My knight in shining armor,” I said. He looked at me and said, “Well…I’m here. Let’s see if we can get back.”

Hmmm…Mom and Dad by themselves. Neither can drive. Streets were being closed down. The Peak was closed. Homes in our home town were being evacuated as the river rose, and now we would be driving in it. It normally takes about a half an hour to get to town and it had taken Lee an hour and a half to come get us.

“Got your coat?” he asked.

“Of course,” I said.

“Oh good because you are going to want to pull it over your eyes with some of the places we’re going to have to go through to get home. You know…do that ‘mojo’ thing you do.”

Hmmm…the heart in the throat. I will my heart back down and get back in my calm center knowing that we will make it home. I’m trusting that this is to unfold as it does. I know my own vibrations are going to contribute to the ride home so I tell myself to relax and release, surrender and know, and pull it together!

We dropped off our car and all got into Lee’s car.

“Okay, Beth.  I need you to let me do the driving,” Lee says as he pats me on the hand.

“Well of course…you’re driving, aren’t you?”  What did he mean by that?  Did it have anything to do with my imaginary brake pedal on the passenger side that I used from time to time?

“We’re going a whole other way you know nothing about so don’t even ask where we’re at. I need to focus.”

Yes, I am notorious for asking questions while Lee is driving. I want to know it all. I want to know why the road dips there, why we are heading this way, why is that dog digging in that person’s yard, when do you think the consciousness will change for many, how can I help to guide others with that, why, why, who, what, when, where, why…I love knowledge. I love Universal knowledge. I love to know how things work in the physical world and the Universe and Lee listens to what I have to say and then gives me his theory. We have a great time doing this but I do know that I can be a bit complex at times. Lee wonders where I come up with some of the thoughts that I do and I do the same with him yet we listen, compare, and encourage one another through it all. So…I understood what he was saying. No twenty questions so that left me with my own thoughts, feelings, and vibrations.  I decided to focus on the joys of being home and to feel protected and safe as we drove.

The traffic slowed. There was a big quarter mile ‘puddle’ cars were getting through. It was our turn and I threw my coat over my head. I closed my eyes and just meditated as I could hear the water rushing around the car. The girls were watching every wave rolling by and Lee was focusing.

Right after our car got through the workmen and police pulled up.  They turned the two cars behind us back. The road was now officially closed from where we came. Lee inched his way through each street and back road following the route he had gotten there with. As we would come up to a deep flow of water rushing Lee would say, “Beth…coat on head.”

I would put my coat over my eyes and meditate.  I could tell how high the water was by the sound of the rushing water.  I stayed in my quiet little coat…and focused. I put myself in the feeling of protection as I sat with the Universe…under my coat. While Lee was focusing on the road I was focusing on feeling completely safe and knowing that everything was fine and made sure I ‘didn’t peek’ at what I could hear just cool, calm, and collect.

As we got deeper and deeper into the back roads we came upon a young woman in her car with her flashers on. We pulled up next to her and I asked her if she was okay.  She said, “Oh yeah…I’m fine. My husband is coming in his truck. I don’t think I can make it through that.” She pointed and I couldn’t believe it. This is no joke. It looked like an actual river was rushing across the road.  The water was rushing with full force.

Lee leaned over and smiled at the young woman, “How about you follow us with this? That way we can help you if you need help.”

Okay at this point I didn’t know what to say.  We were going to go THROUGH that?  He saw the look in my eye and he smiled, “Bethie…coat on head.”

That is exactly what I did. 

Did I lose faith in the Universe and my ability to think positive? Not at all. I was doing my best not to get wrapped up in the emotion that wanted to explode from my very being. And then it hit me, “Beth…this ISN’T your very being…this is your concern for your family and your physical life BUT your true being is here…it’s me and you can feel good and solve and work through this even if it feels as if it is dangerous. Surrender and release. Give your energy to Lee’s driving and the car staying put in the rushing water. BUCK UP SISTER!”

And that is exactly what I did. We led the young woman across and waved goodbye.  We were about five miles from home by now. It had taken us almost two hours to get home. As we rounded the last corner to come into the far end of our town it was getting dark but what I could see was the reflection of the street signs in the water and the water was everywhere. Little Alma who is one of the cherished grandmas in town had out her boat and was getting from her house to the road. There were people waiting for her to take her to their home. She smiled and waved as we drove by. We passed the football field which was no longer a football field but was now an Olympic size pool. Cars were parked on the outer perimeters as people were filing in to the school gym. They had been displaced by the flood waters. Many homes were flooded. There weren’t any lights except for the local mercantile generator. People were walking in and out with supplies in the rain over to the school.

My heart was in my throat at the moment but not from fear but from the feeling of absolute love. I believe that humanity is at its best when we come together during an experience. All my thoughts of the drive went out of my mind as I saw the overwhelming love being poured into our town.

We needed to get home.  The rest of the ride home was more in water than not. No more coat on my head, no more agitation just the knowing that all was well.  As we pulled up I saw a little light in the kitchen window. Mom had put a lantern there for us to see. As we walked in, there was Mom and Dad grinning from ear to ear with red scarves around their heads, waiting for us. The relief washed over Mom and Dad teased, “Did you bring me a warm burger?”

I had and as I gave them their burgers which were still warm after two hours in the car, Dad said, “I’ve changed religions. Can you tell?”

He pointed to his scarf around his head.  He laughed really big as Mom warmed her hands on the candle.

Home…

Lee sat down and began to retell the story of the drive and the amazing sights we witnessed.

I have always believed people are good when you get right down to it. This morning we went to town to see if there was anything we could do. The whole town was at the mercantile helping to lift supplies into the store. We dropped by a couple of homes to pick up people who didn’t have a ride and they needed groceries.

Our librarian who has been told she has a fast moving cancer that there is nothing they can do was calling homes to see if they had the staples in food and drinks. Yes, Marian is still here. She’s living up to her image until the very end…a kind, will do anything to make it happen, kind of lady. I believe the Universe comes in all ways, shapes, and forms; merchants, librarians, parents, coats, cars, scarves, and boats.  Forever whispering in our ears to be calm, giggle, find comfort in a coat, see the true experience in this moment.

I for one am grateful.

And thank goodness for my shiny green coat with a perfect spot to meditate in.

34 days ago Short URL Comments

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09

Jan

The Anticipation of Bazooka Joe

I remember the days of when I was a little girl and waiting for a package to come in the mail. It seemed like forever, didn’t it? I one time chewed over one hundred pieces of Bazooka Joe just so that I could order a Bazooka Joe camera. I had saved my allowance for the two ninety five shipping and had images within my mind of taking pictures of the world. I was nine years old at the time. I borrowed a stamp from Mom and got Dad to loan me one of his white business envelopes. I read the instructions over and over again to make sure I didn’t mess it up. I carefully put in the hundred comics I needed and my two dollars and ninety five cents in cash in the envelope. I was so excited of all prospects of what I could do with my very own camera. It wasn’t like in today’s world where all you have to do is order online and within a week you have your treasure. It took four to six weeks in order for something to get back to you.

So I drew pictures of the pictures I would take, I thought of the freedom of having my very own camera that my older brother wouldn’t be able to touch. Finally I would have something that was mine that I could call mine.  That’s what he always had said to me, “THIS is mine. Don’t touch my stuff.” Now why is it when you are a little kid that when someone says, “Don’t touch my stuff,” it makes you want to touch it? Well anyway…finally something of my own.

As the first week rolled by I began to check the mail box religiously. My mom told me that it said four to six weeks for shipping but who knew…maybe this time it would come quicker to my house.

I remember everyday seemed as if it lasted forever as I waited and waited and waited. I was so eager that I began to feel as if I was going to cry if I had to wait one more instant for what I knew was coming.

Everyone in the house was now waiting for the package just so I would be quiet about my expensive Bazooka Joe camera.

When the six weeks past, I did cry. I couldn’t believe it. Maybe they didn’t get it. Maybe someone stole the money. Maybe it was my brother’s fault somehow. Maybe, maybe, maybe…

Week eight past by and my heartfelt heavy as I walked home from school. People stopped asking me when I was going to get the camera because my eyes would well up with tears and say, “Bazooka Joe let me down.”

My brother thought it was funny. He must have forgotten about the time he waited for a big cardboard tootsie roll from the Bozo show and when Bozo didn’t come through he cried for a week.

And then at week ten I opened up the mailbox. There was a box covered in brown paper with the words ‘Bazooka Joe’ in the corner. My pigtails went up and down as I jumped for joy. My camera came, my camera came! I forgot about all the weeks leading up to it and ran in the house looking for a pair of scissors to rip open my box.

My brother stood over me and so did Mom. I opened the box and the waft of bubble gum filled the air just like I had imagined. And there was my camera and it had come with extras.  It had come with a full roll of film and batteries. Bazooka Joe had even put in twenty five pieces of gum tightly wrapped just for me.  The wait had been worth it.  At the bottom of the package was an award that said, “You are the thousandth person to order the camera so you have won a ten dollar gift certificate to order more Bazooka Joe merchandise.”

Wow…better than I even imagined. I think I even saw my brother turn a little green with envy. I handed him a piece of bubble gum.

That moment taught me something. It taught me to trust even if it took a little longer because it will be bigger and better than you could have ever imagined.

I filled out an order form for more of Bazooka Joe toys. I ordered a bubble machine and a jump rope and even ordered a Bazooka Joe comic book for my brother.

Right now I am sitting watching my daughter sit outside waiting for the UPS driver to show up. She has a much anticipated package that I’m sure feels like my Bazooka Joe camera. Except in this day and age, you can track to the minute, when your package will come but it doesn’t make it any less exciting. And even a week can feel like months when you are anticipating that treasure all wrapped up in a box.

But as I told Peanut, “When you want something in your life and let go of the time of when it unfolds into your life, it will be bigger and better than you could ever imagine.”

I know that for a fact…Bazooka Joe didn’t let me down.

I even apply this to my every day adult life as well. The Universe won’t let you down either. Let go of the impatience and know that, whenever what you want comes into your life, it will be bigger and better than you could ever imagine.

46 days ago Short URL 3 Comments

family/humor/impatience/positive thinking/Uncategorized

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26

Dec

I Just Sit and Sip my Coffee

The other morning I was sitting at the breakfast nook sipping on a cup of coffee. Dad was in his usually jovial mood and Mom was talking about a television program she had seen.

“I saw this fascinating show last night.” I could tell how excited she was about the story by the way her eyes lit up like a little child on Christmas morning. “It was about these monks that live way up on a hill and no one is allowed to be there but them. But they finally let in a camera crew to see how they lived.”  She took a sip of her coffee and went on with her story, “They all wore the cutest little robes in all different colors. All they do all day long is pray for mercy on their souls but not only that they grow their own food, they don’t allow women there because the girls are a temptation, AND they only sleep three hours every night…fascinating.”

Now Dad looked at Mom like she was crazy, “How is that fascinating?  That’s not living as far as I’m concerned. How do you experience life just being on top of a mountain and eat goat cheese? That’s not living, that’s hiding out.”

I took a sip of my coffee and watched them both. Mom has this way about her that resembles a little girl. The things that fascinate her, the things she loves, they have a childlike quality about how she tells us what she loves.  Dad, on the other hand, has a no nonsense practical way about him unless you’re talking about growing plants. THAT is when he gets that far off look. He misses his days as an owner of a nursery and florist.

“That’s not hiding out at all. They are dedicating their lives to what they feel is important…God.”

“Do you think God put them here to just sit and ask for mercy?  Makes no sense.”

I kept sipping my coffee but was thinking, “Please don’t ask, please don’t ask, please don’t…”

Mom interrupted my plea, “Well, what do YOU think, Bethie?”

At first I think maybe it’s a trap. I mean sometimes they like to rope me in to get in the middle of their debate but I know better. Mom stands up and pours me a little more coffee. It feels a bit like a bribe.

“Don’t you butter her up! What DO you think, Bethie?” Dad asks as Mom gives him a nose in the air kind of look.

This has been going on since I was a little girl in a good natured sort of way but as a child I didn’t want to pick sides. It seemed so important to make sure they both felt special even though it really didn’t matter to either of them. It was their way of getting me involved.

Now I’m an adult. I can do this. There are no sides just what I feel from within so I get ready for the defeated look of who I agree with and then…

“You know…Everyone thinks there right, Grandpa,” Peanut chimes in as she walks into the kitchen, “Those wonderful insightful monks believe they are doing the right thing and so does every organized religion. Everyone thinks what they think is right. Don’t you think if it makes them happy that it is okay as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone?” 

I couldn’t believe it. My twelve year old actually said something that I’ve told her many times over. And I thought she wasn’t listening.

“Well, it hurts ME,” Dad retorted.

“Oh really? How does it hurt you, Grandpa?” Peanut debated back.

“Those monks and their shiny heads. When the sun hits it…whoa boy…hurts my eyes!” Dad says as he eats another cookie after his breakfast.

“I think their shiny heads look nice. How do you suppose they get them to shine like that?” Mom asked innocently.

Dad grins, “One holds the other one’s shins and they buff the floor. That’s how they get so shiny.”

Peanut groans, “You’re going a bit far with a joke, Grandpa.”

“That’s what Grandpas do.”

I take another sip of my coffee.  Just another typical morning at my house. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.

60 days ago Short URL 2 Comments

elderly/family/grandpa/grandparents/humor/positive thinking/Uncategorized

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13

Dec

Christmas 1942…what a Family!

If you’re wondering…Vernie is my mom. She has told me this story since I was a little girl. It brings such joy to my heart to be able to share it with you.

Grandma Howard prepared for Christmas for 364 days a year. The second Christmas day was over she was already planning for the next year. Every relative from the Howard clan would travel near and far to get to Grandma and Grandpa Howard’s for the holidays. Grandma would dive into the sewing room and round up every blanket and pillow she could muster. She would quilt all year round to make more blankets for the many bodies that would need to be warmed in her little house.

About a week before Christmas, relatives would start arriving; some big, some small, and some in between. They would arrive by Trailways bus, old jalopies, a train they called The Owl, and some even hitchhiked.

Aunt Mema was the only relative in the bunch that made her arrival via an all-Pullman train called The Lark. She was the haute tauter of the bunch. and wouldn’t be caught dead on the Owl train that most of the family rode on. Much too common for her and besides, whatever would she do should she run into some kinfolk in the diner. Or worse, in the lavatory!

Uncle Jack always arrived by hitchhiking, being a bit of the black sheep of the family, but the kids adored him, what with his wild piratical adventures he lived hitchhiking all the way to California. Grandma always put Jack at the kids table at Christmas as a veiled warning for him to grow up, but he didn’t mind. He loved being with all his nieces and nephews, flicking boogers and snorting milk through their noses.

There was little Vernie who was eight. She had the most beautiful locks of hair, always with black tipped ends on her hair owing to that rotten Morton Digger at school. Morton would always dip Vernie’s pigtails into the inkwell on the desk, and Vernie’s mother, Ruth, could never quite get all the ink out of Vernie’s hair. That branded her with the nickname “Paintbrush” at school.

Vernie, like all the other girls in class, wore dresses made from material cut from feed sacks. Each month the mothers of all the elementary-age schoolgirls would hurry down to Kramer’s Five Dime and Farm Store to see what new designs would be printed on the feed sack bags. Some sported little pink roses while others featured cute little ducks. But if you didn’t happen to arrive at old man Kramer’s first thing in the morning, you might wind up with a dress printed with cowboys, and that was a fate worse than death for an eight year old little princess. It was bad enough that Vernie went without those black patent leather shoes she dreamed of, but to have a dress made of cowboys was downright humiliating.

Vernie was Uncle Ralph’s favorite and Vernie felt the same way about her Ralphie. She loved his great big smile and his guitar playing, and though they were about fourteen years apart in age, Ralph was more like Vernie’s older brother. He wouldn’t be able to come for Christmas this year because he was off fighting the war, but she had written a stack of letters she was going to mail him as soon as she could pry some postage stamps from her mom and walk the letters down to the train depot and put them in the mail slot on the side of the postal car. One time she put a letter into the slot, and a hand popped out with a lollipop, tossing it to her as the train pulled away from the station. That was exciting, sure, but it wasn’t the main reason she wanted to take Uncle Ralph’s letters to the station. It was because she had decided she wasn’t going to trust her precious letters to Mr. Perryman.

Mr. Perryman was too new on the route, since the old mailman, Mr. Okizawa had suddenly left town. She just couldn’t understand, as hard as good jobs were to find lately, why one day he delivered the mail like always, and the next day Mr. Perryman rolled up with his funny little mail cart. She liked Mr. Okizawa because he was nice, of course. But also because he said her name funny. “Here is no letttaahh fo-uh you Misss Vuuuhhhnnneeee. A gooot deh to yooo, hey?” Every day, the same thing. Then one day, Mr. Perryman.

Once all thirty-four of the Christmas relatives would arrive, the preparation and fun would begin. The porch overflowed in baggage and it was the kids’ job to get them sorted.

Grandma would kick every man out of the house for a few days so it was Grandpa’s job to entertain. All the men (boys included) would pack up enough food for a few days and off-a-camping they would go. Grandpa Howard was known as the best camper and hunter in the San Joaquin valley. Maybe even Kern County, too. He claims it was his Native American blood; that nature talked to him. Sometimes we all wondered if he was right. One time, when they were all hiking and hunting, Uncle Jon got separated from the group. Everyone else went back to camp but Grandpa tracked Uncle Jon and found him by the creek shivering and cold but all right.

At night, before they would crawl into their tents, Grandpa would tie the cantaloupe and the bacon high up in the trees to discourage the bears from bothering them. One night Grandpa woke to the sound of bear grunts. He peered outside his tent and spied a female bear on her hind legs reaching for the cantaloupe. Her paws were barely clipping the net that held the sweet, tasty melon in the tree. The sight of his morning melon being bruised like a tetherball turned grandpa eleven shades of beet red. He stormed out of the tent, clad only in his underwear, in an angry, desperate bid to rescue his ‘lope from the bear. By then she had broken open one of the nets and the sight of those juicy, ripe cantaloupe strewn all over the ground inspired Grandpa to run full force toward that mangy bear. He began throwing the hard, un-ripened cantaloupe at the bear’s head, who had such a look of surprise on her face (as well as all the camping guys) that she ran off. “NO one messes with my cantaloupe.” muttered Grandpa. Not even mangy ol’ she-bears.

Grandpa would pack an empty coffee can full of worms for fishing. Problem was this was the same coffee can that he made his muddy coffee in every morning. The coffee tasted slightly of dirt and worms but you got used to the flavor after a while. It was the gritty thickness of the coffee that was hardest to get used to.

Back at the house, Grandma and all the women were fiercely cooking up the food. Aunt Ethel fixed the dressing while Aunt Mims baked the pies. Grandma’s kitchen looked like it was about to explode from all the bodies bumping through the tiny space, all the while chattering and gossiping about every family member who was not there.

Grandma and Vernie had turkey duty. Vernie would chase the turkey into the tightest corner in the yard and Grandma would take care of it quickly and painlessly. Then all the womenfolk would descend and feathers flew. That turkey never knew what hit him.

Once all the food got to cooking, the girls were responsible for bringing in the firewood and making every corner of the house into a bed for a relative. All the little girls fought to sleep with the beautiful family quilt. The quilt contained a piece of family fabric from generations back attached to it. If you got the quilt, it was said that you would have good luck for the whole year. The girls wound up drawing numbers on who got the quilt.

Once every little bed was put together, it was time for sorting presents. Most of the gifts were homemade but treasured nonetheless, each wrapped in a different way; some with brown paper, some with bright paper, and some with newspaper. You could always tell the gifts that Uncle Jack brought, because his were always wrapped in toilet paper.

Once the women got everything set; the food, the presents, and the beds, Grandma would go outside and whistle. Grandpa would cock his head and tell the men it was time to go home. No one could ever figure out how he could hear Grandma’s whistle but he always did. The fellas and their little soldiers would march up the path like the dwarfs from Snow White, all in a row and grinning from ear to ear singing, “Jingle Bells” with a huge pine tree dragging behind them, and a basket full of trout.

The women folk would be sure to fawn over the men and boys for the trout and the beautiful Christmas tree they had brought home. Then Grandpa and Uncle Jack would get the tree set up and the children would descend and trim. They hung popcorn and cranberry garlands around the tree, and white paper angel ornaments on every other stem with bright red and green ribbons tied on the tips.

Jack would sit at the brown little rinky-dink piano with a big red bow tied around his head and everyone would sing Jingle Bells. Jack would start playing the song faster and faster until he would collapse onto the floor, pretending to have fainted. All the kids would jump him and he would tickle each and every one.

Once the little ones went to bed, all the grownups hung stockings for the twelve children. Each one got an orange in their stocking, and that was it. But back then it was a treat to have a whole orange to yourself. Jack wanted to stick some coal in the stockings as a joke but Grandma nixed that out of hand.

On Christmas morning, we awoke to the smell of trout cooking and biscuits baking. The kids would wake up one by one and the house would get louder and louder until there were blankets and bodies everywhere along with the wonderful smell of biscuits with butter and a hint of freshwater fish. Breakfast was like standing in the cafeteria line. You sure didn’t want to be the last person in line just in case the food ran out.

Once breakfast was out of the way, Jack would become Santa’s elf and hand out the presents, one by one, so that everyone’s presents got the spotlight. There were polite exchanges and thank you’s and even some rolling of the eyes with some of the gifts. Usually the eye rolling was due to one of Jack’s gifts to the children. He had painstakingly wrapped each of the twelve gifts in toilet paper and had wrapped one hand-printed alphabet letter for each child. He told them they had to figure out the present from the clues, so they all opened their alphabet letter and went to town trying to unscramble the letters to learn what their gift was. This kept them busy for two hours straight. He kept telling them it was well worth the wait.

The letters spelled, “Stand in a line.” All the kids stood in a line and Jack solemnly instructed them each to hold out a hand, which they all dutifully did. He them informed them that on his way to California pirates had tried to take his treasure so he felt the treasure would be safer with each of the kids. (The true story is Jack got caught up in a poker game and won.) He then placed a ten dollar bill into each child’s hand. The adults, as well as the kids, let out a collective gasp.

None of those kids had ever touched a ten dollar bill much less owned one. Mothers were crying with gratitude and fathers were patting Jack on the back. “There is only one rule,” Jack told the children. “You can only spend it on something you want…not need.” The parents stopped patting Jack’s back and tears dried up. All their dreams of where that money was going had gone. “This money is the kids’ money.” How could anyone argue with that? And so the kids started making money plans. Jack promised to take them to the mercantile the day after Christmas.

Christmas dinner was ready and all bowed their heads to thank the heavens above for their bountiful feast, or fountiful beast, as Jack called it, much to the delight of the children. Each person around the table would say a small something. When it came to Vernie she asked that Uncle Ralph be safe.

Everyone nodded and then the feasting began. Cooked yams, dressing, turkey, cranberries in honey sauce, butter rolls, not a salad in sight, just comfort family food. As the table was cleared, the children would sit around the radio and listen to the Lone Ranger drama with Jack, who would act out the different parts of the radio show even down to being the Lone Ranger’s horse, Silver.

Vernie sat on Jack’s lap as she listened intently. She kept hearing a faint rhythm and it grew louder and louder until it sounded like it was at the front door. Grandma opened it to find Uncle Ralph with his duffle bag playing his guitar, a brightly wrapped package in hand. Vernie couldn’t believe her eyes. She ran to Ralph and he dropped everything for his beautiful little princess with the black-tipped hair. He handed her the package and watched her as she opened the box, pulled back the tissue and revealed the shiniest blackest patent leather shoes she had ever seen. She squealed with delight, kicked off her oxfords, and put on her princess shoes. Santa had gotten her exactly what she had wanted for Christmas; her Uncle Ralph.

The day after all the kids headed to the mercantile with Uncle Jack and returned home with only the things they wanted. Grandma was already planning, along with all the women, the next year’s big feast. As everyone packed up to leave, Aunt Mema asked everyone to gather around. “I may be old, but I’m still not going to let that Little Jacky outdo me.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a twenty dollar bill for every family. “Take that Jacky!” Everyone screamed and hollered. Jack slyly grinned at Uncle Ralph saying that Aunt Mema had finally let some of her old money go to where it was needed.

Soon everyone went their way by bus, train, and jalopy. Except, that is, for Jack, who left by thumb. And Uncle Ralph, on leave from his ship and safe in the bosom of family, stayed on a ten day leave from the war that in the last day had become so distant. The only thing he would do on this Christmas night was watch Vernie dance in the moonlight in her new patent leather shoes, and thank providence for being a part of a family and the love they all shared.

73 days ago Short URL 6 Comments

christmas/family/grandparents/humor/positive thinking/Uncategorized

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10

Dec

The Hustle and Bustle of the Season

It’s the hustle and bustle of the shopping season as ‘they’ call it. Department stores putting out their Christmas merchandise right before Halloween hoping to get everyone in the spirit of shopping. I don’t know how many people I hear moan and groan, “Already?  That just makes me mad. Why can’t Christmas be more about the spirit of the holiday? Isn’t there more to Christmas than that?” yet they are the first in line to buy the new piece of technology at Black Friday. Hmmm…am I creating the visual for you and are you nodding your head in agreement?

I have to say…I LOVE the holidays. I love the hustle and bustle, I love seeing people buy gifts for others, I love seeing the Salvation Army with their bells and red little buckets, and I love seeing everyone bundled up in hats and scarves ‘making a deal’ over a ten dollar Christmas tree. And I LOVE when they put the holiday merchandise out early because it means it is right around the corner.

I tend to see the holidays in different way.  I’m not a Black Friday kind of girl. I’m the kind of shopper that is quick and knows what she wants. I don’t really do much browsing. If I don’t see it in the first twenty minutes then I’m outta there but I love to observe and soak in the spirit of it all. Many times I’ve had a phone consultation where someone has trouble with the thought of money. “Isn’t it bad?  I mean isn’t it bad to want THINGS?”  This always makes me chuckle inside. I came from that kind of thought. When I was a child we were in church more than we were home. My parents thought they were doing the right thing at the time but as a little girl of five I was terrified of everything. I was afraid of Hell, I was afraid of fire, I was afraid of my own shadow, and any kind of intuition that I would say was quickly stepped on and told it was evil. But not only that…if you were rich, you were bad and evil. Sigh… Thank goodness my parents woke up and grew beyond that frame of thought but it did its damage to my siblings and me growing up. But I knew pretty early in life because of one of my grandmas that my abilities were not evil but wonderful. That I wasn’t going to Hell and that money was indeed not evil.   As I began to question everything I realized that it wasn’t money that was bad, it was people who made life bad so for a very long time in my life I stayed in my shell and didn’t trust a soul.  And then…I had children.

My kids pulled me out of the shell. They taught me more than any other human being in my life…well…ALMOST any other human being…my sis has taught me A LOT about contrast. I grew up while my kids grew up and began to see what the world was truly about. Sure in the beginning I used to run to the store the day after Thanksgiving and get everything my kids hearts desired without even a second thought. My credit card wasn’t too happy about it but I thought that since that is not what I got as a child, my kids would get a double dose of protection AND presents. More the better, right? 

I had it all wrong for me. I was doing what I thought others expected of me and then I rebelled. It was the best thing for me.  As my first husband went to church day and night I began to really experience life. I took my kids everywhere. I took them to Catholic Mass just to see what it was like. I took them to a Jewish bar mitzvah.  I took them to a cool little ‘hole in the wall’ store that three little chubby witches owned making their own candles and growing their own herbs. I took them to an incredible bookstore that was full of every truth known to man and through it all I learned and began to understand about life itself.

We used to go to this amazing library that you were not allowed to check out the books. All the books were in glass cases. You had to ask to touch any of them. There were massive bookshelves from the floor to the top of the ceiling with one of the mahogany sliding ladders to get books down. They were ancient books that I loved to pore over. They didn’t allow children in the library but I kept going back week after week with my three children in tow. They would sit quietly in the bookstore while I went into the library. The woman behind the desk began to fall in love with my kids and eventually they were allowed in. There were days we lived there bringing our lunch to eat on the grass outside only to delve into more ancient books of knowledge. What I learned, what I understood, what I began to realize is the truth always begins with love. The truth of every religion, every belief, came from the same seed and in all the books I had read and reread the knowledge had the same seed that said we are loved, we can create in thought, we can be whatever we want as long as there is no harm physically or mentally to another. It freed me. I could see light of love in every human being at that very moment.

So what does this have to do with the holidays?  It changed my thinking. It changed my perception of everyone running around like the sky is falling this time of year. What do I see when I see the hustle and bustle? I see people who have an inner light and even though they feel the pressure of the holidays they have a bright light shining within that is all about love. I found that material possessions aren’t negative; it is what we think about the material that can create the negative. I love surrounding myself with beautiful lights, angel figurines, and Buddhas. Each and every time I see them around, it makes me happy. It builds a vibration of joy and that is a part of being, don’t you think? 

So next time you head out to shop think about each and every person who has this beautiful light within full of love.  It is only the human perspective that may be creating the stress, the worry, the chaos. The inner light within knows that we are loved and that all is well.

I see the spirit of the truth this time of year full of hope, joy, and giving. And I do my best to see the spirit of the beautiful light within each and every day of the year.

Now it’s time to turn on the multi colored lights and have a cup of coffee and enjoy the spirit of the holidays.

76 days ago Short URL 2 Comments

christmas/family/positive thinking/Uncategorized

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04

Dec

Could I Hold it Together?

We had our holiday party early this year. We referred to it as ‘the celebration of life’ party. I’m one of those people that has a picture in my mind of how I would like everything to look. It is the designer in me I guess. I’m the one when we’re decorating the Christmas tree that stands back and can see where every ornament should go. No two ornamental balls can be too close to one another and the angel must lean at a certain angle.  The kids laugh at me as they are hanging ornaments and I get excited and say, “Wait! Wait! THAT one would look much better over there.” They see no difference but I do so when we decided to have a celebration of life party for our dear friend who will be leaving this Earth in the next few months, I wanted everything to be the picture I saw in my mind for her. Planning a party for thirty is quite a military operation. From the decorations to the dishes to the food.  I am the farthest thing from a domestic Goddess but I do love to bake and create a ‘picture’ that becomes a wonderful memory.

I took great care in the outdoor lights and the indoor decorations. I wanted the house to create a permanent memory in our friend’s mind. I wanted her, for those few hours, to forget her pain and laugh and enjoy everyone being there. Only four of us know she is dying.  The rest assumed it was just another McCain ‘shin dig’ with all the regulars.

I cooked up some of her favorites; turkey, mashed potatoes, spinach dip, and rum cake. I remembered at our last party she loved the punch so I made sure to make a bigger bowl with an extra scoop or two of ice cream in it this time. Each ornament hung, each potato peeled, every little thing was done with Marian on my mind. I kept remembering funny little moments with her.  Like the time she came to one of the kid’s shows in full costume acting as best she could which was hysterically funny and the time she was all excited about bringing in the food share to the library so that the kids could have snacks any time they wanted.  She bought ten dozen hot dogs one time just because it was a great deal. The kids still rib her about that. They say they couldn’t possibly eat one more dog.

As I cooked up the rum cake my heart tugged as I knew that I had a limited amount of time to hug her before she ‘took her trip’ as she calls it. I know where she is going. I know she will be free of pain, free of limitations, free to help even more than she does…I know…I know…yet I find myself wanting just one more week, one more day to see her face and feel her presence.

As I decorate the last of the house I give thanks for allowing me to know such a beautiful earth angel and I ask to please give her some more time if it is possible. I can’t imagine how many children won’t understand why she will no longer be at the library but her wishes were for no one to know but a few.

I wasn’t sure how I was going to hold it together in front of so many people (AND the kids) knowing what we knew. I was hoping my heart and mind wouldn’t betray me and just blurt it out, “Tell Marian how much you love her everyone! She is dying of cancer. Get in as many hugs as you can!” I envisioned a group hug within my mind. Everyone wrapping their arms around Marian willing her to get well through our love. And then, as always, I let the thoughts and feelings go knowing it was the time for Marian. Her work was done and she was ready.

When the last of the appetizers were eaten Marian and her husband arrived. I hadn’t seen her for a few days.  When she came in she looks tired but happy. Her husband took off her coat and stepped away from her so she could go wherever she wanted to go. She had brought a gift for Dad full of chocolate hazelnuts. As I looked with my inner eyes I could feel she was beginning to detach from this world. When I looked into her eyes I knew it was the best thing. She was gaunt and had a little of the far off look in her eyes.  When we made eye contact she gave me a hug and whispered in my ear, “I’ll be giving you many of these tonight.”  I squeezed her back and felt her worn out little body sigh.  I whispered back, ‘I’ll take many of those tonight.”

She ate big time. The kids were running around laughing, singing, and playing with guinea pigs. Marian held our male guinea pig, Buddha. He curled up in her arms and began to purr. She closed her eyes and soaked in his purr therapy.

She giggled, examined the decorations meticulously, and ate some more. She kept hugging big ol’ Lee. Lee really does give the best hugs. Warm and in the moment kind of hugs. As if ‘you are the only person alive to be loved on this earth’ hugs.

I watch her courage as she goes from person to person making sure to speak to everyone there. She didn’t connect the dots that this party was thrown in her honor and that is exactly how I wanted it. She doesn’t like attention and she doesn’t like anyone to feel sorry for her. I know this is the reason behind keeping her cancer news quiet.

I’m amazed at her zest for life as she listened to every story being told with interest. She’s getting tired and her husband gives her ‘the look’ but she ignores him. She doesn’t want to go home.

As the party winds down we all have a second round of rum cake and people begin to leave. I’m not very good at keeping secrets. Lee always says that I am an open book so the evening has been a focused act for me of what Marian wants.

Her husband finally gets her up to go. She needs her coat so Marian and I head to the coat room.  She links her arm in mine and we walk to the back of the house.

“I’m ready. I’m ready for the shedding of this old cancer ridden body.  I’m ready to become lighter, free, and help from that side. I bet it will be much easier to help there, don’t you think? I’ll visit Bethie.  I promise.”

All the thoughts of wanting her to stay for just a little while longer went out of my head. I knew she was right. Her body was breaking down and ready.  Her spirit was ready to break free and feel light once again. And she would be helping each and every one of those children as well as anyone else from the other side. I had no doubt I would see her again.

“Marian, I will miss your hugs my friend.”  I embraced her and held on a little while longer.  She patted my back.

“Thank you for MY party.  Thank you for celebrating me. Did I make a difference?”

All I could say through my tears was, “Yes…more than you’ll ever know.”

She nodded her head and I helped her with her coat.

“See you at the library next week?” she asked.

“Of course.”

She looked over her shoulder as she walked away.

“And if I’m not at the library I’ll be right by your side.  Make sure to ‘feel’ for me and if you can’t feel me, I’ll make sure to smell like rum cake.”

She smiled and waved good bye. My dear friend Marian…

82 days ago Short URL 3 Comments

christmas/family/positive thinking/Uncategorized

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18

Nov

Going with the Flow…Over and Over and Over Again

It’s that time of year.  The many dinners of the holiday season. Our house is the one that everyone comes to so I am the hostess with the mostess, well, that is what Lee calls me anyway.

It’s interesting dynamics here.  I have Mom who is over the top when it comes to guilt and worrying.  When Dad had his stroke she told the doctor she thought it was her fault because of what she feeds him. See?  Guilt Mama.

Then we have Dad. Dad is always putting in his two cents whether you want to hear it or not. The way you cook, the way the rain is coming down, the way we are dressed, the way, the way, the way…

Next, in the lineup of characters, is one of my sons. He is a chatty Cathy. He talks nonstop about any and every thing. Then we have my other son who is very political so everything he speaks about comes from a political point of view.

We have Sissy who is my oldest daughter who is extremely organized. She feels as if she is the oldest wrangling in her two puppy dog brothers. They are as opposite as you can possibly get.  She takes Tylenol before they come.

Then you have Peanut who sits and observes it all. She loves her crazy family and takes in all they have to say…with a grain of salt…especially Grandpa.

Then you have Lee who comes in and out of the studio depending on the conversation and the timing of the food coming out to the table. I think he has the best of both worlds and probably is the sanest of us all.

Then you have me. The one who is continually ‘going with the flow’ and working on staying centered as everyone loves to sit in the kitchen as I cook and bake. Mom worrying about when the bread should be baked and if it is going to be underdone or overdone and ready to take the blame if it is.

“Go with the flow, Bethie.”

Then we have Dad telling me how to cook this and how to cook that and there is a spot that needs a marshmallow over there and he asks if I pulled out the butter.  This always cracks me up when he is trying to control the cooking in the kitchen. Dad needs instructions written down on how to use the microwave.  Then he throws in one of his jokes, “Did you know where butter came from?  Cows that are all shook up.” Ba da dum.

“Go with the flow, Bethie.”

“Hey Mom? Did you hear about that new movie that just came out?  You know that bloody horror flick that has been banned in forty nine countries?” my chatty Cathy announces.

The oven timer goes off and I juggle the yams, putting on the extra marshmallows for Dad, and put in the stuffing.

“You know, maybe this isn’t a good time to talk about bloody films with Peanut in here,” I suggest to my son.

“Oh…I forgot. Okay…but let me just tell you this ONE part,” my son absentmindedly says and keeps talking.

“Go with the flow, Bethie.”

“Mom!” I hear from upstairs, “Could you please come here?” Sissy calls.

I look at the timer and at the clock. The rest of the guests will be arriving in half an hour. I run up the stairs.

“Mom. You really need to talk with Jake. He keeps using my foot lotion. You know how I feel about my foot lotion. He can use anything else in here but not my foot lotion.” Sissy takes her lotion and hides it in a drawer, “He doesn’t have any respect for my stuff.” You’d think it was two twelve year olds taking each other’s sweaters but they are actually in their late twenties.

“Go with the flow, Bethie.”

I go back downstairs and find Peanut playing checkers with her older brother.

“You’re so smart! You’re whooping me,” my thirty two year old son tells Peanut. She smiles sweetly and jumps a couple of his checkers.

My oldest looks up at me, “Can I help you, Mom?”

“I’m good,” I say. I’m one of those cooks that likes to do it all myself.

Lee comes in, “Want me to wrangle them?” he says with a smile. He knows the look on my face, “Going with the flow, are you?”

I smile and he grabs a soda before he heads out to the studio.

The food is all finishing at once. Dad is still quipping, Mom is still feeling guilty, Chatty Cathy is still chatting, and Sissy is still organizing.

“Go with the flow, Bethie.”

I have to tell you. This is a typical day in my house and every experience, every moment, every thought, teaches me about my own expansion of consciousness. I learn from my mom to let go of any kind of guilt, I learn from my dad that not everyone is right and not everyone is wrong, I learn from my son that listening is just as important as speaking, I learn from Sissy to ‘let things go,’ I learn from my oldest son to be accepting and allowing, and I learn from Peanut to ‘be’ in the moment.

Each of my experiences with anyone in my life are lessons in and of their selves  about what I see, what I react to, what I vibrate. No matter any annoyances. My family chose me and I chose them. We are all in this together and there is no one else I would rather have tell me how to cook or tell me how to live. It is my choice whether I do or don’t do what they think about.  We can love, accept, and be with one another with all of our quirky traits.

My oldest grabs Peanut and tickles her as Mom brings in the silverware. Sissy and Jake begin a deep conversation about their favorite show ‘in the world’ as they both say, and Dad sits and watches with a big smile at his family. I plop down by Dad and give him a hug.

“What was that for?” he asks.

“For telling me about butter,” I say.

I watch with Dad as the kids dance and talk. 

 “Go with the flow of life, Bethie…all is truly well.”

98 days ago Short URL 3 Comments

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11

Nov

The Preparation and Vibration of the Holidays are Here

How easy it can be to get caught up in all the running around of the holiday season. You know what I mean; the lists, the thinking of the perfect gifts, the food, the relatives, the…the…sigh.

Our home is the ‘go to’ place for our relatives. And why shouldn’t it be? My parents are the last of their generation. Everyone else has gone and now all the family wants to come and be a part of their lives and celebrate together.

We live out in the middle of nowhere.  The nearest ‘true’ town is about thirty miles away so we take a trip every other day during this time of year. I have to say the beautiful drive is a plus as well as the regular stop at Starbucks. I could hand off the errands to others but I enjoy the planning. I like entertaining and making everyone feel welcome. So let me paint you a picture from the moment the season begins.

We get a phone call from our relatives back east. They want to know if they can come for Thanksgiving.

“Of course,” I say, “We would love it.” Then I get a second call from the same cousin. They’d like to make a week out of it and want to know if they can stay the night for a few nights.  My voice gets a little higher, “Of course…we have enough room. By all means…we would love to see you.”  As the words come out of my mouth I am rearranging Sissy and Peanut and the spare room. Peanut can sleep on my floor, I have to ask Sissy if we can use her room and put her in Peanut’s room, and then…who gets the spare room. I think about where the airbeds are.  I know they are somewhere in the basement but somewhere could be anywhere in the maze of Easter, Valentine’s Day, Thanksgiving, and Christmas decorations that have somehow exploded all over the place.  I make a note in my mind to call the girls who come and clean the house to come a little earlier for the month. And then…it is time for the annual plan of food with…Mom.

You see Mom comes from a generation where you do everything, above and beyond, to make your company feel welcome. She obsesses about who will talk to the cousins every second of the visit, will we have enough toilet paper, what about enough blankets, will we have enough food, and anything else that she can worry about. I tell her, “Mom, the more the merrier. When you have more, they are more prone to be each other’s company and you won’t have to worry about finding something to talk about.” Do you know Mom actually writes down what she will talk about? She wants a list ‘just in case’ there might be an uncomfortable silence. When I found her list one day, I couldn’t believe the extremes she would go to so others were comfortable. This by the way makes me uncomfortable. I showed her the list: talk about the weather, talk about the guinea piggies, and do not talk about my sister, veer Dad away from talking about politics, talk about food, the list went on and on.

“Mom, it’s okay. You can let go of control here. They’re adults and you know what? If you keep asking about their lives they will always talk about themselves. It seems to be human nature.

Next time you have a conversation with someone, observe, and you’ll know what I mean. Humans like to talk about themselves and what they doing…some on an ego level and some to ‘fill in’ the time. Oh don’t get me wrong.  There are some wonderful listeners as well but in this day and age everyone seems to have something to say that comes from their perspective.

“You’re right Bethie. We do have a family full of gas bags.”

Sigh…that’s not what I meant but it did make her wad up her list and throw it in the trash. “You know what? I don’t care. I pass the baton to you, Bethie. I know you’ll take care of it.”

Sigh…she’s right…I will. But she does live vicariously through my actions when it comes to celebrations so her ideas and thoughts come in a one two punch kind of way.

She lets it go and then she comes barreling down the hall, into the kitchen, as fast as she can. “Bethie, are you going to make enchiladas one of those nights?  They’re kind of messy.”

“I think we’re old enough to use napkins now Mom.” I hide my smile. I know she can’t stand it that she gives me the baton. So I switch the subject.

“Think we have enough towels Mom?”  She gets that look on her face. The one that she is pleased that I asked her but at the same time she wants to let go of it all. I see the fight within her. She gives up. She can’t hold herself from getting involved.

“Do you think we should buy some new ones?  Did you want me to cut up onions for the enchiladas?”

Its weeks off but I know she needs something to think about.

“That would be great Mom. Want a cup of coffee?”

She sits down and tells me that she is worried about Dad.

“You mean the stroke?” I ask.

“No, no, no. Not at all. I’m talking about his running off at the mouth. He has no control. What if he talks about things that just aren’t, well…you know…decent.”

I suck in my giggle. I do know what she is talking about. Now that Dad has gotten to be eighty four he believes he should be able to say anything he likes and everyone else should just deal. Mom used to be able to get his mind off of his thoughts but anymore he chops on like a dog with a bone and there are no rules.

“Would you like me to see if Lee can help?” I ask. Lee…Lee is my rock. He always has a way when it comes to Dad. Dad and Lee are buddies and Lee just knows what to say to get Dad to get off his high horse.

“Oh would you?” She says in relief. “That would be better than your dad wearing the muzzle I was going to buy.”

So we plan, we decorate, we cook goodies in advance, and we sit and talk a lot. I have to tell you, it is pure joy to me. Sure there are times I get overwhelmed but those are the times I talk to myself and remind myself to, “Enjoy every moment instead rushing. Enjoy your family. Who cares if the food gets on the table a little late…enjoy, enjoy, enjoy.”  As we get closer to ‘show time’ I remind myself even more. No one is expecting me to be Wonder Woman. I get used to Mom and Dad watching me cook in the kitchen and Mom continually saying, “You do it THAT way? Oh, I’ve always done it another way.” Mom is an ‘eyeball it’ kind of cook. She doesn’t measure a thing. She shakes a little of something here and something there and she prides herself in not using a measuring cup. I’ve seen her put half a jar of baking powder in her biscuits at times yet it always comes out just right and I never could figure out why. Maybe it was just the Mom touch. I am the opposite. I cook like it is a science. I love the preparation and the beauty and taste of the end result. I like the perfect platter and the just right spatula. Mom cooks it up in a pan and slaps it on the table.

Then Dad is giggling the whole time I’m cooking from the excitement and anticipation of the holidays.

When the family arrives, it all comes out just right. Mom doesn’t use her list of conversations, we always have more than enough food, and it usually turns out perfectly.

Lee always puts his arm around my waist and says, “You run a smooth ship, Babe.”

I have to say, it’s isn’t about the smooth sail for me. It is about the memories that are being made, the thought of celebration of ‘being,’ the journey itself to the ‘big’ dinner that makes it worthwhile through it all.

The planning, the errands, and the fussing of Mom are part of the joy for me. It gives me a chance to enjoy every moment and make some pretty wonderful memories.

Oh and one thing Dad has to do just once during the holiday meal?  Laugh so hard that his teeth fly out.  Now THAT is a memory worth keeping especially when Mom has to run to the bathroom because she is laughing so hard.

What a wonderful time of year, don’t you think?

105 days ago Short URL 2 Comments

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