Category: Life

Tomorrow is Today

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I’m literally at a loss for words today. If I could climb into the attic of my mind, and you watched me, you would find me picking up stray thoughts, turning them over and over, considering them – weighing the weight of them, pondering their importance and, ultimately, putting them down again, not discarding, just avoiding. I have a few things up there in that attic. I am still in mourning over a quiet death. I am still not feeling 100% well. Both my heart and body are on the mend. It’s just taking a little longer than I expected. There is more.
I ran last night. While I am happy to have faced the Gerbil wheel again I know not to get too excited. I could fall off again just as easily as when I got on. I know myself. I’m still feeling an October hurt. I’m still nursing a December disappointment. 2008 hasn’t come quietly. But, the good news is I ran easily. I ran confidently. Rubber raced under my feet while I watched three miles tick by. Simply starting over.
Tomorrow I see a friend. Someone to listen to. I don’t want to talk about me. I’d rather forget me for a while. I’ll let the attic lay dark, let the thoughts sleep quiet. It will be nice.

Obsession with Words

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Everyday I listen to a song that has me in angry tears. I listen to it two, three…okay, sometimes even more than three times a day. I have no idea why I am so addicted. Drawn to pain, I really can’t turn from it. I told myself there’s a nice drum fill in it, but that’s not it…really, it’s these words:
“Every morning waking in a fever, wet, and shaking. My heart inside me pounding, muddy water all around me. Cold, shocked and speechless. Can anybody reach us? And, why? Oh God, why?…
Gone and lost my patience with this hopeless situation. Oh yeah, I’m alive, the lonely sole survivor. Spared me for a reason, picking up the pieces. But, why? Oh God, why?”

Oddly enough, whenever I cook (the last four or five meals, anyway) there’s another song kicking around. I’ve been singing, “I never meant to be so bad to you…one thing I said I would never do. One look from you and I would fall from grace and that would wipe the smile right from my face…” and a picture a chick doing gymnastics on television sets. How very bizarre!

These words couldn’t be further apart in terms of meaning, time, artists and space. Yet, inside my head, here they live side by side. Day in and day out I am obsessed with the words.

From the Sky

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Is it wrong to have favorite moments from a funeral? Is it wrong to find small laughs and smiles amid the sorrows? We approach the “home” in a black clad seriousness, create small family clusters and murmur small talk about illnesses; it’s the weather’s fault. We all agree. Nod seriously. We want to avoid the real reason why we have gathered. Soon enough it is time to start. Quietly, we shuffle to seats and send furtive glances at the flower laden casket. So many flowers. Tissues and tears emerge in front of just-reminded, grief-stricken faces. We haven’t lost sight of why we are here, after all.
Funerals are for the living, of this I am convinced. It is our chance to praise, to love, to remember, to pay respect, to say goodbye. We may even realize or learn something for the first time. He didn’t miss a day of work. Made his girl pay her own bus fare home on their first date. He lost friends in the war and never, ever forgot their names or their faces. He was dedicated to worrying about family so you didn’t have to. He shared a love of Red Sox with his grandson. He had a Beloved Wife and shared over 60 years of marriage with her. He died of a broken heart.
At graveside the air is crisp, the sky a brilliant blue. Taps is played and suddenly a strong wind blows up, shaking snow from the overhanging tree. A saluting soldier is hit squarely in the face with a Mother Nature snowball, yet he does not flinch, doesn’t move – not an inch. Doesn’t move a muscle. A final joke played from beyond? We all glance at the flag covered casket in wonder. He loved to laugh, too.
But, that, I knew.

Just a Song

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wonder.jpg

Sometime ago I said that life was too busy for supporting & following & being obsessed by music. I think what I meant was these days I am being far more selective about the music I hear and how far I’ll go to stand before it. Recently, I went on a Natalie binge. Call me crazy, but four years is too long to go without hearing that voice live. Unlike myself I wanted a night upclose and a night far away. Unlike myself I made no attempt to remember the setlist. Unlike myself I made no attempt to get the perfect picture & in fact, refuse to post the ones that actually came out decent. I’ll leave that for some other adoring fan to do. Here is a list of the songs I heard. They are not all from the same night, nor are they in the “correct” order. The time listening to Natalie was too precious to worry about perfection.

  • Carnival~ this is the only one I will fess up to putting in the correct order. Every single time she came out on stage this was the song she performed first. It makes sense. This is her ode to New York; a nod to the city she adores. I have to say I was spellbound when she first appeared. It really had been too long. “Wide eyed misfit prophet, on a traffic island, stopped. And he raged of saving me.”
  • Build a Levee ~ This is a personal fave of mine. “You’ll fall under an evil spell just looking at his beautiful face.”
  • I’m not Gonna Beg ~ Where’s the boa? “I know ‘once upon a time’ and ‘ever after’ is a lie.”
  • At the Fair ~ Introduced as Robert Frost this is a Bonnie Raitt cover…” I swear another night is fallin'”
  • Sonnet #73~ Natalie was asked by the Royal Shakespeare Company to collaborate with Gavin Bryans for his Nothing Like the Sun project & put a sonnet to music. She chose #73 and said a few words about the Black Death and how many people died…typical Nat. “When yellow leaves, or none, or few do hang.”
  • The Equestrienne ~ A story about a circus by Rachel Field. Natalie created a song out of part of the story involving a white horse. “See the girl in pink on a milk white horse.”
  • Janitor’s Boy ~ A song written by Nathalia Crane when she was 10 years old. Natalie put it to music & sang it in a 1920’s vaudville sort of way, very fun and flirty. “He’ll carry me off I know that he will, for his hair is exceedingly red: and the only thing that occurs to me is to dutifully shivers in bed.”
  • If No One Marries Me by Laurence Alma-Tadema~ “And when I’m getting really old, at twenty-eight or nine I’ll buy a little orphan girl and bring her up as mine.”
  • The Man in the Wilderness from Mother Goose~ a strange little poem about a man in the wilderness and asking about strawberries in the sea…
  • Texas ~ a new song of Natalie’s that seemed a warning about having it all. “I don;t mind if I have to kill a little honey bee.”
  • Life is Sweet ~ I have to admit I cried during this song. I think Natalie avoided singing it one night just because someone requested it. The jury is still out on that one…”It’s high time you make up your own sweet little mind.”
  • Wonder ~ the anthem is still strong. The best part was Natalie’s special guest, “How I confound you and astound you.”
  • Golden Boy ~ and to think we have so many more Golden Boys to talk about since Columbine. “Meteor rise from obscurity and all it took was a killing spree.”
  • Go Down Moses ~ this is probably my favorite song. It’s haunting and hurting as only a song about Katrina moving through New Orleans could be. “But it so hard without you…cold shocked and speechless can anyone reach us?”
  • Giving Up ~ another new Natalie song…
  • The End ~ If anyone remembers Natalie’s 2004 tour they will remember the peace banner Natalie held up during Gulf of Araby. It was back for The End. “When we give up the barrel and the blade…”
  • Tell Yourself ~ Natalie tested us with this one. She said “I wrote this for my 13 year old niece…any guesses?” “You’ll never be like the anorexic beauties in the magazines.”
  • Village Green Preservation Society~ Who would have thought The Kinks would show up in a Natalie show.? Erik & Gabe helped Nat make this hysterical.
  • Break Your Heart ~ while I miss the horn section on this song the cello was a good replacement. “See the push and shove for their rewards”
  • From the Time You Say Goodbye~ what a lovely surprise. I never thought I would get to hear this love. “Keep a prayer within your heart that the time will surely fly”
  • Tension ~ although this was just a snippet it was awesome to hear Natalie’s very first song. “A thought mistaken for a memory”
  • Kind & Generous~ The time to give Natalie gifts… “My love and respect for you”
  • Letter ~ I know I have never heard this live before. “but the truth it would reveal knowing you brought me pleasure…”
  • Motherland ~“Where in hell can you go?”

I will never be able to really write about this experience. It was a pleasure. Special thanks to Germany, Scotland and to the great city of New York.

Sky Reaching

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Sometimes, sometimes all it takes is a different perspective to right a wrong, heal a hurt, or just plain move on from something. I spent a lot of time looking up this weekend, both literally and figuratively. I found the cure for complacency is insecurity. I found that the push and pull of heart strings can be both painful and pleasing. I cried a little this weekend, but definitely laughed more. Friends who were a little too big for me are starting to fit better, closer. Perspectives do change when you get closer and I like what I see.
I went into a sea of nobody I knew and somehow felt better about the face in the mirror when I got home. I still don’t understand black sunglasses in the dark, wearing the sound of disgust on your feet, or gypsy cabbies. What I do know is that I was glad to share that world, for a little while. A little while is all I needed. We came confused about Chipotle and left with wrong trains and missing Starbucks. The city didn’t change us, yet somehow, in some way, I’m different. Looking up has a different look to it.
So, to you and you. I will see you later. And we’ll look up some more.

Chourico Content

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For three months now I haven’t wanted to cook. I have come home feeling exhausted, worn down and depressed. Kisa asks a one-word question “pizza?” and my only response is another question “order out or make in?” I’m not feeling guilty about the laziness. We got a pizza stone and peel for our wedding and I truly enjoy making fresh pizza at home. But, but, but. It’s not what I consider cooking. I’m not really making anything when I lay down a crust with sauce and cheese.
Tonight, all that ended. I shook off the blues and I’m back in the kitchen. My first recipe to ring out the old year is chourico/turkey sub sandwiches in honor of the Saturday night Patriots game.
Ingredients:

  • chourico, red and spicy, stripped of casing and chopped small
  • ground turkey
  • sweet vidalia, chopped tiny
  • zesty tomato sauce
  • ruby red tomatoes, diced
  • crunchy, bright jalapenos (I cheated with jarred because I prefer my friend, Mrs ‘Fro), chopped smaller than small
  • dried oregano
  • sugar
  • black pepper (fresh cracked, of course)
  • tapioca
  • big black olives, sliced
  • monterey jack cheese, shredded
  • fresh, fresh, fresh rolls, guts taken out
  • crunchy tortilla chips (I like red hot blues)

I prefer to cook the turkey and chourico in batches, alternating between the two. End with a batch of turkey so it can soak up the crusty bits of chourico left behind. This method also gives the otherwise grayish turkey a deeper color. The whole thing stews for 6-12 hours so the flavors can have a lasting relationship and not just a one night stand. Serve with plenty of napkins and water for the wimps.

Seasick

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I want to say see you next year. I want to say maybe next time. I want to make promises I know I can’t keep. Life isn’t fair and Mother Nature is a cruel mistress. Next year my better half gets the call. I know what he will say. I know what he deserves to say. We aren’t going anywhere. It’s our turn to stay put. His family derves a merry christmas delivered on the right day, too.
I cannot make promises I shouldn’t keep. I cannot be unfair to my partner for life.
But, but, but. Know this – I was ready for you. I was ready to come back to you. For this first time in 15 years I was prepared to face all the haunts and hells of yesteryear. Just because it isn’t happening this year doesn’t mean I won’t be ready some other time. I will face you and I will win. Seasick or not, I will succeed.

He Didn’t Like

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When we were kids we used to joke that while she loved kids, he hated them. She was jolly, he was a jerk. She was exuberant. He was sour. We had names for him behind his back, maybe about his ears. I don’t remember. We were kids that had a gang of jokes all about him. I played along with the cruelty even though I knew better. Why is that? Last night kisa and I watched the Breakfast Club. Even though my husband swore it was a classic I was getting it confused with other Molly movies. I kept waiting for her to make a dress or something. At one point I was struck by how serious the “club’s” conversation had gotten. They were talking about whether or not they were truly friends and what would happen on Monday. Molly’s character brought up peer pressure and how, come Monday, they would all go back to the groups they knew and life as they knew it would carry on. Losers would still be losers. Geeks would still be geeks. Jocks would still be jocks.
I was that girl. I knew Mr Didn’t Like Kids was actually kind. Yet, we were mean. People would be surprised to know how kind. Still we were uncaring. It’s a secret I’ve kept and I don’t know why. 

Bright Lights

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This time of year is always so bittersweet for me. I ache for something I can’t really put my finger on. I have everything I need and get things I didn’t even know I needed. I am surrounded by love with every postage stamped surprise. Every house lights up the darkness with colors crazy and cheerfulness. I want to catch the lights, clutch them tight, and carry them through spring- carry them always.
That song about having yourself a merry little Christmas gets to me. “Soon we’ll all be together if the fates allow” is a sad line. The fates are cruel. Someone is always someplace else. Always. When I was younger I was selfish. I wanted every love of my life in one room, no matter what the cost. I was desperate to have my heart’s full, my soul’s content at Christmas. Greedy because I couldn’t decide. I wanted the best of both worlds and blood was not thicker that water, but just as equal as my essential life force. I needed them together.
Tonight we gathered with family. Twenty people young and old came together. Traditions celebrated and carried on. Did a sister know of the tears swallowed? Her gesture earned applause but really, really we wanted cry. We will not be all together ever again. Again, the fates won’t allow.

If Only

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On a paper place mat, in a restaurant in Rockland, Maine there was a story about never forgetting your loved ones. The place mat was scalloped edged and covered with squares of different ads in brown ink. Joe’s Towing Company (cartoon guy waving out a tow truck window), Andrea’s Flowers (drawing of roses in a vase), Fax It Fast! (stick figure running with paper in his balled hand), The Law Offices of Schwartz, Kaplan & Kirn (fancy scroll work around the phone number)…Hidden among the sales pitches were the words about not forgetting the loves of your life. Carry them still.

In the book I just finished, Boy’s Life, McCammon takes that place mat’s secret sentiment a step further, “I wish there was a place you could go and sit in a room like a movie theater and look through a catalog of a zillion names and then you could press a button and a face would appear on the screen to tell you about the life that had been. It would be a living memorial to the generations who have gone on before and you could hear their voices though those voices had been stilled for a hundred years” (p 346).
Imagine that for just a second, if you will. Imagine sitting in that dark, silent theater. The book of names on your lap. Before you open it, do you know who you want to see again? Do you know who shouldn’t be forgotten? Or, has it become too late and someone has slipped through the cracks of your memory and all you want is to be reminded again? Or, do you want to see someone you’ve never met? Me, I want to meet kisa’s paternal grandmother. I think it goes without saying that I want to meet my namesake. To hear her voice. There is a whole list of names I could push buttons for!

The place mat is long gone. The theater of memories doesn’t exist (yet). What will you do to keep loved ones who have been silenced alive?

Port

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I dreamed again of sailing away. I don’t know why cruise ships are my reoccurring objects of choice. Where am I going? Why can’t I stay?

Last night we argued about going, staying, returning. We weren’t really fighting, but rather frustrated. We weren’t angry just refusing to be audibly agreeable. There was no comfort in compromise because we wouldn’t come to it. Not without confrontation. Certainly not out loud. I know I say one thing and mean another weeks later. I know what I say is true for the moment the words are uttered. I know I frustrate you as much I frustrate me & myself. I know it sounds like lying when I change my mind to suit my heart.
When I said I didn’t want you there and that I would be happier without you that wasn’t a lie. Not at that moment it wasn’t. At that moment miserable me didn’t want to deal with unreasonable you. My understanding wasn’t adequate when arguing with you. Facing facts is hard when fixated on fantasy.

Today is a different story. I want us to sail away. Together. Let’s take that journey the best way we know how. Our plans are scattered, seat-of-our-pants as they say. Who cares? Coming. Going. Staying. Let’s play it by heart and see what happens.

From the Clutter

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Okay. Here are the rants from the very top of the clutter. I miss my friends. RT~ when, when, when will we have time? For three Tuesdays in a row I have been ear to phone, playing I-Know-Best (and that’s why they pay me the big bucks, I guess). I long to be somewhere else on Tuesday nights…reaching for sanity sanctuary, maybe?
I hate Google right now and I don’t care who knows it. It shouldn’t take a full minute to log into my account. It shouldn’t take another 30 seconds for the reply button to work. It frustrates me that I can’t pop a quick reply back to my sister. My inbox is piling up – message upon message remains unread. Admit it, google! You have finally failed at something. Your chat thing was a waste of time and now this AIM thing you’re trying…I think it’s the root of all my in-box problems. Fix it before I move to MSN…seriously.
Then there is work. Did you ever have one of those days…those days when you are so freakin’ busy that you don’t know what to do next? You sit at your desk, papers piled to the ceiling, feeling like a failure because you’re paralyzed to the depths of indecision. You stare at the calendar wondering where yesterday went. Were you even a witness to a week ago Wednesday? Where did this Monday go? I’d like to be able to multitask in my car, while taking a shower, during dinner, in my sleep. I could get a lot more done if I stopped trying to prioritize it all and just did it. 

sigh.
 

Grace & Faith

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The past three months of my life have been more stressful than Dr. Death’s worst homework assignment and planning a wedding combined. While one hand looked for answers the other had to do the deeds, regardless of knowledge. Working my fingers to the bone, working slight of hand.
Then came the past. Waltzing in like it owned my future. It was hard to stare down the demons, both good and bad. It was hard to peel back the layers of my acceptance and feel the hurt for the someones else. Those someones mean more to me than the blood streaming through my veins. How easy is it to want to avoid the inevitable hurt? Although I want to stop I know that I can’t. We are at a place that cannot be denied or ignored any longer. We must keep the momentum of grace.
To top it all off, I want to go back to school. I know that right now my energy is tapped, my ambition low, my funds all but nonexistent, but I want to be Dr. Mucky-Muck. My horizon is tainted with shouldn’t, wouldn’t and especially, couldn’t. I have to keep faith.
But, for now I need to get back to good. Christmas is fast approaching and the holiday spirit moves me. I got my first card two days ago and that has motivated me to mail my own – starting with the west side of my life.
So, to Grace & Faith. Stay by my side. Don’t let me fly from the roof in an effort to be with my angels. Keep me grounded. Keep me safe. Life has been harder than this, more sorry than this. It’s time to reach for a better place to be.

Your Secret

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You said something striking today. You said “I’m scared how easy it is to hide my mental illness from my family” and that statement struck a chord with me. It was a simple statement yet it spoke volumes. You were more afraid of how little no one noticed you and less frightened of what ailed you. Why is that? I admired it just the same…although I don’t know why. It’s as if being unstable wasn’t that big of a deal to you, or maybe, that you were dealing with the no big deal just fine. What was truly scary was how no one noticed anything and everything else. You said this and somehow it comforted me. People can get away with things without even trying. Look at Dennis Rader and how far off everyone’s radar he really was. Got away with murder. Look at the double-life porn star. It can happen to the best of us without even trying. We don’t try, yet we do.
You said it scared you how easy it was to hide something. Maybe that’s because it’s more normal than you think.

Knitting a Memory

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Here’s what I remember. She would be standing behind the counter, knitting with four needles. Knitting in a round. Wristers for the men, mittens for the women. Knitting, always knitting. The yarn was never one solid color. She would ring up grocery orders, peer at prices through grandma glasses. Tally balances in a fine, spidery hand. Smoking and gossiping with the fishermen. Back when smoking was something to do. Her raspy laugh echoing through the aisles. A fixture among the groceries. She was just a little thing but such a huge presence!
Christmas mittens. Those mittens knitted all year long would show up under the tree in December. Always with a dollar hidden in one. It was as much a tradition as Seacoast Mission. mom’s oranges and Jingle Bells before Santa. For some reason I always got shades of green. How she knew my growing hands from year to year I’ll never know. I’ve kept them still.
Sitting on top of wharf hill, watching the day trippers disembark from the boat. Always full of witty comments and guess who arrived today? She knew everyone’s story, everyone’s comings and goings. She saw it all and knew us all from the hill.
She died last month. I just got word today. Common sense says it was time. Nature has it’s unstoppable course. She was ancient when I was a kid. Nevertheless, I thought she would live forever. Whenever her mittens warm my hands her memory will always warm my heart. Thanks, Reet.