......as old as you feel.

 

 

My Mother is 87 years old.  In my mind’s eye I still see the lanky young woman with a cloud of curly black hair, show girl legs and a friendly gap-toothed grin.  In reality she is a grey haired, much smaller version of herself with practical shoes.

About six weeks ago I was at lunch about forty five minutes away from home when my cell phone rang.  “Diana….I think I may have a problem.  I fell and I think my hip broke.  I’m on the front porch and it’s so cold…,” my Mom said.  Thankfully she had shoved her cell phone into her pocket before going out for her mail.

“Stay still, Mom.  Help is on the way,” I said with much more calm than I actually felt.

I immediately dialed 9-1-1 and had the dispatcher patch me through to the proper county.  They assured me that they had a squad on the move.  Next I called my husband, Larry, who was much closer than I to her home; he also headed out to help.  I was in my car and rocketing toward home before I got off the phone.

With some calls from my husband, and pretty good luck, my brother in law and sister in law, Ron and Sue, were pulled into the action.  They managed to meet the rescue squad at her house, Larry met the squad at the hospital and I set a new land speed record from my appointment to the hospital.

 I arrived to find my Mom on a gurney in the emergency room;  Larry, Ron and Sue keeping her company.  She was not experiencing any pain and seemed fine, with the exception of being chilled to the bone.  I hunted down a nurse who was kind enough to get us some blankets from the warmer and things seemed to be under control.

It was my Mother’s good fortune that an orthopedic team was performing surgery that day; they had just enough energy left to do one more hip replacement.  Three hours after she arrived in a rescue squad she was in surgery; everything went well and three hours after that she was in her own hospital room.

Weeks in recovery and therapy have gotten her back on her feet, even if she needs a walker right now.  She is thinner, her step more hesitant, but she seems to be on the mend.  Her fondest wish is to be back in her customary pew at church very soon….it is also my own.

When the rolls reverse and you are caring for a parent it brings you to terms with things you’ve been able to push to the back of your mind.  I guess in a way it’s another step in growing up; I’m surprised at this age to find I still have lots of growing to do.

It has been my  great good fortune to have a supportive husband and children.  They help in every way possible to reach the goal of getting Mom strong and independent once again.   Without family to commiserate and celebrate with, I don’t think that effort would be doable.

It has been a struggle to keep from completely taking over the reins of my Mother’s life.  Patience has never been a virtue of my own; it is easier and quicker to just make a decision myself and get on with it!    Trying not to fall into that “my way” trap I remind myself daily that she is an adult with preferences and choices that may not be the ones I would make, but they suit her just fine.
I have made a concentrated effort to include her in conversations with therapists, doctors, nurses. 
For some reason they speak to me and behave as if my Mother can’t hear or answer for herself.  I try to gently pull the conversation back to include Mom. If that conversation needs to be a little louder or perhaps a little slower….so be it. 

While she struggles to regain her footing Mom has taught me something important.  I've come to understand that she is always surprised to see an 87 year old female looking back at her from the mirror.    While our bodies age and become cranky, we do not get old inside.  I believe the spirit does not age; somewhere inside us the storehouse of who we are withstands all the ravages of time.  I know that, inside, my Mom is still a young woman who loves to dance and laugh. 

It is my wish to be my Mother’s advocate and, when necessary, her voice.  At the same time I try to remember she is still a person with likes and dislikes….fears and memories and needs. 

Dealing with age, mine and hers, requires a different skill set and a different placement of ones ego.  It is more important to be kind than to be right….to be loving instead of being on schedule.   As tough as it can be sometimes it is better to lead with your heart.   Everything else, hopefully, will  follow.

                                                                  Life is Good

                                       Letter from a Mother to her Daughter:

 

My dear girl, the day you see I’m getting old, I ask you to please be patient, but most of all, try to understand what I’m going through. If, when we talk, I repeat the same thing a thousand times, don’t interrupt to say: “You said the same thing a minute ago”… Just listen, please. Try to remember the times when you were little and I would read the same story… night after night until you would fall asleep.

 

When I don’t want to take a bath, don’t be mad and don’t embarrass me. Remember when I had to run after you making excuses and trying to get you to take a shower when you were just a girl?

 

When you see how ignorant I am when it comes to new technology, give me the time to learn and don’t look at me that way… remember, honey, I patiently taught you how to do many things like eating appropriately, getting dressed, combing your hair and dealing with life’s issues every day…

The day you see I’m getting old, I ask you to please be patient, but most of all, try to understand what I’m going through.

If I occasionally lose track of what we’re talking about, give me the time to remember, and if I can’t, don’t be nervous, impatient or arrogant. Just know in your heart that the most important thing for me is to be with you.

And when my old, tired legs don’t let me move as quickly as before, give me your hand the same way that I offered mine to you when you first walked.

When those days come, don’t feel sad… just be with me, and understand me while I get to the end of my life with love. I’ll cherish and thank you for the gift of time and joy we shared. With a big smile and the huge love I’ve always had for you, I just want to say, I love you… my darling daughter.

                                                                                                                    -written by Sergio Cadena

 

 

The Third Time's a Charm

                                                                     Miniature Wedding Dress


Like so many women I remember my wedding day as one of the most exciting days of my life.  I also remember mine as a comedy of errors that set the tone for our marriage.

          Diana (Kegley) Coon
                 May 15, 1965

May 15, 1965 was a gorgeous day.  It was not the date we’d planned on; Uncle Sam had summoned the groom-to-be to report to Fort Knox, Kentucky the week before the date on the invitations.  Stubborn man, that Uncle Sam; we moved the wedding up from June 20^th to May 15^th by inserting a card with the new date into the invitations.  That caused a lot of curiosity and finger counting, but it couldn’t be helped.

The day of the wedding my maid of honor, (and cousin) Theresa, and I got our hair styled then loaded our gowns into the back of a station wagon to head to the church.  I had carefully gone down my check list of things to take with me; unfortunately I’d forgotten the hoop that went under my dress. A groomsman had to run back to the house for that important item. 

The day stretched out before me as one long problem solving test.  Once the hoop arrived we realized the string at the waist had been lost in transit.  I grabbed a large safety pin and fished the green string from the florist boxes through the waist band; problem solved. 

The bridesmaids were supposed to be wearing white carnation head pieces and carrying matching bouquets.  Someone, somewhere, must have enjoyed those items;  my bridal party wore the (wrong) pink carnation head pieces and bouquets with their teal gowns and actually looked quite spiffy.   Too late to change anything; problem solved.

Quite a bit of time had elapsed since the bridesmaid dresses had been ordered and we found that my maid of honor had gained a couple of pounds since the last fitting.   To make things work we put her into my white long line bra and hoped for the best as we zipped it up.  In spite of her shallow breathing she looked lovely.  Under my white wedding gown I had to wear her black strapless bra; by some miracle it didn’t show through my dress.  Too late to do anything else; problem solved.

If any of you had a groom that was late on his wedding day I can sympathize with you.  There was a parade going down Park Avenue past the First English Church that day; my groom was delayed and actually had to ride in the parade for a time to get to the wedding.  What’s a groom to do?  Problem solved.

The parades of my youth always featured what looked like a caboose with a small cannon mounted on it;  I think it was a service club that sponsored the thing. The parade on our wedding day was no exception, so the wedding service was punctuated by cannon-fire.   The ceremony went something like this:

“Do you, Anita, (BOOM!) take this man (BOOM!) to be your lawfully wedded husband? (BOOM!)

It was at this point in the ceremony that we quietly interrupted and informed the minister that my name was not 'Anita'…he corrected himself and continued; (BOOM!)

At last we got through the service and headed to the front door, only to be diverted to the side door because the parade was just finishing up.  I balked!  I’d waited for the day I could walk down those front steps to be showered with rice. (These were the enviornmentally incorrect sixties, remember) I wasn’t about to be relegated to the side door.  I won the argument, but lost the war because our guests had been directed to the side door.   They had listened, done as they were told, and moved on.  Eventually everyone came back around to the front of the church and I had my hard-headed way.  Larry and I finally exited the beautiful old church by the front door.  Clumsy but doable; problem solved.

This wedding got our marriage off to a good start with a sense of humor that has come in very handy over the years; but that’s not the end of the story.

After the wedding I took my dress to Swan Cleaners where it was cleaned, wrapped in blue tissue and sealed into a big box.   The box, marked YOUR WEDDING DRESS, was shuttled from attic to basement to attic through our various moves.

From time to time I would open the cover and admire the bodice of the dress through the large sealed window of the box.   The sequins and little beads sparkled and winked; replacing the top I would again tuck it away.

                                                                                                  Wendy (Coon) Hunt

                                                                                         11/28/1989

As the years flew by we produced three great kids, a son and two daughters.   Eventually the day arrived that one of our daughters was to be married.  Our  Wendy was marrying Todd Hunt and had decided she wanted to wear my wedding dress; naturally I was thrilled.  They had a beautiful, but much less eventful, wedding than our own.   Afterward the dress went back into the box and was returned to the corner of the attic from whence it had come.

                                                       

 

                                                             

                                                                   

           Tracy (Coon) Whitaker
                       12/26/1997

More years passed, and now daughter number two was being married; Tracy also wanted to wear my wedding dress when she married Bob Whitaker.  The dress made a third trip down the aisle at First English Lutheran Church, then was once again packed away.  By this time the big blue box had fallen apart; the well-used wedding dress was now consigned to an airtight plastic bin and placed on the shelves in the basement. 

In June of last year I had the good luck to meet Jo Hill.  If you read the current edition of Heart of Ohio Magazine you know I met her at Malabar Farm where she was displaying her miniature reproduction of the suit Lauren Bacall wore when she married Humphrey Bogart.  Jo is a very talented woman who painstakingly created miniatures of Jackie Kennedy’s gown and the wedding gown from Gone with the Wind, to name a few.  Meeting her reminded me about my own wedding dress and the fact that my daughters didn’t have one of their own to keep.

Interviewing this soft spoken seamstress for the article, it occurred to me to ask Jo if she ever made miniature wedding gowns from the original gown; she said she had.  So, one late summer day, I found myself taking my gown and the pictures of the three of us wearing the gown to Jo Hill.

A few weeks later I got a call saying the gowns were finished; Jo would bring them to my office the next day.  As anxious as I was to see them, I simply didn’t know what to expect.  When she pulled the first one out of the box and put it on the stand I was stunned.  Using my gown, the sequins and lace, even the zipper, Jo Hill had created an exact miniature of the original.    

Although I had asked Jo to make two gowns for my daughters she had enough material left to do a third. When she left that day she took the ‘left-overs’ with her and two weeks later she delivered my own miniature wedding gown to me.

My intention was to give the dresses to the girls at Christmas, but I simply couldn’t wait that long.  Patience has never been my strong suit, so of course I found myself calling them to come over for coffee. They arrived with a ‘what’s this about’ look on their faces that changed to surprise and happiness when they opened the big box that contained the beautiful miniatures. 
I don’t think I have ever given anyone a gift that gave me more pleasure.  I have enough pieces of the original gown left to fashion something to go into the bouquets of my granddaughters and the brides of my grandsons.   It could serve as “something old” should they decide to do a traditional wedding, or perhaps a head wrap if they are married on a Harley.  If I am fortunate enough to be there I will be pleased to know that our wedding gown is still being put to good use.

Thank you Jo Hill for sharing your talent with me to make it possible to give this special gift to my daughters.

It should be noted our son, Brian , presented me with a third daughter when he married Carla (Hrivnak) Coon at First English Lutheran on 7/31/1998.  Although she was much too tiny to wear my dress, she occupies a big place in my heart. 

Just like a lot of stories, this one has a moral:  When you get married it is very important that you choose a groom and a wedding dress that will hold together for the long haul.

                                                                       Life is Good 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Swinging into a new year....

        The best way to predict the future is to create it.
                                                               Dr. Forrest C. Shaklee

 

The first day of a new year feels like a clean slate.  Of course it’s not; the bills that were on the counter last evening are still there this morning and the problems that plagued us all year are still firmly in place.  But, just for a moment, let’s assume one can start over on the first day of a new year….what would I really change?

Hmmmmm…..I wouldn’t trade husbands.  I wouldn’t change my children or grandchildren one fraction of an inch.  I love working on the magazine.  No change needed there.

To be honest, when I think about changes for the New Year they are all to repair shortcomings in myself:   De-junk closets and the basement and stop being such a pack-rat….seems doable.   Buckle down and finish the two books I’ve started so I can enjoy serializing them on my blog….very possible.    I want to take the time to sit down and find out how I can get a web page started to house “The life and times of an unremarkable woman”….I even know the talented lady (Kym Lamb) I need to sit down with to discuss that.  I want to make 2013 the year I grow friendships.   I enjoy my “girl time” and I want to nurture the friendships that are important to me.   And then, off course, there are the obligatory ‘lose weight, get more exercise, early to bed/early to rise’ things I promise to do every year.

Looking back over my list I see the New Year’s list of a woman who is very fortunate.   For the most part the changes I need to make simply require buckling down and making the most of the next twelve months.   To set the stage for rose smelling and taking the time to relax with friends Larry and I had a pergola built over the back deck.  I’m going to finally have something I’ve wanted for a long, long time.  When the weather breaks, that back deck will be the setting for a new wooden porch swing.  It will hang from chains and boast a patchwork pad on the seat just like my Grandmother made.  It’s something I enjoyed as a child; sitting in the porch swing with my grandmother or my cousin and watching the summer go by.    This time I will be the grandmother swinging with her grandchild, discussing the world with her husband, laughing with a friend.  It may sound simple, but I think the year ahead looks very inviting as I contemplate swinging on the porch.

I am very aware that my list of changes is also a list of blessings.  Like everyone I only need the one thing I’m not in charge of to make it happen……time.   I will have to give that some thought when I’m sitting in the porch swing.   Happy New Year

                                                                             Life is Good

 

The electronic apple

 

 

 

Back at the beginning of time there were two; Adam and Eve. 

The story goes (obviously written down by a man) like this:  Eve was beguiled by a beautiful snake.  The creature glistened in the sun light, slithered sensuously around her and hissed its message in her ear.

 

“Eat of the Tree of Life and you shall know the truth.  You will have the knowledge of good and evil, you will know all the things that God does not want you to know.  Eat….eat,” the snake whispered.

 

 

Now Eve, being the curious creature she was designed to be, is reported to have fallen for this.  I have a suspicion she may have been the worlds first blonde.  Anyway, she ate the apple and the veil of innocence fell from her eyes.  Realizing she was completely naked, and not in the best shape, she grabbed some leaves and strategically placed them for cover.  Then she set out to find her mate…..and you know the rest of that story.

 

Last night I sat watching the news.  It's something I do infrequently because, no matter what channel I watch, I am aware it is biased and self-serving to the ownership.  The truth is there is very little truth in news….get over it.

Sitting there I had an epiphany; TV is the modern day version of that snake in the Garden of Eden.  'Eat from this fruit and you will know the truth'.  The unblinking eye is jam packed with all the things a kind and caring deity would not want you subjected to.  Not because you should live in ignorance, but because some things are just better left alone or taken in very small doses. 

Each broadcast is a display case for human misery, ignorance and insanity.  The formula is simple.  Lead with the bloodiest, follow up with the saddest, end with a chuckle about the local sports team.  It is predictable, insensitive and lucrative.   How many times do we need to see a microphone shoved into the face of a grieving parent or a hurricane survivor? 

The coverage of the latest mass murder has raised the killer to cult worship status.  To fill airtime this event will be broadcast year after year on the anniversary of the tragedy; thus giving every nut-case a time frame to construct his/her own nightmare.

The worst thing that ever happened to television is the 24 hour news channel, because you have to fill 24 hours with something.   Over and over the horror of these events is driven home with the ratings jackhammer.

You’re probably thinking, “Yes, but if we didn’t know about things like the tsunami how could we raise money for aid?”  Good question…and my rebuttal is, “How much money did you send to tsunami victims and how many hours, days, weeks of the death and destruction and horror did you see?”  In truth I think watching hours and hours of this kind of coverage may be making us immune to the pain and suffering of others.   Perhaps it is easier to step around a homeless beggar when you’ve seen a whole country suffering.

I am fully aware that I will sound out of touch to a lot of people.  I'm not promoting ignorance, and I am aware people need to know what is going on.  But you must remember that television is a business.   Because networks are dedicated to winning ratings wars we must have enough common sense to turn it off at some point. I am simply suggesting we should all be as particular about what we watch (and how much we watch) on television as we are about anything else that takes up time in our lives.

We can dress it up and call it anything we want but the truth is at best every sitcom, every news cast and every talk show is simply an advertising delivery system.  The programming is ‘flavoring’ to make the message go down more easily.  Since human beings realized the crowd would throw coins at dancers in the town square, or hand pennies to the town crier, money has been the motivating factor in entertainment and news.

                                                     Do not be beguiled by the snake…

                                                                Life is Good

 

The Night Before Christmas

Here we are on another Christmas Eve.  The gifts are wrapped, the food prepared and waiting for tomorrow’s big dinner with the family.  I’m on the grownup end of the holidays; but I still love Christmas.   

This was always a magical night when I was a child; I remember my grandfather holding me as we watched out the window for a shadow that might mean Santa was passing overhead.   Then it was off to bed to try and sleep; Santa doesn’t really come till he knows you’re sleeping.

As an adult it seems I can no longer achieve that peaceful sleep I knew as a child; that was a time before I knew about sickness, the homeless, death, the hungry and the broken.   Now celebration is tempered with the understanding of other people’s pain; the real definition of growing up.

So many of the presents I received as a child have disappeared into the blackness of my memory; the gifts received as a by-product of growing older will stay with me forever.  I'd like to share a few of those gifts with you: 

      Never wait for the misfortune of others to make you appreciate what you have right now.

            Never pass up a chance to be kind…it is much more important than being right.

                                        Take nothing for granted….nothing.

Look for the beauty around you to fill the spaces that can just as easily be inhabited by ugliness.

                         Be grateful for everything; the world owes you nothing.

                          Nothing lasts forever....nothing good and nothing bad.

 

                Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!!!!

                                                                    Life is Good

Looking for Christmas Cheer

I think there is a very good chance that I may be an ill-mannered Neanderthal.   I say that as a person who was born before ‘political correctness’ came into vogue…and refuses to bend to this tyrannical trend. 

While joining the throng trying to exit a store this week an elderly woman held the door for me as I followed her.  I stepped up my pace so she wouldn’t have to just stand there and, as I cleared the door, I said, “Thank you and Merry Christmas to you.”    With no facial expression whatsoever she looked at me and said, “We don’t celebrate Christmas.”

That stopped me in my tracks; as we hesitated for a moment in front of the store I said to her, “My wish to you came from a happy heart.  You do not have to observe Christmas to receive my well wishes for a joyous season, no matter what you do or do not celebrate.”

The woman was as short and grey as her hair-do.  She chewed the inside of her cheek, looked up at the overcast sky, then at me, and finally said, “Okay, I get that.”

As she stomped away I questioned my response and wondered from whence it had come.   Eventually I realized that Christmas combines all my happy childhood memories, the love for my family and just a general gratitude about being alive.  If it is rude to share that with a complete stranger I make no apologies.

And so, if you should encounter someone who seems to be offended by your well wishes, so be it.                                           Frankly I will accept all the happy feelings you might be able to spare.   In today’s world we all need all the help we can get.

                                                      Merry Christmas

                                                          Life is Good  

Don't Make Eye Contact With the Animals

For years now I’ve listened to my internal dialogue becoming more and more judgmental.  I honestly struggle to keep my mind open and my opinions to myself but I fail a minimum of ten times every single day.  Now I fear I’ve completely lost all interest in being “fair and balanced”….all because of a late lunch.

Larry picked me up at the office last week to sign some papers and enjoy a late lunch together.  When we’re operating on a tight timeline we often hit a buffet; easy to get in and out and no waiting for food.  My favorite food is Chinese; he tolerates it well, and so we stopped for lunch.

We were sitting in a booth talking when our attention was drawn to the table across the aisle from us.  A group of eight was being seated.  They were loud and boisterous and (here I go) looked as if they’d come from central casting for the movie Easy Rider.  Wrapped heads, tattoos and large purple sucker bites seemed to be their dress code.  They took their seats and managed to hold the attention of everyone in the place as they loudly decided who was going to hit the food bar first.

As I sat watching this group of unkempt exhibitionists I was glad we were finishing up because I sensed the entertainment factor with this bunch was going to tank quickly.  After filling plates they returned to their seats to hurl four letter words and insults at one another as they stuffed food into their mouths.   It might have been their version of good natured banter…but it could just as easily have been the set up for a knife fight.

One extremely obnoxious fellow wearing a cowboy hat summoned a waitress by snapping his fingers and calling loudly, “Hey you, girl!  Over here, now!”   

Just as we finished our desserts one of the men laughed and loudly called out “fart fight”!  This was followed by a loud noise that led me to understand he was not joking.  Their entire table erupted in laughter, hoots and clapping of hands.  Then a second man loudly announced, “You ain’t heard nothing yet,” and he proudly became the obvious trophy winner.  

We grabbed our bill and headed out.  I didn’t take time to look around and see if anyone else was leaving to escape this bunch of louts.  I really felt sorry for the servers who had to deal with them until they decided they had offended enough people and moved on to a fresh audience.

I have never witnessed such dreadful behavior in a restaurant in my life.  In an effort to avoid that, I will not set foot in that particular restaurant again for fear that bunch might be regulars.  The thought of following one of those people through a food line makes me cringe.

It’s hard enough to understand how some people leave home looking like an unmade bed; it is another thing to figure out what they say to themselves to make this kind of behavior acceptable.

My internal dialogue tells me it’s not right to judge people; my common sense tells me some people make that nearly impossible with their behavior. 

                                                            Life is Good

Nothing to wear....

From the start little girls want to imitate their mothers.  I remember watching my own Mom putting on make-up, fixing her hair, choosing what she would wear.  I simply could not wait to grow up so I could wear high heels and primp in the bathroom mirror.

This past weekend my husband and I got (what is for us) an early start on our Christmas shopping.  My history as a working woman has been to do the shopping at the last minute; I’ve spent many a Christmas Eve racing through my local Walgreens, frantically searching for something that even remotely resembles a gift.  I confess to standing in the “as seen on TV” aisle trying to come up with an idea….wondering if a years’ supply of fiber wafers might brand me as an uncaring friend. Now that I work a more leisurely schedule I will have gifts on time…..it’s an idea whose time has come.

Our shopping day eventually took us to a popular store for young girls; two of our granddaughters are big fans of this particular shop.  And so it was that Larry and I found ourselves standing in the middle of a store that looked to be a cross between a Las Vegas showgirl’s dressing room and a biker bar.   Denim meets marabou feathers and beyond.

Looking through the racks of “sophisticated” clothes the sizes seem to range from five year old girls to ten years old girls, or thereabouts. A long line of little girls seemed headed to the back of the store to try on sparkling shirts and jeans; one little gal who looked to be about seven or eight stumbled toward a dressing room with an armload of clothes…her three inch sequined heels impeding her progress.

Mesh tops, sequined sweaters, jeans with strategically placed holes?  Where are the patent leather shoes, the little plaid jumpers and the tights with ruffled fannies hiding?  I don’t have the heart to buy my granddaughters an outfit that looks as if RuPaul designed it for the opening scenes of Drag Race!

As a nation our little girls are mimicking Miley Cyrus, in love with Justin Bieber and listening to the lyrics of music that could make a (1960’s) sailor blush.   How do we get off this merry go round? I think one way is to pay more attention to how our kids dress.  You can’t expect a little girl to act like a seven year old if you allow her to dress like a stripper.  TV, music, movies…many parents pay attention to those things; but take a careful look at your daughter and ask yourself if what she’s wearing is really age appropriate. That may sound simplistic, but we have to start somewhere, right?

Technically bowing to the wishes of my young ones I bought the most modest, the least offensive shirts and jeans I could find.  I hope my little dolls are still too young to realize I didn’t buy the feather boa that went with ‘just everything’. 

                                  Let’s not let our little girls grow old before they grow up.

                                                                   Life is Good

Live with it.....

Getting used to living in an older body is very much like walking around in an unaltered suit….it just doesn’t fit properly.

All my life I’ve fought insomnia and, for the most part, lost the battle.    It’s always been a toss-up whether or not assuming the position and gently turning off my mind would summon sleep for at least five or six hours. It only makes you appreciate a good night’s sleep even more when it happens. 

It seems much longer, but just a year ago I was going down the three steps into our family room when I stepped on something and lost my balance; my left shoulder stopped me from falling by coming into hard contact with the solid oak mantle.  Needless to say, oak being stronger than shoulder, I came out on the losing end of that little exchange.  I thought at the time I’d bruised it and was happy I hadn’t ended up ‘arse over applecart’ down the steps.   I was wrong.

 If I were twenty I’d have bounced off that oak mantle and considered my clumsy flailing around as a possible new dance step.  At this age the fact that I can no longer raise that arm over my head is something I must get used to living with.  One thing I’ve learned: as you get older there is always something you need to learn to live with or learn to live without.  And so it is that the left shoulder of this old suit doesn’t seem to fit any more…and now the domino effect is in motion.

If I could look back in time and peek into my crib I bet anything I would see a baby sleeping in this position:

 

This “left arm up, legs in a human swastika position” is the way I’ve slept all my life.  I have no memory of waking in any other position from a restful night of unconsciousness.   Now I find myself trying to find another comfortable position in which to sleep because my left arm no longer seems to be a team player….impossible. 

My nightly routine doesn't vary much; I toss, I turn….I tuck some of the nine pillows on our bed around me to form a comforting cocoon and snuggle there waiting for sleep to find me.  Evidently restful sleep doesn’t recognize me in this ill-fitting suit of old age and this unexpected position because it finds me less and less frequently.

To accommodate my wakefulness we have a clock that projects the time on the ceiling of our bedroom.  That means I can watch the bright red, pulsing dots between the numbers as the seconds become minutes, then hours.  Time marches on, even as I force myself to be still.

This morning, like most, I’m up early waiting for the caffeine to kick in as I wait for the sunrise.  Somehow by the third cup of coffee the scattered minutes of sleep seem to meld together….a mental defrag if you will….and I am ready to take on the day.  

As the sky lightens I am grateful for another morning.   I guess as ‘old suits’ go this body isn’t really all that bad.   For the most part it still works….but it is still rather badly wrinkled.

 

                                                             Life is good

 

Quietly thankful

There is something about the night before a big holiday like Thanksgiving that is timeless. I've experienced this "time bubble" many years now. Like so many holiday eves before, this evening the oyster dressing is all done, ready to pop into the oven. The turkey is washed and seasoned and ready for the roaster oven at five am tomorrow. The house is in pretty good order. I've put all the leaves in the dining room table, giving it the appearance of an oak airport runway; it waits surrounded by every chair in the house. Other things that could be done ahead are waiting to be thawed or heated or both....and now I enjoy a glass of wine, some music and the quiet that will be gone tomorrow for just a little while.

Over the years our family has evolved and changed the way most families do. Marriages, divorces, deaths and births change the cast of characters from time to time. I know tomorrow, as I look around me, I will wish I could freeze time and keep everything the way it is....but I also know that isn't possible. 


I have so very much to be thankful for. I thank God for hearing prayers....answered and unanswed. I realize in quiet moments like these how little control I have had over my life.  As difficult as it is at times I still choose to believe that someone with more wisdom than I calls the shots.   I will enjoy this quiet time, poised on the edge of yet another holiday season.

                                                                     
                                                                   Life is Good

Shopping Yin and Yang

 

 

 

It may sound like a contradiction in terms to you; it makes perfect sense to me.  I love shopping….I hate shopping!

Perhaps I should explain.   I like leisurely shopping; looking for nothing in particular and enjoying the hunt.  If the perfect pair of shoes or household item turns up….so be it.   That’s the kind of shopping I look forward to.  Now, let’s get to the shopping I do not enjoy.  The shopping-with-your-husband-for-the-holidays type of shopping. 

Each year at this time my husband says, “Let’s make a list”.  Those words alone can leech all the fun out of a shopping trip.  When you realize that men think the list is to be followed to the letter, it’s even worse.

My idea of a “list” is the name of each person for whom we need to buy a gift.  Larry’s idea of a list is the name, the gift, the location of said gift, the amount of time to be spent in that particular store and the location of the best restaurant for lunch in the middle of the shopping safari.  Much too detailed for a person like me.

I know it’s just an extension of our personalities.  He is more pragmatic, more detail oriented.  I am more abstract, I let the details fall where they may.  I am the wings; he is the anchor, which probably explains why the marriage has lasted.

I am a “shopper”.  If we can’t find what we want here in town (and I haven’t a clue what that might be) let’s go to the outlet malls, or spend the weekend in Cincinnati, or a day in Cleveland!

He is a “buyer”.  Let’s decide we want a blue sweatshirt, come up with two places that carry blue sweat shirts, go there and buy a blue sweat shirt…..period.

Quite often over the years he’s chosen to settle the problem with the phrase he uses to escape from what he considers to be a shopping nightmare…..”Call Jone”.     Often my partner in shopping crime, Jone and I can spend the day looking for nothing and come home with something….a match made in girlfriend heaven.

And so it is that we enter this painful time of year...the shopping season.  Just as surely as day follows night this season is accompanied by a full day “wrap-o-rama” where we pull out all the holiday bags, wrappings, ribbon and bows that this “shopper” found after the holidays last year.  I wrap, he supplies an index finger for bow making and paper holding….and we get the job done.

All kidding aside I’m really looking forward to the holidays this year…shopping and all…and for us they begin this weekend and roll right on through New Year’s Day.  I will celebrate Thanks Giving with an especially grateful heart this year.  Christmas gives me the privilege of having my house full of family, grandchildren and friends; the New Year holds the promise of doing it all over again. 

In looking back over the year I’ve not lost every material thing to a hurricane, or said goodbye to a family member or a close friend.  My own health issues have turned out better than expected and I am lucky to be watching Heart of Ohio Magazine grow and develop.  When you have all these important things to celebrate, what’s a little shopping between friends?

We’re all facing the “my heart is full even if my check book is empty” time of year.  Let’s make the best of it and start enjoying some Christmas cheer right out of the chute.  I’m going to get ready for the shopping festivities by calling Jone……

                                                                Life is Good