On Mother’s Day

May 13, 2012 By

Dublin Grave, Polaroid Transfer with Water Color.The ois

I wrote the following poem years ago when I was visiting Ireland, once a year, loving the peace and quiet of County Mayo.  I rambled through cemeteries, many forgotten and uncared for, learning about women’s lives by reading the few words on their headstones. Their lives were not easy.   Mrs. Heartwell shows up in many of my poems.  She can be a goofy clown, naive, sad, and joyous, but she is also very serious and filled with compassion.

on mother’s day

the light shines within us
like a candle
an eternal flame

reciting inscriptions aloud
mrs heartwell studies rows
of weathered stones
ponders praying angels
the one with broken wings
guarding tiny patrick

died in his mother’s arms
he was only three

beyond a drooping cedar
blood red roses
scent the path
where the queen of heaven
her tranquil face
etched with lichen
extends her arms
blessing sarah golden

brave soul entered
eternal rest
november sixth
eighteen hundred and ninety four
the mother of eight 

stumbling through thorny weeds
she finds
a rotting cross
bits of broken glass
rosary beads scatter
as she tries to keep
from stepping on
mary shepherd

gave her life 
for infant sophie

jzr

To all mothers out there, Happy Mother’s Day
from me and Mrs. Heartwell!

Filed Under: family, Life, love, Poetry, stories, Travels, Writing Tagged With: , , ,

Zed and Mousse

March 26, 2012 By

Zed with Mousse in the foreground, begging and Sam over to the side.

It’s been a lovely week.  The weather has been astounding with redbud and dogwood popping out overnight in the warmth and humidity that has more in common with early June than March.

My brother, Zed, is visiting from Vermont.  It’s been two years since I’ve seen him and five years since he’s been here in Virginia.  He came accompanied by Mousse, his soul mate and loyal companion. A dachshund, right on the line between a mini and a standard size, Mousse’s silky long hair is the color of rich dark chocolate. His nose, paws, and rear end look as though they’ve been dipped in a bit of caramel. He is well-behaved and a total delight. Sam loves him and they’re happy together, racing around the house at top speed. After a few minutes they collapse, smiling, happy, and panting with long tongues hanging out. Mousse is very respectful of my cats, backing off and giving them lots of space as they try to figure out exactly what he is … a strange kind of cat or just another small, silly dog.  Pepper glares at him but every now and then seems to want to rub up against him and welcome him into the pack.  She thinks she is a small dog rather than a cat.      

Mousse is unlike most dachshunds in that he is a Service Dog and he has made a huge difference in my brother’s life. He loves everyone and is the star of the show wherever he goes, because of his obvious attunement with all of the humans he meets. In a group of people sitting in a circle conversing, he hops from lap to lap checking out each individual’s mood, bringing heartfelt smiles from those who might be stressed from life’s deepest woes. 

Zed struggles with ADD and like myself, has often had difficulty with severe anxiety. Mousse brings stability to Zed’s life, reminding him to breathe and filling the sometimes deep, dark shadows that follow him with love and comfort. With Mousse there is no high blood pressure, only the sweet softness of his kisses and the unconditional love that every one of us craves.  Mousse and Zed have been together for two or three years and there is a world of difference in how Zed sees the world since his Service Dog arrived in his life. He is happy, calm, and with his small pal by his side, Zed is better able to deal with what at times are difficult social situations. Introductions are so much easier with Mousse taking the spotlight. Not being able to find the right words to greet someone he’s never met before is less of an issue since the beginning of most conversations are always about the huge presence of that sweet, little dog.

Terri Conti, a friend of Zed’s spent one night with us as well.  A lovely, soft-spoken woman, Terri is a musical powerhouse.  Sitting outside one evening listening to a recording of her playing the accordion, I was swept away to Greece, and a small Taverna where Bill and I enjoyed frosty glasses of white wine and servings of freshly prepared calamari in a spicy tomato sauce, as the sun set over the Aegean Sea. Later, on our piano, Terri played part of the latest piece she is working on, George Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue. And then she got us singing show tunes, all of us off-key to be sure, but having the time of our lives. It was a totally delightful weekend.

Having my brother here has been very special for me.  We are the only ones left of our small clan and our time together this past week has been a time for reconnecting after years of being apart. We’ve been able to share memories about what it was like growing up with our parents and that helps to keep me inspired to continue writing my memoir. He heads back to Vermont tomorrow and I’ll miss him and Mousse terribly.  As I grow older it’s hard to have him so far away.

Got any treats?



Filed Under: Animals I Love, Childhood, family, Gratefulness, Memoir, Vermont Tagged With: , ,

Writing Mishap Turns To Blessing

February 12, 2012 By

Today my brother Reid would have turned sixty.  A few weeks ago I found a letter I had written to him, but never sent. It was a rant about stuff that I was angry with him about eleven long years ago.  I thought, “Hmm … maybe I can use this in my memoir.”

As a first step I rewrote it to make it clearer and more understandable. Maybe I could include it as it was. But reading it to Sharon, who is one of my best “reader/listeners,” we found it didn’t work.  And it didn’t work the second time I rewrote it either.

After returning from Florida and getting caught up on the “to dos” that pile up when I’m away, I pulled it out again. Rereading it for the hundredth time I started fiddling with it in a new writing program (Scrivener) I was trying out. It suddenly disappeared. I tried everything I could think of to find it.  I checked the trash.  I checked my documents to see if I had tucked away another copy for just such an occasion, but never found it.

I spent five minutes muttering nasty words and feeling victimized by my *&?##!% computer and then it slowly began dawning on me that it was okay … it wasn’t working anyway… what’s the big deal?

I opened up a new file and began thinking about the letter and what I had been trying to say. My fingers started moving across the keyboard and the words began to flow.  I began listening to my frustrated self of eleven years ago. She expressed what was happening in her life that made her feel so bad and the things she was afraid of.  It started a whole stream of thought that had been missing when I’d written that letter trying to blame Reid for all that was wrong with the world.  Sure, he’d played a role in it, but he wasn’t the devil-incarnate I’d been making him out to be.

I’m glad I never sent that letter to him.  Right now I can see him sitting on the edge of a cloud, laughing at me.  Oh well, better late than never.

The story I was writing that started out as a vicious letter, is now unfolding in a much more truthful way. Things that I was having difficulty connecting are suddenly falling into place.

That doesn’t mean that I won’t stop accidentally deleting things or making other foolish mistakes.  What it does mean is that if I do, it isn’t the end of the world.  Sometimes the Muse has to step in when I’m being stubborn and not listening to her.  It is my story I’m involved in telling, but I’m not really the one doing the writing. I’m just taking dictation and occasionally trying to have my way with it.

Happy Birthday, Bro’!

Filed Under: family, Memoir, stories, Writing

I’m Home Again!

February 7, 2012 By

This last week was one of the most awesome getaways I’ve ever had.  My dear friend Sharon and I spent the week at her oceanfront condo on Hutchinson Island in Florida.   It was heavenly.

We walked the beach daily collecting treasure … rocks, shells and whatever else of interest that washed up on the shore.  We watched pelicans, sanderlings, gulls and my favorite of all, magnificent Frigate Birds soaring above us.  On our first morning there, Portuguese Men-of-War, from tiny babies to adults,  carpeted the beach in their airy blue and pink regalia, threatening walkers with their toxic tendrills spread about them.  They disappeared the next day, and we only spotted one or two through the ensuing days.

My collection of hearts!!

There were no rules and regulations, except for the one below.  Being in Florida where Boomers and us older folks gather in winter, you’ve got to be careful. Little people are not the only ones who wear diapers :)!!

No Diapers!

We awoke when we felt like it and stayed up one night until one in the morning talking and puzzling over the state of the world. We ate when we were hungry enjoying fresh watermelon and berries, yummy salads … chicken, couscous with olives and feta, green leafy ones with artichoke hearts, avocado, and crunchy broccoli slaw.

Most of all we played and got to know each other better.  I found myself being more honest and open than I can ever remember.  Sharon can listen and catch things long before I can figure out what I’ve said. So it was also a huge learning time.

On Sunday, my last day, we went to a birthday party for two sets of twins who had just turned one.  Members of Sharon’s extended family, they were born to two loving women who live together and decided to have a family.  They both got pregnant and both bore twins, all born on the same day.  There are three boys and one girl, all beautiful, and being cared for by two of the best mommies in the world with help from grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins.  Both moms teach school. They are better women than I could ever be.  Two kids, three years apart were all I could handle, never mind being with other people’s kids all day long.

It was a delightful party. Sharon’s family members were welcoming and loving.  A family group of individuals like that one might not necessarily agree with each other on a lot of issues, but they get along and do love each other. My own relatives, scattered across the country have never been close. We rarely see or talk with each other unless someone dies.  Being with Sharon’s down-to-earth, soulful people was an experience I’ve rarely encountered.  I’m just a mite envious of her.

I am happy to be home. It’s cold but there are many sweet memories from this past week that will warm me through the rest of Virginia’s winter days.

Hug a friend and celebrate who they are!!

I walked on Sharon's Beach every day!

Filed Under: family, Friendships, Gratefulness, The Sea, Travels

New Beginnings

January 6, 2012 By

Zoe, Bill (also known as Granddaddy), and Noah reading Brer Rabbit.

I’m tired.  The period between Thanksgiving and January 1st, always leaves me out of breath and exhausted.  There is too much to do. Time to write, paint or stare into space is diminished.  Instead I get pulled into the rush, rush of the season, stay up too late, get up too early and am tempted by the yumminess that pervades store shelves, edible and otherwise.  It isn’t that the holidays are nasty. It’s that these big celebrations come all at once and last for well over a month.

Bill and I had a fun visit with our daughter, her partner and our two amazingly wonderful grandchildren in North Carolina.  We rented a small Townhouse just a quarter of a mile from their house for a week.  We took turns cooking, went to see the movie, Tin Tin on Christmas eve, and spent Christmas morning wading through gift wrap. Zoe spent two nights with us, Noah only one.  He said he heard strange noises in the night and couldn’t sleep.  We did a lot of walking and I was thrilled that Lisa took me to her Groove class, a delightful dance/exercise class featuring fantabulous music and soaking wet clothing by the end of the hour.  The weather was cold but perfect.

This morning, I’m finally feeling that I can get back to things I left on the back burner while I was otherwise engaged.  Last night, I decided it was time to get over the big overwhelm and holiday grind.  I plan to take a long walk today instead of going to Yoga.  The day is sunny and on the warm side.  I slept in until 7:30 (I know, I know!) and took my time walking Sam and having my breakfast.  From my kitchen window, I caught a glimpse of a neighbor I haven’t seen in months and ran out to give her a hug and meet her new dog, Mystique.  It felt wonderful to renew our connection and we promised to get together soon for tea and allow Sam and Mystique get to know each other.

I’ll tackle the heaps of paper surrounding my computer.  They keep sliding down onto my mouse pad, making writing extremely difficult at times.  And then there is the stuff in my head that needs attention.  Things I haven’t had time to write about, like the fact that I have made the commitment to write a memoir.  It’s been hard for me to say it out loud or to jot it down on paper because once I put it out there it becomes a fact. I can’t hide from myself anymore or the voice of my inner critic who screeches, “Who the !#@$ do you think you are?  Write a memoir?  You can’t do that.  There is nothing in your life that other people would be interested in reading!!”

Sound silly? I think it’s pretty typical and since that screechy voice comes from someone I envision as being about three feet tall and wears her hair standing on end, I can only laugh.  I tell her,  “It’ll be okay.  I am writing a memoir … because I can, because I want to, because I need to understand who I really am and how I got that way. I can file away all my stories in my head, but they will never become clear to me until they are written down on paper.”

Bill is going on a trip for a week this month.  I’ll use the time to tend to myself and retreat from the usual business I get bogged down in.  I did it for a week in the fall at the beach and it was lovely. At home I’m tempted to ramp up that kind of alone time with too much stuff. Since I’ll miss Bill, keeping busy helps the time pass quickly until his return.  But I won’t do that this time.  I plan on rolling in and out of bed when I feel like it, not knowing how the day will unfold.  I’ll just let it happen. Let it be a surprise. Take long walks, deep breaths, write, read and leave the holiday season behind for another year.

Filed Under: Christmas, Classes, family, Memoir, Navigating Through Life, Retreat & Workshops, stories, Thanksgiving, Travels
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