One Rich Life
It
Is
Now
Officially
Winter
In the Norther Hemisphere,
Summer in the Southern Hemisphere.
Though there may be nasty weather days ahead,
The light has begun its slow return or retreat.
In just nine days, the New Year will be upon us,
And a new cycle of life will have begun.
In the spirit of these holidays we too often forget,
May the coming days be filled with the gifts of
Peace, joy, hope, healing, courage,
And new beginnings
For each and every
One of you.
Bryant Park
I’m just back from New York City, where Bill and I spent five days taking a break from the “same old, same old.” It’s been a tough couple of weeks for Bill, especially. His computer crashed with the play he’d been revising for an upcoming spring staged reading here in Charlottesville and another reading in New York City in May at the Dramatist Guild. There is, however, a new computer in the works and the techies who are transfering data to the new robotic brain believe that the script and other files of value came through without a hitch. We’ll know for sure tomorrow.
I’ve not been to the city this close to Christmas since I was a little kid, living on Long Island. On several occasions my dad took my brothers and me into the city to shop at Macy’s for Christmas gifts. I remember it as lots of fun. My brothers sat on Santa’s lap, while I checked out the latest lipstick shades, picking one I thought would look good on my mother. We ate lots of chocolate and candy canes, while we looked for those special trinkets we’d wrap and put under the tree, emptying the piggy banks that we’d stuffed all year long with allowances.
Shop Window at Rockefeller Center
After this trip I’ve promised myself I won’t return again this close to Christmas and Hanukkah. The Streets and sidewalks were jammed with shoppers and tourists from all over the world. New York is an international city where languages from around the world can be heard, especially at this time of year. I was overwhelmed by the walls of people heading in my direction. Listening carefully, I realized I was not alone with my panic. As we passed one vacant doorway, I overheard a man telling his wife that they would just stay put until there was a break in the crowd. A while later, a young woman rushed by, pulling her boyfriend along, who was pleading, “Please get me out of here. I can’t do this.”
We saw three broadway shows, two of which I thought were good, but still nothing that inspired me. We also took in three movies, the best of which was, St. Vincent, with Bill Murray, which was delightful and whose main character I could relate to. We also saw, Citizenfour and Whiplash. Though both are great movies and award material, their serious nature left me feeling a bit raw.
The Tree at Bryant Park
We also went to the Tenement Museum in lower Manhattan where we took a 90 minute tour of one of the buildings the museum has redone, where I got a glimpse into what living arrangements were probably like for my grandparents, who came to the States from Poland in the early 1900’s. I look forward to going back some day to do the museum’s food tasting tour which sounds quite yummy.
I was whisked away into the whirl wind of city life, but am so happy to be home again. When our train pulled into Charlottesville on our return, we both joyfully realized that going away is what one needs in order to understand that coming home to the “same old, same old,” is where we really want to be.
Life is good, but it isn’t always easy. One day the car breaks down and you’re late for your appointment with the IRS, who says you owe them money. On the opposite kind of day, you win the lottery and rush out to buy a new car. The in-between days find you smelling the roses, with a bunch of crappy, little things all going wrong. You have to work harder to find your center.
My buddy, Sam, developed a hot spot on his tail a week or so ago. He’s been riddled with all sorts of allergies since we adopted him back in August of 2003. The worst are food allergies. A little over a year ago, with the help of a new vet, we found food that he likes and doesn’t make him sick.
But there are all sorts of other things that he’s allergic to. At this time of year when all the leaves are down and the air is filled with leaf mold, Sam itches like crazy. He tries to be patient with it, but the result is often a hot spot, that has gone bald because of his constant scratching, licking and sometimes chewing. It gets infected and then we have a problem on our hands that requires antibiotics.
I’m kind of allergic to this time of year and have been a bit out of sorts myself over the last few weeks. It’s my usual holiday state of mind. There’s too much to do, too many expectations, and the whole world seems to be melting down around me. And beyond Ferguson, the state of the Middle East, and all sorts of other issues going down, it’s been a particularly difficult year for the city of Charlottesville and the University of Virginia.
First there was the disappearance and tragic death of Hannah Graham. Now we’re dealing with the Rolling Stone’s article about the “rape culture,” at Thomas Jefferson’s university, just two blocks from my house. The editors are now backpedaling, saying that some of what was originally reported isn’t true. Thankfully, the powers that be at the University are not letting the issue rest and are working to make sure all students, especially women, feel cared for and safe in what has become a questionable environment.
Whether you’re connected with the University or not, what’s been happening around us is affecting all of those who live here. When Hannah Graham’s body was found, a friend, who lives elsewhere, asked how such a horrendous thing could happened in such a beautiful and peaceful place like Charlottesville. My response was that bad things happen everywhere. Beauty has nothing to do with it. It’s just the way things are and we each react to these events in our own way. But when it’s happening down the street, events like these can cast a shadow over an entire community. We like to think that where we live is the best place in the whole world and that things like murder, racism, and acts of brutality, don’t happen here.
The other day I overheard an acquaintance, say, “It’s so cold out, even the ‘bums’ aren’t out today.” She was referring to our area’s large homeless population. I was horrified. I wanted to shake some sense into her head. I told her to go and sit with those “bums.” She might learn something about what it’s like living on the street and why those people are out there.
The morning that had started out so nicely, had just been shot down and I became a raving grouch, leaving a wake of unpleasantness behind me as I stormed home. I was not being helpful … to myself or anyone else. I was being judgemental, just like the one who spoke ill of the “bums.”
When I got home Sam was sitting all curled up on the couch. Trapped inside what some call the “Cone of Shame,” he was the picture of peace. Despite his itchy tail and being a bit grouchy himself, he wagged his tail, looked at me with his big brown, all knowing eyes, and said, “It’s okay, Mom. It is what it is.”
I sat down next to him, and wrapped my arms around him. He’s one of my greatest teachers. The pain resulting from being unable to make the world a better place, slowly released me from it’s grip. I began to feel sad for that acquaintance of mine. She’d probably been taught that homeless people are bums … perhaps by her parents.
When I finally stood up, ready to go on about the rest of my day, Sam winked at me and gently licked my nose.
Who are your greatest teachers?
Grackle visiting me last week on my writing retreat.
Friend and fellow memoirist, Kathy Pooler, has been one of my biggest supporters through the trials and tribulations of writing my memoir. She was one of my beta readers, and asked me to write a guest post for her blog as well. Everything she has said about my writing has inspired me to continue. Last week she tagged me for The Work In Progress Blog Tour, and once again I am honored and grateful for her unending encouragement.
Both Kathy and I have suffered from abuse and have used writing as a way to heal and grow beyond our victimhood into whole, authentic women, interested in passing on what we have learned to others who may need inspiration as they navigate through difficult times. Kathy’s book, Ever Faithful To His Lead: My Journey Away From Emotional Abuse, published this past summer, tells her story of escaping domestic abuse inflicted by two former husbands and her climb back to wholeness and a rewarding new life.
My book, ME MYSELF AND MOM, A Journey Through Love, Hate And Healing, which I’m still working on, is the story of becoming my mother’s caretaker, during her last years of life. She was one of my abusers when I was a child and took up her old role again when I invited her into my home as her health began to fail. It’s been a tough story to tell, but the forgiveness that I have found for her and myself as I’ve written about our relationship has been life changing, allowing me to let go of the cloak of victimhood I’ve worn most of my life. Below is a brief synopsis:
As Mom’s health begins to fail, I invite her to move in with my husband and me. As I attempt to be her caretaker and make life easier for her, we struggle with our own grief and pain while trying to maintain our individual independence and privacy. Repressed memories of abuse from my childhood rise to the surface. My deep longing to bring us together crumbles as she nears death and becomes impossible to deal with. When she dies I am left with feelings of deep bitterness and a bag of her ashes. Five years and four different “Letting-Go” rituals later, I find forgiveness for her and myself, while picking up the broken pieces of my life. This story of my healing process, is for adult children left with emptiness from investing themselves in a loving yet hateful relationship with an aging parent and the challenge of renewal when their loved one is gone. It’s loaded with themes of love, guilt, condemnation, heroism, hatred, dedication, perseverance, loneliness, regrets, PTSD, substance abuse, and forgiveness.
Besides linking back to the person who tagged me for this blog tour, I’ve been asked to include the first sentences from the first three chapters of my book, and then to nominate other writers who are in the midst of new projects.
Chapter I: Mourning Dove, May 21, 2007
It’s a beautiful May morning. The grass is heavy with dew and the air is filled with an early morning concert sung by a choir of returning birds. They’ll soon build nests in neighboring shrubs and trees where they’ll raise their young, then head south again in the fall completing another yearly cycle. As I turn the corner into my driveway, a mourning dove feeding on the ground takes flight. There is a light bump as it collides with the hood of my car. With wings outspread, I watch it rise straight up, surrounded in a veil of white light. When it vanishes into thin air I know something has changed. It is a clear message that my mother has died.
Chapter II: The Beginning of the End, August, 2000
When friend and real estate broker, Pat, calls to ask if he can show us a house that’s been on the market for a year, I’m not terribly excited. “But, the price has been lowered dramatically and I know you’ll love the location.” He tells me the house is in a subdivision of eight homes, and fronts on the South Fork Rivanna River Reservoir. I imagine the price will be way over what we’re willing to spend. But one can look … hope … and dream.
Chapter III: Living In A Construction Zone, July 2001
As sawdust piles up, and old walls are torn down, the scene in front of me is all too familiar. I’m reminded of the feelings of impermanence that haunted my childhood as my family traveled like gypsies from one home to another.
I know that this is a ridiculously busy time of year, but I’m tagging the following writer/bloggers as a way to inspire them to continue to work on their new projects. If Kathy hadn’t already been tagged, she would be on this list, as well. She is beginning work on a new memoir.
Saloma Furlong, is the author of two memoirs: Why I Left The Amish and Bonnet Strings, An Amish Woman’s Ties To Two Worlds. She is at work on another as she explores her relationship with her mother.
Valery Rind, is the author of the just released, Gold Diggers And Deadbeat Dads, a must read about how to keep from falling for family and friend’s finacial woes and schemes. I know she will be writing more on this subject.
July Lee Dunn, is at work getting her book She’s Out Late, a mother-daughter memoir, published.
“As we express our gratitude, we must never forget that the highest appreciation is not to utter words, but to live by them.”
– John F. Kennedy
This is what it looked like Saturday on the Outer Banks of North Carolina. Bill and I were there for a three day retreat. I wrote for two days without interruption, visited a few family members, walked on the beach, and enjoyed the quiet peace of the shore when only a few other people are around. It was blissful and I am grateful to have had the opportunity to be there.
I hope you all have a wonderful holiday and that your lives will be filled with simplicity and the grace of gratitude.
