a woman fell down hard on the way out of the movie theater yesterday. she was embarrassed and in pain and crying. her daughter was beside herself "mom mom are you ok are you ok?!" we tried to get help but the response was slow to put it mildly. outside theater #8 there were 6 young people in red amc theater jerseys holding walkie talkies, looking confused and frozen and helpless. mouth breathers all of them with big wide eyes bursting with fear and we said "please get help, call 911, get a manager" but they all just stood there with their hand held communication devices poised in mid air, not doing anything.
damn kids! i grumbled (to myself). millenials -- can't think for themselves, no initiative, how rude but they don't know any better.
i was thinking about that at breakfast when a young woman only slightly older than the ticket takers caught my attention. she was having breakfast with her soon-to-be-family and could not have been kinder to the three little girls around her. she was enjoying them and talking about important things like how fun it was to have a whole year's supply worth of chewing gum, and which lip gloss did they want her to put on? they wiggled and cocked their little heads and gathered around this lovely woman with perfect pink skin, shiny blond hair, black velvet t shirt and stretch jeans. the girls were enchanted as they watched her apply it. makeup is so much fun when you aren't old enough to wear it yet.
she was so sure of herself in a gentle way. she described how she was going to wear her hair on her wedding day and they wondered if she would wear a crown. they bobbled and cooed and one of them handed her a baby doll which she began stroking and rocking without missing a beat or calling attention to it.
when i was 7 my big brother brought his fiance home. when i met her i was just like one of those little girls. my new big sister was glamorous and funny and oh those times sitting on the bed, watching her back comb her hair and line her eyes. she was my very own princess diana.
in remembering that i knew exactly what those girls were feeling. the rest of the family laughed and chatted and i loved the whole scene. there was something so precious about the way they were just being together. just being. these were good people.
i came very close to slipping them a scrap of paper with this blog address on it, asking them to check it out tomorrow, as i was planning to write about them and would they like to see it, but then thought how weird would that be. i might upset them.
then again maybe not. what would it be like to know that a stranger had taken a literal snapshot of you and your possey, just hanging out together on a saturday morning. kind of like when someone hands you a photo you didn't know was taken. you look at yourselves and remember that moment, just an ordinary moment, but realize how profound it is to see that it had been captured. you just being you. enjoying someone. listening, talking, smiling, paying attention. no one is posing or waiting for the flash, you are just being. and that photo you were just handed quickly becomes one of your favorite pictures of all time.
i think too much. i notice things to a level of detail that drives me crazy sometimes. but that's what i do. i get worked up over little things, and then put back in my place by other moments as they happen next to me.
whether or not any of them come across this blog,
one thing is for sure,
she will be a beautiful bride.
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Friday, December 26, 2008
done, and undone
two years later i am still trying to sort out my mothers death. her affairs were settled long ago, although there was not much to do. i tucked her safely into the earth next to my dad, left some flowers and smiled as rolls were served at the reception after the service. i sent her clothes to goodwill, gave her furniture away saved a few of her things i will cherish always, and sold the rest in a garage sale at bargain prices.
lady barbara, who was born of no significant means -- less than that --grew up to be a stunning talent, she went on to college and starred on the radio, married a naval commander in a fairytale wedding, and devoted her life in service to god.
why then why then why then did she die painfully, thin and aching in a dark and stinky room at a nursing home in west st paul? at the last they did not even dress her in her own nightie, but in a hospital gown with nothing at all of hers around her, except a big clock on the wall, and me by her side.
everything was gone. all the reminders and comfort of her life had disappeared. photos and magnifying glasses, familiar linens, her tv and slippers -- all gone. i have been angry these two years about her passing, as why would a woman who spent her life worshipping and serving god die in this lonely place with nails in the wall? how disrepectful of god to allow this. she should have died in riches and comfort. she just should have.
i saw a movie today and a line from that is with me still..."we come into this world alone and with nothing, and we leave it the same way."
now it makes sense,
or at least
more sense.
we slide into life with a big push and hopefully love, but there is nothing more than that, and we spend each year building and aquiring and collecting things and people and that create what we are meant to be. but at the last, we begin to let go, and so things disappear, one at a time.
sometimes room by room.
she left with nothing more than she arrived with -- clean white sheets, a warm bed, and someone to love her and wish her well.
we get everything done eventually, we just do. and then as we slide out again breath by breath, it all comes undone.
and that, i see now,
is as it should be.
when the time comes
we are done.
lady barbara, who was born of no significant means -- less than that --grew up to be a stunning talent, she went on to college and starred on the radio, married a naval commander in a fairytale wedding, and devoted her life in service to god.
why then why then why then did she die painfully, thin and aching in a dark and stinky room at a nursing home in west st paul? at the last they did not even dress her in her own nightie, but in a hospital gown with nothing at all of hers around her, except a big clock on the wall, and me by her side.
everything was gone. all the reminders and comfort of her life had disappeared. photos and magnifying glasses, familiar linens, her tv and slippers -- all gone. i have been angry these two years about her passing, as why would a woman who spent her life worshipping and serving god die in this lonely place with nails in the wall? how disrepectful of god to allow this. she should have died in riches and comfort. she just should have.
i saw a movie today and a line from that is with me still..."we come into this world alone and with nothing, and we leave it the same way."
now it makes sense,
or at least
more sense.
we slide into life with a big push and hopefully love, but there is nothing more than that, and we spend each year building and aquiring and collecting things and people and that create what we are meant to be. but at the last, we begin to let go, and so things disappear, one at a time.
sometimes room by room.
she left with nothing more than she arrived with -- clean white sheets, a warm bed, and someone to love her and wish her well.
we get everything done eventually, we just do. and then as we slide out again breath by breath, it all comes undone.
and that, i see now,
is as it should be.
when the time comes
we are done.
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
eve
normally i am not one for crowds. they suffocate and irritate me, but on this bright and perfect christmas eve i decided i wanted to be out there, among the flurry of last minute scurrying.
i loved the splashes my boots made in the parking lot at lunds, and all of the squeaky fights for parking spots. the absence of carts as they were all being used, the smells of cheese and pine and smoked meat. i smiled at everyone and everyone smiled back.
christmas eve. home now with a fat ham roasting and a fussy custard firming on the stove. presents are twinkling and creatures are peaking to see if one of those wrapped things might be theirs and of course they will have surprises in the morning too.
merry christmas my friends, my loves, and all of you who are missing, though you may not read this i hope you are knowing magic and love this evening.
peace to you, miracles too.
happy eve!
i loved the splashes my boots made in the parking lot at lunds, and all of the squeaky fights for parking spots. the absence of carts as they were all being used, the smells of cheese and pine and smoked meat. i smiled at everyone and everyone smiled back.
christmas eve. home now with a fat ham roasting and a fussy custard firming on the stove. presents are twinkling and creatures are peaking to see if one of those wrapped things might be theirs and of course they will have surprises in the morning too.
merry christmas my friends, my loves, and all of you who are missing, though you may not read this i hope you are knowing magic and love this evening.
peace to you, miracles too.
happy eve!
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
christmas weary
there was a man behind us in line at the wine shop today and he had his arms full of bottles and mom and dad at his side. mom opted to visit the basket shop while the boys paid for good spirits and when they scurried to a newly opened register i could not help staring and wishing and tearing.
i thought of holidays with moms and dads and wanted to tug mr. good-son on the sleeve and tell him "cherish this time with your mom and dad, will you? are you? oh please do."
happy holidays are such a gift, and through sadness they are always happy somehow, and this one will be, too. it's been a hard week with knee felling surprises that are not to do with the likes of kindness, but let's get past all the disappointment and missing and have some wine. roast a beast. sleep under twinkles. hot coffee and eggs in the morning. and maybe a surprise or two of the christmas sort. and lots of flannel, of course.
there is no such thing as sadness today, the eve of eve. only latkes in the oven, and an old hound snoring on the couch. he twitches in his dreams of bunnies and soft things that go squeak.
and he reminds me
what more is there? little things for smiling.
little things, big wishes, hot coffee, and sweet dreams.
i thought of holidays with moms and dads and wanted to tug mr. good-son on the sleeve and tell him "cherish this time with your mom and dad, will you? are you? oh please do."
happy holidays are such a gift, and through sadness they are always happy somehow, and this one will be, too. it's been a hard week with knee felling surprises that are not to do with the likes of kindness, but let's get past all the disappointment and missing and have some wine. roast a beast. sleep under twinkles. hot coffee and eggs in the morning. and maybe a surprise or two of the christmas sort. and lots of flannel, of course.
there is no such thing as sadness today, the eve of eve. only latkes in the oven, and an old hound snoring on the couch. he twitches in his dreams of bunnies and soft things that go squeak.
and he reminds me
what more is there? little things for smiling.
little things, big wishes, hot coffee, and sweet dreams.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
big fat loser
my favorite reality show started a few months ago and ends tonight. this season, rather than individual inconspicuous contestants -- we met tubby fat families. husbands and wives, mothers and daughters, fathers and sons. all of them big and i mean really big!
i have so enjoyed this journey. i have taken it with them, every
tuesday-night- step- of -the -way. they sweat and cry, whine and climb and sink and crawl. i love their courage. i love their tenacity. i love those fat people.
on tuesday nights these last many weeks i have sunk into the middle of my big bed, tv on and candles lit. a little meatloaf here, a baked potato there -- it has been tremendously satisfying to see them struggle and shrink as i lick the ice cream off my spoon and smile and sigh.
they have claimed their lives! their time is now! they have found the courage to face all those chub chub dragons and drooled at the idea of winning a cash kitty equaling thousands and thousands of dollars. sometimes the scale humiliates them and sometimes it shuts up and bows in respect.
god they inspire me.
pass the whipped cream will you?
i am watching the season finale and i don't recognize most of them. they are showing before pictures through which the "afters" crash onto the stage in their new bodies. the men swagger down the steps in flashy trousers and smart loafers. the women come next, and it is wrenching in a good way to see these former fatties bask in the spotlight atop a funky staircase. the music swells and they raise their toned arms high up way high up, then place their french manicured hands on slim sexy hips and descend the staircase.
awkwardly. as if they had rubber bands around their knees, and as if they had never navigated a downward sloping runway in 3 inch heels....as if!
the point is, they do look terrific and they inspire me. i have every intention of striving to work the business end of a shiny pair of stilletos sometime after the first of the year.
meanwhile the ham and hashbrown hotdish tastes great with a california chardonnay.
tostito's on the side.
save room for dessert.
i have so enjoyed this journey. i have taken it with them, every
tuesday-night- step- of -the -way. they sweat and cry, whine and climb and sink and crawl. i love their courage. i love their tenacity. i love those fat people.
on tuesday nights these last many weeks i have sunk into the middle of my big bed, tv on and candles lit. a little meatloaf here, a baked potato there -- it has been tremendously satisfying to see them struggle and shrink as i lick the ice cream off my spoon and smile and sigh.
they have claimed their lives! their time is now! they have found the courage to face all those chub chub dragons and drooled at the idea of winning a cash kitty equaling thousands and thousands of dollars. sometimes the scale humiliates them and sometimes it shuts up and bows in respect.
god they inspire me.
pass the whipped cream will you?
i am watching the season finale and i don't recognize most of them. they are showing before pictures through which the "afters" crash onto the stage in their new bodies. the men swagger down the steps in flashy trousers and smart loafers. the women come next, and it is wrenching in a good way to see these former fatties bask in the spotlight atop a funky staircase. the music swells and they raise their toned arms high up way high up, then place their french manicured hands on slim sexy hips and descend the staircase.
awkwardly. as if they had rubber bands around their knees, and as if they had never navigated a downward sloping runway in 3 inch heels....as if!
the point is, they do look terrific and they inspire me. i have every intention of striving to work the business end of a shiny pair of stilletos sometime after the first of the year.
meanwhile the ham and hashbrown hotdish tastes great with a california chardonnay.
tostito's on the side.
save room for dessert.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
walker nazis
brother jim, who lives in a small finnish town in michigan had his hip replaced yesterday. a blessed procedure for a tall strong man who hasn't been able to live up to his 6 foot 4 stature for some time, as the pain in his old hip has kept him crouched for ages.
he and his lovely wife, dee, left their cozy home at the onset of a great plains blizzard the night before last armed with clean underwear and a walker which the lion's club of kaleva graciousl loned him. he will need it for a month.
tsk tsk
the pt lady told him.
this walker won't do. no wheels. you need wheels. perhaps you would like to purchase a newer model - here's our catalogue. for $120 you can have state of the art contraption with wheels.
no thanks,
they said.
we'll rent one. after all it is only for a month.
two hours later after a snowy drive across town, dee left jim comfy in the car while she went into the rental palace for just a sec. be right back. won't be long.
it would have been simpler to take out a second mortgage. miles and piles of paperwork asking for everything from insurance info (insurance was not paying for this) to next of kin to favorite colors and two copies of his fifth grade report card, dee was ready to grab the walker and run.
i'm sorry
the rental czar said,
i need his signature on these forms. could you ask him to come in?
no, he can't come in, he can't walk. he needs the walker.
well i can't give you the walker till he signs these forms.
lady impossible finally got the bright idea to take the paperwork out to the car, where jim was sighing in anticipation of agony as the pain killers started to wear off.
sir, we just need to go over a few things. terms and conditions you know.
jim held his ground.
NO he said, i just had my hip replaced and i am OUTA here.
he signed the forms and off they went with their walker with wheels.
no sooner home than the phone rang. it was the walker nazi again.
sir we need a social security number and an emergency contact. preferabley a child or sibling.
you can't have my social security number for a $20 rental, lady, i have no children and my brother lives in minneapolis.
we'll take your brothers contact info, sir.
all for a $20 rental.
jim is napping peacefully in his own bed about now, and dee has her feet up with a glass of wine.
the fancy walker with wheels is ready for action.
getting old is bad enough.
who knew there would be so much paperwork?
i do hope the walker nazis call mike in case of a walker emergency.
they've got our number.
funny thing is
we've got theirs. too.
he and his lovely wife, dee, left their cozy home at the onset of a great plains blizzard the night before last armed with clean underwear and a walker which the lion's club of kaleva graciousl loned him. he will need it for a month.
tsk tsk
the pt lady told him.
this walker won't do. no wheels. you need wheels. perhaps you would like to purchase a newer model - here's our catalogue. for $120 you can have state of the art contraption with wheels.
no thanks,
they said.
we'll rent one. after all it is only for a month.
two hours later after a snowy drive across town, dee left jim comfy in the car while she went into the rental palace for just a sec. be right back. won't be long.
it would have been simpler to take out a second mortgage. miles and piles of paperwork asking for everything from insurance info (insurance was not paying for this) to next of kin to favorite colors and two copies of his fifth grade report card, dee was ready to grab the walker and run.
i'm sorry
the rental czar said,
i need his signature on these forms. could you ask him to come in?
no, he can't come in, he can't walk. he needs the walker.
well i can't give you the walker till he signs these forms.
lady impossible finally got the bright idea to take the paperwork out to the car, where jim was sighing in anticipation of agony as the pain killers started to wear off.
sir, we just need to go over a few things. terms and conditions you know.
jim held his ground.
NO he said, i just had my hip replaced and i am OUTA here.
he signed the forms and off they went with their walker with wheels.
no sooner home than the phone rang. it was the walker nazi again.
sir we need a social security number and an emergency contact. preferabley a child or sibling.
you can't have my social security number for a $20 rental, lady, i have no children and my brother lives in minneapolis.
we'll take your brothers contact info, sir.
all for a $20 rental.
jim is napping peacefully in his own bed about now, and dee has her feet up with a glass of wine.
the fancy walker with wheels is ready for action.
getting old is bad enough.
who knew there would be so much paperwork?
i do hope the walker nazis call mike in case of a walker emergency.
they've got our number.
funny thing is
we've got theirs. too.
Monday, December 8, 2008
your current options
our staff meeting was a bit gloomy today, what with the worst financial forecast in the history of state government. we talked about worst case scenarios, and then we brainstormed ways we might face it with our heads up and hopefully above water.
later on one of my staff counseled all of us that it is always a good idea to think about our options.
if there are layoffs, what's our next move?
very good advice.
i have a lovely old wooden desk with a glass top in my office, it is a vintage state issued piece that no one wanted but me. everyone else has sleek modular countertops, flipper doors and lateral file drawers. very efficient and space-saving. but i prefer to sit behind something solid and strong that could tell me stories of hard times and good times from many years past, and it will tell me those stories if i would just listen,
which of course i often do.
so there i was pondering the state of the state late this afternoon, watching the snow and thinking about that forecast. and then i noticed my telephone.
it is a fancy phone with lots of groovy features they told us we would love, and some of them really are useful, especially the ability to customize your ringtone. i do enjoy that. there is a little grey screen on the front that tells you who is calling, or if you have messages, or if you have missed calls.
but what i noticed today was the standard menu on that tiny grey screen. funny how we often miss that which is right under our noses.
the screen says
and underneath that it says
turns out, the best answer is right in front of us.
these are our current options:
later on one of my staff counseled all of us that it is always a good idea to think about our options.
if there are layoffs, what's our next move?
very good advice.
i have a lovely old wooden desk with a glass top in my office, it is a vintage state issued piece that no one wanted but me. everyone else has sleek modular countertops, flipper doors and lateral file drawers. very efficient and space-saving. but i prefer to sit behind something solid and strong that could tell me stories of hard times and good times from many years past, and it will tell me those stories if i would just listen,
which of course i often do.
so there i was pondering the state of the state late this afternoon, watching the snow and thinking about that forecast. and then i noticed my telephone.
it is a fancy phone with lots of groovy features they told us we would love, and some of them really are useful, especially the ability to customize your ringtone. i do enjoy that. there is a little grey screen on the front that tells you who is calling, or if you have messages, or if you have missed calls.
but what i noticed today was the standard menu on that tiny grey screen. funny how we often miss that which is right under our noses.
the screen says
your current options
and underneath that it says
redial. new call. forward all.
in our office we have 7 flipchart pages filled with ideas about how to face this challenge, PowerPoints, pie charts and wiggly graphs. we have lots and lots of information to help us make choices.
turns out, the best answer is right in front of us.
these are our current options:
redial: go back in time and think about what didn't work and how bad it was the last time. complain some. gripe a little.
new call: recognize the opportunity every crisis creates.
forward all: keep going.
what is it they call that thing?
oh that's right
a smart phone.
Sunday, December 7, 2008
a place for everything
i hate putting things away. i realized this last holiday season and immediately felt relief after all these years of believing i was shamefully lazy. i'm not lazy, i just know what i like and what i don't like and i try to stay away from things i don't like.
and i don't like putting things away.
so most often, i don't.
i don't mind loading the dishwasher but i don't like emptying it. christmas decorations are fun to haul down and unpack but when april comes and they are covered in dust they make me mad. i like the smell of laundry detergent and the steam that comes out of the house from hot clothes tumbling in the dryer, but when those same clothes wind up in a basket on my bed, it seems useless to fold and sort them as i will wear them all again soon anyway.
this seems to explain other things too, like why so often i live in the past, thinking about places and people and old feelings, good ones and bad ones. i can't seem to put any of you away.
there is word called "closure" that i find rather distasteful and silly. a final conversation, a tearful funeral, closing night parties. these things don't end the experience we were having, they just change the process of our lives and push us in a different direction.
but i cleaned my room today anway and put all my stuff away. looks really nice in there. neat and tidy.
bet it won't last long.
and i don't like putting things away.
so most often, i don't.
i don't mind loading the dishwasher but i don't like emptying it. christmas decorations are fun to haul down and unpack but when april comes and they are covered in dust they make me mad. i like the smell of laundry detergent and the steam that comes out of the house from hot clothes tumbling in the dryer, but when those same clothes wind up in a basket on my bed, it seems useless to fold and sort them as i will wear them all again soon anyway.
this seems to explain other things too, like why so often i live in the past, thinking about places and people and old feelings, good ones and bad ones. i can't seem to put any of you away.
there is word called "closure" that i find rather distasteful and silly. a final conversation, a tearful funeral, closing night parties. these things don't end the experience we were having, they just change the process of our lives and push us in a different direction.
but i cleaned my room today anway and put all my stuff away. looks really nice in there. neat and tidy.
bet it won't last long.
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