shoes

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I am so good at giving quality advice to someone else, yet ignoring that same advice for myself. For example: today I bought two pair of shoes, and, though I knew they were expensive, nevertheless got light headed when the total was given to me. George had to kick my butt to get me to buy the shoes. Did I mention yet that I hate shopping, especially for myself? Did I also mention that I've been wearing my mother's shoes? Hey. They fit. Wherever she is, she didn't take them with her.

So what was that advice? Spend the necessary dollars on your shoes. Scrimp on other clothing if scrimping is necessary, but try not to scrimp on your feet.
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the Pat club and other musings

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We spoke quietly to each other of the Pat club. Patty Ann, Patty Jean, Patsy, Patti, and Pat. All wives of barbershoppers in the same chorus. Oh yes. Another Pat, a man, who sings in the chorus. It isn't an exclusive club, and we laughingly invite others to be honorary Pats and join in the fun. Or not. Whatever your name is...is quite fine. But today I noticed that all of us have been through very serious life issues. And, of course, Patsy has moved on to whatever happens next. But maybe everybody who makes it to the middle years, at least, has dealt with serious life issues. I don't know, but we have all leaned on each other when the occasions called for it.

At the funeral, my grandson sat in the row ahead of me. He reached back to hold my hand, then pulled my arm forward so he could rest his head against it. I may have looked terminally awkward, but I felt like queen of the universe. He is an amazingly affectionate grandson. I sure hope he can keep that openness, and, of course, clothe it with wisdom. Not all he meets in life will be as open and honest as he is.

So I wonder. At the end of this day, what do I mourn? The end of life? No, not particularly. To make it into your sixties still gives you plenty of time to do the big things in life. Perhaps I mourn more the loss of that openness and innocence that seems to be part of growing up. No, I guess not that, either. Hopefully that childlike innocence gets traded in for the strength and courage to do the big things in life. Maybe mourning is best thought of as a passing cloud, giving shadow for a time, but then moving on. As I like to say, life is good. All of it, Even when its difficult. Then again, that's easy enough to say as a middle class member of a relatively wealthy nation. I don't live in a third world country; I've never witnessed the brutal massacres of loved ones, I've never been tortured. Can someone in those scenarios say life is good, no matter what? I doubt it.

Where does that leave me? Just not knowing a whole hell of a lot is where it leaves me. But I know about me and my own thoughts. That's all I have, that's the only story I can tell, and that's enough.
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who knows

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A friend has died. Cancer. Age 66. Not a close friend, but we enjoyed each other's company when life tossed us in the same space.It was a sucker punch to get the news...thoughts of her struggle now finished, of her husband and the rest of her family, and of ourselves, who, when we get together, will mourn the loss of her laughter and kick-ass attitude.

I didn't sleep well last night. Patsy was on my mind, and I relived my eight days in the hospital due to the arduous chemotherapy I was on. Yeah, me too. Except I got through it, and she didn't. Neither did several other women make it across the cancer mountain. But I did. Three times. How do we explain any of this? I guess we don't. There's a lot of randomness to life, it seems, and goodness and courage don't buy you anything except goodness and courage.

Today? I can imagine how her family is feeling. It took me close to a year to return to pain free "normal" after my mother's death. And in this moment of quietness I acknowledge that we all die, and none of us knows for sure what happens next.

Tomorrow? Soon I will pay my respects. I remember the first time I attended a service for a woman who had died of cancer. I had already survived two bouts at that time. Her husband held my hand and looked at me so intently. I wondered if he was trying to see what survival looked like, and I felt guilty for surviving. I'll see him again, probably, and I won't feel guilty for being alive. Because the day after tomorrow? Who knows.
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I got plenty of nuthin'

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trying to decide if there's anything worth noting in this day...
maybe not

but it was a good day nonetheless

backward forward

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We took a leisurely hike on a nature trail at Flint Ridge. The guidebook explained how flint was made - millions of years ago when what is now called Ohio was the bottom of a sea, sponges used silica to form their structures. Geological processes turned that into flint. And then, not too long ago, native Americans declared the Flint Ridge area to be common ground, where all the nations could come and harvest flint for tools. And, of course, weapons.

So then. You know how you can travel for hours, for days, and watch the landscape change gradually from flatland to rolling hills to mountains to deserts to ocean? I wish I could stay in one spot and time travel to watch the landscape change.

I hold a piece of flint and thank the sponges for making flint possible. Millions of years from now, what will someone hold in their hands and thank us as humans for making something possible? That is, if the earth still exists.

When I'm 94...

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I worked with a 94 year old woman today. She told me she gave up driving last year. She also told me she takes no medicines. Ninety four years old, she lives independently in her home, and is sharp as a tack. Very, very cool. I want to be like her when I grow up.

hugs and love

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so tired tonight
worked really hard to finish a wedding gown
and I did
and it was beautiful, both on and off the bride
hugs all around

family came over for a visit tonight
good conversation
good food (we ate out - been too busy to keep up to date in the kitchen)
such a good family - so pleased to be in the family I'm in
hugs all around
love all around

wine finished
off to bed
hugs and love all around to you, too
life is good...all of it

luck

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I got a text message yesterday from someone who asked for prayers because she was going to have a large mass removed from her abdomen. I didn't know who sent it! I searched through my lists of phone numbers, did a reverse search, and nothing. By luck George had the number. It is one of my students from way back when. She is the age of my sons, and she is scared to death, and she is the age of my sons. Did I say she was young and the age of my sons? In addition to caring very much about her personally (she's had a rough life), it struck me that my own loved ones are not exempt from nature's random hits. And then. I realized that I was a young person, the age of my sons, when I had my first cancer. And then there was a second cancer, then a third. Cool thing is, I'm still here! I may walk out the door tomorrow and be hit by a truck, and though I've had cancer three times, it never killed me. But that damned imaginary truck.....
So. My heart goes out to my student/friend in her fear. She'll have to walk that walk as I did. She may be lucky, she may not. But if she IS lucky, she'll continue on with her life with a little better sense of her own mortality, but also of her own strength.
Life is good. All of it. Especially when you live in the moment and embrace all that is.

getting older

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We drove for three hours, endured intense heat and humidity while we ambled about waiting for the concert, sat through most of a two hour plus concert in an old auditorium cooled only by open windows, then drove home for another three hours. I, at least, didn't have to be on stage in a tux, enduring not only the heat and humidity, but the stage lights. George did, and he also did all the driving, per his own choice. Today we're both exhausted. I think we really are getting too old to do some things we did easily when we were younger.

Funny thing about getting older...it's not like our brains feel older, it's just that the body can't do what it used to do.

brides

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This is not the photo I want to show you, but THAT photo should probably wait until after her wedding.

Who?

Oh, just the most drop dead gorgeous bride I've ever worked for, who just happens to have a large dragon tattoo across her high chest, looking right at you above her strapless wedding gown. That, plus some other tattoos, some visible to the public, some not, and a nose ring, and...

She's a delightful and friendly young lady, who would rather have been married in the dress she most loved, a simple dress, actually. Her family and friends convinced her that she needed something more formal, so she brought me two dresses. One for the wedding; a heavy, relatively uncomfortable affair, and one for the reception - the dress she likes best.

I have an appointment with another young lady who wants the train on her wedding gown cut off because her church does not allow trains. Really? I wonder if they forbid tattoos, too; even if the bride dutifully cuts off the train.

aging gracefully - the next big challenge?

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She really did have only two dresses for school. Her classmates teased her, knowing it was Wednesday if she showed up in her other dress. She has lived with that and other indignities that attend the very poor for close to 80 years. It's not wonder she thinks people are talking about her behind her back - that was her life when she was growing her bones.

We took the three hour drive to see her and attend to her needs, this remaining lonely aunt, who is now ninety years old. She had no children and no other family lives within driving distance. One day she'll have to move, but that is not today's agenda. Now she needs some help sorting through the difficulties of doctors and procedures and exactly what is the senior living facility's responsibility through all of this. In a nutshell, they have none. She is not living in assisted living, so she's pretty much on her own We wish she would be willing to go into assisted living in a facilty close to us, but no, not now. I respect that. Her control over her own life diminishes as she ages, and she's fighting to stay in control.

As I hug her, work with her, listen to her, I know that one day I"ll be in her shoes. May I learn what I need to learn to make my own passage into old age easy for whoever will be looking after me.