Happy Thanksgiving! Things I am Grateful for

 

It's Thanksgiving morning, 9AM.  I have no turkey to roast, no pies to bake, no sides to prepare, no stuffing to stuff.

 

My home is quiet as a churchyard on any day but Sunday.  The wind outside is blowing and the temps are in the low 20s.  There is a dusting of snow on the ground.

 

My husband is still asleep; my mother-in-law is too, each wrestling with fatigues born of insomnia, injury or illness.   Even our faithful dog Dewey is slumbering, having awakened my husband at 5AM for a quick trip outdoors.  They are safe and warm and snuggling in their beds on this cold November day.

 

Our sons are halfway round the world in Australia.  I miss them but I reassure myself they are safe and happy and on the adventure of their lives. 

 

My brother, his wife and daughters are on the West Coast.  We haven't seen one another in five years.  The girls have their own families now and I know my brother is surrounded by love.

 

Our table stands empty.  It will not be set today.  But it rings with the memory of holiday dinners, family, friends and parties. 

 

My parents are gone and, I believe, in a better place.  Every holiday fills with their presence, their customs.  My mother would spend two days getting ready for Thanksgiving and our menu rarely varied.  She served Waldorf salad on her mother's cranberry pressed glass plates (which I still have), roast turkey stuffed with a traditional herbed bread stuffing, candied yams in butter & brown sugar, green peas, home made cranberry sauce, oyster dressing (a second stuffing for those with sophisticated palates), gravy, mashed potatoes, crudités of carrots, celery, black olives.  The table was always set with her Irish linen or old lace tablecloth, linen napkins, her fine silverware, Lenox dinner plates, crystal goblets.  There were fresh flowers, candles and music.  Dessert was always pumpkin pie and minced or pecan pie with whipping cream.

 

My father always carved with his steel butcher knife.  He loved to sharpen that thing on his whetstone and made a very big deal of it.  Grace preceded the meal.  Ours was an observant family, at least, outwardly.

 

Afterwards, mother and I did the dishes.  She had no dishwasher until they retired and, if she had, it wouldn't have mattered as she would never have put her good dishes, crystal and silver in it anyway.

 

When I married and lived far from home, my husband and I celebrated Thanksgiving meals I prepared or we went out.  I remember one Thanksgiving in Chicago where we were on vacation.  We stayed at the Ambassador East hotel and had reservations in the Pump Room.  Very chic.  By the time we sat down and ordered, they were out of turkey!  We had to eat fish!  That still makes me smile.

 

Today, my husband, my mother-in-law and I are dressing up and going to a lovely hotel in our mountain town where we will be served a traditional Thanksgiving meal.  We shall sit and dine on fine china with fancy cutlery, crystal on a white tablecloth and enjoy spectacular views of the mountain range.  It will be nice and easy. 

 

Aside from the people I love who are gone or away, I shall miss the leftovers.



Happy Thanksgiving!

3 Friends, 5 Days, 10 Years

"A friend is one who knows you and loves you just the same."   Elbert Hubbard

 

Ten years ago this week, I lost three of my dearest friends within five days of one another.  Each was in his/her early 50s.  Each had cancer. 

 

Doug and I on his 40th birthday

The first to go was my friend Doug.  He died ten years ago yesterday of  colon cancer.  He was and still is the funniest person I have ever known.  Friends since high school, we hung with the same crowd in the parking lot of a coffee shop known as Dyles.  We christened ourselves  "the Dyles gang" although we weren't  a gang, per se, just a group of teenagers with similar interests:  drinking, smoking cigarettes and pot, going to the beach, going to any party we might hear about. The friendships began for some of us as early as junior high and are still going strong.  Doug, who began his tenure in the group as a slightly built, straight man to his overweight sidekick nicknamed "Wally", eventually became the king of one-liners & witty responses.    He told anecdotes and, like Jerry Seinfeld, most were based on truth;  those we'd experienced and those he embellished.  He was so funny he should  have done stand-up.  I think it was his secret passion. My life was never so hilarious as when portrayed by this guy.  He met the love of his life in his early twenties.  They married, had children and were supposed to live happily ever after.   Ten years after his passing,  she's still alone and in love with him. 

Mazatlan ca 1984 or 85
 the way I like to remember Doug, beer in hand

 



Maui, ca 1980  Dari & her then BF

The second loss came the next day when my best friend's sister, Daria, died of breast cancer.  She and Doug knew one another and surprisingly were diagnosed with their respective cancers within weeks of one another.    Each  fought their illness for five long years.  Daria comes from a medical family and she explored every available avenue, including, finally, a bone marrow transplant from her doctor brother.  She was a free spirit.  Unlike her three siblings, she did not follow the dictates laid out by her rigid father.  She was the only one to smoke before she was 21, forgoing the $1000 he promised each child if they made it.  She moved to Maui in her early twenties, lived at the beach, taught school, bartended and had a very cool life.   She married later than most, meeting her dream man in her mid-thirties.  After many years of shuttling between Maui and Lake Tahoe, where she was a black jack dealer, she settled for a more conventional life with her handsome, boyish husband, moving to a tiny town in Wisconsin to live on his family farm and teach school. She was unconventional to the end and I picture her turning the tiny town in which she passed her final years on its ear with her beautiful brave ways.   I consider myself privileged to have spoken  with her numerous times before she was too weak to talk.  Her death left a void in that family that can never be filled.

 



Randy & Pat ca 1984
Old Towne Mexican Café
San Diego

The third loss was two days after Daria's.  My very close friend, Pat, whom I met and worked with in my mid twenties, was one of the kindest, gentlest most thoughtful people I've known. She was a great listener.  When we first met, I was getting divorced; then I was dating (all the wrong men); then I was partying too much; then I was diagnosed with epilepsy; then I was in love and so on.  Pat listened to all the stories with great understanding and humor.  She was married to her soul mate, Randy, with whom she's grown up just outside Milwaukee.  I know she lived vicariously through many of us because we were "out there" and she was not.  But I never detected anything but interest and her advice was wise beyond her years.  Pat and Randy were family to me back in those days.  Pat had a wonderful gift.  She never forgot a birthday.  I never failed to receive a beautiful card and I looked forward to those cards because I knew, wherever I was living, she'd send one.  She was beautiful inside and out.  When she and her wonderful husband, finally left San Diego to return to their families and make a home in Milwaukee, my husband and I threw a wonderful large going away party for them.  Everyone in San Diego radio and TV  came because everyone loved Pat.  She had a way of making me feel like I was brave and funny.  I was a better person seen through her eyes.

 

Three friends.  Five days.  Ten years ago.  It seems as if it were yesterday.

 



Happy Birthday My Son

My son, his girlfriend 2011 Anna Maria Island

My sons are on an extended trip Down Under.  They plan to be away at least one, possibly two years.  This is the birthday email I sent to my youngest who turned 25 last wk.

Son, 

Every birthday, every year, takes me back to the first few years of your life.  I loved my pregnancies and took great joy knowing I was going to have children.  Believe me, once upon a time,  I could have been voted "Least likely to have children".  But you and your older brother are the blessings Dad and I were given.  

The day of your birth I was frightened, as was your father, not because there was anything wrong with you; you were quite perfect.  We just thought ourselves so lucky after the birth of your brother, I think we wondered if lightening could possibly strike twice.

It did.  His name is Fletcher.  He is you.

Twenty five is a benchmark of sorts, but it may not be the turning point of your life.  You'll probably not remember, in later years, why you expected it should be so.  I know I cannot remember my 25th birthday at all.  

You need not have your life mapped.  Twenty five is a compass.  It's pointing you in directions.  You have to choose the road on which to travel and go go go.  I think you and your brother are doing this now on your extraordinary trip to Australia and beyond.  A year or two away from home is a life changing experience.  If it seems haphazard at times, remember, life can be complicated and messy and difficult.  It can also be sweet and simple and it is God's greatest gift.

Use your talent, your brains, your personality and make things happen.  Trust iin yourself, even when you make mistakes.  A mistake is simply taking a path that didn't work out.  Take another!!!  You don't stop hiking when you come to a dead end.

I'm proud of you and the man you've become.  You're generous, kind, loving, smart, artistic and you think out of the box; not an easy thing to do.  For once in my life, I'll credit your father with that trait.

I wish you love and happiness.

Mom

Reprise: My Dad

I posted this tribute one year ago today. I can't think of anything more to add so I'll reprise.

I love this photograph of my father because it doesn't resemble the man I knew in any way shape or form.

The man I knew smoked only an occasional cigar and drank an occasional sherry or glass of wine, barbecued weekends, loved Chinese food and take out, and dressed like Don Draper every work day of his life because he was an ad man.  

This photo was probably taken when he was in the USAF during WWII.  The hair cut, the shirt, the hard-ass look.  I thought this was Frankenstein the first time I found it in the drawer of his high boy dresser.  I was probably 7 or 8 and it scared me to death.  He had to reassure me it was just a photo taken when he was young and he was definitely not a monster!

Dad, circa mid-1940s





I remember my father is as a loving but stern, old-fashioned man with a very rigid set of principles.  He was born in 1910, another era light years from the Sixties when I was coming of age.  We did not see eye to eye.  Yet, he instilled his faith in God, his work ethics, his frugality and his loyalty in my brother and me.  We are the better for those things.


Me, Dad, Mother at Butchart Gardens British Columbia   Summer 1969  Mother & I wear nosegays of violets from Dad



Dad loved an occasional cigar, a pancake breakfast with bacon on the side, a good walk, his dog(s), nature, God and country. He was never so proud as when his two grandsons were born.  I think they were the light of his old age.
 

D

Dad & Grandsons 2005 (age 95)

He was nutrition and supplement minded before it was fashionable.  He read the Rodale books and followed a predominantly naturopathic road when I was young.  I remember him ingesting Tiger's Milk, fish oil, B supplements, high fibre food, whole grains, raw honey.  He walked that walk.  He lived into his late 90s and was still mobile.

Dad presenting retirement document to a retiring Colonel Vandenburg AFB, 2004

For those of you old enough to remember, "My Dad" sung by Paul Petersen on The Donna Reed Show 

 

Zoe's Last Walk

Zoe's Last Walk by Cole Scott

Her daddy shot this series of photos this winter while walking in the snow-covered fields across the road from our house.  She was 16 years old.  We'd had her since 1999 when my husband and sons brought her home from a shelter with a little cat we later named Maggie.  Zoe was already named, approximately 2 years old and about 58 lbs.  At the time she was a sleek, black mix of Lab and Dalmatian.  She had a white chest with a few black spots, a bit of brown under her eyes and the softest ears I've ever felt.  She wasn't pretty but she was cute.  It took a while to calm her.  She'd been brought to the shelter, along with her brother, and was waiting for her forever home.    He'd already been adopted.

We became her forever home.  She had sensitive ears.  We didn't know why but you could not stroke or touch her ears without a yelp or a growl.  She did not like being bothered after dinner.  She liked her quiet time.  We later learned that is characteristic of Dalmatians.  They are a cranky breed.  

We already had a dog,  a beautiful, black long-haired lab/spaniel mix, about 60 lbs, named Jake.   I adored him.  Zoe became his companion.  She was as demanding as he was quiet.  She liked to run, chase balls, chase the car.  He liked to doze, keep watch, let little children climb all over him.  He was gracious, calm, gentle.  Zoe was fierce.  She could snap at you but she was always there for you.  

As my husband describes it, Zoe was "the most loyal dog I've ever had."  She stayed close.  She protected the house.  She protected my beloved cat.  One morning, while driving down our long drive with Zoe in the back and my son in the front seat, we saw Maggie at the driveways' convergence with the neighbor's drive, back arched, fur sticking straight up.  Two foxes had her cornered.  One fox stood above her on our drive, the other to her left on the neighbor's drive.  She was about to be breakfast.  Zoe dove out the open window of the car, chased the foxes away, and my son rescued Maggie.  If not for Zoe, my cat would have died many years earlier than she did.

Zoe liked to run.  I would often come home from work, too tired to walk her.  Instead, I'd put her in the car, drive to a long deserted dirt road, let her out and have her chase the car until she was exhausted.  It was thrilling to see her in my rear view mirror, speeding down the road like a bullet.  She was fast.  She loved to run in a straight line.  We called her "Radial Zoe".

Zoe aged quickly.  Her muzzle turned grey too early; her body thickened, her pace slowed.  She probably spent the last 7 years of her long life as an old dog.  But she never lost her love of the outdoors.  Her joy was palpable.  My husband would take Zoe and Dewey, our younger dog, out for walks and she would bounce around like a little lamb in a meadow.  That behaviour continued almost to the end.  

The last year of her life was fraught with physical deterioration.  She couldn't hold her food down, she 

was incontinent, she slept most of the time, she had tumors on her body and she was failing. The house was becoming a war zone of  accidents. 

Every time I suggested "It's time",  my husband would take her outdoors.  She'd bounce around in the yard, doing her little lamb act.  He'd point and say, 

"See?  It's not time."

Finally, it was.  She couldn't lie down.  She couldn't sleep.  She was very sick in a matter of a few hours.  We rushed her to the vet at midnight on a Sunday.  The vet looked at us and said,

"It's time."

Zoe went peacefully, easily, gracefully.  She slid into death quietly.  We held onto her and stroked her and told her how much we loved her.  We didn't let go until we had to.    

Reprise: The Love of My Life

My cat has been gone three years and three months but I miss her as if she just died. I wrote this a month after she died and want to again share my love.

One of the great loves of my life has died. It's not my husband or child or an old boyfriend or similar...it's my beautiful, adored cat, Maggie.

It may sound funny to describe a cat in such grandiose terms but, in many ways, she was.  I loved her unconditionally.  I forgave everything:  her almost daily habit of serial killing small animals; her constant hair shed; her vomiting the remnants of the small animals she'd devour; her staying out all night in summer causing my husband, sons and me no end of worry.  Maggie did not love me best.  Oh no.  She adored my husband and sons. She liked menfolk.  My eldest son was her early favorite.  They had a very companionable relationship til he left for college. She then became enamored of my husband whose exceedingly warm body was well suited to her needs.  She would practically sleep on top of him even though he did not encourage her.  I, on the other hand, wanted her next to me always but I was always her last resort.

Maggie was a dainty, tiny cat.  She looked like a kitten all her life, never weighing over 6 lbs.  She had perfect confirmation and markings.  The boys and my husband brought her home in 1999 after a visit to a local animal shelter where they also brought home a female dog named Zoe.  Maggie was about 18 mos old at the time though she looked like a kitten.  She had tremendous confidence and a sense of herself which attracted the menfolk immediately.

Early on, we decided not to limit her environment to the indoors. Our property abutted a national forest. We had regular visits from red fox, black bear, moose, wild turkey, the occasional bobcat and weasel. It was a calculated risk.   Maggie had energy, curiosity, aggressiveness and exceptional hunting ability.  For ten years, we waited for the other shoe to drop.

She had two close calls that we know of.  Early on, while driving down the driveway to school, my son and I saw Maggie, back arched and ready to fight two red foxes.  They had her cornered at the junction of our driveway & our neighbors' easement driveway.  Zoe, our dog, Maggie's companion from the animal shelter, jumped out the car window and gave chase to the foxes who were loath to leave the tiny morsel.  My son jumped out to scoop her up and Maggie was saved.

The  second close call was Labor Day 2009.  I found her curled up in a ball on the porch, bleeding, with teethmarks, lacerations and damage all over her body.  We rushed her to the vet and waited anxiously overnight  for the results.  $800 later, she was thriving with numerous stitchings and salve.  The doc ordered bed rest.We kept close watch for the next week and she rallied beautifully.  I breathed a sigh of relief and

thanked God for saving my baby.

Then, on December 10th, three weeks after moving out of the family home we shared and the only home she'd known, my son awoke to find her staggering and listless on the floor of his room after she'd fallen off his bed.  He alerted us to her distress and we observed her for a few moments before finding an emergency vet hospital  open.  It was 8AM.  She couldn't walk right.  She wouldn't look at us.  She didn't want to be touched.  She was dying before our eyes.  Again, we rushed her to the vet.  They xrayed her, they hydrated her, they took blood samples.  She had a seizure and they sedated her to quell the tremors.  They told us they'd monitor her progress.  When we walked out the door of the vet hospital, I began to sob.  I almost collapsed in the parking lot and my husband and son helped me to the car. 

We drove around a while.  I couldn't stop crying.  I didn't go to work.  We returned to the house we now share with my MIL.  My son was quiet and scared.  At 12 noon my cell phone rang.  I answered.  It was the doctor.  Maggie hadn't made it.  The vet did not know why.  I speculated poison.  The vet speculated a "toxin" or a brain tumor that might have grown too large and suddenly killed her.  The vets don't screen for toxins so we'll never know.  An autopsy was out of the question.

I took the news calmly.  I had known when I said "good bye" to her at the vets and walked out that door full of more grief than I'd felt in years.  But my husband and son were stunned.  My son bent over double, holding his head, crying as though his heart would break.  My husband just couldn't believe it.  Our Maggie was gone.  We'd watched tv in bed the night before and she'd curled & cooed & purred to us as she accepted our pets, strokes and love.   She'd done her "roly polys" which I called her rolling about on her back.  She was fine.

The worst part of any death is the hole it leaves in your heart; the void that will never be filled.  We move on, we adapt and we finally accept.  But we never forget and we never quite let go.

Our dogs

My dogs are getting old but they're hanging in there.  Dewey is ten now.  Dewey is a clown.  He's smart, funny and has quite the personality.  He's the apple of my husband's eye.  They are inseparable.  Dewey's absolute favorite thing to do, more than eating, running, barking or sleeping is...riding in the car.   He sulks if he doesn't get a car ride each day.  Seriously.

Zoe is sixteen.  SIXTEEN!  We got her from a shelter when she was 2 or 3.  When she was young, she was fast.  I would often drive her up a long dirt road and let her out to chase the car for exercise.  This was usually after work when I was too tired or it was too cold or buggy to walk her.  She was a bullet.

her favorite thing to do now is...EAT.  She is not dainty.  She scarfs up food like it's her last meal.

Dewey

Old Zoe

Dewey & Zoe about 4 years ago

My husband is Alpha Dog, no two ways about it.  The dogs adore him.  And, yes, they show it.

Happy New Year!

My all-time favorite New Year's Eve movie excerpt "When Harry Met Sally".


 

Happy Thanksgiving!

Embrace your family

Enjoy your surroundings

Count your blessings

I Love You Mom

I miss my mother every day.

She's been gone 15 years.  

Every time I hear the song, "Stardust", my eyes well with tears.  It was her favorite.  She was from Indiana.  Hoagy Carmichael, composer of "Stardust" and many other great standards was also from Indiana.  

My mother loved with an open hand.  She didn't judge me.  She supported me.  I did alot of dumb stuff as a teenager and twenty-something and she forgave me without condemning me in the first place.  I am sure she was dismayed by a number of my activities but she didn't show it.  She understood.

Here's a really fine recording of Hoagy Carmichael playing what became one of the most recorded songs in the 20th century.   

or my favorite rendition below.

Happy Mother's Day Mom.  

Secret Invitation

My mutually shared 60th birthday began as a secret; a secret invitation sent out by my husband to a large group of our friends.

He wanted to surprise me for my birthday by taking a villa in Tuscany to share with our friends.  It's something we've always talked about and he decided somebody needed to take the bull by the horns and investigate the possibilities.

He researched the best months to go, the available properties, whether to get a staff or go "bare boat".  He put together the plan, sent it out and asked them to come, to celebrate in Italy.  It wasn't just about my birthday, there were at least 8 of us turning 60.  It was also about shared friendship.      

He planned it with 9 months lead time thinking that would be enough.  It wasn't.

Out of 20+ invitations, only one person responded she would go.  One said she'd try, the rest were either a flat no or they'd get back to him..  But they never did.  He was crushed.  He never told me.  I didn't know anything about it.

I accidentally found out in the midst of the New Orleans plans.  His trip idea sparked a smaller, shorter, more manageable excursion but it was also more cliquey and not all-inclusive.  One of the women organizing this trip let it slip to me that it was "all Scott's doing."  When I asked what she meant, the cat was out of the bag.

My husband is a thoughtful man.  He loves a surprise.  For his 40th, I surprised him by kidnapping him to Mexico, booking a beautiful hotel in Ensenada where all our friends, at least 14 of them, were waiting.  He's also had a few surprise parties over the years but  I've shunned them for myself.  A few years ago, however, I expressed the desire to really celebrate sixty.  He obviously did not forget.

He was hurt by the lack of response from our friends.  He thought there would be enough of a consensus, say four or five couples, to put it together.  Once I knew and was able to discuss with him, I empathized but told him he shouldn't have too many expectations of friends.  It's often a shifting street, a slippery slope.

It all worked out.  But wouldn't it have been magical to take that villa in the golden hills of Toscana?   We'll get there together.

You know what they say, "When God closes a door, he opens a window"

Happy Valentine's Day!

Cincinnati Flower Show 2008
by Cole Scott

It Was A Very Good Year

(excerpts from the lengthy email with photos sent to friends on New Years' Day)

Friends, Family & Traveling Companions:

This has been one hell of a year!  Our sons moved home, Scott's fine art photography is beginning to take off, we completed the majority of renovations on the old farm house... there was... travel.  It's been a fulfilliing, rewarding twelve months. 

So, today is Jan 1.  Do you remember all the New Years Eves spent together?  ...Do any of you get out there and shake it up any more?  Scott and I celebrated New Years Eve on 12/30 in Boston.  We drove down, checked into a nice hotel near Copley Square,  went walking, taking photographs, visited the Boston Public Library (gorgeous), drank Guiness in an Irish pub, dinner in the North End at a terrific Italian restaurant and spent the next day at the JFK Library.  

... Bryan returned to Salt Lake for his final semester @ Univ Utah.  He's lived there 6 years... SLC has been a perfect environment for his snowboarding, hiking, kayaking, rock climbing, trips to Moab and other adventurous stuff.  He received his degree in Environmental Studies spending his last semester interning for Tim DeChristopher, probably the biggest activist in the David/Goliath fight of environmentalists vs Big Oil & the govt.  He decided to come home and try his luck here [because I work with so many environmental and govt agencies marketing tourism]. 

My job at the tv station is wonderful.  I love selling this niche product... If this is my last job in broadcasting, I lucked out big time.  

In April, [we] returned to Anna Maria Island, FL,  one of our favorite places... It was a warm, sunny week of beaching, swimming, eating and family time.

This summer, [we] took a small renovated "camp" cottage on Lake Sunapee.  We'd never been to this lake and heard lovely things about it...The lakeside homes and old boating garages and wonderful antique boats reminded us of Lake Arrowhead.  Those were the days...

 

Scott ... was commissioned by a local hotel to print 11 images for display in a newly renovated wing... We took a trip to NYC in Sept to meet with an [art] consultant. .. She was enthusiastic and constructive.  While they met, I took the opportunity to visit the Empire State Bldg for the very first time.  It was SO WORTH IT...

Fletcher and Ashley moved back from Naples, Fl...  This winter, Fletcher and Bryan are working in the terrain park of a local ski mountain.  Tough life, 11 hours of snowboarding every day and getting paid for it.

[Scott's mother] is doing fairly well...She'll be 85 this week...  I think it's been a real adjustment for all and it still isn't perfect but how easily does living with one's parents come after all these years?   Bryan and Fletch have only been here a couple of months and they care chafing under our still watchful parental eyes.

Some but not all of you know I participated in a mutual 60th birthday bash in New Orleans in October with [5 of my oldest friends.] ... 3 nights together of eating, drinking and sightseeing, not necessarily in that order...  

Wishing you the best year ahead with health and happiness and love because, when you get right down to it,  that's all there is!

        I call this photo "Everybody loves Scott...except Bryan"  

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

The Children They Were

Nothing has ever tugged at my heart like my children.  They were, as babies, toddlers and youngsters, the most beloved creatures in my life.  I cherished every day with them, even the tough ones, because I knew how precious, how fleeting it was.

 Ages 2 and 3

The boys are men now; young men in their early 20s.  They are no longer mine to protect, to hold in my arms, to keep safe.  They have their own ideas with which I don't always agree and that is to be expected.  It's a balancing act of loving the children they were and the adults they've become.  As little guys, I loved them in no small part due to their dependence and need of me.  As a parent, I have to learn to adjust, accept and love what they are becoming without too many expectations.  I have to learn to love with an open hand.

This brings to mind a favorite book, "The Art of Loving" by Erich Fromm, a German psychologist and philosopher. Published in 1956, it was a must-read in college.  Fromm posited many theories about love including:      

• Love is a skill that can be taught and developed.
• The active character of true love involves four basic elements: care, responsibility, respect, and knowledge
• Loving oneself through understanding, acceptance and personal responsibility is key to loving another person
• He is skeptical of exclusive love in which one loves another person to the exclusion of all else.

His most debated and quoted concept is his differentiation between immature and mature love.

"Immature love says 'I love you because I need you.'  Mature love says 'I need you because I love you.'"

Need vs love.  Do I need them because I love them or love them because I need them? 

I read a short article by a woman who said her mother taught her she would never have to lie to her because it would always be okay to tell the truth.  She promised her truth without punishment.  This courageous, some might say "silly" mother allowed her child to sneak out of the house at two in the morning when she was 14 years old.  The girl had told her mother her friends wanted to do it and asked permission.  Her mother let her go but asked that she call after an hour to let her know she was okay.  She never told her friends her mother was in on it.  This scenario played through her teenage years and she says it made her incredibly responsible.

Now, I learned the  "Ask forgiveness instead of permission" way.  When it came to my father, it was all about after the fact.  I could not tell him who I was, what I was up to, where I was really going or anything else.  No sir. He'd have locked me away for four years: 14-18.  I'm sure he wishes he had. 

My mother was another story.  When I was 17, after a high school career of "Let's see how much I can experiment and live."  my mother took me to lunch one day, reached across the table, took my hand and said, 

"No matter what you do or who you become, I will always love and respect you."

These were the most important words my mother ever spoke.  They gave me self esteem and self respect.

So here I am 20+ years later, hoping I've done the job I wanted to do.  Much love flows between us and they seem unafraid to express themselves emotionally.  We never speak with one another without saying "I love you."  That's a good thing.   My husband and I will take full credit for that!

      Clear Lake, CA. ca 1992  1st water ski lessons & holding the "skiier down" flag

Happy Valentine's Day

Do something with or for someone you love today.

Anniversary

I have been married 36 years today if I don't count the divorce, the 3 year hiatus and 1 year of living together before we re-married.  Now, that is quite a story.

Lake Okeechobee Sunset  by Cole Scott

The lake is surrounded by a man made dike, Hoover Dike,  begun in 1929 completed 1971. 

It protects the surrounding communities from floods during hurricane season.   The

dike takes up the lower part of the shoot which explains the perfectly straight horizon.  

My husband is in Florida right now, exploring the Everglades and the Panhandle.  He left New Year's Day  on a road trip with our oldest son.  They drove to Naples where our second son lives.  They spent a week in the warm sun, helping #2 move into a new apt not fifty feet from the beach.  He had quality time with both boys who, when it came time to say goodbye, were very emotional.  #1 flew back to Salt Lake City for his last semester at the U and my husband left Naples the following day. 

Thirty six years of marriage is certainly no small feat.  It has taken every bit of will power we have to make it work.  Ours is not the idyllic chirping of soul mates.  It is the rocky road of ups, downs, angry moments, leave takings and time spent apart held together ultimately by two children we cherish more than life.  We made the decision long ago to make it work and we have. 

Romantic?  Sometimes very.  Our happiest moments together are on vacation, just the two of us, on the road, exploring.  Our greatest accomplishments are those two boys with whom we are "well pleased." 

Why am I not with my husband right now?  He needed to get away and I needed him to be away.  He needed to bond with his sons, spend memorable time together before the inevitable changes in all our lives become permanent. 

At leave taking, our younger son told his father "I don't think I'll be moving home again, Dad." 

That's a powerful statement and, no matter you know it's coming, it shakes you.  It is one of those moments.

As my husband wends his way towards Apalachicola, I  have to admit, it's a pretty good marriage.  When you get to the point where you can give your partner the freedom to explore, enjoy and discover things with or without you,  no strings attached, that's love with an open hand.   

Happy Anniversary honey!

From the internet...

The Dog’s Dictionary

Dog Bed: Any soft, clean surface—such as the white bedspread in the guest room or the newly upholstered couch in the living room.

Sniff: A social custom to use when you greet other dogs. Place your nose as close to the other dog’s rear end and inhale deeply. Repeat several times, or until your person makes you stop.
 

Deafness: A malady which affects dogs when their person wants them in and they want to stay out. Symptoms include staring blankly, running in the other direction, or lying down.

Thunder: A signal that the world is coming to an end. Humans remain amazingly calm during thunderstorms. It is necessary to warn them of the danger by trembling uncontrollably, panting, rolling your eyes wildly, and following at their heels.

Wastebaskets: A toy filled with paper, tissue, and old candy wrappers. When you get bored, turn over the basket and strew the trash all overhe house.

Sofas: Are to dogs like napkins are to people. After eating, it is polite to rub up and down the front of the sofa and wipe your whiskers clean.

Bath: A process by which the humans drench the floors, walls, and themselves. You can help by shaking vigorously and frequently.

Love: A feeling of intense affection, given freely and without restriction. The best way you can show your love is to wag your tail. If you’re lucky, a human will love you in return.