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

Parenting 101

December 6th, our sons embarked on a glorious trip Down Under with one way tickets and one year work visas.   They've been gone one month and five days and, so far, they're having the time of their lives.

This trip is the culmination of a lifetime of  them talking, hoping and finally working to save the money and go.  Growing up, we encouraged them to explore the world, get to know and understand other people and cultures, learn to cope in new situations, discover who they are and what they want to become.  In other words, we raised them to believe happiness is a goal more important than money, prestige, the accumulation of "things" and climbing the never-ending ladder. 

Success is being happy with who you are not what you have.  

Songs to a Child Born to the Breed

I've been listening to a series of old tapes, favorite music recorded on audio cassettes long ago; long before I had children.   I must have been destined to be a mother; the songs that grabbed me emotionally back in the day are the songs written by the composers to their children.

 Judy Collins' "Born to the Breed" has always moved me.  It is about her then 16 year old son as he leaves home to perform in a rock n roll band, filled with the mixed parental feelings of the joy of his birth and youth to the pain of letting go.

Along the same lines is the better known and iconic "Cat's in the Cradle" by Harry Chapin.  Lost time and time lost with his son are the themes. I never hear this without a pang. It may have even shaped my parenting subconsciously.

Both  songs are about parental love and loss, albeit for different reasons. Both children, as it turns out, are born to the breed.  Both outcomes are surprising, different, yet similar.

In looking for the musical videos to include in this post, I came across this Judy Collins interview with Rosie O'Donnell.  It was a shock.

   

The poignancy of the song is so much greater now.  I did not know this information until yesterday.

As for Mr. Chapin, I remember his early death, though not the exact circumstances which I, again, learned during my research for the post.

Death is still the one absolute.  

I hope you take the time to watch and listen to these great artists whose lives shaped their music and whose music shaped our lives.

BERY5Q9S7SJM

Sweet Halloween Memories

TRICK OR TREAT              

SMELL MY FEET

GIVE ME SOMETHING

GOOD TO EAT

circa 1991-1992

Yes, the refrain of my children back in the day.  We laughed like hell when the little "angels" recited that one.

Then, there was this favorite poem they learned in elementary school.  They can still recite it.

Five little pumpkins

Sitting on a gate

The first one says

"Oh my it's getting late!"

The second one says

"There's witches in the air."

The third one says

"I don't care."

The fourth one says

"Let's run and run and run."

The fifth one says

"It's Halloween fun."

Then WOOOO went the wind

And out went the light.

And the five little pumpkins

Rolled out of sight.

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 Birthday To Me

This morning, twenty four years ago, was the first happiest day of my life. 

Between 8 and 8:30am, my first child, Bryan, was born.  He was a 7lb 8oz baby boy with a full head of hair, dark brown eyes and a high bilirubin count.  He was jaundiced.   I saw him briefly after delivery but he was whisked away to the nursery and placed in a special bed under blue lights designed to reduce the level of bilirubin.  I did not see him again for eight hours.

 

 I was heavily sedated having undergone a Caesarian.  My husband assisted in delivery and my best friend, a nurse practitioner,  was there for moral support.  It was an agonizing day as I waited anxiously to hold my baby for the first time.  By the time 4pm rolled around, I was becoming hysterical, worrying about what might be wrong, despite assurances from the nurses this was "routine".  

When they finally put that little boy in my arms, I knew love I'd never felt before.  Nothing takes the place of carrying a child for nine months, delivering him or her, holding them the first time.  It was magic.  It was instantaneous.  I was bonded.  

Some new mothers have to get to know their baby.  Some are afraid because they haven't any experience.  Some take to it like a duck to water.  No matter.  If you love them, it's all good.

 

Family Photos Easter 2005 
the year Bryan left for college

 

Bryan, his father & brother January 2011

 

My son is now twenty four years old, a college graduate, living in the West, beginning a new chapter in his life; trying to find a real job, pay off school loans and make his way.  He's smart, he's funny, he's unbelievably cheerful and a very fine athlete.  I didn't know what to expect the day he was born but I could not ask for more. 

 

Children's birthdays are a time for celebration...by their mothers and fathers.  So, happy birthday to me!

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!

Sometimes I know we did a good job parenting...

Number One son texts on Thanksgiving after calling me to say he wanted to "change it up for Thanksgiving and volunteer at a homeless shelter". 

TXT#1:  "I love you.  all the homeless shelters and slavations arms were closed so i ran into two homeless guys and drove them to a place with a nice view."

TXT#2:  "Bought them beer and cigs and hung out for a cou(p)le hours.  they were so happy!"

TXT#3:  "Ya it does.  I took them up the avenues and found a spot for them to drink a few beers.  They seemed really happy about it.  Not so lonely ya know?"

TXT from us:  "I am proud of you, son.  Dad wants me to ask you to be careful...I know you are..."

TXT#4:  "I'm all tired from the turkey.  Tell dad not to worrythey were very nice guys.  Right around your age too.  I may call in a bit." 

My loving kind son went out and rounded up two homeless guys and bought them beer and cigarettes and treated them like human beings.  As much as his faith in humanity scares us, it thrills us too. 



#1 Son

  

Theme Thursday: Sand

My earliest memories of sand are from Laguna Beach, Ca.  It is there my family spent each summer for twenty three summers of my life.  It is there I built sand castles with my father who took great delight in teaching us the easiest way to create water & sand designs by letting the sand drip from the index and thumb into a lovely magical shape, helping us move on to more sophisticated creations when we could wield a bucket, shovel and other paraphanalia.


 

Above & right:

Holmes Beach, Anna Maria Island 2009 

Sand was part of my life as a child.  Summers were spent going to the beach with our folks or our friends, on church outings or school field trips.  Sand would get in our clothes, our socks, our shoes, our hair, under our nails.  We tracked it everywhere:  the car, the house, the beach house we'd rent.  Our parents fruitlessly tried to eliminate as much sand from our bodies as possible before allowing us in the house.  Outside showers, hoses, towel wipe downs, stamping of feet were typical presumptive sand terminators.  It never worked well because if we'd been swimming in the sea, our bathing suits were invariably full to the brim with sand and it was always in the crotch.  I remember getting in the shower and taking off  my bathing suit and tons of sand would come pouring out of the crotch.  This may have been caused by the excessive amounts of sand in the Pacific Ocean or from rafting the waves, later body surfing and/or sitting in the sand to make castles, dig a hole, bury someone, etc.  I have never really found out.

The greatest feeling in the world is that first step onto a beach, when you remove your shoes and let your toes wiggle in the sand or let the water wash over your feet, leaving sand in its stead.  Ahhhhh.

Sand is a great exfoliator, is a forgiving jogging surface, and cleans the feet up as it downsizes callouses. 

Sand is one of my favorite, most looked forward to substances.  It always means the beach.  I am not a desert person!  

Six Degrees from Graduation

We called our eldest son last night to tell him his University was cancelling his classes because he hadn't paid his tuition.  This has happened before so we weren't surprised.  However, when my husband spoke with our student, he was irritated to some extent but then said, "I don't want to pay for classes I don't need."

He needs six more units til he can graduate.  He has been paying for college through student loans via the Federal Stafford loan program.  It's cheap money but they have requirements, one of which is "half time enrollment" up to each school.  In his case, I believe it's 10 units.  But, for some reason, he's decided to take only the six units he needs even though he does not have the money to pay for them. 

My husband's theory is  he is afraid to graduate and start his life.  We discussed this for a while, trying to remember how we felt.  I remember graduating with my B.A. Liberal Arts in English Lit.  I was very well educated but not trained to do anything.  My husband took a B.S. in Child Development and went on, after a few years of marriage, to get his MSW so he could be a social worker.  We struggled for a long time and I know how this feels. 

My son will have to start his life regardless because the federal loan criteria requires ongoing presence in school or you start paying back the loans until you return to school.  Son #2 is currently paying $101.00 per month for a small amount of loans he took during his two stints in college.  Soon #1 will have a much higher bill, I'm afraid.

How do you guide your child at this point in their lives?  He's 23 years old and has, for all intents and purposes, been independent from us and our financial help for over three years.  We are very proud of him because of this.  He scrapes by as a part time waiter.  School funds give him the additional support he needs.  He's studying Environmental Studies and we think there are many directions in which he can go.  But, we think he's scared. 

If anyone has gone down this path, I'd love to hear about it. 



Anniversary

Today would have been my parent's 60th wedding anniversary.  My mother and father would be 95 and 100, respectively.  Mother always said she did not want to live to be "too old" though I'm not sure she meant "old" so much as "infirm".  She did live to be 81 but was bedridden the last 18 months of her life, felled by strokes.  That was the kind of infirmity she dreaded.  Mercifully, she died in her sleep.  She loved me unconditionally and it was wonderful.

Dad lived to be 97.  He's been gone three years now.  It's hard to believe as he was such a presence in my life, mostly an irritating presence, but a presence nonetheless.  I loved my father but he worried too much and he gave way too much advice.  It's hard taking advice when you're in your fifties...forties...etc.  I find myself doing the same damn thing.  The apple doesn't fall too far from the tree.

My brother called to remind me today but I already knew.  I'd been thinking about this anniversary for weeks.  We talked a bit about them; how much we miss them.  We both agreed it's amazing to be married that long.  Our parents married late and both had previous spouses but no children.  I suppose my husband and I can hit that number because we married 35 years ago and we're both only 50.  Why yes, it was a shotgun wedding...

There is a common wisdom that says one can never again be a child once their parents have died.   I have begun to think that is true.  I know it in the deepest part of my Id.  I know I can never again feel the warm comfort of my parent's arms about me, their kisses on my forehead, my father's hand holding mine.  I can talk to them but I cannot be with them.  And I really really miss that. 

The older I become, the more I appreciate their wisdom, their sacrifices, the tragedies endured and the many gifts they gave me, not least of which are my values. As our parents leave us, the little irritations fade and the good things move to the forefront.  As Martha would say, "It's a good thing."

Bye Bye Love or Hello Happiness?

Are empty nesters happier once their children fly the coop?  According to Britain's Daily Mail, you too "might just start feeling richer, fitter and sexier". 

Our family 2005 the year our first born left home for his freshman year in college

Okay, I'll buy that.  In fact, there's no doubt in my mind.  While I love my sons dearly, when they were both out of the house, my husband and I were happy, extremely happy.  It was kinda that feeling we would get when we'd drop them at summer camp each year.  We'd say "buh bye" and they'd be standing there waving and we'd be waving and, as soon as they were out of sight, we'd start with the high fives and the "What'll we do for the next few weeks while they're gone?" fantasies. 

One of the first things we like to do is...run around naked.  Now, don't say "ewwwww".  I bet many couples like to run around naked.  Not so much because it's sexy but because, with the kids out, you CAN.  Another is to not worry about dinner til you're hungry, if at all.  No nutritional issues now that the kids are grown.  I mean, if you just want to eat salads every night & drink wine, you don't have to make a second more nutritious meal for the children. 

We can sleep.  No lying awake nights waiting for them to come home from whatever they have been up to.  No worries.  No matter where they are, they are not in your face with it any longer.  Plus, I never could sleep worth a damn until I knew they were safe and sound in their beds. 

The pets eat on time again.  It was always a struggle to get the poor dogs & cat fed by 6:30pm.  You'd think I was asking them to dig a ditch.  And the squabbles over whose "turn is it?" 

We have clean drinking glasses in the cupboards again.  It seems like every time we wanted a glass, they were all dirty and in their room.  I'd go up there and find aat least 4-6 empty, dirty glasses in the room.  Why couldn't they carry them downstairs and put them in the dishwash so we'd have some clean ones?  Huh?

There's hot water left over, the electrical fees have gone down, we have the use of our washing machine back and the dryer is empty and may be used.  Kids leave every light & computer on in the place.  They take showers lasting a minimum ten minutes, usually twenty.  The washer & dryer are always in use...by them. 

Oh yes, we miss them but in a good way.  We miss their exuberance and their presence in our lives and their smiles and laughter & joy.  We don't miss the coming & going, the phone calls past 11pm, the constant activity and boistrous bellowing.  We don't miss dragging them out of bed at 11am in the morning.  

My husband and I get along better than we have in years.  How many years?  Oh, I'd say about 22...since the second "little Angel" was born. 

Summer Days

This photo just came through my work email.  It's a shot of very young golfers at a local golf course & resort promoting family golf. This photo cracks me up.  These little guys are probably 3-5 years old.  I can't imagine what patience and fortitude the pro must have when he takes this group out on the course. 

My parents had me learning golf when I was 7.  I took lessons, on and off, for years.  I loved the pro at our club because he was devoted to teaching the kids even though, in those days, there wasn't any national junior golf nor even an LPGA!  The "juniors" had to be off the course by 9am on Men's Day and not back on most days til after 3pm.  It was often extremely hot in the afternoon and I would get fussy.  Southern Cal is dry but it can be wicked hot.  This course was gorgeous, lots of old tall oak trees and eucalyptus.  But I longed for the turn on the 9th hole when we stopped and had lemonade.  We usually played 9 holes.  During lessons, we played 3-4 holes.   I played in junior tournaments and those were a full 18. Although I did win a few trophies,  my heart was never in it.  By the time I was 15, I was "all done".  I didn't pick up a golf club again til in my late twenties and then, only to play with my mother or father when visiting.   

My parents' club was nice. It dated back to the 1930s or 40s.  It was constructed of a very smooth stucco painted pale pink.  Sounds awful but it was popular in those days.  We had an Olympic sized swimming pool where I was taught to swim at the age of 3.   My mother, brother and I spent many happy hours sitting around and going in and out of that big pool.  Lots of mothers took their chicks to swim.  It was a rockin' place!  Our biggest treat was to get a hot dog and Coke from the refreshment window.  Snow cones were a big treat as were popsicles.  

Summer days at the pool!  How I loved them.   Summer days on the golf course...not so much. 

Letter to My Son On His Birthday

Birthday Boy:

Sorry for the email but, between the time change and everyone's crazy schedules, we hope to catch up with you some time today or early this evening to again wish you a happy birthday.

Twenty three years ago you made me the happiest person on the face of the earth.  You were the most beautiful baby ever, so little and brown.  You smiled from the get-go.  Such a happy, joyous child.  You have given us moments of stress, fear and great love.  Glad the first two are pretty much done tho'.  Growing pains are, possibly, hardest on the parents. 

I hope today is special.  I hope you do get to skydive.  I so wanted to when I was your age.  Well, a few years younger, actually.  By the time I was your age, I was planning my wedding to your father.  Can you imagine?

Wish we were all together.  But we soon will be. 

Re:  those "presents" you bought for Dad & your brother, you'd better check w/ the post office as to the legality of mailing.  They may be construed as weapons.  You might be better off using UPS or Fed Ex but I would be upfront w/ all.  You don't need some postal regs to bite you in your tiny little butt.

I love you  I love you  I love you.      Mamma              

                                                       

Happy Mother's Day

Japonica

Today is Mother's Day. I will get up, make breakfast for my MIL and husband. At 2pm, we shall go to a lovely old 19th century hotel for a sumptuous brunch.  My older son is preparing to travel to Costa Rica. He's just finished another year in college. My younger son is away this weekend so I will not see him. It's just my husband, MIL and I.

I miss my mother. She died in 1997. She would be 95 now and I don't think that would please her. She never wanted to live that long. But I miss her terribly; her wisdom, her patience, her kindness, her acceptance. I am not as good or patient or kind as she was but she did teach me acceptance and love and, for my children, I have that in abundance.

American Sunday: Part II

American Sunday 12 

by Cole Scott Photography

This is another photo from the church journal shoot my husband has been working on.  I first referred to this on a post in February.  As you might have surmised, this shot was taken Easter Sunday. 

American Sunday

American Sunday 22 by Cole Scott

 My husband is working on a photographic journal of our church.  This is one of my favorite captures.

What's In A Name?

21 years later

Brian @ Waystation One, inspired this memory today.

My second son was supposed to be named Patrick Dylan. My husband had named our first son according to his family tradition and it was now my turn. I had chosen the name years before. I always loved Patrick and I thought Dylan a fitting and fluid choice for a middle name and I loved Bob Dylan, Dylan Thomas, etc. The day the baby was born, my husband told me he didn't like the name I'd chosen and he wanted to name our second son after his father. I was pissed, to say the least. We argued 4 days. I'd had a C section and remained hospitalized for the week. The Vital Statistics lady kept telling me if we didn't name the baby before we left the hospital, we'd have to go through the court system, a tedious process. My OB advised me he and his wife had the same problem with their second child and ended up naming her Kimberly Clark after the tissue box. I didn't really believe him but it turned out to be true.

Anyway, I let my husband choose my son's first name and I chose the middle name, a family name, insisting we call him by that. His middle name is Fletcher. His friends call him Fletch. I am often asked if I named him after that silly Chevy Chase movie of the same name. The answer is a resounding "No!" He is named after my great great granduncle, Winslow Fletcher, a riverboat captain on the Mississippi.

btw, my son loves his middle name!

A Beautiful Son

It may be Father's Day but this is a post about my younger son.

A year ago exactly, I wrote a post about his moving back to our family home. I read it to my husband this morning and he remarked how much our son has grown and changed this past year. And he has. His life has taken turns he did not expect and is not necessarily happy with but he's learning from his mistakes. He had bombed out of his Freshman semester the year before, finding it difficult to live away from home and unable to concentrate on his studies. He left after one semester and moved to Utah to live with his brother who attends college at the "U". He stayed six months then moved back to be near his friends.

Last Fall he tried college again. This time he was accepted to UNH, New Hampshire's most prestigious state school. He got in by writing an eloquent letter to Admissions about his first attempt, his lack of readiness and his willingness to return to academia because he knew what was important in life. He lasted one semester. He was evicted from his apartment for non-compliance, among other things. He partied a lot. He studied very little. Still and all, his grades were not bad but he couldn't stay focused.

He came home again and went to work in a restaurant full time, moving into a rental with two roommates. He went to the doctor and asked for ADD medicine. He saved enough money to buy a car. He's working now to save money to move to Arizona, enroll in a community college and live with a friend. He is, once again, living at home.

This time, however, I'm enjoying his company. He's keeping his room cleaner, he's helping out more around the house. He's coming home at a more reasonable hour and staying quiet when he does so as not to awaken me. He is well-mannered, polite and gracious.

His current goal is to start a non profit company of tee shirts with original designs by children in Ghana. Profits would go to buy art supplies for the kids. This embodies the essence of my son: a kind and gentle soul, a gifted artist who needs only to find his direction and move towards it.

Me too.