Goodbye, Bill

Life has been kind of up and down these days. Death has been a bit prevalent, and I have to say, I'm just not a fan. I am not good at saying goodbye. Never have been, never will be. There have been other endings recently as well, and other goodbyes, and I think I have mentioned before that I am a starter, not a finisher. This applies to work, and to projects, and to things like unloading the dishwasher which I should be doing right now. Love the beginnings, hate the ends.

The most recent death I have been coming to terms with is that of a high school friend's father. Seems kind of fringe, on the outside, and perhaps something that shouldn't affect me as much as something in my own family, but strangely enough that is not so. Of course there is more to the story. There always is. This friend wasn't just a friend, but a close high school friend. Her father wasn't just her father, but was also my pastor during my high school and college years. This man wasn't just my pastor, but a family friend. And he wasn't just a family friend, but was also the man who married Tim and myself. In a way, he is responsible for the life I lead. His consecration of our love led to the life Tim and I have created together, the life we feel so blessed to live. Yeah, it has been a bit to take in. But still, there is more.

Facebook is a funny thing sometimes. I have been on it since 2008. It started as a page I put up, along with my husband, after his 20th high school reunion. People proposed it as a way to stay in touch, and we set up a page together. I soon kicked him off my page realizing what fun it was to connect with people from my own present and my past. I connected with my high school friend's father/my former pastor, Bill, and formed yet a new bond, Facebook friend.

As my experience grew with Facebook, I found it to be a place to share some of my writing with others. I started to post my blogs to Facebook. Bill had long since moved South, following the retirement parade to places closer to his own children, and of course, grandchildren. I hadn't had a chance to see him in a while, to experience his hearty laugh, or be on the receiving end of one of his powerful hugs. Still, Bill became one of my biggest online fans, always "liking" my posts, often commenting on them. And his words meant the world to me. At times his, "Yep, I've been there," confirmed that I wasn't alone. I might have had a post that ranted a bit about the typical frustrations of life, marriage, children, and through the words of my pastor/friend, I found peace yet again. I know that what I write, in essence, addresses the universality of the human condition, and Bill's comments reinforced that I hit my mark. At times his writerly compliment made me proud. He was a man of words, a man that stood, weekly, in a pulpit, expressing his beliefs and ideas. He was a fellow writer, and he found my writing to be good enough. He took the time to compliment, he took the time to say "Yes, you're a writer."

This past week, his family began the long process of saying goodbye. I will have my opportunity soon, to formally do so. And all around me I keep being reminded of endings. Even driving into the city of Oswego this weekend, seeing the graduation flags flying and the U-Hauls hauling, I am reminded again that goodbyes are just part of life. And yes, I suppose in some ways, endings are new beginnings as well. Still, I don't like them, and I don't think I ever will. But today I will say goodbye here. Goodbye Bill, and Godspeed, and for so many things, Thank You, from the bottom of my heart.

As much as I love them, sometimes, I wish my kids would disappear for a while, a day, or even a few.

This afternoon, one of them is trying my patience in a battle of wills, and one is needing attention. We are attending to both, as we should. Playing our roles as good, attentive, caring parents. And I love it, we love it, wouldn't change it for the world and all. We know how lucky we are, believe me. Still it doesn't change the fact that I would just like them to disappear for a few days, so Tim and I could just be US. We have been WITH them, so intensely, for the last month. We took an epic family vacation. Encountered school stresses, for kids and parents alike, in the form of evaluations and testing. We faced a family funeral and had to take that time to adjust and to say goodbye. Now, I just want some time off, some time just for us.

Driving home from the store, with the clouds beginning to roll in, and with the 4 'o clock reality of Sunday evening looming, the song "Runaway" by Jefferson Airplane fed my angst even more.

"You don't know how much I miss you, I miss you like the sun. I want to put my arms around you, we could run, run, run, runaway."

Well, today saw the return of the summer sun. 78 degrees, I felt it through the roof of my car, as I zipped to the store, trying to make the most of the last thing I wanted to be doing. I was doing what had to be done. Tim was home, managing and mowing. Doing what had to be done. But the heat from the sun on my hair reminded me of how much I missed it. It reminded me of how our couple life feels right now. And I'm not talking about date night. We just had one on Friday. We have fun ones planned for the next two weekends, with other couples too. I mean us time, time alone, time to just BE. We get a lot more of it than some do, I know. But perhaps it is because of that that periodically we crave it more than most as well? It's not that anything is all that bad, or that anything is really wrong. We're just fried...tired. I know that a little time of JUST us will fix just about anything, and I know that a little time of JUST us would revive us both, allowing us to be, happily, the hands on parents that we both are. The parents that we both want to be. The people we both are.


Today, I just kinda miss us, and I wish we could just run, run, run.
Runaway.

Know how the Dixie Chicks sang about wide open spaces? I kind of get that now.

Have been spending the last couple of days recovering from our latest family travel adventure, 6 days trekking to and around Arizona. I keep wondering why I am still in a fog, but then I remember that even the one hour time change of "spring ahead" will bug me for a week, and we jumped three full hours on Thursday. Not to mention we flew in to Buffalo at 12:30am EST and then drove 3 hours to Lansing to spend the night. I was telling my seat mate on the airplane about our trip, and about our evening ahead, and mind you he was a hearty Buffalonian, rust belt raised, but he said even he would be getting a hotel room! Our family travels hard, and pushes through. I may be foggy now, but boy did we make the most of all the time we had.

With the amount we took in, in the time we were there; the things we saw, the miles we covered, I suppose I should give myself some leeway. And if you think about it, fog is good when it brings shade to the resurrection of real life, allowing a little more time to process a whole new world. Who knew that whole new world existed right within the borders of our own country? Not me, apparently, but I feel like I have been let in on a secret. Travel is that way.

Now I know I have piqued your interest. Do you want in on a few of the secrets I learned? Want some wide open spaces wisdom?

Saguaro cactus really have their own personalities that are pretty funny sometimes.
Canyons are really deep and steep, all of 'em, Grand and not so grand.
Petrified wood really is rock, and wood, at the same time.
You really can get your kicks on "Route 66," in a Wigwam even.
Meteors really make big big BIG holes sometimes.
Deserts are really vast, and open and dry, and still, for thousands of years, despite that, people have been living in them.
Red rocks are really all kinds of amazing shades of red.

I know, it all sounds stupid, kind of redundant even, but until you actually see it and feel it, I don't think it can be comprehended. Tim and I both were repeatedly awestruck, which, again, when you are in your forties is a really cool experience. To be blown away. To see like you have never seen before. We kept commenting to each other that we have seen photos of all of the things that we saw on our trip for our whole lives, but seeing them in person was like seeing them again, but for the first time. I would recommend it to anyone. Go west, young or old, man or woman, and have your eyes opened. There really is a whole world out there, just waiting to be explored.

Oh, and a final thought, while prickly, the prickly pear cactus really does make a DAMN good margarita!

Why are Reese's peanut butter eggs SO much better than Reese's peanut butter ANYTHING ELSE?

And speaking of that, why does Easter candy time have to come so close to spring break, a time where we just might be headed someplace warm, and we just might have to face our bodies, in all their winter padded pale, in a bathing suit? Easter candy, you mock us with your..."Hey, check me out! I'm yummy! I have practically 50% more peanut butter than the average Reese's product. It makes me protein rich. A health food practically. I know, summer is right around the corner, but don't you want a final hurrah? And who are we kidding, really, you will keep on eating right into summer too, and BBQ, and ice cream, and daily afternoon beverages...dig in sister!"

I suppose it is better than back in days of young children. The bunnies were the worst. Especially the solid ones. The kids didn't really even want them, except perhaps, IF they could work their teeth through them, the ears. And then the rest would be there, stuck to the Easter grass, taunting us, calling to us, until we caved, and ate them. Or maybe we got creative, and melted them down. Made ourselves a little individual afternoon fondue? And then we wondered why we didn't fit into our shorts.

I guess it is what it is. And my writing today is simply to admit to the shame. Or perhaps you could say it is to admit defeat. I caved. There was one PB egg up in the cupboard. I was trying to avoid it by putting it there, out of sight and out of mind. And it was working until I saw it while putting dishes away. Then I ate it. And truth be told, if there had been another up there, I'd probably have eaten that one too.

That'll teach me to do the stupid dishes.

Happy Freaking Easter.

Me and Laura just a FEW years later...

So, I started reading These Happy Golden Years a few weeks ago. I know it is a complete infraction of the "Laura Ingalls Wilder Fan Club" not to have read it already, and obviously I lied in third grade when I said I had, in fact, read all the books. Nonetheless, I have now read it and that is that.

As a young girl, as much as I loved the thought of reading all the Laura books, some just did not appeal to my 9 year old self. Farmer Boy, obviously,as a boy hating young girl, was one. That is old news, and has been admitted before. But the further exposure at hand involves These Happy Golden Years, Laura's account of early adult life. It begins with her early teaching days, and also covers her courtship with Almonzo. As I read, though, I fully understood why I have waited. What would this book have meant to me then? And wow, it is amazing what it means to me now. Three distinct things really stuck out for me, Laura's relationship with her Pa, her thoughts on teaching, and, of course, Almonzo.

Now "the Pa thing" is a constant throughout the books. Laura loves her Ma, but her Pa, well, there is just a special bond between a girl and her Dad sometimes. I get that entirely. I have it with my dad, and I see it in Gwynn's relationship with Tim. Your "Pa" is your first love in a lot of ways, and a sounding board that is just different from your "Ma." "Ma's" tend to hug you and comfort you, "Pa's" tend to tell it a little more like it is. And, I truly believe that "Pa's" are one of the greatest influences on a girl's self confidence. I loved the quotes throughout the whole series, but particularly on page three,in the chapter Laura Leaves Home. She's nervous to set out and be a teacher, but Pa settles her with kind words of confidence...

"You've never failed yet at anything you've tried to do, have you?"

"Success gets to be a habit, like anything else a fellow (ha!) keeps on doing."

or my favorite...

"You have confidence in yourself, that's the only way to make other folks have confidence in you, but one thing you must guard against. You are so quick, flutterbudget. You are apt to act or speak first, and think afterwards. Now you must do your thinking first and speak afterwards. If you will remember to do that you will not have any trouble."

The next chapter sees her coming to terms with growing up, being the teacher, and also chronicles her struggles living as a border in the home of a clinically depressed homesteading woman. She keeps busy, working hard as best she can, but at one point, feeling overwhelmed, she stops on her walk from the school and says, out loud, to herself, "Oh Pa. I can't" I love that in that moment of weakness she calls out, and it is not to God, but to her Pa. I can think of so many times in my life I did the same. My mom was a teacher, but usually, to talk about work stuff, I go to my Dad. In fact just this year, struggling with so much that is plaguing my profession, it is my Dad who has helped me a great deal in the quest to keep on doing what I know I do best. I have had my moments this year much like Laura, saying "Oh Pa. I can't," but it is truly WITH the support of a wonderful Dad, and Mom, family and friends, that I have been able to keep calm and carry on, no matter what has been thrown my way.

And speaking of that tough school year at what feels, sometimes, like an educational testing factory, I was SO identifying with Laura at the beginning of the book where, concerning teaching, she was just figuring out how to get by. She was getting through each day, crossing off days on the calendar, making marks in her planbook. She was constantly reminding herself that she was doing it for her family, for Mary, so Mary could stay in school. Then, later in the book, she found success, she wowed during the the somewhat clueless and unannounced visit from her Superintendent which was just funny, and she gets a good job at The Perry School. As Laura described it, it was all fresh and new and full of all that a good classroom should have, all that a good classroom should be. I could so clearly picture it, and also so clearly knew while I read that part with great love and understanding, that I am right where I ought to be, doing just what I ought to do...teaching...growing children...igniting knowledge. Whatever the state thinks education should become, I know in my heart that to me, it is just the beauty and simplicity of something much like The Perry School.

And finally, Almonzo. Oh Almonzo. To have a boy who loves you, who is willing to drive through the cold and the snow on weekends for you, who lets you take the reigns sometimes, who trusts you and lets you be who you are, who gives you a garnet ring that sparkles. Well, let's just say that the parallels between Almonzo and Laura, and Tim and me are pretty darn uncanny. Yep, it's just Laura and me, a few years later. Laura, I've lived a little bit of life now. Why don't you and I get together for a cup of tea sometime because it seems, my friend, that you really have been with me all along.

Sync has been in progress all week here, and I do believe that here, on Sunday afternoon, it is safe to say that it was hugely successful.

Tim and I have had a rough start to 2013, going all the way back to the 2012 holiday season even. Between sickness and life/work/home/money/stress craziness, it just has not been a time full of our typical blend of life zen. Rather, it has been a hard to swallow, occasionally bitter pill, literally. And as we've been grasping at happiness, it has surely been an uphill struggle. We've been having to work, HARD just to keep our heads above water, and in my silly head, I was starting to wonder if we had just taken some sort of a turn? If by some chance we'd played all of our lucky cards and life was just gonna be tough, and get tougher, from here on out? I began to equate it with being certainly IN to our 40's, parents getting a little older, kids as well. Was it perhaps time for us not to live the charmed life we've become accustomed to?

I know, sad. I know, overreactive. But you clicked and chose to read this rambling crap I write. I make no apologies.

Well, February break, a long time favorite of mine, approached, but I literally chose to have no real expectations. That, all the quote quothers say, is a good way to be. If you have no expectations you can't be disappointed. But you know, I have a hard time approaching things that way. I generally expect good in my life. And, I AM a planner. Even more troublingly, I have a DEEP SEATED inner Clark Griswold, and I do tend to build expectations into most situations. And in my life, really, overall, in all 40+ years, I have not been terribly disappointed. Still, with our luck as it has been of late, I did enter this break with a very low key vibe. I had a (small) list of things I hoped might happen, but had hardly reviewed it, had not even run it by Tim, or any of our family members, who actually factored into several things on the list. Yes, I hoped to be able to do some stuff over break, but if none of it happened, I wouldn't have been too let down.

Then Friday 2/15 hit...
and Devin's bowling team won sectionals! It was like a sea change of good fortune...good STUFF just stared to happen, and kept on happening, every day of break!

Some was small...like Saturday, we actually cleaned the whole house, together, happily. Then Sunday we celebrated Norah turning 4. Monday through Wednesday Tim and I GOT AWAY and did numerous and sundry things including fun, frolic, and home repair...and we smiled throughout. Wednesday night it was back to Lansing and out for a family dinner at Maxie's Supper Club, bathing my taste buds in the cuisine of my inner Southern girl. Thursday Mom and I shopped and I got GREAT bargains, for myself, and for the kids' upcoming birthdays.

Then, clarity to the week's purpose just about hit me in the face on Thursday night. A fairly competitive game of "Scattergories" at mom and dad's confirmed that we were undoubtedly beginning, again, to Sync. Not to mention, a great moment in "Scattergories" history occurred. Better than Barry's? Maybe not. But in the trajectory of a 20+ year relationship it surely was one for the record books. Faced with the letter M, and with the category, "Something found at the beach," Tim and I both wrote, mind you seated ACROSS the room from each other. "Marge, Large and IN CHARGE." No, not simple things like men, moms, mosquitos, mangoes, magazines, or manatees. No. Instead a character. A part of our shared history. A strange and fringe member of our long and charmed story. Good old "Marge," there, to sunscreen her daughter, hand out snacks, referee her part of the beach, but also, apparently, there in OUR collective subconscious, perhaps to remind us that we are JUST FINE. We are fully, forever, and always in Sync.

The beauty of the week continues, even to today. The week wound down, and we traveled back home. More good fortune came our way, this time in the form of FINALLY getting reimbursed some insurance money we were owed from an accident Tim had in JULY. This veritably covered any spending we had done over break, even. A cleaning out/redecorating session in Gwynn's room was successful and involved few tears from my MiniHoarder. Even the Oswego Laker Hockey team obliged us, as they had a very exciting win over Buff State to send them further into the finals. Yep, it was a really, really, REALLY good break. And you know, I think I will go back to being my "Clarky G" self, and go ahead and start to plan and prepare for our next great family adventure, to the Grand Canyon over April break. Still, this week has left me mindful. It has been a tough couple of months, but luck is fluid, and fluids find their way into the cracks. Yes, the cracks are the bad things, but they remain, sometimes, open, waiting to be refilled. Happiness comes and goes, but it is always there. Even the difficult times, turn. Every cloud DOES have its silver lining.

It's OK...good even...to have expectations...because, quite frankly, we all deserve goodness in life.
And LIFE is GOOD.

Sync IS complete.

Vision

I took a photo of Devin's trombone at Solo Fest on Saturday, because I had a vision. I knew we had a certain day ahead, and in my mind I was composing a PicStitch photo. I'd include a long shot of the 'bone, and, naturally, a blurred shot of Gwynn's basketball game. Then, I figured I'd include, alongside, a shot of our lunch at one of our favorite family watering holes, "Parker's Pub," be it Auburn or Newark, two of our "pass through towns." Their food and drink is notable and deserved a space. Yep, even before we got going in our day, I knew how I wanted to document, and that long instrument was just what I needed to fit the visual space. How odd of me to think they way, I know, but I certainly can see it as an exercise in self preservation as well. I am someone who likes a plan, and our family life these days demands far less in terms of long term vision, and far more in the way of skill in making moments out of molehills. In other words, lately, our vision seems to be day by day. Like driving at night, where even if we can only see a bit in front of us at a time, amazingly, it seems we can make the whole trip that way. It is a bit to get used to for a planner like me, but I am finding my way. My vision.

Today, Monday, is snow day two. Friday, ever so happily, we had off, due to snow. Then the PicStitched weekend was great, and busy, and not interrupted by nuisance snow at all. Monday, we woke to a blessed blanket, and it has not stopped all day long. We have accumulated, easily, a foot of snow. If you look out the window, at times, vision is obscured. The trees drip with snow. The bay seems not even to be there. At times I can't see our neighbors homes. But it doesn't matter. We are cozy, and home. There is a candle burning, and music playing, and time to read and write and rest and create and dream and think. I take it in. I am not worrying ahead, or thinking ahead, or planning ahead. I am here. Now. Under a peaceful blanket of snow, and my vision is perfectly clear.