Thoughts For A New Decade

November, 2023

Edited from a birthday letter to friend Carol Schlink...these are reminders for me too! 

Happy Seventieth To Me! 

Having arrived at the threshold of this decade a month ago, I consider my self well equipped to share a few (maybe not 70) thoughts for the journey.  

Stay grateful.  I know many will offer that same advice and even suggest I journal about it each night, but some of us are busy!  If  I manage to think of  seven random things to appreciate everyday, note them and move on,  I bring up that many smiles.  Extras count!

Remember. Memories rise up unexpectedly at times.  For others, we need to concentrate.  For me, looking at a photo I’ve had out or hanging forever, gazing at a piece of decor, or contemplating  the color of a room I painted so long ago can bring up the thought of who Bob  and I were when we acquired them.  Sometimes, it’s just noting what’s in the cupboards and smiling over the routines I’ve established over the decades! 

Reminisce.  I do this with a friend, Bob, a family member …I found myself engaged with friends (most older than me) chatting about our childbirth experiences the other day.  Amazing what one recalls!  Sort of made me feel a lot younger than my body tells me I am!

Go with grace.  I envision grace as a kind of anti-freeze for my soul that keeps my juices flowing, slows me down, helps me keep on keepin’ on when I am frozen with worry or pain.  Seems like there’s more grace for the taking as we age,  if we learn to recognize and engage it.  

Stay kind and note the kindness of others, even if their style is not my style. 

Stay flexible in mind and body . I once read that it’s how to keep from breaking.  Some days my brain requires the flexibility of Gumby, I swear.  My body…well that’s maintenance that’s here to stay.  Worth it though!

Believe in Love.  We’ve been practicing it in some form all our lives.  Now’s the time to recognize it is still around and in need of a boost some days.  Sometimes I have to go looking , or even ask for it in my subtle or not so subtle ways.   Never disappointed if  it’s still a daily possibility.

And that is what I can offer as a newcomer to the stage of the seventies.  Ever hopeful that good things are yet to come, I carry on and wish you the same.    I hope you will find so much joy for the living around endless corners and in unexpected spaces.  

What to do...when I can't...   May 25, 2022

    Where do I begin to make sense of the world presented to me this morning?  It's been so long since I sat to write, life taking up space, maintenance of an aging body taking up time.  So often I have awoken to a new challenge or difficult tasks required of me, a hectic schedule with not enough time for the ordinary requirements of a day.  This day, I have nothing but time...and the seemingly insurmountable task of rising above my sadness.  

    Bob and I exited the theatre last night, shaken, annoyed, angry perhaps, confused and with no answers or solutions.  Yes Ms Playright...I believe you made your point, pierced some hearts and left all in the audience uncomfortable and questioning.  You are indeed brilliant!  I have no answers, but I do know I must live the questions with whatever time and space I am presented.  

    Fast forward to our departure from Providence.  It was a Tuesday night and traffic westbound on our interstate was at a dead stop.  Is it really a good thing to know why... and so immediately?  Google supplied me with a link to the news that a high speed chase had resulted in a three car crash at 9:45 pm, shutting down the highway and more importantly, tearing limbs, lives and hearts asunder. 

But the banner at the top of my screen showed the unbearable...making this traffic a trivial affair...  18 more children slaughtered in the safest space many of them may have known, their school.  

    I am sad, my heart heavy, limbs frozen weary perhaps...but safe and able. This drape of emotion is like a skin of dread I must acknowledge.  Reach out to friends for quiet coffee, release my spouse from the responsibility of making it better.  Take hope in the sunlight beyond my kitchen window, the new blossom on the Peace Lily in our living room, the knowledge there is much to do, the wisdom that whispers "you can't do it all, but you can do something".  

    I am sad.  Let the tears flow... and with tissues in pocket move out into the hurting world beyond.  Tiny gestures, small tasks, quiet kindnesses won't fix the bleeding and the denial all around us.  Maybe only my own soul will be restored...I'll have to work with that.   

     

The Christmas Letter That Wasn't...The Sequel That Is!

  Greetings!                                                                       Sometime in Mid December 2021

     I pondered for several days whether I would pen a Christmas letter this year.  There is so much to say, and perhaps I could not capture the spirit of my spirit properly!   But, as this past year and a half merits attention and remembrance, I will move slowly, step by step to reflect on our experience of life in 2021.  These letters go into a file and serve as a collections of memories, so their usefulness to me is precious! 

    Gratitude is what springs to my face and fingers this morning, as I peer out to the first snow of the season.  Last night we ushered and attended a soulful and celebratory version of A Christmas Carol and exited the theatre to a light sprinkle in the air.  We made our way to a covered garage nearby, grateful for no need to scrape or wipe the flakes away.  The gift of snow had settled on our outdoor decorations and fence, by the time we arrived at 29 Burton Street, and I was moved to photograph the wonder at 11:15...grateful for the energy to do so! 

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                                                                                            January13, 2022        

Here I sit...thinking there's so much to say, but perhaps a bit hesitant to force my brain to reveal it...seems like so much work!  I will stop at any distraction...the passers by on my street, the state of the harbor lit by a sunny sky at last.  It's been a grouchy January, and one I have rued with each sunset.  The sunsets have been lovely, but the diminished light and the cold cold evenings it ushers in are a lot of work...you know...the house work of creating some ambience to prevent myself from crawling in to bed at 7:00 pm.  Light the fairy lights, draw the shades and adjust the drapes just so, get in to some comfy lounging pants and top, set an uncluttered candle lit table, find some calming dinner music or succumb to the guilty pleasure of a movie (oh how difficult to come up with JUST the right one!) watched from the comfy couch set in front of the coffee table.  SO MUCH to do at the end of a busy day spent attending to good nutrition, correspondence, relationships, acquisition of information (overload!), proper exercise and ALL that equates to in terms of time and energy expended!  

The pandemic rages on, and on, and on....  So do the consequences of human behavior....that the pandemic will rage on and on and on...  At least there is some comfort in not riding this enormous and endless wave alone.  My friends, old and newer are TIRED and frustrated as well.  The endless text trails serve as proof of our need to connect, in good times and in bad.  I make myself feel useful when I join a slew of worried comments and add a different perspective, perhaps a positive thought.  I get my own support from whatever podcasts or news I can glean information from.  BUT...I am tired of the WORK of seeking and disseminating advice, hope, cheerful possibilities in Grouchy January!

Tomorrow, Bob and I will depart early for an 18 day road trip to Florida.  Dennis and Kim are there so we will be too.  We have vowed to see them more frequently, as Dennis's health seems so fragile.  We are calling the ride a meander, as it will take us until Monday the 17th to arrive at our destination in St. Augustine.  Perhaps we will read to each other, perhaps we will seek yet more info laden podcasts and news stories, perhaps we will draw deeper and more grateful breaths as the layers of responsibility to others here at home peel off with each passing mile.  

I know this...I am grateful for each opportunity that we make and take.  I am grateful for our health and vigor and the hope that it is manageable still.  I am grateful for the practitioners who support us in keeping our brains and bodies well.  I am incredibly grateful that our five children, their spouses and families are self sufficient, creative, healthy and thriving in spite of so many challenges they confront in their own lives and careers.  

I am most grateful that, however cloudy and grouchy a day, a month or even a couple of years present themselves, there is still sunshine to be had... later perhaps.  It is with this optimism, and the warmth of the current sun on my shoulder, that I head south and on to some respite, hopeful to return to a better day and better times ahead.  

CONVERSATION WITH A ” NOT SO MUCH A” STRANGER ...   MARCH 18, 2021

If I met you on a plane today, I would sink into my seat with a sigh -breathing a little forcefully into the mask layer closest to my perspiring face I am sure.  You understand of course how stressful that walk and wait in the airport was, having just experienced it yourself for the first time in what is surely the longest year on record!  Strangers we may be, but our bond is unquestionable-two grandmothers returning from a long awaited visit with our loved ones in the nation's capital.  Is it serendipity that we landed our weary bones in adjacent seats?  Adjacent now allows for the required seat between us of course.  For reasons you can probably  understand, I am traveling without my husband.  He and I agreed to a much anticipated retreat from each other after a year of being attached at the hip...most days quite literally as I dragged my tired legs through all kinds of weather and sidewalk conditions to keep  healthy and sane...using his body in the absence of a crutch or radiator. 

After adjusting garments, carry ons and seatbelts we might share niceties and then set our ears and eyes on the guidance of the perky steward at the top of our aisle.  Moments of wonder ensue-I am always exhilarated at the ascent from Washington’s Reagan Int’l. Airport, as I bid a silent farewell to my family below in  their home on the campus of Georgetown.  Seems like just moments ago I looked up with my grandson Andre, at the sound of such an airplane as this passing overhead!  Of course, those memories would bring up a conversation between you and I  about the wonder of our visit to precious folks. I might tell you with a little (maybe a lot) of pride about my son Jacques and the Georgetown journey that commenced with his Freshman year there.  It’s just so fun to see him living in a prominent and historic building now, diagonally across from his first dorm, which was not nearly as spacious nor impressive!  I might tell you what a thrill it was to see his five year old racing across Healy Lawn on a two wheeled bike, and heading toward Grosvenor Hall-the site of  a photo with Jacques moments before we headed  back to RI twenty four years ago, our car empty of his belongings and my eyes filled with tears. 

 

You might share the news of your daughter’s pregnancy, just revealed on your week long visit.  My, how speaking of births and babies can keep two women engaged!  Years from now we will wonder at those lovely creatures conceived and born in a world wearied and strained by a Pandemic.  These children no doubt will convey the sense of hope their parents gifted them with...they will bear names like Grace, Hope and many derivatives of Greek words that speak of light and miracles.  My own seven week old grandbaby Lucille, whose name means “of the light”,  will hear stories of the struggles and ultimate joy her parents lived to see on the day of her birth, January 20th, 2021.  You and I , Dear Stranger No More, will share the knowing that all cannot be lost when there is new life still!  

As we fly over the eastern coastline, our good fortune in making such a trip as this is not  lost upon us.  The gratitude we feel is surely amplified by our understanding of the heartache and loss experienced by so many.  Our world is changed, our lives different in ways we cannot even fully grasp, our bodies bent a little more perhaps.  But, we agree, that as sure as the sap swells the branches in spring, slowly feeding buds and blossoms, our own lifeblood is flowing a little more gently these days.  The cold and damp of a RI March will still make us grumpy, but for shorter spells thank goodness!  You will seek out and find the crocuses that emerged in your absence, I will note the greening of the grass in my yard.  

We will part as a new type of friend, that once in a lifetime couple of hours relationship, shared and not to be forgotten.  There are no expectations, just memories and smiles to carry home in our hearts.  We are like so many moving through life, sharing spirited and colorful conversation on a waiting palate,  and moving  gracefully off the page again-off to our grandmotherly and womanly lives, gently renewed for the knowing of each other.

THANKSGIVING...GIVING THANKS

I awoke to silence and savored it for a few lazy turns in my bed.  I arose to the sounds of Gounod's Ave Maria, brought to my sleepy ears by Bob's speaker and some algorithms that merged to create a  welcome morning playlist....mechanical yet so humane as to touch my soul nonetheless.  

Yo Yo Ma persists as the lists plays out. My first thoughts are of my 100 year old Memere's funeral, where I sang this very selection from the choir loft of Holy Family Church in Woonsocket, RI.  The ensuing revery leads me to the page where I must record the emotion, or perhaps the impact...YES, the impact of this music in this time, in this space of life.  

It is a Saturday so like and so unlike any other in my 67 years.  For nearly 44 years of marriage, this Saturday has signaled the start of a holiday week, and a day to rise, shine and shop.  Thanksgiving looms later in the week, this year on the 26th of November.  For so many years a list (or two or three ) occupied the counter of my various homes, most recently the one in our cozy apartment nestled in Bristols quiet southern stretches.  The LIST overflowed with potential purchases savory and sweet to be procured, packaged, prepped and served to crowds of varying sizes each and every year. The Thanksgiving grocery challenge proposed an exhausting and anxiety producing shopping excursion, often in more than one store and over the course of more than one visit.  Yet those trips, hazardous to my mental health and sanity as they often were, became the stuff of memory..todays memory.  

The playlist finds its own way down a course of selections, the current one a quiet piano interlude, detached and delicate...no challenge to my ears, just as there is no challenge to my mental peace of mind today.  There is no need to worry or hurry, to refine a list and cut coupons, to arrive early and return late.  There is no need to clear a large space in a small refrigerator for the bird which occupies so much of our traditional feast. There is no large shopping expedition to be experienced.  No one will cross rivers to us or encounter woods to travail...for THIS Thanksgiving Day will come and go as most different in my life...a quiet and solitary meal, with Bob and I the lone diners at our expandable and welcoming table.  Covid -19 has determined the numbers.  Daily regulations issued by the CDC and our Governor result in a non existent guest list. We submit to save lives, our own and those of our loved ones.  The raging virus claims people daily and stretches human resources to frightening degrees.  To eat alone will be our nod of submission, one that that does not even approach the level of sacrifice so many are living.

 Loss of loved ones, permanent physical and spiritual damage all due to this pandemic, human nature which drives us closer not farther from each other in troubled times...these are the components  a menu of human suffering, with a long journeys night still ahead.  Cause for gratitude, there in the smallest of the fine print but there none the less.  "We will see this through"...light at the end of the tunnel...vaccine on the horizon...pensive, persistent sounds ring from the piano now...cause for reflection, hope even.  

In spite of the pain that lone dinners may bring, worry that our minds may conjure, sorrow that our souls may feel, loss that our spirits may entertain...life does indeed go on... grandchildren still in the womb or simply hoped for- all innocent of the strife-will come and stir the hope that is missing, soothe the sadness that prevails.  

Thanks Giving for what is today, what comes up on Thursday, for the family in our lives that waits to travel, the holidays and the living past and yet to unfold, the blessings of peace if only in our hearts or our local community, the food still abundant and lovingly prepared, the multitude of human endeavors that continue to bring life and hope to those closest to us and to those whose names we do not know.  Somewhere amongst the garbled history and the shiny trappings of our existence burns a quiet flame of selflessness, and it is this that draws us to one another.  It is  this that makes stressful lives and hearts pause, assess and act to bring about good.  

Thanks Giving...what will the mechanical playlist conjure this year?  Will I pause long enough to let it fill my aching soul with the hope that comes from awareness?  Will I let the notes touch my heart and bring up gratitude?  If so, the day will be marked as traditional in the one way that cannot be taken from me.  I will count my blessings and Giving Thanks will be enough.      

Pain

       

SENSIBILITY 

Over the past two months I have been coerced by an angry body to face the limitations that come with negligence.  Each morning since the initial eruption of pain, I rise tentatively and quite frightened of the sensations to come.  Abuse, overuse, underuse...there are many diagnosis for the neglect of ones skeleton and fascia. The result can be a heavy load to bear as I face the pain that stops habits, good and bad in their tracks.  Restoration and recovery are my work now...no choice but to face the product of my mindless journey to this space and learn from it.

  

REFLECTION

If this pain were a color, it would be that gray blackish brownish hue that results when you give a young child a paintbrush and an array of tempera pots.  Layer upon layer of activity leads to an unknown and unintended destination.  The colors come innocently at first, as do the quiet twinges of sensation in my body, warnings really of what may be ahead.   Growing intensity and passion rule, as one experiments with a brush stroke here, a smash or a splay there, all of which satisfy some urgent purpose.  Pre-schoolers plod on insistently, without analysis or thought it might seem, to the finish line of their masterpiece.  In the end pots lay depleted of their contents, brushes once multi streaked and supple now dried and distorted by the ravages of colorful sludge.  The paper canvas is saturated and will accept no further assault.  The creator rests.

 So too the muscles and the joints of my body..saturated, overwhelmed and colored dismal - having grown ever weaker with the layers of abusive activity.  Over the din of aching and stabbing complaints, my body sobs at the heaviness of the hue that lays draped over my person and spirit.  

No masterpiece here, but perhaps the same enlightenment that occurs to the little ones.....

What happens when you___________________________

"Every good thing must ....."

Every good thing must...come to a new beginning

           January 13th and reason to write.  I am again in my favorite coffee shop and had a short but friendly exchange with the barista about her badly chipped mug and it's possible harboring of contaminants.  My sister would probably chide me for my invasion of the young lady's privacy as well as for my unsolicited advice.  Perhaps she's right, but sometimes I receive new affirmation and the gift of gratitude from complete strangers when I exhibit such "normal for me" behavior!   Today was one of those times, and no doubt further encouragement for my "stepping outside the lines" behavior.  In her defense, my sister is 9 years younger and far better behaved than me...perhaps the product of more experienced parenting by Pauline and Andre after three rowdy boys between us! 

            Alex, whose name I know because she asked my name and introduced herself with a handshake after my advice was given, is new at Empire.  She was drinking from what I could see was obviously a well loved pale blue mug that said "Hello Darling" in a comfortable script type font.  When I drew the chips and cracks to her attention and noted that they are a welcome landing for bacteria to grow on, she grew truly chagrined.  Soooo, I turned that frown upside down, as my motherly instinct directed me to do!  I told Alex she could repurpose that mug to serve as a planter for a succulent or ivy. Maybe I also told her to buy one at Stop and Shop (?) just in case she wondered about such a purchase in a New England January setting?  Yes...I did.  I also suggested that if she was not a plant person she could always use the mug as a pen/pencil holder.  

           Is it true that her generation has no call for those writing implements in an age of endless phone storage and communication possibilities?  She did not roll her eyes!  Actually, she thanked me!  She looked longingly at the mug again though, and I knew she would miss it as the vessel for sipping that she had become accustomed to.  I know this because my spirit recognizes like minded spirits, and I have been in just such place!   So, in "fixer" fashion that can sometimes be mistaken as nosy and smother mothering, I offered a new and optimistic thought based on a an old idea..."every good thing must come to an end" is what came to mind, BUT "every good thing must come to a new beginning" is what I told her.  Alex smiled, then asked my name, extended her hand to shake mine and introduced herself.  She said, " I like your spirit".  I smiled, thanked her and headed over to the  booth with my tea, affirmed and uplifted...oh and,  inspired to tell you!