Another June

This is a page from a scrapbook of my father’s with a photo of the ship that he notes brought him back to the U.S. from Europe. Germany surrendered on May 8, 1945, and the newspaper is dated June 12. I haven’t looked up the date that he came back, unlikely to have been this soon, I suspect, but I’m sure that every such voyage was filled with exhausted soldiers, like him, ready to be home.

As for this particular article, I don’t know if the paper is being coy by calling the ship only the “Old Lady” and “Unowho,” or even by not disclosing the exact date or location of the “East Coast U.S. port” where she docked. Maybe they were careful with details because we were still at war; Japan didn’t surrender until September of that year. The Queen Mary and the Queen Elizabeth, among several others, brought U.S. troops back from Europe to the U.S.

Although their photos make me think not (though she was repainted gray during the war), I’d like to know if he did return on the Queen Mary, because I’ve seen her (from a distance) at her permanent home in Long Beach, CA, without knowing that was a possibility. Just last month, she reopened after three years of repair and restoration.


(Hi, Jim!)

First of three

I’ll be sharing some very cool stuff Lynne put a lot of work into for me. Since I want to write about each one, I’ll feature them in different posts.

This is Lynne’s recent restoration of a quilt my mother made in 1982 and 1983 with squares each contributor signed with our names and often some artwork. It included family members, people who were special to her and my father during that time, and people who were part of their three kids’ lives during the same period. For privacy, I’ve blurred out last names (other than Cochrane).

The original version hung in the writing sanctuary, which means I’ve looked at it every day from the time I began writing in this room in April 2020. I had some issues with it. I’m not sure what my mother’s reasoning was for how she arranged the signature squares. I think it likely had to do with when they were returned to her or when she had time to embroider them. It left family members oddly placed.

It also included two people who left our lives within a few years of the quilt’s creation because of their toxic impact. It meant each time I looked at the quilt, I was reminded of them, and I didn’t want to be. I don’t deny our history, and I recognize whatever good there was in these two people, but ultimately, they weren’t good for us.

I asked Lynne if it would be possible to alter the quilt, and that request resulted in a complete deconstruction and update. She saved every square–including the two that were removed, which are now stored elsewhere. I didn’t obliterate them, just stopped them from being featured–deciding not to glorify wrongs of the past that are hurtful. Lynne meticulously cleaned forty years of dust and the stain of cigarette smoke from them in a way that would cause no damage. Debby wanted to alter her square, and between the three of us, that was managed, with Lynne doing the embroidery required.

Removing those two squares was like removing a weight from my heart, and I asked Tom and Timothy to create squares to replace them. They’re not the only people who I could wish were on this quilt because of their deep connections to my mother through the years, but they both did so much for her in the last four years of her life: moving her several times, driving her when she was no longer able, entertaining her, shopping with her, treating her to meals, and celebrating holidays and birthdays with her. Tom is family by marriage, and Tim is family by choice. They’re appreciated not only for all they did, but for those relationships, and they represent other family members of both types. (I’m going to make particular note of Terri, Lois, Arliss, Lisa B, Aaron, Alex, Jay, Amber, Lindsey, and Rhonda.) Lynne embroidered Tim’s and Tom’s squares just as Mother would have.

Lynne rebuilt the quilt using my diagram, which means every Cochrane is now linked to another Cochrane, and children are connected to their children. The same was done with friends who are now connected to their children. There’s also an embroidered label on the back giving the dates and makers of the original and restored quilt.

Would my mother like being edited? I don’t know. She’d like knowing how much what she created means to me and that I display it. She’d appreciate the care Lynne took in preserving and restoring it and adding her own stitching to it. Lynne also added a border that ties together the colors Mother chose, and she put loops on the top so it could hang in a way that wouldn’t damage the original quilt.

This painstaking labor of love on Lynne’s part, and the contributions from Debby, Tom, and Timothy, remind me of the significance of our birth and chosen families. THIS is something my mother absolutely believed and taught us. I think she’d be happy and proud that her three children, and her grandchildren, continue to share that belief.

Thank you, Lynne, from one of your other families since 1968. <3

Happy Father’s Day!

Maybe you had one by birth or by nurture as a stepdad, surrogate dad, adopted dad, mentor dad, dad-in-law, or a friend’s dad, today I celebrate those you’ve loved who’ve loved you. A few photos to recognize this day.


An early photo of Daddy and me.


Tom was one month old in this photo of his dad and him.

Happy anniversary today to Tom! He’s been the best dog dad through thirty-five years to:


Eva, Delta, Jack, and Anime.


Guinness and Margot.


Stevie and Pete.

Button Sunday

Whether you’ve been one or had one by birth or by nurture as a stepmom, adopted mom, surrogate mom, mentor mom, mom-in-law, or a friend’s mom, today I celebrate those you’ve loved who’ve loved you.


I miss mine.

And I’m really glad she made sure I had a big brother, whose birth we also celebrate today. Happy birthday, David!


Mother and David.


Still a kid at heart.

I also honor my “other” mothers:


Mary


Pollye


Elnora

Tiny Tuesday!

April 18, the anniversary of my father’s death, never gets past me. I always remember both of my parents’ birth dates on the day of, but most years, I overlook the date that my mother died until sometime after the fact. I think because that anniversary is on the first day of the month (June 1), and I rarely notice month changes in general. I do remember infinite details about both those days, in 1985 and 2008, but I agree with the concept that time is a great healer; even the saddest memories are much softer and always tempered by the better ones.


Because it’s Tiny Tuesday, I woke up with the idea of sharing this lacquer cigarette box, a gift to my father from the chief of police where he was last deployed in Korea before he retired. It’s been packed away for a while, and I’ve decided to display it with my other boxes.


A look inside. On the left is a compartment for holding a pack of cigarettes, maybe even some of the smaller cigar brands. That’s a cigarette lighter with a University of Alabama emblem I was given when I was in college, and since Daddy and I both graduated from there, this seems like a good place for it. On the right is an ashtray in pristine condition, so I know it was never used.


Inside the top is hand lettering to show the names of the giver and my father.

I wish one of his grandchildren or great-grandchildren would want this memento, but to date, none of them seem to have my sentimental (possible hoarding?) tendency. But as long as I’m around, this piece of my father’s history has a home.

Winter solstice

What did I do to mark the shortest day of the year?

I wrote a little and slept more than I meant to. Yesterday I got my Covid booster, and the only reaction I had was a sore arm. I also had a slight headache today, but I don’t think it was the vaccination. I think it’s our weird weather. We’re supposed to have a big plunge in temperature tomorrow (Thursday), and we’re hoping it won’t be as bad as the time in 2021 when we lost power and had a pipe burst and went without hot water for several days.

This month, a gift we bought ourselves is this pop-up greenhouse. We bought a lot of plants at the beginning of the summer even knowing we were headed into a drought. We felt like we’d have better luck with potted plants. We did get them through summer, and now we want to get them through any harsh days of winter. Tom moved the plants into their temporary home today. Tomorrow, he’ll add a heat source before the afternoon temp falls.

Tomorrow, we’ll also bring all the succulents from Aaron’s Garden inside to protect them from the freeze.

Meanwhile, Lindsey and Rhonda were here this past weekend, and Lindsey offered Tim a small greenhouse she had that would protect his plants during these wintry temperatures.

Today, I couldn’t help but think of another bitterly cold December night in Alabama many years ago. I rarely talk about my first husband/marriage, but not because it’s anything I’m ashamed of or because it was a terrible relationship. I was simply too young to get married when I did, and four years later, it was clear we wanted different futures. Any ending is painful, but I have nothing but good things to say about him. My family, young and old, loved him, and I loved his family.

I got out our wedding book today not so much because it’s the anniversary of our wedding day, but because I’ve been trying to remember the pattern of my “everyday” dishes from that time. No luck. I’d written down my china, crystal, and silver patterns, but not the one I was looking for. I sold the silver after the divorce, took the china and crystal because he didn’t want it (still have all that and often use it on holidays), and left those everyday dishes with him.

Lynne happened to call when I was trying to find the pattern online by its description. When I reminded her what it looked like, but I wasn’t sure if the similar pattern I found was mine, or if mine was an imitation, she asked, “Where did you register?” When I told her, she said, “If you registered there, you got the good stuff. Not a knockoff.” It’s nice to share a hometown with someone who can solve a mystery because she remembers businesses that may no longer even exist.


This is a picture of me with my bridesmaids, and here’s what’s cool to me about this photo. The matron of honor I was on the phone with today. My friend/college/graduate school roommate I was exchanging texts with today (she lives in another country; we have a long catch-up phone call planned for next week). Just a short walk away in Fairy Cottage, I visited my sister tonight. And the mother of my oldest nephew, I last texted with ten days ago. Only one of these women is someone I lost touch with–no reason at all except different lives going in different directions. A lot of years, a lot of living, a lot of losses and careers and events since this photo, and I still love them and am so grateful for the relationships that have endured and still hold an abundance of laughter, acceptance, support, and understanding.

My parents are deeply missed but are a part of every one of my days and a million memories.


Yesterday, my brother and I exchanged texts, and tonight when I was at Debby’s, the two of them were texting. We miss him. We hope the world will get a little saner so we can all be together again.

Considering just the history shown in these photos, I’ve been so blessed with family, including in-laws, nieces and nephews and grandnieces and grandnephews, and special friends I met through my siblings who stayed around through many changes, like Lisa and Geri, and the ones we miss, like Dottie and Connie.

I also exchanged emails with Pat today and I forgot to tell her that, as every Christmas, the hand towels she once embroidered for us are out in the guest bathroom.


Dachshunds on either side of a bell with holly. It’s like she knew many years later, I’d be living in a place we call Houndstooth Hall.

I have another friend from the old days who texted me earlier in the week. Even though she’s miserably sick with the flu, she wanted to tell me that a character on a show she’s watching reminds her of (young?) me. I hope she feels better soon.

Tonight, as the longest night of the year began, I improvised a new recipe for eggplant for Tom and me. I served it on the brightest, most mismatched dishes I could pull together, because I wanted the cheer of all that color.

Maybe cheer is the point of all these memories and expressions of gratitude. There have been times in my life when my losses were so great that I didn’t think I could keep breathing. I’ve done things I was deeply ashamed of, that filled me with such remorse that I felt unworthy of love and forgiveness. I’ve been so broke, and broken, that only the kindness of others helped me inch toward a better hour, a better day, any measurement of distance that might take me to a better place. I’ve lost friends in anger, in misunderstandings, in cruelties done to me. I’ve had to walk away from people I loved to save myself. And the worst–I’ve lost far too many people through the decades to death due to disease, accidents, and suicide.

There’s no perfect life. There’s no life without pain. But on one of the worst nights of my life, when I felt completely alone and worse, abandoned, I looked out at the dark night and thought, If I can just see the sun come up in the morning, I’ll be okay.

The sun did come up. Everything didn’t magically get better. All the problems and pain didn’t go away. But I’ve looked at every sunrise since as another chance to experience a range from barely hanging on to joyful.

I hope to appreciate another sunrise tomorrow, the first longer day after the solstice.

I hope that if these words ever find you in a bad moment, you, too, can draw strength from every good person, animal, memory, event, and natural beauty you’ve known and remind yourself the sun is still there and you will be okay.

A pause…


For sixty years…


…four generations of Cochranes…


…have sat around the table…


…on these six chairs.

They’ve traveled among homes in Georgia, South Carolina, Alabama, Kentucky, Texas, Utah, and Ohio. They’ve seated us at many Christmas, Thanksgiving, Easter, birthday, anniversary, retirement, graduation, and wedding meals. They were there for playing cards and other games, coloring, drawing, typing stories, sewing, assembling puzzles, soothing newborns, holding toddlers as they grew heavy with sleep, sneaking goodies from the table to dogs, and smoking and enjoying drinks while telling stories. So many stories. They’ve heard music, laughter, arguments, and borne witness to a million memories shared by the friends and family who sat in them.

It has taken me five years since the flood, when we stopped using them, to remove them from storage and let them go. The consignment shop that took them is part of an organization that in 2023 will mark 100 years of raising money for medical research and development. My mother placed items there when she lived in Houston, and I know she’d be fine with the chairs embarking on another adventure from there.

Debby said it best–she hoped the chairs find a good home with lots of love and laughter. I have dozens of photos showing that’s exactly the kind of family they’ve been with.

Today I’m not myself
And you, you’re someone else
And all these rules don’t fit
And all that starts can quit
What a peculiar state, we’re in
What a peculiar state, we’re in
Let’s play a game
Where all of the lives we lead
Could change
Let’s play a game
Where nothing that we can see
The same
But we’ll find other pieces to the puzzles
Slippin’ out under the locks
I could show you how many moves to checkmate right now
We could take apart this life we’re building
And pack it up inside a box
All that really matters is we’re doing it right now
Right now
But we’ll find other pieces to the puzzles
Slippin’ out under the locks
I could show you how many moves to checkmate right now
We could take apart this life we’re building
And pack it up inside a box
All that really matters is we’re doing it right now
Right now

A restful Saturday

I did wake up today at 6 AM but stayed in bed until 7 AM because I was COLD (temp was in the 40s). Once I forced myself to get up, I showered and dressed warmly, ate a good breakfast, and started working on the manuscript. Oddly, there was a lone morning glory flower blooming in the backyard this morning; no idea where that came from, and it made me think of The Compound, where they were so beautiful on the fence.


Today is also the birthday of this most fabulous human. I figured I’d use his uniform photo since yesterday was Veterans Day. A lot of years have passed since I shot this photo, but he’ll always be the first kid who made me Aunt Becky. I love you, Daniel, and happy birthday!

I’d mentioned I would have more photos to share from Thursday. Lynne had to be in Houston for a meeting. Though she’s staying with another friend, she wanted to visit Thursday night. I spent the afternoon writing outside because–except for mosquitos–it was a gorgeous day. My laptop isn’t open in this photo, but it’s on the table. You might notice the different kinds of anti-mosquito skin spray in front of it. And Anime on the bottom left. =)

We had a fan hooked up to provide a gentle breeze, and in the late afternoon, we set up a table to get queso started in the crock pot. Later, there was another crock pot with chili, because Tom grilled burgers and hotdogs, in case anyone wanted chili on their hot dogs.

Lynne arrived and set up her laptop to talk and work next to me while I wrote. Then the sun set, and the grill was put into use.

Lynne’s birthday is in late November, always near Thanksgiving, and since who knows what everyone’s schedules will be, Tom, Debby, and I decided to surprise her with an early birthday celebration, including cake and presents. (Tim is away taking care of a client’s critters and couldn’t make it, though he wanted to.)

It was so great to see her! Though I hadn’t put in all the outside work because she was in town, it was nice that Houndstooth Hall was looking good for her visit.