Tag: memories

Hump Day Happy

In honor of Lindsey’s last post, I decided to share an old friend with you. This guy and I have logged a lot of hours together. During some of the best and worst times of my life, he was with me, always ready to give me a way to see the world–and sometimes buffer me from it. I was never as good as my old Canon deserved, but who knows what we may yet do together.

 

 

I hope you’ll comment with a page number between 1 and 611, and another number between 1 and 25, so this book can provide a Christmas Eve gift to be happy about.

Home improvements

I’ve been throwing stuff into the…what do I call that room? The study? The guest suite? Lisa’s room? Whatever. To keep my house reasonably uncluttered while accumulating gifts, wrapping them, and other such holiday nonsense, everything gets thrown in there and the door closed to keep out snooping dogs. This doesn’t please Margot, because the crates are in that room, and she loves her crate.

Over the past couple of weeks, Tom brought in what boxes remained of my mother’s Christmas decorations. There weren’t many, but I wanted to split them for the grandkids. (My brother, sister, and I divided the first round of decorations many years ago when my mother got sick of moving them.) I won’t lie; this was hard. When we packed up all her other belongings and gave away, donated, or sold them, she was still alive. Since then, there was a time when I went through the rest of her clothes and donated them. But that was months ago.

You really can’t dodge grief, and you also can’t anticipate when it will become sharper. Thanksgiving was fine, even though I could clearly remember Mother going to Green Acres with us last year (when I took all those BBQ Frito Thanksgiving photos). But it was Christmas Eve when Tom and I had to take her to the hospital, the visit that led to her cancer diagnosis. Though I’m not consciously thinking of anything that’s upsetting me, I know my ongoing insomnia is related to mourning. And when I burst into tears driving down the road because “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” starts playing–well, it’s not because I’m tired of Christmas music. Except for when I’ve worked retail, I like Christmas music.

Sometimes I believe we were smarter about mourning in the old days (no matter what Scarlett O’Hara thought). We were allowed to withdraw. Less was expected of us. We gave ourselves time to be alone, to think, to remember, to grieve. Nobody has patience in today’s world for the contemplative spirit. We have to move fast, drive fast, work fast, recover fast. There’s noise around us all the time.

That’s the life I consciously and gradually stepped back from over the past ten years, and in this busiest of seasons, I keep reminding myself of that. I don’t mind being sad. I don’t mind crying. I prefer to do it in solitude, and I’m not talking about it here because I want sympathy. I’m talking about it because I know friends who are also coping with losses who may need a gentle reminder that it’s okay to cry. It’s okay to miss him or her. It’s okay to feel a little lost sometimes. I’ll never forget the wisdom someone gave to me after my father died: The depth of your sorrow is equal to the depth of your love.

Instead of pretending everything’s fine, I decided to get control of that room. I bought a small tree and decorated it with some of my mother’s decorations, many of which were gifts from me. I organized everything that still needs wrapping so I can work in there tomorrow, in a clear space, with a decorated tree and its twinkling lights, and two dogs who are thrilled to get their cozy crates back. And we will have ourselves a merry little Christmas now.

Angels we have seen on high

Back in November of 2006, I explained the origin of the angels that adorn The Compound every Christmas. Over the years, these paper angels have been cut out, colored, painted, and otherwise gussied up by friends, family, and me. The book they come from, A Christmas Angel Collection, is a little pricier than in the old days when I bought several, because it’s out of print now. The drawings are based on famous paintings from centuries past.

I store them flat in an angel tin, and every year, it’s Tim’s job to take them out, fix them so they’ll stand, and put them on the molding over our living room and dining room windows. And it’s our job not to turn on the ceiling fan in the dining room, because that sends angels a’flyin’.

You can see the angels by clicking here.

Two Decades of World AIDS Day

This year marks the twentieth anniversary of World AIDS Day. The theme continues from the 2007 campaign: Stop AIDS: Keep the Promise—Lead, Empower, Deliver. This theme is meant to highlight the fact that many individuals and organizations have already offered up their leadership skills, and now policy makers need to find the resources to deliver on their promises. The campaign is calling on everyone, including families, communities, social organizations, and governments to take the initiative in helping meet the target goals.

Ways you can be a leader in the fight against HIV and AIDS:

Wear a red ribbon today as a symbol of hope, in memory of those lost to AIDS, and in honor of those living with HIV and AIDS.

Find out how the day is being recognized in your community. Some examples: Attend a candlelight vigil, a tree or bulletin board decorating ceremony, a display of NAMES Quilt panels.

Talk about HIV and AIDS in your workplace, at school, on your blog, at church, to your family and friends. How has HIV/AIDS impacted you or someone you know?

Learn more about HIV and AIDS–there are many resources online.

Get tested. Drive someone else to be tested and be supportive.

Contribute time or money, not just on this day, but any day you can, to an organization that assists those living with or impacted by HIV and AIDS.

Let your legislators know that HIV/AIDS matters to you.

For Steve R, Don P, Jeff C, John M, Tim R, Pete M

The promised Thanksgiving post

I shake my head at times when I think about my so-called Disney life. Things have gone on at The Compound that could put any dysfunctional family novel or movie to shame. I don’t tell those stories because…

I swear it’s not because I intend to put them in a novel some day. It’s because generally, all the negatives have a way of fading to nothing when emotions have cooled and time has passed. In fact, it’s my family tradition that comedy replaces high drama in as little as five minutes–or when Guinness knocks the ham to the floor.

I had no idea last October of the shit-storm my life was about to become for eight months. I try really hard not to dwell on the list called What Went Wrong, or think of the couple of people who made things worse at a most inopportune time. I make one promise to my friends: I will always give my best effort to build you up and try never to tear you down. I need that in return, so in a funny way, I thank those who vanish from my life because they can’t or won’t abide by that simple concept.

That, however, is not where I want my thoughts focused on this holiday. I’ve got world-scale things to be grateful for (and I’m more convinced of that by a little book I’m reading and will no doubt talk about once I’ve finished it). On a more personal level, if I made a list called Those Who Saved My Sanity, I would definitely leave someone out, and I don’t want to do that. Plus it would get really really really really long (Have you ever seen the acknowledgments in a TJB novel?).

I hope that I’ve recognized and thanked every person who did something kind or generous or thoughtful over those eight months and the six months since. If you looked at my LJ posts tagged “friends” and “family,” you’d see why my heart knows the meaning of “abundance.” I really am blessed.

I’ve struggled to figure out how to say this, and I think maybe parents will understand it, because they want it for their children. There’s a kind of love that, when it’s offered, is in a whole other realm because it spills over to those we love. It’s what I saw every time Tom took my mother shopping or ran errands for her or did her taxes or any of the other thousand things he did. I saw it when Tim and Jess moved her furniture–again!–or Tim teased her and called her Old Woman, which would provoke a look from her but she secretly liked. I suppose that kind of love is expected from family–even the family we create, but I never take it for granted or stop being grateful for it.

There are four other people whose acts of kindness were similar. I want them to know how much it meant to me, and maybe I should do it privately. But in a world where so much time and energy and airspace are given to the careless and the cruel, I say why not give those things to the thoughtful and the compassionate.

Four Stories of Kindness

I wouldn’t forget this…

Thank goodness LJ managed to reappear so that I could recognize that today is the birthday of venusunfolding. In your honor, Johnnie, I’ve shot Jazzie (who recently played Keelie on Runway Monday) wearing a vintage Mattel coat (with matching purse) over a sweetheart of a dress made for me by my mother, lo those many years ago when no one thought it was bizarre for me to play with dolls.

And you, my friend, STILL don’t, and for that, I thank you, and celebrate your kindred spirit. Happy birthday!