MORE BIRTHDAY SCENES

My birthday was a mixture of emotions. The patriarch, Roy-ly declared he would be in attendance for a dinner. We would go someplace special. He did allow that I could pick the restaurant although he would have been happy to go back to DeLucca's for the upteemth (it's a number, look it up) time. He would purchase his own dinner and drinks. He is prone to pronouncements these days. We all obey as his loyal subjects of course. Better to laugh than to see him cry.

My husband and I and His Highness met my daughter at an eclectic supper club in downtown Lansing called the Cadillac Club. Very bizarre place and very low-down yet sophisticated coolll. Built, I kid you not, in an old bowling alley. The dance floor still bears a remarkable resemblance to bowling lanes -which of course it is! We enjoyed me enjoying a birthday drink called the Le La? Lu Lo? Ye hah? I have no idea. I do know they set it on fire way to close to me and we all yelled the appropriate words which I am pretty sure were not "OOPA!" Wrong cuisine. I waited patiently for a genie to appear. They didn't say that would happen, but I assumed.

We proceeded to drinks, appetizers, drink, dinner, drink, drink. In due course two young men showed up with a couple of 6-srings to play a medley of 60'sish songs. They were apparently substitutes for whoever was scheduled, but the 7 or 8 of us in the place were polite. As Roy-ly is rolling at this point he talks about getting a request played. The 20 something hostess comes over to see if all is well, well we were a little noisy. Roy-ly asked if she had ever heard of Guy Lombardo-we are sufficiently comfortable enough to enjoy her consternation and confusion. Oh give me a break. Even Kristen knows who Guy is.

Roy-ly then decides he is going to ask for "To Each His Own". I try to stay his enthusiasm by relaying that boys who are playing Jimmy Buffett and Moon Dance are not likely to know any 40's music. Undeterred he approaches and makes his request-always prefaced by the throw away line "Well I'm old". Apparently this opens doors and provides freebies or at least understanding. We'll check our sheet music they say. Nothing. Roy-ly keeps waiting. I try to point out the lack of knowledge of our young entertainers. He decides if he tips them, magically the music will appear. We finally put everyone out of their anticipatory misery but ending the evening about 9:00. Big fun.

Mother would have loved the evening. In fact Roy-ly relayed some fascinating stories about their travels and him hauling her out of places when he thought she was getting too much attention. Mother was in my thoughts many times that day and I missed her especially on my day. At 8:30 am I always called her on Nov. 8 to thank her for my birth. As 8:30 approached I was hurting when the phone rang. My own beautiful daughter called at that precise moment as she remembered my ritual. We live on in our children. You would think I would know that by now. It helped.

FAMILY, LOVE, PURSUIT

Just got back from a family weekend. It is quite a production when we get together, but it is always highlighted by good food, extreme laughter and possibly a new cocktail or two. Every year we celebrate the November birthdays while the "boy" is up with his father chasing the elusive white tail or sleeping in his blind (pick one). Actually that's not fair, he is sleeping because he always catches a cold in honor of the season so he is either coughing his head off which the bucks take as a mating call or he has mixed a few cold remedies- hence the nodding off at significant moments. But saves time when you don't have to drag multiple deer carcasses out of the woods.

Big joke last year was him watching a small "button" buck wander back and forth several times in front of his blind. After testing the waters, he kept wandering back, no doubt sticking his little pink tongue out with the deer equivalent of Nyeah nyeah. However the agreement was, no spikers on opening day. Hold out for the big horned buckeroos. Well eventually he wanders off, no doubt bored with the one-sided game. Within a few minutes, shots ring out. The boy gets on the walkie-talkie to his brother. "Did you just shoot a little buck?" "Well, yeah I did" reports his brother. Apparently the one-sided game did not apply to everyone....

Anyway back to the story. We combine my brother's, brother-in-law's and my birthday as an excuse to enjoy one of Brian's famous meals. Three scorpios in one fell swoop. Who needs booze? This year was extra special as the Michigan-Ohio game was happening Saturday as well. My brother-in-law, alias the chef, is an avid-take no prisoners-we are number one-Ohio fan. Two of his friends arrive each anniversary of the game wearing very deliberate blue & gold garb and cheering on what Brian considers the wrong team. Makes for some interesting insults dependent upon who's up. Well no contest this year as Ohio took it to Michigan at Michigan. As a rabid Michigan State fan myself, no tears were shed by anyone to see Michigan get beat.

Gets better. This is an all-day affair. First it is Mexican/international fiesta at noon with several different offerings of exotic and better not to ask what's in it food. Then this is followed by a Brats & sauerkraut dinner, followed by birthday cake. Oh yes signature cocktail was Lemon drop and some lime thingee.. Delish! Unfortunately I got sick between the first and second course, only had 2 cocktails and ended up praying in a pot (use your imagination) during the sauerkraut and cake extravaganza. Also since my brother didn't show, Brian had Happy Birthday all to himself. Oh well he did do all the cooking.

But here's the thing. Life has been so fragile lately with all of us dealing with our Mother's death in different ways. Denial, depression, hysterical laughter, mysticism, spiritualism and tears at the most unexpected moments triggered by the oddest things. We have all had our moments and some of them we have together. It has helped us see the value of life in whatever way, shape or form it takes and live it to the fullest. It is hard for us to see that and easy to take the day to day for granted.

I know I do and I am trying to see beyond just work and duty and try to be who I am and who I must be or I have squandered my chances. I must try this writing thing and circumstances have taught me that I only have myself to blame if I don't pursue something I like even if I'm not the "best drummer in the world". I still have the right to enjoy and practice what gifts I have even if I am the only one who hears the music.

SCENES FROM THE LIFE OF ROY-LY

Had Dad for the week and it was interesting. It was nice to come home each evening and have our "cocktail hour". He was quite impressed that I whipped up my vodka gimlet in a real genuine cocktail shaker (shaken not stirred). He was drinking his martini variations in a plastic water glass the first night even though I have every type of hi-ball, martini or wine glass you would ever want. Too funny, but then so Dad.

The "boys" went bowling a couple of times and he raved about the fancy structured hand torture device the pro talked him into buying. Guess I can't judge too harshly, he promptly went out and shot a 210 with the damned thing. He and I went to dinner at a wonderful Italian place here and had a great time. Who is this guy who is talkative, witty, charming, etc.... I stopped for gas on the way home and he literally leaped out of the car (well he is 83) to do the "dirty work". For an independent woman, it was quite a revelation.

He accompanied the Burt man on his Saturn route to see what it was like to ride in a $45,000 Saturn. Now there's an oxymoron -$45,000 Saturn. It better have hot and cold running everything. The main result of that adventure was that Burt apparently runs on fumes and the low gas beeper works like a charm.

But he still wanders at night; reads everything he can get his hands on in the quiet times; turns her picture around so he can't see her face and talks around the edges of his pain. We all grieve in different ways. It's just hard to watch his.

SCENES OF LIFE

Amazing how much the personal world can change in a heartbeat or the lack thereof. At 6:10 pm, Sunday, September 30, 2007 my sister Kathleen whispered those words in my ear that "Mom just passed away. Lori is with Dad and just called me". I literally dropped to the floor clutching the phone to my ear so all she heard was gasping breaths. Strange how the world kept spinning, dinner was being served and my heart kept beating. Expected? How can the unthinkable be expected. Don't let anyone kid you on that one.

Still coughing hard with the emotion that was pouring out of me I scrambled for the phone number of my next in line sister, Marcia. Burt was trying to make me wait until I calmed down a bit. As if I could. No, it was more important that she be with us in this horrible moment as soon as she could. There is a strength with the 4 sisters and I needed to close the circle. Again almost the same words and nothing over the phone line, that fragile phone line, besides my sister's heart wrenching sobs.

You move between the practical and the pain without clear direction or thought. "Need to get there, why didn't I go see her today, what should I pack, why can't I breathe." Very strange. Phone my daughter, who came within minutes and soaking her shirt as I had my husband's minutes before. How can you hurt that much and keep functioning. Driving there you keep envisioning silly things that make you gulp. It is not the great things that a person accomplishes that make you remember and hurt it's the little idiosyncrasies and memories of the two of you that you keep thinking of and know will never be repeated.

When we arrived, Lori and Dad were sitting outside in the beautiful, warm, soft darkness of the Sunday evening. We went to her room where she lay quietly and peacefully, already gone, but so much there. I adjusted her covers as I remember how she was always chilly never thinking it odd because of course she could not feel the chill. I talked to her like I always did, and kissed her warm forehead. She sometimes slept like that when you arrived and we always woke her up to tend to her company. Then she would get on a roll and the conversation would be loud, spirited and laughter-filled.

Next couple of days filled with the details of sudden demise. As complicated as a wedding and done in record time by professionals who do this every day. Strange occupation, but then absolutely necessary. Laughter ringing out at the oddest moments as we recalled something from the past or something unexpected surfaced and we did not know how to deal with it. Jokes and silliness such as my suggestion we all wear tee shirts that say "I told you I was sick". Amazing how your mind works, when the reality is too raw to deal with.

Worked on the obituary which "The Committee", as my husband dubbed us, edited. Prepared a memorial card which was approved by "The Committee" without change. Carried a notebook around to jot down thoughts that occurred if and when an eulogy was prepared. It was my way of coping.

Picking out flowers that were more beautiful than they had a right to be when they were draped about and surrounding her. Picked out her final resting place and containment. Dad noticing the spot under the oak tree as shady and nice. Thinking her white and gold bed was "too fancy", but he was overruled with assurances that his would be the plastic bag he always said he wanted. See what I mean? Hilarity amidst the pain.

The visitation day full of friends and family and much laughter and full throats. She looked so beautiful in bright red and gold. Her girls wearing the colors that she always liked us in. The day of the funeral when you couldn't breathe without hurting I observed my sisters. The oldest bending over to pick up and cuddle her grandchild much like our Mother. The middle one looking and sounding much like her and the youngest coming up with "Mom ism's" and her little one resting his cheek against her legs during the service very much like he did when we first came home that Sunday night. No words just assuring himself that "his" Mother was still there.

The eulogy that I gave borrowing Dylan Thomas and my son-in-law's words to describe his relationship with my Mother plus all the thoughts I jotted down from everyone the last few days. Focusing on the 3 words that I thought described her best: Passionate - Strength - Family. It seemed easy to speak watching the people and seeing them laugh or nod. I only faltered at the end, when I had to say the final good-by. But then the Irish Rovers singing the Unicorn song for the recessional was so fitting, you just had to smile.

2 MINUS & COUNTING

One more day waiting for the elephant to expose its presence by dropping a load. The day started with treats and a whimsically worded sign "Going Out of Business Party" set up by some wag at the office, possibly myself. Got a big laugh out of everyone. I understand the DOT gang hosted a "Last Supper" potluck. Man I love how we rise or perhaps fall with adversity. Sure beats P'ing & M'ing.

A few more clusters and rumors but hardly any hand wringing observed. Everyone is too busy. Rather like getting ready for vacation and trying to get what is totally essential completed before the proverbial ax falls.

Asked the boy what I would do in my lay off status. He mentioned a porch needing painting and someone to tote that bale and lift that barge to create the patio extension I have been wanting. Momentarily at a loss to think "I must work" in my layoff status - which of course as a State worker I am so unaccustomed. I quickly pointed out that although the labor is cheap, there is little capital available for materials. Whew-dodged that bullet.

Perhaps we should go back to the Silver Lake region to ride the wild sandy buggies. That one sublime moment when we plunge over the hill at 30 mind blowing miles per hour with hands raised, screaming our guts out sounds like a definite cure for something. As a fitting punishment I propose strapping our clueless legislators to the back bumper and letting them feel the grainy soil on their backsides until they agree that fighting like kids in a sandbox can really be painful! As Captain Picard would say "Make it so Ensign".

LIKE SOME CHEESE WITH THAT WHINE??

It's official. We have been led astray by the the velvet voiced Karen from Australia and Jill from the good old U S of A. All over the "little" peninsulas due north of Traverse City. Did you know they make WINE up there? Right, we didn't either : ). But Karen our traveling vixen knew and led us to one improbable bucolic setting after another, where we discovered, much to our amazement, that Michigan grows grapes!!! And, and, and, we make nectar from these grapes!!!!

Ooh Ooh just one little taste. I promise I won't buy anymore unless it's something very extraordinary and different. Wrong. Bought from every one. And I am happy. No wait, did not buy at Shady Lane Cellars located in the "spectacular, refurbished cobblestone chicken coop". No doubt the ordure overwhelmed the odor. Did buy a totally appropriate tee shirt proclaiming WINE GODDESS for myself. Slightly less pretentious than the WINE SNOB shirt I contemplated but it just did not fit the boy.

BEL LAGO, BLACK STAR, CHATEAU de LEELANAU, CHATEAU FONTAINE,LEELANAU CELLARS and Gill's Pier & Delicatessen. Don't the names just roll off the tongue? And trust me a little taste (or six or seven) at each delectable stop did not dull this sharp tongued connoisseur (or common sewer) of the grape. I shrewdly swirled, tasted, rolled, spat (swallowed often) and chose with discrimination and class. Price was no object or at least was not objectionable. My designated driver gave up midway through the adventure forcing me to offer him tiny tastes of some wines that were "just too exciting to not try just a little". Or just taking his tastes for him. I am not high, just very happy and charming and possibly more witty than I remember.

As for Jill or Karen or Eleanor, she travels with both Burt or myself as a constant reminder of roads less traveled or newly traveled. Of the sheer lunacy of trying to read a map upside down or sideways and still getting it wrong. She gently, yet insistently reminds us of the next turn and, when we run astray, calmly proclaims "Reconfiguring" sending us in a subtle but gentle loop and putting us back on track. No recriminations, just a clear-eyed guide to the proper path. Rather an analogy for life I think. Thank goodness for the military putting all those little "spies in the sky" to help us locate ourselves.

STATELY SCENES

3 Days and counting. Well we keep on a'keeping on with the damn elephant in the living room. Shall we blame the legislature? Engler? Big Business? Iraq? Oh wait, it's all those selfish state workers who refuse to quit working. Anyway I guess all of the above.

But no huddled masses and wringing of hands. Offers of "I can't disappoint this group of people", "how do we hold this meeting?" "Is there anything else we can do to help?" Rather humbling to realize that even in the midst of bad news and even less hope, people keep doing the right thing. Might even readjust my naturally cynical view of people. We feel the pain of our brothers and sisters in Michigan and, especially poignant, many Lansing folk have both GM and State worker breadwinners. Especially scary times.

There is actually a slightly inappropriate carnival atmosphere. Rather the way people respond when the disaster actually hits - a level of subdued excitement that the worst really happened and how well can I deal with it. How will I cope? Me, I just think, cool, I can finish a couple of sticky projects that refuse to be tamed amidst the usual work time interruptions and other priorities tugging at my skirts. We will be just fine-whatever happens.