December 11, 2007. My beautiful daughter's 25th birthday. I say to her as my younger bratty sister said to me. You are a quarter of a century old today, or will be at least at 10:03 am officially.
I know every mother says this, but I remember the night/day of your birth like it was yesterday. I worked that day and then your father and I took his employees out for a Christmas dinner at the now defunct Lansing Playboy Club. I actually enjoyed some wine for the first time in almost nine months, which we got to watch come back later along with a nice dinner. As we treated our party to cocktails and coffee at the house you decided to bust my amniotic bubble and the race was on. After gently easing people out the door, we looked at each other and giggled - now what (last time I giggled that night I can assure you). So I called a friend, Jan and said now what? She hollered "go to the hospital!" This lady had given birth within minutes essentially herself so her fear was real.
You however took your own sweet time, about 12 hours. Very long boring night punctuated with moments of great excitement, yelling etc... I do remember telling your father at one point to cut out his darned insistence on following the script and relaxing during a contraction. I believe I told him what he could do with that suggestion-nicely I am sure.
When the doctor was about to leave to teach a class we gave one mighty effort and spoiled his leaving. At one point I said they should have music for this like the "Volga Boat" song. You know Yo Ho Heave Ho. Seemed appropriate. The doctor, probably for the first time in his career, suggested we put a sock or something in the Mother's mouth to keep her quiet. I do distinctly remember that. I was the Star and I think it was funny.
But I will always remember the look on your Father's face and the tears that fell from his eyes, unnoticed I am sure, onto his mask as they placed that beautiful little girl with all that dark hair in his arms. They have always had a special bond those two.
Happy Birthday Kristen. We love you!
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
SEA SCENES
I was able to share something truly unique last night. My sister Marcia is on a cruise to Panama over the next ten days. She is, deservedly so, indulging herself with a seaside suite complete with balcony. I receive a call shortly before 5 pm and she is calling from her balcony!
She first, at my insistence, describes that the railing is "boob high" with pexi-glass covering the openings. There is a small canopy over the top. This is in response to my insistence she tie a rope to her ankle and the railing to assure no "woman overboard" incidents while enjoying her cocktails on the veranda dutifully and frequently supplied by William the cabin man.
She yells excitedly "we're moving". We hear the bells and whistles and I yell BON VOYAGE several times while telling her I am pitching virtual streamers from dockside. We watch as the pilot boat takes them down the channel describing the mansions that face the water in that area of Fort Lauderdale. She is accosted twice by a coast guard boat who are also part of the water parade. The second time as she is happily waving to the crewmen I tell her "Pay attention!" "They're yelling, find your life jacket, the boat is sinking!" Eventually I give up and we wave at the handsome crewmen together. Should be a spectacular disaster.
With a final, long and in my opinion, totally unnecessary blast the ship is set free from her tethered pilot boat and they are alone on the high seas. Best of journeys to my own Sister Princess on the aptly named "Coral Princess".
She first, at my insistence, describes that the railing is "boob high" with pexi-glass covering the openings. There is a small canopy over the top. This is in response to my insistence she tie a rope to her ankle and the railing to assure no "woman overboard" incidents while enjoying her cocktails on the veranda dutifully and frequently supplied by William the cabin man.
She yells excitedly "we're moving". We hear the bells and whistles and I yell BON VOYAGE several times while telling her I am pitching virtual streamers from dockside. We watch as the pilot boat takes them down the channel describing the mansions that face the water in that area of Fort Lauderdale. She is accosted twice by a coast guard boat who are also part of the water parade. The second time as she is happily waving to the crewmen I tell her "Pay attention!" "They're yelling, find your life jacket, the boat is sinking!" Eventually I give up and we wave at the handsome crewmen together. Should be a spectacular disaster.
With a final, long and in my opinion, totally unnecessary blast the ship is set free from her tethered pilot boat and they are alone on the high seas. Best of journeys to my own Sister Princess on the aptly named "Coral Princess".
Monday, December 3, 2007
HOME SWEET HOME
Big news this week is Matt and Kristen will be signing the papers on their new home. A sweet cape cod with 2 car garage, some outbuildings and 2 1/2 acres. Guess we'll all be working on a holiday move-should be fun. I get the bedroom back and Kristen gets to use all her beautiful wedding presents. Best part is some wonderful mature trees perfect for Uncle John to build a tree house.....
Running joke for me was my daughter graduated college in 2005, got married in 2006, bought a house in 2007. What's in store for 2008? Matt said, with finality, in 2008 we rest. Hmmm his wife may have other thoughts.
Running joke for me was my daughter graduated college in 2005, got married in 2006, bought a house in 2007. What's in store for 2008? Matt said, with finality, in 2008 we rest. Hmmm his wife may have other thoughts.
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
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.
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.
Sunday, November 18, 2007
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.
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.
Sunday, October 14, 2007
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.
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.
Sunday, October 7, 2007
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.
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
