Shout out! Hey Poconos!!!

I wanted to say "hey" to the Anthem Guy who is always so helpful and makes my job look SO easy!!!!

Sunday, November 30, 2008

Today I went on a day trip to State College. I used to live there in another life... forgotten. Until today.

My (then) husband dragged me kicking and screaming to State College in 1992. Jessi was a newborn. Sandi was just 12. Sandi was such a trooper when we moved. I was probably in the middle of post partum depression, but who knew about that stuff back then?

The first few months in State College I was alone with the girls. Their dad's transfer hadn't been finalized, but I wanted to move in the fall so Sandi could start the school year anew. The best part was State College is a town in constant flux. New kids were in the majority. So Sandi adjusted really well. And she adored Jessi. That year Sandi had to write a paper about her best friend. She wrote that her best friend was her baby sister.

I was lonely and I felt guilty because we didn't move Mom with us. Mom was still living in her apartment then. She was livid with us for moving so far away. Eventually she moved up with us.

Driving through State College I was slammed with memories of events long forgotten. I drove past the place where I should have seen that something was wrong with Mom. That day was rainy. Instead of watching actual traffic, Mom was watching headlights. When she saw a break in the headlights, she floored it into traffic and was broad sided by a truck (who didn't have his headlights on). I just happened to be driving by when I saw the remains of the accident. I pulled over and picked Mom up. She was giddy, with a wild look in her eyes. This accident was just what she needed, she'd said, "Now we can all spend more time together!" I'll never forget the look in her eyes. How can I? She's got it pretty much all the time now.

The years in State College weren't easy. We were always in dire straights, financially. We belonged to a pretty nutty church. My marriage was falling apart. I was so far away from my very best friend, who had been my entire life before we moved. Being without her was almost unbearable.

My grandmother died while we were up there. I had taken my children to see her a week or so before she died. She thought I was my sister. She thought Sandi was me. And she thought Jessica was my niece. It was so strange to see my vibrant grandmother in diapers and utterly confused. I was so mad at the nursing home for making her wear diapers. How little I knew about old age at that time.

I was hard put to find any memories that weren't traumatic today. I found two. One was when I drove past a house I'd lived in for year while in State College. It was a quaint yellow house. The back yard had been small and garden-like. It had two levels. The upper level lined with a mossy stone wall. There were tons of flowers and vines. And there was a stone table and bench. One summer evening, Sandi and I were sitting on the stone bench in the back. She asked me if I believed in faeries. Of course I did! The evening was oddly quiet and alive with fire flies...and as we sat there we began to hear a pan flute. It was magical. I wonder if she remembers that too?

Memory # 2-- One of the ways I coped with being in a strange town was to totally immerse myself in a kind of music I'd never listened to before-- Country Music. (That way I never heard an old familiar song, and music didn't bring back memories of happy times and a home so far away.) I'll never forget the first time I heard "Don't Take The Girl". For some reason it just gripped my heart. I was sitting in the post office parking lot when it played for the first time. I started with a lump in my throat. Then a tear or two. And then I went into Oprah's "ugly cry" complete with sobs and contorted face. (falling just short of bubbles in my nostrils-thank you). When the song came to a (merciful) end, I realized that the ending could be taken as happy or sad. I picked happy, dried my tears and went in to buy stamps. A total stranger came up and put her arms around me and said, "Are you all right? Do you need help of any kind?" Embarrassed, I thanked her, told her I was just homesick and that I'd be all right. How could I say "Uh... I was engrossed in a sappy hick song on the radio????"

My mission in State College today was to help my friend navigate the waters through some health insurance issues involving her mother. Her mother is slipping and just not financially prepared for her "golden" years. I found her mother to be fascinating. Brilliant. Just a joy to be around. Like everybody who doesn't know her finds MY mother to be!

Isn't it amazing how our own life experiences are mirrored in the lives of others?? Her mom is something entirely different when it's just the two of them. Around company, she's the picture of charm and wit. It is so frustrating to deal with insanity and have it cause you to question your own sanity!!!

I'm home now. Safe and sound. Safe and sound. Already the bad memories (bad gunkies as Stephen King calls it) are subsiding, just like the retreating tide.... Breathe in. Breathe out. Relax.... and good night.

Saturday, November 22, 2008

November is Difficult

I've started this a half dozen times... only to scrap it and go to bed. Today I'm determined.

November is a difficult month for my family. On top of memories of Thanksgiving Nightmares of the past, it's also the month my dad died.

Dad's death is actually more impactful now than it was then. For me, his death came on the heels of a disastrous couple of years. I'd just gone through a divorce and remarried way too soon after. I had not been home since I'd remarried, and my first husband was from home. I was bringing a stranger into territory that belonged to my first husband and me. THAT was the hard part, believe it or not.

I come from a Christian family who feels absolutely assured of their final destination. Dad's passing was almost joyful. It was certainly peaceful. It was peaceful for most of us. I remember sitting in the waiting room with my sisters and my cousins, singing. We sang all of Dad's favorites, "Amazing Grace" "How Great Thou Art" and "It is Well With My Soul" And when the time came, we stood with Dad as his spirit left his body.

It wasn't until Mom went into the nursing home that she began to mourn my Dad's passing. She was sort of mad at him in the years just after his death. I don't blame her. My dad truly believed to the very depths of his soul, that he would not taste death. It's not that he thought he was special, he just was certain that Jesus would come back in his life time. And he lived like it. He didn't save. He didn't plan. He didn't buy life insurance. He didn't even buy credit life insurance. Mom had $80 to her name at the funeral. I'd have been pretty mad too, if I'd been left in such dire straights.

Mom's forgotten all of that. Blessedly, I think. She began to truly mourn him when she entered the nursing home -- 17 years after his passing.

And then there's Thanksgiving. I think we all have a "funny" story about the calamities that befell us on that day of the year. Like the year my dad decided it would be a good idea to baste the turkey with a mixture of orange juice concentrate and Tabasco sauce. Trust me, it was vile. Or the year Mom invited two families for dinner, and then canceled on Thanksgiving morning. Back then only Denny's was open on Thanksgiving Day.

The year after Dad died, Mom announced that SHE was cooking Thanksgiving Dinner and forbade any of us to help her. Oh my holy God. What a nightmare. There were pots and pans lining my kitchen floor. There were piles of vegetable peelings on newspaper all over the counter tops. (Excuse me, how hard is it to throw that stuff away???) And to add insult to injury, our kitchen faucet kept malfunctioning and spewing water all over the place.

The result of a life time of Thanksgiving chaos is stress free preparations and a flawless presentation when I cook. I plan and I plot. I clean and prepare and pre-cook. When I get up on Thanksgiving morning, all that's left to do is put the bird in the oven and prepare mashed potatoes. Everything else is done in advance. And when we sit down to dinner, the only dishes that need washing are the ones on the table. That's just as insane as the chaos, don't you think?

In recent years, the holiday has been even easier. We go to my mother-in-law's where everyone does something, and nobody does everything. Confidentially, I really miss cooking the dinner myself, but not enough to give up the time with my in-laws. I'm so blessed to have married into such a great family!

To end this post, I want to list the things I'm thankful for as it relates to my Mom--which is who this blog is all about.....

In No Particular Order I'm thankful....

-:- My mom got me hooked on reading

-:- My mom taught me how to dress well

-:- My mom taught me how to cook and bake

-:- My mom inspires me to excellence (in a "what not to wear" sort of way)

-:- My mom instilled in me an insatiable thirst for knowledge (she never accepted "I don't know" for an answer. She'd say "I didn't ask you if you knew...")

-:- Through her self-loathing my mother taught me self-love

A note about the final point... One of the most difficult things I deal with is my mother's sense of worthlessness. She mistrusts people who love and admire her in a Charlie Chaplin style. (He used to say, "any club that would have me, isn't worth joining") When I was growing up, I'd hear my mother berating herself for her weight or looks, and I'd think "If only she could see what a good looking woman she is, no matter what her size...." And I purposed in my heart to accept myself, no matter how old, or large I got. So mothers out there, step back and ask yourself "How am I impacting my daughter?" Please?

 

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