View from the Back

Wow–Monday is tough.  Not only are we back to work on a cold, snowy morning, the economy worsens, another of my friends has lost a job, another house in the hood has not sold, and I have to pay bills with a knot inside as the  dow drops yet again.

I try to move forward, keep my spirits up, knowing that today I have my family, my work, my home, my friends, my health, my hobbies–albeit much scaled back, potential for another project. But I will keep my world close, hold it tight, watch it carefully, and wait cautiously for the sun to rise again, the air to warm, the ground to bloom in tiny swells and hope, hope, hope. 

Sometimes the view from the rear of the boat is more glorious than the front.  We move unknowingly to the back, then sometimes we huddle there–dance amongst friends, laugh with strangers, sing with ourselves, and wait watching, together, as the changes abound. 

We will hope for the mundane, maybe see the wonderous.  But we will see it together, smiles and tears blended into the waters below.

C

 

Miniscule and Massive, Simultaneously

Riding on a ship with no land in sight, surrounded by the turquoise blue then steel-grey waves, a watchful warming sun and swiftly moving breezes, we saw no land for twenty-four hours. 

Gazing over the endless waters, an occasional ship in the far off distance, that ride made me think about  how truly small we physically are.  A speck. Of no significance.  Flick this boat like a fly and we disappear.

But I turn away from the waters, towards my group of friends, for the final day of the trip still laughing, joking, dancing, swimming, sitting, reading, sharing, sleeping. Truly joyful, as we live  in each moment, strangers picking up our energy and  sharing it with their groups, passing it around. 

And I realize that while we may be miniscule in the view from the clouds, in our small sectors, with our friends and family and fears and lusts and mysteries and goals and wonders, we do have an impact, we do love, we do have a reason to be, to laugh, to cry.  Our spirits, when we share them, are wider than the oceans, taller than the clouds.

And we should be so thankful, and are so lucky when we can experience freedom with the ones we love most.  Thanks girls, for another amazing holiday.  C

 

The Usual

Usual.  What a typical, boring word.  No surprises, no adrenaline.  But, walk in to your favorite restaurant–be it fancy with lacy tablecoths and low lit candles or in my case be it the corner grill, when the waitress Eileen glances over before you sit down and says “you want the usual today?”  you just feel comforted, known, thankful to be sitting, sharing.

Even if it is the local tavern where the bartender pours your drink when you approach, or the local cashier who smiles and says “hi”, it just feels real, lightens you inside.

My friend Collette, a psychologist, my partner who eats “the usual” with me every couple of weeks says that she finds that people feel greatly empowered when they feel known—really known.

There is a truth in that.  There are precious few we show our real selves, always wearing some persona, being who we are but also who we are supposed to be wearing the hat of mother-student-wife-business owner-dog walker.  But, people who we see at regular intervals, when we are going about our normal routines, when we are calm, relaxed,  even angry, they also know us and some invite us into their space, honestly and openly. 

Grasp on to those offerings;  they come with no pretenses, and let yourself open for people and experiences.  You just might make a friend or learn about others or yourself along the way.

So,  “yes, I will have the usual” ,with a smile.  C

 

A Separate Life

I have long thought of my children as a part of me, an extension of me-my husband-my parents-our upbringing-our beliefs-their friends–where we live-their hobbies and interests-but always a part of me.  While they head off to school each morning, then to their activities and other outings , I have long felt they were an integral part of who I am.  As they are growing older, I am becoming more aware of them choosing what to claim as their own.

This becomes abundantly clear as I peruse the daily online camp photos, searching for pictures of them in new activities, giggling with people I do not know, and involved in camp rituals of which I will never be a part.  I miss their laughing faces, I yearn to know what they are becoming as they test the waters (literally) around them. 

It becomes a more separate life, as our children grow and reach and develop into who they will become, as we did. They will have their private codes, things hidden from me, secrets they keep from their friends, and thoughts they will even hide from themselves.

I realize that I can only guide them on their journey as they create new paths, follow some already lain, get lost and hopefully found, in a quest to Be.  May the voyages never end; I am still searching and wandering my own paths, not knowing where they will lead.  Camp is a short stop in their trek, but one where they will hopefully learn to fend without their parents and usual cohorts. C

 

Belated Happy Hour

You know the day–it is fabulous outside, summer blue skies with white painted clouds and the perfect breeze. But, everything you do is slightly off. The bike ride you planned takes you on 3 different detours as you hit busy roads and construction, the kids say/scream “MOM” 1023 times, the dog throws up on the carpet, the phone rings with all the  wrong people, the computer doesn’t save your big project.  What would ease the stress, take away the strain?

A short outing with fun friends to laugh, forget, remember, plan, unburden, learn, enjoy, taste.  Back to the real world short enough, but the intermission is needed, wanted, Heaven, beauty, so simple. C

 

The Perfect 4th of July Party

It was the perfect 4th of July party, on the most quintessential Chicago weather weekend I can remember.  People arrived at our neighbor’s home on bikes, foot, and in cars carrying their beachbags and food and games to share.  Other than the start time, there was no schedule to follow, just the mood of the guests. 

After a long dunk in the pool, my highlight of both this and last year was the rag-tag baseball game in the empty field (with the perfectly mowed diamond) with players ranging from ages 4 to 50.  The dads “bobbled” the balls so the young ones would be sure to make it to base–even the one who hit and ran directly to second base, newcomers hitting next to practiced players, only the 8 year old-boys keeping score, even the newest neighbors joining in.  It reminds me of the way we used to play pick-up-games when I was a kid.

After calling quits the long game of few innings when we all needed refreshments, people moved to volleyball, a neighbor’s trampoline, and athe kids spent a good hour throwing each other into the pool before dinner.  The fluidity of the day kept it so relaxed, no kids’ tempers flared, no adults disagreed, no cliques formed of any age and the mood was jovial and true.

After the traditional and delicious bar-be-que was complete, the football was tossed in the yard and baggo played until the misquitoes decided their party should begin, feasting on human limbs. We re-grouped by a poolside fire.  Several people ran and got marshmallows, chocolate and graham crackers to make some impromptu s’mores on a many-pronged tree branch.  Stars brightened the skies, while we laughed and told stories until the children and perhaps some adults simply ran out of steam.

Families departed like fireflies, flickering off in the distance, after neighboring towns’ fireworks ended.  A simple, great day had by all, gently guided by outdoor pleasures, our whims and wonderful hosts.  Thanks for more fine memories, Urs and Tom. C

 

Sundown on the 49th Floor

 

Night arrives with a gust, as lights appear like fireflies–flickering at first, then a swarm lights up the distance. Waves undulate along the shoreline, the wind rocking both the water and the steel building I stand in.

As evening falls in the city, the crowds gather herdlike onto the sidewalks, seaching for prey and great food and better company.  Let the summer festivities begin. C

 

A Celebration Deserved

As the speaker thanked his family, friends, priests and others in attendence for all they had done for him–while we were there to celebrate his 25 years service as a deacon in the Catholic Church– there was a building applause, a standing ovation, and the deacon finally left the podium wiping his eyes.

Since this parish is about 420 miles from my own, I know only his loving, close-knit, Irish family, having attended college with 3 of the 6 children. I glanced around the church, knowing that there were many others whom Ed had helped through baptism or marriage or death or difficult times during his tenure as deacon. 

I think that many people go through their lives wanting to be Famous or Popular or Rich (such generic terms). But famous for what? popular with whom? I watched people in the church and at the crowded reception and realized that our legacy comes from our actions and words with others, not from what we dream it to be.  A famous wizard said to a scarecrow who wanted a heart that to be loved is not by how much we love but by how much others love us. So true. 

Ed is certainly Famous and Popular in his circle of friends, colleagues, and parishioners that were present this weekend.  His funny jokes and helpful words spread beyond those he deals with, as those he touches pass-along his kindness.  He is truly Rich in family and spirit, surounded by many who love him.  His  Beliefs and Actions drive him, and it is through our behaviors and Presence  that we will be remembered and positively (or negatively) impact others.

Congratulations Ed on 25 years of service.  If we can all try to mimic a small amount of your altruism, our own small world would be more kind gentle place to live in.  C

 

50-50 Friends

Everyone has them–men, women, boys, girls.  We cannot escape them; some are drawn to them like the unknowing fish to the wriggling, hooked worm, pricked and caught, the lucky set free.  Do they even know what they do?  They must, it happens so frequently.

You know them–We invite them to our outings, we include them in our plans, and they may or may not show up.  They may not even call to say they are not coming.  Why is it that some people think it’s perfectly okay to accept an invitation, then cancel for reason #43 or #97 on their list of excuses?  And we accept the lame reasons with a flourish of the hand, we are so used to it.

Yes, I know that we all have times when we need to reschedule, but there are some who we just expect to cancel. The few I will only pencil onto the calendar, since why bother with the ink that won’t last the day?

Why is their time so much more valuable than ours?  Why does catastrophe (in the most untrue sense of the word) follow their steps, coating them at every chance with the next reason to phase out?  

Why do we continue to include them, if they only show up 50% of the time.  When they are there, they are often witty, inclusive people whom make for a fun event.  

We have just learned that we shall are not depend on them.  I wish they came with a blue freckle on their neck, or a streak of green hair, so I could identify them right off, rather than waste many a good evenings learning they may or may not join us for a cuppa.  I just hope I am never known as a 50-50 friend.  If I was, I would think it time to choose some new companions, or rearrange my life a bit. C

 

Recipe for a Most Excellent Holiday