Happy Birthday, Matthew...

What do you say to someone you haven’t seen in eight years?  How do you explain all that has happened since he left?  Or all that happened when he was younger?  How do you communicate with children who speak Italian?  What is there to say, after all these years?

Today is my younger son’s birthday.  I sent him a birthday wish on Facebook.  I think about him all the time, and even more so on his birthdays and holidays.  It’s tough: we don’t communicate well.  Not just Matthew and me, but all of us in our family.  Most of us don’t like to talk on the phone, don’t write letters, don’t Skype, and then regret that we don’t do it.

Sending him a package costs nearly fifty dollars.  A phone call isn’t much cheaper, either.  Ah, excuses, right?  Yes.  And more.  I am not sure I could talk to him on the phone without crying.  I know I would not be able to explain my tears to him, either.

I feel as if part of me is gone, broken, or lost.  I feel the need to reconnect with my son but I cannot do it by myself.  I have tried sending an email to all three of my kids, hoping it would spark an interest in communicating with each other.  We could just “reply all” and share our day-to-day life with each other.  Didn’t happen…

I tell myself that, even though I don’t hear from Matt, he does love me and miss me, too.  I tell myself that it is just the Great Communication Barrier that keeps us from getting in touch with each other.  I tell myself that it is my duty, as a parent, to keep the lines of communication open with my kids.  And I tell myself that I’m not doing a very good job.

Why?  I don’t really know.  Maybe it is just easier to miss him desperately than to tell him and make him feel bad.  I know he’s busy, I know his life is full with family, work, and whatever else he chooses to do with his time.

And I tell myself that we are going to sit down and have a chat about it.  Soon.  I will tell him how much I love him and miss him and that I wish I could find a way to keep in touch with him.  I will tell him stories about when he was growing up and how he delighted us with his wit and wisdom.

And I will apologize for hurting his feelings when he was 7.  He rode his bicycle all the way out to his grandparent’s house (8 miles away) because I said something that hurt him and he wanted Grandma to comfort him.  I will ask him to forgive me for being unkind because I didn’t really mean to be…

I will hug him and spend some quality time with him.

He’s coming home to visit June 18^th……

Cali

Thank you, Nathaniel(s)....

Both of you…. 

On Tuesday, I went to the local AT&T store and purchased my new iPhone 5.  Yes, I know the next version will be out soon—this summer—but I wanted mine now.  After almost an hour in the store, I left with the new phone (and its hot pink cover) in my hand…

We had other errands to run, so I didn’t get a chance to plug the phone into my laptop and download my apps until the early afternoon.  Well, the “quite simple” process became less so: the phone “froze” in the iTunes home screen.

Nothing I did changed anything.  I turned it off, and then back on.  I restarted my computer and plugged the phone in again.  Nothing.  Just the same, stupid, frozen screen….

(I remember when I was four years old and our phone was on a party line.  I didn’t have any trouble with it: I would pick it up and listen, that’s all.  Of course, at four, I didn’t realize that it was rude to listen in on a party line when others were having a conversation.  When the operator called my mother to report my activities, I received a lecture on privacy and respect.  Oh well, nothing “froze”….)

So, the next step was to go BACK to the AT&T store and get them to fix it.  As I walked in the door, the greeter asked me what I needed and I explained that my phone was frozen.  She then asked when I bought it and I told her “three hours ago” and when she asked where, I said “here”….

And so, I met Nathaniel  Number 1.  He plugged my phone into a computer and tried to “unlock” it.  Then he tried another computer.  No luck, still frozen.  He then excused himself and went to talk to his manager.  When he returned, he was on his cell phone, talking to someone about me. It soon became apparent that he was talking to Apple Care….

After the phone call ended, he told me what my two options were:  1) go home and call Apple’s tech line and have them walk me through the process of unlocking my phone; or 2) drive an hour to the nearest Apple Store and have their techs do it for me.

And I was frustrated—and rude—to him.  “How can I CALL tech support when the ONLY phone I have is locked and won’t work?”  He could have been rude right back, but he wasn’t.  He was empathetic and supportive.  I apologized for my outburst and he said he would feel the same way…

And so, I went back home and picked up my laptop and John so he could make the trip to Fresno with me.  Of course, in my frustration/confusion/whatever, I gave him the wrong driving instructions and we drove an extra half hour to get to the Apple Store….

I felt so guilty that I encouraged him to sit in a comfy chair in the mall and have a Starbuck’s coffee while I took care of my phone problems...

Enter Nathaniel Number 2:  a very nice young man in his late twenties or early thirties.  Even though he hadn’t used Windows in fourteen years (he’s a Mac), he was able to help me navigate my laptop to facilitate the process.  Not only was he patient, he taught me some things I didn’t know…and need to know.  It turns out that I have to block my Avast “firewall” in order to download stuff from iTunes…

I explained what was going on with my phone and that I had no intention of going home until it was fixed AND all my apps were downloaded from iTunes.  He apologized for my long trip to the store and agreed to help me do all that before I left.

While my apps were downloading, he went to help another customer.  There I sat, staring at my playlist on iTunes, on an HP laptop!  Right next to me was a Mac.  On the other side of the table were two people with iPads….I felt like a fish out of water.

So, when Nathaniel Number 2 came back, and my apps were all downloaded, I thanked him for not making fun of my weird playlist.  He looked through my songs and mentioned several artists that he liked, too.  He noticed that I have Rufus Wainwright’s version of Hallelujah and he said Leonard Cohen’s versions are his favorites.  I asked if he had heard k.d. lang’s version and he hadn’t:  he plans to download it and listen to it for himself….

As six pm approached, NN2 excused himself: he had to leave because they are not allowed to have overtime.  He found someone else to help me with signing up for Apple Care + and he was off to clock out and go home….

So, what was supposed to be easy wasn’t.  What should have taken about an hour took most of the day.  And yet, what I will remember about the experience, and the day, is the two Nathaniels.  Two very different-looking men who tried everything they could to help me, and finally succeeded.

At my age, days are not to be wasted, and Tuesday certainly was not a waste.  I have my new phone, it actually works, and I met two young men who renewed my faith in “the younger generation”…. As I approach my birthday (Saturday), I am thankful that I have had the opportunity to have many positive experiences in my life….

And thankful for the two Nathaniels….

Cali

Friends....

I am sitting here looking at a photo of a long-time friend.   I can see her, and hear her, as I look at the photo.  She had an infectious laugh, a heart of gold, and she never met a stranger.  Unfortunately, the photo is on the front of the program for her memorial service: she died March 25^th.

We became friends in high school.  I loved being around her because she was always so upbeat.  She had that kindness that many espouse but few really practice in real life.  She was only a stranger for ten seconds after you met her, and then she was a friend for life…..

Our children were just about the same age: the oldest being a girl, followed by two boys.  I remember when she used to come visit me at my home and bring her kids.  All the kids got along well and played together so we could sit and talk.  I remember, too, that her daughter taught my daughter the names of all the colors, or at least, all the colors that M&Ms came in….

A lot of stuff happened in her life that could have made her angry, or sent her in a downward spiral, or caused her unbearable bitterness.  But she wasn’t that way.  She was resilient.  She had an abiding faith in God and in her ability to bear anything that happened to her through His Grace.

I didn’t want to go today.  I am not a fan of funerals, but then, who is?  I asked John to go with me and, of course, he did.  The church is just two doors down from our home, so we walked.  And in the warm sunshine, I felt a shiver.  Regret? 

Perhaps.  I know that the last time I talked to her on the phone was too long ago, and I was calling to cancel a lunch date.  She lived at the coast and I was vacationing there and wanted to see her, but life intervened and I had to come home early.  I never, ever thought that I would never talk to her again.

But life is like that, isn’t it?  We postpone things we ought to do until “another day” and that day never comes.   And today, that feeling would not leave me until I got into the church and saw her smiling face in the photo slide show.  And I know now that she thought of me as often as I thought of her, and that we could get together tomorrow and it would be just like old times.

But there won’t be a tomorrow with her.

As we walked in the church, we were greeted by another friend from high school days.   She approached me, smiled, and gave me a hug.  I heard someone else say my name and I turned around to see another friend from high school.  And I got another hug.

As we were trying to decide where to sit, I saw more friends, and decided we would sit right behind them.  And there were more hugs.  And introductions, although they all knew about John and our “adventures” from my posts on Facebook.

The service was amazing.  The eulogy caused many, many tears in the church.  And the testimonials from all those high school friends made us all smile and laugh despite our tears.

Is it possible to learn lessons from someone who is dead?  Or maybe it’s lessons from the exemplary life she led…. She reminded me to stop having regrets and to act on my instincts.  “Get out there and live and stop being so introverted!”  I can hear her saying that to me and then laughing.

The tragedies that befell her in her life were terrible, but the joy she brought to each and every day of her life was inspiring.  She never felt sorry for herself, and she never stopped trying to find the good in everybody and everything.

After the funeral, we walked home and I cried.  I was overwhelmed with the outpouring of kindness and the hugs I received.  I was deep in thought about my friend and wondering how to deal with my thoughts.  I decided to go shopping….

Retail therapy?  No, not really.  There are two new babies in our family and we want to send them gifts to let them know how happy we are to have them in our lives.  No more assuming that they will know how much we care.

I have to tell them…..

I was shopping in a craft store when I saw someone I used to work with in the operating room.  Being somewhat introverted and socially awkward (in my opinion), I would normally have just kept going and assumed that she was too busy to talk to me or she wouldn’t remember me.

Not today: I walked right over to her and said “hi!”  We spent almost 45 minutes “catching up” on what has been going on in our lives.  It was good to see her again, but it was great that I didn’t just walk away, knowing that she didn’t see me…..

And tonight, I will wrap baby gifts and address the boxes, then mail them in the morning.  I think I will also send an email to each of my kids and remind them that I love them and I’m thinking about them.  And I think I’ll send messages on Facebook to the friends I saw today and tell them how good it felt to see them again.

Thank you, Jeannie……

Cali

Memories of Christmas...

It’s a beautiful December day in Podunk.  The wind and rain earlier this week have cleared the air.  The sky is a glorious blue with not a cloud to be seen.  To the east, the Sierra Nevada Mountains are capped with snow. 

It’s a match made in heaven: snow on the mountains and snowshoes in the back of our car.  Soon.  Very soon, we will go for a winter hike in the Sequoia Nat’l. Park.  Or Kings Canyon Nat’l Park.  They’re both less than an hour away…

For now, I’m baking.  I have to do it by myself this Christmas because my granddaughter is still in school and won’t be joining us until the night before Christmas Eve.  She will, however, be here soon enough to help with the clam chowder and carrot cake for Christmas Eve supper, and the egg casserole for Christmas morning brunch.

 

As I make cookies, I am listening to Christmas music.  The old-fashioned, politically incorrect religious kind of music.  The music that I associate with Christmases past and present.  At my age, there are a LOT of memories of Christmas.

 

And I am awash in those memories right now.  Missing those people who were such a huge part of my life so long ago… My parents and grandparents, of course, but mostly those bright, shiny little faces that belonged to my little children.  Their freshness and innocence, their delight with all things Christmas, their joy as they saw what Santa brought them.  Their beautiful faces as they solemnly participated in the Christmas Pageant at church…

I realize that it was inevitable that they would grow up and move out on their own, but that doesn’t assuage the nostalgia of the moment.  It does help that they are all healthy and happy and have families of their own.  And they DO come to visit when they can…

I don’t need the Ghost of Christmas Past to remind me of things I have done, or the Ghost of Christmas Present to show me how fortunate I am to have love and joy in my life.  I already know all that.  I am thankful for all the good in my life right now.  Very thankful.

 

But I also wonder: “why me?”  When others are fighting so desperately to stay alive and find shelter, why do I have so much?  As other people my age search longingly for someone to love, I have someone to love.  Someone who came to me late in life, and reminds me every day how lucky we are to have each other.

So what, if anything, am I trying to say?  I think it’s this:  Christmas (or Hanukkah, or Kwanzaa, or Santa) lives in our hearts.  It isn’t about presents, or being surrounded by every person I have ever loved, or having the biggest and best decorations ever.  No.  It’s about the feelings I’m having right now, the memories that have descended on me this morning, and the flour on my hands, clothes, and kitchen floor.

Joy is in our hearts.  Love, peace, serenity, tranquility, whatever….it all lives inside of us.  Those memories are brought forward to remind us of the journey that we have taken, the places we have been, and the suffering that we have survived.

It’s an annual renewal of those things that we hold dear to us.  It embodies all that the human spirit holds dear, and it allows us to indulge our memories of Christmases past and our hopes for Christmas in the future.  (Of course, tomorrow IS 12-21-2012….)

And so, I will go back to the kitchen, the flour on the floor, and the cookies waiting to be baked.  I will keep listening to the Christmas music, thinking about my loved ones, and being thankful for all that has been given to me.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to you and yours!

Cali

Farewell....

What can I say?  My heart hurts right now.  A beautiful lady who was a huge part of my life for nearly forty years has died….

  

She has had Alzheimer’s disease for more than a decade and didn’t even recognize her own sons when they came to see her.  I know it was hard on them because my ex-husband (her first-born son) and I have talked about it.

My daughter told me today that she is saddened, too.  She thought she “shouldn’t be” because Grandma has been gone from all of us for a long, long time.  As I told her, the fact is that we are never prepared to lose a loved one, no matter how imminent the death might be.

She’s gone.  How can that be?  It isn’t fair, that’s for sure.  She was more to me than a mother-in-law; she was my Other Mother.   She was my shelter from the storm of my relationship with my own mother.  She was everything I wished my mother had been: kind, caring, gentle, loving and approachable.  As odd as it might sound, my mother was never approachable……  Yet my Other Mother was always there for me, as I tried to be for her.

Walking in the orange groves, after supper, so many years ago when I was pregnant with my first child, we would talk.  My husband worked evenings and my in-laws invited me out to their ranch for supper at least one night a week.  So, we talked.  We walked along a row of orange trees highlighted by the setting sun and she answered my questions about my pregnancy.

Over and over again, I asked her to tell me about “labor” and what I would be going through.  I asked her what things I needed to have on hand before the baby came home from the hospital.  And I listened in amazement as she described how I would feel when I saw my baby for the first time.

And she nailed it…

I remember after Steve and I separated that  she hoped we would reconcile.  She even “set us up” by asking each of us to come out to the ranch and help her on a Saturday afternoon.  I hadn’t seen Steve in a while as he was dating someone else and so was I….

It was hard to see her so desperate to fix something that was irretrievably broken, and neither of us could get mad at her for trying so hard.  And neither of us was in a place to try to fix it.  It was over, but NOT my relationship with my Other Mother.

She continued to be my friend and called me frequently to see how I was doing.  After her husband died, she called me and asked me to come by and see her.  She had a gift for me: a beautiful, dark red flower vase.   She wanted me to have something of hers to remember her by.

As if I needed an object to remind me of her…..

And now she’s gone.  Gone to a place where she is whole again and not suffering.  We are left with our memories—wonderful memories—of a beautiful woman, a beautiful person.  We will talk about her often, sharing stories and remembering her with much love and affection.

 

And shed some tears, too….

Cali

Choices...

It's cold and gray and drizzling here. It has been for days. Other than a jaunt up to the mountains, I haven't seen the sun in about a million years. Maybe a little less. Maybe more.

I'm trying to stay busy and stop looking outside. It's the same every time I look, so why bother?

It's just that time of year. The sky is gray and so is life, sort of. The holidays are over and it's a long time until bar-be-que season. Taxes are due in just a little less than three months. I should be getting everything together to take to my CPA but, of course, I don't want to.

The house needs airing out. I want the sun to shine so I can throw open the windows and let the fresh air in. I have burned candles, almost every day, to rid the house of cooking odors, but it's not the same as fresh air.

And then, I have to stop and remember: I cautioned a friend not to wish her life away. She was lamenting that winter was getting her down and she yearns for spring to get here.

Another friend told me yesterday that this year is a “bad” one, for her. Less than three weeks into the new year, and she's already decided it's a bad year? Oh dear. That's awful.

Today is today. Cold, gray, and not exactly bright and hopeful. But it is a day. The only day I have, right now. And it's mine to do with as I choose.

I choose to be happy. I choose to look around me and find the joy in today. I choose to be grateful for the people in my life, the work that I do, and the life that I lead. I choose to be thankful that, when I go shopping, there is a hand holding mine. Someone to help me choose the groceries and then carry them in the house. Someone to talk to when I have nothing to say.

And tonight, we will eat grilled cheese sandwiches and baked beans, then watch the first episode of American Idol. Together.

And it will be dark. Not gray and cloudy. Or sunny and bright. Just dark.

And tomorrow is another day....

Cali

A New Year....

It's a new dawn. It's a new day. It's even a new decade: the second one in a new millennium!

Such an auspicious day and date should not be taken lightly. I need to have plans. Hopes. Dreams. Goals. Resolutions? I don't think so....

What I wish for myself, I wish for you, too: Happiness, Peace, Contentment with your place in life, Love, Honor and Joy in the little things. It's the little things that comprise the big things, I think.

May you find just enough peanut butter to make yourself a sandwich, just enough sunshine to plant a garden full of flowers, just enough rain to nourish your soul, and abundant laughter to make everything it touches worthwhile.

Happy New Year, All!

Cali