Most likely you followed the link from my first page or the seventh or eighteenth page of Random Thoughts stories. Here are some more, and I hope these are just as amusing and thought provoking. And, as always, your comments are appreciated.
I don't have a writing career. I have written hundreds of stories and fragments of stories over the past ten years. My career, such as it is, started when I joined Nerdnosh. I was new to the internet and while I surfed for things that interested me, I found them. It was a writing group, so I signed up and would get an email from them daily, with stories written by the members. For the longest time, I just lurked behind the scenes, trying to figure things out.
The first story I wrote for them was called Looking back on 1996. December 3, to be exact. I don't have it posted on my Random Thoughts page and I'm not exactly sure why. It starts out, "Without a doubt, this was the worst year of my life." At that time it was, because 1999 was three years away. I wrote how the year began with our involvement in Christine's life and death. She and her mother were our Care Partners, Evelyn's and mine. Then it went on to Greg being diagnosed with cancer while we were trying to manage another Care Partner family. I wrote about my trip to Australia and coming back and telling Fred things had to change. The next day he told the kids we were getting a divorce. It was one hell of a year.
I don't remember if I got any reaction from the group to the story or not. I must have, because I eventually joined Klatsch, the chat group of Nosh. Most of the more prolific writers were involved, and it was, at the time, a lot of fun. We used to get together one night a week and chat on line. I was a member of Nosh for a few more years, but because personalities were involved, a splinter group was formed and I joined that one too, as did many people. I later found out that was how Nosh came into existence; a split from another group called Spoon. When it came time to pick one or the other, I went with the other one. It was called Bluedog Society. I was banished from Nosh and Klatsch.
Bluedog had good intentions, I guess. They too had a separate chat group called Cheers. The only positive thing about either group was they started me writing. Putting my thoughts on paper or to be specific, the computer. My thoughts and ideas were in cyberspace for the entire world to see, should they investigate enough. I believe my stories are still on both groups web sites today. Bluedog died after a year or so, again conflict between strong willed people. The loss of the two groups didn't stop me from writing and sorting out my thoughts on line.
A few years later, I rejoined Nosh and get the stories newsletter, but I don't participate much. The personalities are still too strong and I don't need any more crap in my life. They no longer publish daily because maybe they spend too much time chatting behind the scenes, I don't know. Most of the people I knew from there weren't around the second time and there was just a completely different, more exclusive feeling to the group. I missed Lee, Bob, Mary. Marcia and Don and a whole lot more and wasn't particularly fond of the newer members. Plus, I was never made to feel really welcome.
I had a bunch of stories I'd written and called them Random Thoughts. Not very original, but in the beginning they were more random. One of my favorite stories still is Hands, about comparing my hands to my late grandfathers. I wrote about M&Ms, moving, fishing, books and mostly my family. I wrote about holidays, friends, television and sports. I found it a wonderful outlet for me. So it was only logical that I put them on my web site, right?
The original page was created November 13, 1997. My website was already a whole year old. Doug and I had such great plans to create something wonderful and unique, but we were both dreamers and not doers and distance didn't help the situation either. So we put my personal page on Underthesun.com and I went from there. Before long there were several pages, so I created an index page for my stories. Now there are 23 pages of my random thoughts and who knows how many more will follow as the days and years pass by.
I've made several friends from my stories, who have been with me a short time or some a longer time. I call them my fans. I only know of three people who have claimed to read them all. Even I can't remember them all at this point. I find myself writing about the same events, but that's because they were such pivotal parts of my life. Like the death of my father and my son. They affected me a whole lot more than a bowl of M&M's.
It doesn't matter what I write about or who reads my stories. I wouldn't care if no one ever read them. I write for one person only and that is yours truly. I look for the unique and the ordinary in my life and the world around me. I don't see things the way most others do and that's okay. In a way, writing is my therapy and I wonder how I managed so long without this outlet. I can't just sit down and write for the sake of writing. I need inspiration or something rolling around in my head long enough that I have to sort it out with words. I will probably never be a best selling author, but I know I have made a small difference in my life and a few others and that has to be enough.
©10 August 2006Last night I saw my first shooting star. And my second, third, fourth and fifth. As Rita said, I lost my virginity last night, as far as meteors are concerned. I was lucky enough to lose it with five good friends, one I guess, for each shooting star I saw.
In an attempt to be as supportive as I can to Nancy during this very stressful time for her, I've done a few things I never would have otherwise. Much to my amazement I have enjoyed all of them. I played sign language bingo three times with her class, I came back the second and third time because I had fun with her and was trying to learn a smidgen of sign language. To keep her company and her spirits up, I amused myself with anagrams and listening to live music during two hours of Deaf Chat Friday night. It was kind of exciting when I recognized the sign for famous, but I never would have been there except for Nancy. Even thought Rita tried for months to get me to go contra dancing, it was when Nancy asked me, or rather bugged me till I couldn't say no, that I agreed to try it. I've drawn the line at Reiki and salsa dancing (so far).
Last night, I had agreed to go salsa dancing with her and I would have, too. Only when she called me, on the way home from an all day Reiki share, she said Rita and Chris invited her, Barbara and Bud over for dinner and to watch the meteor shower. Would I rather do that instead of salsa dancing? Kind of a silly question, because after the first dance, Nancy tried to show me the steps back at the office, and I just couldn't get it. She wasn't surprised when I said, oh, let's go to Rita's. We made arrangements to meet and drive out to Chino Valley together.
When we got there, everyone, including Rita's daughter Sara, was sitting out in the back yard, under strings of Christmas lights. It was getting dark, but not quite dark enough. We shared conversation and laughs while Chris finished getting dinner ready. We talked about high school and dress codes and women with curlers going out in public. I've gone dancing enough with Bud to feel comfortable with him, and I knew Chris long before he was my boss, so I can be myself around them.
Dinner was an interesting assortment of food. There were brats he'd grilled, and a very different salad with lots of cucumbers, green beans, red onions and I forget what else, and some sort of stir-fried dish with mushrooms, squash and eggs. I'd never have tried these on my own, but I know how good a cook Chris is, so I filled my plate with everything. I really liked the two side dishes, because they were so unlike what I usually prepare. Once again, conversation flowed steadily and we laughed when Rita got a pepper that surprised her with how hot it was and made suggestions of what she could do to cool her mouth down.
As soon as dinner was over, Rita told us to forget about clearing the table, we had to go out in the yard and watch the meteor shower. Since I was going to get up anyway, I took my plate and put it by the sink, then went back and got Nancy's and Sara's. Bud was demanding dessert, but he was overruled. We would have dessert afterwards.
Rita and Chris live on ten acres in Chino Valley, so there is a lot of vacant space to go and watch the stars. We marched in darkness only lit by the stars and a flashlight, to an area behind her dad's mobile home, and got ready for the Perseids, which is the name for this particular meteor shower. The next one, the Orionids, will be in October, and who knows, maybe we will gather out there again for that. Barbara and Bud brought camping chairs, but Rita and I lay down on the hard ground on one blanket, with Nancy and Chris on the other. Sara stayed back at home. If anyone had seen us, we probably looked pretty silly out there.
It was a warm night, maybe lower 70's, and the clouds had all but disappeared. The last few nights have been very cloudy, because we are in the monsoons, but the sky was clear. We had to face northwest, because that's the way the meteors tend to fall. It was peaceful out there in her field, no bugs to speak of and the bat only flew over us a few times then went away. Right over our heads was the Milky Way, just like I'd seen it in books, with lots of brighter stars and clusters of distant stars. I was in awe of nature again. To the left of us, was the Big Dipper. That started us talking about constellations and sputnik. Rita and I were the first ones to see a shooting star, right over our heads. We oohed and aahed, but the other missed it and said we'd made it up. They were all amazed I'd never seen one before.
The next meteor everyone but Bud saw. It came streaking across half the sky. Our cries of excitement were loud, but who could hear us? Bud said he'd never seen a shooting star anytime except early in the morning, but he couldn't say that for much longer. Almost in the same place, and even brighter one covered the sky and he couldn't miss that one. He'd brought binoculars and I tried using them, but it didn't help. So I just relaxed, took off my glasses and gazed at the heavens. What difference would glasses make when I was looking millions of miles away?
I'd never seen so many stars, at least not for years. Maybe, back when Fred and I used to go camping, we did. We never just lay under the stars and watched them that I can remember. In cities, you can't see them, even if there is a clear view of the sky, because of the lights. Every direction I looked, there were stars. If we had picked a different spot to watch, we might have seen different shooting stars. I kept turning my head, trying to see behind me and to the east and west, but my focus was drawn above me, to the Milky Way. Like being at the ocean, or at the Grand Canyon, it makes you put everything in your life in perspective. I've been on this earth now for fifty-five years, but those stars have been there for billions of years.
When we got bored of waiting for nature, we started cheering the meteors on. We did okay, till we got past give me a T, because then we had to think about how to spell meteor. That led us to a discussion of our high school's nicknames and our yearbooks. Rita said hers was the Rams, because they couldn't spell very well, and the yearbook was the Rampage. I guess at our ages, what else is there to do under the stars but reminisce? At least in mixed company.
We must have been out there for almost ninety minutes, and I think the total count of meteors seen was around a dozen. There were several fake oohs and aahs, to keep us on our toes and awake. A few times, we said we thought Chris and Bud had fallen asleep, and a few times they didn't deny it. I didn't see every one of them because I just couldn't be looking everywhere at once. I missed a low one that Nancy pointed out, and a few quickies. Those were just brief flashes of light and barely worth noting. Off in the distance was lightning, which also lit up the sky. When the moon started rising, it was getting too light but we still sat out there, wanting one more bit of excitement, needing a grand finale like with fireworks. Bud had us all look at the moon through his binoculars, and it didn't look any different to me. Finally, the moon was too high and giving off to much reflected light, so we gathered up the blankets and chairs and walked back to the house.
Sara was sleeping on the couch, but woke up when we got back and heard the words, ice cream. I like Sara and she's always been very sweet to me, every time I've to their house, and I've been there a lot. We gathered in the kitchen and Chris dished out either mint chocolate chip or cookie dough ice cream, and we put chocolate syrup and strawberries from their garden on top. At first, everyone congregated in the kitchen, but I went into the living room and sat down and continued talking.
After a bit, I looked over at Nancy and saw how exhausted she was. It was nearly 10:30 and we'd been out the night before till after 11. She'd been out all day at the Reiki share, out in the sun in Sedona for a good hour, plus I know she's not sleeping well, so I mouthed to her, do you want to go? She nodded and I waited for the right moment to say it out loud. At a lull, I did and everyone got up. I hugged everyone goodbye, and Barbara and Bud left too. We talked about the night and of course Leah on the drive home. It seems like we never run out of things to talk about, which is why we have become such good friends. She teased me, saying only you would make the word quickie sound sexual. I told her I can't help it my mind was always in the gutter. We hugged tightly when we got to my car, and I drove home looking out into the sky.
Tonight should be just as good for seeing the Perseids, and I might just go out somewhere a little away from town and look for shooting stars. I did read that early morning may be a better time so if I can't sleep, I might do that. Maybe I can catch one and put in my pocket, like the old Perry Como song. Before last night, that's all they were to me, words in a song. Now I know better and have seen for myself this wonder of nature and would like to see it again.
©13 August 2006For more information on meteors, check out these web sites.
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I didn't know when I first interviewed with Nancy over eighteen months ago that we would become so involved in each other's lives. I liked Nancy immediately, and wasn't surprised when I was subsequently offered the part time job with Elderhostel, but I really didn't know her at all. The job really came from Rita and Chris.
I now believe I was meant to be in that office at this particular time, if only to help Nancy survive all the trials she's faced during months we've known each other. And what a great support she has been to me, in some of my darkest moments. We have shared laughter, tears and so much more in recent months. It has been a privilege to know her and her family.
It was June of last year that I could tell something was bothering her when she came into the office at the start of the day. That was in our old office, when our desks were next to each other and we could talk freely all the time. At first she said it was nothing, and I didn't press her, because I felt when she was ready, she would tell me. I didn't for a second believe everything was fine. When she did tell me later that day, I knew I could be a support person for her. Her husband of 25 years told her that morning he wanted a divorce. He had waited until their youngest was 18, so he wouldn't have to pay child support and till after Leah got married. It took me back some eight years to when my ex told me the same thing, but it was almost expected from him. Nancy was in complete shock and went through those days, as numb as she could make herself.
I was glad I was able to comfort and advise Nancy as she forced herself to accept her fairy tale wasn't going to have a happy ending. I helped her with decisions but mostly I was there to listen and hold her hand. It was this that first brought us close, but it was the terrible disease that two of our children had dealt with, cancer, that has made us invaluable to each other.
When we'd first met, Nancy's youngest daughter, Leah, was in remission from Hodgkin's disease. She had undergone chemotherapy that should have kept her in remission. She was planning her wedding to a nice young man named Patrick and looking to the future with stars in her eyes. It was only a few months later that Leah felt lumps in her neck and under her arms, and tried to deny what she knew in her heart; the cancer was back. Greg had done a similar thing, refusing to see the doctor for fear he would tell him his cancer was back. Only now, Leah was not covered by her mom's health insurance and they had not been able to afford the cost of COBRA benefits. She was uninsured, but not poor enough to quality for state aid, which is referred to here in Arizona as Access. It's not the actual acronym, but it's pretty close.
It's an embarrassment that in this country, people who need medical treatment can't get it without health insurance. It's always the first question asked at a hospital or doctor's office. Leah put off going to the doctor for months. It was when her church offered to pay for a PET scan, that she went in and had the horrible news confirmed that the cancer was back and it was spreading. Seeing the doctor couldn't be put off anymore regardless of the cost. She would need more chemotherapy yet there was no way to pay for it. At this same time, Pat was accepted into the training program for the Prescott Police department, his life long dream.
It looked as though they were at opposite ends of the spectrum – he attainingg this goal he had set for himself and she facing anyone's worst nightmare. Finally she found a doctor willing to treat her, and she began three sessions of three week long chemo as he spent his days as a police trainee. He would come home all excited with what he'd learned that day, and it was all she could do to stay awake or not get sick. Most young couples would find this a terrible strain on their new marriage, but not these two. A strong faith helped them tackle each day, as Leah got weaker, lost her hair but never her spirit. Despite having had chemo the week before, she found the strength to go to Pat's graduation and pin his badge on him.
By this time, she had been down to the Mayo Clinic in Scottsdale and was under the care of Dr. Reeder. He was talking stem cell transplant instead of bone marrow transplant. I was holding Nancy's hand as she would tell me each day what was going on. I would relive my son's nightmarish battle with cancer as well as my CARE Partner days. In some ways, it helped me deal with things I tried to bury inside me while listening to Leah's ordeals. Greg never had to have chemotherapy or radiation and we had great health insurance then, so if his entire treatment cost us $1,000 over the three years he was sick, I'd be surprised. To have him suffer through all that horrible treatment and still die would have been to much to bear, for all of us.
Finally when the medical bills started piling up into the astronomical amounts, Access agreed to start covering her costs effective June of this year. While that was a relief, it didn't solve her problems. Everyone told Leah and Pat to put that worry aside and concentrate on her fighting the most important battle. It was at this time the idea of the fundraiser was born.
Our office staff consists of ten people, three of us who are part time. It's not just the closeness we share space-wise, it's also how much we all care about each other. I knew Chris through Rita who retired a year ago and who is a chosen sister, and Barbara from being so active in OLLI. Once I met Nancy, I realized what a special lady she was. Crystal always seemed distant, but over time we are getting to know each other better. Dave is still sort of a mystery, and Dennis, well, he's the big boss and I'm slightly afraid of him. Jeff is the baby in the office. Deni, Gloria and I are the part timers and being that Gloria and I share a job, I hardly ever get to see her. Over the months I have grown to love Nancy and Barbara and had chosen them as sisters too.
It wasn't surprising then, that the idea was hatched from this almost family. Rita and Barbara suggested it and the rest of us climbed on board eagerly. Well, most of us. They were the generals, coordinating all the large and small details. I was the strategist, having worked on numerous galas over the years, but I resisted taking too much control. I helped with the plans, came up with ideas for publicity and donation sources, and the rest were foot soldiers. It was an undertaking that they had no experience in and were organizing and revising as we went along. We would bounce ideas off of each in the office as we worked. We all met one night at Barbara's house for a brainstorming session and had one more planning meeting a few days before the event. Now that it's over, I can say we did a fine job. There are some things we could have and should have done differently, but there were no major glitches with which we had to contend.
Over the two months since the inception of the fundraiser, we wrote letters and went to businesses around town. Any help they could give, either financial or in the way of an item to be auctioned or raffled was gratefully accepted. Advice from Children's Cancer Research Fund in Minnesota was solicited and offered freely. We sent letters to all the professional athletic teams in Phoenix and to our new hockey team in Prescott. All but one responded with something for us despite claiming they only donated to official charities. The newspaper, television and radio stations were contacted. Rita and Barbara were interviewed on a local community show. The Prescott paper had a great story and color picture on the front page of the third section, telling Leah's story as well as promoting the event. A web site was designed for more exposure. Ok, I did the web site, but it was a labor of love and healing for me. Musical groups were asked to provide entertainment. Raffle tickets were sold at several locations in town and containers left at various establishments to collect coins and hopefully, paper money. For a bunch of amateurs, we were doing okay.
There had to be over 150 items donated, probably closer to 200. Just about everyone who was asked could not say no to Leah's story. I got a phone call from Deni's son a few days before the event. His boss had offered a power tool and an industrial boom box radio for the auction. He wanted to know if we'd rather have $1,000 instead. What a silly question! A few days before the event, we gathered at Barbara's house and surveyed the goodies. If we weren't so honest, I think some of them might have walked home with us. A determination was made to which would be auctioned and which would be raffled. There were some we deemed to be in the door prize category. The food situation was finalized and it looked like everything was in place for the big day.
Saturday was warm and sunny, a beautiful Arizona day. At 8 a.m., Barbara, Rita, Chris, Nancy and I were there to get the ball rolling. Apparently, red was the color of the day, because both Barbara and Rita as well as myself wore red shirts. Several police recruits came to help us set up. I couldn't name all the people who volunteered their time, but we were never short handed. I hope they know how much their time and talents were appreciated. Tables were moved around the room to showcase the auction items. Pictures were hung on moveable room dividers for viewing before bidding. Four round tables with chairs were moved to the center of the room for eating. Two tables held the goodies for bake sale and drinks. I donated three batched of my fudge. Many people from the college had responded to the call for baked goods. In the hallway of the church, we set up tables to collect the admission fee as well as sell raffle tickets. Signs were put up around the room and on the main street to guide people to the event. The food was brought into the kitchen, waiting to be served. The sanctuary was set up for the musical performers. A borrowed video camera was ready to tape the event for Leah to view later, We were ready to go and hoped that people would actually show up.
The volunteers were given assignments and instructions of what to do by Rita, who had called everyone together. I was surprised to see a mailman in attendance, but later Nancy told me he knew Leah and wanted to come. There was also another man I didn't recognize wearing a volunteer name tag. I later found out he was head of the recruitment program for the police department. Nancy then made a surprising announcement to those assembled. She said Leah and Pat might show up. I couldn't believe it, because she'd only been released to the Transplant House the day before. If there were a lot of people, there'd be even more germs and she had no immune system. I knew she would have to wear a mask around people whenever she went out. Still, I didn't think it was the best idea. Later I realized she'd be around germs as she went to her appointments back at the Mayo Clinic, so she would be exposed to germs whenever she went out.
At 11:00 a.m., people started showing up. They kept coming all afternoon. Some were friends and family of Leah's, some college people, and some were police officers. Many were just people who had read her story in the paper and wanted to support her. Those were the best ones, who were touched deeply enough to come out to help her.
Bids were being placed on many of the auction items. At our meeting, we discussed what the minimum bid should be on each item, and I couldn't persuade them that an autographed authentic football jersey was of great value. I wrote my name down for that item and bid the $25 minimum. I also bid on a signed 2005 Cowboy Poets poster, but was outbid by Crystal from the office and decided to let her have it. She was outbid at the end. The two items I had donated, collectible Fossil watches had bids. Things were progressing.
There were a lot more things I coveted, but I restrained myself. Well, almost. One item was for 48 hours of work around the house by some police officers. It was at $400 when I saw an officer standing over the bid sheet and asked him if he were one of the ones who had volunteered their time. He said yes, so I rashly asked him, if there were another bid for the same amount, would they offer their services twice. He said he had to call his sergeant, which he did. He asked if I was serious and I said yes. Nancy and I had been thinking about bidding on it, and I thought we could share the cost and the time. Before I knew it, she and I had won 48 hours of police officers. Later, Lowell thought maybe it meant 48 hours divided by 3 and it was only 16 total hours, but even so, I'm sure I can think of 8 hours of work for them to do.
Lowell was there most of the day helping too. I knew it was hard for him, but it was also good too, that he move another small step closer to healing from Greg's death. He had done lots of fundraising and events back in Minnesota, so it was nothing new to him. I was very glad he was there, because he gave me support and comfort when I needed it most.
It was around two and I had been helping out in the kitchen, serving food. The options were barbequed beef or chicken with bread or rolls and beans and chips. I'd bought a hot dog earlier but I was still hungry. I took little tastes of both the beef and chicken and they were really good. I didn't spill too much on me. Thank goodness for the red tee shirt that didn't show the stains.
All of a sudden, the energy in the room shifted and I walked out of the kitchen to see Leah standing there. She was pale, had a scarf over her head and the mask. I was so happy to see her in her recovery but it made me terribly sad at the same time. I looked around for Lowell, but didn't see him. I went out the back and there he was, with his friend C.J., and I fell into his arms in tears. He didn't need to ask why. He just held me and let me cry. If he cried too, I didn't see it. C.J. hugged me too. I thought about Greg and how he never had a chance. I thought about how much I missed him and how nothing was the same without him. I wanted one more chance to hold him and tell him I love him.
It took a lot of effort, but I pulled myself back together. Lowell and C,J. walked back in with me to make sure I was going to be fine. Buddy, Barbara's husband, came over and gave me a big hug. I didn't want any attention taken away from Leah and the purpose of the event. Dennis walked by and asked if everything was okay, and I said yes. He said, it doesn't look like it, so I said, I guess you don't know that I lost a son to cancer. He said he didn't know and gave me a hug. I went in the bathroom and washed my eyes and went to find Leah.
She knows about Greg, and that they have the same birthday. She was sitting near the front door with her sister Ivy and I sat on the floor near her. Her eyes were puffy and her body a little bloated, but her voice was strong and clear. Leah thanked me for all I had done, and I told her it was my pleasure and that I just wanted her to get well. Several months earlier I'd chastised her for not going to a doctor after she found the lumps. I knew I was out of line, but I couldn't sit by idly any longer without saying anything. I asked her if she wanted her mother to become as messed up as I was. I was glad she hadn't held that against me, though I felt she was annoyed with me for a while. As long as she wasn't mad at Nancy. I also told her that Greg had been watching over her in the hospital, and that I felt she now had a little bit of him inside her. I probably should have kept my mouth shut. Other people wanted her attention, so I stood up and went back to overseeing the auction and the general activity.
I did get to hear a little of the music during the course of the day. Dennis and Chris both played but not together. I missed the belly dancers, which I heard was no loss. Nancy spent a lot of her time in the sanctuary, listening to the music and trying to stay calm, so when I went in to check on her, that's when I heard it. I was there for one of Dennis' cake auctions, which was amusing. It was a shame that more people didn't come and listen, but being the sociable beings we are, most wanted to talk among themselves. Pat's family was there in large numbers but did absolutely nothing to help the entire day, even when asked. I thought that was very inconsiderate, because really, Pat could benefit more from this than Leah. He would be responsible for the debt should something unthinkable happen. I was ashamed for them and their selfishness.
At one point, I went to sit at the front with Ivy. She's a tall beauty too, like her mother and two sisters, and I knew her from the sign language bingo games. While we were talking, a woman came in and wanted to write us a check. When I saw it was for $100, I asked her if she wanted any raffle tickets and she said no. She knew Pat's real father from his being a coach and just wanted to give. I said you deserve something for that donation, and knowing my fudge wasn't selling that well, I offered her that. She said she couldn't resist fudge, so I figured I sold it for $100! Not too bad.
I spent a little more time with Leah before Pat took her to Nancy's house. It was obvious she was tired from the event, but more apparent was how much joy and hope it had given here. To see her friends and family, to know how much people cared for her and wished her well was as good as any medicine. Over the next few weeks when she is back in virtual isolation, she can remember the love that was in that church that day.
The closing of the auction was moved to 3:30 instead of 3. At that time, Dennis finished up the cake auction. The last four items each went for over $25. It was very spirited bidding, especially over the white zucchini cake. Nancy somehow got a piece of that and gave me a taste. I wasn't impressed. I took one last look at the auction items and didn't make any further bids. The jersey sold for $100 and the print for $35. Only three or four items didn't sell at all. Bud had gotten the handcrafted knife he wanted. My watches had brought in almost $100 and it was Nancy's ex husband who bought them. I had talked to him briefly earlier in the day, rather shocked he was there. The divorce didn't go well and there was much animosity on at least Nancy's side. I realized he was Leah's father and had needed to be there. Barbara was stuck with the hideous motel dresser and pictures and the one poster Rita had wanted.
After the auction closed, it seemed like the event was over. It would have officially been finished at 4. Most people began leaving unless they'd won something. Barbara was very organized and had the bidding sheets in order and was ready to accept payment in record time. I've been at events where it took several people an hour or longer to finalize the auction results. As she and some other volunteers collected the money, clean up was started. The tables and chairs had to be returned to where they had been earlier, only no one was exactly sure where that was. Several people were in the kitchen, putting food away and getting that room in order. It was discovered that the video camera had run out of battery power earlier in the day, so it was unclear how much of the day was actually on tape.
A lady came in near the end of the event, all apologetic she couldn't have been there earlier. I wish I could remember her name, but her husband used to be a police officer until he was seriously injured in a motorcycle accident last December. She remembered how people came out to help her and she wanted to do the same. She stayed around for a while, just pitching in where needed. She was delightful and when she left long after everone else had, we told her to take all the leftover goodies to her family. It's people like her that make the world a better place and I wish I had gotten to know her better.
Next came the fun part; counting the money! In hindsight, we should have kept the money from the different cash drawers separate, so we would know how well we had done with admissions, raffle tickets and the food. I offered to help Rita count the proceeds and was allowed to do the checks. I listed them all, but made columns of around twenty checks at a time, so I could better control my inability to use an adding machine. I got the first two to match, but not the third, so I gave it over to Nancy. She knows by now how number dyslexic I am. The approximate total for the day was over $11,000, because there are still people to collect from. There was already around $10,000 in the bank and we still have about two weeks to sell more raffle tickets. We were all very proud of ourselves.
By 5 p.m, it was just the core group present. I didn't get to say goodbye to everyone that I'd talked to during the day. I wasn't even sure when most had left. We called those people who had winning bids and had not stayed to the end to see if they wanted to pick up the item and pay. Several said yes, so we had to wait for them. During that time, we reflected on how everything had fallen into place as though we had been doing this for years. Barbara gave Rita the Cowboy Poet's poster she had won, knowing that she would do just that. As a joke, I suggested we quit the college and start our own event planning business. Chris and Rita invited the four of us to their house the next day to finish up the food.
Eventually, the last item we were waiting for was picked up and paid for and everything loaded into people's vehicles. The doors were locked and it was time to go. There were last hugs to share and then I left. I was exhausted from the long day and all the emotions I'd experienced. It was the good kind of exhaustion, where the feelings and experience outweighed the tiredness. I hadn't been involved with anything like this for years and I'd nearly forgotten how rewarding it was. I only hope we don't have to do this again for Leah or anyone else.
©Started 19 AugustI'm sure it's from the bible, but the first time I heard the phrase, "When the Lord closes a door, he opens a little window" was in a Kinky Friedman song by the same name. It is so true, because I've had more than my share of doors slammed in my face. It could be a job, or living arrangements that didn't work out, or just missing the bus when you were late. Yet each time, while not always immediately or noticeably, the window does open, even if it at first it's just a tiny crack. What you find when you open that window may not be what you expected or wanted, but if you take time to think about what is offered, it may be just what you need. People or situations may come into one's life for a short time but specific reason, then leave because that has been filled. I've felt that many times.
Usually it's with good friends, but not always.. When I closed the door on Ellen, who had been my friend since 7th grade, no one came in to replace her. No one ever will, because of our history going back 35 plus years. I was in a bad place when I did that, and have thought about trying to reconnect, but I can't. Not at this point. It's nothing she did, it was all me, and what I assumed was her perfect life, and her perfect children. I'm sure things weren't as rosy as I imagined, but they were lots better than my life. She would call me and I'd see caller ID and not answer the phone, nor would I return her call. Finally, I think two years ago, she gave up on me. I don't blame her. I would have done the same thing.
Then there's my friend Meggie. She emailed me a year ago after coming across Greg's web site. As I always do, I wrote a polite thank you note and probably a bit more, because she told me her niece had died from Ewing's Sarcoma. One email turned into two, then a dozen, and then daily. Finally, after several months, we began talking on the phone. She is my polar opposite in almost every way, yet we still found things to talk about, laugh about and cry about every day. She went away for two months this summer, and found no time to call or email me. When she got back she wrote me saying she'd call me that night. I emailed replied that I was glad she was back and looked forward to talking to her. I am still waiting for her to call me. I've given up and refuse to call her. I know I'm being stubborn, I am a Taurus after all, but I am holding fast on this.
That's just two of the important women who have left my life. I lost touch with so many people over the years and all the moves, and I often think about many of them. Lorraine from Berkeley, Mary Lou, who I met in Memphis, Janice from Maine, Gail from Edina. There is no specific reason these women aren't in my life, but I do miss them. I do expect people to drift away after time and distance have separated us, but those don't leave the same huge holes that a special friend would leave. We won't talk about the men who have been my friends then vanished. No one stepped in to take their places like with my women friends.
Now I am blessed with several good friends, who I count on for love and moral support. I now consider most of them like sisters, or even better than sisters, because they are so important to me. I never had a sister and I always wanted one, so now I have several. Rita was my first sister, and I still love her dearly. She should be credited with saving my life, because she's the one who made me get help when I needed it most, at a very low point in my life. She's made me a part of her family and even got me my job. Next would be Shirley, who I miss and love dearly. She moved three years ago to Florida, and I think we are closer now than when she lived here. We email daily and have long talks on the weekends. She is a rock and a well of common sense in my life. I tell her things I only tell my therapist, and sometimes not even her. What can I say about Nancy, who is so dear to me? I feel I was meant to come into her life to help her through her divorce and her daughter's cancer, because while many people have gone through one or the other, how many have gone through both at the same time? We have a special bond that others can't understand, because of what we have survived.
I think Barbara is becoming on of my sisters, too. I didn't really like her at first, when she became Rita's assistant for YLI. I was jealous of her. I had thought about applying for that job, but didn't for many reasons. She's always helpful and a pleasure to be around. Once I got to know her, I realized I had misconceptions about her and like her very much now. Susan has been my friend for the next longest time, as long as our children have been alive. We met in a baby-sitting coop, and we still keep in touch. She watched Evelyn when I went to the hospital to give birth to Greg. I saw her over twenty years ago when Evelyn and I went to New York, but somehow, we have managed to keep our friendship going. Roberta has been my friend for the third longest time. We met right after we both moved to Edina, in a playgroup. That was almost 20 years ago. She was such great support to me when Greg died, and I don't think I ever told her how much I appreciated her, just being there for me.
The Lord doesn't just open a window for new friends. He does it all the time when something is taken away from you. I think when Greg died, the window has become my writing. I can't have any more children and who knows if I'll ever have any grandchildren, so something had to attempt to fill the void. Nothing can, of course; Greg is irreplaceable. I had written some before he died, even some things about him, like when he got his driver's license. Now, when I write, I want to tell him what I'm doing and thinking, so that is always in the back of my mind. I've written a lot about him since, and it's helped me so much to keep his memory alive.
Lately, some people I cared about have come back into my life and I am so happy to have them here again. Maybe they will be around long term, and maybe it will just be a short visit. They filled holes either I knew were there or ones I wasn't aware of. Like when Joe from Berkeley wrote me a few years ago. I got three emails from him, and then nothing. It was like he said all he had to say and he was gone. I tried to write him again, but nothing. Maybe he'll come back one of these days and stay longer.
Having written this, it got me to thinking about me closing doors on friends or situations. It's not something I like to do, but every so often, it's the only thing to do. It was the right thing to do regarding my marriage. There are a few other instances in which it was close the door tightly or never get out. I hope for the people I did that to, that they found their open window. I know my ex has. I'll never know about the others. Now I know that I should try to open the door with Ellen, and I might call her tomorrow. Maybe she'll be glad to hear from me. I hope so.
By the way, I do like Kinky Friedman's music and books a lot. So if y'all live in Texas, vote for him!!
©1 September 2006Life started falling apart for me over ten years ago. I turned 45 years old that year and had been married almost 24 years. I had three children, who were then ages 16, 14 and 10. We had been living in Edina, Minnesota for eight years. My future former spouse was Vice President of Advertising at the newspaper and I was busy with all my volunteer activities. My children were healthy and doing well in school. So what happened to make my life a mess?
If you asked my kids, they would say some of it was because of the internet. It was last 1995 when my ex brought home a disk with Netcom on it. He installed it on the computer and I began to surf the web, get email and expand my horizons. Netcom had little symbols for the different applications, and one was lips, which I knew was the chat program. I logged on there several times, but couldn't figure it out. I told myself, you're a smart woman, you can do this, and I did a search on how to use internet relay chat (irc).
Before long, I figured it out and was playing on line. I used a variety of nicknames until I settled on truly, which later evolved to "trules". My first irc friend was a 20 something kid from Florida, who walked me through a lot of the subtleties of irc, and told me about a better program to use than netcom's, called mirc. I hung out in his channel for a while, until I got bored talking to 20 somethings. I found myself spending much too much time on irc, because I was making friends all over the world and they'd all be on at various times during the day.
I had my first online relationship too, with a man from Massachusetts. And my first cybersex experience which was extremely boring. Talking to all these different people opened my eyes, that I was a good person, I was interesting and people liked me. Over the years, I had stopped believing that about myself after years of being emotionally abused in an unhappy marriage. Having a man interested in me awakened sexual feelings that had been dormant since my youngest was born.
On my ex's 44th birthday, after a night of chatting, I got into bed with him and tried to give him a special birthday gift. He pushed me away, and I decided enough was enough. A few days later, when we were going somewhere, I don't remember, I told him we should see a marriage counselor. He looked at me like I was crazy, because he didn't think there was nothing wrong with our marriage. I made the appointment the next day.
I don't remember the therapist's name, but we had three sessions with him. In the first one, we talked about our life and I'll never forget what Fred said. I don't think he realized how much those few words would hurt me and forever destroy our marriage. He said, I don't care about making Sharon happy anymore. The temperature in the room dropped about 50 degrees. Even the therapist noted it. It would have been less painful if he'd just stuck a knife in my heart, literally instead of figuratively. Our assignment for the next session was to draw our family trees.
I would have had a perfectly normal family life if my brother wouldn't have gotten polio and my father hadn't died when I was five. Or if my mother hadn't fallen apart and my grandparents didn't come live with us to make sure we were okay. Fred on the other hand, had alcoholic parents and four alcoholic grandparents. The therapist, when he looked at our charts, said, I don't know how you stayed married this long. Talk about encouragement. At least we agreed we didn't like the guy.
Before the next session, Greg came to me and said his shoulder hurt. I asked him if it was really bad, and he said no, so I told him I'd call the pediatrician the next day, which was a Friday. I forgot, but at dinner, I looked at him and saw the huge bump on his shoulder. Fred took him to the emergency room after dinner, and I knew without hearing the word, that it was cancer. After a few hours, Fred called and said they were doing some tests and they wouldn't be home for a while. I immediately went to my escape and started chatting and crying on line. I think they came home around 5 am, and I was still awake.
We had an appointment Monday morning to see a certain doctor, who had ties to the University of Minnesota hospital. The next day we went to see a specialist, but not an oncologist. Most off this is a blur, partly due to time and mostly due to wanting to block it all out. Before we knew it, Greg had surgery to remove the tumor and have it biopsied. The reason his shoulder had hurt was the tumor was bigger than a grapefruit and had broken his shoulder blade. He did incredibly well with the surgery and then we had to wait for the news of what the biopsy showed.
My kid couldn't have a normal cancer, one that people had heard of and that maybe there was a cure for it. No, Greg had one of the rarest bone cancers, chondrosarcoma. There was no protocol to treat it, no magic combination of chemotherapy or radiation that would make it go away, only surgery to remove the tumor. I remember the doctor saying if it came back, it was fatal. He removed most of his shoulder during that initial surgery, but what if he had removed his arm too? Would the cancer have not come back? Greg healed as best he could from that, and eventually went back to school and tried to have a normal life.
During the third visit with the marriage counselor, we were now dealing with Greg's cancer. What I remember most from that visit is how sad the counselor was over Greg's illness. That was all he could talk about. Still, we made another appointment for a month later, which we never kept. We knew there was nothing he could do and that our marriage was nearing the end.
In August of that year, I decided to visit an online friend in Brisbane, Australia. I told Fred I wanted to go, but what could he say? There isn't much to say about that trip, except I came home after one week instead of three. I sat alone on the beach at Surfer's Paradise and looked over the ocean, at the huge expanse of nothing, and wondered what was in the future for me. When I arrived back in Minneapolis, the kids ran to hug me but Fred never said a word to me.
About a week later, I went to Fred and told him something had to change. I was unhappy and the counseling didn't work, or we didn't work hard enough at it. I don't know what I expected him to say, but the next morning, he called the kids together and told us all that he and I were getting a divorce. The kids knew things weren't great between us, but I think we were all shocked at his statement. I had wanted him to talk to me first, at the very least, and to tell me we would try a different marriage counselor or something. All he wanted was out.
My friend, Helen, was a lawyer, and I had asked her for recommendations for a good divorce lawyer months earlier. She suggested a few, and I picked a woman lawyer, and called her on Monday. I retained her the same day we had our first visit. Maybe Fred thought I wouldn't do anything, I don't know. He was surprised when he got served at work, and moved down into the basement. We lived together in the house for a year before I got my financial settlement and moved away.
Thank heavens nothing else major happened that year. The kids started school, I continued busying myself with volunteering, and except for not sleeping in the same bed, things didn't look much different to the outside world. We had Thanksgiving together as a family, but after that, Fred came and said he wanted to take the kids to California to spend time with his family. He wanted them to have memories of his mother, especially. I reluctantly agreed, because they really didn't know their grandmother or uncle and cousin. Every day they would call me and say they wanted to come home. On Christmas Day, I went to the movies with Helen and her husband Bob. We saw the movie, Michael, with John Travolta. For me, it was just a taste of what my life would be from then on, mostly being alone. Out in Oakland, it was probably opening the crummy gift my mother in law was notorious for and spending time with Jon and Reika and their son Daniel, until it was time to eat an overcooked and tasteless meal, after a very long cocktail hour. When the kids came home, they were so happy to be out of there. They do have memories of Grandma Dorothy. She hit Lowell and threatened to shoot them if they went into the basement after a certain time. She wouldn't let them use her computer or watch television. It was a good thing in retrospect, because they never saw her again.
I have written in a few other stories that 1996 was the worst year of my life, but at that time, I didn't know what 1999 was going to be like. So, sorry, 1996, you are runner up in the worst year contest. At least you beat out 1957. . Unlike Humpty Dumpty, I don't think my life will ever be put back together again either.
©31 March, 2006For a so called retirement community, Prescott has a lot going for it at night. For the first seven years I lived here, I couldn't have told you what it was like personally, and quite honestly, I still really can't. In the last few months, I've gone out more at night that I have in a decade. I'm not a night owl and I don't really like driving at night. In Portland, I would go to my weekly divorce support groups, but nothing since then till now.
My friends are making me get out of my shell and do things with them. Like Saturday night, when I met Nancy at N'awlins restaurant, to listen to Dennis' band play. Or Friday night when Nancy and I went to a party and to the Contra Dance. Me, Miss Antisocial, at a party? A year ago, no way I would have even thought about it.
Whiskey Row is our main entertainment street, and from the name, it shouldn't surprise you. It's been called that for over one hundred years, since soon after Prescott was founded. It's actually one block on Montezuma Street in the heart of town, and back then it was one bar after another. It's not quite that bad today, though there are a number of bars still there. It also has artisan shops and touristy shops and a few good restaurants. However, N'awlin's is a block away, and it's a very nice restaurant that also features live music on Saturday nights, as do many of the bars on Whiskey Row.
I started my nocturnal adventures when I began going to English Country dancing on Tuesday nights. It's amazing how few people are on the roads at night in town. Then they talked me into the Contra dances on either Friday or Saturday nights once or twice a month. The ones here in town, I drive myself, but the ones in Cottonwood or Phoenix, we usually go in a group. One night, before the dance in town, we all went out to dinner. Didn't I see these people enough during the day? With my new found courage, I even joined the local fly casters club which also meets at night.
I first was coerced to tag along a few months ago. Everyone in the office was talking about going, and asking me repeatedly if I wanted to go, too. Finally, I said, fine. Just to shut them up. Nancy does this little hand thing when you mention her drink, a hurricane. There was a large group of us that planned to go that night. Barbara and her husband, Bud, Crystal, Gloria, Nancy, and me actually showed up. Deni and her friend Ron didn't, nor did Jeff and his girlfriend, Amy. Nancy's daughter Ivy and her friend Mike came around later. It was loud, the music was good, but I felt out of place. I don't know why exactly, but I left at the earliest opportunity.
While I am not musical, music has been a big part of my adult life. I used to go to the Shed to listen to Fred's band practice, and to all his performances. His band, AK-47, consisted of him on bass and lead singer, his brother Jon on lead guitar, and Bob Howe on drums. They played hard core rock and roll, songs they wrote or covered bands like the MC5. I remember watching and sometimes helping unload Fred's big Peavey amp into our van, along with Bob's drum set. They would play all over the Bay area until the band broke up over some disagreement that is long forgotten. Jon's girlfriend, Cathy and I got to be pretty good friends back then. I guess this is where Evelyn gets her love of following bands, but I doubt it.
I went one other time to N'awlins with Nancy and an even bigger group of people. This was after we went dancing at Archie's house, back in July. Deni had gone dancing with us that night, so she went and another woman, Gail, came too. Edessa, who is one of our Elderhostel coordinators showed up with her daughter. I like Edessa and was glad to have time to visit with her outside of the office. Nancy had her hurricane, as we all knew she would. We sat outside at a really big table, close to the band. Ivy and Mike arrived late and he even got me on the dance floor by sheer force. I saw Barry, who owns the restaurant, and briefly talked to him. I told him it was because of me that he had opened this restaurant. I knew him from my days on the Child Haven Board. Back then, we would meet at his old restaurant, Belvedere's. One time, I brought him this New Orleans community cookbook and he never returned it to me. I found another one on ebay and didn't think about it till that night, when I told him he could keep it. He told me another woman I knew, Julie, was there, so I went over to say hello to her. Dennis' band played the same songs, and I tapped my foot along to the music, enjoying myself from the sidelines. I still left before everyone else did, needing my beauty sleep.
Two weeks ago, I had semi promised Nancy I would go hear them at this biker bar in town, Jersey Lily's. She was to call me when she knew the details of when everyone was getting together. When I didn't hear anything by 7:30, I gave up and settled in for the night. She called me at 830 to say they were meeting there at 9:00, but I didn't hear the phone since it was in the other room. I talked to her the next day, and she said it was really crowded in there, and that she and some girl named Jan left early. They wandered on to a few other places before she went home. I didn't feel all that badly, since she didn't have to go alone.
Nancy and I had agreed the night before we'd meet at 8 pm this past Saturday. I had just left the house when she called and said she was on her way. I got a parking place in the restaurant's lot, and told the hostess I was meeting friends. The band was all the way in the back of the restaurant, because the forecast said it might rain. It wasn't as nice as when they were outdoors. I found Nancy in the back, at a long table with people I didn't know. As I walked to her, I saw Gloria with her own friends and said hello to her.
There was a chair next to Nancy for me, and I sat down after giving her a quick hug. To her right was Dennis' brother, who is the President of Prescott College. Next to him was his sister and brother in law, who I never really met. At the end of the table was a group of Prescott College kids, including a black girl who was the first girl from her tribe in Africa to ever get a master's degree. Next to me was the soon to be ex head of Youth Count, a local child charity and his wife. Then was Dennis' wife, Gerry and her friend.
Nancy seemed very familiar with all these people, and I wondered why she wanted me to tag along. As best I could, I tried to make small talk, but it wasn't easy with the band playing. Barry again came by our table, and we hugged like old friends. Nancy had her hurricane, which she drank very slowly. I always just drink water. She occasionally went on the dance floor, with other people from the table, who would just dance in a group. Maybe if I had a drink, I could find the courage to do that. I couldn't stop yawning, and had I drank anything, I might have fallen asleep at the table. This time her daughter Erin and her fiancé Matt came and sat with us. Gloria joined us when her friends left. As usual, Dennis came over and talked to everyone between sets. I felt so out of place that shortly after his next set started, I made my exit.
I drove down the dark streets that were empty of the usual traffic and listened to the radio. A song that always makes me cry came on, and instead of changing the station, I let the tears fall. I was glad to go home even though I couldn't fall asleep for a long time. It won't be long before Nancy finds a boyfriend and I'll be the one left out. I won't mind that as much as they think I will. Over the past decade, I have become very comfortable with being by myself, and not needing the company of others. At least that's what I've told myself and maybe one day I'll believe it.
©4 September 2006I love stuffed animals, and I always have. I used to have a lot of them when I was younger, but now I just have a select few. It's a female stereotype of young girls and teenage girls having stuffed animals, only I'm not sure it's really a stereotype. I think it is true, that just about all girls like them and have their favorites.
I have Dandilion, who I got when I was maybe 6. He's pretty well beaten up but I still love him. His eyes are those things that sort of move when you tilt his head, so it looks like he's blinking. My mom got him from Marshall Field in downtown Chicago. When I was little, and we would go downtown, I would spend as much time as she would let me on the fourth floor where all the toys were. They had a very large selection of Steiff animals, and I wanted one so badly. My mother never would buy me one, giving me all sorts of excuses, like they were from Germany or don't I remember what I did to the big bear I used to have. Yes, she never let me forget I tried to feed him chocolate pudding and he had to be thrown out. So I got Dandi instead and used to carry him around and sleep with him. He was always my favorite, which is why I still have him after all these years.
My prized Elsie the Cow, who talked when you pulled her string, didn't leave Chicago with me when we moved to California. My mother made me give her to my girl cousins, who were a few years younger than me. She also made me give them other things, but it really bugged me about Elsie. I'd won her at some event at McCormick Center. I had never won anything before. Did my cousins appreciate my forced generosity? Of course not.
I finally got my first Steiff when my ex and I lived in Chicago when he was in grad school. For the second year of his program, I worked downtown and I often went to look in Field's during my lunch time. One day I splurged and bought a small, grey and white striped kitty. He had a red leather belt around his neck and a little bell attached. All the Steiff's are named, but I don't recall this one's name. I never really played it, being that I was in my mid-twenties, but just knowing I had one was enough. Like most of my possessions, I had to leave it in Minneapolis, so I have no idea what happened to it. I had to leave a box of my stuffed animals, including the Buddy Bears I got when I was high school, and my Morgan whose nose squeaked. I don't think about them often, just every once in a while.
Both Evelyn and Greg had favorites, but Lowell never did. Evelyn's is a dog that has also been through a lot, and shows it. Muttley was a birthday gift when Evelyn was around 14 or 15, I don't recall. We won him in a charity auction. He used to be big and fluffy, but now Muttley is skinny with a safety pin keeping his back closed so he doesn't lose any more stuffing than he has, and his fur is matted down. It doesn't matter to Evelyn. She still takes him everywhere and as far as I know sleeps with him. He went to college with her, along with many others, but Muttley is her favorite. She still has the Snuggle bear that had been given to Christine when she was in the U of M hospital and her mother gave to Evelyn after Chris' death.
I now have Spud in my possession. Greg got Spud when he was four or so. I have a picture taken in the Memphis house of a very young Greg fresh from a bath, in his pajamas, robe and big cookie monster slippers hugging Spud, who is dressed in old baby clothes Spud is an elephant, and he too is well loved. Greg didn't carry him around or sleep with him, but he did give him a lot of love. Spud returned the favor, and Greg brought him to the hospital each time he went in for surgery. Spud was with Greg during that last surgery, and next to him when we went to see Greg's lifeless body. For a while, I let Lowell keep him, but each time I would go back to Minnesota, Spud would be on the floor like another piece of junk, so I took him back to Arizona with me. I couldn't admit the real reason was I needed him more than I thought Lowell did. In the time that I've had him, he's been of great comfort to me and has gone on most trips I've taken. I always say Spud has to be 90% salt from all the times I cried when holding him, thinking of Greg. If I could only save one possession, it wouldn't be something expensive or fancy, it would be Spud. He is priceless and completely irreplaceable.
Therapists tend to have stuffed animals in their offices, especially if they have young patients. It was when Evelyn was seeing Cindy that she met Freckles, a Beanie baby leopard. For months, when Evelyn had her appointments, she would hold on to him the entire time. Naturally, we had to go find her a Freckles of her, and that started her Beanie baby collection. My therapist, Karen, has a cute dog that was her daughter's. The tag on him says his name is Barclay but I call him Cocoa, and I hold him tightly as we try to fight all my past demons.
When I was a volunteer at the gift shop in the local hospital, I would always go and look and hug most of the stuffed animals. For such a small shop, they had quite a variety. There was one, though, that really caught my fancy. She's a brown bear, and her fur is curly, kind of like the Persian lamb coat my grandmother used to have. Her belly is a lighter tan shade and she has a bow around her neck. She is so soft and cuddly that I couldn't help myself. Every time, I would get there, I would go back and pick her up. If I came in early to visit with the two ladies who had the morning shift, I would leave her with them when I went to have my lunch. I was always so relieved that no one had bought her in the week's time that had passed since my last shift. I would hold her during my shift, or if we were really busy, she'd sit behind the counter with me. After about six weeks of this, I was quite attached to her but didn't want to spend the money for her.
One day, I went back to get her and she was gone. I looked through all the stuffed animals and even the drawers, though I had never seen another one like her. She was gone. My thoughts shifted between darn the person who had bought her and I hope she found a good home. I figured I would eventually pick another to replace her during my shift, but not that day. I noticed the two ladies looking at me with a secret smile, but didn't say anything. I left to go have my lunch with my partner, Peg. When we came back, the two ladies handed me a hospital gift bag, and inside it was my bear! They had bought it for me, and I was speechless. I gave them big hugs and told them how sweet I thought the gesture was, and how grateful I was for their friendship.
They asked me what I was going to name my bear, I only had to think about it for a few seconds. I had never considered naming it since it wasn't mine, but now that she was, she needed a name. So I picked the only logical one, Barbara Sue, after the two ladies. Since that day, they have become extra special people to me and even when I don't get to see them as often as I'd like, I have a reminder of them in my bear. While my bear is a cherished gift, it doesn't compare with the gift of two special friends.
©8 September 2006Yesterday, the Contra dances in Cottonwood started up again. Cottonwood is about an hour from Prescott, either way you go. I prefer the scenic route, driving on Highway 89A over Mingus Mountain and through the historic town Jerome, but one can also go over to the interstate and cut back on a state highway. That's a more direct way, but nowhere near as fun as the twists and turns on 89A. Those dances aren't held over the summer because the building they're held in isn't air-conditioned. Neither is the one where the Prescott dances are held, but I guess we're just hardier souls than those people in the Verde Valley. Well, and it does cool off more quickly at night here than there.
This was a special event, though. In the afternoon, before the real dance, a world famous contra caller was going to be there and give those in attendance lessons. He was actually in Arizona because of some big folk festival up in Flagstaff, and the Cottonwood people got him to come down there for the afternoon. You could do one or both, lessons and or dance. We all decided to do the lesson in the afternoon. I was going to ride with Nancy, her daughter Ivy and Mikey. Several people from Prescott wanted to go, and had we known how the driving arrangements would have ended up, we probably would have gone with Barbara and Bud. I went over to Ivy's house and then she and Mikey decided they wanted to drive alone, just in case they wanted to stay for the dance. Nancy had to be back to participate in the Light the Night walk, which raised funds to fight lymphomas. One dance was enough for me.
While Nancy and I drove the scenic route, we had a good talk as always. We have a lot of things in common, and I consider her one of my closest and most trusted friends and I think she feels the same way about me. We discussed men and the lack thereof, and we talked about how we would like to live in Jerome, but how it too expensive now, just like everywhere else in Arizona. I did consider moving there when I came to Arizona, and I'm glad I didn't. It's still so isolated and I think I'd be even more of a recluse than I am now if I'd gone there. It is a quaint town that was once almost a ghost town, but is lively now with lots of artsy shops and restaurants, but it wasn't the place for me.
As we drove through town, we looked at all the people and all the bikers. Nancy looked at the bikers, at least. She told me there used to be an Elderhostel program that did a lot of ghost towns, and they stayed at the Grand Hotel in Jerome. I think that would have been fun, and I asked why we no longer do that. She said Chris decides what programs to do, and if I can't convince him to do a fly-fishing one, I guess ghost towns wouldn't be an easy sell either. As we continued on the windy road, we discussed our kids and their problems and were no closer to solving them than they are. The air was full of dust from all the wind and it spoiled the beautiful view of the Verde Valley.
When we got down the mountain, we stopped at a gas station convenience store to see if Ivy and Mikey wanted to get something to eat before going to Cottonwood. They did, and while we were waiting, we saw some people walk out with big soft serve ice cream cones. They did look good and refreshing. Nancy said we should stop on the way home, but I knew we wouldn't, because she won't eat regular ice cream.
As we pulled into the parking lot where the dance was being held, we could hear loud Mexican music, and our first thoughts were, are we dancing outside and what was with that music. The lessons were to start at 2 p.m., and it was just a few minutes after when we walked inside. There were no more than five people there, and I gave Nancy a look that said, it better get more interesting than this. I paid my $6.00 admission fee and put my purse and water down on a bench. The world famous caller decided to start, so I got a tie so people would know I was the man and Nancy was my first partner. He was amusing and a better caller than most that we've had at the various dances, but I don't know what made him great.
One by one, more people started arriving. There were around thirty at the most, maybe thirty-five. The caller would pick people out of the group to show the correct way to execute a turn or step. He demonstrated the proper way to hold your partner and spin, as well as to do a bounce and step. He made fun of himself by doing those steps more dramatically than needed. There was live music by a group of three people. It was time for the dance to begin.
In almost all contra dances, you change partners or you change the couple you're dancing with, so you get to dance with just about everyone. Usually, after a dance, you switch partners, so the second dance, Mikey claimed me. It takes me a few changes to remember the female's position for swinging. I like Mikey; he's a good kid with a big heart. I met him through Nancy and Ivy a few months back in sign language bingo. He is however, not the greatest dancer, but he does have enthusiasm. When we did a spin, we would look into each other's eyes, and would come out of them laughing. I told him that was called the Gypsy, the locking of eyes.
Barbara and Bud came in late, as did several other people I recognized from different dances. One lady, who goes to the English country dances on Tuesdays was there. She's really annoying, for many reasons. One is she absolutely refuses to be the man. Every woman will take a turn to be the man, because there are usually more women then men. But she just won't. What makes her so annoying is that she never closes her mouth. Literally. When I first met her, I just couldn't believe it and the next day at work, I would put my hands up by my face and just open as wide as I could to make Barbara and Nancy laugh. Yesterday, when she was dancing, her mouth never closed. Never. I wonder how many bugs she has eaten. I bet she could swallow a bird, too. Poor Barbara got stuck dancing with her, and even though this woman is much taller than Barbara, guess who was wearing the tie? We'd heard she moved out of state, but it appears she is back. I hope it's just temporary.
There are two elderly men who come with their wives and are really good dancers. They take turns dancing with everyone. I like dancing with them because they seem to enjoy themselves so much. One guy I first met down in Phoenix was there. He lives in Prescott and when I'd see him at Prescott dances, he'd always be distant, like he'd never seen me before. The second time I saw him, I said hello, and he said, do I know you. I replied, no, and walked away. Now he at least acknowledges that he's seen me before, not that he's anywhere near to being friendly.
After three dances, we took a break. Because it was hot in the room, it was rather sweaty and smelly. Most of us went outside, where there was a nice breeze and it wasn't too hot. Everyone went back inside after a while, but I stayed out to clear my head and reclaim my sense of smell, and used the time to call my friend Shirley. We had a nice visit and I told her what was going on at the dance and she told me about her day. Finally, I had to go back in, but someone had figured out how to turn on the ventilation system. Thank heavens!
I never did get to dance with Bud as my partner, though I did dance briefly with him. Even though he is married to Barbara, I feel comfortable when I'm his partner. It's not the same when Chris and Rita are there. It just doesn't seem right to dance with Chris. I don't think Chris and I have actually been partners for an entire dance yet. I guess Barbara and Bud are interested in learning how to fly-fish, because Bud asked me when we were next to each other, if I'd teach him. I said, sure, and told him what kind of rod I thought he should get. I wonder if they will follow up on it.
We did one square dance, and for some odd reason which I have no idea why, two men were partners. One was a big guy with a beard, and he played the woman. Well, he had two cups under his shirt that were supposed to be breasts, but he had a tie on too. In that dance, you got to lead the other couples, one by one, through the other dancers. Everyone in my square got to be the leader, but not in the proper order. The grouchy guy was in that set, and much to my surprise, he didn't complain about it.
The caller did lead one waltz, but I didn't want to dance the waltz with someone I don't know, so I sat that one out. Mikey and Ivy danced together, as did Bud and Barbara. Nancy was with some man I'd never seen before. After that, they did a circle dance that had a waltz in it and I could have gotten into that one with a female partner, but I didn't. The women would be turned around by the man to the next person, and after three of those, whoever she was with was her waltz partner. Nancy danced with this one guy who held her so close that it was uncomfortable to watch. Nancy said it was even more so to be dancing with him. She and Ivy both got a turn with the caller.
Then it was last dance. The caller picked up a violin and sat in with the band. The man who had waltzed with Nancy asked me to dance. (not the one that held her too close) I found out he was from Connecticut and was in Arizona on business. He'd been contra dancing for fifteen years, and since he had nothing to do on a Saturday afternoon, he drove up to Cottonwood. I saw Nancy talking to Barbara and Bud, and then watched them leave. They had talked about going to this local Greek restaurant for dinner. I mouthed to Nancy, do you want to go? She mouthed back, no. Much to my amazement, she sat out that dance. I've never known Nancy to sit out one. I felt guilty to have a partner when she had none, but she was fine with it, I guess, because there were other people she could have asked.
At the end, I thanked Rob from Connecticut for the dance and said I hoped we'd see him again, knowing it was very unlikely. He didn't know if he would be going up to Flagstaff for a bigger dance, or staying there for that dance. Those people who were staying started setting up for a pot luck dinner. Nancy and Ivy were discussing Ivy's plans for the evening. It turned out Ivy was a little hurt she wasn't asked to go to the walk with her mom. Nancy said she didn't mean to exclude her, and that she was welcome to come. I hugged them both goodbye and I don't know what Mikey and Ivy did, because Nancy and I left.
As we were walking out, we were invited to stay for the pot luck, which was nice. I think everyone knows Nancy, as she is more outgoing than I am. We declined the invitation and got in the car. It was time to dissect the dance. The drive back seemed to fly by as we relived the afternoon and laughed about various people and things that happened. I was sorry when we got back to Ivy's house and my car, because I truly enjoy Nancy's company. Being with people I care about is the best part of the dances.
©17 September 2006There are more stories I have written to read. Please remember these are my original stories and thoughts, and to copy or otherwise use them without my permission is a copyright violation. I would love to hear your random thoughts on any of these stories.