A Lifetime of Good-Byes

I have often wondered what would have happened if my family remained in Rhode Island when I turned 11, instead of moving to Cleveland. I imagine our happy family staying so, surrounded by my friends and family. I moved away from the Midwest as soon as I was able, and I have spent the rest of my life saying good-byes. Hard to not blame Cleveland for that.

I have stayed in New York for two reasons. One, I can't go while my divorce goes on and on. And, two, and most importantly, because it is home for my daughter. Oh, I guess three reasons: I hate moving. And I hate good-byes. Okay, four reasons... 

I said my farewells to my mother for the last time over 3 years ago now. I witnessed her final breath, and it was a privilege and honor to have known and loved her. I wish I had told and shown her this love more strongly when I had the chance. 

Me and my beautiful mom. I miss you, Jean.

It is now time for another: Tootie Pie. My heart aches to think of my life without her, although it is natural and to be expected. I love her ferociously and have structured my world around her. Now, what? 

Of course, I am happy that she is starting her own adventure, but I can be proud and sad at the same time, it seems. Motherhood is a complicated emotion, that's for sure.

Tootie Pie, you are and will always remain my greatest achievement. I am certain that you know this. I hope you see yourself with the love that I do. I think you do, but don't you ever let anyone make you doubt that you are capable, strong, self-reliant, kind, smart, beautiful and empathetic. Don't make the same mistakes that I did of letting your kindness blind you to self-absorbed others. Always put yourself first. Remember that you are my whole world, and I live and die for you. We will always share the same sky; I am always with you. This is not good-bye, but see-you-later.

I love you so dearly that it hurts, and I am excited for what the future holds for you. Whatever it is, you will kill it, girlie! As my Gramps said, "Go out and GET IT!" I know you will. Rock on...

Peace

Am I Self-Made? Not Society-Failed, At Least

Things went wrong in my childhood, naturally. I once was sent to the principal's office for successfully scaling a drainpipe to the 2nd floor. I carved "I hate Mom" into the softened wood of our window sashes when I was deprived of some long ago forgotten luxury. She absolutely could not deal with my grass stained knees. Normal stuff. So I was woefully unprepared for when, at 10, the wheels came off the bus and I moved from my idyllic New England town to Cleveland. Poor Cleveland is finally failing on its own merits instead of its poor comparison to Rhode Island. Puberty timed its entrance perfectly, making this life's earthquake all the more difficult, but as much as I was up against, I had a secret weapon: my three ladies. My sisters seemed like my world, because we were on a different level than Mom, but I'm the oldest, and Mom and I had a special friendship that was kind of unhealthy, I am realizing now. We built up a boogey man for our problems, and he had a face and name: Dad. Despite the fact that she was brutally ripped from her home and family, she faced the Midwest with her typical spirit of total dominance, done with a beautiful smile. 

I had my struggles with her, of course. Most notably, London. Oh, my, how we argued over that! I broached the topic one night of maybe trying out London for a summer because my roommate was, not because I actually wanted it. I paid for school on my own and was practical, and so it wasn't really an option, until my parents went code level orange because I floated an idea. Then my mind was made up and I was going to London whether I felt like it or not. Three months later, when I told my parents that we needed to talk, she said, "You're not going to London." I can be dominating, too, Mom, so it was too late. The tickets were bought, passport obtained, and it wasn't as if they could threaten to cut me off. Quite the chess move on my part! I was going to be self-made and visit abroad! And, so, I did.

So, I did do it solo financially the minute I was an adult, but whose idea was this? As long as I remember, I was going to college. Then I realized there was no money for it, but that was okay, because I'd been working hard at school which came easily to me, so I got grants and scholarships. A complete success story and I did it alone. I went back to London, then Paris. I got a frantic phone call one night from her because there was a problem with the lines and she made me pick a date to return and so I did: Thanksgiving. I wish I could have lived out my little adventure on my own time instead of artificially truncating it, but I was breaking Mom's heart.

So I returned to fucking Grand Rapids, Michigan, to live near Mom and Dad. It was a memorable year! Dad insisted on going to swim with me and always wanted to race. Mom did her pristine breast stroke so as to preserve the 'do. I introduced her to my date and she said, "Nice to meet you, Kurt". We left and he said, "That's weird! Your mom called me by my brother's name!". I had no idea what my date's first name was and had to look him up in the phone book. It turns out, he was unlisted, but not his brother! In any case, I had a true friendship with both of my parents, I guess you could say. Although, if you do say that, I'll have you know that Dad was a friend of my real friend. I hated that they were a package deal.

Picnic at one of Mom's secret beaches
and a custom summer dress for Lucy.

It is not fair that my friend is gone. I was planning on at least 10 more years. But, I have to look at the bright side which is that I had her for 53 years. And as for self-made, there is no such thing. Everyone once needed help. But there is such a thing as society-failed and it is only the luck of the draw that makes us one or the other. Many of my students were facing puberty without a solid parental figure helping. It is of course usually the female that helps these "self-made" individuals. I am fortunate. I had the best.

I just celebrated my daughter's 17th birthday at a wonderful Peruvian restaurant. Reminder: I have a minimum wage part-time job. She has a pretty awful parent, but I like to think that I am the parent she chooses to align with. I know that 95% of the rationale for that is our shared female connection. She is as independent as it is possible to be at that age but still in that weird area where she relies on us for cash and rides and food and - basically we're staff. Then we're vacation rentals and ATMs, I get it. I want to make college easier than it was for me, at least financially. She did the real work, though, which is getting her education and taking it seriously. 

I may be the only generation who got to sort of envision a future that actually panned out. Mom thought 4 years of college was impractical, because lengthening college shortened the amount of time she'd need to work, which would just be until she became a mother. Until me. But, ten short years later, she was back in the work force and I had to "prepare" dinner twice a week. She could have been the leader of the universe, but she constrained herself using the information she had available at the time. I lived the dream for a moment: I had a career in a male-dominated industry and I made a killing. I made a nest egg and now I can enjoy it. I did it, Mom! I wish you were here to celebrate your success. I wish, I wish, I wish...

It's Just a Bit More Complicated Now, Love - In Defense of When Harry Met Sally

As a rule, I do not necessarily enjoy, for lack of a better term, chick flicks. Never saw The Notebook. I kind of hate movies with Julia Roberts and Richard Gere.  My friends dragged me to Serendipity and just UGH! I was massively uncomfortable and the whole thing was so predictable. But, there is Harold and Maude, the Before trilogy, and of course, When Harry Met Sally. Offbeat romances? 

What I like about Harry and Sally is the realness of it. Love is complicated. You don't write your phone number on a dollar bill and then send it into circulation. What you do do (ha!, I said doodoo) is keep running into that guy that you were forced to interact with and that you cannot stand. Relatable. And because you don't see eye-to-eye with this dude, you feel okay being authentic. They put on a front when they are set up with each other's best friends, and true love is hiding in plain sight as a buddy that they are just bouncing ideas off of and getting the opposite sex's perspective. Yeah, it's a great movie because they are both clueless that they're in love. Like Moonstruck, love doesn't solve your problems: it just creates a mess. Embrace it.

We get a glimpse, just one moment, where we get the happily ever after! This movie is genius!!!! His love of her OCD when it comes to food is everything! And that, my friends, is love. Love is being annoyed to the point of insanity and still being attracted to this soul. Not the blue eyeshadow and not her alphabetized VHS tapes (yes, this is somewhat of a delayed review. I'd also like to congratulate Brian Boitano on that phenomenal free skate = just great!) but how she spends hours on her hair and too much money on shoes and other nonsense that makes her Sally. Harry, where are you? You're late...

These two went to the same Midwestern college and moved to NYC. They disliked each other immediately, and were honestly themselves in an age where it is much easier to be annoyed than find the good in someone. But love will find a way. Sex is easy; it's intimacy that's hard. They are equals until...

I love New York. It really doesn't deserve me and I am too good for the Big Apple, but there's just something about it. Love it or hate it, you probably have an opinion. Like me. Take it or leave it, but I am what I am and I love it, so, Harry, I'm ready, and it helps if you don't bring that coffee table. That stupid, Roy Roger's, wagon wheel coffee table! 

Leslie & Ann - Friendship

Rosie the Riveter and a female astronaut. Galentine's!

Since my retirement, I've been going through many phases, or as I used to call them, hair brained schemes. I have documented my artistic forays, and my blog post output is on the rise. Some of these phases are continuations of love affairs that I have for certain things, like Leslie Knope. Okay, that's the main character of a late 2000s t.v. show called Parks and Recreation. For the people in the blogosphere that are still confused, Chris Pratt got his start here, and as a special feature he manifested a phone call from Steven Spielberg about Jurassic World II. So, once, again, I have something amazing that I cannot contribute to its correct owner, because, I wrote down the words, but not the title of the YouTube video I stole it from. Here it is: 

Leslie and Ann's arc throughout the (first) season ends on a hopeful note, even if their romantic aspirations are both dashed. What's more important than them finding love, is they found each other and form a friendship that will last throughout the rest of Parks and Recreation and reveals that Parks and Recreation was not about how these two women found love but how they found their best friend.

And that's what I love about Parks and Recreation: that it celebrates all types of love, especially between women. Here is a quote from the lovely Rashida Jones (Ann):

Most girls have friends that are like, that's awesome, you're great, how, how can I help you? How can I support your life and make you a better person, or what can we talk about to make you feel better about your own life?

And, yes, most girls do have friends like that. Life friends. I am lucky in that I have two automatic friends that go by the more family-oriented term "sisters", but I have attracted some great friends over the years.

I'm thinking of a particular old
friend that ended up being my
birthing partner!

When you go through a major transition, usually this means adding joy and more love to a life: marriage, birth, anniversaries, college, moving, bringing someone home to dinner. These are the moments that mark a life. But there are other transitions that are not as joyous: divorce, death, health concerns and, to a certain extent, retirement. Well, I can say that those not so cool life events are really working as a team to make my life quite the endurance contest. Well, I am pleased to report that my team of friends are helping and supporting and making me a better person. By just talking, and being there.

The background of this scene is, Leslie is clinically
unable to give a gift that isn't thoughtful and time-
consuming, so her friend made her wedding gown
out of her political good press!

It takes a long time to grow an old friend. I am glad mine are old! I am glad I am old. And retired. And sick, divorcing and still grieving the loss of my best friend ever, my mom. She is giving me the determination I need every day, along with the still living friends. I couldn't choose my mother, but if I could, I would certainly never be able to improve upon the one I was lucky enough to get. I can and did chose my friends, and I would never be able to improve upon the ones I was lucky enough to get.

Bonus friends: April and Donna! Girl squad!

Luck o'the Irish. 

Does Getting What You Want Make You Happier?

This gym/cafeteria was subterranean? There was a bump out that is not pictured to the right where the kitchen was, and the milk coolers were where the 2 yellow tables are.

I always thought things would have turned out better if, at one critical juncture in time, my family had zigged instead of zagged. I never really had the ability to know this to be true, I just assumed this from age 11 until just recently. Now, come to find out, maybe not...

See, I grew up in a fairy tale. Or in a Laura Ingalls Wilder novel. With wishing wells and water wheels and orchards and bobwhites. And then, I moved. To Cleveland. Ohio. In 1979. Body hair. Body odor. Lots of stuff happening with the body. And, simultaneously, moody. This must be Cleveland's fault! So, Cleveland was thrown under the bus pretty quickly. But, there was a rural quality to where I lived, and some amenities, and it had an amazing amusement park just nearby. I mean, we saw license plates from MICHIGAN there in Cedar Point! MICHIGAN!

Fast forward one year. I get a 12th birthday card from someone in Grand Rapids, Michigan. Mom, do I know anyone in Grand Rapids, Michigan? Yes, Lin, your dad. Oh, huh... I guess I'll put it on the pile...

Now, fast forward a number of decades. My mother is sick and dying in Grand Rapids, Michigan. I am there for her last breath. A year later, I am back in the fairy tale, back in Walnut Grove. I am being taken over by my mother, completely. I can feel her entering my body and mind in the forest with the birds. I am healing.

My fairy tale had some scary elements that I glossed over. I made a scene in 3rd grade on the bus, and I have been fearing my anger ever since. That set me on a course of regret and mistakes that would take a lifetime to overcome. But, I had many models. First was Mom. And the second was Laura Ingalls.

There is a fine line, it turns out, between historic nostalgia, and, we need to be careful to not gloss over this, indoctrinating anachronisms. So, I thought my elementary was "homey colonial", which is true. It is also true that it is not well maintained.

Four-square behind them authentic from my era, at least

I think there used to be a mosaic here, past the library and the 6th grade classroom. Pied piper?

Those closets used to have doors and you would hide in there during games.

The sink where my BFF and I filled our mouths with water and then tried to talk.

Those stall door supports were just within reach if you stepped onto the toilets.

Flooring from at least my era. Probably 1930s.

Drainpipe now cordoned off, and I think it was then, too. But...

Hopscotch now painted instead of carved with a slate stone.

Okay, if there were hundreds of children outside nearly killing themselves, you probably wouldn't notice me at the top half of this drainpipe for a while, either

These were the first grade classrooms with a view towards the kindergarten?

A great wall to play rattlesnake on.

Right side of building.

This must be the kindergarten room. Bathroom door was thick oak. I sat at the table behind the cardboard. Other door went to 1st? Closet?

So, that hill with the orange cones and chain link fence? I'd pick up speed there and crash into the parked bus.

The view if you were leaving on the bus.

The gym? No idea.

In my day, those balls were made of actual, red rubber and were none too soft!

I ended up in a faraway land, pre-internet, pre-social media, back when we had to either write letters or make toll calls. I returned here exactly once, in between Cleveland and Grand Rapids. I felt I no longer belonged there and that I had abandoned my friends. We had all moved on in one short year. I had changed; they were still the same. My elementary school and my friends were stuck in time...

Then, my cousin took me back in the late 90s. She did a news report on a Christmas tree farm. I don't remember how we got there, we must have gone in backwards or something, but there I was, looking at the giant Christmas tree that we planted as a seedling. And then, finally, once again this year, Christmas tree now gone, key neighbors still there?!?! The house is renumbered. I met the owner, who was a young mother. I told her we used to keep baby birds and tadpoles in teacups in her garage. She humored me. Then, I moved on.

And now, I am reconnecting with people from those bicentennial days! And, you know what? Puberty was not Cleveland's fault. Finding one's way through life is hard, whether you stay in one place or move all around. Moodiness is not on Grand Rapids. It was just a convenient scapegoat.

I had a great childhood and I was very impressive as a girl. And things went down the way they did. I accept that now. It helped make me who I am, and I am quite impressive!

How to Exterminate the Y-chromosome or Why We Need Science Education

Not recommended

Here is a poorly advertised fact: Women have the technology to wipe out the Y-chromosome. Uh-huh, yes. You see, when a sperm meets an egg, well, sometimes that sperm is X, male, and sometimes Y, female. The male ones get off to an early lead, but then they wear out, and women start to catch up to the point that it's a photo finish every time! Henry VIII really was very misguided; males determine the gender of offspring, currently. Unless... There is no more 50/50 even split any longer. Meaning, we take one woman's egg, and another woman's egg, put them together and each time, you get XX, female. So, It's within the realm of possibility. It's an option. I guess men could technically merge two sperm to get a supermale, but where will they incubate him? That tech isn't invented yet. So, knowing that, I have a few suggestions for improving the gender equality in language. Let's start with pussy, k? Pussy means weak, girly, effeminate. Balls means tough, rugged, manly. But, can we analyze these terms? Which one is stronger, a tiny canal that can accommodate a major cruise ship, or something so tender that they invented the jock strap before the helmet, people? Way before. So, from now on, when someone takes a risk, we're going to say "Wow, she's got a vagina!", and when someone cowers in fear, they are being a fucking ball. Just one, lopsided ball. What do we think? So, men, watch yourselves! Better put some research into that human incubator, and, bonus, we can do away with childbirth! And, honey, think!

So undainty!

Now, how to avoid this? Because, Lord knows we don't want to eradicate the word CONSENT from our language, nevermind the forever useless NON-CONSENT. Really, like you need to be explicitly told that you explicit consent? Really? Because we can avoid taking such drastic measures, but there are a few rules we need to abide by:

Rule #1 - abolish the term "pussy" to indicate weak or inferior. The new word is "ball" or "ballsac". See above

Rule #2 - Equal pay. NOW!

Rule #3 - Hands off my body. If a life cannot be sustained without a womb, then it isn't a life, is it?

Any more things to add, dear readers?