Friday morning poem

I had a poem
in my head last night
When I went to bed
and like all other poems
I knew I should have
gotten up
and written it down

it was gone by the morning

Something about
how women talk
over cups of coffee
glasses of wine
or shots of whiskey
about their lives and problems
they do not expect solutions
mostly
just a smile
a nod and an "I've been there"
Maybe the other woman will say
"and what are you going to do about it?"
but will not insist on solving it
unless asked.

How women think differently from men
how hearing the problem
voiced out loud in her own voice
Is the beginning of finding the solution
for herself

Remembering Mom

Thirteen years ago today, my mother, Hazel Emma Myers, lost her fight against Alzheimer's.  I miss her every single day. but at least I have ( sort of) stopped wanting to call her when something really good happens, or when something happens where I could really use her advice.  I "talk" to her all the time, hoping somehow she can hear me. My faith that I will see her again does help.

She would have loved the heck out of my husband and I think the two of them would have got on like a house on fire, as the saying goes.  I have no idea WHY they say that but there it is.  She would have been as thick as thieves with my mother-in-law, Anna.  I can hear the two of them plotting something fun.  It's both a comfort and a sorrow to imagine the scenarios.

I remember her teaching me to spell the word Wednesday  "WED NEZZZ Day"  I hear it when I spell it, like just now.

I remember being about six and the two of us running from the garage, through the gate and into the house to catch the last bit of my favorite song "The Cat Came back"  It was a silly novelty song and I will have to see if I can find it on Youtube today.

I remember her being in charge of membership of the PTA at Sharp Avenue and all  of us writing     50 ¢ in the little space on the envelope.  She taught me about volunteering and community involvement.  She joined the teachers on the picket line in front of my school in my sixth grade year.  I was proud of her.  I wonder if I ever told her that..

I remember the morning after I announced my engagement to my first husband, getting up for school (I was in college) to find she had two complete plans for our wedding.  She thrust them at me and I said "Mom, can I get a cup of coffee first?"  I seem to have inherited her planning gene.

I remember her holding her six day old granddaughter on the couch in my living room, she and Kate bonding, a love that lasts in my daughter still.

I remember us laughing in her kitchen  when I made her her first mimosa. I have the photo on my desk of us kidding around with the empty champagne bottle.

I remember her telling us, at Christmas, that she had Alzheimer's and would not remember any of us next year, but that she wanted us to know that she loved us

I remember taking her on a picnic and giving my now childlike mother her sandwich, which she ate.  quickly. I was still giving out the rest of the sandwiches when she demanded "where's MINE"  We had to tell her she had eaten it. I asked her if she were still hungry, figuring she could have mine. but she looked down and said no.

I remember holding her hand the day before she died and telling her she could go.  She wasn't eating or drinking and we could feel the presence of those she loved who had crossed over who were urging her to join them.  She looked pointedly at my father, her husband of 54 years and the love of her life. I promised her we would take care of him.  She had not said a word in weeks, but later she looked at me and said "How did I get like this?"  It startled me, but I said "You just got sick, Mom. That's all"  "oh.  she said  "what a mess"  and shook her head sadly.  She died the next day, surrounded by us all.

I don't need to tell you that Alzheimer's is a terrible disease.  It stole my brilliant mother from us piece by piece.  I see the Alzheimer's Association is talking about finding the first survivor.  I hope they do and soon.  Thirteen years later I still feel the pain it caused.

Attitude of Gratitude 2017

I had a dream last night that really brought home my need to work on my "attitude of gratitude" I need to let go of anger at certain unchangeable situations that I am letting impact me. I will work on remembering that although someone seems to always get what they want, they confessed that they are STILL unhappy. It made me laugh and have a bit of schadenfreude when they told me that. I need to look at what I HAVE and realize that being vengeful or jealous is blocking my path to what I want. I read something that said believing "prosperity is just around the corner" will always KEEP it around the corner. So. Hmmm. I need to practice thinking " I have abundance. I have what I need to get what and where I want to be"

I AM grateful for:

My husband. I am lucky to have found someone who loves me for ME and does not want to change the fundamental core of who I am. I had someone in my life who thought I would suddenly morph into a willowy blond who was obedient as a golden retriever. MY husband's physical presence is more calming to me than ativan.

My children. Sure both of them drive me to distraction and we often misunderstand what is being said but I love them just the same. Both of them are working hard to get things right, for all of us.

Bobby. If I have to explain THAT, you haven't been paying attention.

My doctors. I am still having trouble, but yesterday's physical therapy gave me hope. The new meds seem to be helping a bit. I go back to the allergist on Monday and I am really going to talk to him to see what is causing ONE of the problems that is making me cough so much. I think it's an allergy.

My "peeps" at work. I am most fortunate to have found a job that suits me. My former boss said once that I really tailored the job to my personality. I guess I did. I really love and care about my folks out there who are on the front-lines of public service. It's not all sunshine and roses and if I can help them have a better day in some small way, then I am content. I always wanted a job that "made a difference" This one does and I an truly blessed to be able to do it. Sure sometimes it drives me CRAZY, and some conditions are not ideal, but I am hanging on.



So as I go about my day today, I will try to remember NOT to be angry about things that are and are out of my hands. The practice of "Let go and Let God" or the universe, which are sort of interchangeable in my mind will be my mantra, Accept things I cannot change but change things I cannot accept, where possible. I will gather my circle of positive things around me to lift me up.

My voice

As a by-product of the pneumonia, and a few other things, I have pretty much lost my voice.  I am frustrated with the medical efforts to get me to stop coughing and my larynx to stop spasming. I have not had a "I can't breathe" episode in a while, so maybe, just maybe,I am healing.  It's slow and frustrating.  The thing is, this week, a lot of people have taken the trouble to point out that I  "sound like shit"  REALLY?  I never noticed.  I miss my voice.  I miss the ability to sing.  If you know me, you know I am always singing.  It's my stress reliever.  Now I can't do that at all.  Yesterday , at work, after three people made "helpful" comments, pointing out how bad I sounded, I fled to the bathroom to cry.   I have great doctors and therapists who are working to get me back to normal, but the process is slow. I am frustrated.  Please, if you feel like saying anything at all to me, be encouraging.   Don't be Captain Obvious.  I know I sound bad.  I miss my voice and I am working to get it back.  Say you are praying for me.  Tell me you hope I get better.  Don't tell me, as one helpful soul did, that I sound like shit and what am I doing at work?  I'm trying to be "normal" and being around my work colleagues usually helps.  Except when it doesn't.

Nightmares

I've been sleeping poorly for the last week or so, so much so that I am afraid of falling asleep during mid-afternoon meetings.   Lately I have been having nightmares.   Last night I was trapped in a Nordstroms.  Every time I would try to get to the elevator, these women, dripping in furs and jewels, would shove me out of the way. I was late for work, and trying to call my boss to confirm my schedule.  In the dream I was working in a branch library with the boss from Hell, a job I held for eighteen months that I STILL refer to as "time off from Purgatory"  I could not find my car in the parking lot.  Ok, I know as nightmares go, it does not measure up to the Sam Peckinpah worthy nightmares that were induced by Ambien.  As I lay in bed, wondering if I should TRY to go back to sleep or if I would fall BACK into the same nightmare, I tried to determine the root cause.   It COULD be the new meds I just started, which both my pulmonolgist and my allergist SWEAR will quell the horrible cough. If could be that work itself is overwhelming.  I am working hard as I was off for a long time and although my colleague did a LOT of the heavy lifting, there is a lot of catch-up for me right now.  It could be the news.  I would like to stop seeing the news. Every day , Lord Cheeto does something that shows me just how unfit he is to run this country  The thing that REALLY scares me is the article I read that says that his base still thinks he's doing a good job.  He DID say he could shoot someone in Time Square and not lose voters, He knows his audience, doesn't he.  I wonder what his fans will say when he encourages Nazi and white supremacist behavior. I have a high school chum who is Hispanic and a HUGE Trumpster.  I wonder if he will still support Trump when they start profiling HIM

As for me, I watch and I listen. I hope I have the courage to join my fellow humans who live in this country and say ENOUGH and rise up for change.  I see Steve Bannon is gleefully anticipating the Revolution.  It's probably NOT going to be what he thinks it is.

Poem- Reading Billy Collins

Seeking to expand my horizons
I was led to Billy Collins
His seemingly effortless ability
to drop the perfect juxtaposition
into otherwise innocuous sentences
has me wanting to crawl into a corner
scrawl" ignorant hack" across my forehead
and devote myself to art that is more
in keeping with my talents
like finger painting
or using the box
of 64 crayola crayons ( how I love thee, Burnt Sienna)
on books
made of cheap paper
with outlines of clowns
or dinosaurs
then I find later poems
in the same anthology
where he tries
and fails
at  being William Carlos Williams
I am both heartened
and disheartened
in the same breath.

Summer Reading

Summer.  Reading.  Two of my favorite words.  My birthday is June 23 and for me Summer always began on my birthday.  It was like the start of something; FUN!   Long lazy days of swimming and bike riding and a baseball game we called "three flies up"  where the batter would toss up the ball for a pop fly and whoever caught three would then become the batter.  The beauty of the game is you could play it with as few as two people, although three or four made for a better game.  As a child I ALWAYS participated in the Library's Summer Reading program. I was a competitive little kid; one summer I read 64 books, I think. My mom would ask me to tell her about each book before she wrote it down on the sheet they gave you to keep track so you could get your "prize"  I believe the "Prize" was a certificate that said you completed the Summer Reading Program.  I don't remember getting any cool stuff.  Maybe there was a coupon for a free ice cream?  I don't remember.  I stopped when I was a teen because I really don't remember the teens being involved in any kind of organized Summer Reading Program,  "YA Lit" as it is sometimes called, was in it's infancy when I was a teen.  Sure, I read and LOVED "The Outsiders" ( better than the movie) . I read "The Cat Ate  My Gym-suit" and the novels of Paul Zindel, "My Darling, My Hamburger" and "The Pigman".  Most of the books dealt with a teen angst that was at once familiar and foreign to me.    Summer in tenth grad and then again in eleventh I spent rereading the "Lord of the Ring" trilogy ( a fine set of films but again,the books are better), but there was no official group to join.  If there were one, they never recruited me.  NOW the Library goes full-bore to keep teens engaged in the Library and lifelong reading.  The past few years they have begun to include everyone in the Summer Reading program.  I signed up this year, but  as I did so online, I did not get the bag they give you and the program is apparently SO successful they are out of them!  I think I can get over the disappointment.

I will talk more about the two books I have read for it so far Julia Glass' " A House Among the Trees" and Jill Shalvis "Lost and Found Sisters" which is SUCH a "Beach Read" the cover features a beach umbrella and a beach bag which as far as I can tell - and I'm halfway through the book- has NOTHING to do with the story.  I have slowed down considerably since my 64 book achievement all those Summers ago.  But  I have a question for all of you reading this right now.  I am listening to "The Handmaid's tale". It is totally giving me the creeps, and a LOT to think about, but does LISTENING to a book count as reading it?  I'm not so sure. If I am not actually doing the "work" of reading, does it count?