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| Playing Tag. |
| 06.20.05 (10:12 pm) [edit] |
Well it appears that I have been tagged by Altricial who was tagged by Lindy. I have a feeling that this is going to be like that telephone game and I will be the weak link that screws it all up! Regardless, I will try… for more explanation read Lindy’s post. I don't know how to "hyper-link" so, I apologize (so embarrassing). You can click on Altricial's link (on the left) to get to the other people that she tagged...
BilllyRyan
MerMaid
TrekGuy
Basild
Anastacia
IckyDane
Please stop by their sites and keep the circle moving.
The assignment: things I miss about childhood.
1. Fishing. Grandma Ellie and Grandpa Fritz had a cottage on Lake Erie and Grandma Lillian and Grandpa Joe had a beautiful old farmhouse sitting on a huge piece of land in Blissfield Michigan (I have a copy of the deed which was signed by John Quincy Adams!) At either place, my favorite thing to do was fish. At the cottage I sat on a giant rock—generally by myself, with Ellie screaming "be careful" out the screen door. I’d cast out my line, daydream, and get very brown in the sun. At the "farm" we fished from a dock on their pond while dragonflies swarmed around us. There I fished with dad and grandpa, who it seemed to me, wore a plaid flannel shirt even in the summer. The lake was immense and often threatening and filled me with adrenaline. The pond was soft and yellow and sleepy. I had the best of both worlds.
2. Stopping by Bob&Joes Carry out after school for wax lips, pixie stix, the little wax bottles filled with kool-aid, bit-o-honeys, and candy cigarettes and then coming home where mom would be ironing in front of As the World Turns. Exerting my independence but coming home to security and familiarity… that as Mastercard would say… is priceless.
3. The words… go outside and find something to do! Before the advent of couch-potatoes. We were sent outside from morning until dusk… came home for meals… sometimes… unless we ate at a friends house…we kind of traveled in packs. We played "school" in the gazebo out back in the summer. We’d haul out all of our old school supplies and sit at the picnic table. I ALWAYS had to be the teacher. I’ll bet that I was SO hard to live with. Also, Barbies… tons and tons and tons of Barbie stuff, plus, Skipper, Midge, Ken… I still remember some of the clothes…and furniture that we made ourselves or the blow up kind that smelled like plastic. Sometimes I’ll open something and get a whiff of that plastic smell …ah… heaven.
4. The Holidays… Christmas and Thanksgiving… when all I had to do was show up. There was a magic about it… the smells, the traditions… and especially the people. The food was always the same... German potato salad, baked beans, devilled eggs...Everyone was there… mom and dad, my sisters and brothers, all my grandpas and grandmas, my aunt and uncle and cousins, the neighbors… a house filled with people and laughter. Now so many of the chairs are empty. Oh to go back even for an hour.
5. My dad used to make us "picnics" to watch in front of the television for Wonderful World of Disney or "specials" like "the Wizard of Oz". He’d throw down a tablecloth and cut up bologna or hotdogs, cheese cubes, crackers, sweet gherkins… munchies… and set them on a plate. We thought it was the greatest thing on earth. I carried on the tradition for my girls over time. Somewhere I have one on video… I’ll have to dig it up.
I don't have five tag-ees... most of the blogs that I read have already been tagged and are on my links. I will list three... the links to which you will find to the left...
Alcatraz/AHep
Stacey Mahoney
Shoplove
Told you... I'm the weak link.
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14 Comments
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| Postcard from the edge. |
| 06.16.05 (8:35 pm) [edit] |
I struggled over whether to share this or not... but, I decided to. It is one of those things that makes you laugh and cry at the same time. I found this letter in my AOL "filing cabinet". I didn't know it was there. It made my heart pound. It is an email from Ali when she went to Hawaii a little over a year ago. I was touched by two things... one, her attitude despite just finding out a month before that the cancer was back; and two, her reference to Heaven. I didn't remember her saying this, so, I found it a little ironic because when she was very sick, I told her that I thought Heaven would look a lot like Hawaii... they didn't call it paradise for nothing. I think it is her way of telling me... she's doing alright.
Subj:
ALOHA !!
Date: 6/7/2004 7:27:46 PM Eastern Daylight Time
From: Bluecrush1116
To: Century18romantc
HI momma!
I miss you ! I hope your having fun in Grand Haven... Hawaii is so beautiful. I think this is what heaven is going to be like, no joke. Yesterday the flight was soo long and we were real tired. Hawaii is 5 hours earlier than indiana so its hard getting used to the time... So today we woke up and went to breakfast and went to the beach and layed out. we got little floaties and laid in the water, ENough about that more importantly a surfer guy (very cute) asked megan and i if we wanted lessons hahaha. we had to say no at the time. = ( So yea that was the highlight of my year. There are like 1,000 surfers out seriously. i cant get a good view though i am blind without my glasses. ERRR. I have seen a few cute guys, alot of jappanese people. Its hard to believe i am closer to japan than u = ( lol I miss you momma. I just wanted to tell you we were all fine and megan says hello and she loves you . SHe will probably write to you later. I hope your having a good week with craig and i am sooo exited to see my room when i get back... I love you e-mail me back ALOHA !
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19 Comments
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| Of Sailing that beautiful sea... |
| 06.15.05 (9:17 pm) [edit] |
Wynken, Blynken, and Nod one night
Sailed off in a wooden shoe---
Sailed on a river of crystal light,
Into a sea of dew.
"Where are you going, and what do you wish?"
The old moon asked the three.
"We have come to fish for the herring fish
That live in this beautiful sea.
In my lifetime, I have endured two major bouts with seasickness. If you have spent any time at all bending over the side of a boat wishing for death, you will no doubt understand my reluctance to board a boat for an 5-hour fishing excursion in Mexico. I love to fish and was captivated by the concept of reeling one in that weighed more than I did…but, all I could think about were the waves—mile after mile of churning, rocking, and rolling waves.
In the end, I decided to risk it… but, not without a significant amount of research and an armload of precautions. No alcohol or greasy foods the night before and no coffee (God forbid) in the morning. I took Dramamine (regardless of its causing drowsiness), wore the wristbands (regardless of the awkward tan lines), and took the maximum dosage of ginger capsules (regardless of the fact that I looked like a complete loser). In addition to all of this… I heeded the warning to never lose track of the horizon.
My diligence paid off and I managed to spend two beautiful days on the ocean. I didn’t catch any fish, but, I recovered my sea legs and reminded myself not to give in to the fear of what might happen.
The trickiest part of the entire plan was keeping track of the horizon, since it always seemed to be changing. I decided to focus on the shore instead. It seemed more solid and tangible. There were times when I became immersed in my surroundings…the color and expanse of the water, the gracefulness of porpoises swimming by, or the quiet rhythm of waves splashing against the side of the boat. Occasionally, when I looked up, the shore was not where I expected it to be and I became disoriented… almost to the point of panic. I would twist my body around and hold my breath until I saw the large rocks jutting out of the ocean.
Last week, I was stopped at a traffic light and out of the blue, I felt as if I couldn’t remember how to breathe. My hands were frozen on the steering wheel and I was filled with panic. I believed for a moment that my mind was shutting down. I feared that I would dart out into traffic at the wrong time or perhaps not move at all.
When the light turned green, I slowly put my foot on the accelerator. I remembered how to breathe, I did not cause any accidents, my mind did not shut down, and apparently, this would not be the day that they found me at the corner of Indiana and Pike Streets, frozen by a panic that seeped in through a crack in the window like toxic gas.
I turned down the stone lane where I visit my daughter. Almost mechanically, I walked across the grass to fill the white plastic bucket from the well.
I turned down the stone lane where I visit my daughter and there is no food in my refrigerator. I did not plant a garden, but, I planted some flowers for someone else to enjoy. There was no last day of school to celebrate or to mourn. The cable has been shut off and the phone does not ring. There are no longer arguments over who forgot to return the movie to Blockbuster.
There is nothing left to call this house a home. It is neat and tidy and lifeless. I have clothes hanging in three different closets in three different cities. I have a daughter and a puppy who I see once a week and I cry when I leave them. I have another daughter to whom I can only show my affection by watering the flowers on her grave. In December, we shopped for clothes together. Yesterday, I shopped for a headstone.
After the cemetery, I came home and laid on my bed. On the outside, I go about my life-- run errands, work, eat, talk, laugh—and it seems normal. But, inside, I feel like a paper doll or the chalk outline of a crime victim. A one-dimensional human being.
My family and friends have been so wonderful and loving, but still, they will never really understand, because at the end of the day, their lives are still pretty much as they were. They cannot follow me here, just as I could not follow Ali.
I have lost sight of the shore.
There is no longer a field of reference. Every aspect of daily life has been disassembled and tossed overboard. I have been drifting for months and now as I search for something solid and familiar, nothing looks the same. It never will.
I think that so much of my sadness has been the realization that, I have not only lost sight of the shore, but, it is lost to me forever. The stark contrast between what my life looked like before this journey began and the shattered fragments of what now holds it together is daunting.
Sometimes, I get frightened by the idea that it will always feel like this. In my heart, I know that it isn’t true.
I am not brave, but, I don’t want to go through life like a paper doll—I want to live it. There are a lot of things that I have yet to do and so many people who are willing to let me love them. How can I give up when I have only begun to torment Megan with my motherly advice and irritating idiosyncrasies?
The Roman philosopher Seneca said that, "Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end". I know that it is futile to try and find my way back to the shore where this journey began. If you have spent any time at all bending over the side of a boat wishing for death, you will no doubt understand my reluctance to head out to sea. The horizon is always changing. Maybe those who make it safely to the other side are the ones who learn to ignore the churning waves and just enjoy the view from where they’re at.
All night long their nets they threw
To the stars in the twinkling foam---
Then down from the skies came the wooden shoe,
Bringing the fishermen home;
'T was all so pretty a sail it seemed
As if it could not be,
And some folks thought 't was a dream they 'd dreamed
Of sailing that beautiful sea---
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17 Comments
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Grace, beauty, humor, strength.
Alison Haley Cloud
Nov. 16, 1987-March 1, 2005
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This work is licensed under a Creative Commons License.
