Ann Shields on Letting Go

Holiday After thoughts

Christmas is over, wrapping paper scrunched into balls, tossed around the room to amuse our cats. A low key holiday this year, fitting for a pair of great grandparents who once held center stage with red stockings hung in a row over the fireplace. Those were chaotic,joyful days surrounded by family and friends Forty years sped swiftly by with losses and gains and blessings galore. This Christmas morning at granddaughter Suzi and Ryan's home held a new wonderland of surprises with great grandsons, Lucas and Nathan who went from present to present while pet dog Ruffi stretched out in the middle of it all. The musical laughter of happy children. Their Daddy flying a motorized helicopter around the room. The rest of us, David, Barara and Andy uwrapping gifts. Des, not feeling well enough to join us. Life's cycle of change, as expected. Gratitude for what remains. These thoughts overrule. The glass still half full. I celebrate what is, ignore what should be, That's a judgment call, and the jury is still out. At the candle light Christmas Eve service at my church, I felt the presence of loved ones, gone. My mother and father, the givers of my life and the assurance that I was loved. Gone this year, Jeannette and Jan, two friends who taught me how to live in the midst of dying. Jeannette sending out handwritten notes of encouragements every day to others, her left side paralyzed, writing had to be a struggle, yet never failing to draw a smiley face at the end of her notes. Thanking peope for kindnesses to her, never complaining, slyly tossing out corny one liners. Jan struggling with her oxygen tank as we went to lunch to split potatoe skins and soup. Adapted to life in a senior living complex, she wrote pithy observations of her surroundings. Funny and poignant, these essays became a book, Active SeniorLiving and no reader would suspect cancer was taking it's final toll on her. On to the coming year, my best Christmas presents were a Smart Phone and a hearing aid. My greatest strength comes from the awesome people who love me. How cool is that? So Says Sassy

Our Christmas Blog aka Greetings

We didn't sent out our annual Christmas greeting last year.  Procrastination won over obligation.  This is our 2011 Christmas greeting.  We will print it out for technophobes and send it by snail mail.  The rest of you will just have to print it out if it is worthy of your ink.  End of caveats.

Contrary to some speculation, we are still here.  We are shorter, vision challenged,  heaing deficient (that is for one of us..the other has hearing aids-thank the Lord), and wiser.  Des has macular degeneration, so eyesight is poor.  We can stand, sit, wal (limited for Des), talk, read, opine, vote and meander in our thoughs as we reminisce about friends we have lost and miss so much.

Des has mobility problems because his knees are bad and he can't talk our cardiologist into letting him have surgery.  Probably due to Atrial Fibrilation and his daily intake of blood thinner.  On the other hand he owns two motorized scooters and a green walker whch is the delight of our cats, Mitzi and Murphy, whojump on the seat when he pushes it around. Sometimes he neglects to charge the scooter and, if you were a mouse in our house, you will find me giving him a push while he fiddles with knobs and beeps the beeper.  He can't get out of the house very much these days, which is frustrating for him.  He turned 86 in July and didn't get his driver's license renewed.Doctors discouraged this due to his poor eyesight.

He stays out of trouble writingin his office on his IBM Selectric III typewriter.  Our garden gave up the last tomato and foot long japanese cucumber.   He wants to plant more stuff.  I smile with benign neutrality.  He'sthe farmer, I'm the city girl.  It is what it is.

Travel has not been a priority this year.  OUt of towner family members visit us when possible.  I went up to see Judith and family in Portola Valley via Amtrak for a few days.  They were here briefly in late summer.  Cal came down on Amtrak from Washington State and was with us for a month.

I went to the annual Pismo Beach Jazz Festval last month with pal Donna and several other church members and am attaching my loyalty to the Night Blooming Jazzmen.  Most of them are in their sunset years, but haven't lost their touch.

The other odd occasion, was a Sunday in Chinatown, atending a Catholic Church to hear arias sung by opera singers belonging to a local opera company, with a spread of Italian food, buffet style.  Great fun.

I turned 80 this October, a shock I would register at 7.7 on the Richter scale.  Then we celebrated our 40th wedding anniversary November 18th.  Now I know where half my life went.  

I could include lots more news about kid, grandkids and great grandkids, but modesty forbids me from bragging..or whining.  So, this is it.  We wish you a joyful - peaceful time throughout this Christmas season.  May the coming year be a time of optimism and love spread across our land, the rest of the world. We believe God watches over us; We are grateful and blest.

Keep in touch. Here are the ways.  . Des and Ann Shields, 7322 RalstonStreet,  Ventura, CA 93003; Email:  anns40@aol.com; Landline phone: 1-805-647-5846:  Cell phone: 1-805-231-4383. 

Melancholy Baby

The thing about feeling melancholy is that it doesn't rate a prescription from your doctor.  Who doesn't get blue once in a while?  It doesn't flat line your joy like real depression does.  Consider it a cousin to sadness, but more transitory.  That said, it does mess with your happiness quotient.

I get melancholy when the days are shorter and people are hunkering down for a long evening at home, which is cool if you have someone to hunker down with.  Lucky for me, I have that, but he is feeling kind of down himself lately, so it takes a little push to feel perky.  Forget perky.  Just contentment is better.

Melancholy is sneaky.  It creeps up on you in unlikely settings.  Take the other day listening to opera arias performed in an Italian/Catholic Church in Chinatown.  Surrounded by cheerful people, practically sitting in the laps of a full orchestra, gown bedecked performers, men in formal attire. 

Oh, and did I mention the food, a spread of savory Italian food, buffet style that begged for second helpings.  What's not to like in this environment where a total stranger tugged at my Jacket that practically advertised the Italy countryside all over it, while she told me where she came from and how wonderful it was and kissed me on the cheek.  Turned out she was a violinist with the orchestra, but adopted me as family instantly because all my four grandparents were born in Italy.

You'd think that, enveloped in all this warmth, accompanied by wonderful friends, I'd  be protected from a melancholy aura hovering overhead.  Nope, as I listened to an aria from Madame Butterfly, eyes closed to sink into the music, my mother floated into my thoughts.  She had never seen an opera, been to Europe, left alone in her small home in Panaroma City after my father died at age 64, she hardly traveled, worked hard her whole life.  Tears stung my eyes as I thought of her life, wished it had been more joyful, more peaceful. 

Madame Butterfly ended, my eye opened and I shook off the memory of mom, remembering her youthful laugh, her pleasure in her friends,grandchildren, recording songs of Elvis and Sinatra.  Not to mention her joy in cooking, patting herself in the back at Thanksgiving dinners for the feast she put on. I mean literally, she reached across her chest, patted her back and said aloud, 'good job, Gracie.'

Eventually, my melancholy lifted, actually at the precise moment I began to type this blog, after entering the title, 'Melancholy Baby.'  The phone rang, an excited voice of a grandchild, telling me awesome news that was a secret I couldn't share yet.  Interesting how this works, melancholy better than depression or sadness, it can be wiped away in an instant replaced by tears of joy.  Life is like that and don't forget it.

So Says Sassy

Lost Among Losses

Last month I lost my childhood.  My first cousin, Ann, died, taking with her all the memories we shared over the years.  She was 89 and a fiesty, bright, fiercely loyal family member and friend.  Then she tripped coming out of the hair salon and bought a one way ticket to endless medical maladies that come with a broken hip.

Other complications unsued and she was gone.   She was the big sister I never had,9 years older, both of us without siblings.   Until I was 13 we lived a block apart in Chicago, sometimes in the same two story flat that my grandfather owned.  I think about her every day, newly startled that she is gone.

The last time we visited her in Glendora, barely a year ago, she drove Donna and me to a restaurant and later spread out old photos on the kitchen table.  She pushed one over to me to keep. The day of my confirmation in the Catholic church, me in white sitting demurely, her standing next to me, her hand on my shoulder, my Godmother.  Or Sponsor, whatever they called it then.  She filled that role with class.

I was her page girl at her wedding in the mid forties before her sailor groom, Tony, headed  off to the South Pacific.  After the war, they moved to California and I visited them when I was 17, a bit more interested in my navy boyfriend stationed in San Diego.  Tony took on the role of big brother, more like a scary bouncer in a bar looking down at my little sailor swain.  Did his best to scare him off.

During that visit , we celebrated their first born, Al's second birthday.  He called me Ree because he couldn't say Ann Marie.  He is now retired from the Sheriff's Dept., Los Angeles.  Tony is up in heaven chewing Ann out for taking so long to get there.

I was tempted to stay forever but headed back to Chicago where my life took a different turn.  And the rest is history.  But I can't sit over a cup of coffee and reminisce on that history with Ann (we called her Nin).

We were together the night our grandfather committed suicide, and all the drama that went along with that defining moment in our lives.  

I think I'll put that memory to rest, now that Nin is gone.  Instead, I'll flash back on her wedding night, the ballroom full of happy dancing people, my dad letting me dance on his feet. My mom trying a few steps of the Charleston.

Nin was the third loss of special people in my life this year.   Proud, brave, kind and gentle friends, all.  Jan Curran, my writer buddy and lupus pal,  She deserves her own blog of remembering.

Jeannette Simmons, my sole/soul sister.  Never to be forgotten, In my heart.  I see her laughing, cracking corny jokes, witty comebacks, enduring her lot with grace, strength and a stoicism that was awesome through her Wheelchair years, her mission of correspondence that made recipients smile and feel special.

This momentous year when I left my seventies behind, turning 80 of all things.  Married this month for 40 years to the new guy in town who lectured to a group of people, asking if they loved themselves.  Turned out we did, and each other as well.

So Says Sassy

 

October Birthday - The Big One

On a Sunday night in Chicago, 80 years ago, I interrupted a poker game as I kicked started my impending birth.  My father happened to have  a winning hand. Not now, he probably said to my mother who was not amused.  Or so the story goes. They managed to get to the John B. Murphy Hospital where I was  born.  It was the depression....1931.  My father had lost his job.  They never got around to paying the bill, and before they managed to scrape up the money, the hospital burned down.  An auspicious beginning.

Thus began the roller coaster ride of my life up to this month where I am able to wrap my head around the awesome fact that I am 80.  Yikes!  How did I get this far?  One breath at a time, so to speak

So far, I am having a good time becoming 80, thanks to my family who have made it fun.  I got treated to dinner at the Ranch House in Ojai, a surprise from son David and Barbara, joined there by Suzanne, Ryan and Andy.  In the garden setting with twinkling lights around tall bamboo stalks, it was another world .  Serene, warm and comfortable with winding paths over a small wooden bridge over a pond of gold fish.  Herbal gardens, abound.  Truly a magical place.

Another celebration a few days later, when daughter Judith and Joe arrived from Portola Valley to spend overnight with us in order to coordinate with best pal, Donna,  a special event during the coffee hour of our church with cake, platters of fruit, cheese and crackers, lunch meat and other goodies.  The cake was a work of art.  Donna borrowed a photo of me taken in 1950 when I was a bridesmaid at a friend's wedding back in Chicago.  Albertsons baked the birthday cake with my picture in the center, edible later because it was made with rice paper - thepicture that is.  Good thing I got a picture of the picture since in the rush to clean up, we all forgot to take the leftover cake.   Trying to trace what happened to it was like detective Columbo trying to detect the perpetrator who got away with the goods .  Finally, several phone calls and emails  later, the plot unthickened and the unwitting perpetrator was abjectly remorseful.  I promised to keep his secret.  but I can't help wondering who ending up cannibalizing me.  It was such a good picture.  In fact, one nameless church member said to me, 'gosh, you were good looking then.'   Yes,I hit him. 

On Tuesday, October 11th, the actual day of infamy, David and Barbara scooped me up for breakfast at Cafe Neuvo where Suzanne joined us, fittingly, since it was her birthday as well.  How cool is that to have a granddaughter decide to be born on your birthday?  Another granddaughter missed it by a couple of weeks, Elle being born on Halloween.  Not to mention son David, born on October 6th.  Libras do shine in these parts.

Okay, no more celebrations, although Donna took me out to lunch and other friends are lining up.  Being eighty is turning out to be pretty neat.  An easy feat to pull off, too.  Just  one breath at a time,

Another time, I will wax philosophical on life, but not until I get past a small study group ruminating over Job, Proberbs and Ecclesiastes.  The study revolves about wisdom, but so far I decided that Job was a whiner, Proverbs preachy and as for Eccclesiastes, Solomon seems to talk a lot about chasing the wind.  Obviously, they  didn't have access to Prozac back then.

So says Sassy

Italian Grandmothers

I got to be a traditional Italian grandmother last week for a couple of days  and I still feel the glow.  Turned out, through some  serendipitous blend of events, my family up north blended with my local family for one grand dinner at my humble abode where the menu was Spaghetti and meatballs.  What else?  Well, add green salad, sauteed zuchinni with onions and tomatoes, and black olives, garlic bread, frozen red grapes and various cold beverages.  Everything gluten free and non alcoholic. 

The gathering included my grown-up kids--David and Judith,, their mates--Babara and Joe, my grandkids--Suzanne and Elle and  and their mates Ryan and Kevin plus three single grandsons---Andy, Matt and Sam,  and 3 great grandkids--Lucas, Nathan and Gracie.  It wasn't even a holiday either.  3 yr old Lucas and soon to be 2 Nathan got to meet 14 month old Gracie..the northern tyke.  Loved watching Luke be ever so courtly and gentle with Gracie.

People spilled all over the house into the back yard and out the front lawn where kids nestled in a wild limbed jacaranda tree made for tree climbing.  In the master bedroom - out of bounds - Des and the two cats hid out.  Feeling poorly, unsociable and wary, they hung out together.

The next night we went to dinner at China Palace where some of them were adept at chopsticks.    Joe, flies regularly back and forth between home and China for his company.   Matthew just returned from a 6 months foreigh travel adventure where he couch surfed his way through  places like India, Pakistan, Malaysia and other 3rd world sites.  

In the  afternoon, Judith, my pal Donna and I took in, The Help and sniffled our way through the ending.  Wonderful movie by the way.  All in all, a satisfying mini reunion with family. 

I flashed back to my own Chicago family where cousins and siblings mixed it up and Grandmother reigned over all.  Well, actually, my "Aunt Jennie did the reigning because my fraternal grandmother died at 49 when I was a toddler.  My maternal grandmother stuck around until she was 92, shy and retiring and content to be in the background.

So here I was, the matriarch of the brood, enjoying everyone up close and personal.  Snippets of conversation revolved around Ipads, electronic games, Smart Phones and the technology world.    Now you can Skype with your IPad.   How cool is that!

When I was a child among cousins, we just played cards and rolled dice, snuck sips of my grandfather's wine, with the musical background of Sinatra wannabe uncles who sang That's Amore.  We ate pasta to the urges of grandma to manga, manga--eat, eat.   Little did we know how content was grandma just to bask in our presence, how happy we made her simply by being.  That's the melody of family.  And it sings silently in my heart.

So says Sassy

Breaking the Blog Block

My writing block is the size of Mount Everest, but I am chipping away at it.  Obstacles range from nasty viruses to frustration with the size of this font and how to get it larger.  Here we are half way through summer and brilliant blogs flit through my head.  Then I take a nap.

Visits to doctors, lab and the ER have interrupted the flow of words spilling over.  Nothing major so forget the organ recital.  Meanwhile, I am now the solo licensed driver in our household of two people and two cats.  Pray for me...or light candles.  Maybe rub Buddha's belly.  Whatever works.

I am distracted by the time I spend mastering my toys.  My cell phone gives me fits, like the other day while sitting in a waiting room, the music started playing.  Even if it was Frank Sinatra inviting me to fly with him, it was annoying.  The receptionist, younger than a fetus, fixed it for me in a jiffy.   Determined to avoid becoming obsolete, I am even toying with upgrading to a smart phone or an ipad.  How smart do I have to be to own a smart phone? 

Meanwhile, I cuddle with my Kindle at night and exult in all the freebies I haave downloaded.  But, since I have been told the kindle will let me do email on it, that's one more tyrant I need to master.  Although I am not sure why I need to knw how to do that, since I have my desk top and laptop computers side by side in my home office.   Oh, about that  My laptop has been flashing an orange light on and off for days, no matter what I do to shut it down.  My husband asks me what the problem is there, and I said, no problem.  It's just a mini night light.

Speaking of him, my husband cheerfully uses his selectric IBM typewriter even though changing the ribbon has him popping nitros under his tongue.  He also, longs for our rotary phone that never roamed anywhere.   I won't even get into ther remote for our Dish Network that is the major reason he will never leave me.  He can't work it without me. Call it a form of job security. 

I guess I do have a love affair with technology. Portability is power, even when I have to use my cell phone to call our land line phone in order to find the sneaky cordless handset hiding among the cushions

Back when dinasauers roamed the hills behind our old courthouse, cell phones were a distant fantasy.  In those days, I worked for a brilliant albeit eccentric boss who had a habit of sending me on errands.  It was one thing to hunt down the goat lady along the river bottom, but when he took to having me paged at  Penney's to pick up some diapers for his baby, I felt stalked.  He would have been a maniac with a cell phone.

There.  I feel better now that I have unblocked the blog.  See you next time.

So Says Sassy

Breaking the Blog Block

My writing block is the size of Mount Everest, but I am chipping away at it.  Obstacles range from nasty viruses to frustration with the size of this font and how to get it larger.  Here we are half way through summer and brilliant blogs flit through my head.  Then I take a nap.

Visits to doctors, lab and the ER have interrupted the flow of words spilling over.  Nothing major so forget the organ recital.  Meanwhile, I am now the solo licensed driver in our household of two people and two cats.  Pray for me...or light candles.  Maybe rub Buddha's belly.  Whatever works.

I am distracted by the time I spend mastering my toys.  My cell phone gives me fits, like the other day while sitting in a waiting room, the music started playing.  Even if it was Frank Sinatra inviting me to fly with him, it was annoying.  The receptionist, younger than a fetus, fixed it for me in a jiffy.   Determined to avoid becoming obsolete, I am even toying with upgrading to a smart phone or an ipad.  How smart do I have to be to own a smart phone? 

Meanwhile, I cuddle with my Kindle at night and exult in all the freebies I haave downloaded.  But, since I have been told the kindle will let me do email on it, that's one more tyrant I need to master.  Although I am not sure why I need to knw how to do that, since I have my desk top and laptop computers side by side in my home office.   Oh, about that  My laptop has been flashing an orange light on and off for days, no matter what I do to shut it down.  My husband asks me what the problem is there, and I said, no problem.  It's just a mini night light.

Speaking of him, my husband cheerfully uses his selectric IBM typewriter even though changing the ribbon has him popping nitros under his tongue.  He also, longs for our rotary phone that never roamed anywhere.   I won't even get into ther remote for our Dish Network that is the major reason he will never leave me.  He can't work it without me. Call it a form of job security. 

I guess I do have a love affair with technology. Portability is power, even when I have to use my cell phone to call our land line phone in order to find the sneaky cordless handset hiding among the cushions

Back when dinasauers roamed the hills behind our old courthouse, cell phones were a distant fantasy.  In those days, I worked for a brilliant albeit eccentric boss who had a habit of sending me on errands.  It was one thing to hunt down the goat lady along the river bottom, but when he took to having me paged at  Penney's to pick up some diapers for his baby, I felt stalked.  He would have been a maniac with a cell phone.

There.  I feel better now that I have unblocked the blog.  See you next time.

So Says Sassy

The choir sang a rousing rendition of Battle Hymn of the Republic in church today, and my mind flashed to the Civil War where soldiers spilled blood on battlefields in this country. Hard to fathom. Even harder to fathom is the ever rising toll of our soldiers still fighting 'over there., War is hell, we are told. So is getting old, What's worse is wondering what life will be like for my great grandchildren. Probably our Civil War veterans wondered the same thing. And the cycle of life goes on. Maybe peace will be our legacy. Anything less is lunacy.

The Power Of Won't

Lately, my will power is as flabby as cooked spaghetti.  On the other hand, my won't power is alive and thriving.  Since there is no 12 step program for this problem, I am here to deal with it.

Take the discipline of exercise.  I love water aerobics, but haven't been there in  over 6 weeks.  How come?  Well, doctor's appointments, vertigo issues, and other reasons.   My husband, who is fond of quirky sayings, told me once that an excuse is a reason stuffed with a lie to get your own way.  Ponder that.

To my credit, I still go every Tuesday to the gym where my personal trainer keeps adding weights to machines where I hang from bars pulling my arms out of sockets while he smirks.  I vow to go other times on my own, but get distracted folding laundry as I check out Oprah's countdown finale.  Procrastinaating is first cousin to 'won' t power. My latest mantra.

Some left over resolutions have slipped into the 'won't' category after languishing in the 'didn't do' file.    But that's typical.  My gratitude journal is skipping days now and then and tons of photos are scattered among jpg files I vowed to organize like yesterday.

What about the three novels I never got published and planned to redo and publish online through Lulu or Blurb?  Not to mention other writing projects taking up space in my head.  About the space in my head, it gets cluttered with Breaking News disasters and tabloid junk like Arnie's cheating on Maria, which was a no brainer to begin with.  Isn't there some mental leaf blower to scatter distractions to the wind?   

 Will power used to be my best friend.   It got me through big and little fears from agoraphobia to flying.    Here's a few goals for life in the here and now.  I can do it.   I will.

Listen to music....write poetry;  be a 'hope' encourager; eat healthier; declutter..rid meaningless stuff ; higher tolerance for frustrations and disappointments; stay in the present; deepen my faith; remember that life is not how it should be, but how it is, so deal with it.  Memorize the serenity prayer.

So says Sassy