Ann Shields on Letting Go

Eclectic Thanksgiving

Twenty assorted family members and friends gathered at my granddaughter Suzanne and husband Ryan,'s  home for Thanksgiving. It was an awesome undertaking for them, along with their 10 and one half month son, Lucas.  Of course, Luke did nothing to contribute to the meal, other than to entertain all the doting parents, grandparents, great grandmothers, aunts, uncles and cousins along with his older toddler cousin.

The ages of this motley crew ranged from Luke to  someone that was 80 plus, but I was too polite to ask.    It was a sunny day, cool, but comfortable.  We were rewarded with no rain, since guests spilled into the back patio.  People brough food--potluck style.  Traditional Turkey day fare, a GF flag perched in some hot dishes.  GF for gluten free, of course.

This day the torch was once again passed to another generation.  My parents always had Thanksgiving dinner in Panorama City in the Valley,  sending us home with care packages of leftovers.  Then it was my turn, followed by son David and wife Barbara.  Now Suzanne has taken her turn, for which I am so grateful.  We all know how I feel about staring down a naked bird at 5 in the morning on that long ago day when our early pilgrims forced turkey on us.   Des would opt for ham.  Or even McDonalds.  He is incorrigible.

The furthest guest was our daughter, Robbin, along with her service dog, Sunny.  They flew in from Spokane, Washington by way of their home in Pullman, Washington.  Daughter Judith drove down from Portola Valley with 16 year old Sam sharing the driving.  I am told she is recovering at last .   They scooped up Matt at UCSB and daughter Beth aka Elle and husband Kevin drove up from West Hollywood.  Their father, Joe, was in China  working for a new company.  But he did manage to get an Americanized Thanksgiving dinner with American friends in Hong Kong.  His biggest worry, stated in an email, is that his catWoody will forget him.

The rest of this gang was made up of Ryan's parents, grandmother, his brother and sister-in law, and little toddler  7 months older thank Luke.  Plus cousin Jennie and boyfriend Brian. 

Ruffi, the family dog, was lounging on the patio, salivating.  The cat was hiding along with other critters who shall be nameless.  Football games predominated the television set.

In other words, a traditiona Thansgiving celebration in sunny California.  Fellowship and food flowed freely.

My childhood thanksgivings were in Chicago with snow and ice often decorating the outdoors.  Since, Italians predominated, turkey was always supplemented by lasagna, sausage, or the other way around.  Football was not on any TV but a poker game entertained the adults, mostly the men, while the women gossiped and slaved in the kitchens.  When I got old enough, my dad let me sit in on some card games with the old folks. 

Seems eons ago, yet clear as yesterday.  I often wish the past could be on a giant DVR susupended in time, available to play over again, freeze framing moments of joy and warmth.  Who knew that we would long for some of those days that we took so casually, unconvinced they would be gone before we were prepared to let go.

Blessings still abound today.  For that I am most thankful.

So says Sassy

 

 

Passages

Friday morning a friend called to tell me that our good friend died that morning.  It was not unexpected.  She lived in the Alzheimer wing of a local retirement community.  Claire didn't start out in that section, but her memory gradually faded away.

Kind of ironic because she encouraged others to write their memoirs.  We were fellow writers within an inner circle of other writers.  She was sharp and incisive with her critiques during our group meetings.  Could point out what wasn't working in a manuscript.  Loved to laugh, flirty right to the end.

Some years ago, when her doctor suspected approaching dementia, four of us accompanied her on a trek to UCLA where she had initial tests.  We all made light of the trip, inwardly worried.  We even went into the examining room while Claire sat across from the doctor who questioned her about average day things to see how cognitive she was.

Meanwhile, two of us hopped on to the examining table and gave her smiles and emotional support.  At the same time, we had to confess that we were scrambling to answer the questions to see what level we might be approaching some day.  We did good, we told each other.  Claire didn't do as well.

She went the aricept route, along with other medications.  We visited at times at Aegis where she was staying.  When we would reminisce about old times, she got misty and would say, "my eyes are leaking."

The last time we visited her room, another resident followed us in.  We tried to shoo her out, but Claire wanted her to stay.  I sensed that we had crossed some invisible line and she and the resident lived on the other side of the world.  She was more comfortable with this other person than with us, her old, old friends. 

I was reminded of a time when I was diagnosed with lymphoma.  Even was assigned an oncologist in Santa Paula, who fortunately was not aggressive with any treatment.  Had a wait and see approach, waiting for symptoms to appear.  This story had a happy ending, since a Stanford doctor decided to examine the biopsy with intricate detail and turned out to be my old nemises.  Lupus was the culprit, not lymphoma after all.

But, for the 5 months when Lymphoma was my daily companion, I sensed a difference in how I felt in the world around me.  Like a small child pressed against a window of a wonderland I couldn't enter anymore, because I was different.  Sadness followed me, even through all the self chatter and pep talks and prayers that didn't get me through the window into joy.

When I learned that the sentence had been removed, I was buoyant, exhuberant, ecstatic.  Just lupus.  Big deal.  No Sweat.  Been with that sentence since 1967.  I rejoined my familiar world again.  But never forgot the lesson.  And understood that Claire had entered the other side of the window.  I can empathise with others in similar states.

So now, I have to believe she is in a better place.  She just quit eating a while back and went to sleep one night and didn't wake up.  I still hear her girlish laughter see her flashing brown eyes, the way she perked up when a charming man was withing sight.  Her husband had been just such a charmer, but she had been widowed for quite a while.

I am told she didn't want any service, only a brother living in another state to mourn her.  Four of us plan to celebrate her life  in December at lunch, with glasses clinking and anectodes flowing.  Laughter will be the order of the day.  It is what she would want.

So says Sassy 

 

Inherited Friends

One of the perks of a second marriage is the friends you inherit that you never would have known.  Of course, you inherit family members and that can be a mixed blessing.  But this is about friends I inherited when I married Des 37 years ago last Friday. 

But first, a digression here.  In our second year of marriage we took a cross country jaunt to meet each other's relatives and some friends.

First stop Chicago, where my Italian relatives terrified Des.  Picture him in the basement of my Uncle Joe's house on the near north side where family gatherings were held.  Everyone talked at once, according to Des.  People would pull him aside and tell jokes, the wine flowed freely, although we declined.   Some uncles, or cousins who thought they were Sinatra sang booozy songs, and cigarette smoke wafted over the gang.  Food galore.  He said his ears hurt afterwards for weeks.  I loved it.

On to  Ripley, New York  were I met his brother Dick and wife Siby, who became real family to me.  Their four daughters and mates and kids just beginning to be on the scene, are now my best friends.  They lived near the cemetery on the main road, and they tended it with love.  Our final resting place some day.  Des's mother, Ethel was still alive then and sat me down to look at all the family pictures, including the ones with his first wife Lois.  I think Mom Ethel was making a point here, you think? 

Dick would call me over by saying, "Hey babe."   Once he took me to an early breakfast at his regular diner, sat up on the stool, with me next to him, and grinned to himself as all the old farmers stared and wondered who I was.  He never told them, by the way.

The friends I cherished most through our serendipitous  union live in Olympia,  Washington.  Ed and Norma Kenealy.  Ed was Des's boss when he lived up there and Norma cooked many meals for both guys.  They still live in the same house where we visited them the first time.    We have gone on many trips with them.

The most memorable was the New York City trip a few years ago.  The one where Des pulled me down with him in the middle of an intersection in Manhattan at midnite.  Ed and Norma were right behind us, rushed over and scooped us up and out of the way of incoming traffic.  What a save.

On the other hand, that same night, Des managed to get lost from the rest of us in the Empire State building and we chased up and down elevators trying to find him, along with others from our group. Meanwhile, Des nonchalantly  was at floor level, asking us in all innocence, 'where have you guys been?' 

Walking back towards our hotel, Norma with gritted teeth, said, 'I have never been so mad at that man in my life!'  Meaning, Des, of course.  I shoud have asked her if she regretted getting us out of traffic.  But she forgave him.  In fact, when Des talks to Ed at night these days, he always tell him to give Norma a kiss from him.  Ed laughs and says she looks forward to it.

Another time, we flew to Portland where they picked us up and we rode to Spirit Mountain Lodge, great spot with a casino and lodging at $69 a night.  That is, if you joined something other and got a pass for nothing.  That time Ed drove us up further up the Oregon coast, and we ogled fat seals making weird sounds on the dock.

They have visited us in Ventura and went to Reagan Library, our picture taken at the entrance to Air Force One.  We waved like celebrities and bought the photos, which was the point, after all.

Whenever they visit, Des considers spiffing up his cluttered office because Norma is such a fastidious house keeper.  I tell him she could care less.    Right now she would laugh at the sight, papers all over the floor, the cats sprawled on top of a throw designed to cover the clutter on the table beneath it.  But Normas has had cats and understands, now has their beloved dog Scooter to entertain them.

The four of us have reservations for a cruise in February to the Sea of Cortez.  There is a possibility they may cancel because of serious health challenges.  If that is the case, we will miss them.  They are family to us, my inherited couple.  If you can't make the trip, guys, you'll be in our hearts the whole time.

So says Sassy 

Procrastination, Inc.

Thanksgiving is nearly upon us and at the moment I am having an unthankful episode.  It could be because today is the day of preparation for that infamous medical test known as the endoscopy/colonoscopy.  Yes, I get to have both done in a continuous loop tomorrow at 1 p.m.

I am told not to worry.  This by those who slept through their procedures.  Unfortunately, I had one 3 years ago during which I was NOT put out.  That's because it was done by a surgeon and not a gastroenterologist I was told by my present gastro guy.  To put it more succinctly, he said he wouldn't consider doing surgery so why the heck would a surgeon do a colonoscopy?  It was a rhetorical question. 

Meanwhile, my mind chatter has been in a continuous loop for a week, therefore no blogs forthcoming.  That's not all I have procrastined.  In the brain fog, I muddled through reams of paper work to figure out if we need to make any changes to our medical insurance.   It has taken forever because of procrastination.

Oh, I think, wonder what is on TV?  So I surf the program guide, and then go to the DVR and watch old programs I have recorded.  In case you haven't noticed, some of my favorite programs are getting so graphic, I wonder if I'm allowed to watch them at my tender age.

After shifting more papers around, I go surf the net.  What to do about all the warnings that if I don't send things out to everyone on my mailing list, my body will break out in warts and hives.  I usually delete those and worry about  what God and Jesus think of my cowardly action later.  After today's procedure.

Although, come to think of it, this is not a good time to get on God's bad side.  But then, surely He doesn't hold a grudge.  Does He?

See, that probably made things worse, O ye of little faith.

Well, here's the thing that makes me believe He is on my side, no matter.  This morning, as my heart fluttered in my chest like a baby bird, I prayed for peace for today and tomorrow.  Not world peace,  Let Obama and the Pope take on that task.  No, it was for my peace of mind.

After I prayed, I reached over to a stack of books on a shelf behind my bed and falling into my hands was Sue Monk Kidd's 'When The  Heart Waits:  Spiritual Direction for Life's Sacred Questions."  She is the author of "Secret Life of Bees", by the way.

 I was looking for something lighter, but once I started to read it,  my eyes stung and I was underlining fabulous insights.  She talks about her journey, discovering herself loved by God, "..and forging new dimensions of intimacy with God's presence"  ... that brought healing to her fragmented life. But the best quote for me was "restoring the divine image imprinted on our soul."

How cool is that?  I always suspected that this mysterious event had occured somewhere in my spiritual journey.  But never saw it put in words.

So on this day of inner turmoil, I feel a shift in my perceptions, especially about my puny faith.  Anyhow, I have to go now since I am once again procrastinating.

A humungous bottle of Miralax and gatorade has to be mixed forthwith.  And you can imagine the rest of this story.

So Says Sassy

Politics At Last

My parents were swing voters, not a staunch democrat or repuplican.  I learned to do the same.  Over the years I have voted for Ike,  Dewey, JFK, Reagan, Clinton (one and two) and I forget who else.

Some times the votes were out of duty, inertia, the lesser of two evils philosophy.  Not this time.

Des and I were a united family in our enthusiasm, hope and excitement for Barack Obama. 

Some of our friends and family may not share our enthusiasm.  Some may have been disappointed.  But now that all the emails and backbiting and efforts to educate us in the error of our ways have come to an end, I have to rejoice.  Truthfully, towards the end of this campaign I was begginning to use my delete button a lot, knowing what was coming. 

Now, I am free at last!  This man who has come on the national stage has set fire to imaginations all over the world.  Possibilities abound.  I am not so euphoric as to realize that problems will come once the hoopla is over.  But I feel within my soul that he is the right man for the job at hand.

Watching the scene at Grant Park in Chicago on Tuesday night, I was moved to tears.  My home town, Chicago.  How many times in younger days have I gone to concerts at Grant Park's Amphitheater?  Awash with humanity on this night, the setting was awesome.

The realization that Barack Obama, the skinny kid with the funny name as he has described himself, he will be my president.  He joins the list of family members and special friends we pray for regularly.  Whatever, your disappointment, I hope you will pray for him, too.  Can we do any less?

So Says Sassy