There are things that really suck lately: the economy, joblessness, the attacks in Norway. But I don't care about any of that today. Today, all I care about is the fact the sun is shining, and everyone in my house is happy. Including the ghost.
Our house is about 70 years old. It has the creaks an old house makes and the details that you don't find in newer houses, like the woodwork embedded in our staircase. We have the cave, ie basement, which I am terrified to go into. It has a low ceiling and hasn't been finished, so you are literally in a root cellar. Both my guys knew of my fear of the cave, which is how they managed to stash a 5 foot tall box full of pink flamingo's in my house without my ever knowing.
I am convinced that we also have a ghost. I'm not afraid of the ghost at all. I actually think it's pretty cool to have a ghost in our house. Gives the house character. It also gives me a reason for talking to myself. I'm talking to the ghost. Ryder has been acting weird lately and I attribute that to his sensing the ghost as well. He'll run up and down the stairs, run outside, comes back in, sits really close to me and does it all over again. He hasn't done it when Jeff's around, yet.
Last night, I really did talk to the ghost. Jeff was out playing poker and it was just the kids and I. I closed the house down, left some lights on for Jeff and went upstairs to read myself to sleep. Both dogs were downstairs because its still pretty hot at night and they like the cool floor. I am in bed with a great book for about 15 minutes until I hear a crash. Something was going on downstairs and it wasn't something usual.
The dogs were at the foot of the stairs, alert, waiting for me. I checked the living room, and there was nothing out of place, or dead in the middle of the floor. I walked into the dining room and there on the floor, was a picture I had hanging in my kitchen. Face down on the floor. For no apparent reason.
Yeah, I'm a little freaked out by this point. The picture is a charactercure of a woman in motion. Now its face down on the floor. The glass wasn't broken, it just fell off the wall. For no apparent reason. I pick the picture up, brush it off, and I said, I hope you'll let me hang this up again for a little while. I really like this picture. I re-hang the picture and say Thanks. I really appreciate you letting me hang it again. Yes, I am talking to a ghost.
This wasn't the first time something really weird has happened in this house. When my son was out for the holidays, we had another incident. It was really late, and we had all made it to bed. Again, just as we're settling in, we here this THUMP. It sounded like a dead body had fallen down. Jeff and I both sit up and look at each other. Then we ran downstairs as I was yelling Thomas David, GET UP! Thomas David, Get Up! Thomas comes flying out of his bedroom, and we all just stood there looking around. WTF?
I was yelling for Thomas to make sure he wasn't the dead body. We have never figured out what that noise was or where it came from. So we have a ghost. I haven't named him yet, but I'm pretty sure its a him. Everything that belongs in my house has a name, and naming the ghost isn't something I'm going to do. Unless I really do find a dead body the next time.
Thanks for reading!
Sunday, July 24, 2011
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Random Thoughts, But Aren't They All?
There are breezes. Then there is wind. In big sky country, we've been getting breezes lately and it has been wonderful. As I sit in front of my garden with my coffee, it's early and I can hear the wind by the rustling of the leaves all around me. There is an old oak tree in front of our house and a raven likes to sit there and just caw. That's pretty annoying. My truck has been hit multiple times by bird poo-poo. I don't think it helped that I was enabling them with food.
So begins another day in big sky country. I'm getting into the rhythm of the days lately and I am cautiously optimistic that I will be hearing from some folks about employing me soon. It's like lighting a cigarette while you're waiting for your meal to arrive. No sooner do I get it lit, I put it out because there's food now. I do like my food.
I have to say I am actually enjoying my days lately and I think I may be a bit sad to see it end. I've gotten into my groove and I am a horrible creature of habit. Hopefully it will end before winter. If I'm still in this situation by October, I may have to shoot myself. October brings snow, which initially is really lovely, but October also brings the beginning of 9 months of snow. And grey skies. And more snow. Oh, and wind, not lovely breezes. And comfort food.
I think the term for this response to unemployment during a beautiful time of year is nesting. We're growing things. The dogs follow the shade and its hard to bring them in most days. Lately its been hot, but I am not complaining. We have breezes as compared to the rest of you that have heat and humidity. I get to gloat and not complain for three whole months. Life is good and the food is fresh.
We live in a caldera, it really does get hot. There's not much need to air condition your home, but by 4pm, it is hot. I've learned to keep everything open in the morning to keep the house cool, and close it up around 2pm. It does work and the fan in the window at night keeps us cool with the bonus of the ambient noise of the fan keeps out the neighbors yipping dog, or their constant arguing. I don't want to eat much when it gets hot. What I eat is coming out of our garden, so its healthy eating.
I've tried to bring food into every part of this blog. Not for any real reason. I just began to notice I was always referring to food. Next time, maybe I'll stay focused on pet hair and cleaning up after Ryder eats.
Thanks for reading!
So begins another day in big sky country. I'm getting into the rhythm of the days lately and I am cautiously optimistic that I will be hearing from some folks about employing me soon. It's like lighting a cigarette while you're waiting for your meal to arrive. No sooner do I get it lit, I put it out because there's food now. I do like my food.
I have to say I am actually enjoying my days lately and I think I may be a bit sad to see it end. I've gotten into my groove and I am a horrible creature of habit. Hopefully it will end before winter. If I'm still in this situation by October, I may have to shoot myself. October brings snow, which initially is really lovely, but October also brings the beginning of 9 months of snow. And grey skies. And more snow. Oh, and wind, not lovely breezes. And comfort food.
I think the term for this response to unemployment during a beautiful time of year is nesting. We're growing things. The dogs follow the shade and its hard to bring them in most days. Lately its been hot, but I am not complaining. We have breezes as compared to the rest of you that have heat and humidity. I get to gloat and not complain for three whole months. Life is good and the food is fresh.
We live in a caldera, it really does get hot. There's not much need to air condition your home, but by 4pm, it is hot. I've learned to keep everything open in the morning to keep the house cool, and close it up around 2pm. It does work and the fan in the window at night keeps us cool with the bonus of the ambient noise of the fan keeps out the neighbors yipping dog, or their constant arguing. I don't want to eat much when it gets hot. What I eat is coming out of our garden, so its healthy eating.
I've tried to bring food into every part of this blog. Not for any real reason. I just began to notice I was always referring to food. Next time, maybe I'll stay focused on pet hair and cleaning up after Ryder eats.
Thanks for reading!
Saturday, July 16, 2011
Yes, I Do Feel Stupid, Thanks for Asking
It's a beautiful Saturday in big sky country and not a cloud in the sky. Love days like this! We love days like this because the "ok, we can get it done this weekend" list comes out. It's a long list.
Today, all of the best intentions to get something done has hit the dirt. We started at an auction, where there were some great old pieces that I wanted to think about. I love auctions. The auctioneer moves it along and literally does not stop speaking for 4 hours. As soon as something sells, he moves on to the next thing, and the lucky new owner of someone elses junk drags their new treasure out to the truck. The trouble with auctions is you have to be around, because whatever treasure you've set your sights on could sell at any time.
Auctions are like treasure hunts. When we bought our newly refinished vanity, I had my eye on a box of junk that had a really cool windchime. Only thing worth anything in that box was that windchime. So bidding started at less than a dollar and ended at about $5.00. I didn't get the box with the windchime because everything else in that box was crap and I didn't want to go over $5.00.
So what does any self-serving Queen do in a situation like that? I went over to her and offered her a couple of dollars for the windchime. A couple of bucks, but she has all this other great stuff in the box. She turned me down because she had her eye on that windchime as well and offered me the box of great stuff without the windchime. Damn. At least she was stuck with the box.
Deciding the cool things I had my eye on were really not worth waiting around for, we head over the hill to Bozo, primarily to go to the Home Depot. By the time we got to the Home Depot after running around town all morning, we forgot half of what we were there for. Lists? Who needs a list?
Jeff just got a new toy, a Droid, and I got to hang out at Hastings Bookstore, which could be very expensive for me. Having lots of time on my hands and a cup of white chocolate mocha coffee (yummy), I decided I needed some workout music. While looking for workout cds, I decided to start on Thomas' 25th birthday gift. Can you say ADD and easily distracted? 25 tacky plastic items for 25 years. I'm hoping to make up for the 50 pink flamingos he and Jeff planted in my yard for my 50th birthday. There are all SORTS of tacky plastic items at Hastings. Let me add, I hate Hastings. The layout, everything about it bugs me for some reason.
Off to a good start on Thomas's stuff, which was way too easy, I start looking for the workout music. By gosh, there isn't even a section of cd's for workout music, or even good dance music. I don't know if I'd recognize good dance music. Plenty of DVDs of beautiful people not even breaking a sweat. I thought, well, I love compilation discs, they have to have some of those. And by gosh they did.
Let me tell you, I scored. Big. Two 3-cd sets for $3.99 each! Two 3-cd sets!! One was all flashback 70's music, and the other was "summer" music. As I study the back of the disks, I'm thinking, Wow, this is exactly what I was looking for! Sheryl Crow, Peter Frampton, The Eagles, I was one happy bargain shopper. Jeff comes to pick me up and I'm so excited to put the first of 6, count 'em, 6! cds in the player for the ride home. The first was an Eagles song. We listened. And then we REALLY listened.
That's not the Eagles Jeff says. Sure it is, I reply. Don Henly, right? Ok. Then I start to really read the list of songs, and damn if in small, white print, was something like The Original Artist. I expected that to mean if Sheryl Crowe's name is beside a song, I expect to hear Sheryl Crowe. Hit the 3rd track I asked him. We listened. Hit the 7th track. Same thing. We could sort of identify the song, but it certainly wasn't Sheryl Crowe or Don Henly.
Who knew that there really IS a group called The Original Artists? Seriously? And they are really, really bad. I scored, 6, count 'em, 6 cds of crap music because I didn't read the fine print at the top of the list. I was pissed. I felt like an idiot. Now that's great marketing. Whoever came up with The Original Artists as a group of musicians, were genius.
Thankfully we weren't out of Bozo yet, so we turned around and I walked in with two 3-cd sets, TWO! that I wanted to return. I was not in the mood to hear no. I don't know who I was more pissed at: Hastings just for being Hastings, or the people that put out this kind of crap that people like me will jump on based on the list of SONGS by The Original Artists.
Damn, wish I'd thought of it.
Today, all of the best intentions to get something done has hit the dirt. We started at an auction, where there were some great old pieces that I wanted to think about. I love auctions. The auctioneer moves it along and literally does not stop speaking for 4 hours. As soon as something sells, he moves on to the next thing, and the lucky new owner of someone elses junk drags their new treasure out to the truck. The trouble with auctions is you have to be around, because whatever treasure you've set your sights on could sell at any time.
Auctions are like treasure hunts. When we bought our newly refinished vanity, I had my eye on a box of junk that had a really cool windchime. Only thing worth anything in that box was that windchime. So bidding started at less than a dollar and ended at about $5.00. I didn't get the box with the windchime because everything else in that box was crap and I didn't want to go over $5.00.
So what does any self-serving Queen do in a situation like that? I went over to her and offered her a couple of dollars for the windchime. A couple of bucks, but she has all this other great stuff in the box. She turned me down because she had her eye on that windchime as well and offered me the box of great stuff without the windchime. Damn. At least she was stuck with the box.
Deciding the cool things I had my eye on were really not worth waiting around for, we head over the hill to Bozo, primarily to go to the Home Depot. By the time we got to the Home Depot after running around town all morning, we forgot half of what we were there for. Lists? Who needs a list?
Jeff just got a new toy, a Droid, and I got to hang out at Hastings Bookstore, which could be very expensive for me. Having lots of time on my hands and a cup of white chocolate mocha coffee (yummy), I decided I needed some workout music. While looking for workout cds, I decided to start on Thomas' 25th birthday gift. Can you say ADD and easily distracted? 25 tacky plastic items for 25 years. I'm hoping to make up for the 50 pink flamingos he and Jeff planted in my yard for my 50th birthday. There are all SORTS of tacky plastic items at Hastings. Let me add, I hate Hastings. The layout, everything about it bugs me for some reason.
Off to a good start on Thomas's stuff, which was way too easy, I start looking for the workout music. By gosh, there isn't even a section of cd's for workout music, or even good dance music. I don't know if I'd recognize good dance music. Plenty of DVDs of beautiful people not even breaking a sweat. I thought, well, I love compilation discs, they have to have some of those. And by gosh they did.
Let me tell you, I scored. Big. Two 3-cd sets for $3.99 each! Two 3-cd sets!! One was all flashback 70's music, and the other was "summer" music. As I study the back of the disks, I'm thinking, Wow, this is exactly what I was looking for! Sheryl Crow, Peter Frampton, The Eagles, I was one happy bargain shopper. Jeff comes to pick me up and I'm so excited to put the first of 6, count 'em, 6! cds in the player for the ride home. The first was an Eagles song. We listened. And then we REALLY listened.
That's not the Eagles Jeff says. Sure it is, I reply. Don Henly, right? Ok. Then I start to really read the list of songs, and damn if in small, white print, was something like The Original Artist. I expected that to mean if Sheryl Crowe's name is beside a song, I expect to hear Sheryl Crowe. Hit the 3rd track I asked him. We listened. Hit the 7th track. Same thing. We could sort of identify the song, but it certainly wasn't Sheryl Crowe or Don Henly.
Who knew that there really IS a group called The Original Artists? Seriously? And they are really, really bad. I scored, 6, count 'em, 6 cds of crap music because I didn't read the fine print at the top of the list. I was pissed. I felt like an idiot. Now that's great marketing. Whoever came up with The Original Artists as a group of musicians, were genius.
Thankfully we weren't out of Bozo yet, so we turned around and I walked in with two 3-cd sets, TWO! that I wanted to return. I was not in the mood to hear no. I don't know who I was more pissed at: Hastings just for being Hastings, or the people that put out this kind of crap that people like me will jump on based on the list of SONGS by The Original Artists.
Damn, wish I'd thought of it.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Waiting for the phone to ring
I'm going on being unemployed for five months now. In that time, I have submitted countless applications, made countless phone calls and have had 3 interviews. In five months. I've responded to positions where I've been told to my face that I am over-qualified for the position, and asked why I was even bothering. The question is not finding the perfect job. The question is why NOT me?
I know I'm in good company when the unemployment rate in this country is over 9%. There are news items on almost a daily basis about people like me: unemployed for over six momths or more or underemployed and grateful to be working, Without exception, these people are my age, with my experience and background and have no health insurance or pension to fall back on.
It is my choice to live in a smaller community where the jobs are fairly limited. Quality of life matters to me and I am happy with my choice, however I am not satisfied with my options. The sad truth is I make more on unemployment than I would taking a $10/hr job. I'm humbled by this experience.
I could have taken a job at a guest ranch, where I would live on site for 5 months as a housekeeper. I thought of it as a paid summer camp. I would have jumped on that one, except I am in a relationship that would not survive a 5 month break. Jeff is my priority and needs me and that option was not a good one. I could have sold insurance door-to-door, and I actually gave that one some significant thought. The idea of going door-to-door however made my decision for me. I could have taken a temporary position in Big Sky for a 2 week conference, but I would have to commute, and 130 miles each way was out of the question.
So I sit in front of my computer each morning and scan the available positions in and around Livingston and Bozeman. If I were a roofer, I'd be working now. If I were a server, I could look forward to $7/hr with tips, but who wants to have a middle age woman coming to their table taking drink orders? I am no longer young and cute and frankly the idea of serving people I used to be professional peers with turns my stomach. I still have some pride left.
I am blessed to have a man in my life who is incredibly supportive. He doesn't want me to settle. We are making it work, even though I have my moments, if not days of depression and lack of self worth. I know I have a lot to offer. I know I am a hard worker. I know that I am smart and reliable and capable. These are my truths.
My reality, on the hand, hits me on the head on a daily basis. I run into people who ask how I am and how the job search is going. I tell them I am a lady of leisure these days. I garden and I go to the gym and keep the house straightened up. I take my dogs for long walks and do yoga and pilates and clip coupons. On really good days, I head to the ranch for pony time.
I keep waiting for the phone to ring. I keep my fingers crossed that the applications I've submitted have been well written and will come to the attention of someone, anyone, who wants to talk to me about a potential job. I keep on hoping and being the Queen of eternal optimism, I know something will come through. I can only hope its before I settle for the job opening at the dry cleaners in town and running pizzas as a second job.
Thanks for reading!
I know I'm in good company when the unemployment rate in this country is over 9%. There are news items on almost a daily basis about people like me: unemployed for over six momths or more or underemployed and grateful to be working, Without exception, these people are my age, with my experience and background and have no health insurance or pension to fall back on.
It is my choice to live in a smaller community where the jobs are fairly limited. Quality of life matters to me and I am happy with my choice, however I am not satisfied with my options. The sad truth is I make more on unemployment than I would taking a $10/hr job. I'm humbled by this experience.
I could have taken a job at a guest ranch, where I would live on site for 5 months as a housekeeper. I thought of it as a paid summer camp. I would have jumped on that one, except I am in a relationship that would not survive a 5 month break. Jeff is my priority and needs me and that option was not a good one. I could have sold insurance door-to-door, and I actually gave that one some significant thought. The idea of going door-to-door however made my decision for me. I could have taken a temporary position in Big Sky for a 2 week conference, but I would have to commute, and 130 miles each way was out of the question.
So I sit in front of my computer each morning and scan the available positions in and around Livingston and Bozeman. If I were a roofer, I'd be working now. If I were a server, I could look forward to $7/hr with tips, but who wants to have a middle age woman coming to their table taking drink orders? I am no longer young and cute and frankly the idea of serving people I used to be professional peers with turns my stomach. I still have some pride left.
I am blessed to have a man in my life who is incredibly supportive. He doesn't want me to settle. We are making it work, even though I have my moments, if not days of depression and lack of self worth. I know I have a lot to offer. I know I am a hard worker. I know that I am smart and reliable and capable. These are my truths.
My reality, on the hand, hits me on the head on a daily basis. I run into people who ask how I am and how the job search is going. I tell them I am a lady of leisure these days. I garden and I go to the gym and keep the house straightened up. I take my dogs for long walks and do yoga and pilates and clip coupons. On really good days, I head to the ranch for pony time.
I keep waiting for the phone to ring. I keep my fingers crossed that the applications I've submitted have been well written and will come to the attention of someone, anyone, who wants to talk to me about a potential job. I keep on hoping and being the Queen of eternal optimism, I know something will come through. I can only hope its before I settle for the job opening at the dry cleaners in town and running pizzas as a second job.
Thanks for reading!
Sunday, July 3, 2011
Being Queen: My Pride and My Joys
Being Queen: My Pride and My Joys: "It goes without saying that being a mother is the most incredible ride of a lifetime. I am obnoxiously proud of my son. He has weathered m..."
My Pride and My Joys
It goes without saying that being a mother is the most incredible ride of a lifetime. I am obnoxiously proud of my son. He has weathered my divorce from his father and has become a man with a golden heart, goals that he wants to achieve and a groundedness about him that warms my heart. I like to think that I helped him find that balance that we all look for in this life. His father is as conservative as I am liberal. Somewhere in the middle, my son learned from both of us and found his center.
I took my son to his first demonstration. He was under two and slept thru it all, however we were there to demonstrate to save the whales. His father stayed behind. I took my son to a gay pride demonstration when he was 8 years old. The guy on stilts scared him, but we were there and he understood why. We went to a Pro-Choice music festival that featured Gloria Steinman, Jackson Brown and Bonnie Rait in 1994. During intermission we saw baskets of condoms everywhere. My son asked me what they were. I said "you dad hasn't talked to you about this?" When he said no, we went back into the theater and I explained the facts of life to my 11 year old. The hardest, most uncomfortable conversation I've ever had with him, but we got through it. We marched in a Pro-Choice rally when he was 12. We were downtown for the swearing in of Bush II. It was a miserable, cold, rainy day and he asked me why we were there, because he knew I didn't vote for the guy. I explained that our American democratic system works, and even though the voters made a bad choice (in my humble opinion), the process works, and in four years we can vote him out. Didn't work out that way, but I still believe in our process and so does my son.
When he was 16 years old, I got a phone call about a "friend who was in trouble". We discussed their options for over an hour. I knew the "friend" was him, although I never let on that I knew. Turned out to only be a scare, but a scare nonetheless. His father raised him in the Catholic faith, for which I am grateful because I firmly believe all kids need a moral compass, no matter the faith. We were having dinner one night, and my son announces he wants to be a priest when he grows up. He was 11. I am open-minded to a fault, however this one threw me for a loop. We discussed why he wanted to become a priest, and I have never been prouder to hear his reasons: he wanted to help people. Ok, that's fair and I let it drop for a few weeks.
About a month later, again at the dinner table, I asked him about the whole priest thing. He replied, I'm not going to be a priest anymore. Why I asked? Because priests aren't allowed to have dogs he replied. We have always had four legs and fur underfoot and I asked him why couldn't priests have dogs? He replied, the parish supports the priest and he didn't think it was right to ask the parish to buy dogfood therefore he was no longer going to be a priest. I sent a prayer up in thanks and gave my dogs big hugs. He came to this conclusion on his own and I am grateful that he made a choice that was the best for him, and my Jewish family.
When I became a VISTA volunteer, my son came out to visit numerous times. This was where the rubber hit the road. Living with his father, my son had access to the best private school education, a car, a nice house and everything a kid could want or need. I could not offer him any of that, especially as a VISTA volunteer living under the poverty level.
During his visits, my son saw poverty and different cultures through clear eyes. He met a Navajo girl, who at 24 had lost her children because her husband killed them and then tried to kill her. She had come home to find her children dead and her husband waiting for her. She escaped out a window. He is in prison for a very long time. That is a harsh thing to hear when you are a teenager. He worked with me at the Edge of the Cedars Museum, helping keep the grounds in shape. He met Morman girls who fell in love with him on sight (he is very handsome, if I do say so) and I talked to him about the Morman culture and told him if he wanted to be married by 18 and have 4 kids by 23, he could take an interest in some seeing some of these girls. That worked like a charm, because I have instilled in him the idea that he doesn't get married and have kids until he's 27 years old. Where 27 came from I couldn't tell you, but he obviously listened to me and we have not converted to Mormanism.
While in Utah, my son and I visited Hovenweep, an Anazasi "fortress", the Four Corners monument, Monument Valley and the dirt mall as well as swimming holes in Bluff. During my first year, I hosted all the VISTAs for Thanksgiving and my son was there for the holiday. I've never been known for my ability to cook, but we all contributed to the dinner and fixings except we forgot one thing. The rolls in the oven. They had turned to charcoal and could be used as rocks to hurl a great distance. Those rolls still come up in conversation with a chuckle.
My son and I have gone camping, horseback riding and kayaking. He has always been my "little man" taking care of Momma, except now he is 6'2 and still looks out for me. During our camping trips he'd get the tent up and the fire started. He made sure we had everything we needed. I bought a small grill one summer and my son was going to make burgers. Except that we couldn't get the grill hot enough and those burgers kept falling through the cracks. He gets his cooking skills from his Momma.
There have been very tough times for my boy, but we have gotten through them. When necessary, Momma Bear comes out and no one gets the upper hand when Momma Bear is in the vicinity or 2500 miles away. My son has grown up seeing great material wealth and extreme poverty. He has experienced the evil in some people and the goodness in most. He has a good moral compass and empathy for those with less than he has.
Now my boy is a grown man. He is earning is Masters Degree from George Mason University after graduating from Radford, where he was the President of his fraternity. When he told me he was joining a fraternity in his sophmore year, I about had a fit. I didn't raise you to be a frat boy! I told him. I visited him on campus and he gave me a tour of the frat house. There was not one surface, including the floor that I wanted to touch. It was disgusting, even for me. He didn't live there, and his apartment was clean, which made Momma happy. In the end, he partied like a rock star, and built that fraternity up by raising money and membership. I couldn't be prouder of him. My kid may have been a frat boy, but he was focused, not necessarily on partying but on buiding a better organization for the group. Go figure.
Now the tables are turning in our lives, sort of. My son was here and helped Jeff pick out my engagement ring. My son will walk me down the aisle when we get married. He insists he's going to wear a suit, while I keep telling him "its Montana, jeans and a nice shirt are fine". No he tells me, I'm wearing a suit because you're my Momma and I am going to look good escorting you to Jeff. Be still my heart.
Life is full of joy and sorrow. Both have come our way, but the relationship I have with my boy will always and forever remain one of great joy and obnoxious pride. Next up, grandbabies, to which I intend to be Nanna. Sadly, he won't be 27 years old for another two years.
I took my son to his first demonstration. He was under two and slept thru it all, however we were there to demonstrate to save the whales. His father stayed behind. I took my son to a gay pride demonstration when he was 8 years old. The guy on stilts scared him, but we were there and he understood why. We went to a Pro-Choice music festival that featured Gloria Steinman, Jackson Brown and Bonnie Rait in 1994. During intermission we saw baskets of condoms everywhere. My son asked me what they were. I said "you dad hasn't talked to you about this?" When he said no, we went back into the theater and I explained the facts of life to my 11 year old. The hardest, most uncomfortable conversation I've ever had with him, but we got through it. We marched in a Pro-Choice rally when he was 12. We were downtown for the swearing in of Bush II. It was a miserable, cold, rainy day and he asked me why we were there, because he knew I didn't vote for the guy. I explained that our American democratic system works, and even though the voters made a bad choice (in my humble opinion), the process works, and in four years we can vote him out. Didn't work out that way, but I still believe in our process and so does my son.
When he was 16 years old, I got a phone call about a "friend who was in trouble". We discussed their options for over an hour. I knew the "friend" was him, although I never let on that I knew. Turned out to only be a scare, but a scare nonetheless. His father raised him in the Catholic faith, for which I am grateful because I firmly believe all kids need a moral compass, no matter the faith. We were having dinner one night, and my son announces he wants to be a priest when he grows up. He was 11. I am open-minded to a fault, however this one threw me for a loop. We discussed why he wanted to become a priest, and I have never been prouder to hear his reasons: he wanted to help people. Ok, that's fair and I let it drop for a few weeks.
About a month later, again at the dinner table, I asked him about the whole priest thing. He replied, I'm not going to be a priest anymore. Why I asked? Because priests aren't allowed to have dogs he replied. We have always had four legs and fur underfoot and I asked him why couldn't priests have dogs? He replied, the parish supports the priest and he didn't think it was right to ask the parish to buy dogfood therefore he was no longer going to be a priest. I sent a prayer up in thanks and gave my dogs big hugs. He came to this conclusion on his own and I am grateful that he made a choice that was the best for him, and my Jewish family.
When I became a VISTA volunteer, my son came out to visit numerous times. This was where the rubber hit the road. Living with his father, my son had access to the best private school education, a car, a nice house and everything a kid could want or need. I could not offer him any of that, especially as a VISTA volunteer living under the poverty level.
During his visits, my son saw poverty and different cultures through clear eyes. He met a Navajo girl, who at 24 had lost her children because her husband killed them and then tried to kill her. She had come home to find her children dead and her husband waiting for her. She escaped out a window. He is in prison for a very long time. That is a harsh thing to hear when you are a teenager. He worked with me at the Edge of the Cedars Museum, helping keep the grounds in shape. He met Morman girls who fell in love with him on sight (he is very handsome, if I do say so) and I talked to him about the Morman culture and told him if he wanted to be married by 18 and have 4 kids by 23, he could take an interest in some seeing some of these girls. That worked like a charm, because I have instilled in him the idea that he doesn't get married and have kids until he's 27 years old. Where 27 came from I couldn't tell you, but he obviously listened to me and we have not converted to Mormanism.
While in Utah, my son and I visited Hovenweep, an Anazasi "fortress", the Four Corners monument, Monument Valley and the dirt mall as well as swimming holes in Bluff. During my first year, I hosted all the VISTAs for Thanksgiving and my son was there for the holiday. I've never been known for my ability to cook, but we all contributed to the dinner and fixings except we forgot one thing. The rolls in the oven. They had turned to charcoal and could be used as rocks to hurl a great distance. Those rolls still come up in conversation with a chuckle.
My son and I have gone camping, horseback riding and kayaking. He has always been my "little man" taking care of Momma, except now he is 6'2 and still looks out for me. During our camping trips he'd get the tent up and the fire started. He made sure we had everything we needed. I bought a small grill one summer and my son was going to make burgers. Except that we couldn't get the grill hot enough and those burgers kept falling through the cracks. He gets his cooking skills from his Momma.
There have been very tough times for my boy, but we have gotten through them. When necessary, Momma Bear comes out and no one gets the upper hand when Momma Bear is in the vicinity or 2500 miles away. My son has grown up seeing great material wealth and extreme poverty. He has experienced the evil in some people and the goodness in most. He has a good moral compass and empathy for those with less than he has.
Now my boy is a grown man. He is earning is Masters Degree from George Mason University after graduating from Radford, where he was the President of his fraternity. When he told me he was joining a fraternity in his sophmore year, I about had a fit. I didn't raise you to be a frat boy! I told him. I visited him on campus and he gave me a tour of the frat house. There was not one surface, including the floor that I wanted to touch. It was disgusting, even for me. He didn't live there, and his apartment was clean, which made Momma happy. In the end, he partied like a rock star, and built that fraternity up by raising money and membership. I couldn't be prouder of him. My kid may have been a frat boy, but he was focused, not necessarily on partying but on buiding a better organization for the group. Go figure.
Now the tables are turning in our lives, sort of. My son was here and helped Jeff pick out my engagement ring. My son will walk me down the aisle when we get married. He insists he's going to wear a suit, while I keep telling him "its Montana, jeans and a nice shirt are fine". No he tells me, I'm wearing a suit because you're my Momma and I am going to look good escorting you to Jeff. Be still my heart.
Life is full of joy and sorrow. Both have come our way, but the relationship I have with my boy will always and forever remain one of great joy and obnoxious pride. Next up, grandbabies, to which I intend to be Nanna. Sadly, he won't be 27 years old for another two years.
Saturday, July 2, 2011
Family - Love 'Em or Let 'Em Be
I've been blessed with good health, an amazing son and incredible people in my life that I've met along the way. Family isn't in that blessing. Family is hard and you're pretty much stuck with who your family is. Some believe that you chose your family before you are born. I have a hard time with that concept, except to say that maybe my karma sucked and I have to make amends somehow.
My idea for the ideal family is taking interest in each other's lives. My family has never been one of great communicators. I'm actually the touchy, feeley one, I believe, because I've been surrounded by Virgos and Scorpios who don't believe in touch feeley anything. Interestly, my father was a Libra. All my dearest friends seem to be Libra's, but my father was not a typical Libra. I always thought he was a Virgo and that's why our relationship was the way it was. After he died, I realized that I inherited my wanderlust from my father, the Libra. And because the doctor's got Thomas' due date wrong, I have another Libra in my life. I was praying that he make it to the end of September and be a Libra, rather than another Virgo in my life. Maybe that's the good karma coming through. I've earned an incredible best friend, brilliant thinker and living up to his potential son. Maybe I'm on the right track to earning karma points back.
Virgos, from a December baby's perspective are tough and stand-offish. There is no sense of being part of a family unit between the two Virgos in my life and myself. When my father died, his wife moved the day of the memorial service up a day, and I could not get there in time. They did it anyway, and I never went. No one stood up and said, "hey, know what, Karyle was his only daughter, don't you think we should wait for her?" Nope. Never happened. I forgive them, but my relationship with his wife is irretreivable. I'd like to retreive it, but its easier sometimes to pick your battles, and this one is too personal. I can live without her in my life. My brothers on the other hand, are my brothers and I can forgive them. I don't think they have any cajones for not standing up for me, but I do forgive them.
And here's the thing, it doesn't really matter to any of us. I'm 2500 miles away for a reason. The Cohen clan has always been very distant with each other. Honestly I think it is a trust issue, but I can't imagine what started this behaviour in all of us. Out of sight out of mind should not be in the family equation. I keep expecting a different reception and everytime I come away disappointed that I don't have the type of family that sticks together and sticks up for each other and actually talks to one another. You've got your life, we've chosen to keep ours out of yours. I love being the black sheep of the family. At least I give them something to talk about, although I wouldn't know that for a fact.
I checked out of my family a long time ago. We had some great adventures, camping and river rafting and horseback riding and boy scouts and music. Somewhere along the way things changed and everyone shut down to each other. I feel closest to my youngest brother, yet he didn't want his picture taken with me at our nephew's Bar Mitzvah. My middle brother has had his issues and I think the last time we truly talked one-on-one for any length of time was back in middle school. Everyone has a damaged family at some level. Mine seems to be damaged at all levels.
Then there is my mother, the Scorpio. One of us had bad karma to get the other in our lives. My mother has always been beautiful, smart, athletic and a real piece of work. Somehow we start at a nice place (most of the time) and next thing you know, hurtful things are being said to each other. I would stand in front of a bus for her, but I can't help but wonder why we are so abrassive to each other. The day she told me that I would be the one to care for her in her dottage (my family lives to 100), because I was the only girl only had me thinking are you kidding me? That whole mother/daughter dynamic is not pretty. God bless her and keep her, far away from me.
I love my family and am very, very proud of them. I just need to accept them as they are and let 'em be.
My idea for the ideal family is taking interest in each other's lives. My family has never been one of great communicators. I'm actually the touchy, feeley one, I believe, because I've been surrounded by Virgos and Scorpios who don't believe in touch feeley anything. Interestly, my father was a Libra. All my dearest friends seem to be Libra's, but my father was not a typical Libra. I always thought he was a Virgo and that's why our relationship was the way it was. After he died, I realized that I inherited my wanderlust from my father, the Libra. And because the doctor's got Thomas' due date wrong, I have another Libra in my life. I was praying that he make it to the end of September and be a Libra, rather than another Virgo in my life. Maybe that's the good karma coming through. I've earned an incredible best friend, brilliant thinker and living up to his potential son. Maybe I'm on the right track to earning karma points back.
Virgos, from a December baby's perspective are tough and stand-offish. There is no sense of being part of a family unit between the two Virgos in my life and myself. When my father died, his wife moved the day of the memorial service up a day, and I could not get there in time. They did it anyway, and I never went. No one stood up and said, "hey, know what, Karyle was his only daughter, don't you think we should wait for her?" Nope. Never happened. I forgive them, but my relationship with his wife is irretreivable. I'd like to retreive it, but its easier sometimes to pick your battles, and this one is too personal. I can live without her in my life. My brothers on the other hand, are my brothers and I can forgive them. I don't think they have any cajones for not standing up for me, but I do forgive them.
And here's the thing, it doesn't really matter to any of us. I'm 2500 miles away for a reason. The Cohen clan has always been very distant with each other. Honestly I think it is a trust issue, but I can't imagine what started this behaviour in all of us. Out of sight out of mind should not be in the family equation. I keep expecting a different reception and everytime I come away disappointed that I don't have the type of family that sticks together and sticks up for each other and actually talks to one another. You've got your life, we've chosen to keep ours out of yours. I love being the black sheep of the family. At least I give them something to talk about, although I wouldn't know that for a fact.
I checked out of my family a long time ago. We had some great adventures, camping and river rafting and horseback riding and boy scouts and music. Somewhere along the way things changed and everyone shut down to each other. I feel closest to my youngest brother, yet he didn't want his picture taken with me at our nephew's Bar Mitzvah. My middle brother has had his issues and I think the last time we truly talked one-on-one for any length of time was back in middle school. Everyone has a damaged family at some level. Mine seems to be damaged at all levels.
Then there is my mother, the Scorpio. One of us had bad karma to get the other in our lives. My mother has always been beautiful, smart, athletic and a real piece of work. Somehow we start at a nice place (most of the time) and next thing you know, hurtful things are being said to each other. I would stand in front of a bus for her, but I can't help but wonder why we are so abrassive to each other. The day she told me that I would be the one to care for her in her dottage (my family lives to 100), because I was the only girl only had me thinking are you kidding me? That whole mother/daughter dynamic is not pretty. God bless her and keep her, far away from me.
I love my family and am very, very proud of them. I just need to accept them as they are and let 'em be.
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