The new Tower of Babel is technology;
It seems that no two systems are the same.
Before I can communicate with anyone,
I need a password and a user name.
We are warned not to repeat them
From one secure account to another.
Is it getting to where we need secret names
With even our sisters and our brothers?
The sound of the voices of those I love
Is my preferred communication tool.
But with the speed at which life is lived,
Time between talks can be too cruel.
My daughter prefers that I text her;
My son wants no message left on his phone.
He checks and returns the missed calls;
I guess he does this when he's all alone.
The grandkids are into facebook posting,
Which is the way I most often see them.
My nephews and nieces mix it up;
It seems to depend on their whim.
Facebook is fine for small talk,
But I'm much too long-winded for that.
At least with the use of email,
We can have a longer "chat".
When having a misunderstanding,
Sometimes I find it to be better,
To put my discussions with others
In the form of a well-thought-out letter.
I do not mean to imply that
I often make use of snail mail.
I hate to send out greetings that,
By the time they arrive, they are stale.
I leave it up to each person
To let me know their preference,
And unless I want to be correctly quoted,
I usually give them deference.
The Tower of Babel seems to prevail
In my relationship paradise.
At least with written communication
Before "talking", we can all think twice.
Friday, February 25, 2011
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Back to Basics
My niece told me yesterday that she sees me as the family's chief cheerleader. Could this really be the case? Is my role in life to offer encouragement to those who are getting bloodied and beaten on the battlefield of life? Into what a weird place this puts my mind!
I was a cheerleader in grammar school, chosen by a group of boys who stated that they voted for me because of my loud voice. Once I graduated and went to an all-girl school, I was no longer chosen for any honors, as my loud voice was seen as a negative nuisance.
I figured that I had a shot at being chosen if I tried out for a spot on the cheer leading squad of our brother school, but I didn't really like the superior, snarky attitudes of most of the top tier sportsmen at that academic institution. I also knew that being chosen was not a way to earn friendship or favor with the other girls in my class. What was The Almighty thinking placing me in the midst of a stable of sneakily competitive sisters?
Southern women, for the most part, won't confront you; they simply shun you, expecting you to magically know why. This obviously is not my way. If I don't like something, I tell you; we can then negotiate for change. I don't always get my way, but at least we know how to avoid issues that throw rocks into our relationship.
Since graduating from grammar school, I've generally had disdain for the cheerleader types, mainly because they are mostly dedicated to whipping up adoration for a bunch of bullies. This was definitely not how I wanted to spend my life; and now I'm seen as a cheerleader by one of my almost-daughters. I guess we can run from our destinies, but we cannot hide. Our true selves will eventually be outed.
At least I'm back to the basics where I began. I cheer just as loudly for the hard-working females as I do the males. And I don't ever encourage unsportsmanlike behavior, aka, bullying.
I was a cheerleader in grammar school, chosen by a group of boys who stated that they voted for me because of my loud voice. Once I graduated and went to an all-girl school, I was no longer chosen for any honors, as my loud voice was seen as a negative nuisance.
I figured that I had a shot at being chosen if I tried out for a spot on the cheer leading squad of our brother school, but I didn't really like the superior, snarky attitudes of most of the top tier sportsmen at that academic institution. I also knew that being chosen was not a way to earn friendship or favor with the other girls in my class. What was The Almighty thinking placing me in the midst of a stable of sneakily competitive sisters?
Southern women, for the most part, won't confront you; they simply shun you, expecting you to magically know why. This obviously is not my way. If I don't like something, I tell you; we can then negotiate for change. I don't always get my way, but at least we know how to avoid issues that throw rocks into our relationship.
Since graduating from grammar school, I've generally had disdain for the cheerleader types, mainly because they are mostly dedicated to whipping up adoration for a bunch of bullies. This was definitely not how I wanted to spend my life; and now I'm seen as a cheerleader by one of my almost-daughters. I guess we can run from our destinies, but we cannot hide. Our true selves will eventually be outed.
At least I'm back to the basics where I began. I cheer just as loudly for the hard-working females as I do the males. And I don't ever encourage unsportsmanlike behavior, aka, bullying.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
What I Was Meant to Be
It feels so good to be back to a routine. The thing that I missed most about our lives before Richard became disabled was a rhythm to our lives created by his schedule. I was brought up to wait on those who take care of others. No matter how I fight this, it's still my comfort zone. This isn't a problem for me as long as there are young families, non-profit public relations efforts, or recuperating family and friends around.
When Richard was working, his schedule was brutal; many weeks he worked well over sixty hours. We had to carefully plan any time together. As social as I am, I'd often have to declare a week-end of "just the two of us". I often thought that I could be happy with only the two of us and the occasional visit from family and friends. I got what I wished for, in spades.
After Richard became ill, his energy was limited; simply having him continuing to breath became my primary goal. We had to limit his exposure to the germs of others, so having him around babies and small children was dangerous. My world contracted to be all about him and his health, but we still had easy access to our family and friends when we (or I)wanted company.
When Hurricane Katrina wiped out our house, our neighbors' homes, and the homes of most of our families and friends, she left behind all kinds of microorganisms that were potentially deadly to my man. We went away, but still came back often to help our people rebuild. They are all settled again, and we've been missing the celebrations.
I like to be home, preparing for my man's return. This requires that he go somewhere. There were only very few places to go in Coker Creek, and there was no urgency to anything. I also don't like to be in organizations that change my priorities from family and friends to hobbies.
For eleven years I've been creating daily events to give us a sense of purpose. In our little house in the forest, we were entirely focused on each other. We have about worn each other out with togetherness.
Now that Richard has daily employment (although it is volunteering), I can spend my days reading, writing, and being the best wife, mother, granny, and aunt that I know how to be. This feels like the life that I was meant to live.
When Richard was working, his schedule was brutal; many weeks he worked well over sixty hours. We had to carefully plan any time together. As social as I am, I'd often have to declare a week-end of "just the two of us". I often thought that I could be happy with only the two of us and the occasional visit from family and friends. I got what I wished for, in spades.
After Richard became ill, his energy was limited; simply having him continuing to breath became my primary goal. We had to limit his exposure to the germs of others, so having him around babies and small children was dangerous. My world contracted to be all about him and his health, but we still had easy access to our family and friends when we (or I)wanted company.
When Hurricane Katrina wiped out our house, our neighbors' homes, and the homes of most of our families and friends, she left behind all kinds of microorganisms that were potentially deadly to my man. We went away, but still came back often to help our people rebuild. They are all settled again, and we've been missing the celebrations.
I like to be home, preparing for my man's return. This requires that he go somewhere. There were only very few places to go in Coker Creek, and there was no urgency to anything. I also don't like to be in organizations that change my priorities from family and friends to hobbies.
For eleven years I've been creating daily events to give us a sense of purpose. In our little house in the forest, we were entirely focused on each other. We have about worn each other out with togetherness.
Now that Richard has daily employment (although it is volunteering), I can spend my days reading, writing, and being the best wife, mother, granny, and aunt that I know how to be. This feels like the life that I was meant to live.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
A New Normal
I, who wanted never to own another house after Hurricane Katrina, now has a house in the holler and am attempting to buy a lot on the lake on which to build a second home. What could possibly be wrong with this picture?
We have spoken to friends who have a storefront from which to rent out our mountain retreat when we're not in residence. They have assured us that there is a market for such a spot as our eight plus acres complete with stables, fish pond, RV electric outlets, wi-fi and satellite TV. It also comes with a mountain dog to patrol the perimeter and keep the beasties and ghoulies at bay.
Other friends have contacted us about the prospect of selling or leasing our Coker Creek cabin at the edge of the forest to friends of theirs from Florida. We could certainly make other arrangements for where we would stay when we wanted to come back to Coker Creek to visit. We may even be able to stay in our RV on what would have formerly been our piece of mountain paradise.
We now know that the distances that our families have to travel precludes their frequent visiting of us, up there. We also ascertained that our house was too small to accommodate a significant number of our extended entourage when we had twenty-five folks over for the holidays and twice overflowed our septic system. The brood continues to blossom, so we were going to have to come up with alternative accommodations if we ever wanted to host another "Holidays in the Holler".
Decisions, decisions. What will the wanderers do?
For the time being, we're happily co-habitating where there's a maintenance crew which comes when we call, at no extra expense to us. We have to pay no taxes or insurance, other than that included in our rent. If there's grass to cut, it's not ours. The pool has a barbecue pit on the adjoining patio, both of which are dockside. It seems so simple and serene.
I may be able to get used to the stomping above our heads in the adjoining upstairs unit. When summer comes, I may also not object to the music pouring into our windows and door from poolside. Having dinner parties with only one other adult couple may become our new normal. It could happen...
We have spoken to friends who have a storefront from which to rent out our mountain retreat when we're not in residence. They have assured us that there is a market for such a spot as our eight plus acres complete with stables, fish pond, RV electric outlets, wi-fi and satellite TV. It also comes with a mountain dog to patrol the perimeter and keep the beasties and ghoulies at bay.
Other friends have contacted us about the prospect of selling or leasing our Coker Creek cabin at the edge of the forest to friends of theirs from Florida. We could certainly make other arrangements for where we would stay when we wanted to come back to Coker Creek to visit. We may even be able to stay in our RV on what would have formerly been our piece of mountain paradise.
We now know that the distances that our families have to travel precludes their frequent visiting of us, up there. We also ascertained that our house was too small to accommodate a significant number of our extended entourage when we had twenty-five folks over for the holidays and twice overflowed our septic system. The brood continues to blossom, so we were going to have to come up with alternative accommodations if we ever wanted to host another "Holidays in the Holler".
Decisions, decisions. What will the wanderers do?
For the time being, we're happily co-habitating where there's a maintenance crew which comes when we call, at no extra expense to us. We have to pay no taxes or insurance, other than that included in our rent. If there's grass to cut, it's not ours. The pool has a barbecue pit on the adjoining patio, both of which are dockside. It seems so simple and serene.
I may be able to get used to the stomping above our heads in the adjoining upstairs unit. When summer comes, I may also not object to the music pouring into our windows and door from poolside. Having dinner parties with only one other adult couple may become our new normal. It could happen...
Monday, February 21, 2011
Sunday Sojourn
Our niece Marj joined us for my first night at the apartment, camped out on an air mattress on the living room floor. Since this is a one-bedroom unit, that's the only way to accommodate overnight guests.
When we woke on Saturday, Richard had already left for his beloved PT Boat. Marj and I drove to see her sister and my son's family in Mississippi, an hour away. How nice it was to be able to take a day trip to be with my boy and his babies, and still get home to have supper with my sweetie.
The next day, I had to return the car lent to me by my daughter-in-law when my van wouldn't start because I had left my lights on. The strangest thing happened when we tried to jump it. Every time we connected the cables, the panic horn would begin to blare. Rather than have me miss my reunion with Richard, my son agreed to work out the problem before I came back for Marj. I knew I could get Richard to drive Marj's truck to Mississippi, so we left her little red truck in the apartment parking lot in Louisiana.
Richard and I have a deal; now that he gets to spend six days a week working with his boat builder buddies, he has agreed to spend Sundays socializing. Yesterday was our first morning of relaxing together at our new home. We began by having coffee together before jumping into our day. It was lovely to loll around in our pajamas savoring the time together.
We then took our time driving to Mississippi. Upon arriving in Ocean Springs, we were graced with the presence of Marj and her sister Mel, both college students, even though Mel is also a mother of two baby boys. It was so exciting to sit having sushi while they regaled us with their stories of adventures in academia.
This Sunday sojourn was followed by time with Mel's husband and boys. If I had known that her professional cook husband was at the stove at his home, I'd have probably skipped the sushi. I knew I was home when he put some of his chicken cooked Creole-style to my lips. When he left for work, after having put their fussy baby boy to sleep, Richard sat on the floor with the three-year-old building cabins with Lincoln Logs. This gave me and Mel lots of uninterrupted time to catch up.
The day ended with a trip to a casino buffet for the snow crab legs I had been promising our daughter-in-law since before Christmas. What a glorious way to spend the Sunday, in the company of several of the people we most love.
When we woke on Saturday, Richard had already left for his beloved PT Boat. Marj and I drove to see her sister and my son's family in Mississippi, an hour away. How nice it was to be able to take a day trip to be with my boy and his babies, and still get home to have supper with my sweetie.
The next day, I had to return the car lent to me by my daughter-in-law when my van wouldn't start because I had left my lights on. The strangest thing happened when we tried to jump it. Every time we connected the cables, the panic horn would begin to blare. Rather than have me miss my reunion with Richard, my son agreed to work out the problem before I came back for Marj. I knew I could get Richard to drive Marj's truck to Mississippi, so we left her little red truck in the apartment parking lot in Louisiana.
Richard and I have a deal; now that he gets to spend six days a week working with his boat builder buddies, he has agreed to spend Sundays socializing. Yesterday was our first morning of relaxing together at our new home. We began by having coffee together before jumping into our day. It was lovely to loll around in our pajamas savoring the time together.
We then took our time driving to Mississippi. Upon arriving in Ocean Springs, we were graced with the presence of Marj and her sister Mel, both college students, even though Mel is also a mother of two baby boys. It was so exciting to sit having sushi while they regaled us with their stories of adventures in academia.
This Sunday sojourn was followed by time with Mel's husband and boys. If I had known that her professional cook husband was at the stove at his home, I'd have probably skipped the sushi. I knew I was home when he put some of his chicken cooked Creole-style to my lips. When he left for work, after having put their fussy baby boy to sleep, Richard sat on the floor with the three-year-old building cabins with Lincoln Logs. This gave me and Mel lots of uninterrupted time to catch up.
The day ended with a trip to a casino buffet for the snow crab legs I had been promising our daughter-in-law since before Christmas. What a glorious way to spend the Sunday, in the company of several of the people we most love.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Sunrise on the Stucco
Here I sit, cup of coffee in hand,
Looking at the water while waiting for my man.
He likes to sleep in and stay up late;
I, usually, to start the day can't wait.
I had hoped to see the sunrise,
But the fog was rather thick,
And the orientation of the windows
Doesn't help one bit.
Will I have to get my shoes on
And begin sunrise walks?
Or will I still require my morning
Online friendly talks?
I see the reflected colors of sunrise
On a white wall across the harbor;
This will have to suffice
For this morning's starter.
Looking at the water while waiting for my man.
He likes to sleep in and stay up late;
I, usually, to start the day can't wait.
I had hoped to see the sunrise,
But the fog was rather thick,
And the orientation of the windows
Doesn't help one bit.
Will I have to get my shoes on
And begin sunrise walks?
Or will I still require my morning
Online friendly talks?
I see the reflected colors of sunrise
On a white wall across the harbor;
This will have to suffice
For this morning's starter.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Healing, Home, and the Heart
We leave our lovely mountains today. We will return, but I don't think it will still be our home. I no longer know how to feel about this place that has been home for almost five years. And I don't know how to put in perspective the relationships we've built.
It's not that I don't value our friends in the mountains, it's just that I don't have the strength to completely open my heart to a whole new set of people. Nothing makes us more vulnerable than open hearts, and I don't think I can do justice to the emotional investments of any more folks. My heart is already bursting with the people now in it.
There's a phrase in the Bible, attributed to God, "I know mine, and mine know me." This is the ultimate in intimacy. When we open our hearts to others, we often need a group of intimate friends to hold onto us as we enter into love. Only then can we be sure of remaining ourselves, in addition to being at home in our blended selves. I want to spend my last years among the people who I know and who know me.
The phrase, " A friend is someone who knows all about you and loves you anyway." gives me great comfort as I age. Home is really where the heart is, and my heart must be completely open in order to feel at home. My people are part of who I am, and I am a part of my people. My people are those with whom I bond to be stronger together than we are without each other. That is what makes them mine.
I also want to exercise the strength Richard and I have gained, individually and as a couple, in being available those of our people who are vulnerable by virtue of opening their hearts and souls to marriage and children. We want to be with them in their trials and tribulations, as well as their celebrations.
Home is where the healing is. I don't have a lot of faith in anonymous psychology, religion, or self-help without those who know us and our history. We can't help each other heal wounds that we cannot, or will not, see. The deeper the wounds the more we need those who really know us and know where our wounds were formed.
Maybe my mountains will become a retreat where we come to simply rest and be.
It's not that I don't value our friends in the mountains, it's just that I don't have the strength to completely open my heart to a whole new set of people. Nothing makes us more vulnerable than open hearts, and I don't think I can do justice to the emotional investments of any more folks. My heart is already bursting with the people now in it.
There's a phrase in the Bible, attributed to God, "I know mine, and mine know me." This is the ultimate in intimacy. When we open our hearts to others, we often need a group of intimate friends to hold onto us as we enter into love. Only then can we be sure of remaining ourselves, in addition to being at home in our blended selves. I want to spend my last years among the people who I know and who know me.
The phrase, " A friend is someone who knows all about you and loves you anyway." gives me great comfort as I age. Home is really where the heart is, and my heart must be completely open in order to feel at home. My people are part of who I am, and I am a part of my people. My people are those with whom I bond to be stronger together than we are without each other. That is what makes them mine.
I also want to exercise the strength Richard and I have gained, individually and as a couple, in being available those of our people who are vulnerable by virtue of opening their hearts and souls to marriage and children. We want to be with them in their trials and tribulations, as well as their celebrations.
Home is where the healing is. I don't have a lot of faith in anonymous psychology, religion, or self-help without those who know us and our history. We can't help each other heal wounds that we cannot, or will not, see. The deeper the wounds the more we need those who really know us and know where our wounds were formed.
Maybe my mountains will become a retreat where we come to simply rest and be.
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