Remembering a Mother...

It may seem an odd source of inspiration, but last Saturday we gave ourselves a movie day, mostly due to the fact that it was so scorchingly hot outside we wanted to take advantage of the air conditioning a movie theatre provides. I mean, why not?

One of the movies we saw was Amy Schumers "Trainwreck". Amy is funny and she goes to places with her comedy that can sometimes be jarring and crass but she is real. There is a moment in the movie where she is speaking at her fathers funeral. Now, this is a man that was, for some, not the best person or the best father but her character loved her father dearly. As his daughter, she delivered a eulogy that was honest and touching and again, real. She said things about him that most people would never dane to approach when honoring a dead relative. At one point she asked for those that thought her father was an "asshole" to raise their hands...most of them did. She didn't ask that to be mean, she was being honest and real. Honoring her father in as real of a manner that she could. This led me to reflect on the passing of my own parents and what I could have done differently to honor them either in an eulogy or in how their services were conducted.

Today, four years ago, my mother left this world and my world. While I knew my mother was leaving me, that didn't make the blow any easier. It was a very deep one, one I feel as deeply today. I do believe that I tried to be the best daughter I could have been, but far from perfect. What I do wish I had been better with is her funeral. Grief does many things to you, one of which is it doesn't allow you the clarity to make sound decisions. The movie scene made me think about what I SHOULD have said at my mothers funeral. Mind you, I didn't speak at all. I regret that and it made me think about things I should've said but didn't. So, to honor my mother on this the fourth anniversary of her passing, here are things I should've said to honor my mother...

First and foremost, my mother loved her Lord and her church. Her faith was as important to her as her family and she did her best to live her life as a reflection of her faith. My mother was a christian woman.

My mother had absolutely zero confidence in herself and in her abilities of which were many.
She did not like herself and as a result, lived her life through me and my brother. This drove me crazy and was probably the wedge that was a big part of our relationship.
It made me crazy that she hated herself so much and even crazier that she didn't know how talented she was.

My mother suffered a great loss. Many years later it dawned on me that she was only in her early forties when he was killed. She seemed so much older then. The loss of my only brother at the age of twenty-one changed not only my mother but her relationship with my father and with me. During the weeks she was declining, she asked me if I had had a happy childhood. All I could muster, was "yeah. It was fine Mom". This was clearly important to her that she provided me with a happy childhood. She did. They did. They did the best they could for people who lost a beloved son.

My mother was a wonderful artist. She did not do macrame however. (this is a sarcastic nod to the minister who mentioned her many talents at her funeral and said she did macrame...I wasn't pleased because SHE NEVER DID ANY FREAKIN MACRAME)

She had beautiful handwriting.

She sang tenor in the church choir and really wanted to be brave enough to be a singer. She confided that when she was younger she wanted to be a Big Band Singer.

Mom would have done anything for her grandchildren...anything (probably not murder though).

Dad apparently wanted to move to either Los Angeles or New York City to pursue a career in the new world of television. She wouldn't move because she didn't want to leave her parents. She often wondered what our lives would have been had she given Dad the okay. I can only imagine.

Mom was a beautiful woman. She just never believed it.

Mom warned me often of the dangers of drinking and smoking. She would always say, "I never understood the appeal of pulling smoke into your mouth and blowing it back out". There is a picture of her from the 40's sitting at a table in a club with her girlfriends, a glass of beer in front of her. She would always say that "that wasn't mine! It was there when we sat down!" I just smiled.

My mother was a wonderfully kind woman. She felt things deeply and got hurt easily. I know I hurt her a lot and I wish I could tell her how sorry I am. I was being selfish.

I hope my mother knows how much she was / is loved by me and our family and that we feel her presence everyday in our lives in one way or another. Her influence in our lives, our careers is prevalent in how we conduct ourselves as human beings. Being kind and encouraging is indeed important. Thank you Mom for your influence and teachings in our lives. We would not be who we are today without you. You are loved and missed.

Your loving daughter, Shelley Jean

Costa Rica revisited

     Last week, me and my friends, who are more like family, sat in a restaurant down the street from my apartment and discussed the fundraiser we are planning for one of our group who has been diagnosed with breast cancer. While the topic was solemn, we always manage to find moments to reminisce and laugh about our times together on stage.
     Two of our group were in town from Costa Rica, where they have called home for the past few years. When they moved, they purchased a vacation home to rent to people like myself and then built another rental home right next door. Back in 2008 we had the opportunity to take a vacation to Manuel Antonio, to one of their vacation homes. I can honestly say that it was one of the most astonishing vacations I have ever taken.
     While we sat at the table in the restaurant discussing Costa Rica, I couldn't help but think about our week there and all of the beauty we took in.
     At the house was a balcony where I would go each morning before most everyone else was up, and I would journal what I saw and what we were experiencing. When we got home from the restaurant I took the time to re-read some of what I wrote to recall those memories. One of the moments I journaled was about our day zip-lining, repelling and Tarzan swinging through the rainforest. Allow me to give you a little highlight of what I wrote...

     "Here we were in the rainforest having our adventure and it was raining down on us and it felt great! The young boys guiding us chatted us up along the way - asking our names and where were were from. They were really great and we felt very safe with them. We came up on one very long platform where it was up to us to break for ourselves before we hit the platform. You put your left hand on your strap and the right you put above and behind your head only with the forefinger and thumb, like an OK sign and you would squeeze down and brake when they told you to. The further behind your head you put your hand, the straighter and faster you would go. Erin went in front of me and she broke to soon before the platform and she had to pull herself the rest of the way! We laughed hard about that! I sped along and landed perfectly...I was loving this! Here we all were, having a wonderful, fear conquering adventure in the rainforest, while rain poured down on us - cleansing us of all fears and doubts. I felt so renewed". 

   Sitting on the balcony at the beautiful home of our friends, listening to the ocean and hearing the monkeys in the trees gave me the opportunity to recall this adventure and write about it as the sun came up on the horizon. I long for this kind of adventure again and this kind of beauty. Too much time in-between.
     What I am saying here is, GO THERE! If you have ever wanted to go to another country and never have had the opportunity, go there. If you are needing to take some time to relax, rekindle, meditate, whatever...GO THERE. Our friends are wonderful people who will make sure you have a wonderful time. Go to their website and check out the house they have named, Casa Mono Congo. The place where the Howler Monkeys will awaken you each morning - where little capuchin monkeys come to hang and play - the place where right up the road you can get an amazing massage - the place where down the road is a wonderful beach where lounge chairs and buckets of beer are waiting for you. Go to Casa Mongo Congo and relax. It's time. Time again for us too.

http://monocongo.com





     

Eldorado Home...

I have not taken the opportunity to write very much lately as I have been pretty busy, to say the least. That has not stopped my brain from swirling around thoughts and ideas of what I should be writing about. So many things going through my head that I must be better about taking a moment to write those down when they pop up.

Lately, thoughts of my grandparents and my childhood visits to Eldorado, IL have been coming to mind. I follow a group on Facebook that posts pictures from days gone by in Eldorado. Days I don't recall but the locations are all very familiar. I think a lot about the home my grandparents built and lived in and raised my mom and uncle in. That house is now gone. I was told that it burned down not long after I took a Mothers Day weekend in 2012 and travelled to Eldorado just so I could drive by that house and get a glimpse of it one more time. The home that had a great big walnut tree in the back yard and it would drop giant walnuts on me and my friends periodically.

The home where I spent countless hours in my pappaws work shop helping him with his projects. The home with the big back yard where I learned how to walk and then run on the stilts my papaw made for me.
The home where at night on the porch we would sit and listen to the cicadas chirp and get louder and louder sending us running into the house when they would suddenly be buzzing around us, scaring us.
The home where I would sit with my pappaw and count the cars as they drove by, keeping tick marks on a piece of cardboard with a pencil sharpened by one of the many pocket knives he possessed. The home where my nana would wake up at 6am and begin making a big breakfast of biscuits and gravy, eggs and bacon (from the butcher). No one cooked like nana. She had a wonderful little apron that she wore most of the time as she was always either cooking or cleaning or sewing.
 The home that at one time had a coal burning furnace so there was a coal room in the basement. Coal would be delivered and go down a chute outside the house into this room. Sometimes, I would find myself deciding to just go into that room and lay in there with a book. Odd, I know, but for some reason, I found this room quite comforting.
The home where I learned that my grandfather, because of his mining skills, created a basement under the house with dynamite and then had the house turned to face a different direction.

So, I don't really know why these moments and these thoughts are more prevalent these days. Perhaps it is the fall weather and the smells in the air that remind me of those times. That place and those times are some of the best parts of my life. That home, that once contained the laughter of my ancestors and my family may be no longer, but the heart of those who resided in it and loved it still remains with me forever.  I love and miss that home probably more than any other...

Uncle Donald

My Uncle Donald...

The baby brother of my father and quite possibly one of the most kind, patient, funny and lovely men I have ever had in my life.

My dear Uncle was recently diagnosed with brain cancer. He began exhibiting symptoms, true symptoms upon returning from visiting his daughter in Texas who is dying of brain cancer.

I spent the day at the hospital with my Aunt and her friends while he went through a biopsy. I've just heard today that the results of the biopsy are not good. He has been told to get his affairs in order and to travel and do the things he likes to do. They are no longer recommending any treatment, something that had been discussed prior to the biopsy.

All we can do is love him and hold him near. To think that the last ties to my father will be gone. The last connection to my childhood, the tragedies that followed my family and the man that has all the stories and the memories.

I will be there for them, as they were for me through my dad's illness and passing and through my mom's. I will help him with whatever he needs me to do for him. I will be there for my cousins in whatever way they need me to be. Family is important. No matter how big or how small.

He is a Godly man who loves his wife dearly, who has the same laugh and smile as my father and who finds humor and love in every part of his life.

Our little family. We were always smaller than most families but we had a joy and a love of laughter and love of life that is like none other.

I love you Uncle Donald. I love you a lot dear man...

Perspective

I made the decision to continue my education last fall and earn my Masters in Education with a focus on technology. At the time it seemed like a good idea but I gotta tell you, this is kickin my butt a bit! I'm in a class right now that has really challenged me and made me question why I started down this path yet again. To borrow from one of my fav shows, Modern Family, I've been taking a ride on the WAAAAMBULANCE! With everything that has been swirling around me - friends losing parents, friends who are sick or passing etc., who am I to jump on the pity party train? Seriously? It's a class Shelley - get some perspective!

This morning, in what is becoming a smaller circle of friends, we found out that we have lost yet another one of us. Our friend Milt Petritch made his transition around 1:15 AM after many years of health issues. His body could just not take one more procedure, one more failure. Milt was anything but that. He was a vibrant man who loved theater, loved making theater and loved theater people. I shared the stage with him during a production of Kiss Me Kate many years ago as he and the dear Howard Hahn "brushed up their Shakespeare." We had a glorious time that summer laughing and sighing as we waited to see if Milt and Howard would ever get the lyrics and the dance movements correct! We would wait back stage holding our breathe and low and behold THEY DID IT! FINALLY! We all laughed backstage as they both breathed a sigh of relief. What a pair!
Now, Milt and Howard have passed on - months apart. I can only imagine the celebration in heaven that is taking place as Milt makes his entrance. Etel is telling him to "MOVE ON DOWN" while Steven tells him that he could have made that entrance much better and to let him show him how it should be done! Herb is sitting with a drink, waving Milt over with some music he wants to work on later - after drinks. Before you know it, Charlie, the dog walks in saying, "pffff pffff" as Etel says, "See! He's saying FFFFood! Standing by watching, smiling and applauding are all of our parents who have left us but never left our audiences.
Milt, you are one of the many characters I've had the good fortune to have known. I'm proud to have shared the stage with you. Take your bow my friend because you've got yourself a standing ovation for  the life you've led. Rest now dear one...you're on break.

The Life of an Orphan...

Over the past few weeks I have watched as friends have said their final goodbyes to their mothers. I have watched so much love and support being given to them on their Facebook pages as they inform all of us of their loss. We watch over weeks as they make attempts to claw their way back to some sort of normalcy and at times find it difficult. It hurts my heart and soul to know exactly what they are going through.

I lost my mom back in August of 2011. I had the summer to prepare for it (if that's even possible), to prepare for joining the ranks of friends and family members who are orphans. It seems silly to call ourselves an orphan because that is typically a label used for children living in orphanages in the 1920's or 30's right? Nope, those of us who no longer have a living parent are...orphans. We no longer have a parent...orphan. No one who calls you when you are busy...no one to buy you silly presents that you don't need or want...no one to call you in the middle of the night because they need to go to the hospital...no one to have mothers or fathers day brunch with...no one to send you a "Happy Birthday Daughter" card...no one to believe in you like no one has ever believed in you...no one to make you laugh because they say the most ridiculous things...no one to hold you when you just want your mom...no one to send you bothersome forwards about how horrible Obama is and that Muslims are taking over the world...no one to talk about the Bears and complain about Cubs pitching with...no one to say to you, "I just love to hear you sing honey...". No one like...a parent.

So, why am I writing about this now? I don't know...I think in watching my friends lose their moms it has brought back the realization of how quickly it all goes by and we are all, many of us, in the same boat. We are now exactly where are parents were just a few short years ago when they lost their parents, our grandparents. I don't know if I realized just how difficult it may have been for my parents to go through that. After all, they had buried a son before they buried a parent.

After they are gone, we have the job of dealing with their things. Family treasures, photographs, their house, stuff we left at their house because we thought we would never want it only to find that we're so happy they hung onto it for us. Things we will pass down to our children and hope that it means as much to them as it does to us. I have a lot of my parents things. I wonder at times how much longer I can hold onto these things but then I realize, I must hold onto them. They are all I have left of my parents. That and memories. My children and my grandchildren need to know them better and carry on the traditions and memories that have always been a part of who we are. To deny themselves these things is denying who they came from. For me, its an even greater responsibility.


So dear friends, we are in yet another stage of our lives and we need to be there for each other in a way we may not have been before. Hold each other up, cry and laugh and know that if needed, we will be there. Just like our parents would, with patience and understanding and unconditional love. Most of all, unconditional love.

Normal everyday curiosity...

I was just given the best giggle I've had in a long time. Walking back home from a couple hours of focusing and writing at, yes...Starbucks, I found myself walking behind what appeared to be a five year old girl, her mother or nanny and a little boy around...maybe two. I could hear lots of questions being raised by the little girl and the woman answering her patiently as we all continued our jaunt. She was asking about stores, about the Swedish Museum we had just passed, about the cars and things on the sidewalk etc. I was drawn to this, mostly because I raised two little girls and a little boy who were always full of questions and observations and also because it just made me happy to see and hear such loveliness. A nice reminder of days gone by.

We had just passed a few bars with people standing outside smoking, she said nothing, just walked and then we came upon the clothing store that has the two headless male mannequins out on the sidewalk. These mannequins are clothed only in men's bikini underwear and mesh shirts so you can see that one of the mannequins is sporting washboard abs. That particular mannequin was enhanced a bit in the nether region, if you know what I mean...SO, as the mother/nanny walks a few steps ahead, I watch as the little girl pulls down the front of the well endowed mannequins underwear to check out his goods! I laughed out loud! She then proceeds to put her hand down the front of his underwear to feel his "package." She gets a good feel and then pulls the underwear back up only to give him another good squeeze on the outside of his underwear. By this time, she should have heard me cracking up! She then walks straight over to the next mannequin and as she passes him, gives his crotch a little squeeze - I guess to compare packages, and kept on walking. The mother/nanny unfortunately didn't get to see any of the groping that she had submitted to the poor mannequin, but I got to and it made me laugh and smile and remind me that curiosity is a wonderful thing. I'm not saying - everyone go out and squeeze a crotch and blame it on curiosity - what I'm asking is, when do we lose our curiosity? When do we allow ourselves to not wonder as much as we used to or just challenge ourselves to just go for it! When does that stop? I have no answer to that but she certainly, in a strange sort of manner, has encouraged me to revisit that childlike curiosity and allow myself to be in those moments more...why not? I might surprise myself and others...and not because I've grabbed their crotch. If the mannequin had a head and a face, he would probably be smiling as much as I am...but for different reasons...: )