do you remember?

Christmas decorating. So much of it is reliving my Christmas pasts. It use to be full of "Do you remember this one?" asked by a blonde with flashing eyes. Three other blondes echoing the same question. All self-entranced in the history of their Christmases. As they grew, so did the number of ornaments on the tree.
Then one year, their dad had this momentous idea. "Let's make an ornament every year for each of them. When they leave home, they will take peices of the tree with them." So we did. Every year, starting with the deer with antlers. One for each of them, one for the parents and every of of their teachers got one too. The star Santas were a big hit. It was fun and the painting was an annual family event.
Surprisingly, to me anyway, came the divorce. I couldn't begin to make ornaments, just started buying one for everyone so it matched everyone else's. They were content to continue the tradition. Even as the oldest moved out of the home into the home she created with her husband, we continued. Seeing her tree in Idaho with our ornaments kept us together. Second daughter moved into her home with her husband also. More ornaments left the tree making magic on their tree.
This year, all the ornaments are gone. Except mine. I know at least two of the girls have trees up with their children. I hope my newly-weds have one up also. I am the sentimental sop keeping up the tradition the dad they don't always respect started. But my tree, as a compromise to blending, is not the traditional one my family has always had. Oh, the actual family tree is at Liz's house...permanently slanted sideways since I plastered the post crooked one evening trying to fight the tree climbing Panther. It glows with love and pride and history there.
I, last year with the man I love, brought a new tree. Not his family's nor mine. His family tree went to Goodwill...what a nice name. We decorated our tree with all new ornaments, cooper and gold shining with wishes and hope of merging our children and our lives. It is a beautiful tree but still an unfinished hope. We will put it up again today and laugh and find some old Christmas past items we can't live without to scatter through our kidless house.
What about the ornaments? I still buy one every year for my daughters. I spent several years buying for each grandchild also, but dropped that due to the knowledge of each needing ownership of their own trees. Last year, a wreath from 1,ooo Villages...it was made from soda cans...figures holding hands and one another. Symbolic... This year, one for ever single family member, the kind that holds a picture. My problem, finding a current picture to put into every frame. The new man of my life said, "Have everyone take the picture at the same time on Christmas Day. You can all pretend you're together for that moment." He laughed and patted my head, a habit that can irritate me.
But that is what I am going to do. Give my pretty little frames. Ask everyone to take pictures at noon on Christmas Day. We will be together for the moment taking pieces of everyone with us. Thanks to the two men I have loved. Merry Christmas.

Thanksgiving

Opposite of love? Bet you said hate. I paid a shrink a lot of money to find the real answer to that question.
In my divorce I asked when would I stop loving him? I wrestled with it and said, "I'm paying a lot of money here. When will I know I am cured?" My attorney had said, "Never. You are never done with him. You will always tell the stories of him and them because you were in love, because they are part of that loving relationship and because it honors them. You will never be done."
My shrink said, "That man is a smart attorney. But your answer is...(drum roll and It IS Worth IT!!) when you don't care. The opposite of love is not hate, that's where you are. Hate is the other side of the double sided sword of love. When you don't care anymore, in any other than a human way, you are no longer in love."
Consider that free answer as priceless. (You're welcome) That answer came true for me months, almost 2 years after I sent Steve out on March Fourth...another irony of my life. Get it...march forth? That answer is priceless those times when the family gets together and we struggle with the independence of one another and the vast differences in our behaviors, outlooks, political beliefs, lifestyles....You Name IT. We are different!
Then comes floating into my mind...the opposite of love is indifference, not caring. This is caring exponentially too much. It is also about being sensitive to our differences and wondering if we are truly being accepted. Which is the next question....if I truly accept them, shouldn't I trust that they truly accept me? In the words of St. Francis of Assissi, "Let there be peace on earth, and let it begin with me."
You probably already knew there are moments in the weekend that were not worthy of the Hallmark channel. Really, aren't the ones you like best when the difficulties are overcome by forgiving and caring and trying harder and someone growing up? We are all Hallmark Channel worthy...all of our families. But the moments that we struggle in our familyness are the moments where the growth occurs and the bonding builds. I don't worry when I can step back and think rationally instead of inside my bleeding heart. Then I think of those families spending 4 or 5 hours together in pleasant conversation as they plan their night out, or trip back to "sanity" or the other family.
I have seen them, I chose mine. The messiness, contradictions within them, the loudness, f bombs, silliness, wine guzzling women who bring my home much joy. I choose mine and we will never be done.

Officially I'm Grown Up

My youngest daughter has this title on her latest blog. I no longer aspire to the content of the message. It is my title of my story this time and it is for real.
I have 2 of my 4 girls going to a teenie bopper romance movie about Vampires even as I write. Yes, they are too old to be reading middle school books but hey...they're reading. Another daughter is spending time with a potentially serious boyfriend meeting his friends and family..."Mom, this is too big. He wants me to meet them all." And I harken back to the wedding he came to for littlest sis where he met all the family and friends plus decorated the wedding site....But she doesn't see the connection. My oldest is probably at the same movie as the two in Lincoln, just in a different state. And I? I am cleaning house for the onslaught of 3 of my 4 being home for Thanksgiving. Washing bedding, vacuuming unused rooms to freshen them up for the five grandkids coming and the 3 daughters, 2 spouses and the guy with potential.
Wonderful! You think as you read this. Well, here is where I know this is the day I became an adult. I live and love with Bob. In the house he raised his two children with my friend, and his wife, Deb. A lot of my things did not make it into this building. Liz got some things, I made the others take stuff too. I gave generously to Goodwill and had a free garage sale. Do I miss my platter, my green apple salad bowls, my coffee table in the living room where the little ones would sit. Yes. I do. But, as an adult, I realize I miss my family more. So this year I I will decorate with their presence. I will miss Laurel's being here with hers, much more than the goods that didn't make the move. The things I miss for a moment are actually just things at long last. I have become an adult. Today.

Sleeping Democratic in a Republican State

For those under 40, that is the parodied title of a country music song. But the feeling within the song is the emotion of my situation as a citizen. If you've read this blog, you know I teach. I stayed up late on Election Night and thrilled to Barack's acceptance speech. I went to bed hopeful and nervous...two feelings that don't live together well. Fast forward to my class sitting at their desks.
"Mrs. R. Do you know now that Barack Obama will be president, that girls are going to have to marry girls and boys will have to marry boys?" That isn't true I reply in disgust. Who told you that? "My mom and dad." See the dilema of public educators?
"Well," came another voice, "My mom was crying because now black people are going to make white people their slaves." No answer from me as I stood in dumbfounded contemplation of upper middle class white republican parents.
"And did you know that Barack Obama is going to make us all turn Muslim?"
Thankfully, well answered by our Muslim student. "Hey,if that was true that would be okay. You like me. You would like it....Wouldn't you?"\\//
I didn't even touch the Muslim part. Salmon had already answered that well.
But I did ask, "Fourth graders, are those things you have stated reasonable? When America votes, it is with reasonable thoughts and educated responses. I wonder how many of those things are something someone said to scare others. I always like to think we will be reasonable in our thoughts or the world is never going to get better. If we can't learn to get along, war will never stop. When we spread rumors, they take on the authority of truths. So let's think....Which of those things are reasonable?"
Small discussion and much perplexion.
"So what do I tell my mom and dad?"
"The same thing....Let's all be reasonable and believe that when the majority vote, it is a reasonable response. And that we all need to go for the next good thing to believe in. John McCain said he will support and honor our new president. Would he have said that if he knew it was going to be a bad thing? Let's encourage reasonable."
Nods all around. Calming air being breathed in and out. Small smiles of pre-adolescent security crossing over the faces of those being most affected by the election. The faces of the future. The faces of those becoming reasonable.
Meanwhile, sleeping democrat in a republican state, thinking over words I wish I said, ....tossing, turning trying to forget that I'm sleeping democrat in my republican state.

Halloween

It is odd to think of all the creatures and characters we wanted to be on Halloween. A witch was quite the evil thing when I was a child. Rich lady was great or a ballerina ( in Nebraska the costume would likely be covered totally by one's coat but hey...) My classroom use to run to Freddy Kruger or Darth Vader and such, Harry Potter is a winning choice now or Spongebob Square Pants. I remember the year my daughters were all CareBears.

This year, I was Sarah Palin. I considered it pretty scarey. The Vice leader of the Free World as a scarey character....when did it come to this? I would answer the obligatory salutation of Trick Or Treat with a wide wink and a "You betcha!" I wore my tartish suit jacket, my highest heels and my hair in a bad upsweep with a pony tail. Parents laughed, which was great thinking of how Republican my state is. I thought it funny too. Until I really think of it. The position she aspires to is left in disgrace as her face became the number one selling mask for this year.
As a woman who is considered a feminist, it offends me that her body and her wink are hallmarks for her entrance into the powerful machinery of democracy. Why not her mind? Why not her trustworthiness? Why not the examples of character, forthrightedness, loyalty, and leadership that set her on the top of the list for the VP candidates. Because they aren't her hallmarks. It is her pert, cute, lipsticked bulldogidness, in a wet dream body that caused the "Rise" to the public's eye. Nothing on Halloween is as scary as our fall as women when this is our best, nor the fact that THIS is as good as a major political party can be. I'm scared. It makes my vote sadly obvious. It is not a good trick or treat.

Autumn

Last night a prediction of a hard freeze. Only midwesterns get that phrase. It freezes a lot before the frost is on the windowpane. Or, enough frost to kill the garden plants. So Ron, the one imparting the sad tidings to me, went outside to help me cover the plants. Yes, cover them. To keep the frost off of them. Otherwise they would die. Cracks me up, I don't want them to die. I am sick of canning tomatoes, I have let some weeds grow tall and too healthy because I am sick of gardening. BUT, then I am out covering them up so they can maybe eek out life for two or three more weeks.
Those who see life as the seasons, you know, spring, summer and fall of our lives....Do you see it? I am fighting winter. All older people fight winter. When I was young, I just let those plants die. I always felt there were enough done up. Now, I am fighting it all. The losses, the ugly look of dying plants, the brittle leftovers that no one wants.
It was a hard freeze So hard I had to scrape the windshield this morning. I was afraid and didn't look at my garden until I returned home tonight. It survive!! Even the sick plants I hadn't covered due to not enough sheets and blankets. Tomorrow morning I will head out and uncover them. (Light freeze warning for tonight) They will live and bear the joyful splendors I have come to know well. I hope I do the same as I enter the winter of my life.

aniversaries

Since I was the one who filed for divorce, why does that date still haunt me?
The loss of the dream? The collapse of hearts? The lack of faith I have in my own common sense? I think of how I met a man/boy that made me thrill to the core. Who thought I was lovely. No small thing. 20 years of marriage - my mom used to say, "Patty was happily married for 20 years, Steve about 18." But that wedding date and the promises of bliss...alas and alack!! This year I was made aware again of how that date sticks to my subconscious like cigarette smoke to the walls. Unobtrusively but destructively always there, gathering in dank and dangerousness. It always hits sometime during the day...an unpleasant sense of having left something important out. Then the gradual realization that it isn't important anymore, it is just out. Done. This year, and honestly, I know I knew it, the man I love with was still trying to get hold of his son. It was the son's birthday. I thought, what an irony. It is son's birthday on my former aniversary (Ironic because his daughter got married last Nov. on my birthday.) So I knew there was this birthday on my dreaded date but this time, as I responded by a tilt of my head in what I have come to know as the dead fish pose, I questioned how one date could be so extreme? The date is full of the anticipation I had for a long joyous wedded life. The dismay as the date was able to remain standing long after the marriage was destroyed. It also holds the crazy serenity of new parents on the birth of their first child, and stereotypically correctly, a son. How much can a day hold, I wonder on days like Pearl Harbor Day, Fourth of July, my aniversary? Answer: more than a heart can hold.