I Know Like I Know…2010

 

As I look back over 2010 I want to list all the things/events/moments that I’m grateful for but all I can think about is losing our Honey.  My sister’s husband passed away in October of this year and we are all still reeling from the devastating loss.  There are a year’s worth of know like I know moments in the aftermath of this death.

I received a phone call from my sister’s number but it was a police officer telling me that Ken was sick and being taken to the hospital.  Englewood I assumed, no Holy Name was closer.  I’m on my way.  The ride to the hospital was one of those know-like-you-know rides that he was already gone.

For the next week we entered into the shock, disorientation, and roller coaster of emotions that accompany any loss of this magnitude.  I could not do one thing to fix this for my sister and that just didn’t seem right.  I could sleep on her floor, I could watch her, hold her, love her, make her eat something, hand her tissues, remind her to breathe but I couldn’t fix a damn thing. Not this time.

 Ken has a legacy, a very strong and admirable legacy that I don’t think he even realized.  His wake was a traffic jam; a never ending, story-telling, laugh one minute, sob the next affair.  Everyone had a story about how Ken had helped them in some way or changed their lives or kicked their ass (with the best of intentions and always a favorable outcome).  He learned to live with intention and to make up for past regressions, to pay it forward and to help whenever he could.  To that end there is now a foundation in his name.

 Unfortunately, he never helped himself. I’m trying very hard not to harbor any resentment for him leaving my sister and all the others that relied on him.  I’m trying very hard not to curse him out for thinking he was bulletproof.  God love him, as good as he was he was a pain in the ass about taking care of himself. 

I know like I know that my sister was overwhelmed.  There was so much only she knew about Ken and there was so much more that was wonderful about him that she never knew.  In her deepest sorrow came her proudest moments.  But she was amazing, showing grace and tenderness to each person and their story even though she was in excruciating pain.  She was able to feel each emotion out loud, sobbing with no embarrassment and laughing with the same intensity.  She engaged with each person and made them feel all the better for it. I remain in awe of her.   

I know like I know that the three letters OMG when followed by what can I do, I’m praying for you, I’m here, anything you need, or just plain sorry were a more powerful prayer than any other I’ve ever experienced.  In all the disconnected coldness of technology the series of texts I received from so many were more spiritually uplifting than anything else that week.  

I know like I know that friends are instrumental in moving forward.  I watched as my sister’s friends systematically took over her phone, her living room, her social schedule, her life.  I watched as my friends systematically took over my dogs, my home, my phone, and my life too.  Sometimes it’s the most unlikely of friends that rise to these occasions.  I began taking Zumba classes in May and the girls from Zumba were relentless in their vigilance.  But it is those old friends, the ones that just seem to silently show up by your side, that make you truly believe that you can keep breathing.

I know like I know that my sister and I need to show up at my mother’s together for some other reason than something is terribly wrong.  It seems like each time we walk through the door together my mother immediately says what’s wrong.  Rightfully so, we did that when my father died and we did it when Ken died.  That’s a sure sign that something must change.  As hard as it seems right now, we will have something good to show up about. 

The measure of this year is that nothing will ever be the same again.  We will, however, find some way to make a wonderful life for ourselves.  We will grow stronger as a family adding more unrelated members as we go along.  I’ve become a Grandperson to my friend’s children; my sister has become a walking juke box for the little girl upstairs.  We are both favorite Aunts to all those who need one.  We will grow stronger as a family as we reconnect with cousins and other family members.

As for my sister and I, we are who we are, devoted, loving and inseparable through whatever is thrown at us. We will walk together through this year of firsts and look forward to all our future years.  That I know like I know.

A Pot of Sauce

There is nothing more reassuring than the smell of sauce simmering on the stove all day.  It speaks to a primal base in everyone.  It tells you that someone cared enough about you to sear the pork until its crusty and golden, mix the meatballs by hand, chop all the vegetables, and use only the freshest ingredients. 

It tells you that even in this fast paced world tradition can endure.  That many hearts and hands have passed along the basics so that you could make your own version to please and pass along to others.

It can stop people in their tracks as they pass your open window and conjure up some memory from childhood.  It can draw people to your home bearing plastic containers just begging to be filled. It can create the most memorable meal some might ever have.

It tells you that you can just come home.

The Perfect Summer Day

Today was the perfect summer day.  The breeze was blowing just like it did through the two sugar maples that held my father’s hammock when we were kids.  It was warm and dry and smelled like grass.  It was the perfect day to move from one form of doing nothing to another.  Coffee on the deck in the coolness of the morning, listening to the birds and squirrels foraging for breakfast.  Start a new book.  Lunch on the deck.  Laze around the pool, shower and let your hair air dry.  Wine and a light dinner with friends, back to the deck for the evening breezes and a dessert of dark chocolate covered almonds that melted ever so slightly in your hand.  Perfect.

Welcome to your Thirties

Dear Bobby,

Welcome to your thirties! 

I hope that your thirties prove to be a most interesting time for you.  It’s quite a transition going from the wild, party all night, adolescent, all about me twenties to what can be the most fruitful decade of your life.

The thirties are about cementing who you are in a world that is based in a more mature reality.  It’s about giving up the self centered for the selfless, trading in things for relationships, learning the art of compromise and making your mark in the world.  Beginning to build your legacy.

As you move into your thirties I hope you’ll recognize the importance of family, friends, good work, and relaxing.  I hope that you will find satisfaction in time well spent and you will spend your time well.  I hope that you will always be surrounded by love and that you will endeavor to spread love.  I hope that you will see yourself as others see you and create solid expectations for yourself.  I hope that you will live in service to others and that the reward for that comes back to you many fold. 

If this advice sounds familiar to you, it should.  You have a wonderful example to follow in your father.  He learned long ago and earnestly the value of family, of generosity, of truth and of living life with gusto.  He found a wonderful balance between giving and taking what was being offered in life.  His legacy endures to this day and will continue on through his life and then through his family.

Big shoes to fill, but I would caution you to learn from him and not even try to fill anyone else’s shoes.  You’re unique personality and gifts will serve you well as you mature into the man I know you’ll become.  That said if I can do anything to help you through this wonderful time of life it would be my honor to do so.

With that I wish you a very Happy 30th Birthday and look forward to proudly watching you become a man of substance and integrity.

Always with love, slc

Everybody in the Pool

Memorial Day weekend is the unofficial start of summer and the official opening of our condo’s pool.  Growing up we never had a pool, during my married life we never had a pool, now I live on Stowe Ln and I’ve got a pool along with 400 other people.

I’m not a get to the pool early and get a seat with the appropriate sun positioning kind of girl but there are surely a number of those.  There are a number of families, a number of single women, a number of single moms and certainly a number of kids.

There is a pecking order, there are cliques, and there are interesting interactions.  All of which I truly enjoy watching and noting.  Not least of which is the governing of the mayor of the pool.  I’m sure every public pool has its unelected mayor; I believe my brother-in-law is one, but ours is quite unique.  She is a squat blonde who always has the requisite coffee cup in her hand (it’s yet to be determined if its coffee) a husky smoking-for-years voice who owns the table at the deep end of the pool.  Mind you there is no smoking at the pool but she takes her periodic walks out the gate to grab a puff and greet or look over the new entrants to the pool area depending on their standing with her.   Mind you also that there is no reserving of tables or lounge chairs but you would be hard pressed to find anyone going near the table at the deep end of the pool.  You get the picture. 

The mayor’s club includes a skinny woman with a permanent tan, the requisite coffee cup and a book she never seems to read.  An attention span thing I fear.  She is one of those people that things seem to happen to and she is always seeking advice from the mayor or the guy who knows everything.  He’s the other part of the mayor’s club.  He rides his bike, knows everyone who’s anyone in town and always has advice or a snide quip for the people around him.  Again depending on pool hierarchy, this little group will allow or disallow you to sit at their table at the deep end at will. 

I noticed there is the guy that wants to be the friend of the guy who knows everything.  He tries to make small talk with him but gets the snide quip.  He doesn’t give up until the quips get so targeted that when he mentions that his son looks as if he has the same tall forehead as he does he finally slinks back to the low end of the pool with his son in his arms. Really?  Who is this guy?

You can see that there are future guys that know everything too.  I heard a kid calling after one such future guy, “Hey Alex wait up, Hey Alex wait up.”  Alex didn’t wait up.  There is no more telling look on a kid’s face then the one after you’ve been dissed by the cool kid.  To his credit he shrugged his shoulders and jumped in the pool to start torturing his sister.  She wacked him.  Tough day for that kid.

Then of course there are the beautiful people.  The beautiful boys with tattoos on their pecks and partly, strategically shaved heads admiring the beautiful girls who know like they know they can set the world on fire.  It’s an intricate dance of getting up and getting wet then laying down and drying off flexing all the appropriate muscles while the former beautiful boys are sucking it in and sucking it up. 

The former beautiful boys are mostly the Dads with families that find themselves reacting to the ice cream truck that blares its obnoxious music about every hour.  The theme from The Sting or the Yellow Rose of Texas.  Shut that damn music off, it sets off the same hysteria every time by all the same kids and dads. Really?  Did you forget from an hour ago?  And Dad says yes to the pleas every hour.  Too funny, too sad, too I’ve turned into an auto-Dad.

There is the runner’s clique, the Eastern Block, the single mom’s clique each with their own intrinsic conversations, whether you can understand them or not.  There are the sit at the edge of the pool people, there are the swim a few laps people, there are the people who come in the morning and the people who come in the afternoon and the people who pack a lunch and stay all day. 

Then there is the life guard. He’s the man in charge of it all with the power to launch you from the pool if you don’t follow the rules.  He wants to be one of the beautiful boys but he’s not, he knows it so he is the serious one.  He measures the chemical balance each hour, makes sure you have your pool pass and insures you sign in.  He’s the guy, who with the help of the mayor will insure a pleasant pool experience this summer.  A true God love him….Happy Memorial Day