A Wonderful Day at the Beach

Good morning, everyone,  it is monday in Stamford, CT and we are on our way to Duxbury , Mass, later on today.   I have had quite a week, but I want to describe a specific day, as it raised my spirits  when sometimes that is just a really hard thing to do.  Let's take it from the top:

My son asked to take a day off and be with me, just to talk and be together.  This was such a lovely request, but we both had trouble with exactly what we should do, so we just went out and did it.  We started off going to the West Side for breakfast at Grumpy’s.  Neither of us had been there, and we highly recommend this spot as the corned beef hash was tremendous as were the burritos with egg, tomato, turkey and avocado….awesome!  Then we then went on to Bay Village to Huntington Beach at about noon, and we lay on the beach and talked.  Actually, we talked and talked and talked.  We had planned to record all of our conversation, but we couldn't get the plastic off the recorder, nor did we use the one on my phone.   Instead, we lay back and enjoyed the sun and clouds and just talked about everything.  I say it again, these kids are the finest thing Chip and I have ever done, not that we can take the credit (but we do).  I was so struck by Will's maturity and thoughtfulness as well as his humor and goodheartedness.  We laughed and cried, and laughed some more.  This whole situation must be so incredibly hard for my little family; especially with the time we thought we didn't have. 

As soon as we got up from the beach, I realized that the 6 flights of stairs back up to the car might be a problem for me.  I got up four of them, and then I couldn't go a step further.  Thank goodness I have a strong son.  Will put me on his back and hauled me up the last two flights, seriously.  He has some pair of thighs!  I would not have made it otherwise.  So we got in the car and called KT to find out where she had the excellent ice cream in Tremont, and off we went.  Unfortunately, it was 3 pm and the place didn’t open until 4, so we just came home and had two cones right here.  Perfect.  Then he went off to join the golf group and I went to sleep.

Next thing I know, Brent is waking me up at 6;30pm as we have tickets for opening night at the Palace Theatre for The Book of Mormon, and Brent knows the second lead as he acted in her community theatre in Stamford, CT, called Curtain Call!  She  had made sandwiches and we whizzed downtown and found parking right in front of the theatre (ok, i am not shy --I am using my handicapped thing, and it is a godsend).   Unfortunately, we were in the nosebleed seats, and there were another 6 flights of stairs to go up.  Brent is very strong and hauled me unceremoniously up to our seats, which were quite good, actually.  We had a sort of canopy in front of us and no on could sit there, so we could see and hear quite well.  We still were pretty sure we missed lots of what went on, but it was funny and irreverent, and the singing and dancing were marvelous.  I tell you, give me a musical any time.  Just being in the midst of the most amazing singing and dancing is sheer pleasure for me.  After the show, we found the stage door and Chris O’Brien showed us around backstage and was so excited to get Brent’s flowers!  All the actors walked by us and said that no one gives them flowers, but here we were, flowers and all.  It was all such great fun!  I barely made it to the car, but we made it home.  

I tell you, it was quite a day for me.  I am going to follow up with Will and KT about taping stories about their parents and about them.  It feels so right that they should have them and be able to hear us laugh and cry and whatever.  I won't let this drop again, but the day did help me think about how to organize this, and how to pull in my daughter too.  My sis and I are recording all our adventures already as a start to her sabbattial (isn't she a gift to me!).  

Mom, Brent, and I are now off to Duxbury to get mom in the sun and us at the beach for a week.  Then I lose my trusty companion, my sis,  who has helped me get out most everyday and see the world a little.  I will miss her, but I will see her again a bit later in the summer.  HOw about a little poetry.

The Poet With His Face In His Hands (Mary Oliver)

You want to cry aloud for your
mistakes. But to tell the truth the world
doesn’t need any more of that sound.

So if you’re going to do it and can’t
stop yourself, if your pretty mouth can’t
hold it in, at least go by yourself across

the forty fields and the forty dark inclines
of rocks and water to the place where
the falls are flinging out their white sheets

like crazy, and there is a cave behind all that
jubilation and water fun and you can
stand there, under it, and roar all you

want and nothing will be disturbed; you can
drip with despair all afternoon and still,
on a green branch, its wings just lightly touched

by the passing foil of the water, the thrush,
puffing out its spotted breast, will sing
of the perfect, stone-hard beauty of everything.

Lots of Sorrow and a Little Joy (Gregory Orr)

Lots of sorrow and a little joy.
Lots of joy and only a bit
Of sorrow.
Who can know
The formula beforehand?

We don't get to watch
While it's mixed.  No one tells us
What's in it.
We lift it
To our lips - azure elixir
That burns our throats to crystal.

~ Gregory Orr ~

Cheers and have a great week, my friends!

Lissa

Falling from the bed with a Hope and a Prayer!

Good morning everyone.  I just leaned down for the cord for my computer and fell out of bed..  I couldn’t even keep myself from falling, but I seem to be ok.  Kind of scary, though.  Nothing broken that I can feel, so let’s carry on.  Hope everyone had a great Father’s Day wherever there was a father to celebrate.  Ours had a great day golfing with his son and then admiring his grill products, as he has never really had a decent grill…….until now!  Why didn’t we know that grilling is so simple and fun and a great way to have left-over pizza.  Seriously, try it.  The pizza gets crispy and gooey and wonderful.

Well, not the greatest week for me; let me tell it.  I have been worrying that my weakness has been getting worse, and that it is a sign that things are progressing kind of rapidly.  Here’s what I have noticed: first of all, as I said last week, I’ve had some swelling in the ankles, bruising and my face has turned into chipmunk cheeks—all signs of long-term steroid use.  OK,  I get that.  I have support hose.  My face does look weird, but at least it is round as I try to gain some more weight.  What hasn’t been perfect for me is that I have had to tell myself that my ability to get up stairs or walk any distance has been getting worse, not  better, even as we gave me a little exercise routine to do every day.

Luckily, I went to see my oncologist on Friday. I thought maybe my red cell count would be low enough to explain why I can’t get up and down the stairs.  Well, the red cell count was good, so that didn’t explain it.  But when my sis and I started talking to the oncologist, she had me get up from a chair, which took about 10 seconds!  She said to me, and I quote, “remember that steroids cause significant proximal muscle weakness.”  Well, this physician who clearly only played one on TV had completely forgotten that.  Oh my goodness!!!  Proximal muscle weakness!!  That is what I have!!!  Badly!!!  So we are tapering the steroids slowly and we’ll see what happens.  She answered every question with something positive and I feel so much better.  In addition, her secretary told me that I was allowed to be the patient; and she's right.  But I am so glad that I can begin to cut the steroids and see if we can build a little muscle up so getting to bed isn't quite so daunting.  Also, she approved our trip to Duxbury next week, so I am happily trying to find a bathing suit that won't fall off.

Also, I went to church with mom yesterday, and the whole congregation is going to read a book about a minister of an evangelical church who loses his faith and finds it again on a search for Francis of Assissi.  As I have time and I am deeply interested in both deciding what I really believe before I die and how others make choices, I am reading away.  I have also found a little meditation group, and I will meet with them for the first time this Thursday; I'll report back, but I have been meditation for about 10 minutes now before I take a nap every day.  This routine gets me up and able to participate  in evening events around here.  I'm sorry, what is up with the Heat?  We can't help ourselves, really.  Lebron is ours and we wish him well.  

I know I haven't told this before, but in our rush to clean out the third floor several weeks ago, we told the guys to take everything out of a small room where we had stored stuff after we put in air-conditioning.  Little did I know that the bookshelf with every one of my poetry books would be included in the clean out.  Even the lovely lounger where I sit to read the poetry books disappeared.  I have been in mourning, but now I feel as if those books must have been ready to go to someone else who can read and hold them longer.  I have other ways of finding poetry!

Praying

It doesn’t have to be
the blue iris, it could be
weeds in a vacant lot, or a few
small stones; just
pay attention, then patch

a few words together and don’t try
to make them elaborate, this isn’t
a contest but the doorway

into thanks, and a silence in which
another voice may speak.” 
― Mary Oliver, Thirst

Hope

Hope is with you when you believe
The earth is not a dream but living flesh,
That sight, touch, and hearing do not lie,
That all things you have ever seen here
Are like a garden looked at from a gate.

You cannot enter. But you're sure it's there.
Could we but look more clearly and wisely
We might discover somewhere in the garden
A strange new flower and an unnamed star.

Some people say we should not trust our eyes,
That there is nothing, just a seeming,
These are the ones who have no hope.
They think that the moment we turn away,
The world, behind our backs, ceases to exist,
As if snatched up by the hands of thieves.

~ Czeslaw Milosz ~

(The World)

Little Moments of Grace (and Purple high tops to boot)

I feel a wonderful fullness this morning.  I believe that every bed in the house and two blow-up beds are in use as I write, and I just love that.  I am full, the house is happily groaning and full of life, an we have had quite the week.  My kid of age and all his friends are so smart; they get a ride to a nearby establishment from which they can walk home or take a taxi at the end of their night, and we don’t have to worry too  much about them.  Beautiful….ah, maturity is a lovely thing.

But I have much to tell.  Firstly, I am still feeling pretty well.  Ms. CA and I seem to be walking straight up hill together, she making me really huff and puff just to get up the stairs in our house and to taste anything on the left side of my mouth, but the eye solution is still brilliant and I am pain and nausea-free and art-ful.  I’ll take them apples so far.

Secondly, my wonderful college room-mate came again to do her thing with the Alumni Board at Laurel and to slip in some time with me.  I had gone of to the Carmelites at 5pm last Tuesday hoping she might get there, as she had gotten a late start from Chicago.  Slip in she did, right at the end as we were all being hugged by the wonderful sisters (again I ask you, hugs or no hugs?  No question in my mind!).

Not only that, she had a surprise for me.  As we got to the car, I really already knew what the surprise was, as she was sporting the loveliest pair of purple converse high tops I’d ever seen.  Not only that, we had been talking about purple high tops since high school when my sister returned from her first semester at Williams, where all things are purple and gold. 

Betsy and I have talked about purple high tops for years as a way to never grow old and die.  We would wear them and sit on park benches as old ladies and laugh and remember our wonderful lives together.  And she handed me a pair.  I almost burst out crying.  Now?!  It can’t be time for these!!!!   Oh no, no no no no no no no no……………..

Ok, I had two choices.  Lean in and love them, recognizing that of course the timing is NOW, or just sit there and feel bad.  No question for me (after a brief spell), they are magnificent and I have not taken them off.  I can celebrate them and all they mean to us every day I am here, and I will.

Just one more story with the high tops, and I’ll go on to our visit with the Richards.  I have been having just a little bit of side effect from the blasted steroids including a little swelling in the ankles.  So the hospice nurse and doc got together and recommended some gentle support hose.  Again, support hose, really??  Yuck.  But here’s the thing.  I am wearing a lovely pair of to-the-knee support hose UNDER the purple high tops.  Just stop me now.

Last week, my father’s only sibling, Richard, and his oldest son, Richard, came from California to visit East Coast relatives and then us.  We call them The Richards, and it is a joy to see them.  Looking at Uncle Richard is like turning around and seeing Dad, healthy and smiling.  They are look-alikes, and it always takes my breath away to see him, as Dad has been gone now for many years now.  One night, all 8 of us (mom, sister, me, both kids, Chip, Richard, and Richard) had dinner at a restaurant nearby, and we stayed for three hours talking and laughing and being together.  What a joy!  But I broke up the party when I almost fell in my soup….I got a little tired.  Embarrassingly enough, I was tired well before my almost 90 year old mother, who would have stayed another three hours, I’m sure of it.  The Richards stayed for three days, and wined and dined my mom and made us all laugh and get out of the house.  The visit was lovely and we hope they will continue to come every summer (ok, that’s my call out, Richards!!).  Love you both!!

One more story.  Yesterday, my dear friend A brought her father over to see me, my mom, and sister.  He was a second father to me when I was probably between 8-15 and a devoted teacher at Dad’s school.  These days, he is quite ill and has lost too much weight, and we were so glad to see him.  What I hadn’t expected was the little touch of grace that happened.  My sister is a teacher, and a good one, that is clear.  She has seen the new wing on my Dad’s old school and had very thoughtful comments about it and how it might feel to teach in it.  Mr R. has also seen it, but what he talked about with my sis was a class by an English teacher that he sat in on when the wing was opened.  As Mr R described, this teacher used a sonnet and a round, Harkness table to do more than just talk about a sonnet.  Both teachers realized that this teacher, in this moment, had shown something special --how to get boy’s heads up, get everyone sharing their own opinions of the sonnet, and teaching them to think for themselves.  Clearly it was a beautiful moment for Mr. R, and he felt very emotional about it as did my sister.  Truly, it was a moment of grace that my friend and I witnessed.  Lucky me.

Finally, I’m working hard to maintain some time of stillness, as it really helps me balance in this really weird world of not knowing, and my family is doing a wonderful job of coming along for the ride as best they can.  Someone was talking the other day about how their life hadn’t ended up exactly as they had planned.   I ask you, do our lives ever end up they way we “plan”?  Is that even what we want?  I can’t imagine that it is.  I’m afraid that would wash out so many possibilities, but I’ll think about that.  For me right now, life is only about being in the possible, and it seems a freeing place of soul-swans and stillness and reading and writing and being.  Right now, we have a little place of “new normalcy” here allowing people to get to their summer jobs, back to work, and still be close to me; it is lovely. 

This is how I want to remember my failures in this life.  See what you think.

Last Night as I was Sleeping (Antonio Machado)

Last night as I was sleeping,

I dreamt—marvelous error!—

that a spring was breaking

out in my heart.

I said: Along which secret aqueduct,

Oh water, are you coming to me,

water of a new life

that I have never drunk?

Last night as I was sleeping,

I dreamt—marvelous error!—

that I had a beehive

here inside my heart.

And the golden bees

were making white combs

and sweet honey

from my old failures.

Last night as I was sleeping,

I dreamt—marvelous error!—

that a fiery sun was giving

light inside my heart.

It was fiery because I felt

warmth as from a hearth,

and sun because it gave light

and brought tears to my eyes.

Last night as I slept,

I dreamt—marvelous error!—

that it was God I had

here inside my heart.

love the next too:

Enriching the Earth (Wendell Berry)

To enrich the earth I have sowed clover and grass

to grow and die. I have plowed in the seeds

of winter grains and various legumes,

their growth to be plowed in to enrich the earth.

I have stirred into the ground the offal

and the decay of the growth of past seasons

and so mended the earth and made its yield increase.

All this serves the dark. Against the shadow

of veiled possibility my workdays stand

in a most asking light. I am slowly falling

into the fund of things. And yet to serve the earth,

not knowing what I serve, gives a wideness

and a delight to the air, and my days

do not wholly pass. It is the mind's service,

for when the will fails so do the hands

and one lives at the expense of life.

After death, willing or not, the body serves,

entering the earth. And so what was heaviest

and most mute is at last raised up into song.