Life through Big Brown Eyes

I’m a puzzle piece without a puzzle.

I’m the random sock from the dryer

I’m the extra spoon in the silver service

I’m the cap of a pen with no pen

I’m the untethered ballon floating on the breeze

I’m the flower petal on the counter

Yes, it’s December 31st and the end of another year. It’s also, as everyone knows, the end of the decade. It’s a natural time to reflect on the last 12 months, or the last 10 years….those frameworks and labels with which we measure time.

I don’t recall feeling terribly nostalgic at the last decade change. But alas, here we are again. It’s interesting to look back.

In this decade, I saw the next phase of my career begin…with challenges and blessings I could not have foreseen. It occurs to me that by this time 10 years from now, I’ll be close to retirement eligibility…whether or not that will ever happen is anyone’s guess. Lord willing I make it.

Over the last 10 years, I’ve lost weight…and gained it back….and lost it again…and gained it back….but I finally, FINALLY learned that while “diet” is important – unless I incorporate permanent changes to WHAT I eat (not just how much) and actually move my ass on a pretty daily basis…I will yo-yo until I’m dead. Not making those changes will make the “dead” come sooner than later.

This past decade saw significant loss of another kind…my dad in January 2013 and my mom less that 3 years later in November 2015. The first part of this decade was spent caring for them….financially and in many other ways that I never thought possible. Their loss and the subsequent loss of my childhood home had a huge impact. I became an orphan. Again.

My folks had always answered any question about my adoption…but once they were gone, I started asking more questions myself. The last part of this decade saw my hiring a genealogy investigator…finding some answers, but not all, connecting with some cousins, but siblings having no interest (and understandably so)…finding that those who conceived me are long past…and my beginning was less than auspicious. Most importantly, realizing what I already knew….my mom was Pat, my dad was Chris…the rest is just trivia and has no bearing on who I am today.

In this decade, I turned 50…and currently getting closer to the midpoint to 60. My mom’s voice echos “It’s just a number”…and I see those around me who handle aging with grace and aplomb. My 67 year old sister in law who still teaches aerobics, my almost 98 year old mother in law who always has a beautiful manicure and loves her bling. Getting older bring challenges, of course – I have arthritis in my knee, I’m on blood pressure medication, my hands are getting the wrinkles I used to tease my mom about (Karma is a bitch)….but in my head, I feel no different than I did when I was 26…just a little wiser, hopefully.

A glance in the rear view mirror allows us to reminisce, take stock of what we’ve learned, be sad for losses…but rejoice in whatever we’ve gained and won. However, perhaps its even more important to look ahead…be grateful for the friends and family we have, the anticipation of good times ahead…knowing there will be more losses, more heartbreak, more choices.

My favorite poem by Robert Frost – The Road Not Take ends with:

“Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.”

Time to travel into the 2020’s my friends. Keep your eyes on the road – and choose wisely.

The last day of the year is a natural time to reflect, right? We look back at the last 365 days – the good, the bad, the beautiful, the ugly.

2018 kicked off with me flat on my back for several days with Type A Flu, bronchitis and pneumonia (all at once). A month later, I was felled by a stomach flu for 3 days. It was less than a stellar start.

January brought changes at work, which resulted in months of stress and uncertainty…but I stepped up, I soldiered on…and so far so good.

Looking forward to a relaxing summer was an fruitless exercise. Record rainfall killed the boating season and a home improvement nightmare was finally addressed – at substantial cost.

It was a year of realizing what is truly important…and what isn’t. It was year of fighting for what matters…and letting go of what doesn’t. Remembering that there are aspects of my life that I can control – and some I can’t. Knowing that sometimes holding on to things or people in life may be more trouble than it’s worth – and being strong enough to let them go. Knowing that my spouse is the single one person that I can always count on – in sickness and health, in good times and bad.

Among all of the revelations, moments of joy and beauty. A Florida gulf sunset, a hug and an “I miss you” from a great niece, glasses of wine enjoyed, peaceful evenings of yoga, great books read, beautiful drives taken, great times with people who mean something.

2019 promises to be interesting. I’m at the top of the roller coaster. Whether I scream in joy or terror on the way down remains to be seen.

As always, though – Momma’s voice resonates in my heart when I think of the New Year.

“Let’s hope it’s a good one!”

A few weeks ago, I joined a community called My Peak Challenge, which supports research for blood cancers. Members make a donation, and in return receive workout programs, food plans and the like. Most people join because their challenge is a physical one. To get in shape. There is a wonderful global Facebook community, as well as a great local one called the ChesaPeakers.

However, a physical challenge isn’t required. Members can challenge themselves in any way they choose. Folks can learn to cook, learn a new language, write a novel…whatever they wish.

I wanted to learn to play the piano.

Growing up, I never had the opportunity to take any kind of music lesson. Rental of instruments and the lessons themselves were expensive. My folks just couldn’t afford it. After my husband and I moved into our house some 20-odd years ago, his friend had an old upright piano purchased at an estate sale. It sat in his house for a while. Then, he decided he didn’t want it. Told my husband if we didn’t take it – he was going to chop it up for firewood.

Yes. Firewood. So we hired a piano mover and brought it home. Where it sat.

My husband can play by ear, and would “plink” around on it. As time progressed, however, that poor piano’s keys started to stick. It got tinnier…and buzzier. Last year we found a company in West Chester that would restore it inside and out. I promised myself that if we made that happen, I would learn to play.

After almost a year later, we received our fully restored 1911 Kimball Upright. It was time to learn.

I wasn’t interested in lessons now, either. It was an issue of time. I wanted to learn at my own pace, on my own schedule. So like every good 21st Century citizen, I bought an iBook. I took my iPad into the living room, perched it on the piano, and proceeded to be completely overwhelmed. Keep in mind, I was beginning from, not Square One, but Square Negative Three. I knew nothing. The manual went right into reading music, staffs, clefts, where the notes sit in all of that. It was pretty painful at first. Did I give up?

Nope. I went to the My Peak Challenge Facebook page and searched the posts for “piano”. Amazed at how many people had previously chosen learning piano as their challenge, I found a post that recommended a series of books for adult learners that, the post warned, were VERY fundamental. Perfect!!

To my chagrin, this supposedly wonderful primer was not available on iBooks. Curses!!

So like every good 21st Century citizen, I went on Amazon. There it was! A day later, I took my new instruction book into my living room, perched it on the piano….and here is where things get really cool. The book said nothing about staffs, or notes on a page. It assigned a number to every finger…and showed me pictures of where to place my fingers on the keys. Then it provided little songs to play based on those numbers. First my right hand, then my left hand. Camptown Races and the like.

Every so slowly, the chapters began to assign letters with the numbers. Showing me, based on the placement of my hands, the now corresponding letters…..oh wait! Those were the notes! (I knew where Middle C was, but was always foggy on the rest.) It was starting to come together…combinations of notes based on finger placement up and down the keyboard…first my right hand, then my left hand.

I’m writing this tonight because the epiphany I had (that other piano playing musicians already know, I’m sure) is that playing the piano is not based on notes on a page. It’s based on feeling the keyboard…knowing the keyboard…and where your hands should be.

I’m fascinated…I haven’t learned something completely new in such a long time. I’m excited…to be at the beginning of this journey – learning a new skill at the ripe old age of nevermind…and being able to help our beautifully restored piano make music. Elementary music, sure, but she was silent for so long.

We’re both going to have a hell of a lot of fun this year…and neither of us is too old to learn something new.

Summertime has officially passed,

Try as we may it can never last,

The days get shorter and the nights grow long,

Crickets slowly cease their song

Some will rejoice with the nip in the air,

But I will lament the weather’s no longer fair,

Scratchy sweaters and too-early holiday cheer,

No sun tans or barbecues or ice cold beer,

Sunlight deprivation suffered by all,

The most depressing time of the year is Fall. 

I’m 51 years old, successful in my career and I have loved the same man for half my life. But last night as I dressed for a Retro “80’s” dance at a high school in my old neighborhood, I was as nervous as my 16 year old self many years ago.

Did my hair look ok? Did this top make me look fatter that I was?

I wasn’t needing to impress anyone. I was going with one of my oldest and dearest friends and we were going to dance to music from 35 years ago with a bunch of other 50-somethings. My crows feet and post-menopausal paunch would not be unusual in this crowd.

What would everyone think? Had I aged well?

Silly and pathetic, really…and as I was having these thoughts, I had to stop and ask WHY myself I was having these thoughts.

Then I remembered and realized that years can pass, but our insecurities stay with us. Growing up, I was not the pretty, popular daughter that everyone loved. My outfits didn’t match, I was uncoordinated, mouthy, and the quintessential book worm. I never considered myself pretty and was convinced very early on that I was wallflower material.

As time went on, I evolved as an adult and grew out of a lot of that, but those thoughts are like rocks in a stream bed. Always just below the surface.

When I realized that it was just old insecurities whispering in my mind, they quieted. I looked in the mirror again and saw the happy person that I am, not the pudgy teenager I was. And instead of feeling nervous, I felt excited….to see old friends…share memories and laughs.

I enjoyed the dance. And all of my fifty-something friends couldn’t have been nicer. Time really does pass.

My dad could be difficult. 

He could be stubborn, judgmental, and quickly annoyed. When he was ticked off, he called me $h*thead. He would toss rolls across a dinner table instead of passing the basket. He’d burp or fart just to get a reaction. He’d forget to put his teeth in and flirt with waitresses. He’d say mean things and wasn’t aware of the impact of his words. 

Some people couldn’t handle that. 

He was also funny, insightful, and way smarter than he gave himself credit for. 

When I was too little to go on Girls Scout camping trips, he would take me to museums: the Smithsonian, the Walters, the National. 

He introduced me to Glenn Miller music, Frank Sinatra, The Godfather movies, and Vincent van Gough. 

He didn’t always agree 100% with the decisions I made.  He was really ticked when I built a house with my then boyfriend. It took a few years, but he came around and referred to my eventual husband as his “good friend.”

We had great talks and cracked each other up. 

He loved that I got my Masters Degree (and had wanted me to go to law school). 

I miss experiencing his excitement when I reach a career milestone. 

In later years, he suffered from dementia. There was estrangement in our family, but he never realized it or understood why, even though he was blamed for it. 

But though all the difficult times, I always knew my daddy loved us and did all that he could for us. 

And for that I am eternally grateful. 

Earlier this week, I had the sad task of attending a viewing and service for my friend’s husband.  He had been ill for a few years, but seemed to have stabilized, so it was a shock.  I’d had the pleasure of meeting him and spending time with him over the last several years. He was one of those gregarious – corny joke telling – always easy to laugh – guys.  

I had heard about the trials and tribulations he had faced over the years.  His road was not an easy one.  And yet he survived, dare I say thrived, and was a source of inspiration and support to so many.  

That was never more evident to me than at the service.  From the priest through several people who wanted to speak…to his grandson, we heard about a person who loved to cut up, loved to laugh, and loved to make others laugh.  Yet, underneath, was a continuing theme of selflessness.  

He was a man who helped others (so many others) rise up from the darkest and most desperate places – as he had done.  He helped them find a path, find a purpose.  Speaker after speaker spoke of his guidance, his friendship, his humor.  He was a lifeline to those drowning and brought them along with him, set their feet on terra firma, and helped them stand on their own, and in turn, stand for others as well.

His son of a father who coached, mentored, and loved.  His son was a strapping guy…who melted in tears.
And we cried with him.

His children, stepchildren, grandchildren…his wife of 30 years, and all of those people for whom he was a smiling beacon have a void now that will need to be filled with their memories and the stories they’ll share.  

Filled, hopefully, by following the example he set.

As the service ended, and I was walking to my car, I couldn’t help but wonder…what would people be able to say when my time comes?  Do you ever wonder what people would say of you?

This gentleman, and he truly was a gentle man, touched so many in ways both large and small.  It was beyond moving, beyond humbling, to hear of a life so well lived.

Rest easy, dear man.