TRIGGERS

I have not experienced grief in a go to bed for days, weepy, can't cope way.  I moved into the what needs to be done zone and stayed there for weeks - to the point that I wondered what was wrong with me.  Am I normal?  I loved my husband, he died.  Shouldn't I fall apart at least a little bit? 

Then a cascade of problems started to set in - and I found I was fine putting out fires but unable to cope with simple things.  A notice from the bank that required me to change my log-in just threw me - I couldn't think of something new.  The woman on the phone nicely came up with something until I could think straight. A CPA I called for advice told me what killed him probably was the financial stress he was under and I hung up on her but was so shaken up I didn't make phone calls for days.  Paperwork for the new bank account I opened had to be corrected because I put in that I was married.

Driving through the city where we used to live brought on tears.  Seeing people out on their bikes brought waves of memories. Passing by things I used to buy for him at the store made me sadder than planning meals for one.

After moving to a new state, I have not had many of those moments, until today.  I went to donate

blood - which is the thing I told people to do when they asked how they could help following his diagnosis and death.  I  didn't really give it much thought until I saw all the people there doing this generous life giving thing.  I had gone prompted by the Covid crisis, but realized once there that the hospitals are still full of leukemia patients in need of this precious resource only we can provide.

I had strong mixed emotions all day.  The loss. The life sustaining gift we can  give. 

JEN AND THE EARWORM

Jen on the Edge wrote about a song she heard back on the 70's when she was 5.  In the mid-70's I was in college so my take on the music was a little different - but I do remember the songs she wrote about.

Which led me to think about a meaningful summer song from that decade - the summer of 1970.  I was hanging out with some older kids from my neighborhood that summer - which happened because Jim Boomer lived on my street.  He had a pool table in the garage and it became the hangout. By my proximity, and the lopsided boy-girl ratios, I was invited in.

There was a lot of bad pool playing, driving to Jolly's Burgers to visit the Goetz brothers on the nights they were working, some swimming and a new game we invented called mud frisbee which we played on the high school fields the nights after they watered. Major dirty fun.

One of the guys was new in town and he sort of showed some interest in me.  It was pretty subtle and I was not one for catching on, but Gail, my new BFF was urging me to pay more attention to him.  I remember his name was Tony Pontious and that he had longish red hair.  With just a little encouragement, he did ask me out.  I don't recall what we did - but I do recall it was our only date because I did something he found unforgivable.

That summer this song was big and I really liked it.

Tony bought the 45 for me (okay, I don't want to hear "What is a 45?",  look it up.) He gave it to me when we were over at his house and I was really touched and excited that he gave me a gift.  But when we left - I left it behind.

That was it - he pretty much never talked to me again.

But it was still the best summer of my life.

ONE OF THOSE MEMORABLE DAYS



Photo taken the day John Lennon Was shot.

 I don't remember the date until it comes up each year, but the day John Lennon was killed is one of those days which I will always remember.  I was living in San Diego - I had recently moved back there to an apartment in Pacific Beach because I was preparing to start law school.  I was seeing a guy then who was a few years older than me.  He called - stunned by the news.  We shared our thoughts, feelings, memories.  Both of us recalled the feelings we had when Bobbie Kennedy and Martin Luther King were shot.  Those tragedies which marked our teens still left tender places in our hearts.

Whenever I think of this day I also think of the impact The Beatles had on my life.  My first boy-girl party in 5th grade where we listened to Meet the Beatles over and over.  The albums marked my growing up years - the years of change and evolution in my life and in the world. 

 As a suburban girl, I was introduced to a larger world by the travels and experiences of the Beatles which they shared in their lyrics.  I am thinking of the Magical Mystery Tour and the references not just to drugs but to meditation and spirituality.  I received the coveted White Album for Christmas when I was 16.  A double album.  I had the song "I Will" from that album played at my wedding.  I am not a music critic or at all knowledgeable about these things except for my feelings and memories all tied up and connected with the songs of Lennon and McCartney.

I think John Lennon was a genius.  I think The Beatles was the best and most important music group ever.  I wish John Lennon had been allowed to live longer so that we could all have experienced more of what he had to give - and so his children and the woman who loved him could have shared their lives with him.

Maybe it is partly my current mood about our politics right now - it just seems like so many who had so much promise have been taken from us - those of us in my age group feel it especially keenly because we were so touched by these men.

WHY BLOG?

When I was in high school I was a writer for the newspaper. I was also into the idea of being a writer. To that end, I loved to read quotations by famous authors and I even copied them down and pinned them to the bulletin boards I had artfully arranged to cover the hated wallpaper in my room. My interests ran from the Beatles to The Prophet. I had books of quotes about love that I poured over, trying to find out what love would be like if it ever came my way.

When it was time to go to college, I decided I should be a journalism major. I knew I didn't have enough of a creative spark to be a fiction writer, but I was good with facts and writing plainly. After I had devoted several years to my J degree (as we cool J people called it) I realized that I didn't really want to chase stories in some little town until I could chase stories in a larger town, until I could chase stories in a place I would really like to live. But by then, it was too late to change majors and I really didn't know what I would change to, anyway.

So right out of college I went into sales. Yuck. Then I went into restaurant management. Better, but long hours and not intellectually satisfying. Then I went for career counseling and found out I had a lot of interests. Duh. Since I didn't know what to do, I went to law school. I liked it for 2 years then it dawned on me that it required a certain amount of picky meanness that I couldn't summon up.

I finished it and found a job in the marketing department of a small company. My writing ability, my law background and my creative side all came into play. It was a really great fit. They even said I could come back part time after my twins were born. Then the company was sold. I had the babies and realized I didn't want to go to work, and we could afford for me to be home.

Why, oh, why I am writing about this? To try to figure out why I am blogging.

When I had to go out to find work after 12 years of being home with kids. No one knew what to do with me and I didn't know what I could do anymore. In the job I have, I have been able to rediscover the writer in me. First by answering e-mail. Later by writing articles for our site and others. Then we started blogging. I am a "ghost writer" in some of the work that I do, but other things are in my name - all in my "voice."

I know that I am not a superior writer - I have seen too many blogs that are wonderfully written to suffer that delusion. I just know that I want to write and I seem to think of things to write about. This forum of blogging makes it possible to do something beyond scribbling in journals. Maybe people other than my friends and family will find me and enjoy something I write - that will be cool.

A FASHION GENE?

This photo took me hours to find - not too many photos of 1969 fashions out there! This is Maria Shriver!

Ally and I were hitting the sale at soon to be defunct Mervyns. She needed khakis for a drama thing, and since she swears she will never wear them again - I wanted to get them as on-sale as possible. She feels that she has a certain style reputation to uphold - skinny jeans work, khaki's don't.

I would react negatively to this concern for her daily look, except that I was similarly obsessed at her age. There were no skinny jeans for us, though, no pants at all for most of my high school years. We wore tights, pantyhose or, I can't believe I am saying this, knee socks with our short, short skirts and Mary Jane flats.

I read the fashion magazines and tried to add the little touches to make myself look with it, though my budget was pretty far out of it. I learned to sew and spent many hours at the fabric store and sewing machine to recreate the right look. I was lucky because I had straight, straight long hair. The one natural thing about me that fit in. The glasses and curvy figure were not in style, but the hair was perfection. It was Cher hair.

I realize that I am a bit indulgent of Ally's interest in her look because I know how much I would have enjoyed being able to have more fun clothes at her age. When she picked out zebra print shoes for the Homecoming Dance, I was so pround.

I AM TUESDAY'S PROMPT

This week, tell us who you are, what’s inside, where you’re from. Share your memory fragments, those visions in your head, those figments that make you, you. What bits and pieces formed your whole? Are you whole? Tell us.


I am from a hot valley town surrounded by mustard fields and dusted by peat.

I am from hand-me-downs and housefuls and playing outside 'till long after dark.

I am from sewing machines and pixie cuts and shared rooms.

I am from drive-ins, dill pickles, huckleberries and basements.

I am from bare feet, chlorine scented hair, bikes and campfires.

I am from short skirts, long hair, protest songs and proms.

I am from sun bleached beaches, cool libraries, politics and parties.

I am from books, music, writing, friends and ideas.

BIG HOMECOMING NIGHT

It was Homecoming week here, the weather turned a bit cool just in time. The skits were fun, the Sophomores came in second behind the traditionally first place Seniors. The team lost the big game, but Ally's gang doesn't really go to watch the game. The real big event is the dance.

This year I agreed to host the pre-dance photo op and dinner. The parents arrived with teens in tow and hung around to take pictures. The kids were game and posed for endless pictures in groups and couples. We had one guy going "stag" and two girls going "doe". I think it is great that they feel comfortable attending the dances without dates - not done in my day. I still remember the year I had a date and my best friend didn't - took a lot of the fun out of it for me.

We planned a salad and sandwich bar for the dinner. Easy to make in advance, not too messy for the sake of the dressed up guests and the girls could "eat in front of the boys" if it is salad. I don't recall having that particular issue when I was 15, but I went along.

When I asked what they wanted on the salad bar I was told bacon bits, croutons and shrimp. I added chicken, cheese and various chopped up veggies which went pretty much untouched. They were all very appreciative and had a noisy dinner before we shuttled them over to the gym. One of the girls asked if I had ever gone to a Homecoming dance, I said I had gone to all four when I was in high school. She was surprised, said her mom never went to any dances. I said I could remember every dance I went to and I hoped they would be good memories for them, too.

Then I sent them off, all dressed up and ready to dance the night away.