Pray you now, forget and forgive—King Lear

I’ve been off the bloggy radar for the past few days—weird time for me. Yesterday was the 4^th “anniversary” [I don’t know what other term to use….] of my ex-husband’s suicide. Always a tough time.

And then this morning, I heard the story about the girl who took her own life after being bullied in school. God, I know just how her family is feeling. Every time I here of someone making that choice, it takes me back to the horrible pain my kids and I endured for weeks/months afterwards.

In our own non-church-going way we’ve prayed; but we will never forget. You can’t. You want to, but you can’t. You want to forget how his life ended and remember how fully and sweetly he lived it for a long time. You see, he had scoliosis of the spine and had undergone a double spinal fusion at age 15. He was in alot of pain, but from the time he was 17 until well into his 40s, he learned how to ski on land and water. He played drums in a couple of bands. He learned how to surf- and later showed our son how to do it too. He rode a motorcycle [courted me on it as a matter of fact]. He was a hands-on dad to our daughter and son [except for dirty diapers-he couldn't hack those]. And he spent hours with our grandson. He LOVED being "Pop."

Fortunately neither my kids or I were the ones to find him, but the information from the police and the death certificate were pretty specific. I know all three of us get weird mental images at odd times….. Believe me, we’d like to forget.

At Christmas, my grandson caught my daughter off-guard by asking if Pop had left a note. He knows his grandfather took his own life, but he does not know the method—my daughter didn’t want him to have the same mental movies that we do. It’s not necessary. I guess, like the rest of us, the kid was looking for answers, an explanation, something. She didn’t know what to say or how to react…. At first she just walked away, but then she realized that not dealing with things was a big part of her father’s problem.

So she told him what she knew—yes there was a note, but it didn’t say much. I wound up with custody of a COPY of it [the original is on file with the police, I guess]. I told her that oddly enough, I chuckled when I received it—this freaked her out a bit.

Then I told her that he’d written his one-sentence summation of his actions on the back of an envelope. He was ALWAYS writing things on the back of envelopes. I’d find random names, phone numbers, addresses. It was so HIM to use an envelope for that too. Another odd image….

Ah, now we come to the forgive part…..

That is so much harder—for all of us. I’m still working on forgiving him for choosing to self-medicate his pain—both physical and emotional. I tell myself—he was sick [depression was finally diagnosed in 1999]. I think: "You wouldn’t have felt this way if he’d had cancer." But it’s hard. And I’m working on forgiving him for not valuing our marriage or me enough to get help. I spent about 8 years trying to help him help himself. My daughter and I are trying to forgive him for making us worry about her son when he was struggling adjusting to being away at college. We’re working on forgiving him for passing some of his traits on to my son—who seems to be trying to take a different path. Thank God.

And, lest you think I’m a cold-hearted bitch, I’m working on forgiving myself for not being better tuned in to mental illness, for not seeking more help myself to know what to say and do. Could that have helped him? Could all of this have been avoided?

[sorry if I’ve upset anyone, but I needed to get my thoughts/feelings down somewhere.]

Peace til next time. E

No, I will be the pattern of all patience; I will say nothing. (Lear 3.2.37)

So….. guess who called me the other night….

My younger brother—yeah, the one who kicked our mom out of the house she bought. [read about that here]

Now, Mom has been here since January 16th and this is the first we’ve heard from him. I was totally taken off guard. Very awkward—he’s my baby brother and I love him, but I want to choke him for what he’s done.

And he’s all la-de-da, life is beautiful….

Yeah—really.

I didn’t know what to say or do. I am even more convinced he’s bipolar or something. He's basically a good person, but something has gotten screwed up along the way. He genuinely doesn't see that what he did was horrible and wrong. Everyone else does, but not him. It’s sad—and takes some of the bite out of my anger. I’ve already lost one person in my life to mental illness; I don’t want to lose another.

We were very close as kids. We're 14 months apart in age, so we played together constantly. Those memories kept coming back to me.

I was very cordial, chatted with him for a bit. But seriously, I was really uncomfortable—all of the things I wanted to say jumbling around in my head….. For a change, my editing equipment was on. It probably wasn’t the time to get into it. Mom is still trying to settle some legal stuff with him and I don’t want to complicate matters for her.

But—and this is a kicker!!—he talked about maybe coming East for a visit soon. Like he’s gonna be greeted with open arms by the family here…

I’ll keep you posted…..

" There is a tide in the affairs of man..."

Today is "National Near Miss Day."


Now THAT'S an intriguing thought/concept......

It has rolled around in my head all afternoon. I mean isn't most of life a "near miss." You know, the path you didn't take, the "what ifs" we've all had throughout our lives. Even something as simple as "what if I took that road to work this morning." [I mean think of the people who weren't in the Twin Towers on the morning of 9/11 because they'd stopped to get coffee or something. Or folks who miss a flight and it winds up crashing. Or they don't buy a lottery ticket that day and their numbers hit? On the other hand, there's the guy who was jogging on a beach last week when a small plane made an emergency landing, killing him in the process- I mean, it was his time!]

The historical "What Ifs" are things like "What if Columbus hadn't gotten lost on his way across the Atlantic. " or "What if the British had decided to give us taxation WITH representation?" or "What if Hitler had stuck to paperhanging?"

In my life, it would be:

What if I'd at least gone to community college after high school instead of getting a job. [My plan was to work for 2 years, save up my money and then study acting in New York]

What if I hadn't met the hot guy with the long curly hair at that first job. What if I had waited til I was a few years older instead of marrying him at 20.....

What if we'd saved up and bought our first house BEFORE we had our kids?

What if he'd taken that job possibility with his friend in California?


But...


then I think, if I'd have gone to community college, what would I have studied. If I went to New York, would I have become a Meryl Streep or would I have wound up chewed up and spit out?

I f I had taken a different job, would I have met a total creep who would have taken advantage of the 18 year old virginal Catholic school girl? [instead of the caring guy I fell in love with and married]

If I had waited to get married, would we still be together? Would I have been a stronger person and able to see that there was a deep depression lurking in him when he was in his 40s?

If we had waited to have kids, would they be the two awesome, talented, gorgeous human beings I proudly claim as my daughter and son?

If we had moved to California would some of the sorrows of the past 15 years been avoided? Or would the battles have been worse?

I'll never know the answers to those questions--and I'm not meant to know. I made the choices I made based on what I knew/felt at the time. I wouldn't be the person I am now if I hadn't experienced the good, the bad and the ugly that has been my adult life.

I love my kids and my amazing grandson more than words will ever be able to express. I have some awesome friends in my life that I cherish. I may not have the coolest job in the world, but I am finally getting financially stable. I will be able to care for my mother in comfort.

So my body is shot to shit--I've lived in it! I've got lots of laugh lines to show for it too.

And my acting and directing is probably richer for it as well.

So here's to all of the "Near Misses" or "What Ifs" in all of our lives.

"Wear out thy youth with shapeless idleness." -Two Gentlemen of Verona

So, continuing my March theme of pointing out incredibly obscure “holidays,” I’m here to inform you that today is

“National Goof Off Day.”

YES!!! Now here’s a holiday I can get behind.

I wish I could say I spent it languishing on my sofa watching insipid daytime TV, but no such luck. I am toiling away at my desk. My workdays are long and tiring, so my weekends become my “Goof-off” days.

I’m gonna commemorate the day by making this post short and sweet so we can all go laze around as we see fit. [maybe go online and pop some virtual bubble wrap....]

What’s your favorite way to goof off? Enjoy it tonight and think of me…..

“…it is the woman’s part.”—Cymbaline

Today is both “Goddess of Fertility” and “Supreme Sacrifice” Day.

Strange pairing, I know, but it got me thinking—always scary… I made the supreme sacrifice of losing my fertility about 4 years ago [i.e. menopause]. I know that probably sounds odd. I mean it’s not like I wanted any more children—at 52 especially—it was just nice to know I still could. It’s just bittersweet to come to terms with the loss of that most womanly capability. The desire had popped up off and on when my 2 were in grade school—you know: “I know what I’m doing now God—give me another shot at this…..” I even used to have the occasional dream about having another child…. Is that common?

We were 27 and 21 when our daughter was born—and 13 months later our son joined the clan. Fertility was not a problem. In fact, my doctor threatened to send my husband to a monastery for the spring if I got pregnant so soon again. By our 10th anniversary, we’d decided that two healthy kids were enough—and my husband got a vasectomy. So another child was not an option.

Not long after I separated from my husband and moved into my own apartment, I had my then-9 year old grandson over for a visit. Out of the blue, he asked me if I was going to have any more babies:
“Oh, I don’t think so buddy.”
“But, I want you to.”
“Why? So you can burp your aunt or uncle?”

Well, THAT cracked him up—and diverted him onto another subject. I relayed this conversation to my daughter the next day. She told me he desperately wanted to be a big brother.
“He’s not having any luck with me, so I guess he thought he’d go to the next known breeder in the family.”
“Oh good God, he’ll be onto Nanny next.”

Well, he never has gotten to be a big brother and now my daughter has had an ovary removed due to a malignant cyst, as well as cancer cells on her cervix. She has bravely accepted the fact that her son may well be her one and only. But I feel bad for her—she never got to experience the fun of being a pregnant couple. She was only 16 and Mr. Sperm Donor was clueless. He’s been pretty much out of my grandson’s life since he was one. So she never got to plan a nursery, have a baby shower, have the daddy fuss over her and listen to the baby’s heartbeat.

Now she’s like many women in her age range—reproductively challenged. I wonder why that is? Why so many 30-something women—and men—are facing a myriad of issues with fertility. Is it the additives that have been in our food supply over the past 3 decades? Is it the birth control pills that my generation took before having them—and that they started taking at young ages?

I ache for all of these couples who would make amazing parents yet cannot conceive. I wish I knew the answer…..

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
A footnote:
As devote Catholics, my parents followed Church approved birth control methods—my mother used to point to the four of us and say “This is my rhythm section.” When she was pregnant with number 4 in 7 years, she looked at my father and said “You know, the pope isn’t paying to raise these kids….” My dad got a vasectomy right after my younger brother was born.

" Were I the Moor…." OTHELLO

“WASHINGTON TOWNSHIP, New Jersey - Wal-Mart Stores Inc. officials are reviewing security tapes to try to determine who used a southern New Jersey store's public-address system to tell "all black people" to leave.”

[click on post title to read the initial article]

I just happened to come across this on MSN.com today. I was appalled. It is so sad that there are still people in this world who dislike someone solely on the basis of their skin color—or sexual orientation for that matter. That bigotry continues to exist a decade into the 21st century. This still surprises me—although it probably shouldn’t.

[the lyrics to a song from South Pacific popped into my head, as they have on other occasions:
You have to be taught before it’s too late,

before you are six or seven or eight,

to hate all the people you’re relatives hate.

You’ve got to be carefully taught]

I thought we’d have evolved enough to be beyond all of that. The essence of who we are comes from within, from our “soul,” for lack of a better word. I’ve gained a boatload of weight over the past few years, but what makes me “me” is still the same. I can’t get around as agilely as I used to, but I’m still the same person. I look in the mirror and wonder what the hell happened, but I know the smart, funny, creative individual is still there….. Your body—and its inherent skin color, eye color, etc.—is just “window dressing” or “packaging,” if you will. And we all come in an infinite variety of packages—that’s what makes us interesting. But it shouldn’t define how we are treated in this world.

Disliking someone for their skin color or the like is akin to disliking them for being left-handed or blue-eyed. Get over it people—no one group is any better than any other group.

what fools these mortals be.....

watching Jonn Stewart's breakdown of the BS that passes for politics t0night--with special emphasis on the scandals--got me thinking......

they should do a Washington version of "Tool Academy."