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Photo credit: Marisa Farnsworth
One last 2017 moon.
Hope you have a good holiday weekend everybody! Happy New Year!
Clues * Happy New Year * Doing Whatever I Want * Stories in the News * A Lifetime's Too Short * Baby, It's Cold Outside * My To-Do List * The Briar Patch * WTF * Our Support Group
To read A Mother's Diary from the beginning, click on the June 2017 archives in the right hand column and read "Before: Scenes from the Trenches."
Christmas company's gone. Jim and Sharon left this morning. Jazzy's wandering around. "Where did all the people go? Is it just you and me again?"
I'm listening to music from the movies on my new stereo. It's a Christmas gift from Jim and Sharon. Jim spent two days buying it and hooking it up. It has five speakers and surround sound. When we turned it on for the first time, I caught my breath. My kitchen radio doesn't project and is full of static. This orchestra in my living room sends notes swirling through my soul.
To make the stereo work, I needed to upgrade my ten-year-old television. I now own a TV with DMI1. I'm not sure what DMI1 is but the images on the screen are bright. Colors are vivid. People are three dimensional.
When I bought my old TV, it was considered cutting edge. How long will it take for this new one to be outdated? Six months? Built-in obsolescence discourages making choices. Choices must be made, however, or we live in suspended animation.
Megan, Marisa, and Kerry gave me a Kindle. Now I have more choices — books with covers and paper pages, or books downloaded on a computer-type device. I'll buy books when I want to keep them and underline and write in the margins. I'll read reviews and previews on the Kindle. I'll download books when I want to have one at the ready.
By the time a descendant chances to read this, TV's, stereos, and Kindles will be obsolete. Someone, an older person, will have to explain what the heck they were.
Today, people research their families on ancestry.com. They want to know who they are by knowing who they came from. They look for clues in "the old days." I'm trying to pay it forward by leaving these notes about "the old days" for those who come after.
PATRICK'S FACEBOOK POST: I find more and more that, when faced with the various daily challenges life throws at me, I am beginning to repeat an old mantra, "Lord Have Mercy."
It's the last day of the year and I'm working at the kitty rescue thrift store. Goodbye 2013.
Like all other years, 2013 flew by. It gave us a pope from South America, Prince George in England, civil rights advances, worries over national security surveillance programs, chemical weapons in Syria, severe weather, gun violence, health care struggles, water shortages, and government impasses.
Tomorrow, the first day of the new year, offers chances for new beginnings:
We'll try harder.
We'll hold hands and celebrate diversity.
We'll love our brothers and sisters.
We'll be good stewards of earth and it's creatures.
We'll cure the sick and feed the hungry.
We'll make the distribution of wealth more equitable.
We'll guarantee gender equality in jobs and politics.
We'll make sure technology is in sync with our human hearts and minds.
We won't fight.
We won't go to war.
By February, the new year's aura will have begun to fade. We'll have failed to keep our resolutions even through January. Politics, economics, and other world woes will challenge us and drag us back into old bad habits. But tonight and tomorrow we have hope. We have breath and life. Help us remember, 2014, every day we have one day to try to be the best we can be.
PATRICK'S FACEBOOK POST: Highlights from helping Mom to set up her new HDTV stereo system: Getting her to listen to "Holy Diver" by Ronnie James, "Dio Blackout" by The Scorpions, and "Little Too Late" by Nicki Bluhm and the Gamblers. 2013 was a very good year — moved into a new house, had cancer-free MRI's, got a dog, enjoyed myself. Ready for 2014 to be filled with new opportunities for learning, employment, and relationship. Happy New Year everyone!
I'm putting the house back together — taking ornaments off the Christmas tree, stowing snowmen away, retiring Jesus, Mary, and Joseph for another year. It's fun putting up Christmas decorations. It's a relief to take them down. At first, the house looks bare. Then it begins to look peaceful and uncluttered again.
I'm not making much progress. I keep taking time out to read the first book I've downloaded onto my new Kindle - Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn. It's a thriller and a page turner. I'm still in my pajamas. No make-up. No plans to leave the house. Basking in downtime from non-stop holiday eating and a houseful of guests. A quiet, do-whatever-I-want kind of day.
PATRICK'S FACEBOOK POST: Unlike many New Year's Eves gone by where I rang in the new year with the Grateful Dead, last night I had a low key evening of working sound for a burning bowl ceremony at the church (a much different burning bowl than you find with the Dead), went out for beer and appetizers at the Yard House with the minister and a couple of ladies from the church. Yes, church ladies. Then went out alone to a local Irish pub where I found nothing I liked in the drunken crowd, the horrible music, and the incessant noise. Was home and in bed by 11:15 p.m. Hard to believe I'm the same person I was twenty years ago.
Gayle: On the first day of the year I need to tell you, Patrick, that everything you write and say makes me smile or shake my head.
There's a story in the newspaper today about a marine ecosystem that scientists are calling the "plasticsphere" — a new, man-made ecosystem of plastic debris. The plasticsphere is a product of discarded plastic items — flip flops, margarine tubs, toys, toothbrushes — that get swept from sewer systems and river systems into the sea. When the debris washes into the ocean, it breaks down into bits that are colonized by microscopic organisms. Scientists fear that chunks of polyethylene and polypropylene then percolate into the environment.
According to the article, about 245 million tons of plastic residue is produced each year. That represents 70 pounds of plastic for each of the 7.1 billion people on the planet. Researchers are studying this trash to determine the damage it does to our oceans. And to us.
Another story is about computerizing people — a movement to outfit people with electronic devices than can be swallowed, implanted, or attached to skin via "smart tattoos." Critics say this pushes the boundaries of what it means to be human. Supporters envision a day when devices, placed in people, will enable them to control computers, prosthetic limbs, and other objects with their thoughts.
A nonprofit organization, Mars One, based in the Netherlands, has the goal of turning the colonization of Mars into a reality show. Over 200,000 people have applied for a one-way ticket to Mars. More than half are under the age of 35 but 26 are over 56. The oldest applicant is 81. The US has the most applicants - 297 - moving into round two of the winnowing process. In the next four years, Mars One will cull the applicant group down to 40. Those selected will train in groups for seven years. Then, a global audience will vote and choose the first team to go to Mars in 2025.
In 2025, I'll be 81. Body and soul of mine, please stay healthy and together. I want to be around and find out how these stories play out...
I've finished reading Madeleine L'Engle's A Wrinkle in Time, which I should have read as a kid but didn't. I'm poking around on the internet, trying to understand what a "tesseract" is.
I'm looking at interactive diagrams. I get the first dimension — a line. I get the second dimension — the square of the line — a flat square. I even get the third dimension — the square of the second dimension — the flat square is no longer flat. It has a bottom, sides and a top. It's a cube.
This is where it gets dicey. You square the cube, but you can't really draw it. Some people call this the fourth dimension or time. Then, to get to the fifth dimension, you square the fourth. And the fifth is a "tesseract" — a wrinkle in time or a short cut through space.
Of course. Silly me. Why didn't I see this before?
One site says in 200 years we may have a different understanding of the fourth and fifth dimensions that will change everything. Great. I don't have 200 years to find out how everything gets changed. I'm feeling frustrated when, in fact, everyone faces the same dilemma. There's more to know than can be grasped in one lifetime.
Bears hibernate when it's cold outside and it's cold outside. I think I'm part bear. I know what I'm about to do and I don't want to admit it.
It's 4:30 in the afternoon.
I kick off my shoes and crawl into bed.
I pull the red, velvety throw round my hands and my head.
That rhymes.
My bones are cold. They feel like chicken bones stuffed in a freezer. I'll warm up under the covers. My eyes are closing. It's light outside.
My eyes are opening. It's dark outside. And it's still so darn cold on the other side of these blankets. The good angel, on my right shoulder, says, "Get up."
The bad angel, on my left shoulder, says, "Naw. Go ahead. Wallow in warmth and softness. Stay where you are."
I agree with the bad angel. Who wrote the rules about having to be up freezing my buns off in a cold house? The good angel is losing patience. "You're being ridiculous. Get up. Act like a grown-up."
All right, already. I throw back the covers, dash to the closet, and grab a sweater. I check my email. Someone's forwarded photographs of old people looking into mirrors, seeing themselves as they looked sixty years ago. One man says, "It's a universal condition — at some point in your life, you look in the mirror and say, 'Wait a minute, how did I get this old?'"
Someone else adds, "I need to go lie down for a while."
For crying out loud. I think the bad angel sent this email. Be forewarned, bad angel. I'm not getting back into bed. I'm going to look at myself in the mirror. What reflection will I see? I'll probably see a bear, an old scruffy bear, scratching her butt on a redwood tree and about to curl up in a dark, toasty cave.
It's a new year. People make New Year's resolutions. I don't. Instead, I'll make a short list of things I want to get done. It's my little ritual of visualizing goals to make them happen. Last year, my list included the following:
1. Get Pat into permanent housing.
2. Sell the golf cart.
3. Install storage cabinets in the garage.
Check. Check. And Check.
What's on my have-to-get-done list for 2014?
1. Update my living trust.
2. Sign on with a personel trainer at our community gym.
3. Plan something for my 70th birthday.
The first item doesn't need explanation. The second item's because, if I don't have someone waiting for me to show up, I won't make it to my workout.
Last week, I bought two three-pound barbells at the thrift shop. These two purple bell thingies were sitting, side by side, on a small table when one of them picked itself up and threw itself onto the floor. I'm not kidding. It didn't roll off the table. It flew off the table. It landed with a loud thud. No one was standing nearby. The three of us in the shop froze. We looked at the barbell. We looked at each other. Whoa. What just happened here? How did that barbell move? A big sign.
GO TO THE GYM.
The third item on my to-do list is about my birthday. Here's the thing, the only birthday party I ever planned for myself was when my then-husband and I turned 40 at the same time. When I was married, I waited hoping something would happen on my birthday. Often, whatever happened was last minute. "You want to go to dinner or something? It's past six o'clock. We could go to the club."
I should have been less self-negating. I should have taken the bull by the horns. I should have stormed the barricades. I should have drawn my sword and shouted, "Carpe Diem!"
My birthday's coming up.
My birthday's this year.
My birthday's next month.
My birthday's next week.
My birthday's tomorrow.
My birthday's today and we have reservations for dinner at Scoma's in San Francisco.
I should have left notes around the house. "I want a 22-inch, dark blue, beaded, single-strand necklace with a decorative clasp, to wear with the light-blue dress I bought for my birthday. Thank you very much."
I should have been obnoxious.
At any rate, my birthday's in a few months — my seventieth birthday. How many times have I mentioned this? Am I being obnoxious?
In the past year, I've lost four friends who didn't make it to 70. I want my turning 70 to be meaningful. I want turning 70 to be an expression of gratitude. I don't know, yet, what this commemoration will look like — a party, a trip, a house full of family and friends, a silent retreat? But I have it written down on my to-do list for 2014. And if something's written down on my list, it generally comes to pass.
PATRICK'S FACEBOOK POST: California weather update for my East Coast friends: 58 degrees and cloudy.
Photo credit: Aden Tranter/Flickr
Back working at the thrift store. It's received so many donations in the past month — people cleaning out closets — that we're having a sale to move merchandise.
ALL CLOTHING AND SHOES IN THE STORE ARE $1
THE SALE CONTINUES UNTIL JANUARY 21.
Starburst, an orange kitten, is in the adoption room. He's six-months-new to this world and he's got attitude. "I'm here. Listen to me roar."
Starburst's two siblings have been adopted and he doesn't like being alone. His cries are loud and demanding. Guests in the store take turns playing with him. Pick him up and you press a purr button. Never mind he doesn't know you. He likes you.
One little girl wants to adopt Starburst. "I have to ask my dad. I'm going to go home and draw two kitty pictures. One for my house and one for the store."
"Wonderful. We'll put your drawing on the bulletin board."
Last week, the same little girl wanted to buy a s'more maker. Her mother told her to go home and ask her father. The next day she was back. "Dad said 'yes' to the s'more maker."
This time her mother tells her, "It may not work the same way when you ask for a kitten."
People are taking their time shopping. They don't want to overlook a good buy. I offer assistance. "Can I take those clothes out of your arms while you shop for more?"
Folks head out the door with 20 pieces of clothing each — dresses, shirts, shoes, winter jackets, leather jackets, children's outfits, sweaters — for $20 plus tax. A woman buys a long, violet evening gown. She's not planning to wear it. "This dress will make lots of doll clothes."
Another woman buys a card maker. A new lady enters looking for an egg plate. We don't have one anywhere but we do get them in. She'll check back. It's for an art project. An elderly woman is hunting for tap shoes. She's signed up for tap lessons.
People, with bits and pieces of their stories, file in and out the door. In and out the door. I feel like Br'er Rabbit in the Uncle Remus tales. Someone's thrown me in the briar patch.
PATRICK'S FACEBOOK POST: One of the great things about being the son of a doctor was that you could always get a prescription when you needed one. I called the Kaiser advice nurse and reported my sore throat and congestion and was advised to "do a saltwater gargle." I might as well have called my grandmother.
Pat calls. "I met with the bankruptcy attorney this morning. All the paperwork is turned in. We're waiting for a court date. Probably in February. I saw a program at Sierra Junior College for library tech certification. I think I'd qualify for a loan. It's about $10,000 per semester for two semesters, but I'd need help with the registration fees and books."
"Why is it so much per semester?"
"Well, it covers living expenses like housing and food."
"But you have housing and food."
"Barely. It would be nice to have things not be so tight."
"You're filing bankruptcy. It's not time to take on new debt. Go to some libraries in the area. Talk to the head librarians. Find out if they're hiring and what skill sets they need. You may end up getting a certificate for a job that is being eliminated with budget cuts."
"I knew I shouldn't have told you about this. I'm trying to do something constructive and you're being negative. Bye."
I need the wisdom and patience of I don't know WTF who.
Just hung up the phone with my new personal trainer, Deanne. She made me feel good. "I have clients in their late eighties. You're just a kid."
I may be a "kid" but I'm an out of shape kid. Deanne has her work cut out for her. I do, too. My first session will be next Tuesday and we'll work on strength, balance, and flexibility. My goals are to feel less stiff in the morning, to be able to stand up from a squatting position without help, and to have more muscle in my arms and legs.
Deanne will give me some exercises to do with my new purple weights. That should keep the spirits in the thrift store quiet. Let's hope Pat's bankruptcy and my strength-training go well.
At the Family Mental Illness Support Group, ten people show up including two new people. Random comments at the meeting:
"I'm here to support my twin sister."
"I found a new psychiatrist to help me with anxiety issues about my bipolar son."
"Things seem to be revving up with my daughter again."
"Well, we're here because we come every time. Our son is homeless."
"My daughter lives clear across the country but I still need support."
"Our son is back home with us. The housing he was in foreclosed and he had nowhere else to go. It's driving a wedge between my husband and me."
I tell the group, "We've been offered an opportunity to get a little funding from the local foundation. We could use the money for books, speakers, and programs. Do you want me to pursue this?"
There's an unanimous "Yes."
"What are some of the topics you'd like to have addressed?"
"Housing."
"Denial."
"Legal issues."
"Special Needs Trusts."
"Okay. I'll look into the application process and get it started. Have a good month everyone."
PATRICK'S FACEBOOK POST: Top ten books that have had pivotal influence for me:
1. Letters to a Young Poet, Rainer Maria Rilke
2. Franny and Zooey, J.D. Salinger
3. The Great American Novel, Philip Roth
4. Fear of Flying, Erica Jong
5. Storming Heaven, Jay Stevens
6. On the Road, Jack Kerouac
7. Confederacy of Dunces, John Kennedy Toole
8. The Collected Poems of Joseph Brodsky, Joseph Brodsky
9. The Phantom Tollbooth, Norton Juster
10. Autobiography of a Yogi, Paramahansa Yogananda
Please share my blog/book with "other wayfarers who might catch a resonating echo while wandering in my woods." Thanks.
COMING UP THURSDAY, JANUARY 11, 2018
January 11, 2014 - January 24, 2014: That's All Folks * Old Friends * Working Out * Rose * American Hustle * Sorry State of Mental Health Care * Learn and Live * Football * SNAFU * The Paperwork Monster * I'm Engaged
To subscribe and receive email notices of new book posts every other week, enter your email address in the box on the right at the top of the page, and hit the Sign Up button. If you have any trouble subscribing, send me an email and I'll sign you up from my end :-)
dede@soonerthantomorrow.com
Photo credit: Dede Ranahan
Mormon Tabernacle Choir on PBS.
Hope you have a happy holiday weekend everybody!
Good reading :) Thx Dede :) Merry Christmas Craig Willers
Just finished reading your post - I especially liked your communication back and forth with Pat Schneider - lovely. Also your description of your annual crab feed with the family — sounds so delicious! So glad Kerry’s mammogram turned out ok. You say a lot — in your journal format. Kudos my friend. Keep ‘em coming. Chris
Thank you so much for collecting and sharing these stories! Love comes through and shines through any tears or sorrows. Thanks! Gerrie
Please share my blog/book with "other wayfarers who might catch a resonating echo while wandering in my woods." Thanks.
COMING UP THURSDAY, DECEMBER 28, 2017
December 30, 2013 - January 10, 2014: Clues * Happy New Year * Doing Whatever I Want * Stories in the News * A Lifetime's Too Short * Baby, It's Cold Outside * My To-Do List * The Briar Patch * WTF * Our Support Group
To subscribe and receive email notices of new book posts every other week, enter your email address in the box on the right at the top of the page, and hit the Sign Up button. If you have any trouble subscribing, send me an email and I'll sign you up from my end :-)
dede@soonerthantomorrow.com
Pat and me 1969
Photo credit: Marisa Farnsworth
Fall's gold.
Hope you have a good weekend everybody!
On the Back Burner * Plans and Priorities * In the Moment * How the Light Gets In * Christmas Eve * A Christmas Card
To read A Mother's Diary from the beginning, click on the June 2017 archives in the right hand column and read "Before: Scenes from the Trenches."
I prefer winter and fall,
when you feel the bone structure
of the landscape. Something
waits beneath it; the
whole story doesn't show.
Andrew Wyeth
TONY'S FINGER
He called the boiler room and said,
"This is John up in the penthouse.
Come on up and crack the steam in."
So I took the cowhide gloves and walked
across the January parking lot
to the main building of the hospital,
stuck my key in the elevator and rode it
to the mechanical penthouse, third floor.
The door opened to show me the tradesmen
all caught up on a different pipe
like kids on the monkey bars.
I put the pipe wrench to the blue valve
and cracked it slow, remembering John's admonition:
"You've got a hundred'n twenty pounds of pressure
coming through there. Open it too fast
and it'll blow you through the fucking roof."
Steam sang through the pipes as the condensate
dripped from the new silver gaskets
onto the concrete floor, scribbling a lazy map.
A man lost his finger here on the original job
putting in the permanent air handlers,
and when I look up to check the steam gauge,
I see where his buddies drew a picture —
a severed digit with the brotherly words:
"Hey Tony, here's your finger."
Patrick Ranahan
I'm shopping at Trader Joe's and buying more food supplies for Christmas. Today's items include pecans, dried cherries, parmesan crisps, lemon curd, artichoke hearts, hearts of palm, Spanish Manchego cheese, pomegranate arils, and pico de gallo.
I stop at Macy's to buy two jelly roll pans for Kerry. They're on her Christmas wish list. On the spur of the moment, I call her.
"Are you home? Will you be there for a few minutes?"
"Yes and yes."
I want to give the jelly roll pans to Kerry now, in case she can use them for her Christmas baking. She answers the door in a jacket and scarf.
"Are you going somewhere?"
"No, just keeping warm."
I give her the red Macy's bag with the pans inside.
"Are these the right pans?"
"Yes, thanks."
Regan and Ayla are in the family room. Kerry and I stand in the entryway.
"I had my annual exam today, Mom. I have a lump in my right breast. I found it myself. I've had it for a month. I have to have a mammogram and some other tests."
I observe my daughter. She has a new haircut with bangs and tapered sides framing her face. She looks very cute. It takes a moment for her words to sink in. She's not crying but close. She's scared. I put my arms around her and we hug.
"They can't see me for the tests until Monday. I don't want to wait that long. They may have another lab that I can get into sooner."
"Call them, now."
Kerry calls the doctor's office. It's closed. She calls another number. She's talking to someone like she's ordering pizza. Matter of fact. But her legs are shaking. Her body's shaking. She gets an appointment for 8:30 a.m. Friday morning.
"I'll go with you."
"You don't have to, Mom."
"I want to."
"Okay."
I hug my daughter, again. "We're not panicking yet. There's no family history of breast cancer. It could be nothing."
Kerry was planning to have Christmas Day at her house. She can't think about that right now.
"If you don't feel like hosting Christmas, we can have it at my house. What time should I be here Friday morning?"
"Come at eight and I'll drop the girls off for their rides to school."
Suddenly, getting ready for Christmas in on the back burner.
PATRICK'S FACEBOOK POST: How do you spell relief? Insurance adjuster calls and informs you that your $1,000 deductible has been waived due to other party's fault.
I text Kerry. "How are you this morning?"
"I'm okay. I'm glad my appointment is tomorrow, though."
Me, too. I get busy. I decide to clean my oven. You turn on the automatic cleaning cycle and let the oven clean itself. Piece of cake.
I press the self-clean button. I set the timer for two hours. The words "lock door" light up. I try to shut the door but the door latch has protruded without catching and the door won't shut. The "lock door" light is flashing, but I can't shut the door to make it stop.
Hmm? I push another button - "control lock."
Oh, dear. Now everything's blocked. The "clear/off" pad's not working either. I pull out the oven manual. I check the trouble shooting section. No help there. Maybe there's a number to call for assistance.
I need the model and serial numbers. I find them on the left side of the range at the bottom, almost to the floor. I bend over but I can't read them. My trifocals aren't lining up so I can see the numbers.
I lie down on the floor on my stomach so I can get my glasses at a better angle. Who put these numbers in this position? What were they thinking? Did they consider the people who'd be sprawled on floors trying to read them? Were they laughing in the factory?
Finally, after five minutes, I've copied the numbers. I hope they're correct. I call the 800 customer service number. The number's not operative. This is beginning to feel like a communist plot. I don't want to call a repairman. My stubborn oven is not a repair issue. It's an operator failure issue. I call Neighbors InDeed, our neighborhood volunteer help line. I leave a message. It's embarrassing.
Long story short, an hour-and-a-half later a volunteer arrives at my door. He says, "I'm not sure what to do, but I'll take a stab at it."
After 45 minutes of trying this and that and almost giving up, the "lock door" light stops flashing. We push on the door latch and it aligns with its slot in the oven door. Three hours after I began, my automatic oven cleaner is set and functioning.
Now I'm at the local market. Another $89 in groceries. This is never ending. Oven cleaning and grocery shopping, usually they're routine. Today they're diversions.
I was supposed to join a friend tomorrow to see Catching Fire but, instead, Kerry and I'll meet. How quickly plans and priorities can change.
I'm with Kerry at Sutter Hospital. She's wrapped in a hospital gown waiting for her ultrasound. She did some research online that makes her feel hopeful.
"There's an eighty-percent chance that I don't have breast cancer. Maybe it's because I'm thinking about it, but my right boob hurts."
"That's good," I say. "I don't think cancer hurts — at least in the beginning."
A nurse calls Kerry into the ultrasound room. Another nurse comes and offers me coffee or tea. She must know I'm a concerned mom.
I thumb through a woman's magazine. Lots of yummy looking slow-cooker recipes — chicken soup, tomato sauce, chili, stews, short ribs. Comfort food. I brought a book to read but it sits on the chair. Magazine articles are better suited to my attention span.
Kerry comes back. So far, so good. The ultrasound looks okay. She's bracing for the mammogram. This will be her first one. Really? Kerry is 36. I had my first mammogram when I was twenty-something. The same nurse calls Kerry again. Back to the slow-cooker recipes. I may have to buy this magazine. It's the January 2014 issue. Kerry returns.
"That wasn't bad. It pinched a little, that's all."
Ten minutes go by. The nurse comes out and says, "As soon as the radiologist is finished with another patient, I'll ask him to look at Kerry's mammograms."
This nurse is friendly and considerate. She knows we're waiting for the right report. When she comes back again she's smiling.
"Everything looks good. Call your doctor in six weeks for a follow-up check."
I'm smiling. My daughter's smiling. "I didn't know how that concern was weighing me down," she says. "I was really grumpy."
Kerry texts David. He texts right back. "Yay! I'm so relieved. I was so worried."
It's ten in the morning and, all of a sudden, we're both starving and ready for lunch. We drive to a nearby restaurant for soup and sandwiches. We talk about Christmas gifts and children and decorations.
"Kerry, do you feel like today is kind of another birthday?"
"Yes, wondering, even for a little while, is making me think differently about things."
My tomato-basil soup in a bread bowl is hot and well-seasoned. Kerry devours her beef-dip sourdough sandwich. We're both present in the moment. It feels so good.
I'm re-reading Pat Schneider's new book, How the Light Gets In, about writing as a spiritual practice. Pat worked seven or eight years on the book. I believe she's close to 80 years old. I don't know her. Nevertheless, I send her an email.
"Dear Pat, I'm re-reading your wonderful book, How the Light Gets In. I must confess that I'm making a mess of it with underlining, asterisks, and brackets. I'm sad that I've come so late to finding you.
"I'm turning 70 in 2014 and I'm writing, for lack of a fancier word, a journal leading up to that event. My premise/excuse is that every voice is both average and extraordinary.
"I'm not sure, exactly, where 'my boat, my words' are taking me. I am sure that there's 'a place that I'm imagining, the existence of which I cannot prove, except by going there.'
"When I stare at my blank computer screen, your words will be a neon sign flashing in my mind. 'Take whatever comes.' Thank you so much."
Dede Ranahan
To my surprise, Pat replies.
"Dear Dede, Thank you so much for your beautiful message. I am delighted that my book is meaningful for you. It was a long and important journey for me, and I am thankful that it is helping you to write.
"Be brave, tell the truth, ring the bells that still will ring and let the light get in. My very best wishes for your writing and your life."
Pat Schneider
My brother, Jim, and his wife, Sharon, arrived here on Saturday from San Diego. My nephew, Michael, and his wife, Karen, arrived on Sunday from Mountain View. It's been non-stop eating ever since.
We're testing two versions of my homemade Irish cream each day. One is made with whiskey and one with brandy. Looks like a toss-up. But it must be good because everyone wants to test it again. And again.
Tomorrow is a Christmas open house at Kerry's. I'll bring ham and a sesame-noodle pasta salad. Thursday, the day after Christmas, will be my annual crab feed — fresh crab, sourdough bread, spaghetti with David's Bolognese sauce, mixed greens with dried cherries, pecans, and shaved parmesan, and peppermint and egg nog ice creams. And, of course, homemade Irish cream. Friday we'll begin leftovers.
We're hauling GG back and forth each day from her assisted living facility. We pick her up at 4:00 p.m. and she's ready to go home by 7:30. Pat comes over each night to join us for dinner. We celebrate family being together. This is, I think, as good as it gets.
Dear Mom,
Thank you for everything you always do.
Akamai777.
Love, Pat
A note: Akamai (ah-ka-my) is Hawaiian slang for wit and wisdom. In spiritual numerology, 777 is a lucky number, a number of God. “Akamai777” meaning “Wit, wisdom, and a big hug from the universe,” is one of Pat's favorite salutations. I don’t know if he made it up or found it somewhere.
PATRICK'S FACEBOOK POST: Merry Christmas Everyone! Love and Light!
Please share my blog/book with "other wayfarers who might catch a resonating echo while wandering in my woods." Thanks.
COMING UP THURSDAY, DECEMBER 28, 2017
December 30, 2013 - January 10, 2014: Clues * Happy New Year * Doing Whatever I Want * Stories in the News * A Lifetime's Too Short * Baby, It's Cold Outside * My To-Do List * The Briar Patch * WTF * Our Support Group
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dede@soonerthantomorrow.com
Photo credit: Marisa Farnsworth
Serenity.
Hope you have a good weekend everybody!
I love how you write-I hear your voice as I read your words. SL
Dede, So many of us thank you for continuing your advocacy work! How brave of you to continue the fight after loosing Pat. Respect and admire you for that. Hope you receive the highest honors for A Mothers Diary! XO Kimberlee W
Dede, thanks so much for your 11/30 stories from 2013. I enjoy your wit and your writing on varied topics. I also remember the snow that winter. NK
Please share my blog/book with "other wayfarers who might catch a resonating echo while wandering in my woods." Thanks.
COMING UP THURSDAY, DECEMBER 14, 201: WINTER 2013-2014
I prefer winter and fall,
when you feel the bone structure
of the landscape. Something waits
beneath it; the whole story doesn't show.
Andrew Wyeth
TONY'S FINGER by PATRICK RANAHAN
December 18, 2013 - December 25, 2013: On the Back Burner * Plans and Priorities * In the Moment * How the Light Gets In * Christmas Eve * A Christmas Card
To subscribe and receive email notices of new book posts every other week, enter your email address in the box on the right at the top of the page, and hit the Sign Up button. If you have any trouble subscribing, send me an email and I'll sign you up from my end :-)
dede@soonerthantomorrow.com
Pat and me 1969
Photo credit: Marisa Farnsworth
Southern California Fall
Hope you have a good weekend everybody!