One of my most treasured possesions is an address book. It was given to me by my diaper day best-friend - Bev. I was getting ready to leave Miami for Chicago - chasing Bob - and my roomate threw a goodbye party for me. This was in July 1980 - each guest brought me a gift that reminded them of our relationship. One gift was a candle - made to look exactly like a taco - from my Taco Viva companion. Bev brought an address book, with a Norman Rockwell picture on the front. Norman is my all time favorite artist. I wrote the addresses in that book in pencil. This was something that I had read about in a women's magazine. That way when an "addressee" moved, I could easily erase the old address and write in the new one. In the transitory society of our world, it seemed best to keep things easily changed. Besides, I like things neat and orderly.......
I used that book until the summer of 2001 when it was replaced with a Mary Englebreit address book. Mary has become a close favorite to Norman. The old book was falling apart.
When I transferred the addresses from Norman to Mary - I noticed that some of the entries had been erased and re-written so many times, there was a worn spot on the page. There were others, that hadn't been changed since 1980.
This past fall John and Victoria moved. I went to change the address in my ME book, and noted that - in this new book, the lines for the Bedford's home address was nearly worn through the page. Had I written the addresses in ink there would have been a rich chronology of their life. At least since I had met them.
DeJong's address is the same in the old book and in the new....
Bowles address is still on the change of address card tucked into the "b" page
Frosts - the same - granted, the Ft. Myers E. Free church directory was the depository for their address, but there was one for Ft. Myers and one for Lakeland.
Jack and Linda - the same for 23 years....
Dave and Jana - I think I've kept up
Lorraine - I could have written that one in ink.
Cheryl and Michelle - I might be able to change from pencil to pen
all this is leading to this thought......is "this" friendship ink or pencil? We've been living in GA for 3 1/2 years now - and Bob has moved to Chicago - with plans for me to follow after the great thaw. I have made friends. I have really nice neighbors. I work with a great group of people. Since moving here - and having left the community that I lived in for 18 years - I am realizing how important friendships are to me. Well, actually, not REALIZING, but rather, recognizing, how imortant friendships are to me. And in contemplating this, the reality that some friendships are temporary (in pencil) - and some are permanent (in ink) has become very real to me.
My neighbors are pencil friends - as I suspect my work friends will be. My ink friends will not be totally known to me until I move away, and the relationship is challenged by distance.
I am so grateful for my ink friends, and I am learning to let the pencil friends, be just that, friendships that cannot/should not/ don't need/ to be permanent. I have fretted and stewed over the friendships that I had hoped would be ink, but turn out to be pencil, and that is wasted energy - let it go !!! I am determining to enjoy pen for pen and pencil for pencil. The great thing is, once a friend is an ink friend, they will ALWAYS be an ink friend - even if they don't know it.
To all my ink friends - Thanks - your friendship means more to me than I can ever find the words to express..........................................
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Saturday, December 8, 2007
Out of excuses
I have a ton of excuses - all justifying not having any time - or energy to post an entry on this blog.
- My desk is covered with papers - ads from K-Mart, Penney's, Linens n Things; the notification to renew my RN license ( I did that yesterday - so should throw that one away); a bank statement - you KNOW what I SHOULD do with that one; receipts from purchases made in the last few weeks. On top of the papers sits a paperback book, a deck of cards (why is that there?) a remote control, and just for now - my cup of coffee. Next to the pile is a flashlight, the alarm clock that I have had since 1975 ( I could do a whole blog just on that alarm clock/radio/8 track tape player - I asked for a new clock radio for Christmas and was met with great resistance from the tradionalist - Evangeline), the Paulding County library card (never used - Bob is my personal assistant and he uses his card), a sleep sound machine; and this desk top computer ( the computer is supposed to go downstairs in Bob's study, but he doesn't have a live phone line, and his electric is "extension corded" in from the next room - another possible blog entry), and a business card from Ron Blue & Co. waiting for me to e-mail Bruce Whaley (he married Lisa Betts who was in Bob's youth group in Bradenton - 25 years ago - old friends not soon forgotten - just not contacted! - ok I'll do that today) And oh yes - on top of the clock (it's a big clock) sits a box of kleenex (another blog topic) and the phone charger.
And those are just the I can't concentrate at the computer keyboard excuses - here come the rest.......since there are no entries since October - I have two and a half months of excuses.
One - I am not in a pit - thank-you to my dear friends who have called and encouraged, distracted and infused me with love, I am not in a pit. I live next to it. But WOW what a difference than IN it.
Two - Evangeline does not have a job. BUT - she is back in school - studying to become a Certified Medical Assistant - in a CRASH course - so spends every night doing workbooks, and studying for exams. Pretty laugh out loud funny to hear Bob quizzing her on the Gynecological exam process. She FREAKED out at the thought of having to learn to draw blood - so I spent last Saturday teaching her phlebotomy - and by Saturday late afternoon she successfully drew blood from both of Bob's arms......now she is begging for practice time (another blog potential).
Three - I flew to Florida for a weekend - squeezed in a few visits with old friends, shopped at the Miramar outlets, and did a consulting job for a dear friend and her associate in an alarm business. I was even able to manage an overnight with my parents on the way back to the airport.
Four - Elizabeth was home for the Thanksgiving break. And as my Canadian friend Bev observed - Americans make a really big deal out of the Thanksgiving holiday.
Five - My first friend - Bev came to visit me for almost a whole week. She lives in BC, and the last time we were together was 7 years ago- at her house. We went to a play in the Marietta Square, out to dinner, cooked the Thanksgiving dinner, introduced her to friends, walked the rural streets in the rural neighborhood where we live, had massages ( thanks to a B'day regift and a gift from Evangeline :) ) babysat Wesley; went to Atlanta twice - Met Debi Thompson Mangiameli and ate at the Flying Biscuit and had a coke at the Vortex, toured the CNN building went to Crosspoint on Sunday evening - had a BLAST, and I felt like I had had a tall glass of water on a hot summer day.
Six - Bob and I met the Mangiamelis at the Zigenbeins home in Cumming, GA. (those last names make our last name seem simple) - had dinner with them and a great time of reminiscing and laughing, getting to know each other again for the first time......
Seven - Its the holiday season and I am trying to shed the scrooge skipping Christmas persona which I have adopted as a protection ( another blog) - and put lights on the tree (another blog); have Christmas music playing in my office, and have even purchased some gifts. Now - where do I hide wrapped gifts from a 2 1/2 year old?
There - and those are just the excuses that are in past and present - I have future excuses too.
- My desk is covered with papers - ads from K-Mart, Penney's, Linens n Things; the notification to renew my RN license ( I did that yesterday - so should throw that one away); a bank statement - you KNOW what I SHOULD do with that one; receipts from purchases made in the last few weeks. On top of the papers sits a paperback book, a deck of cards (why is that there?) a remote control, and just for now - my cup of coffee. Next to the pile is a flashlight, the alarm clock that I have had since 1975 ( I could do a whole blog just on that alarm clock/radio/8 track tape player - I asked for a new clock radio for Christmas and was met with great resistance from the tradionalist - Evangeline), the Paulding County library card (never used - Bob is my personal assistant and he uses his card), a sleep sound machine; and this desk top computer ( the computer is supposed to go downstairs in Bob's study, but he doesn't have a live phone line, and his electric is "extension corded" in from the next room - another possible blog entry), and a business card from Ron Blue & Co. waiting for me to e-mail Bruce Whaley (he married Lisa Betts who was in Bob's youth group in Bradenton - 25 years ago - old friends not soon forgotten - just not contacted! - ok I'll do that today) And oh yes - on top of the clock (it's a big clock) sits a box of kleenex (another blog topic) and the phone charger.
And those are just the I can't concentrate at the computer keyboard excuses - here come the rest.......since there are no entries since October - I have two and a half months of excuses.
One - I am not in a pit - thank-you to my dear friends who have called and encouraged, distracted and infused me with love, I am not in a pit. I live next to it. But WOW what a difference than IN it.
Two - Evangeline does not have a job. BUT - she is back in school - studying to become a Certified Medical Assistant - in a CRASH course - so spends every night doing workbooks, and studying for exams. Pretty laugh out loud funny to hear Bob quizzing her on the Gynecological exam process. She FREAKED out at the thought of having to learn to draw blood - so I spent last Saturday teaching her phlebotomy - and by Saturday late afternoon she successfully drew blood from both of Bob's arms......now she is begging for practice time (another blog potential).
Three - I flew to Florida for a weekend - squeezed in a few visits with old friends, shopped at the Miramar outlets, and did a consulting job for a dear friend and her associate in an alarm business. I was even able to manage an overnight with my parents on the way back to the airport.
Four - Elizabeth was home for the Thanksgiving break. And as my Canadian friend Bev observed - Americans make a really big deal out of the Thanksgiving holiday.
Five - My first friend - Bev came to visit me for almost a whole week. She lives in BC, and the last time we were together was 7 years ago- at her house. We went to a play in the Marietta Square, out to dinner, cooked the Thanksgiving dinner, introduced her to friends, walked the rural streets in the rural neighborhood where we live, had massages ( thanks to a B'day regift and a gift from Evangeline :) ) babysat Wesley; went to Atlanta twice - Met Debi Thompson Mangiameli and ate at the Flying Biscuit and had a coke at the Vortex, toured the CNN building went to Crosspoint on Sunday evening - had a BLAST, and I felt like I had had a tall glass of water on a hot summer day.
Six - Bob and I met the Mangiamelis at the Zigenbeins home in Cumming, GA. (those last names make our last name seem simple) - had dinner with them and a great time of reminiscing and laughing, getting to know each other again for the first time......
Seven - Its the holiday season and I am trying to shed the scrooge skipping Christmas persona which I have adopted as a protection ( another blog) - and put lights on the tree (another blog); have Christmas music playing in my office, and have even purchased some gifts. Now - where do I hide wrapped gifts from a 2 1/2 year old?
There - and those are just the excuses that are in past and present - I have future excuses too.
Thursday, October 4, 2007
Time - the trick to remember
My sister had a birthday last week. Iwas supposed to write a poem for this birthday - one that would be read - aloud - in the presence of other people who had written poems.
I did succomb to temptation though - able to resist the urge but for a minute - and googled poems about turning 50. Those of you who are swift thinkers will figure out very quickly that if she is 50 - then I am 52. Or soon will be.
"at one time i would have not believedthat i could have livedto reach this agebut youth is never notedfor dealing with the pangs of mortalityneither is fiftythe trick is to pretendthat where you are in lifeis where you have always been,perhaps that is the illusionwhich keeps us sane"
That is my googled turning 50 poem. I did not write it, and I only shared a little bit with you, and no I didn't purposely not punctuate it, that is just how it pasted.........but it did ring a bell in my head...the line - 'the trick is to pretend that where you are in life is where you have always been' .
I have never really thought of that - in those words - where I am is where I've always been. Why does that fit so well? Why does last week feel so far away. And last year - well like it was yesterday. Time seems to stand still and fly - both - at the same time. It's a phenomenon.
Evangeline and Wesley moved home last Thursday, 3 days before the poem deadline. Time came to a screaching halt, and stood there, looking me in the eye - taunting me to just try to return to life as it had been. And then the last surviving computer died. And the trick was - to pretend that the way things were at that moment was the way they had always been. Because to know that things were different now, would mean, a new adjustment, a different routine, or no routine, or no adjustment, just constant un predictable behavior and response and.........hanging there - in mid air. My home away from home.
Back to the poem - I put words to her altime favorite piano performing hymn......and talked our youngest sis into signing to it....everyone laughed, and let out a sigh of relief...they were supposed to see it as humourous.
And now I am home, and time is both flying by and things are as they have always been. At least that is how it seems.
My response to this lovely invitation to create a prose of purposeful remembrance was less than enthusiastic.
The rebel in me screamed "NO I will not do that; I can not, will not, write a poem, I have no rhyming tones or groans.............." But I am older now, and calmer, and not so rebellious and stubborn, and I have, at long last, given my temper to God. I mailed it - packed it up in a box and took it to the post office....I didn't have it insured - didn't care if it got lost - in fact I so didn't care, that I left the return address off of the label.
I did succomb to temptation though - able to resist the urge but for a minute - and googled poems about turning 50. Those of you who are swift thinkers will figure out very quickly that if she is 50 - then I am 52. Or soon will be.
"at one time i would have not believedthat i could have livedto reach this agebut youth is never notedfor dealing with the pangs of mortalityneither is fiftythe trick is to pretendthat where you are in lifeis where you have always been,perhaps that is the illusionwhich keeps us sane"
That is my googled turning 50 poem. I did not write it, and I only shared a little bit with you, and no I didn't purposely not punctuate it, that is just how it pasted.........but it did ring a bell in my head...the line - 'the trick is to pretend that where you are in life is where you have always been' .
I have never really thought of that - in those words - where I am is where I've always been. Why does that fit so well? Why does last week feel so far away. And last year - well like it was yesterday. Time seems to stand still and fly - both - at the same time. It's a phenomenon.
Evangeline and Wesley moved home last Thursday, 3 days before the poem deadline. Time came to a screaching halt, and stood there, looking me in the eye - taunting me to just try to return to life as it had been. And then the last surviving computer died. And the trick was - to pretend that the way things were at that moment was the way they had always been. Because to know that things were different now, would mean, a new adjustment, a different routine, or no routine, or no adjustment, just constant un predictable behavior and response and.........hanging there - in mid air. My home away from home.
Back to the poem - I put words to her altime favorite piano performing hymn......and talked our youngest sis into signing to it....everyone laughed, and let out a sigh of relief...they were supposed to see it as humourous.
And now I am home, and time is both flying by and things are as they have always been. At least that is how it seems.
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Stood up
I am disappointed - not sad- not mad - not glad - not depressed - not unhappy - just disappointed -
Actually I hadn't thought about being stood up. Well not since last Friday - until I went to my book club meeting last night. I was greeted with "so - did anonymous show up?"
And I had to say - "no" "no - anonymous did not show".
Now, I have to wonder - does anonymous exist?
And I have to say - yes - I believe she does. I've moved into a sherlock mode...got out the "maginizing glass" and started to investigate. It is not that I am ignoring the advice to 'let it go' - that advice coming from several sources. And it is not that I am haunted by the challenge from anonymous. My awesome husband - my love of 26 years - and I had a little dispute as to whether I should go to Starbucks. He really doesn't understand why this is important to me. I wasn't sure either - except that I really hate to be mis understood. I was smaller, slower, younger, laster than any of my child hood friends. And I learned at an early age that I could keep up with my words. My words came fast, and they came hot. What I couldn't do physically, I did verbally. And I was often misunderstood. The other disadvantage that I had was - I had eyes. Expressive, open, can't hide behind eyes. So - I gave up - I might as well just say it. It will be assumed that I thought it.
So - I'll just say it - did anonymous not show for fear - that maybe anonymity is safer - and that is the REAL reason for hiding her identity. Or is it because Anonymous is holding on to her version of how things transpired....and that hearing another version - the perspective of the one who experienced the meetings, was there, present in the room, heard the words, asked the questions, first hand - not through another's interpretation....would mean - well what would that mean? Maybe anonymous was in the booth next to the table at Bob Evans, and heard the whole congregation - which would make for an interesting comparison of the conversation that led to the resignation, that led to the interpretation, and the proclamation, that led to the transportation, that led to the motivation - that led to this.........where I am - where am. SO - to whoever sent the Blog link to someone I didn't send it to - it's made for alot of interesting conversations - here - in Hiram, GA.
Just disappointed
Actually I hadn't thought about being stood up. Well not since last Friday - until I went to my book club meeting last night. I was greeted with "so - did anonymous show up?"
And I had to say - "no" "no - anonymous did not show".
Now, I have to wonder - does anonymous exist?
And I have to say - yes - I believe she does. I've moved into a sherlock mode...got out the "maginizing glass" and started to investigate. It is not that I am ignoring the advice to 'let it go' - that advice coming from several sources. And it is not that I am haunted by the challenge from anonymous. My awesome husband - my love of 26 years - and I had a little dispute as to whether I should go to Starbucks. He really doesn't understand why this is important to me. I wasn't sure either - except that I really hate to be mis understood. I was smaller, slower, younger, laster than any of my child hood friends. And I learned at an early age that I could keep up with my words. My words came fast, and they came hot. What I couldn't do physically, I did verbally. And I was often misunderstood. The other disadvantage that I had was - I had eyes. Expressive, open, can't hide behind eyes. So - I gave up - I might as well just say it. It will be assumed that I thought it.
So - I'll just say it - did anonymous not show for fear - that maybe anonymity is safer - and that is the REAL reason for hiding her identity. Or is it because Anonymous is holding on to her version of how things transpired....and that hearing another version - the perspective of the one who experienced the meetings, was there, present in the room, heard the words, asked the questions, first hand - not through another's interpretation....would mean - well what would that mean? Maybe anonymous was in the booth next to the table at Bob Evans, and heard the whole congregation - which would make for an interesting comparison of the conversation that led to the resignation, that led to the interpretation, and the proclamation, that led to the transportation, that led to the motivation - that led to this.........where I am - where am. SO - to whoever sent the Blog link to someone I didn't send it to - it's made for alot of interesting conversations - here - in Hiram, GA.
Just disappointed
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Hey there - Anonymous
when can we meet at Starbucks - seriously -
Thursday evening? that would be the 13th - say 7pm - at the Starbucks - Rte 278 in Hiram - not the one in Target -
hopefully - Janice
Thursday evening? that would be the 13th - say 7pm - at the Starbucks - Rte 278 in Hiram - not the one in Target -
hopefully - Janice
Living on the Edge of Hope
Living on the edge - the edge of what?
It could be the cutting edge -
or the edge of the precipice -
or the edge of a cliff -
or the edge of happiness -
But - tonight it is on the edge of hope -
The sky is calm, a little dusky - dark really - like an impending thunderstorm without the big clouds. There is a breeze - and a dusting of dribble from the sky. I've been here before - I recognize the smell, the brush of soft encouragement on my cheek, the breeze on my forearm as I reach out to push the hair out of my eyes. (When is that haircut appointment?) It's a pensive sense, a familiar anticipation without the confidence of knowing. Not quite like it was when we were living with our feet firmly planted in mid-air, or when I was slogging through the trough of despair, or even when I take up residence in the pit - hang the home sweet home sampler up, put on a pot of coffee, and wallow in the muck that makes it so safe. What or who would want to visit me here? I can count on not having to think about anyone but me - who would want to join me?
The edge of hope is up and out of that - it is like - sitting on the dock of Lime Lake - with my toes barely skimming the surface. Or standing at the edge of the Atlantic - flip flops in hand, staring out, amazed at how close and yet how far away I was. Wondering at the wonder - of the same water droplet splashing my ankles and then flowing back out - farther away then I could ever go..............
The edge of hope is seeing the light in the distance, knowing I can't get there any faster than the plane will fly or the train will rumble. That wishing for speed does not move me faster, and that I will only regret what I didn't get to see - cause I was so busy looking ahead that I didn't see the here.
The edge of hope is like letting go of something, fearing it will fall with a crash to the ground, forever, irrepairably (I should have a dictionary with me) damaged, and instead having it drop fast, too fast, and then suddenly take up it's own weight, and drift.........slowly - out of my sight where I can't reach for it - and take it back -
The edge of hope is dialing the phone number and knowing that even if it goes to voice mail - the voice will be familiar and safe, and soon there will be a message on my voice mail - playing tag - not teasing -but laughing - hopefully - to connect another day - really connect - the pick up where we left off connect, the I am safe with you - can cry and laugh in the same breath connect.
The edge of hope is - now.
It could be the cutting edge -
or the edge of the precipice -
or the edge of a cliff -
or the edge of happiness -
But - tonight it is on the edge of hope -
The sky is calm, a little dusky - dark really - like an impending thunderstorm without the big clouds. There is a breeze - and a dusting of dribble from the sky. I've been here before - I recognize the smell, the brush of soft encouragement on my cheek, the breeze on my forearm as I reach out to push the hair out of my eyes. (When is that haircut appointment?) It's a pensive sense, a familiar anticipation without the confidence of knowing. Not quite like it was when we were living with our feet firmly planted in mid-air, or when I was slogging through the trough of despair, or even when I take up residence in the pit - hang the home sweet home sampler up, put on a pot of coffee, and wallow in the muck that makes it so safe. What or who would want to visit me here? I can count on not having to think about anyone but me - who would want to join me?
The edge of hope is up and out of that - it is like - sitting on the dock of Lime Lake - with my toes barely skimming the surface. Or standing at the edge of the Atlantic - flip flops in hand, staring out, amazed at how close and yet how far away I was. Wondering at the wonder - of the same water droplet splashing my ankles and then flowing back out - farther away then I could ever go..............
The edge of hope is seeing the light in the distance, knowing I can't get there any faster than the plane will fly or the train will rumble. That wishing for speed does not move me faster, and that I will only regret what I didn't get to see - cause I was so busy looking ahead that I didn't see the here.
The edge of hope is like letting go of something, fearing it will fall with a crash to the ground, forever, irrepairably (I should have a dictionary with me) damaged, and instead having it drop fast, too fast, and then suddenly take up it's own weight, and drift.........slowly - out of my sight where I can't reach for it - and take it back -
The edge of hope is dialing the phone number and knowing that even if it goes to voice mail - the voice will be familiar and safe, and soon there will be a message on my voice mail - playing tag - not teasing -but laughing - hopefully - to connect another day - really connect - the pick up where we left off connect, the I am safe with you - can cry and laugh in the same breath connect.
The edge of hope is - now.
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
Dear Anonymous
Call if you would like to -
770-9+42-4204
you obviously have some insight that I should hear.
770-9+42-4204
you obviously have some insight that I should hear.
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