Mother's Day and Every Day-The Voices I Carry

Throughout this world turned upside-down existence, I have worked to create a "normal"- someplace where things don't seem so out of time and space -and where I could continue to run MY  life. I am SO over anything with a screen and my once passion for news and politics has been supplanted with a “just don’t look” desire, but of course look we must  So, I did this! I played the supermarket delivery games, did matching masks, went through jugs of sanitizer, and put one foot in front of the other doing what had to be done to stay safe, including getting poked in the arm a few times as we all must. Grateful for so much including a messy garden filled with critters who give me fits chomping away on anything with a bloom but who welcome me to play along til the sun goes down. 

" Sweater, n.: garment worn by child when its mother is feeling chilly." ~Ambrose Bierce

One thing in all these two surreal years I could not arrange, organize, make neat and tidy, or even make work, however, was a Mom in lockdown. I imposed with a fierceness, and did everything in my power to ensure, a fortress around her life.  Try as I might to create and fill with whatever cheer I could find on a daily basis to "Camp Mommy"  with books, conversations, movie suggestions, lessons on hairstyling -she had not done her own hair in 60 years, email links to rabbit hole sites, suggestions for how to play bridge online, book and magazine drop-offs, and grocery deliveries filled with fun food...she was still sheltered, albeit comfortably, in one place-alone.  Having to impose yet another lock-down early this winter was not met with full compliance. Yes, Mother’s “misbehave”! She did "escape" once or twice from my carefully planned fortress and incurred the sheer blinding panic-driven overblown wrath of an overwrought daughter, she seriously has not let that go! Throughout all this insane time  I always insisted that "I got this"-this telling the universe not to come near! Taking on a role that she sees as hers and I insist is mine. We played continuous round robins of who is better at protecting whom, who is really in charge, and whose role is it really??  and through each check-in I heard my voice and I heard "The Voice" that has been firmly implanted -that Mom recording that I hit "Play" on again and again and again. Yes, I learned well-perhaps too well, but here I am still hitting the play button on a voice that I don't want to hear for myself yet find automatically flying out of me. The voice of my Mom and her Mom.  

That voice that lectures remind, pushes, and frets and worries, oh yes that voice worries-a lot!  That voice comes from a source that was planted through generations. Even though my Grandmother is no longer here she would be happy to know that the Muzak she implanted in both her daughter and in me plays every day! WWND?-What Would Nana Do? makes us smile, laugh, and remember. By some extraordinary string that will always connect us, we still do it Nana's way, with our own twist, but Nana is in there in every fiercely determined instruction,  lecture, reprimand, and laugh!  How lucky I am -I got those voices in stereo! There is my Nana's Muzak and there is my Mother's- not surprisingly very similar tunes. Of course, it is not just the "do it my way" tunes that I hear each day but more profoundly the emotional songs that have taken root in my being. The roots that hold me firmly in place, perhaps too much some days,  come from knowing without any hesitation or embarrassment that I keep playing those tunes because I need to hear that "noise"...and I have learned once again through these crazy days that it is clear I always will.

"If at first you don't succeed, try doing it the way mom told you to in the beginning."

~Unknown

I need the voice of the ones who love me no matter what! I may not always get it right but there is no auditioning or interviewing here. Even when the raincoat is in the car keeping the car dry, I know that if I get wet there is always shelter, just hit the play button. If you are lucky in this life the bond with your Mom is the simplest, and many times the most complicated, one you will ever have. I am THAT lucky! There is nothing more basic or necessary than being loved completely and knowing that love sustains, motivates, and grounds you. The string that runs from Mom to child is the most powerful and lasting connection there will ever be. We may walk through different doors painted different colors but we are usually going in the same direction... together! (much like the time we discovered we were in adjacent dressing rooms in Bloomingdales!)

"Life doesn't come with a manual, it comes with a mother."

~ Unknown

The definition of a Mom cannot be found in a Hallmark card, in an ad for cake mix, or on a rerun of a 70s sitcom. A Mom is defined by her life's work which stems from her soul and the most remarkable bond there can be. As we witness the Moms of Ukraine move heaven and earth to keep their children out of harm's way, placing themselves in peril very often to do this, as we watch them push forward with no idea of what lies ahead just to ensure their children have some sense of stability amidst chaos and horrific options, we are seeing the definition of Motherhood.  Leaving everything they have ever known, in an instant, with only what they can literally carry including favorite teddy bears and warm clothes, and with no sense of when or if they will ever be able to bring their children back “home.” Heartbreaking. Painful. Unimaginable. These are the choices that Moms make -not for themselves, but for their children-first and foremost, their children. So a Mom can run a country if that was her choice, but her Momdom is probably at the core of everything she does-her compass. Her real mission is not found in any public-facing material success but in the knowledge that there is a perpetual work in progress out there that will always hear her music, always need her tune to be played, and always love her, even when through periods when they may be on different galaxies, speaking different languages-that core essential thread running through them both, a thread that began long before they did, is always pulling them back to center, back “home”.

As we slowly, very slowly Mom-are you listening!, make attempts to move forward from this surreal time we can actually plan a Mother's Day even if we are still popping on a  pretty mask. I realize with all that still is not right, and all that the world is facing, that the moms of the world are facing each day,  one thing is holding up...a tradition.  For us that tradition looks a whole lot different from the many Mother's Days past, the Mother’s Day crowd is just two and a tradition that I recognize with great pain that far too many cannot do at all.  The horrors of this moment in time take my breath away, it cannot be absorbed, it is so large, so overwhelming.  All the more reason to do everything within my power to ensure that tradition, no matter how altered, endures. The voices that I carry, that I rely on, and always will, of a Mother and a Grandmother who help me steer my own ship, and whose life’s work matters to me very much! they will be celebrated! on this Mother's Day and everyday!

Happy Mother's Day Mummy...job well done, but never really finished! I will always be your “work in progress” I love you!

"A mother is not a person to lean on, but a person to make leaning unnecessary."

~ Dorothy Canfield Fisher

The Gifts on Which I Stand-Happy Father's Day

“She did not stand alone, but what stood behind her, the most potent moral force in her life, was the love of her father."

~Harper Lee

 

It astonishes me, I have lived as much  of my life without my Dad as with him. How can that be? Yet, my Dad has never really left me, he never could. The tumult of these months, and years, have  me continually searching for my anchor, my center point on which to land and from which to move forward again. On these many days I pull on a thread, a very old tired thread. Sometimes I have to really tug at that thread, it is covered in the dust of disappointment, worry, expectations, dreams and promises. It is that thread,however, that doesn't unravel me as you might think a long thread of memories might, rather it helps me to do what I know well, knit myself back to what I wear best-the love of my Dad.

Loss leaves craters in your life, and no,sorry, it does not get easier with time. Though those "potholes" of life  can never be filled, and will never be closed, if you carry a safety net, a gift of strength and love then when you hit those holes, and you will, the holes can be softer to look into and can in fact  bring joy and the kick you need to move forward.

 

via

“Being a daddy’s girl is like having a permanent armor for the rest of your life.” 

~Marinela Reka 

 

  I am a "Daddy's Girl".  I have no shame in saying that. Sure, there are a lot of negative looks that come with that phrase...spoiled, Princess, indulged...not exactly words you label someone who has always been a feminist and worked to encourage all girls to believe in themselves and their dreams ...but for me the phrase symbolizes not only the unbreakable bond between a Father and Daughter but also the foundation upon which I stand... every day. The insurance, and assurance, that believing in myself,as Daddy believed in me, will get me through and propel me onward. Nothing wrong with being a Princess when you have been handed the power to be, to go forward with strength, determination and the unwavering belief that even when I trip I have been left with a gift to know I can get up and stay in the race.

 A father is neither an anchor to hold us back nor a sail to take us there but a guiding light whose love shows us the way

~Annonymous

This Father's Day weekend may not be my first without Daddy, but like every year at this time, I try to keep the mascara from going by hugging the memories and re-opening his many gifts to me.  Gifts that I carry with me every day and always will.  Gifts that are sewn into the core of my soul and especially my heart. Gifts that have given me an umbrella policy for life, a firm footing even when it feels as if the universe  has sent me into orbit all on my own.

via Curly Girl Design

"Run your own race,baby. He could have said it a dozen other ways. “Be independent.” “Don’t be influenced by others.” But it wouldn’t have been the same. The words he chose touched my heart and have remained with me all through my life. Whenever I’m at a crossroads, I ask myself, 

“Am I running my race or somebody else’s?"

What a gift he gave me."

Marlo Thomas on her Dad Danny Thomas' advice to her.

We lost my Dad suddenly. After the shock wore off, and the numbness set in, I felt as if I was living without that safety net, free falling-I still have a whole lot of days I feel that way. It took some time to realize that Daddy had left me the biggest net of all- the knowledge that I do have solid ground beneath my feet at all times, because of the lessons he taught me: be yourself, stand for what you believe, laugh no matter what, show them how it's done!, know you tried your best, believe in who you are!  These lessons helped to build my foundation, grow the roots that sprout from my feet and created my own terra firma, composed of all the love that I was graced to be given. 

The gifts on which I stand, my Father's love and thorough belief in me has taught me to trust my strengths, and to know that I CAN “run my own race”- even when I have trouble finding the track. My Father taught me to rely on my instincts, believe that there is nothing I can’t accomplish and that the worst thing I could do would be to give up, pass on an opportunity or to sit on the sidelines and never even try! I think the only instances that Daddy was really upset and angry with me is when I gave up, ran home, hid under the covers,and retreated without giving it a shot.

Still on the days when I think…”There is NO way I can do this!” or "What do I do next" I hear Daddy saying “Just try!”.  I take a deep breath and pull on that string that brings him closer, grab a Kleenex for the ride, and know that even in a world that makes absolutely no sense, I can move forward and knit my way through. My Dad lived through the Depression,dealt with loss, went t war too young, saw too much in WWII and came back to make his own way-no one handed him a thing.  These experiences framed him, perhaps left scars that I wasn't shown, but they didn't impede his spirit and I know he would expect me to learn the lessons of my time, and not let these days stop my spirit, and move forward to whatever might be next knowing I am tied to love.

 Happy Father’s Day Daddy…Thank you for my many gifts. Oh how I wish you were here to watch me run my own crazy race,especially when I run the other way :) I love you today and everyday!

"In the darkest days, when I feel inadequate, unloved and unworthy, I remember whose daughter I am and I straighten my crown."

~Anonymous

Sit Right Down and Write Me a Letter

 

Via Smithsonian Magazine

OK...so, I admit to a life lived in hopes of Jane Austen-esque scenes where the arrival of letters, and letter writing, become central to the day. Letters and regular correspondence are always at the heart of Austen's novels, in fact, Pride and Prejudice started out as an epistolary novel called First Impressions, consisting exclusively of letters between the characters. Letters, the writing, arrival, and reading and rereading of letters are central in every wonderful novel, not just Austen's, though Persuasion will always hold one of my most Kleenex driven scenes, Letters in literature reveal the characters and move the story forward-Wuthering Heights, The Color Purple, Little Women, most anything Dickens, Atonement...even Harry Potter. So how can we abandon letter writing! Yes, texting, email, and Twitter are the new post but ...can you tie them in a ribbon, place them in a box and revisit them when your heart needs to? And, what can you learn from a misspelled text decades from now?-I shudder to think.

 

"I can listen no longer in silence. I must speak to you by such means as are within my reach. You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone for ever. I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than when you almost broke it, eight years and a half ago. Dare not say that man forgets sooner than woman, that his love has an earlier death. I have loved none but you..." F. W.

~Captain Wentworth to Anne Elliot, Jane Austen's Persuasion

 

 This is why Beverly Beckham's column In a world that’s gone virtual, a handwritten letter is magical- in The Boston Globe made me smile so. Handwritten letters and cards are magical! In fact, handwriting itself, not something clumsily punched on a keyboard, means something. Someone chose to sit, yes sit, and think-remember thinking, to let me know their thoughts, their news, their wishes, and even that they care. 

 I live my life gorilla glued to an email box. I think at last count I have 10 email addresses that actually get used every day! I truly get loopy hopping from one to the other, checking and emailing and deleting, and sometimes I forget which box I am in and why on earth I am there. A very strange life for someone who loves all things paper. Call me Wilma Flintstone but a lovely envelope, with a perfectly chosen stamp, holding even a line of Hello is a treasure. 

 Receiving a card or letter in your postal box is as Beverly Beckham said an "occasion-", always a treat - romantic and nostalgic in this day of three-letter texts. I still have the very first Birthday, Holiday, and Valentine cards I ever received, every letter written to me-well there may be a few I tossed for reasons we don't need to discuss, but I have letters and cards from so many who are no longer with me, and through those paper bound memories, they are here. When I need to visit with my grandmother I open a note or card she sent with her amazing penmanship that she maintained well into her nineties, She was appalled at mine, little did she imagine that soon handwriting would disappear all together-how is that a thing?  There is comfort in my many many boxes of cards and notes and letters. It means that I will always have access to the memories, to their love in an envelope forever, can't get that with an email! 

 "Because you get a sense of a person by seeing their script, by the size and slant and steadiness of it. And because — and this is the most important reason we should not abandon penmanship — years later when the writer of that script is gone, when you stumble upon a card or a letter they sent, for a few magical seconds that person won’t be gone at all. She, he, they will be right beside you." ~Beverly Beckham

I cannot imagine a world without letters and cards, though I realize we are literally zooming our way to their extinction. Perhaps it is my love of the stories of real lives told through correspondence -Abigail and John Adams, Abraham Lincoln, Eleanor Roosevelt, letters from the wars... How would we know of the lives they led, the emotions they experienced, the human beings they were without the intimacy of their letters? Many years ago I was given letters that my Dad wrote to friends during the war. As with most who fought in WWII my Dad didn't speak much about his experiences but these letters revealed the real fear that a very young man, in his late teens, was feeling as he faced the unknown days and months ahead. The remarkable thing about these letters is my Dad was not a letter writer or card sender. This Memorial Day weekend I look at those letters and think of all the letters written to families, friends, lovers... connecting lives, often the most mundane of daily moments-where the real living is, through the most tumultuous of times. I think about all the "kids" in the midst of horror who would read and reread letters that told of "not much new", about going to a movie or walking the dog, and how much those letters of "not much new" meant to them. Letters can bring devastating news of course, but they also bring joy, and like the ribbons that tie all my many years of cards and notes in those boxes, put a bow on our human connections...a text or an email cannot ever dream of creating that.

 

Waiting to Exhale-Taking the Time for the Time Between

Normally this week "between" the holidays is a time that we all start the annual rear view mirror exercise...and then we go hunting for our crystal balls to see what will come. This year, no way!  The annual  "year in review" is NOT something I want to do, who does?  Best to toss this one in the dustbin and light a match! As for the crystal ball I don't have the courage I admit to even go dig mine out this year. It seems like everyone is just holding our collective breath, waiting for the moment when the world can exhale. Yet, it is hard not to look back, it is hard not to think about what might be. Trying to get your head around a year that no one can make sense of and to try to just sit and  understand- the extraordinary losses, all the pain. It is inevitable that we feel the need to look  for the lessons and search with earnest for the hope that must be.  So now as we step oh so gingerly into a new year there are a whole lot of "what nexts".  By nature and attitude I am an optimist, I admit that the optimism  has slipped as  I spend far too much time watching,listening and reading the news. My optimism needs to be nurtured and it needs to find a path with a purpose.  That's a lot to take in before midnight chimes on the 31st. Usually at this time the month of December is one BIG blur, this December all of 2020 is one big blur and everything is spinning. My brain is pleading "can we  just hit PAUSE please!"

via Inslee

 I have always adored this week best of all.  The time between when all I should really need to think about, at least for today, is where my book is and whether I should watch Season Four of The Crown , or Bridgerton , or binge watch all that TCM has served up, or read the gi-normous pile of books by my bedside that seem to  have been there since...2019. Maybe I'll knit? How about a hat with giant pompom or wait there are a hundred projects that need finishing, just one more sleeve, how about that needlepoint pillow from...what ever became of that? Don't forget to pot the Amaryllis bulbs... Sure there is some mail to open, bookeeping to do -who wants to look at those numbers!, certainly bills to be paid, dusting and laundry, closets and cupboards to clean out for donation boxes, oh yeah and a whole year ahead to figure out...but for this week I'm taking MY time in  between! 

 

 

 Nishan Akgulian

 

 I may not be able to go to the museum or the movies or the theatre, sit over brunch or even poke through holiday sales at favorite shops, but I can close down the laptop and the endless stream of useless emails and try to find ME in the pile of neglected and ignored. The NEW, and oh please the better, year will be here soon enough and with it a world we cannot still make sense of, this week does not solve too much there, but one thing for sure it will be spiraling and we will all need to be involved and CARE!  The New Year will come with us all walking without a steady road beneath us and with a whole new list, albeit very different from New Year's lists past, of "DO ITS".   So while the phones and email are relatively still, while the world holds its collective breath for what will be, I will be too...No looks back, no projecting forward, just today.  Enjoy the time in between...comes but just once a year!  ...and may the New Year bring only health, joy and peace to all!

Blasutta

As the Hydrangeas Turn

                      “And all at once, summer collapsed into fall.” ~Oscar Wilde

 As the hydrangeas turn I find I am totally caught off guard by their decision. I walk right by them everyday. I cannot miss them as they are everywhere around Camp MP. They brush my legs when I walk to the driveway as they have tumbled onto the walkways and they greet me at the front door, back door... The "quick" turn from classic hydrangea blue to "it's time for me to sport my fall flair" pinky-mauve happened in a blink.  In a time when nothing is working as it should the gardens at Camp MP do get that it is September...even if the keeper of the gardens has NO clue! 

 How is it September? Seriously I missed a month or two or three or...I spy berries bursting forth on the trees, hear the acorns starting to do their fall drop dance on my neighbor's deck, watch as spots of leaves on random trees paint themselves into autumn...but summer?  Yes, it was hot, sticky, buggy, but was it summer and if it was where did it go?  

The gardens at Camp MP have always held lessons for me: patience as I plant and wait for the sign of buds and blooms; perseverance as the critters chomp away and I refill all the holes they dig and replant what they pop out to make room for what they feel is more important; persistence and determination as for every one weed I dig out 100 more appear in their place...but always, always, the gardens have whispered hope. 

 “Go, sit upon the lofty hill, And turn your eyes around, Where waving woods and waters wild Do hymn an autumn sound. The summer sun is faint on them— The summer flowers depart— Sit still— as all transform’d to stone, Except your musing heart.” ~Elizabeth Barrett Browning

 After winters with hundreds of inches of snow the gardens for the most part do what they are assigned to do-they pop up, they grow green and in as many cases as possible they bloom.  This year where the world just stopped, my gardens ignored what was happening around them and simply burst forth. They promised with each bud and bloom that while everything else seems upside down it is OK. They want me to stop. They want me to loo. They want me to pay attention, not just to them, but to all I usually miss when the speed of "normal" time carries me.  They tell me they know better and that NOW is what counts and that maybe there is a lot that when the clock starts again for all of us we may not need to care so much about.I have very wise hydrangeas!

 So now, as the seasons turn and I am once again looking for summer as it is waving so long, I turn to my gardens for their wisdom, for answers. What's next?   As the hydrangeas turn I may be surprised, but I am also relieved and grateful that they are there for me to look to, to ground me, to guide me, and to say OK girl it is time to move forward-keep moving forward and be well!

       “Life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the fall.” ~F. Scott Fitzgerald      

Standing with Me Now, and Always-Father's Day 2020

“She did not stand alone, but what stood behind her, the most potent moral force in her life, was the love of her father."

~Harper Lee

I woke this morning with a stunning thought, well stunning for me anyway, I have lived more of my life without my Dad than with him. How can that be? On so many levels my Dad has never left me, he never could. Yet, the tumult of these months, and years, have  me continually searching for my anchor, my center point on which to land and from which to move forward again. On these many days I pull on a thread, a very old tired thread. Sometimes I have to really tug at that thread, it is covered in the dust of disappointment, worry, expectations, dreams and promises. It is that thread,however, that doesn't unravel me as you might think a long thread of memories might, rather it helps me to do what I know well, knit myself back to what I wear best-the love of my Dad.

Loss leaves craters in your life, and no it does not get easier with time. Though those "potholes" of life  can never be filled, and will never be closed, if you have been enveloped with love when you hit those holes, and you do, the holes are softer to look into and can in fact  bring both strength and joy.

 

via

“Being a daddy’s girl is like having a permanent armor for the rest of your life.” 

~Marinela Reka 

I proudly say I am a "Daddy's Girl". There are a lot of negative looks that come with that phrase...spoiled, Princess, indulged...not exactly words you label someone who has always been a feminist and worked to encourage all girls to believe in themselves and their dreams ...but for me the phrase symbolizes not only the unbreakable bond between a Father and Daughter but also the foundation upon which I stand... every day. The insurance, and assurance, that believing in myself,as Daddy believed in me, will get me through and propel me forward. 

 A father is neither an anchor to hold us back nor a sail to take us there but a guiding light whose love shows us the way

~Annonymous

This Father's Day weekend may not be my first without Daddy, but like every year at this time I try to keep the mascara from going by hugging the memories and re-opening his many gifts to me.  Gifts that I carry with me every day and always will.  Gifts that are sewn into the core of my soul and especially my heart. Gifts that have given me an umbrella policy for life, a firm footing even when it feels as if the the universe  has sent me into orbit on my own.

via Curly Girl Design

"Run your own race,baby. He could have said it a dozen other ways. “Be independent.” “Don’t be influenced by others.” But it wouldn’t have been the same. The words he chose touched my heart and have remained with me all through my life. Whenever I’m at a crossroads, I ask myself, 

“Am I running my race or somebody else’s?"

What a gift he gave me."

Marlo Thomas on her Dad Danny Thomas' advice to her.

We lost my Dad suddenly. After the shock wore off, and the numbness set in, I felt as if I was living without a safety net, free falling-I still have a whole lot of days I feel that way. It took some time to realize that Daddy had left me the biggest net of all- the knowledge that I do have solid ground beneath my feet at all times, because of the lessons he taught me: be yourself, stand for what you believe, laugh no matter what, show them how it's done!, know you tried your best, believe in who you are!  These lessons helped to build my base, grow the roots that sprout from my feet and created my own terra firma, composed of all the love that I was graced to be given. 

That love has taught me to believe in myself and my strengths, and to know that I CAN “run my own race”- even when I have trouble finding the track. My Father taught me to trust my instincts, believe that there is nothing I can’t accomplish and that the worst thing I could do would be to give up, pass on an opportunity or to sit on the sidelines and never try! I think the only instances that Daddy was really upset and angry with me is when I gave up, ran home, hid under the covers, didn't try.

Still on the days when I think…”There is NO way I can do this!” or "What do I do next" I hear Daddy saying “Try!”.  I pull on that string that brings him closer, grab a Kleenex for the ride, and know that even in a world that makes absolutely no sense, I can move forward and knit my way through. My Dad lived through the Depression and WWII.  These experiences framed him, perhaps left scars that I wasn't shown, but they didn't impede his spirit and I know he would expect me to learn the lessons of now and not let these days stop my spirit, and to move forward knowing I am tied to love.

 Happy Father’s Day Daddy…Thank you for my many gifts. Oh how I wish you were here to watch me run my own crazy race,especially when I run the other way :) I love you today and everyday!

In the darkest days, when I feel inadequate, unloved and unworthy, I remember whose daughter I am and I straighten my crown.

~Anonymous

The One Thing That Will NOT Change-Mother's Day 2020

"Motherhood: All love begins and ends there." ~ Robert Browning

" Sweater, n.: garment worn by child when its mother is feeling chilly." ~Ambrose Bierce

Most days during this world upside down moment I can create a "normal" where things don't seem so out of time and space and I can continue to run my life. I can still sit in my office, do whatever work presents itself, and avoid doing the closet cleaning, garage cleaning, drawer cleaning, house cleaning...that everyone else seems to be accomplishing.  Shopping isn't happening, theatre is gone, no museums, no baseball, and the kids in the neighborhood are riding their bikes with masks on...that one stopped me in my tracks. Are we really creating a generation that won't know from a smile, a hug, a kiss...nope, cannot go there!  I am far too tied to screens like we all are and I do my best not to OD on news while I re-watch The West Wing for the umpteenth time.  I can do this! play the supermarket delivery games, make my own masks, go through jugs of sanitizer and put one foot in front of the other doing what you have to do to stay safe and then go on to dig in the garden til the sun goes down. 

Mary Englebreit

One thing I cannot rearrange,reorganize, make fit or make work,however, is a Mom in lockdown. I have imposed, OK the world has imposed and I am doing everything in my power to ensure,a fortress around her life.  Try as I might to create and cheer- on daily a "Camp Mommy" filled with books, conversations, movie suggestions, lessons on hairstyling when she hasn't done her own hair in 60 years, email links to rabbit hole sites, suggestions for how to play bridge online, book and magazine drop-offs, and grocery deliveries filled with fun food...she is still sheltered, albeit comfortably, in one place-alone.  She did "escape" once from my carefully planned fortress  and incurred the sheer blinding panic driven overblown wrath of an overwrought daughter, guessing she doesn't want to see that again! Fingers crossed, lesson learned-we can only hope!  So I got this-this telling the universe not to come near thing! Taking on a role that she sees as hers and I insist is mine. We play continuous round robins of who is better at protecting whom, and who is really in charge, and whose role is it really??  and through each check in I hear my voice and I hear "The Voice" that has been firmly implanted -that Mom recording that I hit "Play" on again and again and again...

My Mom and her voice...well, she is a Mom.  This is what she does and it seems it is what I do too. Despite many other roles and abilities, being a Mom is who she is with every inch of her being..and the root of all of this is love. That voice that lectures and reminds and pushes and frets and worries and...all come from a source that was planted through generations. Even though my Grandmother is no longer here she would be happy to know that the Muzak she implanted in both her daughter and in me plays everyday! WWND?-What Would Nana Do? makes us smile,laugh and remember. By some extraordinary string that will always connect us we do it her way, with our own twist, but Nana is in there in every high pitched instruction and lecture and reprimand and laugh!  How lucky I am -I got stereo! There is my Nana's Muzak and there is my Mother's- not surprisingly very similar tunes. Of course it is not just the "do it my way" tunes that I hear each day but more profoundly the emotional songs that have taken root from the bottom of my feet. These roots come from knowing without any hesitation or embarrassment that I keep playing those tunes because I need to hear that "noise". 

via AmyHeitman

"My most important title is ‘mom-in-chief’. My daughters are still the heart of my heart and the centre of my world." - Michelle Obama, Former First Lady

I need the voice of the person who loves me no matter what! I may not always get it right but there is no auditioning or interviewing here. Even when the raincoat is in the car keeping the car dry, I know that if I get wet there is shelter available. If you are lucky in this life the bond with your Mom is the simplest, and many times the most complicated, one you will ever have. I am THAT lucky! There is nothing more basic or necessary than being loved completely and knowing that love sustains , motivates and grounds you. The string that runs from Mom to child is the most powerful and lasting connection there will ever be. We may walk through different doors painted different colors but we are usually going in the same direction... together! (much like the time we discovered we were in adjacent dressing rooms in Bloomingdales!)
The definition of a Mom cannot be found in a Hallmark card, in an ad for cake mix, or on a rerun of a 70s sitcom. A Mom is defined by her life's work. She can be a Supreme Court Justice or a candidate for President, but her Momdom is at the core of everything she does. Her success is not found in material success but in the knowledge that there is a perpetual work in progress out there that will always hear her music, always need her tune to be played, and always love her.

So this surreal Mother's Day when nothing seems right or as it should, and as I figure out a pretty mask, and a 6' plus tape measure and curbside delivery,and no hydrangeas in pretty baskets, and a Mother's Day like no other... I realize with all that isn't right one thing is...a tradition that may not look quite the same this year but will within my power endure. A Mother and Grandmother will be celebrated! on this Mother's Day and everyday!

Happy Mother's Day Mummy...job well done,but never finished! I love you!

Stop the World...We're All Getting Off!

“Don’t underestimate the value of Doing Nothing, of just going along, listening to all the things you can’t hear, and not bothering.”
—Winnie the Pooh

No, this isn't a snow day...and we don't know how long this "storm" will keep us home, away from one another, out of our norm. Perhaps we are heading for a new normal, one we may not like very much.  Or maybe we need to look at this frightening and isolating time as a big STOP button, an "opportunity" to slow it all down, take stock of our frenetic existence, realize that we have been doing this all wrong-moving too fast, not truly connecting, losing our sense of selves and of others in a blur of self imposed "busy".  No one wanted this, and we fear for where we are headed, but maybe, just maybe this pause, this stopping of the world, will help us appreciate doing nothing! rediscovering the joy in little things-reading a book, watching a funny movie together, having good conversations, albeit over skype, with those we care about, playing an old fashioned board game or card game or doing a puzzle, getting outside for a run or a walk, playing in the dirt in the garden, winding a skein of yarn ...Hopefully, even in our isolation, this remarkable and frightening moment will serve to remind us to care, will connect us and make us see that no matter who we are we share this moment and we must meet this moment together with a purpose of caring.  So let's breathe, take this in small bites-there is a lot we don't know and we cannot control, but we can find a common truth again and find a common sense that we are in this together.  Stay put! Stay Safe! Stay Well! Stay Kind!

 "A little consideration, a little thought for others, makes all the difference."

~Eeyore