Cousin A

My life has been very rich.  Not in money or other tangible assets.  But I have been blessed with great wealth.  I have enjoyed a wealth of experiences happy, sad, funny that have enriched my life.  I have been blessed with a wealth of people, some passing along others around for the long haul.  I have been enriched by every one of them. 

There are times when I pause to reflect on a person or an interaction that had a great impact on me.  So often when these occur they seem like just another day.  But in retrospect I can see the power of that moment and how it has informed my life.  Generally I’ve never let the person know the wonderful and positive effect they have had on my life.  

A while back I started writing about the folks and the experiences, keeping a sort of “journal of names”.  I think I will, from time to time, post one of the entries here  to share  gratitude for all the wonderful people and experiences that have filled my life.  

This is in honor of a short summer vacation shared with my Mom, her sister, my Aunt G and Aunt G’s daughter, my cousin A.

One summer sometime between 1978 and 1980 the four of us vacationed in the mountains of Georgia on the TVA waterway.  My Mother and Aunt struggled to get along as only siblings who love each other deeply but have long unresolved and un-discussed issues can do.

My cousin A suggested she and I go out in the canoe. In my mind our venturing out was a wonderful way to escape from the tension at the cabin.  I had never been in a canoe before, but A was so positive about my being successful at it that I just stepped in and off we went.  

During our leisurely afternoon we discussed many aspects of our lives with an openness and an intimacy not expected from the small amount of time we had spent together throughout our lives.  But it felt so comfortable and trusting I just went with it.  I remember talking about my work and criticizing my choice as it did not allow me to give more opportunity to being creative.

I equated creativity as being related to the fine or performing arts.  I had tried my hand at art school and learned I was skilled at drawing, but did not have the capacity to let go and let imagination and absurdity run loose.  So a career as a graphic artist was not in my future.

Cousin A simply, and wisely pointed out to me that my solutions to business problems, be they technical or procedural, my development of training curricula and strategies was indeed very creative.  She made me aware that creativity was not limited to being a writer, musician or artist; creativity happened in every area and venue.  

The gift of that knowledge freed me from feeling that my efforts were less worthy and allowed me to risk trying new ideas and ventures.  That freedom allowed me to enjoy a lifetime of challenging work that fulfilled me on many levels.  So, with deep felt love and gratitude I thank cousin A for a most precious gift.

Beware the Spell Check!

The oversight of building maintenance was one of my non-financial responsibilities at a job a while back. My colleague and friend, K, is an exceptional Maintenance Mechanic, so all I really had to do was approve his plans, assist him with his budget, and interface with the agency staff. At one point the upstairs bathrooms needed repair and had to be closed for a day. This wasn’t too much of a hardship as there were others on the main floor. 

Backing up just a bit, spelling has always been a mystery to me. I cringed all through elementary school with our weekly spelling tests. My best friend P and I diligently studied every week.  P would get 95% or 100%; I barely scraped by with 70%. 

 High School meant no more spelling tests, rather being graded on spelling in all written work. I could have looked up how to spell words that stymied me, but as I would whine, “How can I look it up in the dictionary when I don’t know how to spell it?” I did develop a survival technique. First, I made my handwriting less legible so that it could a toss-up, “Is that an O or an A? An E or an I?” I was usually given the benefit of the doubt. Also, if I used a “difficult” word multiple times I would scribble a different spelling of it each time, figuring at least one of them had to be correct.

Fast forward and after about 20 years to of PCs in the work place; word processors made me a much better speller, sort of. I could no longer camouflage my errors with sloppy handwriting, but the spell checker usually got it right. Sometimes it took a few attempts to get the word I wanted, but that would eventually happen. As my work became more and more computer driven my typing improved and, to some degree, so did my spelling; also, my belief in and reliance upon the spell check.

Now, back to bathroom repairs. The day before the repairs were to be done I sent an agency wide email advising of the bathroom shut down. By mid-afternoon of the repair day all work was done and the bathrooms were once again available for use. Again, I sent an email advising staff of this and thanking them. My email was to have ended: "Thank you for your cooperation and hopefully this has not caused too much inconvenience.”

 
Inconvenience has been one of those words that truly stumped me. So whenever I use it I sort of get most of the letters and then let spell check fix it. This particular day I was in a bit of a rush and blithely accepted the offered correction. Shortly after sending the email I heard bursts of giggling and snickering. I re-read my email to find I had ended it: “Thank you for your cooperation and hopefully this has not caused too much incontinence."

 
Not necessarily the concern I intended to express, but, somewhat appropriate in this situation!

Woodworking and my Dad

With all of the snow and cold this past winter many of us in New England had piles of snow on our roofs, ice damns in our gutters and sustained leaks and water damage.  Because of the numbers, getting contractors and trades specialists to do the repair work has become a lesson in patience.  This past week work was started on my neighbor S’c unit.  This morning, being a non-work day, I woke leisurely and slowly to the slightly distant sounds of hammering and power sawing.  In this not asleep-not awake state these sounds tickled my unconscious and brought to mind my Father.  

My dad was a butcher by trade.  But his passion and school training were in carpentry and fine wood working.  He loved working with wood and making beautiful, useful things.  When we moved from the city to the suburbs our house had an attached garage.  This garage never housed an auto.  From the day we moved in it was clearly my Dad’s workshop. 

He had places for tools, organized by function – gardening, plumbing, electrical, carpentry.  He had an enormous work bench of re-cycled wood, I don’t know where he got it, but it was this huge slab, probably 2 inches thick that could withstand anything.   

His most appreciated and enjoyed Father’s Day and Birthday presents were assorted tools power and non.  And the pièce de résistance was the multi-functional table saw with many accessories.

He made customized storm and screen windows for every window in our house.  He completely “finished” our huge lower level family room with paneling and a wonderful desk with built in drawers and book shelves.  

 
He and my brothers built a mammoth deck off the kitchen with seating and railings on all open sides and a brick barbeque with abutting marble topped workspace and underneath storage.  

He customized rooms and closets in our house.  He made my bedroom furniture.  And then, when there were no more projects of necessity, he created art.  He made my then sister-in-law and me beautiful wooden jewelry boxes.  And he sculpted an assortment of wooden fish.

Every weeknight after having had a 30 minute commute to and from work and working on his feet in a cold, meat sensitive temperature for 8 hours he would come home, have his supper and then off to his “shop” for a good two hours or more.  Week nights I usually had home work so I was not able to join him.  But Sunday’s, I had plenty of time.  He taught me how to use hand tools, how to measure, how to cut molding using a miter box, how to “hide” nail heads” and how to use his table saw and accessories without loosing any fingers.  

This was time I treasured.  It wasn’t so much that I wanted these skills; though I am glad I’ve retained some of them.  I wanted the time, this wonderful time with just me and my Daddy.  He had a radio on in the shop; it was always tuned to whatever station was broadcasting the “game.”  Conversation was limited to needed instructions only.  The focus was on the task at hand with “the game” keeping us company in the background.  I’ve never developed an interest in sports.  But, oh, how I love hearing games on the radio.  It takes me back to those cherished Sundays and I luxuriate in these memories.

Baked Scotch Eggs

This is another finger food I served at the single malt tasting.  A very big hit.  I have combined a few recipes I found on the web. Baking them seemed a better option to frying and did allow a lot of the rendered fat to drain off.  Never knew Scots were known for loving anything/everything fried including fried Mars Bars!  Between this and the penchant for pasta from the Italian side, I never stood a chance! 

I only had jumbo eggs which I served cut in half.  A good sized portion, but the sausage did shrink and leave some naked spots, I placed the eggs so that this was not noticable.  I served with both sweet and savory condiments; horseradish mustard and haggis chutney.  Both were a success and all palates satisfied.  Next time I want to try the tip from Jamie Oliver http://www.jamieoliver.com/recipes/eggs-recipes/proper-scotch-eggs-with-lovely-scottish-cheese-and-pickle/#MGaaYxWDK32IvjiV.97 boil the eggs for less time so that the yolks are more creamy than hard.  Peeling seems like it will require great care, but I think worth the effort. And I will use smaller eggs.

Ingredients:

• 1 lb Breakfast sausage meat for each 4 eggs.
• 4 small or medium eggs, hard boiled
• flour
• 1 large egg
• 2 cups fine dry breadcrumbs

Directions

1. Hard boil the eggs.
2. Peel them, dip them in water and coat them in flour.
3. Wrap each egg evenly in a portion of meat, being sure they are covered completely.
4. Beat the remaining egg.
5. Dip each egg in the beaten egg then coat thoroughly in breadcrumbs.
6. Chill for one hour.
7. Place eggs on broiling rack, not touching.
8. Bake until golden brown on a cookie sheet at 400°F; about 20 minutes, turn and bake another 20 until golden brown.

Final words on Birthdays, for this year!

My 48^th birthday was a milestone.  I was in the process of adopting my daughter C and this was the first weekend that she stayed with me.  I remember waking very early and thinking about her asleep in the room next to me and I simply couldn’t stop grinning. I was overcome with joy.  I sat in bed for the longest time just being so happy; the best birthday present ever!

Tuning 50 was not a big deal for me; not a birthday of which I had any expectations.  On a Saturday a few weeks before the actual date I was supposed to go out to dinner with a group of friends.  I wasn’t feeling well that day; had an infection on my neck which was treated in the ER and couldn’t get it wet, so a shower and hair wash were out of the question.  I was feeling very sorry for myself and just wanted to stay home.  I never even thought it odd when my friend H insisted she would wash my hair in the kitchen sink, keeping my neck dry, so I could get dressed up.  Dragging my feet, and not being too silent about it, I did get ready.  The group of us set off in the van.  On the way we had to make one stop to pick up E.  Everyone was gung-ho to go into the AOH hall for a drink while we got E and then we would be off to the restaurant.  Still being so happy to be miserable, I whined that I would wait for them in the car.  But they just wouldn’t leave me alone.  “No, no, come in with us.”  Kicking and screaming all the way I did.  When we walked in the door I lost all sense of reality.  Time went into slow-mo.  The hall was packed.  There were the folks I worked with!  There were friends from Boston!  Over there friends from NY.  And there was my daughter!  And there was my brother and sister-in-law!  I just couldn’t process this.  What are they doing here?  What is this?  .  P told me, “This is for you; it’s your birthday party!”  Eventually it registered and I thought my heart would explode with the joy of it all.  My friend C had arranged this surprise party for me!  Folks from every aspect of my life filled the hall and they all were there for me!  I was beyond high with amazement and joy.  And, in case that wasn’t enough, there had been a parade in Peabody that day, and C’s husband E had arranged for the bagpipers to parade around the hall and play for me.  It was the event of my life! I was bursting with joy. It was a grand party.
 

With my 54^th birthday my life- long dream of motherhood was further fulfilled.  C’s sister S had come to live with us; we were now a wonderful family of 3 humans and 4 cats.  The girls gave me a surprise birthday party.  Well, they contacted friends who did all the work to make it what they wanted possible while they could be charming hostesses of the sweetest surprise party.  They got me out of the house and then back home in time for the surprise.  When it was over and all guests gone home the three of us went to Benson's http://bensonsicecream.com/ the best homemade ice-cream and indulged in sundaes.  Another perfect celebration.

Birthdays since then have been less dramatic but just as wonderful.  Usually a meal with close friends and being so happy to be able to spend the time together.  As I get older birthdays could began to seem less like something to look forward to if viewed as The Countdown.  But I learned that we do better not to treat them as markers of time passing; rather, use them as opportunities to celebrate the glorious gift that is our life.  My dear friend E advises that we should celebrate our birthday for the full 2 weeks surrounding it.  I like that.  

 It can be stressful to have to celebrate anything in the space of a single day – especially as we get busier, slower, and more dispersed.  Allowing days before and days after the singular day to qualify for celebration provides plenty of opportunity; opportunity to spend with friends, opportunity to recall joyful times, opportunity to grieve for those not with us. This year’s celebration began the Sunday before my birthday.  C’s and my birthday are just about a week apart, and Sunday was mid-way between.  I had a small gathering of friends for some food and fun.  My girls were there.  For me it was beautifully, perfect day.  I worked on my actual birthday, but treated myself to bought lunch, rather than the usual brown bag.  I had a McDonald’s lobster roll; a pretty good deal for the price.  The Saturday after my birthday I went with friends to the Peabody Essex Museum to view the Thomas Hart Benson exhibit and then have lunch.  I’ve had lots of cards, lots of calls, lots of wishes posted on my Facebook timeline.  And my gift to me was to make it official at work that I will wind down before year end and then embark on full time retirement.  All in all a really great, ongoing, celebration.  And I’ve still a few more days left.

More Birthday Memories

In my early 20s, my boy-friend F took me to a very fancy Italian restaurant in Manhattan.  We got really decked out, drove to Manhattan, valet parked.  Many of the wait-staff were opera singers.  It was a very elegant meal and one I’m sure we could never afford today.  And the singing, arias and choruses; so romantic.  I had never actually seen an opera, but grew up hearing them on the stereo, so there were lots of selections that were familiar and well liked. It was a most sophisticated, magical, artsy, and grown-up celebration.

Not it, but like this

 Rossini's

I’ve not had much problem with the years advancing, though turning 35 seemed hard.  At that time I had unmet goals and expectations and didn’t see them happening soon.  I was divorced and childless; being a mom had always been my singular driving purpose.  I did however have a really good job.  I had transferred from the field to the Home Office in Boston and was on the path to a career I never expected.  I had interesting colleagues wonderful friends, a supportive community based in my church, meaningful volunteer activities; all-in-all a very rich and rewarding life.  So I didn’t mope too long or too hard, but did mope a bit.  I did remind myself that if I wanted something, it wasn't going to come knocking on my door, I would need to get it or make it happen.  I'll save the escapades about trying to become a bio-mom for another time.

Approaching 40 was freeing.  The day after my 39^th birthday I started claiming 40.  For me this was a milestone.  It meant I was now truly an ADULT and I actually started to feel grown-up.  I was still a bit amazed at my job and did have the feeling that was a kid playing at CAREERS; any day now I was sure they would find out I was a fraud.  This never happened.  In my non-working life I was now truly a grown-up and was not to be messed with or intimidated by anyone. I suddenly had permission to speak up, assert myself and advocate; sales-clerks, auto-mechanics, even doctors and nurses, watch out! I not only expected to be treated with respect, but because I now commanded it, I was!.  WOW! A real awakening.

It was good I enjoyed my 40^th year as the actual birthday and time after was traumatic.  The week before my birthday, one of my two brothers died unexpectedly.  On my actual birthday my Mother died.  I had planned a huge party for myself, which, of course, was cancelled.  And, just in case this wasn't enough, an on-again/off-again relationship was ended (not by me).  And to top things off, my apartment was robbed!  It took a long, long time to recover from the losses. But I was blessed with loving and caring friends who sustained me through it. I was very shy to think about any kind of birthday celebration for many years to come.

A few weeks after this actual birthday, my friend F gave me my birthday present; we went to Six Flags New England (https://www.sixflags.com/newengland.  We arrived when it opened and left when it closed.  We did not waste one second on sissy rides and barely paused for refreshments. We did each of the roller coasters, water slides, and other scary rides at least 4 times.  This was the only time in my entire life that I left an amusement park exhausted, fully sated and not wanting or needing more.

More to follow.