Talk Thursday: Caterpillar

Coming home from McDonald’s Friday night I seriously considered writing a blog about the sad part of a caterpillars life and why I should not like to be said bird fodder: A lack of Micky Dee’s fries. Yes, when you’re hungry on a Fast Food Friday and you’ve been striving so very hard to stay on your diet, hot out of the fryer McDonald’s fries with a generous helping of vein hardening salt is to die for. Obviously I had no idea how to approach caterpillar as a topic.

Except for something that happened on Easter Sunday, something I’d been mulling over and rehashing all week long, brought me an epiphany about my mother. The worst part is that I’ve been saying this all along, but I guess the totality hit me. My mother is all about dying. Honest.

As a daughter, she was dutiful, loving, and ardent about paying forward family traditions. As a sister she was the strong one, the sister who was the older, the stronger, the dependable one. As a wife, she left her well appointed home to live with a man for the rest of his life, that at best her mother called “White Trash”. She got my father out of debt, saved her coupon money to build a portfolio, and kept our family solvent. As a mother she gave each of her kids the best of herself – she was a Girl Scout leader, a member of the PTA, she was a Den Mother, worked the snack shack at baseball and softball games, to say the least she was involved in each of her children’s lives.

In the early 1970’s my parents bought a trailer park and moved us to Oregon. My father renovated the business grounds and buildings, my mother made it a full functioning business, giving herself to it twenty four seven three sixty five for more than twenty years. When someone in the park needed help remaining independent, my mother was there to help them – daily. Then they moved, my father’s health finally started declining at a rapid pace (please don’t smoke) and my mother became no only my father’s wife, but his care giver – that same old twenty four seven three sixty five until the day he died, over four years ago.

The only time she left my father alone is when we went to England for three weeks. Traipsing through the English and Scottish country side seemed to thrive in the adventure and history of it all. My father has long gone, and yet my mother has made only two trips to Georgia to see my brother. She loves living by herself for the first time ever. She gives two hours on Wednesday to the area library. The rest of the time my mom builds these amazing quilts (but they are never good enough to show in the local quilt guild events) and takes care of her property (five acres south of town) with Ducky’s help.

As a child I was fascinated with caterpillars, loved learning about its metamorphic journey to chrysalis and then evolving into the beautiful butterfly it was meant to be. As I grew, matured, evolved into who I’ve become I have seen the parallels of human life to the caterpillars’ metamorphous journey through its life.

Someday, I’m sure my daughter will be come concerned about my willingness to live life or lack there of. I hope she knows how to approach her concerns. But in the way of my mother, I have no idea how to get her to live. She is forever conscience about making sure everything is as easy as possible for us “kids” when she passes. She is concerned that she will have enough money to last her life… take my word for it, my mother turned her coupon money into a $300k portfolio and her property is work easily half a mill, even in today’s market. She is concerned that she will be come a burden, I could kick my brother’s ass for that one. She is concerned that her property is too much of a burden on Roger and I, my fabulous brother in law is responsible for that, honestly Cap and Crown guy has no reason to fear, we’re not going to ask him for help.

Why can’t she fulfill her dreams and travel? I want my mom to live. I want the chrysalis to morph into the beautiful butterfly I know that is cocooned deep down in side. Mom, spread your wings and fly, no for me, not for Pinecone, Butch, or Buddy, but for yourself – you so deserve it.

Sith,
Cele

Talk Thursday: Dog & Pony

I’m not sure what Dog and Pony actually refers to. While I do have a dog, he’s more like a tank; I’ve not had a pony since I was a kid and well really it wasn’t mine. He was my aunt’s boyfriend's, Cowboy George had won Little Joe and the ranch he was on in a poker game. The same way he lost it. True story.

While I have a tank yet no pony I do have a story to tell. I love music, my two (almost life long) favorite groups: Crosby, Stills, Nash & Sometimes Young and the Moody Blues. I have seen CSN and have tickets to see them again at the Cuthbert on September 11th. I’ve yet to see the Moody Blues. But then that is part of the story.

Several weeks ago Pinecone called me on a Wednesday night to ask if I thought mom would enjoy seeing the Moody Blues at the Cuthbert. As my childhood roommate, Pinecone grew up with enforced- ram it down your throat, hours long Moody Blues listening sessions through out her formative and teen years- yes, until I moved out. I guess it stuck. She’s seen MB in concert four to five times, once with full accompanying orchestra – I am so jealous.

But what was she thinking? Mom would constantly yell at me to turn it down, turn it off, go outside in the fresh air. I’m thinking had the phrase, “Get a life” been popular I’d have heard her say that several times, too. “Pine,” I said, “I don’t think so.” Then I began to think, remember the time I thought she’d like So You Think You Could Dance, and I was way wrong? “Pine, what do I know, maybe she will, ask her.”

“Do you have a Moody Blues CD you could give her?”

“Well, yeah, duh!” Sometimes with my vocabulary you’d never guess I’m 53.

That Thursday night I met Mom and grandma for dinner at a local Chinese restaurant. When she sat down I hand mom the Best of MB and said, “Pine wanted you to listen to this, if you like the Moody Blues she wants to take you for your birthday. “

Taking the CD my mom said, “I enjoy the Moody Blues.”

Grandma chimes in, “Me too!” In unison I get, “They were on PBS, they were great.”

WTF do I know. Statement, not a question?

Fastforward...

Monday night, Ducky has just gone to bed when my cellphone rang. At first all I could here was musical “Wa-Wa-Wa” until Pinecone’s voice comes on the line and say, “Our mother wanted me to call you. Here.”

And what did my parental unit want to say? In essence, “Nee-neer, nee-neer, nee-neer.” Pine tells me, that besides rocking out to the Moody Blues all night long in a sweltering 99 degrees, she got a total kick out of people watching. She was a bit surprised and curious about what the people behind them were smoking. While she did notice it “smelled different” she didn’t truly notice until security spoke with them.

No dog and pony, just Pinecone and mom.

Sith,
Cele

Talk Thursday: My Mother’s Gift - Herself

First I would like to say my heart goes out to my dear friend JulieAnn who is suffering heartache and sorrow today. Her mother was the inspiration for this week's Talk Thursday topic. This morning her much loved mother passed, one year to the day of her father's passing. JulieAnn my love and strenght to you and yours.

My Mother's Gift ♥ Herself

All of my adult life I have tried to live up to a specific example of motherhood: Superwoman. I feel doomed to failure. I remember the first time I admitted to my mom that I’d made hamburger helper for dinner. I felt like an entire failure of womanhood (I hadn’t told her my husband had requested the mass produced crunchy dried boxed potatoes and chemical sauce) not that she made me feel that way, but in my heart I'd failed to do what my mom would have done. The woman will cook almost anything once (but not hamburger helper.) To this day my mother is testing out new recipes.

Before marrying my father (like most women of her generation and before) my mother had never lived on her own. Before marrying my father, my mother had never cooked a meal; never sewn a stitch, most likely never changed a diaper. It’s not an easy transition going for the world of the entitled to the life of lower middle class housewife. But she did it, making up for the things she’d never experienced with her own mother along the way. When my mother was growing up it was all about my grandmother and my aunt.

My mother gave her all to be the best mother and wife she could possibly be. And it wasn’t an easy task. She’d had no role model from which to draw her ideals and mold her self after.

She is Mares Eat Oates and Does Eat Oates, she is Lavender Blue Dilly Dilly. She can be anything you want her to be, she is mom, one of the most vital parts of me and who I am today.

My mother threw herself into motherhood heart, body, and soul Teaching us to give with compassion, think for ourselves, and to question what we didn’t know or understand in a time long before soccer mom’s ruled the hectic family schedule my mom was ferrying her children to dance class, baseball practices, swimming lessons, and running the snack shack at each game. She was a Brownie leader, a den mother, Girl Scout leader, pack mom. She volunteered in the school library. She supported her children in every possible way she could, giving us her youth and the best of what she knew she could be.

My mother never said…
“I can’t do that.”
“You can’t be that.”
It was always, “You can be what ever you want with enough hard work and will power.”

But the most important lessons my mother gave me were about the importance of me. They still are today as they were yesterday and will be still more tomorrow.

1) I am only as good as my word
2) I have to like myself before anyone else can
3) Give fully of yourself, don’t do it half assed
4) Do for others without expectation of payback, solely because it’s the right thing to do (early pay it forward.)
5) And that will be 25 cents, don’t cuss

To this day I am trying to live up to the example that my mom has always set. She is strong, loving, giving, and willing. And thank God, besides being my mother and role model she’s my friend. Her gift was and always is herself.

Sith
Cele