If a clod falls off the continent, Europe is the lesser for it

 

One of my oldest, dearest friends has shuffled off this mortal coil.....Dirk was one of the smartest, most charming, funniest men I ever knew....a fellow lover of the arts, he and I shared many a happy moment listening to music, at an art gallery, or watching a play.....trying exotic new foods.....in our cups.....and he helped me out immeasurably at various dark points in my life. 

Dirk and I met in high school through Latin Club and various AP courses. He was not my lover but did date a girlfriend of mine. I have many happy memories of toga parties and late night shenanigans....We reconnected after college, when Dirk moved to Houston to work at Vinson / Elkins. He befriended my first husband, Greg, and dated my good friend, Gretchen. It was a natural fit and the 4 of us socialized often. When I moved to Plano, early 1990’s, he had moved back to DFW area as well. He squired me around town even as I was visibly pregnant with another man’s baby, distracting me from “my husband is divorcing me while 4 months pregnant with his child “ woes. Dirk was always there with a kind word, thoughtful advice, and a jovial kindness. I don’t think I ever saw him have a bad day.

One of my happiest memories of Dirk comes from our late 20’s : We were walking through the quad at Rice University late one night, in the moonlight, when no one else was around. All was dark and quiet. Ever so faintly, we heard a sound - music, and as we approached, saw a lone student playing “Danny Boy” on a wooden pan pipe. It was one of those strangely delightful, magical moments that happened only with Dirk.....

We continued to do fun things together throughout our lives, whenever our paths crossed.....and promised ourselves that one day, he’d take me sailing on the Bosphorus. Still in my top 10 bucket list items.....

'No Man is an Island' No man is an island entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main; if a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as any manner of thy friends or of thine own were; any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind. And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee

Too many people I have loved have passed away, and this is only the beginning, I know.....My grandmother once said to me that the worst thing about growing old was outliving all your friends. Amen to that.

Dirk : I wait to join you in the Elysian Fields, where we will raise a glass together once again. 

https://paw.princeton.edu/memorial/dirk-m-wilson-84

Life in the time of Covid-19 (Stage 1 ) Part One

Documenting one family’s life during the great corona virus Covid19 pandemic of 2020, for posterity, Stage 1 - quarantine, first 2 months, mild boredom, relatively little economic or health impact. Both husband (below) and one adult son (above) work from home. Son #1 typically resides in Austin, but decided the food and the bandwidth were better at the ‘rents, so came home for an extended visit. 

In addition to working from home, everyone needs hobbies, fun things to do to pass the time. With our social groups quarantined, we seek to amuse ourselves via:

Drinking : We’ve instituted artisanal cocktail Fridays

Cooking more, and cooking more interesting stuff.....Ordering take-out, delivery, instead of eating out

Above:  Stone fired pizza from our pizza oven

 Home-made sweet rolls, delivered to our house by a local coffee shop

 Greek lemon chicken and orzo, made at home

 Tex-Mex, delivered by a local restaurant

 Breakfast SW frittata, cooked at home

Lamb chops a la Greque, potatoes, salad, and spanakopita, all cooked from scratch at home

Hobbies

Hubs’ hobbies include : Cooking artisanal stone fired pizza from his backyard pizza oven, 

......and brewing beer. As a chemist, he loves playing around with ingredients, recipes, temperatures, techniques. 

Out Brief Candle

A friend of mine from college days, Martha McGranahan, passed away suddenly and unexpectedly last week. Martha was a unique member of a group of strong-willed young women I lived and socialized with over 40 years ago at one of the most rigorous, exclusive top 10 universities in America. We were sassy fearless young women, second wave feminists, gals who helped each other wrangle that difficult passage from childhood to adult as well as build our careers. I remember first bonding with Martha, late one night in the dorm, about how we each hated our first names. There was surely substance abuse involved. Work hard, play hard was our motto. Yet Martha was never mean, always sweet and fun, kind and funky. Martha may have been the purest of the bunch. She marched to the beat of her own drummer, choosing music and arts when we chose business and law. (It was the early ‘80’s, that era of Dress For Success.) I didn’t know her well, but well enough......and I am terribly sad that I won’t get to know her any further. You see, she killed herself.

Martha leaves behind two beautiful daughters, an ex husband all her old friends think is an asshole, a church choir that will never hear her sing again, and a church full of family and friends openly weeping at her funeral. We all questioned ourselves endlessly : What were the signs? What did I miss? I tried to schedule lunch with her awhile back, but had to cancel.....The day she killed herself, Easter Sunday, she carried on as usual, thinking of others, engaged in life and living. Wishing one friend “Happy Birthday.” Going about her business.

Martha and I shared so many interests: arts, the American Southwest and particularly Santa Fe, retro funky fashions and pop culture, and poodles.

I’m going to put this out there, as food for thought : Martha’s passing feels to me like a tragic bookend for the next phase of our lives. I am broken-hearted for her, and for us all. The loss of an old friend. She is the first I’ve heard about from our class who have died; there may be others I have missed. Who will be the last one standing? The other bookend. Yes, funerals are for the survivors, but I believe in the power of ritual, of community, of coming together to mark life’s milestones, good or bad. It’s how we know we are human, by celebrating the memory of a friend, while staving off the darkness of our own demise. Draw the circle ever tighter. My hope is to see as many dear old friends at the memorial as possible. We can convene in a bar afterwards and drink, share memories, laughter and tears. Ask not for whom the bell tolls, it tolls for thee.

Goliad

                                                             Goliad Courthouse

Goliad, Texas is a beautiful old little town in south Texas, between San Antonio and Corpus Christi / Victoria. One of the earliest settlements in the state, it is the location of one of the 3 famous battles for Texas Independence (the most famous of which is the Battle of the Alamo). It is also the family homestead of one of my oldest friends, whose father passed away in August.

Family reunions these days seem to increasingly only happen at weddings and funerals. My own family of origin is small and mostly deceased or estranged, and long ago I was sort of adopted into my friend's . These people are kinder and more loving to me than my own ever were, and I feel fortunate to know them and be part of them.

My childhood friend Bill has been godfather and mentor to my sons for their entire lives. Lord knows he and his parents have bailed me out of some sticky situations, most notably a terrible divorce in my youth. Bill is the closest thing to a sibling I have; I call him my brother. I have loved his parents as my own. While we were sad in the passing of Bill's father, a widely esteemed kind old man, coming together on his father's behalf was joyful in and of itself.

How to be a Sassy Old(er) Woman Pt 2

Now that we've addressed clothes, cars, critters and causes, its time to think about fun. One of the most fun things hubster and I have done lately was to go, with a group of about 20 friends to a honky -tonk in far west Texas, and dance. (We all stayed together at a B&B.) Hubster and I dance a poor two-step (bc I can never let anyone else lead) and the music was a mix of country and pop. We just reverted to our "old" styles of dancing (formed in the late 70's and early 80's....a little bit rock 'n roll, a little bit new wave) which apparently was quite a curiosity to the folk at this particular establishment. Strangers actually came up to us and inquired about where we had learned to dance, calling our style "unique"  - and no, it wasn't as bad as Elaine on "Seinfeld" - I just had to laugh. I didn't reply "in a bunch of gay bars back in the big city a long time ago", which was the truth. I just laughed. Who cares if we looked odd? We looked odd together. I just wish I could still fit into those size 6 leather pants I bought from North Beach.....

While I love love love the elegant ladies from "Advanced Style", I doubt I will ever be one. I just don't have the money to dress that well, I'm not thin, and I'm too action-oriented to ever look that good. My curly hair is always out of place (and this strands coming in gray are even curlier than it was), I'm sweaty, and besides, I want to DO STUFF not sit around and pose. Comfort is my goal and adventure is my plan.

You have to figure out what you want to do to have fun. Maybe knitting, playing bridge, and square dancing are your thing. Maybe you like watching tv and doing crossword puzzles. I want to be like T.E.Lawrence who died while riding a motorcycle near his home. I'd rather die on a motorcycle than in a hospital. I want to be like Gertrude Stein who encouraged young artists and created her own salon (in the French sense, as in, a gathering of writers and intellectuals who talk and share ideas, not in the small town sense, as in a place to get your hair done.) I want to find interesting, like-minded people to talk to about stuff. I want to do a wide variety of things, so that I have something to talk about. I'm not sure I can steer a motorcycle by myself these days, but I know I can steer a Vespa. "Normal" is boring. What have you always wanted to do, but never have done?

You have to get up and do stuff. If no one around you is making plans, starting things, then you make the plans. If you invite them, they will come. In the past few years I have started a bookclub, a dinner club (neighbors get together once a month and either go out to eat, or have a potluck with a theme, like "foreign vacation" or "Mardi Gras"), gone with friends to see plays, art exhibits, and concerts, booked fun trips. I created a "pub crawl" for hubster's birthday celebration (like a progressive dinner, only we went from craft brewery to craft brewery).

The big ticket item on my bucket list is travel. I want to travel as much as I can till I can't any more. I am scared by recent health problems that my travel days may not last much longer. But I started thinking: I just need to change my travel paradigm. Instead of the schlepping heavy luggage all over Europe thing - which I know I cannot do any more - I need to find other ways to get around. Rent a car. Sail a ship. The traditional thing for old folks is to take a cruise, but I hate crowds, formal dress, gambling, shuffleboard, and all that crap. Hubster and I are going to take a 10 person cruise on a sailing yacht in the Caribbean this summer - we'll let you know if it was fun, later. I just need to slow my pace, rest more often, not try to do as much. 

Oh the Humanity !

An earth shattering event happened around here last fall and I was too wrapped up in personal stuff to report it. Big Tex, one of the most beloved and familiar icons of the Lone Star State, went up in flames. If you want to read the official news story concerning this event, see link below.
http://www.cbsnews.com/8301-201_162-57536300/iconic-statue-big-tex-goes-up-in-flames/


Big Tex originated  in the Dallas area sometime in the 1940's or 1950's as a  rather thin Santa Clause promoting a local business. Not finding success at that job and perhaps feeling discriminated against vis-a-vis all the other Santas out there on issues of weightism,  Big Tex somehow made his way, with a change of clothes, across town to the State Fair grounds, where he has welcomed visitors ever since I was a baby in the early 1960's. He was famous not only for his sartorial flair, but also for his mechanical drawl of "Howdy Texans!" which emanated from his hinged jaw that dropped, skeletally, as he spoke. (Imagine Craig Ferguson's sidekick Geoff.) Due to his height, he was often used as a landmark for various friends and families visiting the State Fair, as in "We'll meet by Big Tex at noon". No one could miss him. (P.S. He wasn't as tall as this image would seem to suggest, i.e. taller than the world's tallest Ferris wheel. He was 52 feet tall.)

Many natives, myself included, felt shock and awe as we watched the perpetually unfolding news images of smoke and flames pouring out of our beloved icon.  We couldn't bear to look, yet we couldn't tear ourselves away. In that special way that grief sometimes combines with dark humor, I couldn't help but being reminded of images from the original "Ghostbusters" movie, when the Stay Puffed Marshmallow Man went up in flames. Proof of Big Tex's humanlike persona is that State Fair officials carried his remains out in giant body bag while thousands watched and mourned. Didn't want folks to gawk at his charred carcass, didn't want to leave the burned metal skeleton and fried electrical wiring around for folks to see. Since that day, there has been a public clamor to rebuild Big Tex. Someone somewhere traced down another head, long forgotten  in storage or a junkyard , that was made at the same time for Big Tex. Plans to create another oddly proportioned body for him have begun.

Bucket List

                                                               Dubrovnik, Croatia
I recently asked my friends "What's on your bucket list?" The replies were varied: some answered me earnestly, some ridiculously or with great fancy/fantasy, some with ridicule. I know this is a cliche from a movie, (Isn't the point of the movie to get out of your rut and try new things? How can that be all bad? Don't we celebrate the adventure quest in most of our great stories? Doesn't the on character in the film grow from an embittered old coot who has given up into an empathetic, loving member of the human race , as a result of his experiences? isn't that what we all want?) and maybe at this point folks are tired of thinking in those terms or calling it  "Bucket List". OK, let's call it something else. What's on your "To Do " list? What are your goals to be highly effective? A positive self-actualizer? Life goals? 5 Year Plan?

In my young adulthood I had life goals, most of which I have since achieved: 1) get accepted into a prestigious, academically rigorous university (check), 2)graduate from that prestigious university (check),  3)travel and see as much of the world as possible (check-in progress), 4) get a professional corporate American job right out of college (check-hated it-soon left), 5) find a career that is meaningful to me, where I feel I am contributing to the world, not taking from it ( check), 6) get married (check), 7) have kids (check), 8) own/live in a nice home (check), 9) own/drive a luxury car ( no check), 10) earn enough money to stop worrying about money (no check), 11) have a rich life full of family and friends (check), 12) earn a graduate degree (check), 13) teach at a university (check), 14) write a published novel (still working on that one). I am now at what is called "mid-life" and re-evaluating it all - although let's be real: given the health and longevity of my parents, I'm 2/3 or 3/4 done. Do the last last few years in a vegetative state really count? What do you plan to do with the rest of your life, when you have accomplished really pretty much all you set out to do ?

Having taken care of aging sick parents for the past several years, I have realized I may not have that many good years left. In spite of statistics that tell us that our life span ( in western nations) is expanding, many of those added years are not good years- full of mental health, with painless mobility, free from disease, full of loved ones, adventure, financial security, happiness. I fear that when I retire I won't have the money or the zest to do all the things I want to do, and maybe I need to try to find a way to fit them in, NOW.

I think I need to take a page from my m-i-law (yes, the very one I complain about so frequently), who spent the decade of her 50's taking painting classes, traveling to Europe every summer, driving fancy cars, and generally living life to the fullest. Good thing she did bc she is now incapacitated with rheumatoid arthritis and can barely walk. Her traveling days are over. My mom didn't know she would have a series of strokes in her 70's that would render her incapable of functioning independently. She put away several hundred thousand dollars for her old age- and will never be able to enjoy the funds. She is under medical care and will end up in a nursing home soon that is paid for with her social security benefits.

If you knew you had 10 years left, or 5 years left, what would you do with them? I was having this conversation with a gf the other day, and she decided there is no point saving money for some future disaster- she might as well put that pool in now, when she can enjoy it. Once I'm old, poor, senile, and enfeebled- all hospital beds look the same ! It won't matter if it's a "nice" one or not! (Note to my relatives: please just bring me some luxury sheets! That's all I ask!) I know I don't want to jump out of a plane, sing karaoke, learn to fly, perform at Carnegie Hall, meet anyone famous, scuba dive, or hike Mt Everest. I've already swum with the dolphins (and sharks and barracudas and sting rays) in the coral reefs on the Red Sea, have ridden a camel to the pyramids (It was hot, windy, and I was thirsty.The camel smelled bad and I was worried it would bite me with its giant gnarled yellow teeth. Riding a camel is not a smooth process- they rock and sway, and it rubs you raw. Still, it was a gas!), traveled to most major European locations and seen the sun come up over (fill in the blank...............Paris, Rome, Athens, London, Jerusalem.....) I am fortunate in that regard. I did most of these things as a young person, and my advice to anyone young is to go for it ! You will never have more available income to travel than when you think you are your poorest. The minute you get a "real" job, settle down, buy a house, have kids- the joke is over. You now have to pay for multiple people to travel, not just yourself, and you will never have the time to get away. My advice to all young people is to bum around and travel as much as you can, while you can, before you settle down.

So what is on my bucket list? I take stabs at the small tasks- painting, yoga, redoing various parts of my house, volunteering for causes I believe in- each summer.  Someday, when the time is right for my sons, I'd like to have grand kids. I hope to keep finding causes and activities that interest me, make me feel like I am contributing the the planet in some small way. I'd like to (in the words of Scarlet O'Hara) "be able to tell every old fat cat I've ever despised to 'go to hell' if I felt like it". I'd like to own one nice car in my lifetime. I wish I had a swimming pool too! (But probably never will.) I am grateful for the many blessings of my life: a wonderful husband, smart funny delightful sons, good friends old and new, a pleasant home . And yet I'd really like to be able to travel to a few more places before I have to stop, altogether. Many of the places I've been to before, I'd like to go back to again - especially Venice, Sicily, Greece, France ( Paris, Provence), London. There are also some new places I'd like to visit :

Dubrovnik (picture at top)
A UNESCO world heritage site, Dubrovnik was an ancient Greek colony along the Adriatic Coast (former Yugoslavia, now Croatia) and has been continuously inhabited for 1000's of years.  It has a unique mixture of Mediterranean and Slavic cultures. Hubster was slated to go to a conference there, last spring, which put it on my radar screen. Then the conference was cancelled, but my desire to go there was not.

Machu Picchu and the Galapagos islands.
When I was a kid, my bff and I co-wrote a series of comic book/kid stories called "The Gosharootie Gang", about a bunch of kids whose various escapades took them to foreign countries. It was kind of like Scooby Doo meets Captain Underpants, and we did a lot of research for each story we wrote through books and encyclopedias in our local library. I only recently realized that some of my wanderlust was formed by the places we wrote about in those stories. One of my favorites was the book set in Hawaii, and last summer that's where I took my kids. It just came bubbling up, out of the deep recesses, this desire that had lain dormant all these years. I didn't even know I wanted to go there, but once I realized it, the urge was powerful. Same with Machu Picchu, and the Nazca Plains. I think that came from reading Chariots of the Gods as a kid. I've also always wanted to see Buenos Aires and Rio de Janeiro. Some of this interest was sparked by that childhood friend, whose mother had family in those places and who visited frequently, bringing back souvenirs and tales of sites.

Bali
I'd love to tour all of southeast Asia: Thailand, Cambodia, Viet Nam, and various parts of Indonesia. There are places from the evening news of my childhood, places from novels and dreams, places of interest from my Buddhist leanings.Many folk from these nations have settled in Texas, sharing their culture, food, music, art, religion and literature. It is interesting to me and I'd love to learn and experience more.

St Petersberg
Russia is the one major European nation I've never been to, and I've long been an aficionado of Russian literature, music, food, culture and art. I'd love to do one of those cruises that goes from Denmark to various ports o' call through Scandinavia, ending in Russia.

  

Africa- Tanzania , or Kenya

I'd love to go on one of those "no kill" safaris where you get to drive through the wild game park and see the flora and fauna. I might even consent to ride in a small plane to do this....I'd have to think about it (and pack a xanax!) Yes, I know I can do a facsimile of this experience at Fossil Ridge, just south of Dallas, but I'd like to see Mt Kilimanjaro, too. Just experience Africa one more time.

What's on your bucket list? Why?

Trip to Bountiful

Taos, NM
I spent the early weeks of this summer participating in meetings and seminars related to the books, lessons, curriculum and teaching strategies of English, and in one of them spent a fair amount of time working up activities related to the idea of seeing one's own life in terms of archetypal characters from literature, or from archetypal movies. Developing writing activities not only for expository writing, such as to prepare students to be successful in taking the AP Lit exam, but also to foster creative writing as well. More than once, the question was posed, "what is the story path of your life?" The idea being that, at various points in our lives, we "see" ourselves as various heroic characters from literature or cinema. Those who know me are familiar with the Scarlett O'Hara or Blanche DuBois aspects of my life. There have been other chapters drawn from other books, as well : Harriet the Spy, Little House on the Prairie, Jane Eyre, A Room With View, "1900", "When Harry Met Sally". (Hubster has long said he felt like Don Quixote......while many only see him as Bluto.)
*
After my classes were over, I took a vacation to Colorado and New Mexico, something I have done every few years since I was a little girl (often dragging girlfriends or lovers along to share my passion for this region). I couldn't help but think of my trip this year in some of these mythic terms. It was clearly a quest for me this time, from the Dionysian to the Apollonian in my life, like Antigone, determined to do the correct thing and restore order from the chaos. Like the film "A Trip to Bountiful", it was also a journey to find a place and time that does not exist any more, or exists only in memory. For you see, my father passed away rather suddenly back in the winter, and having died without any burial plans- a will, an estate to pay for his expenses- and never having mentioned the subject or his wishes to anyone at all, it was left to me alone to make difficult choices as to what to do with his remains. All this was made more complicated by the fact that my childhood was not idyllic but highly dysfunctional. My father was an undiagnosed "adult onset" schizophrenic until very recently, and over the years as he struggled through the torments of his mental disease, various family members reacted to him with anger, fear, shock, and avoidance, no one fully comprehending what he was going through or why. His own mother and sister disowned him. My parents divorced and my mother refused to see him or speak to him ever again. My sister also disavowed herself from him. I alone, perhaps b/c I had a few good years with him as a child before his madness took its toll, saw and spoke to him - albeit infrequently. It was part of the nature of his disability that he wandered from job to job, apartment to flop to trailer house and girlfriend to girlfriend. Months and years would pass without a word, and I was worried that he'd end up a "John Doe" in a morgue somewhere with a toe tag and no one would ever know what had finally happened to him. So when he died, I alone was the one designated to make all the end of life decisions for him. As he was a charity case and had no assets, I chose to have him cremated. What to do with his "cremains" came to me as an idea, later.
*
I thought about my childhood, of the happy times. My mom, sis, dad and I long ago agreed the best memories centered on the vacations spent in the Colorado- New Mexico "Four Corners" area. As a family, we returned again and again to our favorite haunts : Albuquerque, Santa Fe, Taos, Durango, Gallup. Back in the 1960's we camped at various campgrounds in this part of the desert southwest, hiked, rode horses, fished, picnicked, experiencing the land in ways one cannot from a hotel room. Those happy memories must be seared in my brain, as I cannot go too long without returning to these places. So I decided that this was where dad's final resting place needed to be.

Ship Rock, NM, sacred place for the Navajo
Funerals are for the living- don't kid yourself; the dead don't care. It is through the ceremonies we construct for our dead that we reveal who we are, what they meant to us, and heal from the grieving of their loss. My mother (who is fixated on family genealogy- takes vacations visiting the cemeteries of her ancestors, and tidying up their tombstones) has her final resting spot already purchased, designed, paid for and ready to go. All that remains for her is to put the final date on her headstone. She will join her parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins in a family plot that is as cozy to her as a church picnic family reunion. As I was making my plans for this trip, she kept tossing out random "helpful" suggestions : buy him a burial plot (where? where he was born? where he died? near his other family ? his sister disowned him, as had the rest of his family.....and with what money? no one was offering to help me out in that aspect - I'd already fronted the bill for the cremation, no helpful family member stepping in to shoulder that burden, either), throw his cremains in the trash, leave them here or there. Leaving them in the cardboard box they came in , on the mantel, seemed to be not a viable option. This was all ridiculous. As no one else had any realistic solution, I chose to release his ashes at some of the various spots of our happy childhood memories.

Gallup , NM - the famous "Route 66"
My own mother went shopping on the day of her mother's funeral. I tell this story often, for I believe it reveals quite a bit about my mother. And it is true. God help me, I couldn't make this stuff up. I remember that day : a freezing late winter morning, with icy rain drizzling through our thin raincoats. My husband and I had driven 7 hours, through the night, to the northern east Texas town of Sulphur Springs from Houston, and were exhausted. My mother and sister drove east 2 hours from Dallas. The funeral was small ; my grandmother had outlived most of her friends and peers, even the pastor who had known her. A small canopy at the burial site sheltered us from the rain but not the wind. Mom at least managed to remember that granny loved yellow roses best, and a spray of them covered her casket. It was that small gesture that made my eyes well up and I had to turn away. Everyone deals with grief in their own way, and my mother sat dry-eyed through the entire ceremony. Granny hadn't been lowered into the ground 5 minutes, when mom said to me, "You drove all this way, why don't we swing by the outlet mall ? They have some of those dollar panties I like. Then we can go out to lunch, after."
*
Perhaps it is a hallmark of our modern era that I searched for something more personal and meaningful, yet in an unconventional way, for my father. Recent news sources guestimate that nearly a third of people are cremated in the USA annually and that figure is rising, each year (nearly 85% worldwide, esp in countries that practice Buddhism or Hinduism) . However, it is theoretically illegal to dump human remains - even in the form of dust - in most public places in this country. What to do, what to do? I ended up leaving a trail of dust, a little bit here here or there, in all of the places my dad loved best and was happiest in . Chose some spots he loved to paint watercolors of, for good measure. None of them public by any means. ;o)

sunrise at Mesa Verde, Co
Then like my mother before me, I went shopping. Took a "Trip to Bountiful" journey through all the beloved places of my childhood - Albuquerque, Sante Fe, Taos, Durango, Shiprock, Gallup. Saw all the sights, ate wonderful food, relived some memories of good times, created some new ones to add to the mix. And shopped. It really does help assuage the pain. Wasn't it right after Katie Scarlett buried her father Gerald in the old peach orchard, that she took the velvet curtains, made herself a new dress, and went to Atlanta?

October 2012 Post Script:
What I didn't know when I originally wrote this post was that this would be the last vacation I was to take my mother on, the last happy memory I would have of her. A week later she had a stroke, wrecked her car, and began a two year spiral down into dementia and death. So it was all the more important that I took this journey with her. Many did not understand why she accompanied me to dispose of my father's ashes, since there was so much acrimony between them when they divorced. All these places that were special to dad, however, were special to my mom as well, and she longed to see them one last time. You just never know how things are going to turn out, and while at times this was a difficult trip - mom was already showing signs of the dementia that eventually killed her - I'm still glad I made the effort.

Instructions for My Funeral

Emily Dickinson once wrote :

Because I could not stop for Death,

He kindly stopped for me;

The carriage held but just ourselves

And Immortality. *

I know it seems morbid to talk about your death, or what kind of funeral you want to have. Death visits us all my friend, sooner or later. Many people avoid this topic forever, and end up with some generic, bland, Holiday Inn sort of funeral with trite readings that sound like Hallmark cards, all because their surviving relatives were too distraught to know what to do or to think clearly. So I'm putting it out there : this is the kind of funeral I want. Any of you reading this who survive me (you know who you are !) , I am counting on you to help my loved ones arrange all this . It really will be better for ALL of you.

*

Had a conversation, recently, with one of my doctors, about all my health problems, (read "Disease of the Month " Club, in this blog, Dec 2008, for more on that topic ) and he casually threatened that I could be shaving 10-15 years off my life if I don't do a better job managing certain aspects of my health. I was discussing this verdict with some of my gfs at lunch one day, and one of them said, "How good is that last 10-15 years, anyways? " Which brings up so many questions ; sure, I'd rather go off a cliff like Thelma and Louis, maybe on a motorcycle instead of in a car, maybe with Brad Pitt as well !!! , than suffer and be in a hospital and tethered to machines. But I digress....

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My funeral wishes :

1)First, don't spend a lot of money on a casket, or embalming me, or a funeral plot or headstone. Absolutely no open caskets or "viewings " !!! (Bleeech !!! ) Don't let those folk at the local funeral parlor guilt trip you into doing this. I believe that once I am dead, my body is dead - my spirit lives on, but I don't need or care about those earthly things any more. Here's what I'd rather you did with all that money:

*

2)Cremate me. You, survivors, family and friends, I ask you to take a wonderful trip with the money you would have spent on a funeral ( there will be a nice insurance policy with plenty of funds available for you to do this) , and go somewhere that I loved - Greece, Italy, France, anywhere along the Mediterranean - and spread my ashes on the wind, the water, along the sites where I spent so many happy times in my youth. Really, this will make me so much more at peace, bring me - and you! so much more joy, than being in the cold hard ground. I will feel like I am getting one last chance to share something of my life with you; it will be a healing experience for us both.

2)Next : Plan an Irish wake for me. I am serious, I want a big BIG party to celebrate my death... I am not Irish by birth, but I am by marriage, and I've seen enough of these events to know that this is the way to go. Invite 100 people or more, people who knew me, people who didn't. Hire an Irish Celtic band, and rent out the local VFW if you need a room large enough. I want a fully stocked bar, with all major liquors and a margarita machine, good food, a big spread - and dancing. Get a few photos of me from when I was young, thin, cute and peppy, and blow them up to poster size, and prop them onto some easels ( I've got a few at the house you can borrow). Dance, eat, get drunk ! party, and tell all the old stories. Someone has to make a toast to me every hour, on the hour, and then everyone has to drink. Tell all the old jokes, ( a guy walks into a bar.... ) and share all the old anecdotes - about the time I danced on the bar at Valhalla, about the time I rode a motorcycle up Mt Ida on Crete and nearly died, about the time I got drunk with one of my bfs and tried to sneak onto an airplane bound for New Orleans. All about when a childhood friend and I tried to joust on our bicycles, when we tried to play practical jokes on drivers late at night at Hide-A-Way Lake, about the time we snuck onto the golf course and made love, walking up Riverside Park in the rain holding hands, when we spent part of our senior prom at a cemetery, the friends who wanted to build a copy of the bridge of the Enterprise in someone's garage. Tell about the days each of my children were born, and how I met the hubster and all about our wedding 14 years later. Hire some kid to play the bagpipes, and have him play "Amazing Grace". Get drunk, have fun, celebrate my life; don't mourn my death.

* I love this poem, in spite of its morbid topic. Perhaps that would be a nice one to read at the service......if you must, I'd rather have a Church of England service, or else gather together with some of my Buddhist friends and read some Isak Dineson, that poem by Auden she reads at Finch-Hatten's funeral is a good one, even if too masculine.....

;o)