Spring Cleaning...by Lisa

Do you do spring cleaning? I do, or at least I used to. I used to wash all the windows inside and out, the windows that tilt so you can wash them without going outside or getting on a ladder. I’ve powerwashed the driveway and sidewalk, scrubbed the garage door, and dusted the blinds. I suppose it’s a way of shooing the last remnants of winter away until next fall, and making sure spring has plenty of room to move in. Kind of a metaphor for life, and relationships, don’t you think? Cleaning house emotionally, getting rid of cobwebs and dust, and ushering in a fresh, new season? I’m excited this year, because I’m moving to a bigger space in a few weeks. I can’t wait, because it has more room, a better view, and a real fireplace for next fall and winter. Instead of the traditional spring cleaning, I’m going to be doing spring packing. Last spring saw the end of a very emotionally dark time for me, and new hope. Instead of washing windows and garage doors, I learned to be comfortable going places and doing things by myself. I endured the harsh winter of dark nights spent alone crying, and the spring brought the flowers and leaves, and hope and love and new beginnings. I am thankful for my friends, especially my Friday circle of friends, who kept me afloat during that difficult time. I’m thankful for Jodi and our rekindled friendship that also lifted me up during that time. I’m thankful that I got through the dark winter and found myself blossoming anew with the spring.  I’ve only got 3 windows to clean this spring. Thankfully, I’ve got much more important things to tend to. 

Spring Cleaning...To Be Continued, by Jodi

Every other Friday our wonderful cleaning lady stops by our home to clean it. Enadina is very helpful, nice, honest and chosen by Daniel's now, dead mother. She does all the basics and then some. We love her, she also cleans Dan's dad's house each week. She is most importantly affordable and she does ok by us.

Enadina has taken on the laundress role here since I had my stroke. She will do our towels and bedding, our rugs sometimes and a random load we might have in the washer. It is fabulous, she's such a great lady and she does things pretty well. If we forget something she usually has it, that works for me. I forget a lot!

Since I had my stroke, I typically did not have the desire or strength to do anything extra around the house. I barely cooked meals or did grocery shopping. Our garage hadn't been touched, except to add to already existing piles. We had the addition of a new, 3 wheeled bike, which takes up a lot of space. We also had 3 other bikes in our garage, in addition to a few random television sets in various sizes, pillows, both indoor and outdoor as well as soda, sparking water and multiple types of beer, left by strangers or bought for parties. We also had the typical bags of out of date clothes and shoes, a collection of baseball hats, discarded computer junk and sporting equipment. Don't forget the tubs full of holiday stuff, camera equipment, car needs/wants, tools and of course, the stuff I have used to teach my class for the past 16 years and classroom discards or piles from Dan's classroom. We also had a little thing called my desk and multiple items from in and around our home office that was changed into half a bedroom to accommodate people who came to take care of me or visit us and sometimes Dan must get away from me, so he uses it too!

We needed to do some cleaning that no one else could do but us. I didn't want to have a garage sale, wasn't giving it to the homeless or trying to sell it on the internet, just get it out of here! We missed that big once a year pick up on trash day where they will take anything for the past two years in a row. We were determined to hit it this year but guess which day it was on? The day after Easter.

Dan and Travis both had spring break two weeks ago, so I said let's celebrate early and clean the garage out on the holiday, and so we did.

We only began to make a dent in the stuff we own. We got rid of basic stuff that you could obviously see needed to be gotten rid of, tossed multiple papers, went thru piles and piles of books and magazines and began to organize and clean out class and career stuff. We found and laughed at old photos, birth certificates and miscellaneous old love letters. I didn't get rid of any of those!

Dan and Travis carried quite a few piles out to the curb and quite a few random cars came by to get something. One man's trash is another man's treasure is alive and well here. I won't even go out until the trash men take it away, I don't want to see our old stuff sitting on the curb, it's sad but had to be done. We worked on it for about 5 hours, we will work on it another day and I'm sure a few more days to come. We started it...will we ever finish it? To be continued...

Prayer...by Lisa

Prayer seems to be a fitting topic for this time of year, at the end of Lent and just in time for Easter and Passover. What is prayer? I’m sure there are definitions to be had. I think prayer is something specific to each person. To some, it is worshipping God, reminding oneself of the greatness of God, the omnipotence and omniscience of God. For some, it is clearing one’s mind and focusing on inner peace, on quieting the mental chatter and clatter that makes one feel stressed, pressured, inadequate, and all of those lovely thoughts. I think prayer is a time of focused thinking, or concentration, whether it is concentrating on one’s breathing and absence of thought, which some call meditation, or talking to God, or about God. I think prayer can be active—an act of service to others. I went to 3 animal shelters the other day, looking for a dog. I was humbled at the efforts of the many selfless people who spend their days caring for and cleaning up after these animals who have no place else to go. To me, that is a form of prayer, and I’m sure that some of those people actually pray on behalf of those animals. I used to make blankets for Project Linus, and like many of the other volunteers, as I would cut and sew, I would find myself praying for the children who would eventually receive the blankets. Did that come full circle when my daughter received one of those blankets when she was unexpectedly hospitalized, when she had to undergo a painful, scary procedure in the middle of the night? It certainly did. Like Jodi, I have prayed for friends, loved ones, pets, and strangers. I’ve prayed for people I don’t like or understand—and that can be really tough, to pray under those circumstances with no motive other than the well-being of an adversary.

To me, prayer is many things, and yet they are all the same. A focus on something bigger than ourselves, something outside ourselves, something that even for a brief moment takes us to a better place and shows us our best self.

Livin' on a Prayer...by Jodi

Are we halfway there? If I take your hand, will we make it, you swear? Title and lines to a favorite song.

How many times have I lived on a prayer? Too many to count. What does it mean "to live on a prayer?" To me, it means we have got nothing else, just a prayer. Actually, a very powerful thing. Prayer is faith, it's hope. The greatest gift anyone can give is prayer.

For a simple request like being on the winning side, to the complex like asking for forgiveness or someone making it through the night.

When it boils down to what we really have or what we can really control, it's all about faith, belief and hope. Faith in believing in another person or hoping your marriage can make it through this rough patch. Faith, hope and belief can get you through the night sometimes. It's all someone can give at times. Nothing else seems to be strong enough.

Do we need anything else? Yes, we are very human and tend to believe certain actions or things will make it alright. If I can just pay all my bills and get the house clean, everything will be alright with my money troubles or my marriage. Whatever it is, we like to think we can control it. Control is an illusion. I have no idea how someone who doesn't believe in faith or have hope that tomorrow will be a better day. I don't want to not have a God, an invisible power, a God in control of it all. How can you look at the healing of the human body or the majesty of a mountain and not believe there is a God out there? I don't even begin to understand it. It makes no sense to me. It isn't my reality and I don't want it to be.

I had an event in my life that took my ability to pray away. I couldn't quiet my mind to pray. All of the things I wanted and needed derive from God but I couldn't pray. Thank goodness there are believers in my life that prayed for me. Thank goodness there are strangers who were willing and able to pray for me. I have prayed for people I don't know or people I loved and I was perhaps 'repaid' for my prayers. I was 'livin' on a prayer', to say the least.

I could go on for days about this topic, but I will close for now. Just know that everyday there is someone out there 'livin' on a prayer', won't you toss a blessing to them? 

Being Alone...Being Lonely?....by Lisa

I believe loneliness is a state of mind. Being alone can mean being by myself, or it can mean being lonely. Last year at this time I was becoming quite good at being by myself. I went on trips by myself, I went places I wanted to go and saw things I wanted to see, all by myself. And I liked it. I loved the freedom to go when and where I wanted to go. For the first time in my life, I didn’t have to consider anyone else. It was an oasis of self-centeredness in a life that has been pretty focused on attending to the needs and wants of others. I had gotten past the loneliness and fear of being alone, and was discovering the joy of having time alone and the freedom and resources to do what I wanted to do. I made plans to do things I wanted to do, and invited others only when I felt like it. It was great!

I don’t have as much of that freedom now. For me, working, raising a teenager, and being in a relationship doesn’t leave much free time at all. And as we all know, relationships with significant others take work. They are like finicky houseplants—they need the right mix of attention and nurturing, the way plants need light, water, and food. And the truth is, when I give to a relationship, I have expectations about what I will get in return. And at this point in my life, I’m pretty satisfied with the life I can give myself. The bar is pretty high for any partner I would have—to add to my life in a meaningful way beyond what I have and can do on my own. At this point, I need meaningful work, time and energy for my daughter, and a good quality of life. I have all of that even without a significant other.

Do I want to be alone for the rest of my life? No, probably not. One of the difficulties at this season of life is that relationships can be so complicated—my kids, his kids, the exes, living in different parts of town, different schedules, travel, other social commitments—you know how it goes. My life is hectic, and I often feel I’m just running from one thing to the next. So for now, the time and energy I can give to a relationship is limited, and I’m fine with that. I used to joke that I just needed an every-other-Wednesday-night boyfriend. It’s not far from the truth. Strangely, a real guy wants more of my time than that, can you imagine? It’s a challenge for both of us. Right now I don’t think I want to get married again, it’s so complicated. His and hers assets, debts, kids, exes, and all the issues attached to those. Makes me very tired just thinking about it, excuse me while I go lie on the couch for a while.  Some people think a woman needs a man, and that I better snag one while I’m young and attractive enough—otherwise I might miss the bus. It’s not that I don’t want that relationship, I just can’t see giving up doing the things I’m finally free to do and have the resources to do, in hopes of preventing being alone some day years from now. There are no guarantees for any of us. I like my life and my freedom right now, and I’m not ready to go back to all the compromises that a marriage requires. Maybe later I will feel differently, and at that time I can try to sink my hooks into some unsuspecting chap. Wish him luck!

I don't want to be a lonely, old woman....by Jodi

I don't want to be a lonely, old woman.

I don't want to be alone.

I know that I am hard on people. It's how I grew up, being judged harshly and feeling like I was never good enough. Has that really worked for me? No, my first husband just lied to me about everything. My son lies to me because he was taught that by watching his father and he either lies or doesn't say anything to me. My husband now, just does what I ask or is silent. I don't want that, at all.

Why do I have to be harsh when it doesn't work for me? Who does it work for? I really can't see that it has worked for anyone. I know many women suffer with this problem. I hear some of my friends talk to their husbands and I think of how they sound, barking orders, not pretty. Are their husbands happy? No. Would I be happy? Not in the least. Would I fight back? Oh yes! Does my husband fight back? Well, he does what he can to keep the peace but he does fight back in his own way. Does our relationship benefit from it? Probably not. I don't want to be a lonely, old woman.

How can I change this? Just do it.

How hard can it be? Very hard, at times.

Are you giving up? Giving in? Not one bit. I am choosing to be loved and loving.

Well, how is being this type of person benefitting me? It's not.

Why have you been this way? It's what I know, it's how I grew up, better to come from me than someone else.

That isn't how you want things though. Change them.

How do you wish to be remembered? Fun, I am really a fun person. I like to have fun with everyone. Loving, I love the people in my life, I want them to love me back. Honest, I like to think I am pretty honest when you look in the world, I think you can say I am honest. Creative, I like to be creative. I like to think of things unusually, to be surprised by them. Generous, I wish I could afford to be more generous. I like to think I am generous but actually being so is another story. If people can identify me with one or more of those qualities, I guess I would be content.

I don't want to be a lonely, old woman. I am feeling old, I am not getting any younger, for sure. I hope I will live a good life and become an old woman. I want to be a grandmother. I want to be married for many years to someone I love and respect. I do love my men. I really want to be loved and loving. I am so good to my friends, when am I going to be good to my men? I think of my friends, many are alone, divorced and they are probably lonely. They might even be too busy to be lonely? They each will get older, without a doubt. I love my friends, flaws and all. This is a flaw.

What do you have to gain by being harsh? Not one thing. What can I say when it is all said and done? I was right. I did things the right way. Oh, that is nice, not! I don't want to be a lonely, old woman.

I need to find a new me and I want that to be a part of it. I really want the freedom to just be me, I don't need to be as capable as I used to be. Am I capable? Yes, I can, have and will stand up for what I believe to be right. Injustices, not doing your job right, just being negative, not being helpful or just plain being wrong. I state my opinion, usually without hesitation. If I have to fight, I can do it. I don't have a boss anymore. I don't need to be a rat and be a part of the race. I don't have to figure things out alone anymore. I just don't need to be so harsh nor do I want to be. I am going to make every effort to change because I want to and I need to. I do not want to be a lonely, old woman.

Grandma Wigley, in all her glory...by Jodi

What about a woman married over 50 years? Three kids? Six grandkids? Went to church  every Sunday? Had her hair colored and styled weekly? Never drove. Cooked meals at home. Sat on the balcony, enjoyed the heat, the cool and loved her family.

My grandma was very special to me. A religious woman who loved God, I know both my grandparents are in Heaven. A German woman, stoic, quiet and not very demonstrative. So not like me, I don't think any of those words would be used to describe me.

She took care of me. She washed my hair when it was so long and people only washed their hair once a week. I would spend the night on Friday and she would wash my hair on the breadboard on Saturday morning. She compared me to Lady Breck!

I don't recall my grandma to be an awesome cook or baker. She was tired of all that fuss by the time I was starting to pay attention.

She watched television. She liked, 'The Rockford Files', 'As the World Turns' and tuned into wrestling every Saturday with my grandpa by her side.

Really there was so much I didn't know about her but yet I spent a lot of time with her. I loved her. The last time I saw her, she hugged me really tight and I assured her I would see her again, I never did. She shares my life everyday, I know she's there. I can hear her laughter now. I can hear her asking what were people thinking, when things happened. In a way, I'm eager to see her, I know she has been living 'in all her glory'.

A Grandmother's Love...by Lisa

My future daughter-in-law’s grandmother passed away last weekend, and it has me thinking of my own two grandmothers, both gone now but whose memories are alive in my heart. My two grandmothers shared many wonderful qualities, and yet in ways they were at opposite ends of the spectrum.

My father’s mother, Aliene, was the zany grandma.  Maybe that came from being an ER and surgical nurse. Apparently, when I was small, she used to call me Cabeaner because of a noise I made—so for as long as I can remember, we always called her Cabeaner. My grandfather, who used to sing nonsensical phrases to himself, we called Fring-Ding. Weird family, huh? They lived in upstate New York on a gravel road, and I loved to go there and go down to the creek to catch tadpoles. Getting down to the creek was a bear, going down a steep hill through thick foliage that had a lot of sharp prickers. “Daddy, carry me!” was how I managed it. I could look out the kitchen window and see quail in the farmer’s field, and there were birds, possums, and cats galore to keep track of too. A male cardinal would get a bit of suet from the feeder in his beak and then come and tap on the window in greeting, as if to say thank you. My grandmother smoked, and when I was 5, I asked her to teach me to smoke. She gave me my own cigarette, lit it, then showed me how to inhale deeply. It’s the first time I remember being really angry and holding a grudge, once I got done coughing and sputtering. It was a lesson well learned, that’s for sure! She knitted like a fiend, and did the crossword puzzle daily. She always bought those little individual boxes of cereal when I came to visit. I thought they had them all the time and that they were really lucky! She nearly died suddenly from a brain aneurysm when I was in 8^th grade. The first time I saw her after the surgery, her hair was in a short crew cut, and she was weak and softspoken, and I cried with sadness for how she had changed, and relief that she had survived. After years of various complaints without a diagnosis of any particular illness, and inability to knit, do the crossword, drive, or do much of anything, she tried to take her own life in 1987. For 24 hours it seemed certain she would not survive. Then the drugs wore off and she was shouting “let me out of here!” It was a blessing in disguise—she got treatment for her depression and went back to being her old zany self, back to knitting and the crossword. She was widowed in 1997, and for a time it seemed that might do her in. But she adapted and lived 3 more years with her cat, BoJangles. She passed away at age 83 from an abdominal aneurysm, and her family saw to it that her wish for no medical intervention was carried out.  I will always remember her dramatization when my sister and I were in the bathtub of Catherine Deneuve in the Camay soap commercial, “Camay, the beauuuuuty cleasah!”

My grandmother Adeline was the daughter of immigrants from Greece and Turkey—Asia Minor they called it then. She was bilingual, a nurse, and she and my grandfather, also the child of immigrants, would sometimes speak Greek at the dinner table, which really ticked my mom off. I didn’t get to know my grandmother very well until we moved in with them a year after my parents divorce, when I was 10. My grandmother and I became fast and devoted friends. I took an interest in cooking, and she taught me to brown butter for linguine, and she grew tomatoes by the bucketful, zucchini, and Swiss chard in her garden. She took me to the women’s auxiliary events at the Greek Orthodox Church, where all the Greek ladies took me under their wing as we baked all kinds of cookies and pastries to sell at the annual Greek Festival, and served coffee and cookies after church in the fellowship hall. I would sit next to her during the 2&1/2 hour service, which was mostly in Greek, and ask “what’s he saying?” during the sermon. She would whisper “I don’t know, my mind wanders”.  We used to go on covert missions, helping the Greek lady whose daughter was bedridden with multiple sclerosis, against the wishes of my grandfather.  One of her favorite sayings, when we complained about anything, was “it’s not the worst thing.” You know, she never told us what the worst thing was! When my sister or I were sick, she would stay home with us so that my mom could go to work. We ate dinner there several times a week, our plates under her watchful eye. “Karen, more cucumber salad? I made it just for you”. About the time my dad’s mother had the brain aneurysm, Grandma Adeline got breast cancer. At that time it was not common practice to give chemo or radiation after surgery for early stage cancer, so she had neither. A few short years later she had metastases all over the place. She had chemo periodically over the next few years, and we knew she thought she would survive when she bought new clothes in colors other than brown, which my mom said was her favorite color.  I think she could still do a harder day’s work than I could, even after she had cancer. She would sometimes wash clothes in the old ringer washer, which she kept even when she got a modern washer and dryer. I guess it was a form of reminiscence, or maybe penance, for her.  She lost her battle with cancer just 3 months before I graduated from college in 1988.  I have missed her terribly, especially when I go through difficult times, and yet am always thankful to this day for having had her in my life.

Can't Change a Man Like You...by Jodi

Did I want to change you? I didn't really intend to. At first I thought when you said, "Let it rip, honey?" It was funny. When you told me you were a Jew, I said, "What's the point of going on?" When we stopped making love a few times a day, I just thought it was normal. It is now 10 years later, I was right to ask those questions. All of those qualities you posess have inspired me to ask myself why I am in love with that man? At one time or another, I am, I love you very much, sometimes I dislike you more than I love you. Today is one of those days.

I met you on Theresa's cell phone. She warned me you weren't my type. I finally met you at Joe's Crab Shack, we had a great time together. Theresa was right, you weren't my type. Why had I not seen you in a month, but couldn't get you out of my head? You went to Chicago with me, we told each other we loved each other. We saw a Cubs game, we walked Michigan Avenue and we flew our first flight together.

So clearly, I remember having the epiphany that you were in love with me. I will never forget it. It happened to me twice that month. The first time it happened you were on the cell phone and I jumped in your car. On my seat, there was a multipack of lip balm, I looked at you as if to say, "Why do you have this?" You put your mouth over the phone and said, "I thought you would like that." Oh yes, I liked and needed that but you LOVE me because you totally know I am addicted to lip balm! Ugh. Then, a few weeks later it was my birthday and you added me to your AAA membership. There it was again! You wanted me to be safe because you loved me. I was living with you 4 months later. How in the world did I get here?

I love you. I need you, in many ways. More importantly, I want you. We raised my son together, we have dogs together and we are there for each other. You are very honest, very loyal, very dazzling! Why did I fall in love with you? Because of all those reasons and so many more. Why do I dislike you? Because of all those reasons and so many more. I don't think I am telling you anything you don't already know. Today I don't like you but I ultimately love you. We have some problems, we are always going to have problems. We will always be a work in progress. We are both going to be frustrated, we are both going to make mistakes. I apologize in advance for my 'wrongdoings'. I will try to keep in mind, I know I can't change a man like you...keep it that way...most of the time.

Fighting Fair...by Lisa

We’ve all been there—having a disagreement, misunderstanding, miscommunication, and ultimately a fight with our significant other. Not to mention with parents, siblings, children, other relatives, friends, coworkers, you name ‘em—we’ve had a difference of opinion sometimes, which might be putting it mildly. I have my own slant on these situations, which no doubt is influenced by my experiences as a child and an adult.

I don’t remember my parents ever fighting. I can remember, vaguely, times when I sensed tension between them, but there must have been times when they argued openly and I just don’t remember it. My parents divorced when I was 9, and so that was the end of the opportunity to see them arguing. I didn’t witness much of their communication after that. So I grew up feeling like I didn’t know how to argue, or how to stand up for myself, and I largely avoided conflict with others, particularly the men in my life. Why is it that some of us, myself included, have that fear that any disagreement might end the relationship? Fear was a big motivator for me to avoid conflict, and to avoid asking for what I wanted or needed. I’m happy to report that I have now gotten past that, after some very unpleasant conflicts were faced head-on.

Anyway, I do have some thoughts on principles for fighting fair, if you will. What does it mean to fight fair? To me it means being able to express your hurts, needs and desires without fear of being put down, made fun of, or otherwise invalidated. It means being able to try to reign in your emotions so that you can try to communicate with your partner in a way that is respectful and not intentionally hurtful, to try to come to a better understanding, and resolve the disagreement. I truly believe that so much of our conflict in relationships is due to misunderstandings.  It is possible to understand your partner and yet not agree—but I challenge you to really, truly, try to understand the point of view of another person. To me, that fundamental understanding is so difficult to achieve. There are layers of understanding, like the layers of an onion. And our perceptions of what others mean by their words and actions is filtered through our own lens of how we feel about ourselves and all the assumptions we make as we interpret their words and actions. Think about it--when your partner says something, you’re looking for the hidden meaning. And in the face of an argument, you’re assuming the worst possible meaning of everything they say. Sometimes the argument starts with the misinterpretation of something said. Or of something hurtful said when one of you has something bothering you but hasn’t been able to bring it up and try to talk about it calmly. Relationships are a minefield, aren’t they?

It’s so hard to communicate clearly and patiently when one or both parties’ emotions are stirred up. For some, it helps to put the argument aside for an hour, or a day or two, and come back to discuss it when the emotion has cooled. This has worked for me, but I have to admit that I would prefer to resolve things right away—its hard to wait when I’m upset. I like to try to talk rationally through it even when I am upset—I really don’t want to hurt the people I love, even though I know how to press their buttons. It is no fun to have to apologize for being just plain mean, and intentionally hurting a loved one can damage the trust that exists in the relationship. In my perfect world, we would not assume that we really understand right away what is behind the other persons words and actions. We would try talk calmly and respectfully, and listen and clarify what our partner is saying. I’m a big proponent of addressing issues early on rather than letting them fester. Defensiveness is not our friend when trying to defuse an argument, so we would use “I feel” statements to describe our feelings, and not blame by saying “you”. For example , “I feel hurt when you _______(fill in the blank with offending behavior or words). My therapist friend, Judy, calls this “being emotive”. I try to use it and it really helps the other person understand where I’m coming from. It’s almost as though each of us has our own language, and we have to over-communicate in order to understand another person. So don’t give up! The people we love are worth it. And in the process of understanding them, we come to a better understanding of ourselves.