**At the time that I wrote this we did not know that my mother was descending into dementia. But this piece, written in early 2017 and shared at the Madison, Wisconsin “Listen to Your Mother” production, now paints an accurate picture of what dementia looks like to our loved ones and to us, including mood changes, fears and frustrations. This is my first Mother’s Day without her. I am sharing in her memory.**
When I was seven years old, I won an award at Girl Scout camp for fire building. We were, with fire pits all lined up in a row, supposed to build a fire that would catch quickly, (a one-match fire as the cool kids used to say), rise quickly, and burn through a length of rope that was suspended several feet above. Let me repeat — I was seven years old. Some people are naturals at downhill skiing or card games. I seem to have a natural ability in building fires. I found this recently, I don’t know the author:…
(This is also the transcript for the podcast Breathing Out Stars — Episode 31) There is a moon in the evening sky. Around it – many clouds. A storm has just passed. It is stunning. It is, in fact, the reflection of the moon on the clouds that makes it look thus. It was quite a storm. It was a few days before my first surgery that I happened to read that you don’t get the transformation unless you go into the Underworld. But we will talk more about that later. I beg your indulgence as I share this story.…
It was many years ago during a dermatological excision that we, in our family, learned that Nancy Sinatra could be associated with surgical procedures. At the time, the doctor, a 70-something eccentric, loved to listen to his music — loud — while holding a scalpel. So, “Summer Wine” and “These Boots were Made for Walkin”, previously favorite Nancy Sinatra songs from my childhood, took on new meaning, involving Tylenol, gauze, well – you can imagine. This association is so ridiculous — that we cannot hear these songs without glancing at each other and grimacing. It’s a type of pop-song-flavored PTSD. So…
Challenges create opportunities for action. We are in a time now where there are opportunities for you to find faith – to reach for something greater than yourself.
(Episode 27, Breathing Out Stars Podcast) Before I begin I want to say a thing about carrying on. It is said that at the top of every mountain is the base of the next mountain. This is a super important lesson for us to get – that when we finish something, accomplish something, we are not done…it is just time to start the next thing. When I reached 25 episodes it was a lovely benchmark. A milestone. Not an easy thing in a difficult time. But rather than resting on my laurels I sat down immediately and began episode 26.…
Episode 23. Blue Grace. It was Grace. It was pure, unadulterated grace. Like the old-fashioned kind. The Gift of the Magi kind of grace…when the young bride cuts her hair to sell — to buy a chain for her new husband’s pocket watch. But he has just sold his watch – to buy sterling combs for her long beautiful hair. It’s the kind of grace in that story — the gift of the magi — but not quite. It is a story of our times. Whatever your ideological leanings I hope you will take a moment to take in this…
There once was a five-year old boy. It was summertime — and of course — there were fireflies. Many, many fireflies. This child, with his mommy and his daddy, spent one summer evening chasing those fireflies…and catching them…and putting them each, one by one, into a tall jar. Now…there is this jar….like a lantern….filled with maybe twenty or so fireflies. This classic childhood adventure was then followed by a bath — and bed — and the lantern of fireflies was put on his dresser. There was then a story, a kiss and the door was closed. It was perhaps thirty…
Months ago, before my surgery, we had dinner at an Asian restaurant with a Chinese friend, M. She ordered us a dish — a dish, she said, that she makes at home. “I can always tell how good a restaurant is by the quality of this dish”, she said. When the dish arrived it was white and opaque and long and lovely and sour and spicy. It was shredded potato. From that day on I have craved this dish. Two weeks passed and before I was admitted to the hospital I had to have this dish again. I went back,…
I have been asked to provide an update on my recovery: I knew that I was having major surgery — but I admit I didn’t really grasp the scope of the recovery — how long it would be, how slow it would be. Just — the whole of it. Which, I have to believe, was probably good. I realized, a couple of weeks before, while watching an episode of Westworld with R, upon seeing a bone saw, that this was probably the tool that would be used to cut off part of my femur to allow fitting of the new…
It has been 153 days. Centocinquantatre’ giorni. One hundred and fifty three days of supermineralized water, watching where I step on the street, listening to conversations on the street and in the train…and looking for more music to enjoy. (Ti sto venendo, L.) 153 is the code for mental processes and intelligence in the Dewey decimal system. 153 is the sum of the first 17 integers. 153 is, apparently, a sonnet by William Shakespeare. 153 is the atomic number of an element temporarily called “Unpenttrium”. 153 giorni. 153 days. With the beginning of the warm some trees are starting to…
Look at me, walking down the street. I have a swagger. My swagger says that I have almost made it through winter. I have the confidence of a woman who can almost completely avoid something disgusting and offensive on the street…with a sixth sense…without even looking down. It is only the bandage on the back of my right heel which betrays my current nearly-successful attempt at finding just the right, practical, sturdy and awesome pair of shoes. The sun is out. There is a soft breeze. I am wearing my black turtleneck. My black jacket. My uniform. My awesome black…
Eleven years ago we were getting ready to leave the house for the first seder at Jane’s house. Russ was just finishing the mowing of the lawn, our table was set with china and crystal for the next evening at our house. I heard a crackling sound coming from the kitchen. I knew that I wasn’t cooking that evening…so as I entered the kitchen I saw about a foot of smoke undulating at the ceiling above the door to the garage. I went outside and found the wall between the house and the garage aflame. Quick-thinker that I am, I…
Last month I had the privilege of going to Berlin. It was my first time there. Although I was still walking with my cane (aka The Wooden Leg Named Smith), I took advantage of an opportunity for a (five-hour!) walking tour to learn about Berlin’s history. Here is one story I learned. We were in the cafe courtyard of an art museum — and there we saw two modestly-sized fenced areas. Planted within those two enclosures were bunches of birch-tree saplings. Here was an art installation…of birch saplings. During World War II, around 1940, the Nazi leadership realized…
I heard the most amazing story. There was a cruise ship – and a Greek captain – and two mariners. And some passengers. But I think the star of this story is a thing that is not on any map. More on that later. There is a cruise ship – and it is sailing North towards Hawaii. One morning one passenger gets up early, as he loves to do on these trips. He gets up at five – and consults the map. He finds that the ship is not headed North at all. It has done an about-face…..it is heading South.…