Still Rolling, Toward Balance
The ups and downs of new widowhood are smoothing out, and I feel more comfortble knowing that, when I go into a ditch, it won’t take long for me to find my way out again. Friends and activities help a lot.
My granddaughter has gone to stay with another family member while her room and bathroom are undergoing remodeling/repair of a failed shower (the second we have replaced in this house–shoddy construction in the mid-1990s). Other than the workers, who come and go pretty much without disturbing me, it’s just me and Junior for a while.
For the first time in my memory, I actually have time on my hands! Coinicidentally with granddaughter being away, I’m in a phase without appointments or very many commitments. It’s both scary and wonderful.
So my days are pretty much my own for the first time in forever, and I’m having a little trouble focusing. I read a lot, including a series of novels about grief, “Me Before You” and “After You,” by Jojo Moyse. I love her books and the fact that they are set in England. That and watching “All Creatures Great and Small” have me reverting to my native tongue (at least in my head.) I’m trying to catch as many of the Oscar-nominated movies as possible, disappointed at the “Barbie” snubs. The sequel to my favorite movie, “Chicken Run: Dawn of the Nugget” wasn’t quite as good as the original, but I think I’ll watch it again because there are clever details that I may have missed while watching it with friends.
I have a variety of art and craft projects going, including, as always, stitching, knitting, and a new project, a color palette book,reusing an old blank book to create a reference source for myself. Below is a nascent stitching project. I love the color combinations!
Junior and I have our nearly daily visit to the off-leash dog park along the river, my (and his) happy place (except on occasions when some nut is doing target practice or shooting squirrels on the other side of the river, which means Junior runs straight to the car and cannot be convinced that he is safe. Ruins my day. I have called the sheriff’s department and was told it’s legal and there is nothing that can be done–they are outside city limits, in the county. I have tried adjusting the times I go, which so far seems to be working. Talk about spoiling paradise!)
I love this twisted old tree, and our amazing Texas sky.
I am singing in the community chorale, my art group meets every Thursday, and I go to church most Sundays. There is a feng shui class after church that’s helping me consider colors, flow and decor in the house.
There are multiple projects that I am postponing–I want to paint the kitchen and my bathroom cabinets, the garage and storeroom are a mess (the Christmas boxes are still in the living room), and there will be outdoor projects soon, since spring often comes in February here.
I have scheduled hip replacement for April! Many of the projects may wait till after I recover. The doctor assures me I will be walking three miles again! But will Junior? He is nearing age 10, and we are growing old together.
Rolling along…gradually
It’s hard to believe that it’s been a year and a half since Gary died, and I am just now moving back into the room we would have shared before he got sick. (Parkinson’s causes sleep-talking and agitation, so after being awakened by a whack in the face a few times, I moved to the futon in the guest room.)
When we downsized into this house, my granddaughter got the master suite so she can have friends over, a messy bathroom and plenty of privacy. I dubbed Gary’s and my rooms the “master wing,” with a bathroom between. He slept in one room, while the other was my studio with the “guest” futon. It was very comfortable, but after he died I was split between the two rooms–clothes, sleeping, art and craft supplies.
In our time together, Gary and I traveled at Christmastime 25 out of the 28 years. Even last year I went alone to the Dallas-Forth worth area, where he was from, and had a beautiful gathering for his friends and family at a restaurant on December 30.
So this year I decided to stay home and have a quiet, relaxed holiday. On the 22nd, I hosted a potluck for my art friends, with about a dozen women, good food, conversation and a little prosecco. My daughters, son-in-law and grandson (who attends school in England) came for our traditional Christmas Eve cookie decorating (although I did much less baking this year).
So Christmas day was quiet and peaceful. Granddaughter had a friend over, so she wasn’t lonely, and I heated a frozen pizza for our Christmas dinner. (Hey, we could have just eaten cookies.)
During the day I got a wild hair to fix my bedroom/studio split. “It’ll take about an hour,” I figured. Silly me. I had to finish up the next day. However, I am happier than I expected to be, having one room for sleeping/dressing and one for office/art space. I was concerned that the bedroom faces east, and is on the street side of the house. But I usually get up at dawn anyway, and our neighborhood is quiet, so neither of those things is a problem.
It has taken a little while for Junior to adjust. He sometimes goes onto the futon first if I don’t close the door, and the “new” bed is much higher, so if it ever gets too high for him I’ll have to get him a ramp or steps. But he manages to hog the queen just as much as he did the futon. And he keeps me warm.
I look forward to an even better 2024. My goals are simple: to keep making art, take care of my loved ones and myself, possibly get hip replacement (I see the orthopedic surgeon January 3), and just be grateful for my fortunate life.
Half My Life a Texan?
Turning 78 recently, I got to thinking about how much I’ve moved around. I’ve had 27 addresses and lived in two countries and six states, plus the District of Columbia. But I’m coming up on 41 years in Texas, which is difficult to believe. When the 40-year-mark came last year, I was too preoccupied with my husband’s health and the aftermath of his death to observe that milestone.
Nearly a year later, my life has calmed down and I have time for introspection, interesting conversations with my 16-year-old granddaughter, get-togethers with art friends, singing in the community chorale, and going to shows and concerts. It’s a huge relief to have time for reading, working on creative projects, playing with the dog, and just relaxing.
Last week I had occasion to drive through some of the prettiest, and hilliest, part of the Texas Hill Country. As I negotiated the up and down twists and turns of the road between Kerrville and Medina, I thought about what an adventure my life is. If someone had told me 70 years ago, while I watched Queen Elizabeth’s coronation on a grainy black-and-white TV at a neighbor’s in Newmarket, England, that in 2023 I could watch her son’s coronation on a big-screen color TV in my living room–in Texas, USA. (I actually didn’t watch the coronation, but picked up clips on the news later.)
From small Newmarket, Suffolk, England (one of the centers of thoroughbred racing) to a slightly larger, but still smallish Kerrville, with mostly city living in between (including 35 years in Austin), I feel really settled in this home, in this beautiful area and its riches of things to do, including water activities on the Guadalupe River, fine arts at several art centers, live music from country to classical and everything in between at several beautiful venues, theater, rodeos, outdoor festivals (including the most famous Kerrville Folk Festival, which is celebrating its 51st anniversary this year), there is never a shortage of things to do here. (Long-term fans of the festival, who come from near and far, call themselves “Kerrverts.” In addition to their contributions to the local economy, they add a nice ’70s hippie vibe to an otherwise conservative town.)
So what’s not to like in Texas? Where to begin? Despite its ethnic diversity, it is politically conservative, starting with the governor, leutenant governor, the legislature and many local governments. The state’s economy has depended on agriculture and oil and gas for so long that it has attracted people who put high value on wealth and capitalism. In the meantime, while the oil and tech magnates enjoy their mansions and private jets, millions work on low-paying jobs and struggle to get by. Kerrville is among the very wealthiest communities in the state. I’ve noticed when I’m at the dog park, just a few miles from the airport, I hear and see private jets circling in on Friday afternoon, and reversing the route leaving on Sunday. Many rich people retire or vacation here. Upsides of this are philanthropic organizations, great cultural institutions, including a world-class concert hall, and excellent medical care and a beautiful hospital. If higher level care is needed it’s available only an hour away in San Antononio.
What gives me hope? The healthy economy attracts major companies, most of whom do not cotton to anti-LGBTQ+ legislation, decimation of women’s reproductive rights, dumbing down of the educational system, and attacks on libraries.Of course guns are an enormous problem throughout the U.S., no less here. But I think the increase in ethnic diversity, athough it scares many of the old (and young) white men out of their tighty-whities, will eventually liberalize the social and political landscape.
Sometimes I get so discouraged I think about leaving Texas, moving back East or even back to England. But when I walk the dog along the river, attend a fabulous concert, eat lunch with friends on a riverside deck, or just sit on my porch (as I’m doing now), I realize I’m settled in here, and grateful that my husband, a native Texan, possibly knowing his years were short when we came from Austin, left me comfortably settled.
So yeah, I guess I’m a Texan, y’all.
The view from where I sit while writing this. Of course there’s a pickup in the picture! It wouldn’t be Texas without it. I love to sit here and watch the hummingbirds at the feeder, the neighbors going by and listen to kids at recess in the nearby elementary school.
If I Keep Turning Corners…
…am I just going around the block?
This spring I am making a conscious effort to emerge from hibernation. It’s so easy to be solitary–and a bit lazy. I happily putter around home, doing art, stitching, knitting, while watching movies or listening to podcasts: The History of the English Language, Way with Words podcast, History of Jeopardy, TED talks, and random stuff on YouTube. Netflix provides movies and series: The Good Place, The Diplomat, Somebody Feed Phil, and more movies than I could watch in a lifetime. Then there is my daily fix of Jeopardy!
A friend at church goes to the San Antonio airport and greets immigrants who are moving on to other parts of the country. They get backpacks with clothes and other essentials, and she knits hats for those going to colder climates. So I knitted a bunch of hats for her. This is a small sample. I give most of my knitting away, a lot of it with donated yarn, so it’s a win-win.
My Thursday morning art group is a must, and I go to church most Sundays, so I have those communities. I’ve been consciously getting out and doing other things I enjoy. I went with a friend to a play (“Dead Man’s Cell Phone) and, having been married to an actor and director, I notice I watch theater from a different perspective (directing, staging, casting, blocking)–another gift Gary gave me. The friend and I sat on my patio with glasses of wine afterwards and talked about how surreal and thought-provoking the play had been.
Friday another friend invited me to go to a Cinco de Mayo celebration at a local community center, which is the site of the former Black school, before integration. The Doyle Center has events that provide a beautiful mix of people, music, food and fun. I had a lovely conversation with a Black lady during which we discovered things we had in common: she’s raising two grandsons, whilel I’m raising my granddaughter; we both retired from working for the state of Texas. My only regret is that I didn’t dance, but it’s probably just as well because I’d had minor foot surgery a few days before and the doctor would probably have advised against dancing. (The unofficial “mayor” of the Black community, a former coach, story-teller and teacher, gives dance lessons, and I was tempted to go up to him and say, “Clifton, my husband died last year and I haven’t danced in a very long time. Would you do me the honor of a spin around the dance floor?” Maybe next time I’ll get up the nerve!
My Cinco de Mayo crown, which I keep as a talisman of my “coming out” time.
This weekend there is a Dave Brubeck jazz concert and an art walk in nearby Boerne. I’m hoping to see Guardians of the Galaxy soon in an actual movie theater! I continue to volunteer at church and at the Hill Country Arts Foundation gallery. The community chorale is finished for the season, and we had a full house for our final concert, all pops, that had people singing along. I have completed my cards for the current ihanna postcard swap and will mail them soon. (They will be posted on my other blog soon.)
Instead of turning corners, I think it’s more about a balance: between “being” and “doing,” spending time with my granddaughter and my friends, even planning travel, a high school reunion in Ohio this summer. Also taking care of my increasingly challenging health, from the feet all the way up. Keeping moving, staying grateful.
It’s a cool morning, the doors and windows are open, and I had coffee on the porch and listened to the birds while Junior kept watch over the neighborhood. Later we’ll go to the dog park for a run and swim (him) and deep breathing (me).
What do you wish you could still do?
When I turned on the TV on a few Sundays ago, figure skating happened to pop up. I was mesmerized by the incredible beauty, freedom, grace and pure joy of the performance. It was Gracie Gold’s free-skate using music from Igor Stravinsky’s “Firebird Suite.” When my husband came into the room I played it back for him. It was the most beautiful–even perfect–figure skating performance I can remember ever seeing.*
More than anything else I could do when I was young, the thing I miss most is ice skating. In Northern Ohio in the late 1950s and early ’60s we had maybe six weeks of good skating weather, after Christmas into February. (I doubt if, with climate change, there is anything like that now.) I had my own figure skates and there was a nearby pond, called Lais’ Pond, which everyone called “Lacy’s Pond.” My parents let me skate on school nights (I was a good student and the season was short), and someone had always built a fire; boys played crack-the-whip and we girls practiced our figure-eights.
My church fellowship group had skating parties on the town reservoir or the smooth ice above the dam on the Huron River, in nearby Monroeville. I loved flying across the vast spaces of the reservoir. Natural ice, in case you’ve never skated on it, is quite bumpy and rippled from wind and water movement. There are no Zambonis on natural ice!
After I had children we skated at rinks in the Cleveland area and, after we moved to suburban Washington, D.C., in Fairfax County rinks. Indoor rinks with smooth ice were nice, but skating in an oval with too many other people could not match gliding across the dammed river or the reservoir.
The last time I was on ice skates was in 1982, when a neighbor had a birthday party at Northcross Mall, in Austin. I was so wobbly even then I realized my skating days were probably over.
In 2007, I was in Arlington, Virginia, on business. I had a free afternoon and got on the Metro to go wander around the National Mall for a little while. (Having lived in both D.C. and Virginia, I knew my way around well enough to take off by myself.) The National Gallery sculpture garden had a rink set up, with skates for rent. Hmm, I thought. “Should I give it a try?” Then: “I left the hotel without telling anyone where I was going. If I were to fall, hit my head and knock myself out, they would have no idea who I was or how I got there other than emergency info on my phone. They certainly wouldn’t know I was staying at a hotel in Crystal City.”
Yes or no?
There was a sweet little café overlooking the rink, so I had a glass of wine and watched the skaters instead.
I still dream of flying across the ice on two thin blades. I never had aspirations for competition, no triple axels or double Salchow or death spirals for me. Just the freedom of pumping your legs and gliding across ice at top speed.
What do you wish to do that you could do when you were young, and are no longer able?
*After watching Gracie Gold on YouTube, I learned that the Firebird performance was in 2016, and she subsequently suffered from depression and an eating disorder, having to climb her way back into skating, which makes her even more inspiring than that young Firebird.
Bored? Me?
Since the pandemic set in, several publications have addressed the issue of boredom. I can understand that maybe if you’re stuck in a tiny New York City apartment with few options, yes, it could get boring.
I have not been bored for one minute since the lock-downs began. For one thing, we’re not really trapped inside: we have a big backyard with a nice pool, several nearby parks and trails, and opportunities for road trips to other outdoor activities. Errands such as grocery shopping and picking up prescriptions, masked, as early in the day as possible, also get me out of the house. We have Zoom church, video doctor appointments, so there is no lack of contact with the outside world.
The only times I have ever been bored in my adult life were if I ever got stuck in a situation without anything to read or to do. I keep a bag by the back door with reading and knitting in case I have to make an ER trip, having been stuck previously with a dead phone and nothing to do for four hours.
So, what’s keeping me occupied during the pandemic?
Let’s see, a household with a husband with Parkinsons, a 13-year-old granddaughter and a dog. The man and child are fairly self-sufficient, but there are doctor appointments, meds to manage and unpredictable interruptions*. The dog needs to be fed, walked, belly-rubbed and have tennis balls tossed. I do all the grocery shopping, most of the errands, most of the routine cleanup (we do have weekly pool service and a cleaning lady every two weeks), and most of the cooking. Lately the meals have been pretty simple–burgers, tacos, chicken, pasta, which is why I think the granddaughter has started cooking a tasty dinner one or two days a week. I take her to school for her theater elective at midday, come home for lunch and pick her up again; the rest of her schooling is on-line for now. I do monitor her schooling and intend to add some enrichment learning this week.
When the tasks and chores are done, this is how I use my “free” time:
- Exercise. This time of year it’s swimming. In the cooler weather it’s walking and going to the gym (where I can swim in the winter), and I walk the dog unless it’s just too hot (with highs near 100F lately).
- Puzzles and games: On the dining table is a seemingly impossible jigsaw puzzle that may outlast the pandemic. (We have completed three others.) Our local newspaper publishes a weekly puzzle book with mazes, jumbles and crossword puzzles.
- Art: some painting, but mostly my favorite, postcards. I’ve been working on some computer-generated designs, using my own photography, as well as original art in collage, water color and other media. I’m almost ready for a fall postcard mail swap.
My latest postcard, “Fall is in the Air,” with Junior pasted into the autumnal image. (Collage, with stamp by Nat Uhing.)
- Knitting and other needlework. I completed so much knitting over the summer I decided to try to finish a needlework project started about 10 years ago. It may take another 10 years but I’m making progress!
Lilacs bloomed around my birthday in Ohio. I miss them in Texas. This was originally going to cover a purse. See how dog-eared the instruction sheet is!
- Most of all, my favorite default mode: reading. Daily periodicals (the local paper and the online New York Times); weekly (The New Yorker); and a delicious pile of books. I’ve even read some fiction, which is rare for me: a chick-lit piece about older women in Tuscany (almost like going to Italy); a novel about South Africa during apartheid and the Soweto rebellions; “Longitude,” about the search for how to determine longitude, thus saving ships and sailors; the Mary Trump book about her uncle (he’s even worse than I thought); and I continue to re-read “Waterlog,” which is maybe my favorite all-time book. I just started “The Soul of an Octopus,” which is a delight. I think science and nature and memoir are my favorite genres of reading. Prompted by last Sunday’s sermon, I printed out Eliot’s “Four Quartets,” about which whole dissertations could be (and probably have been) written. I’m also going to listen to Alec Guinness reading them (on YouTube).
- Writing: I have a novel, or novella, or something, in my head that I need to get down. So far all I’ve written is the premise, but I have the opening chapter in my head and need to lay out an outline, then start a draft. I have never tackled a novel, but I’ve written several novels’ worth of words in my career so I’ll give it a try.
- If all else fails, there’s always TV. We have full cable, Netflix, Amazon Prime and Hulu. It takes so long to scroll through the menus to decide what to watch that I often give up and read. Husband has been watching “Outlander” (which I would call “Outlandish”). We dip in and out of “The Good Place,” and enjoyed Ricky Gervais‘ “Extras” and “After Life.” (Gervais is an acquired taste, but love his humor.) Lots of movies. Most recent, “The Current War,” about Thomas Edison, George Westinghouse and Nicola Tesla. Poor Tesla got lost in history.
Hope y’all are staying healthy and busy. This difficult and historic time will end. I tell my granddaughter that she is living history. When she’s old she can tell her grandchildren (if she’s lucky enough to have any) about the pandemic of ’20, as well as the other history that’s being made this year.
* At least three while writing this post.
Reflections on Three Quarters of a Century
Seventy-five is one of those numbers that makes one think–about the years behind and (you hope) the years ahead.
Lately I mostly complain about the challenges and disappointments of a retirement life very different than I would have imagined. We’re nearly five years into the adventure of raising a granddaughter, who is now 13. It’s about two years since husband realized he had Parkinsons, which complicates and is complicated by a number of other health issues. Add to that a second dog and many of the responsibilities of our home, including big yards and a pool. (The second dog is going back to my daughter today, not too soon for me. She’s sweet, but with dogs one plus one equals about 143.)
The operative word has been “responsibility.” Some days I am overwhelmed with it. Just don’t want to have to be a grownup for a while. I almost went away on a retreat, alone (in a rented cottage on an unused rural property) a few weeks ago, but chickened out. Maybe the idea of total solitude was just too scary, or I felt I was shirking my multiple responsibilities.
So on my birthday I’m reflecting on the positives. I sat in the meditation garden. (Of course the yard guys arrived while I was meditating and the dogs were set off barking.) Oops, this is supposed to be positive. Here goes:
- We are blessed with a beautiful home in a neighborhood and community I love. It’s warm enough now for a cooling afternoon swim in the Texas heat (and our pool guy managed to un-green the forest-glade we had last week).
-
View of the patio from our bathroom window. One day I want to convert the window to a door. (The curtains have a story of their own. I did a “reverse Scarlett O’Hara” and turned a silk dress that didn’t fit me into bathroom curtains.)
The same patio (with Junior)
Meditation garden
View from the meditation bench. Some day there will be a proper rock garden. I even dream of a water feature.
- We have excellent health insurance and, for now, my own health is pretty good except for some pretty normal aches.
- The 13-year-old is much less challenging as she gets more mature. She manages her schoolwork; she’s an amazing artist; and she can be a lot of fun (as well as a pain in the butt–she’s a teenager).
- I do get to spend time making art, which is a great joy. I am working on a painting and some mail-art postcards. I am in the middle of a postcard swap. I also have knitting and stitching projects and always have ideas in the works for future projects.
Lace scarf I have started and ripped out about 100 times. Dishcloths make nice small gifts.
- Despite how awful the pandemic and quarantine have been for the world at large and for many individuals, we have been lucky to be in a county with few cases, and staying at home has given me more time for household projects that have been put off, as well as watching movies and TV and reading. I even made bread, and granddaughter made a cake.
- I am blessed with a circle of friends that I have made in the three years since we moved here. Through church, the arts communities, politics and neighbors, I have met so many wonderful people and made good friends. Last week I had a driveway coffee break with seven or eight women friends and we chatted for a good two hours.
I wanted to have a mid-May pool and birthday combo party, and my hope is to have it during the summer, celebrating my birthday as well as my older daughter’s and my 17-year-old grandson’s.
Optimistic I can use these napkins for a party.
I hope everyone stays safe and healthy.
Looking Back, Looking Ahead
I love January. After the clutter and hubbub of the holidays, it feels clean-swept, a fresh start. I bought some yellow flowers for the kitchen windowsill because I was tired of red.
A little sunshine to brighten a dreary view.
Last year was full of challenges and trials, although we have come through it pretty well. After the Parkinson’s diagnosis in 2018, my husband had a period of orthostatic hypotension, with low blood pressure causing a series of falls during the summer, and at least one trip to the ER. (We have made so many trips to the ER in the past year I’ve lost count. More than in the whole rest of my life combined.) He changed neurologists, and we love the new doctor. She prescribed a medication that stabilized his BP and he has been fall-free for quite a while. In fact, the Parkinson’s symptoms are well-managed all around. Our October trip to New York for his nephew’s wedding was successful and he was so happy to spend that time with his family.
On the grandchild front, after the unsuccessful home-schooling experiment the previous fall, we had the incredible challenge of getting her back into public school, which, in our little town, meant an all sixth-grade school. She went back in January and finally got into a groove of regular attendance and full cooperation around Spring break, in March.
Despite the difficulties of the summer Oregon trip, she was thrilled to meet her online friend, and they are making plans to try to get together again next summer. She started seventh grade in the local middle school and is doing well. She likes her teachers and has made friends. Except for math–and we have a tutor–she’s making decent grades. At this moment her hair is half pink and half lime-green, but she’ll dye it back to a color found in nature before school starts again next week.
And how am I? The year was a struggle, but I’m in pretty good health in my 75th year. I take care of the family, including the dog, do a little volunteer work in the church and arts community. I enjoy my art projects and knit whenever my hands are free.
Recent hats for charity plus current WIPs (works in progress). Can you guess my color preferences?
Sure, there are things I wish were better–no Parkinson’s, for starters–but mostly life is pretty good. We have a nice home, good friends, and enough, while there are many people for whom that’s not the case.
This morning, while walking the dog, I realized that lately, when I get up and walk him, nothing hurts. No sinus headaches (which used to plague me), no joint or muscle pain. I just feel good! This is remarkable for a woman nearly 75 with an arthritic hip. I started taking CBD oil a year or so ago, and I credit that with this wonderful state of being. During the holidays, when my anxiety cranked up, I increased the CBD dose a little, and since then I’m pain-free for the first time I can remember.
I’ve made only two New Year’s Resolutions:
- Continue to take good care of myself: a healthful diet; enough sleep; exercise; good medical care; daily meditation.
- Be kind to everyone, especially my loved ones, and especially more patient with my husband.
I leave you with a series of poems I wrote last year. You can see them with artwork on my other blog, jillybeanswiggins.wordpress.com.
Meditation 1
Be a hummingbird
zipping about
sipping sweetness
Meditation 2
Be a cloud
floating free
enjoying the view
Meditation 3
Be a dog
grass-rolling
scratching all the itches
Meditation 4
Be the breeze
singing wind chimes
dancing prayer flags
Meditation 5
Be a tree
deep-rooted
arms spread, another world
of life above
Meditation 6
Be a star
steadfast, silent light
from afar
Meditation 7
Be the Buddha
still, jolly
holding everything in his lap
for just this moment.
I wish you all a wonderful 2020. I’m sorry my postings have been skimpy in the last year. There have been some very tough days!
Depends on Whom You Ask
Our New York trip:
There were no actual catastrophes. We made each engagement; no one got lost; nobody tripped getting onto or off a Metro escalator; we didn’t get terribly soaked on the one rainy day; my granddaughter was a great help in navigating in Brooklyn and Manhattan, especially when my ability to use google maps utterly failed me.
If you ask my husband, he will say it was wonderful: Seeing his family, his brother, sister-in-law, various other relatives, and, of course, the bride and groom (his nephew). The wedding was quirky and gloriously happy for the couple, despite the constant rain and the partially outside wedding venue.
Aren’t they just too adorable?
The shows were great: Derren Brown’s “Secret” at the Cort theater was utterly amazing. He asked that people not share any of the “secrets” and I will honor that, so if you ever get an opportunity to see him live, I urge you to do so. (You can also find him on YouTube.)
“The Book of Mormon” was, well it’s hard to find words for it. One of the funniest and most irreverent shows I’ve ever seen–incredibly well-performed, cringe-worthy crude and vulgar (with a not-quite 13-year-old beside me, trying to explain female circumcision to her during intermission), but utterly hilarious and ultimately good-hearted with a great message. Worth the small fortune we paid for the tickets. (As was the Brown show–take out a second mortgage if you plan to see Broadway shows, or go to New York in general. Even a Metro ride is $2.75 per single ride. We bought multiple ride tickets and had some left over, so we left them at the AirBnB in hopes someone else will use the remaining rides. We had a wonderful brunch with friends we knew in Austin and loved catching up with them, but $134 for brunch for five people?
The purpose of the trip was, of course, the wedding of Raef Payne and Nicole Ofeno, two of our favorite people in the world. They are both incredibly creative, beautiful, loving people. They made the New York Times! The wedding was in a Brooklyn bar, the Union Pool. It was a crazy zoo, with Raef and Cole’s friends from all over New York and the U.S. and family members mostly from Texas.
Raef and Cole (photo by Reagan White)
The ceremony was dignified and Cole wore a beautiful fitted white lace gown.
One of my favorite touches was the Ring Bear.
The Ring Bear
There were wedding events all weekend: on Friday evening in Manhattan (which we were unable to attend); Saturday at a good Italian restaurant in Brooklyn; the wedding Sunday; and another family dinner Monday at a Chinese restaurant in Brooklyn.
In between times we saw the Brown show and The Book of Mormon; we went to the re-opening of MoMA (the Museum of Modern Art); granddaughter and I saw the T-Rex exhibit at the Museum of Natural History (while husband enjoyed a gorgeous fall afternoon in Central Park). Finally, on our last morning, we took the Statute of Liberty boat ride and visited the 911 Memorial, which always brings me to tears, especially telling granddaughter about it, and husband finding the panel for his friend who died at the Pentagon.
Foggy day in New York harbor.
Oh, but the challenges! I took very few photos because I needed my phone to navigate virtually every step of the way. I was constantly thinking, “OK, where do we have to be next and how do we get there?” It was a fairly short walk from the apartment to the Metro station, but granddaughter was always 15 feet ahead and husband was always 15 feet behind, and I felt like the sole chaperone on a middle-school field trip, constantly worried about losing someone. Whenever we safely reached a destination, I would think “We’re safe and we’re where we are supposed to be,” and take a few deep breaths.
We were blessed that all our flights were smooth and on time and our taxi and Uber rides got us where we needed to go–although the Uber driver to JFK thought we were going someplace other than JFK and that took a bit of sorting out. I’m still not sure if the credit card bill is totally correct on that one. Did I mention how expensive everything was? Our 12-mile trip (40+ minutes to go 12 miles!) to JFK was about $70. There is a train, but it takes longer, we’d have to change trains, and with luggage that’s just not practical.
We got back to San Antonio about 10 p.m., and by the time the hotel shuttle arrived (we parked at the hotel where we stayed the night before we left to make an early flight), and got the car and drove home it was midnight.
I have never before been actually ill from exhaustion, but I was the past two days. Really sick. No appetite, feverish, terrible digestive upsets. I took two long naps yesterday.
I’ve concluded I’m officially old. I just can’t travel that way any more. Next trip will be a cruise, as close to a turn-key operation as possible.
Granddaughter missed almost a week of school, and one of her teachers told her it was fine because she would learn so much in New York. When I asked her what she had learned, she said it was how much she appreciates her home and our small town, that New York is too crowded, busy, too much hustle and noise. One thing she did enjoy was when we were passing Trump Tower a guy selling buttons held up a sign that said “S***hole.” She was wearing a “Ghostbusters” t-shirt and the guy gave her a Trumpbuster button.
Soul Feeding
My new therapist asked me, after we had covered the preliminaries: “What feeds your soul?”
After a moment’s thought, I came up with a few things. Since then, I realized I have a lot longer list than what I thought of on the spot with the therapist:
- Walking the dog. When we put the leash on and step out the door, he sneezes and I feel my breathing slow and my tight muscles loosen. Junior is truly my therapy dog.
Junior eager to walk on the river trail.
Guadalupe River trail
Wildflowers on our river walk.
- Being in water. In cold weather, I do water aerobics with the “old” ladies at the gym. As soon as our pool got over 70°F I braced myself and now plunge in almost every day. The hot tub helps afterwards.
I’m not scowling, I’m squinting!
- Meditation, the yard, listening to the birds.
Meditation garden views
My meditation tree, a pecan tree that’s beautiful all year round.
Some of the meditation garden baubles.
- Making art. See my art blog for the recent international postcard swap, which occupied most of my spare moments in May.
- Knitting and other handwork (embroidery and other forms of stitching). Something else that slows my breathing and relieves stress.
Current WIPs (works in progress), a shawl for me and a baby blanket for charity.
- Music, especially singing. I sang this past season with the Hill Country Chorale. After the season was over I joined other singers for the Memorial Day service at an Episcopal church, singing the Fauré Requiem. Now that’s over, I sing to myself when I walk the dog, often just making up random nonsense songs or sung prayers.
- Friends: church, art, music, politics, knitting, neighbors, old friends from past lives. I joke that I have a three-person minimum at the grocery store–I rarely go without running into someone I know from various aspects of my life. One day running errands I encountered five people I knew! The knitting group provides conversation with busy hands two hours a week, plus monthly lunch.
- Our home. I love our house, yard, neighborhood, our community. I am so glad we moved here two years ago.
Patio and hot tub
I wish I could say that taking care of my family feeds my soul. But with a husband with Parkinson’s, the days, hours and moments can be draining. The 12-year-old granddaughter is maturing and doing much better, to the point that we laugh together more than we argue. That is soul-feeding, especially after the transition from home-schooling into public school. She’s ready for seventh grade and middle school!
Thai lunch on the river for our 23rd anniversary, May 31.
And someday I’ll look back at this time and realize that I have been doing deep soul work all along.
Another river view
What I see out the kitchen window. After two years of looking at that bare fence I finally brightened it up!
The best soul work is gratitude. I try to be grateful every day.
Wiggins Words and Images 