I Don't Want to be a Soloist

Last Sunday we saw "The Soloist" staring Jamie Foxx and one of my favorite actors, Robert Downey, Jr.

What a powerful movie. I thought it was almost a perfect movie. When it was over we just sat in our seats, kind of stunned.

"The Soloist" dealt with a lot of truths. Here are a couple:

- First, both characters are "soloists." i.e., they keep themselves emotionally distanced from other people. The very best thing about the movie was the friendship that emerged. Downey's character had to learn what healthy relationships are all about.

We don't have to fix each other. In fact, we can't. It took me a while to learn that lesson.

- In "The Soloist" we see homelessness up close and personal. In Foxx's character we see the co-joined twins of genius and madness, unfortunately, a fairly common occurrence.

- In "The Soloist" we see how important newspapers are. What a tragedy if they disappear!

- In "The Soloist" we see the redemptive power of music.

- In "The Soloist" we see how much we need each other.

After my husband died I thought I wanted to be a soloist - but I don't.


***

On the Road Again

When my kids were little we spent a few vacations at Calloway Gardens, a resort in Georgia. It's a great place. We biked the beautiful seven mile trail, picked fresh vegetables every afternoon for our evening meal and roamed the luscious gardens.



The Florida State University Flying Circus performed there all summer so the children enjoyed watching and taking classes with them. Two of the children ended up going to Florida State, but I doubt that it was because of the circus. Neither of them has ever expressed a desire to join the circus - that I know of.



The only problem with vacationing at Calloway Gardens was, after a few days, we all got sick. And I mean sick!!! The doctor finally told us she had no idea why this was happening to us and maybe we should throw in the towel.



This coming Thursday morning my boyfriend and I will head for Calloway Gardens for a few days. I want to show him what a beautiful place it is, not to mention the fantastic golf course. Then on Sunday he'll drop me off in Atlanta where I'll visit family for a few days, then fly home.



He will continue on to Minnesota.



We'll be separated for most of May. I'll be catching up on things here. He'll be catching up on things there. These separations are beginning to wear on us but we'll make the best of it.



I only hope the bug that made my family violently ill all those years ago doesn't bite us while we're at Calloway. That might take some of the romance out of this trip.





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Jobs I Could or Couldn't Do

I know folks who are working at jobs they never thought they'd be doing - and at an older age than they thought they'd be working.

After reading an earlier posting my niece asked me if "Aunt Catfish" was the name of a person or a fish. It's a restaurant.

I could work at Aunt Catfish except for one thing. The waitstaff has to introduce themselves as "Cousin." As in Cousin Cess. I couldn't do that.

I love my supermarket and I think I could work there. Not as a cashier - too much standing in one place. But I could be a bag boy. Except for gathering about 50 carts in the parking lot and guiding them back to their space in the store. How do they do that?

The Mall: I couldn't handle being a salesperson due to the standing around part. I think I could do maintenance or be a security guard. No wait, I couldn't wear that silly uniform.

An Airline: I could work at the counter and I'd be polite and tell the truth about the flights - which means I probably wouldn't last long. I absolutely couldn't do the most boring job of all - pilot. It's sort of like being a baseball player, hours of boredom and ten minutes of excitement. But hopefully not too much excitement like Sully and crew experienced.

I couldn't do any of the jobs I did when I was a consultant. Once, about 20 years ago I had to explain to about 50 high powered managers how to train their staffs to use a new cash register. All went well. They didn't know that I'd learned to operator it myself 15 minutes prior to meeting with them when the owner told me this would be part of my presentation.

I no longer have the brainpower or the nerves for that sort of thing.


***

The In-Between Spaces

We're all experiencing transitions these days. Some of us more than others.

One of my Power Ranger friends taught my Sunday school class this morning. Her title was:

The Great Myth of Having Arrived...
Transitions: Getting from Here to There

She knows what she's talking about. She's had two huge transitions in the past couple of years. One a relationship and the other, just recently, losing her long time position as director of public relations for an international firm.

But she didn't talk about those things. The most important thing I heard her discuss was...

The in-between spaces.

She quotes Deepak Chopra saying, It's where the soul resides.


It's the times between one thing and another. The getting to the other side.


My niece, friend and blog mentor is there right now. For a few years she wrote a blog called "Living With the Oldies." That blog, as well as other things in her life are over now. She's in the "in-between space."


For those of you who enjoyed her blog - she's started a new one and would love to have you visit. I'm excited that she's going to let us be part of her "in-between" time. Her address is:


http://www.rileywritings.blogspot.com/


By the way, my Power Ranger friend has reached the other side, stronger than ever.





***

Who Says I'm Not Spontaneous?

In fourteen hundred ninety-two,

Columbus sailed the ocean blue.

Yesterday morning we saw in the paper that replicas of the Nina and Pinta arrived at the Ponce Inlet Marina.

We spontaneously jumped in the car and drove the 60 or so miles to tour the ships.

As it turns out the Pinta is not an exact replica but the Nina is. And the Nina is the ship that Columbus was on.

This replica not only looks like the original but was built in the same way, using no modern tools or machines.

What struck me was how small it is. The 28 crewmen all had to sleep on deck where they were constantly pelted with waves. The hold was used exclusively for supplies and food, including live animals.

PETA wouldn't be happy about how they were treated. Nor am I. They were kept tied up in slings so they wouldn't break their legs in the tossing and turning.

Anyway, it was cool to experience this bit of history.

Afterwards we went to the Ponce Lighthouse, the tallest lighthouse in Florida. Instead of our daily two mile walk, we climbed the SEVENTEEN stories to the top.

What a view.

Later we had a meal at one of my favorite restaurants, "Aunt Catfish."

All in all a good, spontaneous, day.

***

Isolation

Flesh and blood needs flesh and blood.

The above is a quote from a Johnny Cash song. It speaks to our need for each other. In the current news about all the ways political prisoners are tortured, isolation is right up there in the top.

In the '80s journalist Terry Anderson was kidnapped in Beirut and held for almost seven years. He's often said that the worst part was the isolation. He had to work hard at not losing his mind.

There were times in my life when I felt profoundly lonely. That could happen again because as we get older and less mobile we sometimes find ourselves isolated.

A few years ago I visited an old roommate from the time prior to my marriage. I remembered her as a sharp as a tack career woman.

After retirement she moved back to her home town and became a part of a very conservative religious movement. One that does not allow much contact with the outside world. No TV, movies, secular books, etc.

She lives alone and her only socialization is with church members a couple of times a week.

I could see instantly that dementia had set in. When I saw her lifestyle I wasn't surprised.

I'm happy that people who've been laid off their jobs are no longer hiding at home. We've read stories of people going on Facebook to share the news as they're walking out the door. I think this is healthy.

But here's what scares me.

A huge number of our prisoners in this country are kept in solitary confinement for long periods of time. Years even. It's cruel and permanently debilitating.

Even if you don't have sympathy for these people you have to be concerned about how they function in society after they're released.

Mother nature's quite a lady, but you're the one I need.
Flesh and blood needs flesh and blood, and you're the one I need.


***

Pills

When I was about 40 years old my aunt used to visit from time to time. She took a lot of pills. When I saw her lay them out on the counter I'd say to myself:

When I get to the stage where I'm taking this many pills it will be almost over.

I now take a ton of pills. I hope it's not almost over.

This afternoon I filled my boxes with two weeks supply of pills. This job is so boring that I have to watch an episode of Law & Order to get through it. OK, most of them are supplements so I try to tell myself that they don't count. But I lived the first 50 years of my life without them so maybe they do. And a couple of my prescription meds are absolutely essential.

As we get older, taking medication properly becomes harder and harder. I know people who pay a caregiver just to keep the pills straight.

Taking meds keeps us alive and healthy so I guess I should be grateful that I have them, can afford them, and know how to take them. Doing it wrong accounts for many visits to the ER - and, occasionally, death.

By the way, when you're hospitalized, you can't let up. You need to be aware of every medication they give you. And why.

Yesterday my boyfriend and I engaged in another very romantic and intimate activity.

We exchanged medication lists.

***

Letting Little Things Bug Me

The counter on Blogger isn't working so I have no idea how many people are now reading my blog at this particular time or how many new hits I have on my profile.

I'm a counter. I like to count things. So I'm frustrated.

I was talking with my friend this morning about our weekends. We both were involved in different events that didn't go quite as planned but turned out well.

I expressed a little frustration and she just laughed. Then I said:

"Well, I am a bit rigid at times."

She said, "Yes, there is that."

Author Phillip Roth used to talk about a guy who had a "Cloud of Apprehension" around him. Whenever one problem, large or small, was solved he just moved his cloud to another spot.

I don't want to be that guy.


***

The Perfect Sandwich

Yesterday morning was quite eventful. This morning was a bit stressful - but worked out fine.

I'm so grateful that much of my life is fairly calm.

For instance, yesterday my boyfriend did a very loving thing. For lunch, he fixed me a perfect sandwich. He served it garnished with cherry tomatoes and sweet pickles.

It wasn't anything like the sandwich pictured here. It was Boarshead Swiss cheese on thin white bread. With mayo.

It was the perfect sandwich for me.

These days I like my sandwiches like I like my life.

Uncomplicated.


***

Oldies Update

When we arrived at Panera's this morning my Oldies were already there. But I immediately noticed that Mrs. Oldie's eye was red. I asked her about it and she told me she had something in it. Maybe an eyelash. But she didn't want to make a fuss.

As I sat across from her I realized that she was distressed. The eye was burning and watering.

So I mentioned to Mr. Oldie that he might want to take her down to the end of the street to the urgent care place.

He wasn't too interested. While he loves and worships her, life is still pretty much about him. Besides, he didn't think he could find the place.

But after another half hour or so I knew she needed attention.

And then guess what?

I looked up and there, across the room, was their ophthalmologist's wife having breakfast. So I went over and asked her opinion. She said "take her to the emergency room."

So I went back to the table. But, then, while I was trying to talk them into going to the ER the ophthalmologist's wife comes over to look at Mrs. Oldie's eye and says:

That doesn't look too bad but I've called my husband. He's across town playing tennis but he'll be here in 30 minutes to look at your eye.

Mrs. Oldie said "Thank you."

Mr. Oldie said, "How much will he charge?" (He was kidding.)

So we left them in her capable hands. Our first stop on our two mile walk was to her hair dresser to break the standing appointment.

When we got home I called Mr. Oldie to find out what happened.

The ophthalmologist arrived at Panera's straight from the tennis court, examined Mrs. Oldie's eye right there at the table where she was eating, applied drops, gave her some medication and sent her home to bed.

We should all be so lucky.


***

Remembering My Mom

Actually, I don't remember my mom. She died in her thirities after spending years in a T.B. sanitariam. We later learned that T.B. wasn't contageous after the initial stages so all of those people being, for all intense and purposes, incarcerated in a sanitarium, wasn't necessary.

Moms pass on all kinds of gifts and skills to their kids. In my parents' generation, especially in the midwest, quilting was a skill that was passed from mother to daughter.

But in my case, nothing.

Except I'm a writer. And my mother was a writer. She grew up on a farm in Kentucky. Dirt poor, the 10th of 13 children.

At least three of them were writers. That used to puzzle me.

Years later when I studied the Southern Writers, I realized that many of them came from families where no one else could read, much less write.

Following is a poem that my mother wrote just before she was married. At the time she was writing fairly articulate articles from time to time for the newspaper.

This particular poem tells me about her talent and her wit.

Entertainin' Sister's Beau

When sister has a date sometimes
An' she's kinda late, you know,
She sends me in the parlor
To entertain her beau.

"Now don't you talk so much," she says
"An be a reg' lady."
An' 'en she keeps on askin'
Till finally I promises, maybe.

I sits upon the sofa in
A dignified sort of way,
An' I stick me finger in me mouth
Cause me don't know what to say

En he says to me, he says;
"Is your sister good to you?"
An' 'en that go me started,
An' he got tired 'fore I got through.

I tole him all the mean things
I could think of she had done,
An' when they ran out on me
I even made up some.

Course it wasn't lyin
Cause it was all fer his benefit,
But I'll not do it again,
Cause he didn't 'ppreciate it.

I never go in any more
Sis, she'd rather I don't
An maw, she won't let me,
So I just recon - I won't

But if I ever have a feller of my own
I'll tell him what I like
But I'm a very little girl yet,
So I'll kiss the family
Goodnight.


***

Easter Message

Last Sunday, at the end of our Easter service we congregants were given grocery bags with instructions to fill them and return them next Sunday. They'll be taken to a food pantry to be distributed to the poor.

At my house my boyfriend is in charge of filling both of our bags. He's searching for bargains and is carefully filling the bags with all of the items listed on the side.

This idea came from seeing Rick Warren on "Larry King Live", saying that this is what they were doing in his mega church in Southern California, Saddleback.

Warren is one of those "New Evangelicals" who believe that Jesus' message is about caring for the poor and others in need (like me sometimes) as well as saving souls.

He's receiving a lot of flack about that.


Likewise, Joel Hunter, the pastor of Northland, (a central Florida mega church.) He's working hard to bring people together where they can legitimately come together.

Recently, when he was speaking at an interfaith group on torture Hunter mentioned "the cottage industry of hostility." He said, "I don't know how much the rest of the religious leaders up here have to face this, but I tell you, I get nasty, nasty letters every time I stand up for the poor, the immigrant the torture victims."

He went on the say he gets criticized by both conservatives and liberals.

...People who are paid to make people angry. People who are paid to create enemies, so we can feel good about ourselves.

What motivates these New Evangelicals?"

Jesus was the Prince of Peace. He was (and is) all about love and reconciliation. Jesus and every writer of the 66 books of the Bible advocated for the poor.

It's the Easter message. That we all might have an abundant life here and now - as well as later.


***

Good Dogs

Dogs are currently in the news!

The Obama children finally have one. The new First Dog, a gift from Ted Kennedy, is a Portuguese Water Dog. Named Bo.

I'm not a real dog person. I like them "OK." It's been suggested to me that I have a farm mentality when it comes to animals. Others have referred to me as the "Dr. Kevorkian" for animals.

But I absolutely "get" the relationship that many people have with their animals, especially dogs.

Dogs save lives every day - mostly by just being there and loving with no strings attached.

My brother and his wife just lost their little dog, Ashley. She was about 15 years old and about as big as a snowball.

Sometimes they dressed her up. She was really cute. She, along with her little companion dog- in their Santa hats - adorned their Christmas cards.

But she bit the heck out of anybody (other than them) who touched her. So you would start to pick up this beautiful little ball of fluff and all of a sudden...."WHAT THE!!!!!"

I know that they're both heart sick about losing this little member of their family.

Last year I talked with a lady vet who told me that she and her partner were starting a hospice for dogs. This sounded like a wonderful idea to me. Like with "people" hospice, it might spare a lot of pain for the patient and the loved ones as well.

***

Easter Bonnet

I've never been much for hats but if you want to wear one, Easter is the day.


And this year "the Aretha" was the hat.



Since Aretha Franklin sang "God Bless America" at the inauguration in January, Luke Strong, the designer of that now famous hat hasn't been able to keep up with the orders.



Over 5,000 of them!



The lovely lady in the b/w phote is Theresa Poole wearing her Easter bonnet. She lives in a beautiful little town in Florida call Mount Dora. But she used to live in Detroit so she has a special connection with Aretha.



If you ever want to see the original again, it's in the Smithsonian.

***

Fun Books

I used to read books constantly. But when my husband died I couldn't read books for a couple of years. Couldn't concentrate.


After I met my boyfriend he encouraged me to read books just for fun.


What a concept.


He introduced me to mystery writer, John Sanford. His protagonist, Lucas Davenport. solves murders in the twin cities - so it's been fun to read about these places I've just learned to know since meeting my boyfriend.


This week I picked up a fun mystery by Thomas B. Cavanagh called "Head Games." The plot takes place here in my city. I know everyplace the protagonist, Mike Garrity, goes.


Arlene suggested meeting at an Irish pub in Winter Park...I knew it well. Dark wood, Guinness on tap... A crowd of mostly upwardly mobile young professionals and rich kids from nearby Rollins College.


Well, yeah. I know this place. And it has a special connection with my church.


Mike Garrity is surprised when he goes to interrogate a person who lives in Isleworth for the second time and learns he's been put on the permanent visitors list.


Have you ever been nervous about going to visit somebody in one of these super swanky neighborhoods that have sprung up in the Orlando area (like Isleworth) - and that the uniformed guard at the gate might take you to jail or something? Only to discover that you've been put on the permanent visitors list?

Woo hoo!


Garrity has been hired to find a missing member of a boy band called Boyz Klub - by the band's founder/manager and all around tyrant.


Now who does that sound like?

Of course, we all know, like Garrity, what's available on OBT or what it's like to turn the wrong way on South Street from I-4.


The coolest part of this fun book is that while Garrity is fighting the bad guys, the boy band manager, the police force where he was formerly a detective, his daughter who's in love with the missing boy band member and two ex-wives - he's also battling a malignant brain tumor.


The first lines of books always intrigue me. What do you think of this?


I have a tumor in my head. I call it Bob. Bob is the boss. He controls everything I do.

Aside from dealing with the cancer issue, this is not an important book. It's a fun book. Especially if you live in Central Florida.


Last week I read an important book. "The Gravedigger's Daughter" by Joyce Carol Oates. It was long, depressing and confusing. I'll tell you more about it after I get a little more insight from my book club members next week.





***

Sometimes I Want to Ask Steve Martin, "What Were You Thinking?"

One of my favorite entertainers of all time is Steve Martin. When he won the 2005 Mark Twain Award, I agreed with some reviewers that Mark Twain should have won the Steve Martin Award.

I love his obscure articles in the New Yorker and elsewhere.

I love all of his books. I loved the fact that he wrote a book called "Shopgirl" in the voice of a depressed shopgirl. (I didn't see the movie because, while I liked the book, it depressed me so much I thought the movie might send me over the edge.)

Early on I loved the balloon animals, the magic tricks and the banjo. I love that he's going to play his banjo on the Grand Ole Opry.

I loved King Tut.

He's made (wrote, directed and/or starred in) many movies. Some I've loved, others I haven't so much - but that's show business.

This afternoon we saw "Pink Panther, 2." It was very upsetting to me. No subtly whatsoever. His character destroyed everything in sight. I had to avert my eyes when he set restaurants on fire and demolished every (beautiful) room he entered. In my mind he did a great disservice to Peter Sellers and Inspector Clouseau.

I understand that these movies make money so he can make as many as he wants.

The cosmic question is: Why?


***

Lessons From the Creation Story

Two of the most important insights in the creation story, to me, are:

Learning about the nature of God
Learning about the nature of human beings

It's a cautionary tale.

God set up Adam and Eve in this really cushy garden, sort of like heaven on earth, and told them to have fun and do anything they want, except, don't eat the fruit from this one tree.

Of course they did just that. And they get kicked out of the garden.

Here's another cautionary tale.

There was a a star receiver for the New York Giants named Plaxico Burress. Rich and famous beyond his dreams. God said to Plaxico, you can have all of this and more. Just don't carry a gun in your belt into a crowded nightclub and accidentally shoot yourself in the leg.

Of course he did just that. And he got kicked off the team.

This, to me, is how the creation story gets played out over and over again.


***

What Me Worry?

Some of my best and dearest friends are worried. While I try to stay full of good cheer I find myself falling into a state of doom these days over the silliest things. And it doesn't help that bad news constantly surrounds us.

Yesterday, in a wave of optimism, I put a chunk of my meager savings back into the stock market. Today I'm second guessing that decision.

Worry. It does us no good whatsoever.

My favorite teacher, Jesus, says, Don't do it.

One of my favorite poets, Emily Dickinson, says that the experience of worrying is worse than whatever it is we're worried about.

While I was fearing it, it came,

But came with less of fear,

Because that fearing it so long

Had almost made it dear.

There is a fitting a dismay,

A fitting a despair,

T is harder knowing it is due,

Than knowing it is here.

Getting Repaired

This morning when I had the (synthetic) oil in my 2000 Camry changed the guy told me that I need over $2,000 in repairs. After thinking it over for about 20 seconds, I said, "Fine, order the parts."

This afternoon I had my yearly check up with the dermatologist. He looked at a spot on my neck and said, "What happened here?"

I explained that an ugly wort had appeared so I bought some Compound W Wort Remover but not only did it not work but it burned the surrounding skin.

He looked at me, then laughed and said, "That's because it's not a wort, it's cancer."

He cut it off and sent it to the lab. Whether it's cancer or not, it's gone.

How do I feel about this day? Great. I'm grateful to have experts to handle the repairs to my appliances, car and body.

I'm grateful that I have the resources to keep us all in good repair. I want us to last a while longer.



***