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Tuesday, September 30, 2008
10:22:11 PM EDT
Hearing Bob Marley
Change is good. Now I'll have time to stalk the members of the SEC.
Ever get the feeling you are in a human aquarium? I do at times. My first journal on AOL, Francesco's Life, was a tribute to my Father. I always felt this one was a touch more chance, disorder & irrationality. Perhaps not what I was projecting, but often what I was feeling as Dad's life was coming to a close. And then it did close (still having a tiny problem with that).
All the words I need or want to type about him have been typed. Transferring to another site? A journal without Dad (for me) would just wither in the shadow of my past journals that were so full of him.
This journal carries a measure of guilt & a measure of innocence for me. A little film noir, a few things osmotically absorbed from my Father, & some lingering derealization.
Documenting Francesco's Life had a lot of meaning for me. Documenting mine, ehh, not so much. I think I'll just live privately now.
Chuck, I WILL still be expecting Morris updates. Russ & Gaz, I love you & will still call around if you move over. Cathy, you are the best daughter a Dad ever had. Paul, stop being so gullible, K? Gem, thank you for the beautiful scrapbook of my Father. I cherish it. Kelly, much gratitude for keeping me in touch with the heart of Kim (Grandma Kim ). Jackie, thanks for always checking. Anne, 1000 lovinglies back to you. Jimmy & Nancy, I'll always appreciate all the care on what could have been my worse day, but wasn't, because the 2 of you comforted me. And for every single person who showed love & concern for my Dad, excellent stock tips will be in your email box.......in December. 
So I'm off to curse the SEC(Again) for not letting me sell short. Keep having lots of fun :).
Love,
Mary
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Saturday, September 27, 2008
6:50:32 PM EDT
Hearing Don't Rain on my Parade~ Streisand
He'd want me to say he isn't 50 until December
Don's oldest, Chloe, was telling a coworker that she'd just had a wonderful conversation with her Father, when the coworker burst out laughing & said: You are not normally a brag, but with your Dad, you always overdo it. When Chloe told me that this embarrassed her, I let her know I've met up with this exactly when discussing my parents & I never let it bother me since some of the same people who felt that way about what I had to say about my Mom or Dad were constantly talking the same glossy way about their bratty children or ugly, lazy spouse(j/k)(maybe not).
Do Chloe & I idealize our Dads? Sometimes. Do we give the world sanitized versions? A bit, yes, but there are much worse things we could spend our time doing. I am actually amazed that the same person who can wax poetic about her 11 year old's high kick for 29 minutes(yawn),& never ever mention that little Buffy screams & sulks when she has to walk her own dog, shows so little editorial discretion or charity when speaking of a parent. Somehow addled moral calculations make Mommy & Daddy the bad guys, but the teller is all innocence. Uhm, I'd love to hear the parents version myself.
I worked with someone who screamed (I do mean screamed): Thank God for my bf, so I have someone to b*tch about my Mother to (what, talking against her to our whole office isn't enough?). Then her older daughter stole Mom's car & got into
an accident. Not a word about that was mentioned (except to me to ask for a court date off), but 3 times a week we'd hear about what her own Mother was doing against her now. Personally, I clean the gutters of my own past before I start on everyone else in my life picture. (yeah, I've written about this before; it's my journal)
I brought that up with Chloe because those types were always the ones who rolled their eyes & said: Your Dad sounds great..by my parents weren't such good parents, so....(b*tch, b*tch, whine, l-o-n-g sniffle). Lots of reconstructing personal history to make themselves the sympathetic character (or the pathetic character?). Memory reconfigured.
Chloe & I don't really think our Dads are perfect or invincible (ok, maybe when we were really little we did), but we love them & remember the good more quickly than the bad. While discussing it, neither one of us get why it feels good to anyone to drone on about how rotten anyone was/is to them. We've had our share of rotten too, & it feels worse when you keep reminding yourself (& others) of it. Let's just say I have an unwillingness to engage others needs, their narcissism, over & over.
The people I know who have had the most difficult lives don't do this. Sometimes when you actually have it a bit easier, you manufacture peril. No edge? Make your own. Then tell me some sort of redemption myth story(YAWN). Go ahead & reconstruct those parts of your life that are not consistent with your vision of yourself, or the vision you wish to project, but then I want to read your parents' blog.
Real discord is often swept away by existential need.
Chloe, a genetically gracious & grateful child, just threw her Dad, despite his flaws, a great surprise 50th Birthday party. Having dated him 3 times, trust me, he has flaws.
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Thursday, September 18, 2008
8:35:32 PM EDT
Hearing Marilyn Manson
A bag of food
Whenever I volunteer for anything I try to put my best face & feelings forward. I figure these people need help not my very active tude. I had a good experience when I volunteered weekly with a govt run food pantry in my area, so I have to include a shout out to Wally, who lives in the apartment building that houses the pantry.
Wally was there every day, & took care of everything that came up, so much so that everyone thought he was an employee. Nope, just a wonderful person. A wonderful
person who sort of fit extras in the bags of those who really needed it. It was pretty obvious to me that he was not a man who'd ever had any extras himself, but always made sure he looked out for the other guy.
I also volunteered at another pantry, without a Wally, & without such stellar results. It was understaffed. Well, errr, not to me, since I just didn't feel you needed a LOOKOUT person. They gave me that job. I'd give a bag to each person entering a tiny room with shelves set up in little sections. My job was to watch & make sure the person with the bag (Only let one in at a time, or they confuse you, they said??)didn't take more than he was supposed to. Well, dude, he's only got ONE BAG so I'm doubting he'll leave with too many steaks & chops (no, there weren't any. mostly canned goods).
The women running this were older, more connected & concerned with the church that ran this small pantry (all the recipients loved the parish priest, who was very kind to them, btw), than with the folks coming for the much needed food. They were, in my estimation, burned out & suspicious.
Can anyone guess that Mary didn't work out very well as Lookout girl? You want that extra can of peas?, TAKE IT. Because you see, if you took the corn, you weren't supposed to take the peas. (I am 100% serious) Don't take those peas, but the lady running this is going to leave in her Lexus when we are done, & I'll be getting into my Mercedes, while you're walking home in a drizzle with your bag.(90% of these people did not have cars, but a large % did have low paying jobs)
So Don & I donated a bunch of stuff, lots of kid oriented, "fun" stuff, edible but cool. But next week it wasn't there. They'd taken it for use in the church's for pay daycare. (I'd tell you what Don said about that, but AOL would probably dump the entry for profanity) I kept my mouth shut (ok, mostly), because I felt I could do some good there over time, if I kept my cool now.
Then I went around procuring fresh baked goods (another shout out to the bagel guys who promised me stuff whenever I came in to get it, big pastries & muffins too. one of the owners had gone to food pantries as a kid with his mom when they were in need). A few weeks later I was told the people didn't understand about that(yeah, baked goods can get sooooo confusing), & I didn't need to do it anymore. I did it anyway, & they said: Stop.
I will say I've volunteered places where so much was dispensed that with some it became a destructive habit, some took advantage, & I was left feeling they didn't care about the next guy (& some truly didn't), which did tick me off. I assure you, this wasn't that kind of place. There was no way to be that way, since everyone was so....err...vigilant.
So then one day, my partner (the woman in charge) stops a scared looking man, who speaks little English, & takes the bag out of his hand. I guess someone felt Mary wasn't LOOKING OUT well enough, & he'd taken things he was not supposed to. NO was yelled (not by him) & each item was banged out on a table.(I started to cry, only he seemed to notice that) Nothing extra. It was put back in his bag & he was told "Ok." He smiled a little & said: Gracias. I thanked him & told him I was sorry.
They were supposed to call me if they needed me again (they were soooo done with me), but I guess they got new volunteers or installed lookout cameras instead, since I never got a call. I'm glad since that last encounter left me with a caustic sensation behind my eye, somewhat like biting into a very cold ice cream cone, with a big dash of guilt added in.
Look, I know I have a very flawed nature, but all our behaviors, while being shaped by cultural context, are amenable to choice & free will. Our expectations influence our judgments, & sometimes that can be a bad thing. There is a competitive & cooperative nature to most all relationships, but a little extra emphasis on the cooperative would do us all some good.
I am all for the social ethic of success through effort, but sometimes the right thing to do is just to give the guy an extra can of peas without needless belligerence. Being unencumbered by any positive emotional connection to anyone outside people like you can be a very bad thing.
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Tuesday, September 9, 2008
5:46:05 PM EDT
Hearing Cosi fan tutte ~ Mozart
I've never shot a Moose, but I have eaten plenty of filet mignon
I had a discussion today with 2 people who advocate for Life in elections. Right now, if I hear one more thing about the baby born alive act, pro-choice, pro-life, pro-whatever-the-person-who-is-talking-to-me-is-for, I'll scream for a really long time. I'm not speaking specifically of blogs(though they are included), but in all of LIFE. Some people are so predictable that I know their whole argument before they get past sentence 4. If I say something about soon (if something isn't done to cut some fraud out) to be insolvent entitlement programs, I know EXACTLY who will freak out on me. Because 99.9% of the people they claim to know, have worked like dogs all their lives, & still don't have a decent life, because...blah blah..blah. If I mention that after working in healthcare all my life, I'd rather see a woman who doesn't want a child have an abortion, than to see crack babies shaking uncontrollably in the neonatology ward (yes, I've actually been there), some pro-lifer will tell me that baby is VERY PRECIOUS. Ok, are you going to adopt her? You want someone's hundred year old grandma to stay alive until God takes her? What if she is suffering? Is she suffering for God? How much time did you spend changing your own grandma's diapers? Are you at the nursing home comforting all these folks you want kept alive? Or are you too busy talking about it instead? Then there are always the fake contempt for material culture people who would actually jump on a $100 bill with both feet if it were going by. I wish those types would stop telling me how many people my Mercedes (or some other expensive item) would feed if I sold it. I donate to hunger orgs & volunteer at food pantries. But can I see your tax returns? Then if I say something positive about Obama, someone says: Aren't you a Republican? Like any good Republican (some people think there is no such thing) would hate anyone who isn't a Republican. If I say sexual orientation is neurobiological, they say they know plenty of people who were conditioned to, blah blah blah & after they blah blah blah, they got married. Great!(now leave me alone)
I don't dislike all these people as much as I dislike all that wasted time & posturing. Time that perhaps could be spent helping someone(which is always an amazing teacher), or
reading a book, article or sentence that doesn't entirely agree with what you think you have known forever. I'm not speaking specifically of Dems, Repubs, liberals or conservatives. I'm speaking of whomever knows it ALL & doesn't let a drop of opposing view settle without looking severely constipated.
Do these folks grow into or out of their personal agendas over time, or are they just too busy memorizing how they've felt about things since 1987? When I was a teen I was very pro-life & it had nothing to do with religious conviction. I decided I'd never kill my baby & I didn't think anyone should ever kill any baby. Course, I'd never even had sex yet. & never seen little kids with heads bandaged after parental abuse. Not yet had a neighbor(but it was soon to come) yell: I hate you little *unts~ at his toddler girls. Hmmm.
If anyone had tried to tell me back then that in 1986, & then again in 2008, I'd sanction measures to bring first my Mother's, & then my Father's, life to a sooner,
somewhat more peaceful end, I'd have stared at them in wide-eyed disbelief. So much of what I believed back then I look at now as quaint aspirations, too much attention paid to special-interest pandering talks, even some Puritan diligence. I didn't force my life to fit my previous beliefs & decisions, I grew to meet the new changing world I had to live in. When I was 20 & told them to stop paddling my Mother alive every time her heart stopped, was I killing her @ 62, or saving her from the only real Hell I believe in? This year should I have left my Dad in agonal respiration, or had them give him sufficient morphine? I'd never have an abortion for personal reasons, but I had no problem with clarity of mind & belief when it came to alleviating my parents suffering. 6 of 1, half a dozen of another? Life is supposed to change you, grow you. & it is hard, so hard, to let go of belief, even more so to let go of beloved parents, but high ideals & superiority complexes go a little flat when Daddy can't breathe.
Belief without growth, or acknowledgment of any other way is very empty & dogmatic. Let's not elect a president based on empty dogma or some obsessive need to be right. Let's not live our lives that way, either.
Written by frankandmary
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Monday, September 8, 2008
7:10:25 PM EDT
Flyer's Prayer
When this life I'm in is done,
And at the gates I stand,
My hope is that I answer all
His questions on command.
I doubt He'll ask me of my fame,
Or all the things I knew,
Instead He'll ask of rainbows
sent
On rainy days I flew.
The hours logged, the status
reached,
The ratings will not matter,
He'll ask me if I saw the rays
And how He made them scatter.
Or what about the droplets clear,
I spread across your screen?
And did you see the twinkling
eyes,
Of student pilots keen?
The way your heart jumped in your chest,
That special solo day -
Did you take time to thank the
ones
Who fell along the way?
Remember how the runway
lights
Looked one night long ago
When you were lost and found
your way,
And how - you still don't know?
How fast, how far, how much,
how high?
He'll ask me not these things
But did I take the time to watch
The moonbeams wash my
wings?
And did you see the patchwork
fields
And mountains I did mold,
The mirrored lakes and velvet
hills,
Of these did I behold?
The wind he flung along my
wings,
On final almost stalled,
And did I know it was His name,
That I so fearfully called?
And when the goals are reached
at last,
When all the flying's done,
I'll answer Him with no regret -
Indeed, I had some fun.
So when these things are asked
of me,
And I can reach no higher,
My prayer this day - His hand
extends
To welcome home a Flyer.
~Patrick J. Phillips
For C & her Dad ( I wish I had more to offer right now).
Love, Mary
no comments please. thank you.
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Monday, September 1, 2008
11:17:30 AM EDT
Hearing Frisbee
Walking down the street at morning's wake
My friend Mary Jo says the rosary every day in May & I almost called her today, really I should have. I went to Catholic school, I swear, but the Stations of the Cross elude me. Perhaps because I am an Atheist? Whatever. I took a walk down my street to the Catholic church/school my Dad worked at for many years & walked the garden, which happens to contain the aforementioned Stations. I walked around, thought of Dad, hmmm, what to do, what to do. I made the egregious error of calling my little Chicklet (& woke her up; it was early).
C: You have your rosary, right?
Me: MY ROSARY?
C: Oh, yeah,( probably thinking-Heathen). Go home & get it. You're only down the street.
Me: (Damn.it.why.did.i.call.her?) Uhm, well, I..
C: HURRY UP HURRY UP. Now.
Me:(I hate bossy, pushy religious children) I was just wondering in theory what you do if...
C: Are you walking down the street toward your house yet?(I could hear her designer shoed foot tapping)Edit: How quickly does she read my entries? She already called to say she was barefoot :0.
Me: (I am never dating a Catholic with children again. Hmm, what Catholic doesn't have children?) OK.
I trudge down to my house, get an old grandma (my Great Grandmother's) black rosary & trudge back. Chicklet talks to me about my supposed enlightenment the whole way. Why could I have not just stayed home & drank copious amounts of wine while gazing at my Dad's picture like other Italian mourners do? Damn.It.
C: You don't remember these at all? They are very humbling. I don't think you'll like that.
Me: Hahahahahaha.
C: Please be serious. This is for your father.( from her tone, I can really believe she & the bf just hold hands a lot)
I got serious & let a little pushy Catholic kid lead me thru THE WHOLE Stations of the Cross. Once I was done (I truly get eternity now):
C: I think I am going to be able to turn you.
Me: INTO A CATHOLIC?
C: Could you PLEASE not say that as if it were a bad thing?
Me: Eh, sorry.
Then she made me say a little prayer for my Mom & Dad, & I had a nice little cry. No, I doubt I will be changing my spiritual mind set, but I do believe in honoring things that mattered to my parents, even if I needed a little push from a 17 year old with tude. I miss you Dad, but I really am doing my best to move on. Slowly.
Please don't comment on my new found religion (& no, it really isn't that), but do take a moment to read my friend(who maybe wouldn't want me to do this, but.....),
Jimmy . I'm thinking he could use the love right now, & honestly, I am missing Dad & don't want to read comments about him, just wanted to get this entry out of me today. Thank you. ~Mary
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Thursday, August 28, 2008
10:07:08 PM EDT
Hearing Cole Porter
An Impromptu Thankful Chicklet
I was reading > Traci's Thankfuls while on the phone with Chicklet in Florida just now & asked her to come up with a quick teen thankful list for my blog.
1) I am thankful Daddy is here because Gustav might be scary otherwise (oh, I am so sure her dad can hold Gus at bay).
2) Even though we are Republicans, I am thankful everyone pulled behind Mr. Obama when they needed to because he seems like a good person.
3) I am thankful my brothers have their own bathroom because they eat spicy pizza & hot dogs too often.
4) I am thankful Daddy didn't get over-mad last week & quit his job because the talk of frugal living was scary (this was REALLY hard not to laugh at).
5) I am thankful my parents are getting too old to date anyone (cough. her parents are 46 & 49).
6) I'm thankful that Daddy doesn't read his credit card statements too closely. Wait, if you are putting this on your journal, don't......
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Thursday, August 21, 2008
9:07:57 PM EDT
Hearing This Is Not Goodbye ~Melissa Etheridge
5 years of Aol Journals: A small piece of what it was to me.
I started journaling in 2005 with Francesco's Life to pay tribute to my Dad & to reach out to other people who were loving & caring for someone with dementia.
Some awed me with their compassion & humble, grateful caregiving, like Mary Jo, who has since become a good friend> From the Edge of Dementia. Others, well, I wanted to pull their hair, but in fairness, they weren't all too fond of my helpful suggestions either (I won't be listing their journals since I have an aversion to being sued). I started email correspondence with folks caring for loved ones & even not so loved ones, all struggling, searching, hoping, & honestly, guilting, crying & screaming.
I met Kimberleigh that way, through emails about her Dad & how she'd struggled to reconcile with his life & death. And now, to my great dismay, her children struggle with the same.
I found Bill & Libby. There were times that I would literally rush to open insightful, compassionate emails from Bill whenever I posted a "difficult" experience with Dad. I miss your journaling & your emails Bill, & I continue to send you love & good vibes......
Nelishia(who has a private journal) showed me what Real dignity looks like in the face of illness, poverty, & ostracism. Now she is married & mothering, carrying that dignity through to future generations.
And JIMMY, Kathy, JO(DORN) , Chuck(Red), Gem, Pennie & Amy somehow always left the most perfect comments when I was feeling the most imperfect daughter.
I loved the stories The First Mary  (since she's told me she should have a blog: The Other Mary) would tell of her dad & the exchanges the two of us had. She sent my Dad a card for Christmas & he swore he knew her very well(Were you holding out on me, Mary?). Her Dad has passed now also & I never read her blog without thinking of him.
In 2005, when I'd get back home from a day with Dad, I'd usually turn to Russ to make me laugh, cry & sometimes laugh while crying. (I'm sure the martinis helped)
I miss that old journal. I miss Francesco's real life. When Kimberleigh was an email or a call away,safe with her family. And Dad was hugging me & kissing me (& sometimes yelling & screaming). I don't expect any of it back, but I do let those days, loves, friends, run through my mind & down to my heart.
Griefs
The many griefs of yesterday
Have left me, one by one,
Until no shadow of them falls
Across today's bright sun.
The thought that they would never go
Became my sad belief,
I brushed my hearth and set a plate
For each old weary grief.
And now today new sorrow comes;
This strange, unwelcome guest,
I wonder, will he take his leave
Tomorrow, like the rest?
If I can keep remembering
How other griefs passed on,
This shall not hurt me, I can wait
Until he, too, has gone.
~Grace Noll Crowell
(I'd appreciate it if no one left comments on this entry. Thank you.)
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Tuesday, August 19, 2008
8:50:08 PM EDT
Feeling Thoughtful
Hearing Hinder & Staind
Household Balance Sheet
About a month ago, a realtor approached me about selling my home. I said I'd think it over, then forgot about it til tonight. It isn't such a great area any longer, the price she mentioned is great, & it is too big for me & the kittens.
I sit at my Mother's desk, in my Mother's old cracked chair(She has been gone 22 yrs. I can hear her saying: MARY BUY A NEW CHAIR!) when I type these journal entries. The desk contains my Mother's journal~ Saturday, Sept 26,1959 (during a visit to Rome) We stayed in the hotel all day due to severe rains. It was a wonderful day. Gee, Mom, what was so wonderful about spending the day in a hotel with Daddy? ;0
When I look up & slightly to the left I can see the 110+ yr old stained glass window my Mom told me attracted her Dad to the house over 90 years ago. A sharp left turn brings into view a ballet scene my Mother painted long before I was born & disease robbed her of most of her eye sight. Just as sharp a turn to the right, & out the window I can see my Dad's beloved trees, laden with green figs, soon to be ripe & stolen(& my family has never minded the stolen part. Who can resist ripe figs?)
The bannister in front of me, the one my Dad taught me to slide down(When my Mom asked him where I got that idea he said: Kids do crazy sh*t), has Briege peeking at me between the slats as I type. Below it is a blown up picture of Dad as a young man in his WW2 Italian uniform, with a hint of a smile & his twinkle eyes directed toward me( I miss him so much, but it was the right time....).
The room above me is the room my Mother was born in~1923, & the room beside me is the one her Father died in~1936.
It has been a very trying week, but I am surrounded by love in this house. Right now I feel virtually hugged here. The realtor's out of luck on this one. But me, I'm the lucky one.
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Monday, August 11, 2008
8:17:07 PM EDT
Hearing Lena Horne
Food Store Ethics
I was writing an email to a friend & I mentioned that if all you really take the time to know is You & people like You, you don't really ever know very much at all. Where is the comparison (or compassion) in that? I know me. Ok, but if you don't know/want to know anything/one else, you tend to express your inflexibility as anger or ridicule. Knowledge is always preferable to harassment. And the greater your propensity for cruelty, usually the greater your feelings of generalized anger, fear, confusion & self-loathing.
So I'm walking very slowly (by necessity because there is no room to maneuver around) behind an extremely obese woman down a cluttered aisle in the supermarket. She is pressing heavily on her cart, ambling very very slowly & her breath is raspy & labored. She has a cane in her cart & is truly barely moving. 2 young men (mid 20s?) are standing in the middle of the aisle ahead of us laughing & talking. One turns, sees her, Whoah, he says & hits the other guy to attention. Then Damn. Shit. Laughter. Staring at her. More laughing. Not moving from the middle of the aisle. She tried to back up & looked at me sort of side ways & her look was undeniable, yet oddly undefinable, at least now that I am trying to put it into words here. But it was a look you could really feel.
Oh yes, I had a word with them (perhaps 70, who's counting), but that doesn't really help much, not in the long run, & certainly not for the Lady, today.
It is really sort of amazingly sad to me that humans sometimes use their supposed greater intellect to exploit someone they see in anyway as subordinate to them. I don't pretend to overall be so much better than anyone else, but perhaps because when I was young my Mother was very ill, almost always in pain, legally blind & barely able to walk~ maybe because she was made fun of & stared at, loathed, maybe because people stopped visiting, I learned a little something. Can't we use our own experiences to infer the experiences of others? Does anyone want to be treated like this?
*********************
Lots of emails last night asking what I said. I followed them & kept talking. They thought I was nuts . I asked them about their fears & insecurities, if their parents, partners or friends belittled them. Told them I was sure they must have no self confidence & no ability to stand up to the HAVES of the world so they were beating up on what they considered the HAVE NOTS. I said that although they were both terribly skinny & unattractive, I was certain they didn't want someone bringing that up to them in a food store....... Then I told them about my Mom. One listened to me, redly & newly shy, & the other cursed, walked away.
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