avventura!

Dearest Mama,
I'm off to a new adventure! Italy beckons, booted heel kicking up in a dance of welcome and off I go to twirl! I know Mother's Day is Sunday, but I shall be airplane bound and out of pocket that day.
I'd had some concerns earlier today about the trip, working myself to a fever pitch of jangled nerves. How so? Well, my head was laying out the scenario thusly. I'm traveling to another country, where I know no one, and I'm traveling with a group of people, of whom I know not a single one, and of this group of people, almost all are women.
You know full well where I'm going with this, don't you? As I have done all of my life, I don't usually hang out with a bunch of women, as I don't seem to have that much in common with them. I don't want children, I don't have children. I don't like shopping, and I primarily shop guerilla-style when I need something. I don't do the whole "battle of the sexes" thing and object to being subjected to such nonsense. I don't go to events as part of a group and think it odd that some folks would rather sit home alone than go stag.
Of course, that's been changing, too, these past few years. I now have some friends, female friends, who include me in their outings to movies and dinners and high teas. I've especially enjoyed the Evening Sans Beaus and the spontaneous Girls' Night Out to Ruby Tuesday this year. Maybe I'm becoming more girly??? No, I don't believe that's true. Maybe the women I've been meeting in my new social circles are simply more mature mentally than many I've known in the past.
So, here I am, preparing to go across the Atlantic with a group of more than twenty women. On Mother's day, no less.
However, I think I have my head wrapped around it nicely now. I had a very long talk - maybe three hours!- with una cresta di un onda dell'oceano and found myself calming down, especially after one of my favorite words was uttered: adventure.
Of course. This will be, most certainly, an adventure, una avventura! I had heard the word earlier today when I talked with a teller about euros and was surprised I had not already thought it to myself.
Instead, I had been talking to myself in circles collapsing upon themselves. Besides the concern of not knowing anyone - like THAT had ever stopped me from going anywhere - I was also putting too much pressure on the trip. I had started viewing the trip as an opportunity to reboot my life, much as I had done in 2004.
The first, and only other, time I traveled to Italy was as a wife on our tenth anniversary. I was my brother's Gal Friday for his hardwood flooring business, which had been granted the Mediterranean cruise for two as a sales promotion. Instead of a raise or more vacation, I asked for, and received, the cruise. Joy! You know how much I had dreamt of traveling to Italy since I was a girl, immersed in tales of Roman mythology. As you may recall, the cruise began in Barcelona, Spain, then made a stop in Nice, France (which was very nice and we went to Monte Carlo and saw Princess Grace's tomb). There followed three stops in Italy (Livorno, in the heart of Tuscan wine country; Civitavecchia [near Rome]; and Naples, with the ferry to Capri and sipping Limonello by the sea), then a final landfall in Malta before returning to Spain. Fabulous! And it was Jeff who noticed, when I was tromping around in the Forum, that my name was carved in marble, above marble columns, right there near Ceasar's tomb. My name. Wow!
So, now I am returning to Italy, much as I had returned to Okinawa in 2004 and had the good fortune to see the sights for only MY eyes, not yours. To visit the beaches and memorials and restaurants to make new memories for ME, not memories made real for me by the sharing of them with you. To take pictures and savor the food and smell the salt air for me alone. I was so blessed to be granted that opportunity to learn how to become the center of my universe.
I don't think that's quite where I am now. The full reboot and restructuring of my core is not necessary. It's been almost five years since the divorce. Time has done what time does best - the blurred edges have become nearly smooth, words have been softened and muted to nearly unintelligible mumblings. I am able to enjoy again the thoughts of the many good times we had shared for fifteen years, the good memories captured in photo albums, both mental and physical.
I've already begun regarding this European vacation as my birthday present to myself. You know how I've maintained for years that no one needed to get me a present because I was taking care of that myself? Well, still true! For this birthday, I'm taking clothes which no longer fit, clothes to be worn one last time and discarded. Clothes to be replaced with new ones to be worn the first time there, imbuing them with the olive-scented air and wine-soaked countryside. Mementos for me to wear and enjoy and, one day, discard for new clothes to wear whilst making new happy memories.
Thanks for the coin earlier...
with much love always,
ykw

tall ships

There are tall ships from far-off lands in the harbor, tall ships with white sails billowing and spilling light. In honor of those travelers, I present a favorite poem from my teen years, a poem which still thrills me.


Sea-Fever

I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
and all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,
and the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,
and a grey mist on the sea's face, and a grey dawn breaking.

I must go down to the seas again,
for the call of the running tide
is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
and all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
and the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.

I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
to the gull's way and the whale's way where the wind's like a whetted knife'
and all I ask
is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,
and quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over.

--- John Masefield

therapy

Sometimes, it's good to get out and about and try something new. Today, I danced with an Aztec, ran my hands all over a butterfly, and was treated to a free cold drink when I found my credit card was not, alas, in my pocket.
All of it was therapy for my body, my mind, and my spirit.
I almost missed every bit of it, too.
I had worked all morning on updating my gradebooks, even posting the grades online for my students. I had graded post-lab reports, odious things that they are. I had a rough draft written of the final exams for next week and was waiting on 2 PM, a time promised to a student who needed an early exam. I was feeling rather wrung out from too much time in my cold office.
It was just past noon so I headed into the sunshine, toward the proposed site of an early Cinco de Mayo festivity. I had already missed the first dance, but I caught the next one. Then there was a slight break and I took advantage of the time to go grab a drink.
On my way, I was distracted by a stunningly beautiful dog. Yes, indeed, a dog in the building, along with others, there to provide an opportunity for relaxation during this stressful week. She was mostly snow white, but with tiny dark splashes, like freckles. Her cheeks, ears, and part of her throat were encased in mottled butterly wings of dark brown, black, and gray, with the butterly body represented by a midpoint mottled circle between strips of the snow white fur. Her brown eyes blended into the wings, maintaining the imagery. She graciously allowed me to caress her ears and head and back for several moments, allowing me to relax and breathe again. Then another in need of her warmth and giving spirit arrived, freeing me from her spell.
I resumed my mission for liquid nourishment and found the lemonade I enjoyed. I also grabbed a package of pretzels, then headed for the register. The cashier rang up the tab and, when I reached into my pocket, I found my school ID, my driver's license, and... my blood donor card. No credit card, though. The woman behind me announced "Let this be my treat as a random act of kindness." W o w. Just that fast, my spirit again lifted. I thanked her and put the pretzels back on the shelf, as the beverage was all I had originally wanted. After thanking her again, I walked back toward the dance area; my therapy dog had left the building and it was time for me to do the same.
The dancer was giving us a background talk on his upcoming homage to the sunlight. He encouraged crowd participation, asking for us to hold the ancient words in our mouths and offer them anew to the air. The dance was graceful and colorful and rather serene. Afterward, the dancer (John from aztecatlanta.com) invited us to come dance with him, in front of the Student Union, and I could swear he was talking directly to ME. Why not!!! I had been tapping my bare feet to the music already and this WAS a celebration and I was feeling rather rejuvenated ... so I came on up to join him. And as soon as I did, several young folks joined in! And so we all danced, kicking our feet, holding hands, shouting!!!
Afterward, I thanked the dancer and he admitted that he had, deliberately, been looking at me when he issued the invitaion to dance. He had done so because he could tell I wanted to dance and he thought it very likely that I would come up, opening the door for others to join in. Nice compliment for me!
Therapy dance, therapy dog, therapy drink. Therapy.

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i'm walkin', yes, indeed

Today has been marvelous! What a great day to be 18 again!
Sunny, warm, with a hair-ruffling breeze - who could ask for anything more? Truly!
Add several outings with friends and that made today one of those to post on the refrigerator so you can smile about it later.
To top it all off, I woke with my 18-years-old mental image firmly in place (regardless of gravity-induced sag of portions of the physical self). You know what I mean, right? Hopeful, bright, the WORLD is wide open!!!
Oh, YES!!!
I have so loved today and all parts of it!!!

fortune cookie

"Be good to a coworker."
Truly? THAT is the message in my fortune cookie???
Okay, let's give it a thought and see if the cookie has a clue. It was a Wednesday evening and I'd been able to go to my favorite place - you know which one! - and had grabbed a dessert with a message on my way out the door.
I had arrived to another engagement when I read the message - too dark in the car to even try to read it at a stoplight - and I didn't have time to really ponder it. Nor did I need time. Just about the same instant that I thought "what does it mean, if anything?" the response popped in. Go check on the cat owner.
After I returned home, I did just that, to an extent. I logged into fb and went to the page of the cat owner. Hmmm, nothing more about the cat, nothing more about anything, no entries for several days. Okay, that doesn't prove anything one way or the other, times are very hectic at this point in a semester. I made a mental note to check in, physically, the next day to see how things were faring. Maybe the cookie DID know something, maybe not. It's JUST a cookie.
Still, I've had enough experience with THESE dessert items to try to keep an open mind.
And the cookie was right. The cat owner's elderly cat had died. I heard the story of the cat's last few days and the continuing story of the remaining cats and the loss felt by the owner. I heard tales of the cat's personality, his little quirks and habits. I heard that THIS moment belonged to that ONE cat, not to the others.
"Be good to a coworker."
Thanks. I'll try to pay better attention so I don't need messages from a cookie to go see a friend.

i'm just waiting on a friend

I thought I would write something new today, to mark the time, but I think I would rather repost one of my old blogs. Please bear with me...
18 years. That's the time it takes to raise a child from infancy and send them out on their own into the big blue yonder. That's how long Sam Johnson was in my life. We met in 1991, with him being part, if not the ringleader, of the Underground Savannah posse that included my soon-to-be husband, Jeff. They, and Bobby Ruggiero and Andy Pena, had a friendship that was a brotherhood. It was tight. Even when they disagreed with something one of them did or said, it just didn't matter. They were a team, with an irreverent television show, the radio world, the Savannah nightlife and culture. I could tell these guys were in it for the duration, no one was getting out alive, I tell ya!

And so, now one of them has gotten out of this band of brothers from other mothers. Sam's big ol' heart, after enduring five years of dialysis, just gave out on him on Sunday. He'd had a great weekend, including zany fortune cookie messages. That's right, plural. His original fortune cookie told him: A nice cake is waiting for you. Of course, he led into the reading of it the usual way, slowly releasing the message, looking it over and announcing "Boom goes the dynamite!" "Yeah, right, what does it really say?" And with a puzzled look, he says "A nice cake is waiting for you." I laughed my self silly, even reading it myself and then laughing more. Whoever heard of such a thing??? He was so taken aback by the seemingly non-fortune that he requested a new cookie... and was graciously granted one after he told his tale. This second cookie told him "You have infinite wisdom and power." "Hey, man, that makes you a superhero!" That made him feel right as rain. I dropped him off at Steed's, then went home for the night.

Saturday, after almost seven hours in Beaufort with my terminally-ill daddy and his family, I came back to town and caught a nap before heading off to a retirement party for a colleague. Then, off I went to Steed's for some karaoke. Sam had called to say he took a cab there, but I had told him I would make sure he got home so he could hold on to his money. I had gone there that night intending to sing, but I just never did. I even had a list of songs in my car that I had planned to do.. but I didn't. I just absorbed the show. There was a birthday party going on for a husband of the Cumulus crowd, and they were a lively bunch. There were several of the regular Saturday night singers. Even Bob and his mom, also known to Sam as "Mom", were there for a rare visit from Midway. And Sam was on top of his game, handling all with his usual mix of aplomb and bravado. I totally enjoyed myself, even though I was just part of the audience this time around. I even snapped a fairly decent photograph (on my cellphone) of Sam with Bob and Mom when they were leaving. Apropos of absolutely nothing, I took the picture. I remember thinking, who knows when they'll all see each other again?

Finally, the end of the shift has arrived. Last call for alcohol, for songs, for hanging out at Steed's. Gina is about to fall over, her feet hurt so badly. She reminds Sam she had set aside a plate for him from the cookout earlier. She even saved him some cake. Pineapple upside-down cake. One of his favorites, one he had been thinking about lately. Nice cake. Using his phone, I took a shot of him with his "Nice cake", us grinning like fools about the in-joke. I even said to him, on the ride to his place in Garden City, that he should play those numbers on the back of that fortune. After all, how many fortune cookie messages are found to be true?? Yeah, that would be cool. So, at 2:30am, I drop him off at his place, with our "Love ya, girl" "Love you too, Sam" hanging in the air. I stay a moment, making sure he gets inside safely before I take my tired self home. And that was the last I saw of him. He tried at some point to forward the "Nice cake" picture from his cell to mine, but it didn't take. I figured I would have him resend it the next time we talked.

And now, he's to be buried on Saturday. 42 years old, gone already. So many future plans, all on hold now. He was very much looking forward to a family reunion in Orlando in December. He was even going to do the odious task of going through the big box of family photos his sister had and putting them in albums for the reunion. He was going to Dragon*Con again with myself and the Delongs. He was going to go through his blogs for the past five years and publish a book of the best of them, at the urging of his college professor, Dr. H. He was going to finish his paralegal degree from South University. He was going to do all these time-consuming projects and more... but time stopped for him.

I still don't believe he's really gone. I guess I'll have to accept it at Steed's when his hand isn't on the microphone, his voice isn't ringing through the speakers, his presence isn't all over the room.