What God has joined together, let no one separate. (Matthew 19:6)
It was an odd feeling being back in a church after all this time. Granted I was in one not so long ago for Meg's wedding, but standing at the front of a church and sitting in a pew are two different perspectives. Usually, a very reverent feeling comes over me when I walk into a church. Maybe a mellowed out type of "Ahhhh" Choir of angels singing feeling we hear described so much. But the choir of angels must stay in the church, and thus I always walk out without them. No "new" or "reborn" feeling accompanies me as I finish my days. Melissa and Luke's wedding on Saturday was an odd exception.
I walked into the church and no choir of angels overwhelmed me with feeling. I sat in my pew, watching the violinist, thinking about all the things to be done immediately following the ceremony. Alter flowers to be transported, all the overnight luggage I had stored in my car and how I was going to find the owners of it AND get it into a room before the reception and the valets whisking my car away. I had spent the morning with the bride, bridesmaids and the bride's family, so there was no "gaspy" feeling as they appeared at the church door for the first time. To be honest, no overwhelmy feelings at all.
I knew the background of the church and how they were allowed to hold the wedding there only b/c Luke's pastor and someone named Steve Hayes (Amy, don't foget to be thankful to him! :) ) pulling strings. So, the two ministers at the front of the church didn't surprise me either. There was to be no group reciting of the Lord's Prayer or singing of Amazing Grace, which usually always swell the "churchy feeling" inside me. To be honest, I was a little disappointed. Maybe church was what I needed. Maybe the last year or so of pleading, crying, questioning, praying, unrest and unbalance with God could be soothed and eased...almost lightbulbed by a little visit to church. And while the idea of looking for that in a normal Sunday congregation doesn't appeal to me, and so far the one-on-one relationship wasn't working, maybe being in the church for other reasons would get me...us...back on track. But, no, just violin and organ and the low buzz of conversation as everyone waited for the service. I sat quietly, flashing back to Tapp's funeral. The drive from Greensboro to Chapel Hill with Neil - discussing why he "didn't want to date me". The knot in my stomach as I tried not to cry or yell. The service, where as I listened to them talk about our former donor and his demise to cancer so fast, where he reached over to hold my hand as I cried and to steady him as he tried not to. And how he didn't want to let go over my hand when we left and neither of us wanted the drive to end.
Luke's minister, Susan Andrews, performed most of the service and I was taken with her attitude. From my educated "intuition", I wasn't sure how "religious" Melissa was (in the church-going, Bible believing sense), but it seemed that Luke was. He'd been attending Church in Bethesda since he was ten (we would find out) and his family and Ms. Andrews were close. What I was most struck with was the way she addressed Luke, Melissa and the family and friends before her, as if she'd known us all her whole life. The service was nice. Luke picked a hymn that was his favorite and one I'd sang many times at youth group and on youth retreats. It was one of my friend Jill's favorites, Lord of the Dance. I remember the energy we used to put into the song. How we sounded almost like angels singing it, and how while one half of the congregation was (what seemed) very , very fast, the other half was very, very slow. Our minister used to always tell us all (somewhere around the third verse) to speed up. :) Or maybe they told us before we started, but it never seemed to matter, those that could breathe fast, sung fast and those that couldn't took their time and finished shortly behind the rest of us! :) (I always got sucked into whichever section I was in! :) )
She began the Pastor's Charge by telling us all what Luke and Melissa liked best about one another, and then describing the two things she charged them to have, to make a good, lasting relationship. The first was love. To always remember the things they had said they loved about one another, even when they didn't like one another. The second, she began was religion.
So, here it was. The sales pitch. There is one in every church. Because churches, although their nature is honorable, are, after all, businesses. "Blah, Blah, Blah percentages of all people who worship together remain married." And then, just as I was about to tune her out, things changed. She began talking about how religion, in the old sense of the word, meant believing in something. Melissa said later, the whole time she spoke she was looking at Melissa. "She's knows I'm not religious and wanted it to fit me, as well as Luke." And then she got to Matt 19:6. And although I'd heard it at almost every wedding I'd ever been to, it rang different in my ears this time. "Luke and Melissa were meant to be standing here today," she said. She had us think of all the ways their lives could have turned, but that God made them for each other.
"That which God places together, will never be separated."
And then it happened. No choir of angels, no Simpsons Opening Theme "Ahhh's", but the room got lighter. My heart got lighter. Just a shade. Could it be? That if in heaven, if in the books where it was written long beofre I was born on how my life would be, another was placed next to me that nothing - no other women, no long distances, no problems, no pain - NOTHING would keep us apart? That if God deems it so, it is? No matter what? And as Melissa said, when talking about the only time she cried during the wedding, "I was sitting next to Luke when he told Ms. Andrews all the things he loved about me, but no matter how many times I've heard him tell people those things, to hear it come from his minister, to hear it from someone else. I cried."
Sunday, November 24, 2002
Sunday, November 17, 2002
A song and a letter - from me. For release.
If Not You
I'll admit, I can be hard to please
Now and then I disagree just to
disagree
There are times I want what I want
'Cause I want it
There are things I don't know I have
when I've got 'em
But when I look at you I ask myself
How could there be somebody else
If not you - who
Is ever gonna make me happy
If not love - what
Is it I feel for you
If I search the world
Over, under, still I wonder
Who would I be lookin for
yeah, who
If not you
When I'm stuck and feel locked up,
you turn the key
You minimize all of my insecurities
You always seem to know what I need
when I need it
And when I say I need only you...
Believe it
Of all the many myseteries yet to come
I've solved the most important one
If not you - who
Is ever gonna make me happy
If not love - what
Is it I feel for you
If I search the world
Over, under, still I wonder
Who would I be lookin for
yeah, who
If not you
There are times I want what I want
'cause I want it
There are things I don't know I have when
I've got 'em
But when I look at you I ask myself
How could there be somebody else
If not you - who
Is ever gonna make me happy
If not love - what
Is it I feel for you
If I search the world
Over, under, still I wonder
who would I be lookin for
yeah, who
If not you
If not you, if not you - who
(Jo Dee Messina - Burn album)
Hi. Well, I finished painting my bathroom today. I love the color. I figured it would be cathartic, throwing myself into painting, but as you know I'm a little obsessive (if that's the right word) when I'm working on things that don't turn out just right. And even though it's my first time painting from beginning to end (Mom wants to know where she went wrong), I still wanted it to be perfect - no brush strokes, no white spots where I taped off the tile onto the wall or the spots of paint that kissed the ceiling when I inadvertantly lost awareness of the brush/roller. You know how I have these ideas in my head and get upset when they don't materialize the way I have them planned. I think there's a lapse in my mind to body connection! :)
I've wanted to call you alot lately. Let you know about the bathroom (it reminded me of how you wanted to re-do that old house on the corner of Friendly, just as I did), how I feel now that Jill's gone - even thought we didn't always get along and toward the end I was counting down the days til she left. About how frustrating the job hunt is and contemplate the alternatives. I picked up the phone to tell you about my trip to Amy's and Fager's and to talk about how weird it is to feel like you're in college again, but yet too old to be hanging out in bars. When the moment hits you, like it did for you that night at the Tiger, when you realize you've outgrown the things you used to do, but don't quite fit into the things you're supposed to have grown into. When you're not quite ready to let go of your dream for a trade-in "reality".
I wanted to rag you about the Raiders losing, but wasn't sure how you'd take it. (Looks like they need Jon back, huh? Ready to give into Michael and become a Bucs fan? ;) ) and rub into you that the Eagles were winning (just to hear you say "Good squad you got there. They lost to the Colts, Man!"). To see how recruiting went or if you're practicing inside today for hours on end because it's raining. Let you know how Yoga is going (yes, know Gaski and I can hang out!) and that I'm taking kickboxing. Ask you why every day I feel like my body is going from 27 to 80 and when I developed hips and an *ss. Matter of fact, there's a lot of moments in alot of hours in alot of days I think of something I want to share with you. And then it hits me...you're not there for me.
It's almost been a year since I've seen your face, although I see it every day in my mind. I hear your voice like you're next to me and quite often forget that I can't just pick up the phone and let you know when I'll be home. Being here doesn't feel like reality. More like a visit than a permanent living situation, but I've told you all about that before...one of those late night 3 or 4 hour phone calls. Even when I was working, which felt like so long ago, I always felt as if I'd come back to my apartment - different job in my old city. I keep thinking if only I could make it seem real, you know? Maybe I could adjust to it fully. Maybe it's just an unrealistic hope things might go back to the way they were. You always say I always land on my feet. It seems like life has been stopped for the last year, while all around me it's swirling at a pace so fast they can't keep up for everyone else. And no matter what I'm doing mine won't jump start. Just starts and stalls.
Anyway, I applied for a training job in Fayetteville (yes, I know. Close to the home of Central Cafe and inbreeding! :) ). Never thought I'd do that again, but it's more teaching than working and it's D3, so no traveling really. I'm also slowly but surely completing the forms for my licensure in N.J. I've also applied for a couple jobs around here in Development, either non-profit or universities. I stopped seeing Phyl. I don't know if I'll go back. At first I stopped because of the money, but then she offered to accomodate me. Now, I think it's more just because you can only talk negative and about the same things bothering you for so long before it gets old to everyone listening and I'm just not sure what could be said that's gonna help. Even I don't want to listen to me anymore! ;)
Physically, I'm doing o.k. I am a little worried b/c I haven't been back to see the doctor for the testing I was supposed to have for the thing we talked about a couple months before I moved. I went off the medication for a couple reasons, but the pains I was having before surgery came back recently, so I might have to go back soon. Living in a house with 3 cats isn't helping my allergies, which I think is making me tired all the time! You thought I slept alot before, you should see me now! I sleep about 12 hours a day and am pretty lethargic from the OTC drugs I take at night. Remember how I used to be in the mornings? And bathroom trips? Now, stretch that out over all day! :)
Speaking of cats, how's my little noisy sweetheart? Does he bother James and the new tennis guy like he used to bother us? It's weird to think of someone else living in my apartment. Kristina wrote the other day and mentioned it. Great place to wait out rain delays! :) Mike said he's talked to Shane, have you? How's my little Ryan doing? (I still call him my little freshamn pitcher even though he's a...5th year? true senior? by now.) I know you said Butter is working for the city now. Does he like it? You'll have to tell him I said Hi! I don't know how to find him, or I'd do it myself (although I'm not sure if he'd even want to talk to me). Meg said Matteo is teaching. I think it's great! He always wanted to work with kids (according to Bridget - who I'm sure is happy about your current situation). I'm glad to see (and hope the appearances mean) he's pulled his life together. I think about Donahue alot. I hope he's doing well. Lisa too.
Part of me hopes you are doing great and the other part of me hopes you are miserable. (And I guess as long as you're with Gaski and still in your job, part of you always will be! :) ) I wish I could tell you...(Austin Powers Voice)"anything at all"...but mostly that I'm o.k.,moving on with a good life, back "on my feet" and over you. Wish I could...
Anyway, kiss D.C. for me (and feed him some cheese). I Miss You.
Love,
Jenn
If Not You
I'll admit, I can be hard to please
Now and then I disagree just to
disagree
There are times I want what I want
'Cause I want it
There are things I don't know I have
when I've got 'em
But when I look at you I ask myself
How could there be somebody else
If not you - who
Is ever gonna make me happy
If not love - what
Is it I feel for you
If I search the world
Over, under, still I wonder
Who would I be lookin for
yeah, who
If not you
When I'm stuck and feel locked up,
you turn the key
You minimize all of my insecurities
You always seem to know what I need
when I need it
And when I say I need only you...
Believe it
Of all the many myseteries yet to come
I've solved the most important one
If not you - who
Is ever gonna make me happy
If not love - what
Is it I feel for you
If I search the world
Over, under, still I wonder
Who would I be lookin for
yeah, who
If not you
There are times I want what I want
'cause I want it
There are things I don't know I have when
I've got 'em
But when I look at you I ask myself
How could there be somebody else
If not you - who
Is ever gonna make me happy
If not love - what
Is it I feel for you
If I search the world
Over, under, still I wonder
who would I be lookin for
yeah, who
If not you
If not you, if not you - who
(Jo Dee Messina - Burn album)
Hi. Well, I finished painting my bathroom today. I love the color. I figured it would be cathartic, throwing myself into painting, but as you know I'm a little obsessive (if that's the right word) when I'm working on things that don't turn out just right. And even though it's my first time painting from beginning to end (Mom wants to know where she went wrong), I still wanted it to be perfect - no brush strokes, no white spots where I taped off the tile onto the wall or the spots of paint that kissed the ceiling when I inadvertantly lost awareness of the brush/roller. You know how I have these ideas in my head and get upset when they don't materialize the way I have them planned. I think there's a lapse in my mind to body connection! :)
I've wanted to call you alot lately. Let you know about the bathroom (it reminded me of how you wanted to re-do that old house on the corner of Friendly, just as I did), how I feel now that Jill's gone - even thought we didn't always get along and toward the end I was counting down the days til she left. About how frustrating the job hunt is and contemplate the alternatives. I picked up the phone to tell you about my trip to Amy's and Fager's and to talk about how weird it is to feel like you're in college again, but yet too old to be hanging out in bars. When the moment hits you, like it did for you that night at the Tiger, when you realize you've outgrown the things you used to do, but don't quite fit into the things you're supposed to have grown into. When you're not quite ready to let go of your dream for a trade-in "reality".
I wanted to rag you about the Raiders losing, but wasn't sure how you'd take it. (Looks like they need Jon back, huh? Ready to give into Michael and become a Bucs fan? ;) ) and rub into you that the Eagles were winning (just to hear you say "Good squad you got there. They lost to the Colts, Man!"). To see how recruiting went or if you're practicing inside today for hours on end because it's raining. Let you know how Yoga is going (yes, know Gaski and I can hang out!) and that I'm taking kickboxing. Ask you why every day I feel like my body is going from 27 to 80 and when I developed hips and an *ss. Matter of fact, there's a lot of moments in alot of hours in alot of days I think of something I want to share with you. And then it hits me...you're not there for me.
It's almost been a year since I've seen your face, although I see it every day in my mind. I hear your voice like you're next to me and quite often forget that I can't just pick up the phone and let you know when I'll be home. Being here doesn't feel like reality. More like a visit than a permanent living situation, but I've told you all about that before...one of those late night 3 or 4 hour phone calls. Even when I was working, which felt like so long ago, I always felt as if I'd come back to my apartment - different job in my old city. I keep thinking if only I could make it seem real, you know? Maybe I could adjust to it fully. Maybe it's just an unrealistic hope things might go back to the way they were. You always say I always land on my feet. It seems like life has been stopped for the last year, while all around me it's swirling at a pace so fast they can't keep up for everyone else. And no matter what I'm doing mine won't jump start. Just starts and stalls.
Anyway, I applied for a training job in Fayetteville (yes, I know. Close to the home of Central Cafe and inbreeding! :) ). Never thought I'd do that again, but it's more teaching than working and it's D3, so no traveling really. I'm also slowly but surely completing the forms for my licensure in N.J. I've also applied for a couple jobs around here in Development, either non-profit or universities. I stopped seeing Phyl. I don't know if I'll go back. At first I stopped because of the money, but then she offered to accomodate me. Now, I think it's more just because you can only talk negative and about the same things bothering you for so long before it gets old to everyone listening and I'm just not sure what could be said that's gonna help. Even I don't want to listen to me anymore! ;)
Physically, I'm doing o.k. I am a little worried b/c I haven't been back to see the doctor for the testing I was supposed to have for the thing we talked about a couple months before I moved. I went off the medication for a couple reasons, but the pains I was having before surgery came back recently, so I might have to go back soon. Living in a house with 3 cats isn't helping my allergies, which I think is making me tired all the time! You thought I slept alot before, you should see me now! I sleep about 12 hours a day and am pretty lethargic from the OTC drugs I take at night. Remember how I used to be in the mornings? And bathroom trips? Now, stretch that out over all day! :)
Speaking of cats, how's my little noisy sweetheart? Does he bother James and the new tennis guy like he used to bother us? It's weird to think of someone else living in my apartment. Kristina wrote the other day and mentioned it. Great place to wait out rain delays! :) Mike said he's talked to Shane, have you? How's my little Ryan doing? (I still call him my little freshamn pitcher even though he's a...5th year? true senior? by now.) I know you said Butter is working for the city now. Does he like it? You'll have to tell him I said Hi! I don't know how to find him, or I'd do it myself (although I'm not sure if he'd even want to talk to me). Meg said Matteo is teaching. I think it's great! He always wanted to work with kids (according to Bridget - who I'm sure is happy about your current situation). I'm glad to see (and hope the appearances mean) he's pulled his life together. I think about Donahue alot. I hope he's doing well. Lisa too.
Part of me hopes you are doing great and the other part of me hopes you are miserable. (And I guess as long as you're with Gaski and still in your job, part of you always will be! :) ) I wish I could tell you...(Austin Powers Voice)"anything at all"...but mostly that I'm o.k.,moving on with a good life, back "on my feet" and over you. Wish I could...
Anyway, kiss D.C. for me (and feed him some cheese). I Miss You.
Love,
Jenn
Saturday, November 16, 2002
For Kare:
She's Got You
I've got your picture that you gave to me
And it's signed "with love," just like it used to be
The only thing different, the only thing new
I've got your picture, she's got you
I've got the records that we used to share
And they still sound the same as when you were here
The only thing different, the only thing new,
I've got the records, she's got you
I've got your memory, or has it got me?
I really don't know, but I know it won't let me be
I've got your class ring; that proved you cared
And it still looks the same as when you gave it dear
The only thing different, the only thing new
I've got these little things, she's got you
She's Got You
I've got your picture that you gave to me
And it's signed "with love," just like it used to be
The only thing different, the only thing new
I've got your picture, she's got you
I've got the records that we used to share
And they still sound the same as when you were here
The only thing different, the only thing new,
I've got the records, she's got you
I've got your memory, or has it got me?
I really don't know, but I know it won't let me be
I've got your class ring; that proved you cared
And it still looks the same as when you gave it dear
The only thing different, the only thing new
I've got these little things, she's got you
Monday, November 11, 2002
Hi Everyone!
They say those who do not study history are doomed to repeat it. (To which I think I once said if I had a teacher like one of my former Football players Mitch, I'd repeat it over and over again! :)..but..) But how long must we repeat a history we do not understand? And maybe there is no past lesson there for us to learn from. Trailblazers are so named b/c they head off down a path never traveled before and along the way have to deal with the events they encounter with no reference for how to handle it.
In the last few days, I've regressed back into my fate vs. God / our control over destiny debate. A recent incident in my immediate family has me wondering, how long do we suffer for past bad decisions? And why don't the rewards from good decisions last as long?
This weekend I met a whole new group of people when I was visiting a friend. One of the people I met made a decision in his life which took him away from the woman he loved for 10-ish years. Upon returning, the happily reunited couple learned that the woman had inoperable cancer. I am sure the man wonders why, after his bad decision took him away from her for ten years, he has to face the prospect of losing her again. And although the cancer is not his fault, I wonder if he blames himself every day for the ten years he took away from "their" time; When if she goes he'll mourn for her and the time they could have had together.
My mother last week discovered she'd done something she thought would help us that ended up triggering the uncovering of a past mistake which will result in months and months of stress and hardship for our family. She hasn't slept since, has a constant nausea and I'm sure beats herself up every day wondering why one "mistake" keeps haunting her/dad/us.
We all know (very well, I'm sure) my constant resurgance of questions into what I did to get myself into such a dead end feeling life. And it just makes me wonder, when does it get better? When do we finally hae history to learn from? When do we look at what got us to where we are in life and say "Ah-Ha! that is where I took a wrong turn!" and we backtrack to get us back to the point we were supposed to have been at long ago. This weekend before going out, we were watching Animal Planet. It seemed when the dogs got to a place (in this awful event called Dirt Dog...like a prairie dog tunnel) they didn't want to be or didn't like the obstacle in front of them, they veered down a different path. Eventually they'd hit a dead end and immediately scamper back to where the obstacle was, overcome it and move forward. How did they know where they went wrong?
In a popular train of thought for life, which I call the intersection theory, we have many paths down which we could travel, all leading us to the major points in life we're supposed to hit, but each of them getting us there a different way. Some may take us a little longer to reach, but eventually we hit a major crossroad where we we would end up whether we got there in three yers or thirty-three. So, what happens when you want to take the fastest route to your next crossroad, but end up headed down a dirt path leading to seemingly nothing? How do you know where the spot was you made a wrong turn?
Or, when you think you are going the wrong way and end up exactly where you are supposed to be? Usually, there are landmarks. The little reassurances that let us know we are headed the right way. And when we are going the wrong way, we usually know. We see a sing (or many) that let us know we are headed the wrong way, or sometimes...it's just that feeling in your gut you need to ask for directions. Lately it just seems there are no experts. Just lots of people who think they know where to send you, but you end up lost again. Then, you are even more lost, and not only can't you figure out where you went wrong, you can't figure out where to go to get headed the right way again!
And what if there is no turning around? For the man earlier, he will never get those years with his wife back. And who knows exactly how many he's got left with her. And even enjoying the time he spends with her, enjoying every minute they DO have, he will always know he could've made a decision which allowed him more time. How long will he have to live with that? For my mother, it will be months and months of heartache, stress, and struggle for all of us. And even though the mistake shouldn't be a major one, it should be resolved, if it's not, it could change our lives forever and not for the better. And if we should lose everything, how long will she have to live with the notion that one little decision changed our lives forever?
Maybe my prediciment is the best of all. I still have no idea where I went wrong. No idea what happened whihc derailed my life so horribly and led it into the middle of nothing. There is not one point I can look at and say, I shouldn't have done that! And maybe that's better than knowing for sure where you went wrong. Then again, there are many points I could look at and say, maybe that was where I got off track. But there is no going back to it and starting again - for there is no way to get back there; There is no turning around and there is no one to ask. Just forging ahead and knowing it could take me years to get back to the point I should've been by now. And the thinking about all the life I will miss by taking a wrong turn.
They say those who do not study history are doomed to repeat it. (To which I think I once said if I had a teacher like one of my former Football players Mitch, I'd repeat it over and over again! :)..but..) But how long must we repeat a history we do not understand? And maybe there is no past lesson there for us to learn from. Trailblazers are so named b/c they head off down a path never traveled before and along the way have to deal with the events they encounter with no reference for how to handle it.
In the last few days, I've regressed back into my fate vs. God / our control over destiny debate. A recent incident in my immediate family has me wondering, how long do we suffer for past bad decisions? And why don't the rewards from good decisions last as long?
This weekend I met a whole new group of people when I was visiting a friend. One of the people I met made a decision in his life which took him away from the woman he loved for 10-ish years. Upon returning, the happily reunited couple learned that the woman had inoperable cancer. I am sure the man wonders why, after his bad decision took him away from her for ten years, he has to face the prospect of losing her again. And although the cancer is not his fault, I wonder if he blames himself every day for the ten years he took away from "their" time; When if she goes he'll mourn for her and the time they could have had together.
My mother last week discovered she'd done something she thought would help us that ended up triggering the uncovering of a past mistake which will result in months and months of stress and hardship for our family. She hasn't slept since, has a constant nausea and I'm sure beats herself up every day wondering why one "mistake" keeps haunting her/dad/us.
We all know (very well, I'm sure) my constant resurgance of questions into what I did to get myself into such a dead end feeling life. And it just makes me wonder, when does it get better? When do we finally hae history to learn from? When do we look at what got us to where we are in life and say "Ah-Ha! that is where I took a wrong turn!" and we backtrack to get us back to the point we were supposed to have been at long ago. This weekend before going out, we were watching Animal Planet. It seemed when the dogs got to a place (in this awful event called Dirt Dog...like a prairie dog tunnel) they didn't want to be or didn't like the obstacle in front of them, they veered down a different path. Eventually they'd hit a dead end and immediately scamper back to where the obstacle was, overcome it and move forward. How did they know where they went wrong?
In a popular train of thought for life, which I call the intersection theory, we have many paths down which we could travel, all leading us to the major points in life we're supposed to hit, but each of them getting us there a different way. Some may take us a little longer to reach, but eventually we hit a major crossroad where we we would end up whether we got there in three yers or thirty-three. So, what happens when you want to take the fastest route to your next crossroad, but end up headed down a dirt path leading to seemingly nothing? How do you know where the spot was you made a wrong turn?
Or, when you think you are going the wrong way and end up exactly where you are supposed to be? Usually, there are landmarks. The little reassurances that let us know we are headed the right way. And when we are going the wrong way, we usually know. We see a sing (or many) that let us know we are headed the wrong way, or sometimes...it's just that feeling in your gut you need to ask for directions. Lately it just seems there are no experts. Just lots of people who think they know where to send you, but you end up lost again. Then, you are even more lost, and not only can't you figure out where you went wrong, you can't figure out where to go to get headed the right way again!
And what if there is no turning around? For the man earlier, he will never get those years with his wife back. And who knows exactly how many he's got left with her. And even enjoying the time he spends with her, enjoying every minute they DO have, he will always know he could've made a decision which allowed him more time. How long will he have to live with that? For my mother, it will be months and months of heartache, stress, and struggle for all of us. And even though the mistake shouldn't be a major one, it should be resolved, if it's not, it could change our lives forever and not for the better. And if we should lose everything, how long will she have to live with the notion that one little decision changed our lives forever?
Maybe my prediciment is the best of all. I still have no idea where I went wrong. No idea what happened whihc derailed my life so horribly and led it into the middle of nothing. There is not one point I can look at and say, I shouldn't have done that! And maybe that's better than knowing for sure where you went wrong. Then again, there are many points I could look at and say, maybe that was where I got off track. But there is no going back to it and starting again - for there is no way to get back there; There is no turning around and there is no one to ask. Just forging ahead and knowing it could take me years to get back to the point I should've been by now. And the thinking about all the life I will miss by taking a wrong turn.
Saturday, November 02, 2002
In light of the recent holiday....
What ever happened to Halloween?!?!?!
Every year, when I was little, I wanted to be something "pretty" and "feminine". Usually a princess, angel, ballerina...I remember being a witch one year, a genie in high school, a devil (But I wore a one-piece spandex suit and a red v-neck gold sweater...so I was hardly scary! :) )...and I have pictures of a year-old Jennifer as Raggedy Anne. Apparently, no one could convince me a "pretty" or "feminine" costume doesn't bode well in 10 degree weather wandering around outside begging for candy!
The other thing I remember well are kids. No matter what, our doorbell was always ringing. Every five minutes it seemed like. I remember running into friends, neighbors, or kids from school as I wandered from house-to-house...almost running...to see how much candy I could collect - how many houses we could get to - before the parent escort told us it was enough. We'd race home, dump out our pillow cases full of candy (I know we have little plastic pumpkins, but I don't remember using them - they didn't hold enough candy! ) and start the excahnge. "Ooo...I want your Reese's!" "O.K., I'll trade ya for your Mary Janes!" (I loved those.) would ring through the house. Then there was the pile of "other" stuff - candy no one really liked so we gave it to our parents, the money for Unicef, and homemade stuff like popcorn balls and little halloween bags of cookies, or worse...apples!
Now, I'm not, nor have I ever been a real big fan of sweets. As a matter of fact, I think my sister and Dad enjoyed my Halloween trick or treating more than I did - they always reaped the benefits. For me it was all about "winning"! (Does this surprise ANY of you?!?!?!) I wanted to get the most candy and the best kind of candy and I engaged in the trading for what I liked, but rarely did I eat alot of my stolen loot. The thrill was in the getting. (In adulthood, this has materialized in shopping.)
And the costumes. I loved picking out a costume, getting dressed up, getting to "play" the part for one night. I could be whatever I wanted to be - however pretty or heavenly, or evil, able to grant wishes, or um...raggedy? that I wanted to be. I took alot of time and effort to pick out my costume. It was a reflect of me...and not anyone else. You can learn alot about me by looking at my costumes over the years. I still do love picking out costumes. Last year? I went as a weird combination in a black t-shirt that read "I Like Dorks", red fake pleather...really cotton ish...pants, with glasses with tape in the middle and pigtails. This year? We did nothing.
That's what Halloween has become. Nothing. I would like to think it's the growing up. Maybe a metaphor of turning the "dreams" of a costume into the "reality" of a current life. (Think of this...what would Donovan McNabb dress up as now, if every year as a kid he went as a football player and now he is one?) That adulthood and reality IS ordering pizza and sitting around looking through Bridal magazines and planning a wedding, instead of putting on a costume and heading out...or inviting people over and staying in, costumed and escaping.
But it's not just me, and it's not just age. Our doorbell rang a total of 10 times. We bought tons of candy and gave out little. Instead of infrequent lulls in "action", the streets were dotted with infrequent trick-or-treaters. That instead of opening the door and hearing "Hi Jenn!" ringing out once, to see the neighborhood you know come to your door chatting and hurrying to reach every house before it's too late. (BTW, Trish's step-brothers were a Cat in the Hat and a Horse Head. Cutest 13 year-old costumes in their group...well, maybe save Enrique Inglasias! :) )
Are we really that afraid of our society that we no longer feel safe taking our children door-to-door for free candy? Do we really mistrust our neighbors SO much that childhood memories (and possible frostbite scars) are inconsequential? I remember the first time the news informed us of people putting razors in apples. Or that people were using syringes to inject poison into candy. "Parents" warned the news (Dallas news, at that time in life), "Be wary of homemade treats unless they are from people you know and inspect ALL of your children's candy for tiny puncture holes in the wrappers BEFORE your children eat any." So, off we went, unable to sneak the occasional pieces from our cases as we walked from house to house. Most all of the houses handed out wrapped candy, much to our delight - no more apples OR popcorn balls! :) But, I'm afraid this was the beginning of the end for halloween.
This year, I bought no costume. Armed with my black leggins and turtleneck, I threw on a previously bought (on sale the year before, but not worn) Tiara, and armed with my septor, donned a sash that read "Miss Understood", hopped in my car, and drove to Mannyunk for a night of Bridal magazines and talk of weddings and a little Thrusday night t.v. I arrived home before my crown turned into a pumpkin feeling as if it was just another day. Just about to fear all is lost for halloween, Dad begun telling me the story of the lone pumpkin I'd missed. He arrived at our door decked out as a pumpkin and about knee high to a grasshopper. Dad in tow, the little pumpkin stood at the door. "Say Trick or Treat" urged the elder. As Dad tells it, he uttered something in young person speech resembling trick-or-treat (whether it was unintelligable or Dad's REALLY deaf we don't know). Dad replied, "Happy Halloween to you!! Don't you look spiffy in your costume?!?" (Cause Dad's say spiffy) "Now," replied the father of the little pumpkin "hold out your bag." On that note, the little pumpkin then manuvered the threshold and walked right in. Seems there's hope after all.
What ever happened to Halloween?!?!?!
Every year, when I was little, I wanted to be something "pretty" and "feminine". Usually a princess, angel, ballerina...I remember being a witch one year, a genie in high school, a devil (But I wore a one-piece spandex suit and a red v-neck gold sweater...so I was hardly scary! :) )...and I have pictures of a year-old Jennifer as Raggedy Anne. Apparently, no one could convince me a "pretty" or "feminine" costume doesn't bode well in 10 degree weather wandering around outside begging for candy!
The other thing I remember well are kids. No matter what, our doorbell was always ringing. Every five minutes it seemed like. I remember running into friends, neighbors, or kids from school as I wandered from house-to-house...almost running...to see how much candy I could collect - how many houses we could get to - before the parent escort told us it was enough. We'd race home, dump out our pillow cases full of candy (I know we have little plastic pumpkins, but I don't remember using them - they didn't hold enough candy! ) and start the excahnge. "Ooo...I want your Reese's!" "O.K., I'll trade ya for your Mary Janes!" (I loved those.) would ring through the house. Then there was the pile of "other" stuff - candy no one really liked so we gave it to our parents, the money for Unicef, and homemade stuff like popcorn balls and little halloween bags of cookies, or worse...apples!
Now, I'm not, nor have I ever been a real big fan of sweets. As a matter of fact, I think my sister and Dad enjoyed my Halloween trick or treating more than I did - they always reaped the benefits. For me it was all about "winning"! (Does this surprise ANY of you?!?!?!) I wanted to get the most candy and the best kind of candy and I engaged in the trading for what I liked, but rarely did I eat alot of my stolen loot. The thrill was in the getting. (In adulthood, this has materialized in shopping.)
And the costumes. I loved picking out a costume, getting dressed up, getting to "play" the part for one night. I could be whatever I wanted to be - however pretty or heavenly, or evil, able to grant wishes, or um...raggedy? that I wanted to be. I took alot of time and effort to pick out my costume. It was a reflect of me...and not anyone else. You can learn alot about me by looking at my costumes over the years. I still do love picking out costumes. Last year? I went as a weird combination in a black t-shirt that read "I Like Dorks", red fake pleather...really cotton ish...pants, with glasses with tape in the middle and pigtails. This year? We did nothing.
That's what Halloween has become. Nothing. I would like to think it's the growing up. Maybe a metaphor of turning the "dreams" of a costume into the "reality" of a current life. (Think of this...what would Donovan McNabb dress up as now, if every year as a kid he went as a football player and now he is one?) That adulthood and reality IS ordering pizza and sitting around looking through Bridal magazines and planning a wedding, instead of putting on a costume and heading out...or inviting people over and staying in, costumed and escaping.
But it's not just me, and it's not just age. Our doorbell rang a total of 10 times. We bought tons of candy and gave out little. Instead of infrequent lulls in "action", the streets were dotted with infrequent trick-or-treaters. That instead of opening the door and hearing "Hi Jenn!" ringing out once, to see the neighborhood you know come to your door chatting and hurrying to reach every house before it's too late. (BTW, Trish's step-brothers were a Cat in the Hat and a Horse Head. Cutest 13 year-old costumes in their group...well, maybe save Enrique Inglasias! :) )
Are we really that afraid of our society that we no longer feel safe taking our children door-to-door for free candy? Do we really mistrust our neighbors SO much that childhood memories (and possible frostbite scars) are inconsequential? I remember the first time the news informed us of people putting razors in apples. Or that people were using syringes to inject poison into candy. "Parents" warned the news (Dallas news, at that time in life), "Be wary of homemade treats unless they are from people you know and inspect ALL of your children's candy for tiny puncture holes in the wrappers BEFORE your children eat any." So, off we went, unable to sneak the occasional pieces from our cases as we walked from house to house. Most all of the houses handed out wrapped candy, much to our delight - no more apples OR popcorn balls! :) But, I'm afraid this was the beginning of the end for halloween.
This year, I bought no costume. Armed with my black leggins and turtleneck, I threw on a previously bought (on sale the year before, but not worn) Tiara, and armed with my septor, donned a sash that read "Miss Understood", hopped in my car, and drove to Mannyunk for a night of Bridal magazines and talk of weddings and a little Thrusday night t.v. I arrived home before my crown turned into a pumpkin feeling as if it was just another day. Just about to fear all is lost for halloween, Dad begun telling me the story of the lone pumpkin I'd missed. He arrived at our door decked out as a pumpkin and about knee high to a grasshopper. Dad in tow, the little pumpkin stood at the door. "Say Trick or Treat" urged the elder. As Dad tells it, he uttered something in young person speech resembling trick-or-treat (whether it was unintelligable or Dad's REALLY deaf we don't know). Dad replied, "Happy Halloween to you!! Don't you look spiffy in your costume?!?" (Cause Dad's say spiffy) "Now," replied the father of the little pumpkin "hold out your bag." On that note, the little pumpkin then manuvered the threshold and walked right in. Seems there's hope after all.
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