Oh Those Family Photos!

There we are. The Fab Four. 1964. There I am, on the right. LOOK AT THAT OUTFIT! I remember the day the photographer came to our home for the pictures. We were in the living room. My mother made me wear a bozo suit: pink top, HUGE white bow with pink polka dots and a skirt to match. I don't know how I managed a smile after the FIT I pitched over the outfit. A clown suit, something you'd see on the monkey next to an organ grinder. Hop, hop, scratch armpit.

I remember those clothes with chagrin. Looking at them now, they don't look so bad. It's funny how a powerful memory, something that feels written in stone, can change under the hard scrutiny of present day. It makes me wonder if the things we remember are as true as we think they are.

Back to the Light

It's hard to see through the fence to the other side. There are plants, flowers, sunshine, my life before losing my Mom and Dad, and my before-death-became-real self. Grief is the fence, blocking me from that former self.

Grief is like a cave you fall into. There is no light, no escape from the pain of loss. The light that can be seen through the fence is the result of lots of hard work, trying to get back to my former life. The life I had before those deaths is over. I just can't let go.

Happy at the Dog Park

Life is hard sometimes. There's conflict, I don't understand things, I repeat mistakes. Sometimes it sucks -- but there's happiness at the dog park.

No matter how awful I feel when I get there, a good hour and a half of watching my two good friends have fun dilutes whatever troubles I have.

Our dog park is huge. It's larger than a football field. Collies love to run but they also love being free. Sometimes, watching them, I can see them in the hills of Scotland, doing the sheepy jobs they were bred for.

They are loyal friends, too; none of this here today and gone tomorrow nonsense. There are no misunderstandings between us. I love them dearly, feed them, take them for freedom and exercise every day and in return they make me feel that life is worth living. I call that a pretty good trade. (Because you and I might not know each other, I feel the need to tell you that it's not that I don't have anything else in my life, it's that I can accept a difficult and troubled world that also has something as wonderful as a collie in it.)

Having walked alongside both my parents through illness and up to death's door, I worry about my own old age. I have one son, whereas my parents had 4 children. So I've asked my son this: "When I get old and you are making my decisions, I don't care where I live. I can live in a cab-over camper on a pickup truck as long as I have a collie." We've both agreed that life, for me, would be a wan and wilted thing without a grand collie dog at my side.

Quilt 'n' Guilt

During my visit to L.A. my niece came over to her Mom's house and showed me some quilts she had done (photos,) and this quilt, her first. I pretended it was for me, making a clowning, "Oh, for ME? How kind!" I started to hand it back to her and she said, "I was hoping you'd like it. I brought it for you, but if you'd hated it, I would have kept it."

So I feel a little guilty taking this perfectly beautiful quilt, her first real one, but greed took over and I accepted it. Isn't it bright and lovely? Could you have handed it back?

I used to quilt, when I was in my 30's, and now she's in her 30's and quilts. It was too wonderful to resist.

She's really taking off with the craft and it's lovely to see. YAY for family, yay for my niece, yay for me.

My Sister's House

Here's a photo of my Dad as a boy. He was born in 1927. I can't get over how cute he was. Such a serious little guy. I love the suit, the socks, the hair...everything.

I went down to the San Fernando Valley to visit my sister. This was a vacation from my everyday life, not a trip to go-see-do everything possible. We sat and talked, we played with my brother's boy, a sassy 6 year old. We ate at a wonderful restaurants and we walked the mall together. I had a wonderful time both being in the present and strolling through the past with her.

There's nothing that compares with visiting my sister. She has lived in the same house now for over 30 years. I feel the same comfort and sameness I used to feel at my folks' house. Nothing had changed and I would sleep in peace there, sure of my self and the world around me. My sister's house has become a refuge like that for me now...a shelter from some of the changes and losses in my life. We laugh, we eat too much, we remember with tears in our eyes. Bless her heart for being open and generous with her love and time. Those are the things that matter in life.

My sister has tons of old family photos. I took pictures of those pictures with my beloved digital camera. With lots of editing, many of my pictures now look better than the originals.

There's nothing like talking with my sister. We have nearly the same past. We remember much of the same things. We share a world view, we share the same genes. However hard the world is, at least I have my sister.