Thursday 13: Views

1. They know they're special: this group of writers and song writers who come together two weekends a year to write by day, sing by night, always catch up, always wind down. Except just one year ago, two days after another unbelievable and wonderful time together, one of them died. Her name is Andrea and she died the day before her award winning essay debuted in Glamour Magazine. Here Andrea is the the back row, the last (cool) woman on the right. And here she will stay forever, a member of this special writer group who calls itself "The Big Yellow."

Blessings, Andrea. We miss you so much.

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Want to meet her? Check out her story in Glamour Magazine:

http://www.glamour.com/magazine/2008/05/essay-winner-surviving-cancer

I PROMISE you once you start you will read every word.

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2. And then there are reminders of the circle of life. This specific reminder comes in the form of one Australian Shepard named Allie. So far she's twice almost chewed my tarot cards and gotten away with it both times because she is quite a doll. (She belongs to my friend Victoria.)

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3. This may be my favorite WEEK of the year. It is clearly and totally spring. When the hosta spikes break though the ground, I know just about everything else is on its way. Here's my view from the couch, looking out to my front yard: 4. And when I turn my head to the right, here's my view from the couch--just a lazy night after a busy day.

.5. This is my ride home from work, once I get off the highway and re-enter the town I live in. Look at those trees just filling themselves in. Lest I forget or get tangled and retangled in my own issues, it's a miracle, isn't it, how those trees recreate themselves year after year.
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6. Just thinking: Who made up the expression "Time Heals" anyway? And how long did it take them to figure that out?
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7.I don't dare guess what kind of tree this is. The truth is I don't know my trees, and maybe I finally will by the end of the summer, because I'm motivated.
.8. I dunno. It just LOOKS like a New England town. Which it is.....

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9. It's just my driveway. And my garden that may or may not thrive this year. I'll be in Provincetown four days out of seven each week this summer, and a garden that can't count on my attention and water gets pretty pissy about it.

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10. Last fall all the tired old shrubs were pulled out from the front of the house. All I managed to do before winter set in was plant some tulips and daffodils. But this spring I will get to landscape it all, starting in just a few days. There is nothing I like better....wait, no, that is not at all true (someday I think we should all blog about SEX!) Let me just say I love to design and then plant. (I'm taking garden here, people, don't let your mind go anywhere else!) I'll share before and after pictures at some point. (Don't go there...!)
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11. I'm beginning to like the way I look. I'm not yet 'kj babe', and I'm not entirely sure I even know HOW to be kj babe, but I want it. I'm working on it.
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12. My mother got a surprise visitor this week. His name is Drew Thomas and his great grandmother held and rocked him for the better part of her afternoon. 93 years separated them. My mother and Mr. Drew gently rocked while four generations of one family looked at one another and smiled.
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13. I'm enjoying my blog so much again. I love when I see new avatars and welcoming comments. Thank you to every one who has stopped by this week. I am approaching 25, 000 comments, and I'm thinking who ever leaves the 25,oooth comment may get a giant award from me. By my estimate, that special occasion may occur sometime this summer or early fall.
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Do you see someone named kj babe waving and blowing kisses your way? I think it might be me.

Animal Wednesday: Emily Learns Another Lesson

It's me, Emily Rabbit. I am hiding in the corner of this drawing. If you don't see me it's because I am hiding.

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I am sad to report that I did not get 50 comments last week and kj refused to pay me $ 5. I was forced to pay myself a $ 5 bill from her wallet. My friend Ms. Bella did try to help me by leaving a lot of comments. So now she is my favorite, along with Marianne of course.

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Here is an important story:

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kj's nephew Andrew had an imaginary friend named Jennifer.

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"She thinks she knows everything," he said. "I can't stand her."

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So one day Andrew volunteered to help Jennifer wash her hair and he drowned her.

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kj asked him if he felt bad and he smiled, "No, not at all."

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The moral of this story is don't bother having imaginary friends if you don't like them, because it will be just a waste of shampoo.

More of the Same(s)

Do you believe in coincidence? I do. But not all the time. A few weeks ago I wrote about grief and loss. Not a happy ending and not easy to understand. And then last week a 10 year old little girl asked me to read her story. And because she was so proud of it, I offered to type it up for her, make it into something she could keep and relish.

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Then I read her story. The 10 year old in me understood perfectly. It's always good to get a happy reminder that sometimes things work out just fine.

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Best Friends Forever
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Chapter 1
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Once upon a time there was two baby girls born in the same hospital, same month, same day, same year, same second. They were practicly sisters. There names are Searah and Tori. But when they were 3 years old they were separated for 14 years.
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Chapter 2
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They met!! When they were 16. In the mall. They were in the same area. They were so happy. They tried to spend the rest of their lives. Until one day there was a tornado. There parents died.
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Chapter 3
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They spent the rest of their lives together. They became sisters and they protected each other. Ever since there parents died they stood together 24-7 (24 hours. 7 days). They loved each other.
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Chapter 4
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Well. The girls got married to handsome men. And they both had a beautiful baby girl. Tori’s baby girl is named Isalisa and Searah’s baby girl’s name is Alison.
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Chapter 5
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They have fun together. They love eachother. And they lived happily ever after.

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*the typist decided not to correct the emerging writer's spelling and grammar.

Not Bad...

I don't claim to be an experienced gardener, but what I lack in knowledge I try to make up for in effort and enthusiasm. And it should be said that sometimes a photo somehow captures the best of something that is actually less than it appears. That is probably true in this case, but this was a shot of my front yard last summer. And I think it's pretty neat: neat enough to motivate me all over again this year....

My Town: Routes 5 & 10

There's nothing I like better than gallivanting along back roads. And there's no time I like better than mid-April when the trees have started to show their colors, but only slightly.

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So today, in a rare mix of leisure and opportunity, I traveled along the back road of Route 5-1o, accompanied by my Canon Power Shot SX10. I was in search of one tall and one round shrub to begin the landscaping of my front yard.

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This is what I mean about the trees just starting to show their leaves. There is something mystical and magical about this for me, and year after year, I marvel at the way it makes me feel

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The garden centers large and small are now officially open. This little guy is selling mostly pansies, which I will plant in front of the big rock in my yard this weekend.

I live in the Pioneer Valley, in a culture pocket of five nearby colleges and universities, surrounded on all sided by farms and farmland. The barn you see here is for the harvesting of tobacco. When the warm weather is certain, the sides of the barn will open up and the tobacco "sheets" will be seen hanging to dry.

The land is turning from brown to green in a flash. Soon this soil will be turned over and plowed , and then the crops will be planted.

Who wouldn't want to live in this sweet house with its four tall pines?

This garden center sells mostly good sized shrubs and trees. I bought two shrubs today, got some help putting them in the back of my car, got some help transferring them to a wheel barrel in my driveway, and am currently explaining to my back that it couldn't be helped. I love visiting garden centers as much as I love visiting bookstores. All summer I will stop and shop, picking up annuals and perennials and several more shrubs.

It's news to me that my neighboring town is famous for celery, but here's at least subjective proof. And I can confirm definitely asparagus too.

Just an old barn with a creative touch.

And just a hot dog takeout that had a line a mile long.

And lest you think my part of the world is all about hot dogs, go ahead and add diners to the mix too.

Rhyme Time Esteemed Winners

It's official. We have winners of the the first kj Rhyme Time event. Once I have the proper addresses in hand, copies of my one and only book will be inscribed and sent on their way to the following emerging poets:

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Julie-Ann and Sonia: you were the first two gutsy souls to respond with poems. Thanks for making this so much fun.

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You may recall that I and I alone agreed to choose the the poem I and I alone found to be the Best-of-the-Bunch. This was not an easy task! Everyone did an incredibly fun and creative job at rhyming. In no particuliar order, here's what I and I alone decided:

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Victoria: this was my favorite poem of all because it had a jingle to it and I thought "bow bowers" was pretty damn clever. BUT: Victoria already has a copy of my book (full disclosure: she's my friend and one of the bow-bowers was my dog Stella). So all you get is recognition, Victoria. Take it and run!

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Human Being: She is one of my favorite poets anyway anyhow and her poem here is, as always, haunting and deep. Plus it is my huge pleasure to send her my book!

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That should be the end of the first kj Rhyme Time contest.

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BUT I and I alone have broken the rules and am adding a second Best-of-the-Bunch. It goes to:

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Chewy: Clever, clever, clever. And always a touch of humor that intrigues me.

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Winners! Send me your addresses at karenjasper@comcast.net and the book will find its way to you. If you want a name in the inscription other than your blog name, just say so.

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And since we've been rhyming away, here's how I spend my time sometimes on a rainy Saturday when the words just won't leave me alone:

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Enough!
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I’ll be damned
My head is crammed
With thoughts of flying
Crying
Drying
Eyeing
Lying
Prying
Sighing
Spying
Tying
Vying
And maybe even
Applying
Allying
Decrying
Defying
Denying
Retrying
Supplying
Undying
And even possibly
Semidrying
Catalog buying
Instrument flying
And forever trying.

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Have a good weekend, everyone. Love you!

Thursday 13: Work(ing) It Out

I've had alot of jobs in my career. I've owned my own business for most of it, consulting, training, developing programs, counseling, running a restaurant, starting an artisian cooperative, marketing a movie theatre and school system and myself, writing (yay!), and as of exactly one year ago, psychotherapist in an inner city.

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This week I thought I'd focus on my work: the reasons I like it, some observations, the touching moments, some of the funny stuff.

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1. The city I work in has been in federal receivership for some time. There are some middle class neighborhoods--even a few upper class ones--but for the most part, the buildings and neighborhoods are dirt poor. And transient. Many of the folks I see have little or almost no furniture at all--a bed, a table, maybe one couch, a couple of chairs. That's not everybody, but at first I didn't understand: with no car and no money, when you move, you leave what little you have behind.

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2. I have close to twenty clients, including some kids, ages 4, 9, 12, 13, & 17. I've never worked with kids before last year, and never with individuals and families in so much turmoil. I didn't expect to like it so much, or to be so comfortable doing it. I think I'm someone who tries to make lemonade from lemons, and that approach seems to help.

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3. Last week my 12 year old client, who I see at school, suggested I bring some donuts and a Dunkin Donuts' Coolata with me every once in a while. "We should have donuts together sometimes," she smiled.

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4. Even though I need to be extra careful in high crime areas, I'm pretty comfortable. I make sure I learn and know what I need to be careful about, and if I'm not sure, I ask my client and he/she will fill me in. But the one thing I cannot bring myself to do is pull into a corner gas station in most parts of the city. I just have this notion of me innocently pumping gas and getting zapped in a drive-by shooting.

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5. I asked my thirteen year old Hispanic client what her court-appointed lawyer was like. "Well," she said, "He's white," emphasizing the word 'white' as if that should tell me everything I need to know."Oh," I said, "you mean white like me?" She stopped and took this in for a second, and then we both laughed out loud, in that moment both of us colorblind.

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6. I am talking about S-E-X with 13 year olds and 17 year olds. And because I am sometimes not sure what's appropriate either developmentally or culturally, I have to ask them who's doing what and why and how and when. I'm totally amazed how much these kids tell me and how willing they are to listen to advice and admonitions.

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7. I have a deal with one of my girls: NO drugs, NO gangs, NO babies. That is the plan to get her from today to college. I drive her crazy because I make her repeat this mantra almost every time I see her.

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8. I get a lot of hugs in this job.

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9. I suggested to a middle aged woman with a horrible history of childhood abuse that perhaps she could step in and mother the little girl inside her when things got really scary. I saw her last week and she told me she did just that. "My little girl was so afraid she was going to get hit, so I stepped in and put my arms around her and told her I would protect her." The woman paused. "And you know, I felt empowered when I did that." Myself, I was thrilled hearing this for the rest of the day.

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10. I get to go to all these different elementary, middle and high schools. I like that. I stopped in to meet the principal of the high school last week because I'm thinking about pitching a group or workshop for high school seniors called "How To Be An Adult." (This title is from my friend Nerissa Nield's book of the same name). I would want to develop and run this group myself.

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11. I spend 3 to 4 hours a week doing paperwork I don't get paid for. I call it the volunteer part of my job. I bitch about it to myself non-stop the whole time.

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12. Recently a client asked me if I'd like to go to the Casino with her some day. What's wrong with this picture?--therapists don't socialize with clients and a casino no less. Still, I know it's a compliment because it means she is comfortable with me and our back-door counseling, somewhat due to the fact that I see alot of people in their own homes.

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13. I work two long days each week, spend another half day doing reports and bills, and use the rest of my time writing, promoting my new book, helping my mom, doing life's non-stop chores, and now working on my yard. It's quite a well paced life these days. I look back on raising Jess and working sometimes 60 hours a week and don't have a clue how I did it.

Does anyone have thirteen things to say/share/chat about besides me? Just because you do it one time (Soulbrush...) doesn't mean you have to keep doing it. Tsup!

Animal Wednesday: Emily Plays Soccer

Dear Everyone,

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It was a very bad week. I got kicked out of soccer. I went to the practice and the first thing that happened is

there were no shorts that had a hole for my tail. I borrowed some scissors from the coach's office and got yelled at for destroying property.

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Then when the game began, I hopped over to the first girl I saw and I socked her in the stomach with my head. Someone blew a whistle and this man with a black and white stripped shirt told me I could only use my feet and if I did that again he would not let me play.

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So the next time I hopped over to the same girl and I socked her with my foot. She screamed and fell to the ground, waving her legs in the air and looking like a cry baby. The man with the striped shirt told me I was on probation and if I made anybody cry again I could not play.

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When the whistle blew I thought it would be better to find a boy even though the game is soccer (sock-her) so I hopped up as high as I could and I swung my foot at his nose. I think it was because of all the blood that they told me to go home.

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This was not fair! I am sure I would have been a very good socker. All that blood was not my fault. Everyone was a baby except me. I am going to ask kj to sue them. I am thinking of joining a band and thumping the drums.
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P.S. kj agreed to pay me $ 5 this week as a trial. But she says if I do not get at least 50 comments, I shouldn't charge more than $ 2. Please help me get the comments so she will not have an excuse to pay me not enough for my lifestyle. Still no polkadot bikini. But I am working on it. I think kj may feel guilty and that is good news for me.

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Goodbye for now.

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Sincerely,

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Emily V. V. Rabbit

Rhyme Time

Official Notice: Thank you to everyone who participated in this not-so-sublime Rhyme Time. I will post the "winners" of yours truly's book by the end of the week. The poems are hilarious and wonderful. It was a blast. In the meantime, I'll be temporarily surrendering the blog microphone to Ms. Emily Rabbit for her rants and raves on Animal Wednesday.

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I like to rhyme. Sometimes I make up songs and rhyme the lyrics as I go along and shout them out in or out of the shower.
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For some reason this morning I thought about the words “shower” and “flower” and thought that would be a good start for a poem. When I do this I often go through the alphabet and see what words also rhyme.
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Power.
Tower.
Sour.
Scour.
Devour.
Hour.
Flour.
Empower.
Our.
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And sometimes I move on to double or triple words:
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People Power
Rain Shower
Rush Hour
Whole Wheat Flour
Whiskey Sour
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I sometimes mutter a phrase: Take a shower, Build a Flower, Sweet trumps sour.
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And sooner or later I have written or am singing a poem that may or may not be interesting.
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So why am I saying all this?
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Well, I’d like company.
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How about joining me? Use any of the words listed above, or any others that rhyme with shower, flower, (uh, even “now or”…) and I will award a copy of my newly published book, The Light Stays On, to the first two people who write a poem with at least six lines that rhyme, preferably eight (or more if you're on a roll).

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Plus I will award an additional book for one poem that I deem the best of the bunch.

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Come on, why not write a poem today? Maybe afterwards you can sing it outloud. And maybe it will make you laugh or get something off your chest.
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Here’s a hint: forget your age. You’re better off doing this as a fifth grader. Play around. It works a whole lot better that way.
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Meanwhile, here’s your bribe of a prize:

Five Questions from Queen Baino

I volunteered and she asked the questions--she being a special woman and fellow blogger named Baino, who I count as my friend and who I secretly adore.

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How can you be sure of the genuineness of those who comment on our/your blogs?
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Actually, I’m a pretty good judge. I’ve met four bloggers in person and we didn’t miss a beat in terms of who we thought we were and would be. That’s not to say I haven’t found some limitations and unforeseen problems with relationships that transition from blogging to “real life,” and I especially hate having some good friends at such a distance. I also know there are some bloggers I thoroughly enjoy blogging with but I suspect we might not be as compatible in person or on the block. But do I think Baino is actually a four foot carnival worker or Studio Lolo is a seven foot basketball player?

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No.
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What are your five best diet tips?
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Oh jeez, Baino. I’m the last one to ask about diet tips. If I knew the best, I wouldn’t be struggling to lose all this weight that has no business being on my body in the first place. But okay, here’s a few observations:

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1. Get your mind to cooperate
2. Don’t do it alone
3. I think Weightwatchers is the best all around program anywhere, but I am currently on the South Beach

diet and I’ve lost 42 pounds
4. Don’t give up splurges now and then. (think chocolate and pizza)
5. Look forward to a whole new wardrobe.

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6. I've added one more tip--my least favorite: exercise.

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If money was no obstacle, what would be on your Agenda?
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I would travel more often and everywhere. I would start a foundation to help dogs in bad circumstances and another to help children in bad circumstances. I would hire a personal shopper. I would be more generous.
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What are two of your worst faults?
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Tenacity and sensitivity.

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What are two of your greatest virtues?
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Tenacity and sensitivity.

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Name just one thing you'd take with you if your home was burning!
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Well, my dog Stella. But if Stella doesn’t count as a thing, I would take my laptop computer. I would.

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Thank you, Baino. I doubt I've surprised you with any of these answers.

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Wanna play? If anyone is willing to answer five questions from me, just let me know in your comments and I'll send them along to you.

The Little Girl

This is a true story.

The little girl left for school every day wearing some derivative of a red plaid dress with a black pattern leather belt that matched her shoes and her folded down white cotton ankle socks.
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Every day, usually just before she arrived at school, and sometimes during recess, she threw up. Every day she walked back home because she had soiled her dress or socks or coat, and on really bad days, everything.
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When the little girl opened the back door and and stepped into the kitchen, her mother was there waiting, ready to hug her and tell her how brave she was. She helped her little daughter change into a set of fresh clothes that were already laid out on the back of the kitchen chair, and within five minutes, she was on her way back to school, where she was the teacher’s favorite and popular and comical among her peers.
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The little girl is now a mother herself. She cannot imagine having the patience to clean vomit and prepare a second set of dress clothes every day. She loves her own daughter, but she cannot imagine this level of enduring patience. When she tells her friends about her childhood nervousness, she holds back tears as she says that her mother’s message—in word and deed—was that she was a courageous and strong little girl, never a shameful or difficult problem.
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The little girl who is now an adult knows that this message resonates with her still, and maybe that is why she is able to take risks and engage in life even when she throws up.
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Thanks Mom. It's made all the difference.

Thursday 13: This Week

1. Spring unofficially began this week. It will be warmer and I will be able to rake my yard without wearing gloves and a hat. April is my very favorite month: I love how translucid the trees and sky look, and I love the anticipation of new growth breaking through the softened earth.

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2. Got to have tulips and dafodils in the house.

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3. I love my new camera because I can take more interesting shots, but it is too bulky to have with me when I spontaneously most need and want it. So I am going to splurge and buy myself a pocket sized Canon Powershot 3oo. I don't normally have two of anything but I'm making an exception in this case.

4. Funny how perspective changes everything. The same tulip, just closer.

5. Just a shadow of two people I love.

6. This comment, left for me by one of my special favorite bloggers, Singleton, meant the world to me: "Ahh sweet kj, any time you can get your heart tossed around without knowing why, that means it was worth it. ..you put your all into it...and for whatever reason, the butterfly effect has sent you flying, wings spread accidentally wide, gliding, freefalling into tomorrow. I'm old now, but I have truly learned that a broken heart is the medal we wear when we have loved, been free enough to give...and how lucky are we? Muah!"

7. Look who's moving into the outside kitchen light :

8. I'm driving home from work on Tuesday and I notice black smoke in the vicinity of my house. I drive a little longer and it seems like it may be my friend Victoria's apartment building. A little further and it turns out it's the building next to Victoria's, and it's a hell of a fire:

9. 22 people were displaced and a number of their animals died. My little office on the second floor of the Assinippi General Store burned to a crisp one early morning years ago, and I'll never forget how awestruck and vulnerable I felt by losing everything, even and especially my posters on the wall.

10. I'm happy to report my beloved Jessica, Mr Ryan, and 10 day old Drew Thomas are all doing great. I wish I lived closer than 90 minutes so I could just bop in and help out.

11. Today a seventeen year old client asked if we could "hang out" together sometimes this summer. She said we could talk while we did something fun. I took this as quite a compliment, actually--that she sees me as interesting and fun to be with.

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12. I still know love is worth it. And I believe it finds its way even when lost.

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13. 99% of the time I get a parking space right in front of where I need to be. It doesn't matter if the traffic is backed up and there are NO spaces available: somehow, one opens up for me.

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Hey! How about a few more "Thursday 13's" besides me and Melissa? They're really fun. Anyone willing?

Animal Wednesday: Introductions by Emily

It's me Emily Rabbit. Here I am being the guest blogger for kj again. This may be my last time unless she starts to pay me. I thought I would charge her $ 5 a week and she says it's not worth it. Hmmmpf! I told kj I think her blog is much more interesting since I've started writing on it for Animal Wednesdays but she thinks I am making that up. I need the money for jellybeans and a bathing suit for the summer. I want to get a polkadot two piece suit that will not come off when I go in the water and bob. If anyone wants to help me to get the $ 5 a week from kj, please help me because then I will keep writing every week. Otherwise, I might leave in a huff.

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Here are some animals I am introducing you to:

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This is King Jack. He laid an egg and became Queen Jackie just before Anonymous Bird went away but then she hasn't come back and so many people are sad because they really miss her and don't know why she hasn't come back since Jack became Jackie. When Jackie was Jack, he got loose outside and everybody feared the worse except he was finally rescued and then everybody was happy again. I don't know why Ms. Anon isn't blogging anymore but even I Emily, who is ususally very selfish and self absorbed, hopes she is alright and I miss her too.
Guess who drew this: Ms. lololo! Ever since she stopped telling me about bad things on jellybeans, I like her very much and she is always nice to animals, even rabbits who need alot of attention and might throw an occasional or frequent temper tantrum. Ms. lololo is a really good artist and she is a special friend of kj's. I wouldn't mind if she wants to be my friend too but I think she should send me money first.

This is Stella. I am thinking of starting a Stella fanclub which would also have a newsletter that would cost $12 a year. But I can only do it if Stella agrees to pay for postage but so far she says she won't. I did this for kj's dog Rosie when Rosie was alive but she was not reliable and I almost went to jail because people paid for the newsletter and then complained that they did not receive it, but it was not my fault that Rosie didn't mail it to them, even though I was in charge of the money, which I mostly spent for jellybeans.

I am not going to name this person, but I can tell you he thinks he is very smart because he can brush his teeth and he is cute. Twice I have asked him for money so I can buy candy but he just looks at me like he doesn't know what I am saying. I do not normally like little kids but I can tell he is going to get in trouble with me and that will be fun.
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Maybe I will be back next week but I might not if kj doesn't stop being so cheap. I don't think she appreciates the service I am providing. Hmmmpf!

The 'F' Word

Frequent and first time visitors alike know that this blog is nothing short of dignified, appropriate and, well, let's just say, classy. So on that basis it is my great honor to report and respond to the following sequence of events:
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First, on a recent Thursday Thirteen done by yours truly, I congratulated Renee http://circlingmyhead.blogspot.com/ for bringing respectability and consistency to the "F" word in Blogland.
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Then in a comment that followed, Baino http://bainosbanter.blogspot.com/ clarified that it was she, not Renee, who was the pioneer in this territory.
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Next, in another comment that followed, Renee suggested that Baino be crowned and and the official honor be bestowed upon her.
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Then our mutual friend Studio Lolo* agreed to lend her considerable artistic talents.
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Now then and therefore, I kj do hereby crown Baino for her extraordinary, frequent, creative and engaging use of the word fuck, returning it to its proper working class roots and desensitizing the proper prims among us to lighten up and enjoy the show.

And then, with an equal amount of awe and admiration, I kj also present this crown to Renee, who has earned it mightily by her word and deed ("What the F---?!)

And to anyone interested in my opinion: it's a good word. Really it is. It's clear, pointed, passionate, descriptive, breathtaking, phoenetically dramatic....okay, that's enough.
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Congratulations, you two. May you wear your crowns long and well.
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* Since Ms. Studio Lolo runs a family oriented blog also frequented by her clients, please leave any F-related comments and compliments for her here, in this non-family oriented, not frequented by her clients, blog . The management thanks you.

Easter

Baskets & Hats

I grew up Catholic. My mother is French Canadian—from Nova Scotia—and my father Italian American, the only Italian with red hair I’ve ever known.

Every Easter my mother took me shopping for a new dress, coat, shoes and hat. This was one of the few times I remember we shopped together, and an even rarer occasion that I came home thrilled with my little girl outfit. I can close my eyes right now and see my pale sky blue coat with beautiful buttons, my white Easter hat with a wide rim and a ribbon that hung down from the side, my black paten leather shoes that the nuns told me never to wear with a skirt so the boys wouldn’t see the reflection of my underpants.

On Easter morning my brother and I would find two huge baskets, each filled with a giant chocolate bunny with buck teeth, Cadbury and little Hersey foiled-wrapped eggs, jellybeans, marshmallow chicks, and usually one stuffed toy rabbit.

We went to church as a family back then. I look back now and am surprised that even though we went every Sunday to the same Mass, we rarely greeted anyone we actually knew. Ours was a large parish and I don’t remember hearing much about community. I think that’s just the way it was then.

Communion & Confession

I was thrilled to make my first communication. I chose my Aunt Aggie to be my Godmother and she was surprised by that. I felt the presence of God when I put my white dress and white veil and white shoes.

I remember being so proud when I could go to confession by myself, and I walked a half mile almost every Saturday to do that. The stuffy smell of the confessional was a sanctuary for me, and when the priest slide that little wooden window open, and I told him that I lied to my mother or smoked a cigarette or cheated on my social studies test, I went from sinner to saint. Afterwards I would linger in the church and visit the Stations of the Cross, sometimes but not always whispering the rosary all the way through.

Mass & Mystery

I love mass to this day. The tradition, the hymns, the holy water, taking communion, reading the gospel. But I have to work at it to find my place there. And sometimes I don’t agree with the sermons, with the emphasis on patriarchy and a judging shaking finger overhead telling me what’s right and wrong.

Sinners & Saints

I stopped being a practicing Catholic after I married my husband and a priest told us if we did not raise our children Catholic they would not be able to enter heaven, and if we dared to use birth control, we would not be able to get there either. I remember thinking about overpopulation in India at the time, and just not agreeing with him, not one bit.

When Jessica was born, I found a priest who allowed us to call her baptism a “celebration” and that satisfied my mother. Mostly. Back then she told me my departure from the Catholic Church was to spite her and I should remember that at her funeral. My mother doesn’t say anything like that any more, not in any way, but I struggled with her dogmatic insistences at the time.

Then, after my marriage fell apart and I began a loving relationship with a woman and not a man--I knew I could no longer belong to the Catholic Church. That’s still how it is, and I’m okay with that, but I’m also angry that the church does not and will not support and bless so many gay and lesbian Catholics throughout the world.

Ashrams & Chants

My friend Willa got into new age philosophy and took me to an Ashram where the head folks wore orange robes and had red dots on their heads. From the start the place felt spiritual: lit candles everywhere, incense that even today transports me to somewhere safe, and chanting. It was the chanting that did it. I would find myself in a meditative state, relaxed and content, and when someone said, “God dwells within you as you,” I understood it.

Today I still meditate though not often enough, and I still love chanting and drumming. I’m sorry to say I never felt that “inner dwelling” at mass the way I came to understand it at the Ashram.

Gods & Goddesses

I struggled with my Catholic faith on and off for years, and especially at Easter and Christmas. Then I read a book by Marion Zimmer Bradley called The Myths of Avalon. I read about the role of women and the Goddess and how the catholic hierarchy inaccurately revised their histories and mysticisms. The book is fiction, but I discovered a Goddess who took her place along side a God, and she has not left me since.

Fast Forward

So here I am on Easter weekend 2009. I don’t have a new Easter outfit, I don’t think I’ll have an Easter basket, and I won’t go to Mass. But God dwells within me as me. I know that to be true. In fact, that feels like the most important thing I’ll ever know.

Blessed Easter wishes to my Christian friends. Thanks yet again for the pleasure of your company.

P.S. Yup, that's me.

The Importance of Being Known

I can't remember when I wrote this poem, but it's a theme I think about. Congruence means being the same on the inside that you are on the outside, but being known requires not only that but also another person's willingness to "get" you, and then accept you.

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I'm blessed with a few people who really know who I am, who know I am emotionally brave, who know I cry too easily, who know I can be stubborn and who know I am total fun on vacation. It's easy to play a role to impress or protect, but these days I prefer to be myself. That's saying alot right there, but when I let myself be known to another person, and they return the favor, well, that's hitting the jackpot.

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I thought it was that chuckle when you lean back and laugh,
Your willingness to dare even when the forecast’s grim,
The details and years piling up until you are now your age,
And the plans that don’t materialize but still sometimes thrill.
To my surprise it’s so much less:
It’s being known.
To lose that
Is reason
Enough
To try
Not
To.

Thursday Thirteen: Good Grief!

I am having trouble downloading pictures to Blogger. I tell you this because I intended this post to be a Thursday Thirteen, which is long overdue. But since blogger refuses to budge, this will instead be a Friday Four, with extra commentary thrown in.
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1. Thank you all for the comments and emails I received about my post on grief. It's not likely any of us are going to live and die without experiencing it at some time. Myself, I know for me it's better that I feel than not feel. And better that I love than not love. End of story.

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2. This is the bumper sticker on the back of my car. As soon as I put it on, I thought to myself, "My daughter Jessica is going to say that is ridiculous." When I saw her a few weeks later, she looked at me and said, "Mom, that is ridiculous."

. 3. It's been one year since I started my work as a Psychotherapist in one of the poorest cities in America, my clients very poor adults and children both. Sometimes I look around to gauge whether I am safe or not, but mostly I find that I'm very comfortable in the neighborhoods I frequent. I see people mostly in their homes or their schools, and I've learned so much. I'm a counselor but not a therapist by training and experience, but I'm finding I'm pretty good at it. It helps to care and go from there.

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4. This is one of JB's watering cans. She starts with plain plastic cans and designs and decoupages each one. She does this in her Magic Cottage.

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5. I've now lost 42 pounds. When I lose another 15 or so, it'll be time for a new wardrobe and a new image. I want to be kj babe. Age has nothing to do with it.

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6. I find that I've become more sexual and more sensual as I get older. Anybody else want to talk about that?

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7. Stella no longer acts like a nervous abused dog. She is happy and healthy. Her life is joyful because of walks, cookies, and chicken. I wish it were that simple for me most of the time.

8. Where I live, black bears occasionally meander into our neighborhood and yards. The woman across the street was in her yard with her dog two summers ago, late at night, and saw a huge man in a fur coat standing 30 feet from her. Oooops--not a man! She knew enough to take small slow steps backwards until she could reach her front door. Fortunately her dog was on a leash. I don't live in a rural area, but I kind of like keeping an eye out for bears every once in a while.

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9. This is the house I grew up in and lived in until I got married at twenty-two. My father and grandfather built it themselves and my parents lived in it for 63 years, until my father died. My mother stayed another ten years until she fell in the front yard and broke her hip. She now lives ten minutes from me in a wonderful rest home and I like that.

10. I don't know why I am so partial to Renee and her blog, but in less than two months I'm crazy about this woman. She is a special human being and it's not just because of her courage. She has spunk and wit, leaves great comments, is kind to everyone, and is thoughtfully compassionate and insightful about all kinds of things. Plus she's passionate and she's singlehandedly made 'fuck' a respectable blog word!

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11. I've made some true-blue forever friends on the blogs. I would never have believed it possible. When I hear the terms "global economy" and "international community," I think of my blog friends from all over the world.

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12. I have started a second book but it's coming slowly. And I want to get back to the finished first draft of the book on career choice. I'm also back to writing poems that rhyme (it's about time. And a good sign. I think it's fine.) How come I work part time and seem to have so little time? I'll never understand that. When I was a single mother with a 50-plus hour a week job, I seemed to fit more in. Hmmmm.

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13. Well, I made it to Thursday Thirteen, even though there are only Friday Four photos. I'll end with the following advice: Ride the horse in the direction she's going.

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Love kj

Emily's Animal Wednesday: Meet the Family

It's me, Emily Rabbit. This is my favorite week because I eat all the candy I want. Usually I have my own and also eat kj's but this year she losing weight so maybe I will need to sneak into a daycare center and fill my bunny bag when no one is looking. But please, people, do not bite off the ears of any chocolate rabbits. It's just not right.
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Here are some of my family and friends. But not everyone. That Winnie-the-Pooh snuck into the picture and got honey all over my tail. I told my mother next time to say it's a private picture and to go away.
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My mother is second from the left beside chick-in-an-egg. My cousin Russell is last on the right, he is not really pink but around Easter it is a tradition to dress up or dye down. Russell is a straight A student and sometimes does my homework for me. I give him a few jellybeans and I let him come on vacation with me to Cape Coddy one time. kj didn't know he came too.
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My uncle Hoppy is the one with the straight up ears. He owns his own heating company. That is where I get the pellets I try to exchange for jellybeans. But no one really seems to appreciate the pellets, even if I color them or put kj's perfume on them.
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Nobody really likes chick-in-an-egg. For one thing, his mother dresses him very stupidly, as you can see. He can't move very well and he needs exercise. Plus you have to be careful he doesn't have an accident, and who wants to worry about that? I think he should decide to "break" out but he doesn't want to.
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If you celebrate Easter, kj wants me to say have a happy day to you. Maybe you might want to send jellybeans to rabbits-in-need. I would be happy to distribute them (mostly to myself) if you send a few pounds to me directly.
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So far people have been mostly nice to me about writing in kj's blog (no more mention of shellac from lololo). Ms. Bella is sending me jellybeans and someone else thinks I am either cute or funny. No one thinks I am sweet so far, but maybe one day I will try. I'm not sure when. Maybe not for a while.

Sincerely,

Emily R.

It's Just Grief...

"When sacred life is in your hands, it seems like it's always been there. But when it slips through your fingers, it's so easy to forget that it was ever there. And that absence becomes your life. The resigned life, the distracted life. The life in which you do not deserve happiness and love, and you were foolish to believe you did. You are too fat, to far behind the winners to catch up. And there are so many others like you, that you settle in, validated in your resignation."
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My friend Bill wrote this. He wrote it because he was this close to falling in love with a wonderful very cool and hip woman who may have been very close to falling in love with him, except she died two days after they acknowledged their feelings for one another.
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A few days ago I went to the doctor to check my cholesterol, since the diet I'm on is all about meat and cheese and nuts and eggs. He asked me how everything was going and I started crying. Right there sitting on the exam table. It snuck up on me, came out before I even knew it was going to. He asked was I sleeping?, am I lethargic?, how is my appetite? All okay, I told him. So what’s going on? he asked. It’s grief, I said, it's just grief. .
He looked at me kindly. Oh, he said, that takes time.
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Time is my treatment plan.
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Bill and I have talked about grief, more about his, less about mine. That is because I can hardly put words to mine: I didn't lose someone to death. The details don’t matter at this point and I can’t explain them anyway: essentially I lost a friend, but even using the word “friend” is oddly insufficient. Best friend, that’s closer, but still not full enough. In my mind we were "sames." The tradition of sames began in China centuries ago: two girls bonded in childhood, by familial tradition and agreement, committed to love one another and assure each other’s welfare until one of them died. That is how I felt about the two of us, how I still feel when I find it impossible to understand how the hell we landed where we could no longer right what was not right.

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I used to think of grief as your fiancée leaving you or your brother killed in a car accident, or from nowhere your child has a brain tumor. I’ve followed the look on Bill’s face and sometimes I see resigned confusion, as though he’s put his hand in a bag of golddust but it’s all slipped through his fingers by the time his hand reaches the rim. So close, his expression seems to say, so close I almost deserved it. Or did I? It's a good question: how would he know? What would have been if fate had not stepped in at the moment that destiny and possibility intersected, a deadly crash with no chance of resurrection?
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The look on Bill’s face is grief. Not always, because he has to live, afterall. Just like I do. But I know the look. I think grief gets harder as you age: you start to understand that you are dealing with not simply the loss of a person, but the loss of two.
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You lose somebody you love, cared about, and shared the littlest things: a special card, planning a vacation, talking past midnight, watching a sunset and thinking how much the other person might appreciate it too. But in a real way you also lose yourself—at least that part of yourself that allowed a certain tenderness, that hoped and danced with the anticipation of trying comfort on for size, wearing it like the sweater you’ll never give up, even when it frays and unravels.
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That’s what grief is. You hold on because you’ll lose some part of yourself if you let go. And you’re afraid you won’t have it again. And you hold on because you know those tender feelings may well remain in the present tense, live as long as you do, because they are and will stay a part of you. There is some beauty in that, I think, but you need time before grief brings healing, before you understand that love doesn't really go anywhere anyway.
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The risk of love is loss, and the price of loss is grief, but the pain of grief is only a shadow when compared with the pain of never risking love. Hilary Stanton Zunin
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I'd say that's about right. And I'm pretty sure Bill agrees.

Question for the Day

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Why don't trees touch the sky?
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(No trick question or riddle here: I was at a David Sedaris reading last night, and he asked this. It was the kind of question I hadn't ever thought of before, and I like those kinds of questions. That's all.)

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Oh, and while I'm at it, have a lovely day.

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Oh yes, one more thing, the word "lovely." Two of my favorite bloggers--Lolo and Renee-- claim they starting using this word when they started blogging. Except that Renee used it before if it had a letter F adjective in front of it. For some reason I think that is lovely. :)
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(Some days you just have to babble on)

Here He Is...

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In our family, levity trumps dignity. So here he is!

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A professor? A writer? Perhaps a scientist or a diplomat or maybe a baseball player, or a musician or an artist or cabinet maker. He might change the world on a grand scale by leading nations toward peace or in simple ways by loving his family and doing his share.

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His name is Drew Thomas C------ . He will be someone I adore and support, watch over and lend money to, and, I hope, inspire and walk beside--all of my life.
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The sky opens and a child appears.

Welcome Drew!

We'll teach you to laugh first thing.