THE LONG GOODBYE

THE LONG GOODBYE

It all started in March when family and friends got together to celebrate an 80^th birthday at the outside eating area of a restaurant on Lake Tarpon in Tarpon Springs, Florida and culminated the first week of November on the lake in Mt. Dora, Florida.

Both experiences ended with “the long goodbye” as are all our large family get-togethers.  Everyone hugging a kissing and saying we’d miss each other and promising to keep in touch and then sadness that our time together was over.

However the long goodbye in Mt. Dora was something altogether different. All fifteen of us, missing the four oldest grandchildren who couldn’t be there, gathered together on a street corner, very jubilant, laughing and hugging and kissing filled with the joyful knowledge that we would be together again next month. I thought to myself it doesn’t get any better than this. Amen

MY LIBRARIAN FRIEND

Her name was Miss Catherine Makepeace and I always thought how perfect a name it was for our town librarian. About sixty years old and extremely proper, she addressed me as Mrs. Miller and to me she was always Miss Makepeace.

Our library was an old English style mansion either donated by the former owners or sold to our town.  The dark brick manor house was three stories high, the first floor contained all the books, the second was used for offices and storage and the entire third floor was a magnificent ball room.  The second and third floors as well as the rear garden were not open to the public.

There was a wing on the first floor exclusively for children and their books were checked out by a young librarian who was very impressed with our children especially the youngest who refused help in choosing her own books even though she couldn’t read. When she was able to sign her name she was awarded her own library card.

The garden of the mansion was surrounded by high brick walls and the entire rear wall which was covered by dried ivy vines had a narrow roof that extended over a tea garden complete with a few rustic tables and chairs. The large grass covered area had a non-functioning fountain in its center and there was a paved path encircling it. You could always admire the well kept garden area through the beautiful but locked French doors in the rear of the first floor.

One summer the library board decided to do a series of cultural events in the rear garden. The Dayton Ballet Company was invited to do a presentation and that was done in the grassy area in front of one long brick wall.  Chairs were set up and the public was invited.  A chamber music group entertained there on another evening,

Our local civic theater of which I was president was also asked to participate.  My partner and I reenacted a dramatic scene which we planned to enter in our regional theater competitions. We performed on the path around the fountain. Others from our theater did two comedy radio scripts and these were presented at the tables in the tea garden.  We were highly complemented for our efforts and the whole summer series was a huge success.

The next time I entered the library I was greeted as “Mary Jane” by the librarian.  This was one of the biggest thrills of my life.  After that I was always “Mary Jane” but she   still remained Miss Makepeace to me.

(In case you’re wondering, the scene I was in did not go to regional competitions because my partner was not available to attend)

THE FOREIGNER IN OUR MIDST

Our granddaughter had a bi-continental relationship with a young man who worked in London while she worked in New York.  He would travel to New York then she would visit him in London.  She’d met his family who lived in a large converted mill built over a small narrow river in Cambridge.  Since his work mostly involved using the internet he could work anywhere and she was able to travel to London on business for her company as well as spent vacations there.

Two years ago our family numbering about 20 plus our foreign visitor spent the days before Christmas in a resort on Siesta Key.  This was our first meeting with the young gentleman. Everyone was so excited to finally meet him. We had heard he was very quiet and soft-spoken.  We met him for the first time at the resort and we all circled him moving in close to hear what he had to say because he really was soft-spoken. Can you imagine being surrounded by about twenty people you have never met? We loved to hear his accent and were constantly leaning into him.

We found him dignified as well as delightful but I felt that our large boisterous family was probably bewildering to him. I think he was happy when we went our separate ways as we walked the beach.

They eventually dissolved their romance although both were unhappy with the breakup. He disliked New York and while she loved London, having spent a semester there while in college, she didn’t want to live there.

I hope this year we get to meet her new friend who is a talented musician and is currently composing an opera and lives within walking distance.

I CANT BELIEVE IT! (The Perfect Summer)

I CAN’T BELIEVE IT!  (The Perfect Summer)

The two oldest were in high school, one in middle school, one in grade school when we had the perfect summer and not one remembers the swimming pool.  They all remember the ice cream cones but my husband tells me the town was Covington not Coventry.  They also remember going through the underpass where the two year old would always yell “two” and the rest joined in.  Half didn’t remember the convertible.  The oldest said it must have been her delivering instant coffee as she would be the only one allowed to do it.

At least they didn’t hold it against me that they had to clean their rooms.

A PERFECT SUMMER

A PERFECT SUMMER

I’ll always remember that perfect summer when I felt my role as a mother was fulfilled.  Our days were simple but memorable.  We had a gray Pontiac Catalina Convertible with leather seats. (The seven of us had actually driven in it from Ohio to Florida so we could spend Thanksgiving vacation at the beach)

The following summer after the Florida trip we joined a swim club which was about 25 minutes away from our home. Every weekday I had possession of the convertible to drive the five kids to enjoy the day at the pool.  We packed a lunch and snacks and returned home in time to have dinner ready for Dad. On the way to the pool with the top down we went through an underpass. The kids always screamed to make a loud echoing sound and did the same on the way back. How they loved that.

We then returned home to our immaculate house, they all played or watched television and I cooked dinner.

After dinner, they all said “Can we go to Coventry?’ The seven of us would pile in the convertible again for huge cones of homemade ice cream in the little town of Coventry. Every one of them remembers those happy times that were so perfect for us all.

I, myself, remember them because I had so organized everything in those days, that everything fell into place and I took enormous pride in my accomplishments. Although I might sound like a slave driver, the kids were very agreeable to the arrangements.

Here’s how I did it.  Every morning when we woke up, the oldest brought me a cup of coffee and the morning paper to my bed. I have never started my day without a cup of coffee and reading the newspaper, I can’t function without that routine.  Each of the five cleaned up their rooms and with the upstairs finished we all went downstairs. The kids had their breakfast while I did all the preparations for making dinner when we returned home.  Lunch was packed, downstairs was cleaned and we were off by 10 o’clock.  They met with their friends and had great times everyday. I would show off my dives (they loved that) and then I would settle down to my favorite pastime, reading. We returned home by 4:00.

As I said, it was truly a perfect summer. That’s the way I remember it. I’d be interested to find out if the little ones remember it the same way.

A BACK STORY

A BACK STORY

In 1997 I had written a longer version of “The Ring”.  I found this and more of my musings in a folder I had from the time I did my cooking memoir/cook book. For many years I was so filled with frustration in handling my mother’s problems that they seemed to consume my life.

 In spite of my despair, I had one saving grace. I was able to spend days with two of our grandchildren, Lauren and Alex who lived only ten minutes away. Sometimes I’d take them to visit my mother when she was still in assisted living and then into the nursing section with the result that all the staff knew them both.  Mom knew them too, for a short time. When Lauren started pre-school, I would take only Alex who was about one year old. The residents as well as the staff always welcomed him by name and spoiled him when they had ice cream socials.

Another of my writings was entitled “Mama’s Bank Account” about the fact she could never balance her bank checking account and was constantly bouncing checks. This was something that has affected both my brothers and me to this day.

THE RING

THE RING (1997) 

I wear the ring. Not proudly. Not happily.  Not often.  It’s not even legally mine.  It belongs to my 91 year old mother who is a nursing home and I’ve been in a quandary as to what to do with it.  She doesn’t know I have it or even asks about it.

After Mom was put in the psychiatric wing of the local hospital, I visited her the next day.  She was under heavy medication and could barely talk.  I remembered she had her diamond ring on when I left her there and in the turmoil I had forgotten to take it. Now it was missing.  The day staff did not remember it, but a night staff person remembered seeing one of the other patients wearing such a ring on his little finger.  Mom was in such a stupor she probably handed it to him not knowing what she was doing.

Every day I visited her for about five days as they tried to adjust her drugs and she was becoming more and more lucid.  Now the problem was to find a nursing home which would be covered by her HMO.  She wasn’t qualified for most because she could dress and feed herself.

I called the social services person at her former retirement community who had become a friend to ask for advice.  He said remove her from her HMO, get her reinstated on Social Security and she could move back and into their nursing facility because they knew her and felt it could work.

When she was released from the hospital, I drove directly to the Social Security office where a clerk came to the car to get her signature, she was immediately reinstated and I returned her to the place she had left two weeks before.  We had come full circle and she was very happy to be back.  She stayed in the same nursing unit until her death.

(Regarding the diamond ring). This was the only thing my mother owned after 90 some years on this earth, so she would never ever consider parting with it which is why I felt so guilty having it in my possession. She descended into total dementia and died at the age of 96 not knowing who I was.  She ended up legally blind as well.)