Dance Threshold

Our son once called us "quotable."  My love, who is wicked smart, teases me and delights in my laughter.  The banter is stimulating and fun.

He has grown to enjoy "This American Life." I've been a fan for years.  We went to see Ira Glass when he came to Kalamazoo.  It's one of several podcasts I listen to while doing housework, commuting or, my favorite, communing in the tub with a cold drink or a glass of wine.

I received this text from my fella recently:

I listened to the episode first on the drive home.  Didn't quite get it.  A bit ago, once more.

Then it hit me.  It's the intro, about marriage.  I loved the piece but didn't recognize myself in it.

SHS gets me.  He reads me.  I was shocked.  Did he miss a cue?  Did we have a disconnect?

NO.  Not at all.

I will post a link to it here.  If you look in the app store you would just search:  This American Life and get the episode marked, "Choosing Wrong."  I'm a couple of episode behind and this one has a lot of interesting stuff but the part he's referring to is the beginning, about marriage.

A few years ago, I went along with my husband, our son and a friend to see the Griffins.  We were waiting for the game to start.  They played 30 seconds of an eminently dance-able song.  I bopped.  I was loved, happy, excited and teasing my soul mate by really grooving.  His enthusiasm for dance is mostly fueled by my love of it.  I think it takes courage to dance when you're a foot taller than anyone on the floor. He's got a rhythm.  Mostly stays in "the zone." After a few beers he's actually really good. I love dancing with him.

When I was 22 years old, I would dance for hours with almost anyone who asked.  I don't have skill but I have lots of enthusiasm.  It fills me up, the music, the crowd, the movement.

So, in my 30 seconds of jamming, the camera found me.  I didn't see it - but our son did.  Pointed and shouted and laughed at the big screen.  I sent up a fervent hope that I hadn't embarrassed the young man too much.

My husband?  Laughed with pure delight, squeezed me tight.  Kissed my cheek.

Then the hockey was on . . .

http://www.thisamericanlife.org/radio-archives/episode/590/choosing-wrong

The Illusion of "Brokenness"

I wrote this 13 months ago but I've been busy.  Before I write the blog I came here to write, I'm going to post it.  If you've read some of my older blogs, you know I believe that the white space is the art in a piece.  This one is unfinished but it talks about what I was learning, thinking and using to grow, a year ago last May . . . .

Can't kayak this morning - so I've been thinking (and visiting with a friend) about how each of us is "broken."   I know that the struggles of my life have caused me to have triggers.  Triggers can be worked on, worked out and improved with work.  Think Therapy!

Although we can work on the way we are broken, the triggers will continue to affect us, create opportunities to learn about ourselves and others.  Maybe the triggers are a gift.  They are painful, awful things.  I still don't walk to the mailbox to get my mail.  My fella handles that for me.  There are many things he handles for me and many I handle for him.  We each have Stuff we are carrying.

One of my friends recently said that marriage is that "you team up against the world."  So, those things we choose to handle for one another are gifts.  It doesn't mean we can't each handle our own Stuff.  It means we love each other enough to pinch hit in the tough times.

When I was meeting men, while searching for my love, I met many men who had big Stuff.  Carrying big stuff is a part of life.  Dealing with big stuff is a part of life.  Finding someone whose stuff you can deal with is the key.

One of my friends described the dating sites as "the island of mistfit toys."  I think that's about right.  On the other hand, I've always felt that the key in any friendship is to be in it.  I do think many friendships have a natural trajectory.  Someone I feel very close to may need to move on.  I may choose to not be involved in their lives.  There is an arc to many relationships.

If I had known that the last time I saw you WAS the last time . . .

This is what you looked like the last time I saw you.  All blonde, blue-eyed, sweet faces.   I remember, so clearly, the day I met you.  The smiles in your eyes lit my heart.  You loved teaching me cards.  How you sat on the bed and watched me put on makeup and sat on my lap.

So fun, the time I first took you to the store.  Meghan wanted a toy.  It was an elephant but was really for dogs.  It said Milkbone on the side.  Taylor teased . . . I bought it for you anyway.

I remember the hard things too.  I’ll never forget the night Brandon had to stay home with me.  What I told you that night is still true. 

There is nothing you can do . . . ever . . . that will make me love you less.  No matter how much we disagree, no matter who says what to anyone, I promised each of you that I would love you all of my life.  I will.   If I never see you again, makes not the slightest bit of difference, I will always be here . . . loving you.

Thousands of memories.  Birthday cakes of purple, pink and red.  Sunday morning early cocoa and bacon! 

Flying kites, ice cream at Moo's, festivals and all the laughter.  Cookouts with friends, movies and holidays.

There is really no Christmas
for me without you . . .

A boy became a man

I watched a boy become a man.  More accurately, I watched what felt like the culmination of a journey of growth.  Now, it’s not that it’s over, of course – in all kinds of ways.  The truth is I’m not the same today as I was 3 months ago – let alone the same as the woman I was at 19 years old. 

The difference, I guess, is that this boy seems to understand that he is on this journey now in a completely different way.  He is going about his days doing things that young men do.  There is this sense, though, that he understands now that he is part of a larger picture.

I met him when he was 12 years old.  He and his folks have done so much for me over the years.  They were aware that I was ill for a long time and went out of their way to care for me in ways that are out of fashion now.  Chris and his dad have done everything from being in my crawlspace moving cable to caring for my dogs when I’m out of town.  They have loved me, in a “hands on” way, for years.  I believe in the “family of choice” and they are family to me.

Chris is special to me because he has let me love him in a very parental sort of way.  I think that has been a really special gift.  Because of his choice to do so, I’ve tried to be careful about not offering unsolicited advice – however, upon occasion I do feel an obligation.  When he started smoking I couldn’t remain objective.

He’s also incredibly unique. I think that his special blend of “real” is amazing.  He’s a sensitive kid with a gift for anything mechanical.  He also has a sort of old west kind of independence.  He’s warm and funny.  He’s self effacing.  He’s loyal, goofy and a little bit wild. 

Chris was one of 4 out of 165 recruits to be rated "Expert" in the 9 mm

The other thing is that he was floundering here.  He was at a place where trouble was beginning to distract him.  He needed new adventures to keep things moving forward.  When we talked, I could tell that he felt trapped.  The necessity that most of us feel to find ways to make life interesting and exciting was beginning to cause festering sores inside him. 

At his boot camp graduation – they were gone.  His voice was lower and he stood taller.  He called the waitress ma’am 3 times during lunch.  I saw, in his eyes, a pride in himself that I know will stand him in good stead as he moves forward.  When he hugged his mother at graduation with tears streaming down his face . . . I felt this cathartic thing happening with him. 

 Chris is in “A school” in Florida now, learning his new job.  Then, he is on to California from there to begin the next phase of his life.  I hope his newfound sense of place in the world gives him a good foundation for what happens next.

Those big occasions in our lives, graduation, weddings, certain birthdays even – give us opportunities to see the world differently.  I know this one did for him – and it sure did for me.

Just sayin' . . .

PHENOMENAL WOMAN

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies

I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size

But when I start to tell them

They think I'm telling lies.

I say,

It's in the reach of my arms

The span of my hips,

The stride of my step,

The curl of my lips.

I'm a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

That's me.

I walk into a room

Just as cool as you please,

And to a man,

The fellows stand or

Fall down on their knees.

Then they swarm around me,

A hive of honey bees.

I say,

It's the fire in my eyes

And the flash of my teeth,

The swing of my waist,

And the joy in my feet.

I'm a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

That's me.

Men themselves have wondered

What they see in me.

They try so much

But they can't touch

My inner mystery.

When I try to show them,

They say they still can't see.

I say

It's in the arch of my back,

The sun of my smile,

The ride of my breasts,

The grace of my style.

I'm a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

That's me.

Now you understand

Just why my head's not bowed.

I don't shout or jump about

Or have to talk real loud.

When you see me passing

It ought to make you proud.

I say,

It's in the click of my heels,

The bend of my hair,

The palm of my hand,

The need of my care,

'Cause I'm a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

That's me.

  

from And Still I Rise by Maya Angelou

copyright © 1978 by Maya Angelou.

Bring Me the Shivers

Bring me the shivers of a cold winter day.
Good weather for snuggling, puppy on my lap
under a blanket while I read a great book.

Bring me the shivers of a scary story.
Read in the dark night,
surrounded by silent house.

Bring me the shivers of holding a hand.
Kissing in the dark
at the end of a sweet night.

Bring me the shivers of holding a new baby.
The smell of new life.
The joy of renewal.

Bring me the shivers of standing in a spot
where I feel that no one
has stood before.

Bring me the shivers of the earth from above.
Watch it slip by the clouds
as I hurdle through the sky.

Bring me the shivers of a strange airport
Where no one speaks English
while I follow the signs to a train.

Bring me the shivers
Of Life!!!