My cousin, Mejol, told me she keeps hoping to find someone else named Mejol. I told he to give it up. She's 73 and has never met another. I don't think she will. The family lore is that Aunt Georgie, my mother's sister (who was named after the Doctor who came to deliver her, Dr. George Something--more Jones family lore) named her after some character in some book she was reading while she was pregnant. An American Indian name, as the story goes. Maybe, maybe not...the Jones side of my family, my mother's side, had lots of lore.
Interestingly, the Bradley side was almost lore-less. The Bradley side of my family were matter-of-fact, straight-forward. They also drank alcohol, which the Jones did not, and smoked cigarettes and pipes and told bawdy jokes.
My making came from two drastically different families.
Mejol has been in my life since I had a life. Since my parents thought they would never have children and since Mejol's father had been 'shell shocked' in WW2--what would now be Post Tramatic Stress Syndrome--my mother and father had Mejol as a pretend daughter. When I was born, she was 6. As I grew she was always around--going on vacation with us to the Smokey Mountains year after year (why people who live in the mountains would go to the mountains is a conversation for another time) baby-sitting me from time to time, and ,since I spent most of my life until adolescence surrounded by family, Mejol was always in the mix.
We lost touch for decades. I saw her when her brother Bradley Perkins died twelve or so years ago. But it so happens she lives near Baltimore, so in the years Josh and Cathy and the girls have been in Baltimore, I've gotten back in touch with her and her two children and her son, Fletcher's, two children.
I've talked to her on the phone for what may be hours in the last few weeks since Pearl (Bradley's wife) died and we're planning a visit to Dunbar, West Virginia, just outside Charleston, this month to visit Aunt Elsie, our mother's only surviving sister. I'll take the train to Baltimore and Mejol (who I called 'Mesh' most of my life) will pick me up and we'll drive the 6 hours to Dunbar and stay two nights and then come back so I can catch the train to Baltimore.
Aunt Elsie is a member of the Nazarene Church. My Uncle Harvey, her deceased husband was a Nazarene preacher after he was a Pilgrim Holiness preacher and changed denominations for some reason I don't know. Uncle Harvey was gravely concerned that I became an Episcopalian in college and when I was going off to Harvard Divinity School in 1969, he told me gravely, "don't let them make you a Unitarian."
I've always greatly respected Unitarians who, the joke goes, begin their prayers with "To whom it may concern....." I'd be a Unitarian if they had liturgy, I imagine. Many of my prayers begin, "to whom it may concern....." Or else I'd be a Quaker, silent and liberal. That would have really freaked Uncle Harvey out....
I have 17 first cousins, all but one of them older than me. Two of them--one on each side--dead. And Mejol means more to me that all the others put together.
I actually, in the end, revel in being an only child--much less messy and confusing. But if I had a sister, it would be Mejol.
Wednesday, July 9, 2014
Monday, July 7, 2014
Accident prone
"Accident prone" is the polite way to refer to it. "Clumsy" would be more accurate.
I am a very clumsy person. I bump into things on a regular basis--things anyone more adroit would never bump into.
I'm also incredibly sensitive to aspirin. I take a baby aspirin every other day since taking one every day means my forearms and hands are constantly bruised. They are still bruised, because I'm clumsy and bump into things, but I think it's a tad better since my doctor, Mark, let me go to one every other day.
People with some medical expertise have asked me if I take cumadin (sp) or some other blood thinner when they see my forearms and hands. Nope, just baby aspirin which is supposed to be good for you.
Right now I am as bruise free as I've been for months. I have a small, fading bruise on my left hand and 5 bruises on my left forearm. The only serious bruise on my left arm in near my wrist and got serious when I scraped it and it started bleeding and then weeping until Bern suggested Aloe, which has done wonders. I have a couple of fading dime-sized bruises further up.
It's rather embarrassing. During half the year I can wear long sleeves and cover up the worst of the bruising. But not these days. I have a slight--very slight--sense of what it must be like to be a leper. People are repelled by the bruises and I don't blame them.
I've also grown rather defensive about it. When Josh asked me about it over the 4th, I was short with him and he said he wasn't being judgmental, just concerned.
Also, an inhaler I take makes me tremble a bit--sometimes a lot. It has a steroid in it and simply makes me tremble. One of my best friends called Bern and asked about it, thinking it might be a sign of Parkinson's Disease. I'm on an injected medication every two weeks called Xolaire that is letting me use the inhaler less and less. I just held up my hands and there was no tremble at all.
Again, embarrassment is the issue.
What is 'embarrassment' about anyway?
Something about defensiveness, surely. And something about feeling 'not good' about yourself.
I'm going to ponder 'embarrassment' for a bit and try to get over it.
That might be something of value for you as well. I don't know, but maybe....
I am a very clumsy person. I bump into things on a regular basis--things anyone more adroit would never bump into.
I'm also incredibly sensitive to aspirin. I take a baby aspirin every other day since taking one every day means my forearms and hands are constantly bruised. They are still bruised, because I'm clumsy and bump into things, but I think it's a tad better since my doctor, Mark, let me go to one every other day.
People with some medical expertise have asked me if I take cumadin (sp) or some other blood thinner when they see my forearms and hands. Nope, just baby aspirin which is supposed to be good for you.
Right now I am as bruise free as I've been for months. I have a small, fading bruise on my left hand and 5 bruises on my left forearm. The only serious bruise on my left arm in near my wrist and got serious when I scraped it and it started bleeding and then weeping until Bern suggested Aloe, which has done wonders. I have a couple of fading dime-sized bruises further up.
It's rather embarrassing. During half the year I can wear long sleeves and cover up the worst of the bruising. But not these days. I have a slight--very slight--sense of what it must be like to be a leper. People are repelled by the bruises and I don't blame them.
I've also grown rather defensive about it. When Josh asked me about it over the 4th, I was short with him and he said he wasn't being judgmental, just concerned.
Also, an inhaler I take makes me tremble a bit--sometimes a lot. It has a steroid in it and simply makes me tremble. One of my best friends called Bern and asked about it, thinking it might be a sign of Parkinson's Disease. I'm on an injected medication every two weeks called Xolaire that is letting me use the inhaler less and less. I just held up my hands and there was no tremble at all.
Again, embarrassment is the issue.
What is 'embarrassment' about anyway?
Something about defensiveness, surely. And something about feeling 'not good' about yourself.
I'm going to ponder 'embarrassment' for a bit and try to get over it.
That might be something of value for you as well. I don't know, but maybe....
Sunday, July 6, 2014
Looking back
The weekend was great--Josh and Cathy and the girls. Josh loves to organize outings so I went with him and the girls to Sleeping Giant Park--never been there, sort of like New Yorkers' who've never been to the Statue of Liberty or the top of the Empire State Building. Sleeping Giant is 5 miles away and we've lived in New Haven and then Cheshire since 1980 and never once been there.
The 'paths' aren't 'paths' at all, they are areas of large rocks and tree roots around which you can, if you are agile enough, walk. I almost turned my ankle a dozen times. When Josh and the girls went up a 60 degree hill, I demurred and waited on them. Had I turned and ankle or fallen and broken my leg, I could only imagine how Josh and three little girls would get me back over the 'not really paths'. Maybe they'd just leave me or shoot me and put me out of my misery.
My first visit to Sleeping Giant will be my last, I promise.
The 5th was wondrous! What a day! A day to be out in the yard and on the deck. But Josh had another road trip planned. We went to New Haven and had pizza at Pepe's. Since Josh and Mimi spent 5 years of their childhood in walking distance of Pepe's, it is a visit he wants to make. And, by the way, the pizza is beyond belief. Bern and I shared a medium white clam that was larger than any large anywhere else. Morgan, Emma and Tegan ate piece after piece of a bacon pizza and a plain cheese pizza. At dinner that night, the leftovers went on the grill and they ate even more....
We did Italian sausage, chicken and tuna kabobs with rice and corn and asparagus--all on the grill. Again, more eating that should be admitted to. Then roasted marshmallows over the coals and strawberry shortcake--the 4th on the 5th. So good.
The girls were wondrous. Emma with her humor, Morgan with her attention and engagement, Tegan with off the wall questions and comments.
An example: Josh and I are sitting on the back porch reading (me with an actual paper book and him with his smart phone) and the other two girls are in the yard, digging, they love to did--Bern goes inside and Tegan comes over to me eating a ice pop. "Granpa," she says, very seriously, in a whisper, "is your wife crazy?"
I'm startled. "Do you mean Granma?" I ask. Josh is shaking his head and chuckling.
Tegan nods solemnly and licks her ice pop.
After a while, I say, "yes, a little crazy....But a little crazy is good and fun."
She seemed satisfied.
Josh, still shaking his head, said, "I don't know where this stuff comes from, but it's always coming."
I told Bern later and she laughed and laughed. She is a little crazy and it IS good and fun....
The 'paths' aren't 'paths' at all, they are areas of large rocks and tree roots around which you can, if you are agile enough, walk. I almost turned my ankle a dozen times. When Josh and the girls went up a 60 degree hill, I demurred and waited on them. Had I turned and ankle or fallen and broken my leg, I could only imagine how Josh and three little girls would get me back over the 'not really paths'. Maybe they'd just leave me or shoot me and put me out of my misery.
My first visit to Sleeping Giant will be my last, I promise.
The 5th was wondrous! What a day! A day to be out in the yard and on the deck. But Josh had another road trip planned. We went to New Haven and had pizza at Pepe's. Since Josh and Mimi spent 5 years of their childhood in walking distance of Pepe's, it is a visit he wants to make. And, by the way, the pizza is beyond belief. Bern and I shared a medium white clam that was larger than any large anywhere else. Morgan, Emma and Tegan ate piece after piece of a bacon pizza and a plain cheese pizza. At dinner that night, the leftovers went on the grill and they ate even more....
We did Italian sausage, chicken and tuna kabobs with rice and corn and asparagus--all on the grill. Again, more eating that should be admitted to. Then roasted marshmallows over the coals and strawberry shortcake--the 4th on the 5th. So good.
The girls were wondrous. Emma with her humor, Morgan with her attention and engagement, Tegan with off the wall questions and comments.
An example: Josh and I are sitting on the back porch reading (me with an actual paper book and him with his smart phone) and the other two girls are in the yard, digging, they love to did--Bern goes inside and Tegan comes over to me eating a ice pop. "Granpa," she says, very seriously, in a whisper, "is your wife crazy?"
I'm startled. "Do you mean Granma?" I ask. Josh is shaking his head and chuckling.
Tegan nods solemnly and licks her ice pop.
After a while, I say, "yes, a little crazy....But a little crazy is good and fun."
She seemed satisfied.
Josh, still shaking his head, said, "I don't know where this stuff comes from, but it's always coming."
I told Bern later and she laughed and laughed. She is a little crazy and it IS good and fun....
Friday, July 4, 2014
rainy 4th
I ran into my neighbor from across the street at Stop and Shop earlier today. "Hey, Joe," I said, "plan B?" We were both there to find dinner that didn't have to be grilled.
The day is rainy but Josh and Cathy and our granddaughters are here so it's bright inside!
They came late last night--after midnight--and were exhausted. The girls got some back yard time between rains and found a multitude of worms and slugs and ballbugs driven out into the open by the wet ground. Kids love gross and slimy and dirty things by their very nature. It seems to me you could predict the onset of adolescence by when kids stop picking up slimy things.
Josh, like Mimi when she's here commented on 'how quiet' Cheshire is. I guess it is but I just take it for granted. Like the Irish cab driver a few years ago who, every time he turned a curve going from Dreury to the Domitine retreat center heard me gasp as the beauty of the landscape.
Finally he said, in a wondrous accent, "Yea, I think we've come to take it for granted."
Too bad how we take blessings and beauty like that. Having the girls around to let me see the world through their eyes jars me out of complacency and I notice how astonishing worms are....
The day is rainy but Josh and Cathy and our granddaughters are here so it's bright inside!
They came late last night--after midnight--and were exhausted. The girls got some back yard time between rains and found a multitude of worms and slugs and ballbugs driven out into the open by the wet ground. Kids love gross and slimy and dirty things by their very nature. It seems to me you could predict the onset of adolescence by when kids stop picking up slimy things.
Josh, like Mimi when she's here commented on 'how quiet' Cheshire is. I guess it is but I just take it for granted. Like the Irish cab driver a few years ago who, every time he turned a curve going from Dreury to the Domitine retreat center heard me gasp as the beauty of the landscape.
Finally he said, in a wondrous accent, "Yea, I think we've come to take it for granted."
Too bad how we take blessings and beauty like that. Having the girls around to let me see the world through their eyes jars me out of complacency and I notice how astonishing worms are....
Thursday, July 3, 2014
OK, enough sweetness and light...
Ann Coulter.
You know where I'm going with this, right? If not you haven't been paying attention lately.
Ann Coulter (just to type her name annoys me!) went on a rant of Fox News (where else?) about soccer. Her take on the interest of Americans in the World Cup matches shows 'the moral decay' of American culture.
(Let me give you a minute to take that in...if, indeed, it is take-able in-able....)
OK, so here's her argument (such as it is):
1. America's interest in soccer shows that immigration from south of the border is out of control (because, presumably, white people don't like soccer!--nevermind about Europe....)
2. It is too much of a 'team sport' so there are no superstars and America needs superstars. (Nevermind, again, that there are stars in soccer but it is essentially a team sport...and when did playing as a 'team' become un-American? I thought that was the most American thing of all....)
3. It's boring because the scores are so low and American's like lots of scoring. (Never mind that a 1-0 baseball game is a classic and a 7-3 football game, though unusual, is the most exciting kind of game--since when is defense a bad thing.)
So, Soccer would be ok if the scores were like the NBA and there were super stars and white people played it....
Jesus, how stupid is that?
I didn't grow up playing soccer and neither of my kids played either, but lots of their friends did and now practically every kid in the suburbs plays soccer. And certainly every Hispanic kid does.
Ok, I'm getting irrational about this. Just go on line and find her rant and weep for America....
You know where I'm going with this, right? If not you haven't been paying attention lately.
Ann Coulter (just to type her name annoys me!) went on a rant of Fox News (where else?) about soccer. Her take on the interest of Americans in the World Cup matches shows 'the moral decay' of American culture.
(Let me give you a minute to take that in...if, indeed, it is take-able in-able....)
OK, so here's her argument (such as it is):
1. America's interest in soccer shows that immigration from south of the border is out of control (because, presumably, white people don't like soccer!--nevermind about Europe....)
2. It is too much of a 'team sport' so there are no superstars and America needs superstars. (Nevermind, again, that there are stars in soccer but it is essentially a team sport...and when did playing as a 'team' become un-American? I thought that was the most American thing of all....)
3. It's boring because the scores are so low and American's like lots of scoring. (Never mind that a 1-0 baseball game is a classic and a 7-3 football game, though unusual, is the most exciting kind of game--since when is defense a bad thing.)
So, Soccer would be ok if the scores were like the NBA and there were super stars and white people played it....
Jesus, how stupid is that?
I didn't grow up playing soccer and neither of my kids played either, but lots of their friends did and now practically every kid in the suburbs plays soccer. And certainly every Hispanic kid does.
Ok, I'm getting irrational about this. Just go on line and find her rant and weep for America....
Wednesday, July 2, 2014
And besides all that
I love her more than life itself...Bern, I mean. What she means to me increases exponentially every day.
I've never told her this--perhaps I should, though it might frighten her--she has become 'my life' in so many ways.
It has not always been this way. But it is now. I am 67 and she is 64 and we're on at least our 5th marriage, and this is the one I value best of all.
Soon I'll stop typing and take Bela out for his last pee of the day and then join her in the bed we've shared for over four decades and realize how blessed I am to have her in my life.
Maybe I'll tell her that and maybe I won't. Timing is everything.
And it is true, true beyond True...Well, either you know or you don't. Either you have a relationship, a love that defines your life or you don't. And there is no value in whatever you have. It's just I have such a relationship. And I count myself blessed beyond belief. I did nothing to deserve this. It isn't because I crossed some t's and dotted some i's, it is just that I am blessed without cause or purpose. In fact, in the real world, I made more mistakes than anyone should ever make. So. that's all it is. A glorious accident, a wondrous happenstance, something the cosmos didn't have in mind but happened anyway.
Like that.
Simply like that.
And I am more blessed, lucky, fortunate, astonishingly privileged than anyone has a right to be.
Lucky, blessed me.
Just like that. And thanks be to all the gods that be for my life turning out 'just like that'.
Really.
Why don't I appreciate that more?
I've never told her this--perhaps I should, though it might frighten her--she has become 'my life' in so many ways.
It has not always been this way. But it is now. I am 67 and she is 64 and we're on at least our 5th marriage, and this is the one I value best of all.
Soon I'll stop typing and take Bela out for his last pee of the day and then join her in the bed we've shared for over four decades and realize how blessed I am to have her in my life.
Maybe I'll tell her that and maybe I won't. Timing is everything.
And it is true, true beyond True...Well, either you know or you don't. Either you have a relationship, a love that defines your life or you don't. And there is no value in whatever you have. It's just I have such a relationship. And I count myself blessed beyond belief. I did nothing to deserve this. It isn't because I crossed some t's and dotted some i's, it is just that I am blessed without cause or purpose. In fact, in the real world, I made more mistakes than anyone should ever make. So. that's all it is. A glorious accident, a wondrous happenstance, something the cosmos didn't have in mind but happened anyway.
Like that.
Simply like that.
And I am more blessed, lucky, fortunate, astonishingly privileged than anyone has a right to be.
Lucky, blessed me.
Just like that. And thanks be to all the gods that be for my life turning out 'just like that'.
Really.
Why don't I appreciate that more?
One last thing I don't appreciate enough
Bern.
My wife of 43 years.
My life in many ways.
Bern does almost everything. I do these things: take the dog for his morning walk (and on Monday for his walk on the Canal--Bern takes him those other six days) his 'little walk' at 5 or so and his last pee after 10 pm, I clean the litter box for Lukie, I take out the trash and recycling on Tues and bring the bins back on Wednesday, I cook dinner 4 out of every 7 days. Besides doing my own laundry, that's all I do.
Bern does everything else. Cleans the house, mows the lawn with her hand mower, pays the bills every Monday (which is why I do the Canal walk that day), does the laundry for everything but my clothes, cooks dinner at least 3 days a week, manages the garden, keeps everything where it should be.
I could help her with all that but, sadly, I'm not capable of doing any of that as well as she does. It's just the truth. So she does all that.
My life wouldn't work without Bern. Not at all.
And I know that.
So, I should appreciate her more. And I vow to do that. I do.
Who in your life don't you appreciate enough? Not like you have to tell them, just appreciate them more, that's all. Ponder that, if you will.....
My wife of 43 years.
My life in many ways.
Bern does almost everything. I do these things: take the dog for his morning walk (and on Monday for his walk on the Canal--Bern takes him those other six days) his 'little walk' at 5 or so and his last pee after 10 pm, I clean the litter box for Lukie, I take out the trash and recycling on Tues and bring the bins back on Wednesday, I cook dinner 4 out of every 7 days. Besides doing my own laundry, that's all I do.
Bern does everything else. Cleans the house, mows the lawn with her hand mower, pays the bills every Monday (which is why I do the Canal walk that day), does the laundry for everything but my clothes, cooks dinner at least 3 days a week, manages the garden, keeps everything where it should be.
I could help her with all that but, sadly, I'm not capable of doing any of that as well as she does. It's just the truth. So she does all that.
My life wouldn't work without Bern. Not at all.
And I know that.
So, I should appreciate her more. And I vow to do that. I do.
Who in your life don't you appreciate enough? Not like you have to tell them, just appreciate them more, that's all. Ponder that, if you will.....
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