Another Anniversary, Another Reason to Celebrate! Here's to Us!

Today I have been married for 38 years. That's a long, long time.  I remember when we were young, and yes, it seems like yesterday, that we used to talk about the Beatle's song  "When I'm Sixty Four".  We used to smile and say that would be us. Wellllll....here we are. Long ago, in that far away land of youth and adventure, our young minds couldn't really fathom that minutes would turn into hours, hours to days, and days to years.  Until ....until...well...until now.  Here we are, sitting together, watching tv, kids grown, grand kids yes, on our knee.  It's that time.


Thirty eight years ago I had only been in England, my husband's home country, for about three days.  I was starry eyed and all I knew was that he loved me.  The two guys before him that I was serious about told me they loved me, and one asked me to marry him; I didn't believe him.  I even told him that he just thought he loved me. But my husband....I was sure he loved me.  I still am.

Listen, don't ever get married and think that you will both stay the "same person".  That's just impossible.  I mean, you will still have the basics, but so much will change. Things will happen that you don't plan, things will throw you for a huge loop and you'll find yourself wondering if you made a mistake.  In my opinion, the only way anyone can make a mistake is to marry for the wrong reasons.  It will be just quicker for me to tell you the right reason: love.

When I met my Phil, he was a wild young Englishman who had this presence and confidence. We were both living on a kibbutz in the Galilee region of Israel.  We were living there, working a half day while taking Hebrew the other half.  We didn't hit it off to a great start, but we became the best of friends and just hung out.  He helped me with my Hebrew homework, hung around me on hikes through the Israeli desert and made me laugh.  We were in my room one night doing homework and I got really frustrated, threw the pencil across the room, scowled and spit out, "I can't do this".  He picked up the pencil, threw it back at me and said, "Yes you can!" That's all it took, he had me.

 One afternoon he came back to his room after working in the refet (barn-  milking the cows) and I told him we "had to talk."  He asked me if it could wait until after his shower,  and of course I said it couldn't.  I let him know I felt more for him than "just a friend" and he smiled with a relieved look on his face and told me he felt the same.  But he added that we should take it "nice and slow".  Of course I agreed.  Funny thing, it might have been a few days later that he asked me to marry him; on top of Masada, where all the Jews killed themselves.  (Hmmmmmm prophetic???)



That was eons ago, at least it seems that.  Marriage is more work and possibly more difficult than raising children.  At least when you have two totally different, extremely stubborn, ridiculously passionate and opinionated people such as ourselves.  But neither of us wanted to settle into a relationship where we just tolerated one another.  We actually wanted to keep the "spark", the passion, the friendship.  We had to fight, we had to fight hard, both of us....but so far, so good.  Yes, there was a time we almost didn't make it, but in the end, we both realized we didn't want to live without each other; without growing old together.

He has been my only husband, and I am his only wife.  I love that. I'm proud of that.  We both deserve the benefits.  We have the scars to prove it, and the love to bind us.  It's not about staying together for the kids, (although that is important), it's not about being too lazy to do anything, because we weren't, it's about grace, prayer, love and miracles.

Here's to us Phil....."celebrate we will, cause life is short be sweet for certain. We climb on two by two to be sure these days continue!"

My Human Condtion

I'm the creative type.  If I'm not "creating" something, or reinventing something, I get restless.  I think this creative outlet is a blessing.  If not for that, I would completely be lost in thoughts.......about life, love, gain and loss. 



 Having children opened a whole new realm of speculation for me.  Believe it or not, my mind turned to death more than I'd like to admit.  Fortunately I'm not the only mother whose mental activities plummeted to such morbid musings.  Chatting with a new mother the other week I confessed about the "death thoughts" thing after becoming a parent.  Her eyes widened  and she said in an almost reassured voice tone, "I KNOW!  YES!"

  I don't think anything touches a heart more than a mother's love.  Love in general is a very extensive subject for me; very intriguing and totally captivating.  I think about it all the time; even when I'm being my creative self .

These last couple of weeks I lovingly restored and redecorated my 1980's oak kitchen cabinets.  It was a long, difficult and tedious procedure, but I enjoyed pretty much every minute of it. The reason is that I have always wanted to surround myself with beauty and things that I love.  I do believe that walls have stories and houses have lives that were part of the previous owners.  I am the future previous owner.  To put love , care and affection into my walls and my space is important to me.  Sitting here on a very, very hot desert summer evening, I look around at the home I've created and feel  peace, joy and gratitude.  Indeed, I am rich.

Isn't it interesting though that there is still a longing?  There is still a desire for something even more beautiful, more satisfying?  My son posted a song on my facebook page; Flume, by Bon Iver.  Included in the post was his note to me; "I love ya ma."  

;

Listening to it I felt something deep inside of me come alive with an almost sad yearning.  Yearning for more time maybe?  I'm not sure, but I know that he was just a little guy about week ago and suddenly he's now a man. What happened?  And can I go back and have another chance at being his mother? 


When I was in my 30's I proudly and superciliously told people that I had no regrets.  HAHAHAH...the last laugh is on me. Regrets? Oh hell yes!  




I have so many!!!  My son was truly wild at heart with a curiosity that couldn't be quenched. He too was creative, pensive and filled with young awe for this world.  And I did so many things wrong.  Firstly I listened to people in my church tell me how to discipline my children.  Big mistake, on so many levels!  The fact that he was around when his father and I were at our worst was tragic and I will always feel horrible for that. 

But enough of maudlin reminiscing.  The fact is, we all have our deep longings, our profound regrets, our aching thoughts of beginning again and getting it right. 


 Right?

In the meantime I don't want to leave you with the idea that I'm unhappy because I'm not.  I am very much in love with my life, I am very much in love with my family, with my dogs, with my home, with everything that I am fortunate enough to be a part of.  So with that, I'll say good night.....

Caged Birds Singing, Human Unkindness, and Meanderings On a Hot Summer Day

The world is blowing up 
The world is caving in 
The world has lost her way again 
But you are here with me 
But you are here with me 
Makes it ok 

These are words to a Dave Matthews song called "Oh"  In an interview, he said these lyrics are to his grandfather who has passed on.  But it's true.  I think so much that the world is blowing up and has lost her way.  It makes me sad;  heavily sad that most of the time I don't realize how it has seeped it's way into my soul and tainted my whole perspective  By that time it almost seems too late to NOT think about how shitty things are.  Then, of course, the whole brain washing thing has to begin again. Washing my brain of all the dirty, mean, horrible thoughts of reality, of people, of death and of meanness " Wow", you may say," she's gone way in over her head".  Yep, indeed I have.



I made a friend on facebook.  I'm not sure how we actually became friends other than she was my husbands friend via some other website about jews or Leeds, his old stomping ground.  But she was so nice and we chatted via facebook about life, religion and world. Then one day, a few weeks ago, she went in to the docs because she thought she had gallbladder problems.  But it was apparently a serious stage of cancer. She died today.  I think it was today.  Even in a virtual world there is grief and sadness when someone is no longer there.


So, should I bring up the latest?  The young guy who was released from the taliban because we traded 5 pieces of shit for him?  I think this is what disturbs me most. This is what I"m trying to escape most.  According to a former friend of his he was quiet, shy and kind.  He was philosophical and a thinker.  Apparently he thought too hard when he was in Afghanastan and decided we weren't as pure as people thought we were.  He wanted to leave.  He probably had a break down.  I can relate.  All of his buddies escaped from the horrors of their surroundings with having beers and going out. They asked him to join them but he didn't.  I get it.  He probably saw the bigger picture and didn't know how to process it.  So he left.  How the hell do I know though?  I don't.


Yes, the mean stuff that I read about what  people say is enough to make me want to pack it in.  Give up on humanity.  I think it's the final straw.  It's difficult to believe people can love one another.  I chose the Christian faith because it is founded on unconditional love.  I don't see that at all in my old circle of Christians friends.  I see judging, fear and all sorts of darkness that I don't want anything to do with.  One thing I don't see is any sort of hope,


Okay, enough of the ranting about others.  Me?  Myself?  Oh for god's sake.  Shall I just take a minute?  Yes, I'm superficial  I looked at myself in a video at Home Depot and there, in the camera is a woman whose eyes are framed by deep, dark circles of bags.  OMG...is that ME?  I'm not one to grow old gracefully...okay?  So stone me for it.  I'm just not there.  Of course you have heard it before; I feel like my life is just beginning.  But of course, it's not.


It's hot as hell in this Phoenix.  The nights cool off a bit and I lie in my comfy hammock under the three palm trees and look up at the stars.  Sometimes I ponder the greatness of God, other times I feel the presence of my loved ones who have gone on.  But it's a peaceful time,  the dogs make sure I"m okay, then go back in to the air conditioning. And I am alone.  Just like I came into the world and just like I'll leave.

I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings

The free bird leaps
on the back of the wind
and floats downstream
till the current ends
and dips his wings
in the orange sun rays
and dares to claim the sky.

But a bird that stalks
down his narrow cage
can seldom see through
his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and
his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings
with fearful trill
of the things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill for the caged bird
sings of freedom

The free bird thinks of another breeze
and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn
and he names the sky his own.

But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing

The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill for the caged bird
sings of freedom

The free bird thinks of another breeze
and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn
and he names the sky his own.

But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing

The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.

Maya Angelou

Letter to the dead

Summer is here in Phoenix.  The doors are shut and the air is on. Thankfully, this year, we have two wonderful french doors, side by side, for the light to shine through while the house is closed up.  It's Memorial Day and I've been layin' low, just doing nothing really.

Memorial Day, no, I don't really think of the men and women who have served our country...wait...I mean yes, I do, but all my little life I have really thought of Memorial Day as the day we remember the dead.  And because of that, I'm writing this...

I want to remember Dave...so, I'll write this letter to him...Here ya go Dave...

My Dear Young, Eighteen Year Old Boyfriend,

Wow...It's been so long, but I am remembering today.  I remember our relationship.  I think it was a good two years that we were together.  I was young, but it was a very formidable  time of my life;our
relationship had been going south for quite some time.  Arguments, etc etc etc...I won't get into that.  But it was then and the arguments were real.  The arguments!  So, my little 17 year old self decided that I would be the "woman",  that I would be independent.  I called it quits with you.  The next night you called me...as you usually would when there were problems between us, and my sister answered.  I told her to tell you that I never wanted to see you again.  And that was that.  I actually felt very good for standing up for myself and my feelings.  But the next night you were killed in a silly accident.  Your friend (whom I never liked) was driving...he took the turn too fast.  You were in his jeep, and at that time, there were no seat belt laws.  He took it too fast and you both were thrown from the vehicle.   Supposedly you both died instantly of head wounds.  I had a friend who was at the scene. He said he saw you both, laying there.  He said that your hands were moving...but the authorities said you were both dead.

I was with my friend Sue that night. We had gone out "driving around" as there was nothing else to do. We drove by the accident site just after it happened.  I remember commenting on it..something like "look, something is happening over there.  Must be an accident."  It was God's grace that I didn't stop and get closer to see.  I have no idea what seeing you lying there all bloody would have done to my young self.

When I got home that night my mother was waiting for me.  As I walked in, she looked desperate, but relieved.  "Oh Peggy", she cried, "something horrible has happened."  And I screamed at the top of my lungs, "If Dave is dead, God can go to hell.".  And thus began a change in my life that would never stop.
I won't dwell on that. What I will write about is that I remember you.  You have been gone since 1969, and I remember you.  I remember the good times as well as the bad.  I remember riding on you 650 BSA on the back; wind blowing in my hair, you driving.  Life was young and good.  I remember the two proms.  You didn't like to dance, I did..but I didn't care.  I really wanted to be with you. You were really my prince charming.  You bought me wonderful things.  I still have the gold bracelet....over forty years later, I still wear it.  I remember you Dave, your young, serious face, your curly brown hair, your wide, deep blue eyes that spoke volumes.  I loved you with the love of a seventeen year old girl who wanted to spend the rest of her life you.

You will always be the young love of my life.  I'm married now, with grown children and grandchildren, but your life, your death had an impact on me that I won't deny anymore.  When my husband married me, he said he felt like he was marrying a widow. Maybe.  We spoke of marriage, but things got rough didn't they.

Anyway, I miss you and will always wonder.  Whenever I dream about you, it's that you're not dead.  It's in a situation that you haven't really died, but you're not with me.  You're alive, but not with me. And in my dreams, I want you...still. Mysteries are part of our imperfect life aren't they?

A few years ago I felt like you were trying to talk to me, trying to say something. And the only way I can sum that up is that you were trying to say ," I'm sorry".   If that is what you were trying to say, well...I forgive you.  I want to say "sorry" too.  I don't understand why you had to die so young..maybe some day.

In the meantime, I hear you in songs.  That is the language I understand, and that is the language you speak.  In my opinion anyway.

I have a great husband Dave.  I mean, we've been together 38 years.  I don't know if that would have been us...but in any case, I think you know.  He's the type of guy who loves me so much, he accepts me exactly the way I am. Baggage and all. Oh, and no, he's no saint.  I have accepted him, no holes barred.  I'm a good wife.  But you will always be under my skin, in my soul. 

Because music is my language, this one's for you David Saxon.....

"Baby Blue"

Confess, your kiss still knocks me off my legs. 
The first time I saw you was like a punch right through my chest 
and I will forever, 'cause you'll forever be 
my one true broken heart, pieces inside of me and you'll forever, my baby be. 

You will rest your head, your strength once saving. 
And when you wake you will fly away, 
holding tight to the legs of all your angels. 
Goodbye my love, into your blue, blue eyes, 
your blue, blue world, you're my baby blue. 

Confess I'm not quite ready to be left. 
Still, I know I gave my level best. 
You give, you give, to this I can attest 
You made me, you made me. 
You and me forever, baby. 

You will rest your head, your strength once saving. 
And when you wake you will fly away, 
holding tight to the legs of all your angels. 
Goodbye my love, into your blue, blue eyes, 
in your blue, blue world, you and me forever. 

You will rest your head, your strength once saving. 
And when you wake you will fly away, 
holding tight to the legs of all your angels. 
Goodbye my love, into your blue, blue eyes, 
in your blue, blue world, you and me forever.

Bye bye Dave....Maybe it's not really bye bye...but maybe I should just say, "until next time".  

xoxoxo

The Sweetness Of Now

Lying outside on my hammock, dark blue sky with silver dots that are stars over head.  I'm just looking at the beauty all around me.  The colors above me; rich, dark blue, the brilliance of  what looks like diamonds in the sky,  the patterns of foliage, and I feel so alive, so right.  I think of the song "Itchycoo Park".  
"Over bridge of sighs 
To rest my eyes in shades of green Under dreamin' spiresTo Itchycoo Park, that's where I've been
It's all too beautiful!"

Inside I hear the tv and it's luring me in to dull my mind, my senses and my awareness of "now' with it's beautiful images of clean and bright living spaces inviting me to do what I'm dong now; live. But it's only an illusion of living...right now, in the hammock, swinging, dogs playing in the yard, soft  breeze blowing,...this is living.  It's sort of a catch 22 isn't it?  

It's hgtv, which is my weakness.  But I know that if I go inside and sink into my huge, down filled leather sofa, I'll forget all of the things I'm experiencing right now...I'll forget how to put them to words.  And my thoughts at this  moment are of how beautiful this world is, how the colors all around add so much peace and joy in this imperfect world. 

 I love it!!  So I choose not to go in.  Instead I  go to my room, open my computer and do what I love to do; I write.  

Watching tv can suffocate creativity so that nothing is left but empty space in one's head. 

Lately, I have been filled with gratitude, filled with appreciation for being alive.  I haven't always been like this, I've taken it for granted.  I think I'm sort of a slow learner.  At times (more than not) I drift out of reality, out of the now.  I slide slowly into the deep waves of anxiety and worry, otherwise disguised as concern.  Then of course, a song, a blue sky, a silver star just sort of snap me back to the moment...and there it is!  All the beauty.  I mean, it's been there all along hasn't it?
Funny the way it is.  (dmb)

Dear Mom,

So, yesterday I had the oddest thing happen. (However, when I think of it, maybe it wasn't so odd.) I was sitting outside enjoying yet another beautiful day here in Phoenix, and I thought to myself, only for a split second, "I need to get something for mom, Mother's Day is Sunday".  I admit though, the thought didn't even get to the word "something".  But if the thought were to run to completion, that's what it would have been. Maybe it was more like a feeling than a thought.  To put it simply, it was like you were still here, still alive,  in this world,  and I would call you, and of course, you would answer, and I would say something like, "Hi mom, happy Mother's Day!"  Weird huh?  I guess the older I get the more odd  feelings like that happen.


I mean it's normal to think more of you on days like Mother's Day and your birthday and the anniversary of your death.  Geeeez, I can't believe you've been gone so damn long.  It's so long.  Yet it seems like yesterday that you were here.  It also seems like you're here now,




like you know who your adorable great-grand daughter is,





and of course your all boy great- grand sons are.







 If it weren't for you, we, wouldn't be here, wouldn't be who we, are.









For sure, I wouldn't be who I am.

You know I've always said that you taught me more about love than any other human being.  Yesterday at our staff meeting we had this little presentation on active listening.  I can say for sure, and always have, that you listened to me. I know you remember when we would sit in the living room on Saxony and you would just sit and listen to me talk about my favorite songs and their lyrics.  You just sat there, looked at me, and truly listened.  Of course I don't remember anything you said because I was the one going on and on about what I loved.


But there were times when it was me who actively listened to you. I remember you telling me about your boyfriends.  I loved that. I loved getting a little glimpse into who you were before you were a wife and mother. When you were just you, Mary Jane Townsend.





I think you must have been the bomb.  Truly!  You were just a pistol.   Grandma told me about how when she would want to swat your bottom when you were a little girl, she would have to chase you around the dining room table.  And when it was your turn to do the dishes, you would go and hide until you would hear the silver ware clanking; you knew the job was done and you could come out of hiding and play, free of work.

I listened when you told me that grandpa would sit in the dark when you came home from dates.  And you knew he was there because you could see the light from his cigarette in the window.  I listened when you told me about a boy you really loved, and when he wanted to marry you, how his  Protestant mother said he she would disown him if he did because you were Catholic. Even when I was young, I thought, "What a woos...I'm glad she didn't marry that little momma's boy."  Ha! Instead you married a Jewish guy whose mother wouldn't come to the wedding because he married a non Jew.  Hmmmmm...history seems to repeat itself in our family.  At least Dad stood up to his family and married you anyway.  How could he not? He knew what he had and he knew how classy, beautiful and intelligent you were.


Anyway, it's Mother's Day, not Valentine's Day, again I digress.  I think I just wanted to say to you that yes, you were a pretty good mother who taught me unconditional love, but I also see you as a person, apart from me, apart from Dad.  And I see an amazing, feisty woman with creativity that didn't belong in the suburbs.  (But, it was in the 40's and 50's, the suburbs is where it was happening.)


I also know that you still see us, our family. At least that's what I choose to believe.  For some reason I think you see Maya especially.  Last night at the talent show she was in, I felt you were looking on at her, at your grand-daughter and at me.




I miss you mom...but c'est la vie.  Thank you for having me and being there for me always, I mean always.  And thanks so much for giving me that special song when you died.  I love you and always will.......

Pegala

Ramblings About Life and Death On a Beautiful Sunday Evening in the Desert

Now, I am sitting outside on my vintage, chalk painted brown wicker sofa, listening to the wind in the palms.  I'm looking at my little, very little, piece of paradise here in the east valley, thinking of life and how things come an go.


My three lovely, four legged friends are all around me, and my two legged lover/friend/husband, is sitting in the brown wicker chair in our little seating arrangement on our patio. (It must all match, thus the brown wicker.)  I have to say life is good.  We are dog sitting our grand-dog, Luke, who is about 14, same age as my princess Lexy.  And for them life as they know it, is almost over. Their sight is failing and their hearing has failed them a few years ago.


 I must admit, I'm getting on too.  I think of "the end" too.  Whether it be tomorrow or thirty years from now, (I would be REALLY old by today's standards thirty years from now.)  I know that soon, I will say goodbye.  I thought of that this morning during church.  I don't even know what the pastor was saying but I thought of my mortality and I think I had a very slight panic attack.  I love life.  It's about time too.  For the longest time I just sort of tolerated it.  I hate to say it, but I"m vulnerable here...so be patient.


Sitting here chatting with my other half chatting about mundane things make life very comfortable  I mean we don't sit here and discuss the ways we hope to die.  But it's there, in the back of my mind.  How will I die?  I really hate that our culture is so damn uptight about discussion concerning death.  However, my daughter says that I need to sort of keep it light if I want friends to hang out with. She's right, of course she's right, who wants to talk about death? Other than me.  

My life couldn't be better right now. I mean there are things I think of, knowing that the future is pretty much behind me as far as seeing multiple possibilities.  My life is peaceful tranquil and filled with family and friends that mean a whole lot to me. For however this sounds, my home is my little castle. It is the escape from the world of pressures and responsibilities of others. I enter this little paradise where my husband usually cooks me amazing meals on a Sunday, where my four legged loved ones greet me at the door EVERY time I come home, and where I can look at all the things these four walls contain and love each and every piece of art displayed.


Saying that, my extremely beautiful daughter called saying her and my wonderful son in law and my above average grandchildren are home from a weekend in Cali visiting their her brother and the ever so famous Disneyland.  (A place I never ever dreamed of taking my children for lack of funds in the mid west.)


Contemplating my life, I can't even begin to tell you how grateful I am to be alive.  Truly, it won't be long and I won't be, but now, I'm grateful.  Love you all...xoxoxo