I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the hard ground.
So it is, and so it will be, for so it has been, time out of mind:
Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely. Crowned
With lilies and with laurel they go; but I am not resigned.
Lovers and thinkers, into the earth with you.
Be one with the dull, the indiscriminate dust.
A fragment of what you felt, of what you knew,
A formula, a phrase remains, --- but the best is lost.
The answers quick & keen, the honest look, the laughter, the love,
They are gone. They have gone to feed the roses. Elegant and curled
Is the blossom. Fragrant is the blossom. I know. But I do not approve.
More precious was the light in your eyes than all the roses in the world.
Down, down, down into the darkness of the grave
Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind;
Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave.
I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Saying Goodbye to my Aunt
I went and saw my Aunt Flo tonight. I've been stopping by on a semi-regular basis to see her for the past two months or so. When I was a kid she lived in this very, very tiny house on 8000 West and the North side of 21st. Kennecott bought the property from her and my uncle about 10, maybe 15 years ago and destroyed it. But I see it in my minds eye every time I drive by that corner. Everyone called it The Farm. It wasn't really a farm, at least not in the full definition of the word. They had some chickens, peacocks, sheep, goats, rabbits and even pigs once in a while. My uncle Ernie was a sheep farmer and he had this old dog that was black and white and had two different color eyes. The dogs name was Blue. He was an old sheep dog and he followed my uncle everywhere he went. He was a great dog. My uncle had spent so many hours in the sun over his life time and he had such a wonderful face. All wrinkles and leather. He was a tiny, skinny man and always wore an old blue baseball cap, blue jeans, a plaid work shirt tucked into his jeans and belt to hold his pants up. If I remember correctly, his pant legs were often rolled up too. I hardly remember ever seeing him sitting inside, whenever we went over there he would be sitting outside with his legs crossed at the knee and old Blue was laying next to his feet.
My Aunt Flo is my dad's sister and my parents would go over there and sit around the kitchen table, drink gallons of coffee, smoke cigarettes and talk and talk and talk. I loved sitting there and listening to them talk about growing up and all of their kids and the "good old days" and gossip about other family members and whatever is was they were talking about. My aunt had this head of hair on her that I will always remember. She had such thick, white hair. I don't remember ever seeing her with a different hair style. On my dad's side of the family they all get this amazing white hair. As far as I'm aware, pretty much all of the kids hair turned white at a young age. I know one of my uncles had told me one time that his hair turned white at the age of 25.
Anyway, back to my aunt. She's always been one of those people that would talk to you. You know how sometimes you have older relatives and they lived by that code "Children should be seen, not heard", well she was not one of those people. She talked to us. She cared about us. She was interested in everything about us. She loved us and all kids.
The last few years I haven't seen much of her. I feel really bad about that. There are no excuses really, you know how it is, you get caught up in your life and the day to day living. You think about visiting, but then say something like, "oh, I'll go tomorrow or the next day or next week." Because even though you could go right then, you say to yourself, "I'm too tired. I need to do laundry. I don't want to miss that show on TV." or some other such nonsense and before you know it years have gone by.
The last few months Flo has been on my mind and I was driving by her house one day (because the sad truth is that she only lives about 3 miles away from me and has for the past 10 or so years) and I said to myself, I should stop. Then thought of a ton of reasons why I didn't want to stop, but then overcame them and did it. I stopped. I went and saw her and it was great. She was as happy to see me as I was to see her. She was pretty much bed ridden, on oxygen and morphine drops, but altogether she was doing good. We had a great conversation that first visit and I promised I'd be back.
And this time, I was back. I went back and saw her about every week and a half to two weeks or so and it was great. Two weeks ago I went and saw her and spent about two hours with her and we had a great time together. She had copies of some letters that my grandfather had written to his mother during the depression. Of course I had never known my grandfather, he died at a pretty young age and my own father was in his 40's when I was born. During that visit I asked "So, what's wrong with you, anyway?" She looked at me and said, "Honey, I was a smoker." Turns out she had COPD, which is like a chronic type of bronchitis and emphysema together. I asked her how old she was when she started smoking and she told me she was 13! By my calculations she had smoked for about 67 years. She quit a few years ago, but the damage was done.
During that visit I read a few of the letters out loud to her and asked if she remembered any of the things her father had written about and she did. We talked about some of those things, and sometimes we just sat quietly with each other in a companionable silence. I'll never forget those few precious hours together and will always be glad we shared that time together.
I didn't go to visit her last week, I had a terrible cold and I had planned on going this week. But during this time, Flo took a turn for the worse. One of my second-cousins had noted it on her Facebook page that she was not doing well. This made it even more important in my mind to go see her tonight. I called my sister Polli and asked her to go with me. I think that I kind of made her feel a bit guilty and really that wasn't my intent, but I didn't want to go there by myself tonight. I was a bit anxious about it.
It was so sad. She was hardly recognizable laying on her bed. She was guant and looked like she wasn't really there. But I went over to her and kissed her and told her I was there and brushed her hair a little bit away from her face. Polli and I stayed in the room with her, talking quietly to her daughter, my cousin, Dora. We were there for about an hour. Before I left I again went to my aunts bedside and kissed her again and told her I loved her. In my heart I was saying goodbye to her because I know that I will probably never see her again.
Seeing her tonight was really just a chance for me to say goodbye, it's not how I will remember her. I know that I will always have good memories of her and I'll remember her as my beloved Aunt Flo.
I'll miss her a great deal, but I know that I will always have her in my heart and I hope I'll always remember to treat other people like she treated us...with unconditional love.
I love you Aunt Flo.
My Aunt Flo is my dad's sister and my parents would go over there and sit around the kitchen table, drink gallons of coffee, smoke cigarettes and talk and talk and talk. I loved sitting there and listening to them talk about growing up and all of their kids and the "good old days" and gossip about other family members and whatever is was they were talking about. My aunt had this head of hair on her that I will always remember. She had such thick, white hair. I don't remember ever seeing her with a different hair style. On my dad's side of the family they all get this amazing white hair. As far as I'm aware, pretty much all of the kids hair turned white at a young age. I know one of my uncles had told me one time that his hair turned white at the age of 25.
Anyway, back to my aunt. She's always been one of those people that would talk to you. You know how sometimes you have older relatives and they lived by that code "Children should be seen, not heard", well she was not one of those people. She talked to us. She cared about us. She was interested in everything about us. She loved us and all kids.
The last few years I haven't seen much of her. I feel really bad about that. There are no excuses really, you know how it is, you get caught up in your life and the day to day living. You think about visiting, but then say something like, "oh, I'll go tomorrow or the next day or next week." Because even though you could go right then, you say to yourself, "I'm too tired. I need to do laundry. I don't want to miss that show on TV." or some other such nonsense and before you know it years have gone by.
The last few months Flo has been on my mind and I was driving by her house one day (because the sad truth is that she only lives about 3 miles away from me and has for the past 10 or so years) and I said to myself, I should stop. Then thought of a ton of reasons why I didn't want to stop, but then overcame them and did it. I stopped. I went and saw her and it was great. She was as happy to see me as I was to see her. She was pretty much bed ridden, on oxygen and morphine drops, but altogether she was doing good. We had a great conversation that first visit and I promised I'd be back.
And this time, I was back. I went back and saw her about every week and a half to two weeks or so and it was great. Two weeks ago I went and saw her and spent about two hours with her and we had a great time together. She had copies of some letters that my grandfather had written to his mother during the depression. Of course I had never known my grandfather, he died at a pretty young age and my own father was in his 40's when I was born. During that visit I asked "So, what's wrong with you, anyway?" She looked at me and said, "Honey, I was a smoker." Turns out she had COPD, which is like a chronic type of bronchitis and emphysema together. I asked her how old she was when she started smoking and she told me she was 13! By my calculations she had smoked for about 67 years. She quit a few years ago, but the damage was done.
During that visit I read a few of the letters out loud to her and asked if she remembered any of the things her father had written about and she did. We talked about some of those things, and sometimes we just sat quietly with each other in a companionable silence. I'll never forget those few precious hours together and will always be glad we shared that time together.
I didn't go to visit her last week, I had a terrible cold and I had planned on going this week. But during this time, Flo took a turn for the worse. One of my second-cousins had noted it on her Facebook page that she was not doing well. This made it even more important in my mind to go see her tonight. I called my sister Polli and asked her to go with me. I think that I kind of made her feel a bit guilty and really that wasn't my intent, but I didn't want to go there by myself tonight. I was a bit anxious about it.
It was so sad. She was hardly recognizable laying on her bed. She was guant and looked like she wasn't really there. But I went over to her and kissed her and told her I was there and brushed her hair a little bit away from her face. Polli and I stayed in the room with her, talking quietly to her daughter, my cousin, Dora. We were there for about an hour. Before I left I again went to my aunts bedside and kissed her again and told her I loved her. In my heart I was saying goodbye to her because I know that I will probably never see her again.
Seeing her tonight was really just a chance for me to say goodbye, it's not how I will remember her. I know that I will always have good memories of her and I'll remember her as my beloved Aunt Flo.
I'll miss her a great deal, but I know that I will always have her in my heart and I hope I'll always remember to treat other people like she treated us...with unconditional love.
I love you Aunt Flo.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Going to Knoxville
Well, I finally committed to going to Knoxville in June. Heather has been bugging the heck out of me about making up my mind and going and I was sitting on the fence about it, but I finally made the leap and bought the tickets. April, Teegan, Kathy and I are all going. Leaving on Friday night, the 12th of June and coming back on Monday the 22nd. While we are there Val is going to be graduating and Teegan is turning 3.
Sunday, May 24, 2009
The things that kids say...
So, Teegan is at that age that he picks up everything that people say around him. This can be both good and bad.
April brought him over for a little while and had stopped at McDonalds and got him an Ice Cream cone prior to that. April and I were trying to fix my bed frame because the hook thing that holds the frame together was very loose. I was holding the box spring up and Teegan wanted to "help" out. April and I were ready to put the bed back together and Teegan decided to push the box spring but when he did that both April and I weren't quite expecting it and we dropped it.
April was quite annoyed and told Teeg in a saracastic voice "Thanks a lot, Teegan." To which he so happily and proudly replied "You're Welcome!"
Then we were trying to make the bed but T decided he wanted to jump on the bed instead. He'd climb up, we'd catch him and put him on the floor, where he promptly ran to a different section to get back on the bed and everytime we asked him to help us, he'd say "yeah, sure", but then just kept on jumping.
Needless to say it took a while to get the bed made. When I was done, I told Teegan, "Guess what, Teegan?" He said, "What?" I told him, "You're never, ever, ever, going to have ice cream ever again." He stopped jumping, looked at me with a funny look and said "What the hell?"
April brought him over for a little while and had stopped at McDonalds and got him an Ice Cream cone prior to that. April and I were trying to fix my bed frame because the hook thing that holds the frame together was very loose. I was holding the box spring up and Teegan wanted to "help" out. April and I were ready to put the bed back together and Teegan decided to push the box spring but when he did that both April and I weren't quite expecting it and we dropped it.
April was quite annoyed and told Teeg in a saracastic voice "Thanks a lot, Teegan." To which he so happily and proudly replied "You're Welcome!"
Then we were trying to make the bed but T decided he wanted to jump on the bed instead. He'd climb up, we'd catch him and put him on the floor, where he promptly ran to a different section to get back on the bed and everytime we asked him to help us, he'd say "yeah, sure", but then just kept on jumping.
Needless to say it took a while to get the bed made. When I was done, I told Teegan, "Guess what, Teegan?" He said, "What?" I told him, "You're never, ever, ever, going to have ice cream ever again." He stopped jumping, looked at me with a funny look and said "What the hell?"
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Wednesday night
So Wednesday nights you will usually find me at church. We have a Bible study service. Anyway, tonight I am watching Teegan while April goes to a concert and I took Teeg with me. I was a bit on the nervous side taking him because he's a very active 2 year old (almost 3) and I wasn't sure how he would do in that setting. When we got there, he decided he had to sit next to my friend Randi and her son Noah. He was SO good. He wanted to sing along with the rest of us and of course he needed his own song book.
Later he and Noah, Elora, Alijah and Chardonnae got to go play in the nursery. Now were are home and watching Scooby Doo and Shaggy and I for one am so glad that April decided to bring over one of her Scooby Doo videos because I'm pretty sure that the two that I have here, I've seen with Teeg at least 387 times. If I have to watch one, it's nice that it's one I haven't actaully seen before.
Anyway, this post is mostly for Heather, since she keeps bugging me to update my blog. Love ya, Heather. :-)
Monday, April 6, 2009
As the song says...
Far away far away, I want to go far away.
To a new life on a new shore line.
Where the water is blue and the people are new.
To another island, in another life.
I want to go far away.
Away away, I want to go far away,
away, away I want to go far away, far away.
Where the water is blue and the people are new.
To another life, to another life.
To another shore line In another life.
To a new life on a new shore line.
Where the water is blue and the people are new.
To another island, in another life.
I want to go far away.
Away away, I want to go far away,
away, away I want to go far away, far away.
Where the water is blue and the people are new.
To another life, to another life.
To another shore line In another life.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Welcome to Holland
A friend of mine read this article and told me about it today and even though I'm not Mormon, I think that it really applies across the universe of singledom.
OK, we have all heard the comments; the crazy things that people say. I remember a single friend who was approached by one of her leaders, who sat her down, and with all sincerity, he told her that her future husband was probably an Ethiopian boy who had died, but would be waiting for her in the next life!
What? To my well-educated, "mover and a shaker" of a friend, this attempt at comforting left her head spinning. When she told me, we shared a good laugh; (Remember, Sister Hinckley said you either have to laugh or cry, we prefer to laugh) I thought that was probably the most bizarre thing that anyone had ever said.
She assured me it wasn't. She had a single friend, who was approached by someone who told her, "You are so brave, to have gone through this life, knowing that no one wanted you."
But wait! A couple of weeks ago, I had a friend who told me that someone she knew who wanted to empathize with her challenges of being single, shared of another friend who had cancer, and was going through the same trial. Of course she was appalled, now she was likened to the deadly disease of cancer.
Surely this doesn't even compare to some of the thoughtless comments that others have had to endure. Someone once said, "Loneliness is enduring the presence of those who don't understand." How true this is. We can feel very lonely in marriage, as a child in a large family, at a business meeting, at our own birthday celebration, or in the middle of a stadium of fans. One of our greatest needs in this life is to be understood. Unfortunately as people attempt to understand or show concern; they can say some of the most off the wall things. Certainly I have done this myself.
I love the Italy/Holland analogy.
Most of us are raised thinking we will be going to Italy, (figuratively speaking) getting married to someone who adores you, having a beautiful family, healthy and obedient children, owning a home and living happily ever after. We spend our early life preparing for Italy, we pack our bags for Italy, we learn the language and customs of Italy, we see pictures of Italy, and we are schooled constantly for Italy. We are excited for the future and all it will bring.
Then for some of us, in mid air, the flight attendant announces there have been a change of plans and we will soon be landing in Holland! Wait, we want to go to Italy. We didn't pack for Holland; we don't know the language or the customs of Holland. We haven't even seen a picture of Holland. In fact we don't know the first thing about Holland. Most of our friends are on the plane to Italy, we want to be with them. But our plane is set to land; before we know it we are in Holland.
Of course Holland is beautiful too, it has the tulips, the windmills, friendly people, truly a character of its own, but we just didn't plan to live there. Over time, we come to appreciate all that Holland has to offer, we even find great joy in Holland. However we still mingle with our friends who are living in Italy. They are living in the country where we thought we would be; this can be difficult for us at times. Many of them have never been to Holland. They don't speak our language, or know our customs, or understand us. Occasionally there are difficult and awkward times when we get together.
Both countries are beautiful, and offer so much joy. It can be difficult however, to understand the customs of one, while you are living in the other. So in our effort to connect, and relate, we might say insensitive things, lending to a very real feeling of loneliness.
As one who has lived in Holland most of my life, I have come to appreciate and even love this place. Perhaps that is why tulips are my favorite flower. It is in Holland that I have gained understanding, perspective, a testimony, discipline, gratitude, and a deep love for my Heavenly Father. It is also here that I have found most of my heroes who have inspired me with their strength and commitment. It is here that I have found people who understand, and love unconditionally. As much as I still want to go to Italy, part of me will be forever in Holland.
As I get older, I am finding that more and more of my friends are coming to live in Holland; life is not going as they expected. I love being a tour guide, and showing them the beauty of this place, watching them as they adapt and grow, and introducing them to some of the most amazing people.
Wherever we live at this time, in Italy or Holland, may we try to understand one another, offering unending mercy, and love; you just never know when the flight attendant will say, "Welcome to Holland."
Living the Unexpected Life: Holland or Italy?
By Becky Thomas
For Mormon Times
Sunday, Feb. 08, 2009
OK, we have all heard the comments; the crazy things that people say. I remember a single friend who was approached by one of her leaders, who sat her down, and with all sincerity, he told her that her future husband was probably an Ethiopian boy who had died, but would be waiting for her in the next life!
What? To my well-educated, "mover and a shaker" of a friend, this attempt at comforting left her head spinning. When she told me, we shared a good laugh; (Remember, Sister Hinckley said you either have to laugh or cry, we prefer to laugh) I thought that was probably the most bizarre thing that anyone had ever said.
She assured me it wasn't. She had a single friend, who was approached by someone who told her, "You are so brave, to have gone through this life, knowing that no one wanted you."
But wait! A couple of weeks ago, I had a friend who told me that someone she knew who wanted to empathize with her challenges of being single, shared of another friend who had cancer, and was going through the same trial. Of course she was appalled, now she was likened to the deadly disease of cancer.
Surely this doesn't even compare to some of the thoughtless comments that others have had to endure. Someone once said, "Loneliness is enduring the presence of those who don't understand." How true this is. We can feel very lonely in marriage, as a child in a large family, at a business meeting, at our own birthday celebration, or in the middle of a stadium of fans. One of our greatest needs in this life is to be understood. Unfortunately as people attempt to understand or show concern; they can say some of the most off the wall things. Certainly I have done this myself.
I love the Italy/Holland analogy.
Most of us are raised thinking we will be going to Italy, (figuratively speaking) getting married to someone who adores you, having a beautiful family, healthy and obedient children, owning a home and living happily ever after. We spend our early life preparing for Italy, we pack our bags for Italy, we learn the language and customs of Italy, we see pictures of Italy, and we are schooled constantly for Italy. We are excited for the future and all it will bring.
Then for some of us, in mid air, the flight attendant announces there have been a change of plans and we will soon be landing in Holland! Wait, we want to go to Italy. We didn't pack for Holland; we don't know the language or the customs of Holland. We haven't even seen a picture of Holland. In fact we don't know the first thing about Holland. Most of our friends are on the plane to Italy, we want to be with them. But our plane is set to land; before we know it we are in Holland.
Of course Holland is beautiful too, it has the tulips, the windmills, friendly people, truly a character of its own, but we just didn't plan to live there. Over time, we come to appreciate all that Holland has to offer, we even find great joy in Holland. However we still mingle with our friends who are living in Italy. They are living in the country where we thought we would be; this can be difficult for us at times. Many of them have never been to Holland. They don't speak our language, or know our customs, or understand us. Occasionally there are difficult and awkward times when we get together.
Both countries are beautiful, and offer so much joy. It can be difficult however, to understand the customs of one, while you are living in the other. So in our effort to connect, and relate, we might say insensitive things, lending to a very real feeling of loneliness.
As one who has lived in Holland most of my life, I have come to appreciate and even love this place. Perhaps that is why tulips are my favorite flower. It is in Holland that I have gained understanding, perspective, a testimony, discipline, gratitude, and a deep love for my Heavenly Father. It is also here that I have found most of my heroes who have inspired me with their strength and commitment. It is here that I have found people who understand, and love unconditionally. As much as I still want to go to Italy, part of me will be forever in Holland.
As I get older, I am finding that more and more of my friends are coming to live in Holland; life is not going as they expected. I love being a tour guide, and showing them the beauty of this place, watching them as they adapt and grow, and introducing them to some of the most amazing people.
Wherever we live at this time, in Italy or Holland, may we try to understand one another, offering unending mercy, and love; you just never know when the flight attendant will say, "Welcome to Holland."
Living the Unexpected Life: Holland or Italy?
By Becky Thomas
For Mormon Times
Sunday, Feb. 08, 2009
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