Category: This ‘n’ That

A friend sent me a link this morning to MSNBC’s web site displaying The Year In Pictures 2005. The pictures are really fantastic — both in their visual artistry and in the moments they capture. Some are horrific, some are sad, but they are interspersed with some that are funny and others that are just lovely to behold. While there is some overlap between the Editor’s Choice and Readers Choice shows, there were enough different images in the show to make it worth watching both (with or without audio).

Terry Teachout posted an email from one of his blog readers in response to his illness:

I find it odd what a presence you’ve become in my life; I didn’t think it was possible to care so much, to be so saddened by, to fear the loss of a person whom I’ve never met.

A friend of mine who does not know Terry wrote to me

just read your latest and then TT’s. could hardly make it through his as my eyes were so blurred with tears! very happy to hear that he has been given the greatest xmas gift of all – “another chance,” – so to speak.

Odd perhaps, but not really considering our shared humanity. Is it not kin to the same feelings that make our eyes tear up watching happy-ending holiday movies, or even Extreme Home Makeover and Three Wishes? We identify and empathize, and it feels good to be a part of that something bigger than our individual selves.

It’s true that tangible gifts — whether a handmade card or the over-the-top ‘gifts’ of houses and scholarships and such on TV — are great, the latter often representing a second chance at a new or better life. But it is the words we speak and write to one another that can provide powerful sources of support, a measure of comfort, and sometimes inspiration — even when there is no second chance.

I was saddened last week by the death of a woman I had never met. A week ago tonight my neighbor’s mother, Gladys, died in the hospital, surrounded by loving family members and friends. Ever since my neighbor told me about it I’ve been thinking about the hospital scene she described. The doctor and nurses were kind…and more importantly I think, they were honest. When Gladys asked the doctor, “Is this the end of the road?” he told her the truth. The best part, if there is such a thing as ‘a best part’ in death, is that because she was lucid, and because of the doctor’s honesty, goodbyes were able to be said. They talked about how cool it was that they were not only mother and daughter, but also best friends. Mother-daughter relationships have their unique twists and turns, and to feel that one’s mom is also a best friend is definately a blessing. (I feel similarly blessed, and if I am with my mother when she makes her transition, I will remember to remind her of how great it is that we were also friends…in fact, maybe I will tell her now, too.) I don’t know what else they said to one another, I get choked up just trying to imagine it — does one actually say “good bye” at such a moment? “I love you” was certainly said, not only in words, but with every touch and glance.

When the doctor acknowledged to Gladys that it was, indeed, the end of her road, he also told her that he could take away her pain. That was another gift — not only the cessation of pain, Gladys was given a choice, one that brought her some small measure of control along with a large measure of dignity. Gladys knew, as did those who were with her, that as the pain meds were increased she would slowly slip into unconsciousness. No longer in fear of pain, she was able to stretch those last hours and share them with those she loved. When her physical pain became too much, it was she who chose to ask for relief…and for release. It must be hard to let go, to allow a loved one to slip away. I imagine that it is even hard for the nurses to administer the medications that while providing relief from pain also slow the heart, leading ultimately to its repose. But love is sometimes hard. Gladys sailed away a few hours after, leaving behind sadness to be sure, but the tears will be tempered in time by loving memories.

So let’s count our blessings, use our time on earth wisely, be kind to one another, and remember that we are not alone.

Yesterday Terry Teachout wrote, “life has a way of pitching curve balls at your head.” He has been released from the hospital, and before heading off to spend Christmas with his family in Smalltown, USA, he updated his friends and blog followers on his ordeal.

TT has a serious ailment — congestive heart failure — but as he told me in an email message, “The good news, say the doctors, is that no permanent damage was done to the heart muscle and that IF I DO WHAT THEY TELL ME TO I can make a more or less complete recovery.”

Along with less salt and more exercise, one of the many mandates is sure to be reducing stress. The challenge of doing so is stressful in and of itself. As I told him in an email reply, “it won’t be easy, so get ready for the battle has just begun…You’ll need a support group, so lean on your friends — YOU ARE NOT ALONE — you have a formidable army at your disposal, so use us.”

I know whereof I speak. It will be ten years this summer since I told the grim reaper to take a hike. I thought I was immortal. Then, two years after that, the doctors happily reported that the cancer was still gone but diagnosed MS — more lifestyle changes. I’m still here, but superwoman took a nosedive. Priorities change in the proverbial blink of an eye and it is astounding what we we mere mortals can do, the things we can live with, and live without. Superwoman rises from the dead from time to time and tries to fly; sometimes I manage to hold her down, but sometimes I just let her soar…and pay for it later. Life requires an ongoing attitude adjustment, and it’s hard work.

Sharing your thoughts and fears, and reaching out to friends, makes the job a tad easier, and Terry is off to a good start. Read his account posted yesterday — Time off for good behavior — it is as eloquent as always with a touch of introspection mixed in with humor and journalistic details.

Sorry I’m late. I was without power for most of the day as the renovation process necessitated turning off the one circuit that connects me to the internet via cable modem. At left you have the state of the household as of the end of week three; at right was taken at the end of week four. Remember, this was slated to be a two-week job. Okay, everyone told me to multiply everything times 4 — the time and the cost and the number of bottles of aspirin that I would need. We’re not done yet, but I know it’s going to be worth it. We’re now at the end of week five; we’ve got some furniture back in the family room (see below) and the kitchen cabinets are finally underway. Dishware, pots and pans etc. are still in boxes, but there is light at the end of the tunnel and I am hoping that soon I will cook once again…if I remember how.

If you’re of a certain age, have a nostalgic fondness for the disco era, remember Gloria Gaynor, and are in the mood for some silly yet clever musical humor, click here. I’ve been playing this clip several times a day for the last two weeks ’cause it makes me smile. For some reason I thought I’d be in the minority, but the link has been making the email rounds in increasing numbers so it must be tickling more feathers than I had thought.

Some of you have taken the Punctuation Test and one friend — an ellipsis — sent me the text, which I think is also pretty funny:

Your life can be difficult because of your insecurities, but you should know that it isn’t your fault. YOU didn’t ask to be thrown in around thirty times per page in every bodice-ripper on the shelf! Those who overuse you can kiss your . . . you know. You need to learn to hold your head high and glory in your solitude. You really do have excellent, scholarly tastes. You must never forget that your friend, the period, will be there to support you at the end of every sentence where you truly belong, and, if what is left out is as important as what is said, why, then you are as vital as the alphabet!

Bassist Bill Crow stopped by to tell me that he’s a quotation mark and to share the following about brevity:

A university creative writing class was asked to write a concise essay containing the following elements:
1. Religion
2. Royalty
3. Sex
4. Mystery

The prize-winning essay read:
“My God,” cried the Queen, “I’m pregnant. I wonder who did it!”

Household renovation continues, and the crew will be working Friday and Saturday. I, however, will not be working, or blogging, until Monday. So I hope you all have a wonderful turkey day, and I’ll be back with you next week.

I was visiting A Sweet, Familiar Dissonace and came across a link to The Which Punctuation Mark Are You Test. Although I have oftewn been accused of being comma happy, it seems that that, like the blogess who led me here, I, too, am a semicolon, though I appear to be more sociable and a little less sophisticated than she. Here’s what it said about me:

You scored 30-percent Sociability and 64-percent Sophistication!
Congratulations! You are the semicolon! You are the highest expression of punctuation; no one has more of a right to be proud. In the hands of a master, you will purr, sneering at commas, dismissing periods as beneath your contempt. You separate and connect at the same time, and no one does it better. The novice will find you difficult to come to terms with, but you need no one. You are secure in your elegance, knowing that you, and only you, have the power to mark the skill or incompetence of the craftsman. You have no natural enemies; all fear you. And never, NEVER let anyone tell you that you cannot appear in dialogue!

Which mark are you?

Today is the beginning of renovation week #3. Clearly, there will be no Thanksgiving dinner served from my kitchen this year – we’ll be dining at the home of friends. I think the cabinets may get finished today or maybe tomorrow, and then they will start to tile the kitchen floor. The kitchen counter is almost done, but the tiles are heavy and the added few inches in depth now necessitates corbels be added to support the overhang. Also, the expanse of the counter changes the impact of the color of the tiles, which now no longer seem to blend with the color of the family room walls. (It’s hard to imagine a 12’ x 4.5’ expanse when looking at a 13” square tile.) So, I’ve had to pick out a new paint color for the walls. (Funny how these projects seem to mushroom.) I have never been partial to white walls – except perhaps for my parents’ home where the white living room walls make a great backdrop for all the colors and art works that fill the room. My childhood bedroom had yellow flowered wallpaper and the beds were covered with green corduroy spreads. Our bedroom today, once blue, became green about a year ago. John’s office is beige, my office walls are butterscotch, and for several years now the family room walls have been a deep raspberry color. The kitchen has been the only white-walled room in our house. As of today, my new plan is to paint the kitchen Soft Ivory and the family room a golden yellow color called Valley Flower that I think will complement the counter as well as the new bamboo floor to come without requiring a change of the family room draperies. Raspberry and blue will then continue to be the accent colors.

Well it’s been nearly two weeks and the house still in chaos due to the kitchen and family room renovation, but I can see some progress. The cabinets are getting new sliding shelves and drawers, the backerboard has been affixed to the kitchen floor and is awaiting tiles, and the tiles for the kitchen counter are being placed at this very moment. Still boxed in the garage is the new kitchen sink in a creamy off-white color they call “bisquit,” the “brushed bronze” faucet, and the bisquit colored dishwasher. (Here’s hoping the Sears Kenmore and Kohler versions of “biscuit” match.) Stay tuned. I think progress from here on in will be rapid (at least I hope so).

Would that I could be in Boston to see the Syncopated Rhythms , a music and danced themed exhibit of 20th Century African American Art from the George and Joyce Wein Collection. The Weins shared a lifelong passion for all of the arts and it’s sad that Joyce did not live to see this exhibit open at the Boston University Art Gallery. (Joyce died this past August.) If perchance you find yourself in Boston between November 18 2005 – January 22, 2006 I hope you’ll make time to enjoy this collection of paintings, sculpture, drawings and a painted story quilt.

Not my most gorgeous moment, but I did promise that if someone sent me a picture of the look on my face when I arrived at my surprise birthday party I’d share it. My mouth stayed wide open for several minutes but no words came forth. My friends are still reveling in the notion that they rendered me speechless.