Maryann

This Friday, August 20^th 2010, I was reminded on my way to the hospital, of the forty- fifth anniversary of the Beatles visit to Minneapolis and Metropolitan Stadium.  It was also the day of my mother-in-law's passing.

            I had carved out 25 minutes between yoga classes to make a run to the ICU.  I arrived, stood at the foot of her bed, and placed my hands on her feet.  With her oldest daughter at her left hand and another daughter-in-law at her right hand, I watched her take her last breaths.  She was gone within five minutes of my arriving. The men in the room, her three sons, and one grandson (my son), sat or stood near the perimeter of the room, and one by one said their goodbyes.

            My mother-in-law had suffered the last years with congestive heart failure and failing eyesight.  She depended on medication and an oxygen life line, and several recent blood transfusions.  But with her determination and with her childrens help, she remained in her home up until three days of her death.  An especially kind neighbor, saw to her appointments to the beauty parlor and almost daily visits.

             Maryann had been widowed for thirty years.  She lost her husband at the age of fifty-seven, my current age, and suffered that loneliness in spite of the company and pride in a parade of grand children and great-grand children.

            I will not talk about the mothering memories that her children will recall in eulogy.  I will say what I know and what I experienced apart from her being my childrens' grandmother and my former husband’s mother.  This woman was not a worldly woman. In many ways she shunned the world.  She preferred memories and values of the past to the present.  She preferred prayer to dialog.  And she sometimes excelled in suffering. 

            She hated that she could no longer read, or barely manage to watch her beloved Twins baseball games on TV.  She hated that she had no strength or interest in tending her flowers.  Apart from all that, she suffered tremendously from the demise of her son’s and my marriage.  For the past nine years, she suffered daily…remorse, shame, fear of the unknown…and offered it all to me in forms I did not always recognize as gifts.  Her cards, her calls, her tokens of reparation in the form of some small valuables continued over the years.  She prayed constantly for me in hopes that my business would improve.  She probably never gave up praying for my reunion with her son, even though I am in a committed relationship.

            I would still visit her. I would take her home-made soup or a jar of home-made jam. Her children may not know that I used to give her healing touch and reiki therapy, which comforted her.  There was not a time that we spoke within the last couple of years that she didn’t end the conversation with, “I Love You”.  Her fragile heart continued to suffer all the physical insults of age, a curvature of her spine restricted her breath, and the break of family bonds crushed her.  Her eldest daughter’s recent divorce broke her heart.

Over the last three days I have observed my feelings change from one who supports the bereaved to one who is bereaved. I had no way of knowing the loss I would experience with the passing of this tiny woman, with her fierce faith and long-suffering love.  

So Long Marianne by Leonard Cohen

click above to listen

Come over to the window, my little darling,

I'd like to try to read your palm.

I used to think I was some kind of Gypsy boy

before I let you take me home.

Now so long, Marianne, it's time that we began

to laugh and cry and cry and laugh about it all again.

Well you know that I love to live with you,

but you make me forget so very much.

I forget to pray for the angels

and then the angels forget to pray for us.

Now so long, Marianne, it's time that we began ...

We met when we were almost young

deep in the green lilac park.

You held on to me like I was a crucifix,

as we went kneeling through the dark.

Oh so long, Marianne, it's time that we began ...

Your letters they all say that you're beside me now.

Then why do I feel alone?

I'm standing on a ledge and your fine spider web

is fastening my ankle to a stone.

Now so long, Marianne, it's time that we began ...

For now I need your hidden love.

I'm cold as a new razor blade.

You left when I told you I was curious,

I never said that I was brave.

Oh so long, Marianne, it's time that we began ...

Oh, you are really such a pretty one.

I see you've gone and changed your name again.

And just when I climbed this whole mountainside,

to wash my eyelids in the rain!

orange lotus

The orange lotus I am familiar with is the sacral chakra, referred to in sanskit as Swadhisthana...find out more here.
Energy in balance allows creative and sensual expression.  

This recent estate find of a little enamel pot with the CatherineHolm of Norway, is called Lotus Orange and made it to the favorite list of this beautiful blog: dee dee's faves on etsy check it out on the right side bar of her blog page.

Thanks deedee914 for the notice!

Dog Days, Cicada Whine

90 degrees plus continues...
I am finding the carcasses of cicadas all around the yard.  The pupal stage can stay underground for up to 17 years!  Then it's time to crawl out to find a tree branch, or in this case, my clothes line, split open your ectoskeleton, whine for a date and die.

Chelsea's Trousseau

Today is, purportedly, Chelsea Clinton's big day...this photo courtesy of People magazine.

I have created a treasury for her,  here ...inspired by the neighborhoods of the origin of her name.

1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,0

Look what Dickie brought home in the extra cycle packs.
They are minimally cleaned up and ready to sell in the shop:
view them here

He is making noise about selling the bike...now why would he want to go and do a thing like that?

Shrooms

I picked a peck of shitakes at my friend Jim's last Sunday...shared some with friends and made an amazing saute with bacon, onions and a little balsamic vinegar.   Served that atop an omelet with gruyere cheese.

I sliced a bunch up and air-dried them and packed them in a glass jar.  One week later I saw the beginnings of a little mold!
Dang I thought those mushrooms were dry.  So I picked out the worst offenders and dried them further in a very low oven and this time put them in a paper bag.

Now I ask you, am I asking for trouble?  Mushrooms are fungus. We eat molded cheeses.  Do I dare prepare them and eat them or do I chuck em?

According to the USDA, I (sob) chuck em.  The type of mold that attacks food is not the same thing as intentional mold in a blue cheese, for example.  These thinly sliced mushrooms are porous which makes them more susceptible to the toxins invading the interior and near impossible to slice away.
see the chart attached

Approaching the 90's

In temperature and in years lived graciously.  Ione is 93 today...I found these notes taken by her grand-daughter:

Ione
My inspiration for life came from my mother Anna Gardner Krell who taught me the value of resourcefulness.  
My mother was socially involved with the community and had numerous cocktail and card parties.  Therefore, entertaining became second nature to me.  My elder sister Claire helped to formulate my sense of style as I grew into a young woman.  I followed in her footsteps and worked as a beautician before marrying my first husband Bill.
Bill and I owned a tavern in downtown Shakopee...Engel’s Place. We hosted parties at the tavern and in our home. Food, drink, and laughter permeated my life then and now.  The essence of my youth remains due to the fact that I have maintained my mental agility through the activities I pursue.  I create happiness through being with family and friends, laughing and reminiscing, and most importantly, being engaged in all of these moments. 

Caroline

Even after celebrating her 90th birthday this past July, Ione Theis, a woman of many wonders, continues to be active and engaged in life as a trendsetter for all ages. The local historian and worldwide entertainer, was first recognized for her melodious contributions as the anchoring alto in the famous group The Harmonettes. In the late 1990’s, Ione spearheaded the Senior Recyclable Card Company (SRCC), creating joy and promoting a healthy environment for all. (SRCC is currently undergoing negotiations for a buy-out from Hallmark, as stated by an unidentified source in the Shakopee Valley News). Even through all of her fame and fortune, Ione remembers the rough and tumble life she once endured in the Dakota Prairies. She reflects on all of life’s experiences and remains one of America’s most beloved, for her creativity and generosity have exceeded most others.

I called my mother this morning to be the first to wish her well, but she was already out the door!