Wednesday, June 3, 2015

Ummm, Where Are The Grown-Ups?

A few weeks ago, I had the unfortunate task of attending my Auntie Barbara's wake.  Auntie Barbara was married to my dad's brother and was also my godmother.  Although I hadn't seen her in a number of years, I loved her very much and was saddened by her passing.
 
The wake itself was not sad, and although the circumstances were not the most uplifting, it was good to see my first cousins again. 
 
There are 8 of us all together:  my cousins Donnie, Cathy, Jimmy and Joe, myself and my sisters Alisa, Laurel and Mary.
 
While I was at the wake, after I had talked with each member of the family, I stood back and observed my surroundings for a bit.  A split second of panic overtook me...
Where Are The Grown-Ups??
 
I looked over to my Uncle Donnie, who was sitting in his wheelchair, paralyzed on one side from a stroke.  My dad was sitting next to him, a couple of months post heart surgery.  I looked around the room at the white hair and stooped bodies, and I recognized that these were the adults of my generation.  The musicians and friends and family, who were the jokesters and pranksters and loud and funny, were now the elders.  And...Oh.  My.  God.  WE are now the adults!
 
Wait, that can't be.  US?
 
The eight of us who agonized over chocolate or butterscotch Jell-O pudding pops at Nan and Pup's in between games of Jarts?  (Yes, I'm talking lawn darts.  Not the sissy lawn darts of today, with their safe, rounded bottoms.  No.  These were the real things, with spikes on the ends that would spear our bare feet if we weren't careful!)
 
The eight of us (okay, the six of you) who would swim out to the float in the middle of the lake, leaving little Debbie on the shore desperately digging for China?
 
The eight of us who were banished to the outside while the adults ate and partied on the top of the mountain?  (You'll be okay, just watch out for the bears)
 
The eight of us who took our respected turns sneaking chocolates from Auntie Bea's carefully hidden box under the couch?  Who gratefully accompanied Pup on his Saturday morning visits and a trip to A&W for lunch and a root beer?
 
The eight of us who could, to this day, probably still belt out a round of "Out Behind The Barn"?
 
WE are the grown-ups?
 
Our children are now the kids and before we know it, their kids will be the kids.
 
That means...that we will be...the elders?!?!
 
Well, how about this.  When we are the elders and we gather together for one function or another, I'll pull my walker up to your wheelchair and we'll all have a laugh together!
 
 
Barbara Concannon Doane
November 1, 1931-May 9, 2015
 
 

Thursday, April 16, 2015

But, Where Do They Run?

 
So, working with children allows me a glimpse into the lives of modern-day families with small children.  I hear about play dates and trips to the park and outings full of agendas.  It has made me wonder...but where do they run?
 
When I was growing up, we would spend many summer weeks at my grandparents' cottage on Foster's Point on the New Meadows River.  The adults, I am sure, were driven from the suburbs by the summer heat.  For me, the allure was the freedom!
 

 
 
The cottage was a part of Rock Haven Colony, a dirt road dotted with summer cottages nestled between grassy fields, pine groves and berry thatches.  Now, when I say "cottages", I mean just that...the cottage was a rudimentary structure with no insulation and smelled of mothballs, must and salt air.  We had electricity, but no running water.  Bathroom breaks included a short walk to the outhouse (ours was a 1-seater; the neighboring cottage had a 2-seater...fancy!  Although, I'm not sure what the draw was about chatting with a family member while you both pooped.).
 
While at the cottage, kids had the freedom to roam.  We ran through fields and (gasp!) over neighboring lawns and nobody batted an eyelash.  We would stop at the natural spring for a drink and pick sweet raspberries or seedy blackberries when we got hungry.  We were beckoned home by the ringing of a cowbell.  At some point over the course of our stay, Nana would send me down to the shore at low tide with a tin bucket, promising me that whatever clams I could dig up, she would steam for me for my next meal.
 
 
 
The colony was just that:  a group of families who summered together on the river.  Each night, the adults would gather at one of the cottages for "Club", which would entail several cocktails, snacks and lots of laughter.  The kids would gather for a game of flashlight tag or simply lie back on the hill and gaze at the night sky.
 
When my grandmother passed away, we sold the cottage with heavy hearts.  It was old and dilapidated and needed so much work, we just didn't have the resources to put into it.
 
I had been having a lot of dreams about the cottage, so David and I took a drive down to West Bath one summer day a few years ago, just to rekindle some of my old memories.  We were able to visit with some of my distant cousins who still have a cottage along the water and happened to be there the day we went.  We parked our car at their place and walked the rest of the way to my old stomping grounds.  So much had changed, yet some things were the same!
 
As we neared the top of the hill, I was immediately swept up in the smell...it was so familiar!  Salt, pine, earth, seaweed...I'm not even sure of all it was, but it was the same.
 
But, wow!  The feeling was sooooo different!  Everywhere I looked, there were fences.  Stockade fences between every cottage, marking off individual lots and securing privacy (I guess).  Gone were the fields and groves and berry patches, replaced with homes.  Ranches and two-story houses, it looked more like a suburb than a colony.  Our cottage was still standing, but had been updated (much needed) and winterized.  A well and septic system had been installed and the outhouse still stood, but is now being used as a shed.
 
I still have dreams about the cottage, the way I remember it as a child.  So much has changed, which is simply part of life, I know.  But it saddens me that this place I remember as open and free and community-driven has obviously turned into "mine".  
 
 And it makes me wonder...but, where do the kids run? 
 



Saturday, November 29, 2014

Oh Christmas Tree, Oh Christmas Tree...

What kind of Christmas tree do you put up in your house (if you put a Christmas tree up at all)?
 
Are you a Martha Stewart, with every color-coordinated ornament carefully and specifically placed?
Or does your tree contain a mish-mash of objects?
Perhaps your tree is filled with homemade items?
 
My tree tells a story.
Each year, as I carefully unwrap each ornament, I think about the history of that ornament.
Whose hands it rested in before mine? 
 Whose hands had carefully crafted such an item?
Whose tree had each piece hung on?
 
 
Some of my ornaments are very old and have been handed down through many generations.  They have hung on many trees through the decades.
 
 
 
Some are from first Christmases.
 
 
 
Some were made especially for my tree, by the young and old and in-between.
Some of these were made by friends and family no longer with us.
 
 
Some hung on my childhood tree and some were picked out especially for my tree.
 
 
 
My tree tells a story.
And for one brief period of time, all of the pieces of my story hang beautifully in my living room.
 
Merry Christmas everyone!


 
 

Wednesday, September 17, 2014

Why, Oh Why, Do I Need Anxiety Meds?

On a recent trip to my doctor's office, I asked to review my current meds because I was feeling like my anxiety meds weren't working up to par.

Tell me what's going on, he said.  What's got you stressed out?

Well, doc, sit back and I'll tell you about my day yesterday...

Let me give you some background.  I live with 3 boys.  No offense, doc, but that should explain quite a bit right there.  One boy I will call "Lazy".  One boy I will call "Narcissist".  The third I will just call "Mate".

Okay, so back to a walk through my day.  The alarm clock went off at 6 am.  I don't need to leave for work until 7:30, but that first hour of the morning is the most peaceful hour of my life, so I don't squander it.

6:00am      I make my coffee and sip it in silence, the only sound is my keyboard as I peruse a little Facebook in solitude.

6:35am      Lazy flies through the house.  Can you give me a ride?  I'm running late and I need to get to school.

6:42am      I quickly get dressed.  I can't find my shoes.  Where the hell are my shoes?

6:43am      Mate announces, from the bed where he is now wrapped up in ALL of the blankets, that Narcissist is sick (uh-huh), so he is going to stay home with him.  He thinks he might be coming down with something too.

6:48am      Lazy announces that he has no clean clothes.  Did you bring your dirty laundry downstairs?  YES, I DID!  When?  I didn't see it down there?  AT MIDNIGHT LAST NIGHT.  WHATAMIGOINGTODO???  Looks like you'll have to go grungy today, mate.

6:50am      I still can't find my goddamned shoes.

7:00am      Lazy, miraculously dressed in clean(ish) clothes would like to leave a little early so that we can stop at Dunkin Donuts on the way.  Okay, after I find my freakin' shoes.

7:05am      I found my shoes.  Wayyyyy under the bed.  There was only a little cat puke on them, no big deal.

7:45am      Lazy dropped off, Mate and Narcissist still snuggled up in their respective cocoons, I am finally at work.
~Flash forward to 5:30pm~
 
5:30pm      I have a raging headache, one of our teachers called out sick so I played substitute to a group of 10 toddlers.  I officially hate the song "The Wheels On The Bus" and soybutter makes me puke in my mouth just a little bit.
 
5:50pm      The friggin' bridge is up.  The friggin' bridge is up.  The friggin' bridge is up.
 
6:10pm      Six cigarettes later, I am home.  I haul my sorry ass up over the stairs.
 
6:12pm      I quickly realize that no one has started dinner.  Where the hell is everyone?
 
6:15pm      Peel potatoes.  Chop potatoes.  Throw veggies and sausage in a dish.  Where the hell is everyone?  Oh, there's Lazy.  No, I just got home, I haven't done laundry today.  You know where the washer and dryer are.
 
6:20pm      Narcissist and Mate have made a miraculous recovery.  They've been out working on the truck all day.  Oh.
 
6:30 pm     Well, if we're going to use silverware to eat our dinner, I suppose I'd better clean some.  Turn on Ipod (on dock) to make it just a little more bearable.
 
6:35pm      Grooving to The Goo-Goo Dolls.  Narcissist = think you could turn that down a little?  I can't hear the TV (SpongeBob? Really?  You are 17!).  Sure, as soon as I unclog the drain from all the food y'all stored down there.
 
6:45pm      Mate decides now would be a good time to take a shower.  That's okay, the sausages need to be turned anyhow.
 
7:15pm      Dishes done, timer goes off.  Dinner cooked.  Is THAT what we're having?  I'll have a toaster waffle.
 
7:30pm      I retire to my corner to blog, don't anybody bug me, you hear?!
 
Okay, says doc, here is your prescription.
 

 


Thursday, December 5, 2013

Omigod! 40 Is The New 20...Or Something Like That

Ever notice how conversations change as you get older?  Here, let me show you what I mean...
 
If you were to eavesdrop on a conversation of 20-something-or-other-year old Deb, you might hear some of the following quotes:
 
"Omigod! Did you see that hot guy?!"
"Omigod!  What do you mean the bar is closing?  It's only 1:00 am!"
"Omigod!  Let me reverse French braid your hair!"
"Omigod!  I'm pregnant?!?!"
"Omigod!  I got a killer new job!"
"Omigod!  I was SO wasted last night!"
"Omigod!  ROAD TRIP!"
 
 
Now fast-forward 2 decades and you might hear these corresponding comments:
 
"Omigod!  Not tonight, honey, I'm WAY too tired!"
"Omigod! WHO. IS. TEXTING. ME. AT. 10:00. PM?!"
"Omigod!  Your grays are coming in so evenly!"
"Omigod!  I'm having a hysterectomy?!?! (sa-weet!)"
"Omigod!  It's only Tuesday?!"
"Omigod!  I drank a glass of wine last night and my blood pressure is through the roof!"
"Omigod!  I dread driving after dark!"
 
 
I shudder to think what another 2 decades might bring. 
I figure it will go something like this:
 
"Omigod! You are going to HAVE to speak up.  I can't hear a THING you are saying!"


Saturday, November 30, 2013

And The Season Of Peppermint Jesus Dawns...

Quick! 
Put away that turkey platter!
Stuff those leftovers into the fridge!
The dishes can wait until tomorrow!
It's...it's...it's...CHRISTMAS!

Yes, no sooner have we slept off the tryptophan, than the season of peppermints and Jesus attack in full force.  Every year I swear that I am going to take the holiday season in and really enjoy it.  And every December becomes a whirlwind of powdered sugar, scotch tape and yards of twinkle lights.  Before I know it, the day has come and gone and we are searching for nooks and crannies to store all of our new belongings.

This is the year of change...I really am going to enjoy the season.  Which has already started.  On Thanksgiving night. 

Yes, I am a Black Friday shopper.  It's my favorite holiday.  I love the hustle and bustle and the amazing deals.  I go in with a good attitude...if I find something awesome, great!  If I don't, no big whoop!  There's no fighting, swearing or panic from me.  I like the people watching.

This year I went with one of the girls from work.  She had her heart set on a Doorbuster from Target, so we got in line at 8:00pm and spent 4 hours waiting for the doors to open.  Here are a few tips of the trade that I learned this year:

1.  Dress in layers.  I mean a LOT of layers.  November in Maine is not balmy.  It was COLD!
 
 
2.  Blankets.  They were lifesavers.
3.  Chairs.  I'm torn.  While I wished I had one to sit in, I found if I didn't keep moving my feet, they
     got real cold, real fast.
4.  Hand and foot warmers.  Wish we had thought of that one.
5.  If there are 2 of you, make a plan.  We split up, one of us heading to the item of choice, the other
     getting a cart (to store our blankets in, of course!).
6. Don't drink a lot before you go...there are no porta potties.  Someone in our line didn't get the
    message (see pic below).
(panties in a puddle of urine...wtf?)
 
7.  Make it fun.  Don't go into it with your heart set on any one thing in particular and you will be
     amazed at what you can find!
 
So, you might ask, what on Earth does this have to do with sitting back and enjoying the holidays?  Isn't this just adding stress?
Nope, I'm done with my shopping! 
Now I can sit back, decorate, wrap and bake at leisure!
Oh shit!  Do I have enough bows?
~Deb
 


Sunday, November 10, 2013

I Miss My Nana...

Do you ever wonder if grandparents are wasted on the very young? 
Wait, that didn't come out quite right.  I really feel that grandparents play such an important part in a young person's life.
But what about us 40SomethingOrOthers?

Yesterday I did a craft fair in South Portland.  During the down times that occurred throughout the day, I pulled out my yarn and my crochet hook and worked on some ongoing projects.  For some reason, I could feel my Nana all around me.  Now, it might be the fact that both crafters and shoppers were a nice balance of the young and the young-at-heart.  Or it might be the fact that my Nana used to take me to church craft fairs and bean suppers when I was little.  Or it might be the fact that she shared my love of yarn and all the things that could be crafted by her hands out of it.  I don't know, but for some reason, she was there with me.

When my Nana was alive, I was too young to appreciate all the handmade gifts she lovingly made for me.  And, *GASP*, I couldn't possibly take time out of my crazy-busy social life to spend time with her, learning her gift of knitting.  But now that I am old enough to appreciate gifts of the hand-made sort and I have no social life to speak of, I can't help but wonder what it would be like if she were still with us?  Would we sit together on her couch, sip tea and create?  Would we chat about all the things I had no time for when she was here, like our family history and stories of the past that I always thought were lame, but now have the yearning to hear?

I don't know, who can foretell what can never be? 

In the meantime, I think I will just continue to do the things that I love to do, knowing that I share it with her and carry on a tradition that she started long ago.  And who knows?  Maybe she really is really here with me?

If so, Nana?  Could you help me out with socks?  I really want to figure out how to make them, but I am stumped!

Thanks,
Love and miss you,
Deb
 
 
Nana with Gabby