I saw my dad last night...

He and Mom were going into a movie theatre.
I said to my oldest brother See, I told you Dad
was here! Look...there he is. When Dad noticed
that I noticed him, he started to go away. At first,
it was like a parent tiptoeing out of a room so as not
to wake the little someone they just took a peek
at, then it was like he was shielding himself with his
hands so we couldn't see him (almost like a child plays
hide and seek--they think if they can't see you, then
you can't see them). Then his back started to slump
and he became smaller and smaller and then he
just gradually disappeared.

My brother shouted Why are you doing this?

And I woke up.

*

It continues to be a struggle to go to my mother's.
I feel bad for her, for her sufffering, for her loneliness,
for the great missing of my father. But I can't pretend
that all those bad years didn't happen.


There are people who have it and had it far worse than
I did. I recognize that. I also recognize that my mom did
the best she could do considering her circumstances,
but I'm not altogether sure some days if she did the best
she could. So, I try to let the past be the past, but I can't
ignore the fact that things happened. Things that hurt. Hurt
that hasn't gone away. Diminshed, yes. Never gone.

*

So, my sister was trying to call Mom the other day and couldn't
get through, so she asked me if I'd go by Mom's and check
on things. She thought perhaps the phone was not working
properly (which was the case). I already had Molly in the car
and we were on the way to the track to take our walk. I didn't
plan on staying there for long, but as it turns out, I was there
45 minutes to an hour, which is a long time with my mom.

Molly enjoyed herself in the yard and house, so that was good.

I noticed Mom had a new Tiki umbrella attached
to one of the tables out back. I told her I liked and she
said

I do too, but what's the point in having it? There's no one
to sit outside beneath it and talk to. No one. And I said:

Well, Steve's coming this weekend. Maybe he'll sit out
here awhile. Or, you could always bring out a book
and sit out here and read.


*

April Escape

Birds strut around the peonies.
No cat to scare them off.
He's taking his nap atop my car

again--a coveted and favorite spot.
The cardinal alights near Two-Socks
fairy and pecks at the softened

earth. Watchful. Hopeful.

The coreopsis decided this week
to flower in all its grandeur;
rhododendron offers the best
of herself, the pieces of her beauty

unmarred by the unexpected cold
spell. I am only privy to such things
because I am here, thrust into the every

day without choice. Hewn from the labors
of my work-a-day world by the powers
that governed me. Fired, terminated, axed.

Why not watch and love the watching,
no matter what the reason?

Such an ordinary thing, clematis blossoms
opening on the vine. Extraordinary,
perhaps, the ability to rise

above a passing glance and notice
their persistence. In this year
that was, in this year that will never
be again, I watch April unfold,

the normal never so abnormally right.



*

One of the poems I wrote this spring and didn't get back to.
It's just not there yet. Like so many I write these days.
Not that I ever felt any of my poems were "finished"--
it just used to seem easier somehow to get words out
on the page...words that resembled the makings of a decent
poem.

*

Finally mowed the yard today. It was beginning to look
like the house where nobody lived (as Lucinda says in one
of her songs). I had to go fill the gas containers
and I just haven't felt like doing it, but I did today.

*

Never even took my plants to the screened-in porch
this summer. They generally love it out there
and thrive. Just didn't feel like doing it.

*

Tonight's meal: plain old spaghetti. I've been cooking
things like wine and tarragon talapia, florentine
meatballs, spinach, mushroom and artichoke
soup with tortellini and crusty french bread,
cajun-spiced salmon, etc. etc. Plain old
spaghetti sounds like a winner to me for tonight.
With a bottle of nice red wine--a cab, I think.

*

Medusa. I once thought I saw her looking in my bedroom
window when I was a child. Something jz said on his
blog made me think about her and that night. I was
certain she had looked in my window. It still
creeps me out to watch Clash of the Titans. My son
thinks I am a total wacko to get creeped out by
COTT, but hey, what can I say? The movie and its
cast of creepozoid mythological creatures scared
the hell outta me when I was a kid!

*

Laurel tagged me for a meme, though I confess
to not knowing exactly what that word means.

I am supposed to reveal eight things about myself.

Hell, I reveal much about me here on a regular
basis, but I found it hard to come up with eight
things. I will find it equally as hard to realize
another eight I didn't think about listing.

*sigh*



*



Reveal eight things about yourself

It used to be that my life was an open book,
as the old saying goes. Now, I find it’s best to listen to others
and leave me out of the equation as much as possible.

I wanted to be a dancer/choreographer. A choreographer friend
of my mom’s taught my sister, two friends and me a dance routine
for the school talent show when I was in the 7th grade. We chose
the Jet Song from West Side Story, and I fell in love with dance
and orchestrating dance movements to music.

Some nights (many lately), I go to bed without washing my face
or brushing my teeth or even taking my clothes off. It’s like I am
always ready to jump outta the bed and run if need be.

I had the chance to meet the man once (Dylan, of course), but as
the crowd surged forward and pushed me into the front of the stage,
I got so panicky I made my way over to the wall. The girl I had
been with through the whole concert who told me she had been with Dylan
in the 70s in Louisville after a show told me to stay with her
and I'd meet him. She said she had "been with him" kind of been with him--
(or so she said). She assured me if I stayed with her, I would meet
The Man. I watched from the wall as Dylan pointed out three women
(including the woman I was with through the whole show until my panicky
episode) and his stage crew took the women by the hand and took them backstage.

I like to dance alone in my dining room or kitchen. I play The Doors, Zeppelin,
Sinatra, Dylan, Hole, L7, Coltrane, Miles Davis, Lucinda Williams and others
and I just dance without reservation.

I was loving on my puppy, Molly, and damn if she didn’t tongue kiss me!

I hate the heat. I’ll take winter any old day. I can put on layers to be warmer
but not much I can do to be cooler.

I live a life largely filled with fear. I work on overcoming the fears, but they
work on overcoming me.

Rather low key day

today. Son (youngest) called at 5:45this a.m. Had spent
the night with a friend and was feeling bad.
He still feels bad--throat and headache.

I worry about these kids. I guess my worries
are a bit trivial in light of many other worries
parents have, but I asked if he had taken a drink
of someone's drink (thinking mono). My daughter
contracted mono at age 19 or 20 and the Epstein
Barr virus stayed in her system and she has been
fighting CFS (Chronic Fatigue Syndrome) since
that time. She is much improved. She credits
much of that to a gluten-free diet.

She is 26 today. I sent her a card and said
I didn't remember much about being 26,
but I do, as I found out as I was writing her
a note in the card.

The summer before I turned 26, we went to L.A.
for the first time. Griffith Observatory, Hollywood
Wax Museum, Hollywood Bowl (the L.A. philharmonic
was doing a salute to Wagner--the Olympics were
taking place), Graumann's Chinese Theatre, Knott's
Berry Farm, Disney, etc. etc.

We went to Lancaster to visit my grandmother.
I knew if I was ever going to see her again, I would
have to go, and I wanted to, but my panic disorder
was so bad and my fear of flying so extreme that I didn't
know how I was going to do it, but, hello Amtrak!

We took the train from St. Louis to L.A. Long trip
but one filled with many exciting (and terrifying
moments--like when the power went out
and we were in the middle of a mountain tunnel
between CO and NM). But, but--I made it,
and I was so happy to see my grandmother.

*

All of this makes me think of the trip my daughter
and I just took to Naples in late May. She wanted
to take a boat to the Keys, or just drive there.

I hate!!! bridges, so I couldn't bear the thought
of driving over all that water, and I don't like
to be out on boats, so that was out. Of course,
there was a daily flight there as well, but with
my fear of flying, that was not an option.

So,we got home, and I thought, and I still think--
why?
Why do I have to live my life in this fear?
Why is everything I do so defined by these tangible
things?

*

And I wish I was well and whole and could seize every
opportunity for fun and new and being alive.

Cat Power - Living Proof

I like Cat Power's m usic a great deal. My daughter is the one jumping over the hurdle.

I need a new bra.

When I was young, my mother and her friends
were burning their bras--that was their rite
of passage. They were in their twenties, breasts
still firm and nipples erect, even after birthing
numerous children. I have birthed my own
and mothered more, and I say it's time
for a new bra, one with underwire that stays
in the seams, one with useful straps, one I can
toss in the dryer and still wear the next day.
Utiliatarian--that's me. Sexy, once. Pretty, maybe.

I gotta go. The new bra story must wait.
House full. Doggie needs walk. Should eat.
Will eat. Sister's a songwriter. Baby great-nephew
will be one year old this Sat. Friend of mine lost her daughter
to cancer (doesn't really feel right to put that in here
but I am thinking about the family).

Bras and the need of such and the burning--
well, the burning never ends.