Back to the 80s

Time does not exist. It is simply an illusion of our mind created by our own biological and cultural evolution. - David Lewis Anderson

I've been time travelling for the past week.  The launch of Tricia Dower's brilliant new book, Stony River, was a reunion of sorts of old friends and colleagues from my days at the Halifax Life.  The group included people I haven't seen in as long as 24 years.  Some of them I last saw at my wedding in August 1989.  On the morning of the launch, I woke in high frazzle.  I spent the day obsessing about how people would see me after all these years.  In my mind, I was the only one who aged.  The only one who lost my figure.  The only one with wrinkles.  I called my hairdresser and arranged for an emergency appointment.  My hair looked great but my angst was ridiculous. 

I've never considered myself to be particularly vain but that day challenged my view of myself.  I spent the day trying to figure out what to wear.  Would people recognize me?  Would they be shocked?  I wished I had gone on a crash diet the minute I had received the invitation.  Perhaps I could have been down five pounds.  Maybe I should have had a bit of botox or bought a firmer girdle.  All day, the voice in my head shouted about my inadequacies.  By mid-afternoon, I declared myself pathetic.  I picked a dress, did my makeup and headed downtown.

I probably don't have to tell the rest.  Of course they recognized me.  I had a harder time recognizing some of them.  Amazingly they were all 23 or 24 years older too.  No one had their 30-year-old figure save my friend Bernard who is as beautiful as he was all those years ago.  Though the packages had altered a bit, it wasn't hard to see all the bright youthful souls still shining in their eyes. And several of the women confessed to spending the day experiencing much of the same angst as I.

I've been thinking back to those days in the 80s when we all worked together.  Most of us were in our thirties and at the height of our physical beauty.  Sadly, I didn't know in those days that I was a beautiful woman.  I was still suffering from a chronic case of ugly duckling syndrome.  It was only in my early fifties when I looked back at old photos of myself, that I realized I was actually quite attractive.  What a waste.

A few days after the book launch, I hosted a reunion dinner for the group of women who worked together and hung out together in those days.  This was only our second time being all together since my wedding, the first reunion occurring in the spring of 2010.  It was nicer this time, easier, more fun.  No one was obsessing about how we look or worrying about what the others would think about us.  It was warmer, more real, more loving.  Colleen, Gail and Cecilia were all tired after crazy workdays so they left shortly before ten.  But Julie stayed behind.  We cleaned up the kitchen and then sat at the table and talked until eleven thirty.  I loved the time with her.  We were so close years ago and then so distant for so long.  The time alone was a gift.

Today I had lunch with two lovely women, both in their thirties.  We talked about their feelings about themselves.  I was sad to realize they don't know that they are beautiful women.  I hope it doesn't take them 24 years to figure it out.

Still Glittering

“Better a diamond with a flaw than a pebble without one.”
Old Chinese Proverb

The 2012 Weekend to End Women's Cancers started in biblical rains and ended in brilliant sunshine.  By the time the walkers had reached our hydration station on Saturday, the rain had mostly ended save the occasional cloud burst.  Unfortunately, many of the walkers were suffering from the foot problems that arise from walking in wet shoes and socks but few of them were complaining.  They mainly walked through knowing that the finish line was less than six kilometers away.  

We were a small crew this year but a great crew.  The people assigned to our station were all workers, prepared to roll up their sleeves and completely in tune with our commitment to truly serve our walkers.  Excellence in service has been the core value of our crew since the very first year we got together in 2007.  Participants who do the walk year after year know and remember us.  We are the station where walkers will truly be served.  No one coming through our station is required to do more that tell us what they want.  We will bring them a cup full of water or Gatorade or fill their bottles if they prefer.  We will unscrew the caps and retighten them.  We will take their pictures, open their bandage papers, help them untie or retie their shoes.  We will hug them and thank them.  Laugh with them.  Cry with them.  And sometimes even pray with them.  Whatever they want.  Whatever they need.

On Sunday our station was set up at Budapest Park.  It was a great location with an incredible view of the beach.  There were trumpet swans swimming just a few feet from us and kayakers paddling close to the shore.  It served as a wonderful reminder of the incredible beauty of our city.  

The pink tulle, silk roses and acrylic diamonds have been packed away for another year.  But the Hope Diamonds will glitter on.  And next year, we'll be back to serve and spread hope at the 2013 event.

The Hope Diamonds

"When we long for life without difficulties, remind us that oaks grow strong in contrary winds and diamonds are made under pressure." - Peter Marshall

The 2012 Weekend to End Women's Cancers starts tomorrow. With my walking days behind me, I will spend the weekend working on the crew that supports the 5,000 women and men who will be making the 60K journey. Our theme for our hydration station this year is "The Hope Diamonds". Cath, Nan and I will be decked out in glittery black dresses with pink tights. We will wear sparkly hair clips and, at least in my case, glittery shoes. I've prepared five signs for our station, purchased a couple hundred plastic diamonds to sprinkle around the tables, a couple of thousand stickers and losts of tulle, pink glittery butterflies, and pink silk roses to decorate our station. Unfortunately, heavy rain is predicted for most of the weekend. Today I will be praying hard for a change in that forecast.

This will be the tenth time I have participated in this event - two times as a volunteer, four times as a walker and four times as crew. I am always inspired by the dedication and determination displayed by so many people. I dream of the day we won't need to do this event any more. The day when women's cancers will be a thing of the past. A day when my granddaughters will have and keep two healthy breasts throughout their long lives. And when that happens, we can turn the Weekend to End Women's Cancers into a different event - the Weekend to Celebrate the End of Women's Cancers. That's an event I'd love to attend.

One Cup of Coffee

"When mothers talk about the depression of the empty nest, they're not mourning the passing of all those wet towels on the floor, or the music that numbs your teeth, or even the bottle of capless shampoo dribbling down the shower drain. They're upset because they've gone from supervisor of a child's life to a spectator. It's like being the vice president of the United States." - Erma Bombeck

Since Jacob came home from school last April, my morning ritual has been the same. Get up, make coffee for the two of us, pour myself a cup, read the paper and wait for him to get up before I serve his coffee to him. This morning, I made one cup. I dropped him off in Guelph yesterday afternoon. The car was full to bursting. When I got home, the house was cavernously empty. At least we had the distraction of a dinner party hosted by Nancy and Aivars to celebrate the birthday of my friend Maurice. Maurice had been clear that he didn't want birthday gifts but I was struggling with that so in the small hours of Friday morning when I was still awake, I decided to make him some treats. By 6:00 A.M. I was baking brownies. By 7:30 A.M., I had a batch of chocolate chip cookies in the oven. When I returned from Guelph, I made a tin of peanut butter caramel corn. It was yummy.

By the time we got home from dinner, I was beat. I fell into bed at barely 11:00 P.M., a rarity for me. At 6:30, I woke up with a start. The house is so quiet. It's not that Jacob normally makes noise at that hour of the day, but somehow the silence this morning was deafening.