What Now?

 "Mixed feelings, like mixed drinks, are a confusion to the soul." - George Carman

I did a pretty good job of convincing myself that I was doing fine with the thought of Jacob returning to Guelph.  After all, I'm tired and I need some peace and quiet.  Maybe not so much.  Somewhere in the early hours of today I came to the realization that Jacob is probably never coming home to stay.  There may be the odd weekend or holiday that he's home but chances are he'll most often stay at Courtney's when he comes back to Toronto. And when he graduates in the spring, he will move into a place of his own whether that is here in the city or somewhere else he decides to locate.  I pretty much feel like I just got notice that I'm going to be unemployed.  I've always had a job but the way I've made my living has never been the way I've made my life.  I am Jacob's mother and as the job of mothering goes, I think my hours are being reduced to casual status.  So if I can no longer define myself by that role, who am I?

I hate feeling this way - so at loose ends.  It is unlike me.  So what now?  I guess I'll take the next few weeks and try to figure it out.  



 

Winding Down; Gearing Up

"The winding down of summer puts me in a heavy philosophical mood."  - Robert Fulgham       

 

The last days of August are quickly coming to an end.  It is the wind down time of summer that has sent me into a tail spin each of these past five years.  Jacob will be returning to Guelph this weekend. Frankly, I'm not feeling the angst I have in previous years.  My friend Gail says that I'm growing up.  Maybe but maybe not.  

It has been a good summer but also an exhausting summer.  Already challenged by a host of annoying health issues, the abundance of company we've hosted and entertaining we've done this summer has taken its toll.  I'm tired.  I'm looking to September days when the air is still warm and the house will be relatively quiet.  To days when I won't have to call home to find out how many mouths I'm feeding for dinner only to arrive to find that the calculation changed in the hour since I made the call and I am now one steak short.  To mornings when I don't have to rise at 6:30 to iron Jacob's shirt and pack his lunch to take to work.  To evenings when I'm not struggling to hear the television over the cacophony of voices emanating from downstairs where the gang are playing board games.

I will miss Jacob, to be sure.  But at least for the first few weeks, I won't miss the chaos that comes from being the house where all his friends gather.  For the next couple of weeks, Courtney will be staying with us.  She will start classes at Ryerson next week but her apartment won't be ready for a couple of weeks yet.  Court is easy to have here - quiet and undemanding.  

The weekend after Labour Day, I will once again participate as a crew member in The Weekend to End Women's Cancers.  I'm team captain for The Hope Diamonds this year, running the hydration station that's been in the care of our family circle since 2007.  As we older members are finding the physical requirements more difficult with time, I was very pleased to have a host of the young people I've been feeding all these years, step up to join our crew.  While it's been a bit like herding cats, I think we're just about ready.  We're sure to have a lot of fun while we support the men and women who will be making the 60k journey, walking through the streets of Toronto. 

Today the sun is shining and the air is warm.  I have work to do but I might skip it for another day and spend an hour or two with the pink crystal beads I recently bought but haven't quite figured out what to make with as yet.  The big maple tree outside my bedroom window is starting to change, a swath of crimson has emerged in it's upper branches.  As much as I appreciate the glory of the fall ravine, I wouldn't mind enjoying the still green days before they're gone.

Have a Safe Day

 "Washington is a city of Southern efficiency and Northern charm." - John F. Kennedy

Have a safe day.  Those were the words spoken to us by our flight attendant as we exited our plane in Washington, DC on Friday.  I haven't heard that line before.  For my birthday this year, Merv gave me the gift of a weekend in either Boston or Washington.  I love Boston but I've been there several times already.  I had never been to Washington and have always wanted to go so it was an easy choice for me.

It is a beautiful city, yet a city of contradictions.  If I could choose a central theme for it, it would be war.  I have never been in a place that seems to define its history by war but that is how Washington seemed to me.  War memorials abound.  Most are beautiful, all are moving.  It was the Vietnam Memorial that made cry.  It's not the biggest of them, or the most beautiful, but it was the war that I watched each evening on the 6 o'clock news when I was growing up.  The names of all those lost are engraved on the wall of the memorial.  So many names.  I was a child in the 60s when the war was raging and a teenager in the 70s when it finally ended.  As a child, I didn't understand that the casualties reported on the evening newscasts meant that those men had died.  I didn't equate the word "casualty" to death.  How could something called casual be a death?  I remember how horrified I was when I finally understood.  The Korean Memorial is amazing.  It is on that memorial where I read the words "Freedom isn't free".    Too true. Which takes me to the biggest contradiction.

There is a lot of attention in Washington focused on freedom.  But it comes in two forms.  Freedom from oppression and tyranny in the world through war.  And freedom from oppression and tyranny within the country as a fight for civil rights.  There was a wonderful exhibit in the Smithsonian's American History Museum that took us through the Emancipation Proclamation which was enacted 150 years ago and then moved us into the civil rights movement 50 years ago.  Much had changed in 100 years but much had not.  And sadly, 50 years after Dr. Martin Luther King made his "I have a dream" speech in front of the Lincoln Memorial, things still aren't the way they should be.  While I saw many groups of all hues, few of them seemed to be of mixed hues.  All white or all black.  All Asian or all Middle Eastern.  Even in the restaurant we dined in on Saturday night, all the white guests were seated on one side of the restaurant and the black guests on the other.  It was just plain weird.

I also didn't see an acknowledgement anywhere that the tremendously beautiful buildings of Washington were built largely by slaves.  It was in Ford's Theatre at an exhibit honouring Abraham Lincoln that I came to understand the role that black soldiers played in the north's victory during the Civil War.  In a city of statues, few mark the history of people of colour and I didn't see a single one of a woman who existed in real life.  It is as if women and people of colour have no place in history in a city that marks its history through the commemoration of its wars.

There are some incredibly wonderful things about Washington.  For starters, it's scrupulously clean.  The trees and gardens are stunningly beautiful.  I saw some flowering trees in hues of pink I have never before seen in nature.  They took my breath away.  Most amazing of all, is that with few exceptions, entry to the attractions is free.  It didn't cost us anything to visit the three Smithsonian museums we got to, or to see the National Gallery, Ford's Theatre or to take in the view from the top of The Old Post Office.  We took in the Lincoln Memorial,  World War Memorial, Vietnam Memorial, Korean Memorial, Washington Memorial and Jefferson Memorial without spending a dime. We walked around the Capital Building and the White House, at least as close as we were allowed to get.  We walked down the mall and pictured the March on Washington.  It was thrilling.

As a bonus on this trip, I was able to arrange to meet a dear friend Renee for dinner on Friday night.  It had been about five years since I had seen her.  Renee is starting an inspiring new chapter in her life, moving to France for a time following the end of her more than 40 year marriage.  I am sad for both she and her husband that they couldn't make a go of it but inspired by the courage she is showing in reinventing her life.  She looks wonderful and I'm so happy I had the chance to see her before she goes.  I've always wanted to visit France so perhaps her move will finally be the impetus I need to make it happen.

My feet are sore today and I am tired.  We walked miles and miles in the ninety degree heat and yet there is so much we didn't see.  Washington - beautiful,complicated, contradictory.  I can hardly wait to go back.

In the Picture

“What I like about photographs is that they capture a moment that’s gone forever, impossible to reproduce.”  - Karl Lagerfeld

Cath and Stan hosted an open house yesterday to introduce their new great grandson, Elijah.  He is a beautiful baby, incredibly alert for just four weeks old.  I brought my camera to capture a few moments of the day, at the very least a picture of five generations who would for the first time be gathered all together, the eldest member being Stan's mom.  It was moving to witness the gathering as Elijah posed on the sofa, cradled in his father's arms, next to his grandma, great grandpa and great great grandma.  Not that many families have the good fortune to participate in such a photo opportunity.  Stan's mom was beside herself with excitement. 


I realized when I got home from the lake last week after a few days with my cousins, that in spite of the fact I had taken dozens of photographs, I was not in a single one of them.  Likewise, I was seldom captured in any of the photographs taken when we hosted our English guests in June.  The truth is, I don't like photographs of myself.  In my mind, I don't look like I apparently do in life.  When I see photos of myself, I'm often disheartened by my weight, by the profile view of my nose, by my sagging jawline,  by my furrowed brow and on and on and on.  So I very often don't put myself in the picture.  But I've been thinking about that a little and I've realized that I probably haven't been making the best choices.  Elijah won't care when he's a grown man, if his grandparents, aunts and uncles and the great or great great versions of those relatives, were wrinkled or overweight.  He likely will care, however that he has some knowledge of his history and who we are were and how much he was loved. 


With that in mind, yesterday I put myself in the picture.  Before the end of the day, I scooped Elijah up in my arms and handed my camera to Merv.  Admittedly, it is not a spectacular picture of me.  But it doesn't matter.  I posted it on Facebook for all to see.  In the years to come, when Elijah looks back on the photo, I hope what he'll really see is the love.