and the wind cries...

mary.

my mother was born on this date in 1929. i cannot conjure up what she would be like as an 84 year old woman.

in my memory, she will always be 52 and stoically resigned to her fate.

here is a photo of mary's eldest granddaughter. she has always resembled my mother, which has been a great comfort. a sort of consolation prize from the universe.

happy birthday, mama. happy autumnal equinox, everyone else.

Blooms

Happy Mother's Day, you muthas!

This holiday has meant different things to me in the last half-century or so. It's my 31st Mother's Day without a mother. I honor her anyway, and not just today. In strange synchronicity, this is also my 31st year as a mama.

Nowadays, it's just another opportunity to remember what being a mother has meant to me. IT is what continues to inspire me on this wacky planet They were and will always be my greatest teachers.

Monday Meanderings

OMG! The pope wants a pass... First resignation in 600 years tells me there is something funny going on in the Catholic church, and I am not referring to their silly hats. Even if Benedict's sudden departure is due to health/longevity issues, haven't countless popes before him died "in office?" This news has startled Catholics around the world. Personally, I am thankful to have joined the ranks of former Catholics many years ago. One day in 1971, my mother announced that we would no longer be going to church every Sunday. Something I had done every Sunday of my then-young life, and that mom had done all of her 40-something years. Thank goodness she came to her senses. I know that she'd have been disgusted and dismayed, but not surprised at what has been revealed about the church over the last couple of decades.

It feels good to be writing here again. I have little doubt that some of my chosen topics may irritate, infuriate, or induce boredom, but that won't stop me. I had completely forgotten about Q, a commenter at a friends blog and here. Let's just say that his viewpoints and opinions are pretty much the complete opposite of yours truly. Five and six years ago, it was tough for me to not get riled-up by our differences. These days I am okay with varying opinions. Just know, Q, that you won't be changing my views, and I have no hopes of shifting yours to mirror mine. As long as things are kept civil and peaceful here, comments are encouraged and appreciated.

I'm reading "Just Kids" by Patti Smith--about her years with Robert Mapplethorpe. I am still processing "Start Where You Are", by Pema Chodron, which presented itself to me at an optimum time. Lastly, I admit that I am now shamelessly drawn into Downton Abbey, and was wondering what my reader(s) in the U.K. might think about all the fuss? We do not watch much sappy t.v. around here, but I admit to enjoying it, even though it IS sappy, and much like a soap opera with fancier clothing. I appreciate that it provides sixty minutes of frivolity and fantasy. A welcome escape from this week's murderous rampage, wherever it may be. Aloha!

How The Hell Did I Get Here So Soon?

That's our driveway on Memorial Drive in Appleton, Wisconsin. Right next to the Fox River Bridge. My grandma Marie made crab apple jelly. One day, we noticed everyone hurrying toward the bridge. It turns out a woman had jumped, and was drowning. Everyone was gawking. My mother wouldn't let my brother and I go and gawk. She was a class act, mostly.

P.S. Did you know that Tom Waits wrote this song that made the Ramones made famous?

I Dont Wanna Grow Up - Tom Waits

Mother

November 20th is one heavy day to hold. And yet, I hold on. My mother died on this date twenty-seven years ago. She has now been dead longer than she was my very own living, breathing mother. She missed everything important in my life. Like her three grandkids. Never held a-one. The closest she got to it was the knowledge that I was pregnant with my son. She was excited about that, but missed his birth by about five months.

I know she didn't want to leave me. But she did and it feels like I was robbed of something vital to my existence. That becomes more obvious to me all the time. It changed me, and not necessarily for the better. I have done lots of work around this monumental loss. Therapy? Check.

Now I am a mother of two children in their twenties. Like I was when she died.The thought of leaving this life-and my kids-fills me with a fear that is beyond any nightmare you can imagine. Is that how she felt leaving me? I will never know because she never said so. Not her style to share such emotional things. That never posed a problem for yours truly. I share too much. A fatal flaw. One that I pay for on a daily basis. I want her here today, and needed to share that with the big and sometimes wicked universe.

Oh, and this song.