The Visible Woman...May 11, 2003

flowers for Mother's Day...for the childless

"Never does one feel oneself so utterly helpless as in trying to speak comfort for great bereavement. I will not try it. Time is the only comforter for the loss of a mother."

Jane Welsh (Mrs. Thomas) Carlyle, letter to Thomas Carlyle

Mother's Day

A day in which I contemplate mothers while trying not to think about it.

I wondered if I would fill this space with thoughts centering around Mother's Day. Or not.

One of the beautiful young ladies I consider one of my adopted daughters rang the bell at 11am today with flowers and a card for me. She helped my mother during the move-in to the Austin house and sat with her in the hospital the one week I had to travel during her long illness. The card said the flowers were a tribute to my Mom but also a 'thank you' for my support. My 'mothering' if you will. I was touched. Kisha's real mother is in a nursing home, suffering from MS. Kisha was on her way to give her flowers and take her home with her for the day. Kisha's real mother is several years younger than I am. I am so lucky to know Kisha. I always say I have the children I picked. Of course, the ones I didn't choose, my nieces, my great nephews, are pretty special, too.

But, all of that said, I'm noone's mother. Am I? Chalow the dog didn't get me a card.

FFP's Mom and Dad and my Dad came over. We fixed five plates, five glasses of water, heated five rolls although FFP's Mom finds bread too dry to eat after radiation on her throat for a cancer on a tonsil. The number reminded me that this was the first Mother's Day without Mother. We gave FFP's Mom a pasta pot ('as advertised on TV') that she had expressed a desire for. It was actually two pots, one large one small, and a weird little cheese grater. She insisted we keep the large pot and the cheese grater. ('And, if you order now, we will include the mini pasta pot and this ingenious cheese grater...') She liked it although she was still insisting that the pruning shears I gave her the other day were all the present she needed.

In the evening we went to a concert in a friend's home to benefit Conspirare, Austin's professional choir. The choir leader and another singer gave the concert. The theme was, of course, Mother's Day. They ask us if our mothers had favorites and sang their mothers' favorites. No one spoke up. I thought of 'As Time Goes By' that Mom liked to hear Rebecca sing and her favorite hymns and how Rebecca would play 'Dixieland' when she came into the room sometimes. A few tears formed and rolled down my cheek. I felt silly until I noticed people around me were sobbing.

At one point they sang the following, in perfect harmony with a little rhythm beat on the piano. The assembled (mostly older) crowd seemed amused by the lyrics. FFP and I later marveled that they didn't know these lyrics, penned by Graham Nash.

You, who are on the road must have a code that you can live by.
And so become yourself because the past is just a good bye.
Teach your children well, their father's hell did slowly go by,
and feed them on your dreams, the one they fix, the one you'll know by.
Don't you ever ask them why, if they told you, you would cry,
so just look at them and sigh and know they love you.

And you, of the tender years can't know the fears that your elders grew by,
and so please help them with your youth, they seek the truth before they can die.
Teach your parents well, their children's hell will slowly go by,
and feed them on your dreams, the one they fix,the one you'll know by.
Don't you ever ask them why, if they told you, you would cry,
so just look at them and sigh and know they love you.

So I thought about mothers a lot more than I'd planned.

A year ago my mother had a burn on her arm from falling asleep with a heating pad she was trying to use to alleviate her pain. The pain that the doctor couldn't explain and prescribed anti-virals for. My mother was sick and confused. I didn't know that cancer was ravaging her body, leaving tiny cracks in her bones, elevating calcium to confuse her and reducing her immune response.

Mom has been gone for almost nine months. In my mind, she is healing, hurtling back in time. The old confused woman is fading and I think about her when she was young and vigorous. Driving me places, helping me give parties for my friends when I was a teenager. Then she's even younger. Making butter at a table in the basement while I sit on the steps and watch. Making me a 'party tray' of food when I'm sick that included cheese cubes and slices of apple with dabs of peanut butter. After I retired I made my way to the gym, getting stronger and lighter if not younger. Mom has been growing younger, too, hair turning back to dark with a gray streak and then all dark. Face losing its lines. Lost inches coming back, back straightening, strength returning.

Motherhood is the most misunderstood phenomena in the world which is strange. Because everyone may not be one, but everyone has one. Or several.

JUST TYPING

Mother,
Young vibrant,
Holds your future;
Grows old and frail
And dependent,
Dies,
Becomes young and
vibrant,
And is your future.

Food Diary.

coffee

Chicken parmigiana (about four ounces of chicken) with marinara sauce; zuchinni and yellow squash sauteed in olive oil with tomatoes and onions; fruit salad.

Water, coffee.

6:30 Red wine

9:00 a variety of hors d'oeuvres including bites of pizza, smoked salmon, asparagus.
A mini chocolate eclair.
Red wine

11pm Some strawberries.

Time flies....

Got up about 7:30. Put on shorts, let the dog out, got coffee, got in front of the computer and finished yesterday's journal. Why do I spend so much time on it? It relaxes me. Looking up quotes, looking up words, organizing the information about time spent and food consumed.

8:40 Set up layout of today's journal.

8:47 leave for club
8:55 arrive at club
9:52 leave club
10:02 arrive home

shower, brush teeth, dry hair, start picking stuff up and getting ready for Mother's Day meal

11ish doorbell rings and I think it is Dad arriving early but it is Kisha. I say I 'adopted' Kisha and she proves me right by bringing some nice flowers and a card in honor of my mom but also thanking me for being there for her. Kisha's mom is my age and she is disabled with M.S. I am lucky. Kisha says her real mom has a great attitude. I've never met her. We talk. Dad does arrive. He goes over to check the neighbors' garden. We all go over there and discuss ballet (one of the kids is in Midsummer Night's Dream) and gardening. Dad gets some onions and collard greens and I take some onions and arugula. I take them inside and wash them and put them away. I putter around, setting the table. We put the food in to heat up. FFP goes to get his parents.

Around noon we plate up chicken parmigiana and squash and eat. Everyone likes the food. We have FFP's Mom's (canned) fruit salad for dessert. I clean up the dishes, my mother-in-law dries...she likes to help. We watch an documentary on Joan Crawford off our Mildred Pierce DVD (how perfect is that, Mommy Dearest!) and then the basketball game. I read the papers. My mother-in-law reads sections of the papers and the NYT Magazine. I almost but not quite finish the sections of the papers that I want to read.

My dad went home just after lunch. He didn't sleep well and thought he'd just go home and sleep.

Around 5:30, I take the in-laws home.

I clean up the remnants of the Mother's Day present opening and the scattering of papers and write some e-mail.

Around six, I change to some nicer looking clothes and we go to a concert at some friends' house to benefit Conspirare, Austin's professional choir.. Have wine, talk to people. Listen to a great duo sing and play piano. Eat some great food catered by 34th Street Cafe. Talk.

10pm arrive home, watch tape of Six Feet Under, read papers, drink water, eat some strawberries.

Reading.

I am going to be reading Robert Massie's Peter the Great for a while unless I find some other time to read than on the exercise bike and at stoplights. Long book. Good one, though.

I am still reading Journey Through Genius in small bites.

I read bits of newspaper, of course. I almost read all those delivered today.

Who writes? What?

Exercise

51 minutes on recumbent bike

Physically I feel fine.

123/77 69
115/75 68

Sunday, May 11, 2003

A Journal from Austin, Texas. A Project of LBFFP Stealth Publishing.

flowers for Mother's Day...for the childless "Never does one feel oneself so utterly helpless as in trying to speak comfort for great bereavement. I will not try it. Time is the only comforter for the loss of a mother." Jane Welsh (Mrs. Thomas) Carlyle, letter to Thomas Carlyle	Mother's Day A day in which I contemplate mothers while trying not to think about it. I wondered if I would fill this space with thoughts centering around Mother's Day. Or not. One of the beautiful young ladies I consider one of my adopted daughters rang the bell at 11am today with flowers and a card for me. She helped my mother during the move-in to the Austin house and sat with her in the hospital the one week I had to travel during her long illness. The card said the flowers were a tribute to my Mom but also a 'thank you' for my support. My 'mothering' if you will. I was touched. Kisha's real mother is in a nursing home, suffering from MS. Kisha was on her way to give her flowers and take her home with her for the day. Kisha's real mother is several years younger than I am. I am so lucky to know Kisha. I always say I have the children I picked. Of course, the ones I didn't choose, my nieces, my great nephews, are pretty special, too. But, all of that said, I'm noone's mother. Am I? Chalow the dog didn't get me a card. FFP's Mom and Dad and my Dad came over. We fixed five plates, five glasses of water, heated five rolls although FFP's Mom finds bread too dry to eat after radiation on her throat for a cancer on a tonsil. The number reminded me that this was the first Mother's Day without Mother. We gave FFP's Mom a pasta pot ('as advertised on TV') that she had expressed a desire for. It was actually two pots, one large one small, and a weird little cheese grater. She insisted we keep the large pot and the cheese grater. ('And, if you order now, we will include the mini pasta pot and this ingenious cheese grater...') She liked it although she was still insisting that the pruning shears I gave her the other day were all the present she needed. In the evening we went to a concert in a friend's home to benefit Conspirare, Austin's professional choir. The choir leader and another singer gave the concert. The theme was, of course, Mother's Day. They ask us if our mothers had favorites and sang their mothers' favorites. No one spoke up. I thought of 'As Time Goes By' that Mom liked to hear Rebecca sing and her favorite hymns and how Rebecca would play 'Dixieland' when she came into the room sometimes. A few tears formed and rolled down my cheek. I felt silly until I noticed people around me were sobbing. At one point they sang the following, in perfect harmony with a little rhythm beat on the piano. The assembled (mostly older) crowd seemed amused by the lyrics. FFP and I later marveled that they didn't know these lyrics, penned by Graham Nash. You, who are on the road must have a code that you can live by. And so become yourself because the past is just a good bye. Teach your children well, their father's hell did slowly go by, and feed them on your dreams, the one they fix, the one you'll know by. Don't you ever ask them why, if they told you, you would cry, so just look at them and sigh and know they love you. And you, of the tender years can't know the fears that your elders grew by, and so please help them with your youth, they seek the truth before they can die. Teach your parents well, their children's hell will slowly go by, and feed them on your dreams, the one they fix,the one you'll know by. Don't you ever ask them why, if they told you, you would cry, so just look at them and sigh and know they love you. So I thought about mothers a lot more than I'd planned. A year ago my mother had a burn on her arm from falling asleep with a heating pad she was trying to use to alleviate her pain. The pain that the doctor couldn't explain and prescribed anti-virals for. My mother was sick and confused. I didn't know that cancer was ravaging her body, leaving tiny cracks in her bones, elevating calcium to confuse her and reducing her immune response. Mom has been gone for almost nine months. In my mind, she is healing, hurtling back in time. The old confused woman is fading and I think about her when she was young and vigorous. Driving me places, helping me give parties for my friends when I was a teenager. Then she's even younger. Making butter at a table in the basement while I sit on the steps and watch. Making me a 'party tray' of food when I'm sick that included cheese cubes and slices of apple with dabs of peanut butter. After I retired I made my way to the gym, getting stronger and lighter if not younger. Mom has been growing younger, too, hair turning back to dark with a gray streak and then all dark. Face losing its lines. Lost inches coming back, back straightening, strength returning. Motherhood is the most misunderstood phenomena in the world which is strange. Because everyone may not be one, but everyone has one. Or several.
JUST TYPING Mother, Young vibrant, Holds your future; Grows old and frail And dependent, Dies, Becomes young and vibrant, And is your future.
		Food Diary. coffee Chicken parmigiana (about four ounces of chicken) with marinara sauce; zuchinni and yellow squash sauteed in olive oil with tomatoes and onions; fruit salad. Water, coffee. 6:30 Red wine 9:00 a variety of hors d'oeuvres including bites of pizza, smoked salmon, asparagus. A mini chocolate eclair. Red wine 11pm Some strawberries.
		Time flies.... Got up about 7:30. Put on shorts, let the dog out, got coffee, got in front of the computer and finished yesterday's journal. Why do I spend so much time on it? It relaxes me. Looking up quotes, looking up words, organizing the information about time spent and food consumed. 8:40 Set up layout of today's journal. 8:47 leave for club 8:55 arrive at club 9:52 leave club 10:02 arrive home shower, brush teeth, dry hair, start picking stuff up and getting ready for Mother's Day meal 11ish doorbell rings and I think it is Dad arriving early but it is Kisha. I say I 'adopted' Kisha and she proves me right by bringing some nice flowers and a card in honor of my mom but also thanking me for being there for her. Kisha's mom is my age and she is disabled with M.S. I am lucky. Kisha says her real mom has a great attitude. I've never met her. We talk. Dad does arrive. He goes over to check the neighbors' garden. We all go over there and discuss ballet (one of the kids is in Midsummer Night's Dream) and gardening. Dad gets some onions and collard greens and I take some onions and arugula. I take them inside and wash them and put them away. I putter around, setting the table. We put the food in to heat up. FFP goes to get his parents. Around noon we plate up chicken parmigiana and squash and eat. Everyone likes the food. We have FFP's Mom's (canned) fruit salad for dessert. I clean up the dishes, my mother-in-law dries...she likes to help. We watch an documentary on Joan Crawford off our Mildred Pierce DVD (how perfect is that, Mommy Dearest!) and then the basketball game. I read the papers. My mother-in-law reads sections of the papers and the NYT Magazine. I almost but not quite finish the sections of the papers that I want to read. My dad went home just after lunch. He didn't sleep well and thought he'd just go home and sleep. Around 5:30, I take the in-laws home. I clean up the remnants of the Mother's Day present opening and the scattering of papers and write some e-mail. Around six, I change to some nicer looking clothes and we go to a concert at some friends' house to benefit Conspirare, Austin's professional choir.. Have wine, talk to people. Listen to a great duo sing and play piano. Eat some great food catered by 34th Street Cafe. Talk. 10pm arrive home, watch tape of Six Feet Under, read papers, drink water, eat some strawberries.

		Reading. I am going to be reading Robert Massie's Peter the Great for a while unless I find some other time to read than on the exercise bike and at stoplights. Long book. Good one, though. I am still reading Journey Through Genius in small bites. I read bits of newspaper, of course. I almost read all those delivered today.
		Who writes? What?
		Exercise 51 minutes on recumbent bike
		Physically I feel fine. 123/77 69 115/75 68