A Most Important Relationship

30 Wednesday Oct 2013

Posted by judithar321 in aging, friendship, health, marriage, mid-life transition

It has been nearly 32 years since my husband and I met at a neighborhood party. When we first started seeing each other, I had no idea where the relationship would go, but I suspected it would be an important one. I was lucky —we were lucky — to be in the same place at the same time, and in a situation that allowed us to connect.

Two years later, on a cold, rainy, November afternoon, we exchanged wedding vows.

I took the above photo while visiting some old friends whose relationship probably dates back to about the time I was born. I first met them when I was five years old, and they were a young, married couple with two careers, and one small child. Now in their eighties, they are, to all appearances, still good together.

It is impossible to know what goes on inside someone else’s marriage, but I’m guessing that they nurtured a healthy relationship while developing careers and raising five children by bending —sometimes towards each other, sometimes in opposite directions. Whichever way they curled, however, each knew that the other would be there to catch them.

When I was a kid I spent a lot of time at their house. Even with the chaos that comes with a big family, even if there was yelling, there were times when it felt safer than my own home across the street.

Ever since Paul and I have been together, home has been where he is, and there is no place I’d rather be. He is my best friend, my cheerleader, my teacher, my student, and I am all of those things to him. Even though we fill each of those roles differently, and life together isn’t always perfect or pretty, I am sure of our partnership because we discuss it often.

He can fix almost anything, including a sore heart. He holds my heart in his big, capable hands every day, gently, and with great care.

We are closer than those two pillars and just as strong. Our bodies may be less supple than they were 30 years ago, but in our life together we’ve become more flexible. Unlike those pillars, we are not made of stone: We can bend.

***

Friendship is also the topic of my guest post this week on Daily Plate of Crazy. Click here to read it.

Summer Vacation

19 Monday Aug 2013

Posted by judithar321 in environment, friendship, health, inspiration

≈ 11 Comments

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Little Cranberry Island, Maine, vacation

Summer vacation: those two little words convey freedom and release with undertones of adventure; a break from a routine that is beginning to feel like a rut. The opportunity to read in bed before breakfast, without the usual sense of urgency to get moving. The chance to let loose, be daring — to strip off one’s clothes and dive into the waves lapping against a fogged-in and deserted beach, for instance, or to climb a small mountain and surrender oneself to a rocky, green fairyland.

To vacate that routine, let go, and just wander. Take notice of what it means to live on an island, where discarded stuff eventually gets swallowed by the landscape.

Paul and I spent last week with friends in a big house on a small island in Maine. It was a loose, undemanding group. We were able to arrange activities so that everyone got to spend their time the way they liked — including the children, who were happy to hike with any adult willing to take the hardest, scariest climb that day.

We cooked and ate beautiful food, had a front row seat to this year’s perseid meteor showers, and collected treasures from the island’s rocky beaches.

I arrived home refreshed, and, at long last, fully seduced by summer’s glow. I’ll hang onto that whiff of freedom for as long as I can. It’ll come in handy when summer’s light fades and the sea monsters of winter begin their yearly descent.

Wallowing

08 Monday Jul 2013

Posted by judithar321 in adult children, aging, books, environment, health, marriage, mid-life transition, music

≈ 4 Comments

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"This Train Is Now", climate change, garden, heat wave, Moms Clean Air Force, Raya Brass Band

The past few weeks have brought hot, humid weather to the Northeast. Morning after morning, I hustle Karina along our customary walk, swatting away the multitude of flies and mosquitoes that swarm around us all along the way.

The heat and humidity make it hard to focus, and if I were to have a coherent thought, typing while my fogged-over glasses slide down my sweaty nose (and this is after a shower), is nearly impossible. To top things off, my computer went haywire, the cursor skipping around from sentence to sentence, clicking on ads and other links of its own accord.

I was wallowing. A lot.

It started in early June. A piece that I had put my heart and soul into didn’t get published when promised. It may soon see the light of day, but its timely lead is no longer timely and it is deeply personal. As more time passes, the more nervous I feel about people reading it.

As June progressed, and the weather got hotter and hotter, I deflated and drooped a little more each day. Pretty soon I was comparing my publishing success to that of others….always a sure road to nowhere.

To be fair, June has a history of being difficult. It is a month of anniversaries that clearly demarcate the all-too-swift passage of time. Forty-one years since I became motherless, and 30 years since I became a mother. Yes, I have a child who is 30 years old. That particular anniversary, more than the other one, hit me hard this year.

In mid- June I pulled some muscle or other in my thigh. Swimming and walking are fine, but rooting around in the garden isn’t possible, and so, I’m letting it go feral this summer. Like everywhere else, it’s too hot and buggy in there anyway.

As if I weren’t already feeling decrepit enough, my dermatologist implied that my multitude of freckles/moles were solely due to too much sun. Sun? Really? In the Northeast? Haven’t you heard of genetics, Bub? So I wallowed in that for a while… until I noticed a woman at the pool. Deeply tanned, her skin was covered with large dalmatian-like spots.

Sometimes, comparison is helpful.

Then my computer went kablooey, and there were histrionics.

The atmosphere inside our little house got even hotter, and to escape, I started reading a book with an angry woman narrator. I am so into that book right now (The Woman Upstairs by Claire Messud). And I can’t wait to discuss it with the friend who gave it to me — especially the comment my local bookseller made as I was buying it for another friend. He said that he found the opening paragraphs “a little too shrill.”

Female anger is such a bummer, especially for men. My husband can handle it though. As he told me after the histrionics subsided, “… it’s good that it wasn’t directed towards me.”

But today, things are looking up. First off, the temperatures are in the 80’s not the 90’s and I can actually type this post without dripping all over the keyboard.

Yes, my computer has been fixed.

New track pad: $90.
Having a place to vent: Priceless.

And, I have had some writing published this summer. Climate change, always on my mind, came to the fore and I submitted a couple of posts to Moms Clean Air Force. One on how Climate Change has hit home, the other on how it is threatening New England seafood. By the way, you don’t have to be a Mom to join, just an engaged citizen, and if you haven’t already, I’d urge you to take action.

Then, a couple of days ago, the brilliant D.A. Wolfe reminded me of how lucky I am that my sons are independent, that they still want to share their lives with us, and that both are doing work that they and we can be proud of.

Shameless plug: older son’s band is releasing an album on October 8. Freckles or no freckles I’m still cool enough to rate an advanced copy. I’m listening to it now and the music has enough energy to make even the most lethargic among us want to get up and dance.

And you know what else? My garden is doing just fine without me.

In so many ways, I am a free woman!

We all need work, we all need purpose and I’m glad that those are the things I’ll be obsessing about this summer — rather than who’s publishing where, or who or what is or isn’t to blame for my spotty skin — because the day we stop looking for work and purpose is a day when the wallowing has gone too far.

Travel Lessons

20 Monday May 2013

Posted by judithar321 in adult children, environment, friendship, health, inspiration, travel

≈ 4 Comments

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baking, cooking, culture, desert, food, Morocco

The last few mornings I have reluctantly pulled myself from a dreamy, pleasant sleep. It’s not so much the dreams that I want to hold onto, but the peaceful, satisfied feelings they leave behind.

Maybe they are my way of remembering Morocco. For almost two weeks I was blissfully free of my usual, and (fortunately) mostly mundane worries. Day followed day, each unique and memorable in its own way, allowing me to use my brain and senses in ways I rarely do at home.

I started keeping lists of words in the local Berber dialect, along with lists of names. When people told me their name, they often told me what it meant. Karim, the name given my son, for example, means generous.

Two different Moroccan cooks showed me that you can make delicious food with just a bowl, one simple knife, the right ingredients, and two strong hands. No measuring cups or fancy appliances required.

Couscous

Daily bread

By the way, in case you are wondering, I have several photos and videos of these cooks in action, but I can’t share them here. That’s another thing I learned. Putting your image online is considered shameful for Moroccan women — it is interpreted as showing yourself in a way that is not appropriate.

Moroccans grow a lot of their own food and they even know how to farm in the desert.

Young date palms

Desert wheat

As we were driving over the Atlas Mountains at the beginning of our long journey home, Paul turned to me, and said, “Wherever we decide to go next, I want to have a reason for going there. There has to be something specific we want to see or do.”

I knew exactly what he meant. Travel will never be the same again. We will no longer be content to just visit a country’s museums, stroll along its streets, or loiter in its cafes without some other goal in mind. Whether our objective is to learn a new language, take a cooking class, or understand a specific event, we won’t be satisfied to simply scratch the surface.

If Morocco taught us anything, it’s that finding common ground with people from other lands and cultures, no matter how insurmountable the language barrier may seem, is worth the effort. We will carry Morocco’s people in our hearts always, just as we will forever be grateful to the one who brought us there.

Mid-day at the Oasis*

29 Monday Apr 2013

Posted by judithar321 in adult children, environment, friendship, health, inspiration, travel

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

family, food, gardens, Morocco, oasis

My son’s home in Morocco is right on the edge of an oasis. You only have to walk out his front door and turn right to step into an amazing landscape.

Karsten walks through the oasis on a daily basis. On this day, we were going to a friend’s house for lunch. We walked across a streambed, alongside an irrigation trough, and underneath a grapevine. Paul was a bit under the weather, so I had my son to myself that afternoon. After a year of missing him, it was treasured time.

We passed groves of date palms and olive trees.

Like every other meal we were invited to in Morocco, this one included extended family. Our host’s parents, sisters, and nephews all joined us. A shy, but impish 4-year-old giggled as he rolled around on the floor with his djellaba-clad grandfather. After a delicious lunch of cous cous, we went outside and into the family’s walled garden.

The small figs that go into savory dishes, like cous cous, grow here. (Click on the photos for a closer look.)

As do dates. In the U.S., dates come separated in a plastic tub. In Morocco, you buy them in boxes and they are still attached to their stems. Until this garden tour, I had no idea what they looked like on the tree. These dates will be ready to pick in a few months.

There were almond and pomegranate trees. The red flowers are pomegranate blossoms.

At the end of the day, our host and his father walked us back across the oasis and home.

*I couldn’t resist.

“How Do You Keep the Music Playing?”

18 Monday Mar 2013

Posted by judithar321 in aging, health, inspiration, music, work

≈ 12 Comments

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Aretha Franklin, old age, Parkinson's disease, Tony Bennett, video

My 90-year-old stepmother lives in a nursing home now. Paul and I visited her this past weekend. It’s depressing to see a once active person slumped in a wheelchair, her mind and body brought down by Parkinson’s disease.

We don’t have a lot of choice as to what our final days will be like. No one wants to end up like my stepmother. She certainly didn’t. But beyond the uncontrollable, how do we make our final years count?

While I have a ways to go before I hit “old age,” (I turn 58 this week), I do think a lot about what I want those years to be like. Why do some people remain vital and continue on in their sunset years as they have their entire lives? Part of it depends on luck and genetics, which determine whether your body and mind remain functional.

But given reasonable health, pursuing a passion or continuing to engage in meaningful work helps us stay alive in the fullest sense of the word. We have to remain curious. We have to stay in love with life.

The following duet between Tony Bennett, who is 86, and 70-year-old Aretha Franklin, illustrates that point beautifully. At first glance the song seems to be about love and maintaining a relationship with another person, but they could also be singing about staying in love with life.

Dog World

03 Sunday Mar 2013

Posted by judithar321 in friendship, health, inspiration, pets, work, writing

≈ 4 Comments

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dogs, Kathleen Volp, Moccatomic, Rhodesian ridgeback

It’s the weekend and after a busy week at the computer, I am taking the day off. There is so much I want to write about, so many thoughts crowding in, but none are yet ready to make the transition from brain to paper.

Instead, I’ll share a few photos from our mid-February week of dog sitting.

Zoe came on a Tuesday. She is a black and white dynamo and Karina’s closest friend. She is a year or two older than Karina and had a litter of puppies before Kathleen rescued her.

Being more worldly than Karina, Zoe likes to introduce her to new experiences. For example, she has instructed Karina in the fine art of humping (as I said they are very close friends) and demonstrated for her how to chew a carrot, explaining why that’s better than burying it in your bed.

The two of them tussle constantly, even when they are at rest.

The Saturday after Zoe arrived, Kola was dropped off. She is an eight-year-old Rhodesian ridgeback. Kola is the dignified older sister we all wish we could have. She may occasionally act as though she is above the antics of her younger siblings, but in truth she hates to miss out on anything.

Being an older, bigger dog, Kola reminds me of our Hobbes when he was in his prime, and because of that she has captured a special piece of my heart. She is always eager to help in the kitchen and stands politely at my elbow when I’m cooking, ready to catch any stray ingredients before they slide to the floor. Whenever we return from a human-only excursion, Kola always greets us with a shoe in her mouth. As it happens, she comes from a family of shoe people.

The morning after Kola arrived, the three dogs enjoyed Sunday breakfast together and then took a moment to sit for the camera.

After the morning walk, there were naps. Zoe and Kola commit to their daytime snoozes with every fiber in their bodies.

While as hostess, Karina keeps an eye on things.

In fact, she’s a diligent hostess, getting up each night in the wee hours to make sure her guests are still safely tucked in.

At the end of the weekend, Zoe went home and a few days later, Kola did too.

Books by and for Women Are for Men, Too

15 Tuesday Jan 2013

Posted by judithar321 in books, friendship, health, inspiration, mid-life transition, work, writing

≈ 4 Comments

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A Band of Wives, boys and men, connection, feminism, mentoring, Our Bodies Ourselves, Women Entrepreneurs

For the past few weeks, I have been up to my ears in women’s voices. It all started when I was asked to review Nothing but the Truth So Help Me God: 51 Women Reveal the Power of Positive Female Connection, a yellow and black-covered book filled with essays, poems, and artwork tackling a wide range women’s experiences: from self-love to friendship; modern motherhood to Mother Earth; from “finding yourself” to challenges of race and culture; and from overcoming obstacles to making mischief. The book provided this reader with several moments of recognition, a few Aha’s, and some eye-opening stories.

In my review, published by Women’s Voices for Change, I compare Nothing but the Truth to that mother of all books by and for women, Our Bodies Ourselves.

It’s true, no one “gets” us the way other women do. I learned this lesson while in college, when I first opened Our Bodies Ourselves, turned to the section on birth control, and suddenly—when it came to concerns about my body—I was no longer alone.

Then, I was invited to participate with 16 other women in Women Entrepreneurs, Service, Connection, Community, an ebook in which we share our stories, wisdom, and perspective on the themes of service, connection and community.

While I don’t consider myself an entrepreneur, at least not yet, I am incredibly honored to be traveling with this pack of smart, savvy women.

You can download your own copy right here.

As my friend and colleague, Erica Holthausen, says in her introduction,

… something powerful happens when independent people come together to support and encourage one another, especially if those people are all women. Suddenly that fierce independence is broken wide open to reveal something softer, more vulnerable and very real. Fierce independence is replaced by service, connection and community.

Her introduction echoes the one by A Band of Wives founder, Christine Bronstein in Nothing but the Truth,

We know that women change each other’s lives just by being there for one another, and sharing these stories allows us to be more courageous, more authentic, and more loving to ourselves and others.

Both statements are true, yet there is something in each of these books for men, too. In fact, if I could go back in time to when my sons were still boys, I’d leave my battered copy of Our Bodies Ourselves out on the coffee table for their perusal. Why shouldn’t men get the inside scoop on sex, female orgasm, birth control, and pregnancy from a group of women?

And why not share our interior lives and connection to each other by having them read books like Nothing but the Truth? Or show them how women approach work and building a business? All three of these books contain lessons for everyone.

Women may hold up half the sky, but we rarely get even half a voice — no wonder books by and for women resonate so strongly with us. But if we share books like these with the men in our lives, perhaps their ears will become more attuned to what we have to say. Maybe then, even when powerful leaders don’t look like us, they’ll be more likely to at least sound like us.

An Icy Pause

21 Friday Dec 2012

Posted by judithar321 in environment, health, inspiration, meditation, pets

≈ 4 Comments

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dogwood trees, ice, lady's mantle, lavender, nature, pine trees, Walden woods, winter weather

We woke up earlier this week to an ice-covered world. The dogwood tree outside the bedroom window greeted me looking like a cocktail hostess wrapped in a silvery sheath.

The glittery theme continued in the garden, where the lady’s mantle posed as a crystal chandelier resting on its side, and the lavender wore translucent stockings.

The driveway had a coating that was treacherous, but easily shattered like the best stained glass candy.

In the woods, it took us a while to negotiate the trail — why didn’t we remember to dig out our ice cleats?

Still, we walked. We saw tree branches, wrapped in ice, reaching across the path with ET-like fingers.

There was evidence of fairies messing with trees during the night.

And shades of Dr. Seuss.

Pine needles turned into elongated jewels.

It was as if the ice, in coating the plants, the trees, the driveway, and the trail, had also frozen time, and encased us in a cold but protective cocoon. A magic trick.

All too soon the trick was over, and time resumed its normal pace, as the ice quickly melted away.

Next week, I hope to replicate that magic by slowing down and savoring every quiet and not-so-quiet moment with loved ones. I hope you can do the same: take a breath and reflect, before we all gear up for 2013.

I wish all of you safe, happy, holidays, and health and joy in the coming year.

Finding Happiness on Mount Misery

08 Saturday Dec 2012

Posted by judithar321 in environment, friendship, health, inspiration, meditation, pets

≈ 6 Comments

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dog walk, gloomy weather, Henry David Thoreau, Lincoln, Massachusetts, Mount Misery, Sudbury River

We woke up this morning to the steady patter of rain. A raw, gloomy chill hung over the house. Plus our newspaper was late. Blech.

Then at 9 am sharp, my phone rang. It was my friend Kathleen calling to invite Karina and me for a walk with her and her dog Zoe at Mount Misery.

After a few deep sighs, I accepted. After all, as Kathleen said, we have to walk the dogs anyway. We might as well go someplace different and more interesting.

Not nearly as bleak as its name suggests, Mount Misery is a set of trails a few minutes’ drive from our respective houses. Bordered on one side by the Sudbury river, its trails lead up a hill, through the woods, and past a pond. There’s farmland in the area as well.

The woods always feel so peaceful in the rain.

The mist and wet wood make all the colors and textures stand out in sharp relief.