Friday, June 8, 2012
Bermuda Shorts #3: Donald-isms
"Oh, you got your joke book out!" a favored response to lighthearted jokes at his expense
[While driving past a cemetery] "How many people do you think are dead in there?"
The correct answer is "All of 'em!" but he loves when someone guesses a specific number of folks so that he can deliver the punchline.
"Mamma musta called you Sunny, 'cuz you're so bright!" common response when you've answered a trick question correctly (see the above joke).
Thursday, June 7, 2012
At the Arrival Gate
Donald's back in town, and we're staying on Vineland Avenue this time around. We've come back to our roots, back to roost.
This visit was arranged at the last minute, mom booked his flight on Sunday and he arrived three days later. It's hard to explain the planning, the neurotic panic, that goes into preparing these visits from my tiny, second floor Providence apartment when we have months of notice. With only days to plan, the pressure was on! Dad coming to town requires finding a place to stay that doesn't mind taking in two long-term guests. It means packing up my own suitcase though I'm only going a town or two over: work and play clothes, hair products, laptop, kindle, cameras, phone charger, glasses (forgot those!). This time around the pre-visit planning also involved finding a dog-sitter willing to live in the aforementioned apartment and to take care of the pup I have raised to be as needy and high maintenance as any self-respecting Yorkie could be. Stepping up to the plate to do some of the heaviest lifting this time around are: Meghan on dog duty (or "Mamma Meghan" as Pax would call her- if, ya know, he wasn't a dog and could talk), and Tawn and Sarah offering up the accommodations. Since travel plans were made at the last minute, having a manager that understands the complex nature of Donald's needs has been invaluable- I put in for vacation time twelve hours before taking two and a half days out of the office. It truly does take a village to pull it all off. We were one busy village in the days leading up to Donald's recent arrival. Unsettled, and rushing until the minute he landed...
Then, suddenly, I was there again. Standing, nervously awaiting the moment that I'd see dad wheeled into the glass elevator at T.F. Green Airport. In just a few minutes I would see his smiling face and in that instant, if only for a moment, the stress and anxiety of the weeks or days before would melt away. I was one person in a crowd of more than fifty people I had never met, and though we were "strangers", at the arrival gate that word is synonymous with "family" because we were all in this together; we looked each other in the eyes, smiled and talked as we waited to hug and kiss our loved ones. I stood amongst people holding signs, taking pictures, and updating their Facebook statuses while the Starbucks baristas called out orders for a "Skinny Chai Latte" and "Caramel Macchiato" to a crowd so high on adrenaline that these caffeinated beverages were merely ordered in an attempt to fill the empty minutes before we were reunited with the special people getting off the plane. Warmth, love, anticipation radiated through all of us, and any hurt, anger, or stress that we might have been harboring was suspended in that shared moment. Amongst this family of strangers, I was reminded that this was what it's all about- this is the essence of our humanity. Our interaction was fleeting, and it was unlikely that I would ever see these people again, but in that moment our sole (soul!) focus was singular. Different though we were, for a time we were united in love. We all went our separate ways as the passengers arrived, but I'd like to think that we each carried a little bit of that shared energy with us... and will carry it for longer than we might know.
Ani sang it far more poetically than I could ever write it, so I leave you with a song.
This visit was arranged at the last minute, mom booked his flight on Sunday and he arrived three days later. It's hard to explain the planning, the neurotic panic, that goes into preparing these visits from my tiny, second floor Providence apartment when we have months of notice. With only days to plan, the pressure was on! Dad coming to town requires finding a place to stay that doesn't mind taking in two long-term guests. It means packing up my own suitcase though I'm only going a town or two over: work and play clothes, hair products, laptop, kindle, cameras, phone charger, glasses (forgot those!). This time around the pre-visit planning also involved finding a dog-sitter willing to live in the aforementioned apartment and to take care of the pup I have raised to be as needy and high maintenance as any self-respecting Yorkie could be. Stepping up to the plate to do some of the heaviest lifting this time around are: Meghan on dog duty (or "Mamma Meghan" as Pax would call her- if, ya know, he wasn't a dog and could talk), and Tawn and Sarah offering up the accommodations. Since travel plans were made at the last minute, having a manager that understands the complex nature of Donald's needs has been invaluable- I put in for vacation time twelve hours before taking two and a half days out of the office. It truly does take a village to pull it all off. We were one busy village in the days leading up to Donald's recent arrival. Unsettled, and rushing until the minute he landed...
Then, suddenly, I was there again. Standing, nervously awaiting the moment that I'd see dad wheeled into the glass elevator at T.F. Green Airport. In just a few minutes I would see his smiling face and in that instant, if only for a moment, the stress and anxiety of the weeks or days before would melt away. I was one person in a crowd of more than fifty people I had never met, and though we were "strangers", at the arrival gate that word is synonymous with "family" because we were all in this together; we looked each other in the eyes, smiled and talked as we waited to hug and kiss our loved ones. I stood amongst people holding signs, taking pictures, and updating their Facebook statuses while the Starbucks baristas called out orders for a "Skinny Chai Latte" and "Caramel Macchiato" to a crowd so high on adrenaline that these caffeinated beverages were merely ordered in an attempt to fill the empty minutes before we were reunited with the special people getting off the plane. Warmth, love, anticipation radiated through all of us, and any hurt, anger, or stress that we might have been harboring was suspended in that shared moment. Amongst this family of strangers, I was reminded that this was what it's all about- this is the essence of our humanity. Our interaction was fleeting, and it was unlikely that I would ever see these people again, but in that moment our sole (soul!) focus was singular. Different though we were, for a time we were united in love. We all went our separate ways as the passengers arrived, but I'd like to think that we each carried a little bit of that shared energy with us... and will carry it for longer than we might know.
Ani sang it far more poetically than I could ever write it, so I leave you with a song.
Friday, October 21, 2011
Kind and Generous
(Some background music as you're reading)
Donald's trips would not be possible without my mother's endless love and support. There's not a day that's gone by that I've ever doubted that my mom has our family's best interests at the forefront of all she does. Hell, she flies her ex-husband thousands of miles to spend precious, and fleeting, time with their daughters. She makes sure my life is richer intellectually, emotionally and (without forcing the church issue) spiritually. She feeds the desire in me to be the best person I can be.
This time around Donald is only in Rhode Island for two weeks. I recently moved into a second floor apartment and he's not in good enough shape to make the climb up that many stairs each day. When signing the lease I tried to reconcile the guilt I felt about essentially putting an end to dad's yearly visits. At Tracy and Steve's house one night (over too many glasses of wine) I got emotional about this very issue, and they kindly opened their home to Donald on his next visit. So, here I sit, typing away on Tracy's couch while listening to dad's rhythmic snoring coming from their dining room-- the makeshift, first floor, guestroom. Who would volunteer to turn their lives upside down without blinking an eye? Not many people, but Tracy and Steve did so without prompt. I'm not sure one can ever repay such a loving gesture. But we'll start by limiting dad's stay to a more manageable two weeks.
Do you remember the original Vineland inhabitants? Well, Tawn (yes the same woman that caught Donald in his undies on more than one occasion) was kind enough to lend us her guest bed for dad's stay. I spent last Sunday frantically shopping for an affordable mattress set before I remembered that I had a friend with the exact resource I needed. Not only did she say we could have the bed, but she strapped it to the roof of my car and followed me from her house to Tracy's earlier this week to make sure I was safe... after a day of roofing!
I don't drive on highways willingly, and the people closest to me know this. So, in talking about preparations for dad's visits, Luke offered to help with the airport pick up. This meant that not only did I get to relax about the trip to the airport, but I also got to indulge in a per-airport glass of wine- an amazing gift for the chronically anxious. Luke is probably one of Donald's favorite people- he makes my dad feel both loved and secure. I regret that they have not had more time to spend together the last few visits, but am eternally grateful for every moment that Luke is able to carve out for him.
Dad's visits make me a little antsy and on edge. You all know that I'm not great in an emergency, and this makes me... well, damned nervous! Kelley and Meg are always there to field my calls and calm my anxiety in the days leading up to a stay. They're among the first to volunteer to come have dinner and play dominoes any night, and I take comfort in knowing that they're happy to spend some time with us. Knowing that I don't have to be all alone should something go wrong is an amazing source of strength.
People love Donald. They're willing to do most anything for him because, at his very core, he is good. And moreover, at their core, the people I love most in this world are similarly shiny, generous souls. They have more to give than I could ever expect, and they share that with me. I am truly one of the lucky ones.
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
For Better or For Worse
My parents eloped almost thirty years ago. They said their I Do's in a small, private ceremony with a Justice of the Peace, escaping the disapproval of family and friends that didn't support their interracial union. Although they separated some fifteen years later, I may have learned more about the true meaning of those sacred vows in their divorce than I can take from any number of happy marriages around me.
Though I haven't mentioned her much in this blog about my dad's visits, my mom is the invisible force that makes all of his travel possible. She goes about the business of purchasing his tickets, prepping his pills and suitcase, and even goes as far as taking him to the airport. I'd gamble to say most women don't put themselves out this much, if at all, for their former husbands.
My parents didn't have a messy divorce. There were no custody disputes or alimony arguments; we didn't even have to juggle visitation schedules since dad didn't move out. My mom sacrificed a lot to keep our family under one roof, and dad lived in the spare bedroom of our rented home. Just as in marriage, my parents may not have always gotten along in divorce; there was, however, always a shared thread of loving respect between them.
Irrespective of that fact, it was a scary time for my adolescent self; it was hard to wrap my brain around the "D" word and what that would really mean for all of us. I remember thinking, "Why did they even get married!?" and being angry with them for breaking that promise to be together forever. Even in my youth it was clear to me that my parents were opposites, shouldn't they have known it wouldn't last? Does real love even exist?
My mom's commitment to my father in sickness teaches me repeatedly, though, that the simple truth of the matter is that true love does exist; it often means more hard work and sacrifice than most people are willing to realize. It transcends romantic love, and even divorce. You can't just take someone out of your heart once you've given it to them. This fact reminds me to be cautious and to give my heart to friends and partners with care, because like my mother- when I love, it is forever. It's not a love that scares me, but it's a love that people should be worthy of. Giving all that you can is not only rewarding, it can be exhausting.
Dad says every day that I'm just like my mother; I know that the subtext of this statement is that I'm a pain in his ass (it often comes when I try to stop him from doing something I feel is bad for his health). My mom loves fiercely and unconditionally. This isn't a blind love; sometimes the people that mean the most to us will let us down or will need to hear some hard truths. But we keep them in our hearts nonetheless. If I'm capable of giving love like my mother, then growing up to be more and more like her is fine by me! I can only hope that at my wedding ceremony, when I say "... for better or for worse" I'll live up to that part of the bargain as well as she has.
Thank you, mom!
My parents didn't have a messy divorce. There were no custody disputes or alimony arguments; we didn't even have to juggle visitation schedules since dad didn't move out. My mom sacrificed a lot to keep our family under one roof, and dad lived in the spare bedroom of our rented home. Just as in marriage, my parents may not have always gotten along in divorce; there was, however, always a shared thread of loving respect between them.
Irrespective of that fact, it was a scary time for my adolescent self; it was hard to wrap my brain around the "D" word and what that would really mean for all of us. I remember thinking, "Why did they even get married!?" and being angry with them for breaking that promise to be together forever. Even in my youth it was clear to me that my parents were opposites, shouldn't they have known it wouldn't last? Does real love even exist?
My mom's commitment to my father in sickness teaches me repeatedly, though, that the simple truth of the matter is that true love does exist; it often means more hard work and sacrifice than most people are willing to realize. It transcends romantic love, and even divorce. You can't just take someone out of your heart once you've given it to them. This fact reminds me to be cautious and to give my heart to friends and partners with care, because like my mother- when I love, it is forever. It's not a love that scares me, but it's a love that people should be worthy of. Giving all that you can is not only rewarding, it can be exhausting.
Dad says every day that I'm just like my mother; I know that the subtext of this statement is that I'm a pain in his ass (it often comes when I try to stop him from doing something I feel is bad for his health). My mom loves fiercely and unconditionally. This isn't a blind love; sometimes the people that mean the most to us will let us down or will need to hear some hard truths. But we keep them in our hearts nonetheless. If I'm capable of giving love like my mother, then growing up to be more and more like her is fine by me! I can only hope that at my wedding ceremony, when I say "... for better or for worse" I'll live up to that part of the bargain as well as she has.
Thank you, mom!
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Wordless Wednesday: A Warm Up
Donald's recent illness left me wordless. Not speechless, mind you. I've had plenty of talks with friends, family and my oh so patient therapist; but, I've been unable to write. So, trying out this Wordless Wednesday business seems a poignant way to ease back into writing/blogging about my dad and his winter in RI.
Monday, December 20, 2010
Donald Does RI: Winter Addition
As 2010 comes to a close, Donald has made an unprecedented second visit to Rhode Island. In October, he suffered some major health complications that had us questioning whether he'd even see another Halloween. He's made a slow and steady recovery over the last month and a half, while focused on the one goal of cooking Christmas dinner for his girls. Though we offered to fly to Bermuda, hoping to save his body the stress of travel to the frigid cold of New England in the winter, he insisted on making the trek to us.
Much has changed in the last six months, perhaps not least of which includes my moving out of the house on Vineland Avenue. Donald is having to make himself at home in my cozy one bedroom apartment in Riverside. I do fear that he'll find the solitude of this little life I'm building dull compared to the buzz of my old home. But, two days into his visit we're settling into a happy new routine. I must admit that the looming prospect of sleeping on my couch for three weeks makes me miss Vineland's guest room!
The faint sound of Donald's snoring is drifting down the hallway as snow gathers on the windowsill. Sipping on a glass of eggnog and enjoying the soft glow of white twinkle lights on the Christmas tree, I'm feeling truly blessed this holiday season.
Much has changed in the last six months, perhaps not least of which includes my moving out of the house on Vineland Avenue. Donald is having to make himself at home in my cozy one bedroom apartment in Riverside. I do fear that he'll find the solitude of this little life I'm building dull compared to the buzz of my old home. But, two days into his visit we're settling into a happy new routine. I must admit that the looming prospect of sleeping on my couch for three weeks makes me miss Vineland's guest room!
The faint sound of Donald's snoring is drifting down the hallway as snow gathers on the windowsill. Sipping on a glass of eggnog and enjoying the soft glow of white twinkle lights on the Christmas tree, I'm feeling truly blessed this holiday season.
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
One Week To Go
Dad's month-long stay always seems like this massive amount of time looming in the distance when we're preparing for his arrival. We've all lived on our own for so long that a month with a parent in the house now seems an alien concept. The time always passes much faster than we anticipate, though, and we're now entering dad's last week here.
Tonight he made a large dinner, but retired to his room with a plate of pasta and garlic bread. He can't miss his favorite show while he's here, "'cause it comes on for a full hour- [he doesn't] get that at home!" We listened to him roar with laughter from behind his closed door as he watched "Two and a Half Men" from 7:00- 8:00 pm.
When he eventually emerged from his room, he was pleased to see that the dishes were done and hobbled into the living room to check on the score of the Celtics game. Watching sports reminded him that he hadn't yet placed his bets on this week's golf tournaments and he told me to fetch the laptop and look up who would be playing. Unfortunately for dad, I was in no mood to search the Internet for golf odds and player line ups. I'd been frantically searching through boxes of remnants from my upended apartment looking for my missing USB drives.
Dad doesn't quite understand how the Internet works- he thinks that you can type in "PGA" and find exactly what he wants instantly. Also, his eyesight is poor so as he strains his eyes trying to see what I'm looking at he asks for constant updates on what I've found. Today was my first day back in the office after an extended weekend, so I was already a little moody, and this mood just grew worse as I tried to find what he was looking for.
"See! You got what I wanted and it wasn't that hard," he said after we bounced around between golf websites for half an hour and as I continued to search every drawer for my missing drive.
As he was going to bed I was going through boxes in his room, testing every random drive hoping to find the files I am missing. As I left his room, frustrated beyond belief and heading out for my fifth cigarette on the porch, he said softly, "I really hope you find it, baby doll," and my mood momentarily softened as I kissed him on the forehead before closing the door.
Tonight he made a large dinner, but retired to his room with a plate of pasta and garlic bread. He can't miss his favorite show while he's here, "'cause it comes on for a full hour- [he doesn't] get that at home!" We listened to him roar with laughter from behind his closed door as he watched "Two and a Half Men" from 7:00- 8:00 pm.
When he eventually emerged from his room, he was pleased to see that the dishes were done and hobbled into the living room to check on the score of the Celtics game. Watching sports reminded him that he hadn't yet placed his bets on this week's golf tournaments and he told me to fetch the laptop and look up who would be playing. Unfortunately for dad, I was in no mood to search the Internet for golf odds and player line ups. I'd been frantically searching through boxes of remnants from my upended apartment looking for my missing USB drives.
Dad doesn't quite understand how the Internet works- he thinks that you can type in "PGA" and find exactly what he wants instantly. Also, his eyesight is poor so as he strains his eyes trying to see what I'm looking at he asks for constant updates on what I've found. Today was my first day back in the office after an extended weekend, so I was already a little moody, and this mood just grew worse as I tried to find what he was looking for.
"See! You got what I wanted and it wasn't that hard," he said after we bounced around between golf websites for half an hour and as I continued to search every drawer for my missing drive.
As he was going to bed I was going through boxes in his room, testing every random drive hoping to find the files I am missing. As I left his room, frustrated beyond belief and heading out for my fifth cigarette on the porch, he said softly, "I really hope you find it, baby doll," and my mood momentarily softened as I kissed him on the forehead before closing the door.
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