Ladies of the Land

This is my sister D'Aunn presenting my Mom with flowers on a Mother's Day many years ago.

On this Mother's Day, I would like to honor a group of women I like to call "The Ladies of the Land."  They consist of not only my mother, my daughter, my aunts, sisters, and nieces but of all of the women in my life, past and present.  I want to thank and honor not only my mother, but all of the women who make up a small, but critically important circle of support; support and love that I have had the privilege of receiving my whole life long.

These women sail through their lives and mine while doing that "limping-one-minute-carrying-the-next" thing that women do.  I have conferred with one or the other of them about bumps and moles, teachers, carbs and stained rugs.  Together we have worried about who seems down, who looks happy, and who has lost their figure and/or their mind.  Many have offered guidance when I'm spiritually perplexed, held my hand through heart-breaking loss, and celebrated with me in times of great joy.  They can tell something is wrong by the way I say "Everything is fine," and have lived their ordinary lives with extraordinary grace and strength while teaching me how to star in my own life.  If I killed someone, they would show up with shovels and help me bury the body - accessory after the fact be damned.  They have rallied around me and held me up when I was bringing a new life into the world and stood beside me and honored the memory of a loved one as they left this world.

More often than not, over the past forty-five years, I have been the fortunate recipient of wisdom passed out around kitchen tables while questioning the pros and cons of parenting, marriage, Spanx, government, and the minutia of life in general.  My life has been built upon the bones of these conversations and I find myself referring back to these talks for answers. My life would not have been as full or as happy without the influence of all of these women and I am immensely grateful for the education, love, and comfort they have provided for me.

I love you all more than you can ever know,
LeAnn

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June 28th, 2010: If Life is a Salad Bar, Am I Anywhere Near the Croutons?

For several months, going on almost a year, I have been traveling through my days with a combination of afflictions namely, brooding moods, failing eyesight, and a body so out of shape it would make Jesus weep.  I suppose the conventional term for such afflictions would be "aging," but to be honest, I'm truly uncomfortable with that term, it's not my favorite, so I'm not using it.  In fact, I'm not a huge fan of the whole concept of it at all.  Growing older was not something I ever spent much time thinking about.  I figured I would cross that bridge when it appeared and would do so in an elegant poised manner.  But providence and reality have interfered with my plans, which is why Monday's on the blog are designated for a weekly post called "If Life is a Salad Bar, Am I Anywhere Near The Croutons?"  It's a journal entry of sorts - kind of like an open invitation to "The Land of Too Much Information" mixed in with a lot of "so that happened and that's why I am the way I am."

Today's journal entry has to do with my experiences over the past year and how they have left me taxed and decidedly suspicious of the joys of growing older.  Like anyone who has walked this path through "The Valley of The Shadow of Distress," I have reluctantly accepted a few truths: that every year carries sequestered beneath its surface, the makings of a more wisdom-filled understanding of the world and its workings accompanied by an extra special emphasis on regret, anxiety and isolation.  I'm figuring right about now you're probably thinking to yourselves:  (A)  There are drugs for that sister! and/or (B) Should someone be on "suicide alert?"  And to that I answer (A) Yes, I know, I have a Psychopharmacologist on call. And (B) No, on the "suicide alert" I'm just flexing few of my more finely honed skills - those being melodrama (think Scarlett O'hara) and over-thinking (see Obsessive Compulsive Disorder) with a extra helpings of self absorption just for fun-zees! 

Growing older was never something I doubted that I would do, I just thought I would proceed in a more elegant manner with a great deal more grace.  So, to help me find my voice in this aging deal I have decided to vastly narrow my scope of examples.  Instead of looking to magazines, doctors, psychopharmacologists, and others, I have decided to derive inspiration and strength through exactly twenty-one people.  I won't be so precise as to give the names of these people but I will say that these twenty-one folks constitute a critically important circle of relatives, friends, and such that have helped form who I am. Over many years, tons salad bars, dinners, oceans of Diet Dr. Pepper, and a little bit-o-booze, I have sat with these wonderful creatures and have questioned aloud life and its hardships and rewards.  The collective presence of these extraordinary women, men, and children have influenced my life enormously and I am eternally grateful. My days have been quieted, comforted and my knowledge expanded, simply by their existence.

They range in age from their mid-teens to their early centenarian years.  One of them happens to be my mother; another my late grandmother.  One is my daughter; another my son and yet another my husband.  Ten are mothers; four are fathers.  One is my newest friend; four of them are my oldest friends.  One of them is an old boyfriend - with whom, after twenty years of no contact, I have reconnected with as old friends.  Two of them are my aunts; one is my uncle; another my grandfather.  Three of them are my siblings; another my niece; one I've never actually met.  Five are no longer living; and the rest alive and well.  One was born in Syria; the others in America.  All of them have genius-level senses of humor and wit.  Heartbreaking loss has been experienced by all of them.  Some have some sort of relationship with a divine being; some are devout; some I suspect are completely uninterested in the subject.  Six of them are teachers; eight of them are writers; one a mechanic; one a nurse; another a coach, one an attorney; there is an accountant, a few editors, a designer, a couple of entrepreneurs; a pianist; a guitar player; a singer.  My life is rich, informed, secure, and full of love and support because of these people and their influence has given me and, if you pardon the obvious reference, a Life Less Ordinary.

I'll continue next Monday . . . see you then!

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