A Big Birthday Plan

I've been away from posting on this blog because of a variety of life-changing events happening, and now I can write about them and share the Big Birthday Plan.

The frosty conditions of winter will melt with spring warmth.

About two weeks before Christmas I was in Florida with Wayne Ratcliff and after a series of extraordinary stressful actions, one of which included realizing that my son was incapable of being honest with me about anything, I decided to sell my house in Lake City. Wayne stepped up to the plate to help me get all my personal things out of the house and put them in storage.

It was raining. It was cold. And Wayne was recovering from a very bad cold or the flu while I was trying to recover from all the sleepless nights incurred taking care of him. And now there were two tired, grieving folks: Wayne for his late wife, Barbara and me, for the son I was going to have to evict from my home because of his failure to grow up, get work, and live honestly.

It was a recipe for disaster. And disaster struck with the decision I made to walk away from someone I loved after he demonstrated his potential for rage and impatience with me over something that should have been trivial and handled differently. (We both see that now.)

And in that action, we set in motion a series of detours on the Road of Life that almost, but not quite, ended the relationship altogether. The angels must have been watching over both of us as we each struggled to make sense of what we both had contributed to the mess.

Those detours presented the necessary contrast so that individually we could see what we DID want and as January came to a close, we found ourselves talking, texting and emailing several times a day, believing we were just learning how to be friends. But in that structure, we really did become more friendly, developed new appreciations for each other, and when Wayne returned to Sequim, we danced again at Straitwheelers.

We went for a walk on the Spit and talked some more.

The clouds were a good representation of the turmoil we
were both sorting through to get to the other side.

And then we danced on Tuesday at Rhody-O's and Wayne insisted he had to take me out on Valentine's Day. It was not so much the place we went as the effort he put into making the day a very special one that made me realize he was more than literally head and shoulders above the rest; and I told him so.

The next day we met for coffee and talked some more. By now we had accrued somewhere near 140 hours of talking, texting and emailing and we both agreed we could spend our time more effectively by joining forces and he asked me to marry him.

Wayne Ratcliff at Solmar Lake - 2018

And five days later he asked me again - just to be sure - and pointed to the calendar for the date he wanted us to memorialize our commitment... My Birthday! Sensible man; he didn't want to ever forget either event. And this is one of those birthdays that marks a significant achievement in just living, so it will be a very special day. I will be marrying someone who really is my friend first and everything else as well: walking buddy, dance partner, adventuring pal and sweetheart.

We 'graduated' from our dance class learning to waltz, salsa,
fox trot, cowboy cha-cha and two-step. Some we do well
and others require more attention.

My Daughter's Birthday

You just ran out the door to play with Michele, now I've turned around and you are graduating from high school and is it really true that your first son is now in college and you are.... over 40?

It has gone by so quickly. All those moments of wondering if you would ever sleep through the night, get your homework done on time, make your bed, pick up your clothes, get through college safely (you were nearly on the bridge in California during the Loma Linda earthquake) and then one day you were struggling with your own babies not sleeping.

Sigh... I am so very proud of you. You have been climbing your own mountains for a long time and I think you are finally able to turn around and look at the view... you should be just as proud of your accomplishments as I am... a loving and devoted wife, a funny and responsible mother and stepmother, a woman of integrity who recently (and casually) told me she is a partner in a patent!

May this birthday mark the beginning of a new year of many joys leaving behind the "annus horribilus" and all its challenges -  you certainly deserve it!

And may I add how grateful I am for being a part of the whole adventure? So glad you came into my life and enriched it so measurably!

She would have been 101 today...

If she had lived until now, my mother would have been 101 today. The last woman who grew up speaking her tribal language from birth, S'klallam, died today at 103 here on the Peninsula. It was noted by a relative that when the elders leave us, there are no ways to replace what they have taken with them.

And in my eulogy comments at my mother's memorial, I also noted the huge gap that was created by her death. She was a musician, an artist, an intellectual, and like us all - particularly unique.

All of this was stolen by a 'friend' who was renting my place
while I was in Colombia. I came home to an empty house
and thus endeth the lesson of permanence.

Although I wasn't aware of it at the time, when she died in March 2007, I went into a peculiar kind of depression that manifested itself in a buying spree of semi-precious stones, none of which remain today, due to a theft of my personal things.

I have thought a lot about why I was buying them recently, and why I don't have them anymore. Both of which point to the impermanence of 'things' and life itself... none of it lasts forever, unless you are talking about radiation/uranium which has a half-life that goes on for centuries.

In some wierd way I think I was trying to stave off the certainty of death itself, and now here I am again, in a part-time job writing obituary/death notices for people who have lived, loved, laughed and cried before they died. They have no interest in stones of any kind now.

At any rate, while time passes, according to the AP Style Book, people do not. They die. Flat out. No euphemisms, no padding the truth of it all. 

And last year I went to a grief group because I realized I never dared to cry for my mother and what I missed about her. It was a relief to talk about it back then and now when I tell people they can remember my name as being connected to Lil Orphan Annie, I can laugh about being motherless, because really I am not. 

We all have mothers and fathers, whether we know who they are or not... we only become orphans when we feel unloved. I am lucky to know that I am.

Happy Birthday to my Baby Bro...

For you... I hope you enjoy it!

He won't remember this, but I do... I was about six, and since he's almost exactly three years younger than me, I still have my wits about me to do simple math, that makes him three in this recounting.... we were at Dublin Lake in Dublin, NH, being watched by someone, but not very well. (He was called another name as a child and has changed it many years ago, but we will, for the sake of having some kind of title, call him YB - Younger Brother). Well, YB decided that the making of sand castles was no longer interesting, and he wandered off. But he didn't wander off toward the changing cabins - to the right - but toward the area where the boats were launched - to the left of the beach.

A great hullabaloo went up when it was determined that he was no longer on the beach, and lifeguards and other adults were launched into the Great Search Party for YB. I watched this with some interest, but not enough to get as excited as they were getting. I continued making up the moat, the next bucket level of the castle and then someone ran over what had been our creation, mashing it back into the sand.

Now I was fully bored with all of this action and I decided to walk toward the left side of the beach because it would take me away from the hysteria, and because even the lake water is more peaceful over there. As I padded along on the needle-studded dirt path, I noticed a movement ahead. As I got closer, I thought I could see YB. (I should add that as a severely near-sighted child, any fuzzy image might have been mistaken for YB.) He confirmed my suspicion by whispering, "Don't tell them I'm here." I was tempted to obey his command, pretend I didn't hear him, but I also knew there was likely to be a greater consequence for keeping his secret. What a conflict!! Let him stay lost and thereby redeem my spot as the adored younger child, or become a heroine by revealing where he was and have to endure his presence for a little longer? I opted for the latter. I could try and dispose of him later on. Immediate gratification for being the finder of the lost won out.

NOTE TO YB: I really am glad now I wasn't able to carry out all my early dastardly attempts to remove you from my life... has it really been 60+ years of our sibling rivalry? Hope this birthday year is one of the best so far and all my love to your long-suffering wife!

Hooray, Hooray for the First of May....

No pictures... Oh well, wait, click on the link below -

I (link) have a birthday this month... I am:
* Older than dirt
* Informed I was born when horses had toes - really?
* Celebrating a mid-life birthday for the second time!
* Told I look pretty good for my age...
* Eligible for Social Security, Medicare and AARP
* Aware that younger folks are holding the door for me - at last!

I would like to hear from my readers and let's compile all the 'old age' references we can here... and laugh about it!!