I Hear You Knocking...

 …But You Can’t Come In. 

OK, First things first: I’m not a hermit. I’m not anti-social. I’m very friendly and often go out of my way to greet strangers, to help anyone who needs it, and love my fellow human beings. If I’ve ever said to you “come by any time” I mean it. That said, I don’t like strangers in my space.

Growing up, countless teens walked into our house at all hours of day or night. That never bothered me, They were invited at some point by someone who lived there. No problem. My kids bring in tons of people all the time. That’s cool. I’ll even feed most of them. They’re guests.

When we bought our house in a very active neighborhood, we met many friends and neighbors. As a general rule, we talk to one another when we’re outside and see each other. We don’t go into each others’ homes. I like it that way. I think they do, too.

Over the years, the doorbell rings and there’s a sales person, a church person, or a political campaigner on the other side. I’ve always answered and politely send them away. When a kid is selling cookie dough or something, I’m a customer. That’s the society I grew up with.

I don’t know if it’s age, widowhood, or just being cranky but, at some point, I realized I’m not obligated to answer the door for anyone. It’s MY door, on MY property and I didn’t invite you. I don’t know you. I don’t have to respond to you. I don’t care if you saw my car and know I’m home. You’ve disturbed my peace, upset my dogs, and interrupted whatever I was (or was not) doing

The other day, my doorbell rang. My dogs barked. But I was sort of expecting a delivery so I decided to answer the door. I opened the door to a stranger who was holding his hand out for a shake. And he was asking about my kid. I put the pieces together and realized this guy was my kid’s boss at the job they’ve had for about a month. My kid asked for the day off a week ago, but this dude forgot and thought they no-showed and was expressing undue concern over their health.

I knew that this dude and his wife were new owners of a new franchise. My kid is a hard worker and has come home with stories about how intrusive they both are. They make inappropriate comments about their health (like stating “maybe you have a UTI” when they’ve gone to the bathroom for a second time during their shift). I brushed the guy off with an “I just walked in the door myself” – which was true – and said I’d tell them to call him. I shut the door and locked it. This dude sat in his car in front of my house for 40 minutes.

My (now grown) kids are self confident and strong. I don’t fight their battles. The reason my kid asked for the day off was to meet with a new employer. They intended to put in their 2 week notice that day. This guy’s behavior tossed that courtesy out the window.

That’s an extreme example of the reason I don’t open my door, but I wonder – is this what the internet has done to young people? If everything is openly announced by strangers - to strangers, have we lost the social buffer that I was raised with? I grew up understanding that we don’t talk politics, finance, personal issues, etc. with random folks that cross our paths. That’s still how I live.

Now, get off my lawn!

 

Just A Baby...

 

I remember our country’s bicentennial celebration fondly. To my kid mind, 200 years felt like forever. In Baltimore, where much of the struggle for independence happened, the day was taken seriously.

All over the city, fire hydrants were painted in the likeness of the men and women who made it all possible. I remember the parades and celebrations that fueled everyone’s inner patriot. That Halloween, it was very important to me that my costume would turn me into Uncle Sam. My amazing mother made it happen. It seemed like everyone I encountered was expressing their love of America.

People have come from all over the planet to settle in the USA because they knew that they’d be welcomed, loved, and live with freedoms and rights they didn’t have back home. Truly, almost all of us got here the same way. My own ancestors came on boats that arrived in New Orleans and went up the Mississippi River. They came to escape extreme poverty and landed in the land of plenty. My husband’s family came to escape political turmoil. Many of my friends’ families were fleeing terrible regimes. All taking different routes, but all seeking the land of promise that America offered.

Now, 50 years later, I realize what a young nation we are. Obviously, I learned history and observe the people around me, so that kid in an Uncle Sam costume makes more sense than I knew then. When I turn on the news – or just leave my house – I see the reality of this promised land of the free. Freedom is available conditionally. If you have the right complexion, the right finances, and worship the same way they think you should, you’re welcome to the party, Everyone else should go sit in the corner.

It seems that the Sam that I knew and loved, was actually a toddler who would rather stick out his tongue, grab the treats, and throw a loud tantrum when things don’t go his way. I know that there are grownups around. Do they not realize that he needs a spanking and a nap?

July 4^th has always been a fun time to celebrate the America we aim to be. Until the toddler in chief is sent to his room, his friends are sent home, apologies are doled out so we can get back to being the welcoming, loving land of the free. I’m not in the mood for a party.

Might I recommend leaving your neighborhood, greeting someone you don’t know – maybe someone who doesn’t look like you – and join them at their table? Or invite them to your own? Tell stories, tell jokes, listen to music. Appreciate how beautiful it is that you all came to be in each other;s presence. THAT is what the UNITED States of America is supposed to be. We’ve still got a lot of growing up to do. Until we can care for ourselves – let’s start with proper healthcare and child care and go from there – let’s accept that we aren’t there yet and work towards the goal.

Also, blowing crap up in your driveway is not very patriotic. It’s annoying and my dogs hate you. Stop it.

Quality Over Quantity...

 

 

My husband has been gone for five years. I miss him every moment of every day. But the sadness of missing him is always taken over by beautiful memories.

When we were dating, I pushed him away because it felt too risky. My heart was too involved, too fast, I kept looking for reasons to let go. How could a person with such a large and wide circle of friends not have anything bad said about him? I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. But he held on tight until I accepted that he was worth the risk. And, as it turned out, there were no negative stories because he truly was honest and lovable, so I handed my heart over.

When we got engaged, I didn’t see the point in wasting time. He proposed in February, we pulled out the calendar and tried to gauge the best time to get all of our loved ones together for the event. Labor Day weekend made sense, so that was it. The months between were spent planning a party. And what a party it was!

I wore the dress that my grandmother wore to marry my grandfather in 1935. They were, in my eyes, the greatest measure of a couple to follow. My beloved told me there was no way he had 70 years left in him. He was a funny guy, so I laughed. And we went ahead and promised each other forever in front of a bunch of witnesses.

Moving forward, life happened. There were losses and sadness and moments of worry like every other  human has. We went on, eyes looking ahead, and kept marching, hand in hand. I don’t know if we knew that our time together had an expiration date, but our unspoken agreement was that we’d LIVE every moment together – for and with each other.

Certainly, we had our own activities and interests and gave each other space to do them, But we made the best of every moment we had. I’m sure it sounds cheesy to anyone else, but we made a decision to be happy. We didn’t fight – if we disagreed about something, we talked about it and let it go. When kids entered our picture, they were part of the equation – part of the team. That’s how people knew us, but they knew our children, too. I know that’s not typical, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Over time, I felt myself morphing into an annoyingly positive version of myself. I dropped all the pessimistic layers and sprouted genuine sunshine and rainbows that got me through the hard stuff. When we learned that he’d need a kidney transplant, I offered mine up. He worried, but I trusted. That bought us more time together. More adventures, more fun, more beautiful moments as a team. Life went on. Together.

When the pandemic came along, and took him away from us, we hung on and waited for him to come home. After nearly a year of being in and out of the hospital with little to no contact, I felt stripped of life as I knew it. Then when he came home for the last time, we were able to look into each other’s eyes and reconnect, It was a brief moment, but it gave me back the ME that had been missing. It restored my strength so I could keep moving on.

Life on the other side has been harder than I ever could have imagined. But I wake every morning, grateful for a new day, and appreciate the life we built together, He is still a part of every decision I make. His sensible ,realistic buzzkill side always balanced my Pollyanna sunshine and rainbows side. I promised forever and meant it. I’m sure that at 21 and 18, our kids don’t fully appreciate the priceless gift they had but I hope that, one day, they’ll see it. We had quality over quantity.

I can’t know what the rest of my life will look like, but I know I made the most of it so far and that whatever tomorrow brings, my chosen teammate will be in my heart, holding my hand and guiding me through the scary parts. I will always save him a seat. 

Stop The Insanity...

 

I haven’t written here in a while. Mainly because life has been kicking my ass again and again, but it seems there’s no escaping the rampant assholery that has taken over I wrote about it already, but it bears repeating.

During this election cycle, the obnoxious ads are relentless. I just don’t see the point. The large majority are far right ego maniacs who have no political goals beyond “winning” and spewing hatred. They are playground bullies with limited vocabularies and no sense of humanity or kindness. The focus seems to be about attacking opponents and stoking imaginary fear among voters.

With the Idiot In Chief leading the charge toward destructive and dangerous wars to distract everyone from all of the things he doesn’t want you to see, shouldn’t we all be focused on that instead of fictional transgender athletes in schools. Shouldn’t it be more important that schools are being shot up by sad/confused/lonely kids who are craving attention? When we want to go on vacation, shouldn’t the people who are supposed to keep us safe be PAID for the work they do instead of financing GI Joe wannabes who are terrorizing people on their streets and in their homes? And, shouldn’t the people who are screaming about their Christian faith stop and ask themselves what Jesus would actually do?

I miss the good old days when I could be in a room with a hundred other people and not know how they pray – or don’t pray – what political party they stand with, how they vote, how much money they have (or its origins), who they love, and so much more. As our country is about to celebrate our 250^th birthday, isn’t it time to remember WHY we’re here?

I won’t pretend that our founding fathers were perfect or without wrongdoing, but the very IDEA of why we’re here matters. People wanted to be able to worship (or not) the way they wanted and put it in writing that everyone have that right. We wrote laws to keep our version of God out of schools. We were taught, as young people, to not talk about politics, religion, etc. in public Also, we were taught that language matters.

So, if you’re a politician seeking my vote, talk to me about your plans to improve my life instead of throwing out random accusations about that other guy. Don’t praise Jesus while doing the exact opposite of what he taught people to do. Don’t threaten my friends and neighbors. Show me that you actually care about other human beings who aren’t lining your pockets.

That’s all. Just be an actual human being. Learn from the past. Keep growing. Don’t make me wash your mouth with soap.

Carry on. Be nice to people you meet. Hold a door. Say please and thank you.

Where Are The Grown Ups...

 

I’m weary. Just exhausted.

Over the past several years, I’ve taken my share of kicks to the teeth but I’m resilient. With each blow, I got back up, held my head high, and forged ahead. I still do but even Charlie Brown got tired of the football being pulled away and questioned whether he should try again.

It seems that the last 10 or 12 years I’ve been in some sort of Peanuts episode gone bad. Yes, Snoopy as Joe Cool was here. Linus, with his deep philosophies and security blanket was here. Schroeder continued to deliver music to my heart. Franklin and Sally brought hope and optimism and Charlie Brown kept trying while Lucy pulled the ball away before he could kick it. I’ve always wondered, we know the grownups are there but at what point do they step in?

When does Lucy have her allowance taken away or get grounded? When does a dad step in and help Charlie kick the ball? When is Pig-pen told to clean up his act? When does Marcy finally stand up to Peppermint Patty? WHERE ARE THE GROWN UPS?!?!

I’m, looking for them myself. There are always negative stories all over the news. Whether it’s the blatant assholery of the political world, random violence, or the insane increase in mass shootings, it’s a struggle to not become numb to it all. I won’t. But I’m still waiting for the grown ups.

I’ve given up expecting talking heads on TV to use proper grammar. That  ship has sailed. But civility would be nice. When commercials feature men in expensive suits taunting other lawyers like schoolyard bullies, why should we respect you? Here’s a tip: I don’t.

Wouldn’t civility and basic manners go a long way towards the return of peace and goodwill ? I think so. I vote. I speak up every time I can. That’s politically all the power I have. But MORE importantly, I can – and will – continue to spread kindness with every step I take. Won't you join me? Until the grown ups return (for pete’s sake, please come back, grown ups!!!) to send bullies to go sit in the corner, smile at strangers and mean it. Hold doors for people behind you.

Wherever the grown ups have gone, I don’t really think we need to wait for them. WE can BECOME the grownups and tell the bratty toddlers that it’s time to leave. It’s probably time for their nap. I could use a break, too.

Let's Party...

This weekend, I threw a little party. You know, just a small TWO DAY gathering of a few hundred of my closest friends. This was the fourth year for BreezeFest and they just keep getting better!

Of course, scheduling the bands was an easy task. I called my husband’s friends and they were all quick to jump on board. That’s no big surprise. They loved him and, by proxy, they love me, too.

I’ve often said that when we started dating, I was a little nervous because I had never head anyone say anything negative about him. He seemed nice enough, but I just kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. It never did. He proved every day that he was as kind, as thoughtful, and as generous as he presented himself to be. So I let my guard down. I fell madly in love with him while hoping I could live up to his example.

The first two years, this event was meant to raise funds for my family after a year of hospitalizations and medical expenses, I was grateful. But I just couldn’t stop the gathering. Being surrounded by our big musical family to celebrate decades long friendships felt too good to stop.

So I reached out to my blues family to create a fund to help other musicians and club personnel in our Atlanta Blues family. That’s what my husband would have done if he were here. Giving is what he always did. Why stop now?

My intention was good and I was looking forward to having fun and enjoying the music. I was not prepared for the way all of these crusty old blues musicians took the stage in this crusty old blues dive and just absolutely brought sparkly shiny magic one after another.

It was billed as a two day blues festival but it turned out to be a family reunion instead. There were hugs. There were stories. There was a lot of laughter. There were some tears that came with memories. There were surprises when long lost musicians came from out of town to jump on stage and I may have wept a bit when the guy everyone would least expect to be a softy sang one just for me.

I’m so grateful for every second of the event. I believe it beautifully honored the man I love and feel certain he was there most of the time. Let’s do it again next year!  Until then, keep sharing the photos and memories because that’s so good for the soul.

Meanwhile, tell someone you love them. Give them a hug. Keep them close.