Loving

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RFK died forty years ago today.  Just like MLK, I was three years from being born.  Again, just like MLK, I think of him practically every day.  He both inspires me and reminds me of myself – a bit overzealous and eager to prove himself as a young person (have you ever seen him question Jimmy Hoffa?), but mellowing with age.  What might he have done with more time?  What will I do with mine?

He had a wonderful grace about him and magical way of inspiring even the most downtrodden.  I love watching footage of him interacting with crowds.  I am amazed at how people wanted so badly to touch him that he needed members of his staff to hold him about the waist, to keep him tethered, so to speak.  Otherwise, he would have disappeared into the throng there to see him.  He never seemed frightened or perturbed either, only eager to shake one more hand.  The footage I love most, however, is of him interacting with children – his own or perfect stangers.  There was no denying his love and concern for their welfare. 

 And then, there were his words.  Here are, in my opinion, a few of his most inspiring quotations.

“Few will have the greatness to bend history; but each of us can work to change a small portion of events, and in the total of all those acts will be written the history of this generation … It is from numberless diverse acts of courage and belief that human history is thus shaped. Each time a man stands up for an ideal, or acts to improve the lot of others, or strikes out against injustice, he sends forth a tiny ripple of hope, and crossing each other from a million different centers of energy and daring, those ripples build a current which can sweep down the mightiest walls of oppression and resistance.”

“Laws can embody standards; governments can enforce laws — but the final task is not a task for government. It is a task for each and every one of us. Every time we turn our heads the other way when we see the law flouted — when we tolerate what we know to be wrong — when we close our eyes and ears to the corrupt because we are too busy, or too frightened — when we fail to speak up and speak out — we strike a blow against freedom and decency and justice.”

 “What we need in the United States is not division; what we need in the United States is not hatred; what we need in the United States is not violence or lawlessness; but love and wisdom, and compassion toward one another, and a feeling of justice toward those who still suffer within our country, whether they be white or they be black.” Indianapolis, Indiana, April 4, 1968 Announcing to the crowd that Martin Luther King had been assassinated.

“Fear not the path of truth for the lack of people walking on it.” From his last speech.

January 26, 1991.  What I thought was possibly the worst day of my life turned into the luckiest.  First, my car was literally blown off the road and into a ditch in a gale force wind on Highway 93 en route to Boulder, Colorado.  Second, I had to take a ride with strangers to actually get to Boulder, something I had never done before, nor have since.  I was terrified!   Are these people going to kill me?  Thankfully they didn’t.  Third, my sort-of boyfriend, upon my late arrival at my final destination of Fort Collins, instead of asking me if I was okay, demands, “Where’s my stuff?”  I had to leave it in my car that was in a ditch on the side of a road you #$&!  I would not speak to him again for another eight years.

Now that I had no plans to see the not-so-nice guy, I went to a hotel kegger with my friends.  There on the bed, I chatted with a very cute and sweet guy I had met once before.  When he got up to fill his beer, he asked me to save his seat.  I did.  We went out on our first date two weeks later, February 9, 1991.  Two years and a little over three months after that, we were married, May 29, 1993.  Today makes fifteen years – the absolute best of my life.

Sometimes, I can hardly believe it is true.   I look at him with amazement and pure joy every single day.  He’s with me!  He’s my absolute best friend, confidante, and partner in crime.  Our life together could not be more perfect, really it couldn’t.

Thank you wind, thank you strangers, thank you jerk!

I love you, Buddy.  Happy Anniversary!

Madame Augden, my junior high French teacher, was a patient and thoughtful lady, always going that extra mile for the class.  One year, she decided that we should make Mother’s day cards.  She brought scissors, construction paper, markers, and various other craft supplies for each of us to make a masterpiece in honor of mom.  It was a very sweet idea, actually, but, as with many such notions from the minds of well intentioned teachers and into those of crazy teen age girls and boys, it went slighty awry.

The word for mother in French is mere and the word for day is jour, but silly kids that we were, we kept going at it in Franglais combining mere with day, and at a rather fast clip, so in the end, it sounded like mere-d.  Happy Mere-d, Madame Ogden!

Upon hearing this, Madame Ogden looked at us with a horrified expression.  We could not fathom a reason.  We were happily repeating mere-d in sing song voices while cutting out hearts and flowers, and aside from being a bit boisterous, we were generally doing as well as a class of junior high students could.

Then she told us, her voice serious, knowing full well that this little bit of knowledge could be dangerous.  You see, merde is that other word, the one with the # and * in it, and if you say it aloud, you’ll hear how close we were.

We were stunned by the information.  How could she say a curse word in class?  How could that word be so close to mother?  Those crazy French!  Then we each repeated it aloud a few times while she looked on in terror, certainly wondering if some sort of melee would ensue.  In our defense, hadn’t she given us permission?   Luckily for her, the fervor died down after a few minutes and we returned to our cards, proud of our new found knowledge.

After that, I never used it against her, but did tell my friends in rather hushed tones, books to my chest, “I know how to say s#*t in French.”

But, that is only the beginning of the post.  I started out wanting to write about my mom and wish her a happy Mother’s day, but as is very often the case, I was waylaid by my own thoughts.

These are some of my fondest memories of my mom:

Hanging laundry on the clothesline

Being home every day after school

Having an after school snack for me, even in high school!

Telling me what I was like as a baby

Having my ears cleaned because it meant I got to rest my head in her lap

Kids at school saying, “Your mom is so pretty!”  Me knowing it was true.

Homemade dinners (except spaghetti and chicken Chinese)

Watching her write – she has beautiful cursive

Running from the cold, air-conditioned grocery store, to sit for a moment in the hot car, windows rolled up.

Admiring her homemade birthday cakes – they were the best!

I love you Mom and wish you a very happy day…

Sarah

Thanks be to the friendship gods that brought me to my dear, dear friend Sarah.  We met eight years ago when I was an Americorps Member at Reach Community Development.  I painted houses and did home repairs for elderly and disabled low income folks (I used to despise this word, and now I’m using it – sigh).  Sarah worked on lead safety and abatement. 

One day, we walked to Anne Hughes Kitchen Table for lunch and a friendship was born.  I have known her through her first born’s first Halloween party (Hunter), the birth of two children (Bryn and Grayson), moving house, and many, many preschool and elementary school fund raisers. 

She has known me through more jobs than I care to count, just as many “ended” friendships, and one novel, to which she gave a rave review.

She is kind, thoughtful, generous, ever so caring, crafty, and loads of fun to be around.  I spend hours and hours with her in person and on the phone, yet never tire of her company.  More importantly, she never tires of mine.  I am the quintessential Gemini – stodgy, yet silly with wild abandon and irreverance, uptight and totally mellow, infuriating and exhilarating.  Through it all, Sarah laughs at me as well as I do.  Thank you, my dear.

So, on this day that is weeks before your birthday (something I am terrible at remembering when it actually counts), I honor you and our wonderful friendship.

I love you friend.  Have a beautiful day!

 

With Siding

Siding on the side, waiting to be recycled.

A fresh coat of paint in my favorite colors: green and red.

Welcome to our newly painted home…

The front porch, so sweet!

Me, taking a picture of Milo looking out at the new colors.

The back yard from the upstairs – the lawn furniture resides where the dead BMW once did.

When Gregory and I came to Portland for our house hunting trip ten years ago, we looked at twenty five houses in four days.  Ooh la la! What an overwhelming and wholly taxing experience.  At the end, when we were seated in the office of our realtor, Carol Zamba (I wonder if she’s still selling houses?), and I chose this house, Gregory and Carol gave a slightly horrified stereo response.  “That one?”

While I extolled the house’s virtues – it faces west (for shady summer afternoons in the back yard), it has a large lot with a detatched garage, the right amount of bedrooms (four – ours, guest, tv, and office), and a full basement – they thought about the alligator living in a giant aquarium in the dining room, the peeling paint, the piles of garbage on the back porch and basement, the siding on one half of the house, and oh, yeah, the dead BMW nestled in the tall weeds in the back.  Yes, that one.

The key, for me, was a long term vision.  I could see us turning that house into our home, and we have, slowly but surely, bit by bit.

So, this is our humble abode’s tranformation to half-sided and okay to painted and lovely.  We dreaded this awful project for ten long years – take off the siding?  finish the job?  paint it?  We finally decided to take it off, and then paint the whole house in a new Colleen and Gregory color scheme.  I am so happy we did, for I never really liked that blue color, not being my choice and all.  This green however, I am in love with it.  It looks so lovely with the red roof and the matching windows.  I am happy, happy, happy.  I finally have the exterior of my dreams.  Now for the bathroom and basement.  All in good time…

p.s. This project is what kept me from posting sooner.  It is hard to focus with five loud men painting up a storm!

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