Remembering

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Hello Everyone!  Will you look at that grin plastered on my face?  It’s me, quite giddy that I’ve bridged the twenty years since I’d been in the presence of my friend here, someone very dear to my heart, Ann Balderston.  Actually, now she’s got another “B” name but will always be Balderston to me.  We met in first grade, and though I have zero recollection of our actual meeting, I feel fairly certain that it must have been like lightning striking, because we were pretty much attached at the hip for the next two years.

Every day, on my way to school, I walked to Ann’s house and picked her up before spending the day at Thomson Elementary.  As we both had Ms. Weiss (my favorite elementary school teacher – I had her in first, second, and sixth grade, lucky me!), we’d spend the whole of the day in each other’s presence and rather happily, too, class, lunch, recess, walking home.

As one might expect, I would, quite often, spend the afternoon at her house, playing house, or with dolls, creating wonderfully imaginative schemes to keep us entertained for the ages.  It was such a special time in my life, full of magic.

Part of that, I’m sure, stems from the many firsts tied to our friendship.  She was, my first best friend, the first person to whom I told my secrets and dreams and felt a deep spiritual connection.  It was at her house that I first heard a foreign accent in person, for her mom, ever so sweet and kind, was from England and spoke like someone out of the movies.  Also, it was at Ann’s that I first had tea with milk (and lots of sugar), wax beans, and SPAM – such an adventure!

On another magical occasion, my very first sleepover, I remember sitting in my night gown at the table in the kitchen, sipping tea while Ann’s mom told us a story of some sort.  I wish I could remember what it was about.  We retired to the basement and our sleeping bags and giggled well into the night.

Quite appropriately, it was with Ann that I first found my love of dancing.  This was well into second grade, and being the time that it was, our school was hosting an afternoon fundraiser in the form of a disco.  We played Abba record after Abba record, dancing queens holding hands and twirling around her living room getting ready for the special day.  Sadly, my Dad decided I was too young for such adventures, so Ann went solo, and I imagined us spinning like tops under a glittering disco ball.

Then, as it happens with magic, the spell wore off.  Ann’s family moved to Florida, and I to other friends, other wonders.  She did return the next school year, but by that time we were different somehow, and though nothing happened to make us drift further apart, nothing happened to keep us together either.

But now, in the ever sweet present, we have found each other and a bit of that magic again.  It seems, on many levels, we’ve led parallel lives, both with sweet husbands, cats, bubbling concoctions, gardens, and peaceful, earth-loving ways.  I guess some things don’t change at all.

Also, more photos from my Colorado trip.  Top to bottom:

The Arvada water tower, The North Wing of the Denver Art Museum (Architect Gio Ponti – gosh, do I ever love this building!),  A horse sculpture and beautiful paintings inside the museum, and the last four of Golden, Colorado, home of Coors Beer (my dad worked there for more than thirty years!) and the School of Mines.

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Do not depend on the hope of results…you may have to face the fact that your work will be apparently worthless and even achieve no result at all, if not perhaps results opposite to that you expect.  As you get used to this idea, you start more and more to concentrate not on the results but on the value, the rightness, the truth of the work itself.

Thomas Merton

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Teddy Kennedy passed away today.  Though I did not always agree with his politics, I most certainly appreciated his passion, wit, and devotion to serving this great nation I call home.  He reached out to people across the country, and more importantly, across the aisle, to create legislation that he hoped would benefit all Americans.

In his own words, what I believe made him a fine man and servant of our nation:

“For all those whose cares have been our concern, the work goes on, the cause endures, the hope still lives, and the dream shall never die.”

“I hope for an America where neither ‘fundamentalist’ nor ‘humanist’ will be a dirty word, but a fair description of the different ways in which people of good will look at life and into their own souls.”

Thank you and rest in peace.

Writer and director John Hughes died yesterday.  He had a heart attack while out walking in his Manhattan neighborhood.  I hope that there was some comfort to that, in walking around the city that is home, dying surrounded by the familiar.  If I were able to choose, I think that would be a pretty good way to go, don’t you?   Then there is the enviable way that Nico died, while out riding her bicycle.  I wonder if she was singing, when suddenly it felt like she was flying, E.T. style, out of the beautiful day to day and into the sweet hereafter.  Until it is our time, I suppose we’ll never know.

I am digressing, however, for this post isn’t about dying or flying, but the films of John Hughes.  Boy did I love his movies!  When I originally started writing this post, I included details from my favorites and why they were so special, but that somehow tainted the magic of  the stories I return to again and again.  So instead, I leave you with my favorites (one might surprise you!) and your own precious memories to conjure…

I peer out the window as the car pulls up in front of the house, five humans tumbling out, tired and travel weary.  I am weary, too.  I wonder what might become of this weekend.  Mere days before insides will literally be taken out, via three small incisions.  That point continues to be emphasized.  Three small incisions.  No one has to know.  But they do.  I am a truth teller, truth sharer.  I can’t help myself – the girl can’t help it.  Well, mostly.

I keep from my friends that I am terrified of three young things in my house, onto my furniture and floors.  They laugh and smile and one cries, uncertain of this under a red roof house.  It’s okay; sometimes fear lives here, too.  The bear is broken, and the fear is replaced by something softer, lighter: joy.

The trio makes eager, thumping sounds as they descend stairs.  Their voices carry, and they like the television loud.  I see their small bodies, clothed in character jammies.  I remember Underoos.  They happily munch cereal and watch the birds and bees.  One night under a red roof under their belts, a beautiful, hot day ahead of them.

The day whirls and twirls, a burger at the outside diner, an old friend and a boy whom I once knew crawling, not talking.  Now his words and thoughts roll and rock as steady as a boat at sea.   His hair is long, nearly covering his eyes, though his mother’s eyes, too, that brilliant, beautiful blue.  They both look at me, but, for the eyes, it’s really just like one.  Oh no, I’m late!  I’m late, for a very important date!

My mush mind is home again, and we dash to THE appointment.  The one that spells s-u-r-g-e-r-y.  There is a lot that will happen and other bits we sincerely hope not.  I take a tissue, but only squish it in my hand.  I  d o  n o t  c r y.   I am not afraid.  It is almost here, and I am not afraid.  There are marvelously beautiful people that surround me: doctors, nurses, family, and friends.  They make phone calls, send beautiful cards, give giant bear hugs, write sweet comments, all brands of love to keep me afloat in appreciation and wonder.

Milestones.  Triplets frolic in a fountain.  A sweet boy sits on my lap.  Dinner at the Country Cat.  A tooth is lost.  My heart is broken apart by the love of small children.  We sip cocktails and eat splendid food.  Drowsy adults talk until there are no words left.

Morning comes.  We eat and scurry.  Our caravan climbs the hill to Forest Park, vistas and trails await us.  Green and lush, filled with voices of excitement and a hush that is wonder.  A giant banana slug.  Spiders. Ferns. Birds.  We search for the letter “K.”

More hugs and a departure.  The house is quiet, and we wait.  Tomorrow is the day.

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