I Swiped Your Tomatoes

Dear JC,

Sunday, I swiped some of your tomatoes - actually 2.  Pretty sure you wouldn't mind.  It had been a long day, actually several long days, and I'd already dipped my hand into the soothing contents of the beer cooler more than just a few times....

I couldn't speak at your funeral.  I had several perfectly legitimate reasons...I coudn't speak at my Dad's funeral either. My throat locks up...that's one of the reasons and probably the best one for this story.

Standing there on the beach with the assortment of folks who were all meant to be there that day....folks from all over the country....folks who had moved heaven & earth to be there to honor your life at that place and time.  Surreal.  Your former surfer-buddy, now retired pastor gave a well-worded tribute and then led us in a prayer that wouldn't come out of my mouth.  I'm usually pretty good at that.

Our beautiful daughter, so organized with the details of what needed to be done.  Simply amazing. She spoke with such passion through her tears that my heart nearly broke.  But then, a tiny smile as she flipped her notebook and in true corporate fashion, said, Page 2 and kept going.

Your brothers, the youngest and the oldest with their heartfelt expressions of sorrow, regret, love and gratitude for the moments in your lives to celebrate....honoring you with every word and tear.

Our son, so tall & handsome, so shook by this new reality as he held his arms around your other daughters and did the job you would've done if you'd been here.   He, who had been making preparations to help you recover, to help you build a new life, to share his home, his family and his support system with you.  So close....so ironic.

And Liam, our grandson, with his 10-year old little boy voice coming out of a body that appears to belong to a teen.  A different kind of tears from me as I listened to his story - unafraid, really quite simple, honoring you, but more I think, honoring his Mom.

But, back to the tomatoes....

My wonderful husband gave me his strength and then my space as he handed me a beer and let me wander around your house and yard.  Your kids and brother had done an amazing job of cleaning, decorating & organizing your house.  Everything spotless, sunlight filtering in, perfect food, loving picture boards and balloons!!!  A celebration!!  All the aspects of your life that had not changed in the 35-ish years since we'd been married.  You still had boats, tools, fishing rods - the stuff that was always a part of who you were.

So many faces now to connect with who were a part of my past.  Yes, maybe looking just a little different, but still discernible and how do you really "catch up" when you haven't seen someone in over 40 years?  Lots of laughter now, no one crying, everyone just talking, smiling, absorbing the impact, trying to figure out the nature of relationships as they might continue, begin again, or just end as a natural part of life - or should I say, death?

My daughter took me upstairs and pulled out my 1971 High School Yearbook....WHAT??? Seriously, you still had MY yearbook?  All the different relationships you'd had, the other ladies, the other children, the many moves you'd made and all of the different times we'd seen each other over the years as our lives intersected, but yet, you still had this?  Hmmmm....

During a lull in the party, after I'd taken in all of this emotion (and the aforementioned beers - did I mention they were ice-cold??), I glanced out your dining room window and spotted the tomatoes.  So many of them hanging there, getting ripe, on plants that were getting ready to die.  They were perfect and I was touched that even in your illness, you had taken the time to plant tomatoes and install an even more perfect watering system.  I've tried that myself....with the help of my wonderful husband...to no avail.  The plants grow, but no fruit.  Or I get lots of yellow flowers, and some fruit but before it can grow it gets consumed by bugs.  I've even tried to grow them upside down, and on the porch in pots.  NOTHING!!!!

A perfectly rational wave of envy came over me and for whatever reason, I decided that I would swipe a few.  I think my brother might have been my accomplice (again, the beers, so I'm not sure)...but I do remember someone suggesting I take green ones....NO WAY!!!  I wanted the pretty red ripe ones I've never been able to grow.

And here we are.  They made it home with us right next to the yearbook (which we later discovered also had all of my gradeschool pictures tucked in it). and the memorial cards from your service. I have to wonder... Is there symbolism in the number I took?  2?  I could've taken more - no one was watching.  And I had help....so what's the logic?  Our 2 children?  Our 2 grandkids?  I don't know....I just know that they're here....

But I don't think I can eat them.  I think I'll dry the seeds and plant them.  Maybe, just maybe, life will continue and there will be a harvest this year....

We'll see.....














  

Transformation

By some strange twist of fate, every time Richard and I have purchased a house, we ended up being the second owners.   Which means, there was a pre-determined energy, decorating scheme, and landscape layout passed down to us from the previous owners.

I'm the one who rushes in and removes wallpaper, takes down the window coverings, chooses different wall colorings and starts ripping up old carpet.  Richie inherits the yard. 

We purchased this house on a vacation whim (mine) although the gulf had been calling us for months.  Richie laughed at first  "Ha...there's no way you're buying a house in Florida"....but regrouped quickly when I'd pre-qualified for a loan and gone scouting with a real-estate agent.  He is the one who actually chose this house after I'd wheedled it down to a handful.  We made the offer, signed the papers and drove home to Illinois hous after signing.  Didn't really know exactly what we'd bought, and certainly had no idea how large (REALLY large) and overgrown the property was.  But after a few weeks of silence (Richie's buyer's remorse.....perhaps panic might be a more appropriate word), we began to plan our first trip down.   Loaded a small u-haul packed to the brim with everything we'd been meaning to get rid of....and drove....and drove....and drove.  I'll never forget the painful moment when we turned right off of 231 in Troy on to Highway 79 and realized we still had 122 more miles of 2-lane ahead of us...

But, back to the yard.  When we got here, poor Richie had to attack the overgrowth.  Our neighbors came over later that afternoon to introduce themselves and caution us that there were pigmy rattlers in the area.  Next day, Richie donned Brandon's welding gloves, hiking boots, long sleeves & pants, and we laughed about the fact that the neighbors might have been pranking us to get a good laugh at the nerds next door.....but it was actually true.

We also discovered that our first owner, Mr. Justin, had been a displaced Northern retiree as well.  AND, he loved to plant trees.  Northern trees.  With soft wood and prickly debris.  37 of them...in one yard!  And, we also found out just how well they (don't) hold up to hurricane-force winds when Richie had to drive down with a chain saw to clean up after Dennis.  Luckily, no serious damage, but definitely an eye-opener when some of them were so big that they easily could have taken out other people's houses if they dropped. 

So, Richie has had his work cut out for him.  All told, we've removed about 27 of them over the years.  Some, ourselves, others using a service....which is amazing to watch.   And now, we've begun to replace with trees more appropriate for the climate and the area!  The yard is transforming....and the trees are just beautiful.  And Richie....well, he has a great tan and awesome arms for a guy his age.  And a new career!!



Button

Last year, I became a certified yoga instructor.   Quite an experience (and a departure) from previous endeavors (and one to which I will devote an entirely separate blog to)....

BUT, somewhere toward the end of my 10-month teacher training, we took a quick trip up North last year to visit friends & family....one of our stops...Beebe, Arkansas where our youngest grandson lives.

Somehow, out of nowhere, Drew decided that my name was Button.  At first, we couldn't understand (and then later, believe) that was what he was saying.  Where?  Why?  What kind of reasoning goes into the thought patterns of a 2-year-old?  But he's a resolute little guy and that is who I became.   And he has been consistent about it....OK by me, it was a cute little name and it was nice that he decided to give it to me as he really hasn't had the opportunity to visit with us often. 

So, a few days ago, a package arrived from Drew.  A beaded bracelet and an explanation from Drew's mommy...

   Dear Grammie,

   About a week ago Drew & I were at the mall and went into an "EarthWindFire" store that just opened.  All of a sudden Drew gets very excited & says "Mom!  Look!  Those Buttons!"  Sure enough he saw beaded jewelry and thought of you!  I got so tickled that I let him pick you out one!  Actually, he picked out one for 'fertility' so I made him choose another - ha!  He was very excited, handed the money to the cashier and carried the bag out of the store.  So, we made you this picture to show you Drew's new hobby :)  Hope you enjoy it as much as your grandson getting it for you! 

What I had forgotten is that during my yoga training (and to this day), I began wearing my mala beads around my wrist.  Drew was fascinated with them and I let him wear them for a bit while we were there...

So, while I didn't become Shanti Ganesha, as a result of my yogic path, I do have a new name :)

July, 2010

So this is how it all started.  My retirement party.  Who better to start our new life with than the kids....all of them!  And grandbabies too....although none of them are really babies anymore.  They came from Missouri, Illinois, Arkansas, Nevada & Arizona to help us celebrate.   We don't have the opportunity to get them all together at the same time very often, so this was very special!