Beginning, Middle, End, Part 2: The Beginning

Two weeks before the End, there was a beginning: my daughter's marriage.

It was a poignant occasion with all of our family there. One niece came from Australia! It was the first time we'd all been together since, well, since I don't know when.We got to know the groom's family too and they are the most wonderful people.

We Potters, as my brother said one time, "always have to do things a little differently." That particular time he was referring to our purchase of a turquoise VW van, but the wedding ceremony in a small New York city park was no exception.  There were no bouquets, no white frothy wedding dress with satin shoes, no bridesmaids or groomsmen, no fancy reception with wedding cake. The flowers were attached to a park structure with the rubber bands they came in. The champagne was put on an old wooden park table, the glasses on the trays meant for the ice tubs. It wasn't a fancy setting but it had everything we needed: the bride, the groom, friends and family, and sunshine.

The ceremony  itself was simple but meaningful.  My daughter, never at a loss for words, admitted that she was nervous, but her hand-written vows were funny and heartfelt. The groom put his written vows back in his pocket and looked her in the eye and said such sweet words that we were all moved.

When my daughter was christened, my mother gave her a lace cap to be worn on that day and used on her wedding day.  Since my daughter didn't have pockets in her un-wedding dress, the groom carried it in his pocket.  It was a sweet reminder of all our loved ones who were no longer with us.

After the ceremony, we all walked a few blocks to a restaurant where we ate creative and delicious food, drank champagne, laughed and cried as we toasted the newlyweds, delighted in being two families happily joined together. The restaurant desserts were divine, and consolation for the lack of a cake!!

As part of the ceremony, the two mothers spoke.  Here is what I said to the couple:

You all know that I believe in the power of words. Here are some times when words really matter in a marriage.

The first is today, when the two of you look at each other and say the words that will join you in marriage. You say them in front of witnesses, people who have always loved you and supported you and will continue to do so.

A second is when you disagree with each other.  Words that you say during conflict can actually bring you closer if spoken with compassion. When working things out, look at each other, speaking and listening through the same eyes of the love you are using today. Your words can be “I’m sorry, I’ll try to do better, I forgive you, I’m willing to find a solution for us.”

A third is during times of sadness or grief.  No one can understand another’s sorrow, but you can listen with your heart, say words like, “It’s okay to cry, I’m here for you, I loved her too, You have my support for as long as you need it.”

A fourth is broader, more constant, and that is in your every day expression of love for each other. It’s waking up and saying Good Morning, taking the time to share the successes and challenges of your busy day. It is a meal together where you look up and enjoy each other’s company.  Your words can be, “I admire you, I care about that, You look so beautiful/handsome, Thank you for listening/telling me that, I love you.”

Use your words wisely during your marriage. Mete them out with thoughtfulness.  Be kind to one another. I love you both and know that your life will be full of the kind of words that will strengthen your marriage.

I know that my daughter and son-in-law are off to a great start, joined in marriage with the approval of all of us who love them. 

It was a beautiful beginning.

Christmas 2012

I've spent a lot of time with friends and family over the past few days and hope all of you have done the same.  I continue to think of the families of Newtown and others who have lost loved ones during the past year.

I plan one more post before the end of the 2012.  Talk to you then.

Love and peace.

Show and Tell

Anyone who has ever written a story has heard the admonishment, "Show; don't tell."  Don't say the person ran to the mailbox, show how she ran, what expression she had on her face; have her think about what she expects to find there.

The other day, another way of looking at "Show; don't tell" occurred to me.

I was sitting in a restaurant with a friend who had recently suffered a loss.  I asked her how she was doing and she told me.  I listened, but in the back of my mind and then out loud I shared an experience similar to hers.  My intention was to let her know that I knew how she felt.

After we went our separate ways, I realized that she probably didn't want to hear me talk about my loss.  She wanted to talk about hers.  And there were ways to show her that I empathized without butting in on her story.

One way is through body language.  I could look her in the eye, nod my head, touch her in a comforting way if I thought she would be comfortable with that.  I could ask questions from my deep knowledge of the type of sorrow she was experiencing that would show her that it was safe to talk because she was with someone who had been there.  Questions like, "That was hard, wasn't it?" and "It's different when you lose a parent/sibling/spouse when you're old/young, isn't it?"

I could find out what she needs from me and other friends, drawing on what I needed.  "Can we bring food, go out to dinner or a movie?" It wouldn't be too much "telling" if I said, "I loved getting cards/calls; do you find that comforting?"

The bottom line is this: who can really understand another's sorrow or illness?  If you were to ask the five children in my family to talk about my father's death and what it meant to them, you would get five different stories. You might even wonder if we're all talking about the same person!

Mostly I think that when people are having troubles--and they seem to be more common as I get older--they just want someone to listen. They want to talk about their loved ones months, years even, after they're gone. They want to enjoy the care and attention they felt during an illness when they're feeling better.  They want to think that what they feel is important.

I'll end with a wonderful quote on listening that I have on my refrigerator:

"Listening is a magnetic and strange thing, a creative force.  The friends who listen to us are the ones we move toward.  When we are listened to, it creates us, makes us unfold and expand."
                                                              -- Dr. Karl Augustus Menninger

Full Circle

I've got some other renovation projects going, but it's time to move on from public planning to other topics. Thanks for being a part of the early re-construction!



All of the wonderful ladies in this photograph are dancing on Glory's side, so I don't mind posting their photograph for the world to see.

I've realized that my friends and I have come full circle with respect to our parents. In the sixties, we said many times, "I'll never be like my parents. I'll never whip my children...make them clean their plates/their rooms...keep them from being with their friends..." etc. etc. And when my children came along, I didn't "whip" them, but I did swat their diapered rear ends a time or two. And although I didn't make them eat all their peas, I did insist for several years on substituting carob bunnies for chocolate at Easter. I watched their friends for signs of drinking or smoking pot. For the most part, though, I did the same as my parents did: the best I could.

And now we're in the same spot. We're saying, "I'll never be like my parents." But this time it's while facing nursing home arrangements, chronic illnesses, long involved estates (I blame part of this on the IRS), Alzheimers and dimentia, lack of forethought into what long-term care costs. One person says that when he dies, his estate is going to consist of a checking account. His children will each receive a check. That's it. Another person asks seriously to be aided in suicide in the event of signs of dementia. One friend curses the parent who didn't plan ahead about where they were going when things started deteriorating as he frantically searches for good care. Still another friend has had to move her mom into her house. Her mother treats her as though she's a recalcitrant fifteen-year-old. My husband dreams of a place where all of the family can live together and take care of each other as we age.

"I'll never put my children through what I've had to go through." I hear it again and again.

The truth is that just as when we were bumbling through the part of life where we weren't going to be like our parents before, we're going to bumble through this phase too. We're going to go reluctantly to nursing homes where our children may or may not want to come to visit. We're going to wait too long on chronic diseases to make end-of-life decisions and have to depend on our family to make them. We're going to try to put aside enough money to take care of ourselves in old age and leave a little for the kids and come up short.

The truth is, we are going to be like our parents. And we and our families will do the best we can.