Countdown to Holiday Spirit: Oh Baby, Call Me Ho, Ho, Ho!

This post was added to the holiday collection of Remember the Time posts with Emily over at The Waiting and Kelly at Are You Finished Yet? These ladies host a weekly trip down memory lane, with new angles each week. Just in time for the holiday splash down, this week’s theme is Christmas. While this post is older, I wanted to include it in their collection because it is one of my happiest Christmas memories… and should be shared.
This post was originally published in December 2011. It was just weeks before my mother died, having spent 3 months in hospice and things were nothing short of very stressful that holiday season. This year, I am going into the Christmas week in another difficult space. I’ve been in the hospital for days, and sick for a week… with some fairly scary, and serious moments. I’ve felt surrounded by love and support, but no doubt, it has been a hard thing for me to lie here knowing that I just have to let go of so many of my Christmas wishes:  decorating my house, the way I like it done. Picking up my son at the airport, making his room welcoming, and cooking his favorite dinner.  Planning my Christmas Eve and Christmas dinner and welcoming friends to my home.  Going shopping for the Salvation Army Angels, at the mall, which I’ve done for 26 years.  I will miss doing all of these things, and it’s hard to not feel some regret.  But, I am also happy to embrace quiet time with my family and close friends, and accept all that good support being shown to me and my family. Instead, I am grateful to others who are making my Christmas special, with love and support for me. So, I pulled up this old post, because it remains one of THE happiest Christmas stories ever, for me. It was shared with my dear, Danish daughter, Klara. I miss her terribly, and hope she smiles when she reads this.  Happy Holidays all, and much gratitude for all I have. The spoiler alert, no longer applies. Please check out other Random Acts of Kindness, here.
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Spoiler alert:  Family members– Do not read this post until after Christmas. Or, do not read the last paragraph. I can’t stop you of course, but I for one still believe in Santa, and I think you’d rather be surprised. Just wait.

Yesterday, as I drove my 16-year-old exchange student, Denmark (as she’s known here), to run some errands, she said something that many of us do about this time of year:  ”People always say that this is a happy time of year; that we should all be in the Christmas spirit; but it seems like everyone is totally stressed out, rushing around and just buying things like crazy… no one seems all that happy.” Wow. I was struck by how familiar that was, but how mournful it sounded coming from my usually über cheerful Danish daughter. “I think people just lose sight of so much this time each year, myself included. Some year I think we should all agree not to buy a single gift for each other, and only give to others who need them.” I replied. “However, I can’t deny that I would miss my presents!” I added. We laughed, but I felt a twinge of that same guilt I often feel when I think of all the good fortune our family enjoys.

<— Mom resting, after talking about Christmas memories.  I told her I would use this photo.

We had set out on our mission, to mostly do good. My Mom, who many of you know is in Hospice, had told me that she was sad that she couldn’t buy cards as she always has. I am not really a card person, they rarely say what I really want to say and I tend to get caught up on some silly turn of a phrase or wording that doesn’t exactly match my thoughts. My mother however has always loved giving cards. This past week has been especially hard for her. She has beenraging against her death, she has been sad and withdrawn about the holidays. I visit her every single day, usually for about 4+ hours, but when I have to leave it’s awful. She feels lonely when I’m not there and often becomes angry and withdrawn as I prepare to leave. It’s been very difficult… and especially over the holidays. This will be the first year that she will not be with us, when she is just two miles away, because it’s just too challenging to bring her home.  Of course we’ll visit her on Christmas, but it won’t be the same when she isn’t there to open gift with us.

So, Goal one: I had challenged myself to go buy cards for her and really think about whatshe would pick out. Goal two came from a friend. My buddy Melissa K, had posted an amazing idea on her Facebook page about helping the homeless and less fortunate in our community. She bagged up simple supplies and treats and then handed them out randomly to folks on the street (the folks standing with signs at the end of exits and at stop lights) who needed them. I was so touched by the idea, I thought it would be a really cool thing to do with my kids this year. The entire U.N. will be in session by Monday night, and we could go out and hand them out the week of Christmas and Hanukkah (we are Double Dippers, to borrow a friend’s term). I bought 10 simple bags and stickers to decorate the bags. For each bag, Denmark and I bought mittens, toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant, granola bars, some chocolates, and gift cards to Starbucks. We plan to put some cookies in there too. I took her to the Dollar store in town, to make the most of our money and be able to get some extra things.

We also did plenty of shopping for our own family and friends, but the main goal was to take care of these two do good  missions.  By the time we left the last store, where we’d done mostly our own shopping, we were both fried and were dying to get home and just plop down on the sofa. However on the way, I got a text from Middle Man, who just arrived home the day before, letting me know we are out of cream cheese and could I please pick some up.  Ugh. As we exited the highway, I saw the big sign at The Market at Fairhaven, which has been in the process of closing for weeks. Each day the signs had become bigger and more dramatic:  ”5 Days left!! up to 70% off”.  They had people on every conceivable corner in town, dancing with their signs. You know the ones:  They have earplugs in, are holding some big ass sign about a sale and doing a crazy dance? Every corner.  I had been vowing to drop in for weeks.  Yesterday however the sign said “1 Day Left!! up to 90% OFF”.  I was dying of curiosity. What could they possibly have left? Could we possibly score some cereal and detergent for 90% off and get the cream cheese too?

What a shocking sight.  The store was almost empty… a huge warehouse of empty. How strange it was to see a Market that I have enjoyed and used, so barren. Denmark and I walked each aisle anyway, determined to see what was there. We bought polenta in aisle three, just because it was in Italian and only $1.50.  We ran into another friend, K, in the next aisle, just as I said: “Looks like Paula Deen can’t be given away.”  On naked shelves, there was a lot of Paul Deen. My friend and I confided that we felt like vultures… picking the bones of a business we felt badly for.  The owners are good people and the circumstances of the closing were a bummer. It did feel odd. Toward the end of the store, I scored three boxes of Frosted Flakes. I never buy them, but Little Man loves them. They were under a dollar, how could I say no?

Then on the third to last aisle, we found something very strange. Shelves and shelves of baby food. K and I joked that if the diapers were bigger, we might be able to use them in a few years. We wondered aloud what would happen with so much baby food? Would they donate it? Would it be worth buying some and donating it. At the 70% mark down it was at, it would still be pretty pricey. We parted ways, at baby food and met up at the register. She had to pick up her son and I still didn’t have cream cheese. We were both tired, and I dreaded going to the other store I now had to hit. I asked the check out gal, “Gus,” what they would do with all that baby food, but she was evasive. “They will sell every bit of it.” She told us this with absolute certainty.”There is no way,” I argued. “There are tons of it there and you close in less than an hour.” She was certain. She told me that it would all be gone.

I was this close to leaving: __  <— That close.  Then a person of authority came out to make another loud, “Last chance” announcement and I went over to speak with him. “What do you plan to do with all the baby food that’s left?” I asked.  He looked puzzled. “Will you donate it?” No. They would not. There seemed to be some glitch, donation was not possible. “What if I want to buy it to donate, what kind of deal will you give me?”  ”Well, if you come back in 45 minutes, we’ll probably have a fill your cart deal.”  I slumped. There was NO way I was leaving and coming back. I was exhausted. Denmark was exhausted; and we still had to buy cream cheese. “Come on,” I pleaded, “It’s for a good cause. Do I look like I have babies at home? Can’t you give me the deal right now?”  The fact that he agreed makes him a very nice man and confirms that I looked tired and old… and unable to have babies! Did he not consider that I might have grandchildren? I digress…

“We inventoried the baby food last night and there is nearly $800 worth left, with the discount” he informed us. “Sure, but in an hour it’s worth nothing. I want to donate it; I don’t want to come back because I’m exhausted and I still have to make dinner for four teenagers, cut me a break pleeeease.” I was this close: _  <– (shorter than previous) of throwing in the Mother in Hospice detail, to seal the deal. I wanted that baby food bad.  ”Ok, put what you can in ONE cart and I’ll give it to you for $25. Don’t tell anyone else right now.” he relented. “That does not include the Pedialyte or formula. That stuff is worth a lot more!”  Now, let me tell you something: I am a die hard bargain shopper. I am crazy as a loon in general and if you challenge me to almost anything, I am going to beat you at your own game. Period. I do not pass on a dare. There’s a friend out there that still owes me a mud wrestle.

We closed up the seat on the cart to make more room in the actual grocery section of the cart; we stared at the three full shelves of baby food and we methodically began to pile it like a baby food Tetris challenge. Boxes of Rice cereal between jars and plastic cups of Peaches, Fresh Peas; we were determined to get every single item we could into that cart. An employee who didn’t know what was happening watched us with amusement. Then, he brought a second cart and asked what we were up to. We’d promised not to anyone about our deal, so we told him in giggles that we were donating it all, but couldn’t say anymore. He put his hands on our pile and said: “I want to touch this for Karma sake. Wow.” I can not possibly express here the excitement we both felt. I felt like we were on one of those game shows where you get ten minutes to fill a cart with the best things you can buy… only all we wanted was baby food… and as much as we could possibly get.

I actually started to feel a little guilty: they store was closing, not for reasons that anyone wanted. They were being kind to let me do this and here we were piling things precariously high, to get the most out of $25.  It would have been a deal with the first layer of food we piled in there… I then I also started to think about all that Pedialyte and Formula. Wouldn’t that be very helpful too? I looked at what was left on the shelves and resolved to get the rest. Well… all except the Gerber Meat Sticks. Excuse me while I rant here:  Ick! Yuck! Gross!  AND, aren’t hot dogs a major choking hazard anyway? Let alone packaged as little “sticks” that babies can hold and shove in their wind pipes? I’m sorry, but good cause or not, I could not bring myself to take the Meat Sticks, even free. We left about ten jars of Meat Sticks on the now empty shelf.

Denmark ran to get another cart and I went up to talk to the Big Man again about another deal. I told him that it was even closer to closing and that all that Pedialyte and Formula would help an awful lot of babies. Hungry Babies. Is there anything more guilt inducing? (Besides a dying mother? I clearly had a Royal Flush) They reminded me that the formula was “$16.99 before the discount, that there was at least $400 of inventory left, after the discount.” I offered them $100 for both carts and everyone looked happy. For the record, the first manager was willing to part with the second cart for $25 also, but I felt a little too much like screwing one guy to help another. However you slice it, we had thousands of dollars worth of baby food (real market value) for $100. The two-packs that we got hundreds of sell for $6.99 each usually. It would be very difficult to really tally the value, but discounted it all would have sold for approximately $1400, at the 70% off. I’d say this goes down as the biggest score ever of my illustrious discount buying career. Oh if only I could have photographed the faces of the other people in the check out line, as we walked out with our ginormous baby food carts.

The back of my son's Subaru, packed to the gills

The back of my son’s Subaru, packed to the gills

As we piled the final items in our carts, it occurred to me that there was no conceivable way of fitting it all in my car, which was already filled with shopping bags. I called Middle Man, just home from college, and asked if he could come over and help out. His Subaru was packed: trunk and backseat. I told him that it might be a real plus to girls, if he drove around with the stuff for a few days and told them he was taking it to Women’s Shelters… Ok, tasteless, but I was having so much fun with all this that I was truly giddy. Punch drunk. Dancing in the parking lot giddy. Denmark and I were just out of our minds with Hanukka-Santa good cheer.

In this year of particularly hard times, this all feels better than usual. My family is blessed with more than we need and a lot of good fortune. While this has been a particularly hard year emotionally, I dont worry about food; my home is always warm; and we enjoy many opportunities that others do not. I have always believed in Pay It Forward.  I got my Masters in Social Work for a reason. The fact that raising three wonderful kids stopped me from working did not top me from believing in the ideals that I always aspired to. I think so many of us want to do the best we can to help those who don’t have the same blessings. We do it in different ways, but the bottom line is that I ultimately believe in Community. I believe that it does in fact Take a Village. Yesterday, I felt so overwhelmed with joy, knowing that I wasn’t going home with piles of stuff that I bought just to fill the package quota under the tree, or to make each night of Hanukkah a big bang for my own kids. Let’s be real here: my kids will still have a wonderful holiday season. But, for the first time ever, I really believe that enough is enough. I don’t feel compelled to make it over the top. Quality vs quantity means something this year.

This will be my last Christmas with a mother. That fact, as hard as it is to type, colors everything I do and think right now. It has put so many things in perspective; so many things that I already knew and believed, but now I want to really follow through on. Being with her, sharing her daily fears and grief is truly humbling. There was a time (true story) when my mother could not afford to buy my brother, sister and I any gifts one Christmas. We had a small fake tree and no real gifts to speak of. I got an ugly crocheted beret, but seriously, that was it. We went to a bowling alley for burgers Christmas Eve. While I had many over the top Christmases later, and my grandmother spoiled us year after year, I have always remembered that one Christmas when we went without. I hope that this year, there are a few families that at least have baby food; a few kids who get their angel wishes filled; and that my Mom finally finds peace. I filled a few wishes for her too and I know that there will be some powerful moments in our home this holiday season.

For the past few years Christmas has been a hard time for me. The Christmas’ of my past come back to haunt me and I tend to feel a little blue. Over the years, the family I thought I had as a child, when we all spent every holiday together, vacations and endless good times, no longer exists. It is not because we live far apart, but because we are not the people I thought we were. Family rifts and foolish things came between us all and we have not really been there for each other. While I miss what I believed my family was, I have come to accept what really is and not what I wish for. My mother’s impending death has made that even clearer. For all the good she did in her life, she is dying alone with only my sister and I beside her and a few good wishes on Facebook. She’s been alone for the past several years as she slid downhill. No cards, no flowers, no real connection to much outside the room where she lays now.  It may be selfish, but part of what drives me this year is to fill the void with good. To reclaim Christmas for myself. I have celebrated Hanukkah with my children and made Christmas a shadow of what it once was. This is my effort to reclaim some magic. Perhaps each year now, we can move further from what we want and toward giving back, and celebrating the magic that Denmark said was missing. Oh my… I’m sure I sound a tad maudlin here, but I hope that despite the sadness that permeates so much right now in my life, this joy will carry me and those I love. This is what it should be about.

 <– Greetings brought to you by Scrabble Cheez-Its

So, today the goods are still sitting in the car. All of us are afraid to even open that trunk. I’ve made some calls and will try to figure out the best place for it all to go. We’ll put together our Gift bags for the homeless tonight and pass them out next week, when Principessa is home too.  Finally, each year, for as long as I can remember, I go to the mall and take a bunch of those angels down from the tree outside our local Target. They’re there in every mall: a tree full of paper angels with wish lists. For years, the kids and I picked angels the same age as they are, but now I look for younger kids or ones that seem to need clothes. We go shopping for our angels and then bring it all back to the Salvation Army desk and turn it all in. I am feeling like Santa today, go ahead call me a Ho: Ho, Ho Ho! I dare you.

What are you doing for the holidays?  What brings you joy and what are your traditions?  Give it some thought, go out there and do something kind. Pay it forward, and see how good you feel. Happy Holidays!

And now, the solicitation part:

Stop! Really. Read this.  Please note:  If you enjoy these posts hit “Like” and make me smile. It also helps my blog grow and that is the point. Go back and hit Like.  If you are on the post, it is at the very bottom of that post. Thanks. Then, be nice and “Share” them with others; ’tis the season. Better yet Like them; Share them and then do something nice for yourself: “Subscribe.” You won’t get any spam, you can sign up with an anonymous name (I won’t know who you are, unless you tell me),  and you will get an email each time I post.  Think of it as a Holiday gift to yourself.  You know you want to. Go ahead, make my day (sorry about the gun, but a girl’s gotta make a point.)

Posted on December 19, 2013 by Dawn Quyle Landau | 19 Comments

A total lack of sleep has lead to extra writing. Two weeks in a row, I’m submitting two stories, and hope you humor my enthusiasm. Perhaps redeeming myself for the very dark story, many of you found troubling, last week.  This is also my first try at poetry, here.

Each week on Friday Fictioneers, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields leads a group of writers from all over the globe, in a flash-fiction challenge. A single photo prompt; a story that has a beginning, middle and end; a goal of 100 words– everyone is welcome to participate. Check it out the details, and the wonderful stories in this week’s collection, here.

I always appreciate feedback, positive or constructive. Please leave a comment, and tell me what you think.

© Jean L. Hays

© Jean L. Hays

(97 Words)

In blue seas and calm pools

We swam side by side

Communicating easily, telepathically at times

Like dolphins calling to each other

Through dark or light

Through years and minutes, we

Helped each other weather

The times when seas were rough

And tossed us about.

We laughed at the absurd

And whispered our dreams

Spinning and leaping, through a

Life that is constantly changing

And then you couldn’t hear me

And you didn’t call out to me again

And we are now like dried kelp

Washed up on the shore…

Dolphins no more.

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Posted on December 18, 2013 by Dawn Quyle Landau | 44 Comments

Lack of sleep may be my friend this week, and I may actually score an early spot in this cue! Yee-haw!

Each week on Friday Fictioneers, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields leads a group of writers from all over the globe, in a flash-fiction challenge. A single photo prompt; a story that has a beginning, middle and end; a goal of 100 words– everyone is welcome to participate. Check it out the details, and the wonderful stories in this week’s collection, here.

I always appreciate feedback, positive or constructive. Please leave a comment, and tell me what you think.

© Jean L. Hays

© Jean L. Hays

(98 Words)

“Could you please rub a little sunscreen on my back,” she whispered, his face just beside her.

He sat up and poured lotion in his palm. His hands caressed her soft skin, as he studied every freckle, every nuance of her perfect body.

“I think I would know your back anywhere, your skin and lines… no matter how many years pass, I could feel this body and know it’s yours.”

She smiled, taking in the deep cerulean water, the white sand, and his hands across her back.

Dolphins played and danced, as they made love in the sand.

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Posted on December 18, 2013 by Dawn Quyle Landau | 79 Comments
Mt. Baker

Mt. Baker

Talk about one extreme to another! My last post was on the wild and wooly world of New York City, and today it’s the epic beauty of the Pacific NW, and conservation. Keeping you on your toes!

As I’ve said countless times on this blog, I am blessed to live in one of the most beautiful places on earth. We live surrounded by deep, emerald forests, lush and rich from moist rain– more a mist, than the rain others know. We enjoy the  sapphire waters of the Salish Sea (Puget Sound), that sparkle like so many diamonds on a sunny day, and reflect the true fifty shades of gray, that make the 500 shades of green that much sharper. We’re fortunate to see mountains in every direction. The mighty Mount Baker, where we ski all winter and hike when the snows melt, a place where we breath deeply and sigh when we see it, looms above us to the northeast. The Canadian Coastal Range to the north, are stunning and spectacular up close or from afar. On a cold day they rise in the distance and remind me just how small I am. South and west, on a clear day we can see the Olympic Range, huge and beckoning. On the rainiest days, on the days when weather is harder to take, I look outside and I am always reminded of how lucky I am. We are blessed with abundant and royal wildlife that many see only in zoos: mountain lions, bear, bald eagles, great blue herons, coyote, fox, beaver, orca whales, and the mighty salmon. If it sounds like Eden, it is.    (All places I walk, that are within minutes of my house)

DSC_0080

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CSC_0460 IMG_1597 photo 2012-09-27_09-51-54_674

Yes, the salmon. The children who grow up here are raised on the life-cycle of the Pacific salmon, starting very early. They raise small “fry” in their schools, watching them grow in tanks; they study their biology, and their rich history tied to the local tribes and the Europeans who eventually settled here; they see them released in the spring, and we all stand along the shores of our rivers and watch the grown salmon return and jump up-stream, to lay their eggs, and die. In October, we would take our kids down to the falls downtown, and watch the fish leap and fight their way up the falls, the kids sometimes helping the ones who got stuck. Then the cycle starts all over. We eat our salmon; we study them; we hold them in high esteem. Salmon in the Pacific Northwest is King. We have Coho, Sockeye, Pink, King and Chum. For a short time in early fall, we have Copper River Salmon, which actually comes from Alaska, but we live and cheer for it, for that very short time. Crowds actually form in Seattle, to see that first precious fish filleted. For real. For the record, king is my favorite. I will always choose that over any of the others.

A week ago today, the day after I got home from my big trip to New York City (read here), my feet were still hurting, and I had a singular desire to just stay home and catch up on things; but, we had made a commitment to tour the salmon recovery program in our area, with the local Whatcom Land Trust. Honestly, I wasn’t anxious to go. I was tired and not really into it. It was Big Guy’s thing, and if truth be told, I was a tad passive-aggressive about participating. It was really cold out, drizzly and gray.  Nonetheless, I grabbed my hiking boots and my rubber boots (we were told to prepare for mud and water) and headed out, with our guide Craig Lee. He is the current Executive Director of the Whatcom Land Trust and one of the original founders. He was enthusiastic and welcoming, excited to show us what our donations have done, and what the program hopes to continue doing to help local salmon recover: from environmental sprawl, habitat destruction, fishing, and other things that have brought numbers down. His car was loaded with hot coffee, cocoa, tea and lots of Ewel Gibbons‘-like snacks. Think nuts, dried fruit, bananas… Not a donut in site. Exciting, I thought, as we drove off; a shot of Bailey’s might help.  (In fairness, I’ve already owned the passive aggressive).

photoIt was, exciting.  In fact, it was thrilling; it was humbling; it was invigorating and inspiring. I fell even more in love with this place I call home. I came away with an incredible appreciation for a fish I mostly eat, and I felt honored to share the day with two men who have committed their lives to the environment I benefit from every single day. We started out alone with Craig, but stopped at the far end of Lake Whatcom to pick up Eric Carabba, the Lands Director for the WLT.  While Craig has clearly spent much of his career speaking up and out regarding issues of conservation and fund-raising, Eric struck me immediately as an entirely different guy. Quiet, and serious at first, he struck me right away as someone who’s spent a lot of time in the wilderness, and isn’t really comfortable seeking donors or entertaining “environmental tourists.” He struck me as savvy enough to know that those donors are needed, but his real love is being outside and working to turn around the damage, that’s been done to the places he has lived his entire life. He knows his stuff: intelligent and approachable in his knowledge. His explanations were complex, but made clear to the layman: me. Each place we went, Eric referred to places he’d been swimming since he was a boy; places he’d fished; fields that he explored and sink holes he sank into; forests that were once there but have been clear-cut, and the passion that comes from living someplace so beautiful, for your life.

ice on moss

ice on moss

The first creek we explored fed directly into Lake Whatcom and we got to stop and watch the pink salmon cluster under a small bridge, some of them still making their way upstream. Standing by the lakeside in the foggy mist was peaceful beyond peaceful. As we drove on, Eric and Craig showed us all of the pristine land that the Trust has acquired and will keep that way. The areas of clear-cut logging were like ugly scars on the otherwise beautiful hillsides. It was interesting to hear about the politics of that logging, and the efforts to buy and preserve “strategic” parcels. They have recently teamed up in their efforts with the Lummi and Nooksack Tribes, who have depended on salmon for all of their history here. They are all trying to rebuild habitat together, and think strategically about what lands will best achieve that goal. That was by far the most interesting piece that I came away with. It’s not about acquiring more, more, more, but about procuring land that will actually help the salmon. Finding parcels that can be used to create a patch-work quilt of sorts, with various habitats that enhance the salmon’s chances of a fuller recovery… It’s amazing what the vision is, and it was an honor to share a day experiencing the passion of that vision, and the beauty of the land they are preserving. It was promising to hear that these lands will be increasingly available to all of us: to hike, to visit, to see first hand.

Getting our feet wet

Getting our feet wet

The most amazing part of the day was when we got out, put on our boots, and walked upstream to see where some of the larger salmon end up. Ok, I should know all the names and do this justice, but I was carried away by the experience itself, and found it hard to keep all the statistics and details clear. My bad, but then I kept reminding myself that being out there, inhaling it all, and really noticing my surroundings, is a big piece of what preservation is about, perhaps one of the most important pieces, I believe. I support the Land Trust, so that new generations, and we all can get out there and see what I got to see during our 4.5 hrs out there. But ducking and trekking through the woods, following that stream, to see where these amazing fish have come to lay their eggs and die, was truly astounding!

A river runs through it...

A river runs through it…

The salmon swim back to where they were born, the very spot, and they lay their eggs in mounds called redds. Because of unusually warm weather this year, we were privileged to still see fairly significant numbers of fish still fighting their way through the gravel and thrashing their tails to make the redds. We could see the eggs mounded up, the fish resting in the shadows, and the bodies of fish that had already finished their life cycle. It was startlingly beautiful– art in nature.     (Salmon and ice… striking to see)

photo photo

photo photo  photo

Blue that will one day be forest, and clear-cut highlighted by snow, in the distance.

Blue that will one day be forest, and clear-cut highlighted by snow, in the distance.

The day was everything I didn’t think it would be. It was rejuvenating; it was peaceful; it brought me back down to earth, after four spectacular but frenzied days in NYC. We drank hot chocolate looking out over future forest–blue lines across old farm land, and frosty hillsides; we saw bald eagles and salmon, great blue heron and beautiful landscapes. I learned so much more than I anticipated, and I came away feeling even more in love with, and protective of, the amazing place where we live. I want my kids to really know how special the place where they grew up is. I plan to live here the rest of my life, and I want it to stay this way.

For more details about the Whatcom Land Trust and salmon conservation, read this more in-depth article in the Cascadia Weekly.

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Posted on December 17, 2013 by Dawn Quyle Landau | 14 Comments

Note: It took me all week to get around to writing this post, because my week was bat ass crazy! Not a minute to really write or reflect. So, I’ve spared nothing here. No part 1 and 2, as would probably be advised. I’m breaking blogging rules and going looong. So, get your coffee and enjoy!

IMG_0489Last weekend I left for three days in New York City. No doubt, it’s a long way to travel for a three-day visit. We live on the west coast, and the flight alone, and the three-hour time difference are increasingly hard on this aging body… and mind. I don’t sleep well anyway; I’m an erratic eater; and my body does not like change. None the less, my husband had a conference and I’ve wanted to go to NYC at Christmas time, my whole life. My. Whole. Life! I’ve seen the Rockefeller Square Christmas tree on TV each year, and wanted to someday see it in person. I know, just another big tree… but having grown up on the east coast, it’s one of those things I always dreamed of. I wanted to see the skaters at Rock Center, and more than anything, I’ve always wanted to see the holiday windows that NYC department stores are so famous for.

I’ve been fortunate to visit NYC many, many times. Having grown up a few hours from there, we even visited for our 8th grade field trip. We were young and stupid, and threw a role of toilet paper off the Empire State Building. To this day, I remember how beautiful it was unraveling across the skyline, like a giant ribbon!  We went to the top of one of the World Trade Center tower; it was the tallest building in the world at the time and I was amazed! We visited the Statue of Liberty and the Stock Exchange. I was too lazy to climb up Liberty and have always regretted it. In college, I visited often, to stay with a good friend who had grown up there. We walked, and walked everywhere! Several years ago, we took our children, when they were fairly young (early teens for Principessa and younger for the boys) to see Lion King (nothing like the Broadway productions!) and we walked the Brooklyn Bridge (my favorite!) and visited Ground Zero. It was about a year after 9/11 and we all were shaken.  But in all of the trips to New York City, I had never went at Christmas time.

This trip, was a surprise. Smart Guy had a conference, and I was hesitant to go away and have to deal with arrangements for our son and German exchange student, who are both seniors in high school this year. The exchange student is not permitted to stay in the house without adult supervision and our son was loath to have a “babysitter.” My big Christmas/Hanukkah wish list item was tickets to see Wicked (in Seattle), something I’ve wanted to do for ten years. I read the book eons ago, and when the play came out, I was anxious to see it. However, each year I’ve missed out– not in town, not getting tickets in time, etc. The surprise was that Smart Guy, in a historic (read: this never does not generally happen) got his gift-giving-self together this year, and made fireworks for yours truly. He got third row, center, seats to Wicked, on Broadway!  Babysitter be damned, I was going to NYC.

Holiday decorations in the lobby of The Roosevelt

Holiday decorations in the lobby of The Roosevelt

We flew out late on a Thursday, along with 2 medical reps that my husband would be training with. I tried to ignore them and refused to play the wife they have to condescendingly appease. Not me. I am more than happy to do my own thing; and, give me a big city and I could be lost for days on my own! I love my friends; I love my husband; but I am perfectly content alone. More importantly, I am not a fan of sales reps (in general, a few of you are great… you know who you are), and being that extra person that they feel obligated to try to intermittently include in the conversation, is always a drag! I laid the ground rules early, and we all had fun from then on. Separately, for the most part, but they turned out to be pretty fun guys.  At 1am when we all arrived at the classically beautiful Roosevelt Hotel, we were starving! Who doesn’t want pizza when they’re in NYC? And NYC never sleeps… so the popular Uncle Paul’s Pizza it was. We got to bed around 2:30, the guys dreading the early wake up and me dying to go see more city action. I was out-voted. My pedometer read 12 miles for the day as I got ready for bed.

Available on Amazon

Available on Amazon

A quick backtrack: few days before heading out, I contacted blogger Lisa at Cyclingrandma, and asked if she’d like to finally meet in person. Lisa was one of my first blog subscribers, and we’ve followed each other for about two years now. When she put together Tangerine Tango, Women Writers Share Slices of Life, an anthology of blog posts, she asked me to contribute. So, we’ve followed each others’ blogs; we’ve worked together on the TT project, and we’ve shared countless emails. The idea of meeting in person seemed a no brainer! Lisa lives just outside the city and agreed to catch the train in and meet me at the hotel. I was waiting in the lobby the next morning when I spotted her. It was a true pleasure to see her face in person, and we hugged like old friends. We are: old, and friends.

Let me clarify something right off the top: blogging is a mighty powerful place to connect. When I say that Lisa is a friend, and we’d never met, I mean it; we are friends. The fact that we hadn’t met, doesn’t change that. We had a very interesting talk about this almost immediately. Blogging has become such a big part of my life, that it’s unsettling when I’m away from it. I write here with as few filters as possible. If you read this blog regularly, you know a lot about me, and what you read/see is pretty much what you get. I don’t believe in pretense and I’m as direct and honest as possible… for better or worse. I’m emotional, can be intense, playful, committed, annoying, exhausting, talkative… fun to be with. It doesn’t mean I don’t struggle with remaining transparent and honest some days; like most of us, but writing is where I try to keep it real.

I’ve found that many bloggers are the same way; Lisa is one of them. Having followed each other, we knew a lot before the Roosevelt lobby. Big hugs, excited greetings, and we were off to the Algonquin Hotel, where countless famous writers have met over the many years. We were happy to just be in the same space, and hope for some good juju. We talked about our families, we posed in front of the famous writer’s mural, we shared with ease and enthusiasm, and by the time we headed out, we were even better friends.

Amongst the masters. Maybe someday we'll be featured here too! (she said wishfully)

Amongst the masters. Maybe someday we’ll be featured here too! (she said wishfully)

Tales From the Motherland and Cyclingrandma, outside the Algonquin

Tales From the Motherland and Cyclingrandma, outside the Algonquin

And then we walked… and walked… and walked a lot more! I was determined to see the holiday windows: All of the holiday windows. I”m not sure Lisa realized we’d be catching the streets of downtown on fire, despite the rain. No subways or taxis for these intrepid bloggers. I felt like a kid in a Hot Tamales and Reeses candy factory; no block was too far for me. I’m from Seattle, so I laugh at umbrellas… and I got wet. Lisa was a great sport and joined in my giddiness, though she maintained her cool, while I squealed and jumped up and down more than once. All of the windows were impressive, but we thought Bergdorf Goodman took the cake! Their theme was holidays, and they really hit it out of the park! I will say, it was strange in a city where there are a lot of Jewish residents, that they covered virtually every holiday (Halloween, 4th of July, Valentine’s… Arbor Day!!), but not Hanukkah. That aside, spectacular windows! Harry Winston made it look like their store was covered in diamonds and the inside of Bergdorf and Saks’ were truly wonderlands. Over-the-top, lavish, sparkle and shimmer wonderlands. I was giddy, all day.  (Bergdorf took the cake!)

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Things I’ll never own:  Skinny skinny Fancy clothes, sparkly bags that run $2300, a Range Rover that changes color or a Bentley that is completely mirrored/stainless steel (?):

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Lisa left me at 3pm and I continued to make the holiday viewing dash. A few more miles and shop windows and then Grand Central Station. It’s one of my favorite NYC icons. In the early 1980’s Jackie Kennedy Onassis spearheaded an effort to save the crumbling station and today it is truly a place to visit. The robin’s egg blue ceiling, with constellations, the moldings and stone floors… it’s incredible! For the holidays there was holiday fair, featuring local artisans and craft makers (think art, not crafty craft) with sumptuous classic string music filling the spacious hall. I was lost there for nearly an hour… my feet a wee bit tired and Fitbit/pedometer informing that I’d walked 15 miles… so far.

More windows, stores and Grand Central Station:

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THE Tree, in all its glory!

THE Tree, in all its glory!

On our way to dinner, the reps, Big Guy and I stopped at Rock to see the Christmas tree all lit up. I have wanted to do that forever, and it was everything I imagined! A sparkly, huge, winter wonderland!  At night during the holidays, NYC is beyond magical! We went to dinner at an incredible Cuban restaurant that featured very authentic food, music and some of the most amazing drinks on the mainland. The paella was to die for! From there we raced over to Broadway (my feet a teeny bit more sore, in wedge heels), to see Wicked. Third row, center… looking right at the orchestra and hoping none of the actors sneezed. If it were at Sea World, we’d have been riding the dolphins! The show rocked my world and again, I felt like a little girl who wanted to squirm in her seat, blow kisses t to the performers, and cheer extra loud. I did. All of that. This is Wicked’s tenth year in production, and my only regret is that it took this long for us to get there. Big Guy slept through most of the first half; I kid you not.

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photo 3From there we walked to Time’s Square and gawked at the multiple-stories billboards, the incredible lights (felt like day) and the holiday sparkle. It is one of the rare times I wasn’t busy complaining about the environmental impact of it all (for the record, the Empire State Building and many other sites have switched to LED lights… still a lot of waste, but it’s something). I was too busy skipping, oohing and ahhing, and tugging on Big Man’s sleeves. There’s the David Letterman Show!  There’s NBC studios and there’s The Today Show windows! Wait, is that where Saturday Night Live is filmed? Oh My God!!  I might have been a teeny bit obnoxious.  At the Swatch store, I got excited watching one of the staff members singing and dancing to Bruno Mars’ Just The Way You Are, and I broke out in a top-of-my-voice rendition: “When I see your face…” The entire staff joined in and we all stared our own private karaoke/flash mob. Big Guy, fairly mortified, pulled me out of the store, still singing, and the staff singing to me through the windows! Big Guy doesn’t sing. In public. When I went to bed, my pedometer read 18 miles, and I was still humming.

NYC is full of iconic places and images: One of the truly greatest cities in the world, for so many reasons… so much to see and do!  (Empire State building, us at Rock, Radio City Hall, and Time’s Square)

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Day two was more walking (St Patrick’s Cathedral) and a reunion with a dear friend from my childhood. We met in elementary school; we were friends through high school, even after she moved back to Long Island, and we were stunned to see each other at the same small school, the first day of college. We’ve stayed in touch since, intermittently… with years of no contact, and then finding each other again. Her father is one of my favorite people ever; we share a long history of: playing Bilbo and Frodo, in elementary school; I drank my first beers (I threw most of it out in her parent’s bushes) while The Knack and Journey blasted in the background in high school, and frat parties in college. Reuniting for the day, in the city that she owns, was amazing! We met in front of the famous Plaza Hotel, across from Central Park… I ran up to her, swept the hair from her forehead and we hugged. We both loved The Way We Were… the final epic scene, with Barbara Streisand and a stunning Robert Redford, was shot right there. She laughed, and for the rest of the day we picked up right where we left off… twenty-five years ago.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f8TflIIfuhs  (minute 2:30)

photoPam took us all over! My feet screamed all day, despite cushy socks and good shoes, but we only took the subway once: because we were starving, lunch was in Soho, and you have to ride the subway in NYC!  Feet recover, but you can’t get back time in NYC. I hate to miss a minute of any special event! We ate an unbelievable noodle restaurant that is distinctly off the tourist grid, but packed with locals: Kelly and Ping. Home-made noodles and some of the yummiest Chinese food, cooked to order. Heaven! After lunch: we hit some galleries; we went for famous cookie (for the flight home); we got to hear all about the celebrities Pam’s seen around Soho, and the local lore; we popped into the American Museum of Sex (technically we only perused the gift shop, informative enough!); we stopped at the Chelsea hotel, where Dylan Thomas, Thomas Wolf, Bob Dylan, Janis Joplin, Iggy Pop, Arthur Miller, and where Sid Vicious’ girlfriend, Nancy Spungen was found stabbed to death in 1978… and met a lovely older woman in the lobby, who regaled us with tales of her life, living there for 30+ years. Next door, we stopped at the orgasmic Donut Plant, where donuts are a whole other thing… and it’s impossible to eat just one! We shared a Coconut Cream (not sweet, syrupy coconut but fresh lovely cream), a Peanut Butter and Jelly filling (not our favorite) and a Creme Brulee donut that rocked my world, and almost made me forget about my feet. Pam walked us back to the Roosevelt and we said a bitter-sweet goodbye, promising to do a lot better at keeping in touch. We will.             Photos: (The Chelsea, My favorite word, Art: please note ladies: au naturale is coming back and the final picture of newspapers is actually art: carved wood, page by page, and painted! And finally, donut heaven. )

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That night, Big Guy and I had a gourmet dinner at a fabulous Italian-French restaurant with a prix fixe to die for! The food was divine, the Israelis sitting next to us were fun dining partners, and I left too full to walk… fast. But waddle walk some more we did. My final goal: Macy’s window was just a relatively short distance– in the NYC block sense of short, so we shot over to see the windows that are so famous. They did not disappoint! While Bergdorf remains my personal favorite, Macy’s was kick ass! The lights, the holiday sparkle, it was the perfect way to end another incredible day in the City That Never Sleeps. When we got into bed, my pedometer read 22 miles!! Makes me think I could actually walk the NY marathon.                       (At last! The world-famous Macy’s Windows– 150 years of celebration!)

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Finally, our last morning was a last jolt of sublime. Big Guy’s sister (who I adore) and her husband (one of my dearest friends, after nearly 20 years of sharing crazy family stories and laughs) met for brunch, and we spent the brief four hours we had eating more great food, drinking  champagne drinks, laughing until we were snorting (I’m a snorter), and catching up– for the brief four hours we had. After brunch we walked over to Rock, one last time, to watch the skaters and see the tree again. We popped into Saks to take in all the bling we can’t buy, but had fun looking at, and checked out the Waldorf Astoria, to see the clock and lobby… and we laughed a lot more.  Living on the West Coast, the only thing we ever regret, is being so far from these people we love so much. Our family in Boston, in Connecticut and the Cape. It’s a sacrifice… as much as we love where we are.

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We said goodbye from the hotel and headed to the JFK airport–>Portland–>Emergency return to Portland 35 minutes into our flight and some delays–>adopted a Vietnamese monk who spoke NO english and thought we were home, when we’d returned to Portland–>got him to his Canadian relatives—>and fell into bed, exhausted and sporting only 8-9 miles on my pedometer, after a day of sitting on planes and in airports. From Thursday to Sunday, I tallied about 59 miles walking, in less than four days!! My feet have hurt all week, but my dreams have been filled with sugar plums, new friends, old friends, loved ones, food worth walking for– Wicked good stuff, that makes the world an extra special place to take in. I believe in Carpe Diem. In my mind, there’s no point in pacing yourself or sitting it out, when the world is in fact your oyster. Eat it raw, and order more; take it all in, and hustle on for more! There will always be time to rest… later.

Have you been to NYC? What do you love; what do you hate? What’s a Bucket List thing you hope to do? Share your thoughts in the comments. It’s the season for giving, so show some love and hit Like. Check out Tales From the Motherland on Facebook and Twitter, and follow along.

sisterhood-of-the-world-bloggers-awa**  Please read:  I also want to thank Zainab over at A Mom’s Blog for nominating me for the Sisterhood Award. I am grateful and touched that she appreciates my work, enough to do so.  As many of you know, I do not answer questions anymore. It’s all been said on my blog, and I can barely keep up with comments (I answer them all) and posts! That said, I am grateful for the nod, from a blogging peer. You should check out Zenaib’s work, as she is a talented photographer, blogger and mom!

 

I’m passing this on to the following bloggers:  1) Yara at Hearyoumemyfriends– her writing is exquisite, heart-breaking at times, but always excellent.   2) Susan at Still Life With Tortillas– A writer, a poet, a seer of life’s beauty, an artist, and my friend. Her work always leaves me touched. 3) Mike at AppleCore– He and his wife Florence have started the 6 Monthers. They move to amazing places and live there 6 months, while Mike shares all the wonderful details of their life there. They’ve been in Croatia for the past few months, and I can’t get enough!  4) I’m new to Katrina Anne Willis and her blog, by the same name, but the Sisterhood award is appropriate as I’m fairly sure we’re sisters from another mother! Love her take on the world, and how she puts it out there. Funny, touching, Clever. Great writing!  And last but not least, 5) My friend Lisa over at Cyclingrandma. We recently met in person and she has become a blogger I love to follow, and love to call a friend. She writes about anything she is thinking about: politics, books, family, news… it’s all good. Check her out!

Now for the rules (which I am not entirely following. Sorry for that!):

The rules forwarded to me are as follows:

1-Provide a link and thank the person who nominated you.

2-Answer 10 questions.

3-Provide links to these nominated blogs and kindly let the recipient know they have been nominated.

The ten questions and their answers are:

1-Favorite Color:

2-Your favorite animal:

3-Your favorite non- alcoholic drink:

4-Your favorite pattern:

5-Do you prefer giving or receiving presents:

6-Your favorite number:

7-Your favorite day of the month:

8-Your favorite flower:

9-What is your passion:

10-Facebook or Twitter- Facebook

Posted on December 12, 2013 by Dawn Quyle Landau | 25 Comments

Foolishly, I added the wrong link when I was putting this one up. Sorry to those of you who went back and found my older story… This is the 2nd story.

I’ve never done two stories for the weekly Friday Fictioneers’ prompt, but since posting yesterday, this story has been burning in my head. It’s a much darker approach than I usually take. Let me know what you think!   Check out the Fictioneers, here.

Feedback, positive or constructive, is always appreciated. Please leave a comment.

Copyright: Adam Ickes

Copyright: Adam Ickes

(100 words, exactly)

A young member of the search party noticed the tangled braid, buried beneath a pine and dirt blanket– then a child’s hand.  She screamed, alerting the others.

Amanda vanished from the campground while her father got firewood and her mother was at the latrines getting more water.  Upon returning, their nine year old was gone– her book lay in the dirt.

“Who would do such a thing?” the mother wailed when the child’s molested body was recovered.

The size 11 boots sat unnoticed at the visitor’s center, a smear of DNA and a single fingerprint invisible to those passing by.

Posted on December 12, 2013 by Dawn Quyle Landau | 52 Comments

Please note: My computer is down and in the shop. I am lucky to get a few minutes to post my FF story this week, but found it nearly impossible, while traveling, last week, to read all of the stories I usually read, or respond to emails. Thanks to those of you who patiently read my post; I’ll try to get back to y’all this week!  This is part 3 of a story that started with the door prompt, in September. You can find part one here, and part two here, if you’re interested. Part 1 and 2 were Marjorie’s view, here is the other side.

It’s Friday Fictioneers, the greatest free show in town!  Rochelle Wisoff-Fields runs this band of merry writers, where participants are asked to write a 100-word story, with a beginning, middle and end, using a photo prompt.  Check out other participants here.

I always welcome feedback: positive or constructive. Leave something in the comments, and make my day. Hit Like, to feed my vanity.

I try very hard to read each story in the weekly series, and appreciate those of you who visit mine.

Please check out Tales From the Motherland on Facebook, and hit like. It will give me another reason to be Thankful.

Copyright: Adam Ickes

Copyright: Adam Ickes

(99 Words)

Henry sat on the stump and wiped his eyes. Tears, sweat, it all felt the same: burning pain. He held the small wooden box and gazed out across the ridge and peaks beyond. He’d risen early to hike to their favorite spot, where they’d fallen in love, forty-five years earlier as young Rangers.

Now he was alone. Six months since the bicycle accident, and he still had trouble sleeping or getting through his day without his best friend and wife.

“Marjorie, I love you darling. Until we meet again…” Henry cast the fine ash into the gentle breeze, and smiled.

Posted on December 11, 2013 by Dawn Quyle Landau | 47 Comments

5th Avenue Window Crawl: Beaded Bags & Bergdorf’s

Posted on December 7, 2013 by Dawn Quyle Landau

GOT TO MEET ANOTHER BLOGGER- in NYC! I’m currently finishing up a four-day trip to New York City and having a blast! One of the first things that happened was I got to meet fellow blogger Lisa Winkler. We spent a wonderful day in the Greatest City in the world, despite the cold rain that fell all day. Read her fun take on our day here, and I’ll share my spin when I get home.

lisakwinkler's avatarcyclingrandma

When blog friend and Tangerine Tango  contributor Dawn Landau emailed me late Wednesday night, apologizing for the last minute notice, saying she’d be in New York City on Friday and asked if I was free to meet her, I didn’t hesitate for a minute.   Dawn’s doctor husband had a conference and had  surprised her with tickets to Wicked, so they made a weekend out of it. I met her within a few hours after she arrived at her hotel. She may have been a a bit jet-lagged, yet was  ready to conquer NYC.

She’d told her husband she had plans for the day with one of her blog friends.

“You don’t know her?” he’d asked.

“Yes, I know her really well. We just haven’t met.”  Not sure he got it.

Checking the weather forecast, I told her it would be raining and perhaps we’d want to walk…

View original post 519 more words

Posted in Honest observations on many things | 6 Comments

It’s Friday Fictioneers, the greatest free show in town!  Rochelle Wisoff-Fields runs this band of merry writers, where participants are asked to write a 100-word story, with a beginning, middle and end, using a photo prompt.  Check out other participants here.

I always welcome feedback: positive or constructive. Leave something in the comments, and make my day. Hit Like, to feed my vanity.

I try very hard to read each story in the weekly series, and appreciate those of you who visit mine. This week I’m leaving for New York city, so I may be slow in responding. But I will eventually.

Please check out Tales From the Motherland on Facebook, and hit like. It will give me another reason to be Thankful.

A bonus– One of my favorite bands, Arcade Fire, Sprawl:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=awHWColYQ90

copyright Randy Mazie

copyright Randy Mazie

(95 words)

They planted the tiny “California lilac” at the corner, hoping it would one day be a larger shrub, and send purple joy to the windows.

The city added another lane, to the small road in front of their home; requiring a new sidewalk.

Jerry and Lois watched their yard disappear foot by foot, the sprawl slithering beyond the downtown. Their lawn gone, the sidewalk soon pushed up against the house.  Imminent domain they were told.

Boarded and barred, they finally left. The lilac clung to the empty shell, its roots cut off, her flowers poisoned.

Posted on December 4, 2013 by Dawn Quyle Landau | 28 Comments

The title of this post is in no way to suggest that friendship, itself, is a slow painful death. However, the end of a good friendship is one of the worst kinds of deaths: slow and so horribly painful.

Having spent so many years away from my family, most of that family rooted in the Boston area, I have gravitated to friendships to sustain me. Over the years, some friends have come to feel much more like family, our ties strong and deeply important in my life. As my husband and I have moved around– from medical school to residency, then to two different jobs in different states and completely opposite ends of the country, we’ve been even more isolated from family, and friendships have taken on more weight.  Friends have filled the seats at our holiday tables; they have been by my side as I took care of my mother; many of them have helped me work through my own depression, and find my way back to solid ground. I can’t imagine life without many of the people who have become so important, over time.  Until a friendship ends.

I’ve always thought friendships are much like love affairs. New friendships have a sparkly feel to them: it’s easy to feel giddy, when there seems to be so much potential in a new friend. The initial attraction and “courting” phase is much like falling in love. You like the same things; you agree about issues; perhaps you share a similar sense of humor; it feels like magic when you find those people in life. Much like dating, it’s a process, but that process can be so exciting. You get to know each other; you test the waters, and if you’re lucky, you find someone who really fits– and a friendship is born.

Image: 1200-blog.clarify.fm

Image: 1200-blog.clarify.fm

When I was younger, this process often went too quickly, and friendships bloomed and fizzled easily. In my youth, there was more drama, and the emotions were sometimes shallower; beginnings and endings didn’t feel as important. It’s not that I took friendship lightly… on the contrary. Things often felt super intense; but, then morphed and changed quickly. However, in youth things ebb and flow constantly, and friendships were a casualty of my inability to understand commitment and work. I didn’t understand then, the importance of good communication, or hard work– the idea that sometimes you have to push beyond hurt feelings or mistakes, and dig in, to sustain a relationship. No doubt, some of the friendships I’ve had since my childhood (one of my closest friends has been close to me since we were ten!) are the ones that I’ve come to value so much over the years. Those friends know where I came from, and where I am now, and love me still. It’s amazing that we’ve sustained relationships through years of growth and change. There were plenty of things to work out along the way, and each lasting friendship is a miracle of sorts!

As I’ve aged, my lack of understanding about how to nurture and sustain a friendship has changed completely. Good communication, working hard in relationships, digging in… These are things I do understand now, and feel strongly about. I work hard at it. I’m not an easy person to love sometimes, and I know that. I am well aware that there are those who like my big personality, and others who don’t. While I accept that, I certainly have days where I still wage internal wars with myself, and many other days when I am at peace with that reality. Over time, I’ve become much slower to make friends, I’ve learned (the hard way) that it takes time really know someone. These days, the friendships that I have tend to be much more important to me. I work hard in relationships and value enormously those who reciprocate that. I don’t let go easily, to a fault, no doubt. I chew on things and dig in, hoping to make relationships that have become important, stay important. It isn’t always possible, however, and in the end there have been losses that are hard to deal with.

For several years, I was estranged from one of the dearest people in my life. We have been friends since I was nine. She has been through nearly every important time in my life: my father’s death, school, college, getting married, and I have a photo of her holding my first child, just weeks old. The estrangement came for several reasons, but there was not a week that went by that I didn’t miss her. We finally reconnected over the past year, and we are both deeply committed to keeping the ties strong. She is my family; I love her, and life wasn’t the same without her.

I get it: things happen; emotions shift; not all friendships last forever. Even the ones you’re sure will.  I guess I didn’t really understand that for a long time. In my heart, in my head, once certain thresholds have been crossed, it’s always been hard for me to imagine letting go, or moving beyond a relationship that was once vital and sacred in my life. Admittedly, it’s something I still struggle with. I’m grateful that digging in, saved the friendship I mentioned before. Others can’t be saved. There are different kinds of ends, some are easier to come to terms with than others, even if they are not easy to move past. Sometimes we meet people in our lives at a certain stage, a particular place in time, that we just meld, and it works. Our kids are the same ages; we get along as couples; or perhaps we live near each other. It’s easier to let some things go when you meet those kinds of friends. You tend to overlook little issues, that over time may or may not cause cracks. Convenience and/or comfort makes for an easy blindfold; it’s easy to overlook smaller conflicts, when you find someone you think will fit into the big picture. When things shift or change however, perhaps some of these friendships don’t hold up. If it’s a mutual break, it’s much easier to accept, and move on. When it’s one-sided, it can be hard for one or both parties. While I’m not good at letting go, in general, it’s an ending that I’ve been better at moving past, as it inherently makes sense to me.

Then there are endings that are painfully one-sided. One party changes; one person is no longer interested or invested; two people drift apart, and the ending feels unbalanced. I’ve been on both sides of that equation, and it never feels good; it’s never easy. If you’re being left behind, it’s hard not to wonder what you could do differently, or try to mend fractures. It’s hard not to feel injured and defensive. Been there, done that. If you’re the one moving on, it might feel like the right step, but it isn’t necessarily pain-free. From this side, it’s easy to feel guilty and torn, despite your conviction that the friendship isn’t right for you. If you share other friends, it’s even harder. There’s often an inevitable awkwardness to social contact, for both parties. Mutual friends may feel torn, and it’s easy to feel like you’re in a sticky mess all around.

Image: gurl.com

Image: gurl.com

In my mind, the hardest end to a friendship is when things just get screwed up, and there’s not turning back. Hurt feelings, difficult situations, and painful moves that lead two seemingly close friends, to separate and end a friendship. I’ve said it before, these past three years have been rough. There was a lot of shit raining down on my corner of the world, and not all of my friendships came out intact. Depression, my mother’s death, tough marital issues that took a lot of energy and work, and I needed my friends more than ever. Sadly, things don’t always go the way we want, and not all fractures mend. When you’ve done all you know how to do, all you can, when “I’m sorry,” doesn’t turn the tide, and the wounds run too deep, there is an inevitable time when you have to cut the ties and let go. It sucks, and I’m terrible at it. Terrible. Leads me to crazy ass dreams, hours (and hours and hours) of wishful thinking and what ifs… More I’m sorry’s and wishing to fix something, I can’t fix. Loss, I’m not sure I’ll ever be good at it.  There have been some sad days, working on growing up.

Life is complex, and one person’s expectations or hopes for a relationship doesn’t always  gel with another person’s. Plain and simple. Simply painful. Relationships that once seemed indestructible, and on which I hung my hopes, didn’t stand up, and it’s a very hard pill to swallow. Admittedly, I’ve gagged on that pill too many times, before finally accepting that I just need to gulp it down. The slow end of a close friendship is a death, and there’s mourning to be done. It’s one thing to mourn someone who is truly gone, and another to mourn someone you still run into, or who still pops up on Facebook, who your kids still ask about, or you still think of often. They’re not really gone, but the relationship has died. The grieving process is twisted and surreal. Letting go is much more challenging.

image: itsuxtobefat.com

image: itsuxtobefat.com

If we indeed marry our best friends, as a few of you have suggested, than marriages that last are truly a gift. Why do we work so hard at those friendships, those ties, and not the others? I’ve confused those lines at times, believing a friendship is like a marriage: it takes work and commitment. They’re not the same.  Is it children, or legal worries that keep us married, or is that friendship truly above all others? Is it any real mystery that so many marriages don’t last, when so many friendships putter out.

And yet, time does indeed heal all wounds; I believe that. I also know that it can take a lot more time than I’m comfortable with, but it does heal. New friendships are born, and fostered.  Through our moves, and life’s changes, I’ve learned that there are always new experiences and surprising new relationships to be had. Being open to them is key. It’s easy to hold people at a distance when you feel like your life is just the way it should be, and miss out on new, rich relationships that you might never have considered, from a comfortable spot. It’s also easy to keep your head down, when you’re feeling lost.  I’m also learning to look up and around a little more. Sometimes there’s something special right in front of you, that you didn’t notice, trying to hang on to relationships that weren’t working anymore.  It’s good to find out that loss there is new growth and new ties.

Through all of it, I’ve learned to stand on my own more comfortably, and not expect so much. I’ve looked much closer at the mistakes I’ve made and the ways I need to change, as well as the things I just can’t change– the things that are integral to who I am, that may not work for some others, but are too much “me” to give up or change. It’s all growth, and that’s a good thing. It may not be easy, but it’s a good thing in the end. This year as I take on working at Hospice, as I let go and accept difficult changes, as I work on accepting the things I can’t change, and enjoy the positive new relationships I have, I’m making my peace with death.

Do you have friends that have been in your life forever? Do you have a bestie, and what makes that friend your bestie? Have you lost a good friend; tell me about it, in the comment section. Share your thoughts.

Image: jaynekopp.com

Image: jaynekopp.com

Posted on December 3, 2013 by Dawn Quyle Landau | 49 Comments