You are the music while the music lasts

Nonexistant

Monday, December 22nd, 2008 | Age, Angst, Fayetteville, Ghosts, San Francisco, vanity | No Comments

I know I lived here. I know I had these friends and experiences. I have them all locked in my head. I remember some very very clearly. But there are very few pictures. There are many pictures of my friends, some of them I took, but very few of me.

This makes me sad. When I moved to SF I told so many stories about my life here–the hat party, the music, the friends with whom I went through many more experiences than most kids in Arkansas had at that time,. And there aren’t any pictures of me–of Pop Culture in the Park, that poetry and music fest I put on, nearly single handed. There aren’t any pictures of me at the Icehouse, though I did help to get it going–I know I spent the time in the permits office and the Fire Department arguing to keep it open.

J pointed out that I was like the soundman–crucial but unobserved. Did I mention I ran sound for the Descendants at Lily’s? Or wrote for the Grapevine? None of those things show up either. Who photographs the soundman?

I left Fayetteville and then many things seemed to start here. It makes me wish I’d stayed another year or so, but then I might not have left and I needed to. I had a big life in San Francisco. I did many interesting and strange things. I wouldn’t trade those years for anything. I might ask for a refund on a few of them, but I’d keep most.

I don’t think there are many pictures of me there either.

And there aren’t many pictures of me now. It’s almost like I don’t exist sometimes.

Maybe it is time to take a break from the internets for awhile. All this reminiscing where I don’t seem to be makes me feel like I’ve been amputated, or …excised…maybe removed..

Edited later after a facebook discussion to add:

Stars: Heart

Sunday, December 14th, 2008 | Uncategorized | No Comments

Time can take its toll on the best of us
Look at you, you’re growing old so young
Traffic lights blink at you in the evening
You tilt your head and turn it to the sun
Sometimes the TV is like a lover
Singing softly as you fall asleep
You wake up in the morning and it’s still there
Adding up the things you’ll never be

Alright, I can say what you want me to
Alright, I can do all the things you do
Alright, i’ll make it all up for you
I’m still in love with you
I’m still in love with you

Time can take its toll on the best of us
Look at you, you’re growing old so young
Traffic lights blink at you in the evening
You tilt your head and turn it to the setting sun

You disembark the latest flight to paradise
You almost turn your ankle in the snow
You fall back into where you started
Make up words to songs you use to know

Alright, I can say what you want me to
Alright, I can do all the things you do
Alright, I’ll make it all up for you
I’m still in love with you
I’m still in love with you

Hard rock god, he never had a chance, you know
Incurable romantics never do
He held a flame I wasn’t born to carry
I’ll leave the dying young stuff up to you

You get back on the latest flight to paradise
I found out from a note taped to the door
I think I saw your airplane in the sky tonight
Through my window, lying on the kitchen floor

Alright, I can say what you want me to
Alright, I can do all the things you do
Alright, I’ll make it all up for you
I’m still in love with you
I’m still in love with you

Alright, I can say what you want me to
Alright, I can do all the things you do
Alright, I’ll make it all up for you
I’m still in love with you
I’m still in love with you

I want more…
Give me more…

what isn’t and will not be

Wednesday, December 3rd, 2008 | Uncategorized | No Comments

Everyone is pregnant. Every blog that I read about miscarriage and infertility–they have either 1)recently had a baby or babies 2) are pregnant 3) about to give birth. I stay away from LJ right now too because there are new pregnancies and babies on my list. I am happy for them, but oh, I am angry too. Why them and not me?

I swing between angry and sorrowful. I am not sleeping, but instead thinking about what will not be. I wonder if this will ever ever stop hurting. I wonder if I will ever stop cursing, in my head, under my breath, as I pass through the maternity sections in stores. I wonder if I will ever stop crying late at night when everyone is asleep. Not every day, often enough.

\It hurts.

Thanks to two men, old and young

Wednesday, October 8th, 2008 | Age, Angst, Fayetteville, Ghosts | No Comments

Sometimes in your life you can actually hear the door slam and the window open. It’s been a shattering month. Despite the pregnancy losses, mortality and the simple dividing line between living and not, was never so obvious as recently. We knew that C was dying. We’d been visiting weekly, sometimes more. We knew he was fading; indeed he’d been visibly fading in the 2 and a half years since we moved back. But the last few weeks from the hospital to the hospice to the last night–as his voice grew fainter, as he could “see” us only for minutes, then for seconds, as his breathing became more and more labored–mortality became less a concept and more a reality.

The longest time he held on “really seeing” while we visited was when he looked at my daughter’s face.

And then one night: nothing.

I’ve never had an easy relationship with my family. We’ve never understood or quite possibly been comfortable with each other. But the last two years and the especially the last two months–well I discovered , I realized that at the end of your life all you have are those whose lives you have touched in some way. That whatever the estrangement, you are stripped bare. In the end we breathe, shit and cry and hope for love, just like an infant.  While I still felt apart–truly I couldn’t feel any other way–I’ve only seen his children a handful of times since 1987–I wished for his and their ease and comfort. I was sorry for all the suffering. I was glad he wasn’t alone and hoped we’d helped him know that.

I don’t know what he regretted at the end. I do know that by that point so much of my anger had fled. And I fully realized how thin the thread is that holds us all to life and to each other.

And as I scramble and claw at middle age I realize but only with the help of E’s dying grandfather and an angry 25 year old man that what has been scaring and confusing me isn’t what is actually important. It isn’t what will make the next 40 years meaningful or fill it with love and purpose. It’s so very hard to let go of how things have been and embrace how things must become. I have spent most of my life on the fringe in some way or another. Divorced parents before that was very normal, a dead parent before that was likely for most people, bookish, political, dreamy and odd. Sometimes horrendously outspoken, other times terrified. I gravitated towards others like me and reveled in the acceptance and freedom of those all dressed in black or screaming angry lyrics, or pounding poetry into the air with a vehemence most 20 year olds didn’t cultivate. And I wandered into technology, a lone female capable with a shell script or screwdriver, after being forced by money away from Chaucer’s canonical bosom. My music, the people I loved, the meaning for everything came from the fringe.

And however I might fight it, however it might terrify me–I don’t really live there anymore. We have a mortgage (now declining in value), yard work, 2 cars to take care of, pets, a nine year marriage and most importantly a young daughter. We go to PTO meetings and volunteer at her school. We’re still left of center and more Buddhist than Christian but don’t discount anyone’s beliefs, nor feel the need to chastise them. In our youth my husband and I were rebels. Now? We’re like a lot of other grown up rebels. We aren’t terribly unique. More open minded than usual perhaps, more likely to try new music or a new activity, slower to grow all the way up perhaps. Now though it becomes obvious that different isn’t so very different. Because we all grew up. And now the things that set us apart from the person next to us aren’t as important as the things that make us the same. 

Once or twice a year the last 4 years I’ve ended up back in my old types of haunts or around younger, much younger, denizens of the the fringes. I’d stay up too late, get far too intense and unfortunately….become maternal. The youth and age inside me fighting for dominance. I’d have conversations I’d had repeatedly 10, 20 years ago. But as a parent now I start trying to “hear them” and “help them.” Which isn’t the point. While far younger than me, they certainly don’t require that from me. They need to push against me–not me in particular, just older adults, just people where I am, who have had experiences (like college, a career, a child) like I have had. This isn’t a bad impulse, just badly applied. I need to find an outlet for this–someplace I can do good. Some situation, where me paying attention, caring and nurturing even, is appropriate and helpful. Like it is with my daughter and her friends. As I hope it will be if I become a teacher.

So while that young man was rude and said some horrible things obviously designed to hurt me, I’m grateful he did. He didn’t prove the point he thought to–my age and experience does qualify me to decide that. However, he did show me where I don’t belong anymore and what I don’t need to be doing. Even only once or twice a year. Having an intense, soul searching conversation with a 25 year old on their turf and an intense souls searching conversation with a fellow 40 year old on your own shared territory are two wildly different things. One is the wrong thing for me to do, the other is right. It may actually be a moral question.

So, if I need to volunteer my time at high school debate tournaments, political campaigns and my daughter’s school and work at this new career of being a teacher–that is likely where my time is best spent. It is where I am supposed to be. I’ve been afraid of giving my energy to those things whole heartedly–afraid to love it all again. Why? I’m not entirely sure — I know now though that I must and will become comfortable with my age, my position as one growing into  an elder who can both guide and withstand rebellion, and that I must leave behind those jaunts back into my 20s– that I’ll be embracing rather than refusing, rather than fighting–maybe I will stride towards the final destination, the final breath, and end surrounded by love, memories of my own and other’s children and how I hopefully loved and helped them. I’ll end with the knowledge I made a difference. An everlasting yea rather than a relentless denial of what comes to us all.

The door slammed closed the other night, but the window is open wide and the vista beyond welcoming, terrifying and necessary.

Miss Ninny August 2007

Wednesday, October 1st, 2008 | Uncategorized | No Comments

Miss Ninny August 2007

Originally uploaded by jyllianm

I miss you miss ninny pop. It’s been a year now and we still notice our girl missing every day. 18 years wasn’t quite enough, but then anything short of forever wouldn’t have been enough.

Carl

Saturday, September 20th, 2008 | Uncategorized | No Comments

Carl L. Williams, M. D., of Fayetteville, Ark., passed away peacefully after a long illness on Sept. 11, 2008, at the Circle of Life Hospice in Springdale, Ark. He was born Sept. 28, 1929, in Schenectady, N. Y., grew up in Mount Ida, Ark., and graduated Mount Ida High School in 1947. He attended Henderson State Teachers College in Arkadelphia and graduated University of Arkansas Medical School in 1954, cum laude.

He completed a surgical residency at the University of Kansas Medical Center, a cardiovascular-thoracic surgery fellowship at the Bowman Gray School of Medicine, Winston-Salem, N. C., and a traveling cardiovascular fellowship at Duke University, North Carolina Baptist Hospital, and the Osteen VA Hospital. He served as a lieutenant commander in the United States Navy.

He was the designated surgeon for Presidents Gerald R. Ford and William J. Clinton at the dedication of St. Edward Medical Center in Fort Smith, and the dedication of the Virginia Clinton Garden in Hope. A cardiovascular thoracic surgeon, Dr. Williams pioneered open heart surgery in western Arkansas and eastern Oklahoma.

He is survived by his wife, Jacqueline of the home; Robin Williams-Schnader of Reinholds, Pa., Larry Williams of Richland, Mich., Jacqueline Williams-Scott of Abbotsford, B. C., Elaine Williams-Korzekwa of Harrisburg, Pa., Mark Williams of Starkville, Miss., Carole Boyd-Haws, Jyllian and James Martini of Fayetteville. He is survived by his loving grandchildren, Sarah, Brendan, Alexander and Michele Scott; Nathan, Allie, Claire and Sadie Rose Korzekwa; Holly and Andrew Schnader; Rachel and Ben Williams; Jacqueline Payton Haws; Emily Martini; and Bela and Kyler Williams.

He was a loving husband, father and grandfather. He was a longtime Razorback supporter and was actively involved in his family activities, including snow skiing, canoeing, basketball, volleyball, camping and attending his grandchildren’s activities. He will be sorely missed by his devoted family.

A memorial service will be held at St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Fayetteville on Sunday, Sept. 14, at 2 p.m. with the Rev. Suzanne Stoner officiating.

In lieu of flowers, memorials may be sent to the Circle of Life Hospice, 901 Jones Road, Springdale, Ark. 72762; St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, P. O. Box 1190, Fayetteville, Ark. 72702; or the Humane Society of the Ozarks Inc., 413 N. College, Fayetteville, Ark. 72701. To sign the online guest book, visit www. mooresfuneralchapel. com.

Your shadow at morning striding behind you /Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;/I will show you fear in a handful of dust.

Wednesday, August 27th, 2008 | Age, Angst, Everything old is new again | No Comments

~T.S. Eliot from The Wasteland

Again and still it is hard to find the desire to say the things I used to say here without much effort. I have always written easily and frequently, until about December of last year. A horrid thing happened and simultaneously my desire to write about anything going on mostly left. I keep coming back to it because it was such an apalling situation , unfathomable, vicious and bizarre–like a bomb going off in our family psyche. The situation has not resolved itself, it probably can’t. It sure did change a lot of things.

Other things are changing though. Big changes.

I’ve had a very intense health scare. Don’t know what we can do about it either.

I started back at the gym. Up to 1. 5 hours 4 or 5 times a week. It’s been about 2 months now. It’s helping my auto immune issues, some of them. It’s helping my energy issues. My body looks better and I’m stronger. J is going to start going with me, but meantime he keeps breaking boards and getting new belts. And becoming such a part of the community here. We’re both learning to not hang back so much, to join more.

Yes we have volunteered for the Obama campaign. Our choice from the beginning. I don’t talk about politics much on here, but it has a big part in my life, always has since I worked on my first mock campaign for Jimmy Carter and worked on John Anderson’s real campaign even though I was too young to vote. I may write more about the issues of this campaign her, depends on if I can not just implode at the insanity of some of the right’s attacks.

The Bean’s grandfather is in hospice care now. It’s been getting steadily worse since June. I’m very sorry for his prolonged pain. For my mother’s prolonged pain. For his children’s. It goes on and on. J has been so incredibly kind in his visits to Carl. We haven’t taken the Bean up to the various hospitals because it’s been scary. We’ll all be going up this weekend, and then once a week at least.

The Bean has started first grade. It’s very exciting. It’s also shocking we have a first grader. She’s growing and changing so fast. She had some great camps this summer –drama, soccer, swimming, musical theatre. She makes friends so easily and is so confident. I had a couple of counselors stop me, one in particular and tell me how polite but also how very kind she is. That he hadn’t met a kid so very sweet like her before. I am so proud of her. We are so proud of her and so lucky to have such an amazing bean. a

And I’ve started school. Orignially I enrolled in an intro level class in Education. After talking to an advisor I guess I’m fast tracked. I’ve got 2 pre requisited to get under my belt, a portfolio, a test and by this summer, hopefully, I’ll be in the Master of Arts in Teaching program. And by the next summer, well I’ll have my initial license. Then a bit after that…an ESL endorsement as well. It’s a lot harder to go back to school now, with a family, as an older student and so long out of school. I almost didn’t do it, but J kept pushing me to try for this dream I had back in high school. Yes I always wanted to be a high school English teacher. I wish I’[d done it then, but maybe just maybe I’ll be able to do it now. And if it turns out not to be the thing? At least I will have tried. I know from recent events–it isn’t what you do so much that you regret, it is what you leave undone. And finally that MA in English will get some use. I hope.

Hope things get better, hope things get more connected, hope for the future, hope for ease, hope that perches in your soul.

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As flies to wanton boys, are we to the gods; they kill us for their sport

Wednesday, July 16th, 2008 | Age, Angst, Daily blather, Fayetteville, San Francisco, miscarriage, pregnancy | No Comments

Once again I’ll thank you for the pokes and proddings to catch up, to write more. We’ve had an eventful last several weeks, both good and bad. The bad is that my stepfather has returned to the hospital then been moved back to the skilled nursing facility. He won’t be leaving there anytime soon. My mother almost never leaves. When she does he gets upset which saddens her. She needs to take more time for herself and I’ve said so and she will if she feels like she can.

I’ve had a health scare myself. I don’t want to go further into it than that. It was a frightening miscommunication between the doctor and myself. When everything was sorted out the news is still not wonderful but much less bad. It was a terrifying 48 hours though. Really horrible. Life flashing before my eyes and all that. The news that is isn’t great but there are things we can do.

We’ve been very busy with the Bean. She’s been in soccer camp, Drama camp and this week swim and fitness camp. They meet a different parks for three hours a day and the folks work for the parks, the schools and are interested in becoming teachers. They are wonderful. Very patient and encouraging. It’s kept Bean from being bored out of her mind during a wet and upsetting summer.

I’ve joined a gym. I have very little idea what I’m doing. I lift weights for 30 or 40 minutes in no set order every other day. Arms,legs and abdomen. I run like a rat on the wheel for 30-50 minutes every day of the week. I wonder how long it will take to see a difference? I’m guessing about 5 weeks. That’s what it took before all those miscarriages. I’d lost 20 some odd pounds and had a nice bit o definition in my abs. And so I’m back to the drawing board and trying not to be too hard on myself. Having the Ipod and two new Abney Park CDs helps a lot. I’m just hoping if I sweat a lot that means I’m getting somewhere.

I organized an outting to the incredible Ravenwood Festival on the 12th. We had to leave a little earlier than I’d hoped (the Bean was staying with my sister ALL NIGHT~!!)and missed the after party, but it was still wonderful. Abney Park is my new passion. I liked them before but seeing them live and actually talking to them–well they are both talented and nice. And gorgeous, all of them. It was the big fun to get dressed up again. J and I spend so much time being parents and doing our life things that we don’t have much time for our preferred pasttimes (involving dressing up, random spookiness and music usually)so it was bliss to get to do this. George’s was transformed and the Bands were AMAZING. I’ve got several CDs to pick up soon. I think I’ve already worn out my Abney Park’s Lost Horizon’s

I suggested J’s outfit and helped dress the girls. J loaned G2 some old Docs with buckles he had. And I got to wear a flouncy skirt AND my paratrouper boots. Yes, that was good.

That’s me with forceps from the turn of the century by way of Lisa. I had a monocle from then as well.

That is the very handsome Captain Robert

And again.

Ms. Lisa

Gary and Laura

J and I

Tags: family, Fayetteville, illness, Steampunk

The sun upon all things that grow, Falls in sleepy streams~Yeats

Thursday, June 19th, 2008 | Age, Angst, family | No Comments

And it’s been another while. I’m not entirely sure why. Some of it is just life and a lot to do and keep track of. Some is just …well I hope it doesn’t mean I’ve lost the urge to write. I hope it simply means that this is a “…sea-change/Into something rich and strange” and not a loss complete.

It’s been a very intense month. Very good in some ways with J’s big birthday party (which I hope to write about with pictures) and with summer camps (2 -3 hours a day of theatre or soccer)swimming and fireflies for the Bean but very very hard in others. My stepfather is gravely ill and can no longer be at home. He’s been in the hospital for almost three (?) weeks now. Honestly I don’t know if it is two or three. It’s been so desparate this time: another stroke, he’s just not making as much progress as anyone wants. We have to simultaneously hope for one thing and prepare for another. He has five kids and about a million grandkids and just about everyone is here. My sister is most excellent in being an emotional support for Mom and just jumping into situations and helping. This is not my forte at all. I’ve always been a bit distant from my stepfamily though certainly the angst and anger are no longer there–it’s just been so many years that I’ve been away, I feel odd about inserting myself. My sister, being younger and around the group much much more than I was in the last 20 years, knows more how to communicate with them and help them get what they need. So I cook and take over food. Clean up where I can. Run errands. J and I have both been by the hospital but we haven’t taken the Bean. 6 is just too young in my book and she’s sensitive enough that I worry it would be too much. She saw him the week before this happened and talked with him and sat on his lap and gave him many hugs . That is the picture I want in her head.

I wish I could help more. I wish the gap between us all didn’t exist but it does and all I can do is be as helpful as I can think to be and hope that gives comfort to those who need it most. I know how hard it was when I lost my dad and I miss him to this day. I can only hope that somewhere in this process is ease, peace and comfort for C and for his/my family.

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Twenty Shadows

Wednesday, April 30th, 2008 | miscarriage, pregnancy | 2 Comments

Every time I see another infertility blog announce a birth…I wait to see the picture of the baby, almost as if I don’t believe it. I think about that lovely babyhead smell, that incredible miracle looking back at you with sweetly unfocused eyes in which you can see the vast potential for life, those tiny toes and fingers that somehow are more delectable than the finest truffle…

I think about all that and I delete the blog off my list.

I still get angy in the maternity section of clothing stores. I don’t get angry when I see pregnant women or small babies. I mark each month off in my calendar resignedly, wistfully and sometimes fearfully. More often fearfully.

I wonder when this will stop?  Menopause perhaps, or not, if that comes early. So when? When will the sorrow and reflections of sorrow leave. When will the anger be not even a memory?

Each substance of a grief hath twenty shadows,
Which shows like grief itself, but is not so;
For sorrow’s eye, glazed with blinding tears,
Divides one thing entire to many objects;
Like perspectives, which rightly gazed upon
Show nothing but confusion,….

Richard II