I haven't blogged in about 9 months, and I must say, I miss it. Writing (even an informal blog) helps me to process things and put ideas into perspective. I think one of the biggest drawbacks to being single and living alone is that there isn't someone always around to talk about the day-to-day things--no one to bounce things off of. I think that blogging helps to fill this need.
I have also made a pretty big transition this past year (the last 4 years have really stretched me) and I needed time to process all the changes. Part of it was I feared that there were some who would judge me for what I wrote--which only proves what a big transition occurred--why should I care what others may think of me or my writing? The other part was no wireless internet. Whatever the reasons, I didn't blog, and I want to start again.
However, I feel that A Michigander Grows in Brooklyn no longer identifies me. I mean, I no longer live in Brooklyn, or New York for that matter. So I had to choose a new blog name, something that I feel identifies me and my current lifestyle. And my common life theme, that keeps playing in my head, is that I am living my life backwards. So I'm starting a new blog, Living My Backward's Life. http://livingmybackwardslife.blogspot.com/
I hope you enjoy it. And if you don't, well, it's really just for me anyways.
Monday, May 16, 2011
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Welcome to Bowlero Lounge!
I had an interview Monday for an admin job in Royal Oak. I spent most of yesterday running an errand for my son, my time got cut close, so he ended up taking me to the interview and dropping me off. (Plus I still don't have a car so I'm a little more dependent upon others.) He still had an errand to run and thought I would be tied up longer than the 12 minutes I actually spent interviewing. (12 minutes may not have been enough time for her to evaluate me, but it definitely was enough time for me to know that I wouldn't want to work there!) We were to meet at the McDonald's Jr. said was at the end of the street.
So I leave the interview, walk down the street, and lo and behold, no McDonald's!
Me (on phone to Jr.): There's no McD's here.
Jr.: Oops! (I know he said this with a smile.) I guess it's about a mile down the road.
Me: How long until you get here? (It was about 90 outside.)
Jr.: I'm not sure.
Me: Well, I'm going to the bowling alley across the street to wait.
Which brings me to the Bowlero...The bowling alley lounge was air conditioned, and surprisingly crowded. All regulars. And me (who was referred to as new girl.) I felt like I took a step back about 20 years, when I wouldn't think it a bad thing to sit on a bar stool for a bit and talk to strangers who I would think of as friends. But a lot has changed for me.
It was quite an odd experience. I ordered a diet coke. I was introduced to the barmaid and the regulars sitting at the bar. And introduced to everyone else as they came into the bar. Every person knew every other person. It was like a little family. I was sung to. Really. Two of the regulars sang me 'Welcome to Bowlero' sung to a familiar tune that I can't remember now. I found them to be very friendly. But also a little sad.
As I'm writing this, I'm thinking fondly of how the people at that bar were their own community. And we all need a community. We all need to belong to something. But then I re-read the texts I sent to Jr. before he finally came to get me. They tell a different story...
"OMG come soon!"
"Ghetto with a capital G"
"Call me when you get here."
I guess I need to work on not being judgmental...
So I leave the interview, walk down the street, and lo and behold, no McDonald's!
Me (on phone to Jr.): There's no McD's here.
Jr.: Oops! (I know he said this with a smile.) I guess it's about a mile down the road.
Me: How long until you get here? (It was about 90 outside.)
Jr.: I'm not sure.
Me: Well, I'm going to the bowling alley across the street to wait.
Which brings me to the Bowlero...The bowling alley lounge was air conditioned, and surprisingly crowded. All regulars. And me (who was referred to as new girl.) I felt like I took a step back about 20 years, when I wouldn't think it a bad thing to sit on a bar stool for a bit and talk to strangers who I would think of as friends. But a lot has changed for me.
It was quite an odd experience. I ordered a diet coke. I was introduced to the barmaid and the regulars sitting at the bar. And introduced to everyone else as they came into the bar. Every person knew every other person. It was like a little family. I was sung to. Really. Two of the regulars sang me 'Welcome to Bowlero' sung to a familiar tune that I can't remember now. I found them to be very friendly. But also a little sad.
As I'm writing this, I'm thinking fondly of how the people at that bar were their own community. And we all need a community. We all need to belong to something. But then I re-read the texts I sent to Jr. before he finally came to get me. They tell a different story...
"OMG come soon!"
"Ghetto with a capital G"
"Call me when you get here."
I guess I need to work on not being judgmental...
Thursday, July 22, 2010
"Kate's Not Gay!"
Last Saturday I'm having coffee with a friend, a guy I've known for about 10 years. It was the first time we've had to catch up since I moved back. It was great to see him. During our hours long conversation, he starts laughing, some might say giggling. A mutual acquaintance mentioned to him that she knew I was gay. He told me he laughed out loud and said, "Kate's Not Gay!"
What? Maybe that's the reason men aren't beating down the door to ask me out? Am I giving off some kind of 'gay vibe?' I mean to each his own, but I'm totally straight (and a good catch, in my opinion!) So I can either believe that men are just clueless or I'm giving off a vibe. Hmmm, I think I'll go with (and I'm using about 20 years of dating experience here) that men are clueless!
What? Maybe that's the reason men aren't beating down the door to ask me out? Am I giving off some kind of 'gay vibe?' I mean to each his own, but I'm totally straight (and a good catch, in my opinion!) So I can either believe that men are just clueless or I'm giving off a vibe. Hmmm, I think I'll go with (and I'm using about 20 years of dating experience here) that men are clueless!
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Biking To Church, Only 1 NDE
NDE=Near Death Experience. Easy to come by when you ride your bike in the suburbs. I can not believe how careless drivers are with their cars. I rode my bike last night about 9 miles from my home to church. And had to be so alert it was unbelievable!
Okay, here's my NDE. I'm riding on the sidewalk down John R. towards Square Lake Rd. As I'm approaching an intersection, a street, at a fairly good pace, a woman drives up and across the crosswalk. She never even looks to her right, only her left. She's on her cell phone. I slam on my brakes and my bike skids out and I come within an inch of her car. I really wanted to hit her car, but since my bike would have been damaged, and because it wouldn't be the right thing to do, I didn't.
I yelled something like, 'hey, lady, watch out!' She still doesn't look at me--too busy with her cell phone conversation, probably--and I yelled something else like, 'you almost hit me! get off your cell phone!' She never acknowledged me, I'm not sure she ever saw me...scary.
Since I'm on a rant, I may as well finish with how to walk/jog/bike on a sidewalk--just some common sense things. So if you ever walk/jog/bike on a sidewalk, keep these things in mind. And if there's something I'm overlooking, please share your comments, I want to be a polite pedestrian/runner/biker.
Keep to your right. Don't have your ipod on so loud you can't hear someone yell at you. When you hear 'on your left' that means someone is behind you and going faster than you and is planning on passing you on your left--don't move to your left, just stay where you are. If there are three of you walking and you see a biker coming from the opposite direction, one of you should move. Really, just one. If your house has bushes that block the sidewalk, please trim them. When someone passes you and says, "thank you," it's ok, and even polite, to say "you're welcome."
To those few of you, and I do mean few, who let me pass in front of their car, waved me through, and the one guy who said, "you're welcome," THANK YOU for making my ride safer!
Okay, here's my NDE. I'm riding on the sidewalk down John R. towards Square Lake Rd. As I'm approaching an intersection, a street, at a fairly good pace, a woman drives up and across the crosswalk. She never even looks to her right, only her left. She's on her cell phone. I slam on my brakes and my bike skids out and I come within an inch of her car. I really wanted to hit her car, but since my bike would have been damaged, and because it wouldn't be the right thing to do, I didn't.
I yelled something like, 'hey, lady, watch out!' She still doesn't look at me--too busy with her cell phone conversation, probably--and I yelled something else like, 'you almost hit me! get off your cell phone!' She never acknowledged me, I'm not sure she ever saw me...scary.
Since I'm on a rant, I may as well finish with how to walk/jog/bike on a sidewalk--just some common sense things. So if you ever walk/jog/bike on a sidewalk, keep these things in mind. And if there's something I'm overlooking, please share your comments, I want to be a polite pedestrian/runner/biker.
Keep to your right. Don't have your ipod on so loud you can't hear someone yell at you. When you hear 'on your left' that means someone is behind you and going faster than you and is planning on passing you on your left--don't move to your left, just stay where you are. If there are three of you walking and you see a biker coming from the opposite direction, one of you should move. Really, just one. If your house has bushes that block the sidewalk, please trim them. When someone passes you and says, "thank you," it's ok, and even polite, to say "you're welcome."
To those few of you, and I do mean few, who let me pass in front of their car, waved me through, and the one guy who said, "you're welcome," THANK YOU for making my ride safer!
City of Troy, You Should Be Ashamed
Yes, ashamed! Your sidewalks are in terrible shape. They end without warning. They're not smooth. Not easy to navigate when having to bike everywhere. Lord knows I wouldn't dare drive on the streets with the crazy MI drivers! So I am forced to use your sidewalks. But I'm not happy about it.
City of Royal Oak, It is a PLEASURE to ride your sidewalks and live in your fair city! Kudos!
City of Royal Oak, It is a PLEASURE to ride your sidewalks and live in your fair city! Kudos!
Friday, July 16, 2010
Last Visit with My Father
I am so often inspired by something I see, hear or read. This is not the first time I was moved to tears and to write after reading MOTPG. (Mom of the Perpetually Grounded. I'd insert a link to her blog, but you, my readers, should know I don't know how to do anything technical like that!)
The summer before I turned 40 (5 years ago, I can hardly believe the passing of time...) I took my very first vacation. Not the first vacation I've ever been on, but the first vacation I've ever been on for me. I went to Georgia for the weekend to learn how to climb trees at Tree Climbers International. (see above for link insert.) That was a great trip which sparked a new but ever-present hobby, but the connection it holds to this post is that I was out of town.
My Dad had been living with my sister for about two years before that summer, up until a few months when he went into a nursing home. Now nursing homes have a special memory to me, and it is not a good memory. My Great Grandmother was in a nursing home in Benton Harbor and when I was young, I don't know, 6 or 7 or 8, we used to be taken there to visit her. I really have no memories of my Great Grandmother other than her in a nursing home. She was an old woman who would yell out in German to us. She would say things to my Grandmother and she didn't recognize my Mother. For me, I just wanted to leave, but I also realized how important it was for my Mother and Grandmother to visit her. And my dear Great Aunt Dot (who I later learned was called Dot not because she wore polka dots, but because it was short for Dorothy. I still smile and am comforted by polka dots to this day because of her and my memory of her.)
So it was hard for me to see my Dad in a nursing home. And I didn't get the chance to visit him often there as he died soon after moving in. My son was away for the summer, interning at the White House. My son and Father were very close. I was a single parent and we lived the first twelve years of his life with my parents in the home I grew up in. (The first ten with both my parents, until my Mother died.) So they were close; there was a great relationship between my son and both of my parents. My son never had to see his Grandfather in a nursing home, and I think that was my Dad's plan. I don't know what it says on my Father's Death Certificate and what was the official cause of death, but for me it will always be that he just was too tired and he just gave up--It was just too hard for him to live.
So that brings me to my last visit with my Father. My son was away for the summer and I was about to go on my first vacation. I went to visit my Dad a few days before I left. I pulled the curtain closed on his semi-private room; I sat with him on his bed; I gave him a manicure. He was pretty much non-responsive, at least until I cut a nail too short... I read to him from the Bible. I still remember what passage. Psalm 51. I'm sure I was inspired to read that passage to him. I hope it gave him some relief, some peace. It remains one of my favorite Psalms, bringing me both peace and sadness when I read it. He died less than a week later when I was in Atlanta.
I know my Father is in Heaven along with my Mother. I look forward to seeing them both again one day. I will always remember the last visit with my Father. And I will remember the last gift my Father gave: not having my son have the memories of visiting his Grandfather in a nursing home.
The summer before I turned 40 (5 years ago, I can hardly believe the passing of time...) I took my very first vacation. Not the first vacation I've ever been on, but the first vacation I've ever been on for me. I went to Georgia for the weekend to learn how to climb trees at Tree Climbers International. (see above for link insert.) That was a great trip which sparked a new but ever-present hobby, but the connection it holds to this post is that I was out of town.
My Dad had been living with my sister for about two years before that summer, up until a few months when he went into a nursing home. Now nursing homes have a special memory to me, and it is not a good memory. My Great Grandmother was in a nursing home in Benton Harbor and when I was young, I don't know, 6 or 7 or 8, we used to be taken there to visit her. I really have no memories of my Great Grandmother other than her in a nursing home. She was an old woman who would yell out in German to us. She would say things to my Grandmother and she didn't recognize my Mother. For me, I just wanted to leave, but I also realized how important it was for my Mother and Grandmother to visit her. And my dear Great Aunt Dot (who I later learned was called Dot not because she wore polka dots, but because it was short for Dorothy. I still smile and am comforted by polka dots to this day because of her and my memory of her.)
So it was hard for me to see my Dad in a nursing home. And I didn't get the chance to visit him often there as he died soon after moving in. My son was away for the summer, interning at the White House. My son and Father were very close. I was a single parent and we lived the first twelve years of his life with my parents in the home I grew up in. (The first ten with both my parents, until my Mother died.) So they were close; there was a great relationship between my son and both of my parents. My son never had to see his Grandfather in a nursing home, and I think that was my Dad's plan. I don't know what it says on my Father's Death Certificate and what was the official cause of death, but for me it will always be that he just was too tired and he just gave up--It was just too hard for him to live.
So that brings me to my last visit with my Father. My son was away for the summer and I was about to go on my first vacation. I went to visit my Dad a few days before I left. I pulled the curtain closed on his semi-private room; I sat with him on his bed; I gave him a manicure. He was pretty much non-responsive, at least until I cut a nail too short... I read to him from the Bible. I still remember what passage. Psalm 51. I'm sure I was inspired to read that passage to him. I hope it gave him some relief, some peace. It remains one of my favorite Psalms, bringing me both peace and sadness when I read it. He died less than a week later when I was in Atlanta.
I know my Father is in Heaven along with my Mother. I look forward to seeing them both again one day. I will always remember the last visit with my Father. And I will remember the last gift my Father gave: not having my son have the memories of visiting his Grandfather in a nursing home.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Shutter Island
Well, I'm just going to write this so others can read it. It's kind of a confession and I'm feel a little sick to my stomach as I type. I think Leo DiCaprio is a good actor. That's right. I THINK LEO DICAPRIO IS A GOOD ACTOR! He did a great job in Shutter Island, which I highly recommend.
Funny, I have always liked his movies, from Titanic, Catch Me If You Can, The Aviator, The Departed, What's Eating Gilbert Grape. I haven't seen a lot of them, I admit, but the ones I saw I thought were really good. And with Titanic, I really could not understand all the hoopla he received. I enjoyed the movie, and his character, but didn't picture him as a sex symbol. Thought he just happened to get the right part. But now I have to (swallow) take back my previous opinion. He may just have been a good actor all along.
So here's to you, Leonardo DiCaprio! Cheers!
Funny, I have always liked his movies, from Titanic, Catch Me If You Can, The Aviator, The Departed, What's Eating Gilbert Grape. I haven't seen a lot of them, I admit, but the ones I saw I thought were really good. And with Titanic, I really could not understand all the hoopla he received. I enjoyed the movie, and his character, but didn't picture him as a sex symbol. Thought he just happened to get the right part. But now I have to (swallow) take back my previous opinion. He may just have been a good actor all along.
So here's to you, Leonardo DiCaprio! Cheers!
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Mermaid Parade
Another post I started in June but for some reason, never posted...until now.
You may or may not know, but NYC is a city of Parades and Festivals. There is a street fair every weekend in the summer somewhere in the city. And more parades than you can count. Of course the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade is popular. And there's the St. Patrick's Day Parade that is also quite popular. Then you have the Gay Pride Parade, Puerto Rican Festival and Parade, Halloween Parade, all many of you have heard of. (I've actually been to all of these parades/festivals except for one this past year; can you guess which one?)
Pic of me, Brad and Mike at the Macy's Parade 2009.
One you may not be familiar with is the Mermaid Parade. And that's where I was today. At Coney Island in Brooklyn, watching the most unusual parade I've ever heard of. (Or seen, and considering my first paragraph, that's pretty unusual!) The main street (Surf Ave.) is blocked off and hundreds of people dress in a variety of costumes. There are a lot of mermaids, of course, along with a variety of fish, sharks, seahorses, a man wearing a suit of used metro cards and his wife a dress of the same 'fabric,' octopuses, etc. There were also plenty of people who collaborated and came as a group. For example, there was 'Scarfish' some gangster looking mermaids and mermans holding a sign that read, "say hello to my little fish." Very clever.
The best part (the best part of all my city adventures) is the friends I went with. Kansas, his boyfriend, and his roommate. We were even joined by a girl from my church (who gets the credit for the photos.) How I'll miss the quirky events from NYC and how I already miss Kansas and James!
You may or may not know, but NYC is a city of Parades and Festivals. There is a street fair every weekend in the summer somewhere in the city. And more parades than you can count. Of course the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade is popular. And there's the St. Patrick's Day Parade that is also quite popular. Then you have the Gay Pride Parade, Puerto Rican Festival and Parade, Halloween Parade, all many of you have heard of. (I've actually been to all of these parades/festivals except for one this past year; can you guess which one?)
Pic of me, Brad and Mike at the Macy's Parade 2009.
One you may not be familiar with is the Mermaid Parade. And that's where I was today. At Coney Island in Brooklyn, watching the most unusual parade I've ever heard of. (Or seen, and considering my first paragraph, that's pretty unusual!) The main street (Surf Ave.) is blocked off and hundreds of people dress in a variety of costumes. There are a lot of mermaids, of course, along with a variety of fish, sharks, seahorses, a man wearing a suit of used metro cards and his wife a dress of the same 'fabric,' octopuses, etc. There were also plenty of people who collaborated and came as a group. For example, there was 'Scarfish' some gangster looking mermaids and mermans holding a sign that read, "say hello to my little fish." Very clever.
The best part (the best part of all my city adventures) is the friends I went with. Kansas, his boyfriend, and his roommate. We were even joined by a girl from my church (who gets the credit for the photos.) How I'll miss the quirky events from NYC and how I already miss Kansas and James!
Check Out My New Wheels
Yep, I'm back living the life of a 12 year old. My mode of transportation. Pretty fancy, huh?
Thanks to my future daughter-in-law for this picture. I left their house a week ago the same time they did. I could hear their laughter as they pulled next to me and snapped this action shot. Sometimes I think I can still hear their laughter...
Thanks to my future daughter-in-law for this picture. I left their house a week ago the same time they did. I could hear their laughter as they pulled next to me and snapped this action shot. Sometimes I think I can still hear their laughter...
Keys
Ok, so I moved back to MI from NYC almost two weeks ago. I'm finally feeling adjusted. I must say that I'm more relaxed than I have been in probably years. There is so much that I want to write about, the transition, the move, things leading up to the move...But since I haven't posted in so long, I'm going to just start writing about what is happening now, and maybe at some point I'll get around to the past month or so.
So what I was thinking about today is, I have a keychain with three keys on it: One for the House I'm staying at with friends; One for my 10' Storage Unit in Rochester Hills that I never got rid of (good thing, because that's where most of my stuff is! Everything except two suitcases and a few plastic bins, some of which is with me, some which now resides with my son.); and One for my Bike lock.
I don't think I've ever had so few keys on a key chain before. And it feels pretty good, too!
So what I was thinking about today is, I have a keychain with three keys on it: One for the House I'm staying at with friends; One for my 10' Storage Unit in Rochester Hills that I never got rid of (good thing, because that's where most of my stuff is! Everything except two suitcases and a few plastic bins, some of which is with me, some which now resides with my son.); and One for my Bike lock.
I don't think I've ever had so few keys on a key chain before. And it feels pretty good, too!
Monday, June 21, 2010
Obedience
Something clicked for me today. Something important. An answer to a question that I didn't remember asking. Or maybe I do remember the questions I posed to God many times over the last 3 years. Something like: "Why, God? Why am I being moved so far from my family? Why do I need to be in a place where I have no friends? Why this time, why this place?"
This morning, during my time with God, (Today is my first day of being unemployed, and I can't even explain how glorious it is to have nothing on my agenda and just spend as much time as I need to with him!) I was reading chapter three in 'Secrets of the Secret Place' to prepare for tonight's Bible Study. And a consistent theme arose. Obedience.
Suddenly, everything seemed to fit. Every lesson from the time I heard God tell me to move to NYC, through the confirmations I received that I was, indeed, supposed to move, to every lesson learned through painful experiences and joyful experiences, a need to rely on others but especially on God, the call that I was released from Communitas (the church plant from MI that I moved to NYC to start), my acceptance to Columbia University and the understanding that I can't go there if I don't live in NYC, to looking at pictures of my granddaughter on facebook and realizing that I will get to see her grow up in person.
Things I wanted to do; things I didn't want to do; exciting things; lonely times; happy times; new friends I can call family. I'm not sure how to articulate all the memories swirling around my head this morning. I have had the hardest three years of my life, and also the very best three years of my life. For the first time I was living my life for God, but also living my life for myself. Being such a young mother, from the time I was a child, my first concerns have been for my son and what would be best for him. Suddenly, I was able to live a life for myself.
I have gone through many trials and tribulations throughout my life, and I have always believed in Jesus, but I have not always (mostly) lived my life in a way that would be pleasing to him. But now, he has made his point. Or rather, I have understood his point! Above all, I must be obedient to what it is he wants. And although I have had ups and downs, I have been obedient. And I am so pleased that I have pleased God, that I am pleasing God.
I don't know what is in store for me next. I'm moving back to MI in 9 days. I don't have a job. I don't have a car. I have little savings. I don't have a place to call my own. But I do have a place to stay with friends. And I do have a bike. And I do have family and great friends. And I do have faith. And mostly I have the knowledge that I am being obedient, and that I want to continue to be obedient. And that makes me happy and gives me peace.
This morning, during my time with God, (Today is my first day of being unemployed, and I can't even explain how glorious it is to have nothing on my agenda and just spend as much time as I need to with him!) I was reading chapter three in 'Secrets of the Secret Place' to prepare for tonight's Bible Study. And a consistent theme arose. Obedience.
Suddenly, everything seemed to fit. Every lesson from the time I heard God tell me to move to NYC, through the confirmations I received that I was, indeed, supposed to move, to every lesson learned through painful experiences and joyful experiences, a need to rely on others but especially on God, the call that I was released from Communitas (the church plant from MI that I moved to NYC to start), my acceptance to Columbia University and the understanding that I can't go there if I don't live in NYC, to looking at pictures of my granddaughter on facebook and realizing that I will get to see her grow up in person.
Things I wanted to do; things I didn't want to do; exciting things; lonely times; happy times; new friends I can call family. I'm not sure how to articulate all the memories swirling around my head this morning. I have had the hardest three years of my life, and also the very best three years of my life. For the first time I was living my life for God, but also living my life for myself. Being such a young mother, from the time I was a child, my first concerns have been for my son and what would be best for him. Suddenly, I was able to live a life for myself.
I have gone through many trials and tribulations throughout my life, and I have always believed in Jesus, but I have not always (mostly) lived my life in a way that would be pleasing to him. But now, he has made his point. Or rather, I have understood his point! Above all, I must be obedient to what it is he wants. And although I have had ups and downs, I have been obedient. And I am so pleased that I have pleased God, that I am pleasing God.
I don't know what is in store for me next. I'm moving back to MI in 9 days. I don't have a job. I don't have a car. I have little savings. I don't have a place to call my own. But I do have a place to stay with friends. And I do have a bike. And I do have family and great friends. And I do have faith. And mostly I have the knowledge that I am being obedient, and that I want to continue to be obedient. And that makes me happy and gives me peace.
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Supportive Couple
So I had the opportunity to observe an unique couple this morning. It happened as I was on my way to my friend's apartment to attend a prayer walk. I transferred from the express train to the local train. I saw a stroller to my left, which in NYC means one of two possibilities. One, there is a person with a baby or, two, there is a homeless person with all their belongings. This was the second possibility, but instead of one homeless person it was a couple.
As I was happily listening to my ipod, I didn't quite notice them at first, or hear them, at least not for a few minutes. And then I heard her. She was yelling obscenities to a woman (who, apparently was fat, ugly and couldn't get a man) who I never saw. She was getting really mad. People started moving away from her to the other end of the train. The man with her was oblivious to anything that she was saying, and was quietly eating his sandwich.
And then she started to get quiet, and a sad look came upon her face. And she started to cry. And instantly the man with her started to comfort her with words as he draped his arm around her shoulder. "See, this is why I shouldn't be nice." (Of course, yelling obscenities to someone isn't what I would call being nice, but...) I didn't quite hear the words he spoke. But she had all of his attention.
It was very emotional and moving. Very raw. This is a tough city to live in. I am constantly exposed to people's pain in a way that it is on display for me. It's right there in front of you. In a matter of a few moments, I went from feeling disgust, annoyance, to a little envious of what that couple shared. I felt a few tears fall down my cheek. It's days like these that I think I'll never be the same. Hope that's true.
As I was happily listening to my ipod, I didn't quite notice them at first, or hear them, at least not for a few minutes. And then I heard her. She was yelling obscenities to a woman (who, apparently was fat, ugly and couldn't get a man) who I never saw. She was getting really mad. People started moving away from her to the other end of the train. The man with her was oblivious to anything that she was saying, and was quietly eating his sandwich.
And then she started to get quiet, and a sad look came upon her face. And she started to cry. And instantly the man with her started to comfort her with words as he draped his arm around her shoulder. "See, this is why I shouldn't be nice." (Of course, yelling obscenities to someone isn't what I would call being nice, but...) I didn't quite hear the words he spoke. But she had all of his attention.
It was very emotional and moving. Very raw. This is a tough city to live in. I am constantly exposed to people's pain in a way that it is on display for me. It's right there in front of you. In a matter of a few moments, I went from feeling disgust, annoyance, to a little envious of what that couple shared. I felt a few tears fall down my cheek. It's days like these that I think I'll never be the same. Hope that's true.
Friday, May 28, 2010
Friendship
Of all the things I have struggled with since moving to New York, loneliness is at the top of the list. It's funny how I can live in such a busy city, constantly surrounded by people, and yet be lonely. So I have put finding friends at the top of my prayer list. (A man would be nice as well, but really friends are what I miss the most.)
Two weeks ago, my prayer was answered. Not how I thought it would be (which is how my prayers are often answered) with a new friendship with someone who lives in the city, but exactly how I needed it to be.
I received an email a few weeks ago from my high school friend's sister, who would be in town with a friend that coming weekend. She would be in the city on Friday, would I have time to meet? My answer was yes, I'd love to see her. Since I have been friends with Cherie for such a long time (really I hate to think it's been that many years since high school!) I know her whole family; mother, step-father, sisters, brothers, cousins, aunts and uncles, grandparents. And I knew right away that this was an answer to my prayer for friends.
On Friday after work, I met Carol and Olga at the corner of 43rd and 6th, where they were dropped off after their SITC bus tour. They were meeting her cousin for dinner later that night, so I had a little bit of time to catch up and show them around a bit. (I actually had a lot more time than we thought--her cousin works long hours in the financial district, and he's Colombian. And if you have ever heard the expression 'Colombian time' you know that it is always later than they say, in this case 2 hours later!) So I showed them Bryant Park and we had a cocktail at the bar in the park. And BTW, if you're young and single, that is the place to be on a Friday after work--the place was overfilling with men! And I think I saw Crosby from the TV show Parenthood. And since I have yet to see a famous person since moving here, I'm going to go with the thought that it was him!)
After the park, Olga invited me to dinner. Of course, I said yes! We walked up 5th Avenue, stopped in St. Patrick's cathedral, and went to Times Square on our way to the restaurant where we waited (Colombian time) for Enrique, Olga's cousin. We had great Sangrias, a charming and good looking Latin waiter (Enrique taught me how to flirt with a Latin man--evidently you just have to say "Poppy" at the end of your sentence!), fabulous food (I think our dinner was served about 10pm) and so much laughter. Carol and Olga are such nice women and so fun that I thoroughly enjoyed myself. And I was reminded again to appreciate the moment that was right in front of me instead of wishing for something else. Prayer: Check. Prayer Answered: Check.
Two weeks ago, my prayer was answered. Not how I thought it would be (which is how my prayers are often answered) with a new friendship with someone who lives in the city, but exactly how I needed it to be.
I received an email a few weeks ago from my high school friend's sister, who would be in town with a friend that coming weekend. She would be in the city on Friday, would I have time to meet? My answer was yes, I'd love to see her. Since I have been friends with Cherie for such a long time (really I hate to think it's been that many years since high school!) I know her whole family; mother, step-father, sisters, brothers, cousins, aunts and uncles, grandparents. And I knew right away that this was an answer to my prayer for friends.
On Friday after work, I met Carol and Olga at the corner of 43rd and 6th, where they were dropped off after their SITC bus tour. They were meeting her cousin for dinner later that night, so I had a little bit of time to catch up and show them around a bit. (I actually had a lot more time than we thought--her cousin works long hours in the financial district, and he's Colombian. And if you have ever heard the expression 'Colombian time' you know that it is always later than they say, in this case 2 hours later!) So I showed them Bryant Park and we had a cocktail at the bar in the park. And BTW, if you're young and single, that is the place to be on a Friday after work--the place was overfilling with men! And I think I saw Crosby from the TV show Parenthood. And since I have yet to see a famous person since moving here, I'm going to go with the thought that it was him!)
After the park, Olga invited me to dinner. Of course, I said yes! We walked up 5th Avenue, stopped in St. Patrick's cathedral, and went to Times Square on our way to the restaurant where we waited (Colombian time) for Enrique, Olga's cousin. We had great Sangrias, a charming and good looking Latin waiter (Enrique taught me how to flirt with a Latin man--evidently you just have to say "Poppy" at the end of your sentence!), fabulous food (I think our dinner was served about 10pm) and so much laughter. Carol and Olga are such nice women and so fun that I thoroughly enjoyed myself. And I was reminded again to appreciate the moment that was right in front of me instead of wishing for something else. Prayer: Check. Prayer Answered: Check.
The Divine Ms. M. (and I don't mean Bette Midler)
I have had the greatest opportunity and experience the last 10 months or so, and the miracle is that I actually see it as such. What started out as what felt like my world crashing in around me has turned out to be a deeper healing of my spirit than I would have thought possible.
Back in August, I attended my monthly Women's Prayer Breakfast. I love these gatherings where I can be with women of different ages in different stages of faith. I always learn something and I always walk away feeling so complete and full. This particular day, during the meeting time, I completely lost it. I started crying and couldn't stop. The women present gathered about me, laid hands on me, and prayed for me. And Ms. M. reached out to me, and I accepted her help. And from that day on, I had a mentor.
There is so much that I could say about the many things I have learned since that morning: the healing I've experienced; that I don't have to live my future defined by my past; how to be vulnerable and trust another human being. But what I mostly want to talk about is Ms. M. and how she loved me.
Each week she set aside a day for us to meet. I would come straight from working in the Bronx to her place in Manhattan, then home to Brooklyn. Ms. M. told me not to worry about dinner, she would prepare something for me. Every week those first few months she cooked for me. I have never had someone take the time to prepare meals for me like that. (Of course, my parents made me thousands of meals, but it was more just a chore for them instead of them being able to show their love for me by cooking for me. Sadly, this is how I prepared most of my son's meals too--out of necessity or obligation rather than an opportunity to love on him.) She was consistent, and giving, and I learned to accept her kindness.
After dinner we would pray and talk and listen. I would journal throughout the week and share what I wrote with her. She instructed, guided, corrected and showed me a new way to live. In the beginning I would be so emotionally drained after our 'sessions' that I could hardly make it home--it was exhausting work. And so Ms. M. told me (yes, told me, since I had a hard time accepting any kindness) to bring clothes with me and to spend the night. So I did for many weeks.
And things got better for me. I learned so much. I learned how to rely on God no matter what. Today, I have a deeper relationship with Jesus than I ever have before. I am still learning, still growing. I continue to be inspired by Ms. M's faith and perseverance. I can never express in words what she means to me or how much gratitude I have for her friendship. I can only hope that one day I am able to do for another young woman what the Divine Ms. M. has done for me. And I think that's the best way to honor her.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Secret Talents
So I believe that we all have a secret talent. Most of us don't know what ours is. I know mine. This idea of a secret talent was introduced to me several years ago by my friend DH. Hers is finding things. A pretty useful secret talent, if you ask me.
Mine? Not so useful. And until this past month, it's never caused me any trouble either. It's finding four leaf clovers. Seriously. I've found hundreds of them in my life. Nothing more relaxing than sitting in a clover patch, searching for four leaf clovers. Really, I do find it relaxing.
But to the trouble part. I walk a pretty dangerous path on my way to work. There's a little curb next to the street with a raised brick flower bed I balance and walk across from the train to a shortcut tunnel. (And who doesn't like to use a shortcut on their way to work?) So this morning I'm walking and balancing and I notice a great big patch of clover. Of course, my secret talent takes over and I start to look for a four leaf clover. I lose my balance, fall in the street, and my backpack (which was pretty loaded with stuff and was heavy) kind of rolls me over on my side a little.
Well, I'm feeling pretty stupid. And clumsy. And luckily not too injured. A guy in a car asks out his window, 'Miss, you okay?' 'I'm fine,' I reply. After all, it's only my pride that hurts. I limp away, head to my office, detour to the ladies where I wash the dirt and pieces of gravel off my legs and think, 'that's the second time this month I tripped and fell in the road while looking at clovers.' Yep, I have a dangerous talent.
Luckily, I have a second secret talent, or maybe it's more of an ability. I have freakishly small wrists and can reach very small spaces. Ahhh, now that's a useful talent!
Okay, this is only a three leaf clover her daddy is handing her, but you can't fault me for throwing up a picture of the grandbaby now, can you?
Monday, May 24, 2010
Friends and Lovers
I can't help but to think that there's something inherently wrong with me. I have a difficult time making friends, I think I always have. And I am apparently repulsive to the opposite sex. I don't really know why. I have been questioning lately if my problem with forming new relationships is because I have a history of being rejected in my past. And I carry that baggage with me even when I don't want to. And how do I remedy this problem? I reject others first so they can't reject me. Well, that's unhealthy, but definitely true. But to what degree do I do this? Evidently enough to keep me from making new friends.
Isn't there part of me who just wants to be liked anyways? There is. I want someone to recognize that part of me that is still willing to give my heart away. To be vulnerable. To care, to love, to laugh. Can that part even be seen any longer? I think maybe it can't. And that saddens me to my core. And it's a shame. I am Loyal. And True. Aren't those great attributes to have in a lover or a friend? I think so.
I heard, not audibly, but I definitely felt God telling me last week that I don't have to stay in NYC. Not forever, anyway. Doesn't mean I can leave now, in fact, I don't know when I can leave. But it is the first time I have heard or felt that this move wasn't permanent. And that brought such joy to me that I could hardly contain myself. Even 'The Situation' couldn't keep me from being happy!
But now I'm thinking, what is in store for me when I go back to MI? Whenever that happens, I'll have to start over. Again. I will be happy to be around people who I genuinely like and who genuinely like me. (Here I love and am loved, but liked? Like is a strong word in my book.) My family. My friends. But how often did I get to see my friends when I lived there? My closest friends lived far away. And how would things change if I moved back? Was the purpose of me coming to NYC so that I would never live the same way again? Because I don't think I will. I don't think I can. Maybe it's simply fear that keeps me thinking about the future and the past, and what keeps me from staying in the present. And what is fear but lack of faith?
It's late. I'm tired. I'm sad. I can't sleep. (At least I finally quit sobbing--I'm sure my neighbor is pleased about that!) And it has a lot of 'ifs.' So I probably shouldn't post this. But, as Joel in Risky Business said, 'sometimes, you just gotta say...'
Isn't there part of me who just wants to be liked anyways? There is. I want someone to recognize that part of me that is still willing to give my heart away. To be vulnerable. To care, to love, to laugh. Can that part even be seen any longer? I think maybe it can't. And that saddens me to my core. And it's a shame. I am Loyal. And True. Aren't those great attributes to have in a lover or a friend? I think so.
I heard, not audibly, but I definitely felt God telling me last week that I don't have to stay in NYC. Not forever, anyway. Doesn't mean I can leave now, in fact, I don't know when I can leave. But it is the first time I have heard or felt that this move wasn't permanent. And that brought such joy to me that I could hardly contain myself. Even 'The Situation' couldn't keep me from being happy!
But now I'm thinking, what is in store for me when I go back to MI? Whenever that happens, I'll have to start over. Again. I will be happy to be around people who I genuinely like and who genuinely like me. (Here I love and am loved, but liked? Like is a strong word in my book.) My family. My friends. But how often did I get to see my friends when I lived there? My closest friends lived far away. And how would things change if I moved back? Was the purpose of me coming to NYC so that I would never live the same way again? Because I don't think I will. I don't think I can. Maybe it's simply fear that keeps me thinking about the future and the past, and what keeps me from staying in the present. And what is fear but lack of faith?
It's late. I'm tired. I'm sad. I can't sleep. (At least I finally quit sobbing--I'm sure my neighbor is pleased about that!) And it has a lot of 'ifs.' So I probably shouldn't post this. But, as Joel in Risky Business said, 'sometimes, you just gotta say...'
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Inspiring Acts of Kindness
At my church gathering on Sundays, we take time in the beginning to share stories of how we were 'the church' the previous week. We believe that the building we meet in is just a building (and in fact, we meet in a public school auditorium!) and each of us has the responsibility (and privilege) of representing Jesus to others by being 'the church.'
I always find it inspiring to hear others talk. And I hardly ever feel that when I do something during the week and share it that it is a 'big deal.' But I think I'm wrong. I think these small things ARE a big deal. I had a story to share this morning, but since I was in the back of the room, (yeah, I'll go with that being the reason I wasn't called on) I didn't have a chance to share it. And then I read this Blog: momoftheperpetuallygrounded.blogspot.com Look for the post: A Great Small Kindness (I apologize I don't know how to insert links!) And I was inspired to share, as I hope you all are as well.
This morning on my way to church, as I was getting off the 3 train to transfer to the L, I walked past a man who was obviously in a panic. He started taking things out of his bag, setting them on the floor, muttering and looking all flustered. I walked right past him. And then I stopped and turned around. And walked back to him and asked him if he needed help.
He explained that he had left his wallet on the train. And he started kind of pacing, not knowing what to do next. He was going to wait for the next train. I told him that he should go to the attendant to let them know. It seemed like the reasonable thing to do. He followed me up the steps, but then wandered away. I let the attendant know what happened, and then the man came back and finally spoke to the attendant himself. I figured he was ok and continued on my way. And then I heard the MTA worker ask, what train was it? And he was flustered and pacing again. So I yelled back, it was the 3, and he repeated it and was much calmer. And I continued to my transfer.
So you may be wondering now, what did I really do? But I know there have been times, many times, in my life where I just couldn't see what was right in front of me. And I was so grateful when someone just told me what I needed to do. When we're panicked, we often don't think of the next right thing. Wouldn't it be nice to know that there would always be someone there to help us until we could regain control? Anyway, I think so. And I hope you do, too.
I always find it inspiring to hear others talk. And I hardly ever feel that when I do something during the week and share it that it is a 'big deal.' But I think I'm wrong. I think these small things ARE a big deal. I had a story to share this morning, but since I was in the back of the room, (yeah, I'll go with that being the reason I wasn't called on) I didn't have a chance to share it. And then I read this Blog: momoftheperpetuallygrounded.blogspot.com Look for the post: A Great Small Kindness (I apologize I don't know how to insert links!) And I was inspired to share, as I hope you all are as well.
This morning on my way to church, as I was getting off the 3 train to transfer to the L, I walked past a man who was obviously in a panic. He started taking things out of his bag, setting them on the floor, muttering and looking all flustered. I walked right past him. And then I stopped and turned around. And walked back to him and asked him if he needed help.
He explained that he had left his wallet on the train. And he started kind of pacing, not knowing what to do next. He was going to wait for the next train. I told him that he should go to the attendant to let them know. It seemed like the reasonable thing to do. He followed me up the steps, but then wandered away. I let the attendant know what happened, and then the man came back and finally spoke to the attendant himself. I figured he was ok and continued on my way. And then I heard the MTA worker ask, what train was it? And he was flustered and pacing again. So I yelled back, it was the 3, and he repeated it and was much calmer. And I continued to my transfer.
So you may be wondering now, what did I really do? But I know there have been times, many times, in my life where I just couldn't see what was right in front of me. And I was so grateful when someone just told me what I needed to do. When we're panicked, we often don't think of the next right thing. Wouldn't it be nice to know that there would always be someone there to help us until we could regain control? Anyway, I think so. And I hope you do, too.
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Prospect Park
This afternoon was wonderful! I got to spend it with two very special young ladies, Miss A and Miss O. They are the 10 and almost 8 year old daughters of my friends. I have been trying to arrange a day to take the girls to the park to roller blade. Turns out today was a good day. And it was a good day.
I went home with them after church, packed up a backpack with some snacks and a blanket, put on our roller blades, and off we went! Here is our afternoon in highlights: three block skate to the park; skated up a little hill to their tree fort; adventure; more skating to a grassy area where we picnicked under a maple tree; laughter; tree climbing and rolling down a hill; playing in a gazebo; walking on bridge; duck watching; waterfalls; audubon center; wonder; snake holding; boat watching; secret tree fort; skating back home. Whew!
And to finish the afternoon with dinner at a very good italian restaurant with the girls and their parents, with an eclectic waitress/owner, and I must admit, it was a very good day indeed!
I feel especially blessed that although I didn't get to spend Mother's Day with my son and his family, I did get to spend it with these two incredible girls! And it is always a treat for me to see how their parents work together to correct them, teach the girls lessons, and model the behavior they expect from them in a loving, Christian way. I love you Kellys!
I went home with them after church, packed up a backpack with some snacks and a blanket, put on our roller blades, and off we went! Here is our afternoon in highlights: three block skate to the park; skated up a little hill to their tree fort; adventure; more skating to a grassy area where we picnicked under a maple tree; laughter; tree climbing and rolling down a hill; playing in a gazebo; walking on bridge; duck watching; waterfalls; audubon center; wonder; snake holding; boat watching; secret tree fort; skating back home. Whew!
And to finish the afternoon with dinner at a very good italian restaurant with the girls and their parents, with an eclectic waitress/owner, and I must admit, it was a very good day indeed!
I feel especially blessed that although I didn't get to spend Mother's Day with my son and his family, I did get to spend it with these two incredible girls! And it is always a treat for me to see how their parents work together to correct them, teach the girls lessons, and model the behavior they expect from them in a loving, Christian way. I love you Kellys!
Happy Mother's Day to Me!
And Happy Mother's Day to any and all mothers reading this blog!
My day started typical NY fashion for a holiday...alone. I had a couple of emails and texts from a few friends & family wishing me a Happy Mother's Day. Nice. And as I was getting ready to walk out the door to head to church, (which is an hour away and getting harder and harder to get to on Sundays) my #1 called to wish me Happy Mother's Day. Very Nice. And did I get the flowers? Huh? No, I did not get the flowers. Seems he & soon to be daughter-in-law sent me a bouquet--should have been delivered on Saturday.
What they didn't realize is, in order for me to get a delivery, I have to be home. And home to me is a tiny, tiny studio--not a place you'd want to spend a Saturday. And, of course, I'd have to know to expect a delivery--kind of hard when somebody is trying to surprise you with a gift!
I live in an apartment building with about 70 other tenants. There's no doorman. I'd be paying a lot more in rent to live in a doorman building. Definitely something I'd like, but not possible for me financially at this point. So, no one to take a package for me. I only know one of my neighbors (just met two more due to The Incident, so don't think I'll be asking favors of them) but have no idea what her schedule is like. So, no way to get an unexpected (but Welcomed) package.
Incidentally, I can't even get mail that won't fit in my little mail slot. At Christmas a friend of mine sent me a package, a package that was much too big for my letter-sized slot. So the postman gave me a postcard to come to the post office. Lucky for me, the post office is just down the street! What Luck! And the hours of operation? Monday - Friday, 9am-5pm. Huh? Not even open until 6pm or half days on Saturdays? Nope. I needed to go into work late just to be able to pick up my package. So anything important or larger than a standard sized envelope I have sent to my friend's in midtown who DO have a doorman.
And then I thought, wow, another way NYC is harder than good ol' Michigan. If I was in Michigan, they'd either drop off the package at a neighbors or leave it on my porch. And I'd get it when I got home. Here I get a call from the delivery guy today asking, 'Are you home? I'm trying to deliver flowers.' 'No,' I say. 'Ok,' says delivery guy. 'I'll have the florist call you on Monday to arrange a delivery.' Don't know how that's going to work out. Maybe they'll deliver before 8:30am when I leave for work. Or after 9:45pm when I get home. Or probably, NY style, I'll have to take some time off work to get them. And I will if I need to. It's been too long since I've had flowers, and way too long since I've had flowers delivered!
As for the rest of my day, see Prospect Park post.
And kids: Thank You! Thank you for remembering me on Mother's Day and for knowing that I love flowers. I'm sure they're beautiful!
My day started typical NY fashion for a holiday...alone. I had a couple of emails and texts from a few friends & family wishing me a Happy Mother's Day. Nice. And as I was getting ready to walk out the door to head to church, (which is an hour away and getting harder and harder to get to on Sundays) my #1 called to wish me Happy Mother's Day. Very Nice. And did I get the flowers? Huh? No, I did not get the flowers. Seems he & soon to be daughter-in-law sent me a bouquet--should have been delivered on Saturday.
What they didn't realize is, in order for me to get a delivery, I have to be home. And home to me is a tiny, tiny studio--not a place you'd want to spend a Saturday. And, of course, I'd have to know to expect a delivery--kind of hard when somebody is trying to surprise you with a gift!
I live in an apartment building with about 70 other tenants. There's no doorman. I'd be paying a lot more in rent to live in a doorman building. Definitely something I'd like, but not possible for me financially at this point. So, no one to take a package for me. I only know one of my neighbors (just met two more due to The Incident, so don't think I'll be asking favors of them) but have no idea what her schedule is like. So, no way to get an unexpected (but Welcomed) package.
Incidentally, I can't even get mail that won't fit in my little mail slot. At Christmas a friend of mine sent me a package, a package that was much too big for my letter-sized slot. So the postman gave me a postcard to come to the post office. Lucky for me, the post office is just down the street! What Luck! And the hours of operation? Monday - Friday, 9am-5pm. Huh? Not even open until 6pm or half days on Saturdays? Nope. I needed to go into work late just to be able to pick up my package. So anything important or larger than a standard sized envelope I have sent to my friend's in midtown who DO have a doorman.
And then I thought, wow, another way NYC is harder than good ol' Michigan. If I was in Michigan, they'd either drop off the package at a neighbors or leave it on my porch. And I'd get it when I got home. Here I get a call from the delivery guy today asking, 'Are you home? I'm trying to deliver flowers.' 'No,' I say. 'Ok,' says delivery guy. 'I'll have the florist call you on Monday to arrange a delivery.' Don't know how that's going to work out. Maybe they'll deliver before 8:30am when I leave for work. Or after 9:45pm when I get home. Or probably, NY style, I'll have to take some time off work to get them. And I will if I need to. It's been too long since I've had flowers, and way too long since I've had flowers delivered!
As for the rest of my day, see Prospect Park post.
And kids: Thank You! Thank you for remembering me on Mother's Day and for knowing that I love flowers. I'm sure they're beautiful!
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Personal Hygiene
There are some days when I am just plain grossed out by what I see on trains, buses, walking around town, or even sitting in my office.
Today one of my fellow straphangers decided it was in good taste to clip his nails on the train. Yep.
Not a day goes by where I don't see someone pick their nose or their ears. And yes, I have seen adults, adults mind you not children (ok, not just children) then proceed to put their finger in their mouth. I once sat next to a guy who after picking his nose rolled his booger around in his fingers. I decided to free up my seat and move far away from him.
And then the thing that really grosses me out the most--probably because it is the most common--spitting. I seriously have to watch where I step or I'd be stepping in people's phlegm every tenth step! Also, all kinds of noises apparently are necessary to spit. So, this one day, I'm in my office finishing up lunch, and a guy is spitting/throwing up in the trash can outside my office. It was disgusting! I lost my appetite. And had a hard time not throwing up myself. (Unfortunately it was the day I decided to eat Taco Bell too!)
So here's a little advice to public spitters, nose pickers, ear wax eaters and public nail clippers: STOP! YOU ARE NOT INVISIBLE! I CAN SEE YOU AND SO CAN EVERYONE ELSE! PLEASE DO THESE THINGS IN PRIVATE!
Thank you very much. (Read this in Andy Kaufman voice of Latka.)
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