oneslideatatime-blog-blog

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D-U-N

Sometimes you’re just tired. Physically tired. Emotionally tired. Just done. D-U-N done. Sometimes you want the whole world to know why you’re sad. Other times you just want to know you’ve got support with no need for a reason.. And that’s ok.

Sometimes the weight of the world is on your shoulders. Other times the slightest infraction causes deep pain. And that’s ok, too.

We just have to be patient. Wait for that feeling of DUN to end. Wait until we feel ready to pick ourselves back up and move forward. Ride the wave till we get to the other side. And that’s ok.

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A Song for Cecilia

When I think of my mom, I think of music.   Sure she loved literature, and art, and poetry, and, as anyone will tell you, politics. But music is the thread that weaves her story together.

Even before I was born, my mom was rocking and rolling. Songs like "Devil with a Blue Dress" and "Run Around Sue" got both my mom and her cousins up and dancing. And no family gathering is complete without a round of

"Cecilia, you’re breaking my heart, you’re shaking my confidence daily. Oh Cecilia, I’m down on my knees, I’m begging you please to come home. Come on home."

Singing and dancing were daily occurrences growing up.  Most young children get woken up with a gentle kiss from their mother each morning. I was always woken up with a song.  

"Good Morning Starshine, the Earth Says Hello, You Twinkle Above Us, You Twinkle Below. Good Morning Starshine, You Lead Us Along, My Love and Me as We singing our early morning singing song."

Parents teaching their teens to drive usually say the first thing their child should do upon entering a car is put on their seat belt. MY mom told me that what I absolutely had to first do was turn on the radio.

There was a LOT of music growing up. The home of Rock in Roll, 93.3 WMMR was always on in the background.  She even used music to convey her love to me and Christian, singing:

"My momma loves me, She Loves me, she gets down on her knees and hugs me ‘cause she loves Me Like a Rock. She loves me like a rock of ages and loves me. She loves me loves me love me loves me."  

She even signed off her cards to us with “Love You Like A Rock”.

Our vacations also had a song. The hands down very best part of my childhood was our trips spent in Westport Ct, Rehoboth Beach and Puerto Rico visiting the Martins.  Uncle Jack and Aunt Paqui were more than just best friends. They were family. So, as it turns out, we would vacation with not one, but two Uncle Jacks – my dad and Jack Martin.   Which is why the song Uncle John’s band (they were both actually named John) still makes me think of waterskiing and sailing with Carolyn, Jeff and John; and especially of my Aunt Paqui and mom ramming their sailboat into Uncle Jack’s speedboat.  But that’s a story for another day.

"Come hear Uncle John’s band playing by the tide. Come on along or go alone, he’s come to take his children home."

Everyone loved my mom.  She had a quick smile and a long conversation for everyone she met, whether it be her dear friends & family, my and Christian’s friends, and even strangers she would befriend on her travels. “I had a great conversation with the guy I sat with on the Amtrak train up to Westfield.” She’d say.  Who talks to strangers on trains and planes? My mom did. She talked to everyone. And somehow she’d always find a Dead Head.  I can’t tell you how many times she’d tell me that one of her Doctors or Nurses or students or even fellow chemo patients were Dead Heads.  And the Grateful Dead sings,

"Strangers stoppin’ strangers just to shake their hand.   Everybody's playing in the heart of gold band, heart of gold band.""

My mom was a true force of nature.  She stayed positive and vibrant despite a life that was not always easy.  She would joke that she must have been a real SOB in a past life, because she certainly didn’t deserve both the physical and financial hardships she faced in this one. But she kept at it, working through her 5 cancer bouts.

 “Good news” she’d say, “The hospital is right down the road from school so I’ll pop in for my radiation treatment and then head right over to teach my class!” She worked literally her entire life, finishing up her last classes at Villanova and St. Joe’s this past spring. She had no choice but to keep going.  And she would sing:

"The wheel is turning and you can’t slow down, you can’t let go and you can’t hold on,  you can’t go back and you can’t stand still, if the thunder don’t get you then the lightening will."

My mom was effusive about her love of family.  She never once hesitated to tell Mike, and Jeri, and Christian and myself how much she loved us. How much we meant to her. She was our biggest fan.  But I am pretty certain the four of us got knocked down just a few pegs when her grandchildren came along.  Gabriel and Sienna, you may not realize how much you are both like Grandmom.  

Gabriel, I see Grandmom in you when you display your quick wit, maturity beyond your years, and your open acceptance of everyone for who they are, regardless of gender, race or sexual orientation.  Sienna, your zest for life, your fiercely feminist perspective, and your flair for the dramatic are definitely signature Cecilia moves.  

Grandmom is so proud of all that you are and all that you will become. And I know you will carry her spirit on inside of you throughout your lives.

"Wake up to find out that you are the eyes of the world… Wake now, discover that you are the song that the morning brings."

Finally, the best way to describe my mom is that she loved life. She always wanted more of it.  She fought hard to hold onto it.  And so, in her passing, I know she wouldn’t want our lives to stop. I know she wants us to not just all live on, but to live well.  To suck out all the marrow of life. So I promise to do that. To not wait to live my life.   Mom, I promise To Let the Sunshine In.  

"Let the sunshine Let the sunshine in The sun shine in."

Let’s all sang together: “Let the sunshine Let the Sunshine The sun shine in”

Thanks for reading. Enjoy my list of Songs for Cecilia below:

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5kTuCmw4zNzcPToRW50FHF

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Thoughts on the Way to Isla

I am escaping New Jersey. But it follows me onto the plane. The first video that appears on my tiny seatback screen is an ad for Blinded by the Light, a movie set in 1987 about a British Pakistani boy obsessed with NJ’s favorite son, Bruce Springsteen. The other kids in the movie are listening to Pet Shop Boys and Tiffany. But the main character, Javed, dives deep into Bruce’s discography. This isn’t just Dancing in the Dark Bruce. This is The River Bruce. Rosalita Bruce. Songs not from 1987 but the music that spanned his entire career. And I get it. Because that’s what I was listening to in 1987 as well.

My mother was a rock and roller. Music was always playing in the house when I was a child. Together we’d lay in bed in the morning, cuddling for a few calm minutes before our busy day began, listening to the radio. That’s where I was when we heard John Lennon had died. My mother called into the radio station, her tears playing back to us over the airwaves while they moistened my pajamas.

My mother listened to everything. But, as a child, The Boss was on a constant loop. She was the only college English professor I knew who had Springsteen in her syllabus. She’d sing the songs aloud in her classes, exalting the poetic beauty of his lyrics. Our kitchen floor was a stage where we danced and sang to Born to Run, waiting with anticipation to sing out that guttural “whoa!”- a 70s style beat drop. My mom brought the emotion to every song. Full of passion, full of yearning. She’d song along to Thunder Road, “It’s a town for full of losers and I’m pulling out of here to win” with a voice that rose up in anguish, joy and desire.

As the years rolled on my mother never lost her passion for rock music. She knew current artists better than anyone I knew, even into her 70s. She’d be the first one to tell me that Red Hot Chili Peppers dropped a new song or that I had to hear Come With Me Now by the Kongos.  From Durran Durran to the Black Keys to Coldplay, she cherished music that vibrated your soul.

When my mom’s cancer returned I happened to be in the midst of planning a 1960s themed party. She curated our playlist from her hospital bed - too weak to walk, but still fiery enough to shake her fists to the music. So despite her love of The Boss, the soundtrack of my mother’s final months was absent of his soul searing poetry. I sent her off with a eulogy full of music from Hair, the Grateful Dead, and Simon & Garfunkel. But Bruce was not there.

It was perhaps two months later that I realized my tragic omission. How could I have left him out of a speech that was supposed to encapsulate her life? Guilt and regret set in. So I tried to listen to his music, but the pain was too immediate. Too fresh.  It opened up that wound in my heart that I’d been trying so hard to handle with care, keeping the bandages on to allow my grief to seep out slowly over time. I couldn’t handle any more big bleeds. I had had triaged so many gashes already since she’d passed.  So I set Bruce aside, giving myself time before I scratched the scab off.

And now here I am. Trapped on a plane with nowhere to hide and suddenly The Boss fills my ears and my heart. The characters in the movie traveled to Asbury Park and the Stone Pony, where Springsteen’s story began. My mom always dreamed of going there. Did she ever make it? I’m not sure. Images of Jersey flash on the screen. Even the airport I just flew out of gets a cameo. The lyrics roll through me. I’m awash in my pain, wondering if the travelers, jubilant in anticipation of their vacation to paradise, notice that I’m crying in the seat next to them. For now I have to bandage the pain back up. Hold onto it a little longer. But soon, very soon, in Isla, I will give my pain it’s due. And when I do, Springsteen will likely play in the background:

“Well there's a dark cloud rising from the desert floor I packed my bags and I'm heading straight into the storm Gonna be a twister to blow everything down That ain't got the faith to stand its ground Blow away the dreams that tear you apart Blow away the dreams that break your heart Blow away the lies that leave you nothing but lost and brokenhearted

The dogs on main street howl 'Cause they understand If I could take one moment into my hands Mister, I ain't a boy, no, I'm a man And I believe in a promised land And I believe in a promised land And I believe in a promised land.”

[oneslideatatime-blog-blog]

Team Maybelline

Ladies and Gentlemen, meet my Six.

Jess is Love Personified.

Overflowing with compassion and passion for others, she loves her children, loves her Chelsea, and loves her work. And it shows. She brightens every room she enters. Her voice alone makes me giggle with an abundant feeling of joy and delight. What an incredible gift she has to make us all feel so happy and safe, just by her very presence.

Jess will not continue the unhealthy cycle of her past. She will replace it with unconditional love and support for her children and for Chelsea (& for Team Maybelline). In fact, she already has. And she’s just getting started.

Inez is Fierce

Fiercely Strong

Fiercely Loyal

Fiercely Intelligent

Fiercely Vulnerable

Fiercely Confident, and she inspires confidence in others

Fiercely Motivated

Fiercely Motivating

Fiercely Messy (in the best possible way)

Fiercely Beautiful on the inside and out, but especially on the inside

Fiercely Loving

Fiercely Determined

Fiercely Fun

Fiercely My Friend. And I’m so damn lucky.

PastDeli

Jennifer is Ready

I am Gable

Together we are PastDeli

We are our Past. We are our Future. We are our Home. We are our Family.

Together we can do anything. Together we will be just fine.

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Epiphanies, part II

A few years ago my Aunt Paqui died.  We were devastated.  She was a very spiritual woman. She paid homage to God, Christ, Buddha, as well as the animal spirits. Her life had been difficult, but somehow I always felt joy when I was around her. Here was a woman who was more in touch with the universe than anyone I have ever known. But yet somehow the universe chose not to save her.

Aunt Paqui's funeral was at a quasi-Catholic church with spiritual leanings similar to her own.  The minister started off the service with an interesting request. She said that Paqui tried to lead her life by actively staying in the present. She asked us all to leave behind our thoughts of the outside world and to really Be in the moment.  I remember feeling my mind zero in on the joy that I felt when I was around Aunt Paqui. I knew it would be no problem to be fully present for this service.

Its been a few years since she passed, but the idea of living fully in the present has stuck with me.  I realized recently that this wasn't my usually style of epiphany.  There was no sharp intake of breath, no water (there is usually always water around me during epiphanies). But this was an epiphany all the same.

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Epiphanies

I savor a good epiphany.  They don't need to be the big "Jesus is my lord" type of epiphany.  In fact, some of my most enjoyable epiphanies have been about the smallest of things.  But a really good epiphany always causes me to experience a sharp intake of breath. That breath shoots right up into my brain, expanding my mind out enough to embrace this new idea as well as leave some room for a host of other possibilities yet to come.  Its a wonderful feeling.

Just like with one's first love, my first true epiphany holds a dear place in my heart.  I was in my mid-20s, still reeling from a break-up so nasty it felt like a divorce.  I was wallowing in self-pity and despair while also trying to forge a new life for myself. It was late. A group of friends were tiredly walking home over the Key Bridge from a night of bar-hopping.  It was raining.  I had been listening to a lot of Tracy Chapman. Her words kept rattling around my brain and in my heart:

"I want to wake up and know where I`m going Say I`m ready Say I`m ready I want to go where the rivers are overflowing and I`ll be ready I`ll be ready to let the rivers wash over me I`m ready to let the rivers wash over me If the waters can redeem me I`m ready I`m ready I`m ready to let the rivers wash over me I`m ready to let the rivers wash over me"

Suddenly, I realized that I was ready to take control of my life. I was ready to be fine.  I was ready to wash away the person I had become and to return to the person I had once been as well as forge a new, stronger, more vibrant person in her place.  I was ready. I was ready.