Summer in upstate New York, especially the Adirondacks, can be beautiful, and this past weekend was one of the top ten. Well, at least Friday and Saturday. The weather was warm, low humidity and the sky was a crisp blue. These realities alone would be enough to qualify for a weekend of joy, but a get together with friends who go way back was my additional gift. I started counting my joys upon my arrival.
There is nothing like a hug from a friend who truly knows you. A friend, who has pulled you through some difficult times and has brought forth laughter when the tears were flowing. I’m talking about a friend who knows all of your faults, and still overlooks them because they love you anyway. When I walked through the door, greeted by my friends and received those loving, knowing hugs, my heart filled with joy and I knew I was in the right place for the next couple of days.
Slowing our pace from one of a busy week to that of a relaxing weekend, we all grabbed our favorite cocktail and headed outside to the deck that overlooks The Great Sacandaga Lake. We smiled with joy at the amazing view. The water was slowly calming as weary, sun burnt, boaters headed into shore, their vessels awash in the last golden rays of the sun. Our ears filled with a joyful noise as birds began a chorus of praise for the day and the breeze kicked in just enough to bring the thought of a jacket to one’s mind.
After a joyous dinner, what many were calling a Super Moon because of its closeness the Earth over the next few weeks drew our attention. The friends gathered, paused mid-conversations to admire the beauty of the full moon as it rose above the water leaving a shimmering trail on the surface.
Mornings can be glorious on a lake in the Adirondacks. This past Saturday was no exception. At dawn, I rolled over in bed only to witness the rising sun. I sat up to admire the reds and oranges the sun shoved over the horizon of the Earth as she made her appearance for the day. The birds greeted the growing light with songs of joy and I was lulled back into sleep with their chorus.
After lunch, we all donned our bathing suits, sunscreen and hats. With drinks in hand, we headed to the dock for a boat cruise. The water sparkled with the glimmer of the sun and as always, I appreciated the fact of how clear a mountain lake can be. The cruise was en-joy-able as we admired the other passing boats and the attractive homes lining the shore. The sun was hot and so our captain stopped the boat long enough for all of us to jump in and swim around for a while. I love the feel of the softness of the water and the coolness it brings as it overcomes the heat from the sun. We lingered in our swim for quite some time.
A day on the lake cannot be complete without a cookout and ours was grand. We started with cocktails and beer accompanied by fresh steamed clams. Then, just when we thought we should not eat anymore the steak, corn and salt potatoes arrived. The wine was corked and we all dug in as if none of us had eaten in days. Yet, the atmosphere and dinner was only complete with the sweet sound of joyful laughter that arose from the table. Laughter derived from friends who can finish each other’s sentences and still laugh at the same worn jokes told at every gathering.
The joy I felt all weekend filled my heart to bursting and it was then I recognized, life does not get much better than this.
friendship
A Mark On This Earth
When I was young and living in the small town of Wabash, Indiana I used to dream of different ways to become famous. During mass I often fantasized a record producer would, for some unknown reason, be in my church, hear my voice and offer me a contract. Or, I would dream a modeling agency would see me as I vacationed with my family and rush over to tell me I would be the next big thing on the cover of Seventeen Magazine. Even though I spent many years with these images in my head those events never took place. Instead, I went to college, graduated, found a job, got married and began the life I lead now.
It has only been recently that I remembered those long ago dreams and realized it is very unlikely my face will grace the cover of a fashion magazine or my singing voice be heard across the airwaves. I’m okay with this reality because I understand if I truly wanted those goals to happen I would have worked a little harder at accomplishing them. With this realization however, I wondered, have I made my mark on this world? When I’m gone will I have left a legacy? After some consideration I recognized leaving my mark does not require me to be famous. Keeping that in mind, I settled on a list of lasting qualities, I believe, I have managed to accomplish.
I have been a good daughter. While growing up I never caused my parents much concern. In turn they gifted me with their love, a comforting home, siblings to have and cherish my entire life and a college education. As an adult I welcomed my parents into my home. I enjoyed their company and we shared some great meals, laughter and many adventures when they graced my doorstep. For six years as my mother slid into dementia, I comforted and counseled her, fought her medical battles, sat through doctor appointments, made more than one run to the emergency room and, fought my own guilt feelings of inadequacy. Finally, on the day she died I held my mother’s hand and read to her the poems she recited to my siblings and me, and sang to her the songs that brightened our childhood days.
Friendship may be one of my strong suits. I love that shared intimacy. And, nothing seals a bond of camaraderie like the struggle of raising children. Many reassuring conversations took place during the frustrations and joys of raising children. I have been there through health scares, holding hands, sending cards and making phone calls to check in. I have consoled woman friends through the everyday difficulties of marriage and they have returned that favor to me. Most difficult of all I have been with my friend as she fought to keep her husband alive, then, in the end, as she graced him with her love and the permission to leave this earth.
Together my husband and I have created and raised two amazing daughters. They are kind to others, responsible for themselves, fun to be with, gifted with creativity, athletic and smart. As parents we gave our daughter many material items. When they were very young it was toys, dolls and stuffed animals. As they grew it became sports equipment, namely downhill skis. We offered opportunities to try new adventures. We bought a boat and took them tubing, cliff jumping and island camping on Lake George in the Adirondacks. All of those material presents brought the most important gift of all; a family. We formed a bond as we traveled for ski races, or huddled together in a small tent to avoid a storm on Turtle Island. We grew as a family having fun together, sharing dinners, laughing, arguing; just spending time with one another.
With this inventory I have concluded my legacy is one of kindness, love, fun, support and a future generation. Consequently, I think my daughters and our family are far more of a mark to leave on this earth than my past dreams of being famous.
Choosing Family
It has been said you can pick your friends but not your family. And, yet I feel I picked mine, friends who, over the years, developed into a second family.
We met because our husbands worked together. There were four families in the beginning and having recently moved into the area all of us were desperate to connect with other couples. At the time the women were all stay-at-home Moms, so we formed a playgroup thinking it was for the children. But, we realized we were just as desperate as our children for companionship and so our group became a mother’s time, too. Eventually, the other two families moved out of the area leaving just the Rome’s and Renaud’s.
Our lives soon became entwined. We shared many of the same attributes, one of them being the age of our children. The Rome’s had Jason, and then we had Catlin. Janine and Matt followed with Kyle and our Kristen rounded out the crew. They grew up together like cousins, sharing meals, bathtubs and bedtime stories.
Janine and I were there for each other through many ups and downs especially because our husbands traveled frequently. At any given time we knew if the day seemed to be stretching on forever or we just couldn’t face another dinner of beans, weenies and toddler conversation we could call one another up for some adult company.
Friday nights were the best with impromptu get-togethers. The pizza would be ordered and the kids would run wild through the house as we adults kicked back with a few beers. We were oblivious to the commotion as we laughed about the week’s events and made plans for our next adventures. Many memories were made during those times and our bond as a new family grew.
It was our times at Lake George that sealed the deal. Almost every weekend during the summer, our two families could be found either camping or picnicking on the islands in the Narrows of the lake. Who wouldn’t connect over setting up tents in a thunderstorm, camping through a hurricane, tube rides, cliff jumping, raft floating, steak night, moonlight swims and roasting marshmallows over an open fire.
Through it all, we were there for one another, for the laughs and the struggles, the good times and the bad. We knew each other’s imperfections and loved each other in spite of them.
As our children grew, we celebrated graduations from high school and admissions into college. We naively assumed we would be there together for the weddings and the birth of our grandchildren. And yes, we had big plans to travel on great vacations together. But, it wouldn’t happen.
Matt Rome died this past September at the age of 55. He lived the last five to six years of his life slowly losing the ability to hike in his beloved Adirondacks. He struggled to continue using his prized possession, a boat kept at a marina on Lake George. The last time he went for a cruise it took Janine, Paul and me, using everything we had, to get him into the captain’s seat. And still Paul had to drive for him. Matt lost his ability to bring tears of laughter to our eyes with his stand-up comedian act. His brilliant mind, the one that could beat us all in any trivia challenge and the one that could solve any computer problem, slowly faded. He became lost in hour upon hour of dizziness. He went from cane to walker to wheel chair to recliner. We forgot what his voice sounded like because that left him too. Eventually, even communication by hand was difficult. Through it all, even into the end, no doctor could figure why.
Our two families rallied together, as did so many of the Rome’s friends, to support Janine, Matt and the boys. In the end it was all we had to offer. Our chosen family is missing an important figure but we are still intact. Our children living adult lives still remain friends. Janine will always be one of my most trusted confidants. As families do, we will regain ourselves and once again we will find times to laugh and have fun together. But, always there will be a toast to our friend, father, husband and chosen family member, Matt Rome.
Moms Gone Wild
Recently, I went on a road trip with two lady friends. A long weekend spent being a groupie for the band, Trial By Fire. My friend’s son, and a young man I have known since he was a baby, is a member. We had a great time, but quickly realized staying up until the early hours of the morningwas tough work. We were no longer the college students partying away our stress over upcoming finals. Instead, we were three older woman escaping the confines of our daily lives. Our getaway was a needed escape from being the caregiver for a very ill spouse and the sudden, unexpected, responsibility of a mother and nephew. I was the one that had no true commitments. In February I had passed the one year anniversary of my dementia bound mother’s death, and with that, a release to determine what I want to do with the rest of my life.
We three adventurers set out on a journey deemed, Moms Gone Wild. But, how wild can you get in a mini-van? The first night earplugs were distributed so that we could all attempt a good night’s sleep. On Friday we awoke and piled back into our vehicle for a six hour drive. We arrived in Greensboro, North Carolina in time to have a beer while the band set up and did a sound check. I got a thrill of boastful pride when we told the bartender we were related to one of the musicians. That night at the show, with the music thrumming in our chests and the crowd clapping and screaming encouragement to the rock group, we decided to celebrate with a jello-shot. We couldn’t resist as the somewhat solidified alcohol came in a huge syringe. I’ve been in bars before where a band was playing. But, this was different. I delighted in watching the crowd watch our favorite band member. I pondered on how it must feel to be on stage and realize I was bringing such fun to the crowd. What a rush it must be. The night finally ended, for us at least, as we made our way to our beds around 2 a.m. On Saturday afternoon, after two more hours of driving we landed in Charlotte, North Carolina and began the whole process again.
Along the journey, of our weekend away, the three of us shared many thoughts. We reflected on the circumstances of our lives. It never occurred to any of us to complain about what life had thrown our way. Instead, we accepted the obligations and knew we would not do anything differently. Still, that does not mean we did not question what the future would hold and how that now would be so different from what we had envisioned. Yet, we understood we are not unlike so many of our generation, taking on the care of aging parents just when we were ready to enjoy empty nest adventures with our spouse. Or perhaps, as my one friend, realizing those golden years will never come for her and her husband.
That is why this weekend away was just what the doctor would have ordered if prescriptions can be written for such an excursion. A few days in which we came close to reliving our youth; the one that seemed so burdened at the time and, as we have come to understand, no where near that complicated. During the weekend the three of us spent the days enjoying the warmth of the southern sun and hanging in bars with the band at night.
But real life rushed in and on Monday we made the grueling 15 hour endurance test back to our homes. I awoke Tuesday feeling disoriented and exhausted, only to look out the window to an inch of snow on the ground. Welcome back to reality.
Changing My World
“When you’re done with this world, you know the next is up to you.” John Mayer
It has been a year since my mother passed away; Twelve months of me reclaiming my life. Although, I’m not sure reclaiming would be the correct term. Instead, I think I am rebuilding my new world. That is why John Mayer’s words resonate with me. The end of my era as my mother’s guardian also coincides with the end of my era as a full-time mother. My husband and I have successfully encouraged our daughters to grow their own wings and leave the nest feeling confident in their lives ahead. Kudos to us. So, the next is up to me. Where do I go from here?
The good news is I can make my choices based on over a half century of living. I certainly have life experiences, and I plan on using them to make, what I hope, are wise decisions. My husband and I live a good life in suburbia. We have enough to enjoy pursuing the activities we like to do. Because we have accomplished this goal, personal happiness is my next biggest objective.
That desire is encumbered with the many heartrending aspects I have in my life involving those I love. Friends and family, who have joy sucking circumstances they are facing. The kind that leave you searching for sunshine even when it is sparkling through your window. I realize that, especially as we mature, my situation is not unique; how I go about living my life, that is what is exclusive to me. I want to be there for those I love and support, a hand to hold, the one who listens without judgment. But, it is also my wish to be able to share some happiness with them. I want to encourage a new thought process, to not dwell on the injustice, if you will, of their lives. Instead I would like to concentrate on the bright spots in life, the obvious and more importantly, the simple wonders of everyday. I want them to feel, we are in this together.
Part of finding my new world is discovering what makes me happy, my purpose in life. Writing, I know, is definitely on the list. My part-time teaching job brings me joy, as I travel from school to school bringing a field trip to classrooms with The Scotia-Glenville Traveling Children’s Museum. I love both of these aspects of my life’s journey. I also appreciate the fact I don’t have to worry about a generous income from either.
Realizing these thoughts, I have decided to practice the art of listening to my feelings and wants. At times, putting my needs in front of others. Something, we as woman or perhaps parents, don’t always get to do as we raise our families or care for others. I have found my needs are not far from where I have been, they have just increased in their importance. Spending time with friends and my sisters is one of the most important aspects of my life. Sometimes, I have to travel to do that, but I am growing more accustomed to the idea that the cost can be outweighed by the joy the trip brings. After all, what can bring more pleasure to your soul than hearing the laughter of those you love, or feeling the comfort of a much needed hug? I am also working on having a more adult relationship with my grown daughters. All involved must change our thought process to include a more give and take relationship. Not the one that served us well as they grew, of parent giving and the child taking. This course of action will take time but I am willing to wait for the fruition of my efforts to develop.
I have learned many lessons during my 54 years of life experiences. My journey has taught me that I will gain friends and lose them. But, more importantly, to hold onto the lessons I learn from those experiences. I hope I taught my daughters the self-strength and compassion it takes to care for your mother as she slides into the nothing of dementia. I know with the leadership of my sister I have gained a new spiritual strength; learning how to accept the guidance of both earth angels and heavenly ones. Building and constantly working on a relationship with my husband is still a continual part of my life. Together we have experienced the exhilaration of holding a tightly blanket wrapped newborn, and the daunting task of helping her grow to adulthood. I have come to understand that some of the most important relationships in life are the ones with your sisters, whether they are related to you by blood or by experience. The love and companionship of those women have, over the years, given me the courage, strength and self-confidence to continue to move forward with my life.
My next world is up to me, and I am determined to make it happy. I hope to find the positive even in a negative situation. I promise to continue to build my self-confidence and make choices based on my wants. I have realized that sometimes putting yourself first, in the end, can be beneficial to those around you. I have come to relish the bliss it brings me to watch myself accomplish goals I have recently set for myself. It gives me the strength I need, to in turn wash my friends and family with the waves of my happiness. I hope it brightens even a part of their day.
What Makes Us Friends?
Once again, in celebration of the ski rental, there was a gathering of our good friends. The scene outside was one of beauty. The white, papery birch trees standing tall against the small fluffy snowflakes drifting down through the sky. Inside the room was warm and the laughter was raucous. It didn’t take much to get the group started down a path of bad jokes, and unruly behavior leading to snorts of amusement. It has often been said, people tend to get caught up in jobs, commitments, the rush that leaves us exhausted at the end of the day. Our group is no exception to that rule. Thus, it was nice to have this weekend to re-establish our priorities in life. Loyal friends bonded by the commitment we have developed over the years to each other. I know, and I believe my friends all know, that time and distance cannot break the bond that time and the distance we have traveled together has established. Not to take away from our blood families but this is a family too, the one we have chosen. These are the friends, who over the course of many years have established themselves to be there for you no matter the circumstance.
I wonder? Why do some people enter your lives and immediately become a best friend, while others drift in and out? Perhaps it is a common activity. This is certainly true for the core of this group. We met when our children all downhill ski raced together. There were many early mornings struggles of no coffee and sub-zero temperatures. Too often we encountered ice storms and dumps of snow as we crawled our way across the state of New York to get to a race. Weekends consisted of standing at the bottom of a ski trail and looking uphill waiting in anticipation for a lone figure to appear as it flew down a race course. The only thing between the racer, one of our children, and the mountain was a thin layer of spandex and a helmet. We held our breath trying to prevent a fall and exhaled as they came across the finish line. Evenings consisted of ski tuning and team dinners at an accommodating restaurant. Often it was adults at one table, racers at the next. Yes, we certainly bonded over the time we traveled together.
Yet, it has to be something more. Because over the years other racer families have drifted out of our lives while our group still manages to get together. Maybe our bond is because of common goals and beliefs. Politically we are a mismatched group. However, an even stronger shared conviction is our goals for our children. A good education, enough money to continue the lifestyle they enjoyed growing up, loving relationships and health. (We have had some struggles with the health, but that too seems to be making an upward trend.) I’ll admit those are pretty universal goals. Consequently, I think what draws us to each other is how we went about teaching our children to attain these objectives for themselves. Knowing that your child was safe and held to the same responsibilities, even if staying with one of the other families, was a comfort.
But, this past weekend we also included others who were not ski team parents. Still, the same power of friendship clings to all of us. In the end, the common bond must be our personalities; or perhaps, our mutual understanding of what being a true friend means. That definition being:
I want to share the joys of life with you. But, more importantly, I will stand by you when you are struggling, no matter if it is a struggle with children, health, death of a loved one or sickness. I will be the one to hold your hand, to lend a shoulder to cry on. I promise to cry with you when the pain is too much and make you laugh when your tears are finished. As your friend I will hold your confidences but shout out your accomplishments. At the end of the day, I only want to hear your laughter and see your smile and hope for many more years of friendship to come.
This, I think, is what draws our group and our fellow friends, who did not make the weekend, together and keeps us traveling down the road as companions.
Purdue and all of it’s Promises
I sit in one of my favorite places on the Purdue University campus. The balcony off the Union building. It is only a floor above the sidewalk, but it is a view of campus life.
Today, many people, other than students, are meandering around. This is graduation weekend 2012. My daughter Kristen will take the walk across the stage at the Elliot Hall of Music Saturday morning.
As I sit and sip my cinnamon dolce latte, I once again come to the realization. I love this campus. It is here I matured and developed into much of the adult I am today. On this campus I felt secure to explore new boundaries; establish new friendships, keeping some forever, others a fleeting moment. I investigated love and it’s highs of first encounter to the eventual low of break-up.
When I was at Purdue, 1977 through 1981, I lived for three of those years in Windsor Hall, which consists of five separate buildings. They look like they sound, fashioned after the Windsor Castle of England. As residents we enjoyed three meals prepared in our small cafeteria and once a week the cleaning staff left fresh sheets for our beds. I felt the security of home and the adventure of a parent not always looking over my shoulder.
My experiences involved what many students of yesterday and today did. Parties, dancing, football weekends, basketball games and studying. I grew on this campus. The people and even the buildings surrounded me with love. Today, as I sit and enjoy the beautiful blue sky and the cool morning warming to a perfect spring day; I am once again filled with warmth, happiness and the knowledge that all things are still possible.
Rosemary Christle-Renaud 