Stuck in the middle

Half of each but not a whole

Consarned genetics

Their perfect garden –
That is who we were to be
but not who we are.

Tomorrow, I will pack up myself and my daughter and together we will head to Nashville to see U2.

It all started quite suddenly this morning, when I stopped by work and noticed I had a message on my voice-mail (which doesn’t happen that often!). The message wasn’t what I expected. It was from a church friend, letting me know he had an extra ticket or so to see U2 in Nashville tomorrow.

“Wha???” was my first reaction. “YESSSSS!!” was my second reaction. “Hrmmmm…” was my third reaction, and entirely self-deprecating. See, U2 has been my Favorite Band for 19+ years. Sure, I’ve had plenty of other favorite bands, and consistently experience music I enjoy more than U2 — but U2 — it’s at my core. It’s just…me. Hell, in high school I had an invisible friend named Bono. Double hell, perhaps he’s still with me. Anyway, I have not really followed U2 in the past several years. There are a handful of songs from the latest album I thoroughly like, but that’s about it. I had a vague knowledge they were on tour, but didn’t pay attention, and thus had no clue they were playing in Nashville. Until this morning…and the U2 core of me shuddered at being so very much out of the loop.

I first saw U2 in Clemson, SC in May of 1997. I was 19. I took a bus tour thingee, coordinated through…Cat’s Records, perhaps? Anyway, I paid them some dough and they bought my ticket & provided my transportation, with the end result being 18th row — not too shabby! I nearly melted when they played “One,” which will always be in my top tier of favorite songs.

My second U2 experience came later that year, the day before Thanksgiving. I drove down to Atlanta on my own (well, kinda…I was pregnant with Camille at the time). I met up with a kindred spirit from UT while I was there…and it was a good show. I remember driving back that night and enjoying a slightly zombie-like Thanksgiving with my Mom, my brother and my step-dad.

My third encounter with U2 was in March of 2001, again in Atlanta. It was James’ first time seeing U2. We were up in the bleachers, but fairly close and at a good angle. Good times.

So — fast forward ten+ years — and tomorrow, the child with which I was pregnant during the PopMart Tour will accompany me on my 4th (and her 2nd?! ; ) U2 concert. That, coupled with the fact circumstances even allowed this to happen — well, it just makes me think.

Sidenote: It might be the first time U2 has played Nashville in 29 years, but tomorrow will be the 2nd time I’ve seen Bono in the Music City. I am remembering when I had the good fortune to hear Bono (and Bill Frist!) speak at an HIV forum in Nashville. Funny - how that memory has faded over time…but now resurfaces as I wander through the memories of the various ways U2 has been present in my life.

Achtung, baby!

The month prior to the end of school for the kids is always chaotic, this past month being no exception. It has ended well, though, and I will thoroughly enjoy the absence of the car-rider line for the next 6-ish weeks.

Eli had his last day of elementary school today, and came home with a polo decorated in various pins honoring his successes at Willow Brook. He’s such a neat kid — a little overboard at times — but I am so proud of him. This kid has guts - and heart - and I can’t wait to see with what he will surprise me next. As he graduated 4th grade, I realized we only have 6 more years left at Willow Brook - kinda a funny statement, but we’ve been there for 8 years now, which means we have passed the halfway mark. I love this school. It’s not perfect, but the vast majority of our experiences have been good, and I truly appreciate the sincere, genuine interest in students I have witnessed from the staff. I am grateful and appreciative.

William (he’s dropping the ‘Willy’) concluded his adventure in Transition this afternoon. Transition will not exist next year, which breaks my heart - but I am relieved Will had this needed opportunity this year. It has always been an old-fashioned super-fast wooden roller coaster experience with him, but I know that his times in Transition and the counsel of his teacher have been invaluable. He is so incredibly sweet and smart, and I have high hopes that his Transition education & other support will allow him to excel as he enters into 1st grade. My sweet Will.

Something else that breaks my heart - we only have one more year left at the ORS Preschool. Leo will round out our family experience there next year. I have only praise upon praise upon praise for the Preschool; all four of my kids attended, and I’ve seen how the staff have dealt with each of my kids’ strengths and weaknesses with compassion, interest, dedication and pure professionalism. If I were to ever become a teacher, I would want to be a part of this group. Camille started there in 2002, so when Leo graduates next year, it will mark 10 years with this treasured place. It will be very, very, very hard to leave.

Speaking of Camille, she ended her 7th grade year with ten As and 1 B (the B is in Teen Living, so it doesn’t count). She has truly come into herself this year - with classes, TSA, YouthAct. She has been spending the past several days researching colleges online. Yup, it’s a bit early, but damn! this girl has ambition, and I love it.

I am so proud of all of them. I am so blessed.

…

So, come next August, I will have two kids in middle school, 1 in elementary and 1 in preschool; also, 1 mama in college. I am excited. It will be crazy and chaotic - but fantastic.

Now……..to make it through the summer — that’s the real task.

Sometimes I think…if I had been the person I am now, but 15 years ago…wow, that woulda been awesome.  I suppose that’s what makes me a (somewhat) mature adult now, and a fairly normal late-teenager then.

I know a lot of people dread getting older, and I have my own tendencies…but looking at the big picture - I like myself a whole lot more now than I ever did in my teens and 20’s.  Will that continue as I further age?  When I’m 48, will I look back at me at 33 and think…”Damn, I was pretty stupid back then.  I sure like my 48-year-old self better.”

Silly Sunday thoughts after a couple of long, strange weeks.

Note:  the text in italics is a post I began in the last few hours of Mother’s Day:

It has been a wonderful day; an ideal mother’s day with an equal balance of happy times with my kidlets and time on my own (kayak - woo!).

But here, now, on my own in the house - it’s a tricky time - a solitary time in which I have too many opportunities to think.  I both need this time and abhor this time.  I like being alone; I dislike being lonely.  And these lonely times - the times without a paddle to clumsily coordinate my new kayak or kids to clumsily raise — it’s just me alone with my thoughts.  And a silly electronic device on which to record such thoughts.  ; )  These are the vulnerable times when the grief hits.  I hate even admitting that because I don’t want to come across as whiny.  But, well, it’s how I feel — so if it’s whiny, welp, ok.

This is a sandwich post.  I really, truly have had a very good day and I do not take that for granted in the least.  In the middle of that, and I hope there are folks out there who understand — the quiet times, the times without kids or projects or communications with others — that’s when that which has been buried burrows its way up to the surface.  I’m quite convinced that grief, be it for the death of someone dear, the end of a relationship or friendship — or the loss of anything dear — never *really* goes away.  With luck and effort, the grief lessens with time, but it’s always there, and turns around and gives you a Look in the eye when you’re least expecting it.

So now it’s time for the other slice of bread:  the grief is necessary; I know it has to happen for me, or any of us, to move on in any way, shape or form.  Yes, I’m sure that’s completely cheesy…but ah, well.

…

I was sorting through these thoughts on grief when a friend sent me a message letting me know my ex-step father had died.  She didn’t say it in such terms, but I could only assume given the tone of the message.  I talked to her the next morning and it was confirmed.

I have known this was coming for a while, despite the fact I hadn’t seen Dave in 2-3 years.  He had Parkinson’s, macular degeneration and heart problems.  In fact, the last time I saw him was very shortly after a heart attack and subsequent procedures (stints, perhaps - my memory fails me).  He hadn’t been a healthy person in a very long time - even when I lived with him, which ended nearly 15 years ago.

I was a shitty step-daughter for a number of years he was my step-father.  I resented that his marriage to my Mom resulted in me moving me from my native California to Colorado; but it didn’t get nasty until I began resenting him when his work situation necessitated the move from Colorado to Tennessee.  I was in 8th grade and it was a particularly hard adjustment.  I was pretty unbearable for a while; I refused to be near him or talk to him.  In hindsight, I both understand my feelings and wish I hadn’t been such a blob of self-centered angst.

As I became more comfortable with Tennessee and made good friends (that’s the key, I suppose), our relationship improved.  It’s pretty amazing he forgave me - because I really was awful.  He certainly wasn’t perfect himself, because although he was able to forgive my shortcomings, he was less apt to do so with my brother.  That’s a whole other story.

Anyway…I resented Dave for a long time, and after a while there was an unspoken truce/acceptance between us.  And that’s good.  Even after he and my Mom divorced, he remained interested in me.  He didn’t have to, but he did.

But…I don’t think I ever directly gave him any sort of credit for contributing to the person I have become — not entirely in a fatherly way — but also because if Dave hadn’t happened, I would not be the person I am right now.  Unless I were to believe in Fate, without Dave, I never would have known Colorado and never would have made Tennessee my home.  I resented those changes so much when I was younger, not knowing they would eventually lead to me being in a good ‘place’, which is now where I am.

I wish I could have told him this…but I don’t know if it would have ever happened, even if I had the opportunity now.  An engineer at heart, Dave wasn’t always the best at dealing with emotional stuff.  Or maybe he was, but lacked the ability to communicate.  I don’t know.

All I know is that I likely wouldn’t be sitting here trying to sort out this stuff if he hadn’t been in my life.

I am grateful for you, Dave.  I hope you know it in some way.

And I grieve.

A man saw a ball of gold in the sky;
He climbed for it,
And eventually he achieved it —
It was clay.

Now this is the strange part:
When the man went to the earth
And looked again,
Lo, there was the ball of gold.
Now this is the strange part:
It was a ball of gold.
Aye, by the heavens, it was a ball of gold.

– Stephen Crane

(First found and loved as a teenager, and kept on a bookshelf until some weird spirit today moved me to open The Complete Poems of Stephen Crane and find and love it again).

It’s happened now a few times that I’ve come across a local news article or blog post that has one of my pictures. They’re not attributed to me, but I guess that doesn’t really matter. In my high school days of writing, I swore up and down that whatever I wrote, I wrote for myself and no one else…and if people happened to like it, well, woot! I guess I feel the same way with my pics…though there’s a tiny part of me that sees my photos with 30,000+ views and no attribution that makes me frown slightly. But not really. I didn’t take such photos for any notoriety on my point. And I’m glad people see them.

So, in an anonymous bragging sort of way…I have pictures out there, and that’s kinda cool.

Dear Me,

Please take note. When a very attractive, younger man asks for a second dance and offers to buy you a drink, you should say YES, even if you had been planning on leaving.

Go ahead. Slap your forehead.

Love,

Me