Spare Change

We know it's true. We can't avoid it. Everything changes. Change is inevitable. Four quarters becomes a dollar, the caterpillar becomes the butterfly, and the egg becomes the chicken. In my case, I became an idiot. I learned the hard way that change, just for the sake of changing, is not necessarily a good thing.

Here's what happened: Speck (also known as The Pie's Favorite Aunt) and I were on a little shopping outing and she mentioned that she was thinking of going a little more blonde the next time she colored her hair. I fully supported the idea because I have seen her with VERY blonde hair and quite liked it (although, it was 20 years ago). At my house, she decided to make the change. Quite a bit of product was left over and she practically dared me to to color my hair. I didn't think it would do much to my mousy, grey streaked hair, so I went for it. As time passed, we watched each other's hair get lighter...and lighter...and lighter. Her result was almost white blonde and mine resembled the bottom end of a baby chick.

In my attempt to tone down the blonde, I purchased a hair color at the local Walgreens with the word "golden" in the name. That should have been my first clue. At the end of that experiment, my hair made me look like the love child of Howdy Doody and Side Show Bob! My horror was such that I actually cried before returning to aforementioned Walgreens and buying a lovely shade called Truffle. I am now sporting a hair color that is found in nature and one that I like very much.

But I wonder why I felt the need to change in the first place?  Again, feeling the itch to change, I rearranged my bedroom furniture. And I hate it. It's not at all convenient and the bed is now closer to my Dad's room AND The Pie's room. So, I have to rearrange again. But do I want to go back to the same arrangement, or try for something different. I think change should show a transformation of sorts. Forgive another hair color reference, but it's like the scene in "Beaches" where Hillary spends an hour coloring her hair the EXACT same color as she already had. Why go through the effort not to show any difference? W.H. Auden wrote:

We would rather be ruined than changed;
We would rather die in our dread
Than climb the cross of the moment
And let our illusions die.

Some people fear change. They say, "We've always done it this way." I don't mind change. I like to mix things up every once in a while, but I want it to be worth it. Years ago, when Speck and I shared a house, she would leave for the Thanksgiving holiday with the furniture and dishes in one spot and arrive home to find I had changed everything in the house! It frustrated her beyond belief because she likes the familiarity of items always being in the same location. Plus, we were (are) both control freaks so we like things the way we like them. I don't know how we managed to share a house for 9 years without controlling each other to death!  

My point, and I think I do have one, is that if you are going to make a change - whether it's hair color, furniture placement, body wash, toothpaste, diet, drive to work or style of underwear - make sure it's for the right reasons.  Does it benefit you in a positive way or cause stress as a result? Does it make a difference in the quality of your life? 

All change is not growth; as all movement is not forward. (Ellen Glasgow) The good thing is that if you don't like the change you make, you can keep changing until you do. 

A Girl I Knew

There's this girl I knew...she was adorable, precocious and so smart. Today, she's a woman. An accomplished, confident - still adorable and smart - woman who turns 30.

I was in the room as she drew her first breath, when she let loose that piercing cry, entering the world with a plan to take it over. Her mother gave her my middle name, and I considered it huge honor and a responsibility to her. All I wanted to do was hold her and look deep into her coffee colored eyes and give her advice on how to navigate this tricky thing called womanhood. 

For the first nine years of her life, I dedicated myself to making things better for her. She was so tiny - as a baby, had been hospitalized for failure to thrive - I felt the need to protect her from bad things and surround her only with things that sparkled, glittered or were pink. I thought she was so delicate and fragile. But she fooled me. 

I lost that little girl because personal issues interfered with the relationship between her mother and me. It crushed my heart to think I wouldn't have her in my life, but I thought at the time it was the best thing for everyone. I missed seeing her grow up...losing teeth, first boyfriends, heartthrob crushes, first period...those were things I could only imagine her experiencing. 

When she was 16, her mother and I patched up our friendship and I reconnected with that girl. She was still little, but she was grown up. Beautiful, intelligent, confident. As I watched her give the toast at her sister's wedding, I realized that even though I missed all those other things, for her, the best was yet to come. 

She enlisted in the United States Marine Corps right out of high school. That little firecracker served out country! She has traveled to five foreign countries, made a cross country move, finished her degree and began a successful career as a funeral director. She purchased her own own home and is pretty handy with tools! I get very excited when I learn that she is coming back for a visit because she just makes me smile. 

Turns out, you never needed my advice on anything because you, my dear young woman, are kicking ass!

Happy Birthday, Kristina!

Wal-Mart: More Than I Bargained For

Just a quick run into Wal-Mart to pick up a few items was all I planned. I had the Pie and her friend, Queen Bee with me. As we meandered down the midway aisle, I heard a most disturbing voice screaming, "Stop touching her! I will beat the hell out of you!" I peeked around the school supply display to see a woman with two small children in her shopping cart; they cowered and huddled. Shoppers and employees began to gather around as the woman's voice got louder and her threats became more serious. I stopped in my tracks, stunned at her behavior.

A young woman, a shopper, politely said, "Excuse me," and the Mean Woman (as I will now refer to her) turned on her heel and began hollering, "Leave me alone!" More and more people gathered around while Mean Woman continued to lose her mind. It reminded me of someone attempting to capture a wild animal. Her eyes bulged and she was quite jumpy, easily irritated.  We all watched in horror as she just kept screaming at those babies. I think we were all shocked that she would act in such a way in public! And then, it happened.

The little boy in the cart incidentally put his feet on his little sister and Mean Woman fell loose from herself. She reached into the back of the cart and blindly swatted, connecting several times with heads and faces. The surrounding people, all women by the way, rushed her and began admonishing her to calm down; one older lady tried to pull the cart away from Mean Woman. This did not set well with Mean Woman because she roughly shoved the cart away and bowed up on the lady. It was at this point, my arm went around the Pie and Queen Bee, ushering them behind greeting card display, and I

took my post in the fray.

Employees called for managers, shoppers threatened to call police and Mean Woman called to a couple of us to "bring it on!" I called to her that those children deserved better than her as a mother and she kept repeating that they were kids and she would do whatever she wanted with them or to them; there was nothing anyone could to her, she swore. Older Lady shocked me by saying she would take those babies right out of the cart if she had to. I thought, "you go, older lady!" Mean Woman chest bumped Older Lady to keep her away from the children and I stepped in. I got in her face and calmly explained that she was embarrassing herself and if she didn't want to find herself in jail, she needed to calm down and walk away. She obscenely invited me to engage in coitus with myself (if you get what I'm trying to say, here) and that was all I needed.

Without raising my voice, (too much) I said: "Okay, I get it. You are frustrated and scared. You might be at the end of your rope - what mother hasn't been?  But those babies are not your property - they are your responsibility. Is this how you want them to remember you?" She looked at the children and back at me. I didn't know what to expect, but I knew something hateful would spew out of her mouth. Managers gathered and interrupted what I thought was a productive moment and asked the woman to leave. Mean Woman stormed out in a cloud of vulgarity and obscenity, tossing the items already in her cart to the floor, children still looking confused and scared. I retrieved the Pie and Queen Bee from their hiding place and continued my shopping trip, the girls asking questions with every step. And that's when I began to quietly worry.

What happens when she gets those kids home, all to herself? Will she beat them and blame them for embarrassing her, when really she did it to herself? Will she scream curses at them, deny them food, physically abuse or neglect them. I have to wonder that if a mother would display such cruelty to children under the age of 3 in a public place, what stops her from doing worse in the privacy of her home? I am heartbroken and sick about this incident, and terrified that I might read about those cute children in a headline soon.

My Brush with Mortality

In the movie Meet Joe Black , Death pays a visit to a man to warn him of his impending demise. Brad Pitt didn't stop by my house for coffee a couple of weeks ago, but it felt to me like he might be lurking around the corner. And not in a good way.

Mowing the yard is usually one of my favorite tasks because I get to strap on earbuds and listen to 80s dance music at dangerously high decibels and escape from someone needing me for at least 90 minutes. It gives me an opportunity to de-stress and do mind numbing manual labor. It was also, apparently, the chance for me to scare the shit out of my neighbors! One minute I was busy mowing and the next minute I was on the ground surrounded by a bunch of men. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't complain, but I didn't have any recollection of how I got in that position. Admittedly, I was unnerved.

A short time later, I was loaded into an ambulance and transported to an emergency room in the neighboring city, the paramedics being convinced I had suffered a head injury as the result of a fall. The full lights and sirens ride was kind of cool, but during the whole episode all I could think was, "What about the Pie and Dad?" What if I had to be admitted to the hospital? What if it was something serious? Who would take care of them?

Here's what I figured out: if something puts me out of commission, they are screwed! They won't have me to clean the house, wash clothes, prepare meals, wash dishes, open jars and packages, shop for groceries, apply bandages and ointments, pick up items dropped or left on the floor, or mow the yard. During the crisis, my neighbor stepped up and took the Pie to her house, but my Dad was left alone in the house with only the sketchy information he received from a paramedic. I know he worried himself into a state while I was gone. It's what he does.

The truth is, I am terrified of leaving this earth while I am still needed. The Pie is only 7 and has so much to experience and I want to share that with her. If I go before my Dad, I am certain he would follow quickly behind me, just because he refuses to go to a nursing facility. Facing my own mortality is a very uncomfortable proposition for me. I fear the possibility of agonizing pain related to dying, of dying in the water, of dying in a fire, of dying in a car crash. Well...of dying.

I was scared. Very scared. Mostly because there were so many questions I couldn't answer. Questions still exist for me...how would my death change the Pie? How would she adjust to her new home in Kansas? How would she handle holidays without me? Would she be taught all the things I still need to teach her? I trust that the people I have chosen to care for her in the event of my death would do an excellent job raising her, but would they do it as well as only I can?

What I do know is that I must cherish every moment with her, guide her into being a good citizen and hope my influence stays with her even after I'm gone.