Days of Books and Roses

Like me, Mom hates finishing a good book and suggested that if I write a review of it, it might elicit comments. The book I just finished reading is The End of The Alphabet by C.S. Richardson and here are my thoughts on it.

If you were told that you only have 30 days to live, how would you spend those days? Ambrose Zephyr, the main character of The End of The Alphabet by C.S. Richardson has just been told that. He is fifty and married to a woman he loves very much when he is told that his illness will kill him within a month. Give or take a day.

He quickly decides to spend his 30 days traveling alphabetically from Amsterdam to Zanzibar. Though Zaporra Ashkenazi (nicknamed Zipper) his much loved wife thinks that he could use the letter “A” to get his affairs in order, she decides that if he wants to travel she will go with him. They have no children and she does not want him to go without her.

This is a beautifully written story of their last journey though it’s not a travel book and things don’t always go well. However, throughout the book you see how much they love and depend on each other and how gracefully they complement each other. This is above all a love story with a little bit of poetry and magic on every page.

Logically there are some problems with the book as you’re never told what his disease is and he never asks for a second opinion. This is C.S. Richardson’s first novel and he uses no quotes for his characters so there were times I wasn’t sure whose “voice” I was reading. But this is an intelligent and deeply touching book; poignant without being maudlin. Life goes on. Death goes on. Love goes on.

What would you do if you were told you only had 30 days to live?

Joy

Life on the farm in Minnesota was difficult; nine kids, no mother and a dad who was gone much of the time building silos on neighboring farms. But kids are kids and fun is found no matter the circumstances. Mother and her sister often told us how they would ride the sheep, racing each other and holding on for dear life to the wool. Bridles were never mentioned which is probably why they fell off so often. But it is one of their most treasured memories.

John Edwards has withdrawn from the campaign but you can read his wonderful message to all of us on his website: www.johnedwards.com

And the award goes to.........

Fresh snow in the mountains, the rain is over and gas is under $3/gallon!When we watch the Academy Awards, there are always movies or performances we haven’t seen. Not this year as we are making a project of seeing all the major films and performances. It costs $7.50 each to see a matinee (before 6:00pm) with the senior discount of $1.00. Afterwards we go out to eat or stop at Starbucks for a latte and discuss what we've just seen. The different locations create a better atmosphere for discussions; if we were home, I'd be reading or studying and DH would be watching television. Not exactly conducive to stimulating conversations!

I've just finished reading a most unusual book and need some time to reflect on it: "The End of the Alphabet" by C.S. Richardson. It was never in my "currently reading" list because I finished it before I had the time to list it. It's that small - only 121 teeny-tiny pages but thought provoking. I may join a local bookclub but don't want to dissect a book so much that it kills all the enjoyment. Picky, picky.

Uff Da

The Norwegian equivalent of "oy vey!"

In "The Glass Castle" by Jeannette Walls, she writes about how her mother once mentioned Jackson Pollock to a person who had been giving her rides to work. The woman said she had Polish blood and so didn't appreciate hearing derogatory names for Polish people.

That reminded me of a similar misunderstanding. I was responsible for training a new employee who had the habit of asking questions, lots of questions that had nothing to do with her job. It didn't take me long to realize this was her way of avoiding work and when she asked the next unrelated-to-anything question, I told her it was a "moot point." The next day she came to work and resigned telling everyone it was because I had called her deaf and dumb. No one believed I could have said such a thing. They were right and it didn't take me too long to realize that she had confused "moot" with "mute." I explained it to her but she still resigned which was best. She wouldn't have made it through the probation period anyway.

"Uff da" was an expression we heard often while we were growing up. Mother's first language was Norwegian and she would speak it to her brothers and sisters when she didn't want us to understand what she was saying. I always thought it would be fun to learn Norwegian but realized there wasn't much of a demand for it for the amount of work it would take. I once looked up Norwegian sayings and came across one that I recall as "you can't count the pelts until the bears are shot" - or something like that.

The Resort

Uncle's Resort , Minnesota 1947 Another view, also taken in 1947
Every other summer we would make a trip from SoCal to Minnesota and visit relatives. Staying at our uncle’s resort was the highlight of these trips because we could roam and explore pretty much unsupervised. We city kids learned about wood ticks, leeches, mosquitoes and lightning bugs. We had our own cabin which was furnished but ate all our meals with the relatives.

On warm days, our uncle would allow us to select a drink from the chest-type cooler full of ice and sodas in the bait house. We never had sodas at home and enjoyed being able to choose a bottled root-beer, Coca-Cola, Nehi orange or grape, and pull it out of the ice-cold water and open it with the bottle opener on the side of the cooler.

As we got older and the fishing boats our cousins and friends had gave way to speed boats, my sister and I were reined in a little more – don’t go out with the boys in fast boats.

More Family History

Mother is second from the left, aunt Mae is in front, aunt Amy in plaid, uncle Edwin is third from the right, uncle Arnie is far right and Grandpa is in the middle, showing his sense of humor by doing a little skip for the camera. He lived with us in SoCal for about eight years before he passed away.

DH thinks this picture of Arnie was taken at boot-camp because of the ill-fitting uniform, sleeves too short and pants too long.

Arnie was the youngest of nine in mother's family and 4 months old when their mother died of pneumonia. He was 44 when he died in a construction accident while using a heavy board to free equipment that was stuck in mud; the board came free, hit him in the head and he died instantly.

When I was back in Minnesota with mother, I heard from family friends how Arnie loved to drive and would save his pennies to buy gas, which then was about eighteen cents a gallon. Sometimes he would only be able to buy a nickel's worth and when the car ran out of gas he and his friends would push it home.

When his enlistment was over, he stayed in California and married a woman originally from Virginia. They never had children and his one big dream was to save up enough money to return to Minnesota and open a resort like his older brother, Edwin. He died the year he had intended to move. His widow moved to Minnesota temporarily but eventually returned to Virginia.

Grandma's 21

I came across this while DH and I were sorting through a box of old photos. DGS was in the room and asked to see it. I told him it was taken the day I turned 21; he took one look at it and said, "Wow, Grandma! Those are some awesome shoulder pads!" and wondered if I had been a linebacker for the Rams! He has a wonderful sense of humor and though I'm still laughing, he doesn't get to look at any more old pictures.

When I turned 21, DH (he wasn't DH then), my parents and I went to the Sea Lion in Malibu. I ordered a whiskey sour, grasshopper and a tom collins but don't remember what I ate - probably because of what I drank. I do remember eating the olive in someone's martini which brought tears to my eyes and probably contained more alcohol than my three drinks.

The picture was taken in the apartment my sister and I shared in NoHo. After a midnight movie, DH and I would come back to the apartment, wake my sister and go out to breakfast at Dennys. She was a good sport and never minded that we woke her. Now I can't believe we kept those hours but then we were young and only needed about 3-4 hours of sleep!

And the "shoulder pads?" A family friend loaned me the detachable-fur collar from her coat. I know I was a little (?) overdressed but that night I felt like a princess.

His Ride

Oh Lord, won't you buy me a Mercedes Benz ?

My friends all drive Porsches, I must make amends.

Worked hard all my lifetime, no help from my friends,So Lord, won't you buy me a Mercedes Benz ?

DGS's car - he has sold (is selling) his orange bug to his mother and bought a Mercedes! Okay, it is about his age (18) and he's having some "issues" getting it to pass smog but this is now his car and he is beyond jazzed. He puts on his fancy-schmancy sport coat over a rock T and struts out the door. Looking and feeling mighty fine. No such thing as spare change anymore - it all goes for insurance and gas.

Happy Birthday DD

This picture was taken exactly one month before her second birthday.

She was always such an interesting little girl. The first time she met a young lady with the same name she has, she asked me, "Will I be her when I grow up?"

On her third birthday when I woke her up and told her she was now three, she said, "How do I know it's my birthday? How do I know I'm really three?" I spent the better part of the day trying to convince her it was her birthday. Later that day when we sang happy birthday to her and she blew out three candles on her cake she decided yes, she was three.

When she and her brother would break wishbones she cried because she never won. I decided I'd break the next one with her and let her win. When she won she cried and I said, "You don't need to cry. You won." She said she knew she had won but she was crying because I didn't win.

One day she came home from school all excited and said that in her driver's ed class they had used "stimulators." Whaaaaa? Stimulators - what the heck was that all about? She went on to say it was so much fun, almost like driving a car. Oh, you mean simulators. Yes, isn't that what I said. Nope. Not quite.

She now celebrates two birthdays - one in January which she calls her "belly-button birthday" and one the day she became sober, her "clean birthday." It was a hard-fought sobriety and one we had about given up on. The change in her is nothing short of a miracle and we have a lot of people to thank for that. Many prayers were said on her behalf. Like the rest of us she is now a work in progress. And she's progressing. One day at a time.

Happy Birthday DD!

Sisters

Sandra and Camille, Florida 1945

Sandra, Camille and Friend

Camille and Sandra BFF

I was eleven months old when my only sister was born. Mother thought you couldn't get pregnant as long as you were nursing - surprise! They named her Camille - such a beautiful name but I couldn't pronounce it and called her, "My Ca-mickey." Soon her nickname was Mickey. Our Minnesota relatives still refer to her as Mickey.

We were almost always dressed alike but in different colors - she was a lightly-freckled redhead and I was blond. She said she thought she was adopted until we were teenagers and she saw a picture of our maternal grandmother's sister who was almost her double.

I always thought we would grow old together. Didn't happen. She now has her angel wings. I will always miss her but even more I regret that I didn't see her as often as I should have while she was alive. There were so many reasons why I didn't: raising DD's two boys gave us very little free time, she lived far away, because of her MS she had difficulty talking and making herself understood and didn't always remember our visits anyway. Excuses. None of them good enough. After our mother passed away, I could enjoy all the good memories because there were no regrets - absolutely none. With my sister I still have regrets and so my memories are bittersweet.

Camille left behind a husband, two beautiful daughters, grandchildren, and a hole in our hearts.

Mother and Dearie

Mother and DadBig smiles, both look so happy. Would this have been the year Mother gifted herself with a mink stole? She wanted one, he said no, she bought one, wrapped it up, opened it Christmas Eve and let everyone think it was from him. He didn't say a word otherwise.

They met when she was divorced, had three children and was supporting her family by working for the telephone company while living with her sister (Amy) and her family. When Mother met dad, she laughingly told Amy, "He's short, bald and I'm going to marry him." Before she accepted his proposal she made him promise we three kids could continue going to parochial school. He kept his word even when things were tough financially.

I didn't hear that story until after both Mother and dad had passed away and it helped me better understand their relationship. They were so different. She was very open-minded and he was the opposite. Their arguments were intense. She could and would go toe-to-toe and nose-to-nose with him. But he was a good provider and her choice. I recently read letters she had written to him when they were newly married. He worked out of town and came home on weekends and it looks like she wrote him nearly every day. In the letters she calls him "dearie." Dearie. I'm discovering something new every day!

Re Mother's comment about dad being "short, bald": according to her sister, because their brothers were tall the sisters all preferred short men. Only one sister (the tallest) out of five married a tall man. And dad wasn't bald but he did have a lot of forehead. ;-)

John Edwards for President 2008

Four percent - 4% - that's what John Edwards got in the Nevada caucus. He placed second in Iowa, third in New Hampshire and third in Nevada. He says it's a marathon, not a sprint and he is in it until the end. However, money and support dry up if people perceive you can't win. He has been my choice from the start. I've put money and energy where my mouth is and have been more than frustrated at the lack of coverage his campaign gets in the media. The media is now talking about who he will endorse when he pulls out and where his supporters will go. Beats me. I don't have a second choice.

The Family

Christmas Eve Dinner 1958 with aunts and uncles

Grandpa at the head of the table, Ernie's mother, Ernie (standing, Amy's husband), Eric (Petra's husband), Mae (Quentin's wife), Ned (Christine's husband), Arnie (standing, Rhea's husband), dad, Mother, Amy (both standing), Christine, Quentin, Petra, Rhea.

This was the grownups table, we kids were eating in the kitchen. We opened our present Christmas Eve after dinner and when all the dishes were done - and always complained about how slow they were. Christmas Dinner always included Norwegian meatballs, lefse, lutefisk (cod boiled in lye that stunk like you can't believe!) and jello - we had jello at every gathering I can remember. In later years they got fancy and added things like kiwi and pineapple.

My favorite present that year was a pink radio (my very own radio) from Petra and Eric. My sister and I shared a room and we spent many nights listening to the latest songs on that little pink radio.

Of all the people in this picture, only one is still alive today. Aunt Amy is now 87.

Florida

WEP and Sandra



Postcard from Mother to her Dad in Minnesota
A postcard from Florida to Mother's dad in Minnesota. The postcard has a pull-out insert with eighteen pictures of flowers and trees. I never heard her call or refer to him as "pa" and it seems so "Little House on the Praire-ish" to me. He built silos in Minnesota and would be gone for extended periods of time leaving the children at home to look after one another; he never remarried after his wife died of pneumonia. Mother remembers a neighbor wanting to adopt her so that Grandpa wouldn't have quite so many children to look after. When this neighbor would come over, Mother would run upstairs and hide but her dad said, no - he would never give away one of his kids and would manage just fine. But he didn't always manage and there were many lean times. When I read Angela's Ashes I was almost numb with the unrelenting accounts of poverty and hunger. I told my Mother and my aunt that I couldn't even imagine such desperate times but they both said they could - they lived them.

The poem extolling Florida's colorful flowers mentions a poinciana tree - it is a tropical tree with showy red, orange or yellow flowers. Florida must have seemed like Paradise after all those harsh Minnesota winters.

Beginnings

It was so hot the day this was taken. Sandra is 2 mos here.I look at this and think of how young she was - and not just in years. She was the youngest girl in a family of nine. Her mother died when she was just a toddler and though the older children in the family "mothered" her, she always missed not having a mother. She was closest to the sister just a couple of years older than she was - Amy, who is the only sibling still alive.

Once when funds were scarce, Mother walked into a store that was selling chicken for 10 cents a pound and asked for 10 cents worth. They told her it wasn't sold that way and she was so embarrassed that she remembered it forever.

I love the scuffed saddle shoes and socks. I'm guessing my birth dad is the one taking the picture.

More History

This is a picture of our Mother and birth dad taken in Washington, D.C. - pen pals who met in Delaware where she was working. They moved to Florida where he was stationed and that is where my sister and I were born. I don't remember much about him as they divorced when I was very young. When our brother was scheduled to go to Viet Nam, he wanted to find him and eventually did. My sister and I were never curious enough to meet him and he never pushed the issue. My brother established a relationship with him of sorts and let us know when he passed away.

I didn't see a picture of my birth dad until after Dad passed away. It was very strange to look at a picture of a stranger and try to see if we looked like him. Mother was always very secretive about the fact that she had been divorced - in fact, it was my sister and I who sort of remembered Dad coming on the scene and learning how to spell a new last name. We put two and two together and finally asked her about it when we were in our teens. At first she denied it but eventually told us the truth.

History

From left to right: my cousin Lee, Me, Uncle Ernie, brother Steven in front of him, cousin Dennis, brother Pete and sister Camille. This picture was taken in Los Angeles at the home of my Aunt and Uncle, 1951. Lee is almost 6 months older than I am, I am almost 6 months older than Dennis, Dennis is almost 6 months older than Camille. Steven is a couple of years younger than Camille and Pete (about 6 years younger than Camille) was the youngest until our last brother was born. Eric was about 8 years younger than Pete. We all thought he was an "oops" baby but Mother said no, they just wanted another one.My mother divorced my birth dad when she had three children. In those days it was very hard for a single mother to support a family so for a time we lived with her sister and husband and their two boys in Los Angeles. It was there that she met the man we all came to know as dad. They married and she had two more boys.

When Mother knew she was about to die, she called us all together for one last time. She told her sister what a good sister she had been and how good it had been of her to take us all in. My Aunt was very quiet and her eyes filled with tears. It was a very touching moment. Quietly my Mother said, "Okay. It's your turn now to tell me what a good sister I was." Which made us all laugh in spite of the sad circumstances. She left us with so many wonderful gifts and beautiful memories.

Discoveries

My SamAtlas Shrugged. I read that so many years ago and last week DGS bought a copy. I asked him how he had come to buy that book and what he knew about Ayn Rand. Turns out he became interested in the book because a computer game referenced it - no great philosophical intent at all. But as we talked about the book and I mentioned how many people it had influenced, we then turned naturally to philosophy and philosophers. Hmmm - so now I'm refreshing my memory of all I've learned about Plato, Socrates, etc. However, at this point in my life I only have so many brain cells functioning and I can feel each and every one of them constricting as I try to ponder stuff I left years ago. What is real? What is truth? Knowledge? Philosophy promotes endless discussions and I can see where we're headed. I gave up navel gazing eons ago but DGS is just discovering life. Ah, the young.

Healing Words

This poem was left as a comment on my blog and I think it should be shared. This is for those who have cancer and those who know or love someone with cancer.

What Cancer Cannot Do:

it cannot cripple love
it cannot shatter hope
it cannot corrode faith
it cannot destroy peace
it cannot kill friendships
it cannot suppress memories
it cannot silence courage
it cannot invade the soul
it cannot steal eternal life
it cannot conquer the spirit

DH and I were in the doctor's office waiting for the test results. When his doctor told us yes, the tests confirmed it was cancer and a "particularly nasty, aggressive" cancer, I heard the words but didn't quite take them in. DH opened his eyes a little wider, leaned forward slightly and in a very clear, calm voice asked, "So, how much time do I have left?" That question stunned me, said in such a matter-of-fact way but the surgeon answered that he was going to cure him, let him die of something else.

It has been almost five months since DH had his urostomy and he has an appointment with his surgeon in about two weeks for some followup tests - a CAT scan and lung x-ray. They want to make sure the cancer has not returned - we're all on the same page on that one!