Ode to a (Lonely) Piano

The family piano from my childhood.

After years of lessons, I can’t really say that I know how to play piano. I’m not quite sure what happened making those connections between the notes and my hands.

My mom was big on self-improvement and decided taking piano lessons was a good cause in that direction. She and my dad purchased this used spinet piano in the late 1950’s and found a place for it in our living room in Quincy.

A piano teacher was employed, Mrs. Jenkins, who lived up the street. I dutifully walked up there every week and sat next to her on the bench as she opened a John Schaum beginner book with such hope. Mr. Jenkins was always watching TV preachers.

I think my mom paid something like $20-25 a month for the lessons. I felt somewhat bad not really getting the concept even though I practiced at home, usually under some duress. Soon, my brother was walking up the street to Mrs. Jenkins too.

By the time I got to high school, I quit going to Mrs. Jenkins and now took lessons at school. While Mrs. Jenkins didn’t do recitals, Sister Arthurn, my new teacher, did. “Ebb Tide” was a popular piece at the time, and I chose that for my recital. Somehow, I memorized it and pulled it off. My mom was so proud! She talked about it for years.

I officially ended my piano career sometime in high school and had no regrets, even though I still did wish I could actually play. I would say hi to the piano when I was visiting Quincy but no lost love.

On a random day in May of 1986, when I was very pregnant with our fourth child and not thinking at all about pianos, my mom called. Surprise!

“The piano is on it’s way to you.” She announced rather than asked. She decided she wanted the space back in the living room and hired two guys from Quincy to drive it the 300 miles to me in the back of their pick-up truck. (Not at all close to piano movers.) “You took lessons the longest so it belongs to you.” Really?

So we found space in our living room and there it sat. The kids enjoyed banging on it and every so often someone would visit and actually play it.

Three years later, I set my oldest on the same path, piano lessons from a local teacher. He seemed to feel about it the same way I had. I can’t remember how long those lasted but kids # 2 and 3 also took part in the grand tradition of learning to play the same piano.

Our youngest asked if she could skip piano and try something else and I readily agreed. The lid stayed closed unless someone came over to play and then it really rocked!

Meanwhile, the piano became an excellent place to display the photos of the month. I rotate the pictures based on the birthdays of that month and significant events that have taken place. Halloween and Christmas decorations look nice up there too.

Enter the grandchildren! The young ones always open it and pound away. The older ones have their own piano at home and really do know how to play. It’s fun to watch them go at it and try out the pedals but I’m really done now.

Like my mom, I now want the space back and am ready to pass on the piano. It is horribly out of tune and two keys stick. I tried to donate it to a foundation, but no one got back to me. I then offered it as fr*e to all the sites and so far, no one has shown any interest. We can’t bear to just throw it out. 

As I write this, I’m listening to piano music. Kind of ironic, but it is one of my favorite genres.

I’ve discovered my hands are better at words than notes but someone can bring this piano back to the life it was built for.

Hoping it brings as many stories to the next owners as this one has for us.

Would you like a piano?

Hope for the best,

Tish

PS I still have a few pages from my John Schaum beginner’s Christmas album 🙂

The Scent of a Woman: a Memoir.

My first memory of perfume was the ever-present bottle of Revlon’s “Intimate” which always perched on my mom’s dresser. She only wore it for special occasions and regardless of the amount left in the bottle, my dad would replenish it every Christmas. It’s been decades since I’ve had a waft of that scent but if I ever would, my whole childhood would flash before me.

“Heaven Scent” was the first smell in a bottle I remember wearing, more because it was trendy, not so much because I liked it. “Wind Song” was another popular one with the girls of Notre Dame High. The hunt was still on for a fragrance that would be just mine and like countless others, I found it in Chanel # 5.

A spritz of that classic scent would transport me to faraway places where no one saw me as a figuring-it-out-somewhat-floundering-teenage girl but a savvy woman ready to take on the world. I loved the fragrance and it also began to show up for Christmas  in the iconic black bottle. I proudly displayed it on my dresser and sometimes carried it around with me if I needed a shot of confidence.

I’m sure I took a bottle of #5 with me when I left for college but soon it no longer seemed to fit the girl I was evolving into. Musky incense was the new fragrance, not the church kind.

I have no scent memories after that until a dear friend presented me with a bottle of the perfume, L’Air du Temps (The air of summer) around 1976. I don’t think it was for my birthday but a surprise gift. “It smells like you.” she said. I loved the fragrance and have been wearing it every summer since. At the end of September, I ceremoniously put it away to pull out again the following May.

“Baby smell” was my signature fragrance for many years. Sometimes the sweet elixir of newness, sometimes sour scent of spit-up. The season of life that seems to last forever comes with its own unique offerings for all the senses. My going-out times were rare in that era, and I never thought about spritzing something on for an ordinary day like I do now.

Over the following years I would try a random perfume sample at a rare visit to the department stores. Someone who looks like they are dressed to go and perform surgery is always offering a new scent to try. I was in search of something that might “smell like me” for the rest of the year and eventually found it in Cashmere Mist. Light and not overpowering like so many.

Done. Finally, by this “Act Three” of life, it’s good to have few things settled, minor as they may be, to have more energy to devote to all the things that aren’t.

But on Tuesday this week, during a sacred time with a lifelong friend, she presented me with a small bag. Inside was a bottle of the life of my dreams I was pining for in my angst filled high school years.

Chanel # 5. I sprayed it on my wrist and felt no more longing, just satisfaction.

Whatever I was hoping for, in the seasons of waiting for my life to really begin, had been delivered. It all, of course, looked different than I imagined but the end result was the same, gratitude.

The familiar scent had come back around, it now smells like contentment. I’m wearing it everyday.

Hope for the best,

Tish

Top photo credit Image by <a href=”https://pixabay.com/users/domeckopol-610494/?utm_source=link-attribution&amp;utm_medium=referral&amp;utm_campaign=image&amp;utm_content=1460067″>andreas N</

Falling Into the Season

I guess you could say, I’ve surrendered to fall. Don’t worry, I’m not going to change “favorite seasons” from summer and I don’t think I’ve ever sipped a pumpkin spice latte but by the second week of October, I’m all in.

My little orange lights arrived (Fairy lights) and I’m having fun placing them around the house. My kids would have liked these a few decades ago but I don’t think they were a thing when they were around the table. There sure wasn’t an Amazon to drop them off the next day. My granddaughters are getting my extra strands to decorate their rooms.

It’s “different” this year as everything is. I picked up my gourds and pumpkins during a masked visit to Trader Joe’s instead of the farmer’s market. Tom and I are probably the only ones who will see my cute mantle display as no one comes over right now. The pumpkin carving tools might stay in the drawer this year as the annual family event is up in the air.

The October Makeover is almost done and was quite satisfying. Only the drawers and closet need the task of the tank tops-to-sweaters transition. All the summer dishes are away, I already made chili once and the fireplace goes on every morning.

The traditions and rhythms of the season provide a stability in the midst of uncertain times, as they always have.

Even in the pandemic, the days seem to fly by in this third-third of my life and I don’t want to miss a one. Chilly, warm, damp, dry each holds it’s own wonder. Funny, but I’m intentionally adding more steps and miles to my Fitbit this fall while simultaneously slowing down to notice the nuances of the most dramatic seasonal change of the year. Amazing how the amount of leaves on the ground in the yard changes the composition of the view every day.

I don’t want to wake up on Thanksgiving and wonder what I missed by not looking up or out.

Flipping on the orange lights every night, just for me!

So this fall, I’m laying out my clothes the night before so I can RSVP yes to the later sunrises at the beach, grabbing my shoes to get out again for another walk before dinner to see what’s changed, ordering mums along with my groceries and putting them in every room. Filling up with beauty and reading less news. Autumn immersion so to speak, it’s going well.

How about you?

Hope for the best,

Tish

PS: Check out the book, Bend: When Life Dares You to Break. Here is my Amazon review: You can order signed copies from BethLueders.com

If you’re looking for a book to zone out in, Bend: When Life Dares You to Break by Beth Lueders is not that book! Bend pulls you in story after story of individuals facing overwhelming circumstances and coming out on top. Written with a journalistic perspective, the stories are crisp and compelling accounts of those who pushed through to the other side of anger, pain and loss to hope.

Lueders digs deep with the individuals featured in each story to find out where the resiliency came from and how did it last. Wounded veterans, war prisoners, mothers of children with severe disabilities and more. How did they bend but not break? My inspiration and courage rose while engaging with this book! I will be recommending it!

What’s Your Covid Coping Style?

Be Productive! Be Still! Reach Out! Dig In! In the 36 days of my quarantine, all of those messages and more have shown up in my head as well as my social media news feeds.

Is there really a BEST way to respond to the most unusual time of all of our lives? Whose message is the right one?

As with most other things, you are the best expert on you. What serves you well during any other time of uncertainty or duress?

We all have a resume for tough times and hopefully got through most of them still standing. What had worked in the past for you? There are many right answers for how to cope.

Sorting Photos

For some of you that will be taking on projects: Clearing closets or basements, categorizing books, organizing photos, sorting recipes.

Maybe learning new skills is your coping M.O. Someone I know is learning French with Duo Lingo, another is baking bread for the first time. Trying something new uses part of the brain that also makes you feel good. An extra bonus right now.

Baking!

But if you’re not wired that way, you will likely only feel frustrated.

Maybe, adding SLOW to your day to day is most lifegiving. Stopping to smell the roses even if they’re not really there yet. Letting go of the pressure to perform even if it’s just in your own kitchen. Sleeping later, going to bed earlier, taking long walks, does that sound like you?

Walking into Spring

Many have reported that the early days were filled with novelty then intensity then calm. My own response followed those lines. The first few days felt so surreal then I started making lists. Part of my coping plan for just about everything. Then I modified the list as it was stressing me out!

What was essential to you? What can you let go of? What always works for you? What never works? Even the best ideas of someone else might not work for you.

One thing that does work for almost everyone is to laugh more! We are watching Seinfeld for the first time ever to guarantee times of laughter. 30 year old episodes but works every time! Last night we checked out John Krasinski’s SGN (Some Good News,) hilarious and heartwarming. https://bit.ly/3crfC9A

Even though we are well into these days with more on the way, figuring out your best Covid response  will serve you well for this and the inevitable next crisis.

Hope for the Best.

Tish

Eight Ways to Remember These Days

You think you will never forget these days. You won’t! But later, as life returns to normal, many of the details will get blurred with each new experience that comes in.

Not one of us has ever known anything like this when the whole world was personally affected and the days ahead full of uncertainty.

While the global drama is still going on, consider capturing the details in some way to keep your personal memories intact.  In the days ahead, you might want to go back and reflect on these surreal days.

I’m remembering how curious I was to know about my Dad’s WW2 experience. Like most men of that era, he didn’t talk about it much. I could and did read books and watch movies about this time in history, but I wanted to hear about it from one who was there.

If you ever watched the Ken Burns documentary on the Civil War, you would recall the personal experience snippets he included. I remember the excerpts from Mary Chesnut’s diary more than the facts he offered. Her accounts brought a whole new dimension to the historical era.

While you probably won’t write a book about these times, you will likely have an opportunity to tell a story to future generations about what it was like to live through a worldwide pandemic.

Here are a few ways to keep track of the days.

1. Journal: I start each morning with writing in my journal a few things about what is happening in the news, in my home, in me.

2. Highlights: Write down bullet points of the headlines of the world and your life. This can be on paper on in the notes section on your phone.

 

3. Photos:I started taking photos of closed signs on my walks and then added them to an online photo album. When I see someone else’s interesting photo on social media about the times, I save that too. I have snapped a photo of the mayor’s updates too.

4. Headlines: We still take a physical newspaper, so I’ve saved a few startling headlines in a folder. Cover page of news magazines can be saved as well.

5. Social media posts: I’m saving posts that are positive and encouraging on my computer. Easy to do, just look for the “save” feature.

6. Record: Smart phones have a “voice memo” app so you can use it to record your feelings or items you want to remember.

7. Email: Write yourself an email as you think of things you want to remember. Don’t worry about grammar or other edits. Just get it down.

8. Day by Day: Use your wall calendar or desk calendar to write in the white spaces what has gone on that day.

What is not written is not remembered. You won’t forget the facts, they will be readily accessed, but only you carry the memories of how the virus intersected with your world. Gather them up for an audience yet to come.

Hope for the best,

Tish

The Last Day of Normal

“Last Days” are sometimes so obvious. Which kid doesn’t know when the last day of school is at the end of the year? The retiree won’t forget the last day of work. Certainly, the last day of a near-perfect vacation is so hard to let go of. Often, we know exactly when that final event occurs. Sometimes though, we are blindsided by last days.

My “Last Day of Normal,” before the Covid 19 changed everything, was Wednesday March 11, 2020. Of course, I didn’t know it at the time. Honestly, in spite of all the simmering news stories, I didn’t think it would happen so suddenly.

I saved my to-do list from that day just to marvel at how oblivious I was to the impending storm. Our darling granddaughter stopped by for breakfast and our weekly walk to her school. It was Wednesday and that’s our routine on Wednesdays.

My suitcase was out as we were traveling the next day to a conference in Atlanta. Tom was presenting on a topic that he was quite excited about. My plans were to soak up the sun and enjoy the time alone in the hotel along with seeing some family members nearby.

I love to pick up a “new” piece of clothing before a trip so right after the school drop off, I drove to one of my favorite resale shops and sure enough, found the perfect top.  Next on the list was my 11:45 exercise class for an hour. Last year, I started bringing my own equipment to avoid cross-contamination but was pleased that day to see a big bottle of hand sanitizer perched on the stage for the first time.

My manicure appointment was next, also a pre-trip ritual. No one was worried. I stopped into the library to grab the book I had been waiting for to read on the trip. Trader Joe’s followed on the itinerary and everything I needed was on the shelves. Same at CVS, my last stop.

Throughout that day though, our four adult kids were sharing their worries about our trip, often. I kept reassuring them how fine/not foolish we would be. They disagreed.

During my packing time, one daughter texted me photos of the quickly emptying shelves at Target. The other daughter chimed in with her photos of the same story at Jewel. I jumped in my car to my local grocery to get a few things to avoid the hassle after the trip.

That was the beginning of the not-normal. I never shop at night.

By 9:30 that evening, the trip was cancelled. I finished my packing hour by unpacking.

Before the end of the day, my exercise classes were no longer available due to closure.

Within a day the schools closed. No more walks.

The resale shop shut its doors. As did the library

Trader Joe’s and CVS are still open but I’m staying home.

I’m keeping track now with journal entrees and photos of the new normal. My first day was March 12, the day after the “Last Day of Normal.”

When was yours?

Hope for the best, Tish

My FIRST New Coat Purchase!

This is the one I got!

The snowy Midwest has been home my whole life and I bought my first new coat this week! I know, it’s hard to believe.

Of course, that fact wasn’t on my mind while I was limping around the mall one week before my knee replacement surgery. Fortunately, I landed a handicap parking spot with my new placard but there was no assistance for walking between stores. except my purple walking stick.

Let me mention, I don’t like shopping at malls, only thrift shops and cute little gift stores. On the rare occasions I venture into a mall, I get quickly overwhelmed by all the options as well as the prices. Somehow, shopping in malls often triggers envy and deprivation. I walk in feeling satisfied and suddenly feel lacking. How do I get by without all those items displayed everywhere?

But I needed a coat.

Don’t worry, I have stayed warm all these winters. My mom started buying me coats when I was an infant. There is a funny family story of how she put me in a snow suit for the 4th of July parade nearly two weeks after I was born.

They would just show up during visits. “Oh, I picked up a coat for you!” These were lovely coats in a variety of styles she located on the deep sales racks at the end of the winter. She knew my size and tastes and kept me supplied. Confession: I hardly wore the leopard print one though. She stopped coat shopping for both of us a few years ago when she could no longer get around.

Occasionally I would pick up a coat for myself too, at the resale shop, to wear in between seasons. Mom’s coats were mostly “dressy,” and I needed some casual outerwear for my everyday lifestyle. I did buy a few new jackets in my life but no winter coats. No need.

I started my coat quest early this fall by checking out all my usual (resale) shops. Nothing seemed right. Too long/short/wrong color or style etc. My goal was to land one before this surgery and now I was running out of time.

Runner-up

My daughter offered to help as she excels in online shopping, but I needed to see it, feel it and try it on. Thus, the trip to the mall. I was sending these pictures to her as I shopped!

Turns out, the experience was fun! I allowed enough time, money and energy and didn’t overspend on any of it.  I only looked in two stores and went back and got the first one I chose.  It was in my budget and then I found out it was on sale. I would have danced except I can barely move my knee ☹

A little sleeve alteration was in order and I was attended to by a lovely woman who probably had been doing this all her life. They will even send the coat to me after the mend for no charge so not having to carry it home was a plus.

It wasn’t until later that I realized it was my first coat buying experience ever! I think I will try it again in a few years.

Hope for the best,

Tish

Walking With a Limp These Days

Midway Airport

I surveyed the long concourse last weekend at the airport and realized I couldn’t make it to the gate without help. More help than my ever-present walking stick, aka cane, could provide. I keep pretending I’m out for a hike in the woods with my trusty blue stick except I’m really inside my house or nearby, mincing along.

So, I flagged down some assistance and climbed into a wheelchair to get to my gate. The view is different from the chair. I felt I could notice everyone more clearly and no one noticed me. Certainly no one noticed me for about an hour as I waited for a push to baggage claims when I arrived at Midway.

Hopefully, my limp should be resolved sometime next year after my November knee replacement but for now, it is a daily reality. After months of lament, I’m beginning to stop resisting it and getting closer to embracing it as the next big adventure. After all, what’s the alternative?

For sure, I would like to avoid this invasive surgery. Many prayers have been offered with much resulting peace and presence of God, but no healing has come. At least in my knee. Later on, I will likely be aware of something fresh from the Holy Spirit showing up or waves of gratefulness sustaining me during this season – another kind of healing of sorts. I do trust that I have been heard.

Meanwhile, I am scheduling loads of pre-op appointments, rounding up comfortable clothing for the couch days, reserving books at the library, freezing food for no fuss dinners, thinking about how I will decorate my hospital room (this is fun!) and taking my sweet time getting places.

But before that day comes in a few weeks, with my faithful stick in hand, I’m hitting the road again. Taking the train to New Mexico, the bus to Phoenix, the plane to Chicago, the train again to Quincy and one more drive to a retreat. Many steps for this damaged knee, but these events were on the calendar before the surgery date. I always long for some time to reset after a lot of travel so this time I will get it for sure.

Life is full of plans we make and plans that get made for us. I’m leaning into reaching for the available grace no matter what’s on the table. Well, some days at least.

Hope for the best,

Tish

Do You See What I See? Musings on Looking Older.

Circa 1990

“Are you old, Mimi?” one of my younger grandsons asked. “I’m older than you…and older than your dad, but inside I am young.” That satisfied him and we took off to play.

I really enjoy the age I am. Older, not old. Actually, I prefer “timeless” as what’s a number? When I reflect on my image,  I usually view the version of me that is inside:  Vibrant, full of life, childlike in a good way, “seasoned.”

Apparently, that view isn’t the one shared by my grandson or the grocery clerk at my local store. Tuesday is 10% off for those of us of a certain age and once again yesterday, the senior discount on my groceries rang up without me requesting it.  I wish I could say it was due to her remembering me, but she was new.

Same thing happened at the pharmacy later that day. When I inquired about my flu shot, the young associate quickly told me they were out of the ones for the over-65 crowd. Who told him I was over 65?? Sheesh, is it that obvious?

Don’t get me wrong, I love all the eligible discounts I qualify for and ask for them all the time. I just want to be the one doing the asking! My fantasy is that I am demanded to pull out my driver’s license to prove it. Hasn’t happened yet.

No judgement please. I am not trying to pretend I’m younger. I don’t use products that are “anti-aging.” I’m not getting any “work” done. I have a deep appreciation for all the years behind me and counting on at least 30 more to go.

All that I love so much in my life is NOW and wouldn’t have been possible in an earlier season. Of course, I have a museum of beautiful memories of the years gone by, but I don’t want to go back.

My lament is that my inside and outside no longer match. I miss that.

Oh well.

Hope for the best,

Tish

 

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Bite by Bite: Lunch with My Mother

Birthday lunch a few years back.

Four women eating lunch around a small table on a beautiful October afternoon. Such a common event, one might not hardly notice a group like that. All around the large room, other groups were dining too. As expected, snippets of conversation filled the air.

Two of the four women just met that day. As one of the two newbies, I enjoyed meeting a new acquaintance, Deborah. We exchanged the usual info like our names, family details, and what brought us to this table. Turns out, the same events.

While we were getting to know each other a bit, Deborah and I were also feeding our mothers. The other two women at the table. Like my mom, Deborah’s mom also suffered a stroke some time back. Neither one was now very successful in getting the bites into their mouths without help. We continued chatting like this was the most normal thing in the world. For both of us, it was.

Before this season of post-stroke, my mom and I shared thousands of lunches over the years. Such sweet times over her kitchen table or later, mine. Some in restaurants like truck stops in Missouri others, in places like Harrods in London. Most somewhere in between.

The first few hundred, she was feeding me, just like I am her now. It all comes around. I wonder if she thought about then that someday our roles would be reversed. A thought I usually don’t have when I’m lunching with one of my girls now. Just as well, those musings would take away the pleasure of the moment.

After lunch, Deborah and I pushed our moms in their wheelchairs into the courtyard and mostly sat in silence. A wind chime filled the air with occasional tones and the breeze felt good. I think Mom liked it. Sitting outside was always one of her delights.

Meeting Deborah was lovely. I hope we lunch together again sometime. Another unexpected gift from this season to add to the pile I have already opened.

No one asked for these events but much grace is present.

Resting in the courtyard.

Hope for the best,

Tish