"There are places I remember, all my life, though some have changed...."

A whole year since my last post....I guess I must be in the Reunion phase of my life; last year was my high school folk group, and this year was my grade school graduation reunion.  Whenever someone asked me what my summer plans were, I told them they’d laugh if they knew; and most of them did, followed by, “Are you serious?” Deadly. 

It started with a much less complicated plan….Tim had never seen where I grew up, whereas I’d spent lots of time in his hometown. There was talk of a Dean family get-together at the family summer home in the north woods of Wisconsin, so it only made sense to combine them, with a visit to our son and his wife thrown in for good measure.  Then, multiple emails/Facebook posts between several of us grade school buddies planted the seeds of “We should have another reunion – the last one was 20 years ago!” Never one to pass on a dare, I started to set things in motion by proposing a date, subtracting a week from the Dean family bash. When enough classmates agreed to that, we were off to the races.  We kept our expectations realistic – how many people are really interested in seeing their grade school friends 45 years after graduation, anyway? – and started researching lost souls.  Many folks had not gone far from the area, and lots were in touch on Facebook and email, so it was easy to track them down.

We found a small neighborhood tavern, once owned by an older St. Dom’s graduate, that would give us a back room as long as we bought food and drinks (you’re on). Put together an Evite, and waited for a flurry of responses. And waited.  And waited……and waited…..and worried……we decided that even if ten of us showed up, it would be a blast. And we also figured that lots of people might not decide until the very last minute.  We were right.

On August 6, we jumped on a plane from Portland to Chicago, where we had a 3 hour layover (I hate O’Hare….) and finally landed in Cleveland around 11 pm, arriving at our host’s home close to midnight. Bless her heart, Karen waited up for us and got us settled.

Thornton Pool, which has only gotten bigger and better than it
was when I was a kid....

"The deep end", where all diving took place. The high dive
has been removed.....

The next morning, we took off on a tour of Shaker Heights, the town in Ohio where I lived from age 3 to age 11 ½. Despite the fact that half the town was undergoing road work and construction, I was still able to navigate most of it by memory – The house where I grew up, the school around the corner where I attended kindergarten, the Duck Pond, my sister’s high school, and the city pool where I spent virtually every summer day as a child. Don't know if Tim was impressed, but I sure was! 

My house...well, at one time, anyway. The last 10 years have
not been friendly...a less than accurate paint job, and two
dead trees have changed its looks completely. Makes me
wonder if it's in foreclosure...

Chris, Julie, Steve, Maureene, Herb, Katie

Saturday was the actual day of the reunion. The plan was to meet in the school for a brief reception and tour (like I couldn’t walk through that place blindfolded….) then 5 pm Mass in one of the prettiest churches ever. I was going to join the music group with another of the reunion planners who was a regular member, so I took Tim for an early tour…going up a staircase in the main hall, I noticed several old, framed pictures from decades past; I looked more closely, and saw that one was “Graduating Class of 1962” which just happened to be my older brother’s class! It was too far away for me to see clearly, so we took it down, and sure enough, there was my brother, second row, third from the left. We were able to get a copy which will be sent to him for safekeeping! J

Top Row: Sharon, Cathy, Katie, Karen, Maureene, Steve
Bottom: Jim, Mark, Herb, Julie, Wendy

Then on to the choir loft…there was Jim, my friend the drummer, his wife Barb, who did all sorts of percussion and woodwinds, a delightful Holy Cross brother who did keyboards, the choir director, and me. It was somewhat intimidating, because I knew that this director had a fabulous reputation, and he knew nothing about me – he was doing it as a favor to Jim, who had provided one of his 12 string guitars for me to use. A very quick rehearsal, and then I saw the Class of 1970 come into the church. Most of them knew nothing about what I had done with music since we last saw one another, but they knew I was up there in the balcony. It was so much fun to be doing what I loved in a place that I loved, and it was over before I knew it.

Ya just can't get everyone to look straight ahead at the same time!

After a few more pictures in front of school, it was off to The Tavern Company, meeting up with some folks who weren’t at the church. The next 3 hours flew by, with lots of catching up – sharing pictures, stories, and meeting spouses and friends who became part of the picture in the days after 8^th grade!

Wendy and Karen - who says we're almost 60?

Cathy, Katie, Steve, and Mark

Jim's band, "Up 'Til Four", provided great covers of songs from our era

Herb and Chris, deep in manly conversation

Kathy listens while the other Cathy gives Katie an earful...

Most of this will mean nothing to anyone but me or the few friends who choose to read it. So many people wondered why I would spend so much of my hard-earned vacation meeting up with people I hadn’t seen in 20 or more years. But it was the single best thing I did all year….those people are a link to my past, my childhood, my “formative years”, as they call them. We share memories and experiences that can’t be duplicated, that are as clear to us as if they happened last week. Those in attendance are doing well, look terrific, and were genuinely happy to be there. We passed around a list for those interested in keeping in touch my email or snail mail. I consider myself blessed and privileged to have known such wonderful people, and to have had the opportunity to reconnect after so many years.

The icing on the cake was attending an Indians game the next day…..and they WON!!!!! That is the only time I EVER went to an Indians game where they won…..

So, here's to the good ol' days....itchy wool uniforms, May Crownings, the St. Patrick's Day plays, and the best friends ever... love you guys! Except for Sr. Mary Agnes....!

Progressive Field, home of the Indians - much nicer than the stadium
where I used to attend games with my brothers.

"Ring, ring, Voices ring, with a happy song, anybody can be a singer...."

"Young Folk", 42 years after disbanding

*grin*..... I waited for it for almost a whole year....planned it endlessly in my head, worried that something would go wrong, or worse, that it wouldn't live up to my expectations.  That no one else involved would care as much as I did, that it would matter far more to me than it did to anyone else.  By the time mid-July rolled around, I was bouncing around on my toes, I was so excited.  Friends at work HAD to be sick of listening to me talk about it, but kindly smiled and nodded sweetly as I talked about the details and plans....

We started out mid-Monday, headed for Newport, OR.  There is no such thing as a bad day at the coast, and the evening's sunset proved that. Lovely hotel, for a Best Western, and a great night's sleep - the beach was right outside the door, so waves lulled us to sleep and coaxed us awake.

Tuesday sent us farther down the coast, with several stops along the way to hike up to Heceta Head Lighthouse and enjoy gorgeous views from the highway.



We stopped at Bandon, known for its golf courses (yawn) and an adorable "Old Town". Our destination that evening was Brookings, a sleepy little coastal town with not much to recommend itself, but again, a nice beachfront room with gulls so tame they lined up outside the porches waiting for suckers to throw food at them. And they did... (we did not).

Wednesday brought unexpected adventures...acting as tour guide, I suggested we throw caution to the wind and take a detour to Crater Lake, one of the most jaw-droppingly stunning wonders of the country. What I did not do was consult the weather report. Although the coast had been great, despite rain on Wednesday morning, there was a small but potent storm moving northeast across Oregon....which quite effectively obliterated Crater Lake with fog (funny, I could swear there was a lake down there last time we were here...) and dropped the temperature to about 40 degrees. So much for that - the lodge was packed, with people huddled around the fireplaces with their toddies and their chess games....

So, we headed back to that evening's destination - Ashland, home of the Oregon Shakespeare Festival. I'm embarrassed to say that despite living here for 24 years, we never made it to Ashland, much less the Festival. We walked around the historic district for a couple hours, caught an outside performance open to the public, had dinner (and an AWESOME Riesling!) at a darling Irish pub, and decided we would come back in the morning to see more.  Much quieter in the morning, and we were able to get into the actual Shakespearean theater, which is very cool - they'll even rent you blankets for evening performances! -

Once a performer, always a performer....

Needless to say, the ham in me couldn't resist; and of course, I got severely reprimanded - "Ma'am, this is a working stage, you can't be there!"  And as soon as Tim took the picture, I jumped off!

As we walked through town, we checked out an old, historic hotel - Ashland Springs - whose restaurant we passed the night before, and for which we thought we weren't quite dressed appropriately (and in the NW, that's saying a lot) - talk about gorgeous! Reminiscent of Casablanca! The lobby was to die for, complete with Audubon drawings lining the columns - just amazing. Sure wish I could have seen an actual room!

Kept looking for Bogart to come around a corner...

All of this was but the appetizer to a long-anticipated banquet...for me to endure a six-hour drive from Ashland through some pretty desolate territory (once you get past Mt. Shasta, it goes downhill pretty quickly - literally) and tinder-dry (if not outright dead) hillsides, it meant that I would do anything to get to Tahoe. We arrived at the cabin about 6:30, and I was jumping out of the car before Tim had even turned off the ignition.  I could hear the laughter of my friends and couldn't get up the stairs fast enough - never mind that I'd never seen this place before and had no idea where I was going! And then, there they were.....Vickie, her husband Paul, Fitz, John and his wife Lisa....although we had been together two years previously at a wedding, seeing them again was the best tonic ever. The next day, Gang #2 arrived - Robin & Steve, and Jim.  Seven of our original group, which was a pretty terrific turnout considering the distance many had to navigate.

Now we're smart enough to stay out of the sun...

Well, most of the time, anyway...

It's a lot colder than it looks...

The days were spent at the private beach, pool, and restaurant that came with the house, and the waterfront bar with Rum Punch that went down way too easy! Tough life! Perfect weather, a work of art for a lake, and non-stop laughing and catch-up on our lives - our jobs, our kids, grandkids, remaining parents, etc.  Amazing how connected we remain, not needing much in the way of explanation of who/where/what we were discussing. And how much of our past we had never felt brave enough to share, but now, in the comfort and safety of adulthood, we found an even deeper connection - our successes, failures, doubts, and fears were discussed with no worry that they would be met with anything but understanding and love. And we have been lucky enough to choose spouses who not only understand but share our camaraderie, and are amazingly tolerant of endless discussion of events where they were not a participant.

The nights were reserved for singing - we had rearranged the furniture to accommodate John's drum set and Fitz's keyboard.  After some really exceptional culinary efforts directed by Paul, and enough wine to grease the wheels, we would pick up guitars and try to remember chords, words, and tempos of the songs we sang in church, and in our hang-out time.  Not always successful - Robin & I frequently disagreed about what key a song should be in, but that's nothing new! :) But it was absolutely a blast - I was concerned that the neighbors might come pounding on the door - we didn't exactly sound as spectacular as I remembered; we were missing several male voices that were our trademark, and without mikes, our voices were drowned out by the drums and keyboards. But the feeling was there. The best - and I do mean VERY best - part was that our incredibly gifted lead guitarist, Jim, had finally decided that he would actually sing. Not once in our four years as a group did we ever hear one note from him.  No way, no how.  Not gonna happen. Again, that teenage thing.... Well, he more than made up for lost time. Now, he's not only a fabulously talented musician, he sings, too!

I love these people more than I could ever convey. We've had our issues, to be sure, but in the end, we are tethered by love, memories, ridiculous jokes, and music. ALWAYS the music. That music will always fill my mind and my heart, and my mind's eye will see Jim playing lead on Landslide, Fitz doing the opening riff on Brown Eyed Girl, Vickie doing her tambourine thing on just about everything, and John adding the most amazing drum runs. I would wager that most people I know have never enjoyed the kinds of experiences I've had with these guys - and I continually get on my knees and thank God that I've been so blessed.

"For United We Stand, divided we fall,

 and if our backs should ever be against the wall, we'll be together..."

Vickie, Robin, Steve, Sharon, Fitz, Jim, Lisa, John

"Don't It Always Seem to Go, That You Don't Know What You've Got 'til It's Gone...."

Gee, it's only taken me 4 months to get logged back in to this thing! Google is on my you-know-what list.... But the remaining areas of life are just spiffy, thanks - in sharp contrast to March, when all manner of hell was breaking loose in the workplace, I am now in a much better situation - back with my homies in Hem Malignancies, working with people I know and love well, who wanted me to return, who are thrilled that I'm back (not as thrilled as I am, bucko!), and doing things with a purpose. A long and ugly story, to be sure, but after focused efforts I left Dante's Inferno in late April and began here May 1. I'm sleeping better, eating better, I'm happier, more relaxed.....sometimes you gotta get away before you realize how good you had it. Boy and howdy....

"Big Girls Don't Cry....."

I am a big girl. I am an adult. I am talented, intelligent, creative, gregarious, and passionate.  I am also a wimp.  I am allowing a bully to get the best of me at work, allowing her to denigrate my abilities and erode my self-confidence. And it has to stop. Moreover, I need to approach my attempts to find something new from a position of strength rather than desperation.  If only I knew how to do that.

I have been in enough applicant pools in my lifetime to realize that there is only so much one can control, and that ultimately, everything happens for a reason. Sometimes it takes a while to figure out exactly what that reason is, but I know that obsessive attempts to control the outcome does nothing but create stress.  Which is where I am now.  Within the space of 10 days, I will have interviewed for 3 positions.  I am petrified that the one I REALLY want will not be the one to offer me a position, because it's taking the longest to get going.  I feel paralyzed by the possibility that I will be faced with a choice I don't want to make. Even worse, that NONE of them will make an offer, and I'll be stuck where I am!  Rationally, I know that these three are not the only possible positions out there, but I want out of where I am SO badly, that I am in danger of making a knee-jerk decision.  The times in my life when I have done that have had disastrous consequences, and I'm in no hurry to repeat that scenario.

What puzzles me is how I wind up in these situations to begin with.  To do it in one's twenties or thirties is understandable; it's part of the growth process and career development.  But I've waved the long good-bye to those days a long time ago, and it's still happening.  To be fair, my current position was fine until about a year ago, when a new vice-president and her management style became clearly at odds with the atmosphere I was hired into. Then, one of my hiring managers decided it was time to take her PERS and retire in July, which caught me off guard.  As much as I knew I would miss her, I wished her well, and looked forward to what a new person would contribute to our office.

Then, by late fall, another senior administrator in the office, whose dry wit and perpetual energy were a delight, decided he could no longer abide the chaos, tension, and negativity in our administration, and announced he would be gone by January 1.

My remaining manager, with whom I enjoyed a great rapport and working relationship, was trying her very hardest not to strangle the VP, and we relied on one another to keep our spirits up and sense of humor intact. Then, one December morning at a staff meeting, she announced she would be leaving at the end of the month. We'd both been looking, and both knew that. Nevertheless, her announcement caught me by surprise because she had nothing waiting in the wings.  Now THAT'S desperate - to leave a high-level, lucrative, influential role where she was highly respected and loved, for unemployment.  Which meant that I was left holding the bag.

She's been gone for two months now, and I am perilously close to the ledge.  The atmosphere is downright toxic, the tension is palpable, and I come home emotionally exhausted and spent, only to wake up and dread returning for one more day. So, my task is to keep myself focused and positive, and not to define myself by the results of these interviews.  What's the worst that could happen? That I get no offers? Or, I get fired, which might be a blessing in disguise. I will ultimately land on my feet, and I must keep reminding myself of that fact. I know that karma rules, and I will reap what I have sown. I wouldn't mind a few prayers and good wishes tossed my way, though.....Stay tuned......

"I Thank My God, When I Think of You...."

Sick day....I've finally hit the wall.  I just couldn't go in there one more time. At age 57, I'm still a wuss when it comes to conflict, and I still desperately need mental health days.  Not just mental/emotional health; I've had a killer headache for days.....due in part, I'm sure, to the very dry, cold weather we've been having for the past week, but mostly as a result of my job.

We are two days from Thanksgiving. Somehow, I thought that by the time I was this age, life would be more settled, even-keeled, satisfying. And it's not. I am in a job that a year ago was terrific, but starting in January 2013 became a daily nightmare. It's been 11 months of water torture; bit by bit, day by day, the erosion of spirit and purpose in that office has become downright toxic. So, I'm home, trying to figure out how to be thankful for all the blessings in my life - and there are many - when all I can see is a job that has gone rapidly south, five years until retirement, a mountain of debt, and a 27 year old in my family room...

I know, oh how I know, it could be much worse....it HAS been much worse...there have been many episodes of unemployment, of not knowing how we'd scrape together the mortgage payment and keep the cars alive....I remember them vividly, which is good. Keeps one grounded and appreciative. But the thought of doing this for another five years or more is so exhausting and demoralizing, I'm not sure how I'll survive. But there are things/people for which I am deeply thankful, and I have to remember them:

1. Tim - 'nuff said.

2. Brian and Andrew - two of the three greatest gifts I've ever received.

3. Liz and Jean - the young woman who loves my son, and her mother, who is like my sister.

4. My siblings, siblings-in-law, and our nieces and nephews - I hit the jackpot on all counts - nothing inspires me more than watching our nieces/nephews create their lives, and seeing their friendships with one another.

5. Our great Nieces and great-Nephews (we're comin' up on #4 and #5) - cuteness personified! Carbon copies of their parents, who are phenomenal parents.

  

 
 6. My "Bezzes" - they know who they are, don't ask me to explain the term. I think it's safe to say I would not have reached adulthood without them.

  
 
 








7. My Tiare Hills friends - therapy taking a walk. They are my lifeline, my walking buddies, sounding boards, and giggling companions. I don't know how other people exist without this kind of neighborhood.

  









8. My Santa Clara friends - Few people can say they have maintained the kind of quality and longstanding friendship that we enjoy....don't get to see each other often, but we just pick up where we left off.  They alone are worth more than the tuition.

9. Holy Redeemer Parish  - THIS is the kind of community that embodies the church. What wonderful, caring, warm, funny people they are - everyone is welcome, cherished, included. And the Notre Dame score updates before Mass are just another perk.

     

 







10. Home - not just our beautiful, comfy house, but its neighborhood, the region of WA/OR in the Northwest, with spectacular scenery in every direction - the glory of 5 mountain days, mauve sunrises and sunsets, ocean waves, winter storms, everything about this place is home.

THERE - I feel much better now.  Reminds me of the quote, "If the only prayer you ever say is Thank You, that is enough".  Or, from the letter of St. Paul to the Phillippians, "I thank my God when I think of you".  And I do. Oh, how I do.