After almost two years the gardenia plant is blooming.
A friend sent this plant to me in March 2012 as a sympathy connection when Jim died. It came in a box. I transferred it into a pot and it bloomed. It was a bright spot during some dark days.
After a while it tired. Its perfume grew faint and the blooms turned brown and dropped off. It gradually shed all its leaves and was just a stick in the pot. I thought it was gone for good. Until a wise woman with a healthy green thumb took over a year ago and brought it back to a green leafy life. It has grown and promised blooms since then but none ever opened until this week.
This is the first of three buds to open to show its lovely, soft white petals and to release its familiar scent which brings back sweet North Carolina memories.
My memory that comes to mind first is of a summer night in Monroe, NC. The bedroom was lit by by moonlight and I was slipping into sleep in a comfortable bed in a strange home where I was a guest for a few days. Near the bedroom window a large, years-old, gardenia bush was in full bloom. The intoxicating perfume filled the air in and out side the house. It triggered my 13 year old imagination to times described in the Old South novels I loved to read.
Perhaps those romantic images were also stirred by the stories of the long-gone glory days of the Confederate South we listened to during the day. I was in this foreign town 20 some miles from home in Charlotte to attend a State gathering of the Children of the Confederacy. We were all teen-age descendants of those days.
My grandmother's father was a 16 year old water-boy in a regiment of locals named The Mecklenburg Farmers - which is what they were. He was injured at the Battle of Petersburg, Va, imprisoned in Southern Maryland and walked home at the end of the War. His name was Thomas Milton Hall and he is buried at the Philadelphia Presbyterian Church in Mint Hill, NC. I never did think about his soldiering or his war very much. He was what today we call "a grunt" in the Army. I can imagine he joined up because he wanted to be part of the excitement but all he gained was a hole in one hand and a ticket to sit on the porch with the "big boys" and talk about marching off to war.
My gardenia also reminds me of the small wristlet corsages that were popular for school proms and teen-ages dances in the 1950s. Orchids were too expensive for a boy's budget so the gardenia was an affordable choice. I always liked the small white gardenias best even though they were fragile and gradually the edges of the petals turned brown and looked tired as the evening wore on. But the perfume never faded. It still lingered on your clothes next morning.
As my gardenia opens now I breathe in it's perfume I think of three years ago and those sad days but somehow it also brings a reminder of the friendship and comfort so many people shared with me so that I could reach today where I can once again appreciate the gentle beauty of this fragile flower.
AH, the old Royal upright typewriter.
I loved the one that sat so temptingly on my grandfather's desk in his home office. Before I could say my alphabet I loved to climb up on his desk chair and hit the keys - making a noise as it made a mark on a piece of paper.
After my grandfather died that typewriter eventually became mine. Talk about a bit of happiness. By that time I made those marks to make words and tried writing things that made sense only to me.
Shortly after Jim and I married we bought an old upright typewriter at the Goodwill in Baltimore. I am sure we could not have paid more than $20 dollars for it, if that much, because we would not have had more money than that. Jim thought he would write his medical papers on it but he had never taken typing and his large, warm, steady hands were constantly thwarted by the machine.
I never took a typing course in high school either but my hands have always been so much more agile when playing with the clacking typewriter keys than when I tried to make music on the piano.
Jim worked long hours in those months of medical school after we were married. I was a lonely bride
adjusting to this new life alone in our apartment. Many hours the typewriter was the reassuring noise that kept me company. Writing letters, stories and articles. I even sold several for only a few dollars but it made me feel more productive than the day job I had at the hospital. That's how the seed of the the idea that I could create something from inside my head was planted.
There have always been typewriters in our home. Many. They changed over the years from the old upright, to the sporty blue portable, to the wondrous IBM Selectric of the 1960s, 70s and 80s. Who ever thought anything would eclipse the Selectric - but the computer came along.
Even though it was silent, it had seductive skills of memory which lured me away from my old typewriters.
Our first computer was a "luggable" which I could hardly lift. These days I carry a mini-ipad in my purse so I can sort-of type on a touch screen where ever I am.
But its not close, not even close, to the wonderful sound of making noise on an old upright - a real typewriter.
That's why I keep all our old typewriters - just in case!
This is our son Jimmy, Christmas morning in 1957. He was one year old and we were living in Brooklyn, NY.
Who could have imagined years later on this morning in 2015 he would send me a TEXT MESSAGE saying-
"landed Munich." Its not the first time - its the first time I did not take it for granted.
Bits like this force me to acknowledge the changes in the world we live in today from the world I thought I knew those years ago. Jim and I could not TEXT the first time we flew overseas. Next day we spent a LOT of money calling home to let the kids know we "landed London." Thanks to technology we can connect in seconds from where-ever we are without plugging coins into a telephone.
Would you go along with me in thinking that not recognizing the changes is what creates problems between the generations?
Just a thought.
Glad I could TEXT BACK - "hope the trip goes well."
What's an even bigger change - my son is traveling on business and he will be home in three days.
It often took several days for me to get over jet lag and culture changes.
Oh, did I mention one of our grand-sons often jets in to SF from Europe, does his laundry, and flies out to "down under".
Today is sometimes incomprehensible to me as I poke on down to the Safeway in my faithful Toyota Sienna, knowing parts of my family are cruising at 30,000 feet over-head.
And, only God knows where Jim is because Jim is not Texting in.
I really enjoy history talk especially with someone like Tom Brokaw - maybe you will too. ( I often skipped the inteviewer to focus on Brokaw). Brokaw talks about his career, the role he sees for social media today and in the Presidential Campaigns ahead. Good to hear Brokaw's voice again.
Some of his remarks connected with Edward R Murrow and the 2005 movie Good Night and Good Luck. I was lucky to stumble across on it on HBO the other day. The movie is about the conflict between Murrow and Senator Joe McCarthy and is set in 1953.
I was in HS in 1953. I remember that a few teachers brought TVs into the Auditorium so we could watch those hearings. Students wandered in and out for the hours it was on.
spring is showing itself around here!
Since the 1970s I have worked with various album formats - from scrap-books to digital movie to oral history and personal stories - as a way to capture and keep the stories of my family and personal life.
Now I am working on a new personal story. These stories are like albums for me - reviewing memory pictures are like sorting old photos and arranging them on an album page to tell a story from the past.
I hope that my work encourages others to capture and record - in writing or recording - their stories.
A glimpse of the new story - write up from the press release.
" Love Notes"
Happily Ever After is a matter of perspective.
A 1954 blind date between an 18-year-old nursing student and a fresh faced Johns Hopkins medical student launched Ellouise and Jim on a lifetime together.
Love Notes, a one--widow show performed by Ellouise Schoettler, is a funny and touching journey of a 57-year marriage traversing through the peaks and valleys of the marriage vow.
Death? It's not a clean break.
The story will it premiere June 4 at the Athenaeum in Alexandria, VA
It is scheduled at Stories in the Round, Hagerstown, MD in August. It will be one of my performances as Storyteller-in-Residence, International Storytellers Theater in Jonesborough, TN in September and at Tales in the Village come 2016 Valentines Day.
I love the discipline and excitement of shaping and telling a new story. This one is going to be funny and heart-warming but it is difficult to thread through all the days of our long marriage and pick out the incidences I want to include. This is the tough part of a "sentimental journey."
Tears go along with the working-it-out stage as well as lovely memories.
57 years slipped by so quickly.
Hardly time to savor and appreciate all the blessings.
This has been a hard week for me - appointments, farewells, surprise attacks etc.
You know - one of those tough weeks.
To escape I dove into some heavy Netflix movie binge-ing . Someday I hope I will learn to remember that there is no escaping -best to stay focused. Probably even better is to identify priorities and stay with them.
So here it is - Saturday Morning - my alarm pushed me out of the bed before 7 am when I really wanted to hunker down deeper under my covers.
This is the Saturday I have been looking forward to --- the Saturday I am telling stories out of town - - have you noticed - even the things we love have "to do" lists attached.
And to keep life going as you want it to - you have to continually keep building "to do" lists -
As I wind-up one list today - there are others pending with new items jumping on as I spin around.
* Follow-up for a summer gig request that came yesterday.
* Submit the info for a June show before bedtime tonight.
* Read the Fringe information I received yesterday - including my venue assignment and show dates.
--> Life sometimes feels like a Merry-Go-Round.
But - even in my earliest memories - the Merry-Go-Round has always been my favorite carnival ride.
It still is.
I can almost hear Jim saying, " Just enjoy it, Ellouise."
Miss his good advice as well as his hugs.
Another Anne Lamott Quote
Found this jpeg nesting on my computer desktop where I had copied it weeks ago to make sure I kept it. Ah - an H for today's blog - Hiding your Broken Heart!
When I was a child I loved to play Hide and Seek and was very skilled at picking out excellent spots to hide. I rarely got tagged.
Recently I sat down with someone who is battling a serious illness and I was amazed at her ability to slide right under give-away hurdles when she feels her secret is threatened. Her hiding skills are fairly new but they are graceful and impressive. I bet she was marvelous at Hide and Seek when she was a kid.
Three years since Jim died. I have learned that - as Anne Lamott says- you can live with a broken heart and gradually you get better and better at hiding it.
I notice that on good days I have moved from staggering to hopping to limping. On not so good days - well I get tagged.
Aren't we all hiding something?
How about you?