One Day at a Time

My days are complicated - workwise and emotionally. 

Some things are very exciting - i.e. telling Pushing Boundaries at the Capital Fringe. I thrive when there are shows to tell.  I felt the telling was good at the first show. Frankly more than anything I was plain relieved to be able to tell it.  Well, my euphoria did not last too long. Two days later the reviews were posted - one really whapped me up side the head. The reviewer, a man, was baffled by the concept of Sisterhood - and turned off completely by the still strong feelings about the Equal Rights Amendment women have. So, although he "had nothing to critique" about my storytelling he gave me a three star rating. I was disappointed. 

But I decided to try and analyze his review and see if there was something I need to know. There was - - - although it took me a few readings to "get it". Because I was protecting myself and my ability to tell the story I had taken much of Jim's presence out of this version of the story. I can see that I have to put him back in because the bits about Jim humanize the story. 

So - here I am today reworking some areas of the story - which is going to make it much more of a challenge to tell. I talked with an experienced media guy about this - he did not pull his punches. "When you put something political in it you brought it on yourself." Ouch. 

I don't think of ERA as political - it was part of my life. "Doesn't matter. You don't know whether it was part of his - - in a negative way - maybe he had a messy divorce or his mother left him at school because she was at a rally."  Oops - says I.  " Stand in front of an audience and anything can happen."

"Why did you take Jim out?"  "I don't want to cry." He startled me by asking, " what's the worst thing that can happen outside of running your mascara? - - Put him back in. "

Hmm????? So I will look like a racoon. Maybe, so.

Lesson learned.

 

The other emotionally complicating factor is that two weeks from tomorrow is Jim's burial at Arlington National Cemetary. Around the edges of my peformances I am arranging the guest list and a small reception after the burial and honors ceremony. Its a bit much. 

I keep thinking I would like to have undisturbed time to think and journal in this last two weeks before the final burial. But I also wonder - are the diversions helpful?

OK - -  why am I doing the Fringe when these two events were bound to collide? Good question. I have often asked it myself. 

First I had committed to the Fringe before we realized Jim would not still be here with us. As that became clear he encouraged me to get back to storytelling as soon as I could. Its so easy to "lose traction" when you are dealing with a devastating loss and he was hoping storytelling would be the "grace" to help me through. I am hoping he was right - but I won't really know until both the Fringe and Jim's burial are behind me.

One day at a time. One step at a time.

Passages

Two big passages for me yesterday. My 76th birthday
and telling Pushing Boundaries at the Fringe  -
without Jim being there. So many reached out to help me cross those bridges with calls, cards, flowers and notes: my kids, family, friends and the community on Facebook. It felt like a "village" handing me along one step at a time. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

The birthday was a sweet non-event that was easy. But --- the storytelling was another FIRST. And it was hard! I was proud of myself that I did it! At the finish I stood a bit straighter and breathed in deeper. But, I am not fooling myself - it will be a challenge every time - it just won't be a first!

Only a hand full of folks in the audience knew about the personal challenge.Storyteller friends tell me yesterday was a strong, excellent telling of the story - and I trust them because they have heard it before. The reviews are not posted yet so I hope the reviewers heard it the same way -
 When I stepped into those red shoes - the story took off.

I call Pushing Boundaries an ERA Memoir and it is - but it is so much more for me - its a chronicle of my life with Jim. Stage by stage as I entered the women's movement and my 1950s ideas of being a woman changed. There is much that is not in the story. Those were tough days for everyone - for all the women involved in the movement working for social changes and their families.

Jim and I always counted ourselves lucky because our marriage survived the emotional sunami - and we celebrated 56 anniversaries. Maybe someday I will add some of those stories to the program - well, probably not. But I know the stories - of anger, mis-understanding, fear, and challenge moving to acceptance, understanding, humor and kindness - - you know, love.

 

Yesterday after the show one woman stopped me - "I was there too but you put it into another context for me that I have not seen before." 

There it is - why I love storytelling and how sharing stories can connect people.

Its the reason I will keep facing the challenge,

Ah, Venezia

If you asked me to name a special birthday -
 
In 2003 Jim and I spent the month of July in Venice.

We rented a small charming artist's apartment near the Arsenale, rode a vaporetto to our Italian classes at the Instituto de Venezia every day, saw every exhibit at the Biennale and danced in San Marco Square under the stars. We just basked in the magical atmosphere that envelops Venice


On my birthday Jim took me for a drink at the fabled Harry's Bar and for High Tea at the legendary Florian's Cafe which faces onto San Marco Square.

It was the best of times.

In a city we both loved - from our first trip there in 1977 to - - this very day.

Just asking

This crow perched on the top of a pole over-looking the patio at Starbucks calling out "CAW CAW CAW".

Someone told me a crow is
a sign of good luck
and a sign of change.

I know for sure everywhere I turn there is change - nothing in my life is or feels the same.
I hope that the "good luck" part is also true.

My first Fringe show is tomorrow.
Good luck would be very helpful because I cannot seem to be still or focused long enough to feel well-rehearsed.

Then I ask myself -
what is "well-rehearsed" for a storyteller.

I don't memorize the story.
I tell it - -
and this story I lived.

Certainly I know it -

Ah ha - then it's in the telling
But can that be practiced?

Isn't the telling in response to the audience?

That being said
does the story rely on who comes to hear it
to make it what it will be.....

Could that be true?

Just asking.

"CAW  CAW  CAW"

Talking with Juliane Brienza, Director, Capital Fringe

Capital Fringe opens today. But, several weeks ago I had a chance to interview Juliane Brienza, Fringe Director, while all the pieces were still coming together for Capital Fringe 2012.

Thought this would be a good chance to take a look at the "back story" as the Fringe momentum kicks off.

Prepping and primping

 
Getting ready for the Fringe includes mundane tweaks like repainting the chipped paint on my stool. That's like putting on lipstick.

Preparing a program and taking it to Staples for copies. I like to have them fold it for me. The crease will be precisely in the middle and the it will be sharp.

Have to buy a new countryman head-piece mic. When we tested yesterday - mine was broken. I guess after 5 years I have gotten good dollar value out of it. For me the head set is much better for a long performance than the I like using the lavilier. The trick is to anchor the mic wire to your face with clear band-aid strips so that it won't slip. Jim was great at that.

I bought a smart white linen jacket that I really like. Ordinarily I prefer to wear "experienced" outfits for performances so that I don't fidget with my clothes but this is a plain simple jacket and like anything light weight linen - it comes with a slightly lived-in look.

On a whim I went to Macy's for a make-up refresher. It was fun and the woman knew what she was doing  - and I was pleased with the new me.

It was all fun except for one thing. They re-use the make-up brushes from client to client. Although she assured me she was cleaning them with antiseptic "brush cleaner" I was a tad apprehensive - but went ahead with it anyway.

Drat. This is a word of warning for you.

I should have followed my "feeling". Several days later I was on the phone to my doctor for a topical antibiotic for a new infection on my face. Not exactly how I wanted to face an audience. Vanity. Vanity.  and I hope will be restored by Saturday.

When I was taking a creative writing class at the University of North Carolina I wrote a story about a young woman who - when she afraid - or nervous - chose her outfit carefully - usually wearing red because it made her feel brave. That's the job for the birthday shoes Karen gave me -

Just saying

 These days I am absorbed with getting ready for Pushing Boundaries for the DC Capital Fringe. My first show is 4 days away on Saturday July 14 - my birthday.
 
http://shows.capfringe.org/shows/3558-Pushing-Boundaries.html

If you read my Facebook postings you already know all about this as I post about it incessantly as part of the marketing to fill seats -

But there is no denying the elephant in the middle of the room. This is the first major storytelling event for me where Jim will not be there. To tell you the truth - I feel differently nervous, not for the story - for me. I am a new widow and that's a very vulnerable person to be. They tell you, warn really,  that in the first year everything is a "first." I can verify these firsts make some days unexpectedly more raw - especially since you can't seem to predict what, how or who with grief.

Today when I went to the Goethe Institut for my tech rehearsal it was comfortable and familiar and  I thought - "this will be fine" until I entered the auditorium.  This is my third time telling stories in that room - always with Jim present to help set things up. It was great to see the same sound guy who has been there for the previous shows - except when I had to tell him Jim was not coming. 

I have not written much about this because 
it is what it is.
it is not going away
Jim is not coming back.
I have to adjust.
but bottom line  - its brutally tough.

The Pushing Boundaries story is in good shape. Its a story I lived as well as wrote and I enjoy telling it.

People ask me, "why are you taking this on 'so soon'"?
What else would I do?
This is my job.
Jim encouraged me to get back to telling stories as soon as I could. He thought storytelling would be a saving grace for me.
I think that as well - or I would not be doing it.

Besides that - look, I don't have time to languish while I "get better".  Saturday I turn 76. 
I want to tell stories now.
Pushing Boundaries is more than a compelling personal story its part of the grassroots history of the 1970s women's movement.  

We all have stories that are a window into the life of our times. Anyone that knows me knows I am somewhat hipped on their importance.

Maybe I am talking about my vulnerability now - to ward it off  - - while I tell the story.

Hope it works.

Thanks for listening.

Memories smell good.

In her book "The Total Memory Make-over" Marilu Henner talks about using your five senses to bring back bits of your past. 

Thinking of that I remembered this blog post from 2007.

October 2007:  North Carolina candy apples photographed one October in Mount Airy, NC. Karen and I were on our way to Charlotte. When we saw the highway sign for the turn to Mt. Airy we decided to take the detour and visit this town which was used as Mayberry in the Andy Griffith Show.

We rode into town on a beautiful October day and found a Fall Fair filling the main street. There were stalls selling crafts, food stuffs, and Christmas gifts. We stopped to listen to an old-timer playing a rousing fiddle tune. At one stall a couple was dipping apples in hot candy syrup and dropping them onto metal trays to "set". It smelled spicy and sweet and filled my head with memories of being "home". 

July 2012:
Something that happened this week that I am sure I will not forget.

  A friend gave me this gardenia plant when Jim died in March. This week it finally opened a gorgeous velvety white blossom and filled the living room with a heady perfume. 

The intoxicating fragrance reminds me of 
high school prom wrist corsages
and warm summer evenings in North Carolina
sitting on the front porch drinking iced tea near blooming gardenia bushes.
 

There was a storm here.

It is now Tuesday - July 3

Last Friday night a ferocious storm came through the DC area pelting us with rain and hail, while scary winds tossed and uprooted trees, cut off power and knocked out AT&T towers. I was home alone - and sat on the stairs to our basement holding our quivering dog until it was over. Fortunately I had grabbed a lantern on my way downstairs.

Nothing has been the same since.

Turns out our area was fiercely slammed.  Trees in the neighborhood streets, lights and A/C are gone, and no telephone or cell phone service. We were fortunate on the tree side. But no AC, power, or telephone service is quite a blow. We have been totally disconnected.

By Sunday night the house was hot and humid. Our little dog looked pathetic stretched out on any cool floor spot panting in her diminutive fur coat. Tempers frayed. Then - good news. My son had his power back. My daughter Karen and I, taking my dog and her cat, evacuated to their air-conditioned house where there are lights and WI FI. You know what we were thinking. Tomorrow will be better.

Wrong.

Still no power at  home. Karen has escaped to our house outside Gettysburg where there is power, a/c and the internet works.

The dog and I stayed here with Jimmy and family so that I can go back and forth to keep an eye on the house.

The Pepco website says it will be Friday July 6 before a return of the power and AT&T guess-ti-mates July 9 for cellphone service. AT&T has 300 plus towers down and the ones in our neighborhood are scheduled for later - - no doubt because of the old, massive and beautiful trees that litter the streets and fell on houses. We are grateful we only lost limbs.

When I was a Girl Scout Leader I never took my troop camping because
being hot and sticky and sitting in the dark was never my idea of a good time. 

Guess what?
I have not changed my mind.
Take away the cell phone and the internet  - - well, there are no words.

Tonight I am pricing an in-home generator - one that kicks on when the power goes off.
Maybe I can afford one to light, heat or cool two rooms - and run the internet. I won't be picky.
Just enough so the dog and I can stay home.

Our little dog does not like being away from home.
She is getting downright grumpy.

Hear the History

First time out of the box in 30 years... radio ads used in the unratified states during the final push towards the 6/30/82 ERA ratification deadline to inspire mainstream America to back the amendment by reaching out to homemakers, fathers, adult sons, and military wives. First of a series/more to come... includes the ERA song and ERA America commentary talking to potential donors to pay for more air time. Did you know these existed? These ads were developed by members of the Advertising Women of New York under the aegis of the National Business Council for ERA. The Business Council was a campaign initiative developed and managed by the League of Women Voters of the US.

Our daughters and the Equal Rights Amendment.

Charlotte Central High School, 1953

I was a Senior. My counselor advised me to start making my plans for what I would do after Graduation.
"You have done things.
You have good grades.
You have options.
You could go to college to be a teacher or a librarian.
You could go to secretarial school
or
You could be a nurse."

This was 1953.
I was a girl.
I understood that underneath what she said she was telling me to find something to keep me busy until I got married.

And that is how I started out on my journey to find my fortune.

We can laugh about that narrow list of choices today as we watch our daughters and grand-daughters choose from a much wider field for the career they will follow.

Things have changed for women in many ways - - except they are still not protected by an Equal Rights Amendment in the US Constitution. They may not be paid equal pay for equal work. They may not be treated fairly.

A young woman told me recently that she thought the ERA was already passed.


What are we telling our daughters?

30 years ago - June 30, 1982 - the last active campaign to ratify the Equal Rights Amendment ended.
The ERA has been re-introduced in Congress every year - with little to no fanfare - - - and no action.

What are we thinking?

Yes, in the past 30 years there have been changes.
By passing individual laws.
But,
have we taught our daughters that those changes can be un-done - -
law-by-law.

Think about it!

Happy Fathers Day - redux

Jim is with us "in spirit" this Father's Day. You can be sure we are all thinking about him.

This picture was taken last year at Grace's - the deli at 2141 K Street - the downtown office building where Jim often received his chemo treatments. 2141 K Street is also the building where Jim worked in his first Washington, DC position upon leaving the Air Force in 1968. He often ate lunch in this very deli - Life has a strange way of drawing connections across the years - especially if you stay in the same place.

Making connections is something Jim and I enjoyed  - and so
does our family. The best gifts are often the gifts of memories.
So:

A re-post of Father's Day 2009

1.Robin called from CA to wish Jim Happy Father's Day. She read him a letter he wrote to her in 1982 when she was living in New York City. He was writing to console her when she was going through a rough patch. Keeping the letter then reminding him he had been there for her.
A touching gift.

2. Inspired by Robin we gave Jimmy a letter he wrote to us in 1987 when he was living in Germany. There is material for several stories in the letter - the more so because we all know what happened several weeks after he wrote it and mailed it to us. He was delighted. "Hey, I forgot I had that Casio battery powered mini typewriter. " After reading it aloud he pronounced. "This is a keeper." Yes, we know. We have kept it for 22 years.

2. Even older letters:
A grandfather writes to his grand-daughter.
There was so much to love about a letter I found at the DAR library 20 years ago when I first began my genealogy searches that I have kept it safe. There is advice and inspiration for stories. I use it often in storytelling workshops.
In 1893 Mr. James Parks answers his grand-daughter about their family history who has written asking about their family. Excerpt -
He ends the letter with this statement:
" You will see that there were no great ones among our ancestors. They were all in the common walks of life, no blue-blooded aristocracy, but just upright, high-minded honorable men and women. If there were no"great ones" among them, there were none of who we were ashamed.
September 9, 1893 (signed) James Parks


Jim was a great hugger. Here he gives grand-daughter Juliana a big bear hug at her Graduation from Washington College in 2009.

We are missing those hugs today.

ERA - It is that simple

June 30, 1982 - The last campaign to ratify the Equal Rights Amendment came to an end. That's 30 years ago this month. I still wonder - what was the problem

If not California - then Venice

Happy Birthday, Jim

June 13 is the Feast Day of Saint Anthony of Padua - and its Jim's birthday - and the reason his name is James Anthony Schoettler.

In 2003 when we had our long vacation in Venice we took a day for a trip to Padua  - a pilgrimmage to visit the Cathedral , St. Anthony's tomb and to see the Giotto frescos in the Arena Chapel, also in Padua. It was a marvelous sunny day filled with wonders. 
 
Last March we went to visit Jim's brother Harold in Huntington Harbor, CA when we were out for the Rogue Festival. Here Jim is standing on the front deck on a perfect Southern California morning.

One of the things Jim hoped to do in February this year was "go to California" his home state. His time ran out before we could make the trip.

For his birthday - I choose to think of him there -

And, maybe also in Venice - our special heart-place.

"How's it going" people ask. "About like you'd expect" I answer. I have good days and bad days when its raining inside and outside - I do cry often. But that's not all bad you know. It is sometimes hard but it is also sweet - as I think of Jim and appreciate the days and years we shared.

I keep busy. Because that's what I do. And I pretend sometimes that things are better for me than they really are - because that is also what I do.

Yes, I am telling stories again - with Better Said than Done. And preparing for five performances at the Capital Fringe. I thought bringing back Pushing Boundaries would be "easier" than anything else - but that's not right. Jim is so much a part of the story that I cannot tell it without crying. Now that's not going to work. So I am rewriting the program. It is still strong and on target - if a bit different.

But, hey, everything is different for me.

NEW VIDEO: Elizabeth Wallace

 Elizabeth Wallace, Maryland storyteller, organizer and producer focuses on Starrytelling

to connect astronomy and storytelling.










Listen to her recent interview on Stories in Focus using the link below.


Elizabeth F. Wallace

Focusing

 

Jim
Toe River Storytelling Festival
NC  - Last summer
July 2011
A lovely week-end and nice memories of the people, my storytelling, and our time together.

June 6 - three months ago today Jim died. It won't surprise anybody that there were a few rough moments for me during the day.

I taped a story for my TV show and found that I had to edit a couple of things - - or it was too close for comfort. That wise woman storyteller Elizabeth Ellis warned me a couple of months ago that I should watch out because there were probably traps in some of my storie. She's absolutely right.  But you can't stay home because there are black clouds over-head. So I try to plan ahead and circle my wagons when I feel threatened.

Right now I am into count down mode for the Capital Fringe. June 16 tickets go on sale and my first show is July 14. Right now my full focus is on rehearsing and planning the advertising and marketing. Along with all the other things you have on the list to keep life going. Not whining really just saying some days are packed.
For me right now, that's good.

My daughter  Robin is helping me, especially with developing strategies for using social media and I am mighty grateful to have her working with me on the marketing.

Going through files and files of pictures looking for materials to use as we develop material about Pushing Boundaries is an emotional trip down memory lane. Grief seems to be sharpening my memort recall. I am remembering vivid details and I can feel myself going deeper into the stories which makes for a very personal journey. More will be revealed.

A Tale of Sisterhood

This large beautiful Japanese wood-cut by Maryland artist Aline Feldman hangs in the lobby of 3000 Connecticut Ave. Seeing it a few weeks ago brought back a flood of memories of the 1970s womens artists movement.

Aline and I were in the same consciousness raising group of women artists who met weekly in the mid-1970s to talk about our hopes and dreams as artists and how we could make those dreams come true in a male-favoring art world. That was a time of Sisterhood. We gave each other suport and strength to move to achieve our goals.

My first consciousness raising (CR) group had nothing to do with being an artist. It was a group of women from many walks of life from homemakers to a well-placed government employee. We met weekly in each other’s homes in Montgomery County where we talked about  issues of fairness and women’s equality issues like equal pay, child care and discrimination as they effected out lives.

That was more than 30 years ago and regrettably the issues are very similar to the ones we discuss today – except that today they touch my grand-daughters as well as they do me.

Sisterhood was empowering.

Were you in a CR group?

If you are interested in the 1970s from the woman’s point of view
check out www.facebook.com/secondwavealbum.

On Granny's Birthday - I wish I had asked her more questions.

Granny’s Birthday  Today

Ellie Hall Keasler Baer

Granny was born in Mint Hill, NC of parents who both had a deep North Carolina tap root. Ellie went to work for Ivey’s Department store when she was 16. She was smart and loved her job in retail sales. Soon she was promoted to the position of buyer for the Notions Department at Ivey's. Twice a year she went with the other buyers to New York City to select and purchase the goods for her department.

 Granny loved working at Ivey's until she was 28 and Gus Keasler, a handsome South Carolina college footballer, swept her off her feet and she fell deeply in love with him. After a proper courtship they were married and moved to Georgia for his job as manager of a cotton oil manufacturing plant. Their first child, my mother, was born a year later.

Sadly Gus,at 32, died suddenly when my mother was 18 months old. Ellie was heartbroken. She grieved hard for eight years. Then she me and married Jack Baer who had moved to Charlotte from Baltimore. It was a loving marriage which lasted the rest of their lives.

 Granny was a loving grandmother. She was a key figure in my life.

I look back now and regret that I did not ask Granny about what it was like to live through those early years when the US faced WWI and women struggled to “get the vote.” Was she a feminist? She never said so but looking at her history I have to think she was.

She went to work as a young woman, loved working at Ivey’s and relished the annual exciting trips to New York City. She liked having the money she earned and the independence that came with it although she did contribute to her widowed mother's care. Later, after Gus died, she was single mother back at work to support herself and her young daughter. Although she was surrounded by a large and supportive family she knew what it was like to have to take care of yourself.

 “Always have your own money, Ellouise.” I accepted the wisdom of that advice without asking “why” which might have opened the door to stories about “why” she was so clear on that score. I wish I had asked her if she had marched for THE VOTE. I know she had strong opinions about what was right and wrong in the world and that she always voted.

Most importantly for me, I know she believed that women should be able to have a voice in the world and that they could BE whatever they wanted to be. “You’re smart. You can do that.” She taught me to believe in myself. Maybe that’s all I really need to know - - and thank her for.

Thinking of Granny and the questions I wish I had asked is a good thing to do as I begin rehearsals for telling my 1970s women's history program at the DC Capital Fringe next month. Sure, I want to tell my story for my family but I also want Pushing Boundaries to prompt other women to tell their story - and to prompt younger women to ask the women in their families - so that they will not be wondering
as I am about Granny and Suffrage - about the stories of the women in their families.

A little quiet

Hello. Leo here. Ellouise and I were here alone this long week-end and that was okay. Quiet is good. You can think. Catch up on some work - - or not. Its all choices isn't it. Ellouise has started writing a journal. She put it off until now - just did not want to. I think she's getting better and then she cries. Oh,no - a set-back. But all the books tell her - its not - its normal. That's a crazy kind of normal if you ask me. Even stranger Ellouise does not seem to be fully incharge of when a wave rolls over her she or not. It just happens to her. There are times when I want to tell her to "get a grip" but if she is not in charge - give the woman a break - she can't do anything about it. It doesn't last more than a few minutes. How bad is that? Its late. I want to get some sleep. Ellouise is going to work on her taxes tomorrow so I think its going to get tough around here for awhile. Taxes is not her usual job and she is math challenged. Just thinking about it makes her a little nervous. Not that she can't do it, she says, its that "I hate it." Someone told Ellouise about widows (or widowers) having to start doing double duty - taking over the things the "missing" partner had done. It explains she says why Jim's mother kept asking, "who's going to clean the pool?" Look I am glad Ellouise doesn't have a pool - she might start looking at me for help with that.

Time Traveling

Fourteen years ago Jim and I went to Vermont on a bit of vacation where I was also attending my first long workshop taught by premier storyteller Donald Davis. That was the first time I heard Donald ask workshop participants to "take us somewhere we can't go if you don't take us." I have never forgotten that assignment and often use it when I am working on a personal story or just time traveling. I have been time-traveling a lot this week-end. Revisiting Brooklyn, New York in 1957 when Jim I lived there while he was an intern at Kings County Hospital. Even started writing a memoir journal about that period. I have been surprised by how many details I recall and how vivid the images are. Perhaps some of that is due to my reading and working with the exercises in Marilu Henner's book, Total Memory Makeover. In this video Henner talks about the phenomenon of her extraordinary autobiographical memory. As I wrote things I had not thought about in years surfaced. For instance: Early in his internship one of Jim's patients, a Choctaw Chief, was so grateful for the care Jim had given him that he asked Jim to become his "blood brother". They had a small ceremony at the Chief's bedside. Jim asked me to bring our son to the ward so he could show Jimmy to Chief Two Bears. Everyone was taken with Jimmy. The Ward Secretary, an older woman, came up to Jim who was holding Jimmy. She patted Jimmy's hands and told Jim, "Doctor Schoettler you make good babies." Love remembering that and sharing it with our three "good babies."

A Story for Memorial Day

On Duty

Train station Poste Boxes
Naples, Italy

Why is it that even mail boxes look more interesting when you are "touristing"?

A Hot Time in Paris

Sorting some pictures last night I came across this one which is a favorite of mine.

On a truly hot August day in Paris (1976) even the candles in Notre Dame Cathedral were melting.

This was my first trip to Europe. When Jim  returned home after our two week sojourn in London I took the train to Paris to meet my friend Marie. We were starting a month long jaunt to five countries. We had Eurail passes, a teensy bit of money, and lots of energy. We had not bargained for the hottest August in many many years.

Since I was a Master Degree Candidate in painting at American University (DC) I came to Paris to see the art. And I did. Walking through the Louvre checking off the "masterpieces" I realized I was so intent on the "count" that I was missing the paintings. I put the art history book back in my suitcase and began see the art works. It was fabulous. After five years of Art History classes the works jumped off the page and came to life.

Is that really 36 years ago? Seems like yesterday and I can still see those wonderful paintings.

Isn't it wonderful the way snapshots and photos can send you zooming back through time?

Processing Memories

Yesterday on our return from PA I pulled off Hwy 95 at exit 53 and drove directly to the Johns Hopkins Hospital for a tour of the neighborhood where Jim and I lived when we were first married.

Talk about making it hard on yourself! Some would say, "what were you thinking?"

This empty parking lot was the location for the Eddie's Grocery Store four blocks from our apartment on North Washington Street. The large colorful wall mural is certainly a new addition.

Traveling back into memory takes a lot of work - but I could see it as it was. Some of that is comforting and some hurtful. However, for me, its necessary. Why people ask me. Its early. Its too soon. Maybe so - if you have lots of time to put off feeling your way through these hard times.

Process takes work and coming through the mine field that loss and grief creates is all about process.

When I stepped into the hospital waves of memories rolled over me like a tide rolling in. On a Sunday afternoon the main hallway looked empty but to me it was crowded and noisy as it was when I walked it to my Duty assignment. Groups of medical students in their white coats laughing and talking as they walked to rounds in one of the clinics. I often recognized Jim among them. He was tall and his walk was familiar. We stopped for a quick word before we each moved on.

Or I might be in the midst of a group of laughing young student nurses, all wearing light blue uniforms and white caps - but he could pick me out of any crowd.

Believe it or not, in the midst of all the many Hopkins renovations this section of the corridor that circles through all the buildings is the same - and that is such a comfort.

For me - that was not an empty hallway - it was a connecting link of memories. Of stories.

PA Poppies

Poppies
May 20, 2012

Vibrant red in the sun.

Grief: A Tough Taskmaster

Leo is taking a nap -
so I will write for myself.

 Since Jim died in March nothing is the same and grief teaches me new lessons every day. Some lessons are tougher than others.

About memories: I love memories and in the past I have wandered through that space, relishing the remembering of happy times and  making stories out of them.
Now, I still do wander there - very carefully - but sometimes the memories, no matter how loving and lovely, cut right to the bone.  Its really a strange thing. For the time being I have to be careful where I walk.

About watching out for yourself: Every day is challenging because life is like a black icy road with invisible pot holes. You cannot predict what will bring up a memory - a longing - an aching feeling of loss - that will knock you flat.
Last week I went downtown to a meeting of reps from large women's organizations to market my Capital Fringe show, Pushing Boundaries. It was interesting and I learned a lot. It was also in a building where, 30 years ago, I regularly attended meetings during my days as ERA Campaign Director for the League of Women Voters. I parked in the same parking lot I used most days back then. Days I shared with Jim. I often rode to and from work with him and we talked over our days.

On the way home I was feeling pleased with how things had gone until I realized over again that he was not waiting at home. I could not tell him about the day. And, I drove up Connecticut Avenue weeping. I had not expected this. I had not protected myself by walking through it beforehand - - practicing walking that walk.

Some days, the simplest thing - like rolling the grocery cart into the familiar supermarket produce department where Jim and I shopped together regularly for 40 years  - are dangerous as it - brings on a wave of loss and wishing.

Going out into the world is tiring and dangerous. I bump into someone and they ask, "how's Jim?" because they do not know he has died. So I tell them and I hold onto my own feelings as I watch their eyes fill with tears. They are hearing this news for the first time.

Yesterday in a doctor's office I ran into a woman I once worked with. "Didn't your husband die?"

She asked it kindly, making the connection with reading Jim's obituary in the Washington Post. "Yes". After a moment, "How are you making out?"

"I have been better." is my usual answer.

Someone told me. "You are amazing. You are doing so well!"

Ah, good, my act is working.

I have learned one important thing - you have to tell your story to someone to start the healing.
Since March I have talked it out to a hospice bereavement councilor - over the phone - never seeing her face - being comforted by her mellow understanding voice.

This week I visited a therapist. We sat face to face in her comfortable office. I looked into her understanding eyes and began to tell my story.

I left feeling relieved.  And, grateful for her listening.

It clicked.
This is what Jim for his patients. I always knew it.
Now I Got it.

For Mother's Day

Handmade - a story about my mother for Mother's Day. This version was taped in 2010. It is dated by the color of my hair and the old set at Chanel 16 -- which suggests its time to tape it again. I would not surprised to hear the story change now that my life has changed so dramatically. Our stories have a life of their own and shift with our lives. That's a storyteller's truth isn't it? When we storytellers draw the story from our life and our experience - - Nothing stands still. What would it say - if the stories didn't change?

Reaching for the Stars

Yesterday at Team America Rocketry Challenge (TARC)  I met  met this team of joyous teenagers from Presidio, Texas who almost missed their plane. "We had to drive four hours to the airport - security took so long we did not have time to get our shoes back on and had to run barefoot to the plane."

This morning we watched their "story" on Sunday Morning - - They finished a very respectable 11th place in the field of 100 competitors.

Leo Tales: Grief Sucks

Hello, there. Leo here.

I would have been back sooner but Ellouise would not let me write anything. "No. Nobody wants to hear about a grieving  woman who is trying to figure out how to make a new life."

or another time - she was down right rude.

"Are you crazy? What are you thinking?
Don't you know that storytellers are supposed to be happy not sad. They make people laugh.
People will be afraid of me - I might slip up and tell a story that will  make them cry."

Maybe so. Maybe so.

But I am the watcher here - and I know what I see.

Bottom line.

Grief sucks.

Grief is totally unpredictable.
One day Ellouise is up and the next day she could be flat on her ass. (Pardon me, but truth is truth.) Its rather like pumping a play ground swing higher and higher, feeling like you could fly, --- and then BLAM - right on your ass.

Its hard for Ellouise to guard against the falls - because there is no telling what will pull the rug out from under her "stiff upper lip." Anything from a familiar smell, going someplace she and Jim frequented, a song, a TV show - there are pots holes and traps everywhere so the world feels a bit dangerous. Ellouise stopped wearing mascara shortly after Jim died. Those sudden tears left her face looking like a racoon.

People don't really know what to say to someone who has lost someone they love. " Did you hear what they said - -. "  Sometimes their awkwardness is funny and other times it is just "duh - dumb". And, lets's face it, sometimes it is courageous to open your mouth to say anything because a kind word can bring on a gully washer flood of  tears.  Grief is worse than PMS on the emotions and its not calendared. I heard Ellouise telling someone, "I never knew what to say either  - - now I do. I am sorry for your loss, is all you need to say. "

Some people are curious. What happened? What do you think happened....Jim left. And, it has finally sunk in on Ellouise - he is not coming back.

A widow friend says to Ellouise, "Oh, damn, that's where you are." Widow friends are essential guardian angels because they know this walk and it looks to me like a newbie widow really needs a hand-holding guide as she starts down this path.

Because Jim was under Hospice Care - Ellouise now has a Bereavement Counselor to talk to if she wants to. At first she wasn't sure about that. But now she values the faceless phone time with her counselor - who has a soothing voice and is a skilled listener. I listen to what Ellouise says into her pink iPhone and I don't think she would tell just anyone the truth of what she's feeling like she tells this person she has never seen.

Yesterday for instance, she told her, "I cry about Jim. I miss him. My heart hurts with missing him. What about him? Have you ever thought about this? We send our loved ones off to some magical place where they are healed and happy.
And never ask - if they look back while they are dancing in the Elysian Fields? Does he miss me? "
 
There are no answers.

Ellouise is reading "grief" books. Some she found on her own. Other books were recommended. All say essentially the same thing,

"grief sucks."

Searching for memories.

 These days I am reading Total Memory Make-over by Marilu Henner. She is one of a small group of people who have total autobiographical memory meaning she remembers all her days backwards and to the present in vivid minute detail.  She includes exercises to help you increase your ability to remember and to reach back and recover details of your past days. I am loving it and feel right at home.  My personal recall is pretty good inately but years of working on personal story has honed my memories and also taught me to make note of things as they happen.

That's what I was doing one day last week - sitting in the sun at Starbucks thinking about Venice and making notes on my memories of being there with Jim. Precious time. Lovely to walk across San Marco Plaza again, looking ahead to the lagoon where the mid-day sun is dancing on the water.

Yesterday I bought this tea pot at a thrift shop in near-by Kensington. I first saw it there several weeks again and resisted buying it. 

But I kept thinking about it. Why? I have a lovely tea pot my friend Bernadette Nason gave Jim and me. I love it. I do not need another tea pot.

When I went back to the shop the tea pot was no longer on the large table in the front room. I thought it had been sold. "Oh, well" I thought. Then I saw it on a shelf in a back room. It was waiting for me and this time I bought it.

Now I know why I did not forget it.

My memory has been pricked. My grandmother had one like it. Color and shape. As I examine and look carefully I am back in her breakfast room. The tea pot is taking me somewhere I could not go without it. Its a portal to a new set of memories and I hope - more stories.

Marilu Henner's book encourages me that those hidden memories are waiting just below the surface.

Bits of the Day

We have a line of large flower pots on the deck planted with an assortment of blooming plants which are flourishing.  Seeing the flashes of color through out the day lifts spirits. I love the vibrant yellow because it catches my eye everytime I come into the kitchen.

Introducing Princess Leia.

Although eight years ago I wanted to being her home - maybe I had visions of a sweet loving lap dog - anyway - she became Jim's dog - totally devoted to him.

He took care of her and trained her. She even danced - for him. 

These days she is a bit lost and sad - still wandering the house looking for Jim - hoping she has not really been left here - alone - with me.

Everyone tells me that we will bond as its clear I am the one that feeds her. So far they are wrong. 

Shih Tzus are not just smart dogs - they are opinionated and stubborn. On top of that, Leia is an alpha female - let's just say - we are hestitantly making - do with our new relationship.

Today book-work dominated me and the kitchen table - where I can enjoy the sunlight and the encouragement of the blooming flowers on the deck.
Bills ofcourse, still changing accounts from Jim to me, scheduling appointments and chatting with folks who call to "touch-base."
 
Plus storytelling stuff - working on the marketing for the Capital Fringe, scheduling guests for the Focus TV show, and working on stories. A good day really.

Except - there is something missing - - and I cannot forget that - - -

A Treasure and a Nudge

When Karen and I went to PA to check on things at our house there I had no idea I would find a surprise. A treasure.

As we prepared to leave to return to MD I stepped into Jim's and my bedroom, for no particular reason. I looked around. Thinking. Then I spied this box on the bottom shelf of the computer table. It was not mine. But it looked familiar. I started to leave but something pulled me back and I retrieved the box. When I opened it I was startled to find it filled with old photos. What?

These are old pictures of Jim's family - his father, his grandfather, mother, brothers and sisters. Pictures his mother gave him years ago.
So few names. But I have been through them before with Jim and I remember many of them - - - but not all. I hope they are not lost.

One of Jim's favorite photos of he and his brothers bedded down together when staying at their cabin at Bass Lake.

I recognize that the tallest altar-boy is Jim's Dad, Hal Schoettler. I think that's Hal's mother.

Jim's uncle Bob Schoettler holding his oldest daughter when he returned from overseas after WWII.

There is a strong resemblance between Bob and Jim.

I have no doubts why I found these pictures now - - - before they are lost completely.

Its a message.
A reminder.
A nudge.
I have a job to do.
Family history work to complete for Jim and for me.
For our children and grandchildren.

Genealogy and family history brought me to storytelling more than twenty years ago.  Looks like its time to touch base with those roots to gather more stories.

Jim and I worked these connections together - seems he is nudging me back to it.

This time I will write names on the back of all the pictures. Hope you already are.

NEW VIDEO: A Conversation with storyteller, Susanna Holstein

When West Virginia storyteller Susanna Holstein came to town we had a fun conversation on Stories in Focus at Channel 16.