Dec
23
It is astounding to me how differently I feel about this holiday season now that it’s nearly over. At the beginning of the divorce process I could not bear to think of it at all, then even several weeks ago it seemed like this big painful thing I was just going to have to endure. I would say Thanksgiving really changed things for me — not only did I have a truly wonderful time both with and without my boys, but it gave me a ton of closure. It was crystal clear to me how much everyone has moved on, and so I was able to let go of a whole lot. I was able to set down a powerful desire to rearrange things to how I thought they should be, and that has done wonders for my wellbeing.
I’ve had so many wonderful holiday experiences! I went to two different parties, one was of course the CAT PARTY and the other was a lovely hosted event at our local science center and I got to play with all the exhibits and enjoy a planetarium talk. This past Sunday a friend gave me tickets to a caroling show that she could not use, and another friend joined me and it was so gorgeous to hear such beautiful singing and see the performers’ sparkling outfits. The audience was asked to join for a few songs — sweet Silent Night being one of them — and that was so good, singing beloved holiday music with other people. I don’t think I’ve done that since I was a child.
Last night I took Dylan to a new-to-us place for dinner, fancier fare than our usual, and the food was so good and afterwards we poked around the outdoor mall a bit and all the lights were doing their thing and a nice couple took our picture after I took theirs (my favorite little mini favor exchange!):
I sent out cards, I put lights at my front door, I had someone come and hang a big wreath above my garage. I bought candy and treats just for me. I wrapped a delightful number of gifts, not so many as to be a chore but enough to have the pleasure of wrapping. I did not have a tree (BILLY) but I have a small and cheering number of decorations. I burned a Frasier fir candle all month long and I danced in my kitchen to the Kay Starr remix of I’ve Got My Love to Keep Me Warm and I wore a little bow-shaped ring.
I bought a whole frozen dinner from Honey Baked Ham, for this was not the year I wanted to stress one bit over from-scratch cooking, and that’s what I’ll be having with my boys on Christmas Eve. I will however make biscuit monkey bread because they love it, and we’ll have some of that on Christmas Day while exchanging our gifts to each other. Later, I will go to the barn and Dylan is planning to go with me, so we will say hello to all the horses together, the best kind of present I can think of. I wish I could simultaneously be with my mom and aunt in Port Angeles, but I will be thinking of them and so looking forward to our upcoming visit in February.
Today I will go visit M at the care facility and it is good to see how they try so hard to make it festive there. He himself is Jewish but gamely participates in a few things, once we helped decorate a tree and then sat together and watched part of a holiday movie. On our last visit he was very tired and so I just sat next to his bed with him with my feet up, resting with him, and that was so nice.
I wish I could go back to myself even a few months ago and tell me how the holidays were going to be all right, better than that, they were going to be so damn good. Sometimes I think about that, how I often send reassuring or forgiving thoughts to my past selves. How it is a little woo for sure but maybe if I get quiet I can feel that any time, my own future me offering a steady hand. If only to remind me not to get too bogged down in how I think things will be or should be, but rather to let them unfold in their own ways — and to make room for all the unexpected wonders.
Dec
19
I have written a bit about M, the patient I visit in a care facility. Let’s call him Mark. I don’t want to cross privacy boundaries sharing about him, but I want so badly to help you know him a bit like I have.
Mark is in memory care and I am not sure how much he has progressed in terms of a dementia type diagnosis. In my experience, he is very lucid and has a much better memory than I have in terms of being able to talk about his past. He is physically fragile and short of breath and speaks in short but impactful sentences. Every word he says lands just right, he is a bit like a Raymond Carver or Cormac McCarthy novel where words have been stripped lean but are somehow more full.
He recently revealed a great box full of photos, one of the few personal items in his room, and over our last several visits we have been going through them. I pull a chair next to him with a pile of prints in my lap and hold each one up so he can see it, and he can almost always tell me what is happening — where it was taken, who he was with.
There are a stunning number of images with beautiful women. I mean I cannot overstate this: there are so many women. Many where the woman is the only subject, and many more with Mark in the picture. Sometimes there are two women, with smiling Mark in the middle. “One on each arm, if I could swing it,” he tells me.
It is something to see woman after woman, each one so beautiful in her very unique way. Some look almost modern in their appearance but most really echo the era, and one thing that stands out to me is how lovely it is is to see so-called imperfections: small breasts, real teeth, minimal makeup, normal lips. Each women looks like herself rather than a social media filter and it is breathtaking.
He was obviously an enormously charming man, you can see it. He has a terrific smile that lights up his face, a real twinkle in the eye. You can see that in his face today. His eyes are older but they have the exact same glimmer. You can tell then and now that he was not a lecherous, leering sort of man. He was a man who deeply appreciated beauty and was able to capture it in a way that shows his skill; he was not simply snapshotting the moment but rather framing it with great care.
Mark was also ridiculously handsome. A pleasing just-right face full of character, an attractive full mustache, not a tall or big man, a man who fit perfectly next to the women on each arm. You can see that handsomeness in his face today, it is different and he has a full white beard now but he is still so pleasing to look at.
In some images he is in formalwear for ship events and my goodness. “You must have been irresistible,” I told him, and he said, “That tux didn’t hurt me one bit.”
He never did marry, although he says he came very close three times. He says he has regrets about this now, and sad that he never had children. I am sorry for this sadness but we often talk about how incredibly rich and adventurous his life was. He knows that, because it is true.
Among the many photos of women — women he was dating, women who were passengers on the cruise and river boats he worked on — there are a wonderful number of pictures of ship passengers in costume. He was the ship photographer, the person who takes photos as you enter the ship and also during the trip. His specialty for some period of time was offering the experience of getting a novelty Western-themed photo, sepia tinted and showing people wearing Western wear. He had a large collection of costumes and props for people to choose from, and I love these images — it is fascinating to see what people were drawn towards. For instance, many women chose the big fluffy boas, the peacock-feathered hats, the bustiers and huge flowing skirts, while men went for the fringed buckskin jackets and the pistol/rifle props. But every now and then a woman chose the menswear and the guns, and I find myself longing to know more about those mysterious long-ago ladies.
The final photos would be given to recipients in cropped oval paper cards, but Mark’s images show the full image, often with a backdrop in the frame. So almost every picture shows these people in historically-accurate wear, complete with nonsmiling faces (he would ask them not to smile so as to look more authentic to the time, but he told me that if someone did smile, he did not stop them). But if you look at their feet: sandals! Flipflops! Tennis shoes! Oh, I find that detail so charming.
For a time when he was a very young photographer just a few years out of high school, he took pictures of high school marching bands. These images are enormously interesting too, the way he was able to pose and frame very large numbers of people. The giant sousaphones in the very back, staggered just perfectly so as to balance the shot. Girls in the front with batons or flags arranged in striking sort of way that draws the eye in. Every single person facing the camera at the right time! God, he was so very talented.
I wish I myself could be photographed by Mark, I would love to see that. I find myself one of an untold number of ladies throughout his long good life that has been swept right off their feet by him, and I am happy he is having that experience in whatever time he has left. Another smitten kitten, lit up by his smile. It is clear he brought joy to so many people, and I am so grateful to be one of them.
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