Kellylark's Open Salon Blog

Just Something I Needed to Write

Tue, 2 Feb 2010 23:02:50 -0500

I consider myself a very fortunate person. I even call myself “lucky”. I am not terribly optimistic, but hell, I certainly can’t complain. This was the original impetus for this post, but I find I cannot go there without some background. It turns out that THIS post is not about being fortunate, although I promise, I am, and that will come next.

I am far more acquainted with death than I’d like to be. My first memory-registered death occurred sometime around the ages of 8 and 9. A girl of a similar age I’d made a brief acquaintance with while living with my aunt’s family in Vermont was there my first summer, and gone the next. It was all very hush-hush back in 1967, but I now think I understand that she died of child-hood leukemia.

My dad died when I was two weeks into my 14^th year. For some reason, for many years I considered myself 13 years old when he died. A few years ago, I realized I had actually turned 14 some 15 days before he died on November 18^th, 1972. So I was actually 14 at the time. Not important in the scheme of things, but it was a revelation to me after 35 years! He had been sickly with Type 1 diabetes and angina after his first heart attack 8 years earlier. He went into the hospital for what was NOT back then, “routine” open heart surgery. He came through the operation and they told us he’d be OK, and I did NOT go to the hospital to see him that night. He died the next morning. I was his only daughter among three brothers. Losing my dad at that precious age was extremely unfortunate. I didn’t go see him and I didn’t tell him I loved him before he died. The fact of what he must have faced going into the unknown operation at that time, and the fact that we did not speak of it beforehand, and the reality that I did not see him the last time that I might have, torture me to this day, 38 years later.

By the time I was 19, one of my best friends had died after a 3 year battle with cancer. She was ill for our junior and senior year of high school. We dedicated a page to her in our 1976 high school yearbook (the bicentennial year!), though she had not died yet. She lived with a tracheotomy and a wig for the last two years of her life, and I WAS there for her every day of that. I left her in August 1977 for an adventure at ASU, and she died in October. I was not there when she died, but I am pretty sure she knew that I loved her before I left.

My prom date committed suicide, and two other prominent young men in my high school life had died in stupid boy-shit accidents before I turned 20.

During my 20’s, both of my grandmothers died of reasonable old-age causes for their generations (both of my grandfathers were deceased before I was born). I was living in California in my bohemian years, and did not go home for either funeral. I have no reason to believe they knew I loved them. And I hate myself for not being there for my mother through that.

When I was 33 (1991), my mother did not wake up on Holy Saturday. She died in her sleep sometime on Good Friday night – Holy Saturday morning. I have not practiced Catholicism since I was 16 years old, and she was Protestant. Yet I derived a tiny bit of peace because she died on such a holy holiday. I flew home on Easter morning in abject tears and was afforded a row alone for my last minute flight and am eternally grateful for that. It seemed that the flight attendants knew this was an “hardship” seat and they were very kind. Or it might have been the non-stop tears pouring down my face. At least my mother knew I loved her when she died, as I took every opportunity to tell her that. I was not a good daughter in many ways, but she knew I loved her. What I didn’t know then was how much she loved me.

Christmas night 1999, when we were all freaked out about Y2K, I got word that one of my oldest and dearest friends had dropped dead of a heart attack while preparing the coffee-maker for the next morning. I was enroute home from the holiday with my cousins in Ft Worth and had my amour of the time from Australia with me. We were going back to Austin for a few days before flying into Colorado for New Year’s in the Rockies (Evergreen area, for those in the know). I spent the drive back on the cell phone re-routing us through Boston to Denver to attend my dearest friend’s funeral. That was a big mistake. I should have left the complainer behind in Austin to go home, and left out the Rockies trip altogether. I needed far more time at home to grieve with my friends than I allowed myself.

Since 1999, it has been fairly quiet. I have lost an elderly Aunt and my best Uncle, but these were “to be expected” somewhat.

Damn, I am a shit. I almost forgot about Sharon, who died a year ago, my closest friend from all the way back, lost to a deep drug addiction in our late-20s, who died last year. I posted about it then. I hadn't seen her in years, and I never stopped missing her. She died alone and without me, although she asked for me and awful relatives chose not to tell me. I know she didn't know I still loved her and I am still very angry about that.

At times, I feel inured to death. Certainly one reason I never had children was due to all of the grief I experienced at a young age. I knew that a child’s death would be unbearable. I also knew that it would hurt just as badly if it was ME who died and left them behind.

I am not sure why I am writing this now. Maybe it's because one of my clients lost his last grandmother last week and was shocked to find himself an "orphan" at age 40. While I offered sympathy, he demanded a count of my age at "orphanage" and my parents' ages and such. And I "won" as he put it..

So many are writing about death and I feel I should offer support. Heavens knows Ali's saga of her mother's death is special to me. She expresses so many feelings that I could never write so poignantly and she has helped me, all these years later.

Kathy's story has my teeth gritted for what may come next. LL2's loss is so difficult.

I could never, ever, know what it feels like to lose a child, and to those that have and write about it here, I honor your courage to go on.

To those who are losing or have lost a parent or grandparent or dear one, I always write, “they knew they were loved by you”. This is because it is the only solace I have for some of my losses, and it is my greatest regret for those I cannot say that about.

To those who are dealing with caring for parents in all manner of dementia, illness, or discomfort, I don’t know what to say. Sometimes I can be grateful that I will never deal with that, and sometimes I know every last minute will be worth it and I wish I’d had the opportunity. I honor you for what you are doing.

To those who have troubled relationships with parents or children, I wish you peace in whatever manner you can find it. But I would encourage you to love, because the loss will hurt no matter how bad it might seem on earth right now, and the loving will help in the end.

Next up, I will tell you why I am so fortunate, and how I got to be that way, I promise :-)

Not Exactly Good News Sunday

Sun, 24 Jan 2010 03:01:58 -0500

For 3 weeks, I have been wracking my brain for Good News on Sunday.

Personally, it is all good for me, but I need to translate that to good for all.

I have a glimmer of hope ……

Some of my clients lost LOT of business in the early 2000’s to Chinese manufacturers. In the late 2000’s, we have seen that business coming back home.

One of my clients has added 6 new full-time positions in this last year of economic woe. Their customers chose to no longer trust the Chinese with the health and safety of American consumers.

The Chinese have killed dogs with tainted dog food, and children with tainted toothpaste, and American families with formaldehyde-cured drywall. Now, cheap leather pocketbooks bought by millions of consumers at median-or low-priced outlets are lead-bearing health hazards. Recalls abound for cheap shit imported by the biggest offenders of cheap American shit in the world – Wal-Mart for one.

Do you folks know that over 80% of your pharmaceuticals are now manufactured in China? Where adding toxic ingredients to extend the supply and profitability of the drugs you and your parents and your kids take daily is an approved formula for success?

Everyone bitches that FDA will not allow imports of drugs. Well guess what? They allow the entire universe of active ingredients to be imported, and they have almost no control over them. Ask Baxter, who tested the Chinese heparin for all kinds of shit but missed the deadly toxic chemical that they were not looking for that killed several 100 Americans.

Damn, I guess this was not all good news. My good news is, the manufacturers of your over-the-counter creams and lotions are coming back to the good old USA. That is creating jobs.

You really ought to be agitating for bringing pharmaceuticals back home too. It’s a matter of llife and death. If China shut us off tomorrow, we’d have no drugs to manufacture.

But the good news is, some jobs have come home and my client is busy and profitable and hiring despite the downturn.

Freezing in Ft. Lauderdale REALLY (Update)

Sat, 9 Jan 2010 15:01:12 -0500

OK, so I know it's not literally freezing but observe the wind chill temperature below too. We actually have a "wind chill warning" in effect for heaven's sake. That high of 58 was last night just after midnight.

I also know most of you (except our US West Coasters, the Aussies, and our occassional South American blogger) are having it much worse. For the record, I was in Massachusetts for two weeks last month so I am recently reminded of what "freezing" , "cold", and "wind chill" really mean.

But for once, we can't gloat over our sunny tropical clime whilst you freeze your butts off everywhere north of here. You can also be glad your Florida vacation was not scheduled for this week. Oy, our poor tourists! I do feel badly for them.

Prior to my trip North last month, I cleaned my closet of the sweaters and jackets that never get worn here. It feels somewhat futile to drop that stuff at Goodwill in South Florida, but this time it might actually have done some good. Which reminds me, I keep seeing news video of the zoo animals being heat-lamped and the iguanas falling out of the trees but I have yet to see a story about how the multitudes of homeless here in the Sunshine State are handling this truly wintry weather. Go figure.

No worries though, we are forecast to be back in the 70s by Thursday, so come on down!

Here it is, officially freezing - and then some - in Ft. Lauderdale (or so sayeth the Weatherbug)

Mamma Mia Who Knew?

Fri, 11 Dec 2009 23:12:45 -0500

I finally watched the entire movie tonight – that’s right – the much maligned Mamma Mia movie. Who knew one could be so inspired by the epitome of schmaltz? I’m not even embarrassed to admit it – Mamma Mia the movie inspired me.

All I want in the entire world right now is Meryl Streep’s energy and flexibility. She’s about 10 years older than I, and if I don’t move on it NOW, I will be older and less energetic every year and have no hope of ever feeling as good as she made me feel in this movie. I’ll be a moribund couch potato in 10 years. I am pretty much a couch- and computer-potato as it is; I can’t tolerate how much worse I am going to feel soon!

Granted, Ms. Streep (and her co-star, the amazing Christine Baranski), have had the advantage over me all these years. A very important part of their profession requires them to exercise and stay fit, and they are paid handsomely for their talents and get advantages I can’t hope for in the quest for fitness. Make no mistake, I am not talking about diet and thinness, it’s all about stamina, energy, flexibility, and sheer pizzazz now that they (we) have reached that certain age. Sure, they also have nips and tucks but I don’t want to look like them so much as I want to feel like them. And move like them. And flex like them. Sigh.

Towards the end of the movie, I got off the couch and started dancing to see how close I was to keeping up. This, however, rather shocked my body that had been potato-ing with a few drinks for several hours, and I quickly needed a smoke break.

After the movie, I started playing my DVR recording of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame 25^th anniversary concert. Oh holy Mom did I feel old when Crosby, Stills, and Nash opened THAT show. I actually felt better about my energy level after watching them. Disclaimer: I’ve already seen the end of the show where the Boss blows me away once again with his 60 year old energy level and was thusly extremely biased against the old guys opening the show. U2 and Mick Jagger are in the middle so let’s see what that brings. Oh I see Sting is still looking and sounding damn fine. He and Trudy have released TMI about their tantric sex life though, in my opinion.

To sum it up, if I don’t get off my butt, get back to yoga, exercise my heart more regularly, cut back on the White Russians, and oh yeah, quit fucking smoking, I am going to hate myself in 10 years even more than I do now! Help!

What's next?

Wed, 18 Nov 2009 01:11:33 -0500

Every time I open a "new tab" in IE8, I get this screen:

It haunts me to no end. As if I know, dang it!