Kindergarten Pics
There are 39 years between us but I think we may share an inner child.
Kindergarten, 1976 and 2015, respectively.
Tis the Season
“I will honour Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year. I will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future.” —Charles Dickens
It will come as no surprise to anyone reading this that one of my coping mechanisms is staying project-busy. It’s in my personality and so far, I’m thankful for it. Some cope by pulling inward for fear of getting lost in the wider world. Some throw themselves at the greater world so they don’t get lost in their heads. I go back and forth, but l am most comfortable living out loud. Staying busy works for me.
But the crash does come from time to time, an occupational hazard. It’s been a busy month, full of photo-shoots and art-making, Christmas parties and preparations, seeing friends, teaching class, fundraising, parenting, caregiving, and prioritizing payments. The busy-ness of the holidays is notoriously intense for grown-ups, but I haven’t wanted to give in. I don’t want to be one of those people that is annoyed and overwhelmed by the season. “Because it’s my FAVORITE!” I kick and I scream.
We had such a wonderful weekend. I have only really just come up for air from all that. At the end of it, I found myself suddenly very tired with nothing else on the immediate table, nothing new in which to throw my energy. I tried to take naps between school runs and Vernon-visits, but instead of feeling rested, I just began to feel SAD.
Sad and ANGRY because our lawyer’s recent news finally had some space to be processed. Feeling the imbalance in the world that that injustice shines its light on. What felt like an accident for 18 months feels like a personal insult now. Someone took our dad and husband away and we are being punished for it.
These aren’t nice thoughts to have anyway, but with Christmas decorations and post office stamps reminding us that we are supposed to be merry this time of year, they are especially surreal. I know many people have a hard time over the holidays because they are reminded that someone they once held dear is no longer with them. It’s also hard to be merry and bright when the news is full of hate and fear. It’s been a long year, and just to make it a feel a little longer, all the LA schools were shut down yesterday due to a bomb threat. It’s depressing that we have to accept it is normal for shootings to happen in public and our schools. I don’t like these new normals. I don’t want them! It’s climate change for the soul. We want what we had, but the damage is done, and all we can do is look forward and try to keep our balance in the now.
I miss the Vernon we used to have. I love him still, but its not the same. He’s not here with us, and when we are with him, we never know which side of him will emerge, what state he will be in that day. After a year in Mesa Verde and such slow recovery, I feel I can get an idea of who the future Vernon is. And he’s not that different from who he is now.
Jennifer, the new social worker, called me yesterday morning while I was running errands. You’ll remember she is the one who called out of the blue a few weeks ago to tell me it was time to move Vernon elsewhere. I reacted very strongly and when I heard her voice on the phone again, and told her I was nervous about working with her as there had been such a miscommunication before. To her credit, she apologized and gently talked me through what she was calling about this time. Once I calmed down, I told her what I wanted: “First priority: a kidney transplant for Vernon—if possible it will be Joe’s. And I want them both to move closer to me, but they need to come as a team.” She told me she would try.
It boggled me that this person whom I already was suspicious of might be the one who helps make our lives easier. Could I let that information in? A backwards glimmer of hope on a day that I was so terribly dark. I guess I could…because after that, the day got better. I took my packages to the post office, finished my Christmas shopping, cleaned the living room, and even baked cookies. Later, I got a call that Belle had brought a guitar into to the dialysis center where she sat with him—the first time ever that there has been a guitar in that place. I was surprised that they allowed it…but not surprised that they loved it.
I’m still trying to fold all these broken and confused bits into some sort of wreath that holds together this season. Hardship and loss doesn’t recognize the calendar…it happens all year. We just feel the unfairness of it a little stronger in December, maybe partly because its the end of the cycle.
But Joy comes wrapped in swaddling cloth, hidden in dark places. Hope emerges in the night sky, but we have to look up, even if we are feeling run down or hopeless.
Isn’t that the how the story goes? Isn’t that the point that goes far deeper than holiday lights and eggnog parties.
Justine recently announced: “I know what God wants for Christmas. He wants everyone to have a good time with their families. He wants everyone to be happy.”
So as my present to God, I am going to turn my focus back to what I do have. I want to give instead of take. I am going to have a good time with my family, whatever that looks like this year.
Love Fest
Love is the most re-energizing thing. It really is quite powerful—which makes it even more mysterious. What is this strange stuff, made up of intent and caring and thought and memory and just-showing-up. I don’t know what combination of elements makes it come together in such an invigorating, healing, transcendent way…but when it happens, it’s everything.
After some disheartening news about Vernon’s situation over the past week, it was wonderful to spend a couple of days basking in the glow of all the people who came to support us as well as those those who donated their time and talent to make this even happen. There were so many wonderful things to browse and buy, but for me, it was about the people…when there is that much love in one space, it’s tangible. I’m still carrying it in my heart this Monday morning.
Thank you again to all who sent your handmade art and items our way. And thank you to those who showed up. People from all different spaces of my life were there, even some who drove quite a long distance. We surpassed last year’s intake by a long shot and brought in around at least $8500. I am humbled and blessed.
I must praise Thom and Nancy Hendricks in particular. Though Nancy and I only started gathering the goods a few days before, she pulled it all together on Friday afternoon with whirlwind energy. Both she and Thom worked tirelessly the whole weekend, taking money and keeping the spreadsheet. Thank you to Jen, who made t shirts to order, hand printed with a collection of Vernon’s published fonts. She also worked the whole weekend, making sure the drinks and snacks and kid’s craft table were always stocked. Thank you to all the musicians who played. Thank you to Marah and Alison who stayed the whole weekend, making/selling their unique jewelry. Their presence really did make it feel like an Artist’s Market. And of course, the biggest thanks go to Pattie, who owns the Art Supply (my second home) and gave us the space to use (as well as fresh gingerbread to eat.) To everyone involved, even in the smallest ways, I feel the love! It makes my world go round…and gives me strength for the future.
Strangely, I have no photos of my own from the weekend, but here are some images from other people’s phones:
Ryane, a beautiful friend that I met at September’s writer’s conference, came down for her Christmas shopping.
Lisa, a family friend of many years bought the most fabulous gift item of all: a t-shirt, hand-printed with many of Vernon’s fonts (more will be available online soon.)
Gregory, a fellow CalArtian, drove down from LA and bought a painting. It turned out we were in Paris the same year this was painted.
“TheHere’s a taste of the music, this song brought to you by the lovely Alexandra Adolph.
https://www.facebook.com/erik.adolph.1/videos/419940561543954/?theater
“There is no mistaking love. You feel it in your heart. It is the common fiber of life, the flame that heats our soul, energizes our spirit, and supplies passion to our lives.” —Elisabeth Kubler Ross
Now, that quote has some serious weight coming from a woman who knows a lot about life…and loss…and love.
Craft Market…and Blessings in Disguise
This weekend is our craft fair/art show fundraiser. We’ve been working really hard on this, in a semi-spontaneous fashion, and we’ve rounded up some great stuff. I know more is coming in tomorrow, but what we have so far is really fun. We’ll have things for every budget, but mostly it will be an togethery time of friendship and art.
There will be food and drink, music, and even face-painting and activities for the kids:
(Here are some animal ornaments available for painting and decorating.)
Marah Johnson will not only be selling her stamped metal wares, but she will be making some items on the spot. Very excited about this!
Handmade hats from Wendy Talene and Elsewhen Millinery in Washington.
Gwen Weinburg sent some beautiful prints from Seattle.
Music will not only be played at the event, but we’ll have holiday CDs available too!
My complete “Underwater Series” from the past few months will be for sale.
I also dipped into my photography file and made some nice prints.
T-shirts from Tantrum Clothing, a local designer.
BUNTING!
Illustrated pet portraits. Stephanie lives in the UK, so if anyone reading this wants to order from Europe, this is an extra sweet deal postage-wise for you.
Jeff Girard’s pottery collection 2015.
Jen is screen-printing T shirts with the names of Vernon’s fonts. I love this idea…and I’m sure he’d approve too.
There will be much more at the sale…but even if you don’t mean to buy anything, just come anyway. We’d love to see you!
And just a quick update from Vernon…here is a little blurb from today: Blessings in Disguise.
Exit Through the Wardrobe
I woke up yesterday feeling blue and angry. There had been enough time for me to start processing the baffling news about the legal case. It was literally an insult to injury… a big insult to a big injury. I felt deflated and let down by the justice system…as if we were being punished for someone else’s ‘legal’ mistake. (Legal, because he had bought the minimum of insurance.) But I won’t go on about it now. I just was tearful and depressed…everything seemed wrong in the world, or at least America.
I cried some more on the drive up to dialysis, expecting Vernon to be rolling around and clenched in his disturbing TBI manner, but I found him wide eyed and alert. My mood changed pretty quickly then. When I’m with him and he is loving and alert, all the other details of my life fade away somewhat. There is nothing I can do there but sit with him and keep him company. Some days that is a good thing.
Chicina, the social worker, came over for a little chat, so I told her about the latest developments in our situation, starting with the news from my attorney. I asked Vernon if he wanted to hear about it to. Of course he did—he always wants to know what is happening with him.
I didn’t say much before he got weepy and started to say:” I’m sorry. Oh, I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault.”
“What do you mean, Vernon? You have done nothing wrong.”
“Oh I have!” he moaned. “I’m the one who got in an accident.”
“Do you remember it?”
“No, but I’m sure its all my fault. I am so sorry I did this to you. Oh my…” and he cried some more.
My heart broke again. “NONE of it was your fault, Vernon. None of it was your fault.”
So we changed the subject. He helped me pick out the best pictures from a recent photo shoot I did. He wanted to look at his old facebook page to see pictures of himself and the kids. I’d brought his old laptop, because he keeps asking for it last week, but once he had it in front of him, he didn’t want to touch it. He seems to know that his eyes and fingers aren’t able to do what they used to, and avoids the frustration.
Then I started reading “The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe.” (Click the link to read the whole novel online.) Just like the last book we read, Vernon was immediately rapt. We escaped into magical world where both children and animals speak with heart and intelligence. A place where it’s always snowing, but never Christmas. We met Tumnus the fawn and the White Witch. Even for me, it was good to escape in through the wardrobe from a world that doesn’t make much sense to me at the moment.
In the evening…when it was time to put Justine to bed, I opened up the book again and started over with her. Just like her dad, she became perfectly still under her blanket as I started reading.
“Do you understand what’s happening so far, Sweetie?”
“No, but keep reading.”
And then when it was time to stop… “Read a little more, please?”
I’ve been thinking that Vernon and Justine are emotionally the same age at the moment. And the way they respond to these books is almost exactly the same. It’s fascinating, especially since I am experiencing them in two different worlds: Mesa Verde and our own home. Now I can experience them through Narnia as well. That’s real enough, isn’t it? (It is when we are reading.)
On that note, I want to show off my Christmas pillows that I ordered from my friend Wendy in Washington. (She has also sent some adorable handmade hats for our fundraiser this weekend.)
Look: it’s the lamp-post! And Justine and Daddy…I mean Lucy and Tumnus.
