My therapist told me shortly after I separated, "You could be married today."
That hadn't occurred to me.
When you separate, you think you will never find someone again.
Too soon! Too hard! Too old! Too much energy! Too embarrassing! Too, too, too!!!
But here's the thing I've discovered since: my therapist was right!
Every day folks, complete strangers approach me and share the details of their lives. I appreciate being approachable. Why? Because they need someone to talk to, and I need someone to listen to. Learn and leaning on one another is important. Plenty have listened to me, and continue to do so...
Today, was my turn to listen.
Had a lovely chat with the man who shuttled me home today. His name was "Martinez".
Assured me the only Renee's he's ever known were men. Thought maybe I had gotten my name wrong? I assured him it was indeed my name, and meant in the most feminine of ways. He didn't look convinced.
First time that has ever happened. But I understood. Our frame of reference was different. I got it.
There is one thing we all have in common though: relationships.
Small talk led us to the revelation that this weekend he intended to sleep. Which irks his sister (that he rents a room from) . "All you do is sleep on your days off."
IS that all you do? I asked. Yeah, but I'm happy.
I wasn't so sure about that.
He muttered something in spanish and I responded casually in spanish. Shocked him.
"Habla espanol?"
Como no (of course). Listened to it for thirty years. My husband is from El Salvador. My ex husband.
The rest of the way home we spoke entirely in his language. He began to share freely and I listened:
He's 50.
Lives in Anaheim.
Divorced six years ago after 27 years of marriage and four kids.
Wife didn't like that he played "Basketball".
Were you really playing basketball?
Yeah!
Have you ever said you were playing basketball and were playing something else?
Mischief in his eyes answered my question.
So, your life took a completely different path because you decided to play a game of basketball one night and you came home two hours late and she threw you out?
Just shook his head and smiled.
You are where you have been showing her you want to be: Single.
Aw well, no one should live with all that anger. (He said this).
I'm ready to have a girlfriend. Take to the cine, the playa, dinner.
Then he asked me, "What about you?"
Eh, I'd like someone. I'm ready.
What are you doing about it?
I shrugged my shoulders and said, "Nothing." Can't force it.
Dumbfounded, he looked at me like what was I waiting for? You're just gonna except it?
I smiled and shrugged again. I've dated. What's the point? Men and women desire different things.
Wished him well as he pulled onto my driveway. Hoped he found someone to date-and suggested maybe he should try and find a girl who prefers one on one basketball? He laughed and shrugged.
Went to pick something up I needed after that. In the time it took me to sign the bill and gather my things, (all I said was it felt nice in the air conditioning) I learned the interesting details of my sweet sales ladies life:
She's in her fifties.
Raised in Fountain Valley, spent the last sixteen years on the east coast.
Its so hot in the summer there. Winters are worse though. Gray. Gray. Gray.
At thirty seven found herself alone after a terrible first marriage ended.
Decided to treat herself for the first time ever to a beer.
Went to a bar, sat down and met a man who changed her life completely.
Married him. Good good man.
Found out he has a daughter that is "really" his (we had the test, you know). Terrible teenager, but she is in her thirties now, has two masters degrees and is a teacher. "We all have peace now that she has gotten her life together."
Because you treated yourself to a beer you met and married a wonderful man, experienced life across the country, and gained a step daughter?
Yep. My life turned around. :-)
I said, "Buying that beer for yourself was your way of showing the universe where you wanted to be: Married. Happily. And then it happened!"
She beamed with joy.
Today, the universe used these lovelies to remind me: I am where I want to be. For today, anyway. If I really want the other, I need to make me the best I can be. A better me will attract a better him. Just gonna put it out there: I want to married one day again. Not this year, still healing and growing. Finding peace in my solitude and truly appreciating when others bless me with their presence. Getting my kids through senior year. But one year not too far after that. Happily, this time.
Okay universe, work your magic.
Friday, 19 August 2016
Tuesday, 16 August 2016
WHAT I DON'T REGRET
So much of our days, weeks, months and years are spent looking at the choices we did not make; the paths we are sure would have brought us to a place where no regrets live. I struggle with my regrets. And I've achieved some pretty great things in my life. But, it doesn't matter, in the end, because its the paths we take out of fear (and we ALL have walked these lines) that cause us to suffocate. Woke up this morning needing to find perspective, if only for today. Just today. Because I could not contemplate another tomorrow like yesterday. It was heartbreaking.
Decided to remind my head and my heart what I don't regret:
1. Writing. If I hadn't put down in words my angst, pain and fury and fear I would never have learned our emotions live outside of us. While I carried them around with me like undesired necessaries, I found my happy constantly at war with my sad; often convinced the latter would win out in a self fulfilling prophecy. Here's the thing: Subjectivity kills. It wasn't until I placed each of my adversaries on paper, that I could step away and look at them objectively. They became simply pawns in a game I was the master at--a game I decided I was not willing to lose. Objectivity strengthens our resolve.
2. Serving others. Since I was a little girl, I was taught by strangers the survival of many is due in great part by the service of the few. Foster parents care for the children of parents who cannot. Shelters house folks who cannot provide housing for themselves. Those fortunate enough to exist without mental illness understand the importance of caring for those destined to become lost in their own minds. Every time I give of my experience, my energy, my material possessions, my heart I stand taller. Wanna give more. Realize how very little I need. Serving is a selfless act that takes our attention away from depression, anxiety and all those evil opponents that want us to believe this life is all about us. Doesn't cure those very real disorders, but the buffer created by helping others takes the focus off. And that's a good thing.
3. Loving. This seems like an easy one, but for those of us who were traumatized at an early age, loving is an act of bravery most cannot fathom. Not able to allow love to flow until I had bore children of my own, left me side swiped; my lonely self inflicted existence for thirty three years was so terrified of having to open my heart, I went into shock only moments after they were born. Could not stop shaking. Crying. I decided to love. Open hearted. Filled me with a sense of peace I have not since been able to replicate anywhere else except when I write. Loving is the only thing that matters.
4. Accepting who I am. Nobody knew my past. Nobody. There were shadows some would see follow me around, and I'd get questions now and again, but my brief response would soon put the inquiries to rest. Then, in my late forties, I began to write on Facebook. Never consciously aware; seemed like the keyboard worked itself pouring out my stories, the wall of refrain melted away. And folks began to heal and hope for their own lives. If I could get past the horror, surely they could. Embracing my scars, owning my ugly background started me on a path to come full circle. Isn't that what we are supposed to do in this circle of life?
I am a good person that has made some devastatingly hurtful bad choices. No denying it. I am also a woman who has taken who I am and used those mistakes and what she has learned over the long haul to benefit someone else. Lots of someone elses. Both of my paths have seen the worn soles of my feet. Today, I will focus on the paths that made others lives just a bit better. Tomorrow? I am going to keep those in mind when I am standing at the next fork in the road--because there is always a fork in the road. Its when we forget to honor our good stuff that the bad stuff repeats itself.
So much of our days, weeks, months and years are spent looking at the choices we did not make; the paths we are sure would have brought us to a place where no regrets live. I struggle with my regrets. And I've achieved some pretty great things in my life. But, it doesn't matter, in the end, because its the paths we take out of fear (and we ALL have walked these lines) that cause us to suffocate. Woke up this morning needing to find perspective, if only for today. Just today. Because I could not contemplate another tomorrow like yesterday. It was heartbreaking.
Decided to remind my head and my heart what I don't regret:
1. Writing. If I hadn't put down in words my angst, pain and fury and fear I would never have learned our emotions live outside of us. While I carried them around with me like undesired necessaries, I found my happy constantly at war with my sad; often convinced the latter would win out in a self fulfilling prophecy. Here's the thing: Subjectivity kills. It wasn't until I placed each of my adversaries on paper, that I could step away and look at them objectively. They became simply pawns in a game I was the master at--a game I decided I was not willing to lose. Objectivity strengthens our resolve.
2. Serving others. Since I was a little girl, I was taught by strangers the survival of many is due in great part by the service of the few. Foster parents care for the children of parents who cannot. Shelters house folks who cannot provide housing for themselves. Those fortunate enough to exist without mental illness understand the importance of caring for those destined to become lost in their own minds. Every time I give of my experience, my energy, my material possessions, my heart I stand taller. Wanna give more. Realize how very little I need. Serving is a selfless act that takes our attention away from depression, anxiety and all those evil opponents that want us to believe this life is all about us. Doesn't cure those very real disorders, but the buffer created by helping others takes the focus off. And that's a good thing.
3. Loving. This seems like an easy one, but for those of us who were traumatized at an early age, loving is an act of bravery most cannot fathom. Not able to allow love to flow until I had bore children of my own, left me side swiped; my lonely self inflicted existence for thirty three years was so terrified of having to open my heart, I went into shock only moments after they were born. Could not stop shaking. Crying. I decided to love. Open hearted. Filled me with a sense of peace I have not since been able to replicate anywhere else except when I write. Loving is the only thing that matters.
4. Accepting who I am. Nobody knew my past. Nobody. There were shadows some would see follow me around, and I'd get questions now and again, but my brief response would soon put the inquiries to rest. Then, in my late forties, I began to write on Facebook. Never consciously aware; seemed like the keyboard worked itself pouring out my stories, the wall of refrain melted away. And folks began to heal and hope for their own lives. If I could get past the horror, surely they could. Embracing my scars, owning my ugly background started me on a path to come full circle. Isn't that what we are supposed to do in this circle of life?
I am a good person that has made some devastatingly hurtful bad choices. No denying it. I am also a woman who has taken who I am and used those mistakes and what she has learned over the long haul to benefit someone else. Lots of someone elses. Both of my paths have seen the worn soles of my feet. Today, I will focus on the paths that made others lives just a bit better. Tomorrow? I am going to keep those in mind when I am standing at the next fork in the road--because there is always a fork in the road. Its when we forget to honor our good stuff that the bad stuff repeats itself.
Saturday, 18 June 2016
Ask your dad about his life!
June 2014
Last summer, I was going through the roughest time of my entire adulthood. Dad lives an hour away but would drive out and spend long weekends with me. I was numb, void of life, depressed, given up. He'd sit and talk with me. I learned more about him and his life than I had all the years before. Here are some of the cool, interesting and somewhat surprising facts my father shared...
1. Number 11 of 12 children. His mother was epileptic and died in childbirth. Never knew her but when he speaks of her, he still gets that little boy look of love one has for their mommy.
2. Dad grew up in an orphanage. Happy there. Three meals a day, schooling, and a present for Christmas. His favorite memory? Playing cards with the nuns!
3. Grew up in Joliet, Illinois.
4. He and his older brothers were the best dancers around. Won contests. Mom wouldn't dance w/him.
5. Worked tending/managing bars back east. Hired Sonny and Cher to perform.
6. Did a stint in the Air Force. Hitch hiked out to his post in Alaska. Stopped off in Montana. Got into a brawl at a bar there and tore up the place (seriously, like you see in the movies).
7. Married three times. Once for three weeks to a Playboy Bunny! Stunned, I asked why only three weeks? Didn't you love her? "Good God NO!" Why did you marry her then? "Eh, she was beautiful. And she kept asking me to marry her."
8. Mom was his third wife. Married forty years. He is 6' and she was 4' 11". Never saw two people laugh so much together. Fun fact: they owned a 60 acre farm outside of Knoxville, TN for awhile. Complete with pigs!
9. Over the years, they had over two dozen foster children. Adopted four. Had one biological. Shortly after my adoption, dad placed his arm around my shoulder and said, "It does not matter if you're my blood or not, you were hand picked and that makes you special."
10. I was often in awe of his resourcefulness. Dad never hired someone to fix something around the house. Figured out how to repair the thing himself. If he didn't have the tools, he'd borrow them. I can still see him lying on his back underneath the kitchen sink cussing at the pipes.
11. Family is everything to DAD. During my high school years, mom got a job at UCI med center working nights. After driving a diesel truck all day, dad would come home and cook dinner. He wasn't the sit in front of the tv and let the wife raise the family kinda husband. When he did watch, it was with all of us. TV and conversation is still something enjoys.
12. Blue collar worker. Always. But we never felt how close he came to not paying the bills sometimes. Took us up to Hearst Castle, camping, the snow, motor biking in the desert, and our Christmases were amazing!
13. Took me to a dinner theater once on a father daughter date. Eight years later, I remembered that place and went and got a job there--and that is where I met a nice guy in the cast who helped me get a job at Paramount Studios.
14. Moved to Arizona in his late 50's. Needed a job. Took a look around at the budding housing market and quickly found a niche--construction clean up. Bought himself a truck and he was in business. "Why not? What did I have to lose?" Prospered for ten years until he decided to sell it.
15. Dad is also the reason my ex and I began our own business. One day he was talking to his neighbor, "Hey, my daughter's boyfriend is looking for some part time work..." Four years into that job, my dad saw the ex had a knack for that, "Why don't you start your own business?" So we did.
16. Never known a stranger. Can talk to anyone. Great attitude. When asked how his day is he often responds with, "Well, I woke up this morning. It's a GOOD day!"
17. When mom got cancer, he cared for her, doted on her for eleven years. Got so adept at all her needs the nurses at the hospital would call him to come and hep with her special needs. Devoted husband.
18. Told me a couple years ago while we were sitting on my couch (during that lowest point) "You don't know how beautiful you are do you? You have so much more life to live. You, young lady, can do anything you want to do, you just have to want it."
19. My father is my best friend. I know, if you met him you'd like him. I didn't even meet him until I was twelve years old. We made sure to make up for lost time since then. My dad is the very definition of a good father. I'm a lucky girl.
Last summer, I was going through the roughest time of my entire adulthood. Dad lives an hour away but would drive out and spend long weekends with me. I was numb, void of life, depressed, given up. He'd sit and talk with me. I learned more about him and his life than I had all the years before. Here are some of the cool, interesting and somewhat surprising facts my father shared...
1. Number 11 of 12 children. His mother was epileptic and died in childbirth. Never knew her but when he speaks of her, he still gets that little boy look of love one has for their mommy.
2. Dad grew up in an orphanage. Happy there. Three meals a day, schooling, and a present for Christmas. His favorite memory? Playing cards with the nuns!
3. Grew up in Joliet, Illinois.
4. He and his older brothers were the best dancers around. Won contests. Mom wouldn't dance w/him.
5. Worked tending/managing bars back east. Hired Sonny and Cher to perform.
6. Did a stint in the Air Force. Hitch hiked out to his post in Alaska. Stopped off in Montana. Got into a brawl at a bar there and tore up the place (seriously, like you see in the movies).
7. Married three times. Once for three weeks to a Playboy Bunny! Stunned, I asked why only three weeks? Didn't you love her? "Good God NO!" Why did you marry her then? "Eh, she was beautiful. And she kept asking me to marry her."
8. Mom was his third wife. Married forty years. He is 6' and she was 4' 11". Never saw two people laugh so much together. Fun fact: they owned a 60 acre farm outside of Knoxville, TN for awhile. Complete with pigs!
9. Over the years, they had over two dozen foster children. Adopted four. Had one biological. Shortly after my adoption, dad placed his arm around my shoulder and said, "It does not matter if you're my blood or not, you were hand picked and that makes you special."
10. I was often in awe of his resourcefulness. Dad never hired someone to fix something around the house. Figured out how to repair the thing himself. If he didn't have the tools, he'd borrow them. I can still see him lying on his back underneath the kitchen sink cussing at the pipes.
11. Family is everything to DAD. During my high school years, mom got a job at UCI med center working nights. After driving a diesel truck all day, dad would come home and cook dinner. He wasn't the sit in front of the tv and let the wife raise the family kinda husband. When he did watch, it was with all of us. TV and conversation is still something enjoys.
13. Took me to a dinner theater once on a father daughter date. Eight years later, I remembered that place and went and got a job there--and that is where I met a nice guy in the cast who helped me get a job at Paramount Studios.
14. Moved to Arizona in his late 50's. Needed a job. Took a look around at the budding housing market and quickly found a niche--construction clean up. Bought himself a truck and he was in business. "Why not? What did I have to lose?" Prospered for ten years until he decided to sell it.
15. Dad is also the reason my ex and I began our own business. One day he was talking to his neighbor, "Hey, my daughter's boyfriend is looking for some part time work..." Four years into that job, my dad saw the ex had a knack for that, "Why don't you start your own business?" So we did.
16. Never known a stranger. Can talk to anyone. Great attitude. When asked how his day is he often responds with, "Well, I woke up this morning. It's a GOOD day!"
17. When mom got cancer, he cared for her, doted on her for eleven years. Got so adept at all her needs the nurses at the hospital would call him to come and hep with her special needs. Devoted husband.
18. Told me a couple years ago while we were sitting on my couch (during that lowest point) "You don't know how beautiful you are do you? You have so much more life to live. You, young lady, can do anything you want to do, you just have to want it."
19. My father is my best friend. I know, if you met him you'd like him. I didn't even meet him until I was twelve years old. We made sure to make up for lost time since then. My dad is the very definition of a good father. I'm a lucky girl.
Thursday, 25 February 2016
Jenny
Had an unusually icky week, health wise. Asked the doc when the shaking will stop? The anxiety? He assured me it will go away when I settle into my new normal. The nausea? Probably a reaction to the anti-depressants, or the worry I feel about where I should move next; what to do when I get there- when I still have no clear plan?
All these unknowns piled up on me this week. Not good. Decided to leave the sorting, packing and hard decision making for another day and take some time for myself:
Slept in.
Visited briefly with a new friend who popped over to look at something I'm selling.
Went to the nail salon and had my mani's cured--had me a neck and shoulder massage as well. Laura has the best hands; always massages my upper chest area, the front of my neck, and under my arms. I forget how long it has been since I've had human touch, until I am touched. The fee was well worth it.
While I was out, I needed to stretch a bit more "me" time out of the day. Treated myself to lunch.
I wanted to see Jenny. I wanted to talk with Jenny. I needed the voice of Jenny.
The thing I adore about Jenny?
She is the same person no matter how her day is going. She exists above the chaos. She has been waiting on me and my family since my kids were three. Going on fifteen years now. She is even keel, on it, and one of the wisest people I know.
As usual, we chatted about our kids. Her son is twenty one now. Never met him, but I know him well.
This young man of hers was raised by a single mother; a waitress that worked two jobs most days to ensure her son had three solid meals every day. Nights were up to the boy. Grandpa was there, but the child knew his boundaries--and he observed them. Mom worked. The boy worked too--at his studies.
A few years ago, that young man of hers?
He was accepted to Berkely.
He was accepted to UCLA.
He was accepted to UCI.
He was accepted to UCSD.
Jenny didn't have to pay a dime. Scholarships and grants came easily, after the boy worked hard.
I asked once, "How did he score so high on the entrance exams?" She humbly took no credit. "He's super smart." That may be, but I reminded my friend, she instilled in him a healthy work ethic: be proud of what you are doing, no matter what that might be, and apply yourself. The boy witnessed that through his mother's actions. And reflected it.
Asked her what degree he is working for? Thought he wanted to be a doctor, but realized that is not for him. He didn't like UCSD so he transferred back up here to Saddleback until he figures it out.
Planning on attending UCLA in the fall.
What's he gonna study now? I dunno. Its up to him. He could do anything. But he loves school. Likes being on campus, in classrooms, completing his work. I encouraged him to teach. Told him when we don't follow our natural path, that is when the problems start. He needs to go and be where he feels at peace.
The takeaway from my lunch? Jenny didn't panic; she remained centered and confident her brilliant son will find his way, on his own terms. When he stops resisting, he will find his passion and his peace.
Such wise advice: when we don't follow our natural path, that is when the problems start.
I enjoyed my morning pampering my aching self, but my time with my dear friend Jenny? Her calm, logical, rational words of truth? THAT was just what I needed to ease my worried mind.
Gonna go and search until I find where it is I feel at peace. Naturally. Cuz this girl has taken the path to "problems" and she doesn't wanna do that ever again.
Thank you, Jenny!
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Sunday, 14 February 2016
Today's Drop of Grace
Tuesday, 9 February 2016
My Grandmother Came to Visit
My grandmother has been trying to get my attention all week:
Maybe to tell me: figure the "Why" out on my own? You can do this.
Maybe to remind me: I am being embraced, even now? Spiritually?
Maybe to encourage me: hold onto what is important to ME. Let the other go?
Maybe to get me to thinking: work it out, write it out, get it out?
She wrote me a letter. Dropped it where I had to lean over, pick it up. Read it.
She has been the star in every one of my dreams for five nights in a row.
She left a photo of the two of us under the coffee table. My daughter brought it to me last night. Now I can't find it anywhere.
She pulled me to a box filled with her treasured dolls, passed on to me. "Keep the favs. Sell the rest."
She is here with me. I am certain of her presence. But why?
Here's the thing...
I have never read that letter before. Ever. My grandmother always, always dated her correspondence. Always. This one only had "wed" at the top. If I hadn't moved that box last night, I might not have seen the envelope slip to the floor. Could have taken months for me to discover it. She wrote of my mother's passing. Her words contained such heartfelt personal thoughts. I was moved. Comforted. And dumbfounded.. I rarely pressed her about her daughters. She often just shrugged it off. Her letter was a gift.
.
I am dealing with truly being alone, once again. I am sitting on her couch asking her why? She takes a long drag off her cigarette. Doesn't respond. She never responds.
I studied the photo my girl found under the table. Gram and I are in an embrace. Of all the zillions of pics, that is the one that found its way out of the stack. To be noticed. To be felt.
I felt relief when I opened that box of dolls. Must only carry that which is important to ME now.
But, WHY?
Maybe to teach me: share my feelings, allow a vulnerability that is comforting to others? Write.
Maybe to tell me: figure the "Why" out on my own? You can do this.
Maybe to remind me: I am being embraced, even now? Spiritually?
Maybe to encourage me: hold onto what is important to ME. Let the other go?
Maybe to get me to thinking: work it out, write it out, get it out?
Or, maybe it was all coincidence?
Sunday, 7 February 2016
School was Tough, but their Mom was Tougher
Super Bowl Sunday
What an absolutely-perfectly-peaceful day-- for those of us who don't watch football, that is!
Our neighborhood streets were lined with cars as we drove out of Ladera. Noticed banners strung in front of homes advertising: "Bill's Super Bowl Party Here!" Main streets, freeways, restaurants, and stores were all empty. Normally, it takes me fifteen minutes to get to the freeway; today it took me five. Popped into our nail salon too, and the employees were painting each other's toes! So nice to walk in and be served immediately. Made the overall experience relaxing, more enjoyable.
Took my kids and Joe the Yorky, out to Lazy Dog for lunch. Sat outside in the summer like winter weather and just chilled. Noticed right off, the energy around us was similar to when I was their age, living in Anaheim. Streets were calm, the world was quiet, and there was no wait to be seated at a restaurant. That common tug and pull of every day life, was absent. Instead, a serenity to the day was present, so completely different from what we've become accustomed to, behind this hectic Orange curtain we inhabit. I could not help but stop and take notice.
With a deep sigh, I realized: I want that back. I want my kids to have that.
Truly, I have not had such an enjoyable two hours in a long time. We all felt at peace. And the direction the conversation went in was not lost on me... while we lingered over our lunch, my children began to talk about the things they appreciated in their lives, specifically academically.
Not sure how the topic came up, but before I knew it, they were listing every project, paper and group assignment they had ever completed--commenting on the levels of difficulty and challenge--and the best part? They both agreed: it felt awesome to acknowledge they did all that, and they did it well! Lauren even giggled.
Both remarked on their favorite teachers and why--which was hard to narrow down because they sincerely cared for each and every one. What astounded me? The favs were the teachers that challenged them the most! It was evident, even back then, their instructors required a lot, but always had their backs. Each had an invested interest in my children's success.What better combination?
I know I've said it before, but my kids LOVED their elementary and junior high. LOVED IT! Drove past the site where the modular buildings used to be today and Niko said, "It's just wrong." We all miss it. Stoneybrooke was tough but a wonderful place to leave my heart every morning. I used to say at drop off, "Love you. Now go learn something!" Our principal heard me one time, and chuckled.
Niko wasted no time reminding me school was tough, but his mom was even tougher, "Remember when you would edit our papers and say, 'Is this your best effort?' And we'd have to do it over and over again?" He groaned, reliving how grueling the process was. But guess what? It was my turn to remind him, "By 9th grade, that research paper it took many others five weeks, to do? You sat down and punched it out in five hours the night before it was due! AND, you earned a 97 on it!
Writing comes naturally for my kids now, but I kept setting them straight every time they began to wander off track, or get fuzzy with their thoughts. I am confident my efforts made a difference. That is what we are commanded to do, in all matters of life, with our offspring: we are entrusted to guide them, not make it easy; walk that tightrope carefully, and hope we all don't slip and land hard.
Because thinking clearly, is clearly important.
I attempted to be present and aware in every way I thought was time worthy, but I fell short on many things (wish I could have excelled at math, but numbers are not my thing). Aw well, we can't cover it all can we? We can try though. Even though I was saddled with a poor math brain, I am certain letters are my thing, my joy, my passion and I wanted my little ones to see that.
I write. And now my children write as well. At least that is something...
In the fourth grade, Lauren's teacher (she adored) called my girl, her "Writer girl". In the seventh grade, Niko's teacher told him "You ARE a writer." When he said, "Thank you, but nah, I don't want to be a writer" She said, "You should reconsider! " Writing is so much a part of society now; critical thinking is the focus in academia, an effort vital for survival in today's professional world too.
Writing often, aids in strengthening that muscle.
Expressing ourselves out loud is hard enough. Terrifying, even. That, they have to come to terms with on their own. With pen and paper? This mother did not want her students to be afraid of that.
That was my gift.
By the 9th grade, my son said, "Stoneybrooke was so hard, freshman year at Crean was ridiculously easy." I said, "That is the point. You work diligently early on, you push yourself, you discover you can do things you had no idea you could accomplish, so later on in life, things will be easier."
They are getting it. My children are becoming adults.
My only regret?
Wish we had slowed down a bit. Ran too much. Spent too much time in the car. Life was school, sports, dinner and homework. Repeat. Too much. Too much. Too much. I thought, because we could do it, we should do it. So much opportunity in the OC, if we don't take advantage...
We were wrong.
Our busy bees racked up the honors but they also grew tired, and the grumpies came, a lot.
I asked them today if they had any regrets? The girl said no, not really, but I am glad we've slowed down now. The boy, "I wish we hadn't been going all the time, but it's cool knowing we did all that." He's proud of his accomplishments. I'm relieved.
I think the big take away from today was...
We tend to forget about the positives in our world when we get greedy with our hours, days, weeks and years. Feels like the choices we make begin to control us, instead of us being in charge. It becomes difficult to see the blessings before us, when our eyes are blurry from lack of sleep. I see now, we should have set some of that "busy" aside, and we should have done absolutely nothing. It is helpful when we feel the world around us is at peace as well. But we cannot control the world. Truly, we can only control the environment at home--oh well, except on Super Bowl Sunday! :-)
So, my advice? Take some time and plan nothing. Before or after the nothingness? Let it be.
Don't time it, either. Because, "Okay, you have two hours until we have to go the BBQ (or your sisters soccer game, or your brother's volleyball match)" is not really down time. The non-activity is still being clocked. Sometimes we need to NOT KNOW what we are doing after lunch.
We just need to enjoy our lunch. :-)
Thursday, 4 February 2016
Wednesday, 3 February 2016
Tuesday, 2 February 2016
Monday, 1 February 2016
Her name was JOY
As she stepped inside my home tonight, I could see she wasn't in a hurry. Seemed to want to linger a bit. Came to pick up a beautiful angel snow globe I sold her on a local mom to mom sales site.
She inquired about a couple of other things I had listed. While I searched for them, she asked if I had any Christmas decorations I was willing to sell her? (Her sister was struggling and could only afford stockings this year for her kids). Me? Christmas decorations? Um, yeah, just a few.
I invited her out to my garage and let her peak into one of my bins. Told her she could have a couple of things right off that caught her eye. Said, "Give me a week, and I'll have some more. No charge." She was sweetly surprised, sincerely appreciative.
Joy asked me why I was selling things? I kept it simple: gonna be an empty nester soon. Downsizing. And then we stood in my garage and chatted for an hour.
I discovered my new friend has seven children. Blended family. Took her four years to get the courage to leave the first marriage. Took a year longer for the tears to come. Realized she had been living in a numb state so long, when she started living again, the flood gates opened.
That's what happens: You live a certain way for so long, you don't realize you have stopped feeling altogether.
Our stories were similar. I adored her open heart. Told her we need to have lunch.
Then I inquired which church she attended? I smiled. Knew there was something "sisterly" about her the minute we met. So warm.
We women need each other.
We women need each other's attention spans.
We women need each other's consideration.
We women are all trying in our own ways to be a "proper wife and mother".
We women listen and understand.
We women get we need to talk it all out.
That's what we do best!
You know, I set about to clear our my cabinets last week to lighten my load, but the decision to take the money and perform charitable acts with it, turns out, lightened the load of a handful of others.
Blessing abound!
I know without a doubt, there was an important reason that woman was drawn to my home tonight. Made a new friend. Hopefully, she feels the same.
I have met the nicest ladies here locally through these sales. Just lovely...
Tonight, the woman's name was JOY.
How perfect is that?
She inquired about a couple of other things I had listed. While I searched for them, she asked if I had any Christmas decorations I was willing to sell her? (Her sister was struggling and could only afford stockings this year for her kids). Me? Christmas decorations? Um, yeah, just a few.
I invited her out to my garage and let her peak into one of my bins. Told her she could have a couple of things right off that caught her eye. Said, "Give me a week, and I'll have some more. No charge." She was sweetly surprised, sincerely appreciative.
Joy asked me why I was selling things? I kept it simple: gonna be an empty nester soon. Downsizing. And then we stood in my garage and chatted for an hour.
I discovered my new friend has seven children. Blended family. Took her four years to get the courage to leave the first marriage. Took a year longer for the tears to come. Realized she had been living in a numb state so long, when she started living again, the flood gates opened.
That's what happens: You live a certain way for so long, you don't realize you have stopped feeling altogether.
Our stories were similar. I adored her open heart. Told her we need to have lunch.
Then I inquired which church she attended? I smiled. Knew there was something "sisterly" about her the minute we met. So warm.
We women need each other.
We women need each other's attention spans.
We women need each other's consideration.
We women are all trying in our own ways to be a "proper wife and mother".
We women listen and understand.
We women get we need to talk it all out.
That's what we do best!
You know, I set about to clear our my cabinets last week to lighten my load, but the decision to take the money and perform charitable acts with it, turns out, lightened the load of a handful of others.
Blessing abound!
I know without a doubt, there was an important reason that woman was drawn to my home tonight. Made a new friend. Hopefully, she feels the same.
I have met the nicest ladies here locally through these sales. Just lovely...
Tonight, the woman's name was JOY.
How perfect is that?
Sunday, 31 January 2016
My Wish
You just never know where a year is going to take you...
Just gonna take this new year one day at a time.
This is the first January in years that I don't already have travel plans in place.
Not gonna make any either. Think I'll just see where life takes me...
Friends are experiencing new beginnings:
getting married, having babies, having grand babies, upsizing, downsizing, getting healthy or reinventing themselves with: new jobs, new growth, new loves.
Folks are seeing new endings as well: Sending kids off the college, laying loved ones to rest, divorce, retiring, facing health issues, kicking cancers butt!
getting married, having babies, having grand babies, upsizing, downsizing, getting healthy or reinventing themselves with: new jobs, new growth, new loves.
Folks are seeing new endings as well: Sending kids off the college, laying loved ones to rest, divorce, retiring, facing health issues, kicking cancers butt!
Everyone's life is changing, evolving in big ways, little ways; every day, every year.
I am not alone.
I am not special.
I am not different.
I am one of you and your are one of me.
We are all in this together.
Just gonna take this new year one day at a time.
My wish? You will too. <3
Thursday, 28 January 2016
Monday, 25 January 2016
I Won't Do That Again
Do you have a thing or two you have vowed never to do again?
I have a list. As I grow older, and hopefully wiser, the list gets longer.
1. I will never worry if my truth conflicts with your beliefs. My thoughts work for me. Your beliefs are your business. Not mine to judge. I respect that. I hope you will return the courtesy.
2. I will never engage in a a thread on politics. It's moot. I do have my opinions on the next election, but politics are just one big Ponzi scheme. (Look at social security). Ibn the words of my interested son, "I don't like any of the candidates. I'd rather see a monkey running the country." There are issues important to me, but it's all lobbying and lies; arguing about them is a lost cause. I'd rather act locally on making a difference.
3. I will never stand in a one hour line at an amusement park, in the middle of August, sweat running down my back, just to enjoy a three minute ride. No matter how adorable my grandkids are sure to be. Did that. It was miserable for all of us. Prettier at Christmas time anyway.
4. I will never worry if my kids have clean clothes, something to eat, or what they are doing when they go out. I have taught them how to use the washing machine machine, dryer, and stove. I will still do laundry and cook, but not out of obligation. Both know what they need and when they need it by. My 17 year olds have been brought up to make good choices, be responsible. If they choose to ignore our advice, they understand consequences.
5. I will never chase after anyone again: family or friend or foe. I have learned we cannot force a person to love us. If we try, the duration is sure to be ephemeral. Lasting love is natural and effortless. I want the in a forever kind of way love, that WILL come to me.
6. I will never argue with someone who clearly does not plan to even consider my point of view. It exhausts me, and gets us nowhere. I plant to agree to disagree. And walk away,
7. I will never look at devoted single moms the same again. You have my highest respect. If I can be an ear to vent to, or watch your kids while you take a walk alone, let me know.
8. I will never look at devoted single dads the same way again. My heart goes out to the loss they are feeling. May I show you how to use your oven--bake a chicken?
9. I will not tolerate mean actions from anyone. I have a voice. I will use it to let you know you're not cool.
10. I will never again be afraid to share the trials in my life. Everyone struggles. It is important to understand we are in this together.
Oprah says: when we know better, we do better.
I have a list. As I grow older, and hopefully wiser, the list gets longer.
1. I will never worry if my truth conflicts with your beliefs. My thoughts work for me. Your beliefs are your business. Not mine to judge. I respect that. I hope you will return the courtesy.
2. I will never engage in a a thread on politics. It's moot. I do have my opinions on the next election, but politics are just one big Ponzi scheme. (Look at social security). Ibn the words of my interested son, "I don't like any of the candidates. I'd rather see a monkey running the country." There are issues important to me, but it's all lobbying and lies; arguing about them is a lost cause. I'd rather act locally on making a difference.
3. I will never stand in a one hour line at an amusement park, in the middle of August, sweat running down my back, just to enjoy a three minute ride. No matter how adorable my grandkids are sure to be. Did that. It was miserable for all of us. Prettier at Christmas time anyway.
4. I will never worry if my kids have clean clothes, something to eat, or what they are doing when they go out. I have taught them how to use the washing machine machine, dryer, and stove. I will still do laundry and cook, but not out of obligation. Both know what they need and when they need it by. My 17 year olds have been brought up to make good choices, be responsible. If they choose to ignore our advice, they understand consequences.
5. I will never chase after anyone again: family or friend or foe. I have learned we cannot force a person to love us. If we try, the duration is sure to be ephemeral. Lasting love is natural and effortless. I want the in a forever kind of way love, that WILL come to me.
6. I will never argue with someone who clearly does not plan to even consider my point of view. It exhausts me, and gets us nowhere. I plant to agree to disagree. And walk away,
7. I will never look at devoted single moms the same again. You have my highest respect. If I can be an ear to vent to, or watch your kids while you take a walk alone, let me know.
8. I will never look at devoted single dads the same way again. My heart goes out to the loss they are feeling. May I show you how to use your oven--bake a chicken?
9. I will not tolerate mean actions from anyone. I have a voice. I will use it to let you know you're not cool.
10. I will never again be afraid to share the trials in my life. Everyone struggles. It is important to understand we are in this together.
Oprah says: when we know better, we do better.
Saturday, 23 January 2016
Am I His Child?
I had just gotten the job at Warner Bros. The admin department told me I needed to order a name plate for my desk. Simple enough task, right? Just list my name, and hand in order form. Yet, I hated having to think about something so many others took for granted.
My name has always been Renee Lynn DeMont.
But very few knew that. My adoptive parents thought it was Dobranich, and then later on, my husband thought it was Duenas.
A writer on the television show I was working on walked past my desk one day and said, "Renee Duenas...Duenas? That doesn't sound right."
"What's your maiden name?" I responded with "Dobranich." "No, that doesn't sound right either."
I giggled.
Trying to solve the puzzle for her I offered, "Well, my birth name is DeMont..."
"That's it! Renee DeMont...Sounds like a movie stars name! You should go by that."
I liked Jeannette. A lot. But she couldnt' have known how hard it was for me to say no to my parents, my husband.
I remember looking down at the form again and thinking, "Maybe I could just enter my initials: RLD, and leave the rest off, make everybody happy? After all, through birth, adoption and marriage the one thing that remained constant was my initials.
But I wanted to enter: DeMont. That is who I really was. Or was it?
As a little girl I had fine hair, which meant I had fine eyebrows. They were a constant disappointment to my mother. She would often sigh, "Nee, come over here." I'd watch obediently as she would lick the back of each of her thumbs, grab hold of my face, reach up and slick back the tiny hairs above my blue eyes, securing them back into place. There was one time though she said something I will never forget:
"Remember, you are a ten month baby. You won't understand that now, but one day you will."
Um. okay.
Years later, I was sitting on my grandmother's couch in her cozy warm home in west Tennessee having a heart to heart, when I shared why mother's odd remark, "Do you know what she was trying to tell me?"
Gram took along drag off her cigarette, and with a nod in my direction, gave herself permission to say, "I think I might."
"Your mother ran away on Thanksgiving day. I know it was Thanksgiving because the police officer knocked on my door during our dinner, "Ma'am, we found a car registered to you. It was abandoned down in Los Angeles."
Mama had run away with Gram's car, and apparently drove it till it ran out of gas. Impound had it. Gram could not afford to down to LA and pay to retrieve the care, so she just let it go.
My grandmother was angry at losing the car, but she seemed to soften as she recalled what prompted my mother to run...
Mama had been a senior in high school, earning good grades, had her driver's license, and had fallen deeply in love with a soldier stationed there at the military base in San Luis Obispo. A wee before the holiday, her beloved was in a tragic car accident. "Your mother spent that whole week by his side in the ICU. Never left his side."
I wanted to know more, "Did you know him?" "No,not really. I worked nights at the hospital then, but I knew she care for him. When he died, it was, I think, more than she could take. Ran away just a day or two later. Thought she'd come back but she met Dock pretty quickly and that ended that."
The junior detective in me started to put it all together and my heart ached for my teenaged mother: November she lost her true love...I was a born in August...ten month baby. Her soldier was probably my father. My mama must have been heartbroken. Terrified. I wanted to hold her; I wanted to hold my mother because I knew no one had.
Found out later, his name was Richard Lewis. But that is all I found out.
Am I his child? Maybe. Maybe not. I wish I knew.
Gonna keep a warm place in my heart for him though; mama loved him deeply. I want to believe I was a product of true love.
Since I don't know for sure, and that little girl in me has always enjoyed the sound of the "movie star" name listed on my birth certificate, I have decided that while I am appreciative for those whom have wanted to share their surnames with during different chapters of my journey, as my marriage ends so will the last name of Duenas.. It is time for a new chapter in the book of my life; a chapter written by:
Renee DeMont
My name has always been Renee Lynn DeMont.
But very few knew that. My adoptive parents thought it was Dobranich, and then later on, my husband thought it was Duenas.
A writer on the television show I was working on walked past my desk one day and said, "Renee Duenas...Duenas? That doesn't sound right."
"What's your maiden name?" I responded with "Dobranich." "No, that doesn't sound right either."
I giggled.
Trying to solve the puzzle for her I offered, "Well, my birth name is DeMont..."
"That's it! Renee DeMont...Sounds like a movie stars name! You should go by that."
I liked Jeannette. A lot. But she couldnt' have known how hard it was for me to say no to my parents, my husband.
I remember looking down at the form again and thinking, "Maybe I could just enter my initials: RLD, and leave the rest off, make everybody happy? After all, through birth, adoption and marriage the one thing that remained constant was my initials.
But I wanted to enter: DeMont. That is who I really was. Or was it?
As a little girl I had fine hair, which meant I had fine eyebrows. They were a constant disappointment to my mother. She would often sigh, "Nee, come over here." I'd watch obediently as she would lick the back of each of her thumbs, grab hold of my face, reach up and slick back the tiny hairs above my blue eyes, securing them back into place. There was one time though she said something I will never forget:
"Remember, you are a ten month baby. You won't understand that now, but one day you will."
Um. okay.
Years later, I was sitting on my grandmother's couch in her cozy warm home in west Tennessee having a heart to heart, when I shared why mother's odd remark, "Do you know what she was trying to tell me?"
Gram took along drag off her cigarette, and with a nod in my direction, gave herself permission to say, "I think I might."
"Your mother ran away on Thanksgiving day. I know it was Thanksgiving because the police officer knocked on my door during our dinner, "Ma'am, we found a car registered to you. It was abandoned down in Los Angeles."
Mama had run away with Gram's car, and apparently drove it till it ran out of gas. Impound had it. Gram could not afford to down to LA and pay to retrieve the care, so she just let it go.
My grandmother was angry at losing the car, but she seemed to soften as she recalled what prompted my mother to run...
Mama had been a senior in high school, earning good grades, had her driver's license, and had fallen deeply in love with a soldier stationed there at the military base in San Luis Obispo. A wee before the holiday, her beloved was in a tragic car accident. "Your mother spent that whole week by his side in the ICU. Never left his side."
I wanted to know more, "Did you know him?" "No,not really. I worked nights at the hospital then, but I knew she care for him. When he died, it was, I think, more than she could take. Ran away just a day or two later. Thought she'd come back but she met Dock pretty quickly and that ended that."
The junior detective in me started to put it all together and my heart ached for my teenaged mother: November she lost her true love...I was a born in August...ten month baby. Her soldier was probably my father. My mama must have been heartbroken. Terrified. I wanted to hold her; I wanted to hold my mother because I knew no one had.
Found out later, his name was Richard Lewis. But that is all I found out.
Am I his child? Maybe. Maybe not. I wish I knew.
Gonna keep a warm place in my heart for him though; mama loved him deeply. I want to believe I was a product of true love.
Since I don't know for sure, and that little girl in me has always enjoyed the sound of the "movie star" name listed on my birth certificate, I have decided that while I am appreciative for those whom have wanted to share their surnames with during different chapters of my journey, as my marriage ends so will the last name of Duenas.. It is time for a new chapter in the book of my life; a chapter written by:
Renee DeMont
A Door of My Own
I found the english countryside enchanting.
Never been before, so I made sure to include it on our itinerary this time as we traveled through through the UK. In fact, during my research I stumbled upon a darling Secret Cottage tour, where a local husband/wife open the door to their very own thatched roof home, located in the heart of Moreton in Marsh, just outside of London.
A small team of their friends picked us up at the train station, and treated all thirteen of us to three well-timed spreads of delectable treats and tea, along with a guided tour of the neighboring villages that make up the Cotswolds. It was like having friends that lived in the area pick us up and show us around. It was quite simply, heavenly.
What stood out to me?
The DOORS.
It is always the doors.
When I was a child. we spent lots of time on the road. Literally, months at a time. We did not have a home of our own. We lived in our car. Much of the day was spent driving around, praying for the mercy and goodwill of a sympathetic relative, or often times, strumming the guilt strings of one of daddy's gambling buddies in hopes one would open his own door to us. Occasionally, when we did finally pull up alongside an abode of possible respite, I would lean my little torso out the car window, eyes opened wide in anticipation, fixating on the new mysterious door in front of me.
I found each and every entry way fascinating...
What was it like after the door? Who lived there? Are they nice? How did they get a house anyway? I need to go potty...This place is pretty. I smell something really yummy cooking...my tummy burns. Do they know how lucky they are?!
I wanna see inside. Please let us in...
Stepping over the threshold was always an awe inspiring moment for me, much like when our eyes adjust to the sudden light after coming out from a darkened room. It was an acclimation of sorts I never quite met though.
Doors, and the world beyond them: bedrooms with comfy mattresses and clean sheets and soft pillows, and heavy blankets for when it was cold, spinning fans for when it was hot; food to chilled and heated too, cooked; somewhere to bathe with running water and a sink to brush my teeth, with my very own tooth brush! All of this was a foreign entity to me; a very real place for many, not part of any reality I had ever known.
I desperately wanted a door of my own.
From a very young age, I found a deep longing to experience that kind of life only others lived; to brave the long arduous drive to this enticing land of the homeowners, to unlock the mystery of their ways--and may be (if I was fortunate) I too would live a comfortable life behind my own door one day.
I thought about this on our recent adventure abroad. My friends and I not only saw several pretty unique doors scattered among the Cotswolds, we were shown a gorgeous mansion owned by British actress Rachel Ward, that has been in her family for generations. We were granted passage through the (side) doors of a palace inhabited by a queen; doors normally reserved for heads of state. The general public was so anxious to see what was beyond her majesty's door, they pushed and clamored until we were all sardined into a big clump waiting to get a peak at how the monarchy spent her days.
Doors of all shapes and sizes, scattered all over the UK, were waiting for us to feast our eyes upon them, so we peered and pondered and peered and pondered some more, all the while never quite satiating our desire to acquire personal knowledge of what lies beyond the doors of the rich and famous. We looked until we were too exhausted to look anymore, because there is something about a place of residence, that we all find intriguing. There is something special about a place you don't have to knock first to enter.
I was reminded of this during our flight home. The plane seemed to cross the Atlantic in slow motion.
I was tired, frustrated and losing my patience. I was done.
Here's the thing: I love to travel. I am brave, and resourceful. I eat to get by. I am able to walk anywhere, and my sense of danger is fine tuned, my sense of directions sharp. I remain calm. I pay attention. I am like Macgyver: if I encounter a problem, I can fashion a safety net our of a hair pin and some dental floss. I am fearless, and self sufficient. A gift from a childhood lacking in everything.
But when I am done, I wanna be home. Behind my own door.
I worked hard to have my own door.
I designed my own front door.
Hired a talented artisan to take my glass and iron design and make it a reality.
I now love my door!
I don't have to knock first before I enter MY DOOR.
You know when you've been gone on a long trip, or on the road for hours, and you cannot wait to get home? Well, much of my childhood was spent on a road trip that did not end for a very long time. We just kept driving. And driving. And driving...for months on end. All I could fantasize about was walking through a door that was mine. I wanted to land somewhere.
That is what I was reminded of on the plane that night crossing the ocean.
I wanted to go home. The home beyond that glass and iron door, with a wreath I had hand made just for me. The door I possessed the key too. A home where life beyond that door is a good honorable life I made for myself...
And guess what?
After three airplanes, three countries, and three near emotional meltdowns, I made it home. With a sigh of sincere gratitude and pure relief, I opened that beautiful front door of mine, and walked in.
Never been before, so I made sure to include it on our itinerary this time as we traveled through through the UK. In fact, during my research I stumbled upon a darling Secret Cottage tour, where a local husband/wife open the door to their very own thatched roof home, located in the heart of Moreton in Marsh, just outside of London.
A small team of their friends picked us up at the train station, and treated all thirteen of us to three well-timed spreads of delectable treats and tea, along with a guided tour of the neighboring villages that make up the Cotswolds. It was like having friends that lived in the area pick us up and show us around. It was quite simply, heavenly.
What stood out to me?
The DOORS.
It is always the doors.
When I was a child. we spent lots of time on the road. Literally, months at a time. We did not have a home of our own. We lived in our car. Much of the day was spent driving around, praying for the mercy and goodwill of a sympathetic relative, or often times, strumming the guilt strings of one of daddy's gambling buddies in hopes one would open his own door to us. Occasionally, when we did finally pull up alongside an abode of possible respite, I would lean my little torso out the car window, eyes opened wide in anticipation, fixating on the new mysterious door in front of me.
I found each and every entry way fascinating...
What was it like after the door? Who lived there? Are they nice? How did they get a house anyway? I need to go potty...This place is pretty. I smell something really yummy cooking...my tummy burns. Do they know how lucky they are?!
I wanna see inside. Please let us in...
Stepping over the threshold was always an awe inspiring moment for me, much like when our eyes adjust to the sudden light after coming out from a darkened room. It was an acclimation of sorts I never quite met though.
Doors, and the world beyond them: bedrooms with comfy mattresses and clean sheets and soft pillows, and heavy blankets for when it was cold, spinning fans for when it was hot; food to chilled and heated too, cooked; somewhere to bathe with running water and a sink to brush my teeth, with my very own tooth brush! All of this was a foreign entity to me; a very real place for many, not part of any reality I had ever known.
I desperately wanted a door of my own.
From a very young age, I found a deep longing to experience that kind of life only others lived; to brave the long arduous drive to this enticing land of the homeowners, to unlock the mystery of their ways--and may be (if I was fortunate) I too would live a comfortable life behind my own door one day.
I thought about this on our recent adventure abroad. My friends and I not only saw several pretty unique doors scattered among the Cotswolds, we were shown a gorgeous mansion owned by British actress Rachel Ward, that has been in her family for generations. We were granted passage through the (side) doors of a palace inhabited by a queen; doors normally reserved for heads of state. The general public was so anxious to see what was beyond her majesty's door, they pushed and clamored until we were all sardined into a big clump waiting to get a peak at how the monarchy spent her days.
Doors of all shapes and sizes, scattered all over the UK, were waiting for us to feast our eyes upon them, so we peered and pondered and peered and pondered some more, all the while never quite satiating our desire to acquire personal knowledge of what lies beyond the doors of the rich and famous. We looked until we were too exhausted to look anymore, because there is something about a place of residence, that we all find intriguing. There is something special about a place you don't have to knock first to enter.
I was reminded of this during our flight home. The plane seemed to cross the Atlantic in slow motion.
I was tired, frustrated and losing my patience. I was done.
Here's the thing: I love to travel. I am brave, and resourceful. I eat to get by. I am able to walk anywhere, and my sense of danger is fine tuned, my sense of directions sharp. I remain calm. I pay attention. I am like Macgyver: if I encounter a problem, I can fashion a safety net our of a hair pin and some dental floss. I am fearless, and self sufficient. A gift from a childhood lacking in everything.
But when I am done, I wanna be home. Behind my own door.
I worked hard to have my own door.
I designed my own front door.
Hired a talented artisan to take my glass and iron design and make it a reality.
I now love my door!
I don't have to knock first before I enter MY DOOR.
You know when you've been gone on a long trip, or on the road for hours, and you cannot wait to get home? Well, much of my childhood was spent on a road trip that did not end for a very long time. We just kept driving. And driving. And driving...for months on end. All I could fantasize about was walking through a door that was mine. I wanted to land somewhere.
That is what I was reminded of on the plane that night crossing the ocean.
I wanted to go home. The home beyond that glass and iron door, with a wreath I had hand made just for me. The door I possessed the key too. A home where life beyond that door is a good honorable life I made for myself...
And guess what?
Surviving the Drop
Read several mommy blogger's posts recently, all sharing insightful commentary and helpful advice on how to embark on this new found (and often uninvited) next stage in their lives:
the empty nest.
Colleges nationwide opened their doors last week to a flood of new academic hopefuls. Coast to coast, parents have been loading up the sedans and motoring across the states to deposit their fledgling freshman (is that redundant?) on the doorstep to ...America's future!
And the life change, it turns out, can be devastatingly difficult.
I still cannot get my head around the warp speed at which our little become bigs. While my own children are not yet of college age, I have experienced life altering moments; the kind that stop you dead in your tracks, in other areas of my life, and I can tell you, it has been flat out frightening!
I call the sensation: THE DROP.
It is that feeling you get in the pit of your stomach when:
the phone rings inexplicably in the middle of the night, or your spouse confesses he loves you, he just doesn't want to be with you anymore, or your doctor reports "It is stage IV", or your turn around in the store and your child is gone, or your debilitating fear of open heights is tested as you embark on a roller coaster ride (against all that is logical and rational) and you find yourself teetering at the tippy top of the first ascent looking down at the drop of doom.
The only way out? Ride the coaster.
College is the next coaster ride for so many right now.
Concerned parents have seen to it their young adults are prepared with the essentials: the new comforter, mini fridge, school supplies, and a meal card too (if you are one of the lucky ones). The have listened intently during orientation (because the 18 year old cannot absorb pertinent information and be nervous too!). Each concerned parent has interrogated the roommate as well, deciding said roommate is not the serial killer imagined, and maybe other people make nice kids too? Dad's have assembled beds and moved dressers three times over, and gone through every drill for every possible happenstance while mom's have hung a LOVE canvas above the bed, sticked the chilled air with yogurt, fruit and cheese, all the while having hugged and smooched and hugged and smooched until the "kid" never want to see any biologicals ever again!
Yet, most parental units still drive away overcome with sincere worry about their "baby bird" adjusting to a new habitat: life without mom and dad.
It is the drop, I tell ya. There are always exceptions to the rule, and college isn't for everyone, but my experience has been: find a way to get through that initial descent. Soon you will witness your fledglings taking the corkscrew turns with enthusiasm!
The initial dread at what you know is coming next? Yeah, that is the hardest part. Take the baby step afterward, one by one, at your own pace. Each step can be trying and sometimes, even unthinkable, but remember: all coaster rides come to an end. It is the trials we face when our secure world is threatened; when fragile takes on a whole new meaning; when we take that bet of a lifetime and place our living breathing hearts out in the world; it is that heightened risk that reminds us of "the preciousness of others" is real. And our hearts ache.
It is the drop, but without it, we'd never grow.
I have seen a challenge or two in my lifetime and here is the thing: I don't think my trials are over. Not for me, not for you, not for anyone. We don't get a set amount of tough. We get life. And the turmoil, the tears, the tides of ebb and flow?
All part of the gig.
TRUTH: Life is one big, long roller coaster ride. While many are drawn to the adventure and thrill of hurling through space at a heart-stopping-blood-curling-scream-inducing speed, I myself hate roller coasters. But, I find each time I face the fear and board one, my fear does not dissipate, but my ability to summon my faith to see me through the painful, often excruciating experience is just a bit stronger.
For someone who's earlier life was hijacked by crazy people, situations like these used to consume me with anxiety and panic. I still have to work my way through each drop. but honestly, that is just the way it is. Every single time. We go speeding through space and time, faster than we are prepared for, and some folks have a heart attack and die.
If you are like me, and you don't want to die, you have to find a way to survive the drops. You have to prepare and practice.
the empty nest.
Colleges nationwide opened their doors last week to a flood of new academic hopefuls. Coast to coast, parents have been loading up the sedans and motoring across the states to deposit their fledgling freshman (is that redundant?) on the doorstep to ...America's future!
And the life change, it turns out, can be devastatingly difficult.
I still cannot get my head around the warp speed at which our little become bigs. While my own children are not yet of college age, I have experienced life altering moments; the kind that stop you dead in your tracks, in other areas of my life, and I can tell you, it has been flat out frightening!
I call the sensation: THE DROP.
It is that feeling you get in the pit of your stomach when:
the phone rings inexplicably in the middle of the night, or your spouse confesses he loves you, he just doesn't want to be with you anymore, or your doctor reports "It is stage IV", or your turn around in the store and your child is gone, or your debilitating fear of open heights is tested as you embark on a roller coaster ride (against all that is logical and rational) and you find yourself teetering at the tippy top of the first ascent looking down at the drop of doom.
The only way out? Ride the coaster.
College is the next coaster ride for so many right now.
Concerned parents have seen to it their young adults are prepared with the essentials: the new comforter, mini fridge, school supplies, and a meal card too (if you are one of the lucky ones). The have listened intently during orientation (because the 18 year old cannot absorb pertinent information and be nervous too!). Each concerned parent has interrogated the roommate as well, deciding said roommate is not the serial killer imagined, and maybe other people make nice kids too? Dad's have assembled beds and moved dressers three times over, and gone through every drill for every possible happenstance while mom's have hung a LOVE canvas above the bed, sticked the chilled air with yogurt, fruit and cheese, all the while having hugged and smooched and hugged and smooched until the "kid" never want to see any biologicals ever again!
Yet, most parental units still drive away overcome with sincere worry about their "baby bird" adjusting to a new habitat: life without mom and dad.
It is the drop, I tell ya. There are always exceptions to the rule, and college isn't for everyone, but my experience has been: find a way to get through that initial descent. Soon you will witness your fledglings taking the corkscrew turns with enthusiasm!
The initial dread at what you know is coming next? Yeah, that is the hardest part. Take the baby step afterward, one by one, at your own pace. Each step can be trying and sometimes, even unthinkable, but remember: all coaster rides come to an end. It is the trials we face when our secure world is threatened; when fragile takes on a whole new meaning; when we take that bet of a lifetime and place our living breathing hearts out in the world; it is that heightened risk that reminds us of "the preciousness of others" is real. And our hearts ache.
It is the drop, but without it, we'd never grow.
I have seen a challenge or two in my lifetime and here is the thing: I don't think my trials are over. Not for me, not for you, not for anyone. We don't get a set amount of tough. We get life. And the turmoil, the tears, the tides of ebb and flow?
All part of the gig.
TRUTH: Life is one big, long roller coaster ride. While many are drawn to the adventure and thrill of hurling through space at a heart-stopping-blood-curling-scream-inducing speed, I myself hate roller coasters. But, I find each time I face the fear and board one, my fear does not dissipate, but my ability to summon my faith to see me through the painful, often excruciating experience is just a bit stronger.
For someone who's earlier life was hijacked by crazy people, situations like these used to consume me with anxiety and panic. I still have to work my way through each drop. but honestly, that is just the way it is. Every single time. We go speeding through space and time, faster than we are prepared for, and some folks have a heart attack and die.
If you are like me, and you don't want to die, you have to find a way to survive the drops. You have to prepare and practice.
- I want to soar with my feet planted firmly on the ground.
- I want pleasant spontaneity among my days of predictability.
- I want my hard work to pay off.
- I want my heart to race at things that thrill me, not at things that terrify me.
- I want my children to be brave and thrive.
- I want to open my heart and long for someone who needs to kiss me.
- I want to live like I will skip with my grandchildren.
- I want to enjoy the unexpected corkscrew turns with my arms held high!
What's the Next Chapter in Your Story?
9/11
Somber day. Reflective. Life, at every stage, is temporary; delicate, like a piece of rice paper.
It occurred to me a few days ago, as I viewed an alarming news report on two every day folk who (unbeknownst to them) ate tainted cucumbers this past week and consequently died, that it doesn't have to be terrorists invading our airways taking down our beloveds; it can be as innocuous as eating cucumbers, that can abruptly and tragically end someone's story.
We just don't know.
Our minutes, days and weeks are precious, fleeting.
Yet I've...
been struggling a lot since we got home from our grand trip abroad. Not sure what to do with myself. What chapter will be next in my own story?
This is not new to me; I wake up every morning looking for meaning and purpose, yet I flounder. My kids help give some form to my days, but they are juniors in high school now, and most often I find them with their heads buried in some textbook. I cannot do their homework for them, so I place sliced fruit next to their laptops and remind myself, they are working on chapters of their own, and leave them to their studies.
Often, I find myself wander to the television and turn on a recorded episode of "Fraiser". Never watched that series the first time around (was raising babies and building a business), but I did visit the set from time to time. Kelsey was always friendly, and when I didn't have my kids with me, he would ask to see a recent photo. Such a cool guy.
I'm sure he doesn't remember me now, but he knew me then. I adored him.
Found myself folding laundry last night when I heard his voice as the character, "Frasier", on the tv. I glanced over at the screen and saw he was alone in his Seattle apartment, at his piano, tickling the ivories and singing in his familiar beautiful welcoming way. It was right then that I flashed back in my mind to one late afternoon when I worked on "Cheers"
The cast had mostly gone. There were still a few crew members down on the stage, and it was my job to see who was still hanging around; needed to hand the actors next week's script if I could (to save on courier charges). I went upstairs (behind the stage) and found it quiet. Decided to check down at Kelsey and Bebe's offices at the far end of the building--and that is when I heard Kelsey.
He was playing something beautiful on the piano in his office. And singing. He was alone.
I only stood a moment. His door was cracked open, and he glanced back, nodding an acknowledgement when I slipped his script just inside the door, and kept on singing. I'm sure he never gave it another though, but for me? It is a lovely memory I hope I never forget.
Thought of this again today, on 9/11, as I was contemplating the frailty of life.
So much of what we do is maintenance: buying groceries, washing dishes, taking showers, getting gasoline--and work too. While it is true, we all need to maintain our lifestyles and find ways and means to do so, it does not have to be drudgery.
You know that quote: "Do what your love and you will never work a day in your life?" There really is something to that. You will still work, but the payoff is grand when you dig what you do; when you are a part of something that makes you proud!
Shortly after I was hired on "Cheers", my boss David took out a file folder from his desk drawer about four inches thick, STACKED with resumes, "These are the people you beat out for this job." I was dumbfounded. It really does pay who you know, but I never forgot that.
If you are one of my younger friends and you still have decades of your life in front of you? Or, if you find yourself where I am, starting again? Remember, so much of life is about you getting to choose what you will do. Some stuff is non-negotiable, and you may not make a lot of money, but I gotta say, the best memories I have come from the years I spent working in Hollywood doing the maintenance kinda stuff--and I started at $5 an hour!
Seems like at twenty you have forever to live your dreams, but sometimes...
Told my sixteen year old daughter recently, take some of your present time and make memories that will last your lifetime.
Do the fun stuff, before the other takes over.
Make choices that YOU find interesting, and I promise you will not regret it. It does not matter if you believe you cannot do it, try anyway! Just do it! The universe will help you in your endeavors.
TRUST ME. TRUST YOURSELF.
Show people who you are, not who you think they think you are.
That other quote: "We only regret the things we did NOT do"-- yeah, that one is often true too. Our passions will direct us; just have to get out of the ways once in awhile, and let them drive.
Make memories that will connect you to the world you long to be a part of. So one day, you can be folding laundry, and look back with a smile and say, "Yeah, I was a part of that!"
Somber day. Reflective. Life, at every stage, is temporary; delicate, like a piece of rice paper.
It occurred to me a few days ago, as I viewed an alarming news report on two every day folk who (unbeknownst to them) ate tainted cucumbers this past week and consequently died, that it doesn't have to be terrorists invading our airways taking down our beloveds; it can be as innocuous as eating cucumbers, that can abruptly and tragically end someone's story.
We just don't know.
Our minutes, days and weeks are precious, fleeting.
Yet I've...
been struggling a lot since we got home from our grand trip abroad. Not sure what to do with myself. What chapter will be next in my own story?
This is not new to me; I wake up every morning looking for meaning and purpose, yet I flounder. My kids help give some form to my days, but they are juniors in high school now, and most often I find them with their heads buried in some textbook. I cannot do their homework for them, so I place sliced fruit next to their laptops and remind myself, they are working on chapters of their own, and leave them to their studies.
Often, I find myself wander to the television and turn on a recorded episode of "Fraiser". Never watched that series the first time around (was raising babies and building a business), but I did visit the set from time to time. Kelsey was always friendly, and when I didn't have my kids with me, he would ask to see a recent photo. Such a cool guy.
I'm sure he doesn't remember me now, but he knew me then. I adored him.
Found myself folding laundry last night when I heard his voice as the character, "Frasier", on the tv. I glanced over at the screen and saw he was alone in his Seattle apartment, at his piano, tickling the ivories and singing in his familiar beautiful welcoming way. It was right then that I flashed back in my mind to one late afternoon when I worked on "Cheers"
The cast had mostly gone. There were still a few crew members down on the stage, and it was my job to see who was still hanging around; needed to hand the actors next week's script if I could (to save on courier charges). I went upstairs (behind the stage) and found it quiet. Decided to check down at Kelsey and Bebe's offices at the far end of the building--and that is when I heard Kelsey.
He was playing something beautiful on the piano in his office. And singing. He was alone.
I only stood a moment. His door was cracked open, and he glanced back, nodding an acknowledgement when I slipped his script just inside the door, and kept on singing. I'm sure he never gave it another though, but for me? It is a lovely memory I hope I never forget.
Thought of this again today, on 9/11, as I was contemplating the frailty of life.
So much of what we do is maintenance: buying groceries, washing dishes, taking showers, getting gasoline--and work too. While it is true, we all need to maintain our lifestyles and find ways and means to do so, it does not have to be drudgery.
You know that quote: "Do what your love and you will never work a day in your life?" There really is something to that. You will still work, but the payoff is grand when you dig what you do; when you are a part of something that makes you proud!
Shortly after I was hired on "Cheers", my boss David took out a file folder from his desk drawer about four inches thick, STACKED with resumes, "These are the people you beat out for this job." I was dumbfounded. It really does pay who you know, but I never forgot that.
If you are one of my younger friends and you still have decades of your life in front of you? Or, if you find yourself where I am, starting again? Remember, so much of life is about you getting to choose what you will do. Some stuff is non-negotiable, and you may not make a lot of money, but I gotta say, the best memories I have come from the years I spent working in Hollywood doing the maintenance kinda stuff--and I started at $5 an hour!
Seems like at twenty you have forever to live your dreams, but sometimes...
Told my sixteen year old daughter recently, take some of your present time and make memories that will last your lifetime.
Do the fun stuff, before the other takes over.
Make choices that YOU find interesting, and I promise you will not regret it. It does not matter if you believe you cannot do it, try anyway! Just do it! The universe will help you in your endeavors.
TRUST ME. TRUST YOURSELF.
Show people who you are, not who you think they think you are.
That other quote: "We only regret the things we did NOT do"-- yeah, that one is often true too. Our passions will direct us; just have to get out of the ways once in awhile, and let them drive.
Make memories that will connect you to the world you long to be a part of. So one day, you can be folding laundry, and look back with a smile and say, "Yeah, I was a part of that!"
In My Other Life
Have you ever caught yourself daydreaming about another kind of life? Have you ever asked yourself: who would I be, if I were a different kind of me?
In my other life...
I was not born to a sociopath. I did not look to his eyes for a twinkle of benevolent fatherly pride, and discover instead a tragic glint of an estranged malevolence.
I did not call him daddy.
In my other life, I was not raised under the dark, stormy sky of a dystopian society, ruled by a bi-polar disorders paralyzing in her depressive state, so reckless in her moments of manic mania.
I did not call her mommy.
In my other life, I do not have biologicals, and fosters and adopted--all in a struggle for a place in my world. To them, I am Renee, and I simply knew them all as: my family.
In my other life, I am the mother of two grown children: both away at good colleges, happy and thriving in their academic careers, self-esteem rock solid from years of security, both emotional and financial.
They are worldly young adults (in the right way): well educated, well mannered, well traveled. But my children are sheltered (in the right way): socially young in regards to relationships, morally respectful with their bodies and the bodies of those they come in contact with, faithfully trustworthy.
Both understand the harsh realities of the world, but only through the eyes of someone who can make a difference. My kids are committed to their own higher power; an entity we refer to as: LOVE.
My babies have become whole adults in a splintered world; a world constantly at odds with what I have taught them is good and right; existing in a universe of contradiction; a planet of seemingly insurmountable chaos, wars, and evil--and fortunately, a international society of billions striving diligently for perpetual hope and love and peace.
My children must now choose a side, daily.
In my other life, my grown children always choose correctly.
I am a mother who has remained steadfast and tenacious in her devotion to her offspring.
I am a mother at peace, for she in certain she has done all she can.
In my other life, I would not have to drudge through two years of the "Death Divorce" to find an existence that feels, finally alive. I don't have an ex who hates me, who resents me, who will not speak to me. I don't battle daily with myself to respond to his seething flagrant disregard with patience and self- control and grace. I don't struggle with the profound truth: at one point, we liked each other enough to produce the two purest forms of beauty I have ever known.
In my other life, I feel young inside and out, even at 49.
I don't live in constant fear my kidneys will go on strike after decades (of just getting by) with faulty original parts. I would not look in my mirror and see spotty patches of on my skin--like someone put a screen up to me, and flicked brown paint. I would not feel the weight of thick heavy wrinkles, like glossy quotations marks bracketing my eyes, accentuating my youth is gone.
I would see less of me, where there is now more. My eyes would focus clearly, on their own, both near and far away. My teeth would be white and straight. My gray hair would turn back to its original rich chestnut, with blonde streaks (in just the right places) and fall naturally on my shoulders, like it did when I was in my twenties,.
I would be happier with my reflection. I would see what my daughter see's when she looks at her mom.
In my other life, I live in Manhattan, with an apartment that overlooks the lush green expansive park during the day, and a vision of glittery lights at night. I'd throw parties. And provide cozy bedrooms for my visiting kids. My son and I would attend the US Tennis Open every single year.
I would be committed in a delightfully mature and wonderful relationship, with a man that made me laugh. And dinner! He would ask me about my day as he kissed my neck. I'd kiss him back. Deeply.
In my other life, my dog would be potty trained.
In my other life, I would be known as a successful novelist, and inspirational speaker. If I had decided to follow my desire to act, I would win an Academy Award, and name it Oscar. Of course, I would dedicate it to my biological mother, who (in one of her rare moments of clarity) would have held my young face in adoration, and convinced me, "One day you will be a star!"--and then, she'd place those stars far enough out of my reach, so I would have to "STRETCH" to get them. Because she loved me.
My other life...I think about it, but none of that happened. What's important? What did happen...
In my other life...
I was not born to a sociopath. I did not look to his eyes for a twinkle of benevolent fatherly pride, and discover instead a tragic glint of an estranged malevolence.
I did not call him daddy.
In my other life, I was not raised under the dark, stormy sky of a dystopian society, ruled by a bi-polar disorders paralyzing in her depressive state, so reckless in her moments of manic mania.
I did not call her mommy.
In my other life, I do not have biologicals, and fosters and adopted--all in a struggle for a place in my world. To them, I am Renee, and I simply knew them all as: my family.
In my other life, I am the mother of two grown children: both away at good colleges, happy and thriving in their academic careers, self-esteem rock solid from years of security, both emotional and financial.
They are worldly young adults (in the right way): well educated, well mannered, well traveled. But my children are sheltered (in the right way): socially young in regards to relationships, morally respectful with their bodies and the bodies of those they come in contact with, faithfully trustworthy.
Both understand the harsh realities of the world, but only through the eyes of someone who can make a difference. My kids are committed to their own higher power; an entity we refer to as: LOVE.
My babies have become whole adults in a splintered world; a world constantly at odds with what I have taught them is good and right; existing in a universe of contradiction; a planet of seemingly insurmountable chaos, wars, and evil--and fortunately, a international society of billions striving diligently for perpetual hope and love and peace.
My children must now choose a side, daily.
In my other life, my grown children always choose correctly.
I am a mother who has remained steadfast and tenacious in her devotion to her offspring.
I am a mother at peace, for she in certain she has done all she can.
In my other life, I would not have to drudge through two years of the "Death Divorce" to find an existence that feels, finally alive. I don't have an ex who hates me, who resents me, who will not speak to me. I don't battle daily with myself to respond to his seething flagrant disregard with patience and self- control and grace. I don't struggle with the profound truth: at one point, we liked each other enough to produce the two purest forms of beauty I have ever known.
In my other life, I feel young inside and out, even at 49.
I don't live in constant fear my kidneys will go on strike after decades (of just getting by) with faulty original parts. I would not look in my mirror and see spotty patches of on my skin--like someone put a screen up to me, and flicked brown paint. I would not feel the weight of thick heavy wrinkles, like glossy quotations marks bracketing my eyes, accentuating my youth is gone.
I would see less of me, where there is now more. My eyes would focus clearly, on their own, both near and far away. My teeth would be white and straight. My gray hair would turn back to its original rich chestnut, with blonde streaks (in just the right places) and fall naturally on my shoulders, like it did when I was in my twenties,.
I would be happier with my reflection. I would see what my daughter see's when she looks at her mom.
In my other life, I live in Manhattan, with an apartment that overlooks the lush green expansive park during the day, and a vision of glittery lights at night. I'd throw parties. And provide cozy bedrooms for my visiting kids. My son and I would attend the US Tennis Open every single year.
I would be committed in a delightfully mature and wonderful relationship, with a man that made me laugh. And dinner! He would ask me about my day as he kissed my neck. I'd kiss him back. Deeply.
In my other life, my dog would be potty trained.
In my other life, I would be known as a successful novelist, and inspirational speaker. If I had decided to follow my desire to act, I would win an Academy Award, and name it Oscar. Of course, I would dedicate it to my biological mother, who (in one of her rare moments of clarity) would have held my young face in adoration, and convinced me, "One day you will be a star!"--and then, she'd place those stars far enough out of my reach, so I would have to "STRETCH" to get them. Because she loved me.
My other life...I think about it, but none of that happened. What's important? What did happen...
- Two extraordinary high schoolers who choose to be part of the solution.
- Two families, both biological and adopted. More to love.
- Compassion for those suffering with mental illness, and those who love and suffer along with them.
- How difficult and trying divorce is. On everyone. Not just the children.
- Beauty truly is in the eye of the beholder.
- Health is a gift, not a given.
- Don't need a NYC apartment. I have a beautiful home.
- I should have said "No" when I was 24, and "Yes" when I was 25.
- Maybe love, true love, will strike twice? Maybe it's time to date?
- If not a successful novelist, maybe some day, the author of one great memoir?
This life; this me, is not the path I sometimes imagined I would have taken, but it's about perspective, gracious gratitude, and seeing the blessings all around us already. Don't you think?
I believe it has to be. I have to believe it has to be.
Truth and Love
1. When I was 29 my doctor advised me to wrap things up. At 48, I'm still here.
2. Then they told me carrying twins would be too hard on my kidneys; suggested I abort one or both of my babies. I learned right then I would die for my children.
3. When I was 18, I spotted a poster in the Humanities building advertising a three week/nine country trip through Europe. I saved for a year, and went.
4. During the Writer's Strike in Hollywood, I took a tour of Paramount Studios. We passed Ted Danson's office. I looked at my boyfriend and declared, "I'm going to work with him some day." Two years later, I was working on Cheers.
5. I never did anything of much significance in television, but I do have an Emmy certificate with my name on it.
6. I consider my friends my family.
7. When I was a child, my family and I slept on the bus stop benches in downtown Los Angeles. Can't drive through there today without remembering that scary time in my life.
8. When I come across a homeless person now, I often ask how I can help.
9. If you lie to me, I may still speak to you, but I will never trust you again.
10. When Michael Jackson was a guest on the Arsenio Hall show I was there when he entered the stage door. His nose looked like clay.
11. I met Bill Murray on that same soundstage. He flirted with me. Think I fell a little bit in love with him that day.
12. I believe the truly, madly, deeply kinda love only happens once in a lifetime. Hope I'm wrong.
2. Then they told me carrying twins would be too hard on my kidneys; suggested I abort one or both of my babies. I learned right then I would die for my children.
3. When I was 18, I spotted a poster in the Humanities building advertising a three week/nine country trip through Europe. I saved for a year, and went.
4. During the Writer's Strike in Hollywood, I took a tour of Paramount Studios. We passed Ted Danson's office. I looked at my boyfriend and declared, "I'm going to work with him some day." Two years later, I was working on Cheers.
5. I never did anything of much significance in television, but I do have an Emmy certificate with my name on it.
6. I consider my friends my family.
7. When I was a child, my family and I slept on the bus stop benches in downtown Los Angeles. Can't drive through there today without remembering that scary time in my life.
8. When I come across a homeless person now, I often ask how I can help.
9. If you lie to me, I may still speak to you, but I will never trust you again.
10. When Michael Jackson was a guest on the Arsenio Hall show I was there when he entered the stage door. His nose looked like clay.
11. I met Bill Murray on that same soundstage. He flirted with me. Think I fell a little bit in love with him that day.
12. I believe the truly, madly, deeply kinda love only happens once in a lifetime. Hope I'm wrong.
Monday, 18 January 2016
Sunday, 17 January 2016
Friday, 15 January 2016
Tuesday, 12 January 2016
HEART MAIL
It all began with this one photo I posted on Facebook with the comment:
and over the next year (maybe more now) those in my world began spotting hearts everywhere, and thinking of me. It was my intention to send some love your way, but as karma would have it, I am the one who has been blessed, over and over, by your thoughtful posts of hearts of every kind imaginable--and the timing could not have been more perfect! Rough year 2015 was, and the flow of heart shaped love you made sure kept coming my way? Well, I found it a great reminder: our world is filled with kind intentions and thoughtful actions. Many of you have shown me this by taking some of your time to forward your discoveries on to me; in fact, I'm pretty sure there hasn't been a week or even a few days that have gone by when I have not opened my Facebook, email, or a text and been delightfully surprised to find a wonderful new heart shaped vision waiting just for me! Some are lovely, some stunningly beautiful stop me in my tracks; the ones in nature take my breath away. A few have come bearing a soulful message (that often is just what I needed to hear), others are a valentine of sorts that make my own heart surge. All are pretty and appreciated! Occasionally, I decided I will post one or two of the news ones I have received that week, over on the side of my blog here. Hopefully, they will inspire you to look for the hearts God has placed in your world. Because: hearts aren't just red, they are a symbol of goodness and joy and love and, they are everywhere. We just have to take notice.
 |
| "I see hearts everywhere..." |
and over the next year (maybe more now) those in my world began spotting hearts everywhere, and thinking of me. It was my intention to send some love your way, but as karma would have it, I am the one who has been blessed, over and over, by your thoughtful posts of hearts of every kind imaginable--and the timing could not have been more perfect! Rough year 2015 was, and the flow of heart shaped love you made sure kept coming my way? Well, I found it a great reminder: our world is filled with kind intentions and thoughtful actions. Many of you have shown me this by taking some of your time to forward your discoveries on to me; in fact, I'm pretty sure there hasn't been a week or even a few days that have gone by when I have not opened my Facebook, email, or a text and been delightfully surprised to find a wonderful new heart shaped vision waiting just for me! Some are lovely, some stunningly beautiful stop me in my tracks; the ones in nature take my breath away. A few have come bearing a soulful message (that often is just what I needed to hear), others are a valentine of sorts that make my own heart surge. All are pretty and appreciated! Occasionally, I decided I will post one or two of the news ones I have received that week, over on the side of my blog here. Hopefully, they will inspire you to look for the hearts God has placed in your world. Because: hearts aren't just red, they are a symbol of goodness and joy and love and, they are everywhere. We just have to take notice.
 |
| This heart is for all of you. |
Sunday, 10 January 2016
Hello loved ones!
As you can see my writing home has gotten a facelift! Actually, I loved my old blog over at Wordpress, but the sad truth is: I am just not smart enough to navigate that site. I gave it an entire year trying to figure it out but it made me crazy. Half the time I could not even access my posts. Blogger is so much easier--user friendly, as they say!!!
I plan to enter all the email subscriptions tomorrow from my former blog- please let me know if you don't receive your new post updates!
I so appreciate you setting aside time to read my heartfelt essays. Its a new year, a new look, and hopefully, a whole new me!!
Love, Renee
As you can see my writing home has gotten a facelift! Actually, I loved my old blog over at Wordpress, but the sad truth is: I am just not smart enough to navigate that site. I gave it an entire year trying to figure it out but it made me crazy. Half the time I could not even access my posts. Blogger is so much easier--user friendly, as they say!!!
I plan to enter all the email subscriptions tomorrow from my former blog- please let me know if you don't receive your new post updates!
I so appreciate you setting aside time to read my heartfelt essays. Its a new year, a new look, and hopefully, a whole new me!!
Love, Renee
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