In Lieu of Sugarbottom

Twenty four years ago, Rebecca Hanson moved with her dad and sister to Mount Vernon.  At first, I was scared of her.  Becky was strong and outspoken, confident enough to make jokes at her own expense and to call out people who took themselves waaay too seriously.  For someone like me, scared of her own shadow and opinions, Becky was something new.  We had friends in common, started hanging out more and more.  I made her laugh, and Becky's laugh is like no one else's.  She can make an entire movie theatre crack up, just at the sound of it.  We became friends.

Weekends were spent at house parties with friends, or at rural dance halls like Dance Mor in Swisher, the Loop in Monticello, and Prairie Moon in Prairieburg.  One of the best nights of my life was spent with Becky, New Year's Eve 1990, and a bunch of friends we met dancing on tables at Dance Mor, then followed to the SW side Denny's.  Becky spent Christmas Day 1990 with my family, and we cut apart all the boxed chocolates and smushed together the icky ones to leave for others, til we discovered there was a map. We smoked candy cigarettes to mock the teen smokers around us. We invented the stupefyingly hilarious game of holding a toilet paper tube to our eye, and watching objects like troll dolls dropped, while listening to Depeche Mode. No, we were not high. 

We went to prom together, graduated together.  When Cathy was born, Becky videotaped it, and the tape gets all shaky when she started to cry.  I was in the waiting room for Mitchell's birth and in the room to see Kennedy born.  One of the first things Becky said after I called her with the news my dad had died was, "How can I help?" I call Beck first, with all good news and bad news. 

The Prairie Moon Ballroom has burned down, many years ago now.  You can't buy candy cigarettes in stores anymore.  The Denny's on the southwest side of CR is long gone. And, still, we are friends, better now than we were back in the days we spent every weekend together.  Even if I don't see Becky for weeks or even months, I know we can pick up where we left off and I know that she understands every backstory to every new story I tell her.  I know her family and their stories as well as my own.  I have faith in her goodness as a human being, and with her ability to empathize, because she understands bad luck, too.

So, tonight when my truck started flashing the oil and battery "Danger, Will Robinson!" lights on its dashboard, while I was on my way to her birthday campout at Sugarbottom Campgrounds, fully stocked with tent, sleeping bag, potato chips, Bacardis, and her silly birthday card, I couldn't believe my bad luck.  Of all the things I would never want to miss, it would be Becky's birthday weekend, at a time in her life when experiences and good times with friends is what she values most.  But, here I sit, at home with my truck in the garage, waiting for morning when Karl can look it over. 

So, Becky, here is your birthday blog, in lieu of my presence at the campout tonight.  You are my best friend, and have been for more than half my life.  I think of you as a sister now, and my whole family loves you.  You are incredibly funny and make everyone around you laugh. You are kind.  I've seen you many times hold your tongue when you knew something and wanted to say it, but didn't.  You are generous, with your time and your talents and praise of others. You give more than you get back, time and again.  I'm sorry I'm not there tonight.  But, I hope you know that I am always there in spirit.  Happy Birthday.

What My Girls Put Me Through

Last Saturday, Sarah sent me the following message:

"OH, MY GOB!  Baby raccoon!"  And this:



I started to panic.  On the tiny screen of my phone, the background appeared to be the back porch where her grandparents live.  Could a baby raccoon have crawled up there to die and Sarah was petting a rabid animal?  I remembered all the times the girls had liberated tadpoles from the pond, to keep in ice cream buckets under their beds, until I returned them to the pond from whence they came. 

I texted back, "Oh, MY Gob, is that a raccoon?  Has it bitten you?"

To which Sarah replied, "Oh, the minx bit me, but twas only a scratch."

Oh, no.  I was one hundred miles away and Sarah had been bitten by a raccoon.  Then, I get this from Cathy:

"Don't worry about Sarah, I was the one who got bit, but it wasn't the raccoon.  It was the bobcat."

WTF was going on?  I didn't get the full story, just tantalizing, "Oh, Mom, stop worrying.  The skunk left us mostly alone,"

until last night, when Cathy told me they had been at a fair and played with the animals (under supervision) at the wildlife preserve area.  She actually was bitten by the bobcat, whose baby teeth were so tiny and inoffensive, they didn't even break the skin. 

My girls love to tease me.  It was a great weekend for all of us, they had a nice time with their dad, I had a good time with friends at Leah's going away party, but the best part is that they included me in their good times.  And that they didn't die from rabies or death by bobcat.

This last photo is not from their time at the fair, it's one I took a month ago, when we were out walking on the gravel road behind our house.  The girls decided to share a dandelion and each try to blow the fluff off it, into the face of the other.  Such moments were made to last, even just on film:

 All my girls put me through... is worth it.  Every moment. 

Unusable Wedding Toast #1: Textses From Your Exes

On this happy occasion of John' and Abbi's wedding, we all have this one chance to congratulate them on their good sense in finding each other, and then, making it work.  We all have stories to share about John and Abbi, great, fun experiences we've shared.  I was curious, though, about those not with us today, who years ago knew our happy couple best.  I'm referring to their exes.

It was tough work, getting these names.  Neither one will offer up much dirt on ex-boyfriends and -girlfriends, they are just too frickin' happy to care about what didn't work out in the past.  So, I was forced to take over several bottles of Captain Morgan and our friend Adam, to get the happy couple talking about when they were less happy.  You don't remember this night, guys?  Well, neither do I, not really, but in the morning, I had lists of names.  You both wrote down the names of your exes on cocktail napkins.  I used the back of a postage stamp, and Adam filled several toilet paper rolls, single-spaced, writing on both sides.  With the miracle of facebook, I hunted down your exes for their congratulations.  And here is what they had to say:

Alicia:  "I can't believe John is getting married.  Finally!  I thought he would never commit.  I guess that just means he couldn't commit... to me."

Pedro:  "Abbi was the light of my life, star of my nights, sun of my days.  I will miss her forever, and wreck her marriage if given half the chance.  So... do you have her number?"

Jane:  "I thought John and I were perfect together.  He didn't think so, obviously.  He just took my heart and my record player and hit the road after three glorious days and nights.  I still miss that record player."

Brad Pitt:  "Abbi's getting married?  Shit."

Cameron:  "I think I was John's first boyfriend.  I'm pretty sure I was.  Except, he didn't know I was a boy.  I went by Candace back then."

???:  "It was a night of passion and then it was over, Abbi was gone.  I have never forgotten her.  Does she ever mention me?"

Pedro:  "So, seriously.  Do you have her number?"

Shannon:  "John is the best boyfriend I ever had.  I still love him, but I know he was looking for somebody else.  He was looking for Abbi.  I'm glad they found each other.  Mostly glad."

Leah:  "Congrats, John  and Abbi!  I was John's first girlfriend back in sixth grade.  It was great the two weeks it lasted, but I knew we wouldn't stay together."

Pedro:  "GIVE ME HER F&^ING NUMBER!"

So, let's all raise our glasses to John and Abbi!  You found the loves of your lives, and you could have done MUCH worse!  Love to you both!

...And the Business of Books

And doesn't everyone who loves books secretly want to write one of their own?  I have read so many books that I am now the worst kind of critic.  If a book bores me quickly, I will toss it aside.  And I have literally thrown a few, like "The Da Vinci Code."  I hated that book, which puts me into a minority, I know.  After throwing a blah book aside, I've many times had the thought, "I could do better."

So, I tried to.  My first novel, "Lights in a Black Forest," has been read in its entirety or in pieces by many friends.  No one hated it.  Brandon and Kyle made suggestions, Christine corrected my German text, but everyone who read it, thought it was good, and publishable.  Even one literary agent who liked it, but didn't love it with the requisite fervor required of an agent who handles only a few books per year, said she had no suggestions to make.  There was nothing to fix.  The book should be publishable. 

Two years later, however, I cannot find a publisher or agent.  The book industry is changing, publishing houses are closing, agents are struggling to make a living as consumers move away from print copies and toward ebooks.  This had me completely bummed, until three people intervened to make me see that what I perceived as a hurdle was instead an opportunity.  John and Trey both suggested selling my book online as an ebook, Trey even sent me the link on how to do this.  A few weeks ago, Ed told me of the seven largest publishing houses, four were expected to close soon, leaving three.  The head of  Warner Books has moved to Amazon to handle their online book print business. 

And so, ebooks it is.  I spent this morning looking around Amazon at how to self publish, and worked on designing a rudimentary book cover, which I need to show Becky for help and advice.  And now, I am pumped.  I can sell ebooks and also use a Create Space site to make print copies, meaning I can have book signings at area businesses willing to host me.  I can give my book as gifts.  And, the lack of an agent or publisher will mean less help, but also more control over my final product.  My book is my baby.  I hope it does well in the world.  I hope people other than my friends like it. 

We shall see, very soon.

Books...

When the girls were small, we used to read chapters each night, all curled up on my bed. I read aloud from the Great Brain series by John D. Fitzgerald, the Narnia books by C.S. Lewis, and first four Harry Potter books.  After Cedric died at the end of "Goblet of Fire," I thought those books were growing faster than my girls were, and worried they would get nightmares reading the rest.  We read the Series of Unfortunate Events, and some excellent stand alone books, like the "Phantom Tollbooth" and "Nurse Mathilda." 

For a few years, after they had outgrown the age of being read to (I thought!), the girls did not seek out books on their own.  And that worried me.  They played the Sims, excelled at board games, and made movies on our PC.  But, they didn't read half as much as I did as a girl, with fewer distractions than kids have now.  But, eventually, they rediscovered reading.  On her own, Cathy read Gregory Maguire and Rachel Cohn.  Sarah liked manga for a few years, and then found Margaret Peterson Haddix and other authors she enjoys so much, she reads non-stop until the book is done.

What a relief, as a parent and lifelong reader, that my kids will be readers, too, even without Mom there to narrate the stories.  But, that nightly tradition has made a resurgence, too.  About six months ago, when Cathy was sick, she wanted nothing more than for me to read the Mrs. Piggle Wiggle books aloud, and change the names of all the children characters to Dylan.  Last week, I read the children's book "I Love You Forever" to Sarah, and she cannot stop referencing it.  Her favorite part is when the mother of her grown son drives across town with a ladder on her car and breaks into his home to cuddle him when he is sleeping.  So, Sarah and I will text each other:  "I'll love you forever, I'll like you for always, When you are grown, I will break into your home Macgyver-style with only a ladder and some chewing gum." 

And this fall, I have one reading goal and I hope we can make it happen, despite Sarah's cross country and Cathy's basketball cheerleading.  There is a book titled "The 13 1/2 Lives of Captain Bluebear", which is 700 pages long, but full of adventures, like Minipirates and dragons.  I want to read this to the girls like we used to, a few pages a night on Mom's bed, like midnight travelers on our own little raft, which sets sail on the first page, and takes us whereever the book does. 

Which is what books are supposed to do. 

Things Undone and Things to Do

After five years at HPB (she just got her anniversary pin!), Leah is leaving us for a library directorship in Montana.  I am happy for her, as she has wanted a job which better uses her degree for ages, and also to move back home, to the nine month long winters with neighbors five miles down the road.  It's not my dream, but it's hers, so I commend her for achieving it.  BUT, before she goes, we have to do one thing together, something we've talked about doing for years and I've always chickened out.  We are going to sing.  At a karaoke bar.  Leah can sing and does it well.  I can't.

But, I don't want this idea of us singing together, or better yet, of Leah singing with me playing air guitar in background (t'would be much funnier), to simply never happen.  For everything I accomplish, I have more things I want to, and don't.  I wanted to join roller derby, but really can't skate anymore worth a darn.  I wanted to go to Germany, but that partly depends on the largesse of my oldest brother, who is preoccupied lately with going to Aruba, or perhaps Juarez (see previous blog).  I did see the Pacific last summer with Christine and Darren, and plan on going to California for the first time with Beck this summer.  I have written a book and now have plans on how to publish it. 

So, I'm going to sing karaoke, after drinking enough to fortify myself, and check that off my list.  I am also going to be a bridesmaid next spring, and am already writing out toasts for the bride and groom.  Some are unusable, like my story about how the happy couple met on eharmony, and are so lucky.  I was less lucky,  met a guy on eharmony with a soundproof room in his basement, manacles on the wall, and a gimp suit which didn't look exactly empty.  Just kidding, actually the soundproof room was for sound editing and the man was very nice.  But, my version sounds better, doesn't it?  Just perhaps not good for a mixed crowd at the reception.  So, my gift to Abbi and John will be a book of unusable wedding toasts and I have a year to come up with this (about the length of a Montana winter.  Hmmm).  I will not leave this undone. 

I guess that my dreams and list of things to do keeps changing is not a bad sign, just that life itself changes, sometimes the people in our lives change as they move on, or we do.  Celebrating the moment is the thing, whether with a beer in my hand at a karaoke bar, or a glass of champagne at a wedding reception.  I can't wait. 

Thirteen Reasons Why Not

Last week, I took home to Sarah a book I had heard Clare talking about at work.  It's a young adult novel, titled "Th1rteen R3easons Why", about a young woman who commits suicide, but leaves thirteen cassette tapes listing her reasons to a friend.  Sarah loved the book, read it in two days.  And then, on Tuesday, another boy at MVHS committed suicide, the third in five months. 

So, today's blog lists my reasons, thirteen in homage to the book NOT to commit suicide.  This blog is for all the kids in my life, my own and those I borrow to fill my house with fun and surprises.  Don't do it.

1)  YOU'LL MISS YOUR OWN PARTY.  I think sometimes kids have a strange notion of time and permanence.  I believe most kids who do something impulsive want more than anything to hear the outpouring of love which happens at their funerals, and then somehow undo the suicide and return to a world which finally appreciates them.  It doesn't work that way.  You won't be there, and you won't come back.

2) LIFE GETS BETTER.  It truly does, though whether it's because as adults, we have more freedom than you do to make our own mistakes and suffer the consequences, or because the raging hormones settle down enough to make the pains we suffer hurt less, I have no idea.  But, life does get better.  Just wait it out.

3) TIME HEALS ALL PAIN.  Whatever seems so dire right now, won't be so bad next year, or even next week.  Friends come into your lives, frienemies leave it.  You will change teachers, and maybe even schools.  A bad grade or a bad breakup can be all you think about for a few days, but it will get better.

4) YOU WILL NEVER KNOW WHAT YOU MISSED.  You won't know who had a secret crush on you, who was going to ask you on a date or to meet his parents.  You won't have the great teacher all the older kids are talking about and see why they do. 

5)  YOU WILL MISS OUT ON THE BEST PARTS OF YOUR LIFE:  proposing to the one you love, or accepting that proposal, saying hello to the baby you've felt kick around inside for nine months, watching the SOLD sign planted in the yard of the first house you buy, taking care of your parents as they age, and feeling life come full circle. 

6) NO ONE CAN EVER REPLACE YOU.  Because you are special.  There will never be another you, no one even close to being like you.  Even your siblings are not copies of you.  No one can tell jokes like you do, can draw like you do, can give hugs like you.  No one.

7) NOT EVERYTHING IS YOUR FAULT.  Bad things happen in the lives of kids, and it can be hard to make sense of things.  But, for every bad event you've suffered, I bet I know an adult who has gone through the exact same thing.  Maybe not the combination of tragedies, because your life is your own, but most adults have also suffered, learned from it, and grown into empathetic people who love others. Just because bad things have happened to you, that doesn't mean you deserve bad things.  The pendulum will swing the other way and you will be happy again. 

8) MOST PEOPLE THINK ABOUT IT AT SOME POINT.  And they don't go through with it.  If you have thought about it, don't be ashamed. Just find someone to talk to and tell how you are feeling.  Like I wrote in #7, there is someone in your life who will know exactly how you feel.

9) "YOUR LIFE IS NOT YOUR OWN."  I give this speech to everyone now.  It's something I just learned myself a few years back, but it resonates although it was hard learned.  You don't own your life.  You belong to everyone who loves you, who would be heartbroken if anything happened to you. 

10) ALL THE GOOD IN LIFE OUTWEIGHS THE BAD.  Make a list of everything about this world that you love, from blooming flowers, to driving fast with your windows down, to your favorite foods, to getting a funny text in class, to your favorite band, and so on.  You don't take that stuff with you.

11) IT COULD BE CLINICAL.  If you are sad, and nothing makes you feel better, ever, then it might be time to ask a doctor why.  Sometimes our brains let us down, stop producing certain chemicals we need to judge situations correctly, and let happy things make us happy.  There is no shame in getting prescribed help if we need it, no more shame in that than in the shots I take every day to stay alive.  Doctors are here to help.

12) SO DON'T DO IT.  Don't let the last decision of your life be the worst one you ever made.

13) BECAUSE I LOVE YOU.  If you are getting this blog on your page as a link, I think you are special.  You may not need this intervention, but everyone needs to be told they are loved, especially my girls and their posse of friends.  I always thought I would have a big family, and I did get one.  You are part of that family.  Don't do anything stupid. 

Love, Mom