Ring out the False, Ring in the True
— Alfred Lord Tennyson
// For 12 years I had taken the same route to a facility for my Mother, 3 days a week—sometimes four–where my Mother would get her dialysis. And in those days, we were always slotted for the same time; same chair; same routine. And in those 12 years I observed a lot of people. People at crosswalks; people leaving the medical facility to grab a coffee; people coming back with lunch in their hands, returning for work; many of these people, were like regulars—some were seen a few times, or to never be seen again. There were also those whom appeared to be “Type A” personalities that I would see in the lobbies, working on their breaks away from their offices, but on the phone wheeling and dealing and doing their best to earn a buck. I recognized them, painfully so, because I was once one of those people. Totally commissioned employee, working my tail off to support my family……. And spend. Business is a dirty business. // I left business when I chose to take care of my Mother and that is what pushed me to be a writer…to while my days with mind dreams turned to ink, so I could stay in the room with my Mother and give her the security that she was not alone. To take breaks to chat; enjoy lunch together; to watch a Gunsmoke with her. To be consistent in my care so she would know she was with family and nothing could call me away from her or her care…we were in for the long ride of life, knowing there would be bumps and laughs. // It was when I slowed waaaaaaay down in my “duties,” I started seeing other life around me. Oh, I have always been good to see other life—the flowers, the birds, smiles of others—but never the routines the differences that made all so different, we suddenly became similar. And in the 14 months, since my Mother’s passing, I have come to miss the routines of the “regulars.” In that moment of realizing, it was to be my holiday gift this year, to make it my business and go out into my old world and introduce myself. // It was fun to meet those I could find. They knew me too! And I found it confounding how people can see each other three times a week for twelve years, not exchange a word or not know each other’s name. It was also amazing to find it awkward to go up and introduce myself, like I did, to finally meet them. But what was delightful, was that they felt as I did…. And ultimately, we left conversations—brief as they may have been, with satisfaction, achievement and maybe even a small mystery solved. Maybe,
one we didn’t even know we had. // I won’t go into the conversations, because they would be as you would think: some short, some indifferent and like I said, some I expected. The person I would like to share with you though is a woman I had more than the wonder of, but a woman I actually interacted with over the years. Though our interaction would be measured by the time between street-light changes, we did exchange some time. // At the intersection, on a major boulevard in Bellevue—there was always a woman “begging” for money. She had tangled-tangerine hair; and much-worn Army wear. She had a lot of freckles and she had a broken grin: That kind of grin, where half your smile went up and the other half remained deadpan. I never heard her speak, but I always imagined it to be airy and feminine. And though weathered, she looked young—in her early forties. She always had a couple of terriers on a leash and she was forever unwrapping them from her legs, had it not been heart-breaking to see another’s struggle, it could have been like slap-stick. Over the years, I had shared with her some of my money—a couple of reasons, one, it was disheartening for me to see a person live a life of begging; whether you had to or not, to feel you needed to, left me uneasy and almost apologetic for my abundance: Particularly, my abundance in spirit; of which it felt as if she had little. I also shared with her sundries; dog food and a coat and some extra blankets. Blankets I thought she could share with her friends. Secondly, I can’t stand the idea of animals not being fed, and I knew leashed every day, rain or shine, on a 5 x 5 island, in the center of a 6 lane blvd., was no way to live for any of them.
// It was after Thanksgiving, I started this adventure, because it came to me that in all my gratitude, it was what I wasn’t sharing in. But rather things: necessary things yes, but things. I went to the intersection at the regular time and she was not there. I did this for about 4 days and not once did I see her. And then about a week later, I decided I wanted some Starbucks Banana Bread, and there she was, with one of the two dogs. I went and got my coffee and some breads, parked my car and walked over to her. I asked if she would like to share some hot coffee with me and would she also like some delicious banana bread for her and her dog. She lit up. She just lit up! And my heart opened and I swear, from it flew blue-birds singing right along with her. // I found out many things, while visiting. I found out her name was Jennifer and she was born and raised in Minneapolis MN. I found out she was a dental hygienist and was once a Mother and wife. I found out love brought her west and fear kept her here. And in that 45 minutes to an hour visit, I found out, we were similar. We both loved to read; we both loved adventure. We both had been in love and lost our husbands because of cancer. We both loved animals, and loved our pets. She had just lost one of her terriers, Barney, in a fire where she slept—but she still had Betty, who was joyously chomping away at some banana bread with us. Jennifer also lost her job, due to drug dependency, and her addiction only worsened. She has been clean 7 years; but doesn’t want to leave the streets. She found it liberating to not be responsible to a mortgage and found she did quite well wielding the streets as her way of life. She also found it kept her humble and hungry to help another. // I told her, I couldn’t do it. I needed a home, a roof, food. I couldn’t be so adventurous, bold and faithful to count on the kindness of others. And it was at that very moment, my own words made me wince a little. They were my truth, and yet, I thought I could do better. And when I told her that, she smiled and told me she understood—because with every person that looked away from her, while begging (or as she aptly calls it living, making a living), she felt like she could do better—she just had yet to discover what that would be. Well, I didn’t say it, but I knew why I winced: it was because I was one
of those people that I couldn’t trust in helping. And I must say, it took me back a bit in our conversation. // She felt her life was complete. She had love and the only fear she really had was when the moon would rise. I could feel her comfort. In some sort of way, she was super-human, from where I was standing. We parted with a hug and I told her I hoped to see her again and she agreed and off I went to my day and she, to hers. // I came home and told Gary about my experience and told him the conversation and my small revelation. And as I tried to explain to him why I winced, while visiting with Jennifer, he asked me what I thought I could do to get rid of that wincing. I told him I thought I had more to give. He said, let’s do it! // As a result, this is where I leave you, my Christmas afterglow: this Christmas Gary and I did not buy or make one gift for ourselves or each other. We gathered with friends for dinners; we toasted in candle-light. We sponsored a family and opened up our wallets to their desires. We spent time with the Marlin family; we hosted, and got to know them: not from duty, but from pleasure We made gifts for a few friends; sent out cards and put up some likeness of Christmas around the house: greens from our yard, the bright berries of holly and decorated the bird-feeders, all the while, smiling and laughing about how giddy this makes us: the giddiness of giving and sharing a Christmas Spirit by participating, not buying it off; the giddiness of remembering what it is like to feel Christmas. A giddiness of not being tied to a debt from obligations—worse, obligations tied up with what was false. // Gary and I aren’t Saints, we have plenty. Things, things, more things and love—we have it all. 2020 is just days away: A year for clarity; choice and compassion; a year for making a change, any day we choose to get up and live. A year to define what is right in us and what do we personally need to do to make our lives and another’s better. I think almost everyone, including myself, is a musician or and enjoyer of music, that is associated the CBA. It is my hope you take your songs, which I read about frequently, and share them with the world. That is the gift I wish for you in this New Year: The gift of giving from your heart. And not just to others, but to yourself—a new way of living; of being. A gift of living what is a normal day, a day you might feel like you live and relive 5 days a week and taking what’s regular by the heart and giving it a big squeeze. Ha! A big squeeze can do wonders for all of us. // Happy New Year Everyone