The Sober Reality of Marriage and 9/11 Twenty Years Later

My brother is sober. He has been sober for 7 years now. If you know anything about sobriety, he's beaten some pretty good odds to get here. My brother is also my best friend and favorite person on earth. No one can make me laugh more than my brother. He was this great gift given to me three days after my tenth birthday. An only child of a less than happy marriage, I treasured him. Everything about him was perfection to me. 

When he got sober there was quick family chatter about "what would we say?" Antiquated, stupid chatter that one falls back on when trying to decide how to handle situations socially when you forget briefly that you don't really care what other people think about you. I remember thinking I would speak proudly about it. And I do, speak proudly, whenever the subject comes up. He has done this remarkable thing with such dignity and grace and given us, his family, this amazing gift of him being present and with us every day. I also remember my brother saying, "Well, I'm pretty sure everyone was talking about my drinking, I'm not sure why we wouldn't want to talk about me NOT drinking."

Before the dignity and grace of sobriety, there was a rehab. Rehab is his story and he should write it someday, because it is poignant and hard and funny. But the story he told right when he got home stays with me and comes to mind often. I won't attempt to do it justice, but basically it is a pee yourself laughing story of his "exit" plan from rehab on the second night when he realized this was going to take some deep digging and serious attention to getting sober. The story involves a plan for him to walk for miles, penny-less, in the heat of the dessert with a Harrah's card and a money wire as his savior once he arrived at civilization. He stayed at rehab until the light of morning and realized there were some holes in his exit plan. Then he stayed another 30 days. And now he's  7 years sober. We still say often, "you have to have an exit plan" when things get frustrating in my life.

I think of it often because I mostly like to deal with things in the black and white of it all. There is very little gray in my world. Although a 27 year marriage, four children (all girls), 9/11, and 2 bouts of breast cancer and a pandemic have added a little gray. I both curse and applaud God for really sticking with me in  instilling the lesson of blurred lines and gray areas. When you are someone who likes to live the in the black and white clearness of life, you find yourself coming up with exit plans often. 

Marriage, long marriage, a 27 year marriage, a marriage your are going to go the distance with...has a tremendous amount of gray area. So, in my marriage, my very real marriage, I am occasionally coming up with an exit plan. Not being listened to...exit plan. Didn't do your agreed upon chores...exit plan. Watching Family Guy episode for the 80th time...exit plan. Forgot the lunch you asked for and I made and reminded you about...exit plan. But also in my marriage, my very real marriage, much like rehab you stay until the light of morning, realize there are holes in the plan and then you stay 30 more days and then you are 27 years married.  

September 11th it will be twenty years. In the 20 years since that first year, each year has it's own nuance. The beginning years were always both sentimental and a little draining. There were milestone years like 5 and 10 where the remembrance seemed large and theatrical. There were quiet years appreciated and spent with just our immediate family, and there were  years where it went fairly unrecognized by the world as a whole, and us, as normal every day life took precedence over the memory of a historic day.

I wrote one year out from September 11th about my perspective of the day. I wrote ten years out from September 11th about my perspective of my life since. Today I look back on 20 years. 

Twenty years shares the same difficulty that the day after, one year later, and ten years later had...we are still blessed and grateful for a day that was sad and traumatic for so many who shared my husband's circumstances. 

In 20 years...we have sent three girls to college and are getting a fourth ready to so, we added two dogs, we down sized to a latch key condo, Corey started a successful business he loves, I quit a career, we took everyone to Europe, we got an amazing son in law. we enjoyed New York on many trips, we dealt with some health issues, and the list goes on. And at every step along the way...there were exit plans once in a while. Some loud and thundering and some just quietly stupid.

As I finish this article, on a night  we gave an interview to the paper, I can hear my husband taking out the garbage to our curb. I said in year one that 9/11 changed my perspective of marriage and life and quite honestly...how and when the garbage is taken out . And it did. I still get frustrated about the garbage and the little irritants of life. I still make an exit plan when things aren't going my way. But I stay until the light of day, see the holes in the exit plan, and I stay. Without 9/11 I don't think I would have had the perspective to stay. I thank God I was given the perspective to stay.

On Saturday, I will enjoy the sober reality of my marriage and 9/11, 20 years later, in Tahoe, because you know...the house didn't burn down (that God he really never let's me forget that there is no black and white). 

I am blessed. Corey and I are blessed. My family is blessed. The sober reality is...we are blessed.

This quote was Corey's at ten years. It's still good...

A quote from Corey, my husband: “Never forget September 11th. Never forget those months that followed. Months filled with nationalism, patriotism, volunteerism, bipartisanship, God’s love, giving and unity that galvanized us as one nation. Those qualities are still in each and every one of us today.”

The Art of Being Uninformed and Opinionless

If you have read the title and want to tell me there is no such word as opinionless, I already know. Or at least spell check has been rather forceful in pointing it out to me. But, I have tried other "grammar correct" versions and none of them resonate with me in the the same satisfying way opinionless does. So, I'm leaving it. My spell check doesn't like Fuckery either and we all know that's a word, so there is precedent. 

I learned a lot about myself this year. Some days too much, and many days too little I'm sure. But I did learn who I was. In all the good and bad ways, I learned who I was. And more importantly I learned who I was not. 

I learned that I have a great capacity for empathy, but struggle often with sympathy. I learned that the difference between those two is both a fine line and a great divide. I learned that most people don't understand the difference. They should, we should, it would make a profound difference in our country. I am working on the sympathy. I know I need to fix this.

We are headed toward the normal everyone has so desperately  craved for 13 months, or we aren't depending on who you are, what you believe and what normal even meant to begin with. None of the normal or moving on means much if you don't take the lessons from this last year and do something with them. Not an original idea, it's stolen from the recently disgraced Andrew Cuomo (And yes. I am aware we are like one news cycle out from finding out he kills baby kittens in his basement and steals from the elderly at church. Lesson learned. I am nothing if not self reflective. I do enjoy that he has surpassed the sadness and shame I was holding on to over supporting John Edward's and his eventual total lack of moral character, but this is an article for another day). 

The lesson that I am going to take and move forward is this...there is an art to being uniformed and less opinionated. And I realized that I am at an age where I can thrive in this art.

I have recently taken up tennis. I am older than the women in my group lesson. They are women who are finding that their children are a little less demanding then they used to be and they, in turn, are finding a little time for themselves. But the children are all still school age. After a recent lesson the talk turned to pandemic school fuckery and they all had strong opinions and everyone was worked up in her own way, as they should be it has been a long year. I had opinions too, but stayed quiet. Eventually someone asked me something. I paused, I was quiet and slow to answer (that poor Joe Biden gets a bad rap for this, but a little pause and thought can go a long way ) and then I said something fairly vague and short. 

And in that moment I realized that I didn't need to have an opinion here. Even as a former school teacher and mother of four, I did not need to have an opinion here. On the car ride home I realized it was the beauty of where I was in life. It was the beauty of what I had learned about who I was and who I was not over this last year. I did not need to have an opinion. Well, I needed to have an opinion, maybe more correctly put I did not need to SHARE my opinion. I could be opinionless in this situation.

This was a huge revelation of freedom for me. Really not one woman in that moment needed to hear my opinion on this. Not one. And my opinion, while incredibly amazing and informed and relevant, was not necessary for any of these women to go forth with their day and lives.  

And that is my quest for the next year, this post pandemic year. I am going to move toward and settle into the art of being uninformed and opinionless  (spoken out loud opinions) in more group settings. I'm going to  take the long slow breath and be brief and vague when answering. My opinions can come when I write and people can choose to read them, or not. Or with good friends and family once in awhile, but they aren't needed in every social situation or group setting.  

As we come to the other side of what I once called the quiet chaos of pandemic life, I am left with this feeling of gratitude. I made decisions early for myself and my family about how I would handle things, what I would do, what was important for us and hoped I (we) came out the other side as the person I wanted to be and the family I wanted to raise. I dug deep. It's a work in progress, but I feel gratitude for where we are.

My high schooler goes back to school in a week. I have no opinion on this. I hope its a great end to Junior year for her. College girls will go back in the fall. I am grateful to see them return to in person class in a safe environment. In July we will go to see our oldest get her White Coat for PA school rotations. 

We are vaccinated. Mostly vaccinated. I have one who just qualified and one who has to wait awhile after a positive Covid test. Some people will get vaccinated, some will not. I guess it depends on what your opinion is and how you want to handle it. 

We were masked this year. I am suffering the effects of some very bad "maskme (mask acne)" after a long travel day of double masking as we speak. This year I wasn't sick at all and as a lifetime severe allergy sufferer, I had no allergy attacks. It was wonderful and I didn't realize how bad those attacks are until I went without them for a year. So, honestly, I will be masked in certain situations from here forth. People can do with that what they want. 

I gave up Facebook for lent. I was an over poster. I was bored during the pandemic and on way too much. I was bothered by people and their opinions and lack of empathy and sympathy. I would flip flop between  trying to engage people in thoughtful discussions and then giving my opinion where it wasn't needed. I was reading peoples strong opinions on things and getting irritated. I was an extreme Facebook moron really.

I'm not sure what my relationship with Facebook is moving forward. But, I learned that my frustration with it was all on me and how I behaved. So, I'm hoping to take my new journey with the Art of Being Uninformed and Opionless and apply it to Facebook in whatever I way I chose to return. 

Tomorrow is Easter Sunday. We will be outdoors at our church and then it will just be what I call The Lodi 3. Always strange for me to think about such a small celebration. Tonight Corey and I will watch Moses on TV for the 27th year in a row. I will not be sharing this article with him immediately as I am not very far in my journey of uninformed and opinionless in my marriage. But I'm going to try harder. 

I wish you all an after pandemic year of less information and fewer opinions! 

 

Finding My Pandemic Pluck

I started the below in October and stopped...

I'm working on our holidays. Thanksgiving and Christmas loom. I remember planning Easter. Well, I remember planning Easter twice. The first plan was made in my head in June. Brunch at the country club after church. Just Corey, Mary and me. First Easter with not very many home. I had checked all  school schedules and the New York ones didn't match up. I knew it would be the three of us and while I was  a tiny melancholy at the thought of our family dynamic changed, I was also prepared for it mentally and was kind of excited. A beautiful brunch, no cooking or planning by me. I had purchased one bunny type basket bag for Mary the year before on sale and had planned to send cards with gift cards to the rest. 

Then Covid. There was no fancy country club brunch, country club was closed. Suddenly I was planning a meal. I had to scramble for Easter baskets for those home and for what to put in them, we were on lock down. Easter was the pre game to the whole family being home in April and May. 

I was plucky back then. Full of resolve to make it all happen. Full of tenacity to make sure we all remember the holiday as special even though it would be different. 

Now, it is October. And the dial hasn't moved. In fact, it is going backwards. And here I am again, trying to figure out the pandemic holidays with my bi-coastal family. 

Now it is January and the holidays have passed. It all worked out. We defied all the odds and traveled to New York, Covid free, for Thanksgiving. The six of us for one last "original 6" holiday (my son in law was in Brazil with his mother). Masked, outdoor eating and activities, all in separate living spaces, testing...but we did it and it was wonderful.

Christmas came and was happy. We were 5 enjoying amazing local take out food and sister gifts over facetime. Our oldest had her first big girl Christmas across the country with her husband and dog. I was prepared. It was her time. 

And now, it is almost time to plan for Easter again. I am planning on a maybe, possibly masked and outdoor church service. I am thinking a maybe, possibly masked and outdoor family meal with my brother's family. Please note the absolute lack of certainty in all planning and my refusal to commit to anything. I am mentally prepared to scrap it all and eat take out at home.

I like my use of the word "plucky" from my writing in October. Because I was, plucky, oh so very plucky and determined. I won't say that the pluck has been completely wiped out of me, but it has been diminished. In all honesty I am in need of some pluck as we head into the second year of Covid and the political/social crazy that surrounds it. 

Looking for the pluck deep within has been challenging. It is just a long series of starts and stops. It has been a constant pendulum swing of  "I got this, we are all doing amazing!" and then all the way back to "fetal position in the closet hiding from everyone." The truth lies somewhere in the middle I'm sure.

I was careful with myself not to jump on the bandwagon that was...I can't wait for 2020 to be over or I can't wait for 2021 or please let this year end or...you get the picture. My realist head and heart had already told me 2021 wasn't going to bring much change from what was problematic in 2020. That the normal of 2019 wasn't returning to us. I am trying, desperately, to learn what I need to from this past year (and what could possibly be another year) of pandemic lessons.

This is what I know. I'm still married, and most days even happily so. My children have all done better than anyone should have ever expected of them. Picking up groceries behind Raleys instead of shopping in a store is lovely. I like wearing a mask for vanity and makeup reasons, I leave my house with very little attention to my face. I finally have long hair, maybe not in the manner I had always pictured it, but I have it. I miss pedicures and facials, I know they are not important, but I miss them. Not sure I will ever cook much again, eating in restaurants isn't that important to me, but I am a supporter of local restaurants and take out is our norm now. Getting my eyebrows waxed is a necessity not so much a luxury. Getting botox is a luxury not so much a necessity. Everyone has their own fine line on what mandates necessity vs. luxury. My family is the most important thing in the world, none of the rest matters...at all.

Pluck: /noun/ spirited and determined courage

I decided to look it up. Pluck is even better now that I have read the actual  Webster's Dictionary definition of it, not just whatever one was floating in my mind. 

I am looking forward to having a very Plucky 2021. 

 

 

SJP and the Pedicure-less Me

I met Sarah Jessica Parker today. And by "met" I mean I wandered into her store and she was there and she welcomed me. And by "wandered" I mean I saw on Instagram that she would be there and walked 20 blocks to check out the situation. Anyway, despite the details, I feel certain we are now best friends. 

Upon meeting her I had decided I was going to prolong the meeting by buying a pair of shoes. Shoes that were going to cost more than my two week stay hotel bill (it's cheap to stay in New York these days), but there was paparazzi outside, I didn't want to let anyone down and I was committed. 

I stalked the store for a pair of affordable (take the word affordable with a grain of salt as it pertains to the story) flats, held them admiringly, thought of my trips to...well I go no where during covid in my small town, but my trips to say Big Lots, where I am possibly already the most fashionably dressed, were looking even better with the addition of the expensive SJP flats bought from her as she was actually waiting on customers. But she was also actually having the customers TRY the shoes on. And this is where things come to a screeching halt.  

I was surrounded by wealthy, possibly famous (no way to say for sure as we are all masked and the paparazzi was shooting everyone going  in and out just in case) New Yorkers who were trying on the shoes. I felt certain these women had access to a little thing called a pedicure. As someone who lives in the central valley of California where the swinging door of "are they open are they closed?" rocks back and forth in a head spinning frenzy, pedicures can be hard to come by. And recently the door swinging has stood in the way of my pedicures. Long gone was the pedicure cherished in a brief opening in early October.

I had only recently scraped off the last remains of the fall like embers hanging on to the middle of my toenails for dear life. The toes were a mess, awful. So while clutching (caressing) the life changing flats while SJP smiled at me, I returned them to their spot and pretended to browse more as if those shoes, were not the shoes for me, but maybe the $2,000 sparkling gold healed boots were, and to be clear they also would have looked stunning at Big Lots. 

But, I couldn't do it. I couldn't try on the shoes with my pedicureless covid toes in front of Sarah Jessica Parker. I just couldn't do it. We had a final laugh together as I left and she knocked over all her display shoes and broke a shoe stand in the front window while the paparazzi clicked away and then I slunk out onto the street where, by now, the paparazzi was onto me and didn't feel, even masked, that I could be somebody worth his time.

I am in New York. Spending time with the college girls. Grateful. Trying to reinvent...well, everything. Yes, trying to just reinvent all of it. Family with adult children, family with college children during a pandemic, family with a married daughter, family with high schooler at home for a year, family with a husband working from home more often than not, family with all the changes. So, yes, just trying to reinvent it all.

Family with a mom who doesn't have a career anymore. The career is just being a mom. It would have been a weird adjustment for me without a pandemic, but the pandemic really highlighted it all. The dream career would be writing, but the pandemic has somewhat clouded that and left me unmotivated.

Anyway, today I am writing. I have been starting and stopping writing things for months. But today I am writing. Today I promised myself I would just write and finish something. And this is it. Written and about to be finished.

I met Sarah Jessica Parker today, we are best friends. I can't wait until she finds out we are!