myjourneysinsight

THE WONDERFUL METAPHORS IN MY LIFE – PART 1

Posted on April 5, 2010 by Judy

Jason was so happy wearing a crown to celebrate his fifth birthday in his preschool class. It was his last.

“The writer inside me”

The writer inside me is actually a spigot to my inner soul. My persona, thoughts, and feelings are released through my words. While I write, I am not alone. I am sharing myself with other humans who are reading my words.

My brain’s hard drive has been filling up with memories through the years, and it is running out of space. Each time I write something meaningful to me, I have burned a “memory disk.” I can delete something and create more space in my brain. I am hoping this will allow me to have more working memory!

Recently, it occurred to me that metaphors have always been a part of my life. They have been especially useful with my writing.

There seems so be so many interesting coincidences in my life. While looking through cassettes of my original songs, I came across two, special tapes that were entitled: “Jason’s funeral,” and “Jason’s Unveiling.” I knew I did not want to listen to the funeral tape.

However, I remembered that I had made a tape for the unveiling of his gravestone a year later. I had re-written several of my songs and recorded them on that tape. I played it looking to find recorded versions of my original songs.

I didn’t realize there was more on that tape.

It was shocking for me. I had recorded snippets of Jason’s voice and my interactions with him. Without any expectation of hearing Jason’s voice, I played that tape. My heart came into my throat.

This was a voice that had long ago been extinguished. He had died eighteen years ago when he was only five years old.

As his voice chirped with singsong breathlessness, it spun me into heartbreaking anguish.

It was hard for me to understand what he was saying. He was out of breath, probably due to his cardiac condition. Still, I remembered every word. As I listened, I thought about how he would have had a deep voice if he had lived. He would have been twenty-three-years-old this year.

I remember I had originally made this recording with Jason because I was going to be gone for an evening. He could listen to our dialog and not miss me as much. The tape would remind him much he was loved.

After our dialog, I played my guitar and sang him a special, loving song. As I sang that song for him, he made an audible sweet, sigh. He loved that song.

It was comforting that he was surrounded by so much love in his short life.

The most amazing thing was that I was blown away. I had used such lovely metaphors with Jason!

Here was our exchange:

ME: Mommy is with Jason tonight, and I know Jason would like to hear my voice because he’s been missing me. But first, he has to come over here so I can tell him something. Come over here, Mr. Jason! Jason, I love you more than any thing in the whole, wide world. I love you more than all the carpet fibers in our house. How much do you love me?

JASON: I love her more than all the cities.

ME: I love you more than all the grains of sand in the shoes that you dump out in the house. Come here, Jason.

JASON: You know how much I love you? I love you more than all the hair in peoples’ heads!

ME: Oh, that’s a lot of hair!

Clicking the blue link below plays audio:

AUDIO OF JASON & METAPHORS – RECORDED IN 1991

Later that morning I entered Connie’s guesthouse for our hypnotherapy appointment. I was filled with sadness so it was a good time for me to be there. One of my favorite hypnotherapy concepts was, “Thoughts equal feelings.” Controlling my thoughts had a direct affect upon my mood. I often wrestled with the idea that I had the ability to control my thoughts. I always attempted to find thoughts that were helpful for me, rather than those filled with worry and doubt.

Connie could tell my mood was very serious. I shared with her about the anguish of listening to Jason’s voice. I had started having thoughts that I might become the person I was before – the walking zombie. I also ached from delving back into my grief, and there was still so much there. What was so great about getting my grief up and out? I said softly, “I’ve found my tears again, but how is that helpful for me? My son died eighteen years ago and I am still grieving. How can that be helpful for other people to hear? I feel like I shouldn’t even complain, there is so much worse grief around me!”

Connie mentioned to me that it has generally been unanimously expressed; the death of a child was one of the hardest blows for most humans to recover from. At that moment, I decided that even if a few people related to me; I would continue to write and share about grief. It would follow me for the rest of my life. I knew it would and that was a huge part of my sadness about my son’s death.

When it was time for hypnosis I was still confused about many of the things we had talked about, however I no longer felt sad or doubtful. I drifted off quite easily into the calmness of hypnosis. It was possible that I was even asleep. I heard her voice, but it was very, far away. I listened carefully and I heard her say, “You’ve told me that you love to use metaphors. Can you find a metaphor or an image to describe how you see your life?

I couldn’t at that moment. I was inside of a cave. It was very dark. I spoke slowly and said, “I have no idea what words to use. I am in a dark, dark cave. I have no idea how I can write about where my life is going right now. It looks depressing with my parents aging.” I was very relaxed in that dark place as I waited for an image to come to me. Suddenly, there was a burst of light! It was blinding to go from darkness into a white sky. It was freezing and the sky was filled with clouds. I was on a hang glider high above a panoramic vista. I was soaring at record speed, but it was not exhilarating because I was terrified.

“Okay, the metaphors are coming to me . . . I’m flying a hang glider, but I can’t appreciate any of the beauty around me! I’m terrified, because I don’t even know how I came to be on this glider. I have no memories at all; I’m a glider pilot with zero experience. I have no idea what I’m supposed to do or where I’m going. I don’t even know how I will land this thing, since I’ve never flown one. I might crash!”

The images continued. I told her that gradually I conquered my fear and began to pilot the glider. Despite my extreme terror I even managed to land it. Although it was difficult, I survived. When I celebrated my survival, I realized that the beautiful views I thought I had missed were clearly in my memory after all!

I told Connie the thing that I noticed most was that I was alone. I said to her, “Even with the accomplishment of learning to fly, I felt so lonely on that hang glider. But, then I remembered something. Even though I was alone up there and trying to figure out how to fly, I saw all these other gliders flying around me. I had to be careful not to crash into anyone! You know what, a whole bunch of those gliders started following me. I became their leader! They landed behind me!”

I bemoaned to her, “Why do I see myself as their leader? I wish someone could have led me to safety when I was so terrified.” Connie was thoughtful and then she said, “Could you add two words to your statement? Add the words: I wonder.”

I pondered the two words, “I wonder.” It certainly sounded more upbeat to say, “I wonder why I see myself as a leader.“ I told her that the word wonder held two meanings for me. One meaning was that of questioning. Then there was the meaning of wonder as in awe. I said, “You know the word wonderful, means full of awe and wonder!” I decided to name the story about my experience, “The Wonderful Metaphors in my life.” My metaphor of flying on a hang glider represented how I felt navigating through life.

“I was never alone”

After seeing Connie, I also felt wonderful again. I walked to my car. The sky was filled with clouds; almost the same way it had been when I imagined I was on that glider. I looked up into the many shades of white and gray. As I examined the overlapping clouds, another vision came over me.

I was once again back flying on that glider and desperately trying to figure out how to fly it instead of crashing. I was alone. Actually, I had thought I was alone. Suddenly, I had a revelation so huge that tears filled my eyes. It came to me.

In my vision, I glanced behind me because I had thought I heard a rustle of wings. I turned around to see an angel! There was my freckle-faced five-year-old son, Jason. He was smiling. He was comforting. He was there to help me.

I was never alone

He’s always with me.

© Judy Unger and http://www.myjourneysinsight.com 2010. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Judy Unger with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Posted in Healing and Hope | Tagged child's death, childhood friendship, compassionate friends, creativity, death, death of a child, Friendship, grief, grief bereavement "Loss of a Child", GRIEF RELATED, Hypnotherapy, inspiration, loss, lyric writing, overcoming grief, writing | 4 Comments

A LOT ON MY SHOULDERS

Posted on April 2, 2010 by Judy

Memories from a Yosemite Vacation. My brother and I were always fighting over the front seat. I always won, because I’d get carsick and throw up otherwise.

There is a sandwich shop near me. It is named “My Hero.” Quite often, I feel like I’m the “hero” sandwich.

Today I took my mother to get a second opinion from a shoulder specialist. I wanted to know whether it was necessary to remove screws that were put in when she had shoulder surgery a year ago. My mother had serious complications from that surgery and was on a respirator for two months. I did not want her to have any other procedures in a hospital.

When my mother broke her shoulder from a fall a year ago, I wanted a second opinion but was told that there wasn’t enough time. It was optimum to do surgery as soon as possible. My brother and my father felt very strongly about my mom having the surgery where the complications almost killed her. I agonized over that decision. I was on the fence, but they were not.

After several months of trying to find a specialist, I went ahead and found a shoulder specialist and set up an appointment. I needed to take my mom “over the hill” to get this second opinion regarding her shoulder and screw removal since there seemed to be no one in the nearby area.

Since my mom’s hospitalization, I had not taken her out of her nursing facility. I frequently used to take her to the movies, restaurants, and my home. This was a big deal for me. I decided I needed help. I was worried I’d hurt my back lifting her wheelchair, or getting her into my car. I finally learned to ask for help and my brother said he would come with me.

My mom was ready and waiting. She didn’t know my brother was coming; it was a surprise and she was thrilled. My brother was such an asset. He pushed the wheelchair and I opened doors. He had my mom up and out of the wheelchair and into my van in no time at all.

We arrived early for the appointment. Being early gave me lots of time to fill out forms. My mother asked me to take her to the bathroom. It was a very big deal.

I positioned her wheelchair and helped her to stand up. All of this was very difficult for both of us. I waited for her and helped her with her clothes and more. She was appreciative. She told me later that she was thrilled that she did all of this. Her independence meant a lot to her. Here was that role reversal again; it was very clear to me that we have switched.

As we waited for the doctor, my mother was very anxious. The doctor came in. He was very professional. My mother demonstrated her mobility. She could not raise her arm higher than her neck. He looked at the x-rays that we had brought with us that were taken three weeks earlier.

The doctor said that the procedure to remove the screws was fairly minor. However, it was very important that the bone was healed. He recommended another x-ray, which could be done right there that moment in his office. It sounded like a good idea.

We waited.

The doctor returned. He said, “Based on the x-ray, your mom has severe arthritis in that shoulder. Removing the screws will not give her any more mobility or even less pain. If this were my mom, I’d skip this procedure. It really won’t have any benefit or pay off for her.”

At my request, he wrote a note for my mom’s physical therapist. It was the first time her physical therapist would have some instruction about how to work with my mother’s shoulder. This therapist has complained to me about not knowing how far she can push my mom.

The moment the doctor walked out, I asked my mom what she thought.

She said, “I don’t like this new doctor! He’s not competent at all. I want to schedule the screw removal from the first surgeon! I need to have hope for my future!”

I was baffled. After what my mother had gone through, I was relieved at the idea of not dealing with another hospital! Also, my mom had a sore on her toe that was deemed “non-healing.” It took a long time to improve. What if her shoulder became infected? She had poor immunity and required monthly gamma globulin infusions.

This was another one of those challenging medical decisions for me. Or was it hers? It should be; after all, it was her body. However, what if something happened? Was she of sound mind?

Here comes the metaphor of how I am feeling about making this decision. I am at an airport. The opinions and advice planes are landing. They are flying in non-stop. There is no more room on my brain’s landing strip. Which plane will I decide to fly out of here?

I haven’t even gotten to the landing strip yet! Now it was time to leave. During the drive back to my mother’s facility, she was very happy. My mother focused on how she stood up, sat in my car, and used the bathroom. I tried to feel positive, but it was hard to accept how much had changed from the way she used to be.

My brother dashed off. I was tired. I needed to take my mom back to her room. As I was pushing the wheelchair, I realized how nice it was earlier that my brother had helped me. I wished he had stayed to help take my mother to her room so I could have visited my father. However, he was in a hurry and had important things to take care of.

The wheelchair was portable, unwieldy, and very uncomfortable for my mother. I knew she couldn’t wait to get out of it. I decided to stop at the physical therapy room. I needed to tell the physical therapist the results of our appointment.

She could be the first advice plane on my brain’s landing strip.

She was not there. I figured I’d speak with her later on. I pushed my mom toward her room. There was a door-strip that made the wheelchair stop. I pushed harder; it didn’t work. I thought I’d turn the chair around and pull my mother backwards. I am such a competent wheelchair driver (I thought).

In one second, my mother shouted, “What are you doing?” Before I could answer, she slid out of the wheelchair. In one second, she was on the floor. I shouted, and my mom told me not to call anyone. It was too late. Two physical therapists that were nearby came running to help us. They quickly lifted my mom back into the wheelchair.

I was helpless and very sorry. My mom was extremely upset. She hadn’t wanted anyone to know she had fallen.

She believed she would be in trouble again.

I kept apologizing. She kept reassuring me she was fine. I wanted to run away somewhere. There must be a cave somewhere for this daughter bear. I decided I deserved a ticket and must attend wheelchair traffic school!

It was late afternoon when I got home. There were plenty of things waiting for me to do. I just needed to rest. Before I could do anything, my mother called. She was crying. She had wanted to rest, but had to get completely undressed for an examination because of her fall. It was standard procedure at the facility. It was degrading for her. I didn’t know what to say. I was so, so sorry.

The phone rang again. It was from my mom’s nursing facility. “Hi. Are you Shirley’s daughter? We needed to call you to let you know that she fell today. We have checked her and she has only a slight bruise.”

I will always remember my mother as a very devoted grandma.

5:00 p.m.

Dinner was chaotic with all the noise. I wondered why we have a puppy, bird, and two cats. They have added so much extra stress to my life. I lived for a long time without pets.

In the midst of everything, the phone rang. I grabbed it in the kitchen. It was my mom again. She sounded better when she said, “Honey, today was the absolute best day of my life. I had both my daughter and my son together. I did things I didn’t know I was capable of!” I hung up the phone. The cascade of hot tears gushed down my cheeks. I couldn’t hold them back.

7:00 p.m.

I had been furiously typing away. My mother called again. She was upset. She said, “Honey! They are punishing me! It’s a game. I’m not allowed to be alone in my room. They are blaming me for today’s fall. I have waited over an hour for a nurse to take me back to my room!”

I handed the phone over to my father nearby. I couldn’t handle any more stress. He listened as my mother cried and handed back the phone to me. He was now crying. He shouted at me, “You need to call the nurse’s station and take care of this!”

I did. After that, my father started to lecture me. He said, “Get rid of the dog. Get rid of the bird. Get rid of the cats! They are adding stress to your life!”

I am ashamed. I had a meltdown. I yelled, “I need to get rid of everything else that is adding stress to my life, then! Your care, as well as mom’s is stressing me! I was erupting and it was awful; but I couldn’t help it. Thank god tomorrow was another day!

My father certainly forgave me. But now I am sad that I caused him pain. Sharing my stress with him was not helpful. I have wondered if someday I’ll be an “open-faced sandwich.” Now that starts to feel like I’m wishing my parents were gone.

I was actually thinking it meant that my kids were more independent!

Tomorrow’s “lower sandwich” list: (parents)

1. Call my mom’s doctor and see when the feeding tube can be removed.

2. Call the nursing supervisor to find out if they can find a more humane way that allows her to be alone. I know it prevents my mom from falling, but there are other ways to ensure her safety!

3. Buy a birthday card for my mother to give my brother. (She asked me three times today)

I can’t share details of my “upper sandwich” list: (my children). It is twice as long as the other lists, for sure!

Tomorrow’s “sandwich filling” list: (Myself)

1. Start painting one of my art jobs, and stop procrastinating. I could be illustrating, but I’d rather be writing.

2. Practice my guitar. Last week, I realized how I was quite out of practice after seeing my childhood friend, Steve. It is exciting to imagine how good I might become with practice and improvement!

Our cat is looking at me saying, “Don’t even think about getting rid of me!”

Tagged "sandwich generation", Advocacy, Aging Parents, Caregiving, Daily Life, humor daily life, Ordinary Life, parenting, shoulder screw removal | Leave a comment

FROM MOTHER BEAR TO DAUGHTER BEAR

Posted on March 30, 2010 by Judy

My mom. This photo was taken for a brochure advertising her assisted living facility.

“Whom do I call?”

Life has been full of twists for me. There was a reason for that appointment not to happen. There was more important work for me to do. Today I went from Mother Bear to Daughter Bear. Today was the opportunity for me to advocate for my parents. Extra time this afternoon became my friend.

Tonight is a family night. We are going to a Seder at the nursing facility where my mother is. Those are important nights, and we rarely all go out together. Since my mother got out of the hospital in late January, my parents have been separated. My father is at a different facility, in a more independent placement. My father can no longer drive. His license was revoked last week. He lives only a mile from her, but the abyss is much greater than that.

This morning my mother called me. She had a whole lot of anxiety. She said, “Maybe I should start getting dressed for tonight?” We’re talking five hours early! She sounded so sad.

I said, “Mom, I wish you were happier that we’re all going to be together tonight.”

She choked back a sob. “Why should I be happy? I’m separated from my husband! We may all be together for a few hours, but after that I go back to my lonely existence!”

That’s all it took! The “daughter bear” started growling inside and tearing it’s way out through my heart. She’s right! She was on a respirator at death’s door for nine weeks. Did she survive to be separated from the man she’s been married to for sixty years?

Supposedly, she’s “next on the list.” I thought it would have happened by now. It has been two months of loneliness for her.

This “daughter bear” says it’s time for a face-to-face meeting. I need to voice these feelings to someone who perhaps can do something! Tomorrow, I will make some calls. The problem is; whom do I call? I have no idea whom to speak with, or what will make the difference.

Trauma memory:

“The first day my parents lived with me”

I remember so well the first day my parents came to live with me. It was almost three years ago. I was making lunch for them. I had made them breakfast that morning, too. I was cleaning up lunch and then I realized something. I was going to be making dinner, too before I knew it.

Every day would be a repeat performance!

I felt ashamed. They had raised me. They had made sacrifices for me. Still, this was harder than anything I had ever done before. I was used to have three children, but two additional people with very specific dietary needs was overwhelming. Both of them were sweet, but extremely demanding. I could never actually sit down to eat as I waited on both of them. When my housekeeper, Rosa came in the late afternoon, I told her. “Don’t worry, you’ll be getting more money; it will make up for all the extra work.”

I paid her every bit of what my father paid me. I didn’t keep any of it. The rest of the money was for groceries. Rosa couldn’t believe that I was doing this.

On Rosa’s days off, I was totally overwhelmed. I ended up hiring two more helpers for those days. That way, my mom had someone two days a week who could give her a shower. Thank goodness I did that.

Still, I was beyond exhaustion. It didn’t matter that my career was over; there was no way I could ever work on anything except fix meals, shop for food, and attend doctor appointments for both my parents.

I gave up my life for over a year.

My parents were on a waiting list for an assisted living facility that they were willing to accept. Unfortunately, the waiting list for that facility was very long. I was persistent and made regular calls hoping there might be an opening for my parents.

I thought it would never happen. The day my parents moved there, I knew it was a result of my letters, calls, and persistence. The trauma moment has subsided. I’m back to the “grateful place” again.

“We don’t want her falling!”

I called my mom’s physical therapist. She was happy to hear from me. I shared with her my mother’s anxiety. I let her know how appreciative I am of how much progress my mother has made since she’s gotten out of the hospital.

This therapist said, “We had a meeting about the safety issue of her trying to walk unassisted. We don’t want her falling and breaking her hip! What she did the other night was very risky!” Of course, I knew about that. When I received the call that my mom had “slipped” out of her wheelchair, I almost had a heart attack.

It was nice to talk with this therapist. She is going to give me a more portable wheelchair to use for my appointment with my mom this Thursday. It will be the first time I am taking my mom in my car since her hospitalization. We are going to see another orthopedic shoulder specialist.

This physical therapist said, “I’m glad you’re getting this second opinion. Your mother said you weren’t going until December!” Another sad example for me, that my mother is having “time confusion” issues.

This spoke to me: From grief into joy. Slavery made me think of caregiving. However, being a caregiver is definitely voluntary!

“Picture this”

I had my camera all charged and ready to bring with me. Picture taking is important for me. Just like with Jason, I know this time is precious. I don’t know how many Seders are left like this with my parents. I forgot my camera.

I sat down next to my mother. She was glowing. Even my grumpy father looked happy. I scanned the Seder table. I had so many interesting thoughts all evening long. I realized that this would be the last Seder where I would have three teenagers at once. Right now, their ages are thirteen, sixteen and nineteen. Next year, my oldest son will be twenty.

A wonderful Rabbi led the Seder. My mom loves this rabbi. She has good reason to, since he came to visit her throughout her hospital ordeal. During the Seder, there was a moment where the Rabbi made eye contact with me. It was special moment.

There were many interesting moments for me throughout the evening. Some elements used to produce huge “pangs.” The mention about “death of the first-born child” has always been painful for me. I was okay with it this year.

There was a lot of enjoyment for me watching my mother’s face. She was truly happy. That gave me so much pleasure. I said to her, “Mom, isn’t it nice that you’re not slaving over a table of people making a Seder anymore?”

She said, “I loved those times. Those were the most wonderful times for me!” I have so many memories of that. My mother always made such an elaborate food during the Passover holiday.

I know my mom enjoyed those times, until it became more and more difficult for her. Often her anxiety about the holiday would start a month before. She would be simply overwhelmed by the idea of changing her dishes, pots and pans, and silverware. It caused her endless fights with my father, to clean up his messes and help her.

I always told her, “Mom the day will come when you can be a lady! You don’t have to work so hard.” I have never made a Seder, but I always enjoy going to them now. My kids did well last night. They didn’t make faces at me during the “religious” part. I remember suffering through many Seders, wondering, “How many pages are left before we eat?”

Can this be another coincidence in my life? I had forgotten my camera. It was time to be leaving, and a woman walked up. She asked if we would like her to take a picture of all of us together with her camera phone.

It was lovely of her to do that. I saw on her nametag that she was an administrator. I had a good feeling that maybe this was someone that could help me with my parent’s situation of being separated. I shared with her about my writing, and she gave me a card.

I was ready to push my mother’s wheelchair and take my mom back to her room. After that, I would drive my father home. My father was tired, weak, and hunched over the table. He said he was too tired to walk with me. He said he would just sit at the table and wait for me. The same administrator came over to me. She said gently, “Go drive your father home. He looks tired. I will take your mom back to her room.” I thanked her. I felt elated.

“Have I found the connection?”

I dropped off my father. My car was making a horrible noise. There is never a good time for me to have a car problem. I was suddenly jealous that my husband has a new car. When I got home, my father had left me a message. He wanted me to ask my husband to check my car. He was worried. I felt like a teenager again!

Now my mother called. I was happy to tell her what a fabulous time we all had. She agreed that it was that way for her, too. She shared the reason for her call. She said, “Honey, I don’t think you should share your blog with that administrator!”

I asked her why. She said, “It’s too personal. She’ll learn far too much about us. It will prevent me from ever being able to leave. Plus, did you see how everyone is more interested in your father than in me? Did you see how she was looking at him?”

“Next Day”

I was getting ready to go to another Seder. It was the second night of Passover. This meal would be at my brother’s home.

My mother called. I was always happy to hear her voice. There was a time when I had wondered if I would ever hear her voice again. She said, “Hi Honey! You won’t believe it! You remember that nice lady from last night that took our picture? Well she came to speak with me!”

My mom was crying. She continued sharing, “She told me that I will move – it is for sure! They’re not going to punish me for falling out of my wheelchair; they’re going to make sure I’m with dad, and soon! I am so happy! I am definitely next on the list. She said she spoke with everyone in charge and they all in agreement about this! Isn’t that wonderful?”

At that moment, I decided that I didn’t need to climb Mt. Everest to get any higher on this planet!

A precious night indeed. Both my parents are alive and with me. My father is thinking, when will the food come?

Tagged "sandwich generation", Advocacy, Aging Parents, Caregiving, Daily Life, Humor, nursing facility, Ordinary Life, passover seder | 1 Comment

MY REBIRTH

Posted on March 29, 2010 by Judy

–

Lately, I feel like a little girl again!

Someone used the word “Renaissance” to describe me a few weeks ago. I had to look it up to be sure that I wasn’t looking like someone from the middle ages. I guess it was accurate, after all!

Renaissance: a revival of or renewed interest in something – a rebirth.

I liked this even better:

Rebirth: The action of reappearing or starting to flourish or increase after a decline.

Writing has become incredibly compelling for me – that is my best way to describe it. It arises within me on a whim. No matter how busy I am, I will wake up to write at 3:00 a.m. if the need erupts within me.

Only one thing would stop me, or interrupt my Renaissance. That would be illness. Hopefully, it would not be my own or someone in my immediate family. My fingers are crossed.

“My dreams”

So my Renaissance continues. I am thrilled that the writing urge came back to me this morning. Here are my dreams:

I will have a best-selling book. My book will have my artwork at the top of each page, just like the “header” on my blog. I enjoy seeing how interesting it is to crop my illustrations. It’s like creating a new picture each time!

I will have a newspaper column.

I will be on a talk show. I will make appearance. I will bring special people from my life with me! (Teachers, friends, etc.)

My songs will be recorded. I love to sing my songs, but I have not sung (until recently) for 30 years. I am going to try voice lessons again.

My children will forgive me for sharing so much.

My husband can retire.

I can travel a little with my loved ones. I will finally have a laptop. I will be writing the whole time I’m traveling!

“My ideas for Posts”

Here is a look at what I am still excited to write about:

There will be at least four essays on my experience as an illustrator. I have a list of illustrating tips. I have explanations about how I see color, contrast, and texture. I also had some traumatic and funny moments in my career. I have a lot to share.

I want to share my mazes!

I want to write more about childhood and friendship. I am also mourning the death of my closest girlfriend from college. She died about two years ago from beast cancer. I wrote many, many songs for her. When I sing them, I am reminded of her.

I want to write about “lessons I’ve learned from my parrot!”

I want to write more about songwriting and share more songs.

I want to write about the entire experience I recently went through with my mother.

In between all of those “essays,” I will also write about any daily “stuff” that comes up which I find funny. That seems to happen a lot for me.

I’ve decided that I don’t like to use the word “essay.” That sounds so boring. I need to find a better word. Okay, I looked up some ideas. I think I will call my writings, “Stories.” “Stories” does sound better to me!

My birthday party! Steve liked Hawaiian Shirts then, too. He was still the only guy there.

This has been “bugging me!”

My first creative renaissance was in childhood. I had an assistant named Steve. I was the boss and Steve worked for me. It was lots of fun. I’m not positive, but I think we started playing together when I was six-years-old and Steve was four-years-old. His mom probably knows better. Steve moved away (into the Miracle Mile area of Los Angeles) when I was ten-years-old.

After he moved away, my mother confided that she thought I might marry him. She was worried because he wasn’t Jewish. I understand that, but I find it funny!

Steve and I made amazing mud balls together. We lined them up (could I have been autistic?). We watched them dry and stored them.

We played “Fantastic Voyage” and pretended we were in a submarine in the bathroom. I would shake the mirror to pretend we were sinking underwater.

A cardboard box served as our “time machine.” (Joni reminded me about that one).

We played a game I dubbed “Chase-away.” It was like playing tag with a bicycle. Steve was never able to catch me. I believe I tormented him!

I still have some guilt about being a “grasshopper mass murderer.” I used to collect them. Their legs would always keep falling off!

I don’t think Steve knew me when I was older and had my lizard collection. The fly-catching I had to do in order to give those lizards snacks made me crazy. It was my big secret in high school.

I actually also “threw flies” into spider webs to see what would happen. That was interesting.

There were also those Praying Mantises that I used to feed.

This has been “bugging me!” Now everyone knows my darkest secrets!

I have mentioned my childhood friend because I am going to see him on Saturday.

I haven’t seen him in forty years! The last time I saw him I was ten years old!

Steven and his mother, Marilyn, originally lived in the same apartment building in North Hollywood where I grew up.

His family moved away to the Miracle Mile district of Los Angeles. Not too long before my mother became ill, I brought her to have lunch with Marilyn. We vowed it wouldn’t be another forty years before having lunch again!

When my mother was in the hospital, I updated Marilyn about my mom’s condition. She shared my emails with Steven and thus began my correspondence with them both.

Their encouragement and support helped me immensely.

When I see Steve, I am going to ask him if he can improve upon my thirty-year-old song tape. I am also going to see if we could make a better live recording of me with my guitar. I have tried, but my voice is not what it was thirty years ago. Sadly, I didn’t like my voice then, either. But it is my vehicle. Music is definitely a way to share words, melodies, and passion!

My readers must “stay tuned” for the outcome of this Saturday. I invited my husband to come with me. Here is what he said:

“By Saturday, I’m so tired from working all week. I need to relax. We also have two nights of family obligations for me after work this week. After waking up at 4:30 a.m. and driving three hours every day, I really need to recuperate on the weekend!”

Although he declined, I wasn’t disappointed in the least. I understood. My excitement came from the idea that I invited him!

“My reunion with Steve”

In the script that is now my life’s play, Steven is my music producer. He has always had an interest in music. He has professional, music software programs and equipment. He is a perfectionist like me.

Steve certainly loves music; that was one of my first thoughts when I walked into their apartment. There were shelves of CD’s everywhere I looked. He and his mother still live in the same apartment where they moved to forty years ago. Steven’s father passed away several years ago.

His mother shared how she became a receptionist at the radio station where Steve used to work. She remembered the songwriter, Diane Warren, very well. Diane is an inspiration to me as a songwriter.

The evening flew by. I played many of my original songs for them. I also had brought a portfolio of my artwork. I gave Marilyn a floral poster; it matched her linen colors. I wanted to show my appreciation to Steven by giving him a painting.

However, Steven was certain that he had no wall space for any of my work. I pulled out a certain illustration of colorful shirts. It was a marker comp done for an illustration commissioned by IBM Corporation.

Steven works for IBM; he also likes varied and colorful shirts just like the ones in the illustration.

This evening he was wearing an orange shirt similar to one in the painting. I found that to be another amazing coincidence. He accepted my artwork!

We had fabulous Chinese food for dinner. I ate not one, but two fortune cookies.

I brought the tape from Jason’s funeral with me. Marilyn mentioned that she would like to hear it someday. Steve had already sent me a digital copy. I wasn’t feeling the need to hear it.

I stayed fairly late and recorded separate tracks for three of my songs. It was interesting to play the guitar separately from singing. When singing, I was able to stand and sing into a microphone while I wore headphones and heard the guitar portion recorded earlier.

Unfortunately, my singing voice was slightly hoarse. I wished Steven could make me sound like Streisand. I assumed that wasn’t going to happen, so I had already prepared myself not to be disappointed. I was certain I would visit both of them again soon. I was eager to record more.

Perhaps after some voice lessons, I might sound better.

I drove home feeling tired and relaxed. It had been a lovely evening. It had also been interesting to meet a man who I knew so well when I was a child. I could still picture him as that “tow-headed” blond boy. Now he was much taller than I was!