Spare Parts

We didn't get dressed up this year...Boo hoo! No costumes were fussed over and no make-up will be applied. The last time we went all out on Halloween was about two years ago. Joe went as the Tin Man and I went as Dorothy, Toto-in-basket and all. I was absolutely giddy that year because, if you know anything at all about me, you know that I adore The Wizard of Oz. Joe was such a good sport, allowing me to coat his face with silver make-up and tolerating a slightly (says me) uncomfortable costume that left little to the imagination, just so he could accompany me to a costume party at one of my friend’s houses. St. Joseph…That’s actually what Fr. Paul called him for sticking by me through thick, thin and everything in between. Fr. Paul is our Roman Catholic connection; he was the priest who officiated at our wedding. So anyhow, that is the last costume I have worn on Halloween and the best! The year before that Joe and I went as some sort of zombie doctor or surgeon and his sexy,

Through tears I cannot show and pain that isn’t visible, I am mourning. This is my mother’s third birthday in heaven. I am trying to visualize the kinds of things I would be doing to celebrate her birthday. I am wondering what kind of card I would be getting her and what kinds of gifts I would be wrapping. Instead, I need to come up with ideas to honor her life, so that I can try to get through October 20th all over again. Although we just celebrated my Dad’s birthday, I find I am struggling to get passed the deep sadness in my heart today. It is not to lessen how happy I was to see my Dad blow out his candles at 75, but the customs and habits of 30+ years are hard to overcome. And in October we were used to the back-to-back celebrations of my parents. It’s funny how people tiptoe around dates that were once as significant as one’s own birth. But it is definitely true. Those closest to the deceased tend to retreat within themselves to find the solace they crave. They tend to mourn in

My Dad is 75 years old today. I am happy that he has reached this age with wonderfully good physical health, if a somewhat poor outlook emotionally. I excuse him because, frankly, I know that this would have been a much sweeter milestone to celebrate had he been able to share it with my mother. Now, as a widower, this day just doesn’t carry the same kind exhilaration and joy. When I called him this morning to wish him a happy birthday, it was close to 11 am. He said I had woken him up. He blamed the gloom of the day, the chill in the air and the comfort of his bed for the lingering. It saddened me to think that, having reached this age with such a spring in his step and such energy in his bones, he would drag around in an abyss of non-existence. I think my dad is in that place where you find you have lost everything that made you whole. You are unable to find your piece of earth in the world and no place is your place anymore. Neither here, nor there are you right and ok. Neither with

Something's bugging me. I can't actually pinpoint it, but it's that kind of antsy feeling you get when you know in your gut that you should be doing something else right this second in your life, but your busy doing what you're doing, knowing damn well you shouldn't be doing it. When I woke up this morning, my head felt like it was locked in a haze of warm fog that moistened my skin and rattled my thoughts. I considered the possible reasons: high humidity in the air, late summer winds in mid-October, lingering Tylenol PM in my blood stream, lack of sleep, or (more probable) too much sleep. I tossed these ideas all out the window. These aren’t the reasons, I thought. I went about the usual routine that starts when I wake up, fumbling through the necessary evils of humanness like brushing one’s teeth and hair and feeding and dressing one’s body. It ends when I sit on the bus to head into New York five days a week. More than usual, my mind wandered to the place where

Recently, my sister-in-law turned me on to Facebook, a networking site similar to MySpace, I guess, but more grown up. I purposely don’t have a MySpace page. I was wholly against becoming one of those people who feel it is necessary to access a site to maintain or create friendships. I have friends. I made them the old fashioned way. I think I did a pretty good job. Thank you! So then, you can imagine my pleasant surprise, after forcibly joining the Facebooked world, finding that Facebook has quite the grand following of folks and that, lo and behold, some are people I have lost touch with over the years. And like that old Breck shampoo commercial of the 1970s, Facebook has that connectivity and capability of linking you with people you know and people they know whom you might know, as well. Thus creating a planet all its own where we all know each other in that very real way of Six Degrees of Separation that works every time! Since my Facebook page creation and initiation, I have com