I will never presume to be even half the writer she was. She was one of the best ever, and to say I admired her is a gross understatement. She was a heroine to me. Hearing the news this morning that she has left this earth much too early produced sincere tears.
Her words inspired me to work harder at my craft. I watched her movies over and over - especially Sleepless In Seattle, You've Got Mail and her last, Julie And Julia, finding new reasons every time to laugh, and learn. There are lines of hers I quote often in my everyday life: "It's a sign!" (from Sleepless),and "I cannot help myself (from You've Got Mail), just to name two (you have to know the movies to understand the quotes). She created characters that never leave your brain; heatwarming, complicated and always humorous.
Her essays made me laugh, too, but also gave me thoughts to ponder, and, sometimes, she did both at once. For example, this particular quote on aging: "Our faces are lies and our necks are the truth. You have to cut open a redwood tree to see how old it is, but you wouldn't have to if it had a neck."
How could anyone who puts pen to paper (or fingertips to a keyboard) not be motivated by that kind of writing? And a lovely addition to her legacy as a writer are all the positive comments I've heard today from those who knew her personally; she was a good person, a true friend and someone who lived life in a way just as original as the characters she gave us.
My hope was that I would be enjoying new books and screenplays of hers for decades to come. Whenever I saw her name in a credit, I knew I was in for a writing lesson and entertainment that would not disappoint. I always hate it when special people leave us too soon. That couldn't be truer today.
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
Sunday, June 17, 2012
Remembering Daddy
Today's the day we celebrate the men who have assumed the monumental task of raising offspring; a good thing to do. I served my deserving husband breakfast in bed this morning, and will call my son, father of one, and relay my best wishes to him. But, as I think about what this special day means to me, my thoughts are of the man I always called "Daddy".
I remember first his smile and laugh. He loved to tease, tell silly jokes, and revelled in happy times with family and friends. A grateful smile would grace his face whenever he spoke of his love for my mother.
It wasn't until his senior years, though, when he endured heart surgery to lengthen his days, that he was comfortable expressing his love with words or a hug. I reasoned that, when he faced the possibility of death, he wanted to be sure he took every opportunity he had left to let those he loved know it.
He'd not been raised in a household where such demonstrations ever happened. I can still hear him saying, with emotion in his throat, how he never knew what love was until he married my mother and experienced her caring as well as her family's.
I inherited his quick temper and stubborn attitude (which my husband has softened over the years), but I learned many wonderful lessons from him about how to be a good parent. He was strict, which I sometimes resented, but later respected. He was generous while teaching me when to be frugal, and made me appreciate what true generosity means. Those lessons were only a small part of the gifts he gave me as a father.
I wasn't ready for him to exit this life, but I knew he was lonely for my mother who left us before him, so I tried to rationalize that it was for the best. But, to this day, over fourteen years later, the sound of his voice, his love of music, food, wine and good times are still a part of my daily memories - and I miss him so much.
Happy Father's Day, Daddy. You taught me so much - and believe it or not, you still are. That's a terrific legacy.
I remember first his smile and laugh. He loved to tease, tell silly jokes, and revelled in happy times with family and friends. A grateful smile would grace his face whenever he spoke of his love for my mother.
It wasn't until his senior years, though, when he endured heart surgery to lengthen his days, that he was comfortable expressing his love with words or a hug. I reasoned that, when he faced the possibility of death, he wanted to be sure he took every opportunity he had left to let those he loved know it.
He'd not been raised in a household where such demonstrations ever happened. I can still hear him saying, with emotion in his throat, how he never knew what love was until he married my mother and experienced her caring as well as her family's.
I inherited his quick temper and stubborn attitude (which my husband has softened over the years), but I learned many wonderful lessons from him about how to be a good parent. He was strict, which I sometimes resented, but later respected. He was generous while teaching me when to be frugal, and made me appreciate what true generosity means. Those lessons were only a small part of the gifts he gave me as a father.
I wasn't ready for him to exit this life, but I knew he was lonely for my mother who left us before him, so I tried to rationalize that it was for the best. But, to this day, over fourteen years later, the sound of his voice, his love of music, food, wine and good times are still a part of my daily memories - and I miss him so much.
Happy Father's Day, Daddy. You taught me so much - and believe it or not, you still are. That's a terrific legacy.
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
Anticipation
Merriam-Webster defines the word "anticipation" in a number of ways, but two of them ring strong with me today. The first is "pleasurable expectation" and the second is "visualization of a future event". At this moment, I am experiencing both - and grinning from ear to ear.
It's taken several years, during which time we have struggled as so many others have, to simply afford the necessities of life and keep a positive outlook while doing that. But we are beginning to see a small shaft of light at the end of this recession tunnel, and it's enabling us to fulfill a promise we made to our two oldest grandsons. One month from today, the four of us will be "on the road" to Florida and Walt Disney World for a much-awaited vacation!
Granted, we will not be living the perfect advertisement dream of staying on Disney property and enjoying all the extras that such a resort experience provides. We will be staying with an old - and generous - friend who is also helping us gain entrance to the theme parks for a lot less money. But none of us care. We are all simply giddy about the prospect of "getting away" and taking in the magic of a place we called home for many years.
I haven't written much about my Disney days on this blog, and I've had friends and acquaintances tell me I should write a book about those times, which I've declined. But my husband and I both spent way too many happy years (and some difficult ones too, I admit) in the Magic Kingdom, and all over the Disney property, that make us nostalgic to return.
The plus to this trip is that Alex and Christopher haven't been to Walt Disney World in ten years. They really don't have much memory of it because they were so young. And I think I'm more excited about sharing this trip with them, and creating memories for them that I know, from experience, will last a lifetime. That's the best kind of anticipation, and it's going to keep growing, I know, over the next thirty days.
It's taken several years, during which time we have struggled as so many others have, to simply afford the necessities of life and keep a positive outlook while doing that. But we are beginning to see a small shaft of light at the end of this recession tunnel, and it's enabling us to fulfill a promise we made to our two oldest grandsons. One month from today, the four of us will be "on the road" to Florida and Walt Disney World for a much-awaited vacation!
Granted, we will not be living the perfect advertisement dream of staying on Disney property and enjoying all the extras that such a resort experience provides. We will be staying with an old - and generous - friend who is also helping us gain entrance to the theme parks for a lot less money. But none of us care. We are all simply giddy about the prospect of "getting away" and taking in the magic of a place we called home for many years.
I haven't written much about my Disney days on this blog, and I've had friends and acquaintances tell me I should write a book about those times, which I've declined. But my husband and I both spent way too many happy years (and some difficult ones too, I admit) in the Magic Kingdom, and all over the Disney property, that make us nostalgic to return.
The plus to this trip is that Alex and Christopher haven't been to Walt Disney World in ten years. They really don't have much memory of it because they were so young. And I think I'm more excited about sharing this trip with them, and creating memories for them that I know, from experience, will last a lifetime. That's the best kind of anticipation, and it's going to keep growing, I know, over the next thirty days.
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
Age Should Be Ageless
The often quoted line, "Age is only important if you're a cheese" is one that has always applied to me. I have difficulty remembering my current age. When someone asks, I have to pause and subtract my birth year from the current one before answering.
I may have broached this subject in my blog before but, if so, it bears repeating. Too many mature people allow themselves to be defined by their birthdate. Their habits, what they wear, read, watch and talk about all combine to present a human picture lacking in life.
Life: that's the keyword here. I'm drinking my tea from a mug this morning that bears the saying, "Enjoy Life....this is not a dress rehearsal." And it's true. I try to face each day with the attitude of someone who will never stop pursuing new things, engaging new people and making sure I keep myself healthy and active to permit me to go after whatever I can dream about.
My friends help in that regard because they are of all ages and level of pursuits. Just a simple conversation with one of them can spur new ideas and adventures. And I never think about the difference in age between me and them, whether they are twenty-something or eighty-something. I just know I can learn, love and grow from all of them - and I do.
Admittedly, I don't have much patience with those of my own chronological time who refuse to engage in the current world and surround themselves with like-minded contemporaries. To my mind, they just "exist" - and I have to ask: why would you want to do that?
I plan to keep at this for quite a few more decades, and I'm working to be sure my body and brain are up to the challenges. And to anyone, of any age, I recommend you do the same. It's a great ride.
I may have broached this subject in my blog before but, if so, it bears repeating. Too many mature people allow themselves to be defined by their birthdate. Their habits, what they wear, read, watch and talk about all combine to present a human picture lacking in life.
Life: that's the keyword here. I'm drinking my tea from a mug this morning that bears the saying, "Enjoy Life....this is not a dress rehearsal." And it's true. I try to face each day with the attitude of someone who will never stop pursuing new things, engaging new people and making sure I keep myself healthy and active to permit me to go after whatever I can dream about.
My friends help in that regard because they are of all ages and level of pursuits. Just a simple conversation with one of them can spur new ideas and adventures. And I never think about the difference in age between me and them, whether they are twenty-something or eighty-something. I just know I can learn, love and grow from all of them - and I do.
Admittedly, I don't have much patience with those of my own chronological time who refuse to engage in the current world and surround themselves with like-minded contemporaries. To my mind, they just "exist" - and I have to ask: why would you want to do that?
I plan to keep at this for quite a few more decades, and I'm working to be sure my body and brain are up to the challenges. And to anyone, of any age, I recommend you do the same. It's a great ride.
Monday, May 21, 2012
Roses For Motivation
Roses. I love them. When we moved into this house last year, I inherited five mature rose bushes and have been delighted with their abundance. I can view red climber blooms just outside my study window. Yellow roses, my favorites, are in profusion just across the yard. I have one other climber that needs a bit of coaxing, a dark red near my front door that wants to be a climber but really isn't, and next to it, the palest of pink blossoms on my smallest plant.
I suffer thorn pricks, the hot sun, and never-ending battles with insects and disease to cultivate these gems of the garden. I fully understand why a lot of people don't grow roses because of the constant care they require, but I rationalize that the rewards are worth the work. Filling our home with vases of fragrant flowers makes every hour of gardening worth the time.
My mother taught me a lot about raising roses, and even as a small child, I remember helping my grandmother cut blooms for bouquets from her large rose garden. In every home I've owned, rose bushes have always graced my yard, and I have plans in the works to expand my current beds.
Besides the beauty, myriad of color and fragrance produced by it, the very essence of how a rose plant can prosper for years and years in spite of all that can threaten it inspires me somehow. And, when I'm pruning, feeding, harvesting and protecting all my bushes, that process inspires my writing discipline. Because whether I'm puzzling over why my one bush, in the same soil next to a prospering cousin, just grows leaves and not many blooms, or delighting in the best reward of my efforts as I walk room to room and view the many bouquets, I equate what focus is required to get to the worthwhile satisfaction.
It was wisely said that nothing worth doing is easy. Having those roses in constant sight, as I toil at my computer, never fails to prompt me to keep at it.
I suffer thorn pricks, the hot sun, and never-ending battles with insects and disease to cultivate these gems of the garden. I fully understand why a lot of people don't grow roses because of the constant care they require, but I rationalize that the rewards are worth the work. Filling our home with vases of fragrant flowers makes every hour of gardening worth the time.
My mother taught me a lot about raising roses, and even as a small child, I remember helping my grandmother cut blooms for bouquets from her large rose garden. In every home I've owned, rose bushes have always graced my yard, and I have plans in the works to expand my current beds.
Besides the beauty, myriad of color and fragrance produced by it, the very essence of how a rose plant can prosper for years and years in spite of all that can threaten it inspires me somehow. And, when I'm pruning, feeding, harvesting and protecting all my bushes, that process inspires my writing discipline. Because whether I'm puzzling over why my one bush, in the same soil next to a prospering cousin, just grows leaves and not many blooms, or delighting in the best reward of my efforts as I walk room to room and view the many bouquets, I equate what focus is required to get to the worthwhile satisfaction.
It was wisely said that nothing worth doing is easy. Having those roses in constant sight, as I toil at my computer, never fails to prompt me to keep at it.
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
Our Enchanted Cottage
Last night, my husband and I toasted the fact that one year ago, we moved into our Enchanted Cottage in the Chicago suburbs. We find it hard to believe it's been twelve months, but we agree that this has felt like home since our first day in residence.
In October of 2008, I wrote a post titled, "What Makes A House A Home?" At that time, we had just moved into what we hoped would be our final "home". I reread that post this morning and recalled how certain we were then that we would never move again. But, alas, three years later, we were searching for a new place to live because of circumstances beyond our control (the house needed major repairs which the landlords were not willing to do).
When we found our present domicile, we had been looking in vain for weeks, determined to not only find something that "worked" for us physically, but would have owners who understood we wanted to remain there long-term. "Enchanted Cottage" (which we named after one of our favorite classic movies from the forties - and it fit because the house is cottage sized) is just that perfect place.
Shortly after we moved in, both our children told us that they felt like this was our long-time home in Florida, where they had both grown up (talked about in that 2008 post). My husband and I agreed whole-heartedly. We are so comfortable here and feel blessed that we really do feel like owners, not renters.
Having a place to call your own, where your memories reside on shelves and in photo frames, where you can create new memories with family and friends, and, most importantly, where you are grounded and content, is a blessing we never take for granted.
I look forward to many years here in our just right cottage, discovering those avenues of new memories.
In October of 2008, I wrote a post titled, "What Makes A House A Home?" At that time, we had just moved into what we hoped would be our final "home". I reread that post this morning and recalled how certain we were then that we would never move again. But, alas, three years later, we were searching for a new place to live because of circumstances beyond our control (the house needed major repairs which the landlords were not willing to do).
When we found our present domicile, we had been looking in vain for weeks, determined to not only find something that "worked" for us physically, but would have owners who understood we wanted to remain there long-term. "Enchanted Cottage" (which we named after one of our favorite classic movies from the forties - and it fit because the house is cottage sized) is just that perfect place.
Shortly after we moved in, both our children told us that they felt like this was our long-time home in Florida, where they had both grown up (talked about in that 2008 post). My husband and I agreed whole-heartedly. We are so comfortable here and feel blessed that we really do feel like owners, not renters.
Having a place to call your own, where your memories reside on shelves and in photo frames, where you can create new memories with family and friends, and, most importantly, where you are grounded and content, is a blessing we never take for granted.
I look forward to many years here in our just right cottage, discovering those avenues of new memories.
Addendum to Letter Writing Post
Last week, I wrote about my commitment to writing more letters and encouraged you to do the same. I've just finished reading an article in "Good Housekeeping" magazine that I wanted to share regarding that subject.
It states that new research has found, in a study of soldiers recently returned from combat, that those who had received tangible letter from loving family members tended to have fewer symptoms of post traumatic stress disorder than those who had communicated by instant message and video chat. They also noted that letters can be reread, which helps a person feel connected when they need support or are lonely.
So, just another reason to "say it with ink" as the article is titled.
It states that new research has found, in a study of soldiers recently returned from combat, that those who had received tangible letter from loving family members tended to have fewer symptoms of post traumatic stress disorder than those who had communicated by instant message and video chat. They also noted that letters can be reread, which helps a person feel connected when they need support or are lonely.
So, just another reason to "say it with ink" as the article is titled.
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