Convocation

The new academic year is upon us. All across America parents are watching their children go off to preschool, and fourth grade, and high school, and college. Pictures are being taken on front sidewalks. Backpacks and vehicles are packed for trips across town and across the country. Reality quickly steps in to replace anticipation as homework starts to add up along with the cost of extra-curricular activities and textbooks.

I'm watching many of my friends experience "firsts" this year. First child in grade school. First child in college. First time with no kids in the house. I try to remind myself that it wasn't that long ago that I was in their shoes.

I remember the day my daughter started kindergarten like it was yesterday. I sat at the kitchen table for three hours, just waiting for her to be home. I didn't want to hear everything that happened. I wanted to hear her voice. I wanted to have her chattering and moving around the house. I knew that she had passed a milestone in her development and I couldn't move along that road with her. I wanted things to be like they were the day before...until they would change all over again the next day. Like I said, it seems like yesterday. It was only 24 years ago. I obviously couldn't stop time from turning.

When my son left for college, he packed his belongings in the back of his pickup and drove himself to school. He wanted it that way and I put on a brave face, respecting his wishes. I hugged him, kissed him, told him I loved him and watched him drive down the road. I walked into the house and into the laundry room and saw one lonely piece of his laundry on the floor, fell to my knees and cried for hours. It's what I needed to do at the time. I wasn't brave. I was distraught. Somehow I managed to stand and move on through my own time, even thriving. As did he.

So in honor of the new academic year, a list of things that have helped me. To you, from me:


The question not asked is the one that will drive me crazy. The question asked more than once is the one that will drive them crazy.

If your child expresses an interest in music, do what you can to put an instrument in his/her hand.

A part-time job is a wonderful thing. So are scholarships. So are used cars.

Just because we raised them doesn't mean we consider the same things to be important. (This applies to cleaning, pets, romantic interests, holidays, clothing, on to infinity.)

Once they turn 18 they really DO have the rights and responsibilities of an adult.

Asking your child for advice and letting him/her see you follow it instills a great sense of trust that runs both ways.

Turning my phone off to get some sleep results in a terrible night's sleep for me.

Watching "Jackass" with my kids and laughing at the vulgarity was a great investment.

I'll never know for sure, but I think that telling my kids they would have to deal with any arrests by spending the night in jail meant they didn't spend the night in jail.

Finally, remember. Remember how you felt to be stretching yourself and trying new things. Remember the fear and the excitement. Remember that you didn't want to tell your parents everything. Besides if we know it all now, what will be left to spill at holiday dinners in front of their kids?


©Michelle Scofield, Aug. 28, 2011 All Rights Reserved

My Sister Cried

I ignored my ringing phone and let the hot water run over me. Maybe an extra long shower would loosen the tightness that had crept into my back muscles when I allowed myself an extra two hours sleep this morning. It was Saturday, who would call at 9 a.m.? Turning the faucet off and reaching for my towel, I hoped it wouldn't be one of the kids with an emergency.

I looked at the caller ID and was a little irritated to see her name. She has a habit of calling me after church on Sunday and wanting to get together last minute. I sighed and for a minute considered not returning the call. I wasn't really in the mood to chat or have tea or rush out to meet someone. We haven't seen each other for a few months. My job. Her job. I think she has a new male friend who is keeping her busy - I'm very happy for her in that regard. Her kids are out of state, like mine. We're just so...busy.

But we're still friends. We have been since Katrina blew her into Texas and our relationship was formed one morning in the parking lot of an apartment complex. It (the relationship) grew from a chance meeting into a trusting, caring, rare thing that has to be tended to. That's what friendship is. I dialed her number, got voicemail, and let her know that I missed her. I do.

I wrapped my towel around me and took my phone into my bedroom. In less than 5 minutes she called me back. She was crying. She only needed to hear my voice for a few minutes to let me tell her that I love her. Her mother died.

I do love her and I would give anything to sit beside her right now and just be.

We'll have that cup of tea when she returns to Houston, whenever that is. Today I sit in gratitude that she thought to call me early on a Saturday morning, when her heart is broken once again. She has endured loss and tragedy like very few I've ever known. I've watched her rise from the bitter wrecks of Katrina, pulling herself up with such admirable strength and today I felt her sorrow pour through the miles and over my phone to me. My heart is so very heavy for her. I can't make it any better. I can only love her, my New Orleans sister.

Light Shines on the Steps

My week? Depends on how you look at it. I've been sailing along with an easy work schedule. I managed to dodge some bug. (Felt feverish and jumped right on it with lots of orange juice and a hearty bowl of Vietnamese chicken soup.) My social calendar has been just full enough to keep me busy without stressing me out. I've taken three yoga classes and I'm feeling pretty good about that.

Sounds great right?

Depends on how you look at it.

I've been listening as people I love have filled me in on the difficulties of their respective weeks. My heart has ached a little for each one because there isn't a whole lot I can do besides be present - several states away sometimes. All I can do is listen and offer up bits of advice if they're wanting that kind of help. I can't fix everything. Most likely I can't fix anything.

I'm walking those steps again this week. OK, I walk them every week but sometimes I'm even more aware of my journey down that path. This week I had many nudges that told me, "Just be there. That's all you can do."

On two separate occasions I witnessed women I don't know all that well, making themselves crazy attempting to control situations that are entirely out of their hands. They were micro-managing the macro. They were trying to tweeze tiny minutiae in haystacks while combines swept the fields around them. They were so wrapped up in their projects - the importance of their own agendas - that I wondered what they would see when they looked up and all was gone. My guess (my hunch) is that they would still be wrapped up in the details and mourning the loss of control, rather than the loss of the relationship. How do I make up stories in my head about people I don't know? Only because I led that life before. I only think/write/ponder about it occasionally to remind myself of where I don't want to be again.

So sometimes all I can do is listen.

If I haven't been stepping up enough, the ones I love do a pretty good job of saying, "Hey! I need help!" They know I've been working these steps to give up my controlling ways. It's been a lot of years.

Weeks like this, when it seems the world decides to put the smackdown on more than one of my loved ones at the same time, magnify stress. The steps seem a little steeper. I know I can manage, and so can all of those who make my life so very sweet.

Now we're back to that, "...depends on how you look at it." I have people in my life who are willing to talk to me about their problems and worries. What a sweet, loving, trusting gift that is.

My week was wonderful. I hope yours was too. If you need me, all you have to do is ask.

Saturday Night's Allright

I haven't had a Saturday with so many social choices in a very long time.

My friend, Todd, is playing at the Galleria Concert Pub. He's in a Tool tribute band called Spiral Out. They're very good and I'd also love to spend a little time with Todd's wife, Vali, who is probably the prettiest/funniest/sweetest/sexiest Southern Woman you'll ever lay eyes on in addition to being a close friend who always makes me feel as if I'm one of the most important people in the world when I walk into the room. You know the kind of person I'm talking about, right? There will be a big crowd of friends (we'll all get together real soon, I promise!) and it should be a lot of fun.

It's White Linen Night in the Heights. Traffic will be a nightmare but the art and food will certainly make up for any of that hassle. I received several invitations to parties ranging from parking lots to galleries. Aside from not owning a stitch of white linen, I just wasn't feeling up to mixing and mingling this year. Oh, and the fact that I blew my art budget yesterday framing one piece I bought a few weeks ago and four of my own photographs.

There IS the Prayapalooza being held at Reliant Stadium today. Rick (Strong Hair) Perry booked the 70,000+ seat arena and so far there are about 7,000 RSVPs. I hope the hors d'oeuvres hold up in the heat. I just hate it when I overestimate and overprepare for the crowd that actually shows for one of my parties. (I guess I get a little giddy. It's the party girl in me.) I never really planned to attend, so I didn't respond to any invitation for Governor Perry's soiree myself. I did, however, send him a little note via e-mail kindly asking him not to use state funds for his meetup.

Speaking of funds, here's what I've settled on for my Saturday entertainment. I won...wait for it...2 FREE tickets to the Houston Astros game tonight. Yes, I'm going to a baseball game. Now don't scoff. I'm fully aware that the home team is struggling. Some would say they're wheezing, gasping. I see it another way. They're past all that. The pressure is off. Now they can just go out and play ball. And I can spend Saturday evening watching a game I enjoy with a guy I'm enjoying spending time with.

Happy Weekend! Hope you enjoy yours.




©Michelle Scofield, Aug. 6, 2011 All Rights Reserved

Writers and Friends

I took my time reading Say Her Name by Francisco Goldman. I heard a review on National Public Radio and thought it might be a book worth spending time with but I recently went through a difficult grief journey of my own and it made me cautious about diving into Mr. Goldman's story. I bought the book and read the first few pages then set it aside for a couple months. Once I picked it up again, I didn't push through to the end like I often do with novels. I read five or six pages at a time. It was a heavy, dark, and very sad book.

It's been eighteen months since my dad died and I'm finally beginning to feel more like my old self. As I closed in on the final pages of "Say Her Name", I found one paragraph that felt particularly familiar to me. The author talks about falling on some stairs and his absolute need to stand and recover from that fall without assistance from those who witnessed the fall.

"One of the most common tropes and complaints in the grief books I've read is about the loneliness of the griever, because people and society seem unable, for the various reasons always listed in those books, to accommodate such pain. But what could anybody possibly do or say to help?...You have to, can only, live this on your own."

Goldman bared his emotions: the guilt, the sorrow, the misgivings, the anger. Mostly the guilt. He also did it while telling a beautiful love story and he managed to pay tribute to his wife who was also coming into her own as a writer at the time of her death.

It's a well-written book and I was only minimally surprised when I clicked on the author's Facebook page and saw on his list of friends, Junot Diaz - one of my favorites. Diaz wrote The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, a first novel which happened to win the Pulitzer Prize for fiction. Loved it!

I have plenty of wonderful authors on my Facebook Friends list. Today I received a package in the mail. War Remains is by my friend, Jeffrey Miller. I'm anxious to get started on it. Review will be here. Soon. Promise.

Drought

We watch summer sky
to see if splish will be splash.
Dark clouds hold our breath.






©Michelle Scofield, July 29, 2011 All Rights Reserved

A Different Path

Right. It's hot. No run at 7:30 this morning. I decided to take a walk with my camera. It was time to explore my new surroundings. I headed in some direction, either north, south, east or the other one. I have no inner compass and only know that if I go one way and turn around 180 degrees, I'll end up back where I started. That was my plan. I didn't take my cell phone, no Run-Keeper application for me this morning. I had my watch and a general idea of how long I wanted to be out in the steaminess.

It wasn't bad. I stuck mostly to the shade and there wasn't a lot of traffic except on Highway 6 where I'd decided to cross over and check out the other side. Like that chicken who didn't know where she was going. Oh, I forgot to tell you. It's about the birds today. Kind of.

The first street took me to a dead end. No signs indicating so, of course. That was okay. I didn't have a plan or a destination in mind. I knew there was a lake somewhere in the area but didn't know how to get to it. I didn't expect to see this family walking down the sidewalk next to me. I kept my distance. The mom and dad seemed to have their hands (feet? wings?) full just keeping track of so many of them.


They were the picture of nurture. Which brings me to:



I call it, "Nature vs Nurture". Beautiful Spanish Moss growing on the trees next to the road and my least favorite (migraine-inducing) restaurant in the world. It's where the road ended and I turned around and made my way back to the highway to continue my walk. May I never see the Sugar Land ChuckECheese again. I felt a cold chill being near it. I'm sure my kids enjoyed it when they were young. It's one of those parental things we do (giant rodent pizza parlors), but I loved taking them to the museums and parks so much more. Sorry kids, I have a feeling I gritted my teeth more than I should have in those days and you no doubt saw it. I wasn't always a good mama duck.

I found a small man-made lake on the next street and spent a few minutes trying to take a picture of a clever little duck who paddled one way and the other, back and forth past tree branches. I knelt in one spot and waited. He was quick and seemed to smile each time I missed him. It was such a pretty scene and he wasn't having any part of it. Silly duck.



I sighed and stood up, listening to my bones creak, wondering if the duck was laughing at that, too. That's when I saw what had been in front of me the entire time - this.



Fungus. It's one of those, "Oh. My. God." shots. So glad I had my camera. I have about 25 shots to work with - all different angles. Ups, downs, waters, woods, grasses. It's beautiful, just growing all by itself there on that tree.

On the way home I saw this bird sitting high above the mall parking lot. I told myself that he'd been flying around all morning and wanted to hang out and look around but was so smart he found the one bulb that was burned out and thought, "Yeah, it's still hot, but this perch is just a little cooler than the rest. It's really beautiful up here. I'm just going to hang out and look around for awhile." Or maybe he was just a bird that landed on a tall place.



©Michelle Scofield, July 23, 2011 All Rights Reserved