company of strangers

I attended two very different events tonight.

The first event was planned and was based on an interview read yesterday. "The Luck of the Draw and Other Tales of Unnatural Selection" starred 7-fingered Liz Gibson. She is a very inspirational young woman, making lemonade from her birth to two drug-addicted parents. As a direct result of their addictions, she was born with only a thumb and single finger on her right hand. Now, she has a master's degree and four characters to help others learn how to appreciate "defects" through her deformance art.
For the deformance this evening at the small gallery, she had chosen her teenaged persona, Ben Wa Betty, to catch and hold our attention. And that she did, from the green-fur-covered chair with its red "flowers" before her appearance to the very last words of her song encouraging us to "pick the full-petaled flowers". Although the focus was on her current actions to inform and educate the world, I don't believe she is truly aware of what a difference she has already made simply by existing out in the open. She was educated in public schools, so every child and every adult that ever was in her presence was affected in some way.
Hopefully, those people touched by her existence are more open to acceptance of others' physical differences. Maybe, just maybe, they are also more accepting of the less-obvious, internal differences which all people have.
She told four stories, from her own life, of the trials of teenaged girls with physical defects. There was the olderly asian woman who wanted to touch her malformed hand "for good luck". There was the football hero who asked her out, then was appalled on the date when he saw her hand (which had been in her jacket pocket) and couldn't wait for the date to end. There was the man who wanted to date her simply because she had a deformity. There was the bank teller, with her own malformed hand, who was so relieved to meet another pretty girl who had grown up with a defect.
Except for the nature of the defect, her stories could have been those of any teenager. In those sensitive years, any difference from others is perceived to be an insurmountable hurdle. Wrong color of eyes or hair or skin, wrong religion, wrong economic level, wrong grades...with wrong being defined as "different than desired".
Like I said, I did enjoy the talk very much and was glad I was there and not sitting at home in front of a one-eyed monster. (Admittedly, though, without this modern Cyclops I could not post this.)
With that salley forth successful, I decided to go see a movie. So, just a little later, I was off to see "Baggage Claim" at the Spotlight, courtesy of Groupon. At first, I noticed some folks at the back of the cinema and was concerned that they might chatter throughout the movie. No worries! When they heard me laughing, they moved up closer and turned out to be two friendly ladies glad to see someone openly enjoying the story. Enjoy it I did, too. It was a very fun movie, eliciting lots of much-needed laughter, and it was nice to have the companionship of strangers.
Odd, but sometimes I need that.
These past three months have taken a toll on my mirth level.
Strangers allow me a respite from hard times.

someone's father, someone's son

My outlaw Bunny's mom sent this to me. It isn't the first time, probably won't be the last, either. I'm sharing it here, partly so I'll be able to find it anytime I want it.
I like the piece because it is a prime example of someone in the right place at the right time, even though they didn't realize it at the time.
There are no coincidences.

****************
A nurse took the tired, anxious serviceman to the bedside.

"Your son is here," she said to the old man. She had to repeat the words several times before the patient's eyes opened.

Heavily sedated because of the pain of his heart attack, he dimly saw the young uniformed Marine standing outside the oxygen tent. He reached out his hand. The Marine wrapped his toughened fingers around the old man's limp ones, squeezing a message of love and encouragement.

The nurse brought a chair so that the Marine could sit beside the bed. All through the night the young Marine sat there in the poorly lit ward, holding the old man's hand and offering him words of love and strength.

Occasionally, the nurse suggested that the Marine move away and rest awhile. He refused. Whenever the nurse came into the ward, the Marine was oblivious of her and of the night noises of the hospital - the clanking of the oxygen tank, the laughter of the night staff members exchanging greetings, the cries and moans of the other patients.

Now and then she heard him say a few gentle words. The dying man said nothing, only held tightly to his son's hand all through the night.

Along towards dawn, the old man died. The Marine released the now lifeless hand he had been holding and went to tell the nurse. While she did what she had to do, he waited.

Finally, she returned. She started to offer words of sympathy, but the Marine interrupted her.

"Who was that man?" he asked.

The nurse was startled, "He was your father," she answered.

"No, he wasn't," the Marine replied. "I never saw him before in my life."

"Then why didn't you say something when I took you to him?"

"I knew right away there had been a mistake, but I also knew he needed his son, and his son just wasn't here. When I realized that he was too sick to tell whether or not I was his son, knowing how much he needed me, I stayed."
"I came here tonight to find a Mr. William Grey. His son was killed in Iraq today and I was sent to inform him. What was this gentleman's name?"

The nurse, with tears in her eyes answered,
"Mr. William Grey..."
**************

The next time someone needs you ... just be there. Stay.
Today, I attended the funeral of the younger sister of my friend Boo. The sister was only 58 years old and had been on the road to recovery from cancer. Instead, her body took a southward turn and ran right off a cliff. Such a shock to everyone.
My friend is a lot like me. We're both in No Kidding!, we're both teachers, we both attend many of the same films and plays and musical events, though not necessarily together. She's a strong woman, generally keeping to her own company, but with some very close friends.
She and her sister had a good relationship, but they were certainly not each other's best friends. The biggest hurdle between them was a difference in religious beliefs, with one being far more evangelical than the other.
The religious hurdle was not limited to Boo and her sister. No, it extended to her sister's family, too, and all of her sister's friends and her sister's church family. Boo was concerned that she would be an outcast at the visitation and at the funeral.
I was there for her.
I met her sister's husband and her son and her daughter.
I met three cousins who had traveled from Florida and North Carolina to give love and comfort to Boo and to her sister's family.
I'm glad I was there.
I'm sorry I never had the opportunity to meet Margie.
But, mostly, I'm glad I had the opportunity to have Boo's back.

loss adjustment... say what?

Hard to believe, I know, but I have been barely coping since my return. I guess I need to make sure I have someone to come home TO the next time I take off with a crowd, even a crowd I don't know. I was absolutely not prepared to feel this disconnected.
True, when immersed in a different culture for a while, there is a period of adjustment to be expected afterward. I remember when my hugging buddy returned from a Study Abroad trip to the Czech republic - last year? year before? - he went through a period of ... well, mourning is the only word that comes to mind. I don't know if he has roommates, or if he returned to an empty home, as I did, but he went through a fairly rough patch for a week or so, adjusting back into the rhythm of his life here in the States.
I know what my loss is. While on the European continent, I had at least 3 or 4 or more folks around me all the time. I mean, truly, ALL the time. Well, not when I went to bed, as I had paid to have a solo berth. I'm glad I did, or I might have an even rougher go of it right now.
I miss my travelmates. I miss hearing "Faustina, do you want to go..." and "Faustina, come with us to..." and "Faustina, let's go...". I miss their laughter and their conversation and their energy. I miss the pure pleasure of their company.
And I didn't even know anything about them before this trip.
The whole experience reminded me of my years in the Navy. You made friends quickly, so you would have time to get to know each other before one or the other of you pcs'ed to a new locale. That was simply the way it worked, especially if you were single. The married folks had it easier, as they always traveled with someone they knew, i.e., their spouse and kids, so there was less urgency to form a support network. Not that we thought of it in those terms, of course; we were making friends, not some psychological entity.
I think most of the students on this trip knew each other, at least from a classroom setting, if naught else. Some knew each other longer and better than that, but not all, as they were at different stages of the nursing program. Oddly, none had been former students of mine, as they were mostly transfer students, having completed part of their core requirements elsewhere.
I had wondered if I might have taught any, but I had not. That made it quite easy for me to become friends with them, as I was not THEIR teacher, either past, present, or future. For the first day or so, most of the students didn't know how to regard me, but after a while I became just another one of the "girls" and that was wonderful! The older students, those who had already been married and had children, were the first to accept me into the group, then the others did, in Siena, the second city in which we stayed.
Our first night there, our well-traveled leader had shown us the lay of the town, ending up at a ristorante he highly recommended. He then took off with a couple of his friends who, like me, were simply tag-alongs on this trip; the other two teachers and their roommates followed suit. That left me to dine with all the others - and that was a turning point. We were wined and dined by an utterly charming pair of young men (Mario, a soccer player retired from the game at age 20, and Eddie, a future dental hygienist) at Papei Trattorio, in a private room, allowing us to be as boisterous as we wanted. By the end of the second course, we were all snapping pictures and cracking wise and, when someone asked if we knew everyone, we each stood and let our names ring out! What a grand time!
And so began eight days of traveling TOGETHER. "And we're walking!" became our anthem, as walking everywhere, up and down hills, up and down stairs, up and down Italy, is what we did. Together. Going to lectures on nutrition and the medical system, going to the sights in town, going to meals - together. Handling the dough to make focaccia and pici and ravioli, learning the finer points of tiramisu and pannecotta, cooking sauces and roasting zucchini and creating orange caramel - together.
And now I'm home again, where everyone has their own busy lives, continuing on while mine went on holiday. Work schedules still had to be maintained, home life still had to be maintained. I have no work schedule and I live alone. Whatever schedule I have, I must create for myself.
Fortunately, my ex happened to be in town for his daughter's high school graduation. He picked me up on Wednesday when the bus returned us to town from the Atlanta airport. We went out for cheeseburgers - which I don't usually eat - and talked mostly of Rome, where we had journeyed together ten years ago. I was amazed, as always, at the details he was able to recall, and thankful that I had someone to talk to who KNEW what I was talking about. The experience allowed me to be debriefed, to start putting my recollections in context.
Fortunately, my first niece and her dear husband wanted to hear about my trip and we met for dinner the next night. I chose Hibachi Grill, wanting lots of veggies, of which I had surprisingly few on the trip. We had good company and good food, but I didn't get to talk much about Italy and my adventures there. They are expecting a baby and that was THE big news.
Fortunately, my dear copper friend was excited to hear that I was back and wanted to hear DETAILS!!! So she and I went for Mexican and I delighted her with stories mostly of Positano and Salerno and Pompeii, but also some of my doings in Siena. We had much laughter and good food and wonderful conversation, as we always do.
Fortunately, the vampire called the next day to invite me to hear others breathe and sing and spit fire, and, as he did so, he said he wanted "to hear about Italy but we would save that for another time." Okay, time to start stepping back into my usual life, then, a break from the excitement. I chose to wear one of my new shirts, a lovely blue patterned number, and that may have been too soon to show. I was trying to merge my adventure with my usual life... maybe too soon.
Yesterday, I went to the birthday party for one of my great-nieces. I got lost going there and a speeding ticket on the way home. In between, the party was fun: we opened presents (she loved the red bracelet and blue bracelet from Italy), we ate cake, and we talked about the kids. Later, I went to "RENT" and was SO glad to have been there! So uplifting and emotional and life-affirming! And it was a musical, which I love. With songs I glancingly knew. And I was in the company of the vampire and the movie/music guy and my copper friend and others I know and love.

company!

My house is full of people! FULL OF PEOPLE!!! It's so nice... it really is. My BFF's kids stayed here last night, as did my bird from Charleston, and we all watched one of my favorite movies last night. The girl had never seen it and I wanted them to all see Paul Reubens' hammy death number, so we watched "Buffy The Vampire Slayer" on my tiny tv... and really enjoyed it, and each other's company. Yes, indeed, life is GOOD.
Last night, while my BFF and her husband had some snuggling time sans progeny, said progeny were with me at "12 Angry Men", presented at Indigo Arts Center. Great show about justice and bias and rational thought. The neatest part for me? Noticing how well the three teens were following the unfolding logic. I had been concerned that the show might be a little too dry for them, but I also knew several of the actors and believed in their ability to make the story fresh, even though the action took place in one small room in the 1950's. And keep it fresh they did! We even had some discussion about the play as we were driving home.
Today, we all went to wash laundry at my favorite laundrette. The kids had spent the week on the road and wanted to all have some clean things to wear. Off we went after breakfast, walking over to the variety store during the wash cycle. My bird stayed at home, in case the parents of my charges should happen to arrive before our return... at least, that was his story! Actually, I think he just wanted a little quiet time!
We've been to the beach for the Tybee Seafood Festival, where we had some food, walked on the pier, and decided the breeze was just a bit too brisk! Plus, the food had just whet our appetites, so we headed back toward Savannah, stopping to lunch on the veranda at Flying Fish Bar & Grill. Soon we'll go to the Lucas Theatre to see "The Godfather" on the big screen. It's one of the offerings of the SCAD Cinema Circle of films. Fun!