Getting Goosed

My dad could always make me laugh. No matter when, no matter where, he always had the ability to turn my frown upside down. Corny, but that is how it was. My pop is so amazing that he has the ability to shake me out of myself from the other side……..  

It's been tough going emotionally, kids growing up, relationships changing, dealing with an ever expanding file of bills, obligations and debts. One particular Sunday, the aforementioned emotions became all consuming and almost unbearable.  

Before I go any further, there is something I need to convey…..Anyone who knows me even slightly understands that my appearance is not always of big concern to me. I often get distracted and wander out of the house in clothes that don’t quite match. Often I am in an ensemble that looks like I’m making a statement for the LGBTQ+ community by wearing a rainbow flag. And hair and makeup, on a weekend???

This particular Sunday, I was expecting warm weather (due to having read it was supposed to be in the 70s) but not expecting the funk and black mood. I felt as if the weight of the world was on my shoulders and I no longer had my buddy, my pal, my entertainer to take me out of myself.  I drank some coffee, made breakfast and started to do some chores in the hopes of an attitude readjustment. My attempts were futile - no matter what I did I couldn’t refocus or stop myself from feeling pitiful. It was time to take dramatic action.  I’d not yet seen my dad’s grave and have been putting it off.  I’ve dreaded seeing his name on a cold stone in the ground as that might drive home the point too sharply that he is gone. On this day though I decided to bite the bullet and drive to the cemetery. In usual Joyann Boggio fashion, I put on a pair of very light cotton beach pants, a thin t-shirt without a bra and a pair of flip flops. It looked a bit dreary outside, so as I grabbed my keys I threw on my bright yellow rain slicker, suffering from age and overuse.  I hopped in the car and in my distracted state of being, did not notice that the weather report was far from accurate. If I did notice a chill in the back of my head I attributed this to my mood and the sun being behind a cloud. My mind was more on my problems and the loss of my father. 

I pulled into the cemetery parking lot with tears running down my face. It was at this point I realized I didn’t know exactly where my dad was buried. Just a general idea.  My mom said  “He is buried by a tree”…hmmmm…….a tree in a cemetary…how novel….. As I parked the car in the area that I assumed my dad was buried, it began to rain.  Nonetheless I persisted. I got out of the car (noting for the first time that the chill was a little more pronounced than I anticipated) , opened up the trunk and found, amazingly, an umbrella. This was a good sign. I opened up the umbrella to discover that while, yes, it was an umbrella, it was also a broken umbrella. It did not catch, so it did not stay open.  The rain was now pelting down (this should have been a sign to give it up and try another day, but nooooo) I decided to let the umbrella hug my head as I thought I could look at the ground as that is where graves generally are - no need to look straight ahead. I continued forth in the general direction of where I thought pops was buried, vision obscured with the exception of from my knees down. 

So picture this…rainbow flag outfit, flip flops, tears streaming down my face, umbrella collapsed upon my head, muttering between lines of gravestones (where is my dad, I can’t find my daddy, where in the hell are you dad (probably not there!)).  I bumped into a person who politely asked if I was okay (what a brave stranger you were, you should have ran screaming away!).  I just muttered “I can’t find my dad!!!” and continued on……

Now, in the springtime a funny thing happens with geese. They become horned up and mate.  And because of this they lay eggs. They are mean and spiteful beasties - especially when protecting their young. What I did not see and totally failed to notice, probably due to the umbrella collapsed upon my head was that there was a goose sitting atop some eggs in a nest that was right in front of a headstone. Unfortunately, the goose DID notice me. So I’m walking, crying, snot running down my face, looking pathetic when something charges at me out of seemingly nowhere honking“mwaack! mwacck! mwacck!” chasing me from the graveyard back to my car, wings flapping, and pecking at  my flip flopped feet. I ran like a bat out of hell, dodging tombstones, jumping over grave markers, screaming like a little school girl with the umbrella still about my head. The rain is still pouring down, the other grievers are stifling a laugh but some do have the kindness to look a bit horrified, but I make it to the car. Soaking wet, pecked, but laughing.

As I drove away this all made so much sense to me. I had a thought of my dear dad, sitting up in heaven and my brother sitting next to him. They are on a couch and my dad sees me in this funk pulling into the cemetery. He probably leaned over to Glenn and said “Hey, watch what I’m going to do to Joyann”. Very funny dad, very funny……

Follow your Joy

I've been seeing a consistent sentiment in a number of places lately. All takes on "follow your Joy". It always makes me laugh, as, truth be told my real name is Joy. It has come in handy for many a witty retort - "Its a JOY to meet you" and also a few salacious moments (Here's looking at you high school boys who wore "spread the joy" christmas buttons).  

I got to thinking though... what does "follow your joy" really mean.  It's a bit creepy thinking people are going to literally stalk me, but let's look at it the more wholesome way. If you truly want to follow your joy, why don't you try following my best self?  Here are some tips:

1. Stop thinking everything is a conspiracy against you. Most things just are. Embrace Occam's razor - the simplest explanation is usually the best one. 

2. Hone your critical thinking skills. Hopefully you wouldn't eat a pile of shit if a celebrity or influencer told you it was good for you, why would you listen to them when it comes to your health, your wealth and your views?

3.  Stop assigning traits and values to other people, especially through social media.  How about you have conversations with people and really listen.  I know it's hard, especially with someone you believe is ill-informed, or has a radical, very negative view. But go with me on this one, sometimes by not trying to prove your point, you can find some common ground, or at the very least be a reminder of what resonableness looks like. Remember Proverbs 26:4 (Yea I had to look it up too) "Do not answer a fool according to his folly or you yourself will be just like him"

4. Before you attack someone getting something you won't or someone who doesn't look like you wanting to be embraced by society, ask yourself this question. "WHAT IN THE HELL DOES IT HAVE TO DO WITH ME?"  Usually nothing.  Trust me, you'll be fine.

5. Love.  Thats it, just love people. Extend love to everyone everywhere.

6. Gratitude. Be thankful. Most of you who will read this have warm beds, fully tummys and people who love you.  That makes you richer than many.

There is more, but I don't expect follow your joy means eat meals of 1 salami, 2 olives and a pickle or care not for fashion.  Maybe all of this can come down to one basic rule... Just don't be a dick.

Thank you and good day to you!

Absence apparently does make the heart grow fonder or How I remembered that I actually had a blog....

It has been a few years, okay 6, since I've put keyboard to paper.  My partner in rhymes is doing some big things with his writing but I'm sure some day he'll find his way back. 

I'm called today not for a catchup, or to share a point of view, but more of necessity.  It helps, when you don't know who to go to, and you don't really want the kindness of strangers, to share in a fairly anonymous and off the beaten path way.  So I've gathered you all - me, myself and I - to talk about grief.

What a piece of crap thing that is? Amirite? You loose someone dear, you have the rememberances, you celebrate all the firsts, first bday without them, first holiday and so on.  You get to the 2 year mark and you somehow move on with life.  You go 3 years, and while you miss someone so much, you still live your life and revel happily in all the stories that they've left you with.I have a theory that the hole or space that they leave behind is filled with memories, the love they had for you, and a constant filling of "wish they were here" and "they would have loved this".  

So, or Sos as my remaining sibling would say, you move on, you grow, you sometimes remember to cherish where you are, and how you got there.  Moving along just fine...until one day, one week, you are brought to your knees with a heart ache so deep and painful that it makes you feel as if you cannot cope and maybe even cannot breath.  The tears come, the rage, the hopelessness, the utter and debilitating sadness.  Closing your eyes, wishing it all to be a horrible nightmare, and not wanting to open them again because you know, it is real.  

It takes time to shift it, tell yourself this means you were well loved and loved well.  Hearing the voice of your loved one, most likely telling you to get over yourself and get back to life.

I so desparately want to reach out to someone who would understand, who would listen, but who also would only let me lay in my shit for so long before they told me to "knock it off".  The hardest part is the one who would do that....is the one I am grieving for.

So thank you little blog - reading through you today brought back so many good memories, and reminded me of the wonderful friend I have that wrote this with me, and gave me the opportunity to focus my grief and help me, at least in some small part, make it less painful.

Oh and most of the people I know also thank you - they won't have to do deal with this!

The miracle of human contact

It has been several months since the last blog post and in that time there has been a big change for yours truly.  I have switched jobs.  The new opportunity is a terrific one with unbelievable growth potential.  This new path finds me in a different city, with a completely different mode of  transportation, by car.  This greatly cuts down the people I encounter in my commute. 

In my former job I took the train, walked into the city and had many opportunities for social interaction before I even got to my desk.  The train buddies, the homeless people, my walking buddy, the clerks at the store and the building guards all served to give me a little human contact to make the day a bit brighter. 

I knew when I switched jobs that I'd miss all the friendships and contacts I've developed over the years but was fully sure that I would keep in contact with those who became "real" friendships.  While this is certainly true,I had not realized how much I would miss the inconsequential touch points I had through my day.  The engineer that I walked past each morning and shared a wave and a good morning, the train guys who I had 2 minutes of friendly conversation and then we all retreated to our own books, newspapers and videos, the homeless man on the bridge with the toothless grin full of optimism, the homeless guy yelling out "have a blessed day".  All of these people I interacted with, many without even knowing their names, but all giving me a little piece of happiness to get me through the day and be in awe of how great life is.

I've found that I've been a little depressed over the past weeks, a lot of that is due to a severe cold I'm fighting along with my psyche not liking change.  I cannot discount the fact that the lack of social pleasantries, with almost certain strangers, has also played a big part.  I only have one solution for this.  I must walk my new work neighborhood, start to lay down some patterns and habits and come to know the people.  I'm going to start every Wednesday by going to the same coffee shop....then I'll go once a week to the local store and chat people up there, hopefully if I take a walk around lunchtime most days I'll see people that are in the neighborhood.  It's going to be a process but I have found I am one who needs those small social relationships even if others aren't aware we are in them together!

Booooo!

I am most fortunate to live in a neighborhood with large trees (even after the ash borer has done his damage) mature bushes and well maintained yards.  A neighborhood that sees some houses fully decorate for Halloween. How wonderful to take in the sights and enjoy the effort that my neighbors have put into creating a wonderland, some scary some tame, for all to see.  My yard is a muted celebration of Halloween, more Sesame Street than Michael Myers, more Barney than Freddy Krueger.

Most of my neighbors have the same displays every year.  Some build upon it to create fantastic light shows and creepy soundtracks.  There are some neighbors who express their displeasure in some of the displays be it for religious reasons or perhaps crabappleness - yes this is a word look it up (on second thought, unless you have a Zep Dictionary you may not find it). I respect all views but also respect the idea of creating something fun and playful.  My evening walk is made more enjoyable when I walk past my closest neighbor to find the lights jump on, a groan come out of the bushes and a witch fly through the air cackling.  The first time I walked by I almost burst an aorta, but now I am amused and gladdened that someone has taken the time and energy to entertain.  My neighbor a few doors down is a typical curmudgeon crabapple.  He is distraught every time a young child uses his driveway to turn around on their bike, never answers the door when a child comes to sell cookies (or popcorn, or wreaths, or you name it), throws a hissy if you step on his lawn and never responds to a hello, a how you doing, or even a how about them bears.  Imagine my surprise when in one of my walks he approached me and started a conversation about my direct neighbor.  "How can you stand living next to that guy? The lights go off at all time of day and night, that soundtrack of the groaning and the cackling, the people driving by in their cars and stopping! What an insane use of ones yard!" I replied "Yes! I know! Isn't it fantastic????".  "FANTASTIC! We have kids from all over riding their bikes to see it" "YES! I know!! Wonderful!!!". He looked at me, shook his head, turned on his heels and started to walk away. I yelled to him "Happy Halloween season!".  He looked back, sneered and said "stay off of my lawn!".  Sigh. I can't wait to see what happens at Christmas!

Holding myself accountable

Yesterday I was asking a colleague if they were going to add new blogs to their company's website...which got me thinking....when was the last time the Whine Press had new content?  It's time for the Dr (in a time lordy sense) to take her own advice and put pen to paper, or at least type to screen.

So here we go.  My skills are a year rusty but hopefully still entertaining (at least to Jim my partner in blog).  

This is the burning question of my day.  When did pumpkin become a thing? I know that pumpkins have been in our sights since 1584 but when did they become a thing?  For at least the first 400 years most of us looked to them for pies, cakes and breads with only your "Gourmet" readers incorporating it as a savory ingredient in entrees.  So wha' happen?  How did this gourd become a rockstar in the latte world? Insinuated itself into cheesecake, ice cream and both? (I'm looking at you Ben & Jerry's Smashing Pumpkins Cheesecake Ice cream) Been a Pop Tart? Been an M&M? So many categories that the humble pumpkin has infiltrated.  Who knew that all these years the pumpkin was sitting in its patch stealthily waiting for the right time to strike.  A time when vanilla, citrus, fruit flavors and chocolate are not enough variety! A time when people will spend over $5 for a cup of coffee with milk in it! A time when mothers scream 'MORE FLAVORS OF POP TARTS! MY CHILDREN NEED MORE FLAVORS!".  Pumpkin THIS IS YOUR TIME!!

I am however, drawing a line at this......

 

Send me a card!

This weekend I was going through cards to find one for my daughter to give to a friend.  I sorted through cards not yet sent, pretty stationary, witty stationary, postcards with clever sayings on front, all waiting to be penned with thoughts and comments.  Sadly I rarely send cards just for the heck of it anymore.

Getting letters used to be quite common 20 years ago.  With the advent of email/social media this has become a thing of the past.  I do enjoy that we can now instantly send a message near and far to update our family and friends. It is wonderful to watch my niece's and nephew's children grow up before my eyes, coordinate schedules easier and quicker, and give cheer and boosts for the day in the blink of any eye. However, there is something a bit missing from this form of communication.

In the pile of blank cards and stationary are some I've kept that were sent to my family. I found the cherished letters from my late mother-in-law to my daughter.  The love and affection leaps off the pages and makes my smile bigger than the media storage capacity on my iphone.  The cards from my parents for various occasions, signed with my mother's perfect Palmer Method handwriting and always including the word "lovingly".  Then there are the postcards my husband sent me when he was away for training in New York. We were a fairly new relationship and I came to adore the pictures of  his hotel on Central park with the "you can smell the horse sh*t from my room" scrawled in his almost illegible handwriting on the back.

While I keep many emails and can scroll through social media to re-read conversations and messages, there is something about sitting on my bed, a lazy Saturday afternoon, cup of tea at my side, looking at the glorious cards and letters.  It feels more intimate, more personal.  To know someone took the time to pick out a card or stationary, put pen to paper, post it through the mail....it makes one feel a bit special, a bit loved.  These tangible items bring a feeling of connection...I know the sender physically touched these things. They were only thinking of me when they wrote these messages and not multi-tasking, not checking off a task on a to do list.

I think I'll find some pretty stationary and cards.  I'll begin sending out letters to my friends and relatives.  Hopefully they'll open the envelope and my love and affection will pour out like a mountain stream after a spring thaw.