Moving On

Had lunch with a great friend today.  If she reads this, she'll think (and she'd be right!) I'm putting this on my blog site because she told me today that she has read some of my blogs.  Today was a poignant lunch, our last lunch together as fellow Washingtonians.  She and her husband are moving to the East Coast.  I am so happy for them as I think about this new adventure.  Moving just down the street from her best friend, she surprised me with remarks about a bit of a tug to the Northwest and her lovely home with a view of our beautiful Puget Sound.  She has an open, adventurous heart and will, I predict, settle in quickly to her new surroundings, home and community.  They will return every now and then to see old friends and enjoy our breathtaking, but unpredictable, summer weather.  As I prepare to say Bon Voyage, I know I will miss knowing she's just "up the road a piece", but look forward with great anticipation to her newsy emails, especially pictures of her new granddaughter.
Thanks for the memories, dear friend.  I wish you the best always. 

Missing Man

We were to gather at a Nijenrodean brother's home for dinner in a week. . .but the call came that our dear Jack was in the hospital in California with breathing trouble.  We logged onto Caring Bridge and watched Myra's beautiful, but angst ridden updates.  When the unthinkable happened, it was hard to take in.  How could this be?  He was bigger than life.  But a date was set for a Celebration of Life in Santa Barbara where part of his family resides.  So the three Nijenrode brothers and their wives boarded a plane with heavy hearts and checked into the Villa Rosa hotel.  We met family and friends at a barbeque Friday night at brother David's lovely home.  The next evening we met on the beach to the music of a steel drum, dressed in Hawaiian shirts and our heads and hearts full of memories of our time spent with a great guy.    

He would have been so pleased with the laughter and emotion from everyone in attendance on the beach that night of the full moon. . .but he would have been most pleased and proud watching his lovely wife taking care of business, watching over the day to make sure it went well and in the quiet moments, the video moments, the paddle out to scatter his ashes and the flight overhead, her eyes and her heart filled with the painful loss and she sweetly saluted to the sky.  We have no doubt she will carry her Prince with her throughout the rest of her life. 

And so we will meet in August, 2013 for a Nijenrode reunion. . .but for the first time it will feel a bit "off". . .until we close our eyes and remember the spirit of the missing man. . .and we will smile. . .because he is, in spirit, right there with us.

Father's Day 2013

When I was a teenager I watched a tv western with gentle giant Clint Walker as Cheyenne Brodie.  I used to pretend he was my brother and would protect me in teenaged fantasies that found me in danger of one kind or another.  Clint Walker was a sequoia tall man with beautiful eyes and a gentle, respectful voice.  A week ago I noticed an old western movie, Fort Dobbs, on the telly and watched it.  I was immediately pulled in yet again to the character's appeal - he tried to avoid a fight but would protect the weak amongst us, he called women "maam" and avoided potentially intimate situations, and something I hadn't noticed before, he rode a horse full out in stunning style over land that had to have prairie dog holes scattered through it.  I could easily see why I was drawn to him as a young-un.  But on this Father's Day weekend it occurs to me that just steps away from my bedroom was my real hero.  The man who protected me daily, appointed himself the school board member to give out diplomas for both my eighth grade and high school graduations, is pictured looking at me not at the photographer in my wedding photos, was home every night of my life growing up.  A quiet man, a strong man.  A Clint Walker kind of guy.  I miss you, Dad.  We sorely need heroes today.  Thanks for being mine. 

Anglotopia

How does one become an Anglophile?  I grew up in a small Pacific Northwest town daughter of a farming man.  Where does the love of tudor, green hills, and BBC come from?  Not sure, but there is definitely a pull towards anything English or Irish.  We live in an English tudor home and it is my sanctuary.  My enjoyment soars when I remodel, decorate, entertain. 

I am a homebody, loving the Pacific Northwest, being near the water, not minding the rain, enchanted with the green trees all around us.  I do think, however, there are one or two places I might be able to live and be happy. . .one is England, and, go figure, the other is Switzerland.  Would that be Yodelatopia?

Turning 2/3rds of a Century

A dubious honor - turning 2/3rds of a century.  But our friends at Pour at Four made is so special.  We ordered beignets, but a "smores" dessert came to the table with my name written in chocolate and a candle in the middle of both plates.  I made two wishes.  Surely hope they come true.

 

Brandon and Luke came down after the Sounders game.  Carol joined us.  We had a whiskey tasting in the pub and popped the silver Xmas poppers I'd forgotten to bring out at Christmas time.  The card my son gave me will bring me great comfort when I re-read it over the next few months. 

Daughter-in-law

When your son chooses a companion, you and the new family member both feel the same things:  will she like me, will I be able to offer any help, will she tell me if I interfere?  A kind heart finds it difficult to tell a truth that will make someone else uncomfortable.  She has that kind of heart.  We were lucky to gather to the heart of our family a girl with a kind nature, strong work ethic and bright mind who adored our son.  Eight years ago she came to our house and began spending weekends with us.  We are now looking at the possibility of a future without her presence.  I will always wonder if I said the wrong thing, didn't say the right thing, knowing it probably had nothing at all to do with me and my responses.  What I know for sure:  living together is a complicated thing.  If she leaves the fold of our family, we will always love her and wonder how she is.  No matter what, she has left footprints on our hearts and we will never, ever be the same. 

Not in a Party Mood

Today the sun is out for the second day in a row.  Spring has been a bit slow this year.  We just attended the graduation celebration of a lovely young woman, at one of our favorite, if not THE favorite, hang outs.  I looked forward to going.  But it soon became clear to me, my heart wasn't in a party mood.  When you are sad, truly sad, it's difficult not to carry that sadness around.  I'm an upbeat person, by nature.  I believe we are responsible for our own moments of happiness.  But every now and then, Life deals a blow that cannot be brushed aside.  You can put on a "happy face" for others and I want to do that.  I don't want to put my sadness on their plate, especially if they are just acquaintances.  I will share when the time is right with a close friend or two.  Sister-in-law knows, but has enough on her own plate.  I walked home from the gathering, in the sun, to the shelter of my cottage, where I will recharge these batteries and try to be of some help to those I love who are in pain.  Is happiness found in helping?  I hope that it is.