This one's for TFMR

Yesterday someone asked what in the heck took me out to California in the first place.  I then explained that TFMR (The Former Mr. Ryan) is a musician.  He's one of the rare ones who went West to pursue music and actually made it work, so there we stayed.   We came from Northeast Ohio, where clubs featured live bands instead of canned music...and if you were in a popular band (which he was), you could actually make a living as a musician.  As you can imagine - that whole "pay to play" club scene in LA was a bit of a rude awakening for us.  He's ridiculously talented.  A genuinely funny human being, a gifted songwriter, a smokin' hot drummer, Beatle historian par excellence.  Anyway...

When I saw this video I was immediately transported to one of the many bars/clubs in which I spent a Friday or Saturday night with the other band wives.  Hair teased up on only one side of my head - it was the Sheila E. / Prince / Flock of Seagulls / Cure era after all...jacket with giant shoulder, LOTS of eyeliner and a serious attempt at making my eyeshadow appear to have been airbrushed.  This is one of my all time favorite songs that one of his cover bands played, and happily, it's been  tweaked by one of my favorite performance artists, Liam Sullivan - aka Kelly. (My be NSFW due to language - depending upon where you are)

TFMR, this one's for you.  Dance around the studio as you listen...you know you want to!

The Universe Heard Me...

...and lo and behold, my girl Baby Smiley (Gloria Shuri Nava) is on TV!  

Ms Nava is my favorite form of amusement, freakishly talented, and just plain funny as hell. You can catch her other characters on YouTube.  And  I have to say...I miss the cholas...we don't exactly have anything like that here in East Tennessee!

From an Older Woman to a Younger Woman

YOU GO GIRL!

And if you're not hip to the magic that is Taylor Swift...well...I'm sad for you.  Smart, savvy, and from many accounts, in control of her life and career.  I've enjoyed watching her from her breakout performance at the CMA's and am thrilled to see her just get better and better.

Oh, and she looks a great deal like my son's girlfriend, so yes, I'm a little biased.

Wakhan Thánka níci un

Title translation:  May the Great Spirit go with you and guide you.

I've watched this over and over, and still I can't put into words why it moves me.   Certainly it's the horses...but there's more to it than that.  There is a beautiful symmetry here; the melding of man and horse, the fluidity of movement.  

But mostly I think that it's a peek into the past.  Were it not for the jeans and t-shirts, these men could be wearing buckskins.  But the event is the same as it's been for hundreds of years - young Native American men displaying their skill and prowess on horseback.  Warrior spirit at its essence.

This event was filmed at at the Pine Ridge Reservation during the building of a cob house, and was a race to honor the battle at Wounded Knee.  

“Let us put our minds together and see what life we can make for our children.” ~~ Sitting Bull

Frank Warren is my hero

One of my favorite quotes goes something like this:  "We are not human beings on a spiritual journey...we are spiritual beings on a human journey."  I don't recall the source, and if anyone out there does, please let me know.

A shining example of the spiritual being living the human experience is Frank Warren, founder of the Post Secret project.  My friend Aaron turned me on to it 4 or 5 years ago and I've loved watching it evolve and heal and save lives.  On many a Sunday, it has saved mine.  It's part of my Sunday morning prayer ritual and this morning I was pleased to see a new video reflecting the secrets in his new book "Post Secret:  Confessions on Life, Death, and God", all of which are subjects near and dear to my heart.

I own all of the Post Secret books, they're a great place to go to when I need to be reminded to be thankful.  I can't wait to pick this one up and I hope that you will check them out.

And...thanks Frank.

You might just live in Tennessee if...

When I lived in LA and was cranky and frustrated because someone had: 

a.) flipped me off while driving

b.) cut  me off while driving  

c.) was a jerk in general

I was able to retain some semblance of calm because I would always remind myself that I just didn't look good in orange.  By that, I meant LA County Jail orange.  I just knew that those jumpsuits just wouldn't do a thing for me; and with hips like mine, that's something to think about very seriously.

Now that I'm here I have to rethink that, because here... it's all about the orange.  University of Tennessee orange.

Every area has their local passion; here it's the UT Volunteers; "Vols" to the locals.  For me...if you can't put a saddle on it, I don't know about it.  And to give credit where credit is due, The Former Mr. Ryan put up with 23 years of my never being able to grasp the concept of football. Well, I kind of have no choice now.  And these folks are serious.

Need a Vols cake pan? Got it.  

Ice cube trays for that tailgate party?       Got it covered.

Muffin pan?   Yep, got it.

Sweater for your dog?            Of course.

Halloween decoration?       Hell yeah!

It's yet one of the many things about East Tennessee that are (in my opinion) pretty cool.  A sort of unifying agent.

This came to me courtesy of my cousin (and isn't everyone here my cousin?) Pauline, whose sheer awesomeness knows no bounds...

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Forget Rednecks!  Here is what Jeff Foxworthy has to say about folks from Tennessee -- aka 'Orange necks.'

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If someone in a Lowe's store offers you assistance and they don't work there, you may live in Tennessee .

If you've worn shorts and a parka at the same time, you may live in Tennessee .

If your favorite season is called "It's Football Time in Tennessee !", you may live in Tennessee .

If you've had a lengthy telephone conversation with someone who dialed a wrong number, you may live in Tennessee...

If 'Vacation' means going anywhere south of Knoxville for the weekend, you may live in Tennessee...

If you measure distance in hours or minutes, you may live in Tennessee...

If you know several people who have hit a deer more than once, you may live in Tennessee ...

If you install security lights on your house and garage, but leave both unlocked, you may live in Tennessee...

If you own several articles of orange clothing, you may live in Tennessee...

If you carry jumper cables in your car and your wife knows how to use them, you may live in Tennessee...

If the speed limit on the highway is 55 mph -- you're going 80 and everybody's passing you, you may live in Tennessee...

If you find 60 degrees 'a little chilly', you may live in Tennessee...

If you know someone who has set the date of a wedding, a birth, or any other life changing event, only after consulting the UT football schedule, you may live in Tennessee...

If you actually understand these jokes you definitely live in Tennessee...

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So I've got yet another new thing to learn if I'm to hang out in the kitchen with the ladies in the family - while they watch football.

TFMR and Pauline, this one's for you....GO VOLS!

And so it goes...

Yes, it's been a while.

Miss Lillian passed away early on the morning of September 6th.  Yes, I was there.  Yes...I was terrified, but I received abundant blessings at the same time... I'm still not in a place where I can accurately write about the experience.  Maybe one day; there's just too much to chew on.

And so now I move on.

I am now a permanent resident of Johnson City, TN.  A place where it appears that I am related to EVERYONE... I can't go anywhere without hearing "are you one if the Ryans' or the Fields'?" Thank God both families have great reputations, or I'd be really nervous.  In one instance, one of my cousins (on Miss Lillian's side) married a distant cousin on my father's side.   Soon there won't be a family tree...it'll all be one stump.  It says a lot about how small the community here is - especially the black community, but that's a post for another day.

The JC in which I now reside is very different than the JC of my childhood, so it's a little like discovering it all over again.   Finding my way around isn't a challenge, because everything and anything is only 10 minutes from wherever you are - 15 if there's a traffic jam.  In LA I used to spend the hours on the road chatting on the phone, catching up with my friends; easy to do because I had the time.  Here, I do all my catching up in parking lots because I've already arrived at my destination.  The young lady at the Rite Aid now knows to wave at me from the store window.

What is there to do here?  Well, you have to shift your expectations a bit...the excitement of LA is a thing of the past; though I never really had the time to avail myself of all that LA had to offer.  But if you want a sweet, country festival...we've got them in spades!  I attended the Apple Festival in historic Erwin this past weekend, and (keep in mind that Erwin has basically one road in and one road out) I was stunned at the sheer numbers of people that came to eat fried apple pies made famous by the Mennonites.  It felt like New York on New Years Eve.  The difference is that when people bumped into you, they'd turn, pat your arm and say "Oh honey, I'm so sorry!" which would then turn into a long dialogue about how many people there are.

Anyway, I didn't get to experience the apple pies - they had sold 6,000 of them by 2:30 pm and were sold out; not a fried apple pie in sight.    And take note of the width of the street.  That's downtown Erwin, virtually unchanged since 1875 (and thank you to the Erwin Historical Society for the photo, which was taken in 1916).

 

Kind of cool, isn't it? You have to love the "old timey-ness" of it, as indicated by this sign:

                                                                                        

The Apple Festival happened to coincide with the International Storytelling Festival in Jonesboro (another 10 - 15 minutes down the road).  Please take a moment to wander around their website; I can't even begin to describe the awesomeness of Jonesboro, nor can I do justice to the magic of storytelling.  I'll just say this...I expect to see you all here next October, so that we can enjoy it together.

Well, it's getting chilly and I have to go turn the heat on before my fingers go numb...so until later...remember that I miss you all (of my personal peeps who are reading this).

Miss Lillian Preps For Her Grand Departure

At about 1pm I got a call from the Sharon, the Director of Nurses (who has become a good and loving friend) that Miss Lillian's skin has begun to 'mottle' and that she was asking for me. Sharon's exact words were "you need to come now". These are bad signs. Skin mottling indicates that her system is no longer able to transport oxygen to the her extremities, and her blood kind of begins to 'pool' because its so sluggish. It generally happens when death is eminent (the given range would be: 24 to 48 hours to 1 week).

What amazes me is that she is very aware of what's taking place. She feels herself leaving, and I wish I could have some glimmer of understanding of what that's like; but that would be like flipping to the last page of a book.

So when I arrived here at 'the home', (which has become my second home) she was serene and quiet. This is NOT her normal state, as some of you may know. I always greet her with "what up?"...instead of her usual snarky and generally inappropriate Sassy Southern Lady reply
she said; "I'm dying... and I'm so tired." I asked her if there was anything on her mind...anything she wanted to take care of. She wanted to make phone calls. This I can do.

Today has been spent doing the thing that I consistenely harangue and annoy you folks to do...letting people know that they are loved; saying what matters to those who matter.

We called Mr. Newby, the man who has been her close friend for many years, and who (I found out about 10 years ago) has been in love with her since 1946, but was man enough to let it be. She said goodbye to my sister, who is unable to be here - that was a hard one to sit in on
- and made us promise to take care of each other. And then one by one, the relatives started to file in.

We are a loud and raucus bunch; with the exception of yours truly, the women all sound like Reba McIntyre, and the men tend to sound like Tommy Lee Jones (as Doolittle Lynn in "Coalminer's Daughter").  Mourning isn't their style - these people are ALL about the funny;
sharing memories and ridiculous impressions of those memories is how they roll.

And yes, I am taking notes and the book will be forthcoming.

Anyway, as we were caught up in the business and nonsense associated with Miss Lillian's signing off; not one of us had noticed or commented on the fact that the staff had quietly removed her roomate (bed and all) and rolled in a cart with cookies, snacks, cups, flatware, sodas and coffee. The recliner that I sleep in when I'm here had been moved to a more open area of the room and had been stocked with a fresh pillow and blanket. A few more chairs appeared.

Now, the whole time I've been here, I've made sure to keep my 'clinically competent person' hat on. It makes it much easier to deal with the awful parts, the sleep deprivation, and witnessing the indignity of aging. But when one of the nurses came to me and asked me if there was anything else she could do for us...my 'daughter' hat appeared and I promptly burst into tears. Kindness does that to me.

Then we celebrated.

I stood back and marveled at how easy it is to forget that in the end, all we have is each other. I also discovered that forgiveness is easier than you think - you just have to take a baby step. Baby steps feel really good. To say that ML and I have had a difficult relationship would be a gross understatement. But in the end, we are the sum of our experiences, and in dealing with others we would be well served to remind ourselves of that - and then take inventory of
how we let our experiences shape us. In the end, we experience fear, no matter how tough we think we are. That has to be met with compassion as well.

So...after all that yammering (and thanks for getting this far) what did I learn about death and dying?
It can create close bonds, as well as belly laughs, and can reveal strength you didn't think you were capable of. That as we leave this part of the journey in preparation for the next part, we are similar to the way we were when we arrived.

I also learned that I'd better get my shit together and let SOMEONE know what song I want played at my funeral!! ('In This Life' by Collin Raye, in the event someone is taking notes). This began as a serious discussion and degerated into 'if Lillian were a country song, what would her lyrics be?'... we were like a bunch of frat boys who'd had a bit too much moonshine. One of the staff came and "shhhh'd" us.

In the time it has taken to write this she has gone from labored breathing to barely visibly breathing. I'm thankful for my Blackberry, but my thumbs are tired. Most important, I'm thankful that this is nearly over for her, and for the gift of experience...even the scary parts.

So...I've said it before, and I'm fully aware that I sound like a broken record, so let the eyeballing commence.

Say the words. Express gratitude. Hug a stranger (if you're in Tennessee it's a requirement. If you're in LA a pat on the arm will do). Write a letter (not an email) to someone you miss. Tell them that you miss them; that you just want to know they're ok. Love the unloveable. Like those baby steps I mentioned - it feels really good.