Good news: Status quo, roughly.
Bad news: None.
I got up at 6 am, walked Elsa, did my oil rinse while I did the dishes, drank two cups of water, changed into my yoga clothes, and left for Bikram. It was a surprisingly small class, only 6 people where before I left, the class ran between 12 and 15 regularly. Apparently, the snowbirds have left. Why would they leave so early? I guess it is spring on the mainland, but not here. Here, it is still winter. I am often spending time in fleece pants, a shirt, and two sweatshirts, and that’s comfortable.
Judy learned that one of the songs we selected was secular and could not be used for the funeral mass. The musical director, Walter, has this amazing voice and sings that particular song beautifully. (Not naming it because of copyright problems.) I had already called the director of the hula ministry to arrange for them to dance at the reception on the lanai and dance to the Ava Maria. I had been told that they couldn’t do it in the church because of Lent. New information: they can’t do it on the lanai during the reception because there won’t be enough room; they can do it in the church after the final blessing and before the recession. I am planning to participate in this performance. Mike always wanted me to do this. He loved the way I moved. I did a lot of amateur dancing until just before I met Mike.
As a child, I did a lot of improvisational dance – in my mother’s living room. She was a control freak and always wanted to know what everyone was doing. My paternal grandfather sat in her living room from 9 in the morning until my father took him home, sometimes as late as 10 pm at night.
I may have told the following story before in the journal. Sorry if I did, just skip it. My father’s family was upper class Jewish; my mother’s was lower-middle-class Lutheran. My father left for America a year and a half before my mother, who only arrived here in December of 1937. My grandfather knew that my mother was planning to join my father and marry him. He contacted my mother in Berlin behinds my father’s back, met with her, and basically told her that she wasn’t good enough to marry not only his first-born son but the first-born son of his generation in the family. My mother never told my father; my grandfather never apologized to my mother.
I would dance in the living room for my grandfather. Therefore, my mother knew what both of us were doing. I doubt she would ever have let me have that much expressive freedom if it didn’t suit her needs. My parents tried to enroll me in dance classes when I was 6. I hated it. Dancing for me wasn’t learning a discipline; it was releasing the stress which came from living with her and her incessant criticism. Both my sister and I must have received something like 50 to 200 corrections or corrections a day. That wouldn’t have been so bad if there were occasional positive comments and if the comments weren’t delivered with spitting contempt for our inadequacies. Dance kept me sane.
I did my undergraduate degree at Cortland State Teacher’s College (now part of SUNY). Each of the different teacher’s colleges (all now part of SUNY) emphasized a separate discipline of the teaching profession. Cortland specialized in Physical Education. They had a great dance department. I started studying. I continued studying in New York City at the New Dance Group, traveling in from Northport Long Island every Saturday to take classes, and then at the University of Wisconsin. No, I wasn’t a dance major. I was an English major who took dance classes and participated in concerts. I was considered good because I could express myself through dance, but my technique was lousy – at least in my estimation. I subsequently learned that I was dealing with a spinal curvature. That limits what I could do, severely.
I finally started the house cleaning, which I had scheduled for January 26, which Mike so rudely interfered with. Judy and 5 additional members of her family were coming over for dinner. Yes, they were bringing their own food and cooking it. The advantage of doing it at my house: they got to use Mike’s fabulous kitchen. (Again, I am so happy he got that kitchen. It made him happy. I loved making him happy.) I washed the kitchen floor and just vacuumed the hallway. I also did a better cleaning job on the table in Mike’s library, where I spilled the soup yesterday. I still have to finish sorting those pictures.
Judy and her family arrived to do the cooking. I took Elsa for her early evening walk. As I left the driveway, I heard my next-door neighbor, Ronen, call my name. His father-in-law had gone fishing and caught a local fish. Did I want some? I told him that I still had a refrigerator full of food that others had brought over. I assumed that I would run out at one point. He said his family had it in mind to step up and help out once the rush of offers slows down. Another strike of generosity. When I came back from the walk, there was B walking toward me with a package in his hand. He was offering me fish, too. He explained that Ronen had just passed it to him over the fence. Now, B should know better to than to offer me raw food I have to prepare.
I helped set the table, but Judy, and her son, Adam, who loves to cook, were the main chefs for the evening. Paulette, Judy’s sister, helped prepare the food. We had salmon, with a lilikoi sauce, mash potatoes with a 3 oz. package of Boursin cheese mixed in, and asparagus. Dessert was Haagen Das vanilla ice cream with fresh raspberries and chocolate sauce. Only Adam, Leon, his 4-year-old son, and I indulged. The left-over food wound up in my refrigerator and freezer.
Jasmine, Adam’s wife, spoke to me about how strong I am. Now, she has a baby who is severely disabled. He is over a year old, and he still has trouble holding his head up. He has made progress; he can get his finger into his mouth, grab hold of his own foot, and now seems to be able to focus his eyes and smile. There is no hope that he will ever walk, talk, or think. Yet, she thinks nothing of what she has to do as a mother for him, and she considers me strong. I believe anything done from love is easy. Now, I didn’t have that long haul with Mike. Would my patience have run out? Yes, in a blink of an eye if he didn’t allow me to love him. Could he have blocked it? You better believe it. Some people feel invaded by the love of others; some people feel they don’t deserve the love of others. I was looking at Mike surviving pancreatitis and having a long, long recovery period and probably never wholly regaining his old life. If he rejected my love because he thought of himself only as a burden who didn’t deserve it, or if his self-hatred for his condition won, that self-hatred would have created a block to my expression of love. It would have turned a joyful process into a tedious one.
My guests left. Adam and Jasmine picked up some friends from the airport that had just flown in from Alaska. They have a house here but have been gone for a least half a year. They fish the Alaskan waters to earn money. Their house sits right at the edge of the Kilauea lave field. It was spared, but there must be some impact.
I just wrote tonight, no T.V. I walked Elsa and went to bed.
