Saturday, August 17, 2019

 

            Another designated D-Day.  Today is the day I am planning to start dismantling Mike’s library. 

            It started with Bikram at 8 am as usual for Saturday. Kathrin and I stopped off at Island Naturals and at  Costco.  I stayed in the car while she went into Island Naturals. She said she was just looking for shredded coconut.  I sat in the car listening to the Saturday NPR shows.  I waited, and waited and waited.  I thought there was probably some hold up in the store, but when I saw people who I had watched go in come out with shopping bags full of stuff, hmmmm … . I got out of the car to find her.  I figured she had gotten involved in some conversation and I wanted to move on.  As I entered the door, I saw her finishing up at the cash register.  I got behind her as she exited said, “ I ‘m right behind you.”  She must have been distracted, because the clerk called her back to point out she had left two items on the counter.  Her arms were laden as we walked to the car. 

            I was more the dawdler at Costco.  I love to check all the food sample tables.  She just wanted to check on two items.  I bought almond milk (Always pick up some when I go to the store.  I’ve been there when they were out.), 2 packages of salad and two bags of lemons.  I ran into Kathrin as I was heading to the check out.  As it was my turn to be checked out, she came up behind me.  Then she went to customer service to get some information, and I headed to the car.  I’m proud of myself because I could lift the 8 quart package of almond milk out of the cart and get it into the trunk by myself.  

            When I got home, I was exhausted.  I’m frequently tired.  I dozed rather than slept.  Judy was supposed to come over at two pm to help me start with the library.  I didn’t want to be alone for this transition.  I delayed it a little bit; I told her to come over at three. We talked a while before we started doing anything else.  It is always good to see her. She means a lot to me. 

            I did the little bit of straightening and cleaning I’d been putting off and then took a video and still pictures of the room.  I sent the pictures to Damon to be archived.  He knows what he is doing more than I do.        

            After taking the pictures, I got out the list.  Judy thought we would be looking for a dozen books or so.  No, Notre Dame in New Orleans has requested something like 100 books.  That may sound like a lot but there are 3700.  One hundred is a mere drop in the bucket – or out of the bucket if you prefer.

            While Mike’s library is somewhat categorized: American History here, Egyptian there, St. Bonaventure here, Aristotle there. Since he didn’t use any established system, sometimes a philosopher is in the philosophy section and sometimes in the theology section.  The books are not in any neat order.  I mentioned my idea of asking parishioners to come over and help me in the search.  Judy thought it would be a neat idea to set up a treasure hunt.  An adult party. 

            As Judy left, I expressed my gratitude to her for being my friend.  It means the world to me.  She said that I didn’t need to.  I could feel her discomfort.  I told her I wasn’t expressing it for her sake but for mine.  It would do me damage if I didn’t express it, literally, as in getting it out of my body.  I told her to just think of it as my farting, farting gratitude, having to because the pressure build up was making me uncomfortable.  Mike and I understood that with each other.  This was one of the great things about our relationship: we could freely express our positive feelings about each other without making the other one uncomfortable.

            Well that wasn’t always true.  Mike used to claim that I was objectively this most beautiful woman in the world. (My only near competitor was Jane Fonda.) Now that didn’t  make me comfortable.  I wasn’t out of touch with reality; I knew that no one except Mike would consider me that beautiful.  I finally convinced him to just tell me that he thought I was the most beautiful woman in the world.  That would be perfect.  That I could accept.

            In the evening, Kathrin and I were invited for dinner at Amanda and Brian’s house.  They are renting from the Glicksteins’ and are included in feasts orchestrated by the Glicksteins’ at my house.  It was great food and good company. Then I was ready to go home.  I was planning to do more work in the library.  I did FreeCell instead.  But I did find one more book.  

            I think I have to reorganize the list the Notre Dame librarian sent me.  I should make two lists, one by author and one by subject.  I think it will be easier to find the books that way. Also I think I have some duplicate lists.  

 

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 Musings: I'm putting this separately so those who are not interested can choose not to read it.

 

            I touched on this subject before: why is it so hard to accept expressions of love and gratitude. I am pretty sure I wrote that I think that one reason we talk about praising, thanking and loving God is so we have a safe place for us to express these emotions, and express them we must or suffer. Holding them is can be as uncomfortable for us  holding in our pee, poop or sneeze.  

            But then we have to ask, are there times when it is inappropriate to express these feelings.  I would say yes too.  There are people who don’t relish the burden of our feelings for them, positive or negative, especially if they are inappropriate, rising out of our desperate needs. I don’t have a clear set of rules.  I just consider myself lucky that I found Mike and he delighted in my expressions of love and gratitude. He didn’t experience them as demands.  They weren’t. 

            I remember when I was in graduate school is Wisconsin in the 60s.  A woman I knew peripherally made the following comment: “We always desire passionately; if only we could accept passionately.” I remember thinking, “Wow! What a great idea.” A few years later, her husband of many years left her.  I reminded her of her comment.  As is so often the case, she didn’t recall the words that just slipped out of her mouth.  I had returned them to her.  I hope they helped her as much as they helped me and continue to do so.