Slice of Life: A reminder about age

On Tuesdays, Two Writing Teachers hosts the Slice of Life. Everyone is welcome to share writing and comment on others in this special community. 

  

On Saturday. night, I was in New York City and went to see The Queen of Versailles. Until this show became the group choice, I didn't know a whole lot about the plot. It's based on the documentary about the Siegel family who were hit hard by the economic crash in 2008. To be honest, the premise hit a little close to home (pun intended) because, as a builder's wife, I was also hit hard in 2008. (Another story for another day.)

All that being said, I'm 58. My one little word for 2025 has been heal, and I've had "old people" surgeries this year, including the removal of a toe cyst and a knee replacement. I've found myself avoiding activities I used to like doing because of the potential for pain or injury, and this tendency is a symptom of getting old, according to my wise (and older) sister in law. 

Before the play started, we had time to reader some of the bios. Kristin Chenoweth played the lead, and I already knew she was about my age (okay, a smidgeon younger), but I had not considered the fact that her character was married to a much older man. 

"Mom," Larkin said. "This is the old man from White Lotus."

We googled him, and it turns out that F. Murray Abraham has been in a lot more than White Lotus. It also turns out that he recently celebrated his 86th birthday. Let me repeat that. He just celebrated his 86th birthday. 

He sang. He danced. He remembered his lines. 

The Queen of Versailles had some good lines, some funny moments, and some emotional scenes. I definitely left the theater with curiosity about the Siegels and the references to some rocky historical moments. But I also left that theater with a renewed commitment to fight getting old. I won't be strutting around in the high heels that Kristin Chenoweth wears (but I've got three inches on her if she's really 4'11" as reported on the internet), but damn, do Kristin and Murray show what's possible for the AARP set! 

Slice of Life: A metaphorical orange Callaway

On Tuesdays, Two Writing Teachers hosts the Slice of Life. Everyone is welcome to share writing and comment on others in this special community. 

  

I played golf with my friend Nancy last week, and I'm happy to report that my drive was going really well for the first several holes. Despite the orange leaves on the course that made it tricky to spot my orange ball if it was anywhere but in the fairway, I continued to play with it. For whatever reason, I resisted the easier-to-spot white balls. 

I'm not sure which hole it was when the Drive Demon struck. I set up, took my practice swing, and focused my eyes on the little Callaway insignia that helped my keep my eye on that ball. I guess I didn't. The ball skimmed off the toe of my driver, right into the creek in front of us. Maybe it went a few feet, a far distance from the soaring 250 yard rocket I'd been envisioning. 

"Hit another," Nancy said, words that rarely come out of her mouth. 

I did (a white ball this time), and she scooted toward the place on the bank of the creek where the orange ball had entered.

"There it is," she said. "I can get it."

I encouraged her to leave it-- I had plenty of balls in my bag-- but she was already flexing her quads to scale the creek cliff and retrieve the orange Callaway. 

"Pass it to me," I said, reaching my hand toward her. "And don't fall into that mud."

Nancy handed me the ball, and, just as she set the ball into my hand, her fingers slipped, and mine failed to close, and the ball... that ball plunked right back into the creek into an even deeper and steeper spot. 

Once I was able to stand straight after laughing so hard, I retrieved it. And I played the white ball for the rest of the round. 

Sometimes people go to great extremes for small things. 

Slice of Life: A Bathroom Takeover

 On Tuesdays, Two Writing Teachers hosts the Slice of Life. Everyone is welcome to share writing and comment on others in this special community. 

  

Over the last week, I've spent a lot of time on my own in a city I don't live in. You generate a LOT of slices by yourself in a city you don't live in. 

The other day, I took my daughter for a haircut, and, rather than sit there, I decided I'd get some steps in. The salon was at the entrance of a mall, and it was raining, so I opted for mall walking. On my first pass by the restrooms, I ignored the bladder pressure; there were several people in line, and I didn't have to go that badly. On the second pass, the line was gone, but the women's room was closed for cleaning. I could hold it. I walked another lap and then down the hallway to the entrance. Still closed for cleaning. 

(It's important to know at this point that I was doing a full mall lap, so this cleaning was taking quite a while!)

I debated. At this point, the bladder pressure was stronger. And how long would the haircut take? I'd go one more lap. 

After that one more lap, I had to go. But... guess what. The cleaning was STILL GOING ON. Another woman joined me outside of the restrooms. 

"I think we should make a deal," I said. "I'll keep the men out for you if you keep the men out for me." I explained that the women's room had been out of commission for a solid twenty minutes, and my bladder's patience was used up. 

She laughed. "You can go first," she said. "It was your idea."

Just then, a mom and a daughter walked up, also needing the facilities. We explained the situation and invited them in with us. Mom, daughter, and I staged a men's room takeover. The little girl, I'm guessing between 7 and 9, thought it was hilarious. 

As we washed our hands, I couldn't resist pointing out the writing opportunity. "I'm a writing teacher when I'm not organizing bathroom takeovers," I said. "If you have to come up with an idea for a small-moment story, this would be a great one."

I got a blank stare, and I'm not sure she knows about small moment stories...but I do! 

Slice of Life- The Annual Talent Show

On Tuesdays, Two Writing Teachers hosts the Slice of Life. Everyone is welcome to share writing and comment on others in this special community. 

  

The doctor's office called at 7:50 yesterday morning to cancel my 11am appointment. Not a big deal, except that it's a two-hour drive with traffic factored in. Given the ride home, as well, I had taken the day off. Faced with the dilemma of not going to school or going, I went. 

I hadn't paid any attention to the events of Monday-- I wasn't planning to be there!-- but when the halls were quiet and the classrooms were empty, I figured there must be an assembly. Which one? As I approached the gym, it dawned on me. The talent show. 

The annual talent show never fails to surprise me, and this year's was no exception. 

• One sixth-grader who is still non-verbal and bigger than all her teachers danced with paras and other students. Her mom was there to video, but had to wipe tears now and then. Until this year, B. tantrummed about coming to school, and her mother brought her and left her every day. 
• Two fifth-grade girls demonstrated and explained wrestling poses. While I couldn't make eye contact with other adults-- (the person next to me couldn't either but I saw her phone screen as she was reading someone else in the gym's text about the morning porn) I had to give them credit for the commitment to being on stage, the boundaries pushed to participate in wrestling, and the accuracy of explanations. All that being said, I don't think any of the first-graders left the show ready to try out the demonstrated pins. 
• A couple of girls acted out a comedy skit they'd written. The skit about a singing lesson was funny. We don't have any play-writing in our curriculum--- I'd love to teach that!-- and I'd love to see their script. I might work to track that down... 
• After many sub-par performances, a fairly quiet sixth-grader closed the show with her rendition of Defying Gravity.  Describing it to my family over dinner, they didn't believe me when I said that this kid nailed the last notes. Fortunately, the principal was only a text away, and she sent me the video. "She needs to keep singing," my daughter said. 

Maybe not all the kids who performed need to keep doing all that they're doing-- there were some duds-- but talent shows always impress me because of both the audience and the performers. Students in the audience are compliant and respectful; students on the stage are resilient, creative, and courageous. 

Today, I was grateful for the found day and the talent show. 

Slice of Life- Wishing Larkin a happy birthday!

  On Tuesdays, Two Writing Teachers hosts the Slice of Life. Everyone is welcome to share writing and comment on others in this special community. 

  

My father wore a pink coat twenty-nine years ago today. We didn't know we were having a girl, but we suspected it. And he must have suspected it, as well. Who knows? Maybe he knew since he had been friends with my doctor. He wore a pink coat. And it was twenty-nine years ago. 

I thought I'd resist the epidural, but I didn't last long. Garth had gone to get food when those contractions started, and I was pretty beside myself by the time he returned with his egg sandwich. It was much better to watch the contractions come and go on the monitor, betting that they would have hurt, and instead, watching the French Open. I was cheering for Steffi Graf and Andre Agassi on those almost-pink courts. 

We got to watch a lot of tennis that day since it took all day for Larkin to make her appearance. All of her grandparents were there to greet her. I could dig out those pictures, but it's fun to conjure up my dad in that pink blazer having finished his rounds and beaming with a swaddled newborn in his arms. 

Twenty-nine years ago in that pink blazer. 

Today, I think of my dad, and I celebrate my daughter. It's a strange juxtaposition of life celebrations. He left us ten years ago today on Larkin's 19th birthday. 

Today, I think of my dad, but I celebrate my daughter. The girl who made me a mom. Happy birthday to one of my favorite people on this planet. 

Slice of Life: A Lunch Date

 On Tuesdays, Two Writing Teachers hosts the Slice of Life. Everyone is welcome to share writing and comment on others in this special community. 

  

As I turned right, a familiar SUV turned left and followed me. My friend's mom drove a car like that. A 4-digit license plate. An old Mercedes. How many could there be?

My friend's birthday was a few weeks ago, and I always think of her more around then. I'd texted her mom and suggested that we follow up on our promise from a year ago that we'd have coffee. Mrs. J. hadn't responded, but I knew she probably would. Our relationship is like that. We have a powerful tie, even without seeing each other for long periods of time. 

As I drove up Stratton Brook, I kept glancing in my rear view mirror. My certainty was growing, and I pulled over, letting her pass me. The posture was Mrs. J's. The age about right. My certainty was now 90% and growing. When she turned into Powder Forest, I was nearly positive. 

Would anyone wonder if I arrived back at my office five to ten minutes later than I'd said? Would anyone notice if I took a little detour into a neighborhood? On a whim, I followed her into the neighborhood, trying not to follow so closely she worried, but not so distantly that I'd lose her. I knew the name of her road, but not how to get there, and not the number. When she turned onto Bantry, any doubt was gone. 

Unfortunately, it was lawn service day in the neighborhood, so any chance I had of rolling down my window and having her hear me say hi was non-existent. Was I really going to follow her right then left then right then left to not say hello? I turned around at the end of her cul-de-sac, and I parked in front of her house, just as the garage was closing. All I could see was her sneakers and blue pants heading from the car to the door. 

"Linda!" I yelled. But the garage door kept closing. 

I was parked, and I thought about texting later and forgetting about giving her a quick hug. Instead, I walked up to the door. She opened it before I knocked. 

"It's Mel," I said. 

But she already knew that before I said my name, and she wrapped me in a hug. Even though I know how frail moms can feel, I was surprised at the boniness of her hug. 

"Sit down," she said about ten times. 

"I can't," I said about twenty times. "But let's make a date. A real one."

We have a date, and I think we'll keep it, even though it's a month away. I'm already looking forward to sharing memories, laughs, and tears. 

Slice of Life: A Picture Perfect Day for a Graduation

On Tuesdays, Two Writing Teachers hosts the Slice of Life. Everyone is welcome to share writing and comment on others in this special community. 

  

In 2018, I sponsored my entire family's trip to Michigan, including my mother, to attend our oldest daughter's college graduation. It seemed like the right thing to do, even though it was the end of April, and all three of her sisters had a lot going on in their own college and high school lives. We all sat in the UM Big House huddling in blankets as it snowed and the temperature hovered at about 32 degrees. This slice isn't about that weekend, but trust me. It was memorable for all the stories, and many of them involved being cold. 

I didn't fly sisters around for Daughter #2's graduation. Good thing. It was mid-May in Connecticut, and 102 degrees. We sat in the shadeless quad with hats and DIY fans. Daughter #3's college graduation featured sideways rain. The wind broke most of the umbrellas. Oh, and it was 2021, so there was an expectation to keep a distance from people. Our well-planned outside party was inside with lots of people in close quarters. Yep, another graduation full of memories, and many of them involved being wet. 

Cecily is our fourth daughter, and she graduated on Sunday. 

All week, the forecast was sketchy, except for Sunday. All week, the forecast was pretty perfect for Sunday. And it was. It was sunny and 70, maybe even 75 in the sun. We walked around campus, and we took pictures on the UConn letters. 

Then the crew hiked to the top of Horse Barn Hill overlooking the campus, and I happily took pictures of them along the way as I enjoyed the sun. 

I got a cute selfie with Cecily when they came back down. 

It was Mother's Day, and a picture perfect day for a graduation. And maybe the cold, heat, and rain made it even better! A great finale to our undergraduate graduations!