Skip to main content

Turn Turn Turn

This Season

I don't feel like recounting where I've been, but I can give an account of where I am.

Growing up I was taught that a lady doesn't share her age, but let me break with convention and tell you that I turn 47 years young this summer.  I am currently coming to grips with what it means to be 'middle age'.  When I was little I used to ask my Mum, 'Am I beautiful? Am I pretty?'  For some reason it was so important to me that I be so.  And my mother would never give a straight answer.  She would say, something along the lines of  'Looks don't matter. Intelligence matters.  Education matters.  It's what on the inside that counts'.  Eventually I gave up with the questions and the striving to be physically beautiful and started to rely on my insides.  In the process I developed a pretty interesting personality if I do say so myself.  However, somewhere along the way, I realized that I was also attractive.  Not beautiful, but attractive.  Enough so to turn heads when I walked into a room.  A few years ago I became conscious of the fact that heads had stopped turning.  I am predominantly OK with this.  I don't need the turning heads. But it has made me think about age, my age, and how I am perceived by the public versus how I perceive myself.  I am now referred to as 'ma'am'.  But when they say ma'am I don't know who they're talking to.  Because surely I am about 20 years old.  A somewhat irresponsible weirdo that giggles at inappropriate moments and blushes over things that don't require a flushed face.

I am married.  I have been married for about 4 1/2 years.  My husband is actually someone I went to high-school with in Italy 30 years ago.  We lived in the same 'Parco' which is basically a fancy Italian word for neighborhood.  We were neighbors and friends (just friends).  About six years ago we were reunited in Virginia via a mutual schoolmate.  And the rest as they say is history and apparently herstory as well.

I have a child, a son.  I never thought I'd be a mother.  Really.  I never imagined it. If I closed my eyes and looked at my future life, children were not there. Maybe cats, but not children.  At points in my life I wanted children, sometimes so much it would bring me to tears, big wet sloppy snotty tears, but I never thought I would be given that gift.  I assumed I was one of those people that was destined to be a mother in the metaphorical sense only.  My son, our son, is 3 1/2 years old.  He was a surprise in the most shocking and intense way.  My shock at being pregnant was akin to that of Arnold Schwarzenegger in the movie Junior.

For the past year almost I have lived in Germany with the aforementioned husband and son.  We live in a small village.  Wikipedia says we have a population of about 1,400 people but it doesn't even seem like that many.  Our town has one restaurant, a post office, pharmacy, convenience store, thrift store, two churches, a few soccer fields, many horses and not much else.  We live in the middle of the Palatinate Forest.  Think Grimm's Fairy Tales.

And that is where I am.  Who knows where I'm going.


Popular posts from this blog

Fishberry Jam & Kindereggs

Relatively speaking, I was a child of privilege.  Not in the sense of having things, but in being exposed to ideas and experiences.  Education was paramount in my home.  Whether it was what I was learning in the best schools available, or what I was learning organically in the world; In the words of Auntie Mame, "Knowledge is power".

Growing up in a nice neighborhood, and attending very good schools, the parents of many of my classmates dressed well, lived in large traditional houses and drove expensive cars, Mercedes seemingly the automaker of choice.  My family also dressed reasonably well, though perhaps not as conservatively.  Our house was of average size, but modern and unusual by community standards.  My father's preferred car of choice was a Volkswagen Beetle.  Powder blue, temperamental and rather beat up looking.  I used to bemoan all of these things:  "Why can't you dress like other parents?  Why is our house so weird?  Why can't you drive a…

On Matters of Life and Death

Spring is beautiful.  And I hate it.  
On Easter Sunday, five years ago, my Dad was hospitalized.  He remained mostly in Intensive Care until he was moved to Palliative Care and died shortly after he received last rites, on April 21, 2012.
From a Christian perspective, I have always associated Easter with the crucifix.  And when I think of the cross I don't think of eternal life, or born again or being raised from the dead. I just think of suffering and death.
As a Christian I know you're not supposed to view it that way, but I'm just being honest here and telling you how I have related to the imagery throughout my life.
Whether you are a Christian or a Pagan, Easter is supposed to be about life.  Full of symbols of rebirth and renewal.  The resurrection of the cross, eggs, rabbits, greenery, lilies.  So why is that so hard for me to process?  I see the life. I know it's out here, all around us, cyclically, year after year, generation after generation.  
How do I take …

Throwing Stars

About five years ago or more I heard the very popular Starfish Story for the first time.  The Starfish Story is an adaptation of an original work called The Star Thrower, written by Loren Eiseley, published in 1969.

In the adaptation, a young girl, unable to change the world, saves the lives of beached starfish, one at a time.  And in doing so, saves their world.

About half a year ago I was watching a youtube video by Lonestar Southern, and she mentioned something called The Starfish Project.  Lonestar Southern is a Texas Fashion Blogger.  The Starfish Project is a line of jewelry you can buy online.  More than jewelry, the Starfish Project is an organization which helps girls and women who have been the victims of sex trafficking is Asia.  They give them a home, they give them counseling and job skills.  The proceeds from the sale of the jewelry, which is also made by these women and gives them a salary, goes to support the ongoing efforts of the project.

Fast forward.  I hadn'…