Five Minute Friday: STORY

 

I'm linking up with the Five Minute Friday community, writing for five minutes on a given prompt. This week's word is STORY.

I haven't been writing much in 2023 so far. The main reason is that my mother-in-law became ill with cancer in the fall and died early last week. At her funeral last Saturday, my brother-in-law and nephew got up and spoke about her devotion to her family, her deep faith, and her independent, adventurous spirit.

They also shared stories of her funny ways -- such as the time she went to a thrift store and unwittingly bought back the same pair of white pants she had donated months earlier. 

That anecdote got quite a laugh. I particularly appreciate that my mother-in-law actually told us about that in the first place. Some people would be too embarrassed to have anyone else know they'd done something like that. Not her. 

Telling someone else's story is a big responsibility, especially when they're not there to defend themselves or raise their hand and say, "Wait, that's not right -- they were black pants!" (They weren't. They were definitely white.)

I've been talked about in another person's publicly told story, and I have found it hard, painful work to separate their need to tell their own story in their own way from my desire to be depicted accurately and fairly. As Barbara Brown Taylor says in An Altar in the World,

"...encountering another human being is as close to God as I may ever get -- in the eye-to-eye thing, the person-to-person thing -- which is where God's Beloved has promised to show up.... The point is to see the person standing right in front of me, who has no substitute, who can never be replaced, whose heart holds things for which there is no language, whose life is an unsolved mystery. The moment I turn that person into a character in my own story, the encounter is over. I have stopped being a human being and have become a fiction writer instead."

Ultimately we can't control what others say. We can only live our own story with as much honesty and integrity as possible and try to respect that "unsolved mystery" in everyone else we meet. My mother-in-law was not perfect, but she loved us and we loved her. She can never be replaced, but we honoured her as best we could as we commemorated the end of her earthly story.

me with my mother-in-law, Audrey, on March 1, 2023 (six days before she died)

20 years of Jonathan

 

It's Jonathan's birthday today; he is 20 years old.  

 

Can you believe that cheerful butterball (who actually did have a neck, despite appearances to the contrary) has turned into this tall young man?

 Jonathan Sept. 8, 2022 - photo Jeannie Prinsen

Having Jonathan in our lives has given us a different perspective on life than we might otherwise have had. Garbage trucks, geese and seagulls, brooms and shovels, lines of laundry all have greater significance because of Jonathan's interest in these things. Everyone he meets is a friend, and the simplest pleasures give his life meaning and joy.

 Jonathan 2017 - photo Jeannie Prinsen

I wrote the following poem, "Lakeside, with Jonathan" about five years ago and was honoured to have it published in the literary journal Relief. I think it describes Jonathan better than almost anything else could. Happy birthday, Jonathan.

 

Lakeside, with Jonathan

 To the waterfront at Lake Ontario Park we go,
you leading the way to your favourite place: down,

down stone steps to the little cobble beach, where a shelf
of flat rocks stretches into the water. Cross-legged

on a rock, you gaze at the lake, its wind-ruffled surface
dancing with a million bright diamonds. You call out

to the gulls that wheel across the sky, and watch
a half-dozen geese skim the water then swoop

swiftly up and away. You look around
with a smile and say Happy.

This is as abstract as you get, you whose mind anchors
firmly in the tangibles: supper, school, garbage truck.

No bedtime confidences for you, no heartfelt talks
of dreams or hopes, just the familiar, daily repetition.

I could choose to grieve what’s not, or let you teach me
that peace abides in the way water swells and breaks

again and again on the shore, that the seabirds speak
to you as they cry overhead, that the windmills

over on the island are your friends, tall and steady
in the sunlight, their long arms waving hello.

 

Five Minute Friday: BOTH

 

 

Two weeks ago today my dad died. Now both of my parents are gone.

Dad lived in a nursing home in Charlottetown for the past two and a half years.  He had advanced kidney failure, so it was just a matter of a slow decline over the last year. I saw him in July 2021 when my brother Errol and I went to PEI for a week, and at that time he was still up in his chair every day, a little confused at times but still eager to see people. In March of this year he got Covid when an outbreak occurred at the nursing home. He wasn't terribly sick with it, but it may have added to his already weakening state. My brother Alan was with him and said Dad just slipped away quietly without distress or discomfort -- just the way he would have wanted to go.

The funeral was this past Friday. We spoke about the constancy of Dad's life -- his faith, his hard work, his humour, his devotion to his family. It seemed fitting to have both laughter and tears intermingled in the same moment. Dad had had a good life. He had loved and been loved. None of us had left anything unsaid or regretted.

At the funeral I read aloud this poem called "The House by the Side of the Road" by Sam Walter Foss. I can't remember when I first read it, but it has always made me think of Dad and of his patient acceptance of both the good and bad of life. 

The House by the Side of the Road

by Sam Walter Foss (1858-1911)

There are hermit souls that live withdrawn
In the place of their self-content;
There are souls, like stars, that dwell apart,
In a fellowless firmament;
There are pioneer souls that blaze their paths
Where highways never ran;
But let me live by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.

Let me live in a house by the side of the road,
Where the race of men go by –
The men who are good and the men who are bad,
As good and as bad as I.
I would not sit in the scorner’s seat,
Or hurl the cynic’s ban;
Let me live in a house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.

I see from my house by the side of the road,
By the side of the highway of life,
The men who press with the ardor of hope,
The men who are faint with the strife.
But I turn not away from their smiles nor their tears –
Both parts of an infinite plan;
Let me live in my house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.

I know there are brook-gladdened meadows ahead
And mountains of wearisome height;
That the road passes on through the long afternoon
And stretches away to the night.
But still I rejoice when the travelers rejoice,
And weep with the strangers that moan,
Nor live in my house by the side of the road
Like a man who dwells alone.

Let me live in my house by the side of the road
Where the race of men go by –
They are good, they are bad, they are weak, they are strong,
Wise, foolish – so am I.
Then why should I sit in the scorner’s seat
Or hurl the cynic’s ban?
Let me live in my house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.

 _____________________________________ 

 

Linking up today with the Five Minute Friday writing community, writing about the word BOTH. 

My teenage fashion fail: a re-post up at The Perennial Gen today

The Perennial Gen, a site for people in midlife and beyond, has a "Fashion and Beauty" theme this month, and today they're running a post of mine from a few years back.

Click here to read "My Teenage Fashion Fail" -- and enjoy reliving with me my moment of youthful humiliation!

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Photo by Jonas Svidras on Unsplash.

Five Minute Friday: EMBRACE

Today I'm linking up with Kate Motaung for Five Minute Friday. 

Today's word is EMBRACE.

(I'm also linking this post to Jolene Philo's
Different Dream Parenting link share - March 28/17)

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Jonathan has been really enjoying his first year of high school. He gets along great with his Educational Assistant, Matt, and they do many fun outings together each week like stocking food at the Food Bank and going to the YMCA to do fitness or swim in the pool.

Today, as he does every second Friday, Jonathan goes on a particularly special outing with Matt. They get on the city bus, ride to another high school, and spend the afternoon with Jonathan's friend Nick and his EA. Jonathan has known Nick for several years; they go to the same special-needs day camp and are the best of friends. 

Nick does not communicate verbally at all, and Jonathan speaks in quite simple, concrete sentences. 

Jonathan (L) and Nick (R) at  summer camp

 But their friendship does not depend on words. They beam with delight when they see one another. They laugh and act silly. 

And they embrace each other -- sometimes literally, in fact. They accept and enjoy each other just as they are. They have no inhibitions, no filters when they get together: they can just BE.

Their relationship is a good model for us all: to embrace the moment. Embrace the love. Embrace the joy.

"We're flying!"

This past weekend I watched this YouTube video that Ann Voskamp shared on her blog as part of her weekend collection of uplifting content.

It's a 5-minute video of Irish pilot Michael McMahon taking his little brother Robbie on his first airplane flight.

CLICK HERE: Robbie First Flight (William Syndrome) - Youtube

 There's not much to it, really. There are no "YOU WON'T BELIEVE WHAT HAPPENS AT 3:12" or "WHEN I SAW WHAT HAPPENED NEXT, MY JAW LITERALLY DROPPED!" moments ... no death-defying rolls or flips in the air ... no emergency landing. Still, I bet that once you've watched it, you'll want to see it again.

I think what's so special about this clip is that it captures all of the good things in life:

• Adventure. What could be more exciting for two brothers than flying in a plane?
• Companionship. I love it when little Robbie says things like "Booza-booza" and Michael says "Booza-booza" right back. They've clearly had these conversations before.
• Trust. Note Robbie's body language. He never flinches, never tenses up and holds on, never seems fearful of a noise or movement; he just enters into the experience without question, happily assuming that whatever his big brother does will be just fine.
• Patience. Robbie keeps saying "Mikey?" "Mikey?" and his brother answers patiently every time. (I can relate: well, to the repetition part, if not always the patient reply part.)
• Simplicity. Robbie is thrilled to be in the plane, but also looks forward just to having dinner with Daddy and Mikey.
• Love. That's obvious throughout, but they still say it in words: "I love you." "I love you too, buddy." So sweet!!!
• Joy. The expressions on their faces at 1:40 say it all: life is good when you're doing something fun with somebody you love.

I hope you enjoy this video as much as I did. And remember: "Sing a happy happy happy happy happy happy song."