Author: Monica

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Three Hours at the Repair Shop

I meet the nicest people everywhere I go.  Today, for instance, I took my car in for some routine service and since I was told it would take about an hour, decided to wait there at the shop instead of inconveniencing someone to pick me up and take me.  Besides, I was just down the road from Target and I figured I could always stop in for a quick look afterwards.

To keep me occupied, I packed my knitting, my IPad, this week’s grocery adds and a book on Ignation Spirituality as well as two cheese sticks and an apple to tide me through lunch.  Sounds like a lot of stuff to bring for an hour’s wait but this, as they say, was not my first rodeo, and as it turns out, the mechanic broke two of my lug nuts as he took off my tires for rotation.  This resulted in a call to the local parts store and an additional wait for delivery.  My one hour wait turned out to be three.

When I arrived there were already two men in the waiting area having a discussion about retirement.  I pulled out my grocery adds and began to scan them for bargains. Every so often, I would dial into their dialog, peering over the top of the newspaper.  Needless to say, it didn’t take long for me to find a way to impose myself into their conversation and we were off; finding all the many ways our life paths had criss-crossed each other.  All of us, as it turns out, had not only had prior ties to the military, but all of us had lived in Denver, affiliated with Lawry Air Force Base.  What are the odds?  We talked about yesterday’s election, gun control laws and gun ownership, motorcycles, our pets and life in central Virginia.  Even though we were strangers, it was as if we were just catching up instead of meeting for the first time.

As we talked, I knitted.  The hours flew by.  My scarf grew longer.  One by one, my companions left.  For a while I was alone. I ate my apple and cheese sticks.  Then, another younger man came in and took a seat.  Soon a conversation was born and we were trading stories.

All in all, it was a very good way to spend the day, or at least three hours of it.

 

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On the Way to Church

This morning as I drove to church, the aroma of warm Virginia ham wafted from the casserole on the floor; my contribution to the morning’s  “Get Acquainted” potluck breakfast. All my senses told me it was going to be a good day.

Even Walmart looked enchanted with the backdrop of late autumn colored foliage and the steel blue mountains rising behind. The Blue Ridge were certainly living up their name. The sky had the same cold steel tone of blue but in billows of variegation’s of light and dark, blue and white.

The color and the vastness reminded me of the beach; the feelings of smallness in the infinite, of being a tiny part in the greatness. And, I suppose that’s a good way to feel on your way to church.

Have I told you how much I love living here?

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Memories of Ocean Beach, NJ

Grandma and Grandpa Waugh’s beachside summer cottage in Lavallette, NJ.

My husband Dave spent practically every summer of his early life at the Jersey Shore.  His Grandma and Grandpa Waugh had a small summer cottage in Lavallette, just north of Seaside Heights.  In June, the five of them; Dave, his sister Ginny, his parents and dog, Blondie, would pile into the car and make the journey east from Des Moines, IA where his dad would drop them off for the summer at 16 E Shore Way in the beach side community of Ocean Beach.

Compared to the McMansion beach homes we rent down at Nags Head, it was a modest (tiny) square home with two bedrooms, a living/dining area, galley kitchen and bath.  It had a small heater, but no air-conditioning.  It sat on a sandy lane in a row of identical summer homes in a variety of pastel beachy colors.  Life for the summer dwellers revolved around the beach and surf, the house was merely shelter from the sun, a place to eat, clean up and sleep.

Dave’s dad was an only child so naturally Dave and Ginny were doted on for the summer.  Their days were spent on the beach playing in the sand or fishing with Grandpa.  Grandma, whom I had the pleasure of knowing, was the sweetest of woman.  Every Friday night she would make Chef Boyardee pizzas (the mix from the box) for the kids and serve them with ice cold Coca Colas.  Years later she told me that she had never even tasted either of them, they were for the grand kids.

Dave and Ginny on the beach at Lavallette in the 60’s

After his Grandpa passed on, Grandma moved in with Dave and his family.  By then they had moved back to New Jersey and eventually, since his mom went back to work, it was only Dave and Grandma making the annual trip back to the shore house.  It was there he worked his summer jobs ranging from life-guarding to pumping gas.

Not long after we began dating in the spring of 1974, Dave and I and another couple (whose names I can’t even remember) went down to the shore for the weekend.  Dave had kept a key to his grandma’s house and I guess you could say we were there “under the radar”.  As it turned out, the water had been turned off so we didn’t spend as much time as we had planned since the closed bathroom was TeePee Subs down on the corner!

Through the years, I would go spend a weekend when my work schedule allowed and Dave and I were “on”.    I remember the warmth of the sun, the expanse of pristine beach and quiet evenings on the glider on the screened porch with the sounds of the surf mixing with the “Carol Burnett Show” from the TV inside.  It is a sweet memory.

The last time I saw the beach house was ten years ago.  Dave, Ginny, her husband George and I were together in New Jersey following their mother’s memorial service.  After leaving her ashes at the family plot in Elizabeth, we decided to drive down to Toms River to spend the night.  We made a pilgrimage to Ocean Beach and walked down E Shore Way, noting that air conditioning had been added and many of the homes had been knocked down and larger structures put in their place and then walked further and up over the dunes to survey the beautiful beach as the setting sun played across the water.  The memories flooded back for me, I can only imagine what it was like for Dave and Ginny with the ghosts of so much of their childhoods running through the shallows, bobbing in the waves, building castles in the sand or casting their lines into the surf.

These past few days these memories have become even more precious to me.  I suppose it’s because if this place no longer exists, my memories become less grounded.  The pictures of the area in the aftermath of Hurricane Sandy are those of total devastation.  The Jersey Shore has been physically altered by nature such a way that it will never be the same.  That doesn’t mean it can never be a place for families to go and build memories again, it just won’t be the same.  So many of the older homes are gone for good, it is unlikely that they will be rebuilt in the simple, post-war style.  Perhaps an era has been washed away to make way for the next.

I hope it’s a good one.

Aerial view near Seaside Heights

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Down From the Mountain Top

I made my Cursillo this weekend.  From Thursday evening through Sunday afternoon, I was totally immersed in a quiet, reflective world of loving Christian women hoping to “renew and strengthen their love of Jesus; to grow in faith, knowledge and personal holiness; to bring Christian values to all environments and people with whom they come into contact.”(borrowed from the Cursillo pamphlet).  It was a life adjusting experience, full of nourishment for the soul and energizing grace.  My body has returned from the mountain, but my soul still soars!

I am a daughter of God; a sister of Christ and I will strive to live accordingly.

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Hello Dalai

Last July when my buddies Sue and Lynda came down for lunch at the C’ville Downtown Mall, they noticed signs for an upcoming visit by the Dalai Lama and determined that we should make a date to regather on October 11th for the event.  Since I live down here, they put me in charge of tickets, etc.

Sue and Lynda are not your run of the mill friends.  They are a dynamic twosome, full of energy and “joie de vivre”. Whenever I am with them, life becomes an adventure, an escape from the everyday, and the world becomes a place of wonder and awe.  That doesn’t mean they lead me astray, although there was that one time when they egged me on to climb onto the back of a dirty old horse and ride him bareback in my party attire…    Our fun is always good and clean, except of course for the horse.

We have been friends for more than fifteen years, since we lived in Vienna, VA for a couple of years in the mid 90’s.  I met Sue first, she was the Director of Religious Education at our parish and Lynda was her long time friend.  They sort of took me under-wing as their sidekick and we’ve been adventuring and supporting each other ever since.

So, last Thursday they came down to see the Dalai Lama.  It was a glorious fall day; the sky was clear and the sun shone warm enough just to take the chill out of the crisp air.  I’d planned ahead by purchasing a parking pass so finding a place to leave the car wasn’t an issue and our seats were wonderful.

The audience in the amphitheater were an interesting lot.  As Lynda put it, “there was a lot of granola out there!”  Charlottesville has a strong Buddihist community and UVA has a large Tibetan Studies Department so there was a healthy mix of vegans, vegetarians, Buddists, Tibetans, students and everyday folks, all kept under close scrutiny by a sizable contingent of State Department and Secret Service agents in black suits and sunglasses.

Before the Dalai Lama spoke, there were performances by the Red Crooked Sky American Indian Dance Troupe,Techung, a Tibetan folk singer and children from a local Tibetan school.  The costumes, music and energy all worked to calm the crowd and help focus on the main event,  a presentation, “Beyond Religion, Ethics for a New World” by His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama of Tibet.

Keith Anderson from the “Red Crooked Sky American Indian Dance Troupe” We saw him walking down the Mall; he was replendant!

As he quietly took the stage and the audience stood in applause, I felt goosebumps go up my arms and neck and I quietly wondered if I would feel the same in the presence of the Pope.  I guess I’ll never know.  He spoke softly, smiling the whole time with the occasional assistance from his translator.  Sue, Lynda and I all envied not only the translator for his close proximity to the Dalai Lama but also the Dalai Lama for having someone constantly at his side providing the word he was searching for.  What a perk that is!

And, even though the title of the talk was “Beyond Religion”, the Dalai Lama in no way dismissed or discounted religion.  Instead, he encouraged us to look to each other with love and compassion, embracing the common elements found in all religions and look beyond our differences in dealing with the challenges we all face in this world.  His style was less of preaching and more of gentle leading.  He exuded warmth and cheerfulness, and chuckled throughout his talk, usually referring in a humbling way about himself; not self-effacing, simply finding humor in his humanity.

It struck me that perhaps this is how Jesus’ followers saw him, a simple holy man, travelling from place to place, sharing his message of compassion and love of neighbor.  No, the Dalai Lama is not THE son of God, but he certainly is A son of God and one in whom I am certain He is well pleased.  I am so grateful that Sue and Lynda saw the sign and guided me into this adventure.

more to follow…..

 

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Farewell #31

Monday afternoon I said goodbye to an old friend, my passenger side lower twelve- year-old molar (#31).  We’d had a long relationship; one I thought would last a lifetime.  I guess it did, but my tooth’s life turned out to be shorter than mine.  She’d been a part of me so long, I don’t even remember when she arrived in my life.  But, somewhere around the age of twelve, my molar erupted as a shiny, pearly perfect tooth, ready to masticate.

Not long after her arrival, she was shackled by metal bands as  the second phase of my  eight year orthodontic adventure began .  It was the old days of full metal jackets, wires and rubber bands that were anything but invisible.  I had the full complement of night gear and retainers.

Cleaning in between all those wires was difficult and #31 suffered decay.  It was a painful experience for both of us, the drilling and filling,  but it was for our own good.  It was the days of dentistry before painless fillings and anesthesia wasn’t always used.  As a kid I actually feared the Novocaine shots more than the drill, so I went without.

 

Eventually the bands came off and at the age of fourteen, when most of my friends were just getting their braces, mine came off revealing a perfect smile.  I remember my Grandpa Farner remarking as he admired my high school graduation photo “Her teeth sure did turn out nice.”  It was then I learned my grandparents helped cover the cost of my dental work.

After the braces came off, life went on for me and my teeth.  For the most part I kept up regular dental visits and cleanings to insure that I was a good steward of my parents’ and grandparents’ investment.  I made sure my own children’s teeth were maintained.  The advent of military dental insurance made it much easier for us than for my parents.

About the time Maggie and Andy were getting their braces, it was time to enter another chapter with #31.  I was eating popcorn one evening when a chunk of it broke off leaving a very jagged edge.  Mortified by the event, I went to the dentist the next day and began preparation for my first crown.  Many of my friends came back from duty stations in Hawaii with beautiful gold bracelets.  Me, I came back with a beautiful gold crown.  The funny thing is that I loved it!  It felt so smooth against my tongue and the cuspids were a work of art.  I thought this full gold covering would protect us forever.

About a year later, after we’d moved back to the mainland and #31 was giving me some pain.  At first it was just a little ache but eventually became a full throb.  My new dentist decreed that the nerve was dying and recommended a root canal.  So, my beautiful gold crown was drilled through and the procedure completed – twice.  I was told I had hooked roots on my teeth which made it difficult to reach all the nerve tissue.  The second time worked like a charm and we were happy again, #31 and I, my tongue forever delighting on it’s smooth surface.

Last year after my dental exam, my dentist gave me the bad news.  Decay had developed beneath my crown and there was no saving my molar.  She said the integrity of the crown had been compromised and now threatened the adjacent tooth.

I was devastated.

It took me nine months to get up the nerve to schedule the extraction.

My appointment was for Monday at 10:30.  I took my knitting along to keep my hands busy, releasing nervous energy.  Naturally they were running late.

After being sufficiently numbed, the procedure began.  #31 seemed to be as reluctant to leave my body as I was to see her go.  I sat in the chair, in my usual dental mode, calm and relaxed – a product of many years of practice in dental chairs – listening to the soothing melody of Keali’i Rachel on my IPod.  The dentist and her assistant worked methodically and calmly for what seemed like a very long time.  I figured that as long as they were calm, I had nothing to worry about.

Eventually, it was over.  I was sent home with after extraction care instructions, gauze and my gold crown in a little white envelope.

Four days later, my jaw still aches a bit.  My tongue is missing the smooth surface of the crown and is leery of investigating the empty space #31 called home.  Each day feels better than the last, and I know that eventually my days will continue without the least thought of missing her.

I know it might seem silly going on and on over a  lost tooth.  I realize just how lucky I am to have kept my teeth intact for 57 years.  I also realize that I could not have done this without the care and sacrifice of those who loved and cared for me when I was young.  No matter how I look at it, I know that #31 was a blessing, as are my other teeth.

I’ve done a lot of joking about taking my crown down and trading in the gold for cash.  I don’t know how much an old dental crown is worth, but maybe I can get a few dollars for it.  Whatever the value, I think I’ll include it in a donation to the Greene County Dental Clinic to in a small way help someone else keep their #31 for 57 years.

 

 

 

 

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Morning in the Office with the Girls

The girls and I have spent the entire morning working in the office. For the past several hours I have been transcribing minutes from this month’s Habitat for Humanity Steering Committee Meeting, preparing bulletin announcements for the dreaded Annual Diocesan Appeal and finalizing the reservation for the HOA Annual meeting in January with the vice principal at the local elementary school.  As always, Izzie and Purrl have been keeping me company.

Izzie and Purrl always keep me company in the office.

It’s our routine; I go upstairs, they follow.  I work, they snooze.  They perked up a bit when they heard the camera go on, but usually they are oblivious to my trials and tribulations as I volley between four different email accounts; two of mine, one for the parish, one for the HOA.  It is tricky sometimes, keeping track of where I am and which hat I’m wearing but so far, so good.

Of course our togetherness isn’t always welcomed.  Izzie will still from time to time demonstrate her displeasure at her life as an “indoor cat” by crying at the door, knocking small objects from table tops or “arranging” flowers from vases to the floor.  Purrl has frequent spells of “needing to play, NOW!”  She dances around the family room floor demanding in a high pitch wail until she is appeased.

In turn, I pester them as well.  I pick them up and give them loving.  Surprisingly, Izzie enjoys the attention and will nuzzle her head under my chin making a wheezy purr sound that is her own.  Purrl does not take to being held but does like to climb in my lap from time to time for pets.  As her name suggests, she is accomplished at purring.

Purrl’s spot is overlooking Izzie, ready to pounce!

In their quiet presence, they keep me focused on my office tasks.  Without them, I would be constantly looking for distractions to get me out of this chair and this blog would go unwritten. I owe them a great deal, my furry entourage.

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Autumn, Day One

One of the best perks of living in Central Virginia is our proximity to dozens of small local vineyards. Aside from the enjoyment of driving the winding byways through some of the most of the most breathtaking scenery ever we have welcoming destinations offering a place to comfortably sit and enjoy the view as well sample some pretty decent wine.  (Californians not withstanding.)  So, at the invitation of our friends, Jay and Wendy Oliver, we joined them for a Saturday afternoon trip west to Afton Mountain Vineyards.

We left about 3:00 and I think it took about an hour to get their.  I’m not really sure because we “girls” sat in the back seat and that always makes a trip seem longer.  It wasn’t so bad while we were still on I64, but when we turned off onto the local roads, woof!  The last time I remember taking those kinds of turns in the backseat of a car was when we drove up to Waimea Canyon on Kauwai’i;  lots of twists and hairpin turns to keep your equilibrium off kilter.

Jay had me pose on Dave’s lap. What a great time!

Once we arrived at our destination, we found a table with a great view in the covered picnic pavilion.  Wendy and I began to unload a few goodies and Dave and Jay headed off to pick up a few bottles of wine from the tasting room.  The weather was perfect, the high just about 70 degrees, just a bit of a breeze, and just a few clouds on the horizon. [I took the new header photo from our table at sunset.)  It the afternoon turned to evening, it was nice to pull on a light cardigan for the first time since summer began.  The long, hot, muggy days of summer gone, we began to relax into autumn, and it was good.

Wendy packed an amazing meal, cold cuts, potato salad with kielbasa (I know it sounds odd, but trust me, it was wonderful!), caprese salad, a cheese plate and even chocolate-raspberry mouse with whipped cream and a raspberry on top!  I filled in with odds and ends I grabbed from the fridge; a block of NY State white cheddar, apples, grapes, carrots and a salmon spread I threw together with left-over salmon, cream cheese, capers and red onion.  I also had a small boule loaf that I sliced nice and thin.  To complement our meal, the “boys” brought back bottles of Afton Mountain Merlot and Gewurztraminer.  What more could we have asked for?

Dave and Jay solve the world’s problems from atop the mountain.

After we finished eating, Dave a Jay moved their chairs over to the perimeter wall, put their feet up and begin solving the problems of the world in general and the Presidential election in particular.  Jay took the side of the Elephants; Dave of the Donkeys.  At times their discussion got a bit heated, requiring Wendy and I to provide a swift but gentle kick to our partners’ leg, to get them to back off.  In the end they agreed to respectfully disagree, which is really anyone can ask for.  After all, friends are much more important than politics!

Jay and Wendy have a laugh as Jay tries to take photos with his phone.

After the sunset, we packed up our coolers and headed back onto the road.  We’d been teasing Wendy (who is from Scotland) with many an “aye”, “wee” and “augk”.  Jay came to her defense in the car by playing her favorite CD by a Celtic Rock band called Runrig.  She responded in kind by waving her fist in beat with the music.  Aughk, aye, t’was a bonney time!

So there you have it.  Our trip to Afton Mountain Vineyards wasn’t exciting in that we spotted a celebrity or were attacked by killer beas, but it was a time of growing a friendship and a memory that will stay with me for a long time.

 

 

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Activity Review

The past few weeks have flown.  My “few” volunteer activities seem to have all geered up for the fall and I am happily finding myself busy again.  I feel well-rested from my year off and am enjoying the increased activity.  Sadly it doesn’t allow much time to sit and write, so in brief, here are a few of the things I’ve been up to:

1.  Helping to reorganize the Parish Hall.  My buddies and I have spent on average one long morning a week focusing on cleaning areas of the hall that have been long overlooked.  We’ve shifted furnishings, washed windows and floors and have generally tried to transform the entry area into a homey, welcoming area where folks can sit and have coffee together after Mass on Sundays.  Now the cleaning is out of the way, we are concentrating on paint colors and decorating.

2. Knitting with Gail. Last November I started meeting one afternoon a week with a lady from church who had begun knitting a sweater for her daughter in law about a year earlier with the help of a local yarn shop owner.  Sadly the shop closed and Gail was left with a bag full of pricey yarn and a half completed sweater back.  We met for several Monday afternoons to work on her project until her husband suffered a series of medical issues and she became housebound.  Almost the whole summer passed until she called to see if we could begin meeting again.  So, one evening a week, I go to Gail’s and we knit.  In the past few weeks she’s completed all but the last sleeve and best of all, her husband has graduated from Hospice to Continuing Care.

3. Working with the Greene County Habitat for Humanity Steering Committee.  Way back in May, Dave and I signed up to volunteer with HFH and not long afterwards I began meeting with the Vista volunteer assigned to our local group to brainstorm and start to discern where I could fit into the program.  After some consideration, I decided to join the Steering Committee as the Record Keeper.  A few weeks ago, Dave and I worked our first event; a spaghetti dinner fundraiser at a tiny country church.   We sat at the ticket table schmoozing eight dollars a plate from our patrons.  It was great fun.

4.Working out at the gym.  Yes, I continue to let Lorenzo call the shots in the gym.  I am still amazed at what I’ve accomplished over these past ten months and what I will push myself to do to see him smile!  Never in my life would I have imagined myself feeling so comfortable in a gym, confidently using the machines and lifting weights.  Whenever it really hurts, I tell myself that I’m in physical therapy and it has to be done.  The pain doesn’t go away,but I feel more determined to complete my task.

5. Volunteering with Organizing for America.   Through a series of unrelated events, I was invited to volunteer with the Greene County organization to help re-elect the President.  Last November was the first election I hadn’t worked in almost ten years.  As weird as it sounds, I missed not getting up at o’dark hundred and working the polls.  My offer to work here in Greene County wasn’t taken, so I am working with OFA to help register voters.  I also answer the phone at the campaign office for two hours on Monday afternoon.  The last election I worked was in 1972 so the technology has changed but one thing that hasn’t is the excitement and dedication of the youth – the big change is thatIam no longer one of them!

6. Playing with friends. At least one day a week I play with my friends.  Friday afternoons I usually spend exploring with Angela.  At first she helped my get my berrings by taking me around to different shopping areas and local eateries.  Now we choose from a variety of destinations for lunch and shopping.  She has done such a good job at acclimating me to the greater Charlottesville area that I have now become the “old-timer” showing newer transplants around.  This all makes for a great deal of lunches out and laughing, it’s a tough job, but someone’s got to do it!

So, these are a few of the things I’ve been up to.  Each of these activities have led to others as my circle of friends grows.  Greene County is so small that I run into many of the same people in more than one venue.  All of this has given me a real sense of belonging here in my newish home.  My roots have taken hold and are thriving.  I just need to put a bit of self discipline in place and get back to regular writing.

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Political Politeness

Not much of a choice here, is there?

I’ve studied enough American history to know that ugliness in political campaigns is nothing new.  In our nation’s infancy, signs like these appeared setting the backdrop for the Revolution.  Seeing this as the beginnings of a theme as opposed to just a piece of quaint Americana, is disheartening and makes me wonder just what percentage of American colonists really wanted to break from England.  What would have been our consequence for not breaking?  Would we now suffer through life as the Canadians do?  Doesn’t seem that bad. Anyway, the question I wrestle with is why there is so much political intolerance in this country.  Here, in the land of the free and the home of the brave I actually had to think twice about putting an Obama bumper-sticker on my car, not because I am ashamed or have doubts about my convictions, but because for the past four years I have decided to keep my mouth shut (for the most part) to avoid the onslaught of heated discussions, debate and sometimes downright rudeness from others who feel comfortable in spewing ugly innuendo half truths with the intensity and conviction of a evangelical preacher.  Is this really necessary?

We don’t seem to be able to quietly discuss issues from differing viewpoints.  Instead we poke fun at the opposing candidate, making them seem totally idiotic or worst of all, vilifying them.  PACs run ads and post ominous signs like the Americans for Prosperity who have large black signs posted here in Greene County adjacent to the Republican candidate sings that read “November is Coming” in bold white letters, as if we’re facing the apocalypse.  Why the fear mongering?  Are people really that afraid?  I’ve heard many folks say the whole election process is too long.  I know that by Election Day I will be ready for the whole thing to be over – God willing and the chads don’t hang.  I also know who I hope will win. Until then I am willing to sit down and have a cup of coffee or glass of wine with anyone who’d like to chat with me about why they support who they do, as long as they listen politely to me as well.