Fourth of July

Today I am filled with gratitude for this country I call home. Happy Fourth of July, friends.

1987

Back when the wife's glasses were, in the words of her son, "as big as her head", and the husband's hair had yet to be flecked with its silver crown.

Isn't he handsome in that dashing hat?

photo courtesy of dear friend Alison. Taken at her wedding in 1987.

Reading challenge update

A Summer Reading Challenge Update:

Completed

Andy Catlett - beautiful, plenty of quotes listed here.

A World Lost - this is a much sadder book, focusing on Andy Catlett's perspective on the death of his Uncle Andrew. I loved this book, but the intensity made me read it in smaller doses than normal.

It closes with:

Remembering, I suppose, the best days of my childhood, I used to think I wanted most of all to be happy - by which I meant to be here and to be undistracted. If I were here and undistracted, I thought, I would be at home.

But now I have been here a fair amount of time, and slowly I have learned that my true home is not just this place but is also that company of immortals with whom I have lived here day by day. I live in their love, and I know something of the cost. Sometimes in the darkness of my own shadow I know that I could not see at all were it not for this old injury of love and grief, this little flickering lamp that I have watched beside for all these years.

A Homemade Life: Stories and Recipes from My Kitchen Table Mollie Wizenberg - I love this woman's writing. Her blog, Orangette, is on what I hope is a temporary hiatus, but there are years of archives to read. Great recipes, engaging writing. I especially love the writing about her father. Yes, I sobbed, but her ability to love and care about people is part of what makes her a pleasure to read.

Living in a Foreign Language: A Memoir of Food, Wine and Love in Italy Michael Tucker - since I am not flying off to live in Italy, I appreciate Michael Tucker doing such an enjoyable job of telling me all about his adventures. This book makes me hungry. And thirsty for wine and the long hours in which to drink it.

The Finer Points of Sausage Dogs Alexander McCall Smith - ridiculous and funny. A perfect break from A World Lost.

The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid: A Memoir Bill Bryson - Bryson, too, is ridiculous, but this book was too much for me. Didn't enjoy it at all past page 100. So I skipped to the last chapter, read it and called it done.

The Summer of the Great-Grandmother - One of my favorite books, especially as it was the first L'Engle book I ever read. It was assigned in a gerontology class and did more to get me thinking about aging and caring for family members than any of the more technical volumes in my course of study. This is a poignant time for a re-read. One of the messages in L'Engle's Crosswicks Journal, of which this is book two of four, is that life is lived in community. Caring for aging parents, and grieving their loss, is no exception. A good word for me, and I am grateful to be surrounded by a supportive community this summer.

The Mom Update

At Madelaine's graduation

The results of the PET scan have been received -- Mom's cancer is Stage 4. This means it has spread, this means that time is shorter than we want. She is going to try some mild chemo to see if it can give her a little more time.

They estimate that she has four to six months. We all know they can't tell us how long she has, but hearing those numbers was sobering to me. Mom was her unbelievably cheerful self: "Well, it really could be worse." She's right, but it still knocks me over.

So, what do you do when you know your time on earth is coming to an end? Well, it seems that we are finding out the answer to that. We are doing some special things, like building a deck for Mom to have as a safe path to her door when/if she needs a wheelchair. We also want to plant sod in her yard to cool down and green up the little space she calls home. We are less tempted to procrastinate, and for Mom and for me that may be the biggest difference; we can both take procrastination to an extreme sport level. But for the most part we find that we continue on with what we have always thought was worth doing. We read as many books as we can fit in a day or week, we love fabric and continue to admire the sunflower yellow fabric we found at IKEA. I spend time watering and dead-heading the rose bush in the morning, and I continue to find myself overwhelmed with the laundry pile. It's all shockingly normal.

One advantage we have right now is that my husband is home. I can sneak away for some time each day, to sit in Mom's cool front room and chat. One of my favorite sounds in the whole world is my mother's deep, throaty laugh. I intend to hear that as often as is possible in the weeks and months to come. I'm thinking I will have to rent movies like Waking Ned Devine as part of my laugh out loud campaign.

In the words of DMB: "Life is short but sweet for certain." It's true for all of us, you know. Sometimes the lens just closes in to show the truth a little clearer.

It was all about twenty-three

It's a new season of hoops with a new number: *23*
Saturday was the first tournament for the Nor-Cal Thunder!

Number 23 played beautifully; his mother is still working on being quieter in the bleachers.




But Sunday was a day for a 23 of a totally different sort:

Twenty-three years of marriage.
WOW.

So we sneaked away. To coffee houses and bookstores down Highway 49, the road through the Gold Country. We enjoyed quiet companionship, not blabbing away non-stop as we sometimes do. We read, we napped, we ate a late lunch, we drove with the air conditioning blasting on our hot faces.

The music, the books, the coffee, the winding golden roads of our beautiful state, this one day was a slice of the sweet, challenging, maturing, meaningful life we have lived for the last twenty-three years.

Grow old along with me! The best is yet to be, the last of life, for which the first was made. Our times are in his hand who saith, 'A whole I planned, youth shows but half; Trust God: See all, nor be afraid!
~ Robert Browning _

Jayber Crow from a friend

A note from a dear friend with a lengthy quote from Wendell Berry; ah, it was a good day in the inbox.

"Her eyes had a glaze of tears that did not fall. I was touched entirely by the look of her and the sound of her voice. I said, "Della, are you all right?"


She said, "There are leftovers, Jayber. There are things I did or said that I wish I hadn't, and things I didn't do or say that I wish I had. When he finally got free of his sickness and awful clumsiness there at the last, I was glad, and yet I was sorry I was glad, and yet I miss him. But am I all right? Yes, I am all right...."

She went her way, then, and left me standing there still as a stone, all filled to running over with the force of what she had put into my mind."

It was the thought of Heaven. I thought an unimaginable thought of something I could almost imagine, of a sound I could not imagine but could almost hear: the outcry when a soul shakes off death at last and comes into Heaven. I don't speak of this because I "know" it. What I know is that shout of limitless joy, love unbound at last, our only native tongue.

I thought of you when I read this, you being still in that time of doing and giving. I was touched by your last letter about everyone eagerly working to do something, to show the love you all feel, and in some way envelop her in that. With my mom, I am always aware of just what Della says, a desire to erase certain things I did or said, and to have said and done things I didn't do and say. And I wonder if there is any person I love that I will not feel the same way about, in the looking back.

From another perspective

For another peek at Madelaine's graduation, you can read here.

Allison and Bethany, your presence at our celebration was a gift we never expected, and one we will never forget. We love you!

Graduation dinner recipes

Appetizers

Crostini
One bag crostini.
Spread with pesto.
Add one sun-dried tomato on each.
Cover with grated cheese of choice.
Broil just until cheese bubbles; serve warm.

Sliced baguette with brie.

Shrimp wrapped in snow peas.

Salad
Two bunches of romaine.
Two bags of fresh salad mix from Farmers' Market, including purple and green leaves and some flowers.
Two bags sunflower greens.
Ten radishes, cleaned and cut in quarters
Ten nasturtium blossoms, cut into small pieces
Sugar snap peas, cut into pieces with some peas loose in salad


Vinagrette Salad Dressing
One cup olive oil
6 tablespoons balsamic vinegar
Two sprigs rosemary
Two cloves garlic
1 tablespoons Italian seasoning
Pulse until blended.

Pork Tenderloin
4 tenderloins (1-2 pounds each)

Marinade
2 cups orange juice
1 cup red wine
1/2 cup soy sauce
1 heaping tablespoon crushed garlic
4 tablespoons berry jam
4 tablespoons honey

Marinate for 8-24 hours.
Remove meat from marinade; place in shallow pan (9x13).

Tenderloin rub
Big bunch of fresh rosemary sprigs (needles only, no sticks).
Big spoonful of crushed garlic.
Pulse in blender until a paste.

Rub paste onto tenderloin.

Poor marinade over paste-covered tenderloin.
Bake in 350 degree oven until 170 degree.

Adapted from this recipe.


Bread
One loaf challah.
Three baguettes.
One loaf of artisan bread with chunks of garlic.
(All from the Farmers' Market)

Dessert was grapes, chocolate/white chocolate/butterscotch chip cookies, cheesecake and strawberry/rhubarb pie. Recipes coming.

Wine: Lorca Gary's Vineyard 2003 Pinot Noir from Trader Joe's

The Graduation

The answer to the question...

"What's been going on?"

It's graduation weekend here. Our oldest daughter has finished her high school studies and she is celebrating in her own, special way. No big cap and gown thing, thanks very much. No big ceremony. What did she want? A handful of favorite people, a delicious meal, and good conversation. So that's what we're doing. We're pulling out the power washer to clean off the cobwebs, we're hemming bright yellow tablecloths, and above all....we're cooking' up a storm. What's the menu for this little party? Well, let's just say it's not a normal night's meal for us. We're more the burrito (add avocado and fresh salsa to call it fancy) most nights. But not tomorrow. Tomorrow we Eat.

Appetizers

Brie and baguette
Crostini with pesto and sun-dried tomatoes
Shrimp vinaigrette with snow pea wraps

Salad

Salad green mix from the Farmers' Market
Edible flowers (pansies, nasturtiums)
Radishes
Edible pea pods (some whole, some peas out of pods)
Soy vinaigrette dressing

Main dish

Garlic Rosemary Pork Tenderloin
Oven roasted potatoes
Grilled asparagus
Challah and French bread
Pinot Noir
Lemonade and Limeade from Trader Joe's

Dessert

Cheesecake (or some "pot de creme" version if it is still as jiggly as it is now)
Rhubarb pie
Chocolate and Butterscotch chip cookies


Coffee
Espresso
Port and cigars

Man, it sounds good. And it already smells really, really yummy in my kitchen.

Recipes coming. I thought I'd better wait and make sure they were worth sharing before I posted them.

Andy Catlett

"And so that year of 1943 was in a sense my last year of innocence, of the illusion of permanence and peace. I was about to enter the time that is told by change, by death and loss, by the absence of the past and its members. by now, of all the people I have been remembering from those days in Port William, I alone am still alive. I am, as Maze Tickburn used to say, the onliest one."

"Time, then, is told by love's losses, and by the coming of love, and by love continuing in gratitude for what is lost. It is folded and enfolded and unfolded forever and ever, the love by which the dead are alive and the unborn welcomed into the womb. The great question for the old and the dying, I think, is not if they have loved and been loved enough, but if they have been grateful enough for love received and given, however much. No one who has gratitude is the onliest one. Let us pray to be grateful to the last."

"In our work we could feel the new year coming, the days lengthening, the time of birth and growth returning, and this seemed to bring a happiness to everybody, in spite of the war and people's griefs and fears."

"And now, as often before, I am reminded how grateful I am to have been there, in that time, with these I have remembered. I was there with them; they remain here with me. For in that little while Port William sank into me, becoming one with the matter and light, and the darkness, of my mind, never again to be far from my thoughts, no matter where I went or what I did."

I love this book. Love it.

Twenty minutes

Twenty minutes in the yard. A seat with a view of the setting sun and close enough to the herb garden to enjoy the fragrance of the roses and the lavender. It was perfect.



The ducks talked incessantly, but it was Andy Catlett that I invited to join me. He was perfect company.

Eventually the mosquitoes were able to chase me back inside, but not before the peace of Wendell Berry, the perfume of the lavender, the warmth of the setting sun had penetrated my heart and mind.

Twenty minutes was all it took.

Beware crazy driver

Mom's oncology appointment was yesterday and it was very sobering. The discussion centered on options to increase the time Mom has left: does she want to spend a lot of that time getting treatments? Does she want to risk side effects to increase that time? Those are questions I am sure she is wrestling with as I type. She still needs to get a PET scan to determine if the cancer has spread, but the decision will have to be made by next Wednesday. Sigh.

While Mom was out getting some lab work done, I had a few minutes alone where the tears could fall and I could let the enormity of it all sink in. It was nice to be in an office where they know what to do with people who are hearing really terrible news. They left me alone, and it was exactly what I needed.

Bad diagnoses don't change the fact that grocery shopping still needs to happen, so we headed off to the store when the appointment finished. After the Farmers' Market debacle, we had to be strategic about the grocery aisles. Should I shop for her? Would the cart offer enough support? Aha! What about an electric cart she could sit on? That was our answer.

We found the carts, got the power on, and she got comfortable. With a turn of the handle, the cart started moving forward, but Mom slowed down and looked over her shoulder. Our eyes met and, for reasons we cannot begin to understand, we started laughing. Mom's eyes were twinkling and I laughed until tears rolled down my face. It took us a second to get ourselves back under control, and then off went the electric grocery shopper. She got stuck in aisles and couldn't get out, she careened around corners and tried not to hit people. She learned to back up and scoot out of people's way. It was a riot.

And it meant Mom was doing her own shopping. Every little bit of independence is a gift, and she loved it. But if you see her headed down your aisle in the grocery store, I would still recommend you get out of the way. Just to be safe.

Farmers' Market

Saturday was a glorious morning. The Farmers' Market was a quiet bustle of early visitors. The friendly greetings were passing back and forth between old friends, and customers were already carting flats of fruit and bags of produce to their cars. My goal was two-fold: the Farmers' Market was on Mom's short list of places she wanted to visit, and I have a dinner party coming up for my daughter's high school graduation celebration. Mom was stopped in her tracks by the fragrant plucots and peaches, and I headed off to find the baskets, the honey and the lavender. We met up at the cheese booth, both spending more than we ever imagined on cheese that can only be described as divine. We were so happy to be there.

I got my Coloma Gold honey, my bunch of lavender, and I was in the midst of buying some glorious poppy plants from an elderly gentleman who attends our church, when I suddenly wondered how Mom was doing. I saw her leaning against a low brick wall. Little bells of alert starting going off in my mind, and I quickly put my things in the car and came back to get her.

By the time I got to her she was extremely weak. I asked if I should get the car, but she wanted to walk. After we crossed the narrow street, however, she knew she couldn't do it. I ran as fast I could to the van, raced back for her, and there she was, on the ground. Her legs got too weak and could not hold her. With the help of my daughter and two kind strangers, we got her into the van and slowly drove home. My heart was racing, my hands were shaking. It was foolish to take such an outing so soon after she came home from the hospital. She should have known, I should have known, that it would be too much. At most, a walk to the fruit stand for ambrosia-like apricots and an assisted walk back to the van would have been enough. She could have sat in the car, watching the herbs and babies and crates of strawberries go by and been perfectly happy. Instead, we overdid it and got a huge wake-up call.

We came home and got Mom settled in for some food and rest. She slept, ate and got her strength and good cheer back. My daughter and I had to talk through the experience, both of us feeling like failures and needing reassurance that we are doing the best we can and learning as we go. This is a time when offering grace to one another is going to become a habit. Fortunately, Mom is really good at that, so we can learn from the expert.

After that we planted in the front beds, watching colorful beauty begin to dazzle in long-forgotten corners. We worked until we were sore and dirty, then came in to wash up and relax. We sliced our amazing cheese (it looked just like a melon), added some French bread, and then watched Pride and Prejudice all.the.way.through.to.the.very.last.kiss. Perfect.

The rhythm of Saturday, the chores and the relaxation, took the churning of fear and worry and soothed our rough edges. It ended up being a deeply satisfying day. The garden is beautiful, the cheese a delicious memory, and the lessons learned somehow softened yet never to be forgotten.

Anticipation

I have been busy planning menus and seating arrangements and sprucing up the garden for the dinner party/graduation fete we are having on Sunday. So busy, in fact, that I almost forgot the most important part: some of my very favorite girls in the whole world will be here. Knit to my heart like family, three girls are traveling long distances to be here to celebrate with us. I know little snatches of how they are, but I long to hear their stories and their music and their laughter and their reading aloud. I am ready to welcome them with arms thrown open wide, to see their beautiful smiles and the glow of their budding lives around our party table.

Over the next few days we will be stringing up the twinkle lights, ironing the linens, getting the silver sparkling. But my heart will be eager to head to the airport for my Southern California girl, and my ears will be listening for the popping gravel that signals that my adopted nieces have arrived from Oregon.

I cannot wait to see you girls. Hurry home!

The Summer Reading Challenge

I was wanting to get my summer reading list together, and Janie from Seasonal Soundings provided just the right motivation: The Summer Reading Challenge! Click on that link and join us, okay?

My list takes into consideration that I will be sitting in a lot of waiting rooms with Mom, spending a week on the Oregon coast, and staying home a bunch. I have come up with a good balance of serious and funny, new books and re-reads; the very act of compiling the list brings comfort and cheer for this summer where so much is unknown and frightening. Oh, I love books.



Andy Catlett
A World Lost
Nathan Coulter
The Memory of Old Jack


A Homemade Life: Stories and Recipes from My Kitchen Table Mollie Wizenberg
Living in a Foreign Language: A Memoir of Food, Wine and Love in Italy Michael Tucker
The Kitchen Diaries: A Year in the Kitchen with Nigel Slater



Christ in the Psalms by Patrick Henry Reardon
Father Arseny: Priest, Prisoner, Spiritual Father
The Idiot F. Dostoevsky
The Journals of Alexander Schmemann



The Finer Points of Sausage Dogs Alexander McCall Smith
Portuguese Irregular Verbs Alexander McCall Smith
The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid: A Memoir Bill Bryson



The Summer of the Great-Grandmother
Two-Part Invention: The Story of a Marriage
Meet the Austins

The news that kicked us in the stomach

We learned on Thursday that my mother has bile duct cancer. I sat in the doctor's office, listening to clinical information about all the options and how most of them don't apply for a woman of eighty-two who has heart and lung conditions. I watched the expressionless face of the doctor, feeling gratitude for his thoroughness, annoyance at his "Stepford Doctor" affect, and pity for his role as the bearer of bad news. I listened as my mother said those over-scripted words, "How long do I have?", and as the doctor answered in equally predictable fashion, "I don't know, but I would make sure your affairs are in order."

This is a surreal time. There are still dishes to do and errands to run, and then moments when time stops and eternity sets down on us for awhile. It is the best of times and the worst of times; it is a raw and buffeting season on our little hill. To know is a gift. It gives us the fullness of the time left for us, rather than sneaking in and snatching it away. We can talk, we can laugh, we can cry, we can prepare. I am deeply grateful for the truth.

Now our job is to savor life, grabbing it and holding it, all the while being ready to loose our grip and surrender when the end comes. Christ Have Mercy is the prayer of my heart.

As I was trying to put words to the fuzz in my mind today, I wandered over to friend Ann's respite in the blogosphere . She is writing today of visiting Notre Dame Cathedral, of there being a spot that is "point zero" in France:

Somewhere on this cobbled stone square before the cathedral, under this milieu of colors swirling and languages murmuring, somewhere over time crumbled, a plaque marks Paris’ center, kilometer zero of French national highways. The center of Paris, the traditional center of the country of France, lies within line of sight of the Dame’s perched gargoyles.

Inside, amidst the towering columns and melodic liturgy and sparkling stained glass, she sees a woman quietly nursing her child. And when she leaves the interior of the cathedral she makes the link, the lifeline of truth that I so needed today:

I step out into a summer day’s blinding glare and a world spinning with fear, dizzy with change.

But there’s a ground zero. A changeless center. There’s a place, a Person, in the shifting, uncertain sands, offering nourishment, offering to feed and comfort us in eternal arms.

I could not help thinking she'd posted that just for me. With her kind permission I copy those words, I print out the picture of "point zero" in France. As life erodes, trembles, and crumbles, there is a constant, there is solid ground underneath our feet. We are standing on Point Zero and we shall not be shaken.

"For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor any other created thing, will be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord."
Romans 8:38-39

The discipline of gratitude

It has been way too long since I scratched out my gratitude here. With my mother being so ill, gratitude is a choice, a discipline. But it is especially important when life seems to be crumbling. More on my mum soon, but for now -- the simple pleasures of the week:

51. Red geraniums hanging from the deck. Bright red flags of cheer.

52. Blue lobelia hanging from the same deck, poised between the red flags with their frilly, jewel-like flowers. The lacy silhouette reminds me of the ocean.

53. Oodles of beautiful flowers ready to plant in the yard. Daisies, Mexican heather, impatiens, petunias are all ready to fill in the gaps in the front flower beds.

54. David Nevue's music. Played by Nevue himself, or played by my daughter, it is the perfect soundtrack for happy or sad days.

55. New floors. Tile that cleans easily and stays cool, laminate that shines in the afternoon light. It beats soiled, disgusting, brown, ugly carpet any day. Wouldn't you agree?

56. Saturday morning farmer's market. Mom and I will head out tomorrow at 7:45 a.m. Care to join us?

57. Responsibilities are slipping off the calendar. A break from the staggering and beloved commitment to speech and debate, no weekly dulcet tones of Mr. Callihan's classes, the schedule has cleared back to Latin and math and a little of this and that.

58. Ultimate frisbee games where the whole family is invited. The grown-ups haven't made it out yet, but how fun to have the whole crew encouraged.

59. Cool temperatures. 66 degrees at 4:00 p.m. in June? Unheard of and much appreciated.

60. Buffs, magpies, pekins and white crested ducks. Just last night, my husband sat on the couch and had a "chat" with them. He called out the window his version of a quack, and they responded in a loud, quacking unison from the duck coop down the hill. They make me laugh, all of them.

61. Pasta salad brought over by a dear friend. Bow tie pasta + toasted pine nuts + sun-dried tomatoes + peppers + olives + some yummy dressing. I could live on the stuff. Yumola.

62. Americanos are my new coffee companion. Just a big splash of espresso, some hot or cold water and the caffeination operation is up and running. Iced is especially tasty.

63. The great annual decluttering project. Bags and boxes head to the thrift store donation pile and life gets simpler. Amen.

64. Nor Cal Thunder Basketball. The little family phenom continues to leave it all on the court with a new AAU team. More nice families, more great basketball. We love cheering for #23.

65. Nice Neighbors. Anyone who remembers our property line disputes (that would be Amanda's dad and my mother) knows that we don't take happy neighbors for granted. Since the dark days of ditch digging linked above, Angry Neighbor B has passed away from cancer, and his grandson has had two beautiful children; Happy Neighbor A has finished his beautiful home and moved in and helped us with fallen trees and broken car window motors. Hearing little ones across the road, seeing flowers blooming in the yard of the pristine house next door, well, these are all a little bit of tranquility we receive as a daily gift.


Posted as a part of the Gratitude Community at Holy Experience