Not Blinking, Smiling Awesome

So I was at the Miss WV pageant orientation this weekend with my daughter, who will be competing as Miss Potomac Highlands in July.  Little old me, an aging flower child, in a room full of serious women  who have been chairing various pageant committees for  20+ years buzzing around about "their girls" and "Is anybody here a notary? I've got to get these forms notarized!" And then there are the girls, who range in age from 13 to 24 who are competing in the Miss West Virginia's Oustanding Teen and Miss West Virginia contests. Some wear their beauty self-consciously and others wear it as though it were their God-given entitlement. I recede into my iPad to think and reflect on my feelings.

What drives a pageant competitor? Do they seriously believe that they are more beautiful and talented than anybody else and they need to prove it? Is it because they have an issue that they are passionate about, and they see this as a way to get it out there? Does it give a girl a reason to go out and buy countless beauty products and treatments, a few expensive gowns and bathing suits? Or maybe it gives her a chance to avoid anything resembling school or work. I suppose it might be a little of all of these for Willa. She has always admired beauty, and spends hours online looking at clothes and makeup videos. While she is mostly keeping up with her schoolwork, she also sees it as a distraction from her important pageant preparation. She is engrossed in her platform (Get Fit, West Virginia), and she is gifted with an amazing voice, poise, beauty, and she's smart. But I think some of the motivation also stems from a need for redemption of a not-so-fun time up until now, starting with getting thrown under the bus by her friends in middle school. Is this a chance for her to say "Look at me, I could be Miss America"? If that's it, I say, "Right on, girl, you go show them what you've got!" Because haven't we all been there? How many of us have been motivated by what the naysayers said we couldn't do?

 (I tried to get her to sing "Pissing in a River" by Patti Smith for her talent, but she won't.  You can't win 'em all.)

While I'm figuring out what turns a perfectly normal, albeit, hormonal young woman into a teased-out, tiara-topped, sequin-blasted Barbie wannabe, I have spent significant time pondering my own mostly ambivalent reactions to it. It partly stems from all those years watching Miss America with my tongue planted firmly in my cheek. But it's also personal. Here I am at 57, and, over the past few years realizing that I'm not in my 40's anymore. My 40's I think were my very best, very most beautiful, years. I was totally confident in my appearance. I worked out all the time, and took good care of myself. Now my hair is thinning, my skin feels tight all the time, and there is wrinkling and sagging. It doesn't really bother me all that much normally. I'm still in pretty good shape, I work out: weightlifting, Zumba, and bellydance!  I guess it could be worse. (Really? There is a salon somewhere that still does perms?! And I will never ever ever wear "mom" jeans or pastel capris. Just shoot me!) Being around Willa as she gets deeper into this whole thing contrasts sharply with the changes  I'm noticing in myself. She's getting older and more beautiful; I'm getting older and less beautiful. It sounds like the fairytale of the jealous, evil stepmother, but it's not that at all. The physical of being leads me to musings about age, and time, in general. (and here is where my imaginary character that compulsively quotes Patti Smith chimes in: "This maze of being.... skin")

When I had Phoebe, I was 21. She's now 36. However, look at how old I'll be when Willa is 36.... I'll be 75! This fact just astounds me. How can this be? Especially when it seems like just yesterday that I was the 36 year old? Time passing by too quickly is no longer just a cliche. When I left the house yesterday morning, the cherry trees in my driveway were nowhere near blooming. When I drove back up the driveway later that day, there they were, in full bloom. Something is happening here, people! Be still about your global warming, Time is passing way too quickly!

Too many things have happened this year for me to fathom, making me even more aware of time passing quickly. My ex-husband, the father of my oldest daughter, died suddenly. One daughter is packing up to start a new life as a single girl after being in a relationship for 15 years, as my younger daughter is soon to be packing up to go to college. My husband, my young husband (!) is turning 50! Even my darling puppy Max, about to turn 10, is finally starting to look old. How can I stop this? I’m reminded of the line in “This is 40” where the classroom granny is telling the mom character not to blink, because if she does, she’ll all of a sudden be 90. I believe it! This is me, not blinking.

Footnote: Now that I've spent some time getting to know some of the players and the pageant experience itself, I have to say I'm feeling less ambivalent. The other moms that I met are all very nice, and Willa's director Shelly is caring and knowledgeable. The girls that Willa has gotten to know seem very supportive of one another, and they've been having a good time. It makes me so happy to see Willa surrounded by girls, some of whom have probably had the same issues with other girls that she's had.  Although I'm still a bit taken aback by what I perceive to be self-indulgence -- all this talk of which gown,  spray tans, how to walk -- I can see that this is a real challenge, and she's taking it seriously. I've been really impressed with how she's stayed on task and been so organized despite the paperwork and deadlines they've thrown at her; I know she's been responsible at school, but this is a huge project that she's managing. I'm also in awe of the role that Matt's taken as "pageant dad." This has been a great bonding experience for the two of them. He's really been a lot more involved that I have been, helping her choose gowns and music. I suppose like any foreign territory, the pageant world is just another one to get to know before judging it. I'm looking forward to the events as they unfold, regardless of the outcome. After all, isn't it the journey that's important?!

An ex-widow's grief

I find it interesting that, other than my immediate family and very close friends, not many people assume I'm also grieving over my ex-husband's death. I'm not particularly dwelling on this in a "it's all about me" moment; I just find it sociologically interesting. In fact, I wasn't at all sure how I should react. When I first got the news -- driving home last Wednesday afternoon when Phoebe called me -- I was of course shocked -- but my first grief was for her, knowing how close she's gotten to her dad after all these years. Remembering all too well the extreme depression I sunk into when my own father died 18 years ago as though it were yesterday. But after it sunk in,  I realized, oh my god! I really am going to miss having him in the world! Even after all the nastiness of the divorce and what led up to it, I am left with the more recent memory of his rebirth as a PTSD survivor. I am so lucky to have a husband who understands that I should be grieving instead of trying to spare his feelings of possible jealousy or misunderstanding. My mother and I were talking about how she felt when my own father, her ex-husband, died. She was describing how her love for him as a husband had changed, and the love just became the more general kind of love. I agreed with that, but added that I also felt a love for the way he loved our daughter, a kind of love that ran through our connection to her.

In any case, this experience will certainly make me more empathetic to anyone else who finds themselves grieving an ex. They are never "just" an ex. This person was someone who, at least once, was the most important person in the world to another. When they die, all those memories of why that was, run through whatever it was that pulled them apart.

Yes, I am mostly grieving for my daughter, who has lost her dad. But I am also grieving this man's life, so recently reborn, that is gone forever except for our memories.

Shine on....

The past comes rushing in, a cold wind through my window. I thought I had shut it tightly, years ago. Those ragged feelings of love/hate, anger, denial, then, intense happiness. How could I know, that afternoon of Christmas just a few weeks ago, that I would be saying goodbye to him, my first husband? As we hugged good-bye, he said quietly, "I love you." I said it back, for myself, in the Christmas spirit of one who loves everything and everybody. I love him as the father of my daughter, as a fellow man, so many years have passed since it meant anything more. Now he's gone, lying peacefully, in some meadow colored in gold, in a world full of summer, or perhaps he's riding a horse, with his favorite dog beside him. I can see him now as he was the first year I met him: long haired and bearded, smelling of tobacco (unfiltered Camels, still my favorite). He drove a hearse, an instant message to babes that he was wild, unafraid of death. He kept a young lion as a pet, another symbol of wildness not quite tamed. The lion and the hearse went their own ways, and soon we were together. For the next 10 years of my life, I held on for dear life; he was never content. His former life as a helicopter pilot in Vietnam, on top of his  undiagnosed bipolar condition took him places I could never see, not in my worst dreams. But there were happy moments. I remember our first Christmas with baby Phoebe. We were living deep in the woods in my father's cabin, and it was Christmas Eve. We had lights but no tree. We waited until Phoebe was sleeping in her crib, and went out into the woods in the darkness to find one. It was quiet, so quiet, and I still remember thinking "Silent Night, Holy Night." We cut down a little tree and brought it home. I decorated it with the lights and a few ornaments that I had, and we went and got Phoebe awake and brought her out. Her eyes lit up and she reached out to the tree. I remember it as one of the happiest moments of my life. Over the years, good things and bad things happened; I prefer not to dwell on the bad things; that would help nobody. I have forgiven, and moved on. Feel so blessed that both Phoebe and I were able reconnect with him, come to terms with what once was, and move on to a better place with him. These last few years must have been wonderful for him, traveling the short distance to see his youngest daughter now and then, a little further to see his older daughter and his grandchildren. It's especially good that he was able to see his parents again, although I'm sure he was probably thinking it would his last time to see them.

Shine on, Jay Roy Miller. Shine on.
ps Just wanted to update this post with my son-in-law's beautiful story from his perspective

Roundhouse at Beacon Falls

I am so impressed with the Roundhouse at Beacon Falls I just had to blog about it.

Just two years ago, my daughter Phoebe showed me four old mill buildings that sit alongside a ferocious waterfall within Fishkill Creek, which runs along the bottom of the town of Beacon. She told me that a developer wanted to turn them into a state-of-the-art, upscale hotel and event center.  Soon after that, she announced that she was working on a proposal to create a yoga space for the project. And sure enough, today she is working there. She has a yoga program in full swing in a temporary space until the new studio is ready, and also is helping to design and then, run the new spa when it opens.

Having lunch at the Roundhouse's beautiful Swift restaurant this week, seeing all that's transpired already, and imagining the kind of vision a person would have to have to re-create those four old buildings into the crown jewel that it's becoming, is awe-inspiring.

I was already impressed with the management of the project for having the wisdom of hiring my daughter! But they were also wise to tailor their plans to fit the charming town of Beacon. Beacon is already a magnet for those who love creativity; its many galleries, coffee houses, and clever little shops line the streets. It's become a refuge for artists from the city who no longer care to pay the high price of living there.  The Roundhouse project includes artist lofts, which are already sold out. The eclectic design present in the high ceilinged Swift restaurant, the magnificent lighting scheme in the 2EM Lounge, the views of the Fishkill, all appeal to the artistic senses.

Artistic appeal isn't the only thing going for this project; the buildings are being designed to meet LEED standards.  The mill, which produced  felt and fur hats in the 1800s, was powered by a hydroelectric plant. The plant will be restored  to provide green energy for the complex. There is plenty of open green space for admiring the beautifully landscaped gardens. Phoebe speaks very highly of the management, but her words proved out one day last Fall when she pointed to a guy watering the lawn across the way, and told me that it was Robet McAlpine, the developer of this project. So he's not just in an office somewhere far away, barking orders into the phone. He actually retired to Beacon 5 years ago and used his own retirement funds to finance the project. That is real ownership!

It's exciting to hear Phoebe talk about the Yoga workshops she's planning (Yoga and Wine Tasting, anyone?!), choosing products for the soon-to-be-opened luxury spa, and  logistics like how to advertise and reach her yoga audience. I really think she's found her niche. On her Facebook page for Yoga at the Roundhouse, she's been running a Gratitude challenge; most days for the past few weeks she posts something she's grateful for and asks her readers to respond. I'd just like to express my gratitude for people like Mr McAlpine, who have the vision to dream a project like the Roundhouse, the courage to carry it out, and the faith he puts into the people that help him. I am glad that my daughter is one of them, and I'm sure the folks at Roundhouse at the Beacon will be, too!

Insurance rant of the day

Are you ready for my CareLess rant of the day?! Carefirst overpaid one of our claims by $21.94. Most insurers have a function  to make easy arrangements to take care of this. For example, Medicare even allows me to do this with an automated phone call. United Healthcare has a link easily located on their website to either direct me to send a refund check, or have the amount deducted from our next payment. Well, not Carefirst. I've just spent 20 minutes on their site, trying to find information on returning an overpayment. I found reference to Carefirst's  Direct Inquiry Analysis and Control System (IASH) function (as with most things Carefirst, they've given this a vague and cumbersome name).  Most websites won't just tell you that you need to use a certain page, they also provide a link to it.   BUT THERE IS NO LINK nor can I find the damn page. I decide I can wait, and I'll email them to ask where the heck this page is, and is it even the one that I need? Going to their contact page to find an email address, all I find is a phone number and a MAILING ADDRESS. Am I going to spend another 20 minutes on the phone with them, or writing a letter? Nope. I'm going to let them find out about this on their own. They just cost me at least $21.94 trying to figure out how to refund it. I'm calling it even.

Secession? Ba humbug!

​I read with amused interest the article in the Messenger regarding the desire of some states to secede, presumably because the election didn't go the way they wanted. At first I laughed and dismissed it: after all, the Democrats survived 8 years under Bush, and many of us disagree with certain things our tax dollars pay for, such as wars and subsidizing oil companies; yet we would never think of seceding from the country we're all proud to call home! Some of the things the would-be secessionists are protesting - The TSA, the National Defense Authorization Act - were actually enacted by President Bush; "Obamacare" would've been endorsed by their Republican candidate a few years ago, so their ire makes me wonder what their real problem is.

But wait! Consider this. Maybe allowing these secessions is the way off the fiscal cliff! Strangely, the states calling the loudest for secession also receive more federal tax dollars than they bring in, buoyed up by yes, the Blue states, which mostly bring in more tax revenue than they spend. For example in 2010, Mississippi and Alabama both spent twice as much federal tax money as their citizens paid in taxes. South Carolina and Louisiana were close behind. So if we were to let these underperforming states secede, we would actually have a surplus. Furthermore, those states that vote Republican typically lead the nation in many undesirable health traits, such as higher rates of obesity, teen pregnancy, sexually-transmitted disease, firearms assaults, excessive drinking, higher traffic accident and infant mortality, and smoking. Considering the obesity factor alone, each obese person incurs healthcare costs 42% higher than those citizens of normal weight. We could probably also afford a much better national health strategy if we didn't have to support those states!

All facts aside, I can't believe there isn't enough common ground somewhere for us all to hang on together. We all want the same things: safe, affordable homes for our families, good schools for our kids, enough nutritious food, and world peace. How we get there is a matter for civilized debate, not getting mad, taking our toys and going home.

Birthdays and anniversaries...

Yep it's August 11. I still get a strange feeling of loss on this day, even 53 years later, of the day my grandmother died suddenly. I was not quite 4 when she died. Last night I  was in the hot tub staring at the sky, waiting for some of the meteor shower to spill over the sky, feeling somewhat out of sorts; and then the lines of Wayfarin' Stranger came to my head "I'm going there, to see my mother. She told she'd meet me when I come" and I thought of Nonnie immediately (my grandmother). I got a flash of myself at 4, cutting off all the hair of my doll Mary because I was mad that my Nonnie had left without saying goodbye  (I think she gave me the doll...?) I tried my best to remember the day itself but all I got was a vague confused feeling, I suppose reflecting the way I felt that day over leaving Nova Scotia so suddenly and why was my mom upset? I could still feel somewhere inside of me how much I still miss her and how much I loved her and how loved I felt by her. I thought  about how awful it must've been for my mother to lose her mom when she was just  27. I know some of the times I've needed my mother the most came after my 27th birthday and how I just took for granted that she'd be there for me. And then  I felt so grateful for all the years I have with her, and how really grateful I am for being here for both my daughters, and pray that I'll be here for much longer for both of them.

Today I feel happy realizing that my son-in-law Jonathan's birthday is also today, much the same way I feel about my sister's  twins being born on my Dad's birthday. Jonathan really has brought so much happiness to our family, not just Phoebe. These birthday coincidences remind me of the circle of life, and to keep smiling, to feel grateful and cherish every moment we are all together. 




....beauty will save the world