Marriage and Family – Cheeky Street

Making a Life

My son is about to graduate from college and he just texted me to say he has his first official job offer that happens to be 18 hours away from home. He has the most enormous heart and my Momma heart aches when I think about sending him out into the world. This is fiction, of course, since he will be turning 25 later this year and has long been tending to his gentle heart in the cold world. He will be fine and he will always lead with love.

Our dear Caryl is missing from the picture right now and I want to howl over the unfairness and anger I feel for the immense hole her absence has left for so many of us. She loved Mario and celebrated all of our wins as though we were her family. She and her family became our chosen family, as well as the extended tribe of friends she always included in her circle of care. She would be so genuinely happy and proud right now to see Mario pursue his passion and fly on his own. I miss her so much it is painful. Instead of looking for “the bigger lesson” as to why she had to leave so cruelly young, I will try to take a cue from her playbook of love and be happy, loving and supportive of those in my life who are here now.

At her celebration of life, a woman I have never met approached me after I read my thoughts (see previous post, “Caryl with a Y”) and said, “How wonderful for you to have been lucky enough to belong to her tribe. It makes me wish I had been part of her tribe!” Right before I read my tribute to Caryl, Mario read her dear friend Kris’s words about experiencing early motherhood together and walking one another through the parenthood journey with humor. Mario volunteered to read Kris’s words when she shared she just did not think she could get through it with such a heavy heart. I don’t know many young men who would offer to step in at such a tender time, but that was the moment I realized my son had become a wonderful man. It hurts very much to have gotten to this moment and not have Caryl to hug and celebrate with.

Many years ago, we gave Mario a health club membership before he could drive to give him someplace to go shoot hoops and hang out during the summer months. One day I came to pick him up and saw him walking alongside a very elderly woman and deep in conversation with her. When he got in the car I asked how shooting hoops had gone and he replied, “I never got around to it. I was in the hot tub with that old lady talking the whole time.” Listening to this, I had a hard time not losing it over the sweetness of his big heart. I just said it was as important to invest time and energy into people as it was to get exercise and I was proud of him for using his time that day in a way that his heart had led him. When I shared this story with Caryl, her eyes brimmed with tears and she let me know that Mario would always be okay because of his character. The same is true for her sweet boys, and in her memory, I plan to keep the door open with them so they will know they have a special place to go where they are loved.

These past few months have taught me you can arrive at milestones in your life and not have the people you thought would be traveling all roads with you at your side. I’m sad my son’s happy story is tainted with grief but immeasurably grateful that Caryl was a true witness to our family for many years. We hurt, we grow, we move on. Our hearts have little stitches that bear witness to the love we continue to hold. Soon, we will celebrate Mario’s graduation from the University of Kansas and feel grateful he knows not only how to make a living but also how to make a beautiful, soulful, big-hearted life.

Truth

When I was very young, my Mom let me go on a mini adventure one afternoon with a nun from our small town parish. Her name was Sister Arthur, and like the name suggests, she had a (in my mind) tall stature and commanding presence. For reasons to which I was never privy, it was determined to be a good idea for me to join Sister Arthur on a little field trip about an hour away from home to an ancient Indian burial ground in search of treasures. What precocious child wouldn’t want to venture out for such an adventure?

As best I can guess, Sister Arthur must have taken me to the Towosahgy State Historic Site in East Prairie, Missouri. According to the Missouri State Parks website, this location is “surrounded by some of the most fertile farmland in Missouri….a former fortified village and civic-ceremonial center for Mississippian peoples who lived in southern Missouri between A.D. 1000 and A.D. 1400.” I believe what is pictured is what my young eyes saw that day. While I cannot remember anything Sister Arthur said to me that day, I vividly recall feeling a sense of wonder and reverence. The sight of her hands holding an arrowhead and telling me something about how it was made and its purpose is emblazoned in my memory, though exact words I cannot recall. I just remember feeling very special to have been chosen for this wondrous one-on-one field trip. I always wondered, “where have all the people who used to live here gone?”

The impact of that single exposure to something so massively important to civilization sparked a curiosity in me about excavating artifacts. I began digging and searching around my home and surrounding farmland for similar treasures, only to come up with handfuls of limestone rock, usually. That Christmas my grandmother nurtured my curiosity and gave me a rock polisher. While I never returned to the sacred Indian mound, I imagined treasures of my own from mini digs I conducted in the fertile farmland around my house. I never found another arrowhead but I will never forget the spark of interest Sister Arthur ignited that afternoon so long ago. The idea that it was possible to unearth tools that gave clues about how people thought and lived thousands of years before you was the first evidence I had ever encountered that people really are all connected.

I’m 58 years old now and have recently become reacquainted with that budding archeologist who spent the afternoon with a “scientific nun” so many years ago. I recently lost my Mom, the first person to believe me worthy of such an important field trip (or maybe she just needed an afternoon alone!), and what I keep returning to is the importance of excavating the truth. Instead of artifacts, through yoga, I have begun searching for the truth about myself. Hip pain led me to yoga and fate or serendipity or both led me to the Yoga Teacher Training I have been involved in for 3 months. One truth about myself I live with everyday is my former addiction to alcohol and the shadow of lies from that always nearby.

To maintain sobriety is to commit to the daily discipline of pursuing the truth. Lies can be alluring hiding places but they always betray you when you want protection the most. Through yoga, I have been introduced to the brilliant writings of Rolf Gates (“Meditations from the Mat”). A few days ago, I read and reread Rolf Gates’ reflection on self-study (“svadhyaya” in Sanskrit, meaning self-study and one of the five sustaining practices in the practice of yoga).

“The unconscious wants truth. It ceases to speak to those who want something else more than the truth.” Adrienne Rich

“Self-study is an aspect of the practice of truthfulness……The good news is that truth is music to the soul. There is no end to the soul’s ability to bask in the presence of the truth. Millions of people in twelve-step programs sit around in church basements by the hour, listening to one another talk about themselves. It may sound boring, but in fact it is captivating, because the people in those rooms are telling the truth. It is captivating because spending time in the presence of others who are telling the truth inspires us to do the same.

To practice this aspect of self-study, examine the level of truthfulness in your workplace, family, and friendships. How much time do you spend in the presence of people who are telling the truth? How much do you spend with people who are not? What is it like when you hear the truth? What is it like when you do not? What fears keep you from being honest? Is it true that like attracts like? Does honesty beget honesty?”

Today, as I celebrate my ninth year of sobriety, my Google pics showed me this “funny” photo I took at a restaurant exactly 11 years ago, a time when I was deceiving myself about my truth. I thought this message about day drinking was funny. I thought by throwing my life away each day, little by little, I was really having fun and attracting the right people and things in my life. It makes me sick I once believed that throwing my life away in front of my children and husband was “funny.” There is nothing funny about not being able to live your truth.

As I have slowly excavated my truths and begun building a life of honesty and authenticity, I have observed the impact of this commitment on the people I love. It has had opposite effects: some people have thrived and grown and others have recoiled and shut me out. I’m never going back to not living my truth. If you had told me at the beginning of my sober journey 9 years ago that I would one day be working at my favorite organization and pursuing a yoga teaching certificate, I probably would have tried to protect myself with a “joke” about needing wine or margaritas or some other distraction to sustain me. I wouldn’t have been able to see myself living a happy, healthy, truthful life because to me that seemed so far out of reach in addiction. My familiar pain was more comforting than the effort excavating truth sounded like.

I have found truth in the eyes of the people with disabilities my workplace serves everyday, on my yoga mat and at home with my beautiful family. Most importantly, I wake up and go to sleep each day thanking the spiritual connection that sustains me for helping me to face the truth one day at a time. In addiction, I forgot to love that adorable little girl who was so curious about life and interested in excavating truths. She wasn’t worried about what anyone else was doing, thinking or saying because she was so completely enraptured by nurturing her own loves. I recently excavated this child and oh, what a fun adventure we are beginning.

A Gentleman in a Turbulent World

Gentleman

This is a post I have been thinking about for over 2 months but this week provides the perfect backdrop to what I want to talk about: the characteristics of a gentleman. Specifically, the man I married and had children with. As a young woman, the things I loved about my husband hit all the “marriage material” marks: well-educated, hard- working, sweet, funny and eager to have a family. After 22 years of marriage, the single trait that stands out above all others has nothing to do with personality and everything to do with character: my husband is a gentleman. He can be trusted to consistently be fair, loving and even-tempered. He treats people with respect, no matter how he feels about them. And he never ever, not once, expected the world to hand him anything he wasn’t willing to work for.

When my Dad passed away, his best friend shared something about him that I wish I had known and been able to process as I grew into adulthood and tried to understand the man he was. His friend told me that, more than anything, my Dad was excited about having been accepted to Law School as a young man. It was his dream that, unfortunately, never came to be. Family obligations changed his fate and my Dad, ever the gentleman, honored his commitments and took care of his family instead of pursuing his dream. I found this out exactly one day after he died and for me, this shred of information explained the unspoken questions I had about my Dad for 45 years. Because he was a “man of the 1950’s,” I suppose it wasn’t considered appropriate or even relevant to talk about his dreams – he just got up every day and took care of his family. He could have been a real resentful jerk about his fate but chose to be a gentleman. That’s why I fell in love with my husband, I understand now.

I want our children to see their Dad through my eyes as they become adults and that’s really what this post is about. I want them to know absolutely without a doubt that:

You are the Center of your Dad’s world – there is nothing he wouldn’t do to give you love, self-assurance, creativity, hope and excitement about the things you can do in this world with your one life;
Your Dad is often incorrectly mistaken as meek and mild because he has a gentle temperament but nothing could be further from the truth. He is a fighter to the core and he’s overcome many personal and career obstacles fighting for you and our family. Your Mom quits things – your Dad never does;
When other people are bragging and bullying their way to temporary, “better” positions in life, you can find your Dad quietly plugging away in his corner of the world, doing hundreds of small things that gentlemen do: honoring promises; finishing projects long after your Mom has given up because it’s the right thing to do; staying focused on what needs to be done today to reach that distant dream in the future instead of procrastinating (again like your Mom); being kind to people who may have hurt him or someone he loves instead of puffing out his chest and threatening them in order to make himself feel better (you know I do this!).

When your Dad is angry, he finds a way to resolve it and move forward because he knows in and of itself, anger will destroy everything in his path. Your Dad, the Gentleman, is a saver, a lover, and a person who takes what is before him today and makes something that lasts into the future. In his quietly determined way, your Dad is the strongest person I know. And he has never once bragged about that.

My hope for you children is that you will offer this wounded world some of your Dad’s fair-minded, even-tempered gentleness. It will serve you and those around you very well for the rest of your lives.

The Path that Found Me

My husband and son are out of town on a big adventure for several days and my daughter and I are relaxing, enjoying some down time. As is my habit when I have a little extra mental space and time, I go digging through old boxes in search of old letters, pictures, tokens from my past. Though I have seen this photo so many times this morning it startled me: she’s so young and fresh, like the strawberry she’s posing with next to her friend. At 52, it is wonderful to have arrived at an age where I can recall a story for nearly every little scrap I have saved in my “special box” over the years. Here’s what I remember about this picture.

The friend I am with was a special one for a short time. We were both recently out of Graduate School and beginning our career paths, though mine was in the nonprofit world and her’s was health care administration. Her career-obsessed, interrupting, impatient colleague drove us to the dinner we are enjoying in the photo. I was half-heartedly pursuing what I thought would be a good “career path” for myself, though 50 percent of the people I met who were serious “career-oriented” people were way too intense for me.

Silly then, sillier now. That’s me. But I was ashamed of it then. Looking at this sweet girl in the picture, I want to love her and reassure her that the right Path will find her. That it ultimately does not matter in life who you impress at meetings or how high you are willing to climb to earn a career. The rude colleague of my friend ultimately achieved the highest honors in her career and she received accolades, awards and respect. Good for her. My “non-path path” has been glorious, sometimes painful but always given me the right kind of experience and space I needed to grow.

My son brilliantly summed up for me the most valuable part of any journey when he exclaimed his woes about his second day of kindergarten on the car ride home: “My day was horrible! The teacher only gave us 7 minutes to daydream!” This kid is so my kid. To resist externally imposed structure so resolutely at age 5 was both a blessing and curse for him and I have personally witnessed the toll an absurdly rigid school routine can take on his soul. My advice to him and all you other free spirits out there: trust yourself enough to know that the choices you make in life will yield abundance in many beautiful ways. You may not choose a path that is laden with financial rewards and career milestones worthy of publishing in a business journal. But this much I know: THE WORLD NEEDS DAYDREAMERS!

So the path that found me was the one that was inside my heart as a youngster. I loved getting on my bicycle and playing “carpool” with my imaginary children. Unfortunately, as a woman in the eighties and nineties, it wasn’t very cool to admit that all you really wanted to do was “just be a Mom.” But that’s what I have done and it has been my greatest joy in life. I have a daughter, too, and she’s a creative genius and force of nature. And I married a guy who does my favorite thing in the world: he writes great love notes. This one popped up when I was treasure hunting in my special box today. We had been married exactly 5 weeks, I was undergoing testing for terrible allergies, and my guapo half Argentinean new groom wrote me these words:

My life has been rich and the journey becomes sweeter with age, as anybody over 50 understands, because we know each day is so precious. I am so happy I decided to go through that box today and even happier that the Path I always dreamed of found me.

Notes from the Mom Whose Kids Always “Had Her Number”

Today, I am home with my teenagers who have been throwing up. This causes me to fondly reflect upon previous such “special family times,” one which especially stands out in my memory from Spring 2007, the day my kids had to stay home and take care of their parents because they were both throwing up! My Isa, 7 years old at the time, divided her time that day between devotedly bringing her Dad and me our favorite popsicles then dancing outside in front of the house. This beautiful memory has led me to reflect upon the entire history of our family and my approach to parenting. I love being a Mom. In fact, it is all I have ever wanted to be. I used to ride my bicycle up and down my driveway as a little girl playing “carpool.” What I wouldn’t give to have a recording of those imaginary conversations!

Since my daughter is just a year away from graduating from High School, her Senior year of “lasts” looms largely in my mind. Anticipating each last. Hoping I will savor and enjoy them to their maximum. One of the images that I have discovered in my meditation practice this past year (as a recovering alcoholic with 10 months of sobriety) is a moving stream: if I feel emotionally depleted, I imagine myself dipping a beautiful vessel into a cool, clear stream and nourishing myself with Nature’s goodness. This type of imagery not only helps me sustain myself without relying on numbing substances, it is also a great way for me to re-frame the present moment. Instead of dreading new beginnings or fearing endings, I think of life and love as a continuous stream, a continuum that has no beginning or end. There for me to enjoy, participate in and freely use to sustain those around me (especially my teenagers). I am going to try to continue thinking about my daughter’s Senior year as a beautiful transition that is part of the stream.

Yet, my thoughts did manage to navigate toward a gnawing, very human question: if I had it to do over, would I change anything about the way I parented my young children? I have only five “regrets,” (a word I try to use sparingly, since it is dangerously close to resentment, which a recovering alcoholic cannot afford). Surprisingly, nothing on my “List of Five” has anything to do with taking away bad things – rather, it is more about wishing I had done MORE of the good things:

I wish I had not been so anxious to put my children into all-day kindergarten. After working with 6-year-olds these past four months, I know for sure how tired they are after a full day of school. I was a stay-at-home Mom and could have easily managed having a busy 6-year-old at home with me all day. But I decided to convince myself it would be “good for their social skills” to put the kids in all-day kindergarten. Ten years later, with so many working families, there are probably few choices other than full-day kindergarten. I wish I had savored my 6-year-olds a bit more. But what’s done is done.
I wish I had insisted on learning a musical instrument. We did our best as parents to expose our kids to live music of all sorts whenever possible. Our kids love music. But mastering a musical instrument is one of those life skills that is best undertaken in childhood, like learning another language. It was hard enough for me to get my kids to sports practices and school, so learning a musical instrument did not make it into our “MUST accomplish” top tier of parenting goals. I do regret this.
Spirituality practice – we went to church here and there and my children were “dedicated” into a church family before we moved 200 miles away – but I wish I had done more to teach them that celebrating and worshiping God with others is a beautiful part of a healthy inner life. My kids know that within them dwells a Source of love and goodness, and I believe they know how to tap into that and also live a life devoted to making the world better, not worse. It was so important to me not to force an “ideology” upon them, I may neglected to help guide and nourish the part of spirituality that includes others. My children are natural Seekers and very resourceful individuals, so I feel good about their ability to move in that direction later in life, if they choose.
More family meals. We average 1 sit-down family meal together per week. Better than nothing! I would get the job done more often now if my teenagers would participate – as I hear, many do! (I know it is part of many families’ teenagers regular responsibilities to help prepare and serve meals, which is so nice – I haven’t tried that). Like many moms in recovery, asking for help (or any kind of delegating), is not a natural part of my personality. I am thankful to still have time with both children at home to approach family meals more like something the entire family should help create.
MOST importantly, in the earlier days, I wish I had cared less about other Moms’ opinions! I remember hearing the phrase, “She’s got your number!” way too often and feeling hurt or irritated (or rejected by the “elite moms” who were doing it all perfectly). To this, I can only go back to a very lovely memory I have when, as a new Mom, I was holding my baby girl on one of her first airplane rides and the older woman sitting next to me very gently and kindly remarked, “Ah! What a beautiful, content baby! She has EVERYTHING she needs, Mom!”. We need to do more to encourage and support one another as parents. For me, that starts with being open and honest with one another. Being willing to admit that we aren’t perfect parents and we aren’t raising perfect children. As a Mom of teenagers, I do get more of this from my social interactions with other parents – much more so than in the early, competitive “toddler war” days.

So far, this journey of parenting two individuals with different temperaments, needs, likes, dislikes and aptitudes has been so beautiful. Looking back, I would like to have been able to relax more and enjoy the small moments. Looking forward, I am grateful to be living a healthy, clean and sober life, so the future with these incredible people God shared with me will be as vibrant as I feel.

Abrazos Fuerte for 2016

Dear Friends,

Last year, ironically without anticipating all the difficult emotional terrain I would cover, I selected the word “Awaken” (or awake, I cannot recall!!) as my “Word of the Year.” Boy did I subconsciously Nail It! The Universe mercifully gave me lots of wake-up calls……and my Divine Power gave me the strength to answer. Suffice it to say, our family soared through potentially staggering emotional challenges and I am now a strong, proud “Friend of Bill’s” (aka Recovering Alcoholic).

This year, it took fewer than 5 minutes to imagine my guiding phrase/philosophy: “Abrazos Fuerte” – Translated from Spanish, it means “Strong Hugs.” Our wise and adoring Primo from Argentina (Spanish for Male First Cousin), Charlie, always ends his written communication with this beautiful phrase – it is his “signature.”

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Cousin Charlie (pictured above, enjoying his 71st birthday in Bariloche, Argentina and in 1998, “supervising” my sister-in-law Christine in the family tradition of empanada making), is a strong and loving figure in our family. He is the existing “Patriarch” of the Tamburini family of Buenos Aires, Argentina, the homeland of my husband’s father, Mario Tamburini (my son has his name).

Charlie is the lifeline between my husband and his Argentinian heritage – he can tell us stories and share history that brings the family ancestry to life and provides a strong foundation for our children. When my husband and I announced the news of our engagement to the Argentinian branch of the family, they sent telegrams of congratulations and Charlie offered me abrazos fuerte in the form of one simple line: “Grandma Isabel is smiling for she would have found you extremely simpatico.” Simpatico means likeable and easy to get along with. WHO COULD ARGUE WITH THAT?!!!!

Anyway, life continues to amaze me and the journey would be impossible without MUCHOS ABRAZOS FUERTE. As a side note, I should add that the Tamburini family are known to be extremely strong huggers – so much so that my sisters, as Aunts, have had to caution my son Mario before hugging, “Not too hard, Mario!”. I am the proud Mother of 2 very strong huggers – they will do well in life.

The infamous Alfred Eisenstaedt photo published in Time Magazine from “V-J Day in Times Square 1945” really, for me, visually depicts the spirit of what I hope to achieve in everything I do with everyone I encounter in 2016. In life, one must march onward and celebrate moments with laughter and abrazos fuerte or else what the hell is the point?

Happy New Year, friends! May 2016 bring each of you your own special moments of warm embraces that melt away life’s jagged edges.

Love always,

Joanie, the Big Cheese on Cheeky Street

49 Thanksgivings Later

After 49 Thanksgivings, I finally “get” why it did not matter to my Mom, in her later years, whether our family ate dinner together on paper plates (themed, of course) or not. The mere fact that we were together was enough for her – and it should have been enough for me – but, alas, I needed more “road miles” in life to fully understand.

This Thanksgiving I am wildly and enthusiastically thankful for 4 Things:

CURIOSITY

PALS come to Tango Canyon — Mario’s preschool class visited our 34-acre wilderness every year for their Spring field trip – here he is greeting the bus! It was a truly wondrous time.

To be curious is a state of willingness to allow life, ideas, people, nature and the world to enthrall and intoxicate you. In spite of my struggle this 49th year of my life on earth to discover and maintain a healthy sobriety, I am thankful to discover that I still experience the wonder of a child every single day. AMEN to that and keep the curiosity coming!

After all, it has been said, “interesting people are interested people.”

SETBACKS

images-12 — It has taken me 49 years to learn the slow and steady “tortoise” way – I used to prefer to hurry and get my reward or pain “over with.”

We all experience setbacks and many of them are stunning, paralyzing and utterly terrifying. Looking back, I really am thankful for each and every setback I have experienced. Not only am I learning humility, I am experiencing the ebb and flow of the journey and learning to take my EGO OUT OF IT. I mean, a mortal can only do so much – the Universe is so much larger and powerful, and there is no escaping the lessons we’re each meant to learn. To me, setbacks are just another way of experiencing mortality and human limitations. And like Garth Brooks famously crooned, “I thank God for unanswered prayers” every single day.

ACCEPTANCE

First Recital — You’d never know it but this picture of my darling children was snapped during one of the darkest times of my life. Complete shock and uncertainty colored my days, but they, being the curious and resilient little teachers our children are meant to be, marched onward!

My husband and I were “curious” about life in a tiny town more than 200 miles away from our home so we packed up and moved away from friends, family, professional connections, and all the lovely comforts of city life. We stayed there 8 years. I joke that 2 of them were happy, but I seriously mean it! Looking back, that really is not true: my mental state was not happy because I was fighting the flow of our new lives. But something super cool I have discovered in mid-life: you can actually reflect back and accept what was once unimaginable and unendurable and it has the same effect – now my memories of what I thought was a “really dark time” are mostly funny and happy! I am so thankful for this gift.

MY TRIBE

Boo 16 mos — Becoming a Mother is just one way of earning the responsibility for tending to a tribe. This is my first little tribe member, Isabella Bernadette.

A wise woman once told me, “Your kids aren’t always going to be this little.” Obvious statement of fact but, at the time, I could hardly imagine a time when my life was not dictated by play dates, diaper changes, snack times, story times, intrusive “Mom friends” and never-ending messes, usually involving bodily fluids. This is my beautiful daughter, now 16 years old, at 16 months old. I hardly remember the passing of time. Another wise woman, my own Mother, told me, “Honey, life will pass you by so quickly it will leave your head spinning.” And it has. She was right, as usual. I am thankful for my tribe of family, starting with my husband and children and colored with many interesting friends and co-workers. At the tender age of 49, I have learned how to assess quickly what “works” for my tribe and what needs to just go away! THANKS be to GOD!!

Happy Thanksgiving, wherever you are, and whether you enjoy it on the finest china or paper plates. Life is a gift.

The Things You Find When You’re Not Looking

I am a person that LOVES love letters. I just remembered why: My Dad was the world’s GREATEST writer of them. Imagine my surprise, 30 years later, to stumble upon the sweetest, most tender love letter of my life, beautifully hand written and mailed to me (even though we lived under the same roof!), on the evening of our LAST Father-Daughter dance together?

I have a wonderful friend who asked me about 22 years ago what my “wish list” of characteristics was for my husband. She laughed for days when I readily spouted off that my future husband MUST be the following:

Intelligent
Funny
Great with words
Good dancer
Handsome
Successful
ADORING of me (I think I ended the list by saying, “Oh, and he MUST cherish me!).

Imagine the stabbing pain in my heart as I held this beautiful letter, 30 years later, and realized DAD WAS MY FIRST LOVE!!!!! Lucky, lucky girl.

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