Welcome to my blog,
(which is no longer in chronological order.)
It’s not all about friendship and hard times. There’s a '“Fun” category, humor being essential to joy, and my favorite to write, “Reflections.” Comment and contribute!
Rooftop Friends
Do you know what you can do to really help someone whose needs are extraordinary? Don’t do it alone. This is the time to create a ‘village’ of friends to cooperate together and make a dent in those needs. We all have times in our lives when we need more than just a hug—we need food, serious companionship, help with tasks. We need to feel that we are not alone but surrounded by care.
Problems in Portugal
I was in a Lisbon airport eight months after my husband’s death in early winter of 2000, exhausted from a night of traveling and a long layover at Charles de Gaulle Airport, the earthly testing ground for purgatory. The outfitter I had hired from my desk in Virginia, fumbling with my phone and my credit card, was not there. The trip to Portugal was an eleventh-hour escape from my first wedding anniversary as a widow. I had somehow felt, until the last possible minute, I could face the prospect of spending this night alone in my (our) bedroom. But as the day drew near, my resolve to be a pulled-together person crumbled.
Goodbye, Matz, My Friend
. . . He has been beside my desk for four hundred and fifty-four days, often with his paws crossed and his head held at a high proud angle, like a gentleman in a fine tweed suit waiting at a train station. I know exactly how many days, because he came into my life on June third, which would have been the birthday of my beloved collie, Bells. She died of cancer four months before I found him, desperately soliciting post office patrons for a new home.
Gossip—a Jelly Donut
There's a tongue-in-cheek Hallmark card that shows two women in a restaurant. One of them is beckoning to the other, saying, "If you don't have anything nice to say about anyone, come sit by me!" We chuckle because we all know how delicious and seductive gossip can be—as long as you are not bothered by that old "do unto others" rule.
How to Help a Friend Through a Difficult Anniversary
I got married on October 3, 1992, in almost pitch darkness.
I had always wanted an evening wedding with candlelight. Aside from the romantic reasons, people generally look better in candlelight. Earlier that day, I’d had a huffy little tête-à-tête over it with my childhood church choir director, Judy. Judy was a reedy, elderly woman who had commanded the pipe organ for no less than four decades. We were sitting on the last row of pews, and she was holding the one tool in existence that could dim or brighten the huge Gothic chandeliers of the nave. She reached over to the control panel anchored on the seat-back in front of us and twisted a knob until the church resembled an indoor arena.
Small Kindnesses and the Importance of a “Yes” Friend
We sometimes forget that our small kindnesses really matter. A note, an afternoon walk, dinner—how can it make a real difference in a friend’s problems? We’d do well to keep in mind Edward Everett Hale’s inspiring words, “I am only one; but still I am one. I cannot do everything, but still I can do something; I will not refuse to do the something I can do.” In the scheme of things, our seemingly insignificant deeds—the unplanned gestures and words—may matter most of all.
A Useful Equation for Helping a Friend
. . . Why do we resort to these tired phrases when friends are in desperate straits? Sometimes we don’t know what to say, and they do, seemingly, express acceptable hopes and beliefs. The idea of a new window opening or the possibility of reason behind apparent randomness offers the solace that we are part of a higher good, that our suffering will ultimately have a meaningful purpose.
5 Ways to Help a Friend Who’s Grieving
A caregiver friend of mine tells the story of being ‘uninvited’ to a dinner party. Her husband had younger-onset Alzheimer’s, although few people were aware of his illness then. He enjoyed people and compensated for his problems by staying quiet for the most part. The hostess, though, learning of his diagnosis through a mutual friend, called to retract her invitation.
What to Do When a Friend Cries
. . . As we spent this more intimate time together, though, she disclosed the reason for the tears. Her son was in a terrible situation with no conceivable way out, and she felt overwhelmed with worry.
I was stunned. I couldn’t believe I had simply assumed at first they weren’t ‘real’ tears. Why hadn’t I asked, Are you okay? I could have let it go if she didn’t want to say. But what had kept me from asking? Her pretense of not crying, despite how obvious it was?
How to Get Through a Miserable Season of Life
. . . Still, there are ways to control misery, so it does not run pell-mell over the entire landscape of your being, mainly through recognizing it for what it is: a fierce inner beast with states of rest and arousal, that will, we all hope, eventually slink away.
The weekend ahead surely held the promise of fun. I was spending a few days at another friend’s river house, an old brick colonial hemmed in by an expanse of lawn and landscaped beds, from which the Potomac River stretches like a vast silver mirror, undulating, alive and quietly reassuring.
5 Ways to Be an All-Weather Friend
I was not a caregiver to my late husband, not in the sense of someone who tends to a person with Alzheimer’s disease. My husband didn’t have dementia. He had a rare brain tumor, growing like a pointed tool into his brain stem. The nine-hour surgery to remove it seemed to remove, as well, his sense of self and place in the world.
No amount of care I could give made up for this sudden loss. He felt bewildered and scared. I wasn’t strong enough to hold him against the undertow of his dizziness, confusion, depression, insomnia, and failed confidence. But I tried.
Comfort Only Takes a Minute
. . . In 2002, one of my neighbors gave me a birthday card with a drawing of costumes in a wardrobe and the caption Masquerading as a normal person is exhausting. If I got that card today, I’d smile and toss it in the basket I keep for recyclable bits of ribbon, photos and small gift boxes. But at the time, the words struck a deep chord, and I framed it for my nightstand. I was two years into the grief of many losses. Smiling required a deliberate effort: when it was socially appropriate to smile, I smiled. Otherwise, I didn’t.
What Dementia Offers in Friendship
. . . A few attendants had set out dinner for the audience. Among this group, quietly eating turkey, was a woman and her father, who has advanced Alzheimer’s. He was attentive in the way he could be. He clapped loudly when everyone else clapped; he laughed loudly when everyone else laughed. A few times, she reached up and gently restrained his hands or patted him on the back.