Almost Spring's Big Dig

Mom and a Storyboard

“Look at her!” my friend Sus declares as we uncover photos of my mom.

I’ve found the black and white photos of my mother at work. She was one of the first female art directors on the “mad men” scene of Madison Avenue. I heard the story so many times, about how I was almost born at Y&R (Young & Rubicam) but how she just barely made it to Flowers and Fifth Hospital—after a quick stop to pick up a nightgown in Bloomingdale’s—and then on to the hospital to give birth to me. 

I go through photos—there are hundreds, maybe even thousands of them. They date back to the time my mom was little, posing on the Boardwalk in front of her parents’ home in Brighton Beach. Posing…they were always posing.

Words are tangled in my throat as I peruse her sketchbooks, and flash back to the times she sketched at parties, when curious guests couldn’t help but come by and ask what she was doing, look over her shoulder, admire her fluid intake and translation of the scenes around her.

I was not like the guests; her sketching made me uncomfortable.

Now, as I leaf through the dozen or so sketchbooks, I have an uneasiness mixed with pride and regret that I didn’t enjoy her drawing—while she was drawing. Why did her sketching bother me? Why didn’t I accept it more readily? Why wasn’t I proud then? 

Mom's Sketches in Spain 

As some of you may know, now over two years ago, we moved from a house into an apartment. At that big downsizing time, I took a lot of my old photos—okay not only mine, but those from and of my parents (their ex-spouses!), grandparents, aunts, uncles, parents-in-law, siblings, kids…well, you get the picture. Tons of photos! They were packed into large Rubbermaid tubs and put into storage.

One of my new year’s resolutions was to go through, sort, keep or toss: my big dig. And so, it’s begun.

It’s amazing how many blurry photos, how many duplicates, how many “unknowns,” and how many trees and sunsets were captured. And as I sift, I try to identify criteria for saving.

My criteria has yet to be defined. I do know that I’m not going to scan them all; I want to keep the “hard copies.” Not sure what I’ll do with them, but I’m enjoying going through them…remembering so very many moments.

In another box, I’ve found letters. Those I’m loathe to toss…at least some of them. Especially words from people, like my parents, who are no longer on this earth with us. I've put those aside for now. I'll read them all. Eventually.   

This all comes back to my kitchen. As many of you may also know, food is another way I keep people ever-present. Menu planning is something I enjoy daily: I think about who’s going to eat it, what the weather is like, what’s available, and what people might be craving.

I open up a recipe box, and look for one of our Christmas Eve classics: The orange Jell-O mold, complete with shredded carrots and crushed pineapple, which she always made in the shape of a Christmas tree.

I never thought I’d ever make it. Now I pull out the recipe, and look for the pan that it will set in. 

 

 

Back to the Blog--And Looking Ahead

 

Sunday Pre-Dinner Assortment

It’s never just the flavors—it’s not even just the food. It is a combination of colors, textures, aromas and tastes. This is what I like to give to my family and friends. This is what reaches my soul. This is what brings me back to this blog. 

Last night’s sunset cloud dance (pictured below) inspired. It fed me some ideas.

  

And now, today, it’s December 15: ten days before Christmas, 15 days before my birthday, and 17 days before January 1—the typical resolution-start day.

Yet my soul brings me right here, and right now.

Actually, it’s not so much resolutions; it’s more of a plan of action. So, here we go with my top ten:  

1)2)      1) Read more. This year I’ve slowed down with my reading. Of course, I read every day, but not the novels and short stories like I used to. It’s time for this, too. 

2) Write more. I've left this blog aside for a year+. It's time.  I’m working on several writing projects, but I want to get back to making this one--my solo venture--more of a disciplined effort. As part of that, I looked into my own time management system—my way of brainstorming and pre-writing.

3)     Cook more. Well, actually, I do cook a lot—but I want to cook differently. I want to keep the favorites, but start exploring different combinations of spices, ingredients, and flavors. 

4)      Dance more. This wasn’t as easy to do during these past two years, at least not outside my home, but I’m bringing it back now.

5)      Watch and listen more. Here I’m specifically referring to plays and live music. Have to say, I’ve already started this one, and it’s delightful. I’m continually blown away by the talent that surrounds us. Watching performers is an emotional experience because it dives into you and pulls out feelings--while delighting your senses. It's evocative.  It’s living life within life—and allows us the privilege  of seeing from different angles.

6)      Observe more. There’s so much going on around us all the time. I want to take a step back and look at the details. At the risk of being cliché, I want to respect a  mindfulness of the eyes. This means slowing down and taking in: appreciating a child’s smile, someone’s wave as I pass, a sunset, the sight of people greeting each other. Life moments.

7)      Express more. Sometimes I hold things in my throat, instead of saying them. I don’t want to—as my dad used to say—look back and exclaim, “Woulda, shoulda, coulda” about anything, but especially about expressing certain sentiments. Now, I’m talking about the positive things. Negative ones I will keep a lid on—for as long as my current filter allows. But I want to be clearer with my loved ones. I want them to know that I love them, now and always.

8)      Create more. If something speaks to me, either evokes some kind of inspiration to bring out my colorful markers, I won’t wait, as I once did. I have my pens and my pads. It’s time to translate visions in my mind through my fingers and onto paper.  

9)      Savor more. So many moments pass so quickly. I want to stop and savor—literally and figuratively. I want to listen more. Savoring is the recognition that right now, this very moment, is the moment.  

10)   Celebrate more. Yes—there’s a lot NOT to celebrate, but there’s also much to recognize and relish. I want to focus on that without, as I’ve said before, putting my head in the sand. I’m not ignoring the negative—and do want to work and support those who work to make things better all around. But I also want to recognize the positive. I want to celebrate what we can, when we can. That’s my plan.

Like many of us who have children that are now grown, I miss their early days. They were magical. Today I found this photo of my mom and me. It is clearly a moment of celebration of surroundings--wishes, and joy. 

I wish this kind of magic for all of us--for all of our souls.