A Season of Contrasts

"The beauty of the world has two edges, one of laughter, one of anguish, cutting the heart asunder."
- Virginia Woolf

Bracelets for Josh - Each person received one
Green in support of organ donation, Purple in support of a cure for CF

Can my life get any more manic? I almost hate to suggest that to the Universe, for fear of getting a good laugh along with another illustration of just how moody it can be.

The last six months or so have been full of ups and downs, radical changes in the very atmosphere surrounding me, and mood swings of epic proportion. I've experienced tremendous personal losses, which have been juxtaposed with days of incredibly joyous occasions.

Even the weather patterns have reflected the manic nature of the season.  Incredibly beautiful days and gossamer nights have given way to nasty storms, damaging hail, and the worst tornado season in history. 

For me, this has been a season of debilitating lows and exhilarating highs. Has it been this way for everyone?

Another example of this zenith/nadir/zenith/nadir season is occuring this week. After a beautiful and bittersweet day in celebration of my great-nephew's life on Saturday, I rose early to accompany The Graceful One on an overnight excursion to Georgia to do a little apartment shopping in advance of her arrival in August. After our day of tears and grief and pain mixed with joy, we had a peaceful Father's Day spent in the car with The Graceful One's dad, enjoying the increasingly idyllic landscape as we drove south. We'll look at some good housing possibilities this morning, and make the nine-hour trek back to Weldon Spring later today, arriving back home (hopefully) before midnight.

I wonder what the next day will hold?

This song will now forever stay with me as "Josh's Song." The memorial for him was filled with beautiful music, sung by his brother, his step-sister, and his step-mother. All were amazing and loving tributes, but this song was the last one sung, and it was sung by the entire gathering, accompanied by Josh's friends on guitars and drums.

The final verse was sung a cappella in a poignant but joyous farewell. We love you, Joshua.

This is "I'll Fly Away" sung by Alison Kraus.

Sacred Sentiments

"What we have once enjoyed we can never lose. All that we love deeply becomes a part of us."
- Helen Keller

Maori Chief - sketched in 1769 by Sidney Parkinson,
artist on Captain Cook's 1st voyage to New Zealand
Image from Wikipedia 

Tattoos have been used since the beginning of human time for the purpose of marking a significant event. The word itself comes from the Samoan word‘tatau’ which means ‘to mark something’.
 
"Ötzi the Ice-Man" (the Neolithic corpse discovered in 1991) bore several tattoos, including ones behind his right knee, his lower back, and both ankles.  While we can only speculate as to the meaning of his tattoos, it goes without saying that it must have been to mark a significant event or time in his life.
 
I've never been a big fan of tattoos. You only need to ask two of my sons, who will tell you their stories of my reaction to theirs. I mean, you have to be absolutely certain you're going to want to spend eternity with that  marking, right?  If a mummified Neolithic man still displays his tattoos to the world, that's one enduring art form.

Still, there is something to it, this practice of making a mark on our skin to mark a significant event in our lives.  In some cases, it may be about using physical pain to express internal pain, but not always. They can also express great joy, marking the occasions of love in our lives. I must admit, I see the sacred sentiments in such tattoos.  

My great-nephew's father, brother, and wife decided to express their love and their pain at his passing with tattoos. I found their choices to be poignant and dear. I'm certain it was a wonderful bonding experience, and I look forward to hearing all about it, and seeing the tattoos for myself, very soon.

Here are the photos from their experience:

This one is from Josh's father, and includes favorite pet name from Josh's childhood.



 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

This one is from Josh's brother, who commemorates their love for Maurice Sendak's "Where the Wild Things Are"
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
...and this one is from Josh's wife:
 

The purple rose signifies Cystic Fibrosis awareness, and the green ribbon is the symbol of organ donors.

I can feel Josh's smile at these sacred sentiments.

Today, may you find a way to remember a loved one.

The music for today is called "Divine Remembrance". Rupert Guenther (on electric violin) & Paul Armitage (on keyboard) performance from the "Gratitude" CD. Recorded live in concert Perth Australia 2004. Enjoy...

Delicious Ambiguity

"I wanted a perfect ending. Now I've learned, the hard way, that some poems don't rhyme, and some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what's going to happen next. Delicious Ambiguity."

- Gilda Radner


Circle Limit - M.C. Escher


What an amazing way to look at the changes presented to us in our lives. To think that Gilda was able to articulate this idea so beautifully as she was immersed so suddenly and deeply into the treacherous waters of cancer is a testament to her shining soul.

Sometimes welcome, sometimes despised, Change comes. It can stalk us for days or weeks, or it can assault us suddenly. It may be heralded by great joy, or preceded by angry tears.  Still, it comes, uncaring and even completely unaware of our personal needs or desires.

Change comes. We cannot control it, we cannot avoid it. We can only hope to experience each moment as a sort of delicious ambiguity.

Our beautiful Young Man will soon be released from his tethers to this world. This is the most unwelcome of changes to all of us who love him so dearly. The only ambiguity is in knowing how truly delicious it will be for him to breathe free for eternity.

The Exquisite Hour

"When we have done our best, we should wait the result in peace."
- Sir John Lubbock

Woman in White, Pablo Picasso, 1923
Oil, water-based paint, and crayon on canvas
Estate of Pablo Picasso 

My family is in a waiting period right now.  At this moment, we do not even know the path that we must travel, but either path will be difficult. 


A precious young life hangs in the balance, awaiting the miracle of a double lung transplant. Time is of the essence, and yet we know we cannot pray for tragedy to befall another family.


My heart aches for this young man, his wife, his mother and father, and his brother. No one should have to endure this pain. 


We can only pray for strength to endure either path. 


A gift arrived today from a dear friend, Tess, the brilliant poet from
 Life at Willow Manor
and with her permission, I share it with you. Thank you, Tess. 


It's not the magic of a simple answer to the unbearable question, "What will happen?" but serves as a peace-giving interlude while we wait for the path to unfold before us...as we await the exquisite hour.


This is soprano Susan Graham performing" Reynaldo Hahn's "L'Heure exquise". This composition is set to the poetry of Paul Verlaine, who reportedly wept when he heard it first. Pianist Roger Vignoles provides the accompaniment.

This composition is lambent with peace and hope...something precious and rare in hospital waiting rooms around the world. 


I dedicate this to all those who wait today. 


Translation of text:
The white moon
Shines in the woods;
Each branch
Share one vote
Under the arbor ...
O beloved.

The pond reflects,
Deep mirror
Silhouette
Black Willow
Where the wind cries ...
Dream, it's time.

A vast and tender
Appeasement
Seems to descend
The firmament
Iridescent as the moon ...
It is the exquisite hour.

Peony Love

"Flowers seem intended for the solace of ordinary humanity." 
- John Ruskin

Head of a Woman with Peonies - Franz Dvorak, Oil on canvas, 1903

Peony season has arrived! The lacy, luscious, lovely flower is showing up all over, and I couldn't be happier. The peony is my very favorite flower, both for aesthetic and sentimental reasons. When I start to see the peonies bloom, I know that we have most decidedly started the transition from spring into summer.


The peony holds an honored place in the plant world, having a recorded history that goes back thousands of years.  The fragrant flower is said to have medicinal properties, and was named for Paeon, the physician to the Greek gods. According to legend, he was given the flower on Mount Olympus by the mother of Apollo.


It is equally revered in China, where it is the national flower, and is considered a symbol of prosperity and honor. 


In Japan, it is a sign of masculinity and bravery.


In the world of astrology, peonies are the flowers assigned to Scorpios, as they are flowers that reflect the sensitivity and power of those born under that sign.


These are all reasons enough to love the peony, right? But as I said, I also have a sentimental reason to love this flower. I own a peony bush (well, really, it's several bushes now) that has been in my yard for over ten years now. 


That fact alone in not very impressive, but my lovely, strong, white peony bush which blooms with such profusion each spring, bloomed once in my grandmother's garden in Kansas City over one hundred years ago. 


My grandmother shared her flowers with my mother and father, who had moved their growing family from her house to a new little chateau in the burgeoning suburbs of Kansas City  in 1954. When my parents left that house seventeed years later, some of the treasured peonies went with them.


Through two more moves, the peonies were dug up and divided, some left at the previous houses, but some going to the new ones. 


My mother shared her peonies with me over thirty years ago when she and I dug up one of the prolific bushes in her back yard and lovingly wrapped the root ball in damp newspapers and plastic for the drive to St. Louis, where it was planted into a beautiful perennial garden in my own backyard.


Nearly twenty years later, when we moved to the house we currently own, the plant was divided again, and now resides in Weldon Spring.


Each year when the enormous bright white flowers bloom, I see my grandmother, my mother, and myself, tending the lovely blossoms, cutting a few for a fragrant arrangement, and marveling at the miracle of their beauty.


I often wonder just how far back that peony bush goes. Did my grandmother receive it from her mother? I like to think so. 


I look forward, someday, to digging up the lush and luxurious peony bush that now graces my back yard, and dividing it to share with The Graceful One.


As a dear friend said to me recently, "This is what gardening is all about."  


Here is my first bouquet of peonies this year. Oh, and the vase they're in? It was the first object my grandmother bought with her first paycheck she ever earned. How cool is that?

May the beauty of flowers bring a message to you today.


  
You've heard this music from me before, and chances are, you'll hear it again. I will look for any excuse to play my favorite pieces for you. This is the "Flower Duet" from the beautiful French opera, Lakmé, by Léo Delibes. 


In Act I of the opera, Lakmé (a Brahmin priestess) and her servant, Malilika, sing about going to the river to gather the flowers. Anna Netrebko and Elina Garanca join the Baden-Baden Opera for this lovely Gala performance. Enjoy!
  


Baden-Baden Opera Gala 2007.

Seeking the Sun



Flora - Evelyn de Morgan
Oil on canvas, 1894




"Be like a flower and turn your face to the sun."

- Kahlil Gibran



I've spent the better part of a week in Las Vegas, and boy-oh-boy, does this advice resonate with me today.

A flower doesn't really care what's going on around it, does it? It simply turns toward the sun instinctively, day after day.

I did much the same thing for the last week or so. As if some sort of blossom in search of the sun, I turned toward the warmth of family, the comfort of the earth, the cool and refreshing water of rivers and pools, and the bright rays of sunshine across the Nevada desert floor.

I didn't feel the need to address any grievances, fix anyone's problems, or prioritize any chores.  In fact, like the flower who doesn't care who or what else is around it, I only felt the need to nourish myself. Is that a bad thing? Please say it's not. 

I've missed my blog (and keeping up with others' blogs) terribly, but in quest for the sun I felt I needed a little break from it all, and also from all the "shoulds" and "musts" and "needs" of everyday life. I think it was the right thing to do, but of course, now I feel slightly off kilter, and it will take some time to get back into a routine.

I spent cherished time with my son, The Coach, and his lovely wife, The Fashionista. [I call my sweet daughter-in-law The Fashionista not because she's a diva of any sort, but because 1) she earned her university degree in Fashion Design, and 2) no matter where she's going or what she's doing, she looks as cute as a button and perfectly put together. Have you ever known anyone who looked equally fabulous whether they were attending a business meeting, a baseball game, or a gala ball? That's my daughter-in-law.]

Anyway, we had a wonderful time with them, as always, and The Fashionista went to a great deal of trouble (though she didn't act like it) to create a fabulous spa atmosphere in her bathroom...just for me. She provided me with bath salts, with body creams, with oils, and loofas and skin cleansers and perfumes and....I can't even list all of the wonderful treasures she set out for me, the 'extreme bath' lover.  Honestly, I wanted to fall sound asleep in that tub after the long and arduous day of travel preceeding it. It was as if she knew what I needed and was there to provide it for me. How sweet is that?

We spent the first night with The Happy Couple in their condominium, and then spent the last four nights at a hotel called Vdara in Las Vegas, and it was just lovely. Okay, it was more than lovely. It was pretty darned fabulous.

With The Happy Couple, we explored great food and drink, went hiking, sightseeing, and shopping, and we basked in healthy doses of the life-giving rays of the sun. I will, I'm sure, share those adventures with you in more detail sometime soon.

Best of all, we had the opportunity to watch our son in action as he coached  his high school baseball team in their last game of the season. [The Coach is not the Head Coach, but he coaches first base and outfielders.] His team was victorious, edging out the competition with a score of 11 to 10. No doubt, the victory was a result of excellent coaching.

It was such a gift to be able to see him in his element, happy and excited to be doing the work that he's doing. He was clearly meant to coach and mentor young people, and he obviously loves it.

Do you know what I love the most about watching him? He's the best kind of authority figure. He's exacting, but encouraging. He's enthusiastic, but never shouts. He sees the learning opportunity in each moment, and is keenly aware of his responsibility. If a player makes a mistake, he's not the type of coach to get into his face and yell. He allows the student (they all are students, after all) to keep his dignity, gives him a moment or two to process what happened, and then puts a hand on his shoulder to talk to him. He ends with a playful pat on the backside or a tap of the player's baseball cap, and that's it. Lesson learned. I think he's got the right stuff, but I may be biased.

So that's how my week went. Instead of looking back or being concerned about circumstances surrounding me, I turned my face toward the sun. I found it in my sweet and generous daughter-in-law. I found it in my strong and capable son. I found it in stunning hikes on the desert floor with the cool red earth beneath my feet, in the sight of the uniquely beautiful desert flowers at every turn, in cool, trickling water falls, and in the heat of the life-giving sun on my face. 

And now, it's good to be back home...and very good to be back with a Smiling Heart.

Today I hope you can turn away from your troubles and face the sun...whatever that may be in your life.

"Something lighthearted and warm, please," she said to the music conductor.

"Sounds like you need Paul McCartney," he responded matter-of-factly.

And so she did.

Here's the lighthearted, warm Beatle singing "Good Day Sunshine" from his "The Space Within Us" dvd.  I'll bet you end up humming this one all day...Enjoy!

Time Remembered

For winter's rains and ruins are over,
And all the season of snows and sins;
The days dividing lover and lover,
The light that loses, the night that wins;
And time remembered is grief forgotten,
And frosts are slain and flowers begotten,
And in green underwood and cover
Blossom by blossom the spring begins.

- Algernon Charles Swinburne, Excerpt from Atalanta in Calydon




Blossom by Blossom the Spring Begins
Wishing Well at The Elms


 Well, I could easily end my post right here. How could I ever attempt to express my weekend better than Mr. Swinburne did?
 
I suppose the best I can do is give you my general impressions to go along with just a few photos of the beautiful, poignant, joyous, fun, and precious time it was with my siblings and other relatives as we celebrated a life well lived.
 
The weekend was full. It included a magical place to stay...
 

The Elms Resort & Spa, Excelsior Springs, Missouri

 
 

Grand Foyer and Fireplace

 
 
 
Built from native limestone and imported marble, one can still feel the opulence it once displayed.
 
 





The huge hotel is placed on acres of manicured lawn and gardens, making it appear perfectly sized after all.

View from the Gazebo

Grand dame that she is, she has a vibrant history, and like the most fascinating of women, she has an air of mystery about her...

and some secrets she'll never share.

We had no trouble filling this great space with laughter and love...

On Friday night, we held a family cocktail party...

(with relatives coming in from California, New York, Maine, and all around the state of Missouri.)

Followed by an intimate dinner for thirty...

After dinner we had an informal gathering about the memorial to be held the following day.

My older brother, The Patriarch, passed a gift to each of us...

Each bag contained a gold chest engraved with our parents' monogram, and contained purple velvet pouches containing their mingled ashes...enough pouches for each member of that sibling's family.

It also contained a personalized packet of photographs, letters, cards, and other mementos from Elly and Bob, including a letter from Mom to Her Children. ♥


After that, we toasted Mom with her favorite drink...Squirt soda and vodka.  Agent Theunemann was responsible for this mission...

Late that night, many of us went on a ghost tour of The Elms Hotel with Jay The Maintenance Man...

Jay had lots of stories about strange happenings in the wee hours of the morning
while working in the hundred-year-old hotel.

His favorite phrase was "Can't explain it."

Just as we were leaving the basement pool area, I saw this painting in the hallway...

I think Mom just wanted to say hello,

but...

I can't explain it.







On Saturday morning, a local Boy Scout Troop planted an Elm tree on the grounds of the hotel property in honor of Earth Day. After the tree was in the ground, The Elms hosted an Easter Egg Hunt for children. The intrepid cousins and second cousins from our family took part...

 All children should be permitted a period 
of fun distractions and fresh air and
running and laughing as their parents prepare to mourn a passing.

It was the perfect way to spend the morning before the memorial.





After that we went back inside to greet the rest of the relatives arriving for the gathering. When the last of the egg hunters had left the hotel grounds, and the last of the cousins had arrived in the lobby, The Patriarch led the way down the path to the wishing well...

...where he led the family in a celebration that was personal, poetic, and absolutely perfect.

When it was finished, everyone took their velvet pouch and went to the wishing well, where we spread some of the ashes, the "days dividing lover and lover" being over.  We then each went our separate ways out onto the hotel grounds, where we chose spots that felt right to us to spread more of the ashes...

Among the lily-of-the-valleys...

At the edge of a walkway...

Beneath the lush trees...



Or in the picturesque little river.

I found a quiet and beautiful archway of old trees along the path leading down from the gazebo. The moment I walked under the grand trees (which had surely been bare in the winter of 1945 but now were leafing green and luscious), they whispered a secret to me, one that I'm sure they'd witnessed many times over the span of their lives. 

Bob and Elly had walked along that path one romantic, starlit night, and Bob had teasingly pulled her into the protected archway and kissed her. Elly laughed her glorious laugh and gave him a loving slap on the cheek in return.

"Oh yes," I heard from the trees. "Leave their ashes here."

I said a final, tearful goodbye to my mother, but rather than feeling empty, great love and happiness rushed in to fill the void.

I looked and saw that, indeed,

"in green underwood and cover, 

Blossom by blossom, the spring begins."

The day proved to be the perfect closure for us all, I think. I know I felt that "Winter's rains and ruins are over."

Today I wish you the light of joy.

The musical selection today was very difficult for me. So many lovely pieces ran through my head. I woke with the music of Edvard Grieg on my mind, and thought I would post his joyous "Wedding Day at Troldhaugen" but now I think I'll save that for another day.

I've decided instead to go with something more contemplative from his Lyric Pieces,  his Op.43 No.6, "To Spring." This version, played by Sviatoslav Richter, is elegant and perfectly paced. Grieg is one of my favorite composers because he can be dramatic and heavy-handed in some composistions, but serene and light in others. This one falls into the latter category. Please enjoy.

How Can I Keep From Singing?

"Move forward, embrace the moment, love & live life."

- Lizzy Frizzfrock



Eleanor Joyce Floyd
1924 - 2011



 

A Grandmother's Love -- Charlotte and Eleanor
March, 2011

Today, I hope you sing.

Mission Incredible

"If you surrender completely
to the moments as they pass,
you live more richly those moments."
- Anne Morrow Lindbergh

Elly and Bob, married February 1, 1946
Honeymoon at The Elms

People are unique. Like leaves on a tree, no two are exactly alike. One size definitely does not fill all. Why, then, should we adhere to rigid customs pertaining to death and dying? 

Funerals and mourning rituals used to be rigidly set and were not to be taken lightly. The rules of etiquette pertaining to  mourning reached ridiculous proportions in the Victorian Era. If you'd like to read more about the rules for veils and calling cards and gloves and jewelry and such things, read this.

I'm happy that the rules have eased since then, for according to Harper's Bazaar, I'd be wearing a long dress of "black Henrietta cloth (whatever that may be) or serge trimmed with crape, complete with a deep veil" worn at the back of my bonnet for the next year.

That sounds hot, uncomfortable, and itchy to me.

I'm pleased that people have begun to buck the system and make their own plans for ceremonies, services, or "going away parties" after their deaths.

My mother was one of those people.

She left explicit directions to her brood telling us the plan. No fussy funeral for this Parkville farmer's daughter. No expensive show, and no grave, either. Her letters to us have turned her memorial into a Mission Incredible.

You know by now that Eleanor married Robert Floyd in 1945 and they spent a short but happy honeymoon at The Elms Hotel in Excelsior Springs.

Now fast forward fifty-two years through six children, about as many homes, several careers, more than a dozen grandchildren, a few great grandchildren, and to the death of her loving husband. Now go even further...about fifteen years further without the love of her life.

Elly wanted us to make sure she spent eternity with Bob.

Elly's request to her children was for us to gather together for a party  at The Elms in our parents' honor. That seemed simple enough. We knew that the hotel still existed, though what an additional 65 years might do to it, none of us knew. A quick search told us that the historic hotel has had several incarnations through its century of history, but that it is now thriving as a resort and spa, capitalizing on its proximity to Kansas City, and to the healing mineral water springs for which it was created. Here's what it looks like today.

And so, on Friday evening, April 22, 2011, thirty members of Elly and Bob's family from several generations will gather for a party at The Elms in their memory.

The second request was for us to find the wishing well on the hotel grounds, which held deep sentimental value for the couple. In fact, the wishing well was so significant that Bob created his own replica of the well in the backyard of their home in Oak Grove as a gift to Elly for their 50th wedding anniversary. Here's what the replica looks like....

We had a Spruce up Grandma's Yard party on Mother's Day just last year, and my husband found a commemorative coin in the wishing well while sprucing it up. It turned out to be a coin from the Las Vegas hotel where Bob and Elly had spent their 25th wedding anniversary.

We were dismayed when a thorough search of The Elms website failed to show any photos of the wishing well, but thanks to facebook (yes, you can 'like' them if you want to), The Elms facebook page was a treasure trove of photographs. Look what I found...

Yep, that's it, covered with snow, but it's still there. Whew!

The final request from Elly was that we mingle their ashes together (yes, Elly had hidden Bob's ashes away to await her return to him) and to deposit them in and around the wishing well.

Wehhhll, now it gets tricky. And a little funny. We may have to call Agent Thuenemann in for this mission on Saturday .  To be honest, we're not really sure what The Management might think about people doing that sort of thing to and around their well, so it may be necessary to make this one a covert operation.  Did anyone bring the maps? We'll need recon to assess the situation, then maybe a diversionary tactic to distract The Management away from the suspicious-looking group of people skulking around  in the garden. Ah, yes, an Easter Egg Hunt should be just the thing.

Team Floyd is on the job, Mom, and we won't let you down. Reunited now, rest in the embrace of your loving husband on your eternal honeymoon.

Today, I wish you success in all your missions.

 Music today is "Gabriel's Oboe" by Enrico Morriconi from the visually and musically stunning movie, "The Mission."Carlo Romano is the oboist, playing with the RAI National Symphony Orchestra in Italy . Enjoy.