A good lawn person is a gift from the gods

... even if he made little mistake.

Last week my partner had back surgery and spent several days in the hospital. What with taking care of the house and pets, teaching three college classes and going and forth to check on her, somehow I missed being here when the yard guy came to mow the lawn on Tuesday.

It was dark by the time I got home that day. On Wednesday, I thought the back yard looked different, but couldn't figure out what it was. I still didn't know on Thursday when Mr. Maya came to pick up his check.

But as I was strolling through the back yard Saturday morning to check on my garden, it hit me: the little patch of English-style garden filled with purple daisies and violets had been mowed to the ground! What three days before had been a wild and luscious garden spot a week away from bursting into bloom that would last until Labor Day was now denuded -- chopped down to the roots.

I sat down on these same roots and cried for 15 minutes. Then I came into the house and took a long bath. Next I had another cup of coffee, sat a while and then took a long walk through the neighborhood.

When I was sure I was calm and wouldn't rant or attack, I called Mr. Maya. His wife, who manages the home, the business phone and books -- and has her own cleaning service, answered. I told her my sad story, starting with wondering if he had called in some help because -- after three years of doing our yard -- he knew what to mow or not. "Let me check with him," she said.

Within minutes she called back. Yes, he had hired a new helper that day, but thought the guy had fully understood what to do or not to do. They would be happy to replace the flowers -- something I declined, seeing as these were flowers that had grown from shared clippings. He would certainly understand if we didn't want to use his service any more.

"I don't want to make a hasty decision," I told her. "Please let me call you on Monday." Over the rest of the weekend, I ranted about this to anyone who would listen, slept on it Saturday and Sunday nights and woke up Monday morning, my decision made.

If he was willing, I would love to have him continue to mow the lawn. He does a great job at a reasonable price. He and his wife are honorable people working hard to make a better life for their children, both of whom I've met and know to be fabulous kids. I'm not even going to ask him to mow my lawn for free the next time, as one friend suggested.

Why? Because if this is the worst thing to happen to me, I am truly blessed. Because the cuttings were all given to me by friends, and God gave me the dirt, sun and water to make the plants grow. I was given four full years to watch the garden develop and to enjoy to burst of color they brought to the yard. And because, as I walked through the now-denuded flower beds, I realized that I now have an opportunity to maybe try something different in this space.

So as I left my message on their answering machine, my only remaining question was this: would Mr Maya accept me back? 

The junk in my eyes

I went to the ophthalmologist yesterday because
A) it had been several years since my eyes had been checked
B) I'm of a "certain" age
C) I was afraid I was going blind
D) my current frames, which are scratched, make me look like an old lady
E) all of the above

If you hadn't guessed, the answer is E.

So ... The tech checks me and the doctor comes in and runs me through a bunch of tests. And he tells me that he can't make a set of glasses that will correct my vision better than the ones I already have.
Damn!
So ... The tech dilates my eyes so the doc can better assess the problem. I spend half an hour sitting butt up next to an extremely large, heavy smoker who's spending her dilation wait time whining to the other four dilation people complaining about needing another smoke. That smell never bothered me until I quit smoking several years ago; now it kills me.
Anyway, finally my pupils are the size of dinner plates and they go to round two.
The doc takes another look and announces that he knows what's bothering me. "You've got junk in your eyes." Of course, there's a fancier name for my condition -- buffalosis -- but the fact remains that it's junk in the eyes. My tear ducts are clogged, so they can't keep my eyes moist -- and clean. As a result, dirt and grime form a film that blurs everything to the point that what see is distorted and I can't see things clearly well at all.

He solved my problems simply:
First, he wrote a new glasses prescription to solve problem D (old lady glasses).
And he gave me eye drops and guidance on cleaning my tear ducts (diluted baby shampoo). And told me to come see him every year -- not every election cycle.
So ... For two days now I've been following his instructions. And guess what?
Praise be!
My sight has been restored!
So I'm wondering how many of my other problems in life have been caused by junk in my eyes? Has my perspective been so clouded by the immediate crap that I haven't been able to see the situation clearly?
Anyway, I've been thinking about how much of my life may have been through junky eyes, distorted by the crap that could have been washed away?

How my mother made lemonade

Two weeks after I turned 17, my mother was diagnosed with a malignant melanoma. At that time in the early 1960s, chemotherapy and radiation treatments were still in the experimental stages. Instead, the standard treatment was to remove the cancer, surrounding tissue and lymph nodes and send the patient home to rest and, hopefully, recover. So the surgeons removed all the tumor lymph nodes between her left hip and foot and then did a major skin graft with skin harvested from her back. Her surgeon -- one of the few who believed it was best for patients to know about their illnesses and prognosis -- hoped this painful process would give her at least another five years.


So, in addition to the typical senior activities, my last year in high school included learning to plan family meals from weekly sales and doing the grocery shopping, running my three younger brothers to their school activities and learning the fine points of managing the family budget. Not because I was the daughter, but because I was the eldest and the only kid with a driver's license. Laundry, mending and cleaning were already under control because Mama had begun having each of us do that for ourselves when we turned 10. By the time I graduated, I not only had a couple of scholarships, but something even better -- life skills that they don't teach in school and few parents think to pass on to their children as they leave the nest.

By the time my first brother turned 17 two years later, Mama was healthy again and back to her part-time job. Ray looked forward to a year of fun and games at school -- which he got -- but he also encountered a completely different reality at home: my senior year experience. I had already told our parents how beneficial my extra work at home had been to me, putting me ahead of my peers in that critical first year away from home, and they decided it was just what Ray needed before he headed off to school. And, as I had, he reported that a year of managing a household, doing the budget, shopping for groceries and running errands gave him an extra edge in dealing with his new life -- AND attracted girls!

A pattern was set, and the last two brothers knew it, so they just made it part of their expected senior year. And, as Ray had found, they were they only males among their peers who could manage their own affairs, do their laundry, mend a shirt, plan a budget-friendly meal -- and then cook it!

Both of my parents believed that everyone should be able to handle all the skills they'd need in life, regardless of gender. And yes, my dad had insisted that each of us know how to handle common tools and maintain the family car for six months before we could test for our driver's license. I can -- and have -- built furniture, fixed plumbing and done simple electric work. I could then -- and still can -- jump a battery and change oil and tires; I'd rather pay for services and call AAA, but if I needed to do this for myself, I could.

The long and short of this is that my mom made great lemonade out of a big pile of lemons. She turned a six-month-long convolescence into valuable life lessons that equipped us well for life and love.

Yes, love. You think my sisters-in-law don't adore my mother for giving them mates who can and do cook, clean, sew and wash? Wouldn't you?

Shadow on the Planet Lemon

Shadow was thrown a bag of lemons -- maybe something worse. She was an only cat, happy in her home with her human, Chris. Shadow had never been outside. Her birth mother, whom she left when she was barely three months old, was the only other cat she'd ever seen. And she'd never encountered a dog.
But over time, Chris aged and needed to move into a senior living complex that didn't allow animals. Shadow, now 14 years old -- an elder by anyone's definition – couldn’t go along and had nowhere else to go. Chris was actually having to consider the worst possible alternative. Word went out through the local humane society that Shadow needed a new home -- and quickly!
Meanwhile, Maggie, who was looking for a cat – preferably anelder like herself, heard about Shadow and called to take her. When Chris delivered her beloved pet, she knew -- but Shadow didn't-- that this new home included several dogs and another cat. Everyone understood it would be scary for Shadow and that she might not be able to adjust.
But slowly, she began to prove she was one tough feline, capable of surviving and even thriving in this new solar system of lemons. Sure she grieved, spending the first several months safely nestled in a basket on a high counter, and she’ll be the first to tell youthat dogs are absolutely not her favorite people. But once she realized that she was going to be okay, she began to roam the house, make friends with the other animals and exhibit the personality that so charmed her mother.
A year has passed and Shadow continues to do well. She likes to stay close to Maggie at all times, sitting with her at the computer. Or to lie on the windowsill watching birds and squirrels in the front trees or perch on the refrigerator to make sure everyone is doing what they should. She curls up with Maggie in bed, which is especially appreciated on cool winter nights. She also continues to stay in touch with Chris, writing regular notes and sending pictures.
Shadow landed on Planet Lemon, a stranger in a strange and scary land. She had been taken totally out of her element and thrown into a new reality through no fault of her own and no way to understand what was happening. But she has not only adjusted, but thrived.
If life has blasted you into new and frightening circumstances that are chaotic and incomprehensible, you may feel a lot like Shadow. I know I sometimes do, especially in the limbo between the "What’s happened?” and “This is my new normal” stages. The basket on the tall cabinet begins to look pretty appealing. Then I look at this little gray-and-white cat who’s dealt with having her world turned upside down and realize that I can do at least as well.I can talk, listen and learn. Hopefully, I can understand, cope and overcome.
Meow!

Last year my parents celebrated their 70th anniversary

As we were preparing for the family reunion and party that would mark this remarkable event, we interviewed them about their life. One of the things that really struck me was their repeated observations that their greatest failures led to their greatest successes. When I remember back to their lives, I realize that they were right, and that this has been true of my own life.
But we’ll stay with my mom and dad because it’s hard to turn your back on seven decades of love and experience. They had four kids – born within six years – and reared them on one nonunion salary; we were barely wealthy enough to be considered working class. My dad was a pipefitter/welder and a working foreman in steel shops for 40 years. My mom stayed at home with us, but didn’t give up on her dreams of being a writer and a bookkeeper; in fact, while rearing us, she took correspondence courses in bookkeeping and accounting, which qualified her for her 30-year career when we moved into school. She also is a writer, whose freelance work paid for every vacation we were ever able to take.

Despite their hard times, they were able to retire comfortably and even travel beyond their wildest dreams. This was primarily because my dad’s last job was as the foreman in a start-up fabricating plant that, fortunately, made it; to help the new company get going, he agreed to take a reduced salary and shares in the company. That leap of faith paid off: the company did well, giving my parents a nice retirement income and investments. But Daddy wouldn’t have been available or even interested in that opportunity if the job he’d taken the year before had not turned into an abysmal failure at a company that ultimately went bankrupt.

What my parents had said was true: their greatest opportunities and successes would never had come about had they not had their greatest failures – and been desperate enough to be willing to jump at anything.As my brothers and I listened to their stories, we realized that this had happened over and over again in their lives as a couple and later in our own lives. The secretarial job I took after I was laid off the very day I filed for divorce ultimately led into a new and fulfilling lifetime career in which I continue to work. Grant you, I spent two weeks in a fetal position on my couch right after my lay off and had to work in the trenches for several years, but eventually, that unplanned career exceeded my dreams.

I would imagine that each of us can think of similar redeemed failures either in our own lives or in those of friends or family members. In all of these instances, very few of us really dream of moving on to someplace else. We just find ourselves with a bag of lemons – or worse – and just do the best we can with what we’ve got at the time.

What do you do with a bag of lemons?

You say life has given you lemons ...
Well, there are a lot of things you can do with them.

You can make lemonade, of course, but as diabetics know, too much sweet lemonade can kill you. And sometimes, we just don't need someone offering us yet another cheery sweet thought.

We do have dozens of other alternatives:You can pretend the bag of lemons is really full of apples -- my personal choice, at least for the short term. But even that eventually has to be put away. Denial really needs to be short lived.

So you can look for someone whose life has given them vodka and make lemon drop martinis.You can learn juggle them, which always lightens the mood and improves hand-eye coordination. You can throw them at people who've angered you or just at targets or walls.You can make lemon curd or marmalade or limoncello.You can even flavor fish or grate lemon zest over broccoli or other vegetables to give those an extra taste.Lemons can bleach dark spots on your skin or you can put the slices on closed eyes to relieve stress.And while you're at it, go ahead and use lemons to provide an extra measure of cleaning for counter tops.This is just a start. In fact, I'm sure a quick Internet search would offer up dozens of other uses for these pleasantly shaped, nice smelling fruits. So when life gives you lemons, we all do have choices.

Of course, this isn't really about lemons, but about the unforeseen, uninvited and generally unwanted events that come our way in life. And everyone's "bag of lemons" is different. It may be a divorce, a lost job, an illness in our own lives or one of a family member or friend. And it may not just be a bag of lemons handed to you; it may be a whole freaking truck load dumped on you.

And as you're sitting there contemplating what to do next, some well-meaning person will come along, pat you on the shoulder and say "You know what they say, 'When life gives you lemons, make lemonade.'" Sometimes hearing that just makes you mad; I know it did me when I found out I was laid off the day I had filed for divorce.

Well, I've heard that lemonade thing before, and that's not always the best approach for everyone. And certainly, the first thing you don't necessarily need to do is to go to the store and buy sugar for lemonade.
Maybe you just need to sit down with those lemons and take a while to think about other possibilities that may arise from this unforeseen event.