Posts tagged ‘dog’

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August 25, 2015

Perforated

by lisa st john

Unlike some of my sisters out there in the world, I do not choose to wear the veil that covers me. My friend calls it a “Saran Wrap” of sadness. I didn’t realize that I had it until she told me. But it’s there. It’s a veil. It’s thin and breathable but it’s there. I’m not sad all the time anymore, but I wasn’t sure I could ever say, “I’m happy” again and really mean it. Not until now.

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It has been 1,006 days since my husband, Kent, died. But it’s also been 10, 588 days since my fabulous son was born. He will be 29 years old this year, and that blows my mind. He is handsome and gentle and intelligent and successful in every sense of the word. He has a beautiful fiancée and just moved into his first (fabulous) home. I have been hanging here trying to help out and trying not to get in the way. And I think the veil got thinner.

Have they put something in my drink? Did my own kid rufi me? Or is it possible that my sadness has found a quiet spot? Their joy is contagious. Even the German Shepherd, Missy, catches it. She ran sprints around the new house yesterday, almost knocking over the yet-to-be-hung bazillion-inch television. And I swear that dog was smiling. We call her “Soul Puppy” because her love is so curative. How could I cry when a sweet little pup was licking my face? What right did I have to be mourning when I could instead take part in the supreme joy that is puppy romping?

The breeze here is warm and inviting. The sky is bluer than I ever remember. The world is lush with life and newness and bliss. Now I not only recognize it, but feel a bit of it too. The veil is thinning. So all of you joyous people out there, please remember: SHARE. Dance in the grocery store and sing while driving and laugh and laugh and laugh. Those of us with veils need it.

p.s.: Thank you artists. Thank you for making “a joyful sound” and sharing the beauty.

p.p.s: Shout out to some of my favorite artists: Kaileigh Osarczuk, Amanda Palmer, Karhu Moon, and all the laughing children of the world.

I just got this message from Finishing Line Press: “Your book will be going to print very soon. I will keep you updated on when your file leaves for the printer.” Oh yea. You can get it here.

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August 5, 2015

It’s Just Stuff

by lisa st john

 There will be joy…whether we want it or not.

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Cone Dog Millionaire?

Loss and grief are unforgiving teachers. Are you ready for the quiz? No? Too bad; so sad.

All we can do is decide how to react to moments. We cannot choose the moments. All we can do is be good to ourselves so that we can be good to one another.

“Aren’t you sad…devastated that he’s leaving?”
“I, uhm…want him to be happy.”
“But you’ll have to get on A PLANE to see him!”
“Yes. And that’s how I am going to spend my money.”
“But he is your only one, what about saving for your retirement… .”
“I’d like to think I raised a good adult, even though he is my ‘only one’ (!?). Now he is off being an adult. ‘I never seen a hearse with a trailer hitch.’ Do you know that song?”
“What?!”

Recently, someone told me that I don’t respect money. This is true. It is just stuff. It is used to get more stuff. Or it is used to help create experience. I like to think that is what we taught our son. Experience over things, moments over regrets.

Recently, someone told me that I shouldn’t always pay for her dinner. “Do you forget,” I asked her, “that you wired me money all the time when I was pregnant and alone and couldn’t work anymore?”

“No. I guess I forgot…”
“Twenty-nine years ago I stole a bag of rice from a grocery store. I paid for the can of beans. You taught me that beans and rice make a complete protein—healthy for the baby.”
“Yea, but…”
“You taught me how to ask.”

My late husband used to tell the story of a college friend who didn’t have drinking money. My husband used to tell him, “If I’ve got enough for one beer, I’ve got enough for two. Let’s go.”

I like to believe that this sentiment is alive and well in the world at large and not just in my own life. Can I afford to buy a recent high school graduate a new car? No. Can I afford to give a few bucks toward her crowdsourcing effort? Hell, yeah. It’s just stuff.

“What do you mean you don’t balance your checkbook?”
“That’s what ATMs are for—checking my balance.”

My logic works kind of like this: I got a refund for a $200.00 deposit I put on a rental house for my last vacation. I forgot about putting down the deposit. So now I have a brand new (free!) $200.00 that I didn’t have before. (Well, technically I did have it but I forgot it so… .) Now I have a new $199.00 camera. For FREE! (Sort of.)

There is no amount of money that can buy anything worthwhile. There is no amount of money that will bring my husband back. I am stuck here; I am stuck here without him, and I will be damned if all he taught me about living in the moment is going to go to waste. I hope I die broke. I hope I helped make many experiences along the way.

“Does it get easier? The loss? The grieving?”
“I don’t know anything about easy. I just know about change.”

p.s. My first chapbook, Ponderings, will be out at the end of this month. I just proofed the first set of galleys from Finishing Line Press. Buy it. And if you can’t let yourself laugh at weird, stupid stuff like trumping your cat, well, then… .

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June 7, 2015

I’m Not Lost, Just Blind Sometimes

by lisa st john

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Just when I start seeing the world as one full of hatred and violence and judgmental anti-feminist, anti-human rights, degenerate idiots and my menopause insists that this is, in fact, true, and it’s not going to get any better, a day like today comes along to help me readjust my perception.

It starts at 4AM (doesn’t everything?) when Missy the Gran-dog licks my face and I realize I do not have nearly enough blankets. And it is Sunday. And I could be sleeping. But she talks the sweet talk of a German Shepherd and I let her out while I find more blankets. We cuddle up together and I drift off. Then I hear her click click clicking around the kitchen and I see it’s only 7AM and I’m still tired. What teacher is not tired in June? Everyone I know is tired. But magically the clicking stops and the next thing I know it’s 9AM. NINE! My friends took Missy for a walk so I could sleep in because…because they’re my friends.

I love them.

My sister takes a break from making jewelry to make fresh fruit salad.

I love her.

It’s the day of the annual Pride Parade but I am still dragging my semi-grumpy hormones by the hair to get out the door with a heavy oh-woe-is-me sigh. Then I see my students in their rainbow regalia smiling and laughing and not at all afraid.

I love them.

I remember being afraid at Gay Rights marches, or at least nervous and on the lookout for protesters with something more lethal than signs. But this is New Paltz, New York and Councilman Dan Torres is organizing the line-up with the stunning Shawangunk Mountains as a backdrop. The people watching us march are cheering us on, not throwing things at us.

I love it.

At the end of the march there are musicians and vendors and advocates and many different kinds of…kind. Hudson Valley Community Services has a booth; they are making sure that over 290,000 kids will have a healthy meal this summer at no cost. The local Planned Parenthood is giving out condoms and information on their free youth training program. There is a petition to pass the SAFE Parole Act put out by the End the Jim Crow Action Network. Lambda Peer Support Services is promoting their mission to “foster a sense of community … and address the effects of homophobia, discrimination and prejudice.” The Hudson Valley LGBTQ Center has made this one-time parade into a weeklong celebration. And where would we be without the Gay Lesbian and Straight Education Network (GLSEN)? People are here volunteering their time and energy to reach out.

On the way home I start to cry because I remembered kindness and because as I drive home in the beauty of a 78 degree day in the Catskills I know that a Hospice volunteer is out there making the world a better place; and I cry because my husband has been gone for exactly 927 days and because my fabulous son is in love and getting married. Then Amanda Palmer comes over the Rhapsody bluetooth iPhone widget gadget thing (such first world problems) and she reminds me that “no one’s ever lost forever.”

I love her. I love you all.

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from Lost by Amanda Palmer

No one’s ever lost forever
When they die they go away
But they will visit you occasionally
Do not be afraid
No one’s ever lost forever
They are caught inside your heart
If you garden them and water them
They make you what you are                                                              

 

Missy thinks she is in the wilds but she is really just in Grandma’s backyard. Shhhhh…

My first chapbook, Ponderings, is available at Finishing Line Press.

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September 29, 2014

Summer Version 2.0

by lisa st john

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I hear it all the time. As soon as someone learns I am a public high school teacher, it starts. “Oh! It must be so nice to have summers off!” A low growl begins in my inner gut as I decide whether the human uttering the offensive comment is worthy of an explanation or not. Taylor Mali explains it best. What DO teachers make? Puhlease.

I don’t really have the energy for that argument right now, however. I am currently embroiled in a conflicting dialectic with Summer Lisa. Work Lisa hates her. I mean that with the best definition of hate in mind—a feeling so strong that it circles back around dangerously close to love.

True cruelty is apathy. e.g.: “I wish I cared enough to hate them.”

This conversation turns into a polemic at times, but I can’t help but feel that it’s an important discussion. It goes something like this:

Work Lisa (WL): “You need to step up your shit. We are way behind in grading.”

Summer Lisa (SW): “It’s okay. It’s too nice out to grade. The garden needs work too, and …”

WL: “No. We have essays to read and lessons to plan. Think about the kids!”

SW: “I love the kids. The kids aren’t here now. Just a lot of Oompa-Loompa paperwork. Let’s go outside…”

WL: “We usually have the whole semester planned out by now, we’ve got to–”

SL: “Maybe we don’t need to have everything planned out so far in advance, maybe–”

WL: “SHUT UP!”

SL (whispering): “Oh look…Gibbs is head-slapping Tony again–”

WL: “STOP! We are soooo moving the computer desk away from the television… .”

SL: “No!”

WL: “EXCUSE me?!”

SL: “Wouldn’t it be good to dig our toes in the sand again? To read uninterrupted? Remember daydreaming? Remember writing?”

WL (pause): “There’s no sand. It’s almost winter.”

SL: “There’s sand just an airplane ride away. And almost winter is not the same as winter anyway.”

WL: “Well…Missy is coming tomorrow. It’s always good to play.”

SL: “YES! Now you are getting it. Puppy joy!”

WL: “It’s not that I don’t love you and need you ya’ know. I just–”

SL: “in-just spring…”

WL: “See what I mean?! Off on another tangent… .”

SL: “You love my tangents. You love me. You just don’t remember me that well. It’s been awhile. It’s okay. I’m right here.”

missy

p.s.: Many thanks to mi hermana (L) for letting me steal the Oompah-Loompah phrase regarding idiotic, meaningless paperwork.

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