Nothing like a totally blank slate to remind you that it's time to start over.
Now that a new year has begun, I guess it's time to get out with the old and in with the new. I have a foggy idea of what that means for me, though the peripheral is sort of chaos. I feel like I'm starting off this year with some positive thoughts in my head about the future. What I'm going to achieve in my life and in my mind, what I hope my friends and loved ones will achieve.
Some of the things I have achieved this year (I laugh because these are all things I should have done years ago, but that doesn't keep me from feeling proud that I finally overcame the obstacles in myself to accomplish them):
I took my SAT;
I took my GED;
I finalized my divorce after seven years of separation.
Now I just have to overcome the fear associated with applying for college and actually attending. I've spent so much time in my life thinking that conventional schooling wasn't for me that I have a lot of apprehension about whether or not it will be for me now, or if it will ultimately be something I wish to abandon. But I know that's foolish. I know that if I care enough about it and if it's right for me, I will succeed. Maybe it's like getting a new haircut (if I may reduce it to such simple terms); it's scary at first and you don't know if you're going to like it, but once you do it you almost always feel a little bit lighter and maybe as if you've turned a corner in your life. Why are we always wasting so much time wondering if the next thing we do is going to be a waste of time?
Speaking of haircuts, I could stand to get a haircut too. Unfortunately, that's another fear I have to overcome; parting with these long locks. Maybe it's not time yet...maybe I should wait until I'm 30. I know this seems like a silly, superficial dilemma. My mother put this fear in me with her obssession with long hair. Damn her.
Some things I hope my friends and loved ones will achieve this year:
I hope my brother gets well;
I hope Kathleen and her brother Paul come to terms with the loss of their father (I just know they will be okay);
I hope Darcie succeeds in her real estate business;
I hope my father finds some rest in the midst of his hectic life and his pursuit of freedom and justice for others;
I hope my grandmother and my mom make peace and out of it grows positive self realization and acceptance (I can be new-ageee...);
I hope my sister is happy (and goes back to college. Sorry! But it's true.)
I hope Rob can avoid getting so many parking tickets and not lock his keys in his car and be neater around the house (YES! I'm selfish.)
I hope all of my wonderful friends in Oregon find success with their bands, their jewelry lines, their marriages and relationships, their homes and in their lives as a whole.
It was so good being there in Portland this past week. Despite all the tears that washed over everything, we revered Howard, we bowed to his memory, we showed eachother the love and goodness that he showed to others and that he valued so much in his life. I felt so much warmth emanating from everyone, even on the cold, rainy, wintry streets of Portland, friends stood with open arms with love to give. My parents drove up from Ashland to remember Howard. And so many others. So many others gave both sympathy and good cheer, which is a hard combo to pull off, but there was a lot of cheer amidst the tears and the endless rain.
One thing about Howard that really struck me was how much he valued love and friendship above possessions, and that possessions were meant mostly for comfort in the absence of human contact. As long as he had the love of his children or the ear of a stranger, he didn't need much else. I know he missed Kathleen since she moved here to New York. I wish with all my heart that he hadn't been taken from this earth so soon.
At the memorial, Howard's brother Jack and niece Judy told of how Jack and Howard were raised. Their father was a famous gambler and they were very wealthy until their father's death when they were children. When Howard was about 8 years old, he and his family were left peniless in Hoboken, New Jersey. This all happened before the depression.
I liked hearing those stories. Not because they were particularly happy stories, but because they said so much about who Howard was. I loved it when Howard told us about how New York and New Jersey used to be. You went away with him. Even if you were standing in the middle of Times Square while he told you, you still felt like you could see it all just the way it used to be. He seized every moment he was allowed to communicate with others. And he knew that material possessions were no guarantee, but love just continues on. He kept history and literature and drama and humorous antecdotes alive through conversation. He made people feel special and he made people laugh. That was so cool.
Going through Howard's apartment with Kathleen, her brother Paul, her boyfriend Charles and our friend Tom, I was reminded of the things that were important to Howard. As I looked through his books, one after another, I saw so many familiar names and titles. So many places where he'd found quotations and committed them to memory to pull them out later during conversation to amuse his listener. I smiled a lot as I went through his books and looked at his walls covered in everything from Audrey Hepburn to Kathleen's old modeling photos (often nearly indistinguishable from eachother) to any little thing that happened to capture his interest or inspire him in any way.
I didn't allow myself to feel sad as I went through things in his apartment. Not too much anyway. More than anything I found so much joy in the intricacies of who he was. There were a lot of sighs, and a few tearful moments, but mostly it was therapeutic for me. I went through his closet full of clothes one item at a time. Each plaid button down shirt, each brown leather belt, each pair of socks and every last dusty sweater. We separated out things we would donate and things we would sell. Some things couldn't be given up at all and we took those for our own.
Kathleen and I each took a couple of belts and a handkerchief. We used to wear his jeans when we were teenagers. He had a small frame and we liked the loose way they fit. The belts remind me so much of him. It was something I always noticed. His jeans and his belts.
We sold his clothes at the Red Light on Hawthorne and at Buffalo Exchange. Kathleen was really sad when she was offered cash or credit. It all seemed so paltry next to the memories and the reality that his body is no longer around to fill those jeans.
That's why I'm going to finish this entry with some Cat Stevens lyrics that I love:
Oh very young
What will you leave us this time
You're only dancing on this earth for a short while
And though your dreams may toss and turn you now
They will vanish away like your daddy's best jeans
Denim Blue fading up to the sky
And though you want him to last forever
You know he never will
(You know he never will )
And the patches make the goodbye harder still
Oh very young
What will you leave us this time
There'll never be a better chance to change your mind
And if you want this world to see a better day
Will you carry the words of love with you
Will you ride the great white bird into heaven
And though you want to last forever
You know you never will
(You know you never will )
And the goodbye makes the journey harder still
Oh very young
What will you leave us this time
You're only dancing on this earth for a short while
Oh very young
What will you leave us this time