2023 Comes To An End

    Well, this has been a year. Yes, it certainly has. Been a year, I mean.  As my friend Mark Briner so perfectly said, "Another year comes to a close and nobody says it better than Lucy (Lucille Ball). I'd say here's to a better 2024, but, history."

    His words made me laugh. At this time of the year, people are full of resolutions, expectations, and hopes for the year to come. But, as Mark said... history.    

    I make no resolutions. After fifty years of promising to lose weight, it has sunk in that it probably won't happen, and torturing myself over what I do or don't eat won't change a thing. So, no weight related resolutions any more. Nope, not beginning a "weight loss journey." (That expression makes me gag.) Instead I follow the wise advice that my friend Dee Ashby once gave me about life.

    Life is full of ups and downs. We are going to have a lot of happiness, so we really need to be present in those moments when we are happy. Hold on to them. Savor them. Record them in our hearts and brains. Because the bad times will shake us to the core, and we need the memories that good can and will happen to take us through them. I lost Dee on May 1. I can't stand it that she is no longer here on Earth, but I am comforted that I can still feel the happiness we shared in life. I remember her excitement when she became engaged to Jerry, I remember Sarah's birth and her wedding, I remember trips to Allenberry, beach vacations, Independence Day celebrations, New Year's Eves dinners, goofy inside jokes, etc. etc. etc. The last picture taken of us was out of focus and so unflattering that even the best of filters couldn't improve it. But we are laughing out loud, our heads together, recording one of those simple happy times. It's my most beloved picture of us.

         I am thankful for the people in my life. My sister and her daughters are my "official" family. It goes without saying, I love them so much, and I am so thankful for them. I have lifelong friends that I met through theatre. When Harry Malin talked me into auditioning for a play being performed by a little local community theatre, I had no idea that it would change my life. I've been a member of the Tidewater Players for over forty years. I've had some amazing experiences and met many amazing people. Think about it folks, I've been on stage with naked men!! I have danced with a leg lamp, and the people I danced with loved and encouraged me even though I stunk (stank? Who cares? I'm no longer in the classroom.)

       

     I had a rewarding career. Again, a job that brought me many laughable moments and lifelong friends. I have teacher friends that I stay in touch with (some more often than others).  Now that many of my students are now heading into their 40's, 50's, and 60's, I can count them among my adult friends. I can't get them to stop calling me Miss Snyder, but what the heck. As Dee advised, I committed the happy times of my job to my memory- both in my heart and mind. 

    My church friends have kept me going this year, without a doubt. We operate a food kitchen every week, and it certainly gives me an appreciation for my blessings, as well as a chance to make a difference in a cruel world. Oh, the people I've met! There's the elderly frail couple who look like they stepped right out of Mayberry RFD. They entertained me one day with the ins and outs of the marijuana industry because when they were younger they grew their own and had a booming local business. I did my best to keep my eyeballs from popping out of their sockets as they told me their story. There's my down-on-his luck ex-convict buddy who once served eighteen years for murder, and frankly, I would trust him with my life. We serve aliens to our country without questioning their legality or illegality, but by welcoming them and providing them with food and kindness, as well as educating our other clients to be compassionate.  Because of my church family, I am an active participant in doing God's work on Earth year round.  My church peeps are special people, who make me laugh, who pray for my concerns, and bless their hearts, who even threw me a surprise party for my 70th birthday. Sheila, especially, keeps me grounded and entertained. This year we drove to Florida to babysit Mike and Steve's dogs. And, then she and Betty took me to Mar-a-lago so I could give trump a middle finger salute. One of the highlights of this year!

     As 2023 comes to an end, I reflect not only on this year, but the years that have led up to 2023. The years blend into each other, and the best way I can figure out when something happened is "before or after Covid."  The bottom line, when it comes to thinking about the next year, is exactly what Mark said: "... here's to a better 2024, but history."

One is silver and the other's gold: a eulogy for my friend Dee

 Dee and I were friends for a long time.  So long that I can't even remember how we met. I think we met almost 40 years ago through Tidewater Players. If you know anything about community theatre, you know that those people are the ones who become friends for life. And we were.

Dee and I were single when "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" was a popular song; it was our going out song. And did we have fun! If there was a party to go to, we were there. We had a lot of fun nights dancing and drinking and laughing our heads off. The Crazy Swede was one of our favorite places. Eventually our single days of partying came to a bit of a slow-down when Dee met Jerry Ashby. She and Jerry both credit me with getting them together. She wanted to get to know him better, so I suggested she have some plumbing issues. He made a house call, and the rest was history. 

They married at Dee's mom's house before a small group of friends and family. It was a beautiful sunny Saturday afternoon.  It wasn't long before Sarah was on the way. Dee wanted a baby, and she had waited a long time for her.  Because of her high-risk pregnancy, Dee was hospitalized in the weeks before Sarah was born.  She always told me how thankful she was that Jerry was able to spend so much time with her. And how blessed she felt to have Sarah in her life.

Sarah was the light of all of our lives. She went everywhere with her parents and her grandmother. And me, her Aunt Barb. One of my favorite memories was Dee, Shirley, Sarah, and I at a coffee house in North East.  Sarah loved the music and she made the three of us sing and dance with her all night.  These were the kinds of events that made Dee happy. Simple times. Being with her Mini-Dee was what made her happiest. And we were lucky to have a lot of fun times together. Dee became even happier, if that's possible, when her grandchildren were born. Her family is what she lived for.

This is a story probably few of you know. Did you know that Dee saved a life? We were in Ocean City, swimming in the hotel pool. These two little kids came to the pool on their own. Dee had her eye on them the whole time. And a good thing, too. The little girl walked down the steps and jumped in the pool. Where she sank like a rock to the bottom of the pool, making no attempt to resurface. Dee pulled her up, both of them terrified and spitting water. We could see their parents on the 3rd floor balcony with drinks in their hands. Oh my God, Dee was furious.  She sent the children back upstairs and told them never to come back by themselves. I had to hold her back from going after those parents. Had we not been there, there was no one else in the pool area. That child would have drowned.

Some of my favorite Dee memories involve holidays, especially the Fourth of July.  My family would come from PA and stay at the Vandiver Inn, and we'd party all weekend.  We'd watch the parades in front of our church or in front of the Inn.  We never cooked out, but ate at the local restaurants or had pizza delivered. Sarah loved the carnival, and one of Dee's favorite memories was a night at the Carnival and Fr. Rory riding all the rides with Sarah.  We traveled a lot and had some terrific trips. Ocean City became an annual tradition.  Cape May NJ at Christmas time. A Caribbean cruise. The Allenberry Murder Mystery weekends. And one of our most memorable trips was the senior citizen bus trip we took down south to South Carolina and Georgia. We were sitting outside one night by the pool chatting and enjoying the fresh air. A bunch of guys were across the pool barbequeing.  They called to us, Hey you girls want to come over and have a drink? They called us girls! We jumped up and joined them.  When we glanced over at the motel, the people from our bus trip were plastered at the windows, their mouths dropped open and probably praying for our hedonistic souls. New Year's Eve was always special.  Sarah would have her friends over and Dee had hers.  We would drink and eat and laugh all night. Then at midnight we'd walk outside to watch the fireworks and then laugh some more. Laughter. It's the laughter I remember the most about all my time with Dee. 

Dee was one of the most considerate and caring persons I ever knew.  She started the annual Pancake Supper at St. John's Church.  She and Jerry paid for everything and insisted it be a free dinner for whoever wanted to come.  Lots of food, wonderful fellowship. She also began the annual Epiphany parties and gift exchanges at the church.  Every holiday for years she sent cards and little gifts to friends of hers who lived alone and needed to know someone cared about them. She was a giver, both of her time and her money. Her generosity was huge, but not showy. She taught me a lot about generosity.  Helping others is one of the many gifts she left me with.

There are 40 years of stories and remembrances I have. Far too many to put into a Eulogy.  I will treasure all my memories of Dee, all of them. I can't believe my Dee is gone. She has filled so many years of my life. She was every bit as much my sister as Helen is.  I want to end with a short poem.  I read this poem once before, and that was to say goodbye to our dear James. Today, I say goodbye to my dear Dee.

Nothing Gold Can Stay

   by Robert Frost

Nature’s first green is gold,

Her hardest hue to hold.

Her early leaf’s a flower;

But only so an hour.

Then leaf subsides to leaf.

So Eden sank to grief,

So dawn goes down to day.

Nothing gold can stay.

Our last picture together. March 2022. LAUGHING!!!

The Ultimate Countdown

My niece and I have been playing a telephone game called Locket.  Each day we send a picture of ourselves to each other and sometimes attach a little message to it. She is so breathtakingly beautiful; her pictures are works of art. Me? I am another story.  I don't know what it is about that App, but it emphasizes every wrinkle in my face, every pouch under my chin, every circle and puff around my eyes, every sun damaged blemish, every thin gray hair.  I rarely wear make-up anymore, so my pictures are the real me. And they make me sad. I am so old, so fat, so wrinkly, so not as I internally picture myself.

And then it hits me like a sledgehammer, that is me. And I am seventy years old. Seventy...where has the time gone?

I can hardly believe I am this old. My body feels it, but my mind keeps me somewhere around late 40's/early 50's.  Hell, if I had children, they would be that age. I look at the cute guys in a bar, and the ones I like are somewhere between 40 and 60. The ones my age look like grandpas.  Seventy feels ancient, older than sixty or fifty ever did. My friend Larry helped clarify my jumbled feelings. He is a year older than I, and he gets it. Hitting seventy begins the ultimate countdown. How much more time do I have? 

My best friend is dying. She has brain cancer. I know I should be glad to be turning seventy because Dee will not see her next birthday. But I am not glad. I am lonely, and sad, and grieving. Growing older may be a privilege, but there's a price to pay. Those who continue, have to live with the grief of loss. I have many happy memories of wonderful adventures that Dee and I shared.  She has said it, she lived a good life. But I want more adventures with her. Ok, maybe just more lunches at our favorite restaurants. Never again will we laugh over wine at how stupid I look in a lobster hat. Our adventures are done. I'm seventy and she's only a few years older; that mournful recognition is a part of my birthday. I hate it.

I keep trying to stay active and involved because I learned through Covid that it is very easy for me to hole up in my house and hibernate. My last grand act of trying to keep up with the young ones was to be a part of the ensemble last December for "A Christmas Story" with the Tidewater Players. I was the oldest in the cast, and it showed. I never thought I would learn the three minute dance with the famous fish-netted leg lamp. It was tough enough for me to learn it when we practiced with a stick. Then we got the heavy lamps. Forget it! But, I did not give up. I did most of that dance correctly and with a smile on my face (well, except that one night when a certain diva shoved me out of her way. If the lamp hadn't been so heavy, I'd have beaned her with it.) Anyhow, I can say I DID IT at 69 years old. I danced with a true borrowed from Broadway prop---a leg lamp!! Even though I danced like Lucy Ricardo when she infiltrated Ricky's shows, I did it. (If you are too young to understand the Lucy Ricardo reference, google it.) That was most likely my last time on stage as my old legs can't handle the steps, my old brain has serious issues remembering lines, and there are many others in their forties, fifties, and sixties jumping in to play the old lady roles. Yet another stage (ha ha that's a pun) of the ultimate countdown.

The oddest thing happened to me as I attended yet another funeral last Saturday. (I have a witness, so this really happened.)  A tiny little woman needed to pass by me. I smiled at her as I moved over, and out of nowhere she said, "You are beautiful." I thanked her and laughingly told Gay Lynn that one doesn't hear that every day. But it has stayed with me all week, and made me smile. Me? Beautiful? LOL The poor woman probably had cataracts. How could she say that to me? I am so old, so not beautiful. So headed for the ultimate countdown. 

Both of my parents died when they were eighty. I carry the weight of this knowledge as I approach my seventieth birthday in the next hour. Do I at least have ten more years left? Will they feel more like ten minutes as time flies by? 

Probably some of you believe this line of thinking is a terrible way to approach my birthday.  You won't hear me vocalize a word of this. I will go through the day with a smile on my face because I'm doing something I like. Unlike others who really know how to do birthdays, I have nothing special planned for a celebration. Tomorrow will be a normal day of our church's food kitchen, then dinner and cards with the girls. Tomorrow will be like every other Friday in my old-lady life. I will spend the day doing what I enjoy as I mark the beginning of the ultimate countdown. 

Please, if you wish me a happy birthday, don't hesitate to tag on "and many more." I'll appreciate it.