The smell of home

Yesterday, I got the box my dad sent me.  Inside was the long woolen cape that my mom had bought a few months before she passed. She never got to wear the cape, so for the past year and a half it's hung in the closet of my childhood home.

By all rights, this unworn cape should smell of wool or stores or that nasty new-clothes-smell that so many things seem to have.  But as soon as I opened the box, I was enveloped in the scent of home.  That unique mixture of fresh Florida air and a slight hint of moisture and the wood of my parents' closets and something else I can't define.

I held the cape up to my nose, and I breathed in.  And I cried.

I cried for the home my dad is selling...the home of my childhood.  My root in my world that has seen too many moves, too many temporary dwellings.  I cried for the never-to-be chance to have a good, loving relationship with my mom, and for the good-byes she wouldn't let me say. I cried for my dad, knowing after our summer together how very hard this packing up and clearing out is on him.

And I cried because I know that once that smell of home fades from this cape, it's gone forever.

When I came back after the summer, I hauled with me a large white coverlet that used to live on the guest room bed.  Part of my reason was that looking at it reminded me of being a kid, and seeing that always perfect white coverlet in the guest room that waited for the next visitor...my grandmother, a cousin, an aunt or uncle.  But mostly I brought it back because it carried that same wonderful smell of home.

Only weeks after returning to Texas, my dog jumped up on the coverlet with muddy paws, and I had to wash the coverlet.  With that wash, the smell of home vanished.

Now in the final days of packing up for his move, my dad found this cape and sent me one last breath of home. The house is nearly empty there in Florida, so there will be no more surprises to bring me that scent.

If it was a look, I could photograph it.  A sound could be recorded. But that scent...that most evocative of our senses...there is no way to capture it.

So for now it hangs in my closet. And I will inhale that bit of home every chance I get until the Texas air takes it away.  And on that day, I know I'll cry again.

Because then, when my childhood home is someone else's house and the smell of home is gone for good, all of it (my home, my mom, my childhood) will exist only in my memory.

Marriage advice you just might want to print out

One thing that's not lacking online is advice.  Dating advice, home improvement advice, website advice...and of course, marriage advice.

It's everywhere, and to be honest, most of it's either so ridiculously obvious ("it's never acceptable to throw things at your spouse"  Gotcha.) or just plain bad ("You get what you give"  Right, Dr. Phil!)  that it will either waste your time or make matters worse.

But yesterday, while I was looking for something about education, I came across a post on a site called Today's Letters that defied all of those norms...it was marriage advice that made sense. For instance, here's number 7 from their top 10 list:

7. We Celebrate Each Other: Husband and I love to make a big deal out of anniversaries, birthdays, holidays, and even smaller personal accomplishments. We are each other's biggest fans, and finding a thoughtful gift or preparing a special meal can make the biggest difference in helping us feel known, loved, and celebrated.

How different is this from the stereotype of the husband running out for the last minute present, or the wife begrudging making the holiday dinner. How refreshing to use these days to honor and celebrate our partners!   In fact, this tip was the very first one I saw.

There were nine other equally thoughtful ideas, from surrounding yourself with other couples committed to marriage to some wonderful weekly questions to help keep the marriage on track.

I love the ideas behind their post, too.  The idea that marriage should be fun...and that playtime is just as important as conflict resolution (maybe more so, because more play probably means less conflicts to resolve.)  I love the unconditional tone of their advice...it's not something to do IF the marriage works, but because the marriage is a given.

My DH and I have only been married about two and half years, so we're still learning about our marriage. Sometimes I think that we should be completely on track by now.

But this post not only gave me some great ideas, it reminded me that the learning and growing and improving will never end.  And really, that very fact might be exactly what is best about marriage.

Rethinking the classroom is no longer an option...it's a necessity

I hear my daughter's complaints about school.  And I hear her friend's complaints, too.  They're remarkably similar. They are bored with school. And they have been for years.

It's not that they think that they know everything (although at 14, there is sometimes a bit of that, too!) It's that they're not learning anything that seems to matter to them.  Or even worse, not learning anything at all.

For example, the math. These are gifted, talented kids but they are mastering only enough of their advanced math classes to get through the tests with a good grade. And I understand why.

No where in their assignments or textbooks or lectures is there a hint of how any of this information can be used in life -- or a career. No where is there an explanation of the application of Advanced Geometry or Algebra. The subject are taught in a vacuum, and the result is a classroom full of really smart kids who don't give a darn beyond the grade sheet.

The same could be said of their science, English and history classes. No where is the "why" answered...or even allowed to be asked. 

 I was thinking about this when I came across this article on Wired's website this morning "Coding for kids is as easy as Pi" it said. And the story was the opposite of what I see and hear in my daughter's school. These little kids weren't be told to USE a computer program; they were being taught how to create their own programs.  They weren't handed "learning games" to play...they were coding their own games.

And I was struck by the difference between that school in the UK, and this supposedly outstanding high school in Texas. In one, learning is doing. And when you do, you quickly learn the "why" of things like math and science. They used math and science and English to make a toy crocodile "bite" an offered finger. And in the process, learned far more than any textbook and test could ever teach.

But that lesson seems to be missed in the high school here, where competition for grades and ridiculous levels of homework substitute for actual learning...or even motivation for real learning.

There's a lot of talk about education reform, classroom size, and how we are falling behind the rest of the world in knowledge. But instead of more tests and longer school day and stricter attendance policies, it seems to me that the real answer lies in a primary school in England -- and making a crocodile bite a curious finger. 

(Image from the wired website and the original article)

Happiness and sleep...but what about a life?

I've been reading a book called The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin.  It's arranged by month, but I'm a rebel so I'm starting with January instead of skipping ahead to October.  Yup, running with scissors, that's me.

Anyhow, the very first element of happiness she addresses is sleep. Er, um...sleep as an issue?  Who me?  Well....yeah. In fact sleep has been an issue for me as long as I can remember. By middle school, I was a veteran of the late movie channels.  And that book I got in the morning might very well be finished by the next morning.

I've heard all the reasons why sleep matters...and the dire predictions for those who don't sleep enough. People opt out of the 8 hours a night of shut eye are more prone to accidents, have weaker immune systems, are less effective at work. Thanks folks...nothing like worrying about the health risks of a lifetime of sleeplessness to help you drift off into dreamland, right?

So when I saw the same warnings in Rubin's book, I almost skipped the chapter. And when she talked about how wonderful she felt after a week of going to sleep at 9:30 and waking up sans alarm at 5:30, I closed the book.

Let's get real.  Sure sleep might be great.  It might even be critical, but drifting off at 9:30 p.m. night after night would mean:

• Ending my day and getting ready for bed at around 9 pm
• Spending almost no time alone with my husband. (And because this is a family-friendly blog, I will leave it at that.)
• Missing all the wonderful connections that come from late night conversations with my daughter
• Giving up on concerts, date nights, football games, blogger gatherings, professional conferences, and even phone calls with friends when their kids are finally asleep
• Never seeing another movie in its entirety...by the time the dishes are cleaned up after dinner, it's at least 8 pm (often later)
• No scrapbooking or art or (gasp!) reading for more than a half hour or so
• Skipping out early on religious services on Friday nights, where we are often still at the Temple at 9:30

Don't get me wrong.  I get the idea. And odds are I would feel more rested and be a better worker. But the days of really falling asleep over dinner aren't that far away for any of us.  So until it's time for me to be packed off to Century Village, I will choose my late nights over a bit more shut eye. 

And I'm going to use some of that time to read the rest of Rubin's book....I flipped through the book and a lot of the other ideas sounded very good. And you know what?  I might even stay up extra late tonight to finish it! 

Gretchen Rubin will be speaking about her new book  Happier at Home at the Texas Conference for Women on October 24th in Austin. Tickets are still available at the conference website.  Listen in on her free teleconference on October 15th for a taste of what's to come!

Bring it on, Autumn!

 

Once upon a time, for a few years, I didn't like autumn. Well, not entirely. I did love the colors of the leaves.  And the snap in the air.  And I always loved the feeling of taking long walks wrapped in a cozy sweater and boots, with the scent of fireplace smoke in the air.

What I didn't like for those few years was the knowledge that this most perfect of seasons was followed by winter.  And I lived in a 200+ year old farmhouse that was never ever warm enough in winter. I dreaded the days ahead when I would huddle over the floor vents to get even slightly warm enough. When fireplaces were great for keeping one side warm...but your other side would be ice cold.

That fear of what was to come robbed me of any joy I had in autumn. But things changed when I moved back to Florida. Suddenly autumn wasn't about impending winter.  It wasn't even about all those wonderful colors outside or long chilly walks.  It was all about the decorations I put up in the house.

My daughters and I decked our Coral Springs apartment with garlands of silk autumn leaves and bowls filled with mock pumpkins and gourds. We lit Yankee Candles in scents like cinnamon spice and Autumn leaves. And we made hearty soups and spicy pumpkin bread.  Despite the 70 degrees outside, we created autumn inside. Sure, there would be cool or even cold days in winter.  But we couldn't wait.

Now we're in Texas, where summer's awful heat reaches deep into fall. But unlike in Florida, there are a few days, like today, when a real feel of autumn is in the air.  Last night, we went for a wonderful walk when the air was around 50 degrees and heading down. And we smelled wood smoke in the air, from a nearby fireplace.  Yes, it will sadly go back up to the 90's later this week :-(  -- but for a few days, we had real autumn.

And inside, we have continued our practice from our Florida days.  The fireplace is decked out with garland and autumn flowers and just a bit of Halloween. The front porch has it's own taste of autumn, too, with our decorated chair and a step basket overflowing with autumn colors.

In the kitchen we draped the light with more leaves, and scattered some around on shelves.  With no threat of a too-cold house for months ahead, we can enjoy our taste of autumn to its fullest.

So as much as I would love to be seeing the beauty of a full Pennsylvania autumn, I think I'll just be happy with what I have today.  So bring it on, autumn. Leave those hot temps far behind...we're decorated and ready for everything you have to offer here in Texas.

Post holiday lessons keep coming

Those of you who are Jewish know that we just completed the High Holidays.  Those who aren't Jewish might not know, or at least, might not know that this season of the year is about self-reflection, inner review and a determination to do things better in the coming year.

I had a particularly meaningful Yom Kippur (Day of Atonement) this year, so it shouldn't surprise me that the lessons that go along with it just keep coming.

Today's piece showed up in my e-mail inbox, in a post from a site called Tiny Buddha.  Here's a little bit of what it said...

Finances, relationships, responsibilities, and life in general can certainly create a great deal of noise in our heads. However, if we truly want to feel inner peace, we must take the time to learn to be mindful instead of mind full. This, and only this, will allow us to respond to life instead of reacting to it.

I have tons of happy memories from my childhood and a few harsh ones too. Unfortunately, the harsh memories are those that we replay over and over again, until we heal them. A difficult memory that stuck with me for a very long time was my mother’s pattern of despair.

She would appear agitated or frustrated about something and soon after she would yell, “One of these days, you’ll come home and you’re not going to find me!” (There’s still a part of me that shudders a bit when I hear those words.)

As a child, this was a clear sign that my mom was angry about something and if I didn’t hurry up and make it better, she just might leave. (Read more....)

I immediately stopped there. In my head, I heard my own mother's voice making similar threats whenever I upset her or any number of other things upset her. But my mom's threat wasn't exactly the same...it was to die. She spent her life facing a huge number of illnesses, some of her own making and some not, but she used those sicknesses as a weapon to express her anger.

My mom passed away in 2011, in large part because she refused any treatment that would have kept her alive and functional. She had finally made good on her threat to die.

Like the author of the post, I too had to reach the understanding that her anger and her threats weren't really about me. She had had a rough childhood, filled with loss and probably neglect. She had some very real health challenges. But this brilliant woman (and I do mean seriously brilliant) didn't have the ability/interest/skills/desire to channel her anger appropriately. She lashed out at her children, her husband, her neighbors as a reaction to any kind of frustration or fear or upset. She alienated almost everyone who should have mattered to her in the process, and she died without her children or friends or any family except my dad around (her choice.)

I have lived my entire adult life in terror of becoming my mother. I asked friends, family, even a therapist if I was like her. They assured me I was not. I sought out other role models for being a mom (mostly from my LDS friends who, thank goodness, were more than willing and able to model healthy family life for me.)

I embraced  the influence of spirituality and family heritage that she had rejected, and have used it to help me find deeper meaning in life. I have tried to find peace with her since her passing, focusing on the few good memories, and offering my hopes that she is now at peace herself, free from the demons that fueled her anger.

But...since moving to Texas last year, I have seen some aspects of that reacting in myself. I am unhappy here.  I am lonely and lately, not feeling well, as I deal with what seems to be an intense allergy to the place  (I can't remember the last day I didn't wake up stuffy and coughing.) And I am homesick for Florida.

Unfortunately, that unhappiness has spilled over into some angry reactions. I thought a lot about this during Yom Kippur. But it was Vicki Savini's article that crystallized exactly what was  happening, and reminded me what to do about it. And why it matters so much that I do work on it.

I will never be perfect.  No one will, and even the greatest saints sometimes mess up and get angry when they should step away and breathe. But I want to do better at responding instead of reacting. I want to incorporate that stepping away and breathing and finding the source of my feelings instead of just reacting.

I have no idea whether the message in my inbox arrived at just the right time to help me with what I was already feeling, or if the feeling made me more aware of the message.  And it doesn't really matter. I am just grateful for the synchronicity.

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Image via http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Buddha_in_garden.jpg

Do you have stories of synchronicity to share?  I would love to hear them! 

Texas rain

It rained last weekend.

For those of you who aren't in Texas, that might seem like a pretty meaningless statement.  "So what", I can hear my friends and family in Florida saying. "It rains every day."

But not in Texas.  In Texas, I've learned, rain is a precious thing. Instead of an every day occurrence, it's a rare treat.

Each time rain is even a slight possibility, I become an Accuweather junkie.  I keep it on the first menu page on my phone, my tablet and my computer.  I start the TV on the Weather Channel.

My level of hope rises and falls with the number at the bottom of the page.  "20% chance on Friday.  Okay, that's better than yesterday when it was only a 10% chance for Friday.  We're going in the right direction."  Or "Heck!  It was a 60% chance for rain this weekend, but now it's only 40%. No!!!"

And when it does rain, I try to make sure I am where I can see and hear it. I don't want to miss a single moment of that wonderful moist air.

I go for walks in it. I take pictures. And then when it ends, I return to my post on Accuweather, looking for the next day without a zero at the bottom.

I miss the daily rain. I miss knowing that if I missed a chance to dance in the rain today, there was always tomorrow. Here, missing a single rain shower could mean waiting weeks for the next precious drops.

And maybe that's a lesson for me. In so many things, even things I already love like rainy days or great beaches or my family or my friends, maybe I haven't been paying enough attention. Maybe there's been too much of the "there's always tomorrow", and not enough of the "who knows when (or if) this will come again."

I hope I won't always have to live where rain is such a scarce commodity, or friends out of reach for a spur-of-the-moment lunch. But even when I am back in the world of daily rain, and when friends and family and beaches are all within reach, I hope I will remember this lesson. I hope that even in abundance, even in bounty, I will remember to be grateful for every single drop.