WE'RE ENGAGED AND MORE

          Yesterday, I went back through my blog posts and decided I’d spend some time writing about happy stuff with John. It seems I left off after he’d asked me to marry him, i.e., he was saving pennies for rings.

          It was September 1966 when he wanted to know what I planned to do on Saturday. Well, my family was moving and I had to find a place to live. He wondered if it would take me all day; and when I asked why, he responded that he thought we’d go look at rings.

          His mother had always told him that when he found THE girl, she’d give him her diamond solitaire engagement ring. We were at his house that Friday night and his mother took her ring off and tossed it across the room to him. To this day I know she wasn’t happy about that because when he’d told her a month or so before that we were getting married, she laughed and laughed until she realized he was serious. She never liked me, nor would she have liked any woman John married, but that’s another story.

          So, Saturday morning John took me downtown to Rivkin’s Jewelers. He wanted a wedding set that would hold two matching stones, the one from his mom and one from him. The jeweler didn’t have anything like that but showed us a ring in the shape of an

orchid. The larger part of the orchid could hold his mother’s diamond with a smaller one in the other part of the orchid or vice versa. It was an antique gold setting and I LOVED it!!! We also picked out a wedding band for John for which I paid.

          The rings were ordered, and I could hardly wait until my birthday in November which is when John said he would give it to me. I’ve said previously he was a romantic and once he had the ring, he couldn’t wait. My habit was to get ready for bed before he made his nightly call after he got off work. Then, I could go to bed and go to sleep to dream of him.

          There I was in my pjs and a robe, no make-up, my hair all done up in huge rollers when he knocked on the door instead of calling. He wanted me to come out to his car for just a minute. I went, wondering what the heck was going on. In the car, he pulled the ring box out of his pocket and placed the engagement ring on my finger. I was beyond thrilled. A few kisses and I went inside to bed after showing my family my ring, and John went home.

          Now, I thought once I had my engagement ring, I’d be flashing my left hand around, pushing it into everyone’s faces. But suddenly I was shy. I couldn’t really bring myself to shout out, “Hey, look what I’ve got.” Instead, I became very left-handed and absolutely loved, loved, loved showing that gorgeous ring to everyone. 

          Now, I wasn’t supposed to get anything for Christmas that year that cost more than $1.00, including tax. The wedding set had taken all John’s money, so he was broke. That was perfectly fine with me. He could give me penny candy for all I cared. I had his ring, I had him, we were going to be married the following August, so what did I care about an inexpensive Christmas gift. Well, on Christmas morning, he gave me a long slender box, wrapped in shiny green paper. I opened it to find a box from Rivkin’s Jewelers and inside a watch. The band was made of individually crafted roses in antique gold. I looked at that lovely piece of jewelry and said, the first thing that popped into my head, i.e., “This only cost $1.00, including tax?”

          The band was too large for my small wrist, so John had one of the roses removed and a safety chain attached. He also told me he wanted to put a diamond in the center of each rose on every wedding anniversary. I was so touched, but told him I wanted to wear the watch, not have to leave it in a safe. The watch came back and I wore it proudly for decades. I took the rose they’d removed and had a tie tac and cufflinks made in antique gold to match. They were John’s wedding gift from me.

          I never grew tired of my wedding set. I still love it as much today, maybe even more, than when I first received it that October evening. I don’t wear it as much as I used to because I’m older now and my knuckles swell. It started out as a 4.75 size, and I know we had it made larger when the anniversary band was added (another post). If I’m going to keep wearing it, it could probably stand to be enlarged again.

          I never grew tired of my watch either. I wore it on a daily basis until the year 2000. That’s the year I was treated for breast cancer. I gained 20 pounds, and apparently some of that weight went to my wrists because eventually, I could barely close the latch and it was so tight it hurt. Now, I wear a Fitbit and it tells me the time when I need to know.

          John was very generous and giving. I hope he knew and realized how much I loved and appreciated those two gifts, not only in 1966 when received, but for all the years that followed. I do so wish I could tell him so today.

          Finally, may I suggest to anyone out there who still has his/her spouse that you take the time to reflect on what s/he has given/provided and tell them how much you love the gift, the time, or whatever you really appreciate about him or her…don’t do as I did and wait until it’s too late. I hate feeling sorry.

8/13/1966

MOVING ON UP

         Feeling so much better this afternoon (Saturday) since I managed to get help to figure out why the IRS didn’t like my return. Apparently there’s some kind of glitch in the system because it told me the net income for John (no mention of me) in 2018 was incorrect. Well, excuse me, but that’s the number from the 2018 return. The Turbo Tax lady told me that for some reason when a spouse had died last year, this is what happens. So, I can’t file online, I have to print and take it to the post office. She also suggested I send it certified mail so I know it’s arrived. That will happen first thing Monday morning.

          Then, I moved on to the property tax reduction request and what a PIA that was to complete. For some reason, my scanner will only do one page at a time, so I had to import 16 pages into the document. And, yes, I could have imported my tax return, but you’re supposed to black out your SS number. It shows you how, but I couldn’t get it to work for me. So, I had to scan my tax papers as well.

          So, I’ve been singing Halleluiah for the last couple of hours. Now, all I can do is wait and hope that both the IRS and the property tax assessor will be happy with my submissions. If not, then I’ll have to try again. And, if it does go well, supposedly I can file for property tax reduction for previous years, but I’ll only look into that if this goes through without a glitch (pray for me!!!!).

          Then, since it wasn’t raining, I went outside and cleaned up after my dogs. Then, I brought all the bird feeders into the house. Well, I brought them in after I emptied all the rotten seed into the yard waste can. I don’t understand how some of the feeders don’t allow the seed to get wet and others do. I have covers for them, but apparently those don’t always work either. The bird feeders are now in the dishwasher getting a good bath. For today, the birds will have to either eat suet (I had a downy woodpecker on there this morning) or eat seed I put on the ground (big Stellar’s jay out there right now). I love this space and the ability to look out into the garden and see all the activity.

          The downturn that began on Thursday appears to be turning up. It’s not that I got up this morning and CHOSE to have a better day. I got up determined to get the taxes taken care of…and I did. Over the last couple of days though, I’ve thought about how I felt and decided what I really wanted was someone to take care of me. I've been taking care of people since I was 12 years old and really like the idea of someone taking care of me. I know that’s not going to happen (unless I become ill or have dementia), but the idea of having someone who would come in and take care of absolutely everything sounded (sounds) pretty wonderful. I’d just lean back with a bunch of books while whoever that person might be would do the shopping, cooking, cleaning, bed changing, exercising…just every single thing that I have to do now.

          I know, it sounds as though what I want is to be put into some kind of home, but not really. It also sounds as though I should think about another cruise. I didn’t have to do anything on the ship…just play and read and visit without a single responsibility aside from getting myself to my own room at the end of the day. Yep, I’m going to have to mull that over…it could be a definite possibility if the IRS and the assessor like my submissions and provide me with some money.

GRIEVING...DAY TWO???

          I’m sure you’re just dying for a report on how my day went yesterday (and, even if you're not, pretend). First, I went to Costco and my left hearing aid was adjusted while the right one has been sent in for repair…Karma managed to bite each of them last fall when I was temporarily out of my mind and stupid enough to leave them on the table after she ate my previous pair. So, I’m hearing on the left side, but not so much on the right.

          My exercise class was cancelled because the senior center was closed for today and all next week for a deep disinfecting. My comment on that has to do with the fact that no one had the coronavirus there; and, once it’s disinfected, all it will take is one…that’s ONE…person with a coronavirus germ to come in and touch something to expose us all again. Okay, I guess that’s better safe than sorry, but I was just getting into the swing of things after being gone for a couple of weeks.

          I did meet one of my two friends at Bongos (the other one was ill, hopefully not coronavirus) and we had a wonderful lunch. I had a pineapple hard cider, but wouldn’t order it again. I ordered a sandwich for lunch and a plate to go for dinner, plus an order of plantains for dessert.

          Okay, I know you’re wondering about the food I ordered yesterday. I did have the quiche before I went to bed. The German chocolate cake is still waiting in the fridge as is the Jamaican chicken, beans and rice I ordered today. I’ve a feeling I have enough food for dinner for today and tomorrow both.

          Once lunch was over and my friend and I said our farewells, I planned to come home and work on the taxes, but once here, I didn’t want to. The laundry was folded all over the dining room table and chairs…and still is…and I just didn’t want to deal with anything. So, I got myself some water, the book I was reading yesterday and went to the couch with the doggies. I didn’t end up sleeping, or dozing, the afternoon away, but it was close. Instead I read, but I’m sure if you asked me, I wouldn’t necessarily be able to tell you the name of the book, author, or storyline.

          Now, it’s getting into the evening, about 7:00 pm,  and I’m sure I’ll be heading for my bed before long. I checked my fitbit and last night, I slept for more than nine hours…that’s after “dozing” for almost two hours in the afternoon. I guess I’m a bit depressed or at least that’s what I’m telling myself. So, the extra sleep, dozing, etc., is probably good for me even though it annoys the hell out of me.

          Tomorrow is a new day, and I’ve already promised myself I’ll get up and deal with the income and property taxes as well as put away the laundry, and figure out what else I need to take care of since I’ve had a two-day pity party. And, okay, it wasn’t really a pity party, but maybe just some down time I needed. I am reminding myself that I need to be kind to me, myself and I. Still, some days that reminder doesn’t do much at all for me, myself and I. Instead, we huddle together and wait for a better day…that will be tomorrow, I promise me, myself and I.

GRIEVING...AGAIN?

         It seems I’d be used to losing a day here and there, but I’m not. I hate it even when I’ve done everything I believe I’m supposed to do, including treating myself. I suppose it’s part of the grieving process and normal, whatever that is, but I hate it anyway.

          Thursday morning, I got up had my coffee and did my physical therapy. Yay for me. Then I opened my email to find one from Turbo Tax…it seems the IRS has rejected my income tax filing. But, don’t worry, Turbo Tax will help me fix it. I’ve only been working on income tax and a property tax reduction request for the last week. It’s so infuriating. Honestly, tRump doesn’t have to show his taxes, or maybe even file them, and I have to account for every penny to the IRS and the county assessor. I still haven’t opened that email. I did remove all the attachments to the property tax application because they must be wrong.

          I had an appointment with the audiologist that morning to see if my hearing has deteriorated further. It has, but not much, so that was great news. After that appointment, I went across the street to the Nouvelle Bakery. I bought a thick crust vegetarian piece of pizza which they warmed up for me. I also bought a huge piece of mushroom and goat cheese quiche for dinner and a slice of German chocolate cake for dessert after. After I retrieved my car, I pulled to the side of the road and gobbled down that warm pizza.

          Both driving down I-5 and standing in the bakery, I realized I hadn’t been there since the beginning of last August. That was back when John and I made an almost weekly trip to Kaiser on Capitol Hill for one of his appointments or another. I didn’t always visit the bakery. It depended on the length of John’s appointment.

          Somehow, the realization that this was the first time I’d made that trip since John died made me very very sad. Being all by myself in the car also made me sad. Driving down I-5 and seeing all the changes being wrought made me sad because I didn’t have John with me to remark about all those changes. I felt very alone and that word kept echoing in my head.

          Back home, I texted my walking partner and even though she’d already done her hour, she agreed to walk it again. We walked and talked and solved the world’s problems, not to mention how none of the people in the homes we passed had ever asked us for our opinion about their paint color or plantings. I mean, really, we have excellent ideas that are just going to waste. Even though I didn’t want to walk, I did the entire route. I figured it would make me feel much much better.

          In the house, I put in another load of laundry and folded the towels in the dryer. Changed my clothes and filled up my water bottle before cuddling on the couch with my doggies and a book. I don’t remember what time that was, nor do I think I actually slept, just dozed, but it was after 5:00 pm when I got myself up.

          The laundry has been switched over and maybe by the end of the evening, it will be all done and put away. The doggies have been fed and sent outside, but I don’t feel particularly hungry for either the quiche or cake…maybe I will in a while. Then, in a while, it will be time for bed…will I be able to sleep? I hope so. I just wish that one word…alone…would stop echoing in my head. Alone equals lonely and that’s how I’ve felt this entire day.

          Tomorrow (or today) will be a new day and hopefully the echo will be gone. Maybe I’ll have quiche for breakfast if I didn't eat it last night. I’ll go to Costco to get my hearing aids adjusted. I’ve been told I should probably wear them all the time now. Then, it’s exercise class and meeting friends for a late lunch at Bongos (delicious Cuban food). And, back home, there'll be German chocolate cake if I didn't eat it last night. Tomorrow (today) I’m going to CHOOSE to ignore that echo (if it’s returned) and feel grateful for all the people who enrich my life. Some days it seems making that choice is ever so much harder than others...and this was one of them. 

I DIDN'T LIKE THEM

There are now three draft posts that were scheduled for publication, but I decided I didn’t like them. So, I reverted to draft status. They were not happy posts, which doesn’t mean that I feel I have to post nothing but happy writings, but I just decided I didn’t like them. Maybe I’ll reach a point where I’m ready to share those posts.

          So, when it comes to today’s post, I don’t really have anything prepared. If you remember, though, when I began this, I said there might be days where I’d only post a sentence. Well, this is way more than one sentence. What can I say…write. When I sit down at the keyboard, I believe I come down with a serious case of finger diarrhea. They fly and flit over the keyboard and this is what you get. Lots of words that really don’t say much of anything at all.

          I also have to admit that I’ve made enough posts now that I’m beginning to forget what I’ve already posted. I’m going to have to go back and take a look because I don’t want to bore the hell out of you with old material.

          So, that’s it for today. I’ll look back, do some pondering, and see if I can’t come up with something fun or funny or just plain happy for tomorrow.

MORE BROTHER AND SISTER

         Yesterday’s post was about John and his sister Georgia and her family. In writing that, it also brought back so many great memories of the early years of our marriage. Georgia and Gordy were married in December 1965 (if memory serves) and John and I the following August.

          I cannot remember for how many years we would go to Georgia’s house on Friday or Saturday and play games…Hearts, Pinochle, Chinese Checkers. None of us drank, and this was before marijuana entered our lives, so it was coffee, tea, water and inexpensive snacks that we brought or Georgia made. We had such fun. I was always so impressed that their boys went to bed without much of a fuss.

          Georgia and I were always partners and John and Gordy. It was years and years later that John confessed about how he and Gordy cheated. When you play pinochle, you have to pass cards to your partner. John said he almost fell off his chair when Gordy passed him like eight cards instead of the four the game required. Then, John had to find a way to pass back eight cards. Georgia and I never caught on to the cheating, but it certainly explains why the guys won so many times.

          Then, there were our son’s birthdays to which Georgia and her family were always invited. They didn’t seem to have birthday celebrations like we did, so return invitations were not often received. Christmas Eve was a different story. G&G always held an open house. Since both were heavily involved in community groups, i.e., Lake City Lions, Lake City Vigilantes, etc., they had a lot of friends dropping by that night. John and I always went and took our boys with us until almost everyone was grown and traditions changed.

My family still laughs almost every Christmas when someone brings up the Christmas Eve of Grandma Pearl’s gift to Georgia’s youngest son. Georgia always let her four boys pick one gift to open on Christmas Eve just before bed and when most of the visitors had gone. The youngest son, AJ’s age, picked the gift from Grandma Pearl. The look on his face was priceless when the wrapping paper came off to reveal a framed professionally done photograph of Grandma Pearl. The poor kid’s brothers and AJ laughed and laughed. No one else got a photograph like that so the recipient must have been Grandma’s favorite. 

          Gordy also managed to get John to join the Lake City Lions even though John wasn’t much of a joiner. He was faithful about going to the regular and board meetings, chaired the scholarship committee for years and years and served as Tail Twister for what seemed like ever. The LC Lions also put up Christmas decorations on Lake City Way the weekend after Thanksgiving. Not only did John rope his sons, but also his granddaughter, into assisting with this chore for a number of years. When I went through John’s stuff, there were a multitude of Lion pins from other cities, states and countries as well as perfect attendance pins, hats, vests and other memorabilia. I packaged it all up and took it to Gordy who is passing it on to current members of the Lake City Lions.

          I’m not exactly sure when our close relationship with John’s sister and her family became more distant. It was probably just the business of trying to live our lives, work and raise kids that left little time for games or visits. Still, it’s nice to look back and remember how young, how hopeful, how eager we all were to get on with our lives. The ages we are now seemed, at that time, to be centuries away and yet, here we are. Three of the we four remain, and I’m hoping the other two have as many good memories of our times together as I do.

BROTHER AND SISTER

         For about six months of the year, John and his sister Georgia were the same age, at least that’s how I think it was. When she had her birthday in November, she would once again be the oldest. Last year, it seemed as though they were having a contest to see which of them would die first. When John was in the hospital, Georgia was home. When Georgia was in the hospital, John was home. When John died, I told Georgia she had won (or lost?) the trophy.

          Georgia and her husband Gordy are both alive, and today I went by their house to pick up the Lion’s Club scholarship papers for my granddaughter. I’m sure John prefers being where he is today as opposed to being here at home if his circumstances were the same as his sisters. They require someone to be in the house with them 24/7. It doesn’t have to be a nurse, but they do have a visiting nurse at least once a week and perhaps a physical therapist as well.

          Georgia and Gordy purchased long-term care insurance over 19 years ago. They got the best coverage possible which doesn’t require a registered nurse to live there with them. Apparently newer policies require the caretaker be a nurse. Unfortunately, the long-term care insurance company, AIG, isn’t living up to their side of the bargain. Nineteen years ago, the company had no idea just how much it would cost for a caretaker to be on hand 24/7. The company is being difficult and not paying the full $11,000+ per month that their care is costing. The insurance agent who sold them the policy is working with them to get the company to do its part, so there’s hope.

          They do have family in the area, four sons as a matter of fact, although one son and his family live in Idaho. The other three live in Federal Way, Edmonds, and Everett. They also have families and jobs and are doing as much as they possibly can to help their folks. I left Georgia and Gordy feeling both sad and very fortunate.

          Neither John nor I have long-term care insurance. And, even if we did, I seriously don’t believe John would be happy to be at home and incapable of doing much of anything. I know I certainly would not be happy, and I’m not really sure that Georgia is either. Seeing them makes me very content that John went quickly, before he required serious care even though I was here 24/7. I hope when it’s my turn that I can go quickly as well.

          The visit also made me happy about the decisions I’ve made about a garage sale followed by a donation to St. Vincent de Paul and to sell the home I’ve lived in for 51 years. Georgia and Gordy live in the house they remodeled probably 45-50 years ago so it could house them and their four sons. It has a basement and an upstairsin addition to the main floor, and it is PACKED with stuff. Georgia told me today that the kids don’t really want any of it. I’m sure that’s not necessarily true and that when the time comes, there will be items that each of the sons and their children will want to have in remembrance. Georgia also told me that a couple of the grandchildren came down and went through the Christmas decorations and took what they wanted. Still, it’s a huge house with lots and lots of stuff.

          Just going through John’s stuff (which I haven’t even come close to completing) makes me even more determined to eliminate many of the possessions I’ve collected during my life. Before the garage sale, I’ll invite both my sons to tour the house and take whatever they’d like to have in their own homes. I’m sure it won’t be a lot.

I also know this weaning process is going to be very hard. There isn’t a single item in this house that doesn’t have a story or a memory attached. I guess you’d call my decorating style eclectic because there’s such a difference in the various objects. But, they are pieces I’ve collected or kept because of what they mean to me. I guess what it boils down to is that by selling, donating and moving, I’ll be erasing not only John’s life but my very own while I’m still living.

The decisions were easy to make, but execution may be another story and ever so much more difficult than I thought. A part of me envies Georgia and Gordy being able to stay in their home, surrounded by all their stuff for as long as they possibly can; but, I wouldn’t trade places for anything whatsoever even if the end result is the obliteration of what’s been in order to make way for my new future.