Soar-Dream-France

Decisions

 

When I first came back to the Chatette and Cadrieu during March of 2018 after Christmas of 2017; I was still living in the apartment in Cajarc while the repairs were being made after the November fire.

I would ride my bike back to the house and wander around to see what was what.

Was there anything I could do?

It was projected that I could be back "home" at the end of April, probably at least a month away.

 

 

There was so much...so many feelings, so much to decide, so much to miss...of which, Sam was the biggest.

 

 

My piano was important to me. It was under plastic. I had been told by one person it was "dead" and another who came from Cahors wanted 10,000 euros to repair it for me. While I was in the states, I connected with Philippe Jolly who told me we should be able to do something together once I  got back and they were in the valley as well. My Monsieur was his baby too.

I told Eric what I was up to.

 

Eric was Eric. I told him how sad my Monsieur Winkelmann was, as were most things. I told him that we were "empty," except for me and my Monsieur. I'd already sat on the front stoop with my empty house behind me and felt that even as is; it was enough for me.

Eric said: "all you really need is your piano, a chair, a coffee pot and a place to sleep."

We were off!

 

 

In that "so much," I'd decided that : the windows were works of art bare; I had my Monsieur and didn't need a stereo system; the walls and the stone were works of art on their own; and, that I didn't want to clutter us up. 

 

 

After Katrina, I remember riding in the car with my friend Barbara.

We were on our way to the Napoleon House because it had opened. I got the first post-Katrina Reuben Sandwich they sold.

 

I told Barbara: "you could look me in the eye and tell me that I was missing a leg, and I would look back at you and say: oh really, that's nice. I'll think about it another time!

 

I recently realized when I was reading about grief, that the best thing that you can do for the people you love who are grieving is to just do something nice for them on your own initiative. Don't ask. Grief is not made for decision making. Asking our friends what we can do for them, or telling them to let us know, is one more thing that they probably just can't think about.

A huge light went off for me.

 

Lately, I've made some big (or maybe just different) decisions. As I've been: buying my new stereo system; picking out some "replacement and new" CDs; and, choosing special curtains for all of the windows in the house; I was asking myself why now?

 

At that time, it was easier to decide to do nothing...I didn't need a new stereo. I didn't need new curtains on the windows. I didn't need to replace all my CDs that went up in smoke. Call it triaging. Call it self preservation. I just couldn't think about it at the time. 

It's almost six years later.

 

 

 

 

Apparently, we're ready now.

 

 

She Always Brought Me Flowers

 

Every time I see this card I think of our Nannie. Mom lived with Nannie and Papa after her Mom died when she was a teenager. Her Mom and Nannie were sisters. To Mom, they were always "Auntie and Unk!" To us, they were always Nannie and Papa. Mom's Dad had remarried and moved to California. Dad's Mom and Dad were living in New Orleans. Eventually, everyone ended up in St. Louis, but as far as we were concerned, Nannie and Papa were our grandparents.

 

When Mom and Dad and I returned to the states from England, Dad still had some time to finish up in the Air Force. Mom and I lived with Nannie and Papa. Our closeness and love was beyond special.

As a little girl, I remember sitting with Nannie and listening to her stories.

If I knew then what I know now; I'd have been asking questions every time we were together.

I mostly listened.

Lots has stayed with me.

 

 

 

But, I always remember how she talked about Mom and how much she loved her. I'll never forget the look in her eyes when she told me:

"Any time your Mom went shopping, she would always bring me flowers! She is always so good!" 

Today, we are still a family of flowers. We love getting them and giving them. If we couldn't send flowers, we'd send cards with flowers on them.

 

 

The card above came this week for me from my sister. It's a card that we always loved as a family.*

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Although they're gone, celebrating Mom and Nannie on Mother's Day is always important to me.

 

We learned from each other, loved each other, and have become the women that we are today because of them.

Happy Mother's Day in heaven to Mom and Nannie, and all the rest!

*The last two photos above are of Mom's Mom, Marie Emme.

Shedding Light to Black and White

 

From my prone perch on the sofa this week, there seemed to be even more time for contemplation and reflection than usual. I wasn't feeling well, so I wasn't beating myself up with all the chores I should have been doing instead of just enjoying the buddleia butterfly view just out my window directly in front of me.

The devastating overturn of Roe v. Wade and it's far reaching implications for all of us as a people weighed heavy on my mind.

 

 

Who'd have thunk that within the profound weight and sadness, mother/daughter enlightenment could be found?

 

Growing up when I did, the advent of Roe v Wade and birth control pills changed my life. I began taking birth control pills during '73, the same year that Roe v. Wade became law.

The oldest of 4 and a girl in college who was living at home, I'd always been a "good girl!"

I got good grades, had nice friends, was involved in lots of school activities, played piano, didn't do drugs and never had any legal problems.

I had never sassed, lied or said no to my parents.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Living at home during all four years of college made the whole birth control thing tricky. I told my Mom I was thinking about the pill, but hadn't made up my mind. I asked her if she wanted to know when I decided, and she said: "If that's what you want to do, I don't want to know about it."

 

 

But then, she'd ask regularly if I'd thought anymore about what we'd talked about, and I finally told her I had and I'd been to the OB/GYN doctor and had my prescription.

 

 

From that moment on, I was treated as the "bad" girl. I recognized that this was all new for Mom. I recognized how Mom was raised. She raised me similarly.

 

 

 

 

The message was that the worst thing you could do was to get pregnant when you weren't married. I heard that loud and clear.

But, I was in college and I chose to do the responsible thing. I remember saying something to her at one point: "You don't know what it is to have "bad" kids."

 

 

I remember asking myself where was the "reward" for being the "good girl" for all these years?

 

There is more to this story, but after stepping back this week and taking in the context of the overturn of Roe v. Wade, I was forced to think about just how earth shattering this is to young women today and will be for all women in the future.

It is a whole new world.

What I had never considered, was the fact that the advent of Roe and birth control was just as earth shattering to my Mom.

It was a whole new world too.

She didn't have the tools in that moment to change gears and think about it all differently, even for her own daughter.

I can see it so clearly now.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Honestly, not so clearly until just this moment. I wish I could have looked at my Mom and her reaction to me from the perspective of a shocking change for another woman instead of the reaction from my Mom.

Years later, Mom became an "activist" for many causes. I remember when she became a donor and a letter writer for NARAL-the Abortion Rights Action League. I was proud and pleased, but even then, it wasn't enough for me.

I can see clearly now. I wish I could have seen clearly then.

 

Now, it's more than enough!

Happy Saturday! 

 

Feeling Safe...or not?

 

I confess to having had the luxury (maybe even the privilege) to be able to feel so safe in my life that I didn't even think about it. Being safe was a given condition. It wasn't until I went to an art therapy workshop and we were asked to make two drawings; one where we were happy, and the other where we felt safe. Happy was an easy one for me, my stick figure was standing in front of the Eiffel Tower in a beret with a camera in my hand.

"Safe" was a little harder.

 

 

I had to reach back and feel more than think.

As it happened, "safe" turned out to be me spending time out in the country with my Nannie and Papa. I hadn't really thought about safe, or how truly safe I always felt with them. 

These days, as I watch all that is going on with the violence in the states and in New Orleans, the question of "safety" comes up often. It scares me to see ongoing gun violence and then add in other violence by white supremacists.

 

 

The other morning when the sun was rising out my window over the Lot, I had tears in my eyes. I am often "tearfully" grateful that I am able to be here. But that morning, I was "tearfully" grateful because I felt safe. 

I honestly never thought that being able to feel "safe" would be something to be grateful for. When did being safe become a special blessing and not an ongoing condition of living?

 

Pondering Safety?

Happy Thursday!

 

 

 

 

Happy International Overalls Weekend 2021

 

This year, I've been a tardy girl for International Overalls Weekend.

To be honest, I'm always confused over whether it is the weekend before or after Thanksgiving.

I should know better by now! 

 

 

That opening photo says it all!

It was overalls, wood back in the meter long log days of 2009, cold November, and did an Irish Coffee and Cookies Overalls party here at the Chatette.

It was certainly memorable for me.

 

I found out how much other friends enjoyed it when we were having lunch after the village clean-up!

I do have some great photos and found myself wondering if I could pull another one off.

Maybe next year or the year after...

 

...for now, we're all doing a lot of living on memories.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Here's hoping you'll enjoy some of mine to celebrate!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Happy International Overall Weekend!

 

 

 

 

A Heavenly Happy Wedding Anniversary

 

Finding pictures of Mom and Dad together, much less all of us, can be a challenge. It just seemed right to start off with this shot of all of us in front of Uncle Bill's house on Mardel.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Nannie moved in with him not long after we lost Papa in 1971. He must be taking this shot! I figure it's around '75 or '76, because I cut all of my very long hair off during 1975 and was in St. Louis until the summer of '76 when I left for graduate school and New Orleans.

 

 

As I was thinking about what I wanted to write today, I stumbled on the blurb I'd written and to have posted for their 50th wedding anniversary in 2003.

 

 

I will share this with you here today to say: Happy Heavenly Wedding Anniversary, Mom and Dad. This will be the second one that they have shared in heaven.

And, Happy Sunday!

 

The Last of the Four

 

Earlier today, I wrote to my sister that as a group, I believe our family is very caring and passionate about everything. Because we value history, people, places, romance and memories; we don't take anything for granted.

Being people who don't take anything for granted, makes their loss that much more profound. I remembered how after Katrina I would say: Never in a million years did I think ...!

With the virus, that list has grown exponentially! 

 

 

It has also left me asking myself just how much I have truly taken for granted in my life, for which I was totally unaware until it was gone.

 

Will all of this become more valuable upon return, or will it remain a distant and profound memory. Only time will tell.

 

All that said, so many photos stirred memories, but it was a day with my sister in fall of 2014 that grabbed me an pulled at my heartstrings. That was the year that I called my year of 4-4-4. I spent 4 months in New Orleans, 4 months in Cadrieu, and 4 months in Ferguson. 

 

I realized yesterday, as difficult as those 4 Ferguson months were for me, was as wonderful was the quality time that I was able to have there with family and friends. Until now, I was only able to see the difficult.

That day, Kat and I enjoyed the Missouri River from the bluffs of Alton, Illinois. We went to the Grafton Flea Market where our cousin Carol had booth. We took the Grafton Ferry over to Kinder's Restaurant.

 

 

 

I'd been to Kinder's with an old boyfriend, and always wanted to return. That, and a chance to have catfish with Kat sealed the deal! Then, we took the John W. Cannon Ferry back across the Missouri, through the countryside and home.

 

 

What a day we shared. It was a treat then, in the midst of all that was going on with our parents at the time.

It's an even bigger treat today because of how long it has been since we've seen each other, or been able to enjoy an outing and a lunching like this!

We knew it was an important day together then.

It's an even more treasured and important day now!

Here's to hoping there will be more tender and gentle moments like these to share together for all of us!

 

 

 

 Happy Thursday!

 

Good Things Come in Small Packages

 

When the post-person flew up to the Chatette in her little yellow car with the blue writing on it tooting loudly on Saturday; I ran out to see what she had and to make sure she would scoop up the 3 stateside bound cards I had attached to the mailbox!

The envelopes were easy, but she had a small box from the states. I was excited until she told me there was a 50 euro customs charge on it. I couldn't tell who it was from or what it was, but based on conversations with family and friends there were a couple of possibilities. I told her no. But then, decided to think about it until Monday and then play detective. Eventually, I figured out it was my Christmas gift from my brother Jim and that I would just pay the 50 euros and be done with it...talk about holding your packages hostage! This isn't the first time something like this had happened.

I had no idea what to expect when I opened it up yesterday. Imagine my reaction when I opened the wrapping on this beauty! I cried! While there have been many steps along the way over the years, this pen and ink drawing of my Window on the Lot is the very spot, the launching pad if you will, where I began my life in the Lot.

As you can imagine, touching is an understatement! Jim is a talented artist and has gifted me with many beautiful and poignant pieces over the years. Yesterday, this one got the memories rolling and pushed me to doing a little looking back. I even went back into the blog archives, and have found some older posts I will share again soon!

 

HUGE MERCI, Jim. Love you bunches!

Happy Tuesday!

 

The Day of Her Birth

 

I don't want to let today escape without mentioning that TODAY is the day of my Mom's birth.

Today, she would have been 88 years old.

I always thought it was interesting that both she and Nannie died at 84. 

 

In fact, here's an old photo with (l-r) Nannie, Mom, Aunt Pat and Dad out in the country. Oh so many fond memories of those childhood times going to Nannie and Papa's country place in House Springs! 

We all loved it.

Missing you on your special day and every day, Mom. Joyeux Anniversaire from Cadrieu. Lots of Love from the Lot, Laury

 

Happy Birthday Mom-and Happy Wednesday!

 

Living Paris Treasures

 

Recently, I wrote about trying to be creative about covering up that nasty (but necessary) printer that impeded my path to artistic expression around the Chatette.

I had a couple of ideas. I tried lace, but the white was too stark with the dark furniture.

Then, I remembered the quilted wall hanging that Mom had made for me after our 1996 Paris trip together.

While it did survive the fire, it was quite smoky and needed to be bleached more than once.

 

 

 

It's not perfect, but it is the sentimental value that means more. And, it was a perfect cover for the printer.

Fortunately, I have photos of it in all of its glory and close ups of the collages that Mom had printed on material and added.

In one corner Mom had written "Treasured Moments" and in the other a little note of love and thanks-"Love, Mom!"

 

 

 

 

 

Those sweet notes didn't survive quite as well as the collages did.

They are only ghosts of their former selves, but I remember.

I seem to live with ghosts around here every day!

Now, as I work in the kitchen, water the window boxes or rearrange my vases of flowers; Mom is right there with all those memories of our week together in Paris.

Those memories rise and become more. Feeling Mom so close every day is a treat!

 

 

Happy Thursday!