Falling Slowly

Irish singer Glen Hansard keeps showing up in my life. Not in creepy way. He's not knocking on my door, nor do I know him personally. He just keeps popping up. We've seen him in concert a few times, opening for Eddie Vedder's solo show and for Pearl Jam's 20th anniversary concert. He's probably best known for his song "Falling Slowly," featured in the movie "Once" (where he stars as an Irish busker...not a stretch). On St. Patrick's Day, I sat on the couch with a cup of coffee and watched the Sunday Morning show, like I always do. And there was Glen. Talking about his days as a busker, winning on Oscar (which he gave to his mom) for "Falling Slowly" and a Broadway musical version of "Once" that won a bunch of Tonys last year.

So, I looked up my favorite "Falling Slowly" clip where Glen Hansard and Eddie Vedder sing together at PJ 20 at Alpine Valley in Wisconsin. Hot Husband was right up front for that. (I was shopping around Lake Geneva for a coat, socks and waterproof clogs, because I was cold.)

As many times as I've watched that clip (and have kicked myself for not being there), I finally heard some words that I haven't been able to get out of my head all week:

"You have suffered enough and warred with yourself. It's time that you won."

How much have I warred with myself? A LOT. For anyone who is suffering--with or from anything--these words are healing. If you don't want to listen to the whole song (although it's awesome), skip to the 3:30 mark. I could write 40,000 words, and they wouldn't be as powerful as these 13. And Vedder's victory pose after singing them just makes them even better.

Five Reasons I love Hot Husband

1.       He’s like Paul Newman.

As many of you know, my husband Jim is extremely hot—so hot, in fact, that I refer to him simply as Hot Husband. He’s a lot of hot men rolled into one, with an extra helping of Paul Newman.

2.       He’s like Ray Charles’ friend.

Remember the movie “Ray” where Jamie Foxx plays the role of Ray Charles? There’s a scene where the audience is starting to turn mob-like while Ray is trying to perform. Then you see his friend, standing in the wings, gently turn down the stage lights. The crowd mellows, and Ray goes on to have a fantastic show. Afterward, Ray talks to his friend about what happened. I’ll paraphrase:

Ray: “Who told you to do that?

His friend: “Nobody told me to do it. I just saw that it needed to be done.”

Ray, quite pleased: “Huh, you just saw that it needed to be done. All right.”

That’s what marriage is: doing what needs to be done.

Before I met my husband, I knew that if I tossed my brown dress into the hamper at the end of the work day, it would still be sitting there until I washed it. It never ceases to amaze me now when I look in my closet and my brown dress is sitting there all tidy on the hanger. What on earth? is usually my first thought. My second thought is I keep forgetting I have a husband who takes care of stuff! This is awesome.  Every time for eight years now, I think that. I didn’t ask my husband to wash it. He washed it because it needed to be done.

3.       He’s like the Count.

When people ask him how many kids he has, he always says two.

He could say, “Well, I have one daughter and one stepson." No, he just says two—two children.

4.       He’s like Lou Gehrig.

"I would not have traded two minutes of joy and the grief with that man for two decades of anything with another." - Eleanor Gehrig

Except for a 30-minute window (5:15 to 5:45 p.m.) after I get home from work and before he leaves for work during the week, we see each other only on the weekends. When we do actually see each other, we protect that time and shut out the world. We’ve skipped a lot of family gatherings and dinners with friends, because we just simply want to see each other. And who knows how much time we’ll have? Only God knows.

Jim has guy friends who meet up for camping weekends and annual road trips across the country.  He never goes. “I don’t get the point in guys vacationing together,” he has said to me. “Go on vacation with your wife.” Lou Gehrig couldn’t have said it more eloquently.

5.       He’s like Mel Brooks.

“He makes me laugh a lot. I get excited when I hear his key in the door. It's like, 'Ooh! The party's going to start.' "

--Anne Bancroft

Jim makes me laugh like a loon. About everything. When I’m mad at him, he says, “You love me. You get excited when you hear my key in the door. Admit it.” And that makes me laugh. And I toss my hair over my shoulder like Mrs. Robinson, and all is right with the world.



Everything is connected to Marilu Henner

Marilu Henner, my guru

Everything is connected to everything.

I say that to myself all the time.

Ten years ago, I read the whole "everything is connected to everything" concept in a book by Marilu Henner. Yes, the same Marilu from the hit TV series "Taxi." Don't laugh. She's a fascinating fitness guru now and was explaining how the way you eat is connected to the way you feel.

Everything is connected to everything.

It's not revolutionary. It's a basic concept that's common sense, but I like how it works in almost every situation where I'm learning something new (because everything's connected to everything, always).

Recent example:

I'm an editor at a college. Almost every day, magazines from other colleges across the country arrive in my mailbox. Last week, I received one from Dickinson College with an article about my generation, the Gen X-ers. One of the alums featured was author Jennifer Haigh. She sounded interesting, so I tore out the profile of her and put it on my desk.

Minutes later, my phone rang. It was my teenage son asking me if I needed anything from the library. My son has never asked me this before. (He was checking out some movies for a no-cost date night with his girlfriend.) Without missing a beat, I said, "Get me 'Faith' by Jennifer Haigh."

He texted me a few minutes later: "Found the book."

I love books, but the only chance I have to read them is late at night when everyone else is asleep. I get through a couple pages and fall asleep with the book on my face. My husband then marks my page and puts the book atop the stack of others I've never finished.

I read "Faith" in two days. During the day, late at night, in the tub, during my lunch hour. Told from the point of view of a woman whose brother (a priest) is accused of molesting a child, it's a riveting family drama. While he's being investigated, she writes about how weird it is for her brother to wear regular clothes and have people call him Mr. instead of Father. He's forced to move from the rectory to an apartment complex (that has a playground). Under the care of a housekeeper at the rectory for decades, he now has to learn to grocery shop and cook for himself. Their uber-Catholic mom is ashamed but indignant at the implication her son could do anything wrong. Their younger brother--a former cop--is convinced the priest is guilty and goes to the child's house to investigate. That's when things REALLY get crazy.

And then yesterday the pope resigned. I'm not Catholic. What the pope does is his business. He can do what he wants. Because I'd just read "Faith," though, I wondered what the return to the outside world will be like for him. Maybe he has an older sister giving him a hard time about it. ("What? You quit your job?! Does Ma know?") Where will he go to worship now? Does he have to cook for himself? He's also the first pope to resign in 600 years, which makes him a pure rebel. I bet the HR office in the Vatican was like, "Ugh. Does anybody have a copy of those resignation forms from the Middle Ages? I need one. Yeah, Benedict just quit."

In case Benedict has to do his own grocery shopping now, I sure hope he eats right. Because....

"The way you eat is connected to the way you feel. And the way you feel shows in the way you look. The way you look influences the way people respond to you. The way people respond affects how you think of yourself. How you think of yourself is reflected in your behaviors."

--Marilu Henner

Everything is connected to everything.

Tommy the #@$%*ing Turtle



Tommy, wearing out his welcome with humans and cats



Do you know Tommy the Turtle? He's a plush puppet that comes home with your kindergartener, and you're supposed to document his adventures in a scrapbook. I've been dreading his arrival since September. I hate "momwork." Sure, it's a project that parents and kids are supposed to do together, but it's hardly a collaboration when one of you is still learning to read and write.

When I got home from work Friday afternoon, there he was. Really? This was Super Bowl weekend, and I'd planned to collapse on the couch for 48 hours to recover from bronchitis. I coughed in his face.

I flipped through the scrapbook and read about Tommy's past adventures--typed paragraphs of international travel accompanied by professional photos. Smiling children. Bicycle rides and cotton candy. Snuggled in backpacks, curled up with precious puppies. You've never seen a turtle having so much fun. It was like a Pottery Barn Kids catalog.

Wasn't Tommy tired of this jet-set lifestyle? Wasn't he ready for a staycation? Here's Tommy in bed! Look at Tommy taking cold medicine! Tommy loves him some herbal tea! 

My husband, however, was totally on board with showing this turtle the town on Saturday. We took Tommy to the grocery store. And the pet store (to look at turtles, duh). On Sunday, he even went to a classmate's birthday party.

"I see you've got Tommy this weekend," one of the dads said knowingly.

"Yeah," I sighed. "Yeah."

"We took him to Lego Land," the dad said.

"Huh."

We dropped Tommy on our way out of the party and almost left him in the slushy parking lot. I swear it wasn't on purpose.

As the weekend came to a close, I tried to get a photo of the turtle riding atop our cat. It didn't go well. Finally, we printed the photos and slapped them on the page. I included a couple sentences--handwritten instead of typed, because, hello, the Super Bowl was on.

I love staying with the Seips! They are so much fun!
Love ,Tommy

I'm glad Tommy's gone. He's kind of a jerk.

Editing and sewing, a common thread

In junior high, I took a home economics class at my mom’s insistence. I was terrible at it. The cooking part was tolerable, but the sewing classes were torture. Our assignment: Make a simple drawstring bag. Despite the repeated instructions from my teacher Mrs. Lavalle and the pitying glances of the girl sitting at the sewing machine next to me, I just didn’t get it. I was a writer, not a seamstress. How was I supposed to pull a drawstring through a bag I’d already sewn shut? The deadline was looming. Finally, I made a hole with a seam ripper, threaded the cord through and called it done. My grade came a couple days later: a “B-, unexplained broken stitches.”

Sewing, clearly, was not for me. Or so I thought. Twenty years later in an attempt to right some junior high wrongs, I bought a book titled “Sewing 101” and a cheap sewing machine. There were more than a few broken stitches, but I kept at it. Today, I have four sewing machines and serger in heavy rotation. 

Wool mittens are my specialty. All year, I scour the thrift stores looking for wool sweaters—the uglier, the better. I take them home and wash them until the fibers fuse together, which is a process called felting. Then I cut, sew and line with fleece. The sweaters remind me so much of people. Some wash up better than others. Others simply fall apart. Certain pairs are especially warm. Some need an extra row of stitches for strength. Some are thick, some are thin. Felted wool is forgiving. The thread disappears into the fibers, so there’s room for error in the seams. 

Some pairs I sell. Many I give away. To me, they represent warmth—literal warmth but also the heartwarming idea of rescuing something discarded and making it useful. At Christmas, my cousin Julie presented me with a garbage bag full of sweaters from her local Goodwill store. It was my favorite gift. We spent Christmas morning rummaging through them, exclaiming, “Ooh, look how ugly this one is!” When you focus on the right areas, ugly sweaters transform into the most beautiful mittens. 

I’ve often tried to find the correlation between editing (what I do professionally) and sewing (what I do for fun). My theory: both pursuits allow me to be “The Fixer,” adding a comma to a sentence, attaching a button to a cuff. The end result is made stronger. When my son goes to college next year, I have no idea what career path he’ll choose. I do know that the second he steps out the door, his bedroom will turn into my sewing room. No doubt, Mrs. Lavalle would approve.

Christmas Sentiments Said and Unsaid

At Christmas, I get overly sentimental and everything makes me cry. I prefer to spend the holidays in Georgia, because that's home. I prefer red clay over snow. Chicken biscuits for breakfast. Shopping at the little stores in Dahlonega. Seeing "The Nutcracker" ballet at the Fox Theatre in Atlanta. Going back to my hometown of Hartwell. Watching Cary Grant in "The Bishop's Wife" surrounded by Christmas lights in my mom's living room in Lula. Visiting every permutation of family. Gifts all around.

Every Christmas brings some new wisdom. This year, I realized 8 things:

1. Family is where you find it.

Shellie & Dave

My brother Daniel has children by three different women. Those women have moved on with their lives. Delaney is one of my nieces. Delaney's mom is Shellie. Delaney's stepdad is Dave.

After 10 hours on the road, my family rolled into Momma's house in Georgia the Sunday before Christmas. Shellie and Dave came over with Delaney and their daughter Falyn. We exchanged gifts, ate ham and hung out. At some point in the evening, it hit me that I'm not actually related to them. But I love them like family.

What I wanted to say to Dave: "You are so cool for hanging out with your stepdaughter's paternal family for Christmas. I keep a short list of the real men in this world, and I just wrote your name on it."

What I actually said: "Here, I got you this cool Fat Albert DVD for Christmas. It also comes with a bonus CD."


2. Awkward family photos are better than good photos.
On Christmas Eve, we exchanged gifts with my mom's side of the family. We tried to get a picture of the women in the family.

What we want to look like:

What we really look like:

A picture is worth a million words--unless it's this picture. 

3. Laughter through tears is still my favorite emotion.

Emily and Lila check
out Video Cam Barbie.

As I poured mimosas for me and my cousin Emily on Christmas Eve, I noticed a dead bug floating in one of the glasses. I fished it out and said, "Eh, I'll drink from the bug glass. I'm not worried."

"I'll drink it," said Emily. "I already have cancer. I doubt a bug will kill me."

We laughed about it. Because it was funny. Because her sarcasm is what I always loved best about Emily anyway. Because cancer is always so damned serious that you laugh to keep from crying. A year and a half ago, Emily was diagnosed with Stage IV colon cancer at the age of 28. After surgeries, chemo and radiation, she is currently cancer-free.

What I said: "Drink up. There's a second bottle in there."

What I wish I'd said: "You are the strongest person I know."



4. Sometimes, people surprise you.
My mom takes care of my bedridden grandma who has Alzheimer's. Momma never, ever looks stressed about it. She keeps a running dialogue with Grandma. Sometimes, Grandma nods, but she usually stares in the distance. It's 24/7 thankless job that involves feedings, sponge baths and diaper changes. When I was growing up, my mom was not the doting type. She made me very independent, and I think that was one of best gifts she gave me. To see the level of expert care she provides my grandmother just shows me another layer of the awesome woman my mom is.

What I said: "Oh, look, Grandma has on Christmas socks."

What I meant to say: "Momma, I don't know how you do it. You have earned a first-class ticket to Heaven."

5. Sometimes, you get a handshake from Eddie (Herbert, not Vedder).

Eddie (Vedder, not Herbert)

My ex-husband is named Eddie Herbert. He used to sing in a band called Poison Jamm. Years later, I started following a band called Pearl Jam, whose lead singer is named Eddie Vedder. This coincidence causes a lot of confusion, so I always try to be specific about which Eddie I'm referring to.

Eddie (Herbert) lives only a couple hours from my mom, so our son Marshall got to spend Christmas with him. That meant meeting at a gas station halfway point on Christmas Eve night. When Eddie (Herbert) got out of the car, he shook Jim's hand and then mine--a first. As Marshall stood there in his varsity jacket, I hoped Eddie (Herbert) would say something about it. Comment on how cool it was. But, he didn't.

As Jim and I drove away, though, I saw Eddie (Herbert) touching the jacket, reading it. Just a boy and his dad on Christmas Eve. My heart grew three sizes.

What I said: "Um, yeah, Merry Christmas."

What I should've said: "You are OK as ex-husbands go, Eddie Herbert."

6. Family is where you find it--even if it's all the way out in Social Circle.
So, my brother has a son named Rocky with a woman named Harmony. They live way out in Social Circle. On Christmas morning, Aunt Van and I drove out there to pick up Rocky for the week. I wasn't expecting a gift at all, but Harmony gave me this cool mug that had a ceramic spoon and a quote about aunts on it. I didn't have anything to give her in return. She said, "No problem" in such a kind way that I felt OK about it.

Rocky & Lila, two weeks apart in age

What I said: "Oh, cool, the mug comes with a ceramic spoon."

What I should've said: "Thank you SO MUCH for letting me pick up my nephew on Christmas morning. You are an awesome mom."

7. There's nothing sadder than an unopened ice cream cone ornament.
Every year, I give my brother an ice cream cone ornament. (It's a long story that I'll tell another day.) Because he is wrestling with some personal demons, I didn't know if I would see him this Christmas. But, I brought the ornament anyway and wrapped it up. I didn't see him this year, but I left the gift at my mom's house. And, I'll buy another ice cream cone ornament for him next year. And the year after that.

What I would say if I saw him: "I love you."


8. All roads lead to Hartwell.

Cateechee Club, where the elite meet

When I went to college in 1990, I lost touch with my high school friends. The last couple years, I reconnected with the ones I like via Facebook. This year, we decided to meet up in our hometown the day after Christmas. As my husband and I drove to the Cateechee Club that night, I said, "Look, I haven't seen these people in 20 years. It's either gonna be awesome or really weird." As I walked around the stone fireplace, I saw Kelley and Rodney. They threw their arms up and hugged me and all was right with the world. Then Meredith, Tanya and David showed up, and we laughed for three hours straight.

We filled in the blanks on each other's stories, talked about our common unpopularity, asked about friends who weren't there, texted others to join us ("Call Johnny! Get him over here! Call Michael!") and ordered another round.

At some point, Rodney beckoned the waitress and said, "Can you take our picture? What time do you close?"

The waitress said, "An hour ago."

As we slowly made our way out the door (and handed our phones to the waitress who took a series of blurry pictures), I didn't want any of us to go. Sorry for hugging everybody twice. We posted the blurry pix on Facebook and got a lot of comments--one of them from someone who wrote "Interesting group." Snarky, sure, but it summed us up pretty well.

Just last week, I'd read an article by a self-help guru who said, "Find your tribe." She said that it's important to hang out with the people who make you feel good and to get rid of the people who don't. Well, this is my tribe. I cannot wait to see them all again. I want to hear about the last 20 years of their lives--each of them--in great detail, the kind of detail that you can't capture in three hours at a restaurant.

Today, my husband asked me what my favorite part of Christmas was.

What I said: "The Cateechee Club."

And I meant it.

Haven't seen YOU in a while

"Haven't seen YOU in awhile."

Here's the truth: Our family doesn't make it to church every Sunday. Sometimes, we're lucky if we make it once a month. When we finally do go, some well-intentioned person who knows absolutely nothing about our lives inevitably feels the need to say, "Haven't seen YOU in a while."

At our old church, we called this person "Peter Sellers." He wore black-framed glasses and possessed a verbal tic that made him snicker at the end of every sentence.

Haven't seen YOU in a while. Hehehe.

In fact, there has been a Peter Sellers at every church I've ever attended in my life. And you know what? Those admonishments (always delivered with a smile) fail to make me want to attend church more. They've always made me want to go less.

When I checked my email this morning, I noticed I had a Peter Sellers note from one of the women at church. I've never had coffee with this woman. We know each other only from when I pick up and drop off my daughter on Wednesday nights for choir and crafts. Although there were plenty of smiley emoticons sprinkled throughout, the message was clear: Haven't seen YOU in a while.

She ended the note by saying, "Please let us know how we can be helpful in any way." OK, here's how you can be helpful. When I finally do make it to church, one of these Sundays, I'm not sure when, instead of the Peter Sellers routine, here's what you can say to me:

1. "It's cool that you find other ways to plug in at church even though you can't always make it to worship services. Donating your time, talents and money on other days of the week besides Sunday is AWESOME!

2. "Wow, your husband must be SUPER tired from working 16 hours every Saturday writing about Penn State football. When he gets home at 2:45 a.m., he probably wants to sleep. So, we won't expect you at the 9:30 service during football season. Or the 11 a.m. service either. Sleep is important. People don't get enough sleep nowadays. We will pray that he finds a day job with a more normal schedule."

3. "I couldn't help but notice that you work full-time outside the home during the DAY and that your husband works full-time outside the home at NIGHT. And he manages kindergarten pick-up and drop-off for your daughter during the day. When in the world does he sleep? Oh, right, on SUNDAYS. Now I understand why you haven't been in worship services."

4. "Wow, your son is tall. I bet he letters in three high school sports. He probably stays busy with games and practice every day of the week--except Sunday. So, I guess that's the only day of the week that the four of you are able to sit down and have a meal together. It's amazing you make it to church at all. I say you're doing great if you make it here monthly."

5. "Have you ever seen that show 'Sunday Morning' with Charles Osgood? Sometimes, they have compelling interviews with fascinating people about fascinating things, and you learn something. Sometimes, you just wanna sit on the couch with a cup of coffee and not worry about rounding up the family to get out the door in time for church. Because we ALL know that job falls on the shoulders of the mom. And, girlfriend, you worked all week. Put your feet up and watch Charles Osgood. God is OK with that."