Category Archives: Love

Summer Signals

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firefly

This is the time of year that I like best. Mid-late June, complete with super-long days, warm weather, nights that are still cool, and everything is lush and beautiful. Flowers, grass, trees, the birds and the bees. But most especially I love lightning bugs! I wait impatiently for them to appear every year and it is one of the high points of my summer.

Most people call them fireflies and for many years I called them that, too. It sounds, well, cuter somehow. But we called them lightning bugs when I was a kid in southern New Jersey, and now that my parents and both of my brothers have passed on, it seems more important to me to honor those childhood memories and the simple joys they bring back to me. They are, once again, Lightning Bugs.

I was amazed to learn a few years ago that there are many different subspecies of lightning bugs, and that each one blinks in a different and distinctive pattern in order to attract a mate of it’s own type. There is even one type, synchronous fireflies, found only in two places in the whole world, that can synchronize their flashing light patterns!

The lightning bug is the one of the few insects that I really and truly like, along with stick insects (another childhood favorite) ladybugs, and of course cicadas, which provide a wonderful soundtrack to late summer.

The other night the lightning bugs in our back yard were putting on a spectacular bioluminescent show. My husband and I walked to the darkest part of our yard, way in the back, so we could get the best view. The trees and bushes were lit up with probably millions of them, and the overall effect was one of twinkling Christmas lights. It was mysterious and amazing and somehow seems new every year when I see them again as if for the first time.

My husband got out his iPhone to try and take some photos, and then he was trying to capture them on video. I wandered away a bit and then turned to see what he was doing. And there he was, my sweet husband, optimistically holding his iPhone up to the trees. I thought to myself that he kind of looked like a big lightning bug with his own light flickering, surrounded by all the smaller ones. I thought about what a wonderful husband he is, this unassuming man who I love so much. The man who slept in the car in the hospice parking lot, so he could be near me when my brother was dying. The man who makes me laugh every day with his funny observations and who loves to have friends over for impromptu burgers on the grill. The man who is secure enough to hold my purse for a minute if I need him to. The man who married me and became the world’s best stepdad to my then-14 year old son.

And I realized he was blinking a signal that only I could see, out there in the yard. And I was drawn to him again.

 

Memories of Mom

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Marian and Judy

It has been three years today that Mom died. It’s still hard for me to realize I am an orphan, even though at my age it is not uncommon to have lost both parents. My Mom was complicated, I loved her very much but sometimes she made me really mad. She got kind of difficult in her last few years, and there are some hurts that linger from that time. But as the years go by those hurts are fading and I find myself missing my “old Mom”, the one who was funny and kind and always had time to listen. The Mom who loved camping and hot pink lipstick. The Mom who loved all animals big and small.  The 120 lb. 5′ 4″ Mom who ruled the family and liked to jitterbug.

I told a story to friends last night about the time my sister and I took our Mom to see the Rolling Stones live, for her 60th birthday. This was after she had announced, completely out of the blue at dinner one night, that she thought Mick Jagger was sexy. Obviously, this revelation floored all of us, as Mom had never really had much to say about either Mick or the Rolling Stones prior to that. When her birthday rolled around a few months later and the Stones were coming to Philly, we elected to take Mom to the show rather than buy her the new bathrobe she had requested for her birthday gift. We had a blast!

Anyway, I wrote a list of the things I learned from my Mom, to read at her funeral. Here it is:

Things I Learned from My Mom:

Always bring your own tissues.
Play your favorite music.
Get your hair done.
Come home when the streetlights come on.
Be silly.
Get things done.
Put the cat down if it starts to hiss.
Go out and play in the rain, as long as there’s no lightning.
Stop to smell the flowers.
Have adventures.
Don’t wear a white bra if there’s a black light at the dance.
Home is important.
Always keep up a good appearance.
Laugh uncontrollably.
It’s OK to roller skate in the house.
Go play outside.
Always dance at least one dance with anyone who asks you.
Don’t hit your brother.
Have parties.
How to make iced tea.
Always put on lipstick.
My Mom taught me all these things. She taught me how to be a woman.

Reminders of Dad

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In August 2012 my Dad died. He had a lifelong love of cars and all things car-related, and now, whenever I see an old or unusual car I think immediately to myself “Dad would have loved this”.  This past weekend I spotted an old Volvo station wagon parked on the street and immediately took a photo with my phone and texted it to my sister, with the words “Dad would have loved this!”. She immediately agreed, yes, indeed he would have.

I thought about the old Volvo a lot over the past few days, as Dad had a particular love of Volvo cars. I can usually identify the make and model of an old car pretty quickly. This is something my Dad taught me, and I carry it with me still. When I see an old car I immediately am reminded of my Dad, and imagining what he might say about it makes me smile. Since Dad’s death I have started to snap photos of the old cars I encounter. Discovering an old car still running, parked on the street, out “in the wild” gives me an unexpected joy. Somebody still loves this old car, like my Dad would have. Obviously they do, because it’s out on the street. Not in a museum or a car show, but still being driven around. These cars are worth the extra aggravation and expense to maintain to the people who own them. I always wonder what memories are attached to these cars, memories of drive-in movies, waitresses on roller skates delivering a root beer float, bringing a new baby home from the hospital, or taking a young couple to the prom.

I picture my Dad as a younger man, with his head under the hood, grease on his hands, asking me to hand him some tool, working to keep his old car in good condition, so he could take us on a camping adventure, to visit our cousins, out for ice cream, or just for a drive. When I spot an old car now, it brings me joy. Old cars remind me of my Dad and all he taught me and all we did together.

Thanks, Dad.

The Greatest Joy

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“What greater aspiration and challenge are there for a mother than the hope of raising a great son or daughter?”
Rose Kennedy

Me and my BoyToday is the anniversary of the day I was given the greatest gift of all. Twenty-nine years ago today, my son was born. I will never forget the fierce “mother lion” instinct that overwhelmed me as I held him in my arms for the very first time.

He was the most amazing child. We had such fun together. He always entertained me with stories and jokes. I will from time to time see a little boy who reminds me of my son in some way, with a sprinkle of freckles across his nose, or a devilish look in his eye, and the tears just leap into my eyes because I miss that little boy so much. How I would love to turn back the calendar and re-live those days!

Of course, I now have the joy of having a grownup son. My son is an amazing man. He is funny, smart, charming, brave, sweet, polite, and a little geeky. Well, maybe more than a little! He is honest and fair, happy and down to earth. He is often the one I turn to when I have a problem to discuss, and he often confides in me. I am so blessed that we have a close relationship despite having a continent between us now. Just the thought of him brings me joy.

Happy Birthday, son! I love you so.