A Hole in Her Heart

Twenty-one years ago tonight, an irreparable hole was torn into my heart. Twenty-one years ago tonight, I lost the one person a teenage girl should never lose: her mother. For the first time in twenty-one years, I didn’t have my annual holiday breakdown. For the first time in twenty-one years, I didn’t breakdown in the shower this morning. I think I may have, finally, reached a place of acceptance although I’m not sure how and when that happened.

I will spare you most of the ugly details of her illness. If you’ve watched a loved one lose a cancer battle, you already know. If you haven’t, you’re blessed. She had aggressive, invasive breast cancer that is still tough to find and treat today. She was improperly diagnosed and had mammograms misread. One doctor, an arrogant son-of-bitch, made a notation in her records indicating that he thought she was faking, yes faking, her complaints. That notation made it impossible for her to get a proper diagnosis until we went to the Mayo Clinic. By then, it was too late. It was already stage 4 cancer and spreading. That was March 1991, and by January, she was gone.

I was 16, just months shy of my 17th birthday. I had seen things no teenager should have to see. I was also deeply, deeply in denial right to the end. I made my first Christmas dinner that year and then spent the day in her bed talking. I wish I could remember what we talked about that day. She had a doctor’s appointment the next day and ended up hospitalized. She never came home.

It was New Year’s Day before we saw her again because either my brother, myself, or probably both, had been sick with colds. I remember little of that visit. She couldn’t keep anything in her stomach and didn’t want us to see her sick so we spent most of the visit in the cafeteria. I didn’t understand, but she did, that it was the beginning of her body shutting itself down. We left at the end of visiting hours, and I was the last one out of the room. She stopped me as I walked out the door to tell me she loved me. They were the last words we ever spoke to each other. (Here come the tears. Here comes the physical pain. I didn’t make it twenty-one years without breaking.)

The hospital called early the next morning, right after my dad left for work. In the pre-cell phone world, they had to wait until he got to work to talk to him. The news wasn’t good. Mom had slipped into a coma over night and was in and out of consciousness. If we were going to see her, we had to go soon. My brother and I chose not too. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t be there. I couldn’t see it. Her brother and sister were there. Several of my adult cousins were there. I was called selfish for not being there by her sister. My future husband brought us dinner that I couldn’t eat and stayed until the weather turned and he had to drive home.

My dad didn’t call. He just came home. I’ll never forget the sound of the car door closing. His shoes crunching on the fresh snow. The ashen color on his face as he walked in the door. I remember screaming. I remember him calling my boyfriend to try to settle me. I remember my brother, just 14, looking lost. I remember little else of the next few days.

I’ll spare the details of planning the funeral. My panic attack at the funeral home on the day of the funeral. I’m not sure I can stand to relive those details. I’ve almost relived too much already.

I’ve celebrated 21 birthdays. 21 Christmases. 21 New Years. I’ve gotten married. I’ve had 4 children. I graduated from high school and college. A million celebrations. A million heartbreaks. I’ve needed her hundreds of times. Thousands. But I survived.

My life path permanently altered that night. I am the woman I am today because of this loss. The hole in my heart will never heal. I’ve learned to cope with the pain, but it’s never gone. I live in fear of cancer because sickly, ironically, it took my dad just 4 1/2 years later in late 1996. I try to live my life fully, and as I am getting older and closer to her age, I find I’m pushing myself harder to achieve, to experience life. It’s probably not healthy, but it’s me.

Kicking out the Old

It’s a gray morning. Birds are chirping. Coffee is brewing. My house is quiet for a bit longer, and I’m taking some time to reflect on the year that is drawing to a close. It’s been a year of extreme highs and extreme lows.

When I began this blog at the beginning of the year, I was at a crossroads. I had applied to graduate school and was giving up hope of being accepted. I needed a creative outlet and decided to try my hand at blogging. I wasn’t looking to become famous from it. I just needed a place to say what I needed to say. And then the acceptance letter arrived, and as they say, be careful what you wish for.

Graduate school is no joke, ladies and gentlemen, especially when it is juggled with a career and four kids. I’m pursuing my MA in history, and I was completely unprepared for the amount of work that it requires. To say that this has been an uphill battle would be an understatement. I survived the spring semester, but it took a major toll on my health and well-being. I struggled with summer courses, and finally, fell flat this fall. I took an incomplete with the hopes of finishing what I could over the Christmas break, but that hasn’t worked out either. I’m back at a crossroads. I’m just not certain I can pull this off, after all, but I don’t know where I go from here if I can’t.

Going back to school exposed some deep cracks in my marriage. Although my husband loves me in his own way, he has been unable to provide me with the support I need to make this happen. By support, I mean both emotional and practical. It has brought to light the unevenness of our relationship. While my house is far from immaculate and bills sometimes get paid late, I bear the largest burden of keeping our home running. Requests and pleas for help have not always been met with an open heart and mind on his side. It has forced an evaluation of our marriage and ourselves. Try as I might, I cannot be everything to everyone and still accomplish my goals too. To that end, I’ve had some people in my life actually imply that I’m selfish to even try this while others cheer me on. I’m living the classic female dilemma: trying to have it all.

My children have been my saving grace and greatest frustration. They are growing up so quickly, and our first family vacation in years this summer made me more acutely aware of this. My oldest daughter turns 17 in a few weeks and has struggled to survive her junior year of high school. This year we will begin looking at college options and preparing for senior year. My second daughter turned 13 two months ago. She is the epitome of a teenager, and I’m struggling with knowing how to deal with her. I’m hoping that things will even out as she finishes middle school. My third daughter is 7 1/2 now. She is as cute as cute can be. She’s smart, artistic, and creative. She’s a force of nature but doesn’t know it just yet. My son, our unexpected blessing, is a gorgeous, spoiled 3 1/2 year old. He loves helping around the house and adores his sisters. He has made our lives infinitely richer.

These kids are one of the reasons why I want to earn my MA degree. I want my daughters to see that a mom can accomplish things. I want my son to see women as capable beings outside of motherhood. I want the extra financial security and career possibilities that this degree will bring for me as well. If I don’t succeed, I will feel as if I failed them as well as myself.

This year has been all about relationships for me. My relationship with my husband is evolving, hopefully for the better. My relationships with my children are growing as they grow. This year has brought new, long distance but very important friends into my life while nearby friends have proven to be either unreliable or life saving. I’ve had a chance to reconnect with aging relatives who I have missed and cousins who were once very important figures in my life. At the same time, the year has proven how sadly tenuous the bonds with other family members are especially in my husband’s family. His sister still has not seen our son. She lives three hours away. My children’s only grandparents are willfully absent from lives, a fact that continues to gnaw at me.

It has been a year of fun too. My husband and I went to Little Rock to see Tom Petty and do some kid-free sightseeing. As I mentioned, we took out first real vacation in years this summer. We traveled back home to Illinois for our niece’s graduation party and then visited other friends and family. We took the kids to Chicago for a day and went to the Field Museum. On the return trip, we stopped in Springfield and visited Lincoln’s tomb. It was exhausting but more than worth it. In October, Jack White came to town, and my oldest daughter and I went. It was my first general admission show. We ended up in the second row just right of center. I couldn’t hear properly for two days. Needless to say, it was a hell of a lot of fun. He is in my top five favorites now.

I’m hoping for a better year in 2013. I hope to continue working on my MA, but I have an opportunity to receive some training funded by a federal grant that could bring in some much needed extra money. We need to get our financial house in order too. As of right now, tax increases are looming because of our ineffective Congress. I’m truly fearful of what this will mean for our family if our paychecks shrink further. Our 20th anniversary is in June, and I want us to find a way to celebrate it. My husband also turns 40 at the end of the year and that deserves some celebration too. Our 25 year old house is starting to show its age and needs some attention. I’m also cautiously optimistic that a new U2 album will see the light of day, and I’m already looking at saving for the next tour. It’s a sickness, I know, but I don’t want a cure. 2013 will be nothing if not expensive.

I don’t know what this new year will bring. No one does. I know changes need to happen in my home. Changes need to happen in the world. I hope for happiness, peace, and prosperity for everyone. Let’s kick out the old and welcome the new with open arms!

Happy New Year!

I’m Switzerland in the Chick-Fil-A War

Chick-Fil-A, the Georgia based fast food restaurant, has come under fire recently. The company is a proudly Christian company and has carried that ethnic into its business practices. They close on Sundays to provide employees a day of rest, and their kid’s meals include educational toys. Customer service is always excellent, at least at the 2 restaurants here in my small city.

The controversy stems from the CEO of the company admitting that they are against gay marriage. It has come to light that the corporation contributes to organizations with an anti-gay agenda. These revelations created a firestorm of controversy, and most people are taking sides.

For the last week, my Facebook timeline has been loaded with messages urging people to take sides. I have been asked several times which side I’m on. Supporters of gay rights are boycotting the company.
Chick-Fil-A supporters declared today the day to show the company their appreciation by eating at the restaurant.
I’m not taking a side in this fight. I’m Switzerland.

I do NOT agree with the company’s position. I do support gay rights including gay marriage. I see this as a civil not religious issue. Marriage is first & foremost a legally binding agreement between two individuals. If it weren’t, divorce wouldn’t exist. If marriage was strictly a religious ritual, the person performing the marriage wouldn’t need to be certified by the state to oversee said ritual. Gay men and women should have the right to enter into such an agreement. It’s as simple as that in my opinion.

However, Chick-Fil-A has the right to express their views. This is also a free speech matter. Their opponents have the right to express their outrage, too. They also have the right to boycott the company. What worries me are the more extreme calls for action I’ve heard which range from hate crimes charges to vandalism to Congressional investigations. Free speech protects unpopular speech. Period.

While I disagree with their stance, I’m not boycotting the company. First, we don’t eat there enough for it matter. Second, the service is always consistently good when I do need a quick meal. I simply cannot eat the mess that passes for food from most other fast food places. Finally, my kids love their nuggets. I make MY consumer decisions on quality and service not politics.

So did we have Chick-Fil-A tonight? No, we didn’t. To have gone specifically today would have been signaling my approval. Some may argue that any visits signal my approval but I disagree. It signals that I’ve got 4 hungry kids and not enough time to cook.

You may agree or disagree. It’s your right.

Fourteen Years in the Making: U2360, Nashville, 7/2/2011

When I walked out of Soldier Field following my first U2 show in 1997, I had no idea it would be 14 years before I saw them again. Life is funny that way. Sometimes even when there is a strong will, there is no way.

In 1998, we moved from IL. Our new location meant that we were now at least 4 hours away from the nearest venues where the band would play on their next 2 tours. Combine our location with the births of 2 more children (the 3rd right before the 2005 Vertigo tour) plus the financial strain of my finishing my BA and you have me missing those tours.

Like all U2 fans at the end of 2008, I was eagerly anticipating the next album and tour. We were financially stable, and the kids were old enough to leave for an overnight trip. We agreed we could swing at least one show and go from there. The universe had other plans because I learned I was pregnant for the 4th time just before Christmas. My concert hopes were over again. I was hugely disappointed to sit this one out because the U2360 tour was shaping up to be the tour of the century. Then, in 2010, Bono suffered a terrifying back injury which required major surgery, and the 2010 dates were postponed until 2011. And new shows were added including Nashville and St. Louis.

I should have lost my fangirl card for missing the initial announcement of the Nashville show. In my defense, it was a late announcement and came in October of 2010. I was knee-deep in kid’s soccer practices, work, and planning my daughter’s birthday. I found out by accident while perusing my favorite fan site in a rare moment of down time. I read the announcement more than once. I am pretty certain I stopped breathing for a few seconds, and then I cried. I knew this was the answer to my prayers. U2 was going to practically be in my backyard on a Saturday over 4th of July weekend. It couldn’t be more perfect. A tearful phone call to my husband at work followed, and a few minutes later, I was buying tickets.

Since our anniversary had been a few days earlier, we splurged and booked what we thought would be a fantastic hotel suite. We arrived in Nashville later than planned because of delays with our car rental, and we found our reservation completely messed up. Lesson: Always take your e-mail confirmation. I had booked more than 6 months in advance and pre-paid. They fixed it, but we didn’t get what we booked and received no compensation. Moral of that story is we will never stay with that chain again, ever. Now an hour and a half behind schedule, we rushed upstairs so I could change. I had done my homework, and the plan was to arrive at the stadium early enough in the hopes of seeing the band arrive and maybe, just maybe, meet them. OK, meet Bono. It didn’t quite work out. What did happen was that the band drove by us on the way to the stadium that evening. I didn’t know for certain until I found a video on YouTube which confirmed that the 3 black SUVs and the car that rolled by us were the band. It was a remarkably low-key arrival.

When we arrived at Vanderbilt, The Claw towered over the stadium. Pictures don’t do it justice. It was an imposing structure. This was one of the smallest, if not the smallest, venue they played, and the smaller stadium size guaranteed everyone had a great view. It is such a small world that we ran into former co-workers of mine who were there with another co-worker and her husband. One of the stylists from my hair salon was in the crowd that night, and I found out later that my pediatrician’s college age son and a friend were there too. It was definitely shaping up to be the event of the year despite the unbelievable heat which was not to be taken lightly.

After grabbing cups of lemonade, we found our seats. People watching made for an entertaining way to pass time. Florence and The Machine took the stage as the opening act around 7:00. I was only passingly familiar with them, but they have a great stage presence and were an excellent opening act. When they finished, the stage preparation for U2 began. It was an incredible process to watch. The video screen scrolled different facts about the state and the world. The picture above shows some of them. The scrolling facts slowed down and became fewer in number the closer it got to showtime. Finally, sometime after 9:00 the screen went blank, and the entire stadium went black for a few seconds. My heart leaped. The Claw lit up, and smoke rose from it like a space shuttle preparing for lift-off. Space Oddity began to play, and in the far corner of the stadium near an entrance, fans began to scream. I wish I could put into words what I felt at that moment. Fourteen years of waiting were ending in the most spectacular fashion. When the band appeared on the video screen and we could finally see them in the stadium, the floodgates opened. Tears of joy rolled down my face, and my wonderful husband just hugged me. The tears disappeared moments later as Larry’s drum beat began, and the guitar intro to Even Better than the Real Thing filled the stadium. Moments later when Bono hit the stage, I was on my feet and screaming with the rest of the crowd.

The heat was intense, but the show was hotter. Bono spent the evening clad in his signature black leather. He never missed a beat and neither did the rest of the band. They were clearly enjoying the night as much as the audience, and that is one of the things which make a U2 concert so special. They love what they do and their audience, and it shows in every move they make. The set-list was the standard one they had been playing for the last few weeks which was fine with me. I finally had the chance to hear some of the songs from Achtung Baby I had never heard live before. The Fly was unbelievable (“Achtung y’all!”), and Until the End of the World was mind-blowing as usual. Zooropa and Stay (Faraway, So Close) are rarities from the Zooropa album and were amazing performed live. I hope they continue to have a place in shows in the future. Miss Sarajevo, another rarity from the mid-90s, was a song the band had done with Luciano Pavarotti. Bono taught himself the opera part of the song, and it is breathtaking. It brought me to tears. There were many more classics as well as songs from the last decade which I had never heard performed live before.

The only set list disappointments from that night were minor. I wish they had kept No Line on the Horizon and Magnificent in the show. I was also very disappointed when they removed Ultra Violet from the encore. I desperately wanted to hear it as it is one of my all time favorite songs. All said though, the encore was incredible. Bono had a jacket with LED lights on the sleeves that threw laser-like light out to the audience. He also had a microphone which was shaped something like a steering wheel and was suspended from the Claw. It was strong enough for him to swing from and swing he did! The crowd loved it. The light show created by the Claw and the video screen are beyond description.

There were a couple of surprises in store for us too. Bono and Edge threw in part of  The Wanderer. It is the closing song from the Zooropa album, and the vocals had been performed by Johnny Cash. Bono initially tried to channel Johnny’s deep voice but couldn’t quite pull it off. It was a fun moment. The biggest surprise of the night came after the concert ended. As the band were making their exit, Bono pulled a man up onto the stage and handed him his green Gretsch Irish Falcon guitar. The man began playing a few chords of All I Want is You that he dedicated to his wife. Bono began singing and in a few seconds, the entire band had joined in! We were getting a bonus performance! When they finished, Bono hugged the man and gave him his guitar! The crowd roared. It wasn’t until security helped the man off stage that those of us in the seats realized the man was blind. It was one of the greatest things I have ever seen and speaks to the heart of the band.

It was an incredible night. A night that I will carry with me forever. Even my husband, a fan by association, had a great time. It’s hard to believe these are men in their 50s because they give a performance full of electricity. I left the stadium ready for another show but grateful for the one I had just experienced. Little did I know, that less than a week later, my husband would give me one of the best gifts he has ever given me.

For The First Time: U2 PopMart, Chicago, 6/27/97

Yesterday, my husband and I celebrated our 19th wedding anniversary. Tonight, I am celebrating the 15th anniversary of my first U2 concert. It was an event that was a decade in the making.

My love affair with the band began in 1987 with the release of With or Without from The Joshua Tree. I was 12, and when I saw the video that accompanied the song, Bono, then 27, stole my heart. (He never gave it back.) There was no chance of seeing them on tour then, and I missed an opportunity to see ZooTV just before my 17th birthday in 1992. It was a chance I’ve always and will always regret not being able to take. It would be five years and a lot of life changes later before I’d have the opportunity to see them live.

U2 released Pop in March of 1997 just 6 month after my dad had passed away. Discotheque, the first single, was released in early February, and the band revealed the plans for their tour, PopMart, at an over-the-top press conference at a NYC K-Mart. When the official dates were released, I discovered that the opening in Chicago would take place the day after our 4th anniversary. There was no stopping me. We were going to see U2!

U2′s ZooTV was a ground breaking extravaganza that changed concert stage sets forever, and the staging for PopMart was equally breathtaking. The video screen was one of the largest, if not the largest, constructed at that point at 170 feet long. The graphics, created by Roy Lichtenstein, were visual overload. The stage set also included a 100 ft high golden arch, a giant swizzle stick with an olive perched atop, and THE lemon. The lemon stood 40 ft high and converted into a giant mirrorball from which the band would emerge. It was outrageous. It was overtop. It got stuck once.

Downtown Chicago was a 2 1/2 hour drive from the town we had moved to after getting married. After dropping our 18 month old daughter off at my husband’s brother’s house, we arrived at the stadium around 6:00. It was a beautiful Chicago night, and the show was at Soldier Field so lake breezes could be expected. I still remember the giddy anticipation I felt as we entered the stadium. It was tempered slightly when we realized our seats were on the other end of the stadium from the stage.

The opening act was the Fine Young Criminals, and I couldn’t tell you what they performed. Sadly, most of that night has become a blur for me. The energy of the audience was unbelievable. And the moment the band appeared on stage will stay with me forever. I cried. I was so embarrassed at the time, but I couldn’t help it.

Bono was at his best as he hopped around the stage dressed in a boxer’s robe. He is a frontman in a class of his own. Sexy. Funny. Self-deprecating. Aggressive. Brash. Intense. Sexy. Bono goes places with his songs and his bandmates that other bands just cannot reach, and he is not happy unless he has taken the audience to those places with them.

The set list was heavy on songs from Pop and looking back, I’m glad it was. Pop and the reception to PopMart waned as the tour progressed. The band perceived it as a failure of sorts and few of those songs have not been played since then. Of the Pop songs from that night, Please and If You Wear That Velvet Dress are the only two I really remember clearly. Please was an intense, impassioned performance that I think is one of Bono’s best, and Velvet Dress was hauntingly sensual. I remember chills when I realized they were playing it. Until The End Of The World from Achtung Baby was and still is one of their best live songs, ever. I hope you’ll watch the YouTube video of the performance I saw that night. And of course, there were the performances of the songs which had made me a fan in the first place, Where The Streets Have No Name and With or Without You. Hearing With Or Without You live for the first time, performed the way Bono performed it then, was an out of body experience for me. They finished the night with their most iconic song, One, and Hallelujah which brought back the tears for me.

I remember sitting down after they left stage and being speechless. The music, the graphics, the crowd, the experience . . . it had all overwhelmed me. My husband was more than willing to let me just sit so we could wait out the traffic. It was after midnight when we got out of the lot. We stopped at the Denny’s in my hometown of Aurora for food, and then made the hour drive to his brother’s in relative silence. It was almost 3 when we got there to crash for a few hours of sleep before taking our daughter home.

When I walked into Soldier Field that night, I was a dedicated fan. When I walked out, I was a fanatic. My love had turned to passion, and it has only intensified over the last decade and a half. When I walked out that night, I knew I’d be going back. I had no idea then just how long it would be before I did.

Working on Happily Ever After

Nineteen years ago today, I married my high school sweetheart. We were kids. Really just kids. I was 18. He was 19. At those ages, the odds were against us. I’m pretty certain most of those who shared the day with us thought so too. So what made us decide to get married so young? A lot of things.

My mom had died, and I wanted to get out of the house. He got a job with his dad’s company and was going to move two hours away. His mom was seriously ill (and died a week before our 1st anniversary). We were in love. Put it all together and marriage made some sort of sense. Living together without marriage was not an option. His mother was devoutly Catholic, and mine had been devoutly Protestant. It never even crossed our minds to not marry. So we did. In a simple church wedding followed by a lunchtime reception. It was appropriate for teenagers.

The wedding was the easy part. The marriage . . . that has required some effort.

And marriage is effort. Living with another person does not come easily. Building a life that is mutually satisfying does not just happen. Managing finances and raising children are not things we know how to do. These things are learned. It takes conscious effort everyday. And that’s where so many couple stumble and fall. They forget that there is another person in the room with them. They forget that there is now a “we” and not just a “me”.

Our marriage is not perfect. Far from it. There have been many times where one or both of us have forgotten about the other person in the room. It happens more easily than you think. It happens without even realizing that it has happened. It happens without malice or ill intent. It happens because work is stressful. It happens because the kids pull you in a million different directions. It happens because the laundry and dishes have piled up to the ceiling. It happens because you work on opposite shifts and live in different worlds. It happens so very, very quietly. It happens without anyone realizing it. Then one day, you look up and see the person in the room with you and don’t recognize them anymore. How many times do we hear of marriages dissolving because a couple grew apart?

We’ve been there. We are there. We’ve grown apart for all those reasons. We don’t want to be there. We have four beautiful children who deserve  to grow up in a happy, stable home. We have the kind of home our parents only dreamed of having. There’s no abuse or infidelity or cruelty. There’s just two people who have forgotten what the other person looks like.

So today, we left the teenagers in charge. We went to shops we never go to because they have breakables, and we always have small children with us. We went to lunch at a restaurant without a drive-thru window. We talked and listened to each other. We held hands. We laughed. We started to see the other person across the room again. We decided to work on our happily ever after.

Baby Slow Down

“I want be big and go to work!”

That declaration was made by my sweet little boy the other morning. I was on the deck working on an assignment for one of my classes. My husband was in the yard yet again trying to get one of our geriatric lawnmowers to run.  Apparently to a soon to be 3 year old, what we were doing seemed grown-up and glamorous. His innocent exclamation made me think of how often I had wished for adulthood as a child. Who among us didn’t? When you’re 3, 7, 12, or 16, adulthood seems like the greatest thing ever. When you’re 37, childhood seems like the greatest thing ever.

I find myself looking at my reflection in the mirror lately. It’s not vanity. Well, maybe a little. I’ve always looked younger than I am, but time is catching up with me. Gray is threading through my hair. Lines are settling around my eyes and mouth. I’m not young, and I’m not old. When did I become middle-aged? Am I middle-aged yet? I don’t feel like it.

Strangely enough, in some ways, I feel younger than ever before. I’ve always behaved older than my years. I grew up too fast and too soon when I lost my mom at 16. I married at 18. I had my first daughter just before I turned 21, and my dad died later that year. I’ve always been the responsible one, the adult one. I’ve always taken care of everyone. I’ve always done what was expected of me even when every fiber of my being rebelled. I did it.

And now? Now I mourn for the things I didn’t do when I was younger. I mourn for the parties that I didn’t go to. I mourn for the summer that I never spent following 4 Irishmen across the country. I mourn for the places that I have not and may never see. I mourn for the youth that I lost and didn’t miss until it was too late. I mourn for the girl who is trapped inside and desperately wants to escape. Her time has come and gone.

My children’s time is just beginning. I want them to experience everything life has to offer. I want them to see the world. Spend a summer sleeping in a GA line. Do something crazy. Get a tattoo. I want them to have no regrets when they have finally settled down. I want them to live like I didn’t have the chance to live. Above all, I want them to be happy.

After my little guy made his big announcement, I picked him and kissed him silly. And then I told him he didn’t want to be big and go to work just yet.

Summer Vacation

Summer stretching on the grass.
Summer dresses pass…

The most anticipated day of the year for students and teachers has arrived. It is the first day of my summer vacation. Because I’ve either been in school or teaching it, I’ve had a summer vacation for most of adult life. It is a wonderful thing, and apologies to my friends and readers who do not get a long break, I don’t think I could give it up very easily at this point in time.

Teaching is an exhausting and demanding profession, contrary to popular belief. It follows most of us home in the evening and on the weekends. We grade papers and plan lessons during our personal time because there’s just not enough time during the school day to get it all done. Yes, other jobs do require long work hours, but few go home with you nearly nightly. Teacher’s don’t earn overtime for all the extra hours they put in.

Summer vacation provides teachers with time to rest and recharge. It gives us time to read and travel, attend conferences and take classes. Sadly, many teachers I know work at extra jobs over the summer or teach summer school to supplement our ridiculously low incomes. One of these days, I probably will too but not just yet. My summers are for my children.

My oldest daughter will be a high school junior in August, and my little boy will be 3 in July. Time is slipping away, and I want to catch as much of it with them as I can. Summertime means laying on a blanket in the yard watching clouds. It’s peanut butter and jelly breakfast picnics at the park. It’s lemonade and homemade ice cream. It’s early afternoon dinners with the hubby before he goes to work in the afternoon. It’s fireflies and bug catching. It’s water balloons and swings. It’s sleeping in and staying up late.

Summers are getting shorter as I get older and as my children grow up. They will be driving me crazy by July, but there will come a day when my house is silent. The backdoor won’t slam. Sisters won’t be fighting. My son won’t be crashing toy cars into the fireplace hearth. Sticky lemonade won’t pool on the kitchen counter. Used Popsicle sticks won’t be hidden under beds. Sprinklers won’t cool little bodies. Grass stains won’t fill my laundry basket. While there are days when I fantasize about a quiet house and grown children, most days I dread the thought of it.

Make the most of every minute you have each summer. If you have children, don’t let a single moment go to waste. If you don’t have children, live like you do! Embrace every opportunity for fun that comes your way. Start now, start today. Don’t wait another minute because the next minute may not come.

Living Legacies

This afternoon I was greeted with news which literally took my breath away. A teacher at my daughter’s middle school had a stroke on Sunday and died. She was still a young woman. Although not a close friend, we had been acquainted for close to a decade. I did my middle school student teaching there, and then a few years later, she was my oldest daughter’s 7th grade reading teacher. This year, she was a sponsor of the Bible club of which my 12 year old daughter is a member. The lives of two of my children were touched by this one woman.

There have been so many celebrity losses recently: Whitney Houston, Junior Seau, Adam Yauch. All in their 40s. All in what should have been the prime of their of life. All with more to share with the world. And there are the losses which took place years ago which are still felt even now: James Dean and Marilyn Monroe, Jim Morrison and Jimi Hendrix, Elvis, Kurt Cobain. Icons who changed our point of view in such different, and yet, profound ways. We mourn them collectively and privately. We pass on their legacies to future generations. They are immortalized on film and vinyl.

But who mourns the loss of a teacher? How often do we reflect on what has been lost when a teacher dies? This is the third colleague, and yes I call her colleague because those of us who teach share a special bond, that I’ve lost in the last three years.

The first was a wonderful woman who will always have a place in the heart of both my 12 year old and myself. She was her 2nd grade teacher when my daughter was the new kid at school. She took my daughter under her wings and made her feel protected in a new place. She fought cancer courageously and quietly and kept teaching until near the end when she just could not go any longer. Her loss devastated my daughter.

The second was a co-worker of mine. She was a foreign language teacher. When I was the new teacher on the block, she was infinitely kind to me. She was tough, yet gentle with her students, and they adored her. She had one of the most generous hearts and beautiful souls. When she too succumbed to cancer two years ago, I missed her funeral. Not because I didn’t try to go but because the small church was filled to capacity, and there was no parking for blocks. She was beloved in that small town and is still missed.

And now another star teacher is gone. Suddenly, shockingly, without warning. Another school community is devastated. I can only imagine the grief of her family. What has been lost with her? What lives will she not be here to touch and maybe save?

We do that. We do more than teach to the despised tests. At least good teachers do. We love our kids. We help our kids with more than just grades. We loan them an extra dollar for lunch. We wipe tears away and give hugs even when we’re warned against it. We buy baby clothes and belts. We provide paper, pencils, binders without expectation of getting them back. We get a suicidal student help. We see past the sagging pants and gang-banger persona to the young man inside. We give second and even third or fourth chances. We do all of those things and more. I’ve done all of those things and more.

These three wonderful women are gone from us now. That cannot be changed. What can be changed is the way we live our lives in their memory. Each one has left behind hundreds, maybe thousands, of living legacies. They have left behind more than test scores on paper. They left behind a piece of themselves in each and every child who passed through their classrooms. They have forever changed the lives of their students. They deserve to be remembered and mourned as much as any Hollywood or rock and roll icon. Maybe even more so.

A Piece of His Heartstring

There are six sister bracelets now scattered across North America. I know where two of them are because I am wearing one. The other is on the wrist of another true fan in Florida. These bracelets are not made of platinum and diamonds. They are not even gold or silver. They are guitar strings wrapped in various colors of wire as individual as each of us who wears them. The value comes not from the material but from it’s source. These guitar strings came from a guitar played by Bono. Yes, Bono.

The strings were donated to a fledgling charity, Filament Project, by Dallas Schoo, U2′s guitar tech, and the proceeds benefit the Sweet Relief organization. Sweet Relief assists uninsured musicians with medical needs. There are bracelets available made from the strings of other artists, and more are being sought out. It is a worthwhile cause, and it gave to me a small piece of someone who has been a constant in my life for twenty-five years.

I saw the auction notice for a bracelet made out of a guitar string played by Edge at the last show of the 360 tour in Moncton. It was used for With or Without You which is THE song for me. I was tempted by it and checked out the auction page on eBay. The page mentioned that bracelets made from Bono’s guitar strings were available as well. My heart stopped for just a moment. I contacted the seller, Filaments Project, and inquired about the availability. She replied that they were available and could be listed. I kept watch, but family things got in the way, and I missed the first one. I contacted her again, and she willingly put up another. This one did not get away from me.

I rarely buy things of value for myself. I have friends who regularly indulge in new clothes, shoes, jewelry. With four kids, I buy what I need when I need it. My rare indulgence now that I’m getting older has been upgrading my skin care and cosmetics. This was a major splurge. This was a rare opportunity, and I knew I’d regret it forever if I didn’t take the chance. I don’t regret it at all.

To try and explain what this means to me would expose a part of my heart I’m not ready to expose to the world. The way I feel about this man is not rational or explainable to the casual fan. It’s not even explainable to the man I’ve created four lives with and who I intend to live the rest of my days with. Thankfully, he accepts this as a part of me which has nothing to do with our relationship.

Bono’s voice is with me always. It always will be. Now, I have a tangible piece of him. This bracelet is nearly weightless on my wrist, but it once carried the sound of music which has been the soundtrack of my life for so many years. I hope he knows about this bracelet and it’s sisters. I hope he knows what it means to each of us who wears one. I hope he knows what his voice, his lyrics, his humanitarian actions mean to those of us who love him. There, I said it. Love. I hope, somehow, he knows.