Telling Your Stories

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If you think you’re not telling your story simply because it hasn’t been written you’re wrong. Every day that you’re here you’re telling your story, perhaps not in words but in a myriad of other ways. Writing is the obvious but do you paint, build, garden, or collect?

I may have mentioned before that art is legacy. It is the artist’s story that helps to build a portion of their legacy.  I’ve been following a friend I met in Houston at the Lime Retreat hosted by Karen Walrond of Chookooloonks.com, on Instagram for the last several months (only the last several months because I just discovered Instagram). Her name is A’Driane Nieves @addye_b. Her story unfolds in each of her paintings and it is REAL. Whatever she thinks she is, she is talented, provocative, engaging and worth mentioning again…real. I often say that the best stories come from those of us who crawl, walk, soar and she personifies this. I know like I know that she is telling her story in glorious color and building a legacy that will live on.

Ask any gardener what their story is and they will walk you through it, literally.  They will tell you why they planted every variety, they will tell you who gave them a cutting of this or a seed of that.  They will tell you when the light moves and how many times it took to find just the right spot for the damn fill-in-the-blank. This is the story they live and hope to leave behind.

A collection can tell any number of stories about a person.  Think about what draws them to collect the things they do.  I have a friend who collects vintage audio equipment, reel to reel and stereos. Why? Because he and his family are lovers of music and what better way to enjoy that music than on the equipment for which it was intended.  Visit with them and the playlist becomes an important part of the experience as does their enthusiasm.

My spoon collection was started by our dear family friend Jeanette.  By now you know I speak the gospel of Jeanette as often as I can but, in this collection, perhaps my name will be bantered about. My spoons come from all over the world, the country, representing different locations, themes and associations. I know who gave each one but I especially love when it comes with the sentiment of I thought you’d love this…I do!  There are hundreds of them and each started as a way to connect with people I know, where they were traveling, where they lived, what they were enjoying. With each gift came the story of their adventure or their reason for choosing just that perfect one.  It became my way of connecting with and reliving the stories of those I enjoy most.  They are all displayed prominently in my home and admired, their stories have become a part of my story.

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The one thing that you have that nobody else has is you. Your voice, your mind, your story, your vision. So write and draw and build and play and dance and live as only you canNeil Gaiman Whatever form or forms it takes, your incredibly delicious pea soup, the level in Jiu Jitsu you’ve attained and are fostering in your children, the people you’ve learned you’ve touched recently at your retirement party, your acting, your music, your sense of style and sarcasm, anything that represents you the way you want to be represented should be celebrated as the story that is you.

 

 

Car Hag’s Brunch 2016

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What happens when you put a dozen women from the car business in a room, add mimosa, bloody mary, wine and enough savory and sweet nibbles to thwart inebriation? The dam breaks, it all comes out, every story and situation that has happened over the last year spills into the room with laughter loud enough to move the Richter scale.

To be correct we are women in the automotive industry but nobody calls it that… let’s face it it’s the car business. And we have be aptly named car hags by one of the funniest and inclusive men that was ever in the car business. He was generous with his knowledge when men were still calling us Hon (men still call us Hon) giving us the secrets of the trade, letting us in on the real deal and telling us how to get around “the boys”.

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The percentage of women in the car business is still pretty small but seated around the table were CFO, Team Leads, Inventory Manager, General Sales Manager, Area Manager, IT Manager, Marketing Event Planner, Center Development Coordinator, Customer Relations, Service Department Expert and Center Assistance Manager from both the regional and dealer level. These dozen women brought to the table experience from the last forty years…we have seen it all.

Here’s what we’ve learned:

When conducting a meeting do it from the head of the table.

Learn to use the word “careful” when looking to stop an errant 24 year old from calling you Hon.

Insist that your time be respected as valuable.

Work as hard as the men, but smarter.

When trying to explain something start with the word “perhaps” instead of going with your first impulse to slap…

If you must slap, slap them so hard (verbally that is we don’t have access to bail money) they think they got a kiss.

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When all else fails, call another car hag. We have no twelve step program, we have no formal association, and we have no rules or guidelines. What we have is shared experience, incredible depth and breadth of knowledge and a willingness to help a sista out of a situation. If not for this tribe, women in the car business would still be getting coffee and getting their asses slapped. We might never rid the industry of the word Hon but we can certainly “identify and discuss” the offenders to the point where their ears are ringing off their heads.

Hopefully as we move forward there will be more and more women identifying themselves as car hags, I know the name’s not pretty and many have tried to change it but it’s strong and able. In an industry still so heavily dominated by men we owe it to ourselves to put our hands out to each other to assist and uplift rather than demean and compete with each other.

My time in the car business is nearing a close. As I get closer and closer to retirement I know like I know that I will remain a car hag well into my old age and will do everything I can to insure there is a safe place for the others to vent and share and keep this time honored alliance going.

 

I Know Like I Know 2015

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Wisdom comes from anything that has ever healed in your life. The intensity and number of those things varies throughout your life. I’ve often quoted Zora Neale Hurston’s view of some years ask the questions and some years answer them. With the years that answer comes the healing and the wisdom. With what could have become a downward spiral came the answers this year.

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We lost our Lina to a nasty cancer that moved quickly and thoroughly allowing only enough time for us to realize that this little girl who suffered so terribly from anxiety her whole life could indeed be brave. Her sister showed us how to heal in the most basic way, forget yourself and give your love to someone else, her Gramma. This is the love affair that saved us all.

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I had the pleasure of being a part of two very different stories this year. Spending time with Ida and learning how to make ravioli in her company along with her family will stay with me forever. Food traditions are a recurring theme on this blog, and so important to the development of individual and family legacies. Documenting them is becoming more and more imperative so they are not lost.

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Along those lines I had the privilege of reading and sharing a wonderful story about my friend Bill’s father. He had documented his feelings about the world and his place in it when Bill was just a year old. In retrospect he set about embracing and living up to his story in big and small ways. What a treasure to preserve for generations to come.

Story preservation kept ringing in my ears, these lessons taught unwittingly with integrity and honesty are invaluable. From the tiniest gestures, to the unique talents, to the surprises and family folklore and secrets our elders are an untapped resource that I fear will be lost. And so the Elder Beauty Project started to take shape. This coming year I hope you’ll give some thought to highlighting someone in your life and contact this story preservationist to assist.

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Through some serendipitous clicking around the internet my sister and I found ourselves on a mountain in Ludlow VT. More than once after our return we’ve found ourselves saying it’s the best thing we’ve ever done. Green Mountain at Fox Run provided hope among the birch with lessons on Food, Movement and Mindfulness. Most importantly they provided a very safe place to make it your intention to let go of something that no longer serves you. And that we did.

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For me it was letting go of my story. The one I’ve been carrying around for decades, the one that wasn’t mine to carry around, and the one that I feared would become my legacy. The most courageous thing that I have done to date is write my story, and the story of ordinary legacy, and submit it to Women for One for consideration as one of their Truthtellers. Happily, gratefully, humbly they accepted and published my story, I am now a Truthteller. That my story may somehow help someone else in a similar situation is of great comfort to me but the healing has been of even greater solace. With healing comes the wisdom.

Blogger Recognition Award 2015

I was also nominated for a blogger recognition award. I don’t know if there is an actual award or if someone simply thought highly enough of my work to give it recognition through sharing but I am grateful to Maria Baird of Manifesting Me none the less.

This is the first year in many decades that I’ve had my picture taken and shared so often. Frankly I’ve had my picture taken more this year than in the last ten years. I’ve spent an eternity behind the camera but never in front. It became clear to me through all this good work that if your intention is to leave a legacy they may as well know what you look like, no? Now I’d love to find someone who can really capture who I really am on film, stay tuned.

The year was filled with friends, old, new and new/old. Retirement (41)

 

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Not least among them was Wanda. She shared her beautiful Cape home, her sorrows and her joys with me as if we’d just hung up from each other last week. It is a wonderful gift to connect with someone so quickly with complete trust. I look forward to sharing all that is the story of us in the coming years.

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I finally found Instagram. Seriously, I started a 365 in November and am enjoying the hell out of it. You can find me on Instagram @ordinarylegacy or you can follow the hashtag #lifeonstowelane. I know you’re shocked by both of those. There is that moment when you realize that a hashtag of your own is cool but other common hashtags can connect you to others and some very funny or poignant stories and oh yeah it can connect people to you…#wetdog is a favorite as is #fromwhereistand. Took me awhile but this old dog learned a new trick, just sayin.

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And so this was the year of wisdom through healing. Watching my mother, aka Gramma, with Toti Nonna has made me realize all we ever really need is a loving connection. Watching my sister let go of the grief that no longer serves her has brought laughter and ease and renewal. Watching others heal through my words has brought gratitude and responsibility. Healing has brought me wisdom. I look forward, like never before, to the coming year, the coming decade and the continued wisdom it will bring. I hope you will continue to honor me with your presence on Ordinary Legacy and join me in preserving even more stories through the Elder Beauty Project.  Stay tuned to find out what’s happening on Stowe Lane…

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The Little Red Hen

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Who will help me…bake? Who will help me…decorate? Who will help me…sort and wrap? Not I said everyone. But if I said, Who will help me be remembered? What then?

It’s not that I need the help, its therapeutic work for me, and nostalgic. I have rituals that surround the cookie making and I get lost in the music I’m playing the smells I’m smelling, and the memories of those in whose steps I’m following. My mother says it’s all in the hands that makes the food taste the way so and so made it. I get that, sometimes I actually see that when I watch my hands and they don’t look or move like mine.

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I’m not sure if people even really enjoy these cookies each year. We’ve become a society of gift cards and obligation rather than traditions and giving from the heart. I’m saddened sometimes that there isn’t anyone I can teach these recipes to or pass along the little book of secret ingredients. Although my dear Dina and Daniel give me hope each summer when we make “Mommy’s favorite cookies”. That’s about as close as I come to sharing and teaching and laughing and seeing the end result light up their faces.

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I know some of my nearest and dearest appreciate the work and the love that goes into this gift each year. Those of you that have swooned over the first bite of a pignoli nut cookie, or squirreled away the Italian cookies in the freezer to be pulled out one at a time when needed, or dipped an anisette cookie in your coffee at three in the afternoon, or tasted one of each as soon as you got them know that these aren’t just cookies. You know this is my gift to you from generations past and my contribution to their legacy.

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There would be no greater gift than to have someone join me in the kitchen as I choreograph several trays into and out of the oven, mixing bowls and cooling racks all the while listening to Andre Boccelli assure me that my busy hands are honoring those who came before me and that somehow these cookies won’t disappear when I do.

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And so while the little red head was trying to teach a lesson on the virtues of a good work ethic and personal initiative I’m trying, as always, to teach a lesson in legacy. Hoping that someone will want to hold tight to holiday food traditions, my holiday food traditions, before they need to be recreated later on…much later on. Anybody?