Lady Shmady

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Woman, writer and lover of all things ordinary.  That’s how I describe myself; the word lady doesn’t really exist for me.  Not in the strictest definition of the word.  From Wikipedia: The word lady is a civil term of respect for a woman, specifically the female equivalent to gentleman or lord. Once confined to usage when specifically addressing women of high social class or status; over the last 300 years, the term has spread to embrace every adult woman.

From Merriam Webster: A woman who behaves in a polite way, a woman of high social position, a man’s girlfriend, a woman of superior social position, a woman of refinement and gentle manners.

So it took 300 years, and you believe that the term has morphed into one that embraces every adult woman, thus the more accurate Merriam Webster version of the definition.  Come on.  There is a connotation to the word lady that I’ve never fit into and thankfully it has served me well.

Being among the first women to wear pants in the banking industry finally getting rid of the stockings and garter belts was huge in the early 70’s.  Consistently applying for “Help Wanted – Male” positions made me very unladylike. Standing up for what I believe in, voicing my opinion, being the one to introduce other women to education for the sake of learning rather than marrying, and to this day trying to insure young women don’t take for granted where we came from, all not very lady like.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not militant. I believe I’m pragmatic. I’m not picketing or demonstrating just going about my daily life trying to live what I believe, my truth. In researching this post I came across several “rules” one must follow to be considered a lady:

Make introductions, say please and thank you, have good posture, be respectful toward others, be charming, don’t use profanity or overeat or drink excessively, maintain your personal hygiene, dress elegantly and keep your clothing clean and pressed.  Don’t wear excessive makeup or revealing clothing. Really?  I can’t.  Isn’t this just common sense, isn’t this just part of being a genuine human being.  Aren’t these the same rules that a “gentleman” should be following to make his way in the world?

I love Nora Ephron’s quote: “Whatever you choose, however many roads you travel, I hope that you choose not to be a lady. I hope you will find some way to break the rules and make a little trouble out there. And I also hope that you will choose to make some of that trouble on behalf of women.”

Long before I knew about this quote I chose not to be a lady.  I chose to be a genuine, caring, educated, outspoken, human being.  As a kid, I lost many a white glove and soiled many a dress. I questioned authority, so much so that I can’t imagine that my parents ever spoke to me again after my teens.  I changed drastically after those knock down drag out temper tantrums in the name of what is fair and progressive.  I did not, however, change into a “lady”.

I feel like the word lady should always be in quotes.  The meanings are outdated and condescending and would never be replicated in “gentlemen” speak.  Men are always talking about women being a “lady on the street and a freak in the bed”. How about simply embracing the strength of woman and knowing that their common sense is honed well enough to know that public and private behavior is just plain protocol. Seriously stop talking garbage people.

How about we discard both the lady and gentlemen monikers and discuss things on a human level.  On a level that contributes the best of both sexes and all that is human to a collective equality.  What did I say?  It could actually happen, look at the number of fathers staying home with kids, look at the number of woman finally running for office, look at the number of people becoming minimalist in their own fashion.  So much is changing that defies the gender “high standards”.

I started thinking about this subject when my friend described her Mom as a true lady.  I believe she was a true lady in the context of the time she grew up in.  For those of us who grew up at that moment in time when we finally had the nerve to voice our opinions all bets were off on the ladylike portion of the show.  It is an outdated term that I truly hope will be replaced by something like woman of substance, man of substance, person of substance.

Many of you know that I am a huge fan of the six word memoir.  I hope my legacy will read something like this:  A woman of substance who shared.

 

 

Give A Little Bit

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Give a little bit
Give a little bit of your love to me
Give a little bit
I’ll give a little bit of my life for you
Now’s the time that we need to share
So find yourself, we’re on our way back home…Roger Hodgson – Supertramp

It seems to me that as soon as we’re born we’re already on our way back home.  I was reminded of that recently when I completed a questionnaire for a course I was taking.  One of the questions was something like tell me something that hasn’t ever appeared on your bio.  I had come across pictures of my maternal grandmother and me when I was two years old. They are lovely, the story goes that she wasn’t supposed to live long enough to see me born. Somehow she did and I’ve been told I was the reason she lived an additional two years.  The love shows in these pictures and in seeing them now, at this age, I got a sense of having been destined in some way.

So what do you do with that?  I believe I tried very hard to become generous; in different and interesting ways.  Iyanla Vanzant said, “When you stand and share your story in an empowering way your story will heal you and your story will heal somebody else.  My story has become about generosity, as Evi would say, I’m a giver…she means it in a completely different and funny way I’m sure.  I’ve had to learn the difference between being self-sacrificing, not a good thing, and being selfless.  I did the sacrificing thing and that didn’t work for anyone.  Self-sacrificing tends to lead to resentment because there is an expectation attached.  True generosity is giving with no expectation of anything in return.

I am an avid fund raiser for a local animal organization that provides food for pets through the local, and ever expanding, food pantries.  The thought of not being able to feed my girls just crushed me. There was a time, many years ago, that I had to cut way back but never did I ever not have food for my dogs.  I would have eaten mac and cheese daily…oh wait.  I don’t strong arm, I just send out a series of three emails and people respond.  They respond to the same thing I did, that there but for the grace of God go I, the what an innovative idea and the dedication of an all-volunteer group making a huge difference thing  They respond generously, I hope because over the years I’ve been generous in kind, through my work and through my actions.  I’m big on the way I live my life being enough no thanks required.

I was reminded recently (seems I’m always being reminded of something recently) by a friend I hadn’t spoken to in quite some time of a little thing I did for him when he was going through cancer treatment.  I would send a note by mail, I’m a huge believer in getting something other than bills and bullshit in the mail, with some encouraging quote or thought or just hello.  I would send one every week or every other week, I honestly don’t remember now, hoping they would bring a bit of something other than cancer to him.  I remember stopping them after his scans came back stellar.  I was so glad to hear how much they meant to him.

Sending things in the mail is one of those different and interesting ways I give.  Another way is giving a handkerchief to someone who has lost someone.  It’s one of those things that no one ever thinks of, probably because no one would even know where to find a handkerchief these days. I’ve got a collection of them from decades ago and I’ve stashed them with lavender in a box for just such occasions.  For those who are being as brave as they can be in the face of the rituals they must face when someone dies, why not give them something that they can bury their face in when the tears inevitably come.  Trying to maintain some sense of dignity while going through a box of tissues just doesn’t seem fair and after all is said and done, the keepsake can remind them of the respect they paid their loved one and the poise they maintained.

Photos have become another way of giving for me.  I’m trying very hard to capture life as I see it with the people I’m on my journey with.  I love my people and I hope they know it.  To cement our times together I snap away, sometimes to the momentary annoyance of my subjects, but ultimately to their delight when presented with the evidence of time well spent.  I hope that the portraits I took of my friends now departed dog will give her comfort each time she views them.  I know that the books I’ve been putting together at the end of each year are bringing my family just the perfect gift each Christmas.  I know I’m getting better at it and thanked God I didn’t screw up the most fabulous wedding pictures.

I’ve given away my pearls, my wedding dress, my money, my time, my ear, my heart but the number one give away that brings me pleasure is giving away food.  I don’t know that this could be called truly generous as I do do do want something in return.  I get no greater pleasure than cooking with and for people and having them gather around my table for eating, drinking, laughing and sharing.  Feeding people is my number one favorite thing to do, having people in my home, being surrounded by laughter, oh that just sends me.

You’ve heard me say over and over I believe in food for thought and moments in time; add to that kind gestures and that should just about cover it.  I don’t really ask for much but on a rainy, miserable day like today it would have been nice to have someone bring me a coffee and the NY Times to enjoy in bed.  Yet another post in the making…

Generosity is giving more than you can, and pride is taking less the you need…Kahlil Gibran

 

 

 

 

 

No Explanation Required

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“It’s not about having things figured out, or about communicating with other people, trying to make them understand what you understand. It’s about a chicken dinner at a drive-in. A soft pillow. Things that don’t need explaining.”  Anne Beattie

Some of the things that don’t need explaining from this end-of-summer trip to the Cape are the smell of salt air and cedar, and being welcomed home.  Unpacking the car in record time because I learned long ago that I don’t need to bring nearly as much as I think I do.

Dr. Sunwolf said, “People overestimate the pleasure they’ll get from having more stuff.  This does not apply to new rose bushes, crayons, or yarn stashes.”  For me it doesn’t apply to espresso, comfortable shoes and my camera.   It doesn’t apply to a steno pad for notes or my laptop to create from those notes.

The best things in life are not things.  More things that require no explanation are visits from friends, spending time catching up and dining out.  Becoming an important destination for their much needed quick adventure is an honor and a joy.

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Morning walks to the beach with friends, or without them, but never without dogs.  If you can’t experience joy yourself I defy you to not see it in a couple of condo dogs playing in a back yard.  Running and rolling in the grass should be part of every vacation.

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Who can explain why one would wake early while on vacation?  Sleep in?  Not when the Cape is having the best weather of the year, not when you can have the beach to yourself with a screaming hot latte and the September sun and certainly not when your books are begging to be read.

The best things in life are free; Acting as personal paparazzi to your favorite people.  Meeting new people, enjoying music, and trying new foods all fall into the free or nearly free category.

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Being welcomed home to the Cape brings with it the ritual of making dinner for dear friends and sharing lively conversation for hours.  Nothing brings me more joy than cooking for friends, gathering around the table with wine and music and letting the hours roll by.

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And quiet:

“It just took some people a little longer than others to realize how few words they needed to get by, how much of life they could negotiate in silence.” ― Tom Perrotta

At the end of the day, the most important thing is to have a moment of quiet to reflect and bless the events of the day.  Each day brought with it something to be thankful about and something to tuck away for cold winter days.

At week’s end I’m always happy to get home, it’s not much different on Stowe Lane than being away, many of the rituals and things that require no explanation are the same. The ride home is always easy, our bed is far more comfortable and welcomed and our memories vivid. Only thing missing is the beach and the smell of salt air and cedar.

 

 

 

 

Just Enough Rain for Luck

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Had anyone told me I would be quoting Steven “Dude looks like a lady” Tyler I would have said they were smoking what he smokes…the thing is he’s got this when he says “If you have a candle, the light won’t glow any dimmer if I light yours off of mine.”

I have been the recipient of more generosity than I ever could have imagined.  From my family, from my family, from my family especially my Father.  He didn’t have much, he didn’t know much but he shared everything from stories to lost dreams to insight to the yolk from his over easy eggs salted just perfectly to wint-o-green lifesavers.  We spoke a similar language that only we could understand.

So many generous people have shared their knowledge with me throughout my career that it’s hard to list them all.  Most notably my friend Cookie, a rare breed in the car business that thought it was ok, no more than ok, to share his vast, been there done that, know where the bodies are buried knowledge with a woman of all people.  I’m not talking about the read the financial statement kind of knowledge I’m talking about the watch out for this trick, keep an eye out for this on the bill of sale kind of knowledge.   It was invaluable but beyond that it was the same kind of knowledge my own father shared, the real life, you’ll get kicked in the ass once in a while knowledge in a kicked up more educated went to college version.

Over the course of the sixteen years I worked with him, he was my mentor, he was my friend and he became my confidant during a time when not much was going right.  You can’t help but know an awful lot about each other’s families working together every single day.  He knew my relationship with my father and I knew his relationship with his children especially his Muriel.  So it was no surprise to me when my father died he could see the future.

In the infinity of life that we all share, I have to believe that a promise kept is more important than many other things.  If something happens to me, he said…you’ve got Muriel.  Of course I would, and so I do.  Through the miracle of universal alignment she lives four doors away on our little Stowe Ln.  It’s been an easy friendship full of shared experiences and memories of both her father and mine.  It’s my hope that one day she will think of me as one of the generous people in her life and fulfill her promise of helping me grow old with a sippy cup of wine in my hand…just sayin

I had the honor of seeing her married this past weekend, of chauffeuring her in a shiny BMW the way her Father would have, of authenticating the day through photos that were beautiful but regrettably missing one of the most important people in her life. We didn’t speak of it, we didn’t have to.

It was a joyous day none the less, had I had a daughter I would want her to be exactly like Muriel. Beautiful, real, take after her Father in that sarcastic listen closely so you don’t miss anything kind of way.  We will always share the Father’s Daughter mentality, sentimentality although she will poo poo being capable of any such thing. What we know like we know is that they are exuberantly watching from somewhere and even if they’re not they have shared so much that we will never run out of all that they have left behind for us.

To that end the lesson for both of us from our Father’s has been  to share what we know, not just our knowledge but our way of looking at things, our perspective if you will, our sense of humor, our sense of family and our friendship so that we too can leave behind bits of ourselves.

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My dearest Muriel and Martina no amount of love and health and happiness can ever be enough for you.  Know you’re loved, share your lives fully and leave behind all that makes you what and who you are, as individuals and as a couple, so that many can benefit from your having met and married.  Like your wedding day I wish you just enough rain for luck I know like I know it will be a breathtaking life.

Legacy Lessons

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I am a lifelong learner.  I learn from everything, stubbed toes, and wise women, getting caught in the rain, books, fathers, music and the day to day routine.  Everything I learn becomes part of my legacy, how could it not.

But it’s not only me, everybody is creating a legacy, young and old alike, I mean everybody.  In listening and reading about other people’s lives and living my own life (which is nothing like minding my own business because you know like you know I can’t do that) certain lessons have begun to emerge.   I want to explore those lessons now that they seem so blatantly obvious.

Legacy lessons are little tidbits and light bulb moments in everyone’s lives, they are the nuggets you leave behind for others to follow (or not) and little sparks of your being that prompt people to say:

Remember the time…

How funny was…

So and so taught me…

Fill-in-the-blank used to say…

I remember…

I’m tired of writing about me (well not really) so I’ve begun collecting some of these legacy lessons from others so we can begin to share all that makes us who we are and what we will leave behind. Oh don’t get so “let’s not talk about that”, nobody gets out alive.  And if you’re going to leave a legacy you may as well have something to do with it.  I know like I know that we are all extraordinary legacies in the making.

Check the Ordinary Legacy Facebook page for the lesson prompts and share your stories.  A hint, we all come from one…