Junk Drawers

I used to have only one junk drawer in my kitchen, but lately, nearly every drawer in my house is earning that distinction. Today, while sorting through rubberbands, paper clips, dead pens, pointless pencils, and business cards from where we lived two states ago, I found a stretched out hair tie. Oh well, it would do. Disgusted, I elasticized the mess on my head that should have been cut weeks ago and fought the urge to tear up every drawer in the house and get them in order once and for all.

Instead, I thought about it. And much to my surprise, it cheered me up.

My drawers are a mess, but my priorities are straight. Sitting on my desk is the Prayer of the Caregivers from the National Association of Catholic Chaplains, given to me by my sister:

"Give us the grace this day
to tend those in our care
with full attention
and true tenderness...

Create in us a generosity of spirit
that we may clearly see
the unique spark
in each person we serve,
that no one in our care today
might feel themselves a burden,
another chore on a long list."

I don't always succeed in doing this, but I am trying to be a better caregiver each day.

Junk drawers are another chore on a long list. Sharing coffee and hot buttered kaiser rolls atop my mother's lovely floral quilt in her bedroom is the work and joy of my life.

Junk drawers be damned!

Stories

Stories, memories, and family history are gifts we can give later in life. When we are unable to buy presents because we can no longer walk, or bake a cake for the people we love, we still have our stories to share. Mom's memories, formed into stories are like stones piling around the house that holds our family. They will buffer us when times are hard, enable us to conjure up lost faces, and provide a vivid backdrop of scenery painted with places we have long forgot. These frozen moments in time are ours to keep and pass along. These tiny stones remind us that piece by piece we gather, shift, then gather again.

A Story about Mary as told by Jule:

When Mary was in first grade, she brought the same library book home every week. The book was called, “I want to be a Nurse.” She had the whole book memorized. From an early age, she was a nurse because she always wanted to help people. She helped an eighty-year-old neighbor who lived alone (Mae Mary) who had been a nurse for many years. She shopped for her, cleaned her house, and listened to the woman’s nursing stories. Later, she became a candy striper at the hospital. Becoming a nurse was her dream in first grade and she made it come true.

A Story about Pat as told by Jule:

Patty rarely spoke. She was a very quiet, thoughtful child. Then, when she was about ten or eleven, dad played, “The Way We Were” on the portable organ on the patio at the cousin’s party. Patty sat up on the organ and started to sing in front of her eighty aunts, uncles, and cousins as though she had done it all her life. Her father and I were awestruck…her voice was amazing. Years later, in high school, she starred as Maria in “West Side Story” and brought the house down.

A Story about Peg, as told by Jule:

Peg talked very early, and every morning, when I went into her room, she would lift up the bumper on the side of the crib, and poke her smiling face through, and say, “Ah-mornin, mommy.” She always started my day off right.

A Story about Rosemary (That's me!) as told by Jule:

Rosemary was about four when both she and the baby, Peggy, had a bad case of chicken pox. I held Peggy through the night to keep her from scratching. Because Rosemary was so sick, she was allowed to sleep with her father, which was very unusual. After two nights, Rosemary felt better and I told her she had to go back to her own room. She was furious and cried, “I’m afraid!” She stomped away. A few minutes later, she came to our bedroom door, and yelled over to us, “I know why you two always sleep together! You’re BOTH scared!”

A Story about John as told by Jule

"John was four years old. He turned to me and asked, “Who is grandma?” and I said, “She is my mom, just as I am your mom.” John thought for a minute, smiled and said, “God is so smart. That way, everybody gets a turn.”

After telling that story, mom laughed and said, “Now he has HIS turn as a grandpa!”

Cackios and Beeps- a story about Billy

Beautiful memories are soothing and best when shared. To honor this sentiment, my week will be devoted to stories about Jule's six children--one story about each child each day-- starting with the oldest, Bill. You will be hearing these stories in my mother's voice as she narrates them to me.

"Our first apartment was in Parkchester, Bronx, NY. My best friend, Kathleen, lived in the next building, and her son Michael, and my Billy were two years old. We used to take the children out in the morning to play in the park, then have lunch together in either of our apartments. One day, we put some Cheerios on their high chairs. Billy said, “I like beeps.” Michael laughed out loud, pointed, and said, “Billy calls Cackios beeps!”

Friday Gifts

I continued talking to mom about her engagement period to dad. "Back in those days," she said, "people didn't give big shower gifts or have a lot of money, so your dad and I decided we'd exchange small gifts every Friday while we were engaged-- to get ready for our first apartment."

"Do you remember dad's first Friday gift to you?" I asked.

"Yes! I was really upset and so was my mother. It was a HUGE ironing board-the biggest ironing board you ever saw in your life. When we finally did get married and move into our tiny apartment, I had to store it behind a door because it wouldn't fit anywhere else," she said.

I asked her what she got for dad and she said she bought him mostly clothing since he had nothing to wear when he came out of the Air Force. "One week I'd get him five pair of socks, another would be a dress shirt," she said. Her other gifts from him were an iron, toaster, set of towels and practical things. She loved the odds and ends of dishes, pots and pans best. "It was so much fun opening those gifts every Friday. We enjoyed it from November to June in 1951 every single week like a little Christmas," she told me.

I can't help thinking how spoiled we are today when I hear how much these mundane items thrilled her. It hit me how the years have passed like minutes and all those once treasured items are long gone, but still feel so special in her memory, not so much for what they were, but for how they would be used: in their new apartment, love nest, home.

Engaged!

I asked Mom, "What was the happiest day of your life?" She thought for a few minutes and before answering a huge smile lit her face. "The day your father proposed to me," she said. From here on, her voice took on a youthful quality, she spoke fast and sounded more like one of my daughters speaking than a woman with breathing problems.

"Dad called me and told me to get dressed up to go to a party at Jane's in Scarsdale ," she said, still smiling, "It was dad's birthday, November 28th, 1951, and it was cold but clear outside. Your father always did special things on his own birthday," she laughed when she saw me shake my head. Continuing, she said, "We were going to a party at sunset. I put on my favorite dark green wool dress and he picked me up in grandpa's car. He was using grandpa's car at the time because he was working at Brunswick School for Boys and had no car of his own--he had moved back into his old house with Pop after his time in the Air Force. He was in a good mood but oddly nervous. He started driving on the Shore Road in Westchester County when he pulled off to the side and stopped in a grove of trees by the Long Island Sound. I was confused. I thought something was wrong. Then he reached over to the backseat of the car and pulled out a long rectangular box all wrapped in white with a huge bow on it. 'I have a present for you before we go to the party,' he said. He was sweating. I opened the box and there was a beautiful bride doll in the box with an engagement ring tied to it's ring finger. The ring was platinum with a single round diamond. I looked up at your father, and he asked, "Will you marry me?"

Mom's face went back to that very moment and she paused, remembering.

"Did you kiss?" I asked.

"Naturally!" she said. "Then I asked your father, 'What about the party?' and he said, 'There is no party!' We were so happy, and so excited. I wanted to tell grandma first, but your father said, "Let's stop and tell Pop first, since it's on the way,' and we did. Pop was sitting in his favorite chair in the living room when we arrived, beaming. I could tell he had been waiting for us to come. Pop got up from his chair, gave me a big hug and asked, 'Do you have any idea what you're in for?' We all laughed and I discovered that he had helped Dad pick out the ring. He had been putting aside money that Dad sent home from his time in the Air Force and that's how they bought the ring. From there we went to my mom's house and shared the news with her. It was the most romantic night of my life, and the happiest."

Independence Day

Freedom. We cherish and celebrate freedom and independence in our country today. While reading the newspaper, I can't help but feel something so much greater than luck or gratefulness. Having been born in this country, when I was, to the parents that nurtured me, seems more like a supremely divine blessing than simple luck or good fortune. I grew up in a home that was stable in every way (albeit, with a good does of the denial and surreal jollity that permeated the fifties and lasted into the sixties in our house). Compared to the flamethrowing curse-laden dish breaking fights, the domestic violence and infidelity that dominate the news and reality television today, I grew up in a fairy tale. Witnessing the violence of the Taliban, the turmoil in Iraq, terrorism in Europe and the middle east, and poverty in major pockets of the world, my fairy tale took place in Oz.

Thanks mom and dad, for teaching me that by taking care of family in the best possible way, I secure a tiny particle of humanity that contributes sanity to the whole. My hope is that today, all people that cherish freedom and peace achieve moments of them in their lives --anchors to keep them safe when it storms.