Monotone Me Post # 56

                One day a southern girlfriend called to say there was something bothering her and she decided to just ask me out right.  I couldn't imagine what it was and was concerned about what was about to be said.  When she shared her feelings, I was both relieved and perplexed.  Something I had worked so hard to squelch has now backfired.  Basically, she said something like this:

 “Mary Beth, when I share something really exciting with you, you have no reaction!  You just simply say, ‘Okay!’ or ‘Great!’ but there is no emotion in your voice or expression on your face!  I was talking with some other people and they noticed it too.  We can never tell what you’re thinking.  Are you happy for me when I tell you something good?  When you tell me something that you’re upset about, you show no emotion and I can’t tell if you’re really upset or just commenting on it.  And the same when you’re happy!  Your voice is so monotone and your face shows no expression!  We don’t know how to read you!  Is it a New York thing?”

I love the ‘New York thing’.   It would have been a really convenient ‘out’.  But my Yankee friends are anything but flat-spoken – most are Italian and there is never a monotone moment with an Italian.   Being the joker I am, I had contemplated telling her that I had Botox - or whatever those shots are that freeze your face - and that my face was just too frozen to make an expression, but wisely chose not to lest, giving birth to a new rumor. 

When I was young
It seemed that life was so wonderful
A miracle, oh it was beautiful, magical
And all the birds in the trees
Well they'd be singing so happily
Joyfully, playfully watching me

Supertramp - The Logical Song Lyrics | MetroLyrics

As a child, my role in the family was perhaps the drama queen.   Always an adventurer, I wore my emotions on my sleeves and the inflections in my voice when telling a story were swept up and down with the present feelings.  I talked fast and used lots of hand motions, arm movements, and perhaps a little bit of theatrical arts to get my point across.

                But then I went to college where learning to get my point across objectively and - as a psychology student - being shock proof, was crucial for success.  We were told, “Nothing will shut a patient/client down faster than a strong reaction to something they share with you in the counseling room.  Therefore, it is imperative to be shock-proof regardless of your own feelings and emotions.“   Poker face, I believe, is what they would call it these days.  For my internship co-leading group therapy, my fellow therapist and I were evaluated and filmed through a two-way mirror and after the sessions two times a week, we sat with a psychiatrist and an MSW to process our own reactions during the session.  They would pull up moments in the film to show us ourselves and then we’d discuss what was going on in our minds.  The point was to develop self-awareness of our own body language and how it may affect our patients.

But then they sent me away
To teach me how to be sensible
Logical, responsible, practical
And then they showed me a world
Where I could be so dependable
Clinical, intellectual, cynical

Read more: Supertramp - The Logical Song Lyrics | MetroLyrics

            So, shock-proof, or poker-face is what I became.  Just like my daughter, an aspiring theatre student, who is studying and striving to put more inflection into her voice and to learn to use it according to the situation, I had striven to get the inflection out of my voice, regardless of the situation.  After years of studying and practice, both in professional and in real life settings, I must have done a great job at it, hence the phone call from my southern friend.  Over the years since then, being in the south has brought back the parts of me that have long-since been buried.  My sense of wonder about the world, the magic, and excitement of waking up wondering what each new day held in store may well put a little inflection back into my personality.

          

My shy sister - who is no longer shy!

  I remember when my shy sister moved south about thirty years ago and suddenly she used more inflection in her voice and, like a good southern woman, can hold her own in a conversation.  Recently, at Thanksgiving, she joked about putting the high strung, dramatic baby sister (me)  next to the rebellious teenager (her thirty year old daughter) and it was then that I realized how long we had been apart and how quickly we get tossed back into our childhood roles when we get together with family.

            Regardless of my Mr. Spock-like demeanor, I do have emotions;  like the peace that sweeps over me when I see the moon rising over the bay, and coziness that envelops me while sitting on my porch swing covered by Live Oaks. 

And I feel pure bliss when I smell the ocean breeze and feel the sand between my toes, and my spirit soars when I hear Celtic music and American Indian wind instruments, and I  may feel a little sassy when I hear southern jazz – New Orleans style, and happiness when the phone rings from those I love.   I may never have the voice inflection that will give my southern girlfriends the cue that I am engaged in what they are saying.  But I certainly am present and am forever amused at those who can and do converse like they are the star of their current life drama and, as long as that drama doesn't spill over into my life, I will certainly walk through it with them.

Jubilee! Post # 55

                It was February of 2008 and I still lived in NYS but had known for the previous four years that I was Alabama-bound.  After realizing that Alabama also lies on the Gulf of Mexico, my lifestyle research about Birmingham was refocused to the coastal towns and cities.  I began calling yacht clubs and bed and breakfasts to get information about life in Southern, Coastal Alabama.

                Calling a B&B in Fairhope, the owner was eager to share his love of this area, particularly Daphne and Fairhope.  He, too, had lived in Upstate New York in the Niagara Falls area and had moved south thirteen years before.  When I asked if the move really made the difference he had hoped in his well-being and outlook in life, he said, “Oh!  Mary Beth, Fairhope is magic!  And so is Daphne!  This whole side of the bay is magic!”   That stuck with me, though I didn’t know how much until I have been able to experience it myself over the years.  I have since moved to Mobile which is on the opposite side of the bay and has magic of its own.   Being that it’s only a 10 – 25 minute drive, depending on where one is going, I ‘cross over’ often, particularly when touring out-of-town guests, or simply when I find myself in need of the captivating beauty that puts me into a dreamlike, happy frame of mind.

                One of the magical things about Daphne is Jubilee, an anomaly that happens in only two places on the planet:  Japan, and Mobile Bay.  

 Daphne prides themselves nationally as being the town of Jubilee.  That is when the bay does something weird, like flips upside down, forcing all the oxygen to the top of the water, thus all the sea life also comes to the top for air.  This means easy catch!  Daphne, which is a few miles up the bay from Fairhope, where one must drive through to get from Mobile to Fairhope, has a jubilee bell.  The natives know that Jubilee happens at certain times of the year and many arm themselves (and their cars) with buckets, nets, ice chests, flash lights, rain boots, and anything else they may need for the occasion.  When the bell goes off, people stop what they are doing and run to the bay to scoop up their seafood dinners, which include crabs, oysters, shrimp, and all kinds of fish.  The newspapers are called and the media is fast on the spot to announce to the world that there is a jubilee going on in Daphne.  That’s what brings the Mobilians over to grab their share.  And now with facebook and twitter, it’s just a matter of seconds before word is out and the seafood frenzy is on. Employees will leave work, and businesses that are not dependent on walk-in customers – will close their doors for a couple of hours while workers dash down to the bay to snag up their catch. 

               

                I imagine dinner tables those evenings are lush with delightful treats, ranging from fried soft-shelled crabs, crab cakes, grilled oysters, and Cajun shrimp, and neighbors are sharing grilled feasts straight out of the bay.  Wine is flowing and people of all ages and walks of life are bubbling with merriment.  A charmed life, it is.  It is magical, whimsical and I imagine that in struggling households, it is like a celebratory feast.  It gives me a much better understanding of the biblical stories about jubilee.  But apparently, it doesn’t just happen in Daphne.  Fairhope boasts of it too, but not so loudly.  And across the bay, let’s hone in on the Buccaneer yacht club in Mobile and hear what they have to say about jubilee.  

One of my favorite, no nonsense Alabamians, Jimmy Wacker, says it like this.  “We get jubilee over on this side of the bay too!  It’s just that we’re not dumb enough to ring a bell and call the news media and tell everybody!  We keep it for those who live and work here!”   And with all the sports fishermen and the families who thrive on the seafood lifestyle, I’m certain that the same jubilation happens with the celebratory dinners in Mobile, just a little less show casing.

                 It seems to happen at different times to each area.  Whether it is shouted to the world, or kept a secret, it is just one more reason why Fairhope (and Daphne) are so enchanting.  And apparently, Mobile is too!  But good luck finding out when it happens until long after the fact!   It’s not uncommon to hear a Coastal Bay Mobilian say, “Oh yeah!  We had a Jubilee a couple weeks ago!”  

http://www.fieldandstream.com/answers/fishing/bass-fishing/where-fish-bass/has-anyone-ever-experienced-jubilee-or-even-heard-it-it

The Coffins Are Loose Post # 54

 “Only in New Orleans”.   Every place has those things that only happen there and, to the rest of the country, seem so foreign that some would wonder if it was fact or fiction.  Living on the Gulf Coast in the Deep South – snuggled in between Pensacola, Florida, Gulf Port, Mississippi, and on to New Orleans – Mobile has its own plethora of ‘believe it or not’ incidents.  These are occurrences that happen more than once and will likely happen again.  And these will be the focus of some of my next few posts.  But in this one, let’s go visit our western neighbors over in New Orleans.

I woke up one morning to a text from my sister in Oklahoma City that said, “Turn on the news and look what’s happening to your neighbors over in New Orlean!”.  Not having TV or internet, I had to wait till I got to work to discover what she was talking about.  On Yahoo news was the story of flooding over there and coffins coming out of the ground and floating down the street; something that has happened before and will happen again.  A co-worker came through the room and, seeing several of us huddling around the computer watching the news clips, she happily exclaimed, “Oh!  The coffins are loose again!”  And then she continued on as though it was just another day in the Deep South – which is exactly what is was!

My first thought was, “Only in New Orleans!”  But I was not referring to the flooding that happens occasionally.  Or the fact that the city lies in a bowl and is a sitting duck for storm surges.  My thought lied in the fact that in New Orleans, they really know how to turn any occasion into a grandiose affair.   A street car driver told us if a native New Orleanean catches a cold or flu, that’s cause for a party and many have been thrown for that reason.  Aside from their well-known Mardi-Gras celebrations, there are the jazz weddings and jazz funerals in which people parade the streets, and St. Patrick’s Day parades that they throw – yes throw – heads of cabbage and bags of potatoes and carrots to the crowds.  So much in fact, that nearly everyone who attends goes home with the ingredients for dinner in hand, but I often wonder, ‘How many people floating in those caskets died from getting hit by a cabbage, a bag or potatoes, or a bag of carrots on St. Patricks day?’  Then there are the many street musicians, all of which make every day feel like vacation and it is what gives New Orleans that slow moving ambiance that rendered the name ‘The Big Easy”.

Living in Mobile, often called ‘New Orleans Lite’, has rubbed off on me and I have learned the art of living well, right, and freely.  Then I think of dead people, particularly the northern dead, laying up there freezing their dead asses off in their graves during the caustic, bitterness of winter.  My mind shifts to the southern dead, sweating the pants off in their southern caskets and it is a toss-up deciding which I want to ultimately end up being.  But then I think of the New Orleans dead – particularly those who get to make a reappearance and float around in their caskets while the rest of the world is in chaos.  I mean think about it - and I can say this because my mom is dead but she had a great sense of humor.  You are sitting at the dinner table with the fam when suddenly you hear a crash at the door.  Your kid runs to look out the window and says, “Hey Mom!  Grandma’s back!”  Or another scenario:  “OMG!  Somebody go out there and catch Mom and Charlie before they end up in Lake Ponchartrain!” 

Now, I know this post is morbid and many with dead loved ones would not see the humor in this but think about it!  We spend our childhood thinking about what we want to do when we grow up.  We spend our adulthood thinking about what we want to do with our retirement.  We spend retirement thinking about our care should we need it when we are old.  But when was the last time you thought about what you want to do when you die?  And don’t give me the big, “I don’t care I’m going to heaven speech!”  or the more glorified version,  “I’m going to be dancing in glory before the Lord!”  Hell!  I know that!  But what does your body want to do when it dies?  And now that I know there is a choice, I know for damn skippy, if I  have the option to escape and float around during storms, I choose that!  Yes!  My body chooses the floating option; a more relaxed version of death.    And my downline of people – kids, grandchildren, and so forth, will always have to mind themselves and make the right decisions in life because they will never know when Grandma will come crashing at the door!

Celebration of Summer Solstice Post #53

A day early - I have no internet at home so I can enjoy things like this!

Hello again, my sweet summer solstice,
our meeting place of celebration
The sun rises early, painting the skies in pink
And the birds wake me with their melodies
Singing sweet lullibies of days long past

The Live Oaks drape my world as though framing a precious memory
And the warm breeze carries the scent of Gardenias and sweet olives,
Lulling me into daydreams of secret gardens with wrought iron gates;
Each leading into different seasons of life.

I once heard,  "Important encounters are planned by the souls long before the bodies meet."  (Paulo Coelho, Eleven Minutes)
In the depths of my secret garden I remember….
And the beauty of summer solstice once again fills me with peace

Basking in the wedge between spring and summer
Enveloped in the warmth of the farthest place from winter
Seasons come and Seasons go, each carrying it's own theme;
Perhaps the lessons our souls are summons to learn.

And as one season melts into the next,
and the moon lays its head to say good night to you,
My sweet friend,
I will always be thankful when remembering the soul of summer solstice

Who, after embracing me in the folds of summer,
Relinquished me like a butterfly
to find my own path through this magical journey called life.

Farewell my friend,
Come summer, fall, winter and spring,
and then we will meet again.

Come Sail Away Post #52

            Come Sail Away” by Styx, I guess you can say, is the theme song for my life. Several months ago, I was cooking dinner when my kids were in the next room talking and I heard Shanon say, “You should hear Mom sing Come Sail Away!”  To which they said, “I love when she sings that!”  Though I’m not much of a singer, I’m certain what they love is my heart and passion when it comes on.

I'm sailing away,
Set an open course for the virgin sea,
'Cause I've got to be free,
Free to face the life that's ahead of me,
On board, I'm the captain, so climb aboard,
We'll search for tomorrow on every shore,
And I'll try, Oh Lord I'll try, to carry on

               

As a child I was the adventurer of the family and on hikes, my sister Kare and I always led the pack anxious to see what was around the next bend.  Many times, while walking somewhere I would notice a path and veer off to find out where it went; probably not the smartest thing to do but I couldn’t stand not knowing.  In 2007 I began studying the mind, body and spirit connection and started looking at things from the ‘energy’ perspective.  Everything either feeds or bleeds, and some things that initially feed will ultimately bleed if we linger too long. 

I look to the sea,
Reflections in the waves spark my memory,
Some happy, some sad,
I think of childhood friends and the dreams we had,
We lived happily forever, so the story goes,
But somehow we missed out on the pot of gold
But we'll try best that we can to carry on

            Since childhood, I often stop to look back and reflect;    “Where have I been, where am I at, and where am I going?”   Failure has been my companion more times than  necessary, and there were ‘happily ever after’s’ that never happened.  Being more than half way through life, every so often I ask myself, "How do I get to where I want to go?" At times I have questioned God, myself, and my alleged Guardian Angels and even contemplated kicking some Angel butt and telling them they were nothing but a bunch of dumb asses.   But again I would find myself praying…to God,  the universe, and even to my Guardian Angels,  seeking direction and asking  for wisdom.

A gathering of angels appeared above my head,
They sang to me this song of hope and this is what they said,
They said come sail away, come sail away, come sail away with me lads,
Come sail away, come sail away, come sail away with me,
Come sail away, come sail away, come sail away with me baby,
Come sail away, come sail away, come sail away with me

               

And one day, the answer came and it is quite simple; the ‘power of next’.   Who is standing next to you?  Who are you investing your energy – time and resources - in?    Until then I thought that most people had been a positive experience.  But it was as though I was being probed further.   How long have I hung on to relationships that have outlived the purpose of our lives intersecting?  Who has been let in that shouldn’t have?   Who did I keep out that should have been let in?   I thought back to my college years;  a boss saw leadership qualities and begged me to stay with the company and let her mentor me into a management position but I didn’t have the confidence and moved on;  the young men who stepped forward and offered their friendship and love, the same men who actually turned out to be great people.   

But there were times when opportunity knocked on my door and I brought the wrong people along because I could see the potential in them, while at the same time, pushing my own horizon further away.  

       My eyes were opened to well-meaning people who come along and, rather than walking with us thru overcoming our fears and failures, they help us repackage it so that it looks prettier, more palatable and convenient to them.  Yet we find ourselves eventually doing nothing more than the hokey pokey but to a different song.  

       There were times I was too shy to step forward with what I had to bring to the table when I spotted people with shared passion, goals and energy, only to find out years later that they had identified the same in me but the message I gave was that of disinterest and it discouraged them from stepping out.

But one thing I will never stop doing is ‘sailing’.   I will continue to ‘Face the life that’s ahead of me’ and ‘search for tomorrow on every shore’.    I’m more conscious of who is allowed into my life and will be quick to part ways with those whose shared path is only meant for a short part of the journey – as hard and painful as this can be.  I’m committed to walking with those I love, through their fears and pain rather than repackaging it for my own convenience.   I will travel and explore the world and all life has to offer as I can.  But most of all, I will step forward – both in friendship and love – and accept the risks and potential pain that may come with that because one thing I have never stopped believing in is ‘happily ever after’.

Mardi-Balling Post #51

Mystic Stripers Queen

            Since moving to Mobile in 2008, I have done anywhere from three to eight balls per year during the 4 week season.   Working from home  my first five years here afforded me the option of sleeping in on the following mornings.  Last year, I started a fulltime job outside the home in late January, right at the start of the carnival season.  At the same time, I had the flu and eight ball invitations at hand.  Adjusting to a corporate schedule for the first time in 10 years, by the time the balls rolled around, I was already exhausted and didn’t want to mess up things at work so it was imperative to come up with a new approach to ‘Mardiballing’.

            The key thing to know is that maneuvering through whole season means balancing the parades, balls, and peripheral activities such as brunches, lunches, receptions and dinners during that time with real life.   I learned the art of doing the ‘doll and dash’;  doll up, dash to the ball, watch the callouts (tableau), have a bite to eat and a drink, greet the host, perhaps a dance or two, and dash back out the door between 10:30 – 11:30.  I’ve become quite proficient at being home in bed by the pumpkin hour.

Order of Persephone - Emblem

  Talking to others in the same situation, they would do things differently –  either come for the long haul and deal with the repercussions in the morning, or to skip the tableau and show up to eat and drink, enjoying the latter half.  But contrary to most Mobilians - who were born and raised here - the one part I wouldn’t miss is the tableau (call-outs) and there are a few reasons for that.  First it is what the society members live for all year; to parade and their ball tableau.  It is their time of recognition, as silly and funny as it can be.  In my own opinion, making that part of the ball shows appreciation and respect for the host who invited me – though having 20 plus balls per season (as many do) could very well change my mind on that. 

Order of Persephone - Queen

But the main reason I love the tableaus is, because after six years of living here, I still haven’t gotten over the fact that this even goes on; that there are forty plus balls per season and each entail hundreds of people in brand new costumes, a king and/or queen with robes that start at around $10,000 and can go up to six figures – from what I’ve been told.  I still can’t believe that everyday people are willing to dress in silly costumes, parade around the city, spend hundreds of dollars out of their own pockets to throw beads, toys, moon pies and other goodies to crowds that can be 50,000 to about 120,000 when the season is in full swing.  And then after that, they host their balls and are introduced on the stage as they bow to the king/queen and dance down the stairs in the spotlight.  I mean, seriously!  You would never see such a thing where I came from and anyone who even thought of it would be considered a fool.

Venus Queen & Court - Pre-robe.

Yet, here’s literally thousands who do just that, and then tens-of-thousands more who show up to watch the stuff and celebrate.  All those years back, while shoveling snow and holding my breath while running from the car to the house to keep my lungs from freezing, never in my wildest dreams would I believe that there was a place that actually did this even one time, let alone over and over for a period of four weeks every year.

But now that I know this, there is no turning back.  No matter how tired I get, how many times I find myself in tears when I remember that I have a ball that night and I’m already exhausted, I will still muster up the energy to go, if only for the call outs.  There is something extremely empowering about going to parades and balls when the news and my northern Facebook friends are sharing their struggles with the horrible winters.  It is almost a feeling of cheating death.  Perhaps I have the fear of forgetting the suffocating feeling that I constantly felt while living in that weather, and the immense amounts of time that were spent managing the snow; time that is now spent on parades, balls, and all of the other festivities.  For me, Mardi Gras is a way of celebrating freedom and my own escape from my ex, whose name is ‘Old Man Winter’.

I Painted My Couch! #50

Yup!  You heard it right!  I painted my couch!   The whole thing!  I recently moved and, being that Shanon only has two and a half years of school left, we had hoped to make our new pad as cool as possible, doing all the decorative, girly things we had been pining to do.  But we are also firm believers in sticking to a budget and doing things within our means so I sold my beautiful, Chesterfield leather sofa and for half the amount purchased a 30 year old Broyhill set that was covered in plastic; probably by some old lady whose grandbabies knew that whenever they visited her, they would sweat on, and stick to, the plastic. 

The set was a very deep burgundy with ornate wood on the arms and was not what I would have chosen had I not had this brilliant idea in my head that it could be transformed.  Transformed!   Transformation - 1. a change or alteration, esp a radical one: 2. the act of transforming or the state of being transformed.  This would definitely be a radical change, one that would not be an easy one. 

                After Mom’s brain injury in 2004, she no longer had a choice about anything in her life.  Being rendered an invalid with no ability to even roll over, she did whatever the caretaker decided she would do, and the options were limited being that she was wheelchair or bed bound.  Though we did our best to give her the best quality of life, often taking her to the mall, out to dinner, or even to the boardwalk on the beach, most of her time was spent in front of the TV either in bed or in the wheel chair.  Mom was vibrant, vivacious, and full of life and TV would have been her last choice of how to spend her time.  Being a part of this was life altering for me because I realized that, if we are not growing and changing – transforming - we are decompensating.  There is no such thing as ‘stagnant’, as some would like to believe.  We can get stuck in a rut, hit a brick wall, or find we’ve hit a dead end.  When that happens, it’s like an electrical socket that has energy running through it with no place to go therefore, it goes haywire doing more damage than good.

 For a variety of reasons, that is how I was feeling on many levels for a few years.  As much as I

love living in Mobile, if there is a weakness here, it is the fact that it takes out-of-towners about five years to break into the local professional community.  It’s about who you know or are related to when it comes to employment, rather than education, experience and qualifications.  There are hundreds of overqualified people working menial jobs just to survive and underqualified people working executive level positions because somebody they know put them there.  Yet, If I could have my way, my primary job would be taking care of and serving those I love the most – my family – and I’d make extra cash by doing whatever cool project I could get my hands into.  But the need to survive and provide means most of my energy is going to my job and professional development, and the rest of my life (family) gets the leftovers.  And though Mobile has been extremely generous to me in the social arena, until being hired at a national company just over a year ago, finding viable employment was akin to going out and slamming my head into a brick wall, just as I had been warned by ‘newbies’ before me, and am often confided in by those who came after me.

On a personal level, some of my relationships were also at a stalemate, the point where we had gone as far as we could take one another within the context of the relationship and current existence.  Sometimes, we thwart another’s growth as much as they do ours.  It doesn’t mean that either party is bad or good, or wrong or right.  But sometimes we have to let good things and good people go, or readjust our circumstances, in order to continue our own path of growth and transformation.  This is not to say that every person or relationship is expendable; rather that sometimes we have to part ways - temporarily or permanently - to remove the obstacles that stand in the way of moving forward.  When we no longer have the ability to transform, it’s time to assess and adjust.

 What is most amazing about stepping out of the comfortable is that the floodgates open and the needed resources and right people seem to magically appear.  I have come to believe that there is a natural principal at work that blocks these resources until we are ready to take the necessary steps to sow a return of investment for the energy invested in us by others in order  to keep from wasting their generosity.  I have been blessed and amazed at who and what has shown up to walk this next leg of my journey with me.  In a strange way, like the poem, Footprints In the Sand, both naturally and supernaturally, it seems that we are being carried through this part.

The Chesterfield at Ken's house

My transformed Living Room Set

            I will miss my Chesterfield.  It was a fun and beautiful couch.  But it has a job to do for my good friend, Ken, to transform his home.  My new set has been altered, and it will transform mine.