To France or Not to France

That doesn't really sound like an existential question, does it? However, for us, this decision involves thought about some of our basic life values and goals. Here's the story: Two of our very best friends are inveterate travelers. They've been on annual European and Asian treks since 1969, some lasting as long as eight weeks. Of course, they've traversed the US many times over. In other words, they have the traveling thing down pat.

We, on the other hand, are fairly new at the travel game, at least the international part. In May 2005, we traveled with them to the UK, where we spent two weeks doing what I call "England 101." It was your basic survey course of the country, that took us through six cities from Brighton to York. We drove 2000 miles (most of it much too fast, since my husband was at the wheel of our nice Saab Turbo), and I sat in the back seat soaking up the most beautiful green vistas I have ever seen. It was a dream come true for me, and I look back on it now with great longing to be meandering through those valleys and strolling through those little villages once again.

Well, this year our friends took two (yes, two!) trips to France, each one for about 16 days. They invited us along, but we reluctantly declined, since we hadn't yet paid off all the bills from our last sojurn abroad! Last weekend, we had dinner with them and they announced they had booked tickets in May 2007 for a two week trip to Provence, and wouldn't we like to join them.

Of course we want to join them - the prospect of spending two weeks in Provence (with a side trip to Paris) makes my heart beat faster and itch with longing. But here is the dilemma - do we want to incur another round of debt for this trip, or shouldn't we be really serious about saving for that mid-life career and lifestyle change that we hope to embark on in another three or four years? And, should we plan a trip that far in advance, considering the health conditions of both our mother's?

Part of me (the part that has hungrily devoured every Peter Mayle and Frances Mayes book)says, you should just GO - who knows if you'll have another opportunity like this, and why put off dreams in the hope of an uncertain tomorrow, yada yada. The other part (the part who never left home until she was 21, and who was trained to be practical and responsible) says, you have no business spending all that money or leaving your mother to fend for herself for two weeks.

So, what do you think? To France or not to France? That is the question....

Sunday Scribblings-Two Peas In A Pod

Molly and Magic-Two Peas In A Pod

If you've read my last two posts, you'll know I've been in a bit of a black funk. But there's nothing that can cheer me up like these two peas in a pod.

Magic is the quintessential older brother - he's sometims bossy and mean, but hugely protective. If he hears Molly barking, he drops everything and takes off in a flash in full outraged mode, ready to fight to the death to save her if need be. Molly, well, she's the epitome of the pesky little sister. She begs mercilessly for whatever toy he's playing with, rolling over on her back right in front of his face and whimpering piteously until he drops it and walks away defeatedly. They are usually never farther than a stone's throw from each other, and often sleep curled up side by side-Molly likes to use Magic's back as a pillow.

For this pair, every day is a happy new adventure. They wake up bright eyed and beautifully bushy tailed, urging us out of bed with the promise of a walk or a game with their favorite squeaky ball. They're perfectly happy with a couple of meals, a bedtime biscuit, and every once in a while a mini scoop of vanilla from the Dairy Queen. They have the best attitude of anyone I know, and luckily for me, it's infectious. A healthy dose of fun with these two peas in a pod has quite completely banished my doldrums!

To read more Sunday Scribblings, go here.

Watch This Space

Last night, I was watching an old episode of The West Wing, one from the fourth season. For fans of the show, it's the episode where C.J. goes to Dayton for her high school reunion, but winds up being confronted with the stark reality of her father's descent into Alzheimer's. She also connects with an old classmate, a former bad boy who's cleaned up quite nicely, and he offers her a bit of comfort along with some rather pithy philosophy. "For me," he says, "the best day is always the next day. It's like those blank billboards that say 'watch this space.' There's always something better coming."

Well. Hearing that yesterday, after spending a good part of the afternoon with a friend whose brillant son committed suicide four months ago, really didn't cut it for me. Hearing that after getting a phone call from my neighbor to tell me his already frail 79-year old wife fell and broke her hip today and is awaiting surgery tomorrow, didn't really ring true with me. Hearing that after reading some of the things I read in the news yesterday morning - heck, I won't even go there.

I wish there was "always something better coming." The stark reality, cute guy philosophy or not, is that the "something" could just as easily be death, or disease, or some other destruction.The big question for all of us is how to deal with the uncertainty that is the essence of life.

I have a friend whose faith in God enables her to make sense of the incomprehensible. I have another friend who swears by the power of meditation and visualization to deal with life's vicissitudes. I also know people who rely on chemicals, both legal and otherwise, to anesthetize them to life's pain. There are no definite answers to this most indefinite of dilemmas.

I try to maintain a guarded optimism about life. Admittedly, some days are more difficult than others, and I fear I have recently succumbed to a bout of old fashioned pessimism. I realize that I've been extremely lucky in my own journey, and though I've had sorrows and disappointments, none were out of the bounds of expected occurrences. I know bad things happen to good people, but I know good things happen too.

So I remain realistic and pragmatic, but hopeful. I'll keep watching the space, but I'll keep an eye on my back at the same time, just for good measure.

That's All That Matters

During the years that I've been working with high school music students, I have been fortunate to maintain long lasting relationships with some fabulous young people. I've been to weddings and baby showers for several, attended many concerts in which others were performing, and even done some accompanying for one who now has a choir of his own. I admit to becoming quite attached to them, and caring about them in ways that would probably surprise them if they knew. That's why it hurts so much to lose one. On January 31, 2006, one of the very brightest, compassionate, fascinating, and talented young men I have ever known, took his own life. Jeff was a writer, an actor, a musician, a mathematician - he was "off the wall" gifted in every area. But, unlike some extremely gifted people, Jeff was very socially oriented. He loved people, was fun to be with, had loads of friends, and was never afraid to make a fool of himself in the course of having a good time.

During Jeff's high school years, as well as those of his younger brother, his parents also became my friends. Gary and Vicki are lovely people, who have a strong marriage and have built a stable home. Watching the family together, it was evident that there was mutual respect, love, and lots of laughter in their relationships.

I had lunch with Vicki today. Whenever I am with her, I wonder how she can function at all. How can she get out of bed, take showers, put on makeup, prepare food, clean house, pay bills - all those ridiculous tasks that are just necessary in order to exist. I sit and stare at her, at the raw pain that is still etched in her face, the tears that well in her eyes at the mention of Jeff's name. And it's impossible not to talk about him, because his presence is there between us as real as if he were sitting in the empty chair at the table. We remember Jeff and the things he said and did. She talks about the plans she made to take him to see his favorite plays at the Shakespeare festival in Ontario this summer. Somehow, she does all the mundane things she needs to do and goes on living, even though her life is now defined by this huge "Why?"

I have not written about Jeff's death until now, although it has weighed heavily on my heart for the past four months. I wonder why the God I profess to believe in would allow a young man with so much promise to become so full of despair that he found life no longer worth living. I wonder why I, whose talents and potential are so miniscule in comparison, have always been able to overcome those dark demons that have haunted me from time to time, and continue to "soldier on." And why, oh why, couldn't anyone see this coming and do something to stop it?

The last time I saw Jeff was at the wedding of one of his classmates, just about a year ago in Florida. "Do you think Brian is happy?" he asked me, watching his friend dance with his bride.

"Yes, I do," I answered truthfully.

I remember he smiled at me before he replied, "Well, good, that's all that matters."

Jeff, I wish you could have been happy here with us.

Ascent of a Woman

I was a big fan of the TV show, West Wing. I came to the program late, but I've loved catching up on all the episodes with DVD's from Netflix. I adore Martin Sheen's President Bartlett, and would vote for him in a heartbeat. I'd even work for him, stuffing envelopes or any other pedantic thing I could do that would let me be on the fringes of such a charismatic figure's reign. So, I was excited about the prospect of another show about a US President, especially since this one featured the first woman President, played by Geena Davis. The show got big press, and the early ratings were fabulous. I was so geeked, thinking to myself that people were getting the idea that a woman in the White House was not only acceptable, but desirable! And on the first episode, when President Mackenzie "Mac" Allen walked onto the House floor and "Hail to the Chief" began to play, I actually felt shivers down my spine. "May I live long enough to see this for real," I prayed.

Sadly enough, the honeymoon for this President ended all to early. There were lots of behind the scenes changes, and the network kept pre-empting and then rescheduling the show, until the word came down just a few weeks ago that this Commander in Chief was being impeached for good.

In a survey quoted in last week's New York Times, 90% of those asked said they would vote for a woman President if the "right candidate came along." However, only 55% of those polled stated their opinion that the country as a whole was "ready" to accept a woman as President.

Although I was pleasantly surprised at the 90% who would vote for a woman President, it's the dissenting 55% that interest me. Here in America, a country whose very existence sprang from the desire for equality under the law and freedom of expression, a country who has always been on the cutting edge of scientific and technological achievement, a country that goes around the world blatantly and physically declaring it's superiority, it seems wrong that we somehow aren't "ready" to accept a woman as our leader. It's not as if there are no other examples to follow - there are women currently at the helm in Ireland, Germany, Finland, Chile, Liberia, and the Phillippines. But the American public's social and cultural idea of women hasn't caught up with the realities of women's roles in the modern world. And we really haven't yet raised a generation of young women with the idea that they can be anything they want to be, including the ruler of the free world.

No doubt we're making progress. When I was a child, a TV show about a woman President would have been considered science fiction, if it was even allowed on the air at all. At least, although briefly, President Allen was taken seriously as a character. She was able to portray a woman making the tough decisions when necessary, but also bringing a sly strength and common sense to her dealings with politicians both at home and abroad, much as a very clever mother would in her relationship with unruly teenagers.

Perhaps there's hope for me to hear "Hail to the Chief" being played for Madame President. That would certainly be music to my ears!