Category Archives: Beauty in the Dishsoap

A category created just for my Stonecoast work…an attempt at writing only about the mundane, every day things that happen in my life – and making them compelling. Let me know how that’s going for me, would ya?

His Eyes

04 Sunday Jun 2017

Posted by in Beauty in the Dishsoap, Family Ties, Pride and Joy, Stuff I Want to Tell You About

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So many good things about June. It’s the farm share full of just plain delicious greens I get before the myriad farmer’s market offerings at the height of summer. All that possibility. All that hope – stretched out before me; a vast display of fortuity and happenstance. Bring it on.

With it’s usual delight, this June also brings with it a basket of bittersweet fruit. My son Garrett is graduating high school in a week. I can’t write that sentence without tearing up – which is for many reasons, not the least of which is that every time I look at him these days I see the little boy he was, all whirling dervish, all heart.

He has changed, this remarkable creature, as children do.

His mind has changed. He holds opinions he can substantiate, in a calm conversation, all the while listening intently to another side. He’s thoughtful, and interested in other people, in what they think, need, want and dream about. If life were a psychedelic drug (and who says it isn’t) he’d be flying high with curiosity – the kind achieved when one gets outside of his personal experience and thinks about things from other perspectives.

His interests and goals have changed. He has surprised us with where he has chosen to go to school (UMaine), what he wants to study (Athletic Training), how he wants to spend his summer (Interning at the local Belfast Historical Society and playing Legion baseball) and how well he seems to be handling an enormous part of his life ending (Au revoir, HOME.) More than changing, he is evolving.

But his eyes. They haven’t and they don’t change. Garrett has clear blue eyes, the deep shade that remains in the sky for just a moment before the sun dips below the horizon. They’re a bit close together, and one of them is noticeably smaller than the other, and though it may sound like a mini Picasso sketch, it’s actually quite charming. Said his mother.

As always, his eyes are full of light, anticipation, optimism and promise. They are steadfast and clear. If eyes are the window of the soul, then Garrett’s soul is shining bright and bursting with wonder, awe and potential. I simply can’t wait to see what he does next.

Which doesn’t mean I’m wishing June away.

As people do when they face great changes – whether loss, shift, or gain- I’ve prioritized. My focus right now is entirely on my family, and those the closest to us (who, to me, are family as well) as we enter into a new stage with our oldest child. Life is still chaotic and unpredictable, and our schedules are insane, but there’s a calmness surrounding us when we’re together. We sense a need to connect. Like platelets to a wound, we’re rushing to strengthen ties we’ve formed for eighteen years so this young man will know and feel the supports working to hold him up.

May he never know a life without it.

Graduation is less an ending than it is a ceremony in which a person walks to end of a 3-meter diving board, raises his arms, points his toes, tenses every muscle in his body, jumps off one leg straight up to gain momentum, lands fully on the board for a tremendous spring — and jumps.  I’m telling you, this kid is working himself into a back dive with 1 1/2 somersaults, 3 1/2 twists, free position dive. He hasn’t even begun to reach his full potential.

Stay tuned.

He wrote this on a beach in New Zealand at age 12. 

I Had No Idea

08 Monday May 2017

Posted by in Beauty in the Dishsoap, Can't Categorize, Stuff I Want to Tell You About

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My friend Susan and I have a running joke about Dick’s Sporting Goods. When we’re there, we’re completely sucked in by the marketing ploys, the fancy equipment, and the brand spanking new clothes. Dammit, doesn’t that place make us feel like we could be sooooo good at golf? Or fishing? Or wrestling? The whole place makes you feel, not only like you could be a super athlete, but that, holy cow you already ARE! You just have to purchase these clothes! And these clubs and that glove right over there.

Which reminds me (somehow, obscurely)…WHY are people in my life keeping the secret of the amazing Gillette Stadium from me? (Dave and David, I’m looking at you.)

We drove down to Foxboro, Massachusetts on Saturday. I left three hours later feeling like a Patriot. And I don’t mean a patriotic American. I mean a football playing, end zone slaying, defense dismaying New England Patriot. Kind of like when I hang out at Dick’s. If I only had the field. And the locker rooms. And the uniform. And the perfectly deflated balls. (I did NOT just say that.)

We were invited to Foxboro to a celebration of Hood Sportsmanship Scholarship recipients. Garrett, facebook people know, became a finalist because of their dedication to voting daily for our boy. It’s an odd way to choose the finalists, but he also was interviewed at length, and came out a winner! To which we say HALLELUJAH! (And thank you coaches, teachers and family for the millions of ways you helped prepare him.)

We are very proud. He impressed us.

Equally impressive though, is the stadium itself. Sorry, Garrett. You’re a shining star, really. But HAVE YOU PEOPLE SEEN GILLETTE STADIUM?

She’s breathtakable.

We had a tour. We saw private dining rooms, and hung out in box seats (with restaurants attached. They have private phones for everything from “if the toilet breaks” to “you want refills on chicken wings”.) Did you know there are huge hotels attached to this place? And a shopping mall? Several bars? It’s true! We were this close to the fake grass upon which the legends play. Sigh. I love you, Julian Edelman, for this catch right here. I really do.


I don’t think the people at Gillette did it just for our group (about which, more in a sec), but as we walked around the stadium, the ending and extra minutes of Superbowl 51 played on both the Megatrons. Our small crowd slowed until we all merely stood, mesmerized by those history-making plays, calls, and outcome of that epic game. I still ask myself whether the whole thing really happened, and more to the point: how did I convince myself to stay awake for it?

I shall never doubt again.

The kids. The kids. We were there for the kids. Eighteen of them, actually, Garrett among them, chosen for their sportsmanship and dedication to athletics in their chosen sports. We met vibrant young men and women from the New England states, some of whom will go on to play in college and some of whom won’t (Garrett won’t.) They were confident, outgoing, eager students who unabashedly showed how grateful they were to be held up and honored in this way. It was special, indeed. I was happy to spend an afternoon with the future of our world.

Unlike for me, it wasn’t being at Gillette Stadium (or being inside Dick’s Sporting Goods, for that matter) that made Garrett feel like he could really shine. It was someone objective thinking about him as an athlete, a sportsman, a scholar, and saying Hey, man, you work hard. You do good work. You’re a good person. Keep it up. It really made him take notice of what matters in life (from someone who doesn’t share DNA that is.)

The tallest man, the day’s guest speaker, in the above photograph, is Gord Kluzak, of the Boston Bruins, circa 1984. He said it best, I think, when he explained that though he’d been a standout athlete (first draft pick in ’82), knee injuries at age 19 took his career in a direction he hadn’t foreseen. He still played after several surgeries, but it was his dedication to service (in his case to the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation) that gave him purpose. In other words, regardless of what kind of an athlete you are, it’s important to be a good person. Which we tell our children all the damn time.

GO US.

So. To recap: I love Gillette Stadium. I love the Patriots. I love Julian Edelman. And I also love Dick’s Sporting Goods.

But I love my son Garrett because he’s a good person. And it was nice for him to be recognized for it. Thank you, Hood Scholarship Foundation, for seeing him.

 

December Thru March Was Madness

02 Sunday Apr 2017

Posted by in Beauty in the Dishsoap, Stuff I Want to Tell You About

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I haven’t written on this blog site in months. Tell me: where does the time go?

It’d be an interesting short story to personify Time. He resembles a tall, hairy Italian man in a speedo, who wears gold chains, I think. I could bring to life the places Time actually goes while a secondary character (fine, it’s me) is busy working (a simplified way of saying spending her days completely overwhelmed by work responsibilities), spending time with her family, planning a trip to Japan and generally trying to keep her head above water. Time, meanwhile, could be, maybe, floating along on a soft current in Maui listening to dolphins’ underwater communications or something, cocktail with a little colorful umbrella in hand. He’s doing something esoteric and much more important than bending to my will. He’s just gone.

As long as we’re agreeing to personify Time for a minute, I declare that Time would be an immovable, arrogant, untouchable being. Not mean, but a little obnoxious, unconcerned with the plight of any other force. Time, after all, does just whatever the hell it wants while I hang on its coattails like a small child begging please don’t go.

Time goes anyway, and sometimes you don’t realize Time is gone, and then, suddenly, you’re aware of him, like a 7-foot tall center on the opposite basketball team who subs in and scores twelve points before your feet move to play a little defense. Because you’re 44 and you have no coach to yell at you to hustle it up. Plus you’re fooling yourself that you can play basketball in the first damn place. You’re 5’2 on a good day, and Time, as I said, is 22 inches taller. You are never, ever going to win, no matter how fast you are. Time takes six steps and he’s down the court. You, not so much.

It’s an excuse, I know. Time passes too quickly for us all. Friends and family of all ages tell me that’s true. Lately, though, Time has returned from the vacation I thought he was on, and he’s doing a great deal of blocking shots and dunking the ball I mistakenly thought was in my possession. In short, he’s kicking my ass.

When I feel like this, I question everything. Is it possible to have a mid-life crisis at 44? I think it is. I don’t want a convertible or a motorcycle, but I do find myself thinking about that list of things I’ve always wanted to do. Here are three:

  1. write for a living
  2. live in a warm climate
  3. get paid to travel

The time has come when I’ve stopped wondering if Time is on my side. He’s wearing the opposite colored jersey now, scoring points against me, and it’s time to switch up my game. It’s a losing proposition, I know, but that doesn’t mean the game can’t still be fun, that I don’t still have a few moves left in me.

I’m inspired by people who zig when you think they’re going to zag. They change things up at a time it would be easy to get comfortable and enmeshed in routine. I can’t lie: too much routine bores me.

I’m restless, can you feel it? I’m seeking new adventures.