August 25

Moving times of various sorts

1974

After a trip to Providence and Hartford, looking for an apartment and attending a friend’s wedding. Rhode Island is promising…hopeful…different. We found a place, a good place, after two discouraging days of looking. It’s a comfortable-looking four rooms on the first floor of the place in the rear of a lot. 164 High Street, Peace Dale. New home. It’s a nice feeling. The move will be expensive and tedious. But is time to get out of Syracuse.

1980

Marley died two days ago. I had just come home, with Diane on my heels, coming to water her tomatoes.

I opened the door and Marley came to greet us, a little sleepy. I let her out, then turned to go back in the house. Out of the corner of my eye, I was watching her, as she was still dragging her foot a little. She fell on her side, and it looked like she was having a seizure. I ran to her and did a million things, it seemed, though only a few seconds passed. I called for Diane, and she called the vet and helped me get Marley in the car. Marley’s eyes were open, and she seemed to be struggling to breathe. I was so frightened! Diane said “Good luck”, but I looked at Marley and said “It doesn’t look good”. The vet helped me carry her into the exam room, but by then she looked like a dead dog, not like Marley. Just a dead dog who looked like Marley. It was all so fast I felt numb., except for the emptiness. How can emptiness hurt? 

Yesterday I went to work, and then we went out to eat. But today I’m home, for a three day weekend, and I miss her. I expect to see her in the yard, or lying in one of her favorite spots. Then I remember the dead dog that looked like Marley.

She was a terrific dog, and she was a big part of our lives. I know that now because there isn’t a thing I do or a place I can go where I am not reminded that she’s gone.

Marley, our first child. 1970-1980

1981

I feel contentment and excitement, all at once. Parenthood seems like a whole new frontier: a doorway into parts of me I have never explored. The amplification of life. I wish I were already pregnant.

Later on…welcome to the world, my brother’s firstborn. Welcome to life and love and family. May your journey be everything you desire. May you live to a ripe old age and tell stories about the 1980s. May you bring your parents joy.

My brother, the daddy! Finally grown-up, the end of one leg of the journey. So starts another stage of life for our own parents. It’s too bad they aren’t together to enjoy this moment. I still get so angry at the divorce. 

Blessings on you, niece. May you have a cousin before your next birthday.

1982

It's my niece’s first birthday! My wish for her has come true that she have a little cousin before the year was out. I find I'm spending until eight in the morning with Kiddo and eating breakfast. Maybe I could figure out how to combine playing with her with getting my exercise. She enjoys riding on my lap while I walk on my rear end, and lifting her is just like lifting my weights. That would kill two birds with one stone. Then from 8 to 10 I get dressed and do whatever else needs to be done.

I do need to get more done the night before! I can get my clothes ready, for example, and fix lunches. I could also pack kiddos bag. That way I could get more work done while she's napping in the morning.

(You will note that the old theme of this journal is back… Exercise and scheduling.)

1985

This weekend we finished re-doing the kitchen…the first major project in the house. It has been very time-consuming (getting up early and working until 11 pm, with only a few breaks for meals). Kiddo has been amazingly good - - with the help of some good old Disney video tapes. It was also a rainy weekend, unfortunately. By this afternoon she was moping around, at loose ends. The “new” kitchen really is great. I hope the wall cracks don’t show up real soon. I know it’s inevitable, but waiting a year or two would be nice. There’s still lots of work to do, like putting all the dishes and stuff away. But by tomorrow night we should have a working kitchen. It is especially satisfying to work with Jim. Reminds me of the old theater days. He’s a very good foreman - - sees ahead in the job, delegates tasks. It’s given me a chance to appreciate some of Jim’s talents that I’d almost forgotten. Work can be pleasure, under the right circumstances.

1986

Spent on clothes: jeans $31, shirt $12. One more top and a jacket would do me.

Mom was over yesterday. She’s having a lot of physical complaints, and now seems to be rapidly slipping into a depression. She’s scared to death that it could be another nervous breakdown. She had one 25 years ago, was hospitalized after she attempted suicide. Frankly, it scares me, too.

It’s in the high 60s in the house this morning. Very nice, expect for my allergies. I took an antihistamine (sorry, Kiddo 2, but I had to) and hope I feel better soon.

Comment 2023

So begins another adventure. Not fun, like the trip to Mexico, but life-changing in its own way. The 1986-87 academic year. The year my mother had to be hospitalized for depression. The year my son was born. The year I went up for promotion and tenure. 

1997

Pryor’s had peaches, but we must wait for them ripen. They are huge, beautiful, and hard as apples. “Hands to work, hearts to God.” The Shaker reminder that done right, work is a kind of meditation. So today is a work day, one begun with solitude and spiritual focus. Then I cling to that feeling of awe as I move though the mundane activities of my day. Guide me invisibly, spirit, but don’t completely disappear.

Comment 2023

The more I do these daily transcriptions, the more I marvel how how my mother’s death in June 1997 transformed me. There is more overt spiritual seeking, the beginnings of what is now my morning ritual. I seem more determined to savor and cherish each day, each season, to notice and enjoy the small good moments. 

2014 

The second full day at Star Island began with sunrise and tea, watching the cedar waxwings steal insects from spider webs. Listening to the gulls, watching the sky grow lighter. Brief, pleasant chats with new acquaintances. Now some time in my room, reading and preparing for the day.

Tarot: Shaman of Wands, leaning right. My desire and ability to direct outcomes. Yes, which is probably why an open-ended search or unresolved questions are so frustrating to me. The road must lead somewhere, or why bother?

Gift from the Sea: Moon Shell chapter: Solitude. I have no problem with solitude, though I sometimes have the impulse to fill the silence with TV or music. It bothers me not one whit that there is no TV here, but I do miss music.

Sunset. A full day. Nap, drawing, lunch, geology hike, reading, another nap, social hour, dinner (lemon blueberry cupcake, oh my god!) Sunset. A sweet day. Oh, and I took a shower.

Today I was actually bored. I am starting to feel the stirrings of a productive urge. Right now I satisfy it by sketching and writing in my journal. Tomorrow will be a quiet day, with many people off on an excursion to a nearby island. Maybe tomorrow is the day to visit the south side of the island. 

Here it is 7:42 and I am getting sleepy. But I was up to see the sunrise, and even with two naps, I am entitled to be sleepy.