To Rome and Jackie with Love

“In everyone’s life, at some time, our inner fire goes out. It is then burst into flame by an encounter with another human being. We should all be thankful for those people who rekindle the inner spirit.”
Albert Schweitzer

(photograph: skyline of Rome looking toward The Vatican,The Janiculum hill/ Julie Cook/ 2007)

Isn’t there something most magical about the Roman skyline?
Particularly the vista that is punctuated by the magnificent dome of Michelangelo’s
engineering genius.
Are you aware that it is Roman law that no building may be built which exceeds the height
of St. Peter’s?
I love Rome, as I’ve written before.
It is a city that is dirty, loud, lurid, raucous, serene, historical, artistic,
trashy, holy and very very real.

I’ve often mused that I could live in Rome…usually, until I step in the mountains of dog poo
which line the sidewalks or when I get a good whiff of the unmistakable stench of human urine
wafting up from the stairways leading down to the Tiber River.

For Rome does have its flaws……

I cannot, however, think about Rome without thinking of a very dear friend.

I lost this dear friend today, Wednesday.
She actually died last night from a lengthy bout with cancer–an ongoing battle that
seems to have plagued her for most of her adult life.

A mutual friend and former colleague called me this morning with the news.
I had been receiving regular texts, as she had been rushed to the hospital
last week and was in ICU.
The texts were from one of her daughters who was updating the progress of her mom…
it seemed she was greatly improving daily…
that is, until yesterday evening.
She was only 78.

She was a colleague, mentor, friend, mother figure and a darn good high school
math teacher.
She was also the mother to two grown girls with families of their own as well as the former
wife of a rather notable Speaker of the House…
a Speaker who shall remain nameless as this is the place today to simply remember my friend.

She had battled colon cancer long before I had ever known her.
Her famous husband, or so the story goes, went to the hospital when she was
in the midst of her struggle with cancer and that of a life-saving surgery,
asking for a divorce.
That was the “hear-say” story, as she was not one to hang out the old dirty laundry—
and we always respected her for such and never asked for any clarification.

She never bashed him, never said a derogatory word, despite having much right to
do so… giving his philandering ways and the years of sacrifice she had made for his
rise in the state then national political picture.
She always respected the fact that he was the father to her children and therefore…
we never talked about him nor of that former life.

It was during those times when this former husband, who would try his hand at national
politics, that her life would be examined as if under a microscope by the press,
again and again.

Despite wearing the title of “ex” wife, she still seemed fair game for political fodder
or so deemed our oh so pious media (please note the sarcasm).
Reporters actually sat outside of school, in the bushes and trees for a shot, even approaching
fellow teachers for a “story”….
As we all did our best to protect her and her privacy.

The news was never flattering of her, describing her as the “ugly” one–
as she was the first of three wives.

How dare they!

She was a real woman, a real lady actually.. not one of those stretched and augmented women
not starched or altered as the many women of Washington are.
She was not a “trophy” to be lead around on a leash as if on show.
She was a beautiful lady.

I often thought of the qualities of Winston Churchill when I thought of my friend.

She was tenacious and fierce if need be—like a mama bear protecting her cubs…always
to the death.
She was like Yoda, a wise sage always full of the wisdom gained by a life lived
long and well.

She had suffered polio as a child, known sorrow and sacrifice as an adult, and
was toughened by the years of hard work… yet in the end, she was never bitter nor sad.
Her body often betrayed her as she battled countless near death illnesses,
yet all the while she managed to have a new trip or adventure in the works while
living life with chemo, radiation, hospital stays, neuropathy and lastly a stroke.

We’d never know when the cancer came back because she never really spoke about it.
She’d just be sick, fight, recover and run to another life adventure.
With skydiving being one of the last big adventures.

It was this friend that taught me to live life like there was no tomorrow—
as she herself never knew if tomorrow was promised to her or not.

It was this dear lady, this dear friend who knew of my love of Italy and
of all things Italian.
It was this friend who knew I had lost my own mom when I was young and who was
now struggling as a young wife, mom, and teacher…

She took it upon herself to befriend me and gently guide me through the often murky
waters of life.
I remember being devastated when she retired.
She was the old guard at school, the wizened sage who kept us younger teachers
in tow.
She made us laugh, think, fight and always do the right thing by our students
and ourselves.

Once she retired, we did not stay in touch as often as I had wished as our paths
simply diverged.
She now was hanging out with the other retired teachers while traveling profusely—
With Italy being the last big trip…

It was right around the time when Pope John Paul II was quite ill and actually just prior to
his death that she told me she’d bring me a memento back, something about him…for she
knew my deep admiration for the Pope.

All the while she encouraged me to go soon if I could–as she always found
travel to be one of life’s better teachers.
She brought me back a beautiful image of my beloved pope and I did manage to
make that trip a few months following John Paul’s death—
heeding her advice to go—always go…

I’d see her, from time to time, in Target or at the grocery store—
which just so happens to be the last place we actually talked.
Funny how grocery stores are so prominent in our lives.
Those off places where we run into those important folks who seem to pop in and out
of our lives…

She’d often frequented my husband’s business, sending me her “hellos”
via my husband.
Each time she’d come in the store, he’d come home from having seen her
with the latest story of the latest adventure—

After the stroke, I recently sent a card to the rehab center in Atlanta
where she had been moved while working on regaining strength, speech, and mobility.
I told her in my card that here it was, time for me to finally retire,
and off she moves over to Atlanta…
I was all ready to start our travels and would be waiting on her—
for her to get better and for her to be ready to go, once again…

Sadly, it looks as if she went on without me.

Thank you, Jackie, for everything you ever taught me—–
I will miss you.

Using all of what I’m given

“When I stand before God at the end of my life, I would hope that I would not have a single bit of talent left, and could say, ‘I used everything you gave me’.”
Erma Bombeck

(photograph: Tiger swallowtail butterfly, Julie’s carport/ 2013)

Ok, so you know how yesterday I used the image, or more aptly a silhouette, of a butterfly in order to address the thought of contrast? I was more than a bit fretful about going over to see my dad. Who knew what I’d find this week. Which thankfully was indeed a very nice visit—Praise Be!!!

Well… as I was loading up the car with some fresh picked veggies from the garden and some cupcakes for dad, dashing in and out of the house, in my perpetual state of hurry up to get going modus operandi, I saw this most beautiful butterfly sitting on the ledge in the carport. I stopped dead in my tracks. “What is the irony!!” I practically scream in my head. Just this morning I used an image of a butterfly (as I seem to have done a good bit lately) to relay my latest life’s saga—this being as if it is some sort of confirmation or ease of spirit… I see this little guy or gal resting, or more aptly dying, in my garage…and I’m thinking someone is trying to tell me something!

“Camera, where is the camera?!” (this is beginning to be a mantra of mine)

I snap a couple of shots, then gently scoop him/her up noting what seemed to be but a breath of remaining life– gently depositing him/her on a bush in the yard. A touch of nature as noted from yesterday’s post. Another butterfly as noted from today’s post……and a bit of clam resting on my shoulder before the drive over to Atalanta.

Which obviously go me thinking…….

The quote from above is by Erma Bombeck–a woman of my mom’s generation. My mom loved Erma. Erma made her laugh as she, Erma, wrote about things that my mom, as a mom who stayed home to raise kids, could relate to. I am glad Erma made her laugh and made her happy as mom lived a life that I have come to realize now in my “older” age was not exactly happy. (for starters you can read the post I wrote sometime back about my brother—Forgiveness, one step at a time).

Erma had a lovely practicality about her that she could turn into humor—thankfully so. She was real–a real person, just like me, like my mom, who struggled, made mistakes, owned up to the mistakes, was not perfect, nor glamorous—just real. A concept that is utterly refreshing in this oh so not real world our society seems to want to reside in….I admire the “real” people of our world—Erma was real and knew how to laugh at that realness.

This week is the week of pre-planning for our teachers. This week marks, officially, my first full year of retirement from school under my belt. Last year this week, I made certain I was occupied as I knew I’d be all over the emotional spinning wheel. Today, I thought about this as I was driving to Dad’s. I am not as sad or melancholy as I was this time last year but after teaching in the same system for 31 years, it’s not easy getting over the feeling of “I don’t need to be in this car driving but in my classroom working” mentality… yes, there was that feeling of guilt.

Here I was out in the world while they, my colleagues, were all back at school in countless meetings and in the near panic mode of not actually being in their classrooms working toward the most important and largely looming first day of school.

But strangely as it was, I was ok. I was doing what I retired for, that being Dad…being flexible to go when needed, or just go because I wanted to. That I had 31 years into retirement so that I could retire at 53 has been fortunate. I didn’t always think that a good thing when I was trying to juggle motherhood with teaching—never being very good at either as one or the other was bound to suffer along the way—but there’s not much I can now do about that water under the ol bridge now….just pray my son continues to grow into the wonderful man he’s becoming each and every day despite sharing mom his entire growing up.

So as Erma desired to proclaim upon her judgement day, I too hope to be able to one day do the same—proclaiming that I used everything God had given me…..its just I feel I still have a good bit of work yet to do!!!!