curlykew » Friendship

A Special Find

curlykew — Fri, 04 Dec 2009 21:46:00 +0000

I do NOT have time to be posting this now, but I just have to.

While digging through the kids’ tree box to find all of Abby’s ornaments so she can hang them on her own tree at the apartment, I found something that took my breath away.

I means nothing to anyone else. In fact, it was just “an extra” for me, hence it landing in the kids’ box. I honestly don’t even know if I got it from the sender I’d expect or not, but now. Now? This is priceless.

For any of you who knew Lisa, you know why this matters. Why this will never go into a “kids” box again. Why it will never leave tissue and special packing, but for the holidays where it will have a special, and probably aesthetically horrible spot. Because really? Who besides Lisa decorates with Ziggy anymore?

I wasn’t given the opportunity to go through her things…I don’t know why. It’s a “Summa” thing, I’m sure, which means I’ll never understand. All I would have wanted was a Ziggy or two. A Christmas ornament or two. An angel, a snowman and maybe…a pair of her scrubs. Not much. Memorabilia. I’ll not get it.

But, I have this. And now, maybe…just maybe, I’m ready for Christmas.

Wordy Wednesday

curlykew — Thu, 19 Nov 2009 01:00:59 +0000

My typical Wordless Wednesday has been derailed today. Today, I need words.

Today, on this Wednesday, there’s a lady in Atlanta, Georgia that has taken over my brain. A lady I have never met. A lady I have never even spoken to outside of light, silly banter now and again on Twitter. She’s a blogger with decent-sized following. Her blogging days started as a creative outlet and outreach for the difficult times her and her family faced while dealing with their daughter’s leukemia. Just last week, Peyton celebrated her first year cancer free, at age 5.

It wasn’t even Peyton that drew me to Anissa’s blog. It wasn’t Peyton’s cancer. What drew me, was when I clicked her link that day over a year ago, I also found out that Anissa was a Mayhew – as am I. She’s a Mayhew by marriage; I am one by birth, but it’s not a common enough name to just let it go unnoticed. I started reading, she started grabbing at bits of my heart through her humor, her passion, her vibrancy, her talent and I’ve never stopped reading. In reading, I learned that childhood cancer isn’t the only cross she’s carried. No, in July 2005, at age 31, she had a stroke. But, she recovered (minus those blasted buttons) and she has stepped into the hearts and lives of so many people through her quiet friendship, her loud friendship, her amazing writing and her fire and zest for life. Some of you might know her through her collaborative website Aiming Low, or her new personal site #Free Anissa.

Now, it’s important to note, she doesn’t even know I exist. But, that’s okay. It’s really okay, because I know she does and while this “relationship” of ours is one-sided, it’s still there. Maybe one day I’ll be a BlogHer rated blogger, but for now, I’m a reader. A reader who feels like she has a connection with a complete stranger.

Which brings me to my derailment. You see, yesterday, Anissa, age 35, the mother of 3 beautiful children, ages 11, 8 and 5, the wife of a man named Peter and the friend to more than most of us would ever dream, had another stroke. A massive stroke. A put-you-in-the-ICU-while-on-a-vent-and-are-unconscious sort of stroke. The updates have been appearing on Aiming Low, and her online friends have spent much of their time today updating each other, praying, laughing (because really, what else can they do?) and finding ways to help the family through this difficult, impossible time.

Only, it’s not impossible. Many people don’t get my love of the internet and the relationships I treasure therein. Some of those friendships have become the lifelong friendships that have carried me through and will continue to carry me through the crap of life. This is the power of such a tool. The people behind the words we read are real. We have strokes. We have kids. We have escapades and stories to tell. And we have the compassion to love and help and unite with a power I don’t think I’ve ever seen before in my offline life, and I’ve seen it today in a way I never thought possible. It’s moving and beautiful and amazing – like Anissa.

And for people like her, for situations like hers, for friends like hers, I needed words today. Words to say, “Oh my god,” and “this is so unfair,” and “please let her be okay,” and “how are her babies doing?” Words that for now anyway, are comforting us more than her, but in time, as she improves, they’ll be words that will heal her as well.

Oh, and she will heal. I truly believe she will. When someone has been lifted as high as Anissa has today – lifted by the love of others – there really is no other option but to fly.

Anissa’s family will be at the hospital a lot in the coming days and weeks, if not months. They’ll be eating out a lot. They’ll be hosting out-of-town family members to come help with the kids, to come sit at her bedside, to do those things one does when the mother of the house is out of commission. So, they’ve set up a paypal account for donations. At the Aiming Low site you can also find ways to send gift cards to local restaurants to help them through this long road to recovery.

I know most of you don’t know Anissa either. But you know the human condition, so if you’re in the financial place to donate money or gift cards, or anything, please visit Aiming Low for more information, or click the link in my right sidebar. Thank you.

And here I thought I hated history

curlykew — Fri, 17 Jul 2009 01:27:47 +0000

One of the things I appreciated most about my friendship with Lisa was that we had a history together. For those unaware, we met in 6th grade, a union of two girls from two different elementary schools whose daddies worked in the same division for the government. I still remember the first day of 6th grade when I entered the room. She was already there, sitting near the door, reading a book, waiting on class to start. My dad had given me a clear description of her, so I knew her right away.

My memory as sketched by my daughter for a scrapbook. Navy tights, denim skirt, paige-boy haircut and clunky shoes.

Our friendship was a passionate one; when it was good, it was great, when we fought, it was filled with hate. But, by the time we were seniors in college, we seemed to have sorted out the ups and downs and remained inseparable. When we’d bicker, our history came into play and we knew what to do. When one of us was hurting, often words and questions were unnecessary. History had given us the knowledge of what the other needed. When joys filled our lives, we celebrated with equal excitement as if the joy was our own…because it was.

I’ve made new friends in those 33 years, of course. And my life wouldn’t be complete without them. Some have come and gone, some have come and stayed and some, bless them, have come and destroyed, but they all count. This past year, however, I’ve experienced loneliness like I could never imagine. And the one thing I have lamented the most is, “but no one knew me when…” I’m not sure I understood the importance, for me, of longevity in a deep, abiding friendship.

Enter Mindy.

My neighbors from my infancy to age 21. L to R, Herb, Me (big surprise I was a witch, eh? I was 3 yrs old here), Julie and Dwight. Look behind us, you'll see a crib/bassinet. In that crib?? Is Mindy.

Minus the first 3.5 years, I have known Mindy all of my life. Now, full disclosure, we go years without seeing or speaking as adults. But, we’ve somehow kept up with each other through the big moments in life. The death of her father, reuniting 18 years ago for a spiritual retreat, occasional random sightings at restaurants and stores…you know the routine. But, Mindy was always there. Her brothers Herb and Dwight were the babysitters I mentioned in my Michael Jackson post – the ones who stood at the kitchen window with me and sang to MJ, Donnie & Marie, Tony Orlando & Dawn.

Sometimes, our age difference was huge. We were 4 years apart in school, so as an 8th grader, I was probably not so interested in spending time with a 4th grader, even if she was the most awesome 4th grader around. I’ve only hit one person in a fight. It was Mindy. I’ve only been hit by one person in a fight. Yep, it was Mindy. We rode bikes together, we caught fireflies together on the 4th of July as we watched the show shooting over the trees in our neighborhood. For a few summers, we picked berries off of a bush of a neighbor and got in trouble because the owner didn’t particularly like kids, especially berry pickin’ kids.

She had dachsunds, I had a huge Labrador Retriever. She had much older sibs. I was an only. She was a kid when I was a teen and she was a teen when I entered adulthood, but yet…

…we both played trumpet. We both got our Bachelor’s degrees in music education at Ohio State University. We both ended up at the same retreat that would, if for a time anyway, change our faith journeys. I trained her as a music director for future retreats and then, as happened as adults, we parted ways. We’re both happily married, mothers of two children each, living the suburban life.

When I say the names Cain, Pearson, Johnson, Oliver or Stewart, she knows what family I’m speaking of, where they lived. Our moms were friends and would be close today if my parents still lived in my childhood home. She knows the freedom of riding your bike down the hill on Roundelay – with no hands. She knows that no one in town can pronounce the street “Aida” the same way and that our street, Carrousel was definitely spelled wrong, but that’s just the way it was.

Mindy has taken our similar goals and expanded them, making her career path one I could have only dreamed of. Once her dissertation is complete, she will have a doctorate in music. She currently teaches at The Ohio State University’s School of Music and spent a number of years teaching in public schools. Me? I couldn’t stand public school teaching, thought I found my home in the church and…well, that’s for another blog entry. I’m proud of her accomplishments in ways I can’t describe. Yet, in a message in facebook a few weeks ago, she told me that I was always the cool one. The wise one. The older one. Oh wait, I still am the older one. But, the rest of it…pth. She’s passed me a million fold.

And yet, when we sat down to lunch last week, with only an hour of time to give, we slipped into a comfort I’ve not felt since…well…since May 19, 2008, the last time I dined with Lisa. The conversation was different; we had a lot of catching up to do. But there was a depth to the conversation that could only be felt by the two of us. When I admitted I’ve not worked for 10 years, she, above anyone else, knows that that’s a highly unlikely and unusual situation for me to be in. When she spoke of her sibs and her mom, I could hear things she wasn’t saying about their relationships as adults and how everything changes.

And how everything stays the same. And it’s those two dynamics that work so nicely together when you have a history. You don’t have to explain yourself. You don’t have to add disclaimers to anything. You just are. And I’ve missed it like I never knew.

For my high school graduation, Mindy, then an 8th grader, came to my party and gave me a gift. It has, from that day forward, had a prominent spot in my home.

It stays framed in the pewter frame she put it in that says, "Special moments are the start of memories that warm the heart." I think we were about 5 and 9 here and yes, she's on the left and TALLER than me.

Every move we’ve made, it remains with the family photos on our piano, even if other photos get edited or removed. Even in our separations, she’s always a part of me and my life. And now, we have a chance to travel together again. Working through grief (her dad passed 3 years ago), motherhood, being children of aging parents…all of it. Our shared interests are many and above all, we both can say, “She knew me when…”

I can’t wait to forge a new path with an old, dear, treasured friend. It’s time. I think I’m finally ready.