PET PEEVES

I was given the greeting “Have a good one!” again today.  My husband got all perturbed just the other day and asked “a good WHAT?”   No one ever replies to that inquiry!  They have no idea WHAT a good one IS!   Whatever happened to “Have a nice day!”   “Come again soon”  “Thank you!” even?  The English language is rich with alternatives to “Have a good one!”

Laziness is the problem, and slang that masquerades as acceptable vernacular.  Don’t say exactly the same “canned” reply to every customer; it cheapens your relationships.  Customers like to be greeted sincerely and wished a good day, a good trip, a day full of glad tidings, a sincere “THANK YOU, come again!”

Even in our homes we just assume that our family knows they are loved whether we say the words or not.  I read a wee story in email yesterday – a middle aged man bent over and kissed his dying father on the forehead and realized that he had not done that since he was a child himself.  Something so simple as kissing those we love shouldn’t be saved for the deathbed!

My sweet husband of 55 years thanks me after every meal, even the breakfast cereal he cooks for himself in the microwave!  I guess I do the shopping, and pour the “cactus juice” in the glasses, but he brews the coffee and clears the dirty dishes.   So much to be thankful for; we often take blessings for granted.

MEMORIES

I lost a friend last month, a friend for 50 plus years!  Her Memorial Party was last Saturday.  One of her sons made a comment that brought back MANY memories. “Mom always told us that if anything happened to them, Aunt Martha and Uncle Tom would raise us.”   That of course was fine with their boys, as they knew we had two boys the same age!  We heard of many adventures; the statute of limitations had expired long ago, and grounding nearly 50 year-old sons was no longer an option.

Margrit was born in Germany eight years before I was born in Nebraska, but her parents and grandparents had immigrated to Brazil prior to WWII so she was raised in San Paulo with servants - faithful family “retainers” as she always thought of them.  I remember her sending gifts for all occasions until the last of them finally died.  She had an aunt from Brazil, who visited them annually, as did her husband’s parents from Denmark.  The parents came for the winter once the Skovs bought the house in Mission Viejo with four bedrooms, three baths and a large office for her husband, the chemical engineer.  Their purchase of the home in Mission Viejo was due to one son’s penchant for swimming and she organized many a swim tournament.  That son was also a lifeguard at the beach for YEARS and now teaches school while he and his wife raise their two, now teenage, children.

Being a widow for several years, selling the home of 40 years, remodeling two kitchens, and parting with her “family retainers” - housekeeper and gardener - who moved out of the Orange County area about the time she moved to a gated community, constituted a LOT of change in a short time.  Her apartment was on the ground floor and she seemed to make friends fairly soon.  Making new friends was a bit easier with a dog to walk several times a day.  Luna, the golden retriever, was such a gentle soul and graciously provided a softer landing on Margrit’s last FALL than the floor would have.  The bruises on her face in her son’s “took Mom to lunch” post spoke volumes about my friend’s “aging in place.”   The handyman/gardener made the long drive to take the antique carpet, vacuum it really well, and roll it for storage under the desk in her office where she wouldn’t trip over it again.

The eldest son and his wife also live nearby but he travels each week for his work with a banking enterprise so Saturday was the day he visited his mom to fuss at her, I think that his dad - on his death bed - put him “in charge of MOM” since the other son had a growing family!!  The sons are as different as their parents were!!  Margrit was warm and very hospitable and her husband, a scientist, was comfortable in one-to-one conversations.  But he went out of his way to be the genteel host when his wife wanted a party with lots of folks to feed!  Not unusual I am sure as most good marriages are opposites; I know that we are!

Margrit spoke seven languages and at one point she served as an interpreter at the Orange County Courts.  Speaking only one language I marveled that she chose me as a friend exchanging letters from wherever they moved, to wherever we moved.  She always planned to move closer to us, since she considered me her little sister and blessed me with clothes, Avon cosmetics (she was a dealer!) or yarn projects whenever we visited.  When I was in Real Estate for ten years I sent countless fliers for land to build a single story house on, with room for a garden.

I finally realized that, like my mother, she would not move until forced to and by then her sons would decide how far and when.  She did fool them though by finding a Realtor in her area who helped her find the gated community and a contractor to upgrade the kitchen first in the house she was selling and then in the apartment where she settled next.  She definitely had the German attitude – “Don’t tell me what to do, I can still be in charge of my life!”   The last time I spoke with her on the phone, our latest form of communication since her handwriting had become difficult – but she could still knit / crochet up a storm – she mentioned that she had several thousand dollars “hidden away” that her sons didn’t even know about.  Years of practice living in Brazil where the government liked to confiscate every spare penny they could get their hands on whether by inflation or taxes, not to mention thieves/bribes.

Raised Catholic in the Southern Hemisphere, married to a DANE whom she loved dearly, her religious heritage was very different from mine, but in her later days, after her husband died she attended a church for the warm welcome, food help, and the friendship of the knitting circle ladies.  She knew her ultimate destination and had a Do NOT Recessitate Order at the local hospital, so when she was taken in with respiratory failure the sons were forced after several days to “pull the plug” on the respirator.   They called me, took her mask off so she could hear me say “GOODBYE old friend.”   Then she proceeded to enjoy the attention of her family and friends for several hours while struggling to breath.  Tough old bird, my friend Margrit!  I will miss her.  See you in heaven!

Epiphany at 4 AM

Practice makes perfect is an oft-repeated phrase, but most music teachers will add – only if you practice perfectly.   I have practiced more in the past four months than I have in YEARS!!  I took on a task that no one else wanted – all of our previous accompanists had refused the Monday afternoon job and what Chorus can function without an accompanist?  So I offered; they accepted!

One introduction – the accompanist’s solo part at the beginning of the song - had me stumped; it sounded great when I practiced at home and was always ragged when played on Monday with the director and the Chorus.  I had even penciled “beats in 2” at the beginning since the time signature was 4/4.   Early this morning I woke up “counting 1-2-3-4” as I mentally rehearsed that introduction and instantly realized the “disconnect” between my practicing and my Monday afternoon attempts!  While I was still playing the introduction, the chorus began singing – I should have realized weeks ago what the problem was!

My husband, Tom, was a computer guru all of his working life and I remember him coming home more than once frustrated with a problem on a computer system.  He would say, “If I can just get it to fail, I could fix it!”   So he would tease the system into failure mode so he could SEE what the problem was and then he could fix it!  In my sleep I was able to tease myself into failure mode and NOW I can fix my problem.  It wasn’t that I wasn’t counting, I was just counting WRONG!