PARIS WISDOM

There are only two choices: aging and death. And it is different for us all. We must figure it out on an individual basis, taking inspiration from our friends, companions, ancestors and the world around us. We enjoy the sunshine and wind. And we try to keep moving. We downsize our belongings, giving up the things which no longer have a significant amount of meaning for us. And we become more aware that all we can count on is "now". Betting on tomorrow, or even later, or next time is silly. It's not for sure. Not guaranteed, although it is certain that you will run out of time and before you are finished.
This trip I have noticed the elders in my wandering path. I am fascinated to see the reflection of myself in their faces, and bodies. They don't seem to give up, bravely going out each day, walking as possible and participating in the joy each day may bring. I found them sitting in the parks, often near the toilets, watching children play or just riding the buses and doing the day's shopping. I spent too much time wondering if my Mom would have enjoyed seeing Paris with me. She might have liked it more with another of my siblings but I can't imagine any of them would have taken her along. Maybe Cathy would have agreed to take her, who I think of as adventurous; or perhaps Marti, probably the more compassionate. But I think it would have been difficult to convince her, after 81-ish, to leave her cozy apartment in Sauk Rapids. She seemed to run out of steam and have secrets to protect.  What was she hiding from the world? She preferred to be alone with her TV shows, to being around other humans, even her kids. She frequently had the attitude that we were a nuisance. Yet she talked shit about us either way, complaining that she never heard from us. Yet refusing to pick up the phone. When you did make a connection, she wouldn't let you

go. Then complained that you had talked too long! It made the interaction less than satisfying, and frustrating every time. Yes, I had questions I wanted to ask her, but the time was never right. Consequently she would avoid giving an answer or explanation. The most authentic visit, for me, was the one after I came back from Arizona and she gave me a ring she was wearing. No explanation, just "does this fit you?" When I showed my Dad he obviously recognized it and told me to go back and ask her about it. And she never gave me a straight answer. I'm not surprised, just somewhat disappointed that I can't pass the story of the ring along to my daughter/grand-daughter with the object.
So what if Thelma and Louis didn't die? What if they were cleared of all charges or got of with a fine or probation. Thelma left her husband and fell deeply in love with her soul mate. Louise married Jimmy and confessed her traumatic past. His witnessing healed her pain and they all are old together meeting on sunny days of fair weather, in a park somewhere in Paris to chat about this and that. The deterioration or changes in the body. Who has an acceptable doctor or therapist or home worker. Then, one by one, they each stop breathing and slip behind the curtain of physical manifestation.

WHERE'S MY BARBIE?

I don't remember when I realized my Barbie collection was gone. But I remember a sensation of dismay. There was also a sense of my boundaries being violated and of being objectified as a daughter. as if both my being and my possessions were subject to your needs. It is one thing to have your favorite clothes, books, toys "handed down" to your younger siblings but quite another to have certain property given, with out consultation, much less agreement to distant cousins or aunties. Or both, as in my case. Midge, Barbie's friend, and Ken, Barbie's boyfriend, were also a big part of my life for a time. And then, they were given to my sister's, and appropriated by my younger brothers. And then they were gone. I imagine my younger siblings, only able to access my used, often broken treasures and how that might have felt to them. Surely, you bought them something new, underpants if nothing else, and they had a meager allowance for their own use. No wonder they resented me: the princess who came first. And you played on that perception, first by need and second by design. 

It was this day, as I held the phone while you spoke with Tony for one of your last conversations, that I heard your comment, "It's probably Julie's fault, blame it on her anyway because it is always her fault." Did you project your relationship with your sister on me? Sometimes I felt more like your sister than your daughter. And, although I know that your were quite vigilant in protecting me from sexual abuse, I often felt emotionally abused by some of your behavior.  You were so stingy with your praise that it took a very long time for me to realize you were proud of my accomplishments. In fact, it was only in overhearing conversations with your friends, in which you extolled my experiences, achievements and virtues that there was a dawning of awakening. And, as I heard your comment about blaming me, made in jest, I hope, I felt the sting that had become your long term habit of my relationship with you. Perhaps you felt my Dad "spoiled" me. After all, this was a common concern when you were raising your six children. And your Mom insisted you take responsibility for your younger sister, explaining that your brother was too busy, too entitled (my interpretation) to take responsibility for her or you. Ouch!

I remember how skilled you were as a garage sale enthusiast and flea market shopper. You found so many treasures at these venues and everyone would benefit from your passion for second hand shopping. I have tried to imagine a trip to Paris with you and what you might like to do here: sitting in beautiful gardens, sleeping a lot, watching "who dunnit" tv shows, eating sugar and cream.  But my Dad pops up more frequently than you. I suppose just because I have traveled more with him. In fact I can't remember ever traveling alone with you, one on one. We frequently went on family holidays and I remember Sunday trips to Minneapolis for shopping sessions. But, nothing jumps out with just the two of us. Perhaps you resented my marriages, and the move to California. Or you were simple more drawn to my siblings, I don't know. I just can't draw on any experiences like that with you. And in fact it appeared that you really pushed my Dad to have more contact with me as a way of avoiding a relationship with me. Were you afraid of recriminations? The times I took you back to your apartment from Country Manor you seemed so relieved to have the opportunity to revisit and regroup. 

PEPPA PIG

If it weren't for you I wouldn't know anything about Peppa and her family. But here I am, such a fan of the stories that I am spending time in Paris looking for her merchandise. Silly, perhaps, but so true...I found a whole case of books about her adventures today after I bought lollipops for you. And I can't wait to bring them back for you. I loved seeing you today and watching you play at your Mama's work. You looked like you were very happy. Your Daddy didn't get to spend alot of time with his Nana but he spent alot of time with his Grandfather. He traveled with him many places in an old brown van. It was a camper van and it had a bed in the back and not enough seats for everyone to ride safely. Maggie and Adam didn't have car seats and I'm afraid that was probably illegal. Maggie was your age. Actually, she was a little bit older: she had her 4th birthday right before we went on the trip to Canada. I can remember wanting her to be more independent but, that wasn't realistic because she was 4 years old! Not a baby, but not big enough to carry much of her own backpack, or even a purse. Or push a stroller. I remember when we got to Seattle to visit my friend Lola and she was jumping on one of Lola's bed and told Lola that her Dad was gone. And he was: very gone. And she was alone with her Mom and her infant brother and her Grandfather. I have a beautiful photo of her on the beach with her Grandfather and your Daddy. But it wasn't easy for her to lose her Daddy like that, for reasons she couldn't understand.

I want to remember my Mom, but she wasn't in alot of my life. I'm sure she saw your Dad after he was born. At the time she was living in Iowa, working full-time, and said she was praying for him because she was so afaid of home birth, even though Auntie Maggie was born at home and so I had done it before. But I don't remember her telling me her opinion about it. Or her fears. I know she had bad feelings about herself being born at home because she told me. She said that her mother didn't even care about her enough to go to a hospital. That her parents didn't want to spend money on her even before she was born. She sounded so sad when she told me. And worried that my kids would feel that way too: that I didn't care if they lived or died. Grandma Joyce had questions about alot of the decisions I made. And a few judgements about how she wanted me to live my life. Also silly because she can only be herself and live her life, not mine, I'm already in charge of mine, and being me. I'm convinced that it's important to let people live their own authentic lives and not mess up any more than possible with their preferences. It's way easier to just wait until their preferences change.