Grownup

I always wanted to be a "grown-up" when I was a kid.

It was the 1970s and I felt like I was missing out on so much. Not only did I live in a small town away from all the action, I knew that the things I really wanted to do would be gone by the time I was "legal" and, hopefully, living in a city. Any city. I like to think I was a pretty astute observer as a young teenager. I turned 13 in 1977.

I spent a lot of time watching television. As much as I enjoyed the sitcoms of the 70s, I'd often find myself watching old black and white movies from the golden age of Hollywood. I became such a fan that I could match star name recognition with my mom--who actually lived through the era. Often, I'd watch these old films with a sense of nostalgia as well as loss. How could that be?  I mean, one can't be nostalgic for something they've never experienced right? The behaviors and mannerisms--as well as the beautiful clothing--were all lost to time. So...you would think I'd be dying to escape the tackiness of the 70s. I did recognize the outré art of the time. I hated the faux wood paneling, the thick dark carpeting, the avocado green appliances and the bulky living room furniture. Now I almost have a sense of nostalgia for all of that.

Thinking back on my adolescent years I feel nostalgia for all kinds of things. The town of my youth doesn't resemble what it was while I was growing up so going back to visit doesn't feel like a trip back in time anymore. I say "anymore" because, for many of the years I lived in Texas, a visit to the small Pennsylvania town of my youth was indeed a trip back in time. In fact, it was a place where time stood still. All of that changed in recent years as the same devastation that decimated large cities of the rust belt rippled out to rural communities as well. As my trips back to Pennsylvania increased in frequency as my parents aged, I couldn't help but notice how irreversible changes were taking place--none of them good. The newsstand closed. Small shops on the main street were boarded up or torn down. The only grocery store that remained actually closed for a few years as well, forcing residents to travel several miles just for food staples. I found that returning to my little town as an actual grown-up was quite depressing. Being "grown-up" wasn't all it was cracked up to be after all--even living in the city.

My grade school years were spent at a parochial school adjoining our Parish--Holy Rosary. At some point in the late 1980s, even that closed down and the empty halls where my behind was paddled more times than I care to remember were now ghostly images where memories would have to suffice out of necessity.

Being grown-up didn't turn out to be anything as I'd expected--well, at least not as my teenage mind imagined. But I suppose I had a few prescient ideas when I realize that I was in fact correct. Those things I wanted to do and see as a grown-up really didn't exist anymore.

Holy Rosary Grade School. 1978.

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Thomas Boylan · Introeatingwords2.WAV

Thomas Boylan · Grownup.WAV

Quarantine Musings On Day 43

Today marks quarantine day # 43. With the exception of two outings--one on April 5 and the other yesterday--I haven't ventured more than one hundred feet from our little apartment. COVID-19, colloquially known as "Coronavirus", has changed life as we knew it. My fear is that the change will be permanent in some way or another. It's hard to imagine how that change could be positive.

Here in Georgia our governor has mandated that restaurants and theaters are allowed to open beginning today. Though many have opted to continue a suspension of in-restaurant dining, there are many that will resume with "social-distancing" orders to be followed. As much as I personally want things to get "back to normal" I can't help but think this could backfire with cases and deaths on the increase in this state.

I began my day on March 16 with bold aspirations. I was going to tackle all of my boxes with family photographs and continue the time-consuming task of digitizing them. I was going to do a lot of baking and cooking. I planned on journaling each day and writing regularly for my blog again. There were lots of classic movies on my DVR and I intended to view them on leisurely afternoons after reading numerous books that had accumulated on my bedside table or near my sofa. I was going to faithfully read the daily newspaper that still arrives on my doorstep each morning. There were so many good intentions. To my credit, I didn't squander all of my time. I mean, I actually did either start or complete a number of these things.

Less than a week into this new "abnormal" my husband began working from home. It's a two-bedroom place, our apartment. He typically travels quite frequently for work and, since I teach part-time, we go for stretches without seeing one another. Normally. He now must maintain communication with all of the South American countries he does business with. In Spanish. Out loud. Let's just say it's not an ideal situation for reading--even with my headphones on. Still, it's nice to be spending more time with him--and it beats being alone in isolation I'm sure.

There is a balcony. I've been able to take advantage of it on the nice days and I've filled the birdfeeders with a new selection of seeds designed to attract a larger variety of birds. The new mixture hasn't disappointed and it's so cool to see the huge variety of colors and hear the different songs.

I really can't complain. We aren't hurting. We have food in our bellies and a safe, comfortable place. We have wi-fi and smart phones and Zoom. We have clean water and the ability to take daily showers even if we haven't worked up a sweat. I check myself often when I want to complain because--really--I have very little to complain about. The fact that I recognize this may set me apart--perhaps just a little--from some of my likewise privileged counterparts--who may not have recognition of their blessings.

Am I scared? You bet. But I can't even begin to grasp the fear that some are feeling right now. For that, I'm grateful.

Easter Visit

I want to visit with you two for a bit so I'm virtually visiting your resting place. I can look at this photograph and be thankful I had the foresight to have you both pose for it.

Dad, you recently turned 95! I thought a lot about you on your birthday--although I think of you very often when something activates my memory. Even though we lost you when you were 87, I like to think about what you would be like at this age. What new wisdom would you have gained? What do you think about COVID-19 and our current political situation? You always had an opinion. I miss them--whether I agreed with them or not. I thank you for your unwavering unconditional love.

Mom, you are 97 today! Happy Birthday! You are part of my every day. Not a single one goes by where I don't think of you and grieve for you. Yes--even after 2 plus years. I watch the birds come to our birdfeeder and remember what you said about the cardinals. A male and female come faithfully every day and I like to think they are you and dad. Your prayers and your prayer journal comfort me daily. But God, how I miss our talks! There are still so many unanswered questions and family photos to identify. I'm glad we covered as much as we did when you were still with us but I can't hear you anymore--save the vain imaginings of what I think you'd say.

I'm okay. This staying indoors affords me the opportunity to do so much reading and writing. I can imagine you saying "this is your dream come true, you lazy bum." Of course, with a smile on your face. I know you are taking good care of dad and Eva. It must be great to have Aunt Kay, Aunt Bernice and Aunt Bow with you...and now René. Is there weed in heaven? If there is, I'm sure she's still smoking. Give her a hug for me. Give them all a hug for me. We can't hug anyone down here right now although personally, I've never been big on hugging. But you know that.

It's time for me to get back to my journal. I write about the memories of the last four years we had together while still fresh in my mind. It was an honor to be your caregiver.

I love and miss you both so much. I look forward to the day outside of time when we will meet again. I hope it's not too soon. I still have some traveling I'd like to do. Eduardo is treating me exceptionally well. I can see now why he became your "favorite."

Bye...for now. I hope you like the virtual flowers. I love you.

Thomas Boylan · Eastervisit.WAV