I got a birthday gift from My Love.

She sent me a book on creative writing, some pens, tablets of paper and my favorite Cadbury chocolate.  Inside the birthday card, she encouraged me to keep writing, to follow my passion.  She also sent along warm thoughts.

Tomorrow, we are getting together to have coffee after she finishes work.

You can pick your jaw up off the floor now.

This is how I want it to be from now on.  In my brave new world I want to be able to sit and talk with My Love.  I want to feel comfortable being with her, not feeling like I’m walking on eggshells. 

It’s a short post tonight.  I received a phone call from my mother this morning, telling me that she and my dad will be stopping in on their way to Connecticut.

Let’s just say I’ve some wrapping to do.

“Doctor Stretch.  Doctor James Stretch.  You are wanted in the delivery room.”

It was a snowy mid-December afternoon when the young woman, barely out of her teens, went into labor. The forecast for the Conneecticut River Valley was for light snow most of the afternoon and evening, which made everything look postcard-perfect.  She had been admitted the day before, but she secretly had hoped for a Christmas baby.  

The baby had other ideas. 

No one had told her the pain would be this bad and it frightened her.  As she was prepped for delivery, the young mother causiously looked around.  Her husband?  Where was the father.  The father was nowhere to be found.  That was normal because in 1960, fathers were never allowed in the delivery room.  But the father was there, waiting, in the father’s waiting area of Hartford Hospital.  It wasn’t a prolonged wait.  After just a few hours, the young mother gave birth to a baby boy.  

4:30pm on December 19th.

So, here I am.  Happy birthday to me.

I still have the ornaments from my first Christmas tree.  My mother had given them to me when I was first married.  I was six days old that first Christmas, not even aware of what was going on around me.  I just wanted to be warm and fed and leave those special little green surprises babies leave in their diapers. 

These ornaments were originally part of a set of twelve wax Santas, angels and snowmen.  Over the years some of them have lost sections or have been broken and never repaired.  So I treat them now as if they were crystal, able to disintegrate into a million pieces if they fell off the tree.  The usually get placed on the upper half of the tree.  They are a fragile piece of my story that I hope to pass on to my kids.

I wasn’t aware of Christmas decorations until kindergarten.  I loved the lights.  They were the big bulbs that were transformed into orbs of bright colored light when they were switched on.  One of my pleasures of the holidays in my adulthood,  is to drive around at night, looking at the Christmas lights on the houses.    I’m not a big fan of the inflatable lawn decorations or an over-the-top displays that some folks create at Christmas.  I prefer something more subtle.  Candles in the window, wreath on the door, and a real balsam tree. 

Growing up, we used to make the trip from Maine to Connecticut, to visit my grandparents for the holidays.  It was one of several trips we’d make throughout the year.  I loved those Christmases.  When we later moved back to Connecticut, our family would open gifts in the morning, then we’d make the hour-long trip to my grandparents for another session.  One of the most distinct scents that reminds me of those times is the scent of pine.  But not from the tree.  My grandmother had a small wooden cabin, that sat on the fireplace mantel, in the living room.  The roof could be lifted off, and inside was a place to burn an inscense plug.  I would always hover around the living room, hoping for the time my grandmother would light the inscense.  I thought it was so cool to watch the smoke rise up and out of the chimney, just like the real thing.

You may be wondering, “hey, Middle-Aged Head, what would you like Santa to bring you for Christmas?  You gotta list or somethin’?”

Sort of.

There’s a point in your life where those things aren’t as important as they once were.  I used to make these elaborate lists, to prove to myself that people paid attention to me and what was important to me. 

Ah, the days of my youth, when it was about the presents for me.  The story of the Christ Child hadn’t yet hit home.

When my kids asked me what I wanted for Christmas, I didn’t have an answer.  I couldn’t recall any music or movie that I had to own.  There wasn’t an article of clothing that had caught my eye.  The only thing I could think of was some Titleist golf balls.  I really didn’t want anything.

There is one thing I want that I’ll receive, and another thing I won’t.

The one thing I will receive is being able to attend Christmas Eve services at my church.  I always looked forward to Advent and Christmas.  There is wonderful music surrounding the season that I love to sing.  Unfortunately, the choral music I love has been abscent.  My work schedule prevents me from attending services and singing in choir on Sunday.  So I have to rely on my records and CD’s of the Christmas choral music I love.  This year, I will have my kids with me on Chirstmas Eve, and I am excited to be able to share this time with them.  They, on the otherhand, are not so excited.  It has been a long time since they’ve been to church (a long story for another time — remind me, won’t you).  I also think they are apprehensive about seeing people their own age they haven’t seen in a long time.  That’s understandable.  I am hoping that they will find a Christmas miracle of their own this year.

The gift I won’t receive is My Love.  At least not in the form I’d like.  Now that I’ve accepted the situation, it’s helped me to move on.  But I was able to spend two wonderful Christmases with her that I wouldn’t trade for anything.

Since I’ve been prodded to provide a list, here goes nothing.  I am allowing myself to dream big.  These are in no particular order:

1. Trip to London.  I agree with Samuel Johnson, who said that to be tired of London is to be tired of life.  I have only scratched the surface of what that city can offer.  Free admission to museums, guided walking tours and pub crawls are a good place to start.  The idea of having real Cadbury’s chocolate, not the stuff you get in the States that is made by Hershey, brings a smile to my face.   I’d like to stay three weeks, preferrably in the fall.  But I’ll take January in a pinch.

2.  A golfing vacation in Scotland.  This could easily be my first choice.  I figure I can make a trip from London to spend a couple days in St. Andrews.  But I want to explore more of the country other than Fife.  The idea of bouncing around the country in a compact car with nothing more than my clubs and a suitcase sounds appealing.  I want to play the smaller, lesser known courses that Americans rarely play.

3. Two weeks in a cabin on a remote lake in Maine.  Just be.  Dive into some good reading, enjoy a lazy canoe trip or hike.  Cook my meals outside on an open fire.  I’d like to experience this in late September, just when the nights start getting nippy. I can crank up the woodstove and get toasty.  I’d take a canoe out to the middle of the water, and laying back to look at a night sky full of stars.

4.  A shopping spree in our local music store for all the CDs I want.  It’s pretty self-explanitory.

5.  To drive a high performance automobile at top speed.

6.  A home on the coast of Maine.  A cottage, actually, with a loft bedroom and windows overlooking the water.  I have the place in mind, but it’s already owned.  It sits up on a bluff overlooking Penobscot Bay, with pine woods on three sides.  Below is a pebble beach with a small boat.  There’s a fieldstone fireplace in the living room.  This is Number 3 option in a different coat, but the same idea.

Not bad, eh?  

Tomorrow’s my birthday!!!

I find it appropriate that I write this post on the 20th Anniversary of “The Simpsons” first airing on Fox.  I am getting a cosmic dope slap (Doah!)

I feel like Homer when I am reminded that The Cosmos help one to find the imbalance and to right what is wrong.  After posting yesterday, I received a couple of well-meaning, but strong reminders.  In a nutshell, I need to (again) get my head out of my butt. 

I need to be fair:  to My Love, to the reader, and to myself.  I need to move on.  My Love is no longer my lover, but she is my friend.  She cares about what happens to me.  She does feel badly about how we parted.  As much as I would like to have an intimate relationship with her, it isn’t possible.  We are both not good at dealing with endings.  It has been as painful for her as it’s been for me, although she hasn’t intimated those thoughts with me.  I wouldn’t expect her to do that.  But she is trying to figure out the why’s and what’s behind her decision.  I wish her well.

With that being said, I need to take the advice I posted yesterday and integrate it into my life.  I am just starting to become more comfortable in my own skin.  I am becoming more and more accustomed to my life.  I like what I’m seeing in therapy.  The Shrink is wise and understands me all too well, so he knows how to push me and guide me.  He is helping me toward my goal of living a valued life.

One of the issues I need to abandon is the notion that My Love is coming back.  She isn’t, so I must move forward.  Yes, there will be days that are emotionally frustrating.  But I will get through them, just like I’ve been able to work through the events of the last two years.  I must regularly remind myself of this and that I am traveling in the right direction.

Another reason for this post is that I imagine there are some who read these posts who are thinking, “Get over yourself!!”  You are not like the casual reader who is looking for an emotional trainwreck.  I am anything but that.  My difficulty is in getting stuck at certain points of the journey.  I am encountering self-created obstacles, and I need to stop doing that.  I don’t want to be a whinning pathetic creature.  I want to live life and enjoy what it has to offer.  I am learning to understand what to do with the pain I’ve experienced, to accept it for what it is.  I’ve discovered (usually in hindsight) that I deal with my emotions in writing instead of understanding the situations that trigger those emotions.

All that aside, things are good.  I will be looking forward to having my evenings to myself again.  I have been so busy these last three weeks I barely have time to have an original thought.  It makes me wonder what directions my thoughts will go.  I want to stay busy and keep myself occupied.   I’ll be okay.  I just need to be mindful.

ONLY TWO MORE DAYS UNTIL MY BIRTHDAY

“If something is leaving your life, no matter how valuable or important it seem, it is because in some way it held you back.  If something leaves, know that something better is coming.  (See) what things are real and important, and what things are unnecessary and unneeded.” ~ Sanaya Roman  

In as much as I like this quotation, I am not ready to understand it.  There needs to be a level of trust in oneself and the Cosmos, in order for the true meaning to be understood.   It also means that one has to take a hard look at their life, and determine what is needed and unnecessary.

This quote is very timely.  The Shrink and I got together yesterday.  I took advantage of an AH-HA moment at a traffic light and pulled sharply in front of a small Thai restaurant.  A one-star pad thai later and I was off to see the wizard.  The Shrink is abig supporter of ah-ha moments, so he complimented me on my choice.  We’ve been looking at what is important in my life.  Things, such as family relationships, romantic/inimate relationships, and community relationships, were examined to see their order of importance in my life.  I determined that romantic/intimate relationships are at the bottom of the list.  The last thing I need is that type of commitment.  Besides, according to what I’ve been told, I do not have the finances to sustain a romantic relationship. I don’t need that kind of rejection again.  I don’t need the headache and frustrations.  Being told you’re not good enough really sucks.

Anyway, that’s why I’m in therapy:  to deal with these issues and create some positve change.

I am discovering some interesting things about myself.  Nothing to divulge at this time, but I will let you know when the next ah-ha moment comes along.

COUNTDOWN:  THREE MORE DAYS UNTIL MY BIRTHDAY

I mentioned awhile back that I was compiling lists of favorite Christmas songs.  Now that the rock n roll list is done, I want to give my favorite Christmas standards.  You can’t really call them pop standards, even though they were performed by the “Pop” artists of the 40s and 50s.  Your parents or grandparents heard these artists on the radio.  These songs are timeless.  Although secular in nature, they invoke a time when life was simpler, the gifts were less complicated and more likely had greater meaning, and when Christmas was the holiday celebrated.  You wished all a “Merry Christmas”, not Happy Holidays.  Your senses were tickled by the scent of balsam, fresh-baked cookies and pies, and by simple decorations.

1.  White Christmas — Bing Crosby.  This was originally a song from the movie “Holiday Inn”, about traveling stage performers stuck at a rural country inn.  Did you know that Bing couldn’t read music?  I guess Bing and I have something else in common, other than the love of golf.  And we both sing Mah-vah-lous.

I saw a video on YouTube with Andrea Bocelli (voice, flute) and David Foster (piano) that was done in ONE TAKE.  It’s beautiful in its simplicity.  Bocelli’s voice, although not up to Pavoratti or Domingo standards, is gorgeous. 

2.  The Christmas Song — Nat “King” Cole.  I’ve loved Cole’s voice for as long as I can remember.  It’s understated, gentle and moving.  Both the song and the voice.  It was written by Mel Torme, a great singer in his own right, and it’s been recorded by everybody who’s anyone significant in music. 

3.  Santa Baby — Eartha Kitt.   Madonna has nothing on this woman.  Eartha makes this song sound absolutely naughty.  Madonna made it sound cartoonish.  I can see Eartha perched on Santa’s lap and cooing in his ear.  Madonna sounds like Betty Boop from Brooklyn, snapping her chewing gum like a street-tough maul.  Eartha wins hands down.

4.  No Place Like Home For the Holidays — Perry Como.   I’m not a big fan of Como, but I enjoy the down-to-earth song.  My Ex’s mother loved Perry Como and never missed his Christmas specials on television.  The song is a perfect reflection of a simpler time.

5. I’ll Be Home For Christmas — (tie) Johnny Mathis/Bing Crosby.  I grew up on Johnny Mathis.  My mother used to listen to his records when I was a baby.  According to Mom, she would set up the crib near the phonograph.  I love his first Christmas album.  Percy Faith did the orchestration.  I believe that there were alot of September babies, thanks to lovers listening to that album.  I later heard the Bing Crosby version.

6.  Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer/Here Comes Santa Claus — Gene Autry.  I have never seen a Gene Autry picture.  I remember these songs from WAAAYYY back when.  These are fun songs for me, but not for the reasons you’d think.  I am a closet western swing fan.  Bob Wills, Earnest Tubb, Floyd Tillman, Rose Maddox – I like that combination of swing and jazz and country music.  If you listen carefully to these songs, they do swing.  Listen even closer and you’d swear they were straight out of a Saturday western matinee.  Think of the clip-clop of horses and you have the rhythm.

Again, I know I’ve missed one or two classics.  It’s so easy to lose them in the shuffle of the Chinese water torture that is 24/7 Christmas music.  I will admit that I look forward to hearing these favorites and others, and I’ve heard a couple newer songs that have caught my ear.

” ‘Cause what she’s doing now is tearing me apart

   Filling up my mind and tearing up my heart”

     – Garth Brooks “What She’s Doing Now”

Usually, with the schedule I’ve been keeping lately, I haven’t got time to let my mind wander.  I didn’t have time to think about My Love.  But not today.  She has been on my mind all day.  I’m not sure what was the trigger.  Maybe it was the Josh Groban song, “Believe”.  My Love loves Josh Groban.  Maybe it was the Christmas love song where the singer falls in love on Christmas Day.

My Love and I fell in love on Christmas.  She was house sitting out in the sticks and had invited me to keep her company.  She had made me breakfast and after we finished, I noticed she seemed unusually nervous.  After taking a deep breath, she said that she was taking a leap of faith.  She told me that she had fallen in love with me.  I understand why it made her so nervous.  Her previous boyfriend, whom she also fell in love with, had dumped her.  She was bruised and unsure, not certain if she would ever fall in love again.

And I came along.  I gave her all the same things he did, but I was patient with her to allow her to try and figure things out within her head and heart.  I was able to hold her when she needed.  I also held her heart in my hands, gently and with care.  It was what she needed.

I had known for at least a month before abut my feelings about her.  I had fallen in love with her on the day we met.  Drinks at Ruby Tuesdays, followed by a drive to the coast to side by the ocean.  I kissed her on the same day.  Wow!!!  What lips!  I fell in love with her mind, her independent spirit and her gorgeous eyes.  And those curves.  Many times I got lost in those curves.

So, what IS she doing now?  I am not in a place where I would feel comfortable calling.  I am still healing and adjusting to Life with Me. 

But I do wonder how she is.  Is her work still a huge challenge?  Is she keeping busy? Is  she dating? 

That’s the one that’s the most difficult to come to terms with.  Who is replacing me in her life?  She is a beautiful woman and wouldn’t have difficulty finding dates.  Has she found someone to fill the space where I used to be?

Someone told me recently that if she hasn’t contacted you recently, chances are she doesn’t intend to contact me.  Thanks for the input.  I’m just sad.  I miss her.

The romantic inside me wants to think she sits at home and wonders the same about me, that she made a mistake but doesn’t want me to know.

Not likely.

The same romantic wants to think that a Christmas reunion would be wonderful.

What Hollywod script writers have invaded my brain?  This isn’t a scene from “Sleepless in Seattle”.  This isn’t “The Notebook”.

I only wish that she is taking care of herself, that she’s not staying up late and not getting enough sleep.  And I wish that I could stop driving myself crazy with thoughts of her.  I have the power to control that.  However, I have never had a woman take hold of my being the way she did.  I never had loved anyone the way I loved her.

There is something to be said about not seeing your kids for a week.

Last night was my first night off from LL Bean in ten days.  I knew this at the beginnning of this stretch, so I talked with My Son about getting together.  I knew his sister would be working, so I asked him to set the night aside for just the two of us.  He likes to hang out with his friends and his girlfriend, and sometimes he makes plans with them on days we are supposed to be together.

We kept it low key.  We made a trip up to the Big Store — LL Bean’s flagship store, which is a 20 minute drive, to buy some gift cards with my discount.  Hey, 33% goes a long way.  On the way up, we had an amazing conversation about a wide range of topics.  But it wasn’t so much what we were talking about, rather the fact that we were talking.  I have noticed he is becoming more confident.  He has discovered  his talents in woodshop and photography.  His academic performance is much improved.  I am seeing him transforming into a fine young man right before my eyes, and it makes me extremely proud.  I made sure to let him know.

Sometimes I wonder how he would be if I were still with his mother.  I believe that he is much better off now.  We both are better off.  We both have learned things about ourselves that needed changing and we made those changes.

TIME

a wonderful thing that is best appreciated when you are occupied with things that you’d rather not do.

This has been a rough week.  I’ve worked at LL Bean ten out of twelve days, I have tonight off, then work then next four days.  Combine that with five hours of sleep (or less) and I am a very tired creature.  I’m glad it all comes to an end on the 19th. I am so in need of down time.  Plus, there are things I need to do, like shop for groceries, do laundry, wrap some Christmas gifts to send to Scotland, and start Christmas shopping for the kids.  I’ve decided what to give friends as a Christmas gift.  I’d like to make my homemade salsa verde.  I started making salsa a few years ago.  My neighbor had brought some of his over for me to try.  It was so easy to make:  just chop red onion, green and red pepper in a food processor.  Then add lime juice, celantro, garlic and jalepeno to diced tomatoes, add salt and pepper and mix everything together.  Let it chill in the fridge for an hour to let the flavors to come forward.  I  put it on scrambled eggs, baked potato with sour cream, and to snack with chips.  The majority of the batch won’t be overpowering.  I think that some salsas are too hot.  It should be about flavor, not setting your tongue on fire.  Some folks will get jars with extra jalepeno, to give it some extra heat without taking away from the flavor.  My father likes it really hot.  According to him, the salsa needs to be hot enough to make your eyes water and your nose run. I’ll need to set aside a day to can my salsa.  Usually after making my salsa, the oils from the jalepeno sink into my skin.  I could scrub my hands for five minutes with soap and water, it wouldn’t matter.  I would rub my eye and they would water up and sting.  It’s not pleasant.

Yesterday, my mother called and left a message on my machine.  When I saw my folks on Thanksgiving, the conversation landed on an unlikely topic.  My father was researching the possibility of raising alpaca.  According to my father, it’s quite lucrative with very little overhead.  The animals can be expensive, especially if they are good breeders.  It’s not uncommon for an alpaca to sell for $15,000.  The real money is in their hair, which can sell for $3000 or more.  When my mother called last night, she wanted to tell me that my folks were putting their house on the market, and that they were buying a farm 45 minutes from me.   Whoa.   I never saw that coming.  It will be nice to have my folks closer to home.  I am more agreeable to traveling 45 minutes instead of 3 hours to visit them. 

If they do move, that eliminates a possible road trip destination.  I like heading Downeast.  That part of the state is so much different from the southern part of the state.  While there are economic opportunities in he four southern counties, the rest of the state seems to be ignored. There are schools of thought about the Maine economy that say there are two Maines:  the southern part of the state, where most of the money is, and the rest of the state, that is mostly rural and in desperate need of an economic kickstart.  At one time, Maine had thriving shoe factories, textile mills, and an economy based on agriculture.  Potatoes, lobsters and clams, fishing,  blueberries, apples and other crops joined logging to help sustain the Maine economy.  But, slowly, the mills closed and those jobs went elsewhere.  Then the farms began to shrink because they were competing with the megafarms in other parts of the country and Canada.  Dairy farms are having difficulty competing with out of state milk conglomerates.  It’s not something that can be reversed overnight, but the state seems to be dragging its feet when it comes to economic development.  But folks from out of state love to come to Maine.  They think it’s quaint.  They go aintique-ing up and down Route One and buy knick-knacks mdae by local craftsfolk.  They come to ski  in winter and spend time at “the cottage” in summer.  Those cottages are 3,000 sq. ft or larger.  Or they rent a camp on lake somewhere in the middle of nowhere.  Folks like to go “upta camp” in Maine.  Many Mainers will bust their butts all year to be able to pay the taxes on both their house and the “camp”.

I know I’m all over the place on this post.  Maybe it’s fatigue or I’m just asleep, pretending to be awake and writing.  How appropriate:  I’m streaming online and hearing “Number Nine Dream” by John Lennon.  Very cool.

Memo to readers in the Midwest:   I feel your pain.

As I write, New England is receiving the brunt of a huge storm.  Snow is falling at a rate of an inch an hour. Inland, they can expect a foot of snow or more.  Here on the coast,  we can expect 6 inches of snow before it turns to rain.  At the moment, it still looks pretty as I look out the open bay door on the loading dock.  But I am not looking forward to driving in this.

The Shrink and I had a confab yesterday.  We talked about suffering versus pain.  Everyone feels pain, but we shouldn’t have to suffer.  I feel the pain of losing My Love, but I shouldn’t have to suffer.  I don’t want to ignore the pain.  It is a part of being a human being.  I also don’t want to try and fix it.  It is what it is.  All of us should just accept the pain, feel it and move on.  We get into trouble when we dwell on the pain.

The Shrink and I also talked about what I think is important in my life.  That conversation was triggered by the story I told about finding the $10 receiver at Goodwill, the expression of utter joy when I spoke about writing here, and when I spoke about music.  He said that the expression on my face was so animated, so full of energy and passion.  I explained to The Shrink how I felt when I listen to music.  I allowed myself to feel the music which, in turn, generated some wonderful feelings. 

For example, The Shrink put on a recording of Luciano Pavoratti singing “Nessun Dorma”, from the opera “Turandot”, by Puccini.  I closed my eyes and let the music fill my senses.  My first reaction after 30 seconds was that, although I couldn’t understand what he was singing, I could feel his pain.  Those amazing crescendos, the depth of his range and the wonderful melody picked me up and carried my like a wind current.  If I knew the piece, I would’ve sung along.  But the beauty of the song and the singer lifted me up.  I had the same reaction when I first heard “Nether Lands” by Dan Fogelberg.  The entire song is majestic and tender, a wonderfully orchestral piece with cinematic qualities.  The whole song is beautiful, but the part that touches my heart is the last minute.  That last 60 seconds of music is so gorgeous and I close my eyes in a similar way as I did with the Puccini, letting the music carry my heart upward.

Music, for me, is essential.  I cannot imagine what Life would be like if I didn’t have music.  Music can motivate, heal, and inspire.  I makes you joyful, fills you with sorrow, and releases amazing power.  Some of our most powerful memories are associated with music.  It is an extremely personal experience.  No two people have the same reaction to the same piece of music.  Other than love, music is the stongest force in the universe.

But the power comes from me, not the music.  The music is just a vehicle.  I allow myself to let the music take me where it will.  I remember the scene from “The Shawshank Redemption”, where Tim Robbins, after receiving a shipment of books and music from area libraries, selects a duet from Mozart’s “The Marriage of Figaro”.   Two women, a soprano and an alto, sing a wonderfully sublime piece that, when played over the prison loudspeakers, causes every man to stop and listen.  That act get Robbins a stint in solitary confinement, but it was the music, kept deep in his heart, that helped sustain him.  It’s in a place that no one can touch.  The Shrink and I agreed that music is a VERY important part of who I am.  I can sing, but not like Pavoratti.  But I can feel the music take me places, bringing me a level of joy that is indescribable.

I can get the same reaction while listening to “Whole Lotta Love” by Led Zeppelin, “Brown Sugar” by the Rolling Stones, The Chieftains’ Love Theme, from the movie ”Barry Lyndon”, and “Claire de Lune” by Claude Debussy, among others.  They are all moving pieces of music.  For me, moving doesn’t necessarily mean sublime.  It’s also powerful, gentle, playful and some emotions I have yet to describe.  But I feel in deep inside where no one can touch it or take it away.  Google them or find them on YouTube.  When you hear them, you’ll understand.

My homework assignment for the week is to begin to find what is important to me, and what I need to live a valued life.