"people are SO nice"

for the last two weeks i have uttered some version of "people are SO nice, this is crazy. i can't believe it" countless times. i'm going to try to give you a snapshot of the overwhelming generosity i and my family have been the recipient of lately.

people have cooked/baked/brought amazing quantities of food including the best brownies i have ever eaten in my life, baked root vegetables, vegetarian chili, a fruit bouquet, a fruit basket, a complete valentine's day dinner including fettucini alfredo, ceasar salad, wine, and a (prepare yourself-morbid humor coming) to-die-for chocolate cake, cheese and crackers, beans and greens soup, pizza, cherry pie, foccaccia, carrot salad, homemade chocolate chip cookies, and bags of groceries. as if this wasn't enough, i've also been treated to dinner out. and coffee.

i have also received a cd with calming music, a massage gift certificate and flowers delivered to my home in philly. the thoughtful, heartfelt sympathy cards just keep coming. many, many people made donations in my mom's name to the committee at her church that works with refugees (which she did for many years).

at the wake and the funeral, we asked people to write down a story or memory they had of mom. many people shared hilarious and/or touching stories about times they had shared with mom. and lots of hugs. lots of phone calls. my cell phone bill is usually $60. this month? $281! i mean lots of phone calls. and don't get me started on flowers. gorgeous arrangements. and plants. and friends who made time in their schedule to travel to albany to support me at and after the funeral.

and then there are the all the many acts of kindness done during the last weeks of my mom's life. mom's friends who came to her house to clean, to make sure she was eating, and who did her errands. mom's church family who drove her to doctor's appointments. the friends who responded when the lifeline service called them to tell them mom was in trouble. the friends who called me to let me know mom's condition was worsening. my childhood friend, who is going through chemo herself, who came over to the house and made me laugh for a few hours. the friend who came to relieve me in the morning at the hospital after i had spent the night. the friend who, when we were trying to find a place for mom to go to rehab, called everyone she knew to figure out which places were good and which we should avoid. friends back in philly who organized themselves to make sure i had someone to talk to and cry with each night while i was with mom. the nurses who held mom's hand, hugged her, comforted her, and took excellent care of her. the techs who lovingly bathed mom. the transportation aides who gently moved mom around the hospital. the social workers who helped mom to understand and process what was happening to her. friends who came for visits and handled mom's hallucinations with grace. the staff at the hospice inn who gave us so much privacy during mom's last hours and then so many hugs after she passed.

I have felt a great deal of support. Two different friends sent me emails with images of the support they were hoping I had – one was of feeling the wind at my back, that I could get through this not solely by my own power, but rather by a feeling of being sustained and carried by the support around me. The other envisioned lots of pillows put all around me by friends so if (when!) I needed to fall down, it wouldn’t hurt so much.

Both of these ring true. I thank all of you.

back to blogging

everything has changed since the last time i posted.

i remember in high school, after my grandfather died, reflecting on how i'd survive without my mom. my mom in particular, and moms in general, are central. if you're lucky, your mom is the person you call when you have a miserable flu and need to be comforted. your mom is the person you want to tell first when you find the love of your life, or are pregnant, or get a promotion. your mom is the one you call when you have that knitting, sewing, home repair, cleaning, parenting, relationship, or, in my mom's case, training question that you know she'll know the answer to.

moms are where we all come from. in most cases, moms have some (and most of the time A LOT) part in bringing us up to be the intelligent, caring people we are. we owe a lot to our moms.

my mom passed away on february 10th, 2008 at 6:45pm. her death certificate says 7:01pm, but i know better because i was there when she took her last breath. i'm hoping to use this space to share some of the experiences i had directly before and directly after her passing.

here is a picture of her and i celebrating her 60th birthday. she died at age 62.

san francisco

recently returned from a much needed vacation to san francisco, where m and i lived for 4 1/2 years before moving to philly.

here is m on ocean beach, where i took a long nap within 4 hours of touching down in the city.

here is the antiwar march, which ended in dolores park.

and here is a group of people participating in the first annual "thrill the world" contest. they are part of a worldwide effort to break the guinness world record for largest simultaneous dance. they're dancing to michael jackson's thriller.

san francisco has a warm place in my heart for many reasons, including osento, little otsu, burritos, this guy, and this guy (both guys were at the antiwar march), and our wonderful friends who hosted us with warmth and style.

that said, i love our new home. we took a riverloop boat tour and i snapped this photo while floating down the schuylkill.

I Know the Way You Can Get

I know the way you can get
When you have not had a drink of Love:

Your face hardens,
Your sweet muscles cramp.
Children become concerned
About a strange look that appears in your eyes
Which even begins to worry your own mirror
And nose.

Squirrels and birds sense your sadness
And call an important conference in a tall tree.
They decide which secret code to chant
To help your mind and soul.

Even angels fear that brand of madness
That arrays itself against the world
And throws sharp stones and spears into
The innocent
And into one's self.

O I know the way you can get
If you have not been drinking Love:

You might rip apart
Every sentence your friends and teachers say,
Looking for hidden clauses.

You might weigh every word on a scale
Like a dead fish.

You might pull out a ruler to measure
From every angle in your darkness
The beautiful dimensions of a heart you once
Trusted.

I know the way you can get
If you have not had a drink from Love's
Hands.

...

That is why Hafiz says:
Bring your cup near me.

...

Dear one,
Indeed, please bring your heart near me.
For all I care about
Is quenching your thirst for freedom!

All a Sane man can ever care about
Is giving Love!

From: 'I Heard God Laughing - Renderings of Hafiz'
Daniel Ladinsky

A moment ago before I found this poem
in my inbox I was feeling really grumpy
and mad.  I arrived at the train station
to retrieve my bike and bike home only to
find that my bike was missing a wheel.
This, on top of having an obscenely long day
made me want to a) have a temper tantrum
b) cry c) move out of the city d) hate Philly.
But then I read this poem and with some gentle
reminders from M ringing in my ears, I remembered
that today I have had many drinks of love - not
least of which was the realization that I had
lots of offers of practical help and support
when I put out the distress call about my bike.
It is lovely to realize that you have a community
of people who are willing to make late-night
sacrifices for you.

And, I was returning to get my bike from an awesome
fundraiser for Girl's Leadership Camp, an organization
that I am on the Advisory Board for. I was awed by the
amount of excitement and support folks had for the idea
of an all-girls, affordable, sleepaway camp for Philly
girls, and that people were willing to financially 
support us. When I added up how much we made, it
symbolized for me what can happen when people really
believe in something- that passion can be contagious
and can generate needed gifts.

jena 6

this weekend i had my first letter to the editor of the philadelphia inquirer published.
i was responding to this guy's racist and infuriating letter. of course my letter was edited down a lot, but you can still get the gist.
__________________________________________________________________
Here's my letter, which was published on Saturday:

I was saddened to read "The real victim in Jena is white," (letter, Sept. 24). The letter is a reminder that ignorance and racism exist even in a big city, not just in a small Southern town.

The writer says the uproar over the arrest of the "Jena Six" "has white people shaking our heads" and that the "real victim" is the white student.

I am white, and the author does not speak for me. Nor does he speak for my white family members, my white friends, or the white members of my church. He is right about one thing: The white people I know are "shaking our heads." We're shaking our heads in disgust and outrage at the persistence of racism in our criminal "justice" system.
___________________________________________________________________

For more information on the Jena 6 case, check Color of Change or
Free the Jena 6.

where i've been

hi faithful readers,

i apologize for my long absence.
both of my parents were recently hospitalized. my mom had a life-threatening medical event, and is still recovering at home. so i've been otherwise occupied but missing this space and dialogue with you all.

i can't promise i'll be posting often but will try to drop by on a more regular basis. for those of you who are not already email subscribers, feel free to sign up (top right corner where it says "subscribe to gloveandherspecialsauce by email") so you don't have to stop by to know when i've posted.

thanks to all of you who have emailed and sent cards and called and sent food and given hugs. you are appreciated.

red hot

thanks for all your responses via email (and ms. pea and jen who left comments here) to my last post. not surprisingly, many of you had strong feelings and smart ideas on the topic and i really appreciate you sharing them with me!

it's 9pm and 88 degrees out.

this morning i had to do a workshop for a group of youth. it turns out that they were much younger than my usual crowd - i found myself in a very comfy, broken arm chair with a circle of 12 nine-year-olds sitting in a circle on a rug around me. they were supposed to go on a really cool field trip, but because the program had forgotten and then remembered that i was coming, the youth ended up not going on the trip and instead had to listen to ... me. talk about ... domestic violence. yeah. sounds rough right? well, these kids were so incredibly thoughtful and polite and smart that when, after a really great 25 minute conversation, they started rolling around on the rug and giggling, i figured i was in the clear to cut my hour presentation to 25 minutes.

i escaped unscathed out into the blazing sun to wait for a bus. miraculously (if you've never experienced SEPTA just take my word for it that it was a miracle), the bus arrived within 2 minutes. i got on the bus for a short trip to the train station. i descended into the urine-smelling, muggy station and found a seat. another miracle. the train pulled into the station no longer than 5 minutes later. at my station, i slowly moved up the stairs back into the blazing sun only to see - my bus! waiting at the corner for me! what could have been a slow, hot hour long trip took 20 blessedly air conditioned minutes.

there is clearly a god.

and then, at work, after eating a deliciously bad lunch (we're talking milkshake and mozzerrella sticks here) i was suffering from a pretty serious food coma. and then my friend and co-worker who works at a different site and who i never see and miss, stopped by. she was in the building for a meeting and immediately offered me some of her coffee. manna from heaven.

isn't it amazing how small surprises/coincidence/blessings (call them what you will) can make you feel on top of the world?

(photo credit)