OUR STUFF

I watched George Carlin’s comedy routine about “stuff,” thinking about linking to it here, but it seemed a bit too harsh for the purpose of this post.

We all have STUFF — not just our furniture, decors, clothes, photos and memorabilia from days gone by — but treasures, old and new, that we can’t bear to part with. Why do I still have my Girl Scout sash with all the badges that I earned and my autograph book from junior high? Why do my hub and I still have all of our vinyl — 45s and albums — even though we have replaced most of it on CD’s and now MP3’s via iTunes? Why does he still have most of his high school and college textbooks, and denim from every size he has ever been?

Because it’s tangible proof of our histories, memories of our past that we don’t want to let go? Or maybe because we have enough storage space and don’t have to make those decisions just yet?

Over the last few days, I’ve watched (and yes, helped with) removing the possessions of a dear friend from the place that had been her home for almost four years. Thankfully, her kids chose to take most of it — furnishings, family photos and mementos, art works, and other items that meant something to them. But there was so much left, things that they gave us permission to dispose of in whatever way we saw fit. Some of it will be consigned to bring the kids some remuneration, which they are entitled to. What’s left will be donated to good causes.

As one of the neighbors who has been organizing and cleaning out since our friend passed away and her family left (which we volunteered for and are happy to do) noted, it gives me pause how quickly a person’s life can be reduced to their stuff, what they left behind— whether valuable or disposable.

It’s been strange to see our friend’s beautiful home sorted into piles, and eventually nothing. I’m grateful that she doesn’t have to witness this, that she is not lingering in a hospital or assisted living facility, knowing that she will never return.

I am honored to be among the “trustees” of her stuff, making decisions about where it should go. And also, saddened that this work has to be done.

I’m thinking it would be better if we had a few weeks or however long; a warning of our demise, that we could prepare, weed out our own stuff, tell out kids what we would like them to keep and what is not so meaningful to us. There is another neighbor, who we are not personally close to, who is dying of cancer, given a few months to live. He has been able to get his affairs in order and plans to spend his remaining days traveling with his girlfriend.

Curious… do you think it would be better (for you and/or your loved ones) to know that your days were numbered? Providing a chance to say goodbye, to direct your own affairs and the distribution of your stuff. Or to go suddenly, as my friend did, with no suffering, and leave the sorting out to your family and friends?

P.S. I’ve written about stuff before… here

MULTI-TASKING

Normally I’m an ace at doing six things at once. I’m reminded of that old TV commercial, “I can bring home the bacon and fry it up in a pan.” (I had to look up the product… Enjoli perfume, early eighties.)

I’ve had a tough time multi-tasking the last week or so. Maybe because it’s not about finishing the layout of the HOA newsletter, preparing for an upcoming presentation, running to the grocery store, shuffling the laundry, and catching up on my emails all in one day. (Wait, that’s only five things. I left out scooping cat poop.)

Big difference when there are multiple emotional things to deal with. I’ve had two biggies going on. As most of you know, a good friend and neighbor passed away suddenly last week. I knew I didn’t HAVE to get involved, but I wanted to. I loved her and have been doing all that I can to support her family who are here from out of town.

During the same timeframe, my ex-daughter-in-law (with whom I have been on good terms for many years, even after her divorce from my son) has cut me off. Not from my grandkids. But out of her life. Because she deems me too judgmental, primarily of the kids. I admit to having expressed disappointment and concern about their recent behaviors, poor grades in school, and various run-ins with the law. She insists that her kids are awesome regardless and that I have hurt them deeply with my “criticisms,” which I have never expressed to them, only to her — and again, not judgments, but worries. To them, I have only given encouragement to study, stay in school, do their best, stay out of trouble. So I’m guessing that if they are hurt, it’s because she’s told them what I’ve said.

Because I was so traumatized by her — yes — judgment of me, I sat on it, tried to work out my feelings. I reached out to a few close friends, seeking input about how to deal with it, but did not tell my husband or any local folks. And then my friend died.

I distracted myself with that. I buried my reactions to that situation, and threw myself into supporting my friend’s family in any way I could. Yesterday was her celebration of life, which was wonderful. Now her kids are sorting through her belongings and deciding what to keep. Friends and neighbors are helping pack, providing food and taking potted plants. Soon all that will be over and I will have to refocus on my own life.

I finally told my hub last night, will tell local friends as is appropriate. I will make an effort to see my grandkids (BTW, they are old enough that I don’t need my ex-DIL’s permission or assistance to see them… she even said so) and do whatever mending is needed.

The good news, as Mother’s Day approaches: I received a card and beautiful flowers from my stepson, his wife and our grandson in California. And my son and his fiancée have invited us over for a BBQ on Sunday. It will be a good weekend.

Next week I can go back to the usual multi-tasking — cats to the vet, dental appointments to be made, blood work overdue — and happier stuff, like planning to attend our grandson’s high school graduation in California and then a nephew’s wedding in Minnesota in July. And yeah, another HOA newsletter.

LOSING MY FRIENDS

Not on Facebook, although that has happened too, when we can’t agree to disagree, although not that many. And mostly people I didn’t know in real life.

What’s weird is that even though we live in a “retirement area,” the friends I have lost recently weren't old.

In February it was Nadine, in her mid-fifties, who was diagnosed late with an advanced cancer. Within two months, she was gone. I will always be glad that I made the decision to visit her (in California) during her final days, when she was in hospice care. We got to express our love for each other and say goodbye. She was such an important person in my life: my boss, my mentor, and a dear friend.

Thursday morning, I lost another friend and neighbor, Carollee. It was totally unexpected, since she was just 68, healthy, and was entertaining a visit from a long-time friend. Two days before a gang of us girls had gone shopping in Tucson, and the night before we had gone to a movie together at our community ramada, ate popcorn, drank wine, and laughed. What a shock when her friend rang our bell, after the EMTs arrived, to tell us that she’d found her in bed unresponsive. At first, I suspected that she had fallen, perhaps broken a bone. Within minutes of arriving, when they hadn’t put her on a gurney and transported her to a hospital, I knew something was very wrong. The EMTs worked on her for at least 45 minutes, not allowing us in the bedroom, then a sheriff came out to tell us that she had been pronounced dead.

We were so glad that her friend was there. Wondering how long it would have taken for her friends and neighbors to discover her. But also sad for her childhood friend, who had to witness this. We stayed with her friend until the family arrived, later that day.

We are planning a celebration of life for Carollee next week. It’s really all we can do, we local friends, while her children deal with all the details that a death entails.

Forgive me if I’m silent for a while. I’ll be processing this loss, and unable to think of my own stuff as worthy of my time.

SO, HERE’S WHAT WE’RE GONNA DO…

“You just keep thinkin', Butch. That's what you're good at.”

— Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid

Although I enjoy it and am good at it, I’ve finally tired of marketing. Not like I’m going to desert "Second-Chance Mother." It might have been my finest hour, the best writing I’m capable of. And yeah, my heart is still very much with adoption and reunion. Because of my experience, I can’t totally let go.

If I am a writer, and I still believe I am, I must go back to writing. See if there’s another story in me. It won’t be a sequel. I am so done with that story. Anyone who wants to know the latest in my reunion with my son can ask and I will answer.

So yes, I will move on, while still taking advantage of opportunities to speak on adoption, reunion, writing memoir, and anything else people want to hear about along those lines.

Attending and speaking at the American Adoption Congress conference made this even clearer. As expected, it was a somewhat heavy (but also fun) experience. As a full conference attendee, I received an audio CD of all the sessions. I’m sure I will listen to the ones I couldn’t attend. I doubt I’ll listen to the ones where I was a speaker. I hate hearing myself. Even more I hate watching myself, so thank goodness these are not videos. The positive feedback I received is enough to make me feel like I made a difference in at least a few lives. (I did promise some of you that I would share the audios of my two sessions, and I'll try to do that soon.)

As for Second-Chance Mother, I am going to seek an agent who deals with foreign rights, and film rights (not like I think my story would make a good movie, but you never know — I’m quite sure that I couldn’t bear to watch it if that happened) — and let the print and ebook versions live out the rest of their lives naturally. It’s not like stories about adoption and reunion have a shelf life. There are always more mother and adoptees entering this phase in their lives, and I hope my book will continue to be the resource that it has been for them.

For better or worse, I’m going to focus my efforts on a new book. One that I started years ago and have gone back to on occasion. Until SCM was picked up by a publisher and I could think of nothing else except making it a success.

And what is success? I haven’t made the big bucks, and never thought I would. I love that more than 40,000 people have downloaded the ebook (many have posted positive reviews). More important are the emails I’ve received, people thanking me for writing my story. Most are mothers like me as well as adoptees, but many without a connection to adoption, simply relating to the parts about family dysfunction and sometimes just appreciating my honesty. That means so much more to me than the royalties I receive.

On my initial to-do list: rebuild the SCM website on WordPress to make it easier to manage (the URL will remain the same); transfer my blog from blogger to WordPress and link it to my website (I’ll let subscribers know about the change after it happens, so they can resubscribe/follow on the new one); and research agents for the foreign and film rights (since Steven Spielberg hasn’t called yet…).

Then I’ll get back to work on “Rules of the Road.” You can read the short story on which it is based in the anthology, Loving for Crumbs. And in my spare time, I’ll try to finish some of the short stories/essays I’ve started. Maybe publish a few of them.

As always, I’m open to friends’ suggestions and comments.

We’ll soon find out if I’m a one-hit wonder or capable of more.

LEAVING ON A JET PLANE

I started writing this at the Midway Airport in Chicago, during my layover between Cleveland and Tucson, and am just now getting back to it. Hence the post title…

I’m glad I made this trip. It was wonderful to meet some online AAC/FB friends in person — Betsie Norris, Patrick McMahon, Jean Strauss, Pam Kroskie, April Topfer, Linda Clausen — as well as reconnect with a few Bay Area friends. I attended some very educational and inspiring workshops and saw some amazing films. After a somewhat intense few days, it was great to kick back and socialize with everyone at Saturday night’s celebration, complete with comedienne Karen Williams and a talented young jazz quartet.

The highlight for me was presenting two workshops: on my own, “Does Adoption Run In Families; and with fellow authors Linda Hoye and Judy Miller, “The Healing Power of Writing Our Truths.” (BTW, although we “knew” each other online and communicated about our session via email, we hadn’t met before arriving at the conference. But we related right away and presented as if we’d done it many times before!)

My adoption-in-families presentation only attracted a few attendees (let’s face it, I was scheduled at the same time as Nancy Verrier, who is among the rock stars in the adoption community, so it was like going up against Hillary Clinton at a women’s conference). However, everyone who came was interested in the topic and contributed to a lively discussion. 

Our healing-power-of-writing session drew 25 people and was very well received. Many participated in a writing exercise, using the prompt, “what are those things you sugarcoat if you dare speak of them at all?” We received numerous kudos afterward.

I especially enjoyed reading the first chapter of Second-Chance Mother during the “open mic” on Thursday evening. My book sold a respectable amount in the bookroom as a result.

As these gatherings always are, it was an emotional experience. Hearing others’ stories, watching people weep during our writing workshop at the very idea of putting their stories on paper. The two films I saw had huge impact on me: Somewhere Between

and Adoptee OBC: a simple piece of paper

I remember my first AAC Conference, San Francisco in 1998, as a volunteer with PACER and fairly new in reunion. I was in shock and awe most of the time, and frequently had to retreat to my hotel room to process the emotions that overwhelmed me. As much as I have grown since then, I still found myself on occasion overwhelmed at this one, so many years later. Again I will say, at least as a mother, that adoption never leaves us alone.

Thanks for everything, Betsie, Rich, Donnie, Wendy, and everyone else involved in making this conference such a successful event.

P.S. Next year’s AAC Conference will be held April 2014 in San Francisco… woohoo! An excellent excuse to see all my Nor Cal friends.

DECISIONS, DECISIONS

Here’s one I never thought I’d have to reconsider…

What do I want to do with the rest of my life?

Second-Chance Mother has been out for a year. It’s not on any bestseller lists, but it’s done quite well, considering I’m a new and unknown author. Especially the e-book. I credit this to my involvement in the post-adoption community and the obvious niche that provides. Plus my hard work in spreading the word and pursuing opportunities to speak on both adoption and writing memoir.

Do I feel compelled to keep promoting it? Continue with adoption as my primary focus? Or move on, and perhaps write on a different topic? Finish my hippie-era novel?

My publisher asked me this when I queried him about adding an email sign-up on my website. He was clear that if I do that, I have to be ready to offer meaningful content on a regular basis, which would be more intense and time-consuming than posting random thoughts on my blog.

I have blogger friends who are totally committed to adoption issues, reform and opening records. Others who work for family preservation and helping young mothers keep and raise their children. While I support these causes, is this something I want to dedicate more time to?

I’ve made many career choices and changes in my 60+ years. As a youth, I fell in and out of things. I got a degree in English/Journalism, but when I couldn’t land a decent paying job in the media, I did all sorts of things to earn a living: retail sales, secretarial and admin jobs, photography (freelance weddings and portraits, then for a school photo company), executive recruiter, i.e. “headhunter” for a while (now that’s a story in itself). I didn’t truly get focused until I was in my thirties. I went back to school to study graphic design, which got me in the door in advertising. Then discovered I was also good at writing ad copy, which led me to marketing communications and the rest is history.

Although I always dreamed of writing “the great American novel,” it wasn’t until I reunited with my son that I got serious about writing a book. Certainly not a memoir. But I did, and again, the rest is history.

Lucy, you’ve got a lot of thinkin’ to do…

I’m not going to make any hasty decisions. I’m going to keep doing what I’ve been doing for the last year — promoting SCM and speaking any chance I get (not just to promote the book, but because I believe in educating the public about adoption and helping those who have been impacted by it).

At the same time, I’ll be thinking about what’s next, where I want to go from here. Am I a writer? Or a marketer? Or a retiree who’s just amusing herself between the occasional freelance graphic design job, various volunteer activities, and lunches with friends?

Maybe I need a career counselor...

HEAVY, MAN

I’ve been working steadily on my presentations for the AAC Conference (less than two weeks away!).

This afternoon, while reading and organizing for the session on adoption (more like relinquishment) running in families, I found myself feeling heavy and struggling to stay awake. Why? When preparing my part of the panel on the Healing Power of Writing Our Truths was invigorating and a joy?

Then it came to me… these stories of multi-generational loss of family are heartbreaking. Wading through them and excerpting examples and quotes is as hard as writing my memoir. Just as I was reliving painful experiences when I wrote my book, I am living those of others. I’ve shared before that while I was writing my story, every now and then I had to lie and sleep or cry for a while.

Thanks to everyone who shared when I requested input here, on Facebook, and privately. I wish it weren’t true, that relinquishment and adoption were nothing more than an occasional blip in our histories.

I’ll get it done. I hope that I’m worthy to shed light on this topic, that what I present will give audience members something to think about.