Musings on writing

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Tomorrow I head to Ragdale, an artist- and writer-in-residence retreat in Lake Forest, IL, to spend 18 glorious days focusing on my writing. I’ve wanted to write for as long as long as I can remember. I was blessed with a career and awesome bosses who allowed me to write for clients and—god love them—a salary. The idea of being allowed the time, monastic quiet and like souls to work on my own words and ideas that have been percolating in my mind, on my computer and in notebooks is akin to winning the lottery (I’m guessing).

I’ll miss my family and friends. We just moved to a beautiful highrise overlooking the frozen lake. I’ve finally emptied the last box. Admittedly, the thought of how all that time-consuming organization might be rearranged is a little bit more than a nagging concern. But I can use the change in scenery, and I know my family can use a break from me!

My oldest daughter, Jill, is moving into her first house today. Last year when I left for Ragdale, I’d been helping with her newborn son. This year within weeks after I return she’s due to deliver a brother to Patrick Xavier (Pax) and Caitlin. For one week in my absence my youngest, Jackie, is heading to Florida as assistant softball coach to North Park University’s softball team and to help recruit new players in return for a Master’s Degree she’s earning there. I cannot articulate how surreal it is to write and read this last paragraph. Where did the time go? How did this happen so fast?

We moved into our first home 31 years ago, a few months before Jill was due. Reagan introduced his trickle-down effect, Ghostbusters was a hit and my friends made those costumes for a Halloween party! Tina Turner was asking What’s Love Got To Do With It and the clothes we were wearing are too silly to even try to describe. Phones attached to wires and walls, computers were a new technology and we got mail through the post office in an envelope with a stamp. Addresses were at least three lines long, and I don’t know of anyone who thought much of an @ symbol.

We were in our second home when Jackie arrived. Clinton defeated Bush, Sr., Johnny Carson turned The Tonight Show over to Jay Leno after a 30-year run, Basic Instinct, A League of Their Own and A Few Good Men were at the box office, and I’m pretty sure a bunch of my girlfriends and I attended our first Madonna concert.

I’ve learned of love and loss, shared laughter and shed seas of tears, survived what I was I sure I wouldn’t and experienced moments I never dreamt could happen. Very little remains the same except my desire to write. Can I capture those fleeting moments and the profound significance of so many of them with my words? Will anyone care if I do?

I don’t know that I’m writing for fame or fortune. Maybe it’s to share that universal experience of the sum of those days and months where we plan and fail, trip and fall, get back up, celebrate successes and mourn losses big and small and repeat it all, thinking that combined those events lead us to something more meaningful than the sum of those days and months.

All my life, all our lives, add up to right this moment, don’t they? We’re products of our past, but all we really know is only in this very moment. It’s been said we make plans and God laughs. I wonder what She thinks when we work so hard to share the meaning in our lives?

He Speaks for Himself

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His babble is adorable. His tears are heart-rending. One look and you go through every emotion in the most overwhelming way. Need I say more? Now this is how to start your week!

 

Patrick@9Mos.

Patrick Xavier Gattorna 9 whole months today!

p.s. it is also an excellent source for a writer with writer’s block. But now back to my homework.

The Endless Gift from Birthdays

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My granddaughter Caitlin turned 7 last week. The same week she started first grade. I’m not sure if physicists simply are keeping it on the QT, but unquestionably the world is spinning faster than ever. No way are there a full 365 days in a year anymore; time flies by way too fast to follow the traditional 12-month calendar.

Last week we celebrated at Wrigley Field. My daughter Jill and her husband outdid themselves. They treated us all to the Cub’s game. My stemanriques@wrigleypson and his three awesome kids joined us. My beautiful niece Nikki, her husband, their youngest daughter who looks so much like her mother that I still have goosebumps, and their son who’s six-months younger than Caitlin, came quite the distance to be there. Grandma and Grandpa G and Uncle Joey were there too. Our youngest daughter and her beau weren’t Cait:Avabecause I’m convinced they’re on a mission to redefine Type-A tendencies to the point wjason:brynleehere those of us who have them look like slackers. But that’s for another post.

We grabbed some pizza  and cake afterwards, and I’m sure we were all passed out before the 10 pm news.

But, as my avid readers know, my daughters are rock stars, so today Jill took Cait and four other little princesses for mani-pedis and then dinner at California Pizza Kitchen. We always had great birthday parties for our girls. Jill’s outdone us already. But I don’t believe it’s a competitive thing. Last weekend was family, and I think Cait caitmanipediwas fine with just that. But I know my daughters, and I can imagine Jill deciding Caitlin had to have a celebration with her friends, and that’s what they did this afternoon.

Having children is a lesson on the infinite nature of love. I felt it for Jill. When I was pregnant with Jackie, I was actually scared I wouldn’t have enough love left. How absurd does that sound? And how exhilarating to learn love is infinite. But as the years pass, we’re tired and frantic trying to raise a family successfully, pay bills, and those love lessons get lost in the chaos. Then along come grandchildren. My love for Caitlin reminds me of the love I have for my daughters and overwhelms me all over again. I love Nikki and her children, Chris and his kids just as much. I simply just don’t have the opportunity to spend as much time with them.

That has to change. This gift of infinite love is nothing to recall occasionally. It’s something we must revel in every moment and every opportunity. The value in and beauty of life exists in that which all the money and success can’t buy. It comes from a heart with the ability to contain inexhaustible compassion.