Tuesday, April 27, 2021
Friday, April 23, 2021
Look Up: A Centennial Celebration wraps up on this very special Friday -- 100 years ago today, Sophie and Issie Eisen welcomed baby Lillian into the world.
Lillian loved music her entire life, and learned how to play the piano as a child. It was a rare day that didn't find Mom singing a song, or humming along as someone else sang. When Village Shalom, her retirement community, brought in entertainers to perform for the residents, Mom was always in the front row, singing along and clapping enthusiastically.
Matter of fact, one of her few complaints at Village Shalom was that not enough of the "old people" showed up for these weekly performances. (She also felt that those who did show up weren't nearly appreciative enough. Mom was a big believer in applauding the talents of those around her.)
Mom's love of music -- and her appreciation of talent -- drew young people to her. They'd come to Village Shalom as part of a volunteer group or with a simple desire to connect, and be captured by the magic that was Mom.
A delightful young woman named Sarah visited Mom regularly for years; Mom treasured a CD of Sarah singing some of their favorite songs. Paris Naster -- like Sarah, a musical theatre star -- met Mom back in 2017 and kindly sent an email, telling me how much she enjoyed their encounters:
"We connected almost immediately and began singing," Paris said. "I have gone to see her about three times since and each time is wonderful. She shares with me her pride in being a Jew, her adoration of her family, and wonderful stories that bring joy to both of us ...
"I brought my Mom to meet her the other day and she said, 'We could be famous, you and me. We'd make a great team and an even better album!'"
|Mom and Paris. They do make a great team.|
If the video below of them singing doesn't work,
please forgive my technical
incompetence and click here.
|Big thanks to my friend Linda Sweenie |
for translating the lullabies into sheet music!
Thursday, April 22, 2021
So, by now you know that tomorrow -- April 23, 2021 -- marks the 100th anniversary of Mom's birth. We've been 100% Lillian all week on the blog! Today, Look Up: A Centennial Celebration continues, but we're taking a teeny, tiny detour to celebrate another birthday girl.
|It was 1960. I was 5.|
I'll let you do the math.
As you might expect, Mom made every birthday special. More than that -- she made every "month day" special. That's right. On the 22nd of every month, Mom happily greeted me with an enthusiastic Happy Month Day! the minute I got out of bed.
Growing up with a mom who makes you feel like a rock star for existing is absolutely as lovely as you might think.*
- One for all the years past
- One for this year
- And one to grow on!
Today, I'm as I blow out my three candles (very, very carefully), I'm going to do exactly what Mom would want me to do. I'm going to make a secret wish and enjoy a day that's 100% Janet.
But tomorrow? That's the day we've all been waiting for: Our centennial birthday girl has a surprise just for you. Tune in tomorrow to get your gift!
*I hear those wheels turning. You're wondering how you could turn an ordinary day into something special for someone special. Do it! Make Lillian proud.
Wednesday, April 21, 2021
|Mom and her favorite son.|
Tuesday, April 20, 2021
Welcome back to our week-long party, Look Up: A Centennial Celebration! This Friday -- April 23, 2021 -- marks 100 years since the birth of Lillian Sokoloff, so we are 100% Lillian this week! To wrap things up, Mom even has a gift for you on Friday. (What could it be? Look forward to a nice surprise!)
Yesterday, I promised to tell you how Mom and Dad met. Their "meet cute" story illustrates Mom's smarts and creativity. Not to mention her good taste in men.
Back in the early 1950s, Mom was part of a social sorority -- as I remember, she was the "den mother" of the pack, and most of the girls were a bit younger than she was. One weekend, the group had a special date night event, a picnic at Swope Park in Kansas City.
Mom showed up with a date, of course. But, as the group sat around the campfire, she noticed a good-looking man with one of the other girls. She didn't know who he was, but she was determined to find out. How could she get to know him without being obvious? She took the first step, announcing, "Girls, I think it would be a good idea if we go around the campfire, and all introduce our dates."
Everything moved pretty quickly after that introduction. Handsome Allen was equally captivated by beautiful Lillian. After a quick chat at the picnic, they agreed to leave with their respective dates early. Allen dropped his date off and drove over to Lillian's house. It was, for both of them, the second date of the evening, but the first night of their love story.
P.S. Dad was driving a sports car that night. Mom insists* she saw Dad before she saw the car.
When you see what you want, dear heart, go for it.
* I automatically wrote this in present tense. I'm good with that, as I'll explain tomorrow. Party on!
Monday, April 19, 2021
|Flashback for the young 'uns: |
The phone was on a telephone table, much like this.
Now, Mom loved to talk on the phone, but she had some friends who could talk for hours. And hours. While Mom didn't have the patience for that, she never wanted to be rude and cut them off to hang up. So, she developed a plan: When she wanted to escape the conversation, she would hit the wall by the telephone table three times. If Harry or Eva or I heard that triple knock, it was our job to run to the hallway and loudly proclaim, "Mom! I need you! I need you now! Can you please get off the phone?"
Tuesday, March 23, 2021
This past weekend, I downloaded Monogamy, a novel by Sue Miller, from the library. I was excited to read it -- I like Miller's writing -- but first went on Goodreads to put the book on my "currently reading" shelf.
And there it was. On the shelf of books I've already read this year.
|Upper-left corner. Monogamy. Oy.|
That's right. I read Monogamy in January and forgot about it by March.
I'd like to say that's an odd occurrence, but ... no. I'll give you another example: a medical bill for $198. I paid it in February, but the payment apparently crossed paths in the mail with my doctor's second notice. I got that second bill, and promptly wrote another check for $198.
It's year 2 of the pandemic, and I am not OK.
Now, as I say that, keep this in mind: I am in the extremely lucky group when it comes to the coronavirus. My family and friends are healthy. I haven't lost anyone to COVID-19. I have worked from home for nearly 20 years, so my daily schedule wasn't turned upside-down last March. The girls are grown; I have not been home-schooling kids or trying to keep toddlers amused while working.
I count my blessings daily. Truly. I have a list of gratitudes. Still, as we enter the second year of this pandemic, with vaccinations happening and hope in sight, it's important to acknowledge what even the luckiest of us have lost.
There are people I love dearly -- family and friends -- that I haven't seen in-person for over a year. There are people I love dearly -- family and friends -- that I have only seen from a distance.
This pandemic year has continually brought home the message that time is precious and no one is guaranteed tomorrow. We have all lost time together.
Ah, togetherness. How many hugs do you think you've lost in the past year? I'm a hugger. I miss wrapping my arms around someone, drawing them close, and holding them tight -- not for long, but long enough. Long enough.
One of my dearest friends lost her father to Alzheimer's this past year. When I went to drop off food, I asked for permission to hug her -- and we both were wearing masks, we turned our heads when we hugged (as one does), and I held my breath to keep her safer.
I send "Virtual hugs!" now to friends. It is not the same. We've lost the healing connection of contact.
We've also lost full face-to-face contact -- and that matters. People's faces tell stories. Our wonderful, life-saving masks are essential. No questions; I'm not here to debate the science. That said, I won't deny that those masks change the quality of our communications. When we can't see someone's full face, we lose important body language cues that help us understand each other.
Is she smiling when she says that? Is it a real smile? Or a forced grin? Who would know?
For me, the communications challenge is exacerbated. I'm half-deaf. I lip read. Well, I used to lip read. FYI, some of y'all speak awfully softly.
There are people who have completely fallen off my radar during the past year. Either they didn't reach out to me, or I didn't reach out to them. Or, we checked in with each other at the start of the pandemic, but ... it's been months now, and we haven't spoken. Or Zoomed. Or FaceTimed.
Relationships have been lost. Maybe they'll be resurrected when life gets back to normal -- or maybe they won't. Maybe that's OK.
Ah, that sense of normal. Probably should have put this at the top of the lost list, rather than at the bottom. We lost normal last March.
Will we ever walk into a coffee shop or bookstore again with perfect ease? Will we remember how to have idle water-cooler chit-chat with colleagues? Will we even want to have idle water-cooler chit-chat with colleagues? I'm hearing -- from a surprising number of people -- that they're happier working at home and interacting with fewer people.
And that brings us to ...
What We Gained
Yep. I may not have the mental focus required to remember the book I read a month ago or the check I wrote a week ago, but some things never change.
I am still my mother's daughter. And I still seek out the best in a situation, whenever I can.
So what have we gained?
No, seriously. I'm asking you: What have YOU gained?
I'll get the answers started with a few examples from my life, but I'd love to see your response in the comments below.
With this year of losses, I have gained: a deeper-than-ever gratitude for true friends, a new sense of who and what matters most, and a fresh appreciation for free time. (Yes, I used a ridiculous amount of that free time to binge watch Schitt's Creek, Bridgerton, and Virgin River. Still, I also learned how to watercolor and took a pottery class.)
I have gained a rock-solid confidence that even if, "I am not OK," today, I will be OK again. This too will pass.
Your turn! Tell me: In this year of losses, what have you gained?