MAKING TIME

Even before he mentioned it in his post I had noticed that Harry doesn't use a daybook or calendar or even (given that he is, after all, a tech geek) one of those electronic thingies that keep track of your life for you. I never thought about Harry's eschewing of calendars and the like in philosophical terms. If anything, Harry enjoys marking time (anniversaries, birthdays, other important markers) more than most people. He's the one who invented monthaversaries; he has a calendar in his head. He lies next to me in bed in the morning, while my eyes are still closed and I am still fighting the whole idea of waking up, cheerfully sharing his plans for the day:

"I'll make coffee, and we'll have breakfast, then we'll work on the puzzle for a while, and then I'll walk the dog and after that we will go shopping, then you're going to work at the store and by the way what would you like for dinner tonight?"

I think it's adorable, even if I can't exactly get behind it at minus 7 am, a hour when I am constitutionally unable to think about ANYTHING besides sleeping longer, or maybe having sex and THEN going back to sleep...after all somebody DOES have to make sure we eat, go to the occasional movie and see that the dog gets walked and all that. I mean, I can and do do my share of that, but certainly not before I've had coffee.

I love (although I don't always enjoy) that Harry thinks about, plans for and manages our life. Sometimes I have to fight the urge to snap at him when he asks me (at the aforementioned ungodly hour of 7 am on Saturday! If I want salmon or snapper for dinner that night, or if I'm leaving for work at 10 or 10:30, or which of the movies we've discussed I want to see the next night. But mostly I don't because I know it's all about Harry making sure we're going to be together.

Which I can, and do, get behind.

Happy 2010, darling Harry. I wish this post had more substance. Fluff is all my brain is up to these days.

Marking Time: Posted by Harry

Marking Time:

While maybe not my favorite, New Year’s is still a pretty good holiday. It’s of course about being with the people you love more than some forced and often substance-laden good time. It has been a tradition of mine since the late 70s to take a long walk or hike on New Year’s Day, weather permitting. Somehow walking through the woods or park, and hopefully with sun and clear air, not only shakes off the lethargy of the holidays and the winter solstice, but also cleanses and renews because the first day of the year is often a day where work, or social commitments, or plans are put on hold.

The biggest problem I have with New Years is the idea of marking time. I have the same problem with birthdays. I always like a good party, or celebration, always enjoy receiving a birthday gift and cake (who doesn’t), but it can be a bit ridiculous and arbitrary to feel that you must “sum up” what’s happened in your life over the past year and then make plans or resolutions for the coming year. It isn’t that one’s plans or resolutions are inherently a bad thing (although to quote John Lennon, “life is what’s happening while you’re busy making plans”) ---- it’s more the danger of taking life too seriously. I am most annoyed by the Engineering of Time, or the Linear Construct of Time, which we in the Western World have been programmed to do for centuries, beginning most likely with the appearance of clocks in the Middle Ages. I don’t even own a calendar or day planner, though I understand the need to remind myself of things, because I’m pretty absent minded. And although I’ve managed to incorporate the inevitability of aging and mortality into my thinking, I don’t see the necessity of attaching numbers to what I’m feeling on a cellular level.

Okay, so it’s the end of the first decade of the 21st Century. Frankly, I had never envisioned being here at this time, not out of any foreboding of apocalypse but simply because in my checkered youth I wasn’t capable of imagining so far into the future. And when I became older and succumbed to the lure of ball-gazing about where and how I’d ultimately wind up, the picture that shimmered in the mind’s crystal was not at all what came to pass, and that’s the beauty of it.

I know I’m cribbing from much great 19th and early 20th century literature, but I like august company, and hey ---- It’s New Year’s!

I have all the Love and Happiness I could ever possibly know. I am free.

Here’s to a Happy New Year with my Sally, and (God willing) the rest of the world.

Posted by Harry
12/31/2009

Last Weekend and The Christmas Tree

Hi Darling -- It was a great weekend by any measure with the mild exception of no NYT Sunday crossword puzzle...

I'm really beginning to catch the holiday spirit, and I'm catching it with You Darling in a big way.

Because it was pouring out all day last Sunday, I put off getting our Xmas tree. I finally managed to pick one up late Wednesday night after piano lesson (around 9pm, late for me) and bring it home. We are trimming the tree today. Plan on going to Manyaunk for Christmas shopping this weekend. Also, hope to see movies this weekend and over the next two weeks. We've both seen all our children within the past week, and of course we will see them all again on Christmas.

Sallie and I are good. There is much joy right now, but we are also thinking of others who may be having a rough holiday season, and trying to help where it is possible.

Hi, Boyo

Just checking in with you.

I THINK about posting all the time, and then I think, "not really that interesting," and I - don't.

Maybe you do that too.

I love you, my Boyo. It was a spectacular weekend, by any measure.

So looking forward to the next one.

Posted by Sally.

Happy Anniversary, Harry!

The whole first year we were together we celebrated "monthaversaries." The fourth of each month was cause for wining and dining. (Not that Harry and I ever needed any particular reason to wine and dine.)
This December was an actual anniversary, our second, and was duly celebrated. We went to listen to Armenian music and eat Indonesian food. It was wonderful, but I have to say the best part was coming home. Probably this had something to do with our date coming at the end of a long work week. I think it may also have something to do with the fact that evenings at home together are not so plentiful these days. . .our Netflixs gather quite a bit of dust lying around waiting for us to be at home together long enough to watch one.

Probably when I'm working less I'll be more eager to go out again, but right now my idea of a perfect evening is dinner with Harry, watching TV and fending off the animals, who think the sofa is theirs.

(By Sally)

December 4: Posted by Harry

I met Sallie two years ago on this date, December 4. I remember the way she looked at me when I met her in a Starbucks on Broad Street in Philadelphia. There was warmth and kindness in her smile. I hadn’t been feeling well that day, but I somehow knew after a month of emailing and a phone conversation that I really needed to see her. We had postponed meeting over Thanksgiving because of Sally’s tradition of spending Thanksgiving with the orphans, but I’m extremely grateful we decided to meet when we did. Sally had mentioned in an email that if we didn’t meet by early December, then we would run the risk of missing one another due to the Christmas Holiday vortex. It’s all in the timing.

As it turned out, the month was surprisingly stress-free and one of the most beautiful I have ever experienced, and I’ve had many good Decembers, especially when my three kids were small---they were sometimes hard work, but emotionally rich and satisfying overall. But December two years ago, December of 2007, seemed to possess this seasonal magic, and I felt harmony and perfection with my now older kids and the blossoming of my love with Sally. Only one time during that month had I expressed a fear about getting behind on shopping or Christmas to-do’s, but everything fell into place so easily. Sally and I had several brilliant dates (including Atonement in Center City when we kissed goodbye on the sidewalk, and the wonderful weekend watching “The Parrots of Telegraph Hill”) and we spent the most tender, loving, Christmas Eve and part of Christmas Day together, as well as the last few days of the year, and the first day of the New Year.

So much has happened since then my mind reels if I try to absorb it all, try to conjure all the myriad moments of our love. There have been some hard times too, but I believe most of our arguments or issues, when addressed in a loving or honest way, have enabled us to grow. And we’ve had (and have) such great joy together. My prayer and wish for our third and subsequent years is that we stay healthy and enjoy our lives together while we can. I know we’ll keep on loving.

Orphans Redux

It was a particularly wonderful T-day for the orphans this year. It was warm, and the walks on country roads were made without jackets. Children have grown up, and can now converse civilly with their parents. There is some indication, unconfirmed as yet, the third generation of orphans is begun. Friendships have grown, faded, mellowed and returned. Despite the absence of my own daughters (who had other fish to fry) and the illness of the hostess; and possibly partly due to the absence of Ex, it was a lovely time and I'm happy to report Harry had fun too.

Thankful

For so much...for Harry and our life together. That comes first.

There are many other things I'm thankful for, in this moment before I log off to go and cook the Brussels sprouts (with walnuts and Parmesan) dish that has been my long-standing annual assignment at the Orphan's Thanksgiving, a group of friends I've been celebrating T-day with for 20-odd years.

The Orphans originally formed (this was long before I knew them) as a group who were either far from their families or resistant, for various reasons, to spending T-day with said families.

I came into the picture when Ex (remember my EX?) was invited by a grad-school friend to Thanksgiving with his "family" who turned out to be the aforementioned orphans.

Ex and I at the time, had a two-year-old.

So my first experience with the orphans, (even conducted as it was at my Ex's wonderful familial retreat "down the shore") was not promising. The food was great. (They're all foodies and serious cooks to boot) but Maya (the 2-year old in question and the only child anyone had at that point) wanted to watch tv. (Hello? Sesame St, early in the morning?)
The other adults, (none of whom were parents) unilaterally agreed: TV: EVIL BAD TURN IT OFF.

So I spent the day after T-day (when the orphans have the lovely custom of eating leftovers and reprising DINNER at brunch the next day) switching the tv repeatedly back ON for my child and trying NOT to hear people (NONE OF WHOM WERE PARENTS AT THAT POINT) saying things like "Children need to NOT watch TV. TV IS DAMAGING..."

After this I boycotted the orphan's thanksgiving for several years. Ex and I did NOT attend the O's Thanksgiving for a while.

The 2-year old in question grew older.

Ex and I had more and more conflict over Holiday Arrangements. This was hard. In the end, we found ourselves happiest with the orphan's T-day,so we resumed attending right around the time one of the other orphans had a child.

Fast forward to now:

Ex and I are divorced, our girls are grown up.

My Harry has issues of his own ex-wise, kid-wise.

Tomorrow we (Harry and I) are going to the Orphan"s Thanksgiving, with the Brussels' sprouts, but sans any of our children. I think he is not happy about this, but he loves me and is going along.I hope it goes well.I am looking forward to seeing my friends.

Next year we have to find another way to do thanksgiving.

Not to mention Christmas.

Follow Up to "Amelia Indeed" Posted by Harry

As a follow up to Sally's marital post, I was going to write about my own marital experience, but for now I want to take it easy (it's Monday after all) and talk about last night, and movies, etc. Way too much to ignore.

Sally's synopis of our conversation last night is brilliant. It really irked me that I could not remember (or either of us could remember) the last movie we had seen at BMFI (which was only a mere several weeks ago), though I could certainly tell you where and when I saw "Exterminating Angel", or "Apu Trilogy" or "Grand Illusion", or even "The Graduate" (I confess I was only 15) for the first time. The movie was "Julie and Julia" (or was it "Jules and Jim?" - No). At any rate, we had both enjoyed "Julie and Julia", but unfortunately "Ameila" was a movie we didn't enjoy a whole lot. No offense to Hilary Swank, who is a favorite of Harry's, who is now talking about himself in the third person!

I intend to fill in the gaps on the books and movies list. Sally and I agreed that it would be a futile and epic list if we covered all the books and movies we'd known prior to meeting, so I will stick with what we've both seen and read together since the miracle date of 12/4/2007 (do DVDs count? They're good enough for The Times) and may throw in the Leonard Cohen concert (a thoroughly transcendent show for me) for a little variation. Please indulge me --- I'm in the last quarter of my 50s. Not all the synapses fire like they used to do.

Amelia, Indeed!

Harry and I have just returned from seeing Amelia, which neither of us liked much.

In the car on the way home we talked about how hard we are both finding it these days, to remember movies (not to mention other things but let's not go there in this post anyway) anymore.

In the seventies as I segued from twenty- to thirty- something I saw about 300 movies a year, and this is NOT counting the ones I saw on insomniac late-night TV. I was living in New York City where movies were plentiful and cheap, I was going to film school and dating a filmmaker. . .(and of course my brain was younger and much more agile.) The remarkable thing is how good my recall of these thousands of movies was, and IS. I can hear a TV broadcasting a murky copy of "Dark Victory" in the next room and I INSTANTLY recognize it.

But ask me to identify something I saw, as Harry did in the car just now; something both of us liked? - just a scant two months ago?

I am forced to Google it.

My first impulse is to blame the internet itself. After all, before the invention of movable type in the 15th Century, normal human beings were routinely able to remember all the contents of a 30-minute-long song by the roving minstrel that brought them all the news that was fit to sing, WORD FOR WORD.

Before there was Google, I remember remembering all sorts of things I learned in school. The value of Pi, abbreviations of elements, dates in the Civil War. Before I owned a cell phone that stored the phone numbers I call, I could dial most of the people I talked to from memory. Now I am helpless when my cell phone is charging.

Okay, this has all been a roundabout way of saying that I am going to RECORD on this blog all the movies I see with Harry. Mostly so that when we are not able to remember what it was or when or where, we will have someplace too look it up!

Harry's Picture

So I have this new job, which after my recent experiences in the world of the un- and newly-employed I refuse to take for granted at least until the 90 probation period is over. For that reason I vowed that I would not bring plants, personal desk ornaments or (god forbid) art for the walls of "my" office here until they do something that convinces me they REALLY want me here, like offering me health insurance or favorable review, or a raise... It was just too awful when the job I had for a scant two months last spring evaporated and I had to lug all that stuff home on the train. . .this time haven't even changed my computer desktop picture.

I did however sneak in a small picture of Harry, which I have put where no one but me can see it. It's my favorite picture (almost only) picture of Harry, taken in our kitchen. He's looking over his reading glasses at me with the bluest, bluest eyes you ever saw.

It makes me smile twenty times a day.


(posted by Sally)

Getting Married

Until I was 28, I was completely sure that I had no intention, and I do mean NONE, of having a child.

Peripherally, getting married was something I didn't much think about. In my twenties, I had two cohabiting relationships that lasted several years each. In neither one was marriage or children EVER discussed. That was just fine with me, a very happy serial monagamist.

Then at 28, in the midst of perhaps my least promising relationship, I got pregnant. I know (and I knew at the time) that I was responsible. I'd been experimenting with so-called natural birth control; which involved daily assessment of vaginal mucous and counting days - it used to be called Vatican roulette.

I'd been lucky earlier when at 22 I got pregnant by a boyfriend who adored me but abhorred the very thought of reproducing. Then, I lucked into an illegal but knowledgeable and caring RN who sent me home to my life afterward without consequences and without the putative father knowing. To this day.

At 28, I was lucky again. I had this really great doctor, my OBGYN, who talked to me as if I was his own daughter: "What do you want to do?" he asked gently. I said something like I thought abortion was the only realistic option, given that the father was a neurotic I'd been trying unsuccessfully to break up with for six months, and I had no way of supporting a child...

He said, "Are you sure?" I said yes. And then he said, "We can terminate this pregnancy, it will have no bearing on your ability to give birth in the future. It is a safe, simple procedure. I will take good care of you."

He repeated "I will take care of you," touching my hand lightly, when I was drugged and readied for the procedure, just a few days later.

I woke up, briefly sick from the anesthetic, but unpregnant and basically good to go... I saw my good doctor one more time. "We'll have a different outcome next time," he said, shaking my hand and smiling at me as I left his office.

Okay, marriage is what I was on about, initially.

Well, for me, the experience of that abortion that went well, (despite the boyfriend/father who picked a fight with me because he hadn't had enough time to "digest" his breakfast) changed everything.

Almost at once I thought "what if that was my LAST CHANCE?" Twice now I have aborted potential children.

What if there will be no more?

That question changed my life.

Basically I scrapped my MO of falling in love with cute guys and living with them until I couldn't, or didn't want to, anymore. I replaced it with a policy of (I can only describe this as) finding Daddy for my child. He needed to be: Intelligent, smart, sexy (SO wish I had privledged this more)

I found the man who fathered my daughters and although I did eventually marry him under circumstances I won't go into here; suffice it to say that they amounted to emotional blackmail by a couples counselor - my view on marriage as an institution remained unchanged.

Fast forward twenty-odd years: I don't know if it's Harry, or the life place we're in together - But I knew almost right away that I wanted to be married to Harry. I remember we talked about it very early on. "Do you think you'll ever get married again?" he asked and I knew it was YES.

Marrying Sally

I want to marry Sally but there is personal legal and financial business that she needs to take care of first. That is a practical matter and I admire her tenacity. I know she has been working so hard and I feel a little ashamed that recently I put some stress on her that was unwarranted. I guess sometimes I panic about money. I have children depending on me to some degree and maybe this is a source of stress and maybe just life in general --- situations like fear of a job loss that Sally mentioned in her post of 10/19. If anything Sally has been nothing but wonderful to me. Everything in the post of 10/19 she wrote is beautiful and I'm not reneging on anything she said about my unwavering support of, and devotion to her.

I will be patient and let Sally take care of what she needs to do. I know she wants to help financially. And I want to be married --- as soon as possible after January --- but whenever she feels is the right time, that will be the right time for me. The main thing is we marry and spend the rest of our days together loving and caring for one another.

I wrote an email to my brother recently who was having some of his own troubles, and in the letter I mentioned I was very happy in my relationship with Sally. Maybe I should have told her.

And we will be going to Hawk Mountain next weekend :)

Talk: Posted by Harry

I wanted to post a brief thought before I lose it. Yesterday I was telling Sally about some issues I was having around my ex, and some of the problems that occasionally (but too often for a divorced person) arise. Sally always listens to me and offers her thoughts in a way that isn't judgmental or annoyed. She has this amazing capacity to sum up problems, or to get to the heart of the matter. This is something that I admire and respect about her, and just another quality of hers that makes me love her beyond description.

I tend to get more emotional about human interactions, relationships, close interactions of any kind, and my anger and depression is sometimes a source of confusion to me. But even when we fight, Sally has a way of staying in control even while letting me know she's very upset, and that communicating, expressing herself so clearly, eventually brings me around to my senses.

But the real subject here is just the way in which Sally listens. Her answers or observations show me the depth of her love, her caring and understanding. I've never experienced anything like this in a relationship before --- It's beautiful. Sally is equally wise in her head and her heart. She is brilliant intellectually, but also spiritual and deeply loving, and she is an amazing source of strength to me. Sally is beautiful.

We Will Always Help One Another: by Harry

Thank You, Sally. I know you would do it for me. I feel a kind of boundless caring in our relationship, and also with caring, and dealing with the day-to-day, and helping you get through a hard time, I feel the depth of my love for you. One could say, "Well, you might do something similar for a friend," and that is true, but friends aren't together 7x24, and I do feel a deep friendship for you too, that's part of what we have. But we also share having come through rough (or at times, rough) marriages and break ups and disappointments, and then finding each other on the other side of divorce, and suddenly feeling incredibly blessed in our love.

And we've never quite decided whether it would have been this way for us three decades ago if we had met back then, or whether we have gained an appreciation of one another because of our experience. I know I am extremely physically attracted to Sally, and that certainly would have been a factor in our 20s and 30s, but I'm not sure if either of us would have had the wisdom? the understanding? at that time to manage all the vagaries, and the ups and downs of a relationship, or perhaps fully appreciate the love we have. We may never know the answer, but we have NOW, and NOW is the best....

PS by Sally

My last post (about my (ENDLESS) period of being unemployed) was VERY hard for me to write.

But I can't excuse a major omission.

All the time I was biting my nails, scanning craigslist and generally going mad - my darling Harry was not only footing the entire bill for our existence, he was also making my car payments, buying me festive dinners, books, underpants, bracelets, shampoo; whatever I said I needed.

He pretended that this was no big deal. (I know he has his fears a about his own job/career) But still he gazed at me lovingly every morning, greeted me with enthusiasm whenever we were parted for an hour or more, kissed me passionately at intervals - and never once blamed me or asked me to account for, or promise, anything.
I'd leave go on interviews, and he always held me tightly, kissed my ear and said "I want you to get this job. I am praying for you. I will love you no matter what happens."

He wasn't just keeping me from living in a cardboard box, he singlehandedly supported my life for me. No one, not even my mother, has ever in my life taken such good,trusting and loving care of me.


I love you, Harry.

(Posted by Sally)

Back to Work

I've mostly avoided writing about this but now it can be told: I was unemployed from the end of April until the beginning of October. Probably not a startling fact given that we all know unemployment is rampant and not getting better yadda yadda: But it was a profound & prolonged shock to me, within hailing distance of traditional retirement age, to discover that paying work is not something I can count on.

Never since high school had I failed to get a job fairly quickly when I wanted one. I stayed at home with each of my daughters for what might be considered a long time but as soon as each of them entered daycare a job materialized. Even freelancing in my carefree thirties didn't leave me idle often. Much as I hated the process of finding writing gigs I was usually over-, rather than under-employed. Not all of my jobs have been great but I always managed to find something that paid the rent and kept me occupied during the so-called business day.

But not this time.

Call me over-entitled but not stupid; when the social services position I had was downsized last summer, I did see the writing on the wall. (Funding disappeared entirely six months later) I began sending out resumes in a somewhat desultory fashion. I was so sure that I would find something comparable - or better!- than the job I had had that I didn't even bother to respond to many ads.I applied for a few that were a stretch, reasoning If Not Now, When? And I got flat-out ignored or passed over closely - what difference?

I did luck out, as it turns out. I found something I like that pays, if not as well as my old job, nearly so and five months of LOOKING have made me grateful.

Now I'm crossing my fingers that the 90-day trial period passes without incident and I KEEP this job. Another thing it never before occurred to me to worry about.

How the over-entitled have fallen!

Posted by Harry: Sally, Kisses Sweeter than.... Everything

Sally, darling, I know we are like ships passing in the night these days, what with work and work, and chores, BUT even those few kisses in the morning are a miracle to me. There is something in the touch of your lips on mine that surpasses most of the sexual experiences of my life, and that's not to denigrate those experiences by any means, it's just that your/our kissing is utterly amazing. And this is only our kissing, mind you. What follows (when we have a chance and the energy for it to follow) is sublime, a plateau or peak of beautiful passion and eroticism that's beyond anything I had ever hoped or wished for.

Sally, You are the best kisser in this end of the galaxy --- maybe even the entire galaxy, honestly. I can't adequately express what kissing is like with you, and I think I'm doing a halfway decent job by way of metaphor and allusion.

I'd like to know more about why you feel this is not what you'd imagined. If somehow different, then I hope what we have right now is as good or better than you'd imagined. One thing I know for sure: it is deeply loving in every possible way.

I Love You So Much Dear One.... My Baby......

Working. ..

Harry and I both work many hours these days. The kids, his and mine; are on trajectories of their own.

While we strive to keep up with both them and our own (putative) CAREERS.

My own recent five months of unemployment drives me: while Harry's recent changes to his work week beguile and (I think) charm him into (kinda, sorta) liking a job he has long hated.

Anyway, both of us work long hours now - we get up at 6 am and return to the fold at 8 or 9 pm. Then we kiss,talk and drink wine: but are both too tired to do much else.

What does that mean for our romantic (initiative, imperative) to lie in one another's others' arms in the dawn; to wake, recount dreams; & to fuck in the morning?

Just what you might expect.

We wake in the morning and we kiss and then we get up and do what we need to do.

I adore Harry & know he adores me.

This is not the life I imagined, but - I can't imagine life without Harry.

Sleeping

Harry, Dear. Sometimes I don't sleep well.

I so love that you sleep, mumble and just get on with your night: even when I am having a bad night.

So reassuring.

Last night - I don't even want to tell you what a bad dream I dreamed. But - when I woke & gasped & recovered & and then curled into your warm (& still sound-asleep) chest - you turned around me, murmured "Baby" sleepily, smiling with your eyes closed.

I didn't go back to sleep for a while (it was five am: soon time to get up anyway) but I wasn't thinking about my nightmare; I was luxuriating in the blessing of your warmth and your arms.

Thank you.

(posted by Sally)

Thursday

I never know when Harry will read my posts or post to our blog. Our deal is: we post whenever we want to. I tend to lapse into thinking about this as a singular activity, in periods when I'm obsessively posting and he is Doing Other Things. I am always thrilled to find his postings. . .

Need to stop here to say how much I adore the (my) Boyo in question. He always takes me seriously, cares for me tenderly, and never EVER sells me or himself short. He is the best. I want only to to live up to the standard he sets. And of course, to keep sleeping cuddled together - every night.

(Posted By Sallie)

Wednesday Dinner - Posted by Harry

I needed to get out of the house last night. Sallie and I had dinner at our favorite (or one of our favorite) Thai restaurants. The restaurant has a "neighborhood" feel and we love dining there, the dinners are almost always good, and it's a BYOB. But the main reason this local restaurant is near and dear to mine and Sallie's heart is because it's the scene of our first date, or Date 1. I remember how it felt dining there on Date 1, almost two years ago, how I felt such ease and happiness with Sallie, and all the possibilities. I still feel that way. The Thai restaurant --- our small table, our talk, the bottle of wine --- reinforces the magic of who we are together. In fact magic, or brilliant, or wonderful is how I would characterize my life with Sallie.

The Dust Seems a Must - Posted by Harry

I agree with Sallie. I just wish we could have extended moments when everything was worry free, or where there wasn't a problem to deal with. I know that's naive of me, but at present are not experiencing the kind of major dust storm as we did in Spring-Summer of 2008 with the house moves and changes with kids, and with my mother dying. I felt that time had the potential to be a real challenge in our relationship, because after all, during that period we'd only been together several months. And yet somehow I never doubted the strength of our love. Maybe I'm a perennial optimist (was never called that!) but still hoping for easier times, especially on the career front. Sallie started a new full-time job and has some interesting part-time jobs. She is working so hard. I pray we end up OK, and yet I know that we will as long as we can see the forest for the trees.

Mr Tambourine Man

Today driving to work (something I haven't done much of lately, but more on that later) I discovered that after the approximately a million or so years since I first heard & revered it, I STILL know all the words to that Bob Dylan oldie.

"To dance beneath the diamond sky with one hand waving free
silhouetted by the sea. . . yadda yadda yadda"

To my ear now it's such a (young!) paean to - what? teenage angst? frustrated intellectual pretensions? Drug use?

Still, so many nicely turned phrases; apt, slick and singable. Dear Zimmerman.

When I was thirteen or so, in the period when my boyfriend John A and his sister Linnea were the important people in my emotional universe - Bobby Z and his lyrics were the final word on everything for the three of us. . I remember Linnea saying once, as we waited for her brother who was supposed to be taking me to the movies at some point,

"I learn more by listening to a single Dylan song for the fortieth time than by sitting in any class." L was in eighth grade at the time and I was much in awe of her sophistication. . .

I was older than L but much less confidant of my views. I went to all my classes and took notes - but I couldn't help wondering how one acquired L's confidence or the mysterious ability to DECIDE that a Dylan lyric was somehow more important, interesting or relevant.

In his senior year (a short year after I had decamped to a local liberal arts college, not (I hasten to assure you) exactly breaking his heart) John got a scholarship to an engineering school. After he graduated brilliantly, I heard he got a fellowship to a prestigious program at Yale. His ability to fix ,build and repair cars (he built from spare parts the car he took my on my first date to the movies) turnedout to be his way out of the rural backwater he, his sister and I found ourselves trying to grow up in, those lazy summers we spent listening to Dylan songs.

I hear about John A sometimes from long-ago friends and connections, but I have no idea what Linnea did after high school. I so wish I did.


(by Sally)

When The Dust Settles. . .

"When The Dust Settles" was kind of a jokey catch phrase for Harry and me, all that first year. . .

The first year began at a Starbucks and ended with me trying to downsize my 20+years-worth of belongings & general effects such that I could fit me and my stuff into Harry's suburban South Jersey house - which he thought wouldn't sell until the housing bubble or whatever it was resolved. In fact, he got an offer that actually proceeded to a sale six weeks after I moved in. So THEN we had to do it again; downsize HARRY's 20+ years of stuff, to move to the house we live in now.

All this time, we kept saying to one another things like "I'd really like to go back to Greece with you WHEN THE DUST SETTLES. Maybe we can go to Paris together WHEN THE DUST SETTLES. . .

The DUST in question? His unsold (and maybe unsellable) house, my lack of a job, (both) our kids various struggles with college adulthood and beyond; general financial and personal issues that kept us tied to where we were at the time...

Now we can't say "as soon as the dust settles" without one or the other of us breaking down in hilarity.

Clearly the dust is with us always.

(Posted by Sally)

Common Ground: Posted by Harry

I've been thinking about Sallie's recent comment regarding our kids and remember all the talks we've had around this subject, about the experience of being a parent, and also about our pasts before children, and the revelation of suddenly realizing you had wanted to be a parent, and then the tide of feeling that had swept us away on becoming parents. Almost from the beginning of our relationship, in early dates (0? 1 or 2?) and certainly on our phone calls, we'd discussed the sacrifices of parenthood and the difficulty of relating to single people (especially on dating sites) who had never experienced that someone else in their lives were more important, or that the needs of a child came before everything else --- certainly before your own needs.

We will be back to hear the surf in that wonderful hotel room by the ocean.

And it was a sweet time. I didn't mind the wrath of the weather Gods too much. Walking on the beach at night in that kind of stormy weather was a gift, it really was.

My Baby.

Eric is recovering well from MRSA. It's sad he missed school this semester but it may be for a reason and work out for the best. It's too early to tell, but I do know son has some some growing to do and he already sounds like a different person because of the ordeal he went through --- the fever, and several days in the hospital.


I'll be back here soon. (Today hopefully)

Kids....

I've been thinking a lot, recently, about our (Harry's and my)five kids.
Maya,Evan, Eric, Ellen, Gwyn.

Between us we have: (my) 2 girls(his) twins plus two-years-older Evan. . . five kids/people.

Mine, at the moment, are mostly co-opted by their dad, my X. (He has (now) all the money. And they need to go to college, etc.etc

I did the breastfeeding, earlier. I chose not to fight with X over my babies ...They would have suffered: I could not do it)


His: MUCH more complicated.


He was in loco parentis when "mommy" went missing, to Colorado or Montana; in search of an old love or an old image of self or whatever.

My sweet Boyo.

Today he told me his middle child, his boy-twin, had MRSA.

Down the shore

We went to visit the ocean, and (only) incidentally all of our separate, collective and familial memories of: going to the beach/vacationing/having fun, etc, etc. . .

Actually it went quite well. We found a lovely B&B with jacuzzi(!); had lobster for dinner, walked on the beach at night, came back to bathe and cavort.. . But Harry had hoped to lure me into a kayak for a calm back-bay paddling experience and when the morning dawned blustery, coolish and very very rough he was forced to reconsider.He was gracious about it, but I know he was cursing the weather gods...driving across the causeway in search of coffee we were sloshed with high crashing waves; it was very exciting. Clearly not kayacking weather.

Harry was disappointed I know but we did have such a sweet time in the jacuzzi (and in the car, coming and going: remembering our past, and separate trips to the shore with kids, with exes, fun and disappointments)

We'll be back - to kayak, walk on the beach, to sleep and wake to the sound of the surf.

(posted by Sally)

September - Labor Day and Birthdays, etc.

Had dinner last night with Sally and her daughters at a new and fairly hip diner in the Northern Liberties section of Philadelphia. Sally's daughters were lovely and witty and fun to be with. The dinner was good, perfect diner fries, and I even courted cholesterol risk and had a piece of cheesecake for dessert.

Waiting for the weekend to begin. Work is extremely slow today but at least I'm working from home. I have two hours left until the start not only of a long holiday weekend with Sally, but a vacation week with her as well. Our aspirations: 1. Spend one romantic evening at the seashore and enjoy a lobster dinner; 2. Get all of our junk ready for the big Media town-wide yard sale next Saturday; 3. Celebrate Sallie's youngest daughter's 18th birthday next Friday. Sallie's youngest daughter will also be helping Sallie and I sell our old junk next Saturday while we are out foraging at our neighbors in hopes of finding new junk!

September is a big month for birthdays. My youngest son and daughter will have a birthday on Tuesday, September 8 (yes, twins). They will be 19. And my youngest niece turns 24 on September 17. I will write more about my twins' birthday on their birthday or soon after.

My other son, who is 22, is starting his last semester of college and will graduate with a BA in December (Hallelujah!). My youngest son is attending the same college, sophomore year. My daughter will hopefully be starting within the year. Sallie's daughter, who is a HS senior this year and highly ranked in her class, is checking out a number of very good schools in different regions of the country. I wish her the best. I know she'll make a good choice.

More to come when my thought processes are less fatigued....

***

And Travelling is Fun Too!
Posted by Harry

I totally understand what Sally means about finding so much happiness together in otherwise burdensome chores, and that is because of her. I have also found, over the course of the past year, that any travelling I've done with Sally, or any weekend or even daily excursion, has also been a joy, and not fraught with clashing agendas or other sources of friction.

We have recently come back from vacation a couple weeks ago. We were gone for only five days, and the first day, and part of the second day were taken up with my niece's wedding. Our traveling time afterward was pure balm. We drove up through Vermont in very hot weather for New England, and we made the best of an evening in Burlington after settling in a bit late and being tired from driving in the heat. We dined out three nights after the wedding: A fine Thai restaurant in Great Barrington, Massachusetts; a standard seafood restaurant on Lake Champlain in Burlington, Vermont; a nouvelle cuisine restaurant in Woodstock, NY (a favorite town of ours). In each of these places the dining experience was wonderful and transcendent --- not because of the food (which other than the Thai was delicious but not superb) or the ambience --- but because of Sally. Sally and I have always enjoyed dining out and take pleasure in food, wine and conversation, and we have relished a number of equally perfect evenings cooking and dining at home. I know we are not alone in this shared sensual enjoyment, but we also travel well together, even when tired, puzzling over road maps or atlas, and woozy from plummeting blood sugar. It isn't every couple who can claim harmony while traveling. X and I enjoyed traveling together also, but we didn't fare as well in chores.

Perhaps because Sally and I find ample pleasure in chores and everything simple and quotidian, it doesn't surprise me that dining and traveling would be the "icing on the cake." (Mmmm, did someone say, "cake?")

Fun, Fun, Fun

About a year ago (Back in the early days, as Harry says) I had a significant emotional breakthrough in the car coming back from Home Depot. We'd bought some bookshelf boards that we (only just) managed to fit in the car and while driving home I was mentally adding "Chores" to my list of "Things That Are Different Between Young Single Love and Divorced Middle-aged Love." Yes, chores. There is too much work to do - children to tend, counsel and ferry about, houses to sell, cleaning, dog-walking, laundry, shopping and cooking - to afford much idle lying about on Sunday mornings or just "hanging out," in divorced middle age. Harry and I got into the habit of doing chores together early on. Otherwise we wouldn't have seen much of each other.

I'm trying avoid specifics of my failed marriage, but I have to explain - X and I very very rarely did anything together. (Recreational things, I mean. Doing chores together never even came up.) I remember dejectedly agreeing with him, only half in jest, that there was just no fun to be had anymore. Getting older and having children and too much work had sucked the pleasure out of everything. In the end it was a chore to come up with one single activity X and I could do that would be FUN.

In the car that day with the pine boards poking me in the back of the neck, I suddenly realized how much fun I was having and always had whatever we did together. What an amazing joy it to not only have fun going out to dinner or to a movie or on a picnic, but even doing chores!
Then blue letters flashed before my eyes: THE ACTIVITY IS IRRELEVANT. It's Harry!

And a sardonic celestial voice said in my ear "Duh."


(Posted by Sally)

Crossword Puzzles: Posted by Harry

Every weekend Sally and I tackle the NYT Crossword Puzzle. It's a labor of love and best when we work on it jointly. Sally is more skilled at crosswords than I am, and normally she will get the majority of clues, though I do my share and make some key contributions. It's best when we can sit down and solve the puzzle together. Two heads are better than one (at least in this case). Often, however, we are interrupted by weekend chores. I may start the puzzle, and then Sally will pick it up, and then she'll set the puzzle aside, and I'll resume when there's time --- or vice versa --- the order doesn't seem to matter, but maybe it does. Sally is more adept at filling in clues on first try, whereas I'm not at her level so I often require a letter or two in order to get the word.

The Boys

Balthasar is a large, sleek and black lankily powerful-looking cat. . .I once (briefly) considered renaming him 1953 Vincent Black Lightning. . . He’s what you get when you call central casting and ask for a small panther.

His brother Rufus is a medium-sized fluffy marmalade kitty with extravagant whiskers, a mild expression and fur between his toes.

So guess who’s top cat? Who boxes the dog’s ears at any opportunity? Who’s more than a little skittish of strangers and steers clear of the dog?

Bal looks like black lightening but if you look closely you’ll notice the small anxious furrow between his eyes. He is an anxious, timid guy. Knocking at the door? OMG TO THE BASEMENT!!! A sudden movement, as when I drop something or bump into something – and this happens a lot - he jumps a yard and hides under the sofa just in case.

Rufus looks like a pussycat but has the cranky, imperious personality of a Klingon. He demands to be stroked in certain spots and certain ways and for limited periods. A centimeter off, a second or so too long and the offending hand is mauled without mercy. (The dog will not pass within a foot of Rufus, and she has good reason)

Go figure.

(Posted by Sally)

Family

Harry' s family photos - boxes and boxes of them - have taken over a dresser top in our bedroom. His mother was a self-appointed archivist; she assembled and sorted and identified hundreds of old photos and ensured they were passed on. This collection is really remarkable and, unlike albums with captions and cutesy scrapbooking detail; genuinely historical. There are photos, also newspaper clippings, diplomas and other memorabilia. Clearly the work of several people; Harry's mother the most recent. She must have collected these from many of her own and husband's relatives, annotated and identified and passed them on to her sons.

Of course, lots of information has been lost. Harry and I haven't even looked at all of them yet, but already I've seen dozens of unidentified babies (this sent me to my own collection of photos, mainly of my own children, to write names! and dates! Because even if I can tell my baby daughters apart at a glance, their children aren't going to be able to.) What's also remarkable is the extent to which Harry's mother kept the history alive for him and his brother. I loved listening to them talking: "Oh that must be Uncle Sal, because that's in the North Jersey house before the addition. . . " "This looks just like Mom; is this grandmom?"

All this is so unlike my own experience of family I can't even begin to say why. For one thing, I know almost nothing about my biological father - he disappeared before I was two, and my mother seems never to have looked for, let alone kept in touch with, him. She married my stepfather when I was about 3 1/2. She then moved to the US with him and my baby half sister (I was born in Europe) which had the effect of severing ties to my maternal grandparents and their line. . .I do have some photos and a little information. The most striking is a wedding photo where my mother, a six-month-old baby, squirms in her mother's arms - my Omeli, in white satin, the matron of honor for her twin sister. My Opa stands behind her, looking uncomfortable and out of place. ( he was not grata in Omeli's family) All around them and the radiant bride and groom, whose name I don't know, are uncles and great-whatevers. It's a gorgeous photo, too - long before I hung it on the wall next to family photo of Harry's it seemed to echo, I exhibited as art on walls in my several homes. . .

I grew up, and married the father of my children, whose family proudly claims to be descended from a signer of the constitution, and all the time we were married, I took pictures and collected them and made albums. There are some photos in there of my own dysfunctional shards of family (Mom, my sister and brother) but mostly I worked to create a history of my kids (family). I didn't get much support from their father in this. When each daughter was in late grade or middle school, she was assigned to make a family tree, and what surprised me about this was, although my disconnected spouse had no idea; his mother and sister did. They provided reams of information, photos and all; both of the daughter's projects were wonderful and both got A's.

Today I saw an old friend of mine had posted some gorgeous family photos on Facebook. She and her husband live in a network of family connections even more impressive than Harry's, apparently. As they don't have children of their own (my friend and her husband) it seems her motive might be more artistic than what? historical? Familial? But then who am I to say?

I don't yearn to have a lineage like Harry's or my friend's. I cut my teeth on quite another vision of family; for better or worse it shaped who I am and how I feel about "family." My daughters are almost the only FAMILY I own openly - much as I love my brother and his family, my Mom, my sister. But it must be said: I did not feel, as a child or young person, belonging to anything I could call family. I married because I wanted to have a child, and then a second child; all without ever wanting to be a family. (This almost certainly doomed my marriage.)

Now Harry and I live together. We talk about parenting (which we did with other people) our children, and we have our animals. . . 2 cats, a dog, 3 birds. . . we live together brilliantly, as befits the survivors of old and troubled marriages in which we learned much. (Sometimes, in a dream, I think "but when we have a baby. . . " and then I wake and know that for Harry and me, this IS our family.

Our pets

Parrot: Georgia

Georgia is a Genday Conure and is about 10 years old. She came from a breeder in the Media area. She has peach-colored markings on her head, hence her name, because Georgia is famous for its peaches. Her plumage has different tones of green, aquamarine and pure blue. Her colors are brilliant when she is outside in the sunlight. She's intelligent, though a bit ornery. She loves eating pieces of bread and corn chips and Cheerios with her feet.

Georgia escaped once about 7 years ago. I had her outside and her wings hadn't been clipped recently. She sprung from my shoulder and flew high up in a neighbor's oak tree, and my sons and I tried to catch her by knocking her out of the tree. We tried for hours until finally, around dusk, she flew out of range. The family was heart sick. We put up lots of Lost Pet posters and contacted all the local veterinarians and animal shelters. Then, four days later, and about a mile-and-a-half away on the other side of town, a nurse was sitting on her steps around sunset looking at a group of birds feeding in a walnut tree some distance away in a neighbor's yard. The tree was in sunlight and she saw this resplendent green parrot among the other birds. She thought that maybe she could lure the parrot by holding up her hand and making a perch with her index finger, and the moment she made that move, sunlight instantly illuminated her hand and arm, and the parrot flew to her and landed on her finger. She shut the parrot in a small room and bought a cage, and called the local animal hospital and gave them the number on the band. The next day when we called this animal hospital for an update, they told us someone had found a parrot and we took her address and phone number, called, and then rushed over to the nurse's house. Georgia had been saved. It was a miracle.

Old Photographs

Tonight Sally and I looked at my family photographs that were recently left from my mother who died nearly a year ago. There are boxes of photographs. Some were taken as long ago as the mid-1800s, in the early days of portrait photography; sepia toned daguerreotypes with glints of silver when you hold them at a certain angle. The photos span generations, centuries. We were sifting through pictures from more recent times, the 1960s and 70s. I saw myself, a much younger, thinner and more handsome man. I saw my parents, both dead, and my grandparents, also dead of course. One of the strangest sensations was looking at pictures of my parents from the early 1940s when they were children. You can never really think of them as children, because in your earliest memories they are the adults, and in control, and as a child you needed them just that way for your well being. I love seeing baby pictures and kid pictures of my own three children who our now young adults.

Sally is not in any of the photos but yet she is everywhere in my life these days. We have only been together a little over a year and a half. She loves going through the photos and asking about a certain relative, and I enjoy being able to identify them, at least the ones that aren't 150+ years old! Because Sally never knew her father, her family and its genealogy is less documented than mine. But Sally is my family now. Sally and I together in our happy home are a family, along with our children who don't live with us but whom we see often, and our siblings and their families, whom we maintain a relationship with and visit when we can. Really, what more can you ask for?

WXPN

"Harry" and I spent the weekend at the WXPN "Exponential" Music Festival: volunteering, listening to music and trying to find some shade. . . (It was hot!) The venue, on the Camden waterfront, is too beautiful - the Main stage has the river and Philadelphia skyline as a backdrop.

In some ways, volunteering was the best part - I liked checking people in and answering questions; didn't like wrist-banding all that much. Whatever I am doing - answering phones, creating lurid leis - I always like working with the XPN folk - I've had lots of opportunities lately, unemployed as I am - they are smart, funny, no-nonsense and can-do.

I did make a few major decisions about next year: I WON'T volunteer for the first shift of the day - it's WAY too long until the end of the day when the bands I've actually heard of come on. And I'm going to unabashedly specify "out of the sun." Much as I resist playing the elder card, today when I watched teenagers dancing at the top of the hot ! metal! bleachers in blinding sun, 90 degrees - as I fanned myself thinking cool thoughts I realized the elder card exists FOR A REASON.

Anyway, I had fun. I think Harry had fun too although I am not positive he was ready to leave when I hit the wall - all I could think about was THE CAR IS AIR CONDITIONED. I so loved being there with him, but it was time to go!

Part of this is because I am (and so is he) still close enough to Parenting (in capitals) Young Children to appreciate the freedom that not having them entails. . . one of our first dates, a year or so ago, was at the beach, and I remember dozing off a little; as people around us (parents) scurried about, fielding toddler demands: "I wanna go in the water!" " I have to go to the bathroom!" MOMMY, I'm hungry" "Daddy, I have to pee." "Are we going home soon?" "When can we go to the boardwalk?" (Okay, this last from a nascent teenager - these are slightly, but only slightly, less annoying at the beach than their younger sibs.) Harry and I remembered it all (fondly, it's true) and luxuriated in being us, and alone. . .

We finished the Times crossword, read for a bit, had a boisterous romp in the waves and then a nap under the umbrella . When we woke it was cloudy, threatening rain and we had another romp in the waves.

I wouldn't have missed all those beach days as a parent, with my kids and their father, for anything.

But this was heavenly, and no less brilliant a memory as - my first-born running full-tilt into the waves - my second-born refusing to have anything to do with water not delivered in a pail, to her sand castle.

I think Harry felt the same way.

Who?

My Loved One (let's call him Harry) and I at dinner recently were talking about how almost everyone seems to be blogging and how we each thought it might be fun, but. . .

Which was as far as either of us had gotten. It suddenly occurred to me a blog could be a kind of conversation, rather like a teaching practice I have used with adult learners, called guided journaling. The instructor writes a comment or a question, and the student responds to it. It's a way of helping reluctant writers to get over the paralysis of the blank page.

So Harry and I are going to write/blog to each other. Writing is something we both like doing and while we aren't separated from one another for long enough periods to call for long, chatty letters, we do enjoy writing to one another. It's actually how we met, on an internet dating site: writing emails. Of course we also talked on the phone, and had the first in-person meeting at a Starbucks, but neither of those early experiences is as vivid to me as the early emails. . . eventually we moved in together and had less need for written communication. (We do text, whenever we are not in the same room)

(Posted by Sally)