poetry

October 2024=0

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From Latin for eight, October was indeed the 8th month, until the Julian calendar was adopted. It is national pizza month, with the astrological signs of both Libra and Scorpio. Those born in October are said to be intelligent and passionate and are blessed with hope and good fortune. However, for me, October is a very curious month because this year it’s filled with milestone birthdays!

On October 1, my mother would have turned 100, and she frequently said before she died that she and Jimmy Carter would celebrate together. (Of course, he made it.) Today, the 6th, is my father-in-law’s 100th heavenly birthday. Columbus Day is my eldest niece’s 50th birthday. Three days later is my other niece’s 40th birthday, and six days later is my eldest daughter’s 40th! Whew! Overwhelmed by zeros.

And just when I thought I was done buying birthday cards, one of my friends who recently moved into my guest house said, “As a Chicagoan, I love October’s Harvest Moon and the nip of frost in the air.”

“Welcome to Phoenix. Yes, there may be a Harvest moon, but frost is doubtful.”

She laughed and added, “It’s my birthday month, too!”

Ye Gods! I’m going to own a Hallmark store before this month is over! “What date is your birthday?”

“Halloween.”

I was at a loss for words. Halloween? An obnoxious barb was on the tip of my tongue. I paused and reconsidered. “Well, even though you’re not in the zero club, that’s cause for a big celebration!

“Sue, seventy-four is hardly a milestone birthday.”

“It certainly is!” (She need not know the cause of my exhilaration: the election would be over in five days. That is, if there’s not a two-peat insurrection.)

Home Alone?

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My apologies to the movie. But for the most part of the last thirteen years, I’ve been the only human in my casa. Granted I’ve had visitors and weekend guests, but again it’s mostly just me who talks to me, who cooks for me, and who entertains me. However, recently I had an epiphany! I AM NOT ALONE.

Now, if my kids read this blog (doubtful), they’ll think I’ve lost my mind. In fact, I’m NEVER alone with five, needy dogs who are always hungry and in need of a belly rub. They also frequently forget to use their inside barks when the Amazon driver comes to the front door or when they’re absolutely sure there’s a boogie man in my backyard at three AM. Alas, I’m forced to scold their behavior, thank them for their vigilance, and urge them back to slumber.

Secondly, I AM NOT ALONE. There’s laundry. Laundry is always there for me. Since it’s currently sweltering in Phoenix, I’ve the absolute minimum of clothes to launder and oodles of beach towels. Further, I’ve a number of children and their parents who hang out in my pool, who forget their swim attire and towels when they leave, so I do their laundry too.

Finally, one of my long time Ohio friends reminded me this week of the third reason I AM NOT ALONE: garbage. Garbage is always there for me with an added benefit. Benefit? It demands I follow the schedule. Monday is pick up day, meaning Sunday night I must rid my refrigerator of expired food and clean up and bag dog poop. Obviously, one does not want to leave the shells from shrimp cocktail in 110-degree-heat for weeks in the trash can. It must go out on Sunday. Unfortunately, my friend owns two houses four hours apart, demanding a rigorous garbage schedule. She can head to her beach house on Wednesday afternoon to enjoy the weekend on Lake Erie, but she must return to the city by Tuesday evening in time to place her trash can at the curb. (After hearing her story, I’m very glad I only own one home. With my luck, I’d forget what day of the week it is and be left with sizzling stench.)

I offer this word of advice to my single friends. Life is all in how one looks at it. One can wallow in a broken marriage, an early death of a spouse or partner, or the loss of a best friend. Yet, no one is ever solely alone, even without pets. There’s always laundry and garbage….They are there for YOU!

The DASH, AKA the Time in the Middle

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Unfortunately, I’ve spent the last two Saturdays at memorial services. While both were uplifting celebrations of life, the underlying reason for them is sad and a foreboding for each of our finalities. However, at yesterday’s service one speaker read several stanzas from “The Dash,” written by Linda Ellis in 1996. The poem explains that parallel line on one’s tombstone between birth date and death date. In essence, the dash asks us to consider what kind of life we spent in the middle? Were we here briefly and succumbed to cholera or the bubonic plague? Were we teenagers who drove too fast into a tree or a concrete wall? Were we athletes who suffered a heart attack on a playing field? Or were we those who managed to survive for 70+ years?

The length of our lives is not important, according to Ellis; how we spent our lives is. She writes:

“So, think about this long and hard. Are there things you’d like to change? For you never know how much time that is left that can still be rearranged.

“If we could just slow down enough to consider what’s true and real, and always try to understand the way other people feel

“And be less quick to anger and show appreciation more and love the people in our lives like we’ve never loved before.

“If we treat each other with respect and more often a smile, remembering that this special dash might only last a little while.

“So, when your eulogy is being read, with your life’s actions to rehash….Would you be proud of the things they say about how you spent YOUR dash?”

Yes, I bolded three stanzas–in my opinion, those most important. Yes, it’s always difficult to celebrate the loss of life, but I gained a new understanding. From now on, I’m solely concentrating on my dash.