The Hitchcocks

It's Friday night.  Kristen's out.  David's parked in his chair in front of Swamp People or Pawn Stars or Duck Dynasty or some other reality show of which he like to be a cast member.  Meghann has put her and Frazier to bed, against all Frazier's three-year-old tantrum blowout.  

I'm listening to Pandora (I think John Legend is playing now), and I'm thinking about how much of my past I've been trying to recapture.  No, I don't want to be young or go back in time.  It's just that I find myself gravitating towards old movies and black and white TV shows.  Most times, phone is playing some easy listening station, like Jackie Gleason or Burt Bacharach, the rhythms and lyrics of the 50's and 60's transporting me back to endless summer nights.  The soft timeless nights would find me begging my parents to let me stay outside and play till way past any child my age should be up.  Or could I sleep over a friend's house, so we could watch The Beatle's "A Hard Day's Night" and bake Betty Crocker cupcakes with chocolate frosting, definitely licking the beaters, the knife, or anything that came in contact with batter or frosting.  

Sometimes I like to watch the Twilight Zone or The Alfred Hitchcock show.  When my mom was alive, I would ask her if she watched these shows, and, of course, she did.  I mostly remember my dad always flipping them on.  As a kid, I never really paid much attention, but the trance-inducing theme song always flew into my ears and spent the next few hours spinning around, usually scaring me to the point that my second-story bedroom window had to be closed, lest some nine-foot-tall Martian wrench me from my bed.  What an imagination I had . . . I convinced my mom that one time a "man with a white cowboy hat" walked by window, my second-story window.  It took me a few light-on nights to get over that horrifying, well-at-least-in-my-mind, ordeal. 

The eaves, otherwise known as an attic, also could be accessed through a door at the back of my closet.  It wasn't really a door . . . it was more a slab made of knotty pine somehow you could wedge into the opening at the back of my closet.  Often, I'd be sleeping and hear a loud hollow thud.  Immediately I knew the sound.  The door/slab somehow had gotten loose and fell, usually in the dark middle of the night.  Most nights I would grab my chenille comforter and yank it over my head, hoping this act would keep me safe from the creatures that inhabited my eaves.  Sometimes I would be feeling plucky, and leaping out of bed, ever so surreptitiously,  I would creep into the closet, grab the door/slab and shove it back into place, temporarily locking the dark things back into their lair.    

Then there's the story of Bad Ronald.  Bad Ronald.  Yeah, that was a movie from 1974.  Google it.  Starring Scott Jacoby, a quirky character actor, it was the story of Ronald, a geeky misfit and who is constantly bullied, accidentally kills a popular neighborhood girl by throwing a rock at her when she says something mean to him.  As fate would have it, the rock hits her in the exact spot that causes her to die.  Afraid and immature, he runs home to his neurotic mom, who thinks she will best help him escape the electric chair by building a secret room in her house.  Here Ronald will hide from the questioning authorities.  However, things soon turn a wrong corner for Ronald as his mother, who has gone into the hospital for "routine surgery," unexpectedly dies.  Hidden away in the room without anyone's knowledge, Ronald must fend from himself.  Unbeknownst to everyone, the house is soon sold to a family with "pretty teenaged daughter."  Ronald begins watching her through cracks and crevices.  Drawing elaborate pictures of her in his secret den, he imagines her to be a princess who must be rescued.  He devises an elaborate plan to kidnap her and carry her away forever.  The peeping goes on for quite some time and then, driven to a warped reality of some faraway enchanted land, Ronald breaks through the wall to grab her and he is found out.  

Okay, now you know the story of Bad Ronald.  I have my own tale to relate, one that captures a sense of my nervousness and anxiety about all things in the dark and behind door/slabs.  Lying on my bed one afternoon listening to David Cassidy or  some other flavor-of-the moment pretty-boy singer, I heard some rumbling noises behind me, coming from the eaves!  I tried to ignore them because I was pretty sure they came from my mind and I knew the door/slab was wedged tightly.  I continued my secret 13-year-old relationship with David Cassidy who continuously reminded me that he thought he loved me.  Wham!  Through the wall, by my head, a fist came emerged from the plaster.  Bad Ronald!  He was after me!!  Thirteen-year-old girl lungs can shriek pretty shrill!  I careened out of bed, bolted down the stairs, and into the yard!  I had to get away from Bad Ronald!  I turned to look behind me, and there was no Bad Ronald - only my brother Laurance trying to tell me, "It's only me, Laurie!"  I know that heart attacks aren't a common occurrence for 13-year-olds, but I within a hair that afternoon.

So back to "the Hitchcocks."  I have become absorbed in many old movies and TV shows.  Mostly they provide a connection to my parents and my past, something that has disappeared more definitively with the passing of my mom.  Alfred Hitchcock, quirky and deadpan, can always be counted on for a solid "I-didn't-know-that-was-coming" moment!  "Funeral March of a Marionette" by Charles Gounod, otherwise known to most of us as the Alfred Hitchcock theme now delightfully frightens my grandson Frazier.  He sometimes announces that "the Hitchcocks" are hiding in the bushes or they are in the trees.  The Hitchocks are always hiding outside somewhere ready to get you in their grip and whisk you away forever!

Yes, the Bad Ronald and Hitchcocks will continue to be as much as part of childhood fabric as things that go bump in the night.  So connecting with my parents and my past through old movies and black and white long-forgotten TV series now cycles around to begin again with my present and my future through Frazier.  Life is as much about experiences and the passing of the torch as it is about living in the moment.  We will always, however, be on the lookout for the Hitchcocks, no matter how old we become.  
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My handsome father, Laurance Joseph Weimar, in about 1958 or so.  I miss him so much.  He has been gone for about 15 years . . . so hard to believe.

My handsome little man, Frazier Harrison Shirey, who will turn 3 on 9/21.  He gives me light in times of darkness.

Forever Friends

I just got off the phone with one of my dearest friends ever!  Ronda, whom I have known for over 30 years, who lives about 3000 miles away.  We don't speak as much as we'd like, but when we do, the miles and time melt away!  We laugh about our silly private jokes and our passionate love for bands like Van Halen and Journey and LoverBoy and all the other experiences that only we own.  I always feel like I'm on the top of the Empire State Building after I get off the phone with her or see any of my other dear and loving friends!  And that feeling just got bigger because I found out her sister Dianna has moved back to SC after all these years - we started as secretaries together MCG, and to simply state we had some interesting and fun times is an understatement - the Trauma Times, the Goat Roasts, the high heels, the drug rep lunches, the cute interns and residents, oh there are so many wonderful memories, which can't be told here!  We also sort of grew up together because these were our first "real"jobs - working in the Trauma office at MCG!  We eventually became inspired to continue our education because of the people we were exposed to daily.  I became a teacher, and she became a doctor.  I'm so proud of her . . . and I CANNOT wait to reconnect with her now that she is back in SC!  Let the games begin!!  Ronda and Dianna - I love you both!

Since my mom has passed away, my mindset about life has changed so much.  I know that my mother and father are gone, both sets of grandparents are gone, and my two brothers whom I love dearly are not as much a part of my life as I would like them to be (but I'm working it and so are they).  I am incredibly blessed to have a wonderful husband and two beautiful and loving daughters and the cutest little blue-eyed, blond-headed two-year-old in the world as my grandson, but I need more than that sometimes to just be me, no demands.  

Friends.  What are friends?  To me, they are presents you give yourself.  Better than anything money could ever buy.  The richness and complexity and pure love that exists in a true friendship is infinitely priceless.  My friends have become an even more integral part of my life and they keep me afloat.  There are so many that I can't name them all, but I'm going to try to mention a few long-time ones.  Please don't be upset if don't mention your name because if you are reading this, you know I care about you and you care about me and that's what constitutes a friendship.  People placed in your live to kick it up a notch!

I already mentioned Ronda, and I'm so excited to see her in October when her daughter Brittany gets married.  It's going to be an event that will go down in the book of "I Will Remember Always."

Then there are my Hallpass friends - Carolyn, Mary, Chris, Cindy, Susan, Debbie, and Sammy.  Carolyn and I used to be friends in 11th grade.  We loved the Eagles and Bob Seeger and overalls and cute guys!  She loved my Yankee accent (LOL) and I always envied her big and beautiful hair (which she still has!!).  I am so thankful that Carolyn and I have found each other again after all these years.  That, my friend, is the true cornerstone of a friendship . . . one that endures time and space and everyday life!  Mary, what can I say about Mary, except that I love her!  She is one crazy gal who always, always puts a smile on my face and she does the funkiest dances you can imagine!  She is my good-time hanger-outer, and I am sad that she is moving away.  She has been there for me in a way I can never even begin to describe since my mom passed away, but I am trying very hard to push away my sadness because I want Mary to be happy.  She deserves it.  Nuff said about that - you know how I feel, Mary!!  Chris and Cindy - lucky to know both of them and thrilled that they are finally getting married!! Who'd of thunk it??  Seriously, you will never meet two more kind-hearted and genuine people, and did I mention big-time Gamecock fans??  I don't get to see Susan much, but I love her tenacity and her spunk!  She is a woman after my own heart!  Heck she manages rental properties. . . she is one tough chick and so honest.  I love her!  Sammy and Debbie - a fun couple that I have had the pleasure to come to know.  They are a beautiful couple who really love each other and their presence at any function makes me happy!

Sherry and Teesha - where do I even begin?  They are like the sisters I've never had (they are mother and daughter).  I have known them for about 20 years.  They are two of the most down-to-earth people you will ever meet in your life.  And both have the gift of gab, which is a good thing because those of you who know me, know I <3 to talk!!  I could talk until the 12th of never!!  They also did something for me that I will always be grateful for and places them both in a special corner of my heart.  When my my passed away, they did her makeup, hair, and dressed her for me.  They loved her just as much as I did, and she loved them, and that was their final gift to her.  For as long as I live, I will be thankful that God placed them in my life.

There are so many more people who have come in and out of my life but have shaped me into the person I am today, so thank you for your influence on me.  I am a better person for having known you.  I wish I could mention everyone's name, but maybe one day I will write a book about the lasting impact that friends have had on my life.  I have never met a stranger so my list of friends is quite lengthy!  There are my Levittown childhood friends - Donna D., Louann C., Lori C., Janine S., Eva L., Donna B., Kathy K., Lori S., Fran P., Ginny H., Ellen M., Mary H., Debbie B., and I know I have left some out, but I love you all.  There is nothing more unique and enduring than sharing a childhood and teenage years together . . . wow!

There are my school friends - the people whom I have worked with in the past and the ones I work with today.  They carried me through a very difficult year this year and were my rocks . . . I could not have made it without them.  My NAMS family - I love you all!

So, please know that if you are reading this, I consider you to be my friend.  You have left a little part of yourself with me, and I am a patchwork quilt of all my friends . . . a priceless and colorful and vivacious and comforting array of personalities have woven themselves into my life forever.  You know who you are and I love you, too.

So as the Golden Girls theme says, "Thank you for being a friend."  <3

Lost . . . .

Someone's Daughter

I was once someone's daughter, but now at 51, I'm an orphan.  No, I'm not a child, and yes, it's ridiculous to call yourself an orphan at my age, but it's the most definitive way in which I can explain how I feel.

This has been a hard and long summer.  Usually I cannot wait to be out of school and yearn for summer like a child yearns for candy, but I still have 21 days before I go back to work, and it feels like an eternity.  This is like the summer that never ends.  Why is it so bleak?  It's one of the "firsts" - you know, the first Christmas without my mom, the first New Year's without my mom, the first 4th of July without my mom, and now my first summer without my mom, my best friend.

Lost doesn't even begin to describe how I have felt and still feel . . . yes, at this very moment, I'm crying yet again.

I am loved, I know that. But no one will ever love me like my mom did.  It was a special and unconditional love that knew no boundaries.  All she ever wanted was for me to be myself.  She loved that Billy Joel song "I Love You Just the Way You Are," and when I hear it, I know she is singing to me.  She did love me just the way I was.

She knew me in ways that no one else will ever know me.  Yes, I am known to my husband as his wife.  To my kids, I'm their mom.  To my grandson, I'm Mimi.  To my students, I'm Mrs. Frazier.  To my friends, I'm Laurie.  But to my mom, I was just the real me.  I didn't have to be anybody.

I miss those daily phone calls when she used to just call to ask how I was.  I would get so mad sometimes because it seemed like she had radar and always called as soon as I got home or she would call at the wrong times or she would call when I didn't feel like talking.  But now, those calls will never come again, and I miss them deeply.  She didn't want anything from me, she just wanted to know how my day was.  That doesn't happen very often nowadays.

Working through my grief is a journey that I will be taking for the rest of my life.  They say time makes it better, and yes, I do subscribe to that saying, but it also takes me further away from my mom.  I am starting to forget little things about her and it makes me so sad.  I don't like to read like I used to because we shared that bond but now I have no one to share the stories with.  I miss our crazy Saturday morning yardsale treks and how we would go and eat lunch after our shopping for yet more needless things.

Looking into my past needs to be a lesson, not a sentence.  God puts us on this earth to go through a series of lessons and with each lesson, we are supposed to learn to become the person we are ultimately destined to be.  I will continue to weave my past into my present so that my future is stronger than ever.

But I still miss being someone's daughter  . . . .

Sometimes hope peaks through.