Category Archives: Kindness

Airport travel, Kindness

Moo.

I interrupted my Seattle trip to fly to a friend’s memorial and to hug his wife and son as many times as permissible. This morning, red-eyed, I am back at the airport, the man behind me in line saying ‘moo’ over and over again under his breath as we sort out our queues. I hoped he wasn’t setting an ominous tone for this leg of the journey. But it turns out the opposite was true.

After security, putting all my removables back on and accounting for my technology (yes, once I walked away without my laptop) I discovered that Starbuck’s had turned off the mobile order feature in Terminal A. Resigned to the line ahead I walked in and read my phone. To say the line was moving slowly would be to give it credit for moving at all. I struck up a conversation with a man in a badge ahead of me, turned out he had been in charge of Logan Airport Delta plane maintenance for thirty years, which led to the woman in front and myself letting him know we only flew Delta, so I thanked him, which led to a lot of talk about the new planes. We all had time. He was charming.

Behind me, I heard a Delta flight attendant ask if she could move ahead in line and I leaned over and waved her in front of me, which led the people ahead to wave her all the way to the registers. Not a single ‘moo’ to be heard. A team of giraffe-like volleyball women sparkled and laughed in spectacular nails behind me. Are we all just getting used to the travel curveballs?

When we finally reached the head of the line my Delta friend stepped forward and bought us all breakfast. He thanked us for our loyalty to Delta. We shook hands.

It was a good line kind of day.

To date: five, going on six memorials in 2023. This moment was a stamp of humanity I needed. Yesterday held tears and a deep feeling of mortality. Today I feel vulnerable and very, very alive. Maybe because of all the loss. Maybe I am overtired. Maybe because I am searching for the positive now everywhere I go, this morning was life affirming — though I have a handkerchief on the ready in my coat pocket.

A bunch of people being human who help each other. I will take it.

Thanks for reading, friend.

Anja Rozen, Slovenia, aged 13
Standard
Chestnut season, Funerals, Kindness, weddings

Chestnuts

I read this morning it is chestnut season in Tuscany. I concentrated on the beauty of that sentence; there has been nothing but horror to visualize recently. I closed my eyes, saw fat brown nuts, the fingertips of broad leaves curling in the sun, woven baskets, my daughter’s favorite dessert marrons glacé — a feast of candied chestnuts, vanilla, whipped cream — piled on a china plate. A short respite.

To date in 2023: five memorials, a wedding and my niece expecting. I told the bride a few weeks ago she had no idea how bright and hopeful her wedding felt to me. I have already purchased and patterned a multitude of baby gifts months before the shower and due date. How do we find light when the world seems so dark, the bombs so thick, the death so unrelenting, the anger so hot?

I find I am very conscious of being alive.

I have mourned the lives of friends over and over this year, the next chapter feeling close and urgent and more worthy than before. How to spend it?

I would like more time with my family that makes us laugh. Books. Martinis. Published pieces. Walks in new green spaces. To see you all in person, face-to-face, and talk. To share meals and stories and ideas. A chance to practice kindness every day.

I waited an inordinately long time to curbside check a bag at the airport today, then let a woman go ahead of me as she arrived late and in a lather about her flight to LA. I had the time. I had the breath in my body. Letting her line hop just didn’t seem that big of a deal.

She explained she had been in the hospital for a week with her mother and it was hard to leave her. Her two bags turned out to be over-sized, each weighing more than fifty pounds. The baggage handler waived the fee.

Kindness feels good.

Pass it on.

Rock in a garden along the road.
Standard
Be Brave., Carcinoid tumor, Coping, Friendship, Good, Kindness, Support, Whoop!, writing

Short and Sweet: We Survived It.

This day, this morning, December 31st — the absolute last gasp of 2017 —  a choice presents itself. Shall I whinge? Shall I whoop?

What I leave behind in 2017: my 50’s, my ovaries, appendix and assumption of immortality. On politics? I gladly leave behind any further fury or speculation. On writing: I leave the year with barely any pages in my files. A new woman looks back at me in the mirror. I lost the other one in April.

But. The gains!

So so many acquaintances and friends gave me unexpected love, stepped forward and shepherded me through the two surgeries and recoveries, ones I didn’t even know had my phone number. I reconnected with far-away family. Writer friends patiently read my work over and over as I got my anesthesia brain cleared, never judged, their patience putting momentum into me once again. Friends and family and strangers pulled off a wedding in a hurricane. A young woman preached self care to me daily and gave me courage.

A son-in-law. My children achieved success. 4,500 people read my blog posts. A tumor shrunk. A new belly button. The Nest awaits me.

In an hour I will take a bubble bath and put on my Gronk socks, wrestle the pot of chili next door, listen to football f-bombs and laugh. It is what it is on this last day of 2017. Importantly, I also know what I want it to be in 2018 and what I believe I can do. Despite.

A friend said to me in April, “You have to be brave.” But I also would say, “So many people will help you do that. Let them.”

The WHOOP won. Welcome, New Year. Thank you, readers, critics, friends and strangers for all you have given me. It far outweighs the other. We survived it.

Let me make this short and sweet so you can get back to your bubbly.

Kicking your butt out the door, 2017.

See you in 2018.

Selfie12.17

Standard
#crushtour, Begin anew, Choices, Golf Fights Cancer, Kindness, Suzanne Wedel XOXOUT

Cowgirl boots. Attitude. Onwards.

Forget gentile resolutions. This is the day I am kicking stuff to the curb. There’s that word again. Time for my red pointy cowgirl boots and a big attitude.

Going:

People who can’t be fair or open minded about politics or gluten or sexual preferences.  Anger, prejudice, hatred is life-sucking, mean and tiring. If we were all the same life would be a big snore. I love you all. Thank you for loving me.

Sugar: Used to be just salt. Now I am going to scrutinize sugar. Turns out that is a sneaky unhealthy additive, too. Still researching the chocolate.

Bad humor: From me or others. A new barista has ruined my morning ritual with unfriendliness. I am killing her with kindness. We had enough animosity in the elections. Try the opposite effect.

Ignorance:  Fact. The divide will be greater under the next President. My cousin Nicole, on seeing a homeless family this week, asked them what they needed, drove to the store, purchased the items, and returned to place them at their feet. I intend to practice kindness with double intensity, especially to strangers. Do it more. Thank you, Nicole.

Wasted time: My dog is getting old. My 50’s winding down. I want to measure 2017 with all the good times. We have to make that happen for ourselves. I wasted a huge portion of 2016 addicted to the news. And we know how reliable that was — don’t cheat and waste time on people or places that do not make your heart soar.

Cancer. I may need help with this one, it is heavy. My son’s very best BFF is battling Gliobastoma. Ovarian cancer took a friend in March. Let’s #CRUSHTOUR every single day: Help crush cancer with your heart, feet, hands and your wallet. Suzanne Wedel XOXOUT Fund, Golf Fights Cancer, wherever people are putting science and money into understanding how to crush cancer they need you. Please. Your kick will make a difference.

And finally:

Looking down has got to stop. Look up. We are part of a vast, complicated, beautiful world. Be part of it. Look where staying in our own little reality got us in 2016. Open yourself to everything and everyone.

While Olive snoozes off her breakfast and the birds kick  seed into the air I write this short list. Write one of your own now. Let’s make a mountain on the curb. Let’s start something good tonight, like a New Year.

Kick hard today. The very best news about tomorrow, January 1st, 2017, is that the crazy horrible that was 2016 is out with the trash.

I’m taking the best bits forward with some serious attitude.

Adios, 2016.

Let us step outside for a moment
As the sun breaks through clouds
And shines on wet new fallen snow,
And breathe the new air.
So much has died that had to die this year.

2016

May Sarton, New Year Poem, first stanza.

Bainbridge Island, November 2016.

 

Standard