Holiday Happenings 2022. Subtitle: Spontaneous Jane Strikes Again.

 A few days ago I was busily working on Christmas gifts (you know – the creative kind that require time, attention and focus? The ones that during the middle of the project, you wonder if you shouldn’t have just headed to the mall?)

 

But, anyway, during the midst of those 14-hour days, I got a voicemail from my friend, St. Nick, inviting me to their Christmas party on Friday.

 

I didn’t have time to answer him – until the day before the party.

 

And I hadn’t really decided for sure if I was going since, well, the planner in me hasn’t been spontaneous enough to toss a quick overnight bag together and head off into the great unknown (a.k.a., Wintersville, Ohio) since the early 90s.

 

In the end, I knew that if I stayed home alone all weekend, I’d be kicking myself for not at least making the effort.

 

So I sent Maggie off to play with her doggie friends, gassed up the car, and hit the road.

 

It was full-on dark when I started my journey and I wondered if it was a smart move for a 63-year-old to be driving by herself at night – especially since I wasn’t overly familiar with the route.

 

And when I hit an area that had snow flying at my windshield hard enough that it looked like a meteor shower, I was seriously questioning my decision-making skills.

 

And, yeah, the planner in me realized I should have at least checked the weather report.

 

Nevertheless, I persevered until I arrived safe and sound at their beautifully decorated home with its twinkle lights and massive live Christmas tree flanking the entryway.

 

By then the party was in full swing – and I was able to hug my long-time friends – some of whom I hadn’t seen since before COVID.

 

I had planned to stay with one twin but ended up staying with the other since the first one spent a little too much time in the hot tub imbibing Christmas “spirits” – and was not up, perhaps, for hosting out-of-town guests. I’d say he had a good reason for the overindulgence, but for dignity’s sake, I won’t go into details.

 

(Hey, I try hard to keep my lifelong friends. And this is precisely why I would have never made a good reporter or gossip columnist!)

 

In between his, uh, “bouts of nausea” (let’s say), he had us laughing by admitting that we hadn’t seen him this bad since a certain Halloween party in the mid-80s when he overindulged and was lying in the dark in a pile of leaves. When his mom – “Mrs. B” – arrived at the party and was asking for him, we made some excuse to her, rushed out to the tree, and covered him up with the leaves.

 

Whether he remembers it – or has just heard us tell the story enough times that he thinks he remembers it – he still makes us laugh whenever he retells it.

 

And, by the way, that’s the last of the Steubenville Adventures I’ll share. Because he has ammunition against me, too, and might start talking about my one and only attempt at roof jumping. Which makes me sound crazy when he tells the story, but it makes a lot more sense when I tell it. (Sort of.)

 

Anyway…

 

The rest of us stayed up ‘til nearly 3 a.m. sharing stories and noshing on the sweets and Italian treats they had so thoughtfully provided for their guests.

 

Since I drank way more water than wine during the party, there was no hangover aftermath for me. Woohoo. Score one for the old broad who realizes that she’s no longer in her 20s – even though she’s hanging out with friends she’s known since her teens.

 

And, okay, so I only managed about three hours of fitful sleep and maybe wasn't feeling all perky and wide awake. But still. I felt pretty good.

 

Eventually, we all gathered in the kitchen drinking coffee and talking about plans for the day, which consisted of crossing state lines (well, truthfully, only across the bridge to Weirton, WV), to do a little Christmas shopping and then out to lunch.

 

We ended up in downtown Steubenville at an Antique shop and had lots of fun looking at all the treasures for sale.

In all the years I’ve been to Steubenville – including the three years I lived there working with Nick and Joe – I’d never seen the downtown filled with so many people. The Nutcrackers Display  may have something to do with that and it was a wonderful sight to see. Gotta love small town ingenuity and growth.

 

I have to admit that driving home was a little dicey, too. Again in the dark, but at least I was a little more familiar with the route. Again I saw a meteor shower snow spectacle, but at least the roads didn’t get slick until I was closer to home. So I simply slowed down and drove carefully and made it home safe and sound to my own little abode with its twinkling lights and miniature iridescent Christmas tree.

 

But spending time with friends who are more like family was the absolute best thing about this trip and I’m so very glad that Planner Jane was overruled by Spontaneous Jane.

So the best pieces of advice I can give you?

1. Take the trip. But maybe check the weather report first. And driving in the daylight hours couldn’t hurt.

2. Make the gift (if you can). It will make the recipient(s) feel good. And will make you feel even better.

 

Oh, and one more thing. Hot tubs and booze do not mix.

 

You’re welcome!

A Love Letter to my Friends – Old and New

I cannot thank you all enough for the love and support you’ve shown me since the passing of my beloved Vince. I’ve read every card and note and text and email you’ve sent. I’ve written more than thirty thank you notes for the flowers and food and gifts you’ve sent. If I’ve neglected to send you a thank you note for something that slipped by me, please know that I am very grateful. (And I apologize for my oversight.)

If I had to write thank you notes for all of the sympathy cards I’ve received, well, I’d be suffering from severe writer’s cramp right about now.

But please know – I have loved hearing from friends and family and am in awe at the outpouring of care you’ve all shown me.

So many of you have asked how I’m doing. I am okay. Sometimes. I have days where I feel semi-normal and other days when I feel completely lost. I have moments where I’m doing all right and moments later where I’ve collapsed in a puddle and I’m not sure how I’ll go on.

This is grief. Intellectually, I know it – and I also know I just have to go through it.

It’s not easy. And it’s not something I’d planned on. But who does?

One of the daunting tasks I’ve been working on since Vince’s death has been to (try) to declutter this house. It keeps me busy and I need that sense of purpose.

Vince and I moved here nine years ago with barely enough furniture and things to fill a couple rooms. Through the years, though, we made use of the ample space and somehow managed to fill every nook and cranny.

There were several reasons we did this:

 

1.     In clearing out my parents’ cottage and home, I brought back many, MANY things. I was feeling sad and nostalgic and couldn’t bear to get rid of everything – so I kept more than we needed.

 

2.     I like checking out discount shops like Home Goods and TJ Maxx and found many little treasures to brighten up our home. If something didn’t “work” I tended to keep it and try it in another room. But sometimes those treasures ended up in storage.

 

3.     Vince was very practical and pragmatic – and loved “saving” things. Like old computer towers and pieces/parts of equipment. He thought there might be some later use for it. So much so that when he’d go to work, I’d sometimes go to the electronic recycle bins and fill them up. Nobody needs a three-versions-ago computer tower or cords that fit no technology we currently owned.

 

4.     And, finally, we were both sentimental ol’ fools. We kept things that brought back long ago memories.

Through the years here we made several attempts at clearing out some of those memories. Particularly after I spent so much time cleaning out my parents’ homes. I didn’t want to leave that overwhelming task for anyone – so a few years ago we made a New Year’s Resolution to toss cards and notes after only a few weeks so they didn’t end up saved in a bin somewhere.

In the back of my mind, though, I knew I had two large gray storage bins that I’ve had since I was in college. They were cards and letters and memories from that long ago time.

Back in 2001, shortly after 9-11, I went through those cards and letters. I didn’t read them, but I did organize them in folders by year. Do not ask me why. I guess I was bored. Or I thought they would be a marvelous trip down Memory Lane some year when I was old and grey.

Hmmm. I’m guessing that perhaps I now qualify? After all, I AM a member of the AARP and the Westerville Senior Center.

Egads. When did that happen?

Anyway, for the past few years I’ve known that no one – and I mean NO ONE – will be interested in those cards and letters from my youth. They will not read them or care about the Valentine’s Day card my Nanna sent with a $5 bill enclosed.

Nor will they know that when she told me to have some “fun” with it, I promptly translated that to mean go to the Thirsty-I and buy a pitcher of 3.2 beer for my friends.

Instead, should something happen to me, and someone is tasked with clearing out my belongings, they will simply dump those well-organized folders into the trash.

As well they should. Ain’t no one got time for that nonsense!

On the other hand, I am still here – and I have been finding comfort at looking through those old cards and letters.

So I’ve been reading them. And, yes, most of them are going in the trash afterwards. Some letters or notes I’m sending back to the person who wrote them to me so they can remember that long-ago time, too. I think they will get a kick out of it. And then they’ll most likely toss the card so they also don’t accumulate stuff that someone will someday have to clear out.

Such is the mindset of people as we age.

But what struck me as I read through these letters and cards is that so many of those people are still in my life.

I love that. And I thank God for their loyalty and friendship these many decades later.

Last night I had dinner with Debbie, one of my many roommates during my years at Ohio State. She was in town from Florida and said she wanted to give me a hug and spend a little time with me. So we talked and cried and laughed a little and caught up on each other’s lives.

I had saved a note her mother had written to me – and when I pulled it out of my purse, Debbie immediately recognized her mother’s handwriting. And she was excited to show it to her mom when she sees her later this week.

Debbie and I discussed that how “back in our day” (Ha! We definitely sound like old fogies now, don’t we?!) we had to write letters to keep in touch. We didn’t have social media to keep up with each other, nor did we have smart phones to text each other. And even our phone calls were very limited as most of the time it would mean a long-distance call – and our parents frowned on such frivolous spending.

I was struck by how we actually had to sometimes mail a note to the recipient to try to schedule an upcoming get-together.

But we made that effort. And I believe it led to richer friendships and relationships through the years.

So to all of you in my life (and you know who you are), I thank you. Thank you for being my friend. Thank you for caring about me during the ups and downs of college life, and my working life, and all those romantic relationships that didn’t go anywhere.

And to all my “new” friends – thank you, too. Vince used to tell people that becoming my friend was like joining the mob. You can get in – but you can’t get out.

That always sounded a little intimidating to me – and might’ve also been a little scary to someone hearing it. But he was so proud that I was the kind of person who could cultivate friendships that persevered through the years.

Most of all – I thank you all for your support now. Because my relationship with Vince was the best thing that ever happened to me. And while I’m so unbelievably sad that he’s gone, I’m also unbelievably happy to have had him in my life for the past thirteen years.

And I thank you for being in my life to witness my happiness.