Liza Constable

Nat, Fin and Fin’s friend Dan from college made it to the Bahamas today.

Hullo,
Arrived safely at Old Bahama Harbour, Grand Bahama 7:30 Saturday. The crossing was easy, except for having to beat upwind the whole way.
26 hours out of Fort Kent, FL. 1047 miles out of Annapolis, 1800 miles out of Portland.
I’m on deck, shorts and no shirt, WiFi in the harbor. But after two nights with four hours of sleep I’m ready to hibernate. We got here too late for customs, so we’re flying a quarantine flag and staying on the boat.
Dan can’t believe I won’t let him go ashore. I wanted to send this off in case you were up doing email.
Love,
YH

Reality Check:
The girls and I spent the afternoon skating on Center Pond. Zoey cried because she brought the thin knitted mittens and her hands were freezing (I brought extra gloves and hot chocolate). About 5 degrees here, like it’s been all week.

Rumblestrip took a short tour to Baltimore-Philadelphia-Chapel Hill (Carrboro)-Richmond, last week. It was a blast, in the white van with girls, Finn, Glen, Nat and myself.

I went down to NJ a few days early to visit Mom and see how she’s doing, since I’m the closest of the four kids, just 300 miles away. She’s only a little bit better, and is thankfully unaware of so much. If she knew how she was doing, she wouldn’t be happy about it. Three years since she came to NH to have Thanksgiving with us. Those days are gone. I can’t help but think about my own aging and how it will end up. I won’t go to one of those community places. Nat says we’ll have a commune. I like that idea.

The Wednesday dance in Baltimore was a great hall, in an old church from way back. It was a Wednesday crowd. Not a late night group. But a good warmup for the rest of the tour. Emily, our host, had a house filled with the things that three boys under 7 might need. Made me feel welcome. Maybe I’m not so chaotic after all? Daedelus books has a storefront just down the street. Yes.

Thursday night at Glenside, the Philly dance, was another fine hall. With footlights, but we couldn’t use them. Realized I could stick the foot mic into my Keen sandals. It’s perfect for sound insulation from the floor, and the right height. No smell.

Friday. Carrboro, the Paris of the Piedmont, was the kickin dance that we had heard. A whooping crowd that sent us into a playing heaven; they respond, we respond. Thank god it was good, since I booked the dance not thinking of the long 9 hour drive from Philly. We were zonked after all that time sitting. But revived quickly.
Saturday. Glen turned 30. Here he is getting ready to do some cake shopping in Alberta VA. Later, we saw bears at Maymont Park in Richmond, Virginia. The only present I had for Glen. Definitely worth stopping at again. Next time, with takeout dinner from that Vietnamese restaurant we went to later in Richmond. Really, really great food. I forget the street name. Big street. Going west. Glen was feeling sick — we never did get that cake.

The Dance: The Lewis Ginter Recreation Center is former elementary school building, from the early 1900’s. Big wide stairs on either side of the foyer. Love those buildings. This is where we’ll be heading back to when we play for the Springforth Ball in April. Herschel did sound, the hall was pretty live, and it sounded great. The crowd was happy, if a little quiet. Can’t forget our Friday night in Carrboro. Mic in the sandal, everything went well, we played great.

Sunday: After a peaceful night at Herschel and Deborah Nelson’s house, we headed out for Annapolis to leave Nat and Finn at the boat, for their father/son trip to the Bahamas. Not exactly warm weather for sailing, but warmer than Maine, where the boat spends the rest of the year. It’s good not to be going anywhere to play today.
Piper and Zoe made a fairy house. They can be peaceful sometimes.

Went to Mom’s Monday. She’s a little better. Not motivated. She recognizes me, and the girls, but tends to check out after a while. In the morning, the long drive back to NH. Girls terrible, fighting, tired, rude. I can’t wait to get away from them. Ice and cold greets us. Of course, no fire in the wood stove. The house is freezing, and a mess, and I want to just go to sleep and have the maid clean it. That would be me. In a few days I will be fine.

Is it post Christmas depression? And I don’t even count myself as a real Christian. I like the gifts. The trees. Getting out the decorations. We even have a creche (or “crush” as Zo calls it). I used to love setting up the creche. My brother and sisters and I would all sit around the box, containing wrapped up figures, and take turns, all hoping that we would pick the baby Jesus. And not just some camel or an itty bitty sheep. And then pulling out the huge box of decorations that Mom had accumulated. Margo’s old silver (aluminum foil) star at the top, something she made a long time ago. The Santa candle that no one burned. The angels. The bells. Lighting the tree at night.

This year we cut down a tree as we always do.

I dared to wish for a small live tree in a pot. Dismissed. We live in the woods. So, out we went out with a saw and the girls. And dragged it home. The tree filled the living room. Which is the only downstairs room we have. We hung the colored balls, strung up the little white lights, and the girls only argued about a few things.

On Christmas eve we split up, Nat to be with his parents and son, and the girls and I to be with my mother and sister’s family. One of these Christmases we will all be together. I am tired of hauling everybody somewhere else. As if Christmas doesn’t start until you are somewhere else.

I’m tired of it, but this was different, since my mother is aging rapidly. I don’t thing that she’ll be in any kind of shape for celebrations next year, anywhere. She has dementia. I usually make everyone happy and go to Nat’s family’s house in MA, and then drive on Christmas day down to NJ. This year, Mom is in a single room in a “memory unit”. There’s no house. Even the house that I grew up in is gone (but we still have the key). With some smart finagling on my sister’s part, we ended up at the magnificent house of our amazing cousin Julie and husband Luis in Long Island. It was fun. Lots of kids. My sister and I took care of Mom. Not a small job.

So, it’s all over now, we’re all back, school has started up, and it’s 2007. Only I don’t feel like doing a thing. Mom is in the hospital with some infection, she’s really out of it, combative, fearful, and I’m afraid that this is how she will remain. I mean, it’s only a question of time. We know that. Can I wish her time to be over? Is that allowed?

Is that what’s making me question everything?

What am I doing here? And why?

Recipe for sanity: make chaos, put a little frame around it. Clean up the edges, so no one can quite see the fury and the insanity…work it so it looks good. There’s always something good in chaos. Trust me. But it has to have edges. So just put them there. Repeat as needed. Simple?