Tuesday, December 25, 2012

My Unforgettable Mother


Two years ago this evening, I got the call from the hospital that my mom had died.  It wasn’t unexpected, although the beginning of her precipitous slide surely had been.  Unfortunately, as things progressed, it was no longer an issue of “if” but “when”. 

The only real question was whether my mom would leave us on Christmas or wait until the following day. 

Before you get overly emotional, you should know that we are Jewish and do not celebrate Christmas, so this is less fraught with symbolism and significance than it otherwise might be.  That said, after we had kept our vigil and had family visit throughout the day, I did mention to the doctors that if they could keep her comfortable and prolong things to even a minute past midnight, that would probably be preferable to me over having her die on Christmas, when each year, the calendar would blink a big red and green reminder that TODAY WAS THE DAY.

Well, if you knew my mother, you would know that Christmas it was.  Of course.  Sally Appollo did not know from subtle.  She *had* to go on Christmas.  In case we’d forget.

Last year, the first anniversary of her death, was a bit difficult.  The tears would come without me realizing or knowing exactly why.  Although, of course, I knew exactly why.  As if I could forget.

That day was made a bit easier knowing we were about to put my daughter Jordan on a plane for her Birthright visit to Israel … an occasion to celebrate, if ever there was one.  All of us felt as if there would be an extra passenger on board: a weightless guardian angel named Grandma.

And though I hate to succumb to cliché, time really does heal.  In the past year, we laid my mom to rest in the way she had requested, scattering her ashes in the Rocky Mountains.  I feel that she and I are at peace.  She resides amid the grandeur and glory of this gorgeous mountain range, and I have become comfortable with both her absence from and presence in my life.

She has challenged my skepticism by visiting me through two psychics, John Edward and Theresa Caputo.  And while I can’t go so far as to say I am a true believer, I did find both experiences at once soothing and cathartic. 

Which brings us to today, anniversary number two.  We decided, true to our Jewish roots, to see a movie and go out for Chinese food.  We also decided, true to our musical theater-loving roots, to see Les Miserables.  We settled into our seats, sat through the previews, and eagerly anticipated the start of the movie.  We thrilled to the opening scene, saw Jean Valjean be granted his freedom, steal the bishop’s silver, begin to repent and … BOOM, the screen went dark.

They eventually got it going again and BOOM -- it happened again!

Mom??

I’m sure. 

TWICE.  In case we weren’t sure the first time.  In case we’d forget.

Third time’s a charm, I suppose, and when they started the film again, it ran all the way through.  Brilliantly and magnificently.  Without a dry eye in the house.

And with some of us possibly crying for more than just the film.

We came back home before going out to dinner.  I poured a glass of wine and started to straighten up a messy pile of papers in the kitchen.  You know, the one with my mom’s yahrzeit postcard from my synagogue in it.

My mom died on the 18th day of the Hebrew month of Tevet.  Christmas day in 2010.  This year?  New Year’s Eve.  New Year’s Eve!!   

Really, Sal??!

As if we would forget.



Thursday, December 20, 2012

A Space Case


I am SO ashamed.  I'm annoyed at myself.  And I'm absolutely embarrassed.

I found out today, thanks to a Slate article posted by a friend on Facebook, that I am guilty of committing a terrible crime.  It’s positively heinous, apparently.  Reprehensible.  And not only that, I’ve been doing it for as far back as I can remember! 

Hi, my name is Peri, and I’m a double-spacer. 

I admit it: I add two spaces after the period at the end of a sentence.

Of course, I did not invent this convention on my own, it was taught to me in junior high school typing class (you know, back in the dark ages of things known as typewriters), and I have been doing it ever since.  Unrepentantly.  And without knowing I was committing such a felonious assault on the aesthetic senses of graphic designers worldwide -- although I’m informed that ignorance of my crime is no excuse.

Back "in the day" when we were learning to type on typewriters, they featured monospace type, in which each character took up an equal amount of space no matter how wide the letter was.  Double spacing made it easier to mark the separation between sentences.  Today, unless you choose a monospace font such as Courier on your computer, you are probably using a proportional font, and double spacing is no longer necessary.  In fact, most designers agree that two spaces makes it more difficult on the eyes, although I don't think that's ever been proven.  

Clearly, I never got that particular memo.

Further compounding this typographical transgression, not only have I shown no remorse, I have tried to indoctrinate my children in this cult of commodious composition: “correcting” their papers when they have done nothing more than toe the linotype line and maintain the type-setting status quo, smugly single-spacing away.

It is hard for me, as an inveterate double-spacer, to accept that the most commonly accepted style guides of our day, the Modern Language Association, Associated Press and American Psychological Association handbooks, all recommend single spacing.  But indeed they do.  We are talking of a *lifetime* of practice here, only to find out I have been doing this wrong all along!  It is ONE space after a period … period!

Can I break myself of this terrible habit?  (And is this the only error I have been making?  We DO still capitalize words at the beginning of sentences, right?  Subjects and verbs are still to agree, no?  Yes!)

And so begins my quest to cure myself of this nasty little peccadillo. Oh look, I just typed only one space between these two sentences!  I’m on my way!

I’ll get there, I’m sure; it’s just going to take some time. 

And I may need a little, um ... space.

Tuesday, December 18, 2012

No Day But Today

"There's only us
There's only this
Forget regret
Or life is yours to miss
No other road
No other way
No day but today"

Hauntingly beautiful lyrics from Rent, of course, which detail as good a reason as any to resurrect my blog today. Then, of course, there is the unspeakable tragedy that is Newtown, Connecticut, which reminds us that life can be fleeting, fragile, and filled, by turns, with heroism, grace, and heartbreaking sadness.  I realize that documenting what we feel can be important; how we interact with each other, even more so.

I haven't totally neglected my writing, occasionally posting Notes to Facebook when emotions or events have moved me to do so, but I haven't exactly made a conscious effort at it, either.

I have been thinking about it, though, encouraged by several friends to blog more regularly, but wondered (and still do) if I have enough to say.  Do I have a unique enough perspective to add to the collective consciousness? A distinctive point of view?

I hope so. I'd even like to think so ... Lord knows I've got enough opinions on things!

If not, I'm hoping that here is where I can hone all of the above, or at the very least, clarify, quantify, develop and explore.

No other way
No day but today"

Apart from that, let's boogie, enjoy the ride, have fun at our own (and probably others') expense, and see where we wind up.

Another rhyme, a warm embrace
Another dance, another way
Another chance, another day"
"Come back another day
Another day"

Life is full of people, places and things that make lasting (or fleeting) impressions on us.  Sometimes, they really are worthy of reflection or commentary.

Socrates said, "The unexamined life is not worth living."  (Talk about someone with opinions!)  Sure, I think that some might be happy without questioning things, challenging accepted beliefs, exploring motives, or simply wondering why.  That's just not me.  I've always believed that understanding where I've been, how I got there, and where I'm going helps me lead a happier, more productive life.  It also gives me a much better understanding of what others might be going through and how we may all fit together.  

"No other course
No other way
No day but today"

PRINT - Inspiration, Rent, Musical - No Day But Today (Orange) Linocut Art 8x10

"Another time, another place
Another rhyme, a warm embrace
Another dance, another way
Another chance, another day"

This life is only what we make it, and it's so much more meaningful when we share the experience with each other.

"Come back another day
Another day"

Please.  

I look forward to sharing with and hearing from you.