A Little Piece of my Heart

Last weekend we moved our daughter, Sloan, to North Carolina so she can start her job as a special education teacher.  This is the photo she posted with her boyfriend, Joey, and her car packed to the roof.  Our car was just ahead of her and also packed just as full.

I've been saying all along, that this was the day I was dreading for years - ever since she went away to college and made it abundantly clear that she would not be living in Michigan when she finished. Or if she did, it would have to be somewhere a whole lot cooler than our little town.

Secretly I was hoping she would go off to Michigan State University and fall in love with some fellow Michigander who had every intention of staying in-state. But, no! She had to go fall for some guy who lives in North Carolina, who really had no interest in leaving his state. (It helps a little that he's a really good guy.) So, off she went to NC this spring for job interviews and she got the first one she interviewed with! She needed a roommate, and found one through her Young Life channels - and it was someone who was already down there, so the roommate did all the hard work of finding an apartment.  Everything just seemed to fall easily into place.  Even the mattress store, where we needed to buy her a new bed, was simply across the road from her apartment complex and we didn't have to go driving up and down the highway with a mattress strapped to the top of the car.

I'm a big believer in signs, and maybe because all of this fell so easily into place, it really was meant to be. I'm trying hard to reconcile that with my feelings of losing my daughter to a state that's 14 hours away! And now North Carolina holds a little piece of my heart.

Home from Yosemite

Tom and I are home from our long-awaited trip to Yosemite, Sequoia and Kings Canyon National Parks in California. This is a photo (not mine) of the giant sequoia trees that are part of that area. They are simply impossible to take a photograph of - a person just has to see them in person to get an idea of what they are like.

One of the things that effected me the most on this trip - and something that kind of surprised me too - was the narrow, winding, twisting, HELLISH roads throughout the parks. They just really dominated the day since that was the only way to get to and around the parks.  It was the only thing I've been inspired to write about from that trip so far.

But, I'm sure than once I've been home for a while, unpack, and settle into my regular schedule, I'll think about the things we saw and be able to be a little more creative. This is to be the summer I push and finish the National Park book of essays I've been working on for five years.  It should be a fun project to work on during these "easier" summer days.

My Three (Grand) Sons

Nolan (left) and Weston looking at Huxley
(not sure what Max is doing to his arm in the background.)

With the birth of my latest grandson on May 9 we are set with three little boys in the family.
Nolan John Thomas - 3 years
Weston Max - 4 months
Huxley Don - 14 days

There honestly was a time when I didn't think I would ever have grandchildren. I don't believe in rushing my children to have children of their own.... but I was wondering if I would be too decrepit to even enjoy little ones once it finally happened.

But, now they're here, and they all live nearby. And I can do all the "Grandma" things I like to do - make them quilts, write poetry about them, take lots of pictures, buy too many toys, and add them to my blog whenever possible.

It was always my goal to have my grandchildren love the idea of coming to grandma and grandpa's house. When they walk in the door, I want them to know they are the best thing I've seen all day. I remember that look from my own grandmothers - and I want my boys to feel the same way.

After a long time spent raising my own children, it feels good for that to be the only goal I need to have with this set of kids.

Birthday Wish

My birthday is coming up in about 10 days and I know what I want - a Royal manual typewriter!

The one I show here is a vintage one, but I want a new one - yes - Royal actually still makes one model of a manual typewriter.

My husband says, "why would you want something like that?" And it's true that anything I write on it would have to be taken to the computer and transcribed.

But I'm intrigued with the notion of "slow writing." Not producing things as fast as you can, but taking time to think about them. I already write a lot by hand - I just think it would be fun to go back to my roots when I first started writing seriously and manuals were the standard issue (yes, I'm that old - although I did have a little portable electric typewriter I took away to college.)

I also collect old typewriters, none of which would be in working order without some reconditioning. Why not just start with a brand new one? It even comes with a case. And I could pretend I was one of the writers I so admire from the past who packed up their typewriter and went off to war, or off to California, or off to a remote cabin somewhere and that little black typewriter in a case was the portal to magical things!

I want to Write about Yosemite

We've made our plans for the summer! We're heading out west again and this time going all the way to the west coast to visit Yosemite, Sequoia and Kings Canyon National Parks. After taking a break from traveling in the west all last year to give me a chance to build up my strength after two knee surgeries, it will feel wonderful to be back out there again among the mountains, canyons and waters of the National Parks.

I'm winding up the last of my essays and poems about traveling in the west and will include pieces about our trip this year to California.

 

Can't hardly wait - and it's coming along faster than I thought it would.

 

 

 

 

A Birthday Remembrance

A Birthday Remembrance

(Written April 8, 2013 in honor of my mother)

By Denise Kalin Tackett

 I visited two graveyards today.

I was thinking of the women in my family.
Theresa Ann, born March, 1950 and died at two weeks.

Delores May, born April, 1931 and died at seventy-nine.

Mother and daughter buried in separate graveyards,
three miles apart.

There are three women in my immediate family –

a devoted mother I knew for fifty-seven years,
a beloved daughter at the height of her youth
and determined to move away,
and an older sister I didn’t know at all.

Today, I think of the possibilities that are not to be:

Growing up with a sister to help blunt the blow

of all the masculinity of four brothers,
to pave the way with our parents,
to shoulder some of the weight of family.

A mother who lived to very old age,

a confidant, an advisor, a friend,
someone I could take care of,
who would finally let down her guard,
and let me be the strong one.

Spending days with my daughter,

fully grown and finally educated,
living nearby with her own family.
Friends at last, without having to be a role model,
but a friend who knows her better than any living soul.

If none of this can happen,
I must think on the future that could be.

I want to spend my remaining years,
playing the role of quirky, lovable family matriarch.
With a heart that holds both aching memories
and the joyful potential for the future.

Even Day Poems

 

 

 

For the last several years I have chosen one month out of the year to concentrate on writing poetry. This year I have chosen April, which is National Poetry Month, and will write a poem on every "even" day. I'm not a trained or educated poet and, in fact, one of the reasons I think I enjoy poetry is because I don't know enough about it to know how bad I am!

 

I ordered the poetry literary magazine shown above for my NightWriters group, courtesy of the Poetry Foundation, to give us some inspiration.  We are also going to have a Michigan poet, Alison Swan, come to the Box Factory to do a four-part (once a season) "poetry intensive" workshop. The first one is in May. All this should help me ready my own poems on the National Parks, which I plan to self-publish this fall. 

 

I enjoy doing "even day" poems no matter how bad they are because it makes me produce work on a regular basis and makes me pay accute attention to what's going on around me, so I'll have something to write about. Now, true, I usually end up writing about the weather and one or two poems about my cats, but at least I'm paying attention and not rushing through my days trying to get a long and endless list of tasks done that includes everything except being creative.