Sometime last summer, my earbuds stopped working. Or rather, one earbud stopped working. I noticed that I was only hearing GIVE 'EM THE OL' RAZZLE DAZZLE in my left ear. So after forgetting about it a lot, I finally went to Target and bought new, not even remotely expensive, earbuds and audiological parity was restored for the rest of mowing and then the start of snowblowing seasons.
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| iPot |
Last week, I mentioned I got the tractor up and running and mowed with earbuds. Not exactly true. I cannot find the new earbuds. The old ones were in the iPot so after tearing the house apart, the old one-eared earbuds were pressed back into service but this time with the iPod Touch handed down from the junior son when he got a smartphone. (No, I don't want a smartphone.)
I have to take Steve's iPod over to the Apple Store at HugeDale to see if the geniuses at the Genius Bar can make the unhappy face go away. I have to go spring for another pair of earbuds....but not at the Apple Store where they will cost way too much. And why does this all bother me so much?
Probably because 4 years ago right about now, Steve gave me back the iPod I gave him for his birthday the year before. And the key to the tractor. And the key to the Rx-7. He told me not to lose any of them. And also gave me the key to the tool lockbox he built in the garage and warned me against ever letting the junior son put said key in his pocket because I'd never see it again. I live by these rules. I think I live by them because in the deepest part of me I want to believe these are the talismans which keep me connected to Steve. Not to the past. Not to wishful thinking, but to the idea that he passed these things to me for safe-keeping. His iPod still has the unhappy face and I don't know what to make of that. I am resisting the idea that it is an omen, a harbinger of more changes to come that I don't want to make. I want a soupçon of status quo, a crumb of calm, or even just a strand, silken or otherwise, of serenity. Is that asking so much?
I was talking to one of the other widows in shul this week. Two years behind me in widowland, she was telling me about a current challenge, and commented that one of the hardest things was not have her husband to talk it through with her. "I'll never get used to that part," she insisted. And I agreed; I can't get used to that part either. It's the worst part. You do something, you reach a milestone, you hear an old joke.....and the silence is deafening.
Instead, you learn to listen in the silence. At first, you listen for the sound that will never be. Then you listen to the sounds of the house. Eventually you listen to yourself. If you're smart, you tell yourself the truth. If you're not that smart...well, things just take longer than they need to.
There's no stopping forward progress. You breathe, you keep going.
Friday at sundown starts Steve's yahrzeit. Neither kid will be here. The senior son and his significant other have a wedding to attend in Chicago. Junior son and his spouse are taking the long weekend to go camping with their best friends to celebrate their engagement. But I'm actually okay with that. This is a year for a little bit of space.
As this fifth year of widowness begins, I have two goals: one is to see the book in print....my publisher tells me 2014 is the year...and the second is to figure out my taste in furniture. I'm not planning on buying anything or even re-decorating. I just figure if I can decide how I want to populate my visual life, it'll mean I'm finally figuring out who I am on my own terms.
Yeah, I know. It sounds easy. It isn't. I think I might be Danish modern: teak and sleek. I'll let you know.
Instead, you learn to listen in the silence. At first, you listen for the sound that will never be. Then you listen to the sounds of the house. Eventually you listen to yourself. If you're smart, you tell yourself the truth. If you're not that smart...well, things just take longer than they need to.
There's no stopping forward progress. You breathe, you keep going.
Friday at sundown starts Steve's yahrzeit. Neither kid will be here. The senior son and his significant other have a wedding to attend in Chicago. Junior son and his spouse are taking the long weekend to go camping with their best friends to celebrate their engagement. But I'm actually okay with that. This is a year for a little bit of space.
As this fifth year of widowness begins, I have two goals: one is to see the book in print....my publisher tells me 2014 is the year...and the second is to figure out my taste in furniture. I'm not planning on buying anything or even re-decorating. I just figure if I can decide how I want to populate my visual life, it'll mean I'm finally figuring out who I am on my own terms.
Yeah, I know. It sounds easy. It isn't. I think I might be Danish modern: teak and sleek. I'll let you know.
The Wifely Person's Tip o'the Week
If you missed AMERICAN MASTERS: MEL BROOKS on PBS
...stream it. It's terrific.












