What a difference a Year Makes

 As another year comes to a close, the "year in review" posts will flood social media and make the rounds of the news. If I can impart anything on top of what will be written is that, as you toast to 2023 just toast to the here and now because tomorrow, no matter how much you want, can't be predicted or guaranteed. This is the first full year without my mother and Christmas this time around has been particularly poignant. Maybe because last year, the pain of losing her was too fresh that it all seem surreal. And, oh yes, there was that "surviving a shooting in Mexico incident" that forced me into a leave of absence from work. A job that I held for over 14.5 years, and where only one person contacted me to see if I were alright and ironically, that same person less than a year later, leading a toxic and hostile workplace incident that resulted in just one more thing to get through.

Since last Christmas, I've gone on Prozac, something I was initially ashamed at having to take, but realized this year, that NOT asking for help and not sharing your story does more harm than good. Once upon a time, I loved my job. Seeing the studio gates open, and driving onto the lot was one of the greatest thrills of my life. I told my boss at the time that I hoped that feeling would never end. And, my mom was so proud. 

"Is this THE NBC," a post office worker asked her one Christmas season as she mailed me a package.

"It most CERTAINLY is," she told him.

Working for the network gave me some of the best memories with my mother. It allowed me to take her on three trips to Europe. Showing her Paris, Rome, Venice, Florence, Pisa and finally London where we had some of the best times of our lives. Relocating to New York as painful as it was for me in the end, allowed me more time with her. More Christmas Days and more weekend trips to exotic locations like Maine! (And, if you had asked her, she was just as happy there with me as she was walking along the River Seine.)

So, when this job came to end this year, it was with a bittersweet recollection of all the memories I'd accumulated there. For, in the end, the company doesn't matter. It was how I looked at the employment that did. What it allowed me to accomplish is what I took from it. Not what it took from me. In the end, the people I worked with tried to break me. They tried to insult me and treat me as if we were all back in high school. Through it all, I held my head high. My mother had been the subject of taunts and insults all her young life and she came out the other side with a life that she never imagined was possible. 

Try as I might, I was met with resistance as I tried to make the career work. I came back from my leave of absence with a fresh outlook. I had worked on recovering from losing my mother and realizing that life, as I hid under a pool chair, could be taken from me in a split second despite a gorgeous setting and a blue sky. In all, the last two years, and I won't even mention the COVID isolation, have combined into quite a series of events that have made me look at the years differently. 

And, oh yes, the most important? I fell in love. Me. After ALL these years, after my time in San Francisco, Boston, Los Angeles and New York and always thinking that it could be possible but why bother looking for it to happen at this point. Perhaps my attitude turned off what could have been before, or maybe, as I'm pretty sure, that it wasn't right until now.

I will always miss my mother. I will always miss our holidays and her laugh and her hugs. I have our memories and she lives in my heart and in everything I do. And, without a doubt, she brought a tiny Texan into my life. So, what will my year in review be this time next year? It makes no sense to predict. What matters is seeing what is in front of you. Holding on tight for the ride and making memories that will last a life time. And, above all, never forget that when the excitement of the gate opening fades, it is beyond time to exit stage left.

That Goddamn Yellow Bird and Me

My only hope when the clock struck midnight on January 1, 2022 was that this year would be worlds better than the last. So far, and I have no wood to knock on, things are going in the right direction. Really, though, after the last two, is there any direction that is NOT the right way? And nothing in these past months could have prepared me for the ironic collection of Tweety Bird.

It’s no secret that my mother was obsessed by that goddamn yellow bird. I would travel back to Boston, walk into my childhood home and be surrounded by Tweety. From glasses to figurines, and notepads, pens to calendars. When I took my mom out, she’d put on her Tweety shirt and off we’d go with Tweety on her key chain. Half laughing, half serious, I would comment on how that bird was everywhere possible. I even expected Tweety toilet paper in the bathroom but thankfully, I think, Warner Bros. doesn’t make that product.  

And now, months in 2022 - in a strange twist of fate, that goddamn bird puts me in a place of calm. He makes me smile and he surrounds me with a sense of comfort. Perhaps, though, Tweety is something more.

Whether you believe in signs or not - it’s been a journey I could never have imagined. The day I was unpacking some of my mom’s things in my apartment, I was struck by the thought of getting a tattoo. I’ve always been fascinated by body art, but never felt the need to get one. Standing in my living room, unwrapping yet another Tweety Bird, I instantly knew what I was going to do and where I would get it painted. On top of it all, I am not a pack rack, I save nothing. Perhaps it’s because I have moved so much in my life that to make things easier, disposing of clutter makes each location easier. But, for some reason, in my stuff, was one - ONE - birthday card that my mom had sent me. And so, it is that signature that adorns my left arm along with that bird. 

Recently, on a trip to an antique store in Palm Springs, after spending some time in room after room with my brother, I’d had enough of looking at old dust collectors and told everyone it was time to leave. Passing a showroom that we’d passed over and over that day, I took a quick glance inside and there on the shelf were tea cups with that yellow bird. How many times did we walk in that space that day? Yet on the way out, that’s when that goddamn bird decided to make its prescence known? I laughed as I bought them, shaking my head at the irony in the moment.

And now, my collection of yellow birds is growing. T-shirts, a hat, slipper socks, even cards arrive in the mail with him. I wear a Tweety pin on my shirts above my heart. And, the baseball cap to cover my messy hair is always the one with the lounging yellow bird.

What I would give to trade my love of Tweety to have my mom back this Mothers’ Day. Yet, I know if that were true, that I’d be greedy and want her for yet another day and another. I have missed her more than I can possibly describe. Her laughter, hugs, the scent of her White Diamonds on her skin as I kissed her cheek and just the sight of her sitting doing nothing with me. I think back on last summer and the weeks and days leading up to her leaving us and I’m filled with a mixture of sadness, smiles, and yes, even laughter. There was no better way for us to say good-bye except to never have had to say good-bye. 

With her passing, Rosemarie has given me gift upon gift. The way I look at life, the way I conduct myself, the outlook I have on my job and the hope that I have for the future. And as this 2022 day for Mothers approach, I’m not sure how I will feel as the realization that she’s not here will make me feel. Yet, the one thing I do know, is that though she will not be physically with me from now until I see her again, when I’m feeling particularly lonely, I can flip open her White Diamonds body lotion, rub into in my Tweety tattoo and go to sleep with her scent surrounding my senses. I’ll open my eyes and I am comforted more than anyone can imagine that that goddamn yellow bird will be with me forever.