Going, Going, Gone

/ Lisa / 9 Comments

Have you ever noticed how things come in clusters? As if the universe is afraid you won’t notice something if only one message is sent?

A few weeks ago a local woman passed away. She had dementia, which most of us didn’t even know. She was in the early stages, but then she quickly worsened and died before many even knew she was ill. It made me sad to think I wasn’t able to visit with her or say our farewells.

A few days ago my sister mailed me some old letters I had written. One included a story about my fire department days and a call on Christmas Eve. As I read the letter I realized I’d completely forgotten that story. I told my husband, who’d been on the call with me, although he wasn’t a hubby at the time, and he’d forgotten it, too. It made me wonder how many other stories are long gone.

And then today on the way home from errands I heard a radio program about dementia. The first thing the speaker said was, if you were diagnosed with dementia and knew you were going to lose your memories, what would you do?

My immediate thought was, I’d write them down. That I’d get out the paper and pen and write down every single memory I could think of.

That thought was followed by: why wait?

These kind of questions come up whenever you think about mortality. What would you do if you only had a week to live? A month? A year? When I was diagnosed with lymphoma I never once thought it was terminal. But my husband kept asking me what I wanted to do, and I finally realized he needed to have a plan. So I told him I wanted to go to Alaska. Which I do, but the answer was more to help him than because I thought time was limited. Which is probably why I still haven’t gone to Alaska.

But even with things like that, the question still stands. Why wait? Beyond the obvious answers of no time off from work, no finances, etc. All legitimate reasons for putting things off.

None of those reasons though, are excuses for not writing your memories down. Some day, we’re going to forget. Even if it’s just due to time, as in that firefighter story in the old letters.

And some day, someone will be very thankful that you made time while you still could.

Now here's a memory.

Now here’s a memory.

Strider has passed away and Arthur is now driving.

Strider has passed away and Arthur is now driving.

Homeward

/ Lisa / 25 Comments

For the past five years we have lived in a garage. With a port-a-potty outside, a tiny little cook stove, and limited running water. A minimum half hour drive for a shower at the local YMCA. A wood stove for heat (meaning spending summers chopping and stacking). Just think about that for a moment before reading on. Could you do that? I have a lot of strong friends who could, and have done so.

At first it was difficult. Especially during the two years or so that I was ‘insane’. Meaning after radiation treatments to my head ended, and I endured the emotional fallout.

I found myself oddly craving a home. I studied them as I drove by, the shapes of dormers and doorways, decks with grills, curtains. My poor husband lived with stress and guilt, feeling like he could not give me a place like that.

But I wasn’t unhappy where we were. I felt ashamed when people came to visit, but then, very few did anyway, so it wasn’t bad. I learned what ‘house-pride’ meant, and became humble. And then one hot summer day a friend said to me that she’d give anything for a home where she could open up one whole wall to the breeze. I had the garage door open at the time. It made me look around differently.

We had a roof over our heads. We were toasty warm in the winter, in spite of the frosty outhouse seat. We had food on the table, and each other. Isn’t that what a home is? Protection from the elements, loved ones, safety, a fixed place in a crazy world?

Then a few months ago friends offered to sell us our old house back. Life turned into a stressful whirlwind as we decided to give up on our dream of building, and sold the property. Now we’re in transition, renting a tiny A-frame while we wait to see if the purchase goes through.

In this A-frame, we have the same furniture we had in the garage. The same…things. Of course there’s a flushing toilet and a shower, which is an upgrade. But still. It’s the same family unit, the same dogs. The A-frame is comfortable. I miss being able to hear the rain on the metal roof. I don’t get outside nearly as much as I did when I had to go into the weather for everything. Again, think about this for a moment. If we had to pee in the middle of the night, we had to put on shoes, sometimes a coat, get a flashlight, and go out into a very dark mountain night. With owls and mysterious noises in the woods. I found it fun most of the time; one friend in particular probably didn’t. You know who you are, Jenni.

Seriously though, I’ve been thinking a lot about what a home means. What makes this A-frame any different from our garage, other than a few material comforts? What will make the place we purchase any different from the garage? Well, a lot less stress and work for my husband, that’s for sure. A more comfortable space and more privacy for our son. But other than those things, what is the difference? I don’t know.

It’s nice having a kitchen. I’m thrilled to have an oven again. I’m even enjoying having a toilet to clean, though I had to buy a toilet bowl brush. Five years with no need for one. I imagine eventually the novelty will wear off. Again though, does that make a home?

I can’t answer that question and I refuse to resort to clichés such as ‘home is where your heart is’. That’s not enough.

Maybe it’s simply a light in the window when you come home from work. Space to claim. Possessions around you. All things we had in the garage. Why then did that feel like camping?

What is a home to you?

Home

Home

The cabin.

The cabin.

Is home a couch?

Is home a couch?

Or matching curtains?

Or matching curtains?

Or simply a place to lay your head?

Or simply a place to lay your head?

A Presence on the Web

/ Lisa / 3 Comments

I attended a seminar at the Northwest Book Fest about websites. The speaker said a website is an author’s home out in the internet, and a place where the author has control and doesn’t have to worry about a host disappearing or changing rules. I understand all of that, plus all his other points.

When I like an author, I look them up online and visit their website just to get a feel for who they are. I rarely purchase books directly from their websites, and should probably rethink that, to keep funds local rather than automatically going to Amazon. Some of those sites actually add to my interest in purchasing a book. Some websites are awful, and leave me thinking if the author can’t put more effort in than that, why should I bother to buy? Especially if it’s an author that I haven’t read yet. That always makes me feel guilty, rather like judging a person by their appearance, which I know better than to do.

As I look at websites by authors, I realize the ones I like are the ones that feel like visiting a friend, a place to hang out, a place with interesting things to read. The ones I don’t like are the ones that simply shout ‘Buy my book! Now!’

I attempted a website once. As far as I know, it’s floating around out there somewhere, lonely and forgotten. Why? Because I paid someone I knew $200 to build it for me, and when I tried to research how to optimize search engine results, realized I didn’t own the domain name and so couldn’t do any work or make any changes. When I went back to the web builder, she never responded to any of my queries. A failed attempt and a learning experience.

Now I’m debating the merits of having a professional website built. By a reputable company, with options for continuing to work with me after the site is built, for doing research and search engine optimization for me, and so on. Starting at around $6,000. Those of you who know me, know I am cheap. Hence the $200 website. And look where that got me. Yet I’m torn.

Are websites really that valuable? Are they as necessary as people believe, to get your name and work out there? Do you, as readers and authors, look at author websites? I know one fellow author doesn’t feel websites are valuable, but then her blog has her name as a title, so people can find her if they type in her name. This blog doesn’t have my name on it, so there’s no ‘home’. But I like the name of my blog and don’t want to change it.

Ah, the dilemma. Ah, the cost.