Friday, September 11, 2009

Update for RuthMaryCeleste

Update for RuthMaryCeleste

©2009 Celeste Billhartz

It is September 11, 2009. Eight years ago, this morning, I was chatting online with a friend, when the news popped that The World Trade Center tower had been hit by an airplane. Then, as I chatted with my friend, the second plane hit! We were stunned. The world changed, forever.

I saved our chat ... somewhere. Have no idea where it is, now. Moving from a three-bedroom house with an attic, basement and garage to a two bedroom apartment ... with a tiny storage bin down in the parking area ... ment pitching and donating many things. I know I saved the conversation from that morning, but I don’t know where it is.

I moved from a lovely, quiet WASPy enclave, to an artsy, noisy, neighborhood. My former neighbors come here on day-trips when they want to experience our sidewalk coffee shoppe and mingling with the local artists, poets, writers, etc. It is a wonderful place to visit .... and now, I live here. I love it!

I turned age 70 on September 1,  2009. Many of my friends and former co-workers gathered at a local bar for a party on  Saturday, Sept 29. I decided to invite people from all facets of my life. What a hoot! I loved it.

I switched political parties for the election ... I had to, to vote for Hillary. And, since the Republicans really don’t seem to like Liberals among their folk, I am staying over here. Somehow, my being a pro-gun Liberal hasn’t caused any of the Dems I know to faint, yet ...:)

I am still unaccustomed to the number of thugs that prowl city nightlife. That I don’t like about my new locale. And, the discarded bottles, cans, food wrappers, and cigarette butts, etc,, that  litter the sidewalks early in the morning, on my way to the coffee shoppe. What kind of person just drops those things onto a public walkway? Yes, of course, I stoop over, pick up and carry some of it to several  trash cans enroute to and from my morning coffee. I wonder if, as I grow accustomed to the criminals, I will also tolerate the trash ... hmmmm.

I am likely going to wrap up The Mothers Project with a DVD of the presentation and a book. I simply want to not have to schlep electronic equipment, ever again! And, many people want something to take with them ... a DVD or book. So, those two projects are in the works. All I need is money. LOL

I want to hand the conference coordinators a DVD and they can deal with the projectors and other electronic things that totally mystify me. All I want to travel with is my little valise of poems and stories to share with the audience, after they see the film. I am ready to just talk/do Q/A ... not fiddle and futz with clickers, PowerPoint, etc.

And, I want to expand my topics to include the one I am now experiencing: Ageing, alone.

When one is alone and single and has no children, whose place is it to take her aside and say, “We need to talk ...:)”

You know .... that talk ... about the memory lapses, the terrible fall/knee surgery, the isolation ... I described myself as “imploding from loneliness.”

My friend did that. She expressed her concern about me living “out in the woods.”

I shared about the impact of isolation, living alone, being lonely ... yes, imploding from loneliness. She said I needed to consider moving into the city, closer to my friends, my support system, We talked about going to lunch, to dinner, shopping,  all kinds of  activities I had missed ... because I lived, alone, out in the woods, too far away for a quick trip to the city. I used to love the solitude; now, I was  drowning in it.

Well, that’s all behind me, now ... except for the lingering loneliness ...:) I am reminded of the saying ... “wherever you go, there you are.” Wow. So, I am still in a sort of Limbo. Someone said to me, recently, as I sat in her chair watching her prepare dinner .... “you look lost ...:)” I said, “I am.”

Yes, I am. I am more among people and that has helped so much. I love going to the coffee shoppe each day, several times a day. Still, there lingers a deep loneliness I cannot explain. I know that I miss telling the stories and reading the poems ... I am born to write and perform, talk, etc. I miss singing the oldies songs. I know that.

Maybe, finding my father might validate something in me ... or not ...:) He was from a long line of Methodist ministers, and I feel my talent for this writing and speaking, etc., .... must have come from that bloodline. It is such a natural talent, such a gift. Unfortunately, my efforts to communicate with his family are ignored.  I could push it, of course, but I do not want to be hurtful. And, God knows, I don’t want to be rejected, overtly. I shouldn’t give a damn; but I do ...:)

Well, time to go meet a friend for lunch! Hooray!