Holiday Cheer

Dear Family and Friends,
We’re wrapping up nearly two years of living in Chelsea, Michigan – mild years in terms of weather, if you ask the locals. But that ended this very weekend! In fact, we’re having the first big snow storm in almost a decade. This morning, Elliott was out shoveling and blowing a ton of snow – it’s up to his knees in some places. Perfect weather for the holidays! But not for our poor, ice-encrusted flamingoes, some of whom stay out all winter -- like this one pictured, which we used on our Christmas greeting card this year, an antique, iron/concrete number that seems to be wishing it was somewhere way south of here). The card greeting may appear somewhat cheeky (Elliott was a bit shaky about using the term “Hell”) – but if you look at a map, we are just south of Hell, Michigan, which certainly has frozen over for the winter. Flamingoes in our yard tell us they are now certain that Hell is indeed exothermic.

So…the year in brief. We are keeping the University of Michigan health care network in the black – multiple doctor visits, surgeries and hospital stays have us grateful we’re in a place with mostly caring, competent doctors. We’re both coping with our chronic illnesses through a combination of meditation and medication, and we’re comfortably stable as we prepare to greet 2008.

I went full time with the University of Michigan’s College of Engineering in July, and just love what I do! A quick work blog tour gives you an idea. Some of my art went up in the College’s gallery this fall, so I’m now inspired to paint again. We are almost finished with an extensive house renovation; every room in the house, except the laundry room, has been redone in some way: remodeled kitchen, bathrooms, wood floors to replace stinky carpet, new family room and office; and let’s not forget the barn, which is now Elliott’s main hangout. He has a little room dedicated to building model replicas of his cars, and there’s enough space for the motorcycles and cars in the collection. The Cord is in the hands of a competent restorer, and we should have it completed by mid-2008!

Lusso has gained a bit of weight, and we are always working to get him moving.

It helps that my mom, Virginia, moved here last spring – she loves to walk him when the weather permits. Mom’s arrival was most welcome – she’s been a great help to us, especially when medical emergencies arise. She’s still acclimating to the snow and cold, but like all good Michiganders, she’ll likely learn to flee this place for warmer climes in January or February.

We love to hear from everyone – please send your news! Email either of us and we’ll send you lots of links to photos that document our new adventure in the great white north.

Love,
Jill and El

Blue Desire

I had no idea why or how, but Deanna easily drew me into her world. A world of flat clouds and no horizon; of towering nimbus, blinding sundogs and radiation fog. A three-dimensional world with an extra dimension thrown in – space-time, frosted with sweet, viscous disorientation. A world that lights your hair on fire, makes your palms sweat, and gives you that fluttery feeling in your gut you experienced as a kid when your balloon bicycle tires momentarily lifted off the ground as you crested a steep hill at mach speed.

She was my flight instructor, and she is my friend.

Deanna gave birth to a bouncing baby boy when she herself was but a child of 17. Her family, caught in the mindset of the conservative 1950s, disapproved of the pregnancy. They shipped her off to Chicago, where she lived in an unwed mothers’ home until her love child appeared.

Thirty years later, Deanna began to search for Baby Boy Bishop.

And through a series of unlikely events, I had the privilege of helping her contact him. I was in Florida on a business trip, and followed up on a lead Deanna’s private investigator had found. When I called him on the phone, and told him “someone close to him” was looking for him, he guessed right off. It’s my mom. She’s looking for me, right? I’ve waited for this phone call all my life, he said.

So they met. He had Deanna’s eyes. He had her mannerisms, although he had never spent time with her. He had been trying to learn how to fly. He was the son of an itinerant musician. He could play any instrument he picked up. He had a wonderful wife and three beautiful children.

And then…life happened. He lived on the east coast, she on the west coast. Later, she moved to Alaska, the farthest reaches of the western boundaries of the United States. They lost contact. But she thinks about him often, and of her grandchildren. She wants them to know how much she misses them.

Although she gave up the right to be a part of their lives when she was so young, nothing can erase the longing she feels for them. She thinks that she would be happy if she could be a tiny bird on the window sill for a day, to sing to them a unique and cheerful song. She wishes she could be a sunbeam to warm their faces, or a gentle breeze blowing through their hair. She thinks, if she could be a friendly ghost, and sing them a special song that they would know in their hearts was just for them; it would make them know that she never -- for one moment -- stopped loving and caring for them. She thinks, if she could do this without interfering in their lives, she could go on living. She could die a happy person. She thinks, if the song was good enough, they would know that the loss was hers. Not theirs.

The Game Face

Age 7. Practicing the
Game Face.

We all know about the Terrible Twos. If our own children were perfect, then we certainly witnessed them in other people’s children – usually at the grocery store. Also called “First adolescence,” this is of course that magical time during a child’s early development when the discovery of the power of the word “NO” – the feeling of exhilaration when standing up and walking – that irresistible urge to experience independence – are all rolled up into a tiny, fierce package that parents both love and fear. Both parents and children weather that period, but another soon follows: second adolescence, or the teen years. That time in a young person’s life when fangs appear to replace their normal teeth.

Parents who’ve been through both periods of drama and trauma have no trouble figuring out what’s going down at the time: the emotion of the moment is clearly written on the child’s face. We become expert readers: we know the faces of shame, anger, happiness, fear, desire. And in response, we learn an offset mechanism that seems to bring balance to the upheaving world around us: The Game Face. Surrounded by tumult, we steel our emotions, practice the art of the poker bluff, and silently hope for The Peaceful Years, whatever or whenever they might be.

The Peaceful Years eventually arrive. We tell funny stories about the early years. In general, we are glad those years are behind us – we are happy to see the confusion, upset, and out-of-control feelings we all had fade into the dim past. There’s no real reason to preserve it now, but The Game Face sticks around.

If you’ve mastered it, The Game Face is really useful in all kinds of situations. Take work, for example. This is a good one because I can speak from experience here. With my Game Face, I’ve effectively defused office squabbles, calmed angry clients, stood up to intellectual bullying and sexual harassment, delivered speeches to thousands, landed promotions, advocated fair treatment for myself and others. Over the years, my Game Face evolved into my All The Time Face. And while I always aspired to be like Clint Eastwood’s “Dirty Harry” Cool Cucumber persona, I came to realize that bringing it home with me worked against my best interests.

I like to research word and phrase origins, and one of my favorites is “letting one’s hair down” – to drop the reserve and let others get a glimpse of what you’re really feeling or thinking. As the years pass, I’ve found it harder to keep my Game Face. I find it kind of fun, actually, to give free expression to my private views. It’s even more entertaining to watch people react to the letting down of one’s hair. The big surprise for me was learning that letting my hair down makes me more human in the eyes of my family and friends. I always knew I was human, and worked hard to keep my foibles to myself. A little too hard. So now my family sees another me – the one who throws occasional tantrums, who feels (and shows) anger, and fear, and desire, but also great happiness. More often lately, I find myself doing a happy dance in the kitchen while making dinner, or in front of the fireplace on a nippy winter evening.

The time has come to fully set aside the Bluff – at least at home – and enjoy the results of my other face: the real one.