Author: Kathleen Fisher

Kathleen Fisher is a Chicago girl at heart though she moved from there many years ago when a handsome scientist swept her off her feet. What started as a light-hearted blog about life, marriage, and kids turned more serious in September of 2018 when her husband of 35 years ended his life. A new journey began that day and she now writes about unexpected loss, grief, and finding a path towards healing.

Mary Mary Never Contrary

My neighbor, Mary, has MS.  She was diagnosed when she was 19.  You couldn’t imagine what thirty-five years of a disease like that can do to a person, and none of it is good.

Recently, Mary needed to get a crown.  Not the pretty, sparkly kind, but the expensive drool-inducing kind, and she asked me to take her to the dentist.  When I picked her up, she scheduled a return appointment to get her permanent crown put on, and asked me if I could bring her back.  Only if I’m not working by then, Mary.  Sure enough, two weeks later You Know Who is available for a ride to the dentist.  It is my custom to reward myself for any dental work I have endured, and I told Mary that when I picked her up.  Little work, little reward.  Big work, big reward.  Mary’s not as greedy as me, so she decided on coffee and a muffin.

We sat in the local coffee shop talking about kids and husbands, our crackpot Governor, music, writing and the neighbors.  With all her limitations and reasons to be bitter, she is not.  She is funny and interesting and dear to many of us.  Our Mary in her wheelchair conjures up all kinds of thoughts, but in her presence I see the grace.

I’d Like To Thank The Academy

Well, an opportunity has come my way.  A money making opportunity that involves acting skills.  

I ran into a friend after Christmas and we were both lamenting the lack of suitable employment.  She called me a couple of weeks ago with a prospect.  It seems that teaching medical schools hire people to portray patients in order to give students the opportunity to work on taking a patient history, extracting information, and general people skills.

I was intrigued, so I called the training department and had a nice long chat with the recruiter.  Seems 50+ women are in high demand, at least in this field.  I went into their office for an orientation/overview of the program and have since passed the background check.  This week is two days of training followed by four afternoons of working with the med students.

The “patient” is a 50-something professional woman, slightly overweight and a high functioning alcoholic.

You could say I was born to play this part.

Newt or Toad

On Friday night, The Big Daddy and I watched a discussion on C-Span that took place at the University of Chicago between left and right wing talking heads.  Because we’re that kind of fun.  It was so intelligent and civilized that we went to sleep hopeful that the problems we face may have solutions that come from all sides.

On Saturday night, The Big Daddy and I decided to brave the chilly temps and go see The Descendants.  As is typical of us, we hung around the house too long and when we attempted to get our tickets had our choice of a dozen seats in the first row.  We declined, came home, got into our jammies, popped some popcorn and turned on the t.v.   The Big Show was this guy……………………

Source: latimes.com via Valli on Pinterest

Who is married to this woman.  For reals this time.

He’s King of the World this week, and all memories of that civilized debate from the night before about solving our big, big problems went up in flames faster than a lit cigarette in a parched forest when he got in front of the mike.  And the Mrs. kept clapping and nodding and saying, “That’s right.”

No, it isn’t.

Mother of the Bride

I had a dream the other night.  It was the day of Teacher Girl and Prince Charming’s wedding.  I decided that since I’d be running around like crazy prior to the wedding, that I would dress for comfort for the church and put my party dress on for the reception.  When I got to the church in my black cropped pants and gray man’s work shirt, I realized that the mother of the bride looked like she was there to clean the toilets.  I ran to the music director in a panic, and she tried to convince me to wear a choir robe.   I found my niece and we rummaged through her kids’ closet and came up with a teeny, white communion dress that wouldn’t go over my big, fat hair let alone the rest of me.   Finally, my friend came in and she took me to her church.  The dream ended as we watched every woman that came in with the idea of ripping the dress of one of them.

It was some kind of crazy.

Since I know exactly what I want, it’s time to get serious about this MOB dress.  Why back in the day, I’d get dressed up to go play in the front yard, and thought there was no such thing as too many accessories. 

Fired Up. Ready To Go.

You may remember me writing about a new trail being installed that led to our park.  I believe my exact words were “suhweeeeeeeeeeeeet.”

I changed my mind.

The trail is a winding path that leads to the park and meanders along the creek.  It is wider than the sidewalk that was already there in order to accommodate walkers and bikers.  In making it wider, they cut it too close to the edge of the creek, and ten feet down you’d seriously mess up your face should you go sailing off that fancy new trail on your Schwinn.

The city installed a fence.  A black chainlink fence that made this old, quaint neighborhood feel like the Arizona/Mexico border.  For those of us who walk every day this was too much and we sent emails to our city council members and the park board.  The head of the park board is a big buana.

Last week we went to the parks board meeting and The Big Buana said the city council approved it so they would have to approve any changes.  Except the city council never knew there was going to be a chainlink fence because The Big Buana never said anything about that part of it.

This week we picked up a few more supporters and went to the city council meeting and oh geez, It. Was. Contentious.  There was some significant veiled insults being thrown, and The Big Buana was in the hot seat.  Because she’s been a buana for so long, she doesn’t let people not liking her bother her one bit except for some heavy sighs and eye rolls.

But everybody knew she screwed this one up royally.  It made me want to get up and shout LET MY PEOPLE GO which had nothing to do with the fence or the trail, but seemed like the perfect dramatic conclusion to an eventful night.

The Soaps

Like most women of her generation, my mom was a homemaker.  With six kids in one very small house, she had her work cut out for her.  My dad worked for the Edison Company in Chicago, and went to work every day in a suit, white shirt and tie.  All of us kids went to Catholic grade school.  Every memory of my mom from that time involves an ironing board, dozens of white shirts in varying sizes, and the soap operas.

She was a CBS gal………As The World Turns, Guiding Light, Search For Tomorrow.  They were always ending as we got home from school so we saw the dramatic conclusion every day.  When The Young and The Restless debuted, she said we had to support it because it was produced by Bill Bell.  He was married to Lee Phillips who was the noon news personality, and mom always liked her.

To this day, she still records and watches her soaps, even though they’re on the endangered list.  When we were there last month, she asked Mallie Bee if she’d like to watch The Bold and the Beautiful.  Mal was game, and when Ridge Forrester delivered his bad-ass lines Mom said, “One time somebody told this guy he could act and he was dumb enough to believe them.”

After fifty years she would know.

Source: cbs.com via Michael on Pinterest

What To Say

Last week was a year since my cousin’s wife, Carol, died.  At the wedding we went to last week, I spoke with Rhonda’s cousin who’s daughter died last spring.  And if you read this blog……….

http://www.aninchofgray.blogspot.com/

……….you’ll be crying several times a week.  This was probably the saddest Christmas season I can recall since my own dad died.  Too many people on my mind, too many stories of loss, too many people walking the lonely road of grief.  And just what can one do for someone in that situation?

Please tell me if there is an alternative to saying, “I’m keeping you in my thoughts and prayers.”  For God’s sake, Ann Curry says it practically daily on the Today Show.  It’s right up there with “Have a nice day” as far as casually dropped and shallow in meaning statements.

But in the face of overwhelming grief for people we care about, what else of value do we have to offer?

Selling The Self

Every year the Kansas City Star invites writers to apply to a panel called Midwest Voices.  Ten people are chosen to write a column four times over the course of a year.  My writer friend, Ellen, just finished her gig and I decided to give it a shot.

The application process required a sample of your writing as well as a written bio.  I agonized over what to send and changed my mind a dozen times.  The deadline was mid-December and I hit “send” with high hopes that what I submitted was what they were looking for.  It was not.

On Saturday, the paper introduced the readers to its new panel and this is what we learned about these writers………..one guy likes to play with his pit bull and eat red meat, another likes to read comics and tabloid magazines, one was a high school champion table tennis player.  Of the women, we have someone who likes to tweet, another who walks, works out and chases her dogs and somebody who does origami.

I think I may have misunderstood the bio portion of the process.  I kept it simple and said I was married with three kids, a partner in a vintage decor business and wrote a blog.  It never occurred to me that anyone would be interested in what kind of meat I ate, what sport I excelled in forty years ago, or that when The World News was still in publication, my favorite story was of newborn monkeys being dressed in children’s clothing and passed off as human babies up for adoption.

Note to self for next time:  Dumb. It. Down.