by Donna Andrews
I had a plan for this blog. I was going to tell you about my horrible last few weeks and how I only managed to make my writing quota out of sheer determination. I was going to tell a few funny anecdotes to make it sound less like a whine. It would have a been a good blog. I might write it sometime.
But as I was sitting down to write it today, an email came through on one of my lists. One of those, "In case you were wondering why we haven't heard from so-and-so lately" emails. The writer in question isn't someone I know--different genre--but she's about my age, a prolific writer, active in professional associations, an avid gardener. And recently diagnosed with ALS, or Lou Gehrig's disease. She's already bedridden.
I know a little more about than ALS than I used to--maybe more than the average person--because some folks close to me recently lost a loved on to it. It's insidious. You gradually lose control of all of your muscles. Everything we all take for granted gradually slips away. Walking. Writing. Typing. Sitting up. Talking. Eating. Breathing.
The one thing you don't lose is your mind.
Okay, so maybe my last two weeks haven't been so bad. Things were crazy; my schedule went to hell; stuff fell by the wayside. That's life. I had to struggle to get my quota done. But I got it done. The family schedule was crazy. So I spent a lot of time with my nephews. The house is a mess. So I'll clean it eventually.
I wish it didn't take someone else's misfortune to jar me out of my feeling of being put upon by life and make me realize that on the whole, life hasn't been that bad lately.
In fact, it's been pretty good, if a bit busy. The workmen finished the renovation work on my house last week, and several very particular friends think the place looks quite nice. Booklist gave my upcoming book (Some Like It Hawk) a good review. I got to see one of my nephews break a board in Tae Kwon Do. I helped the other one through his first day with braces. I went one for three at bat in the sandlot game to celebrate the end of their baseball season (and since one of the two outs was a pop fly, and I was batting with a stickball, I far exceeded my own expectations). I'm on schedule with my draft. My roses are blooming like crazy, along with petunias, heliotrope, and 
lavender. And what do you know? The squirrels didn't dig up all the calla lilies. My editor sent me a cool nonfiction book he'd published--Beautiful Chickens, full of studio portraits of poultry--because he was savvy enough to realize I'd enjoy it--and it actually turned out to be useful for a couple of scenes I wrote this week. And he approved my new title, which in case I haven't mentioned it is The Hen of the Baskervilles. The family is planning a quiet dinner Sunday or Monday to help Mom celebrate her 90th birthday. I remembered to get some snacks for tomorrow's critique group meeting. I should stop and appreciate stuff like this more often.
The person who shared the dire news about our fellow writer ended her email by encouraging all of us to "use the good dishes . . . what are you waiting for?"
Advice I'm going to take to heart. Not sure how. Not just by literally serving tomorrow's fruits and cheeses on beautiful plates that require hand washing--though that's a thought. And sending a few donations to good causes is another thought--I will probably add the ALS Foundation, in honor of that fellow writer. But after that, I need to do some pondering. What else would enrich my life in some small or even big way if I went ahead and did it instead of putting it off till that less busy, more practical and convenient time that may never come?
Anyone else have any suggestions on how we can all spend a little more time using the good dishes?
On the same not, sort of--- Many years ago when I was a child at the end off WW2 my uncle came to spend Christmas with us while on leave from the Navy. While he was visiting, my Grandmother came to visit with her only son, and also to spend Christmas with us. During the visit my Grandmother and Uncle had a might argument, and Grandmother left in a major huff. To and a half months later my uncle died, and Grandmother never got to hug him again and say " I love you" again. I learned from this to settle your disagreements in the now, and always say I love you .
Posted by: Diana Jones | June 22, 2012 at 05:00 PM
Just use the dishes! Always, regularly ~ don't wait. What would you be waiting for?
Posted by: Kathryn | June 22, 2012 at 06:01 PM
My story is similar to Diana's. When I graduated from high school, in 1969, my parents had been divorced for two years. My dad gave me a very nice watch for graduation, but being stupid kid I received it without much gratitude, remarking that I already had two watches (junk ones, though). I saw the disappointment in his eyes, but sort of shrugged mentally.
He died less than a month later, very unexpectedly, and I never had a chance to rectify that moment of immature pettishness, and I've always regretted it. But I did learn a valuable lesson, and it has informed the rest of my life since.
Use the good dishes, indeed, but make every personal relationship count.
Posted by: Karen in Ohio | June 23, 2012 at 06:18 AM
Diana and Karen, I agree. Not just literally using the good dishes, but even more, enjoying all those intangibles that are even more important.
I always regret that I never asked Dad about his military service. During World War II, he was en route to the Phillipines on a troop transport ship that was hit by a kamikaze plane. I have always wanted to know more about that, and also about how he earned his bronze star. But I could never bring myself to ask, and now it's too late.
And Kathryn, I have some good dishes out to serve the critique group.
Posted by: Donna Andrews | June 23, 2012 at 06:42 AM
Lovely, thoughtful post, Donna, and I love your new book title!
Posted by: Beth Groundwater | June 23, 2012 at 09:50 AM
I am 18 months into an ALS diagnosis, and it is no fun at all. Well, I did get to retire early, but this wasn't what I had in mind. In the same spirit as using the good dishes, I have begun to wear the good jewelry. Hey, what am I saving it for? Donna, I reread your books to cheer myself up when I get blue. They always do the trick. Thanks a bunch.
Posted by: Deborah Fast | June 23, 2012 at 03:17 PM
Deborah, I can only imagine how difficult an ALS diagnosis must be. And I hope that yours turns out to be one of those rare "how the heck is she still running marathons?" kind of cases.
Let's all use the good dishes and wear the good jewelry long before life hands us a reason to! Because sooner or later it will.
Remember Jenny Joseph's "When I Am Old I Shall Wear Purple?" She does also say "But maybe I ought to practice a little now?"
Posted by: Donna Andrews | June 23, 2012 at 03:35 PM
Deborah- I wish I could give you many hugs. Take hope- I do know of several people who have been diagnosed with ALS who have are still running those marathons- and treatments and therapies are getting better every day.
My MIL had ALS- she succumbed back in 2002- my rather morbid Scandinavian family is looking at a ten year memorial thing, but I plan to celebrate her life at the beach- she sooooo loved the beach and with some fireworks- she loved those also.
Next to my FIL, I was her main caregiver, and that whole experience has made a profound difference in my life. If I can be of service to anyone- if anyone has any "how did you do this" kinds of questions I'd be more than happy to share any knowledge/experience that I have.
Defiantly use the good dishes.
Posted by: Kelly Saderholm | June 25, 2012 at 08:46 AM
Make the memories now; do things you might save for "when things calm down/ when we retire/ whenever." It sounds like you are making memories with your family now, Donna!
Yes, wear the good jewelry, serve the drinks in the proper stemware (even if you have to wash it by hand--it makes a tiny celebration), and drink champagne (literal or metaphorical champagne) because it's a Tuesday.
Posted by: Dana | June 26, 2012 at 09:04 AM