3 posts tagged “love”

I had to go to Fort Myers today for a legal/mediation thing because Bailey's father is incapable of adult discussion and would rather spend thousands on an attorney than act mature and (maybe) pay off some of those mounting child support arrears with his hard-earned part-time minimum wage Office Maxx money. So we had the obvious discussions that could've happened on their own for free if his head had not been lodged up his ass, changed the Agreement a little to compensate for any future incidents of his head/ass lodging, and moved on with our lives.

Anyway, I took some time to walk around downtown amidst the continued [re]construction. It brought back some memories.

This is where I used to work. Technically, I worked on the other side of this historical building, in a building that was built attached to it for the offices of the Clerk of Courts. As a minutes secretary, I would record the minutes of all Lee County Commissioner meetings, which would take place in this historical building.

The French Connection is a little restaurant where Tom and I had our first lunch date. It was also our first date that wasn't scheduled around the convenience of our evening college classes. We'd actually made time for each other. I didn't eat much because I was nervous. He ate fine. This is a popular spot for downtown employees to get a nice, sit-down lunch in a mid-range price that can offer a bit of quiet.

I parked in the Main Street Parking Garage "borrowing" Tom's city parking card and descended down this steep stairwell every morning. This is a couple blocks from the old Courthouse, where I worked, and is almost right across the street from the big antique shop that you can get lost in for hours at a time.

Tom and I had a lot of dinner dates, and a few lunches, at Ichibans Sushi Restaurant off of Dean St. They also deliver to the downtown area. As you walk down Dean Street, you're greeted by this open furnished courtyard. There's also a a bakery here.

The statues of Ford, Edison and Firestone engaged in casual conversation are at the entrance of Centennial Park along the Caloosahatchee River. It was around these gentlemen that Tom and I had our commitment discussion. We had scheduled to meet each other here for "a very important talk" and he arrived before me. I remember pulling into a front space and seeing him seated in one of the surrounding benches looking very nervous. Fortunately, our discussion was very different than what he had feared it would be.

The shelter area of this park is where the local drum circle meets every Saturday evening.

The Harborside Event Center is where Tom went on a lunch break during a wedding expo to find a vendor for my engagement ring... and did. I don't know if I'm supposed to know that or not, but I do.

I took more images than merely those that triggered memories, and you can see them in the Fort Myers, FL flickr set.

 

From the Catholic Encyclopedia, St. Valentine's Day:

The popular customs associated with Saint Valentine's Day undoubtedly had their origin in a conventional belief generally received in England and France during the Middle Ages, that on 14 February, i.e. half way through the second month of the year, the birds began to pair. Thus in Chaucer's Parliament of Foules we read:

For this was sent on Seynt Valentyne's day
Whan every foul cometh ther to choose his mate.

For this reason the day was looked upon as specially consecrated to lovers and as a proper occasion for writing love letters and sending lovers' tokens. Both the French and English literatures of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries contain allusions to the practice. Perhaps the earliest to be found is in the 34th and 35th Ballades of the bilingual poet, John Gower, written in French; but Lydgate and Clauvowe supply other examples. Those who chose each other under these circumstances seem to have been called by each other their Valentines. In the Paston Letters, Dame Elizabeth Brews writes thus about a match she hopes to make for her daughter (we modernize the spelling), addressing the favoured suitor:

And, cousin mine, upon Monday is Saint Valentine's Day and every bird chooses himself a mate, and if it like you to come on Thursday night, and make provision that you may abide till then, I trust to God that ye shall speak to my husband and I shall pray that we may bring the matter to a conclusion.

Shortly after the young lady herself wrote a letter to the same man addressing it "Unto my rightwell beloved Valentine, John Paston Esquire". The custom of choosing and sending valentines has of late years fallen into comparative desuetude.

 

When my baby was born, my husband bought me this book to occupy myself during the boring hours of the hospital stay. He knew how much of a fan I am of Rebecca Wells' Ya-Ya books. As it turns out, I didn't have time to read it. It was only this month that I finally cracked the binding. Yesterday, a mere two weeks after starting to read bits and pieces when I could, I closed the back cover and was finished. Fiction isn't usually my choice but once in a while there is an authour who makes me care about her characters and brings a story that touches me. Wells has managed such a thing with her group of Ya-Ya's in Thornton, LA.

As the third novel in the series, Little Altars Everywhere branched further into the Ya-Ya's and fellow Thornton denizens. We jumped from timeline to timeline and came parallel to stories we've read before, but now from a different perspective. We got to know the Petite Ya-Ya's as adults in a way that previous books just didn't have the space to give us, and are introduced to the Tres Petites, the grandchildren of the original four wild queens.

It's what my husband would most definitely label "a chick book" as it does focus on the inner strength of women, feelings and relationships, but I believe it's more than my reproductive organs and gender identity that connects with

this series. We all have families and time marches on, with or without us, whether we pay attention or not. The serene carribean ocean is vast just as the baby is growing. Both forces are just too big to stop. That can be comforting, but it can also be alarming if you realise how many moments you've already missed because something little, something that's altogether trivial, was more important. How much time is spent building the safety net of family, where brothers and sisters rely on each other? I have no connection to my brothers and sisters and, at this point in my life, I don't feel like I'm missing anything. I do wish they were different people so that I could feel bad for not having a stronger net, but

as they are, I don't have much confidence in any of them. The ship has sailed, so they say. For my children, the emphasis on family is a strong one. They have an opportunity to grow together and support one another, accepting and forgiving as family ought to do. They have an opportunity to be better people. I believe they already are better people, in spite of all the negative influences. I watch my older sons wade their way into the Gulf, swimming on their own but staying close enough to each other, and I see their baby brother keeping a watch on them from the beach. While the oldest is still a bossy first-born, the middle still cries foul, the daughter still steals the limelight and the baby still gets his way, I see an acceptance and happiness they have in each other that can't be duplicated anywhere else. It sustains them when they're away from each other and helps them to find the joy in life anywhere they are. They have the security of knowing they will always be there for each other. That love and support will always be there.

It's inspiration to have more good times. Is inspiration needed for such a thing? Sometimes it is. I have an occassional desire to cocoon, one which is self-destructive since I'm extroverted and need positive interaction with people to feel energised. Bumps in the roads break my stride and I begin to feel unsure, so I slow down, stop, or withdraw. When the safety net that my friends have become give me the kick in the butt I need, whether they realised they've done it or not, I'm back moving again. If I were to trust and rely on them consistently, I'd never cocoon. It's their support and honesty that has pushed me forward and lent me confidence on many things that I never would have had otherwise. It also helps that they're smarter than me and know what they're talking about.

A lot of us move around in our lifetimes and begin new chapters to our lives in places we've never been before. We have friends that we have to email or call long-distance instead of meet for a coffee or a beer in the evening. A lot of us are thousands of miles away from the trees we climbed as children or the places we parked as teenagers. But an "altar" is about more than a physical manifestation of a memory. It's the representation of that memory and what that memory means to us. It's a representation of the happiness, strength and security. There are little altars everywhere, not just in Thornton, LA with a fictional bunch of women and their fictional children. We all have our own altars that we treasure going back to, when we take the time to remember what means the most to us.

"From Jennifer: Michael and Bailey" photo courtesy of Jennifer Bensley, taken 2001 in Romeoville, Illinois.