non-fiction – Page 3 – "ARE YOU THERE, ERMA? IT'S ME, SYLVIA."

Sylvia and Erma are spending the day with their respective families – giving thanks for the meal they’ll share, the orderly chaos of the kitchens, and their children who wish to forego the turkey for the pies that have been freshly extracted from the oven. And without a doubt, as these women sit down with their broods, however big or small, they take at least a second if not a hundred to give thanks for each other and their bond of friendship. And as I prepare the Thanksgiving feast, I’m thinking about how we all count our blessings on this day- love, health, family, friendship, peace, freedom, etc. but too often forget the little things, all of the tidbits that create the essence of our daily lives.
Thanks.

For dinner even when it’s out of a box or take-out. For the compliment whether it is “I like your shoes” or “You’re gorgeous inside and out.” For holding open the door even if it’s only because you are waiting for the person who is walking behind me to come through it. For the flowers picked from the garden even if they are losing their petals. For the birthday gift even if it’s the wrong size. For letting me know you left on time. For letting me know you arrived safely. For kissing me for no reason or any reason. For holding my hand. For the out-of-the blue phone call just to check in. For the good morning text. For morning coffee. For evening wine. And of course, for pulling that pesky little thread on occasion, the one that I knew was there but was too afraid to pull on my own.

Gratitude or semblances of it come easily when the offering is tangible, tactile, and visible. However, think about how much of life is intangible, untouchable, and invisible. A staggering amount of life- most of it in fact! Life depends on what is felt and shared. Yet for some reason and I tend to think it is due to self-absorption and our overwhelming inattention to the present (unless it impacts us greatly and immediately), gratitude is something we save for special occasions. We save gratitude- true, heart-filling, and profound thanks- for those times when we are reflecting on special days. So, here’s an idea: Practice gratitude. Don’t save it! It does not need to be coveted and handed out stingily. Opportunities for giving thanks, showing thanks, and feeling blessed are around us each day throughout the day.

For chipped teeth and the dentist. Pimples and ProActiv. Minor cuts and Bandaids. Perspiration and deodorant. Crying babies and pacifiers. Missed appointments and calendars. Painful labor and a baby’s first breath.

Small dilemmas and colossal joys and sorrows often find simple answers and deliver lovely outcomes. For each and every, give thanks. They are all individually and collectively reasons to be grateful. They are everywhere. They are bountiful!

Whether short and sweet or long and laborious, days replete with moments that become memories to mark time.

For my days, I give thanks.

Whether quick-footed and charted or leisurely and meandering, walks made up of deliberate steps filled with hope.

For walks, alone or with company, I give thanks.

Whether fictitious and colorful or authentic and serious, words that arouse the spirit and nourish the mind that comprise the tales of a life well-lived.

For words written and spoken, and above all else the feelings that the words evoke, I give thanks.

Whether new and blossoming or matured and steadfast, friends who fill the days; create the memories; walk the path together; and write and share their words and stories.

For you and for us, I give thanks.

None of it is certain. And still I give thanks.

Sylvia, Erma, and I extend to you our gratitude and wishes for joyful abundance of all kinds. Happy Thanksgiving!

Welcome to my world! Well, actually it’s a world that I hope to share with other women (of a certain age– or any age where real life has you wondering if being a woman is so great) and even those men who want insight into the female psyche. It’s true, you guys don’t know everything, and you are more than welcome to read some of my “stuff” and entertain the notion that women only get better, brighter, and sexier when they just don’t give a fuck about impressing you or anyone anymore.

Pour yourself a cup of something- java, tea, or perhaps something a bit stronger. Pull up a chair. I’m opening up my trove of writings, musings, and snippets from my one-day-to-be-published book, baring more than a bit of my soul in the hopes that no one ever feels like they are in a bell jar, on the inside looking out.

So, there it is. A glimpse into the title of my blog. Wondering why Sylvia is looking for Erma? Well, it’s not meant to be a riddle. It’s not overly intellectual or pretentious. It’s quite simple. I feel that if Sylvia Plath, one of my favorite poets and authors of all time (who also happened to be incredibly tormented), had had a circle of female friends that she could have shared her angst and sorrow with, women with whom she could have heard the words, “Really? Me, too!” how her life might have changed, especially if that circle included the likes of Erma Bombeck, housewife turned satirist extraordinaire. Perhaps Sylvia would have endured. Perhaps, she still might have seen fit to stick her head in the depths of that oven. I don’t know. I’d like to think that one of our own, one of her contemporaries, would have been there to show her that the bell jar can be lifted in a variety of ways…and sometimes it takes a village, or at the very least one or two very determined women who want nothing more than to see every other woman in their shoes walk a little bit more comfortably. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying that Erma could have cured Sylvia’s mental illness; I’m merely pointing out that she might have helped Sylvia look outside of herself and find that bit of hope we so often need- that perspective that each one of us lacks- and Erma might have made Sylvia smile or laugh about the most inane things at just the perfect time. Those times when she felt there was no escaping the bell jar.

Sometimes I’m Sylvia, and sometimes I’m Erma–in my mind anyway. So, here’s the deal. This blog is about cutting through the bullcrap and showing you, all of the other potential, would-be, could-be, unrelenting, extremely fine women out there, that you are not alone. Ever. You AND I are in this together.