Potpourri

I saw this in one of the magazines I receive regularly at home... this one, ironically, is all about "unique gifts for special people" - thanks, Universe!


Living Life

Life is not a race - but indeed a journey.
Be honest.
Work hard.
Be choosy.
Say "thank you", "I love you", and "great job" to someone each day.

Go to church, take time for prayer.
The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh.

Let your handshake mean more than pen and paper.
Love your life and what you've been given, it is not accidental -
Search for your purpose and do it as best you can.

Dreaming does matter.
It allows you to become what you aspire to be.

Laugh often.
Appreciate the little things in life and enjoy them.
Some of the best things really are free.
Do not worry, less wrinkles are more becoming.

Forgive, it frees the soul.
Take time for yourself - plan for longevity.

Recognize the special people you've been blessed to know.
Live for today, enjoy the moment.

Buddy, Can You Spare Some Change?

If I had to come up with a phrase to describe my emotional state right now, it would be captured by the following two words: completely spent. As in, I don't have anything left. My head is pounding, I don't feel like I have any energy, and - as usual - I have about a million things to do on that fucking list. That to-do list which never, ever seems to be done. Usually I can deal with that realization, but at this very moment it's just pissing me off. Everything is, at least for right now...

Now, there's two OTHER words that describe my emotional state: pissed off. In an earlier conversation, I summarized my current dilemma of not having my Liz here (previously filling the role of "best friend in the world" that was my sounding board, shoulder to cry on, sole person I would share all of my innermost thougths with, etc.) to connect with; to keep me grounded; to keep me... sane. Amidst all of this turmoil. Continuous movement underneath my feet. I feel like the proverbial dog that's been kicked one too many times. Enough already. Don't make me prove my love for you. I love you. Enough.

And there it goes.

If I want to indulge in tears, my own little "pity party" as I like to refer to it, I can do that all by myself. Which seems to be the norm lately. On both counts - being alone AND feeling sorry for myself. When I let my more logical side step in, I can figure out this probably isn't very healthy. Or productive. But sometimes the logical doesn't get a word in edgewise because the emotional is just blathering on, in the loudest voice she can. The silence is deafening.

So where is the positive in all this? This thought echoes words I verbalized earlier today. I'm struggling... struggling to find it. Am I looking? Absolutely. I wouldn't be who I am if I didn't look for the positive in the darkest of circumstances... but - as the Bunny well knew - I also wouldn't be who I am if I asked for help right away. Like my Liz, I can be pretty stubborn. More to the point, I don't know WHAT to ask for... If I am patient, maybe it will hit me.

Or maybe I just need a few more kicks.

Find Yourself

When you find yourself in some far off place
And it causes you to rethink some things
You start to sense
That, slowly, you're becoming someone else

Well, you go through life
So sure of where you're heading
And you wind up lost
And it's the best thing that could happen

'Cause sometimes when you lose your way
It's really just as well
The things that would have been lost on you
Are now clear as a bell


And then you find yourself.






- Excerpted from "Find Yourself," Brad Paisley

The Language Of Love

Recently I read an interesting book by Gary Chapman called "The 5 Love Languages" - the premise of the book is that every person has their own unique way of feeling love from the people around them. Each person can - through 1) Words of Affirmation, 2) Quality Time, 3) Receiving Gifts, 4) Acts of Service, and 5) Physical Touch - to some degree feel the love, but there is one that is considered the "primary" way. What's interesting about how Chapman explains each method is the fact that it is two sides of the same coin, the yin and the yang: one person's primary way of feeling love is also the way to hurt them deeply. Which means you could do some real damage to someone if you weren't careful.

There is a saying, "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder" and the same goes for feeling the love. I can tell my son that I love him until the cows come home, I can provide all the trappings of a good life, I can spoil him by buying him a bunch of stuff - but he may not feel truly loved by me. When I read that, in this book, it blew my mind! How could Christopher NOT know that I love him? It's like finding out all of a sudden that the world is round and not flat. But love is one of those mysterious things... most people think they have a handle on it, but they don't; not really. I have always assumed for most of my adult life - certainly for all of Christopher's life - that he could see all of my struggles, all of my frustrations, all of my anger, all of my tears, all of my questions about life and its meaning - and intuitively understand that all of it is driven by my love for him. But how could he understand that, I mean, really? Ultimately, it matters not if these things are true or untrue, if he never truly feels that I love him.

The other point the book makes is the importance of keeping someone's "love tank" full. The love tank is just like a gas tank in car. No gas in the tank, the car doesn't go. Not enough love in the person's love tank... well, then you start seeing a world of problems - acting out, rebellious or bad behavior - all sorts of things that you wouldn't immediately connect to not having enough or needing more love. I did use it on Christopher not too long ago, to put Chapman to the test: Christopher usually drags his feet when I ask him to do chores - taking out the trash is one of those. For a couple of days I made it a point to give Christopher a big hug and say "I love you" - sometimes randomly throughout the day, always before bed when I kissed him good night. He gave me a few funny looks - he isn't used to me expressing so much physical affection; I don't normally. But sure enough, shortly after that I asked him to take out the trash - okay, I DID have to ask him twice! But only twice - he did it without complaint. It was almost... magical.

I've been trying to find evidence of these concepts in the world around me. I'm still trying to figure Christopher out, but I know my own love language is a combination of acts of service and words of affirmation. If I've said it once to Christopher, I've said it a thousand times: "Why can't you just HELP me?" That's acts of service. Words of affirmation are a little trickier - that's when somebody tells me I am a good person, or that I did something good, or some other positive verbal reinforcement. But for me personally, it depends on who's doing the talking. If I think someone is just trying to manipulate me through flattery or something, well, that's just going to piss me off.

I'm still no expert at it, but it does make me stop and think from time to time. It's funny what a little love can do. Especially in a language you understand. When you can feel it.


"The 5 Love Languages: The Secret to Love That Lasts" by Gary Chapman

Storytelling...

Elizabeth Marie Hamman took leave of her beloved husband Billy, family, friends, colleagues and students on Sunday, July 18th, 2010.

Born December 30th, 1970 to Bernie & Dodie O'Donnell, Elizabeth was the oldest of four children: brother Patrick and sisters Katie & Erin. Her mother describes Elizabeth as an imaginative child, highly attuned to feelings and emotions; a "sensitive soul." At the tender age of two, upon coming across a crying Dodie, Elizabeth soothed her mother with a thoughtful, serious confidence beyond her years: "It be better, mama, it be better..." An animal lover from an early age, Elizabeth was devoted to her first dog appropriately dubbed "Scratch" - most likely due to the activity she was frequently occupied with - and was found on occasion to pledge allegiance to her stick horse. Words the O'Donnell family uses to describe Elizabeth: Smart. Creative. Stubborn. Elizabeth, who always liked numbers and did well in school, went on to attend Cerritos College in 1987, where counselor David Young first suggested the possibility of a career as a mathematics teacher.

From humble beginnings as an Instructional Aide for the Mathematics Learning Center at Cerritos College in 1990, Elizabeth's passion for mathematics was a driving force in her exceptional career. Elizabeth went on to teach at California State University Long Beach in the late 1990's, ultimately accepting an invitation to join as Professor in the Mathematics Department at Cypress College in the Fall of 2000. Never satisfied with the status quo, Elizabeth spearheaded many innovative programs which incorporated the effective use of emerging technologies within several new instructional strategies. Her students continue to use many of her ideas throughout life while singing praises for Professor Hamman's unique ability to "make math magical" and fun.

Elizabeth, through her tireless efforts and influence, inspired not only her many students but also her colleagues; fellow Cypress College mathematics professor Cheryl Gibby recalls how Elizabeth took over her mentorship some years ago when Cheryl's former mentor retired. What began as a joke blossomed into an earnest endeavor, through which Elizabeth's creative influence inspired Cheryl - already a 38-year academics veteran - to forgo her own retirement plans in order to share Elizabeth's innovative techniques with her own mathematics students.

Through a blind date in 1991, Elizabeth met her soul-mate and future husband, Billy Ray Hamman. Married on July 9th, 1994, Elizabeth and Billy spent the next sixteen years, sharing life and love together. In addition to the warmth of his wife's smile and her "beautiful eyes," Billy proudly describes Elizabeth as a "good military wife" - always supportive, even during three separate occasions during their marriage when he was called away for six-month stretches; fulfilling the obligations of his role as Sergeant in the United States Marine Corps.

Elizabeth and Billy filled their days together with the many activities they both enjoyed - bike-riding, geocaching, movies - making each other a priority with "date night" every week, without fail. Frequently traveling and cruising, Elizabeth and Billy most recently visited Ireland in 2008 - during which Elizabeth blogged about their adventures, sharing experiences and photographs with friends and family back home. An avid reader of historical romances and science fiction, Elizabeth loved fairies, labyrinths, and other magical things. In 1995, Elizabeth and Billy expanded their duo to a threesome with the adoption of cat Tinker Bell, joined by fellow feline Cammie in 2007. Carried over from her childhood days of "dress up," Elizabeth and Billy attended the Labyrinth of Jareth masquerade ball six years in a row; for which Elizabeth would make intricate masks by hand, feeding her "arts and crafts" habit.

While eager to share his wife's many accomplishments, Billy acknowledges that Elizabeth herself was always humble about her talents; during a recent conference in Michigan in 2009, Billy remembers her somewhat amazed revelation when Elizabeth was made aware of "how much she actually knew" about mathematics. Though not entirely comfortable with pure spontaneity, Elizabeth liked to plan out the details of any activity in order to get the most out of it - whether lesson plans, vacations, or anything in between. She liked to take charge, a characteristic which Billy admired and acclimated easily towards.

In honor of Elizabeth's lifelong contributions, the Elizabeth Hamman Math Scholarship has been established through Cerritos College, and a second scholarship is currently being set up through Cypress College.

Grateful that God saw fit to loan Elizabeth to this world for thirty-nine wonderful years, her loved ones are nonetheless devastated to lose her after such a seemingly brief time. Our hearts go with you, Elizabeth, for safe-keeping until we are once again reunited in everlasting glory.

Elizabeth M. Hamman

12/30/70 - 7/18/10

For Liz

I said good-bye to my friend today
I didn't want her to leave
There were stories I still wanted to share with her
She always enjoyed my stories
So I tried hard to make them exciting
Hand gestures
Changing the pitch of my voice
Crazy facial expressions
The funny ones would make her laugh

Even when my stories weren't so funny
My friend would still listen while I shared them
If I cried, she would comfort me
And give me words to soothe my battered soul
I'm trying to hear her voice in my head now
I've never felt so lost
I've never felt so full of despair
What would she tell me, if she were here?

And I realize
She wouldn't have to tell me anything in particular

Just being here would be enough.

Right Here Right Now

Back in those happier days before the Bunny's accident, he jokingly made me promise that if anything ever happened to him, I was to cremate him and take his ashes to the top of Half Dome - an insanely huge mountain in Yosemite - to scatter. Back in 2003, we were married in the meadow directly in front of this mountain, near Stoneman Bridge. That particular day in May of that particular year, all of the meadows in the valley were flooded with water - all except "ours." So it was meant to be - and endorsed by the Universe that we got to follow through on our plans.

I have often wondered what the Bunny could possibly have been thinking when he gave me that mission: was he serious? Was he joking? I am not a hiker - he himself had hiked up Half Dome at least twice that I knew of, but I was always the one to sleep in the tent, to cook the food when he and his friends would go do something physically exerting - bicycling, hiking, whatever - and then make it back home, hungry and ready to eat whatever I had prepared. That was what I was good at. I don't even like walking uphill in a parking lot.

So it was kind of ironic that in the last eighteen months since the Bunny died, I was now faced with this near impossible task - questioning his motivations, questioning his sanity - hiking was not my thing! Definately not my idea of fun. What was I supposed to get out of it? He never would have given me a task just for his benefit - that was not the kind of person he was. I know that in some internal place, if he truly meant for me to do this task, he had reasons for it that had nothing to do with him. It was something for me. I just could not figure out what it was.

I was talking to the Bunny's neice Jessica recently, about my frame of mind lately, now being here on my own. I've felt so... I don't know - not necessarily "unhappy" - but I just feel so tired of life. As if to say I would not be at all upset if a truck ran me down in the street and I died. Living takes so much... energy. Wanting to keep living takes a lot of energy, energy I just don't feel like I have. Jessica says I am depressed, and that's probably a safe bet. I want a reason to keep living. I need a reason to keep being happy.

I've been training for this hike for at least the past six months, maybe more like ten months. Working out with the trainer, joining my weekly hiking group... thinking about the Half Dome hike. I didn't share this with most people, even those close to me, but I would often fantasize about getting to the top of that mountain and just flinging myself out into space. It would be so easy - "Girl Dies In Freak Hiking Accident" - sounds perfectly plausible to me. But maybe I would do something like that, and I would get to whereever the Bunny was, and he would be SO disappointed in me! Like I had a chance to make something meaningful out of my life, and I wasted it. But feeling sorry for yourself is a hard thing to get beyond. So I continued to think about it, all the while I am training, cursing the Bunny for making me do this.

So the week finally arrives - I will do my hike on Wednesday, June 30, 2010. Jessica came, and my very best friend Liz. We took turns driving up to Yosemite (approximately six hours from where we live), got settled into Curry Village, which conveniently was right up the road from Stoneman Bridge - I never realized that before. So the next day we went to scope out the trailhead, and visited the meadow where the Bunny and I were married. I looked up at Half Dome, and tried to imagine the hike. I couldn't. But damn, did that mountain look huge!

Jessica and Liz made sure I got up on time the day of the hike - 4AM - and we headed for the trailhead at 5AM, the recommended start time to make it to the top and back before sundown. Liz ended up slipping on some uneven ground, and I didn't find out till later but she messed up her knee, which put her in a brace and on crutches. Fortunately Jessica was there to guilt her into going to the First Aid office and getting some x-rays... I was grateful that Jessica was there to help take care of her. So I set out on my own, and it wasn't long before I joined up with these four Hispanic guys - a 52-year old guy named Jose, his 26-year old son Jesus, his brother-in-law Mike, his nephew Alberto, and Alberto's friend Brian. Both Alberto and Brian were 22; I spent most of my time chatting with Mike, who was 39 like me, and had done this hike three times before. Being able to talk to people while hiking makes all the difference for me because it distracts me from the physical part. Back home in my hiking group, the first day I joined I hooked up with my friend Bren who let me talk her ear off the whole way - and pretty much every week after that - which is one of the reasons I was consistent with it. Because just hiking around is NOT my idea of fun. Hell no! But communicating with people - now that's something I know I do well, and I enjoy it... to the point that I can suffer through the physical stuff.

I got to see some amazing things on the hike, I took some cool pictures - and there were many, many opportunities where it would just be so easy to slip on some loose gravel and tumble down that mountain. So easy. But I tried to be careful. I had to get to the top. It was what the Bunny asked for, and dammit, I was going to do it. Once I got there, all bets were off, of course. But I had a mission I needed to complete.

There were times during the hike that I felt I just couldn't go on. I was tired. I just couldn't lift my leg up on one more rock. I couldn't keep hiking up these steep inclines. But my compadres were there to encourage me, telling me to rest, take it easy... and so I rested, and I took it easy, and I kept going. I thought of all the other things I would rather be doing (sleeping being the foremost in my mind) - once again cursing the Bunny for making me do this. Bastard! If he wasn't dead I would SO kick his ass! F-er!

Finally, we were getting close to the top, and I had to climb up a bunch of stone steps before getting to the cables. To get to the very top of Half Dome you have to climb up these cables. It's fairly intimidating. In fact, the previous three times Mike was saying that he would always get scared when he got to the cables, but he trusted in his physical ability to climb them, and so each time he would make it to the top despite his fear. The steps were frightening enough, but the cables - I can't even describe what it looks like. The people on the cables look like little ants, climbing up the side of the mountain at a good forty-five degree angle. Every ten feet or so there is a wood two-by-four so you have something to step on as you climb sheer rock. Every few minutes I would pull my camera out of my hiking pants pocket (hiking pants have lots of pockets) and snap a picture. So I am going up the cables, and I get to about 20 feet from the top. And I stop.







The distance from the bottom of the sub-Dome to the top is approximately 400 feet. You basically need a lot of upper body strength to pull yourself up - with the help of the cables and the two-by-fours - after hiking six miles up the mountain. So needless to say, I am completely wiped out. I look up - I can see the edge at the top, beyond that, blue sky - and I think: I can't do this. I just can't do this. I'm so tired! Why do I have to do this? I don't want to do this.

And then I remember. Shirley, you are doing this because the Bunny asked you to. And it's the last thing he's ever going to ask you. You have to do this. I know you don't think you can, but you have to. Because the Bunny asked you. And you love him.

Dragging my body up that last 20 feet was probably the most difficult thing I've ever done in my life. I was convinced, in my head, I just couldn't do it. I was ready to turn around. But I couldn't have lived with that. So I did it. I don't know how I did it, but I did it. And finally, I was on the very top of Half Dome, looking out over the valley. I did the impossible! But you know what, I didn't feel like I accomplished anything great. But I did notice that I did accomplish it, when I was absolutely convinced that I just couldn't. And maybe that's what the Bunny wanted me to know. That even though I sit here now, and I don't think I will ever have another reason to be as happy as I was when I was married to him, that it IS possible - it just might happen. And figuring that out didn't necessarily make me happy, but it did make me less sad. I guess I am kind of at neutral. Neutral is an okay place to be for now.

I said my final goodbye to my husband, on the top of Half Dome, in one of his most favorite places in the world. Many miles away, part of his ashes were being buried in the ground, where I can go and connect with him as the desire strikes me - or anyone else can go, for that matter. One of his relatives recently told me that "it wasn't about us" meaning, those of us left behind. But to say that was to miss the whole point altogether. It's ALL about those of us left behind. We are the ones who guard the memories. As now I guard the memory that I did something for the Bunny that I never imagined I could do. Something he clearly believed I COULD do, with the proper motivation. And he was right. And because he was right, I learned something about myself, and about the people in my life that love me, support me, care about me.

My best friend probably would have loved to take off for home after she got hurt... but she stayed with me. Bren kept me hiking every week, training for this hike. Mike and Jose and the boys kept me company all the way up the mountain, and all the way back to the valley. Even dragging myself up those cables - strangers who were on their way down gave me encouraging words "just a little more" and "you are almost there." And that's the other thing I think the Bunny wanted me to know: that even though he couldn't stay with me, he knew I would be okay in the capable hands of those people I care about and who care about me.

I have to trust that everything's going to be okay. I may not believe it, I may not have any hard evidence that it will, but I have to have faith. With faith, I have hope. With hope, I have a reason to keep living. I have a reason to be happy. I am alive, and I get to do what makes me happy, and more to the point I know what happiness feels like. I remember it. So I will recognize it when I see it again.

Do I think I will ever attempt hiking Half Dome again? Um, probably not. Once was enough in this lifetime. For some things, once is enough. For everything else, I guess I will just have to wait and see.

Peace.