Little Sisters of the Poor

Sr. Grace called out "Honey!" to catch me before I entered the dining room alone. After a limp handshake she started explaining how tonight was going to work. It was interesting for me to hear a nun with a Chinese accent, gesturing with her nun arms just like the best of them, but speaking with that accent and not having blue eyes.

I thought my first night would be spent helping serve food to the residents, not be seated at the table and have the nuns serve me right along with everyone else. They were ladling cream of mushroom soup into Corelle bowls for everyone, passing out rolls and cheese slices and pouring hot water for tea. The main course was chicken patties and corn, with two kinds of chocolate cake for dessert.

Even more charming were the two ladies at my table, L'Jean and Joyce. They were fairly new - 6 months and almost 1 year, respectively, and both talked very highly of the place, listing things they liked to do and places they liked to go. Joyce asked me what type of work I did, and when I told her I was a chemist, she kind of looked me up and down, blinked slowly and said, "Well I didn't know that." I mentioned most people seemed surprised when I tell them I'm a scientist and she said, "Well sure, they probably assume you're a secretary." I shared that my sister was an English teacher and my other sister a social worker, so we'd all gone different ways. She said, "All you need is a doctor in the family!" When I told her I had a PhD (I was told ahead of time she was highly educated too) she said, "No, I mean a medical doctor. I have a PhD too, well I have several degrees, but I didn't mean that. Are you a reader, Colleen?" and she went on to tell me how much she loves to read. And it showed.

I was introduced to Madlyn when everyone was done eating, and Sr. Grace informed me that Madlyn was a third person I was expected to visit, and how I was supposed to call Sr. Grace beforehand to let her know precisely when I would plan to visit and with whom and for how long, so that she would make sure they remembered and were prepared. And that if we decided to play cards, we had to talk as well, because we ought not focus on just the game but one another.

I stayed a long time standing in the dining room with L'Jean and Madlyn, just chatting, and mentioned HF lived separately from me. Madlyn said it reminded her of when her husband played baseball and had to travel around, and how she had her daughter when he was overseas in The War and how when he came home, she didn't know who he was and how bad he felt about that. Then she told me she had two great great grandchildren. L'Jean will be 90 this summer. Madlyn will be 89. Oh, and Joyce is 92.

L'Jean was showing me to the lobby, and I asked about her name, and whether the "L" stood for anything. She explained, "Well, a hundred years ago it would have - I'm saying that because I'm almost a hundred. When I was born there were so many Laura-Jeans. The doctor said there were enough Laura-Jeans and just wrote down L apostrophe Jean. I never had to explain it to anyone until I came here." I said goodnight when we got to the lobby, and she pulled me aside, "By the way, did Sr. Grace call me "Luh-Jean" instead of "El-Jean" earlier?" I told her that yes, she actually did, and when I saw L'Jean rolled her eyes I told her not to worry - I know how to pronounce it now.

Tuesdays with Adaline, The Denture Edition

I let myself in her screen door one Tuesday around 7:00, and when I was sitting down at the kitchen table, her bright white smile made me hesitate for a second. I didn't say anything. When she was talking, she sounded different. I noticed her teeth were straighter and much larger than normal. Maybe I made a face, maybe I was staring and her mouth while she spoke, but for whatever reason she decided to share, "Pete don't like when I wear these dentures. He says, 'Mom, you don't look like yourself.'" I laughed but didn't want to tell her I agreed with Pete.

It made me remember a time when I was 15 years old and it was summertime and Poppy was driving me in his truck and dropping me off at St. Anne's Home on weekday afternoons. I remembered Velma, the tiny 94-year-old woman who I would push in her geri chair to the physical therapy room, and how she would grab my arm and smile and tell me how much she loved me and how beautiful I was. And I would respond by telling her how beautiful she was, because her smile was just so joyful, contagious and beautiful. And then I remember the one day all summer when her son decided to visit, the obligatory semi-annual check-in, or whatever it was. I was invisible walking by her geri chair in the hallway, because she was looking up lovingly at her son, smiling a gigantic toothy smile that made me confused. Later I wondered if Velma's son wanted to see his mother smiling with teeth that resembled her teeth from long ago, or whether he preferred her natural toothless joyful smile.

I liked the first smile I saw on Velma's face. And I liked Adaline's first set of dentures. And even though I am more ashamed of my teeth than most other physical parts of me, I was thinking today about how when I get dentures (not too long from now) I'll probably ask them to replicate the same shape teeth as I have now.

Sweetums

There's a woman at my work who reminds me of that big muppet who marches in on The Muppet Show on the bottom floor, kind of stomping, leaning to one side and the other with each step, the big muppet with long body hair and long arms and a big bottom frowny lip on its face.

There was a lab tour organized so that business partners outside our department could come by and learn about our capabilities and measurement techniques and other services we can provide. I went through the tour just out of curiosity/nosiness and to support my coworkers. When I went into her lab to listen to her presentation, I noticed that she was wearing eyeliner today. And I thought, "She was getting ready this morning, remembered the lab tour was today, and decided to put some makeup on." And I thought about the days I have some important meeting or a presentation to give, and how I pick out a special outfit and do my hair really good on those days. There was something so innately human to it, and I felt a kind of connection to this person with whom I otherwise have little in common.

Really nice woman but kind of reminds me of that muppet.

Time

Someday someone will look at our wedding picture and say, "Wow, she looked so young in that picture." And another day, someone will look at our wedding picture and ask, "Who were they?"

Coolest Greatest Most Excellent Thanksgiving Day Ever

When people asked if I could go home for Thanksgiving this year (which I couldn't), I was still excited because it meant I could have two turkey dinners - one with the MF's parents and another one on Saturday with his aunt and cousins.

But I got up this morning and something just didn't feel right, and I was making juvenile mental attacks on his family all day, and I knew that it wasn't anything they were doing wrong - they're wonderful people - it's just that they're not my family. And so when I irritably texted "Save me" to P, she thought she was doing a good thing by calling back with my little niece on the line to cheer me up, my niece who, when I asked her what she ate for Thanksgiving responded by singing a song to me. "Mary had a little lamb, Cah-ween." And it was so precious and so dear, that when I hung up the phone I couldn't bear to make eye contact with anyone, only stare at the little photograph I have of her, when MF's mom asked, "You're really missing her, aren't you?" and I had to run out of the kitchen before bursting into tears, because I should be with my family tonight.

On the drive home I thought about that Thanksgiving when P was working at John Herr's Grocery and had to ring up an old man's cold cut turkey and loaf of bread, which was just about the saddest thing I could ever picture, but here I am now, at home by myself, eating ramen - ramen that is cold and leftover from last week, because I just didn't have the appetite for turkey today.

Shut your stupid pie hole, Beyonce!

On NPR on the way home from work, there was a program about how pop music has a different share of the market now than they had a decade ago, about how fans are no longer interested in full albums but in great singles they can buy separately and load into their ipod, and how sound clips on commercials and TV shows get just as much exposure and attention as cable TV networks.

Then the dude played two examples of "great" pop singles that are out now. One was Pink, the other Beyonce. I actually started crying in my car, and not because the songs were beautiful. These were the worst, brainless, trite, idiotic lyrics I'd ever heard, and I knew that there were some girls in this country who actually think these kinds of songs are empowering.

The line, for example, "If you like it, you should've put a ring on it" is NOT empowering. It just reinforces the same dependent/materialistic/traditional ideals our culture needs to overcome.

She totally didn't even write that song herself. You know a stupider man wrote it for her.

Tisn't the Season

My parents really mean it this year: no gifts. At least nothing store-bought. They say this every year, they really do, and we always end up going overboard with gifts and last-minute shopping and spending and it turns into a huge present-party every Dec. 26th. But this year they mean it, and considering what's happened to our family in light of the housing/credit/mortgage crisis, we're actually listening to the parents this year.

My first response was pissy. I was just thinking, you know, I am the one who is far away and it's really hard for me to do the IOU coupon book doohickey, with the Good-for-one-Netflix-movie-night and the I'll-cook-you-dinner coupons. But then I thought about it a little longer, and realized, I can do a couple cutesy things for my family, and never have to worry about Christmas shopping.

Let me repeat that: I am not Christmas shopping this year. In fact, I get to avoid the mall scene until after the new year. It is so freeing and so empowering, to know that I am not a part of the commercialism of Christmas, at least this year.

I might actually stop to enjoy the Christmas season for the first time since I was a kid.