Father's Day Reflections

I’m planning to have brunch with my Dad this morning in celebration of Father’s Day. As I’ve been wont to do given my upcoming plans, I find my mind rolling back through the years of such gatherings, realizing that the opportunities for in-person get-togethers like this will be fewer as time marches on.

I had a little epiphany the other day. I haven’t always given my father enough credit. I can remember being a stereotypically difficult teenager, and having some blowouts with Dad over issues long forgotten or forgiven between us. I can remember feeling (as teenaged minds errantly do) at times indignant and like he couldn’t possibly understand me or love me that much.

Dad worked a lot while my sisters and I were growing up. He is a driven, type-A personality who doesn’t do things by halves. A logical, reasoning mind with conservative principles and values, a head for business, not prone to excessive displays of emotion in the way of Midwestern men (this is not a criticism, Dad if you are reading!), juxtaposed with a girly, artistic, and sometimes brooding poet for a daughter. I suspect we drove each other a bit mad in those years.

Looking back on our differences through the years, I think I’ve at times overlooked the most evident truth of all. All those times I didn’t think he understood what I needed from him… I was so wrong.

He saw to my education.
I never lacked for food, shelter, clothing, and even the extras.
He paid for driving lessons.
He taught me how to change a tire and check my oil.
He took us on fun road trips / family vacations
In his own way, he shared his heritage with many weekends at our grandparents’ farm
He engrained me with a sense of civic duty and the importance of voting
He taught me a deep respect for our military and law enforcement
He encouraged my independence
He listened to even the silliest bands in an effort to understand his daughter and speak her language
He still seeks my opinions in matters of certain music!

Although these are but a small sampling of the things I could list… most importantly, he has given me the tools and the space to pursue my own path, and to be who I am, for better or worse.

Thank you, Dad.


I love you, too. Happy Father’s Day

A new frontier

I’ve spent the past week in the first phase of applying for a visa intended to give me permission to settle/reside in the UK with A. Three+ really special years condensed into a one inch binder. A veritable paper trail. Not sure how long it will take to find out our fate, which is very much in the hands of the Consulate. It’s a daunting process. A sobering reality check. After a lifetime of enjoying a simplicity and ease of freedom as a U.S. citizen, I have become what I never imagined I would one day have cause to be… or ever have to relate to…


I am an (intended)… immigrant.

!


Will keep you posted...

Still a bit speechless, but looking forward...

For those of you who know me, I think you will understand why these past weeks have found me at a loss for words.

I have debated whether to soldier on in this blog as if nothing has just occurred, as if the lovely people of Cumbria have not just been put through a great deal of suffering. Certainly I am not heartless in considering not writing on recent events there. It was more a thought of discretion and respect in keeping silent in this forum. However, I’ve concluded that it’s simply not me to say nothing at all.

As a girl who wears her heart on her sleeve, I wish simply to say that while I share a measure of horror, shock, and sadness along with the rest of the region and country that I intend to one day call home, I also am optimistic and largely confident in the wonderful people that reside there… in their ability to pull together and begin the healing process.

In following the news I read media opinions that implied (perhaps a bit unfairly I think) that the area would forever be ‘tainted’ by the tragedies that unfolded.

Cumbria I promise you this for what it’s worth: That will not be my attitude. I am not going to give this the power to do that for me. I will continue to think only the best of your people, your beautiful communities, your towns, villages, counties, and your country. I will show kind respect for your need to process, grieve, and heal.


Sending you my very best thoughts and hopes from over the Atlantic…

Memorial Day reflections...

This weekend, I found myself reminiscing over Memorial Day weekends of my youth. While much of the UK is enjoying a three day weekend ‘bank holiday’, Americans are having a three day weekend long observance of Memorial Day. Traditionally a day to honor fallen soldiers ~ and a day I like to honor both the living and departed, for their willingness to sacrifice, or for their ultimate sacrifices such that we may enjoy the freedom that we do. Some families spend the day in active tribute – visiting cemeteries, memorials, and other patriotic events. Other families simply spend the time enjoying their right to – well, enjoy. This translates often into barbeques, picnics, family and fellowship in various forms. It also marks the opening of public pools and the ushering in of summer.

Today I was particularly recalling family gatherings of years gone by. There are a lot of things I miss – mainly time with my grandparents. One set of grandparents had a farm and I can remember some great summer gatherings there. My other set of grandparents used to have us over for a ‘cookout’ (barbeque) on their back porch replete with my grandmother’s homemade blueberry pie.

This year is bittersweet as I have been marking each passing ‘holiday’ or ‘observance’ as my last one while still residing locally with family. This is not to say that I’ll always miss out. I fully plan to visit and participate, but I also know that there will be those gatherings which I miss out on geographically.

I was discussing my feelings with A today and describing the years of traditions and get-togethers and the things which I do and will miss. He suggested that perhaps it would do my heart good to continue to observe each American holiday or tradition while together in the UK. While I can’t re-create days gone by or replace the presence of family and old friends, I agree it would mean a lot to continue to find special ways of our own to mark these occasions.


I wonder what my new British family-in-law (to be), friends, and/or acquaintances would think about sharing an occasional Thanksgiving meal, or July 4 barbeque, and the like with A and I? While I can never hope to exactly replicate my grandmother’s homemade blueberry pie – it might be fun and meaningful to share a bit of my heritage as I embrace a bit of theirs.



Extending my heartfelt thanks to all who serve and have served. Extending my deepest sympathies to families who have lost loved ones and who grieve during this time. Wishing many happy returns to those families celebrating this weekend. Remembering my own loved ones living and departed.




Looking forward also to new beginnings, friendships, and traditions…

Thank you

Getting back into the groove (i.e. work, real life) after a two+ week respite with A is never easy! I have been under the weather (something resembling a cold), and understandably a bit down.

A surprised me midweek at work with these!!





Such vibrant, colorful, happy reminders of Spring... and more importantly all that I have to smile about and look forward to. :)


Thank you, A! xx

Recap

I'm writing this from somewhere over the Atlantic... riding the skies on an endless Saturday as I go backwards in time... back to Kansas after a wonderful time with A in the UK.

I had the idea that I'd use the long flight time to craft a clever blog or three about the past 2+ weeks. However, I'm finding instead that while my head and heart are filled with images and remembrances, as well as the sting of separation and excited anticipation of next time, I really prefer at the moment to relish in that, and keep things simple. To that end, I think for now I'll merely highlight a few favorites from my recent time abroad. (In no particular order, and certainly not all-inclusive).

1. Clear favorite! ~ time with A.

2. Dinner out with friends in the Lake District.

3. Seeing A's family in Scotland.

4. The election experience and all that entailed.

5. This:




6. Attending the mayor-making (inauguration) ceremony and dinner as A's guest.

7. Meeting, interacting with, dinners with, time spent getting to know A's friends and colleagues.

8. This:




9. Driving lessons (challenges and confidence-building exercises).




10. Realizing that this was my last 'holiday visit' to the UK and that my next journey there would be to settle into life with A (and ALL the to-do lists, preparation, excitement, nerves, and joy that comes with this!).


11. I can't wait...!

'X' Marks The Spot

The past two weeks have been a rare privilege.

Thanks to A's role as the Agent for a candidate for MP in his constituency, I had the distinct honour of an inside view of the British political process.

My journey began shortly upon my arrival as A put me to work (on a volunteer basis!) canvassing the streets of the ward that he occupies as a councillor delivering leaflets. (It was interesting to note that said leaflets are placed through the letterboxes which I believe is actually illegal in the U.S.).

The next phase of my experience was the 'riveting' day I spent at the postal vote count at the council offices. (A sure knows how to show a lady a good time!). Seriously though, I was genuinely pleased to be a part of this process. I participated in verifying questionable signatures on ballots (i.e. the validity of the votes), and enjoyed interacting with Agents and members of a few of the opposing parties, who I sensed were having a rare day of camaraderie as they worked together to ensure that the process was fair.

Voting day was interesting, as I note that the ballots are paper, and that one marks an 'X' in the box next to their candidate of choice then simply folds the slip of paper and places it in the ballot box. Perhaps America could learn something from this in light of the 'hanging chads' fiasco.

I think one of my favorite elements of my inclusion in local election proceedings was the day known as 'The Count'. I was granted a rare and precious 'pass' to attend this event at the Civic Hall, and observe the election workers literally counting the paper ballots, and placing them into piles. Each pile signified a specific party's candidate for MP, and the winner would go on to represent the constituency in Parliament. It was exciting to watch as the counted vote piles grew and it eventually became obvious which party and candidate would prevail in this region. The room was full of (albeit limited numbers of) representatives of each party (Labour, Conservatives aka 'Tories', Liberal Democrats, Green Party, Ukip, BNP), as well as the BBC news and Radio Cumbria. The anticipation was palpable. This was particularly so in part due to what was happening at the national level. As this region was among the latter 30 to be counted nationally, one had the feeling that their votes mattered more than ever.

Eventually, the results were known for this constituency, and the day was capped with formal announcements, news coverage, and speeches from the winning party candidate, as well as a rousing and somewhat shocking rant from one of the losing candidates!

Sadly, A was rather dejected on this day, as his candidate was not able to overcome the fact that the opposing party has long held the seat in this area. He did an excellent job, but I struggled to comfort his sense of defeat. A spent some time on his own as I joined our friends Helen and Rob for a post-election meal.

Given the current political situation nationally, and the potential for changing alliances, one might wonder if this process will be repeated all too soon. I prefer the optimistic view that a new era of political cooperation has been ushered in.


In all, it was an amazing experience at an historical time politically in the UK, and I am so happy to have had a front row seat!

27 Forgotten Miles...

There are 27 miles of scenic British road that I've travelled today and shall not remember an inch of. As I dearly love English countryside, it should not be possible for me to forget a nice drive on a dry day in Cumbria. So how did I manage?

I'll give you some clues: white knuckles, death grip on steering wheel, feeling 16 again, wishing I had L-plates? No? Careening miraculously through round-a-bouts and wondering what on earth just happened, and desperately trying to stay between the lines when I felt like I was in what is supposed to be oncoming traffic.

Yes, today I drove a British car on British roads for the very first time! I somehow managed to get A and I back to his in one piece, albeit slowly (much to the chagrin of the 6 or so vehicles on my tail for some distance of no-passing zones).

I remember being 16 and learning to drive and becoming newly licensed. I remember that same death grip on the steering wheel, and the same fear that I'd never really get comfortable behind it. I couldn't imagine ever being as relaxed as other drivers I knew. With the passage of time, of course, I did. I never could have anticipated re-living this phase, yet here I am! It's hard to fathom that for some of us, a simple shift of the steering wheel to the right side of the car and a shift in travel lane to the left side of the road could leave one so off-kilter, but for me it has. I know there are lucky ones out there who can make such shifts right off with no hassle. I am just not one of them. So today, I caught myself wondering the same things I did at 16... would this ever become easier?

I expended a fair amount of adrenaline today. Tomorrow won't be any easier. I doubt the 5th or 20th time will either. Yet I know that once I am here to stay if I work at it that day will likely come. (If I ever master parallel parking which is just not as needed a skill in the wide-open spaces of the Midwest USA).


For the next couple of weeks, if you happen to be in Cumbria, you may want to give a wider berth if you encounter a wide-eyed brunette in a silver Kia. The pale countenance and extra-white knuckles will be your cue...

Princess for a Day

Today, I felt like a princess. I thought I was too old to have days like these…

For years I looked on… sometimes admirably (sometimes patiently!) as brides-to-be gushed about their dresses, their plans, and wedding details great and small. It was hard to relate really, not having personally experienced a traditional wedding. I wasn’t one of those little girls who dreamed about one day marrying a prince and having a wedding fit for a princess. When I didn’t imagine I’d be in similar shoes, it was sometimes hard for me to understand all the fuss.

Until A.

While I still maintain a healthy perspective (I am not losing sight of the fact that it is the marriage we are preparing for and celebrating … that a wedding is merely a tribute to the important thing which is the life we get to spend together), I nevertheless am beginning to understand. Although I’d marry A anywhere in any circumstance because I can’t wait to go through life with him at my side, we are also planning and preparing quite a celebration of this fact!

We won’t get everything perfect in terms of traditions, or pleasing everyone, but our intention is to have a wonderful time in the company of those we love and value… a send-off into our new lives that we can always treasure and won’t soon forget.

So, for today, (and perhaps on a few other days in the coming months), I am going to be that bride… who in spite of my age and circumstance, is going to get a bit excited and effusive as I share happy details of our big day.

To that end, I thought I would share that I have found the dress! Today, I tried it on for my mother to see. We shared a special afternoon. I won’t allow A to see it until I am walking down the aisle. I have found a few lovely accessories too.

Moments like these are making it more and more real.


I simply cannot wait!

Decidedly Un-domestic...

This is the year I’m going to start owning things. I don’t mean ‘things’ in the material sense. Bear with me on this one and it will all become clear.

Today, A asked me the following question: “If we were to own a house with a bigger garden, do you think you might like to keep hens?” I was momentarily speechless, not certain I’d heard him correctly. In the few seconds it took me to recover and formulate some sort of response, my mind raced through a series of thoughts that went something like this: (Hens?!!! I know that one set of my grandparents were farmers but I was raised in the city! Hens?!!! Me, who if money were no object, would be happily ensconced in a luxury patio home or condo where there is 0 maintenance, replete with housekeeper, personal chef, personal trainer… Hens get mites! Wait… does that mean lice?! Eeeew! What level of commitment would keeping HENS require? Do they smell? Do they poo everywhere? What is the noise level? What if I fail and can’t keep them alive and happy? I DO hope you mean for eggs only and not for… I couldn’t bring myself to ever… Oh, but is this something A really wants? I want him happy… perhaps I could try to keep a more open mind because if it’s something he really wants we could do this together… but Hens?!!).

I told A we could discuss this once we both did some degree of research into what the reality of hen keeping would be. After all, I’d love a pet rabbit but am not convinced that I’m up to the task. Couldn’t we just have a next door neighbor with hens and buy fresh eggs from them?

Friends, family of mine, and those of you whose blogs I follow (and adore) who are happily baking, decorating your homes, and making all manner of clever and crafty things please know that I hope you are not *too* disappointed to know that while I admire these traits and abilities greatly, I have no (known) personal proclivities of these sorts. I was the girl who immersed herself in her career... to a fault.

SO… it’s time I start owning things. Owning the fact that I. Don’t. Know. How. To. Cook. I am only this week (at the tail end of my 39th year of life) making a concerted effort to start cooking. Whole foods. No more frozen dinners and overly-processed stuff that passes for food. I am committed to this process for my health and well-being, but am finding that while I am proud of what I am achieving (which trust me, won’t impress you foodies out there), I don’t actually *love* cooking! I envy people who love it. I want so much to feel that way about it. Perhaps in time I will grow to love it, but perhaps I need to stop hoping this will magically change for me and own this as a personal truth.

I should also own the fact that I don’t fully understand fashion, or have an interior design knack, or know the first thing about gardening (though I love the idea of it… I HATE BUGS). I can’t stand camping outdoors. I am a little afraid of lawn mowers. I like air conditioning and creature comforts.

I am still open to experimentation on the domestic front. I keep hoping that I will embrace it more. I reserve the right to change my mind, but so far I haven’t.

It will be interesting to see what sort of house A and I keep together. He doesn’t seem to mind cooking, and I don’t altogether mind cleaning the kitchen. He is not afraid of bugs and enjoys tending to rose-bushes. I may not be a designer, but I do really enjoy a cozy home so I’m sure I’ll make my best effort in that regard. I hope our friends won’t shy away from dropping by…


The only promise I’m going to make right now is that I will strive to be more comfortable owning the truth… whatever it was, is, or becomes…