Category Archives: phone calls

The meaning behind kisses

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My coworker and friend’s words stopped me in my tracks yesterday.

Amy said, “Roy doesn’t kiss me.”

I turned to look at her, my beautiful and lively horse-backing friend,

owner of Spirit and Lokie.

I have worried about her, since the beginning of the year, when her

divorce was finalized. She has been a single woman trying her ‘wings’

lately, with a man named Tom and another named Roy.

Her grown children have been more on the side of her ex, even despite

the fact that he is the one who has notably, in over 25 years of marriage,

had affairs.

Twelve years ago, he had children with another woman, for Pete’s sake!

Amy allowed the twins to visit at her home, living proof of his rampant

unfaithfulness. She would have tolerated this forever. She was a believer

in marriage and its lasting forever, ‘for better or worse!’

This last time, her husband had chosen a woman who was a neighbor,

who had been a so-called ‘friend.’ This would have been my ‘last straw!’

Only after this ‘other’ woman ‘made’ him get a divorce to marry her, was

Amy released from a private ‘hell’ that she had been in, for so long. It is

hard for her to know what to do with her new freedom.

Men have been coming ‘out of the woodwork’ to ask her out on dates.

She has been enjoying all the attention. I have been happy for her, listening

to her different stories.

So, what was this about kissing?!

I thought every man who dated a woman, would eventually kiss them!

Roy has been in her life for about 5 months, the brother of the stable

owner.

Roy is a past rodeo cowboy and his photograph shows a sturdy, thin

attractive Clint Eastwood type. Amy likes him a lot more than the Tom

guy.

I have been listening to her ‘soap opera,’ for many months, while most

of the other order fillers have begun to ‘tune her out.’

Or worse, make fun of her, behind her back!

I have ‘been there, done that,’ as far as my dating history and failed

relationships.

So I understand the need to validate behaviors along with needing a

‘listening and sympathetic ear.’

“Amy!”

I used my stern voice to exclaim,

“What in the world are you talking about? You have had multiple dates

with Roy! You go to Indian Lake and stay in a cabin with him!”

She looked at the ground, saying,

“I was afraid you would lecture me about this! He never kisses me.”

I answered in an upset tone,

“Well, I think about Julia Roberts’s prostitute role, explaining to Richard

Gere’s character, how people aren’t allowed to kiss on the mouth, no

matter how much they pay their prostitute.”

(“Pretty Woman,” movie reference.)

I added hastily,

“You are not one, of course!”

Amy looked sheepishly at me,

“I was really hoping you were going to give me an example of someone

who did this, who was intimate with you but still preferred not to kiss!”

I could feel my brow creasing, my furrow between my eyes deepening

with my concern and caring for her. I didn’t want to hurt her feelings or

make a hasty judgment about Roy, but. . .

“No, haven’t experienced this one before, Amy! I honestly have had only

one man who didn’t like to open mouth kiss, but that didn’t last long.

Sorry, as time went on, it got annoying kissing someone like I did my Dad

and brothers!”

And I knew this would not be what she wanted to hear but I had to add this:

“Amy, you need to back away from Roy. There is something seriously wrong

that you two have slept together and never kissed!”

Amy came to Roy’s defense,

“But Robin, he gives great foot and back massages!”

I told her that once my ex-husband and I broke up, I dreamed about being

kissed. I wanted those lingering, sweet trembling moments that would make

my knees quiver and shake!

I even had daydreamed and pictured special kisses, where my soul would

glide into another’s soul, finally knowing what the concept of “Being One”

would mean!

I also wondered aloud,

“Don’t you want the silky, sexy kisses which turn into passionate, arousing

ones?”

My brothers are very different in their hugging modes, one is a sideways,

pat on the back or shoulder kind of guy, while the other gives great, warm

bear hugs. Both love me and are my best guy friends in the world! I did not

want to go into past men in my life or details. It is best to keep the

past in the past.

I told her my personal thoughts about ‘romance.’

“I feel slow dancing and passionate kisses are foreplay!”

I saw her shoulders drop and she turned to what she had been doing,

since her job is to count products in the bins, (Cycle Count department.)

I passed her with my long hampers, filling them with cords, wipers and

other longer items. The line was going the other way, away from Amy.

When it came time for break, she was happy again, telling me that Roy

had her to do something with him later that night. She felt that he was

going to do something special.

She thought, maybe they would talk about the lack of kissing.

“Maybe he is a ‘germaphobe?'” she wondered.

I nodded my head and told her the most validating thing I could think

of at the time,

“Whatever floats your boat, Amy. Remember to always be true to

yourself!”

 

Have you ever been in a relationship where one of you didn’t like to kiss?

Was there any psychological or meaningful reason for this?

I could give Amy some explanation, if I were better prepared!

Or is it like I fear? That this is a way to put distance between them, like

a wall between them? Is Roy doing this so that Amy isn’t bound to him?

I worry about her being ‘used’ by someone who is not appreciating her

the way she deserves to be.

Peace, hope and safe travels

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I had just got off the phone from talking to my good and oldest

friend, Patrice, (that I still stay in touch with), who was preparing

for her annual trip to Charlevoix, Michigan. We both say sometimes

we should just call it, “Camelot.” Bill and I traveled up there once, to

see her sister’s renovated Castle Farms. The town is beautiful, with

Lake Charlevoix and the special houses that look like mushrooms are

there, too. The Castle is so breathtakingly Princess-like I complained

when we had to leave!

We did venture North ward to the Upper Peninsula, the locks, great

waterfalls, the towering evergreens, and Lake Michigan, too. I did

stop complaining, I think I was just missing my Patrice, who is

a source of comfort and joy. We saw all kinds of other fantastic

sights!

Pat had packed up her bags, shipped her papers and medications

up to Charlevoix, had completed a few different doctors’ visits,

and was relaxing. Pat’s sister, Linda, would be coming to take

them to the airport and she patiently listened to my nervous

energy and anxiousness about my Mom. She gave me comfort that

she had put my Mom on their church’s Prayer Chain, earlier in

the week.

We sang a little bit of “Leaving on a Jet Plane,” to cheer us both up.

She’s ready to leave soon. My car is packed, ready to go. Stopping

to call her before I go post this story about Mom and plans made.

Ever since Hurricane Katrina, this has become Pat’s yearly routine.

She has only once come back to Long Beach to find roof damage, no

serious side effects that could be compared to the year the hurricane

disaster hit the gulf coast.

since she hates and fears the potential

She has always, ever since I met her freshman year in college,

imparted heavenly peaceful feelings to me. She is my ‘Zen.’

Patrice was my first and only “Maid of Honor.” We’ve shared

a lot and has known my Mom since 1978. Both her parents died,

while she went to live down there, taking care of her Mom first,

then her Dad. Living in their retirement home, now.

She gave me a lot of reassurances and reminders of how ‘spunky’

and ‘strong-willed’ my mother is. I am prepared to see her in a few

short hours.

Mom had been a little strange, had hurt her leg, twisting it a

little as she got out of the “Whistle Stop” restaurant booth.

My brother and I had decided to see what the place that had taken

over the old Cahoon Winery would look like, what their food would

be like and found the atmosphere and the prime rib dinners very

satisfying. Mom did not recognize it, due to its internal changes

but the outside, she had exclaimed,

“Dad painted this in acrylics, didn’t he?”

It was one of the many paintings my Dad had decorated the house

with, before my brother started to paint ‘real art.’

My brothers had said the twist that had produced pain and a

slight limp, would be ‘just fine,’ only a muscle strain and

not even a bruise on Easter, when I was with her in the

bathroom, looking at Mom’s leg.

I had sent cards, reminding her to use a heating pad. I had

added another suggestion to alternate with a bag of frozen peas,

and ‘Make sure you elevate it!’

When I had to leave on Easter, she had reassured me that she would

be okay and I hugged and kissed her. I always am torn between seeing

my grandchildren and children, and the possibility that Mom may be

not as well the next time I go up there.

As I was leaving, she told me she was not used to putting her feet up

to relax on her sofa. There is a nice, soft ottoman that is part of

her living room set.

Then, recently, I was filled with some trepidation, when my brother

called during a work day. He had left a message saying he had called

an ambulance, met my Mom at the hospital.

She ended up staying the three days, that allows to have her Medicaid

‘kick in,’ along with having a battery of tests. Not many medications,

not really any results.

They did not understand why she was ‘lethargic’ and rather

‘non-responsive’ but once the I.V’s kicked in, she had ‘rallied,’

was renewed and ‘herself’ again.

I should be grateful for small mercies, knowing that she could have

had something more seriously wrong. There is a knot by her knee,

that is healing. She will have ten days of therapy, visiting in

her senior living apartment.

I talked to Mom for an hour this week, she shared with me a sort of

funny explanation. She knew my brother was coming to get her for

dinner, she had fallen asleep taking a nap. She was wearing a t-shirt

and underwear. When the knock at the door came, she had called out,

“Who’s there?”

My brother had answered, so she thought the quickest way to get to the

door was to ‘crawl.’ This is her explanation of what she did.

Yup, Mom crawled to the door to greet my brother, on her knees.

That ‘set off alarms, in my mind,’ too!

My brother said,

“It’s locked, Mom!”

She replied,

“I’m on my way, just a minute!”

She stretched and unlocked the door, remaining on all fours.

He looked at her, then looked at her dog, Nicki, who was sitting

beside her.

I am sure this was quite a shock to his system!

Nicki usually is nervous when people come in, ‘whimpering.’ Even

familiar people and family members. Mom moved to a chair, climbing

on it to sit down.

Anyway, with much reassurances that she was fine, he called

downstairs and found that my very polite mother had received

three days in a row, calls from the front desk, asking if

she was ‘all right.’

Each time, my Mom had said “I’m fine, thank you,” hanging up.

They did not ask why she didn’t go to the dining room nor did

they offer to send her up a dinner. This will be discussed in

the later part of June, when my brother can be there, along

with staff and the social worker. The ‘protocol’ was told to

us, that if someone did not come to the dining room, (without

cancelling their dinner, as sometimes people do to eat out with

their family) they would send someone up to check on them.

This is why my brother my Mom had appeared lethargic, almost

comatose and delusional! She probably had eaten a tablespoon of

peanut butter and endless cups of coffee. She is not one to

convince easily to use the microwaveable meals and other food

items that we put in her refrigerator.

By the way, Mom’s little dog is staying with her ‘sister’ who

is a half dachshund and half beagle, nine years younger, her big

brother, Hamlet, who is a golden retriever and her huge sister,

Fiona, who is a Newfoundland, at my brother and sister in law’s

house, across the street.

My brother and sister in law, are heading this weekend to Bethany

Beach, Maryland. They will be taking the big dogs, Hamlet and Fiona,

leaving the little ones, Nicki (my Mom’s shih tzu) and her other

one, she had to give up to move into the senior apt., Bella for

my brother to watch, take care of and feed. I look forward to his

coming over after he works, plays volleyball or tennis, along with

his other activities. I picked up a few movies, older ones for Mom

and I to watch and action ones where the three of us will watch.

I am filled with less trepidation, just sadness, because I am

not sure how Mom will “be” over the weekend. I had sent a couple

of “Get Well” cards this week. Unless she made it to the mail box

she knows from my big letters on her white board on the kitchen

wall and her calendar over the sink, “Robin will be here for

Memorial Day weekend, on May 23- May 26.”

I saved the rather amusing “Mom’s version of what happened before

she got taken in the ambulance” for you to possibly chuckle at!

In her recounting of the crazy, cuckoo, some would say, “Did you

lose some of your marbles?” moments, I gathered that she was not,

in the least, embarrassed about her state of undress, when greeting

my brother.

By showing a fine sense of humor, she had told me, ‘right off

the bat:’

“Hello, Robin! I am fine, I was in the hospital and got a few

meals along with tests. I hate to tell you this, but I would

not have passed the ‘dining room dress code’ the other day,

when your brother came to get me to take me out to dinner! I

had no pants on!”

Last summer, the signs to enter the dining room had first said,

“No shorts allowed in the Dining Room.”

I had inquired of the seating hostess, “Why did this happen? Surely,

no one would wear ‘short shorts’ in the dining room.”

I had ‘capri shorts’ on which ‘passed inspection’ for dining that

summer evening.

She had leaned over and whispered to me,

“A few gentlemen came to the dining room wearing boxer shorts!”

She had added in a rather horrified tone,

“And one’s overlapped fly, didn’t exactly overlap!”

Later last summer, 2013, apparently someone had come in their

bathrobe to dinner!

A new sign had been posted upon my next monthly visit:

“Proper Attire Required in the Dining Room.

NO shorts.

No pajamas, robes, boxer shorts or otherwise

bed clothes allowed.

Men and women must wear pants.”

I laughed (back then) when it had become such a wild and long

list, almost like the silly Jean Kerr’s “Please Don’t Eat the

Daisies” book where she had forgotten to tell the children in

the New York apartment that request.

I had stopped worrying about my Mom’s mental state when she made

that joke about proper dining room apparel. But, when she said

she wanted to ‘do all the things we usually do, like go to the

grocery store and eat out, at least twice!’ I had become rather

concerned. Hopefully, she and her walker will be just fine and

we will have a grand old time up in Cleveland, ‘tooling around

like we usually do!’

Hope you all have a happy Memorial Day!

Hope there are lots of good times with family or friends.

A few moments of meditation and memories for loved ones, too.

Enjoy your three-day weekend!

May it be safe and peaceful.