Tag: almost daily selfie

general

9.13.16

abby mumford

After a few mishaps with our phone connection, Maga and I persevered. I regaled her with tales of my recent trip to Nashville, a city I’d never been to before but will absolutely positively definitely be visiting again.

“I didn’t travel much when I was young. Nana and I went to the Cape for summers, but that was it. We didn’t travel like you do.”

“But, Maga, I’m not that young.”

“Yes, you are.”

“I mean, yes, relatively speaking, but when you were 35, you were married and traveling all over the world with Jobo.”

“I guess you’re right. When you put it like that…I’m just sorry my travelings are over now. I guess that happens when you’re 95.”

“Yes, but you went all over the world before now. Think of ALL those memories.”

“And pictures. I have a little bit of everything. I’m lucky in that regard. I’m told your mom did a good job cleaning the house this weekend. I hope she didn’t throw away the picture albums.”

“No. She wouldn’t do that without your consent.”

“I moved there in 1954. How long ago was that?”

“62 years.”

“And to think of all the stuff I’ve accumulated in that length of time.”

Wisdom. Grace. A sense of humor. Social skills. A broad world view. Love. An ever expanding family. Fortunately none of those can be accidentally thrown away.

feelings

conversations with strangers #133

abby mumford

At the day job, we’re in the middle of a university sanctioned office rehab (new paint, carpet, windows), and every office around me was being painted as I patiently waited my turn. I sorted and tossed and packed and re-arranged and moved and transferred and packed and lifted and packed and attempted to do my job despite the disruptions.

Finally, it was my office’s turn. I walked into work and ran headlong into the owner of the painting company.

Painting Guy: Your office is falling apart.

Me: What?

PG: Your wall. The plaster fell off in rather large chunks.

The fear of getting trapped in a conversation with him outweighed my desire to know more about what exactly was happening in my office. Plus, his very calm demeanor allowed me to swallow my fear that I’d been working in a death trap. I left them to their devices and hurried to my coworker-on-vacation’s office where I’d be stationed for the next two days.

When they’d finished for the day and I was able to peek into my office, I saw about one third of the wall had been re-plastered and my desire to rearrange my office so I wouldn’t be sitting next to that wall anymore raged. As I contemplated new positions for my desk and cabinets, I remembered what the painter boss man had said during an earlier conversation. (Have I mentioned he’s chatty?)

PG: Success is personal. It’s all in how you define it. No one else cares. As long as you’re comfortable within your means, nothing else matters.

Granted that had nothing to do with interior decorating or safety protocol, but it was really good advice. Especially since he’s such a world traveler (Italy, Belize, all over the US, Germany, England, Australia, scuba diving, skiing, visiting…) and that got me pondering my next international trip, all of which is to say, he took my mind away from the negative (the crumbling but now patched office walls + how will I redecorate when I have no sense of these things + what will I do when I own a home + when will I ever own a home + will it be in a good location or in the middle of nowhere and no one will visit me because it’s too far away, etc.) and fastened it on the inquisitive (what is my exact definition of success) and the positive (a list of the successes I have had so far in this unconventional version of adulthood I’m living.)

feelings

9.6.16

abby mumford

“Did you hear the latest family news?” Maga crowed into the phone.

“I did! Little baby M arrived!”

“Two weeks early.”

“She was excited to see the world. Like another preemie in the family.”

“Who?”

“Me!”

“Oh, good heavens. I’d forgotten about that. This makes 8 greats, 12 grands, 4 kids. Can you believe I was an only child? It amazes me to think about being an only child and being responsible for a family of this size. It just keeps growing by leaps and bounds.”

“You’ve done an impeccable job.”

“I wished I’d had brothers and sisters. It was just me and my mom, Nana, and her mom, Granny.”

“What happened to your grandpa?”

“He was German. He emigrated to the US and after that, he met Granny in NYC. He died before I was born.”

“She never got remarried?”

“No. It was just her, my mom, and I in NJ. She had such a lovely garden. And a rose trellis with climbing roses. She was such a good gardener. But it was just the three of us. On weekends, my Uncle E would come down from the city to help Granny with her finances, so we had him as a companion, but it was a rather lonely childhood.”

“Were you close with your mother?”

“Very. She was a wonderful woman. A kindergarten teacher for many many years. She had loads of friends. That tells you the kind of woman she was.”

“And you must have had lots of friends too?”

“Oh, of course. At school and in the neighborhood, but with just Nana and Granny and I, it wasn’t your normal childhood. I wished I’d had brothers and sisters. But then after I met Jobo, that was the best part of my life. He was such a wonderful man and we did so many interesting things together. All that traveling for his job. And the four kids we had together. That was special. And now look at the size of our family!”

Her heart was expanding with future generations while mine was full with the past.

feelings

8.30.16

abby mumford

“Do you have the tennis matches on?” Maga asked.

“Oh, no. I don’t. I just walked in the door.”

“Tennis was my game. I loved to play. Look at those girls. Are they ever good. Serena seems to be ahead, so that’s good to see. Boy that was a good shot. Right down the alley.”

“They do know what they’re doing! My mom, dad, Aunt J and Uncle P are going to the games this weekend.”

“Oh, yes. I saw J today. She leaves tomorrow.”

“I went to the US Open once and man was it fun. I had a blast!”

“Now they’ve got some men on. Boy are they fast. Oh he just hit it out.”

“How long did you play tennis for?”

“I started in college and then …. that shot was out. I shouldn’t be talking to you and watching this at the same time….My goodness, these men are efficient.”

“How is the game different than when you played?”

“It’s so different. We just played on outside courts. Now they have kind of inside courts that are open on the top but…Now we’re back with the ladies. Serena Williams vs. the Russian.”

“You’re clearly enjoying the games. I’ll let you go so you can watch them.”

“Oh, no. I so look forward to our Tuesday chats. I’m glad we have them in common.”

“How was your day today? What did you do?”

“I went to the doctor because I fell this weekend and had to get an x-ray taken.”

“Oh no! Are you okay? What did you hurt? Are you in much pain? Can you walk?”

“I sit in a wheelchair most of the day. Other times I use a walker. I don’t lay around in bed all day, so that’s something. I get out and around…My these girls are good at tennis. I wish I could do that. But at my age, I guess it’s not an option.”

She sure was running circles around me.

feelings

8.23.16

abby mumford

Maga: How’s work?

Me: Crazy busy. And I could do with a little less drama.

Maga: Don’t you publish books?

Me: Yes, but I have to deal with people to get those books made.

Maga: Oh, well, that could make things difficult. How’s the weather where you are?

Me: Today’s forecast was ‘sunny and delightful’ and you know what? That was spot on.

Maga: It was cloudy where I am today. But I guess it’s a changeable time of year.

The cooling temperatures. The evening hours creeping closer every day. And yet, it always feels like time for a fresh beginning.

Maga: Look at that man. He sort of blew up over the lake.

Me: What are you watching?

Maga: Channel 4.

Me: Oh. Okay. Did you watch the Olympics?

Maga: Yes! I loved them. What was your favorite sport?

Me: Gymnastics.

Maga: Aren’t all those young people so impressive?

Me: Totally. It sort of makes me feel like I need to do more with my life.

Maga: Oh, I think you’ve done quite a bit with yours.

Me: Well, thanks.

Maga: It’s not quite as colorful now that the Olympics are over.

Me: True. But the trees outside will be changing color soon. So there’s that.

Maga: And your mother is coming to visit me.

Me: What’s your favorite thing about her?

Maga: She’s so dependable and you can ask her things and she gives you a good answer. She just has good sense. She knows what’s what. I appreciate that very much. I guess anyone would. You’ve known her a long time. You must understand all this by now.

Me: I do. Very well. I’m lucky to have known her my whole life.

Maga: You’re such a dear to call. I love to hear your cheery voice. And sometimes you surprise me because I forget it’s Tuesday.

It is a changeable time of year after all, but our Tuesday phone calls are consistent. Two ladies each wishing they had more company than the newspaper, a book, the TV, memories of days previously sunny and delightful. But our blood connects us and the telephone ties us together and we move forward one season at a time.