When the least likelys become the so much mores . Time in a Bottle as Jim Croce penned- “But there never seems to be enough time/ To do the things you want to do, once you find them / I’ve looked around enough to know / That you’re the one I want to go through time with…”

My niece planned her wedding day with very specific details all her own. With little time, in short order, she piled on the loving job of assembling her wedding day. And so the walk through their path of life commences.

We cried, we kvelled and we pray in our hearts that their beginning, middle and so on unfolds in the casual, detailed, seemingly effortless way this blessed day played out. Nothing more precious to me then seeing your sister’s daughter enter this “very grown-up” phase of life. I watched her enter this world and I now have watched her walk into another room. 

For the very first time,  on this day, she is a Mr. and Mrs.; no longer the baby I held, the little girl I helped with homework or so simply the young lady who gathered degrees to hopefully insure  her success in the work arena. The collection of happy tears I have shed throughout my nieces life are held in a jar, sitting on my mantel of memories, front row center. You have continued to be a sense of joy and have added strength to my weakest days. I have felt your determination, your spirit when I watched you cheer at a football game and serve a meal to the less fortunate. 

You live your life with selfless giving. On this day my “precious child,”- you accepted and reveled in how the giving was now the receiving. Be safe in knowing your husband sees what I knew all along. There is a very short line for the altruistic people who first think of others . You are up there looking at the line that waits behind you. You are the heroine in my long story. I now have a bigger collection of happy tears prominently sitting in the jar on the mantel of my life.

Class clown in high school – Sargent at arms through sorority life-stand up and seated comic in rooms and at tables- good at cajoling an hysterical grandchild back to smiles and giggles -Red Skelton type delivery, as he also cracked up at his own jokes. –Fast forward to signing in at funerals. Wow – feels as if I am in a “Room Without a Window.”I had a bowl of oatmeal for breakfast and woke up “64.” All the adages of how quickly life happens and how to really enjoy the living while you can doesn’t come into play until it one day does. Now I grab the moments when I don’t have to look over my shoulder for the next challenge. There is nothing new about feeling your age until the activities that fall at your doorstep smack of different. With a few more limitations, barely, I plunge ahead, continue my everyday with the same verve and discretion as always. Hopefully we preserve the good times differently. On a good day we take on more, on a great day we feel invincible. The “only ifs” turn into the “do it nows.” I now collect memories- with abundance. More old pictures, tapping into to old friendships and cherishing the times when troubles were fewer and anticipations were filled with less frailty. I look forward to the good stuff coming with more frequency and the times of dismay and disappointment being handled quickly.

And then— I wake up one day and the “The Room without a Window” has a glimmer of light shining thru. I open the proverbial blinds, I air out the cobwebs and I realize there was always a way out of that windowless space.

As I reflect back on this past week there are several events that bring to mind the preciousness of life. Our week started with my husband beginning a siege of headaches. Cluster in nature, horrific in intensity and devastating in emotional grief. He was Strongly medicated and we moved on.We went on to stand with one of my oldest friend as he buried his wife of twenty-five years. She was fine in June of this past year and dead 6 months later. The ravages of a late stage cancer diagnosis. Right after this horrific funeral with hundreds of people listening to outpours of sincerity and love for this woman, who ostensibly, in theory “got hit by a bus;” – we picked up one of our loves-our three year old dream girl granddaughter and played through our day of mourning. Run on sentence, run on life. Once again the ying and the yang. More of the “as time goes by” moments. Boy, you can never overestimate the medicinal value of hugging a grandchild and watching them run into our lives. I mean, oh well, they put back the wind when it is knocked out of us. Moving forward I had a week of annual tests at my doctors. Always adding one more layer of anxiety and thank G-d relief. My husband then had a bad reaction to the medication he was on to help with his headaches and was told to abruptly stop. We are dealing with the lingering aftermath of that glitch. With all of our issues and “such is life” dealings- we hear the news of David Wich, the young man who was tragically struck by the crane amidst the “whirlwind of a snow storm.” A member of the kids congregation. As Rabbi Lookstein said “an absolute angel.” So I wake up early this Sunday morning about to begin a new week- I make the coffee, check to see that my husband is peaceful, hold my breathe and observe as our week unfurls. Hopefully my sister will be by my side as she was this week, my husband will get relief from the Best medicine- grandchildren crossing our threshold and dividing the ying from our yang.

We leave at months end for the winter. Yes, “our”winter months are here. Not gruesome, actually thrilled, as our world and our lives are so very blessed. With our get up and go we created a world that resonates with Joy and Excitement. Your children run up to our door, check out the pictures that greet them and dash in to hear the familiar – “who’s here?” A knowing place to hang their hat, and know they will enjoy the party. We play, we eat, we laugh, we hug and we start again. Each one has their own place in our very large hearts. Grandpa Ira is their king and Judy their Queen. At least in my story. We make them feel special. They know have their routines of play on which they can rely. We have helped to make memories that are precious and I trust as they go along will remember forever. When we take them to do an activity outside, a museum, a movie, an art project it brings the outside in. Honestly it’s all good- but nothing beats the look on their faces when they come in to “hang” amongst the scattered magna tiles, trucks, soldiers, baby doll and miniature pocketbooks- and one Huge Blended Heart laced with Love. We are blessed and know they are too!

“If you don’t own it the people can tell”- well my dear niece, my blood, you have owned it since I watched you lick ur finger to turn the page as Daddy read the newspaper. You led with your heart. You work the room without intent and win the hearts of everyone. Your smile shines thru your G-d given dimples. You create an aura, a distinctive atmosphere of quality, wherever you go.

It is once again your time to shine. You met your love, the man in your picture show to stand by your side. He is a gentleman, a kind soul and knows what you need when you need it. Grandma and Papa would be proud to know you will share your life with him. He holds his money clip in his pocket and your heart in his hand. We love him too! 

Go forward my dear children – work each venue you stroll into with a sense of knowing – that ” if you don’t own it the people can tell! 

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Just when u think u can widen ur belt, exhale emotionally and proceed with unbridled passion, life happens oxymoronically. The adage of older/wiser, while ever so true plays out as reality with bumps and grinds. You arrive, cross the threshold of we’ve made it this far–and then the interplay of the bold and the beautiful, the ying and the yang and the good and the bad rears it’s ugly head-front row center. So, in fact, u pool ur resources, plunge ahead and prevail thru adversity. Our basic prototype, who we really are remains throughout. With a blend of refinement, delight, growth spurts, moments of decline and sheer luck we float to the top. Go for more, hopefully get “some” more. Voluntarily, we finally use our awareness of what feels better than not, who tickles our fancy and who causes dismay. THEN–u hear a voice say to you-“Judy can u help me put on my shoes ?”–as they walk out the door, art project in hand. —-And then a smile filled with joy of a full day of win/wins. They turn around when you call out “how bout a kiss good-bye?” I wish for everyone run on sentences like this that never end–get repeated often. I was “Smart to Be Lucky.”

Starting tight, inter-woven-young and new with few experiences beyond those of small town life. With time new threads, color, textures, spreading out–the weave looser, stretching, growing; the fabric changing size and shape. There to wrap in if it’s cold. Looser with big, loopy openings if space is needed. But there, always there. Whether in long loose, thin tendrils or tight knots for hanging on-Experiences and life demands determine the shape, the weight, the size, the colors of the fabric that is always there. “The Fabric of Us.”

Whether burlap or brocade-Synthetic or silk, vinyl or velvet, used and abused–stretched to its limit-Comfy and crushed-every now and then-“The Fabric of Us”-gets a new thread. Renewing it’s strength, it’s glow to shine with or without sun.

Fifty years of being there. Not many can boast that. Let’s add a new color, a new thread to-“The Fabric of Us.”

The floodgates open again. Life on Life’s terms-not always in one straight line. When you find the right course through destiny and share a world with your grandchildren that they will always remember-that is as close to wonderful as it gets. You have served your family well. A run on sentence-a run on life. Taking the figurative and literal ball and running with it. Loved, revered- as the feelings and devotion come  with clarity and selfless giving. Grandpa Ira rocks grandparenthood. His lap is never empty, their hearts are always full. I wish this on everyone.

So many of the old adages are now living at my front door. Cliches that I never got, couldnt internalize or just wasnt ready for have now come into play with regularity. Fortuitously, they serve as the bettor at our Mah-jongg table. More forgiving and grateful, less verbalizing differences seems to be our new posture.  We sit down and the magic occurs. First game out we adjust our seat, call on our strategy and throw “the dice.” We leave so much more to chance. No more rebuffing what is, just fact and acceptance feel like the right path to take. We flinch at the first interference in our game of Life–and in turn almost welcome it. A phone call from someone’s kid sharing the joy over their daughter’s ballet recital is typical. An interruption because the deocrator went to the wrong place, perhaps. The bell ringing when the handyman comes to prepare the terrace for planting. We pool our woes and share our joys. Are we lucky or have we turned happenstance into “sheer” delight?

My parents had an activity with their weekly group of couples called “Coffee and…” I am now getting that the “and” was so much more than cheese danish or chocolate babka.

I love our “and.” When I was younger and had a piece of chicken. I would eat the wings last. I savored the best for then. I now sit down to our chicken lunch and go for the wings first. I decided it’s because I cant wait to get back to what we came for. I know that the real reason I enjoy this activity is because it recapitulates my parents activity of continuity. Well here’s to so many more days of Mah Jongg “And.”