Wednesday, September 2, 2009

MONDAY, MONDAY...can't trust that day...

Monday's child is fair of face,
Tuesday's child is full of grace,
Wednesday's child is full of woe,
Thursday's child has far to go.
Friday's child is loving and giving,
Saturday's child works hard for a living,
But the child born on the Sabbath Day,
Is fair and wise and good and gay.

I am Saturday’s child, alas…

There was an ongoing discussion about this since I was drug into this world on July 16 of a year near the exact center of the century past.

If there was spring forward that year then I was actually born on the 15th which far more reflects my opinion of my personal attributes.

“Loving and giving” suits me to a tee (T? Tea?).

There are those who will disagree (mostly born on Wednesdays) and who cares about anyone else’s opinion on this topic anyway? I am drawn to Friday and have never found any fascination with Saturday one way or the other.

I do and have worked hard for my living to that I will agree. I wish I had been better at just walking over people and had been just basically more selfish all round-I would have more to show for the work.

I also wish I had been far more adept at saving money. I earned a fair amount and I spent it or gave it away.

I do have a treasure from all my work (though that too is dwindling)-I have wonderful friends mostly from their association with my artwork in some manner. Friends are true treasures.

My generation has been so decimated not only by war and AIDS but by other illnesses as well-many of the girls I went to school with have died from assorted cancers and the boys from heart attacks.

There have also been a rash of drowning, hit and runs and other accidents that have harvested the souls of those who played important parts in my past.

I heard a theory that we notice death more at a point in our lives when the generation before us (parents especially) are gone and we take up the duty of standing sentry at the portal between this life and the next.

Having lived through Vietnam and AIDS I have to say that I was well aware of my mortality long before I became an orphan.

It’s another odd part of my way of perceiving things but I defined myself as an orphan when my mother died in 2006 – I wonder how many of us bother to think about that or picture ourselves in that light?

Children are allowed to be orphans and are the focus of some fair amount of sorrow, pity and cuddling.

As adults it’s sort of a sympathy card and a potted plant-then we are expected to cinch up our suspenders and get on with it.

A bit of a cheat don’t you think?

I wanted and needed a great deal of pity and cuddling…I got the cards and potted plants in abundance.

Not that friends were lacking in their attentions, they weren’t-I think we don’t consider that anyone over say 16 or 17 may need to be held while they weep on the sofa while the delicious fragrance of bread pudding wafts in from the kitchen.

People send plants for funerals why don’t we change that tradition and start sending candy or assorted pastries; Baklava would have really taken the edge off my misery.

I don’t go to funerals-I find them barbarous and useless.

The loved one isn’t there nor are they sitting around in spirit form keeping track of who was or wasn’t sitting there miserable while the funeral director counted up the proceeds and lamented that he/she couldn’t convince the bereaved to buy the solid bronze urn.

I don’t think anyone I knew would have wanted me to be any more unhappy than I already was…OH! And another thing, WHY do we bury people in SUITS or other such uncomfortable garments?

I like the idea of pajamas or a caftan, something silky and luscious - no shoes, no belts and no sports coats that open up the back so they don’t have to break your arms to put it on…YUCK!

I’m ranting again, sorry, this is a part of my therapy and if I can’t share this with you then who?

We owned the plot already BUT my Mother’s funeral ended up costing somewhere around $16,000.00, I’m not sure for what; my sister took care of it.

I was home grieving, sick and miserable…I did NOT attend, Mother knew I would not attend we had discussed it and it distressed her.

She would have preferred I be there HOWEVER I expressed to her that she would be in heaven getting reacquainted with those that had gone before her and probably playing Canasta with my Grandma not hovering in angelic gauze over the green metal casket (floral tribute additional-a LOT additional).

Regardless I am a very loving and giving person no matter what day I was born on or the fact that I don’t go to funerals.

I write a hell of a sympathy card and usually send flowers in lieu of potted plant though I must admit that I did on a couple of occasions get caught up in the terrarium craze and those went off to the bereaved…my belated apologies for the lack of chocolate or bread pudding.

I am actually astonished by the fact that funeral establishments do NOT sell confections as a part of their services…

Probably health regulations or some such don’t you think?

You can find out what day of the week you were born they have many such free services on the web---one such site also had the poem that I cut and pasted above.

See, they were thinking, THEY should be in the funeral business.

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