sorry about the sideways pic.first, let me say it was the most amazing weekend i've had in a while. and for small reasons. all bunched up small reasons that became a grand adventure. when the actuality of driving 6 hours in a car with my mother to go to an art weekend hit me, i was a little - no a lot - nervous about it. i mean, what was i thinking? wouldn't you want a like-minded artsy person with you to set the mood? someone who likes the same music? or has cooler music to listen to on the way? but that person is certainly not your mother. well, check again...it may be. so we drive and drive and drive. i have my typical 14 maps and sets of directions. i will be aware of every bump and landmark along the way - nothing to chance on this important weekend. got a fully loaded CD case. check. coffee. check. 19 packs of cigarettes. check. truck packed to overflowing with rusty metal, paints, glues, oh - and clothes? check. mom is looking forward to this trip as much as i am...she will have an entire day to herself with no obligations. so i resolve that NO MATTER WHAT, i will be calm and peaceful and go with the flow, if for no other reason than to give her that gift. we never get to the CDs. the conversation was incredible. i learned things about my mom, through her words, and our working together, that i never thought she knew, felt, or had even thought about before. she was- gasp- a real person! and a very cool one at that. she has done things and lived things that i wouldd never have imagined. she is a strong woman who has played the hand that has been dealt her throughout her life without complaint or blame. it's easy to point a finger or shake a fist at someone else when your life isn't becoming quite what you expected. i know that one by heart. it easy to play the victim and get into that "woe is me" pity party (party of one - your table is ready). you become the taker in life, rather than a contributer, and that cements your feet in that one point. mom just goes with the flow. she still has hopes and dreams. she still wrestles the dragon of self-discovery. she is in a marriage that is stifling her, but has chosen to stay, and i have chosen to respect that....it's HER decision, even though i (now) see what an incredible woman she is and would love to see her free. she directs her wants and desires to service for others. not subservient service. that would imply the death of her spirit. she is spiritual in a non-churchy way, which was the most incredible thing i discovered. day-by-day, she wraps the church around her like a protective cloak....anything not seemingly endorsed by the church is rejected out-of-hand. but on this trip, the cloak was not packed. we arrived in Danvers exhausted and starving, so we went to the nearest familiar place - Chili's restaurant. let me stop here to give you a quick lay-of-the-land. most of the state of Mass. is 1-way. and it's usually the "other" way. what i mean is, they have these multiple-lane roads with huge cement dividers and no U-turn areas. so if you get lost, or miss a turn, it may be quite a while before you can turn back. so we go to dinner, and there's a Big Lots store behind the restaurant. i still need a few supplies, so we check it out. after leaving the store, we head out onto the hiway from hell, and quickly realize we're going the wrong way. we think. maybe. who knows. up ahead, the road widens and there are a lot of signs...we are headed for a turnpike-ish -going-somewhere-ELSE kinda road. like another state somewhere else. so i pull off onto the last little side street at 55mph and stop. what do we do now? i turn my head to look out the window, and there is a cop in his cruiser (or "cruisah" if you're native). he gives me the most confusing set of directions that include lots of " then get on the turnabout" type things. i must have looked sufficiently confused, cause he gruffly said "follow me." we proceed - at high speed- to fly through small rundown neighborhoods that have been recently visited by the pothole fairies. about 5 mins later (15 at normal speed, i estimate) we end up pulling into the BIG LOTS PARKING LOT and go up a hidden little road that takes us right to our hotel. duh. who knew? we laughed so hard (after Peabody's finest cleared the scene). so it was 8:30pm and we were beyond tired. to bed. i was thinking about what a magical day it had been in so many unname-able ways. (sorry GP). i was up at 4:30am. we decided to try to find a breakfast place CLOSE BY and the plan was that i would then take map #2 and find the little town "just down the street" where my dream workshop with artist Michael DeMeng was being held. i am a huge fan of his work, as it touches the same chords in my soul as i try to create in my own work to send out to the world. after relating the story of our "police escort" to the night clerk, and was handed ANOTHER map, we headed off to a nice breakfast restaurant. i won't relay the conversations we had, because they are still too precious to me to share, but i will hold them to my heart forever. simple things, and complicated things all wrapped around a stack of pancakes and an order of eggs. i was beginning to see my mother as a person...as a woman who has lived in a determined and thoughtful way. who is different from me only in some of the choices she has made - but even then, not so different. maybe only in her reaction to them. she was becoming 3-dimensional. not just the person i call every morning to say hi. not the person i rush off a quick cellphone call as i head into work, or who will faithfully watch my dog when i need a break or go somewhere fun. she has always been there in all her depth, but i only saw what i saw. how un-artist-like of me. and such a shame to have missed out. thankfully, she never turned away. what i perceived as her being taken advantage of by almost everyone, i now realize is actually her gift....to be able to help someone up time after time after time when they trip over the same rock in the same road in the same spot. and let them learn on their own. no matter how long it takes. she shows love and patience to her husband, who personally, i would have pushed off a tall building years ago. she wants a little more quiet space in her life, but is able to see the goodness in everyone. that is a gift. especially if you met some of the people she deals with daily. anyway - the workshop was glorious. i arrived early (big surprise!) and as i approched the store, a woman in a purple shirt started waving at me furiously. i pointed at myself and she nodded. she was early too. her name is Rain. cool. i had been hoping for a workshop-buddy, and here she was. somehow we instantly began talking about how we are becoming our mothers. did you ever catch yourself saying something, or notice a movement of your hand or feel a facial expression that you knew unerringly came from your mother? that was our talk. i gave her a wooden cigar box and we are now bonded for life. she gave me much more. strange how she launched into that topic...i mean, we just met. why not talk about art, or the workshop? so that became the theme for my piece "becoming my mother." and it is wonderful in all it's rusted glory. now, if you've ever taken a workshop with me, you know i tend to be loud, clutzy, high-maintenance and never finish my project. despite the fact that there was all this creative high (and the glue helped a lot!) and also the fact that another of my favorite artists was there to help Michael, i was quiet, normal and productive. centered. thoughtful. and i shared my stuff. gasp! good girl. the thoughts and emotions of becoming my mom were overwhelming. i guess there just is no way to put this into words after all, but something shifted in me. the workshop ran long. i was beyond exhausted. dinner at a nice seafood restaurant. back to the hotel where mom was going to teach me to knit. good luck. we sat close on the couch and she tentatively put a hand on my shoulder as i twisted and tangled my way through some stitches. it felt good. it felt right. it felt like water on parched ground. and it made me sad at the same time that she felt she had to be so cautious about showing me affection, yet craving to touch and hold me so much that she would risk rejection or me pulling away. i leaned in and continued to try to knit. i was beginning to notice that she was not this nervous, insecure bag of quaking person. she was quiet and observant. unsure in some situations, like the rest of us, but certain of herself and what she felt. sensitive. i guess her sensitivity is what i mistook for insecurity. easily wounded, she proceeds on tentative steps. the past seemed stupid and juvenile...to carry that rotten tomato around hoping to one day make a salad. it was the present that became so urgent and important. time is short, as i have become aware these past few years. she craves the touch and understanding of her children and loved ones. she groans for a relationship with them - for them to see her as the wonderful,complex person she is, rather than an accumulation of so-called failings. or as a paper cutout of a person. or as a comparison of what she was 20 years ago, 30 years ago, 40 years ago. the scales, i realized are always balanced. it's just how you see things. stand in front and look at them head on and unflinching...dare to use inner eyes. my daily conversations were superficial compared to this. okay - now the transition. got up monday morning and was still undecided about whether to go to Salem to see the Cornell exhibit, or just head home. it would be a shame to be this close and not go, but since all the directions we got all weekend started with "it's just down the road" and usually ended with us lost somewhere, i didn't know if i had the energy to be lost again AND drive 6 hours home. as i went to settle the bill at the hotel office, i found a perfect, pristine little piece of a red ribbon. good sign. at the checkout, the woman was just starting her shift. cranky and hadn't had enough coffee. after 5 minutes of her frustration, she said the original check-in girl (from syracuse, by the way, with an artist mother!) had bollucked up the whole acct and SHE didn't have the time or energy to try to figure out what the friggin ding dong (quote) was going on and if she tried to, it would screw things up worse, so my bill was $9.87. total. period. that's it. no more. don't ask - just hand over a ten-spot-keep-the-change-so-long. yow! so i decided we'd go to Salem. home of the witch trials. with my born-again-and-again-and-again mother. home of satan. home of everything evil. unless you know the true story. she was unfazed by the whole "evil"thing. the Cornell exhibit brought tears to my eyes and i was again overwhelmed. even trying to faithfully record events here is so lame. the depth of emotions that weekend....the art....the friendships forged, both at the workshop, and with my mother, and with myself. she took few pictures, as did i. when i asked her why, she said "i have it all here in my heart. a picture would never be right." my thoughts. exactly. L.
