Flashback Friday...Chris' Cats

I've been herding Cats.
Ceramic Cats.
Just when I think I've corralled them all,
I open a box and find another.
You would think, with all these cats turning up in random places, that I'm a cat person.
I am not.

A long time ago, shortly after I started working at the Bookstore, I was showing off some "stuff" that I bought at an auction. One of the things was a metal "All" laundry detergent bucket from the days before soap in paper boxes or plastic jugs.

I can't remember if I brought the bucket into the store, or if I had it in my car, but somehow, my Boss, Chris, saw it and thought it was the coolest thing.
She said,
"That would make a great planter for my flower garden!"
I told her, 
"Here, you can have it!"
You would have thought I gave her a pot of gold, she was so happy to have that rusty bucket!

At about the same time, I was dreading having to ask her to change something on a schedule that had already been made. To my surprise, Chris made the change for me without hesitation.

I remember telling Sister Susie that 
"Buying that bucket and gifting it to my boss was one of the best dollar bills I ever spent at the Auction!"

From then on, every time I needed time off or needed to change my schedule, Susie would say, 
"Better get her another bucket!"

If you spent any amount of time with Chris, you would eventually find out that one dearest things to her, were her cats. She had several and would tell stories about each one of them, their history, their antics and their different personalities.

One day she showed up at work with a picture of a cat planter...like this:

She told me,
"Honey, if you're out antiquing and you see a cat planter like this, buy it for me, okay? I think it's cute and would like to have one."

From then on, I would pick up cats.
The first one I found, was a bit more sinister looking than the one she showed me. 

Whenever I went on vacation, I would bring back a a cat as a thank you for giving me the time off.


I had found the perpetual Bucket!

There were also Birthday Cats, Holiday Cats, Get Well Cats, Just Because Cats.

I mostly stuck with the "quirky cat" theme and made it my mission to look and find the
oddest and ugliest kitties that were out there. Some were so bad, they were good...in their own kitschy kind of way.

I like to think the assortment of artful cats I gifted her, was
a good representation of the odd lot of employees that Chris led on a day to day basis.
This all was happening back in the days when I was documenting my 
travels with my Bobble

Head Dog, which Chris got an absolute kick out of.

When we traveled 
together to Iowa for a Grand Opening, she showed up with a cat of her own, a traveling companion for Bobble.

I later upgraded her to an authentic Bobble Cat, which she named, Bobble Kitty. She velcro-ed him to the dash of her Ford Focus and he watched over her, head nodding to the beat, during her long daily commutes.

As Chris set a retirement date in her head, she quietly started clearing out her office, getting rid of stuff and taking home personal items. Her walls became less Chris hand written notes and more corporate typed memos. When she decided to change her date and retire six months earlier than planned, one day, I saw her getting ready to leave and she told me...
"Honey, I'm taking him home."

For some reason, even tho, I knew she still had a few weeks left at the store, seeing her walk out the back door with the first cat I gave her (the one with the tail that started as a plant clipping and refused to stop growing, even tho the light was bad and she never watered it)...
it hit me harder than her actual going away party and seeing her leave the store for the last time.


I thought that I had given her most of the cats I bought for her before she retired, but I knew there might be a few I hadn't.
I always liked to keep a few stashed away "on reserve" for special occasions or for schedule "emergencies."
"Please let me have this day off"....
..."and oh, look, here's a cat for you..."
Grin.
However, as I've been digging into the closets on Main Street, and opening boxes, I have found more than a couple cats. I'm keeping one ceramic cat to remember this crazy cat lady who I loved working for and beside.


After Chris retired, we often talked about me coming up to Fairmont for the day. She wanted to take me to the antique shop  down on the corner and to the record store she had often talked about.
Lisa and I did make it up to her house for a visit 

and finally met her REAL cats, but Chris and I never made it to the shops.

Time slips away.

The day of her funeral, I decided to park the car and take a walk down the street of the town where Chris grew up and of which I had heard her tell so many stories about.

I saw the record shop with the

"old black and white floor."

It was exactly as she described it.

I found the antique shop 

"down on the corner."

I went in to have a look around and it was like taking a walk down memory lane with an old friend.

I bought a tambourine.

And the quirkiest cat in the shop.

And I heard the Crazy Cat Lady say...
"Ha Ha....Yeah!"

Directions to here:

I find it very symbolic that this last cat is a bookend.
Chris' and my friendship started, deepened and played out with books as the backdrop.
A fitting reminder of a wonderful chapter in this book called life I am simultaneously reading and writing. 

Flashback Friday....Ten Years

In October of 2014, I went to visit old friends in the "way up there part" of Michigan. I drove up one side of the state...crossed over to Alpena, spent two days...

and came back down the other side.
I probably knew why I took this route before hand, but I didn't know if I would have time to do what was in the back of my mind.

I "wrote" this by recording my thoughts into my notes on my phone. I meant to post it upon my return, but never did.

It's been 10 years since my friend, Jolene's passing.
I thought it would be a good time to share about the special spot I visited on my way home from my Michigan Road Trip:

I knew when I left I would probably end up here at some point in time.

Since I ended up leaving from Lowell, I thought maybe it wouldn't happen. But, the return route took me too close to her hometown, not to stop.

I SHOULD have been at work.

I was scheduled to be at work instead of here. But, since I knew in the back of my mind I would stop,

I called and asked to take an additional half a vacation day.

It took me longer than it should have to find the place. I don't remember the cemetery being so small. I passed it twice going west. And finally, realized I could not find it because trees hide it from the east.

I thought I was just coming here cause it was the right thing to do.

Stopping, to say hello to an old friend.

Stopping, out of respect for she and her family.

Stopping, to see her name on a headstone; the stone that was yet to be set the last time we all stood here.

Awhile ago I read about why people leave coins on gravestones.

It's to let the living know that their loved one's grave has been visited.

After I finally found the cemetery and parked the car, I carefully counted out eight pennies and put them in my pocket.

I went to where I remembered standing the day of her funeral.
I went too far and the first stone I saw, was Baby Miller.

There were no other Millers in that row.

I thought, surely they got her a headstone?

I turned and saw the back of a brown stone.

As I came around the front of it,
there was her name:

I have been to a lot of funerals,
and I have walked my fair share of cemeteries.

But, I was not prepared for the catch in my throat and the instant tears upon seeing her name etched in granite.

I think of Jolene often.

I always mention her on the anniversary of her death. 

Every year, I go and get an ice cream cone during the week, because that is what I did that week in July of 2006.

I sit on the steps in the sun and remember this sweet girl.

So, it's not like I'm in denial that she is gone.

But, something about etchings in stone make things seem very real and very permanent.

The rain started to fall lightly, as if it was mirroring my tears.

I whispered, 

"Here you are."

"Hello, sweet girl.

"I thought I wasn't going to be able to find you."

And with that, I imagined her alive...
jumping up and down, waving her arms, flagging me down by the side of the road, saying:

"Here I am...

I'm right here!" 

And flashing that beautiful smile and laughing uncontrollably like she always did!
And with that, as quickly as the tears had come, I was now laughing out loud in the middle of the cemetery.

As I did, I smiled and thought, 
now this is like a real visit with Jolene!

I took the pennies out of my pocket,
I sat down on the grass in front of the stone and laid them on headstone one at a time.

One for each year that she has been gone.

I talked and talked and talked about the time that had passed.

2006...the year it happened

2007... all those weddings
2008...my Dad ♥
2009... all that happened...2010, 2011...
2012...changes at the Bookstore
2013...Chris ♥

2014...clarity, plans, the present and the future.

I stood back up.
I wondered about her family.

I wondered about her parents and their unimaginable grief.
I wondered if they still lived nearby and I wondered if they were in one of the cars that drove by while I stood there.

I thought about her nephews and prayed for the hope that even tho they were very young, they would never forget their Aunt Jolene.

I told her, I can tell that they love and miss her...
Because of the Flowers of Fall colors,
the solar lights, the statues, engravings with sayings...
The telltale signs of a person who is always loved, always missed.

The tears came again,
as I couldn't contain my sorrow for what might've been for this young lady. 

I felt anguished, as I apologized that she had so little time. So much life that she missed. I told her I had wanted so much more for her. 
I told her I still don't understand.
Because, I know, "God does not need another angel."
He doesn't "need her more than we do."
None of those answers are good enough.
I told her Lisa gave me the most peace, when she simply said:

"Nance, it was an accident."

I told her I will never understand...until we meet again. And, maybe even then, it still won't make sense.

I put my hands in my pockets and shut up.

I listened.

I was I reminded how at one point in time, I had given her permission to snap her fingers in front of my face if I got a little too grumpy or took things too seriously as a manager at the store.
She would, occasionally, do this...
walk up to me, two snaps...criss/cross in front of my face, flash that smile and laugh out loud.
And that was my cue to "snap out of it,
To lighten up.
To enjoy the moment.

I stared at her name.

I could see her smiling.

She knew that I was getting it....

That standing before the grave of a wonderful person, who died at the age of 23...
should make you think about your life.

I promised to do better.

I gave her full permission
that on the days that I think Life isn't enough, or the moments I waste away, waiting for a day off or the next big thing,
to get right in my face and snap those fingers,

Waking me up, reminding me,
I have this day.
I have this moment.
Do not take it for granted.
Do not waste it or wish it away.

I will remember this girl and what she wouldn't give to have just one more day.
To Be Alive.

To Be Present

To Be Here Now. 



Directions to here:

"Sweet girl, I know you are not here. 

The thought of the Earth or a Stone containing your spirit and soul is as laughable as your smile or your infectious personality.

But yet I am here.

I'm here to laugh with you, to cry with you, to remember you.
Thank you for listening and as always, giving more sweetness than we or life ever gave you.
These six words aren't enough.
But I will say them anyway.

I love you
I miss you."