Close Your Eyes and I'll Kiss You

Press play.

  Now, you have background music for the story I'm about to tell.

It was November 9, 1964.  The big hand was almost on the 7.  There I sat like an Indian on the gold shag carpet in my parents' bedroom on a school night in front of the THE TV in our home on Neal Street in Carthage, TX.  My hair was wet with corduroy stripes fresh from a mermaid bath followed my mother's vigorous detangling with a rat tail comb.  I was scrubbed clean.  The part in my hair was arrow straight, fresh and pink.  I had jiggled a Qtip in each of my ears.  My breath was minty fresh.  My heart was racing.  Breaths came quick.  

I was moments away from meeting my future husband.

First came a brief introduction from Ed Sullivan.  It was going to be a REALLY BIG SHEW with these "YOUNGSTERS FROM LIVERPOOL."  The curtains parted, and then, HE "spoke" to me.  He looked straight into my shining eyes and sang, "Close your eyes, and I'll kiss you."  It was that exact moment in time that I fell head over heels in love.  

Deeply, truly and eternally in love with Paul McCartney.

Elvis Presley was reduced to a passing fancy.  My devotion was wholly given to my favorite Beatle.  The "cute one." 

I was all, "Choose ME.  Want ME.  Love ME, Paul McCartney."

That Christmas, Santa brought me my first electronic device - a record player.  It was robin's egg blue, and it was portable.  I could close up its turtle shell and drag it from room to room.  On it I carefully placed my very first 45s - I Want to Hold Your Hand/This Boy and Can't Buy Me Love/You Can't Do That.

He was all...

I give her all my love

That's all I do-oo

And If you saw my love

You'd love her too-oo

I love her.

His voice curled into the air and wrapped itself around my 7 year old soul as I hugged myself swaying to the music.

And so, we were wed about 158 times in my living room there on Neal Street.  Me and my Paul.   My "something borrowed" was my mother's lacy half-slip which became my bridal veil.  My childhood playmates, Kristi and Penny, officiated.  In serious tones they serenaded me as I marched the aisle from our breakfast room through the dining room and into the living room.  HERE COMES THE BRIDE.  HERE COMES THE BRIDE.  Step-touch.  Step-touch.  Step-touch.

For years Paul was my one and only true love.  Truth be told, there were a few little dalliances along the way.  My eyes glazed over dreaming of leaving on a jet plane heading towards the Rocky Mountains with John Denver.  In time, I longed to  see sunny days that I thought would never end with James Taylor.  But, Paul kept luring me back to his Sergeant Pepper world by whispering Black Bird softly into my ear. 

You know you did you know you did you know you did.

The news that Paul has scheduled a special stop in Lubbock during the Out There tour came as no surprise to me.  "They" say that Paul wants to come pay homage to his mentor, Buddy Holly.  "They" are wrong.

Paul McCartney is coming to see his child-bride.  She Who Dreamed.  She Who Believed.

The long and winding road 

that leads to your door
Will never disappear
I've seen that road before 

it always leads me here
Leads me to your door

I'm off to the attic in search of my broad-brimmed Easter hat pictured above.  I've changed quite a bit since our wedding days, but, when he sees me in that Easter hat visions of the child-bride will come flooding back.  No wait!  I'm heading to Raider Ranch to borrow one of Mom's half-slips!  That should do the trick.

June 14.  2014.  8:00PM.  See you there.

Remember that I'll always.  Be in love with you.  You.  You.  You.

Oh, and, Paul, I need to let you down gently.  Back in 1976, my heart was stolen by the true Man of My Dreams.  Alan.  Come to think of it...back in THE DAY...he certainly looked a lot like Donnie Osmond.  Sigh.  My heart still throbs.

When's My Doctor's Appointment?

The Meems calls me every week to ask me about her upcoming doctor appointments.

Brrrrrrring-brrrrrrring.

"Hello!"

"When do I get my teeth cleaned?"

Brrrrrrring-brrrrrrring.

"Hello!"

"When do I have my yearly check up?"

Brrrrrrring-brrrrrrring.

"Hello!"

"When do we get our mammograms?"

Brrrrrrring-brrrrrrring.

"Hello!"

"When do I get my teeth cleaned?"

Brrrrrrring-brrrrrrring.

"Hello!"

"When do I have my yearly check up?"

Brrrrrrring-brrrrrrring.

"Hello!"

"When do we get our mammograms?"

Brrrrrrring-brrrrrrring.

"Hello!"

"When do I get my teeth cleaned?"

Brrrrrrring-brrrrrrring.

"Hello!"

"When do I have my yearly check up?"

Brrrrrrring-brrrrrrring.

"Hello!"

"When do we get our mammograms?"

Ad Infinitum.

I'm usually not standing anywhere near my calendar when she calls.  So, I have to put down my blow drier, put on a robe and run across the house to look up the appointment date and time.  Or, mute the TV, get the cat and my ipad out of my lap, and run across the house.

I decided that I would make reminder signs in LARGE PRINT to put on her refrigerator #maculardegeneration.  To make them even easier to recognize, I add a graphic like big old teeth to represent the type of appointment it will be.  I didn't have a graphic for a mammogram.  I was too skeered to google it.

Now, every time she calls me to ask about her appointments, I simply tell her to look on her frig.  It hasn't cut down on the number of times that she calls to inquire.  It just cut down on the number of times I had to stop blow drying my hair or disturb the cat.

This is her reminder for her next appointment.  She LOVES The Doctors.  Wanna place a bet on whether or not she will expect to see Travis Stork on Friday, April 26 at 10:30AM?  She'll be the talk of Raider Ranch.

Blue Skies Smilin' at Me

File Photo:  I didn't snap any pix at Lubbock Radiology...

Today, the Meems and I went for our annual Mommy and Me Mammograms.  Here's the drill:  The Raider Ranch bus drops her off at Lubbock Radiology.  I meet her there.  We get mammograms.  She buys me lunch.  It's a tradition that began back in 2010.

Mom was taken back for her mammogram before me.  It took a long, long time.  I mentally "undressed" her...NOT LIKE THAT...more like...take.  off.  one.  shoe.  take.  off. the. other.  search.  purse.  for.  a.  kleenex.  blow.  nose.  It's a slow, methodical process.

After about 30 minutes, the technician came out to fetch me for my turn.  On the way to the changing room, she told me that they found a little place in Mom's  right breast that wasn't there last year.  Mom was waiting to go in for a sonogram of the spot.

Mom refers to her right breast as her "real one."  Twenty two years ago, she had a malignancy in her left breast.  It was removed.  She then had reconstruction.  All those years ago, my sister and I tag-teamed the nursing duty.  I was there for the mastectomy.  Kathy was there for the reconstruction.

I actually "won" that coin toss.  Back in "the day" at Scott and White Hospital in Temple, Texas, the patient's room was kept toasty warm for 24 hours after reconstruction surgery to help with blood circulation or somesuch something.  It was summertime, and Temple, Texas, was sweltering hot and muggy.  All they had to do was open a window.  Nope.  They jacked up the thermostat.  So, when I called the room to check on Mom, Kathy answered the phone panting.  "It's SOOOOOOOO HOT in here!"  She gasped, "I'm about to strip down to my bra and panties and lay down on the tile floor.  It's got to be cooler on the tile floor!  I'm going to stretch out to see how much surface area of my body I can make come in contact with the floor.  In a little while, someone is going to have to come flip me like a pancake."  I hooted with hysterical laughter.  At her sweaty expense.

While Mom was waiting for her sonogram, I had a quick and uneventful mammogram.  Not counting the relative discomfort that accompanies the process.  I love it when the sweet technician tightens the screws until the skin on my neck is being pulled down to my shoulder and then asks, "You alright, Hon?"  "Yes.  Couldn't be better.  Nope.  Couldn't be better if I tried."

After the Big Squeeze, I put my shirt on and went down to sit with Mom who was then waiting for the doctor to tell her the sonogram results.  She was still on the table with a little white hand towel spread across her chest.  When I opened the door, she started awake.  She never misses an opportunity for a good 5 minute resting of the eyes.

Mom was as cool as a cucumber.  I was staring wide-eyed at the sonogram monitor thinking that if I concentrated really hard, the problem would pop out all plain as day like a picture in a Magic Eye book.  I got nothin'.  "Are we going to go eat when we're done?" the cool cucumber yawned.  "Of course!  You promised to buy  me lunch!" I replied trying to sound all cool and casual and jovial.  Kathy would have nailed cool, casual and jovial.  "I want a croissant," said she.  "I don't know, Mom...remember how long the line was a La Madeliene last time we went there around noon?"  "Oh, yeah.  I forgot."  I knew good and well that we would head to La Madeliene along with the lunch crowd, and I would stand in line for as long as it took.

In walked the doctor.  "Looks like you've got a 11mm (a little less than 1/2 an inch) mass in your right breast that you're going to need to get biopsied."  "Oh.  OK.  Are you going to do that now?" Mom asked like she was standing in line waiting for a croissant to be heated in the microwave.  The doctor explained that the biopsy would be done at the cancer center.  That's not scary, is it.

I asked a few questions trying not to sound concerned.  Mom simply laid on the table silently.  The doctor left.  I helped Mom get dressed.  I teased her like I always do.  "Don't worry!  I won't peek!" I said removing the hand towel from her chest.  She's always been a very modest Methodist girl.  "Oops!  Just kiddin'!  I totally peeked!" I then said.  She chuckled.  I fake chuckled.

We took 1000 baby steps to the car.  I buckled her in.  After I started the car and pulled out of the parking lot heading to La Madeliene, I heard her softly singing next to me.

"Blue skies....smiling at me....nothing but blue skies....do I see..."

My little 88 year old mother has seen many a dark, stormy sky during her lifetime.  Two of her three children are already in Heaven.  All 3 of her chocolate-pie-with-mile-high-meringue-eating brothers have also passed.  She is a breast cancer survivor.  She fully recovered from a broken hip and brain surgery - which she said was easy as...well...pie.

I joined in singing with her.  Neither of us could remember any of the other words to the song, so we just sang the same ones over and over during the short drive to La Madeleine.  Meems is a win-win kind of girl.  She will be happy every day she is on this planet.  She will be euphoric when she someday dances in Heaven.  Nothing but blue skies will she see.

I'll keep you posted.  For now, we will tag this situation as an "inconvenient circumstance."  

Here are the rest of the words to the song.  Read them in Willie Nelson's singing voice.  His is the best version.

Blue skies smilin' at me 
Nothin' but blue skies do I see 
Bluebirds singin' a song 
Nothin' but bluebirds all day long 

Never saw the sun shinin' so bright 
Never saw things goin' so right 
Noticing the days hurrying by 
When you're in love, my how they fly 

Blue days, all of them gone 
Nothin' but blue skies from now on 
(Blue skies smilin' at me 
Nothin' but blue skies do I see) 

Never saw the sun shinin' so bright 
Never saw things goin' so right 
Noticing the days hurrying by 
When you're in love, my how they fly 

Blue days, all of them gone 
Nothin' but blue skies from now on 
Nothin' but blue skies from now on