Too Much . . . Take Two (and Five)

Let me just say that it's all enough to drive me to take up drinkin' and smokin'. Oh, wait, I do drink. Be right back. Ah, the joys of self-medication. Er, meditation. Yeah. Meditation.

I've spent the weekend working on Mom's memorial service, designing and printing up cards and whatnot because I couldn't bear to leave it to those nasty little commercial announcements that are all so gooey with sentiment. While I'm normally an unabashedly sentimental person, I find most bereavement announcements cloy like bad perfume. And why is that surprising? People put them together in the throes of grief, sobbing over the coffin. Eeek!  Why wouldn't they be maudlin? I think the thought of having to deal with that paralyzed me back in December more than anything. So I hope what I've produced is at least tasteful.

The front is a semitransparent picture of hydrangeas that I took in the Union Square greenmarket and applied a watercolor filter to and blurred the edges on. Over that is printed Mom's name and dates. Inside is John Dunne's "Death be not proud," and the dates of the memorial and a quotation from Reve. 21:4 that Dunne echoes in his last line. The font is Zapf Calligraphic printed in green and there are some delicate little Art Deco dingbats printed in burgundy that match the envelopes I bought. I'm going to tack a small picture of Mom inside too, so people can have one if they want one.

Her eulogy is just about done too, and I've pretty much decided I'm not reading any poetry. I've already slipped John Dunne in and that's probably more than anybody wants to hear. I really don't want this to be grim and sad and horrible because I couldn't take it, and face it: nobody wants to be remembered that way. With that in mind, I decided to nix the opera and classical on the music I picked to play and went for all that Jazz. It's the closest I'll get to giving her a jazz funeral, and it's full of in-jokes too. Here's the playlist:

1. "Lush Life," (Mom's idea of a good time) Sarah Vaughn;
2. "In the Wee Small Hours of the Morning," (how late she liked to stay up) Jim Ferguson;
3. "Black Coffee," (what Mom always drank) Ella Fitzgerald ;
4. "Reveillez-Vous," (named after the French edition of the Awake! magazine) Peter White;
5. "Take me Back to Manhattan," (where she really wanted to live) Bobby Short;
6. "Sophisticated Lady" (how she liked to think of herself) Sarah Vaughn;
7. "The Last Chance Texaco" (where she thought of herself as living) Rickie Lee Jones;
8. "Get Out of Town" (what she wanted to do) Holly Cole;
9. "Take the A Train" (which takes you to jazz shows) Daniel Barenboim;
10. "Silk & Satin" (what she liked to wear) Spyro Gyra;
11. "Take Five" (what she never did) Dave Brubeck;
12. "Do Nothing 'Till you Hear from Me" (don’t make any wild plans without her) Abbey Lincoln;
13. "Don't Get Around Much Anymore" (which she didn't when she was older) Daniel Barenboim;
14. "Angela (The Theme from 'Taxi')" (which we took lots of in NYC) Bob James Quartet.

It's been a miserable weekend of activity I usually enjoy, but I'm pleased with the cards, the playlist, and the eulogy (which I'll post later, when I'm done tinkering with it). On top of that, I missed the Bookfest because I thought it also ran on Saturday, but at least Marcia and I got out to brunch today. The first place we picked, Tomato, was closing for a private party as we arrived, and Steak Frites, where we ended up was cute, but I can't say much about the food. MG and I went to look at paper though and I found some I think I'll like for the cabinets in the kitchen.

Meanwhile, there seems to be a lot of excrement hitting the rotating cooling device blades amongst my friends. Just found out that Betsy's staring down a layoff as the sole support in the house while Cathy finishes up her nursing degree. Peri's doing the bedside vigil at her dad's side as he's going through multiple surgeries and confusing heart crises in Annapolis, while facing back surgery of her own. Roger's dealing with his partner Ron's colon cancer and chemo. Mel's still dealing with her Mom's Parkinson's and running the flower shop. Rich and Terri are still looking for work. Marcia's discovered the co-op she was scoping out is more expensive than she thought. And Jen's still dealing with the fallout from her sister's shennanigans.

The only bright light in this miasma of gloom is the lovely photos Marcia and I stumbled across for sale on the street today and the button I found that says, "Who Would Jesus Bomb?"  Heh. Time for another drink. Oh, waiter! Margaritas all around!

Comments

[Your Last Friend in Canada]

Sorry you're feeling blue. I'm sure the cards are beautiful, I know they are because they were made with love.