North Shore Notes: Au Revoir For Now

By Caren Jeskey

            

     It’s been a tragically big week. It’s probably fair to say that all of us are feeling sick with sadness, terror, worry, and/or grief for our global family members in Syria and Turkey. Or we are in some form of protective denial. Every ounce of my body and mind wanted to get picked up by a jet to join everyone else in the world who’s able enough to make the journey and get there to help. I lamented the fact that no such corps was organized. Help is finally arriving, but too little and too late. Here are ways you can pitch in.
     I feel moved to offer a secular prayer of sorts. I found out back in 2015 (when I — an atheist — first tried to tolerate the god language of twelve step programs) that I can easily transpose the prayers from my Catholic childhood into a comforting form of wise well-wishes.
     The Our Father, which is ingrained in my head:

     Our Father who art in heaven,
     Hallowed be thy name.
     Thy kingdom come,
     Thy will be done,
     On earth as it is in heaven.
     Give us this day
     Our daily bread,
     And forgive us our trespasses,
     As we forgive those
    Who trespass against us.
     Lead us not into temptation,
     But deliver us from evil.
     For thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory,
     Forever and ever.
     Amen

     Our Father Variation (by me):

     Our parents, (parental figures, or internal parents), who are (or were) here on this earth with us,
     Let us respect you, and the memories of you.
     You have paved the way for your legacy to continue on.
     You have passed your wise advice to us, to the best of your abilities.
     We are grounded and hopeful because of you.
     We are grateful for food on our tables, and those who help us when we are without.
     We hope we can repair damage we have done to others, and to harm less, moving forward.
     We try to forgive. We believe in peace and reconciliation.
     We strive to stay connected to others in healthy ways, so we can be our best selves.
     We stay away from danger and surround ourselves with those who love and care about us.
     When we die, we hope to be remembered as people who added goodness to this world.

     God-prayers at times like this make me sad, since why would a god who allows such destruction be the one to help? That’s a rhetorical question.

     And on a separate topic — this is my last Saturday post for Every Goddamn Day, the Blog of Neil Steinberg. A combination of factors added up to propel us each into a new chapter. I’ll now be able to enjoy Neil Every Goddamn Day, myself.
     It's been a pleasure and an honor to have hitched a wagon to Neil's star for the past nearly three years. It all started with my first post as EGD's Saturday Correspondent on April 11, 2020.I will miss seeing you all here. You have given me so much. Thank you for your presence, and your thoughtful discourse.

     Please keep in touch by tuning in every Sunday at or after 8:30 a.m. Central Time to give my audio blog “Authentically Imperfect” a listen on SoundCloud. These 5-50 minute audio pieces will be recorded each Sunday morning and posted by 8:30am for your listening pleasure and comments.

     I will leave you with a suggestion if I may. Find a moment or more of joy every day, like the luminescent lake glass I gleefully discovered this week.
     Turns out that a good percentage of the glass I've found between Evanston and Fort Sheridan is known by some as Vaseline Glass because of the yellow glow that emits when the right (365nm, not 395nm) UV light hits it. The glow is caused by uranium, which Wikipedia says was first added to glass in 79 AD, and used in mosaics.
     The thought of dead-looking chemical goo dug out of a little plastic tub is not the best memory I have as a 70s child. The antidote to this proved to be a clear memory of my dear Grandma Marie who loved the stuff. Pretty sure she had a small container of it in her purse at all times, along with calendula cream (which fixed "everything" in her eyes, the duct tape of goo). Come to think of it I’m not sure what the Vaseline was used for. She also believed in the power of green beans and had a six foot tall forest of vines in her yard under the skyway in warm months. We’d head out to the labyrinth with straw baskets to collect them, sit at the table snapping them to cook, and nibble on them along the way; the crunch and green flavor filling our mouths, little beans popping out and making us giggle.
     Grandma Marie would let me rummage through her black vinyl "handbag" where I'd find interesting things. A pack of skinny menthol cigarettes and a lighter tucked into a case with two pieces of metal at the top that closed with a satisfying click, at least one rosary and a small bible, hard candy for her smoker's throat and to keep me quiet during mass, and cash in an envelope for the tithing basket. Grandma’s purse, an indoor playground.
     My Grandma was addicted to the radio — an AM prayer channel as well as WGN and WBBM news radio played from a tiny transistor radio set on her table on 95th and Commercial. I'd like to honor the memory of my Grandmother who gave me unconditional positive regard and faith in myself, even when I screwed up, or just felt screwed up. She left us, died, when I was in my late twenties. The love in her eyes was palpable and I can still see her gaze upon me, like Hanuman the monkey headed Hindu god whose eyes emit compassion. She was no angel, but I was hers. Today I am feeling grateful for my warm, green-thumbed, funny, intelligent family. We all have hobbies we are immersed in, thankfully, and the roots are clear.
     My Lake Michigan morsels are also known as "Canary Glass… a yellow-green glass mainly [used in] tableware and household items from around 1840 up until World War II. It gets its yellow or greenish-yellow color from uranium dioxide (UO2), which was used as a colorant. Vaseline glass came as glasses, plates, lamps, doorknobs, bottles, decorative items, decanters, and more.”