The Lanyard

What is a lanyard anyway?

I wasn't sure myself, so I looked it up.

The lanyard thing all started when I was searching for radio stations as I drove a 16-foot moving truck to Columbus. My brother Zack, who was following me in my car, had just called to tell me to tune into a radio station because he thought that the DJ's voice would be of interest to me. But I couldn't find the station he recommended, and instead, I stumbled upon the NPR program "A Prairie Home Companion," which I love. And on that show they replayed an earlier taping when the poet Billy Collins read his wonderful poem called "the Lanyard."

I had been driving along trying to think of something that I could do for my mother who had twice now put up with me moving back home as an adult. Once at the age of 28, and again last year. I wanted to think of something special to give her to show her my appreciation for all that she's done for me. Something special and also free, since as usual I was beyond broke. But I couldn't think of anything good enough.

Until I heard the lanyard poem. And then I realized the answer was easy -- I'd just make her a lanyard and present it to her with a copy of the poem.

But I didn't know what a lanyard was. I remember making one in camp, just like Billy Collins did as a child. But I couldn't remember what it was exactly.

So I googled it! And there it was -- how to make a lanyard.

I spent hours working on the perfect lanyard for Mom. But it wasn't as easy as I had remembered. It took me a long time just to figure out what the directions meant. And then I got it all tangled and cockeyed. I didn't know what was wrong with it, just that it didn't look right. Finally, on lanyard number three, I got the hang of it. But I didn't like the colors I had chosen. So I tried again.

It was two days before I was leaving for Ohio, so I was pressed for time. But it was the weekend, so Mom was home. I had to get the lanyard made without her knowing what I was doing. So I went outside to work on my lanyard. The perfect gift.

Several minutes later, Mom appeared behind me. I don't know how she did it without me knowing it. I guess I was just really involved in my lanyard making. Anyway, there she was. "You're making a lanyard!" she exclaimed, full of excitement.

"Um, yep," I answered.

Caught! Surprise ruined!

But no. Wait. She was gone again. She saw that I was making a lanyard, and that was enough information for her. Many people would have asked why. But not my mom.

Then, before I was able to present her with the lanyard (which turned out great, by the way), Mom read my blog. And if you've been reading my blog, you know that I make reference to giving my mom a lanyard and link it to the poem. But Mom had been so busy, I never thought she'd read it before I had a chance to give it to her.

But yesterday, my last day at Mom's, I walked into the living room to find her wiping tears from her eyes.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"You know that 'The Lanyard' is my favorite poem, right?" she said.

I did not know that.

"Are you reading my blog?" I asked.

She was.

"Hang on a minute," I said to her and quickly fetched for her the lanyard I had made as a way of thanking her for all she's done for me.

She loved it. She was more touched than I would have thought possible considering I'd just handed her a long strip of plastic yarn tied into knots.

"You know that I used to love to make lanyards, right?" she said.

I did not know that.

"I used to make them all the time and give them to my mother," she went on. "I really did think they were a good way to show her that I loved her. It never occurred to me how insignificant they were. And she would rave over them, tell me how beautiful they were."

At that, I showed her all four lanyards, including my earliest attempt, so that she would know that the lanyard project had been a labor of love.

She was very moved. And also laughed her head off.

I think that ought to cover Christmas and birthdays for a while. Don't you?

How cute is my mom?!

Ohio -- the "h" state

One time when I was bragging about how many states I've visited (46, -- all but Alaska, Hawaii, Michigan and Nevada, in case you're curious), my statistically-inclined brother Ethan asked me if I could name all 5o states. "But of course," I thought. If I've been to all but four, and I know which four I haven't been to, surely I can name all 50. So we started with the "A" states -- Alabama, Alaska, Arizona, Arkansas -- and went on from there in alphabetical order. Ethan, being the genius that he is, was able to tell me how many states per letter (without looking it up, no less. If we didn't look so much alike, I wouldn't believe we were related!). Then I would use my normal sized brain to come up with the states.

This is Ethan who has a larger than normal sized brain...

This is me. No resemblance, right?

Or try to. It proved to be much more difficult than I thought it would. Did you know that there are eight "m" states, for example? Can you name them?

Aha! It's not as easy as you thought, is it?

I didn't even make it to the "M" states before my poor little noggin was worn out. Alabama through Georgia apparently did me in, because when we got to "H" (there's only the one), I couldn't think of a thing! And it's such an easy one! So I did what I usually do. I distracted him with humor.

"Hio," said I, full of confidence.

Of course I was kidding. I know that Ohio starts with an "o" (it's round on both ends and hi in the middle). And it did get a nice little laugh. But since then, any mention of Ohio has led to "the 'H' state" jokes. Which is fine with me. Especially since I've always hated Ohio.

It's not fair that I've always hated Ohio. I've never spent any time in Ohio. I think a dinner theater tour I worked for in the 90s once did a show somewhere in Ohio, but I can't even remember where. And other than that, I haven't been there except to drive through. In fact, it's driving through that led me to hate Ohio. It's just so damn big!

Ohio is 44,825 square miles. It's 220 miles across! And in addition to that, it's in the wrong place. The few times that I've driven across the country, Ohio seemed interminable. Heading away from home (home always having been somewhere east of Ohio), it's as if I'm not getting anywhere (especially when you then throw in Indiana, Illinois and Iowa); heading home, you hit Ohio and you think -- I'm practically there! 220 miles later...

But of course this is an unfair assessment of Ohio. I never stopped to look around. I never gave it a chance.

On the other hand, there is stopping to smell the roses at Franklin Park Conservatory (which I'll have to check out), and there is moving in. I never thought I'd be doing the latter.

But here I am.

And I have to say, so far so good. Granted, it's only my first night here, and tomorrow morning I might wake up and wonder what on earth I was thinking... but so far so good.

The Last Weekend

So here I am, still in State College at Mom's house. I know, I know. I was supposed to have moved to Ohio yesterday, but I just wasn't ready to go. I thought I was ready. I thought I had almost everything packed. But then I started thinking of things, and more things, and then I got overwhelmed, and then I thought – wait! Why get overwhelmed when I don't actually have to be there for a few weeks? I want to get there early enough to get settled and feel at home in my new place, but why push myself on one of the rare occasions in life where I really don't have to? So I opted not to stress myself out.

Jo under stress -- this is what we want to avoid.

I'm calling that a step in the right direction. Opting to take measures to avoid getting stressed out. Maybe I am finally growing up after all.

It was a great decision. Even though there is part of me that aches to be starting my new life in Ohio, whatever it may hold – and that part of me wishes that I were there venturing out into new territory. But if I had gone – oh what I would have missed!

What I would have missed

Sunny Days

View from Mom's front yard

For one thing, for the last few days, we have been enjoying the most glorious weather. After enough humidity to last a lifetime (including during my going away party – less than comfortable conditions for having a houseful of people), it's just been wonderful to be able to spend hours sitting outside. And for a change, I actually have time to sit outside. Not sit and study. Not sit and work. Just sit. Maybe sit and read. Maybe sit and talk. But a lot of the time, just sit.

Frisbee
Or play frisbee with Zack! I'm terrible at frisbee, but we've had a great laugh tossing it back and forth in the back yard and laughing at how ridiculously horrible some of our throws (mostly mine) were, or at our comical attempts at making the impossible catch. Unfortunately I don't have any pictures of our frisbee games to share. You'll just have to use your imagination.

Lunch with Granddad


And today, Mom, Zack and I took Granddad out to eat at the Olive Garden. Granddad loves a good meal. It's in the genes. And since his birthday is next week – he's turning 93! – we had them bring out a bowl of ice cream with a candle in it and sing Happy Birthday. Most people would hate that. I would hate that. Zack would hate that. Mom would hate that. But Granddad ate it up (the singing, and the ice cream). "I thought this was a going away meal for Joanna, not a birthday celebration for me!" he protested, all the while grinning a grin as big as his bowl of ice cream.

Granddad turns 93!

When we drove Granddad back home, he asked me to come in to give him one last manicure before I leave. I hate giving Granddad manicures – frankly I can hardly stand giving myself a manicure. I have a thing about fingernails (don't even get me started on toe nails). But mostly I'm afraid I'll cut him. He takes Cumadin, so when he gets cut, he bleeds and bleeds – often ends up at the emergency room. But he appreciates it, so I do it – carefully. Anyway, after I finished the manicure, he thanked me and got a bit weepy, gave me a great big hug and told me he loved me. And then, of course, we all got weepy (OK, maybe Zack didn't get weepy). And then Granddad went on to tell us what a wonderful life he's had. How lucky he is. How much he thanks God every day for all of his blessings. Which somehow took his mind back to WWII, and he told us about how he used to pray every day, kneeling down, rifle in hand, asking God to get through this war. To get home. And he did. In one piece. One badly broken piece, but one piece nonetheless. And he thanks God for that every day.

I don't have the closest of relationships with God. I've never spent much time talking to God, whether to give thanks or to ask for help. Maybe it's my surplus of skepticism. It's not that I don't believe in God. I do. I just don't have much of a relationship with him. But recently I started reading "Eat, Pray, Love" which has caused me to reevaluate my relationship with God. And I have great respect for my Grandfather's relationship with God. I hope that, if I live to be his age, I can look back with such gratitude and joy.

Without fail, my visits with Granddad contain at least one moment that I will cherish forever.

Bella Crindy

Bella Crindy

The most exciting reason that I'm glad I decided to stay for one last weekend, is Bella. Mom and Zack got a puppy. I've never had a puppy. I've only had one dog – my beloved Alex, who is about 13 years old and the love of my life.

Bella meets Alex: "Please don't eat me!"

But I have never had a puppy. When our neighbor's Golden Retriever had nine pups, Mom decided she wanted one. I couldn't believe it. I thought Mom might one day want another dog, but not a puppy. Boy was I wrong. Since bringing Bella home, Mom has actually started to relax. That's something I haven't seen her do since I moved in last October. (That is not meant to imply that I'm what keeps her from relaxing -- but I'm sure I'm no help!) Now she has to get down on the floor and play. She has no choice! It's great! Bella keeps us laughing -- not to mention alert. You can't look away for a moment or you'll turn back to find that she's chewing your computer cord or, as she tried to do tonight, eating Zack's homework. I had thought it would be better for them to bring her home after I was gone, so that I wouldn't get attached. But now I'm glad I was here to see Bella Crindy's first few days in our crazy household. And honestly, there is nothing like a puppy to help you live in the moment. And to give you one more reason to reassess your relationship with God.

Tomorrow I have one more day of relaxation and playing with puppy (Oh right -- and some packing) before I'm off to Columbus on Tuesday morning. By Tuesday morning I'll be as ready as I'll ever be. But I sure am glad I stayed this weekend. Wouldn't have missed it for the world.

Jo not stressed out.