Don Foreman wrote:

Michael suggested that I check in about weekly (if not weakly)and I
said I would.

I like to get updates from you.

On wednesday my housekeeper told me about a big party that would be
happening Saturday in Ramsey, and I'd be welcome to come. She said
there'd be food, and people brought musical instruments and jammed.
In keeping with my intent to keep trying new things and meeting new
people as I try to redesign and reinvent my life, I went.

That was a mistake.

The place is rural, and quite expansive. There's a big house, and
several large other buildings, one of which appears to be pretty much
dedicated to entertaining. The owner reputedly makes his living doing
metal fabrication and it is obviously a very good living indeed. I
could have been very interested in that but I had no obvious way of
being introduced and I didn't feel it was my place to press for an
introduction. I wouldn't know the guy if he ran over me. He may not
even have been there. In one building I saw two Miller MIG welders, a
Millermatic 250 and a Millermatic 350, and something that looked
like a formula racecar monocoque under construction. Beautiful work!
It turns out that this was a church benefit of some sort, and they
were selling food and drinks. I didn't buy any food because I'd
just finished lunch but it did smell good. Pulled barbequed pork, I
believe. There were some musicians on a stage jamming: 3 or 4
guitars and a drummer. I have no idea how they do that. It didn't
sound like they were playing anything in particular, but they weren't
getting in each other's way either. But it was kind of monotonous.

I can't handle loud music. I know the feeling of wondering why am I here at some events.

I wonder it you had spent a bit more time examining the workmanship of the racecar, he
might have introduced himself.

There were people sitting around at tables, and others sort of walking
around like I was. Perhaps 50 people in total. Not much conversation
going on because the music was so loud. There were kids playing in
some sort of water attraction outside, like a big slide with a pool
at the bottom.

I introduced myself to a couple of people. They seemed friendly and
polite enough, but no apparent interest in who the hell was I and
where did I come from. I was basically walking around smiling at a
bunch of strangers. My housekeeper wasn't there so I didn't know a
soul.

Hey, you expanded your horizons. Being willing to crawl out from your comfort zone from
time to time is likely healthy. I like my comfort zones must fine.

I have never felt so wretchedly lonely in my life. I managed not to
make a public spectacle of myself but when I got myself together I got
the hell out of there. Once on the road I recovered my equilibrium
fairly quickly.

Yup, sometimes just leaving is the best way to go. I went to a few ham radio swap
meets/get togethers and felt invisible so I know how you feel.

Today I joined the Sunday Spirits walking group that walks somewhere
every Sunday afternoon. It's a Catholic group of over-50 singles. I'm
not Catholic, but they don't seem to mind. Mary was raised Catholic,
maybe I get a pass that way.

Today it was around the lake at Central Park in Roseville, about 3
miles. I knew that was safe because even if I felt alone in that
crowd I'd still be walking in a pleasant place and I usually walk
alone anyway -- so it was a nobrainer. I learned about this from
Maryann, a woman in my grief support group at Mercy on Monday nights.
I'd asked her if she'd be going. She said she would, and she was
indeed there and greeted me with a smile. A SMILE, from Sad Sack
Maryann!

Maybe she had the same feelings about these events. You may have made her day.

It was fun. I think I'm a good decade older than any one else who
walked the long route, though I think women are better at concealing
their age than I am at guessing it. There's one gent that is probably
my age and possibly a bit older, ex-marine (if there is any such
thing as an ex-marine),looks fit -- but he walked the short route. I
had to hustle a bit to keep up with the group, but I was able to. I
wasn't winded when we finished and was able to converse on the trail,
but my legs felt a bit wobbly by the time we were done and I was ready
for a rest. Not arrest. My cardiologist would be proud of me. Mary
would say, "way to go, Foreman!"

I was by far the new fish in that lot. Most had lost their spouses a
couple of years ago or more. So people did talk about things like
that, but they talked about a lot of other things too and when they
spoke of their late spouses it was fondly and warmly but not
painfully. It's not a grief group, it's a havin' fun activity group.
I had a nice conversation with a Cheryl while on the trail. She was
open, friendly, interesting and interested. It felt funny having her
walk on my left. When I have a walking companion I usually walk on
the left because my right ear is my least bad ear, but I'll be
walking, standing and sitting on the right until I get a replacement
for my lost right hearing aid. Not being able to hear is a nuisance.
It was fun! Good workout, beautiful day, pleasant venue, friendly
people. Afterwards we repaired to Panera in Rosedale for conversation
and refreshment. Maryann sat across from me. I have never seen her
so cheerful. N.B.: this is by no means a budding romance and I don't
see it ever becoming one. That's not something I want or am ready for
by quite a ways. But it could be the beginning of a nice
friendship. I'd like that and I'd bet large that she would enjoy it
too. I'd like to expand my list of friends I can call or email to
invite to some event or activity, or maybe just hang out and visit for
a little while, or help with small stuff like needed transport or a
broken lawnmower. We both have kids in town so we're not destitute,
but kids have jobs and lives and it can't hurt a bit to have a wider
mutual support network available.

She had a friend for a short time before, from the same grief support
group ... but he died. Today I asked if it was hazardous to be her
friend. She said "oh, no, how could that be?" "Well, the last one
died, right?" Ding, she got it. She actually laughed out loud, a
good belly laugh. I'll bet that felt wonderful. "No, he knew he was
dying when we became friends." "Well, OK then. Would you be
comfortable letting me know your email addy?" "Sure!" She wrote it
on my cash register receipt. I don't know how much longer I'm going
to keep doing that grief support group, and I quite likely will skip
it tomorrow because I had enough trouble hearing the gloomy
proceedings with two working hearing aids, so I wanted a way to
contact her to see if she'd be walking again next Sunday, and/or
maybe trying something else safe if something comes to mind. I'll
definitely be there next Sunday. I enjoyed today.

Earlier they were talking about a pot luck dinner at St. Joseph's in
New Hope. Maryann said she'd be reluctant to do something like that
in hot weather because she'd be afraid that someone might get sick
from the food she brought. I said, "Maryann, are you really that
terrible a cook?" Others laughed immediately, and then she joined in
heartily. Another belly laugh. I don't think Maryann has been
laughing much in the last couple of years. She was definitely having
a good day today!

A sense of humor is always a good sign.

I made a couple of new male friends last week. Omitting the back
story, I accompanied a grief counsellor's daugther's father-in-law and
his son on a range date. They're newbies. We had a hell of a good
time. Jack is the FIL, Steve is his son.

I'd brought lots of guns, ammo and targets, and Jack had his two as
well so there were plenty of things to try. Jack wasn't real happy
with his shooting at first (frown), but he got considerably happier
as his shooting improved. (smile). Steve did pretty well from the
git-go but he's shot before more than Jack has. He was having a
great time comparing the various pistols, how they felt in his hand
and how well he could shoot them. They are enthusiastic guys with
quick grins and I enjoy being around people like that. Who doesn't?
I'd saved my grande finale for last. It almost always gets wide-eyed
laughs of delight and today was no exception. I got out my big .357
Magnum "Dirty Harry" revolver. Dirty Harry really packed a .44
Magnum but there isn't all that much difference. Steve went first.
The range had the usual pop pop poppitypop racket of the usual
calibers, then Steve's hammer dropped on a full mag load.

BOOM!

Steve's face looked like a kid on Christmas morning. Heads turned, as
in "what was THAT?" I was laughing out loud and I think he was too.
The other guys three lanes down were grinning and there were several
guys watching us through the big plate glass window that separates the
range area from the store and waiting area. Steve proceeded to
shoot the remaining five in the cylinder. A dozen is usually enough
for most people but it definitely is a kick. (Pun intended) Jack
tried it too and was also grinning. I fired six and that was enough
for today.

More power! You know shooting a big gun is a man thing, he was having fun.

Next time I'll bring the bigger .357 (S&W 686 with 6" barrel) that is
really, really accurate -- and it has a laser sight. Steve really
likes laser sights!

I have a wedding to attend next weekend, very lovely daughter of some
good friends. I purely hate ties and sport coats, but I feel like I
should at least have them with me and perhaps even wear them at least
for a little while as a matter of respect. I don't remember the last
time I wore either a tie or a sportcoat, but it has certainly been
most of a decade and maybe more. I wore slacks and a sweater to
Mary's funeral, as did she. That attire (those very garments) was
what we wore when I married her at Gretna Green in Scotland, so I
figured it was right for when I buried her. She certainly would have
agreed.

I thought I'd better look in my closet today. No sportcoats, no
ties. Uh oh! Looked in second br closet. Ditto. Third br closet.
Empty. Swell! Did generous Mary give away my sport coats and ties
to the VA or Lupus or whatever? Wouldn't blame her if she did, I
wasn't using them. Check rack in basement. No luck. Finally I
remembered a cedar closet in the basement I never think of because
there's nothing in there I need to access except a couple of rifle
cases on the floor, and who notices what's on the rod when focussed on
what's on the floor? Bingo.

Hey, at least you fit your old clothes!

Nothing on my calendar for tomorrow. Not good. Ah! Jungle steam
heat has broken, nice day tomorrow, wind NNW at 6, I'm going to the
rifle range! I've pretty much always done that alone. Mary enjoyed
handguns but didn't enjoy shooting rifles. She was right-handed but
left-eye dominant. That's not a problem with handguns but it is with
scoped rifles.

The rifle range sounds excellent. I just finished bedding a Savage MK II into a SSS
stock. I can't wait to see if this .22 LR will shoot good. It sports a Weaver T-36 or
Williams reciever sight depending on if I want to shoot iron or optical. Sunny days, I
like to shoot iron, I need light to shoot decent.

Four months after Mary's death I still cry some or more at some point
of every day. That's not a plan, it just happens when it happens. I
let it happen, don't fight it. I'm alone, nobody would know if I
didn't tell but I'm not ashamed of it. There's no shortcut around
grief about the loss of a treasured spouse like Mary and the wonderful
life I enjoyed with her. Grief hurts and time doesn't heal without
painful effort. But I'm doing my damndest to keep on keepin' on and
I do think I'm making progress. Too little too slow, but that's how
she goes. Crunch crunch, one boot in front of the other. Today I
was able to give joy to a stuck-in-grief miserable fellow traveller,
and that brought me conserable joy.

Grief takes time. I'm going to take a guess and thing that in another two months you will
have this under control most of the time.

Recommended reading for fellow travellers: "A Grief Observed" by C.S.
Lewis, author of "Alice In Wonderland". It's nonfiction. He lost a
wife he treasured and wrote eloquently about his experience.

Did you read it before or after Mary passed?

Hang in there, time heals if you work at it.

Wes