Meredith First's Blog, page 3

Endings Are Really Beginnings

Baby Boy dressed as a Court Jester for Halloween in 1996. Named Class Clown for the Class of 2013: Foreshadowing?

I know. It sounds like a Graduation platitude and maybe it is, but it’s helping me get through. My oldest, my baby boy, is graduating from high school in two days. I am, as usual, like a push-me/pull-you from Dr. Dolittle. One minute, I can’t wait for him to go, the next I’m in tears because my baby is all grown up. Where did the time go?

It feels like just yesterday that I was picking up my graduation dress from my friend Brandi Brothers who made it especially for the big day. It feels like just yesterday when one of my friends dropped a bombshell on me the morning of graduation. A confession of sorts, that rendered me speechless and unable to help, but caused me to worry about her all through the ceremony and the long party after. That’s the problem with being a peer counselor, you carry other people’s burdens around with your own. But you can read about that in the senior year book of Gridley Girls. Let’s get back to Baby Boy.

It’s been a big year of growth for BB, but not just going up a size in pant length. BB has really grown into a nice young man. Don’t worry, he’s still enough of a PITA (read the book if you don’t remember what that means) that I’m not turning into a braggy mom. He’s grown up enough that he has had talks with his dad because he doesn’t think he helps me enough around the house. I know. The record player in my head screeched at that one too. My husband has three inches and 70 pounds on BB and he dared to discuss his dad’s workload with him?  And darned if it didn’t work. That man o’ mine is a wee bit more helpful now.

Yesterday, BB did the dishes. When I asked him to. The first time.

On Sunday, when I had to wake him early to go to church (in the summer, services are only at 9:00) for his Graduation service (which I cried all the way through) he got up. I didn’t have to beg, cajole, guilt or physically pull him out of bed. Baby Girl was another matter. I had to hide all her pillows and blankets to get her out of bed.

Yesterday afternoon, BB got on his computer and went through Baby Girl’s grades with her. More record screeching in my head. This is something I have to do with BG and she yells at me in her snotty teenage voice on most occasions. Of course, when he did it, she just talked to him. Like an adult.

Like two normal adults.

It’s just one long record scratch in your head now, huh? Crazy!

How is it possible that my disrespectful, ungrateful, spoiled, slacking boy of a man really is the sensitive, handsome, smart, capable, responsible young man I’ve raised him to become? Is it really possible that every generation goes through all the same things with different props? We passed notes. They text. So much is different, yet so much is exactly the same.

I’ve worked hard to keep my mother alive for my children since she passed away almost twelve years ago. One of the things I’ve told them about is the note my mother left me on the entry table when I got home from school at the end of my senior year. It was my one and only skip day of my life. We didn’t have school sanctioned Senior Skip Days back then. Somehow – only in Gridley – mom found out and left me this note since I got home late:

Dear Star Border,

While I know your tan is important to your vanity, we are a family and as such, we need to help others around the house to prepare for YOUR Graduation Party. Please do the dishes.

Love,

Mom

I wish I had saved that note. It’s burned in my memory forever though and sometimes I think that’s even better. I remember looking at it and laughing out loud. Hard. She came into the room and gave me her best smiley mole face (yes, there are different types of mother’s mole faces) and laughed with me. I don’t remember if I still had to do the dishes or not but I remember that note. I remember when she didn’t think I was pulling my weight, she called me the Star Border. I remember the first time she had to explain to me that it meant that I behaved like I paid rent to them to cook and clean for me and that since I was paying no such rent, I could not behave like a “Star Border”.

Hey, do you think I could get my husband to pay me rent as a “Star Border”? Shh, just kidding. Don’t tell him I said that!

My mother won’t be here for Baby Boy’s graduation but everyone else will be. We will celebrate for her. We will smile up at Heaven, grateful for our faith to keep us going and remind us that she’s watching. And we will go forward, just as she would want us to. Because we are not Star Borders. Because we know that all endings are just the beginning of something new.

Y.A.L.

Mom, giving me the smiley mole face as I was teaching her how to use her first digital camera. In 1996, as always, that made her a techie pioneer. Cutting edge ’til the day she died.

Sneak Peek of the Gridley Girls Sophomore Year…

While the hardback version of Gridley Girls will be released in September, many of you are already hankering for the second book in the series. My first response is always to tell you to make sure you get your hardback copy of Gridley Girls as it has two new chapters not in the eBook. My now, second response will be: here’s a little taste of the second book which will focus on everybody’s favorite Afri-Mex-Italian girl, Tonya Cena. Take a look…

June, 2008

Let the stalking begin. I crouched down in the bushes further to get out of Anne’s way. Tonya elbowed me to move further over as she positioned herself in front of the window with her camera set up with some fancy zoom lens. Even in her crazy emotional state, she looked beautiful in her all black “stalking clothes” of perfectly pressed skinny jeans and black ballet flats. I couldn’t help but think about how great she’d look in her mug shot when we all got hauled away to the pokey.

“Meg, are you still watching the street?” Tonya planted the tripod in front of the window for the best angle. I wasn’t sure about her decision to use a tripod in this situation but I’ve known Tonya my entire life and she’s one of the smartest people I’ve ever known, so who was I to doubt her methods?

I hurried and turned back around to act like I was watching the street the whole time. She knew I wasn’t or she wouldn’t have asked. Tonya’s long been in charge and I like it that way. We both have pretty dominant personalities but I prefer hanging with people who are capable of bossing me around because it gives me a break from having to think so much. It’s refreshing.

“Yup. Watching the street. No signs of hooligans or Neighborhood Watch people. We’re good.”

She turned around and rolled her eyes at me. I smiled but kept my eyes on the road.

“Anne, what about you? Anyone in the other direction?” Tonya wouldn’t take her eyes off the window. Anne’s job was to watch the north. I was watching the south.

“All clear, Buzz Lightyear.” Anne whispered as she brushed her sandy hair behind her ears and giggled. Tonya gave her a little punch. It did feel like we were trying to bust out some jailed toys in a movie plot. It’s not like any of us had any experience in stalking, private detective work or any other type of investigative function. We were just lifelong friends trying to solve a mystery.

Was Tonya’s husband a lying no-good scoundrel who couldn’t keep it in his pants?



And more importantly, can you get arrested for voyeurism at your own house?

Stacie Sormano Walker, Meredith Carlin First, RoseMarie Curcuru

Happy Mother’s Day from the Motherless…

Joan and Larry Carlin, 2001

I am a mother without a mother. It’s not a fun way to start a Mother’s Day post but it is my reality. In the twelve Mother’s Days since my mother’s sudden death, I wasted ten of them crying, feeling sorry for myself and in general isolation in order to cope. It was the one day of the year that I simply could not handle. My kids and husband brought me meals in bed and took care of me all day long. It became a sad and twisted tradition in our family.

The day of isolation didn’t happen immediately. In the early years, I tried to have a “normal” Mother’s Day of church, brunch and other family activities. But every time I saw someone come in with an elderly mother, I cried. I was never going to have an elderly mother. I had no idea what my mother would have looked like in her frail, older woman self. So every year, I unconsciously eliminated one activity where I saw older mothers until there were no activities left. After all, where do you go on Mother’s Day where you don’t see older mothers?

One year, early on, my family took me to the movie, “Raising Helen” for Mother’s Day. A mistake of drastic proportions. This movie is about two parents of young children who die in a tragic car accident, leaving their young children to the mother’s younger sister. I could barely control my tears in the theater. By the time we made it to the car, I broke down into the convulsive kind of tears nobody wants to share with anybody else, let alone their sweet children and husband on Mother’s Day. That was the breaking point for me where I decided to take to my bed on Mother’s Day. It just seemed best for everyone if I stayed where others were not. Why inflict my pain on anyone else?

Problem was, I was still inflicting my pain on my kids and husband. Then one April day, last year, I got a phone call from my introspective, observant sister-in-law who, while still has both her parents, knew and cared enough to talk. “Meredith, I’d like to help you celebrate your mom and give up your sadness on Mother’s Day.” Thank you, Jesus and thank you Jo! How much longer would I have gone on? I’m pretty tenacious in my ability to honor my dead loved ones!

So, last year, I did it. I enjoyed Mother’s Day without any tears. Not one. Not even in hiding, which was important since I had already told myself that if I needed to, I could just hide somewhere and cry a little. If nobody knew but God and me, that was okay, right? It wasn’t even difficult. Maybe I needed ten years to mourn on just that one day. Maybe I’m a slow learner. Maybe I’m a person who used to be paralyzed with a fear of sudden death and when my mother dropped dead at the age of 64, that snapped me into the hyper-drive of fear. The latter is probably the truest but either way, with the help of my family, I am recovering from my Mother’s Day blues.

I am four hours into Mother’s Day, 2013 and without my husband and children since I am at the University of Illinois-Chicago Graduation of my nephew, David Ishida. For the first time since I became a mother in 1995, I am not with my kids and husband on Mother’s Day. This is sad, but I am with my dad and sisters and my immediate family, which may be just what I needed to solidify my newfound Mother’s Day harmonic balance. Full circle on the Mother’s Day emotional scale. My kids and husband are back in Minneapolis, giving me the best Mother’s Day present ever: the freedom to grow up as a mom. The space to move on.

Oh yeah, that and they’re all completing honey-do lists I’ve made for them.

My only tears were last night, when my father started discussing Mom and how proud she would have been of David’s graduation; how much we all wished she was here with us. As soon as he saw the tears streaming down my face, he changed the subject. We know she’s with us. But that will never be enough for us on days like this – the life passages that mom was so good at celebrating.

Whatever stage of life you are celebrating today, be it mourning the loss of your mother or celebrating your very first year as a mother, I salute you. Make the most of it. Feel the love. It’s there, one way or another. Happy Mother’s Day!

Y.A.L.

Meredith

Defending Real Housewives to Jesus?

It’s May Day.  Everywhere but in Minnesota.  It’s snowing.  Yes.  And it’s actually sticking.  WTH?  As a transplanted California girl, I’m allowed to scream and cuss now but I won’t.  Instead, I will share with you my recent trip to SoCal where I accidentally had some Real Housewives moments.

Before you worry, I must tell you that my RHOBH (Real Housewives of Beverly Hills) superfan tour was an accidental thing and not planned, but turned out even better than I could have imagined!

I flew to LA to piggyback on a conference my husband was attending.  Before I drove down to meet him, I met an old friend to celebrate his birthday.  The Clemdad was turning 57 the next day.  Not exactly the RHOBH target demo, but I took him to Villa Blanca for lunch anyway.  When I said I’d like to hit second-hand stores in BH and go to the restaurant of a reality star, he was fine with it.  Nothing better than fun people!

When we walked into Villa Blanca, I was struck that it felt exactly like it does on TV.  It became an alternate reality.  We sat front and center, which was awesome for people watching.  And people were provided.  Lisa Vanderpump’s (the owner) daughter was dining right next to us.  A table full of older, fully lifted, women were also next to us and it was so hard not to stare, mouths agog and then ask who their plastic surgeons were so we could make sure we don’t go there when we’re old.  This triggered a lengthy discussion on plastic surgery in general.  I love it when guys can talk girl-talk with the best of ‘em!

I tried to explain RH to the Clemdad but it proved difficult.  How do you explain a guilty pleasure to a guy who barely watches television and lives a super admirable Christ-like life?  This made me wonder, how would I explain RH to Jesus?  That made my head want to explode so I’m really hoping that if I have a Defending Your Life type of experience in the after-life,  He won’t mention RH. I’m hoping He looks the other way when I’m watching.  He must have so much to do that it’s possible He’ll miss it, right?  Fingers crossed.

Then it happened.  Schaena walked over and was the server at the table next to us.  For non RHOBH fans, here it is in a nutshell:  Fellow Sacramento girl Brandi Glanville is a cast member on RHOBH.  Her philandering husband had his first (known) affair with Schaena, a waitress from Villa Blanca, which is owned by Brandi’s friend Lisa Vanderpump, also a RHOBH star.  Lisa Vanderpump then got a spin-off show (that’s how it works on Bravo) called Vanderpump Rules, about her staff of servers at her restaurant, SUR.  Are you still with me?

In the first episode of Vanderpump Rules, they showed Brandi, having a “Come-to-Jesus” talk with Schaena and Brandi where they cleared the air and Brandi forgave Schaena for the affair.  Then Schaena went back to waiting tables and becoming a reality star in her own right.  Yes, I have to admit to watching three episodes of VR.  If it makes you feel any better, I got sick of watching what’s-her-name, the mean girl…Stassi?  Her level of mean was too much for me.  Plus, my husband was secretly considering a Bravo-vention wherein he found a way to lock me out of Bravo if I didn’t give VR up.  He didn’t actually say he was going to do this and I know for a fact that he’s not technologically savvy (with Dish) enough to lock me out, but if he had the knowledge, he would use it!

My husband knows he’s responsible for my RH addiction since that Saturday afternoon, so many years ago, when I walked in on him, looking guilty and watching the first episode of RHOC.  He looked up like maybe I caught him in bed with the babysitter and said, “Look at this.  You’ll love it.  It’s a train wreck and I couldn’t stop watching, but the whole show is filmed in Coto.  Isn’t that where your cousins live?”  Yes, some could say my husband is my reality TV dealer.

But back to the superfan tour and Schaena.  I tried not to stare at Schaena every time she walked by, but I was struck at how pretty she is.  Even prettier than on TV.  I tried to explain the whole RHOBH to the Clemdad and that’s when the funniest moment happened.

The Clemdad is a SoCal boy, born and raised.  His father lives in Sacramento though and the Clemdad went to Sac State so he has plenty of NorCal roots.  I started to explain Brandi Glanville to him and of course, the only part he’s familiar with is the fact that Brandi’s ex-husband left her for Leann Rimes.  He’d actually heard that story.  Then his face lit up and he says, “Brandi’s dad is my dad’s handyman in Sacramento!”

Screech.  The record player scratched in my head, like it does when something like this happens.  ”Are you kidding me?”  I asked, trying not to spit out my iced tea on him.  I knew Brandi was a Sacramento girl.  I knew she went to Kennedy HIgh School, just ten minutes away from my Sacramento ‘hood.  I even knew that her parents now live in Galt (I don’t know how I knew this but my brain often gets clogged with useless stuff).  But this was hilarious, new info.

Our server came over as we were chatting about this and we all laughed about it when she said, “I’m bringing Schaena over.  She loves to take pictures with people.”  I tried to talk her out of it (I did!) but next thing we knew, Schaena came over with the server and a to-die-for toffee bread pudding dessert for the Clemdad’s birthday.

To answer your questions, yes, Schaena is very nice, even prettier than on TV and agrees that Stassi is just too much to handle.  The Clemdad took a picture of us where she looks beautiful and I look a thousand years old next to her.

I figured we were on a roll, so we went to Kyle’s boutique next and it was better than expected.  Overpriced, of course but I almost bought the cutest leather jacket until I realized it was pleather.  Overpriced + pleather = wrong.

We finished our adventure at my new fave vintage store where I did some damage in the shoe department.  My husband had a bit of a tantrum later, and of course, made more mumblings about never being able to retire, but I’m pretty sure I can’t go barefoot in Minnesota and that’s a fact he can never deny!

Meredith and Schaena at Villa Blanca

Hallelujah, a Clear 5-Year Scan for Marit Francis!

I got a phone call today that surprised and delighted me.  The caller was a lovely woman, both inside and out.  We’re not friends, more…I don’t know… friendly acquaintances?  I struggle to define relationships now that I’m out in the world, sharing my stories.  I never knew that relationships were difficult to define before GRIDLEY GIRLS.  Friendship comes easy to me, as I love people.  My mother used to say  “people are my therapy” and that is definitely my truth as well.  But back to this awesome phone call.

“Meredith, I wanted to tell you that your book was an amazing experience.  I am a fan.  I am a Gridley Girl.  I didn’t want it to end.”  I, of course, immediately started to cry – genetic defect still hard at work.  She went on to share her story of reading my book over the weekend, on a plane, telling me how she laughed out loud and then sobbed, right there on the two-seater plane, not caring at all what the man next to her thought of her.  I silently cried while she shared more with me about her experience with GRIDLEY GIRLS and I silently thanked God for bringing her to me today, of all days.

A day of reflection and prayer as our family friend, Marit Francis, is in Memphis at St. Jude Hospital, having her five-year scan for brain cancer.

Everybody knows that I left Apple eight years ago to write the books of my dreams.  What a lot of people don’t know is that those dreams started happening because one of my best friends, Jennifer Cone, died when we were in fourth grade.  By eighth grade, I knew I wanted to write a book where I could do for us what God couldn’t.

Keep Jennifer alive.

Life got in the way of my dreams.  Like a lot of people, I got busy with college, marriage, career and family, forgetting about my dreams.

Then Jennifer started visiting me in my dreams and oddly, I wasn’t scared.  Instead, I prayed a whole lot and eventually left Apple to write GRIDLEY GIRLS.

Almost five years ago, we moved to Orono, into a house behind the Francis family.  Only they weren’t there.  They were in Memphis fighting the battle of their lives with their six-year old daughter, Marit.  When they returned, our kids became instant friends and bonding over shared heartache, so did Berit and I.

Berit and Michael have taught me everything I know about St. Jude.  I always knew I wanted to give back 10% of my books and company but I didn’t know how I wanted to do that until I met the Francis family.  Marit, Berit and the whole Francis family have been an inspiration to me from the moment I met them.

When my day was shifted by a phone call like this – especially at a time when I was feeling so vulnerable, so scared to be putting my whole life “out there” like this – I am reminded that GRIDLEY GIRLS isn’t just a book.  It isn’t just the fictionalization of my life.

It is a living, breathing message of hope to anyone who’s lost a loved one and wants to keep them alive, even if just in their hearts.  It is a message of love to girls who may experience shame or regret for choices they’ve made.  It’s a message of peace to mean girls (past or present) who want to heal their wounds and be nice again.  It is a message of acceptance to anyone who may feel “different” or “not normal” in our society.  It is a reminder that with God, all things are possible.

I just received an email, as I am writing this post, that Marit’s five-year scan has come back stable.  Glory Hallelujah!  Little MarMar has officially hit the five-year mark.  I could not be happier for Marit, Berit, Michael, Evan, Carter and Crosbie.  The healing has been happening for five years, but now, it can really begin.

Because with God, all things are possible.

Y.A.L. from,

A Very Grateful Meredith Carlin First

Rest in Peace Bob Perry (A Life is Lost, Baby Melba is Born)

I am in paradise.  On a cliff overlooking the Pacific, in southern California, not in the gorgeous little town in northern California.  The sad thing is I want nothing more than to be back in Suburban Minneapolis right now, hugging my kids and reassuring them that they are safe in the world and mommy and daddy are here.  Sure, my kids are 15 and 18 and don’t call us mommy and daddy anymore but at times like this, you want to hold them and pretend they are toddlers again.

I should be on cloud nine.  I’m away from the blizzards and now melting snow of the craziest winter/spring we’ve had in five Minnesota winters (that’s how we track our time in Minnesota – by how many winters we’ve survived).  It’s a post-tax season retreat for my husband and I.  A time to reconnect without the kids and the pressures of daily life and enjoy the beauty that is the California coastline – the one thing my husband misses the most since we’ve moved to Minneapolis.

In one thirty-minute period, a life was lost and a life was born.  We went from shock, disbelief and sadness – to joy, appreciation and gratitude in thirty minutes and I’m still trying to reconcile it in my brain.

If you’ve read Gridley Girls:  A True-Life Novel, you already know that I have a neurotic fear of sudden death.  If you’ve known me for any length of time, you know that I came by that fear honestly.  When you lose your best friend at the age of nine and sudden death never, ever stops in your life, neuroses is a natural occurrence.

Bob Perry, the husband of a friendly acquaintance of mine, died quite suddenly yesterday, of a heart attack.  Bob was a husband, father, friend to many, and selfless coach in our suburban Minneapolis community.  My favorite thing about Bob was his marriage story.  As a hopeless romantic and writer, I love to hear the stories of how couples meet, fall in love and end up together.  Bob and Lisa’s story was one of my favorites.

The quick version is that Bob and Lisa were high school sweethearts in Ohio.  They went on to marry other people.  Lisa moved to suburban Minneapolis and raised her two sons with her first husband.  Shortly after her divorce, Bob’s sister called her and said, “Bob is divorced too, you should get back together.”  This is a paraphrase that hopeless romantics like me eat up. Lisa laughed at the sister but God had bigger plans for Lisa and Bob.

They did get back together. They married and Bob moved to suburban Minneapolis too, where they blended their families and Bob became an active part of the community as a football and track coach.  It was on the track, coaching his student athletes, where Bob had a heart attack and left this world too soon.

I received the text of Bob’s passing at 5:06 pm CDT.  At 5:30 CDT, Michelle, one of our closest friends, who’s been wanting a baby her whole life – and through the grace of God and medical technology – was finally able conceive, had her sweet baby girl in Houston, Texas.

Why am I sharing this?  The short answer is that by sharing my neuroses (through Gridley Girls) I’ve been able to heal from my fear of sudden death.  When I experience stories like these, I no longer get really scared and depressed.  I don’t go inward with my fear.  Now I make sure I talk about it.  I make sure I hug my kids and husband and loved ones, and tell them how grateful I am for staying alive and being in my life.  I remember that all the things in life that suck up our time and energy are not what’s truly important.  The only truly important things in life, besides life itself, are God and our relationships.  That’s a really easy thing to say and a very difficult thing to live.

Lisa Perry and I know each other because we both have two kids in the same grade.  When we moved to Minneapolis, her son Nate, was one of my son’s first friends.  We are Facebook friends who share our lives technologically and through our kids.  While we’re not friends who visit each other regularly or know each other intimately, my heart breaks for Lisa and her family.  My prayers are with them all as this new chapter of grief and mourning is upon them.

My own mother died, at the age of 64, in a very similar way to Bob Perry.  I call it a now-you-see-them-now-you-don’t death.  It is jarring.  It is awful.

It is a club that nobody wants to join, yet too many are counted among its members.

Michelle and Jim Little woke up this morning with their first child together.  Baby Melba is starting her life with parents who love her and will most likely spoil her endlessly.  Instead of pushing my fears of sudden death from my mind and thinking only of Baby Melba, I will celebrate both lives.  Celebrate the time Bob and Lisa had together and celebrate Baby Melba’s future because by the Grace of God, there go all of us.

Rest in Peace, Bob Perry.  Your family loves and misses you. Your community is grateful for you.  Thanks for being a part of the lives of our children.

Big Mouth Recognition

I got recognized yesterday…in the gynecologist’s office.  Don’t worry, I wasn’t in the stirrups at the time.  I was innocently sitting in the hallway having blood drawn.  As a post-menopausal woman, this is commonplace for me to manage my hormones.  Yes, I went there.  It’s my female duty to speak about my hormone management as often as possible so women can know there’s help out there.  We don’t have to lose our minds during menopause.  My mother’s passing caused me to be shocked into menopause at the tender age of 37.  It’s been a roller coaster of fun hormonal management ever since.  I’m lucky enough to have the best ObGyn in the Twin Cities to help keep me in line (and my family alive for having to live with me!).

But back to my big recognition:  so I’m sitting there in the hallway and the phlebotomist (SAT word?) was talking to me about my book (yes, we’ve become friendly over the years and she has followed my adventures to becoming an author on social media) and looking at the hardback (it really is exciting!) when a nurse comes in from another room and says, “Are you the Gridley Girls author?  I recognize your voice from Lori & Julia!”.  You could have knocked me out of that chair, blood-line and all, with a feather.  I had my first radio interview on my favorite TC women’s talk radio station, MyTalk 107.1 on 4/10/13 and this woman heard it.

I could barely contain my excitement.  ”You heard me on Lori & Julia?”  As usual, I was fighting back tears.  I still can’t believe anyone wants to read about my life let alone listen to me on the radio.

“Yes I heard you.  You made me cry!  I want to buy your book so badly but I don’t want to wait until September.”

“Well, you’re in luck.  I have some right here.”  I was still sitting there with a blood draw going on so I pointed with my other hand down to the stack of books I brought in for my favorite nurses and doctor.  She ran to get her checkbook while the other nurses gathered around to hear my favorite phlebotomist sing my praises about the journey I’ve had in the last seven years, writing a book about my friends, sharing the stories of our heartbreak losing our best friend in fourth grade and how I set out to write books to keep her alive.

Yes, I cried a bit.  It’s the Joan Carlin genetic defect.  I can’t fight it.  I still try.  I’ll know I’m more of a grown up when I finally accept that it is what it is and it’s okay to cry.  It’s okay to be emotional when you see the hand of God at work.  It’s okay to be emotional when you see your dreams come true.  It’s okay to thank God for your blessings and hope maybe you can help someone else who’s lost loved ones too soon and needs to make sense of it.

My goal is to pick up where my mother left off when she passed away too soon and too suddenly.  I didn’t take the path of school teacher.  I didn’t get to mold young lives into ladies and gentlemen but if I can help by sharing my pain and joy, then hopefully I can live up to my childhood dreams and the dreams my mother had for me before she left us.

For now I can smile when I think about the fact that my big mouth got me recognized as a Gridley Girl and as an author when it used to be that all my big mouth did was get me demerits at Sycamore School.  I think Mom would smile at that.  I know I’m smiling.

Y.A.L.

Out of Sadness, a Book is Born…

The TV is off.  That’s a big deal for me.  I’m afraid to turn it on and have to watch what’s going on in Boston.  It makes me sad.  It makes me lose hope for the future of our descendants.  What kind of world are we leaving them?  What kind of legacy are we leaving behind after we’re gone?  This certainly couldn’t be what my ancestors imagined hundreds of years ago when they landed on Plymouth Rock.

I’m caught in a bittersweet conundrum.  Just after I heard about the bombings in Boston, I got word from the printers that the hardbacks of Gridley Girls:  A True-Life Novel will be ready for me to pick up tomorrow.  I am so excited to get to drive up north a day early.  They have been rushing to complete the books in time for a Fundraiser at my house Thursday night.  Minnesota has been under the siege of crazy spring storms for the last two weeks giving us record snow.  More storms are due on Wednesday and Thursday so it was now or never.  Luckily, Minnesotans are a hardy bunch and Bang Printing is no exception to that rule.  They have busted out their tough work ethic to get me up there ahead of the weather.

I feel like I’ve been pregnant for eight years and tomorrow I get to drive up north to have a long-awaited scheduled c-section.

Eight years.

Really it’s been 35 years since the dream was first born.  Since that day in Mr. Erickson’s eighth grade English class where I realized I might actually know how to write.  That day when I first realized that when I write a story, I can keep people alive.  I can do what God couldn’t do for us.

I can keep people alive.

So tonight, when you tuck your kids into bed, or get caught up in the news stories of the tragedy in Boston, the birthplace of this great country, remember that hope is still there.  Remember that love is still there.  We’re still Americans, strong and true.  And if that isn’t enough to help you, then write it down.  Write about it.  Whatever it is that’s bothering you or making you fearful:  write it down and change the outcome.  Make it beautiful, even if only in your mind.

Because you can keep people alive too.

Y.A.L.

Meredith

Lena Dunham is a Gridley Girl. Are you?

Things have been crazy getting Gridley Girls off to the printer. The hardbacks are due on April 17th, just in time to get my husband back from tax-land. A happy time for the First Family.

After five winters in Minnesota, we’ve just gotten back from our first snow-to-tropics vacation to Mexico for Baby Boy’s Senior Spring Break or what I call “Orono Gone Wild”. I won’t tell you about my feelings on spring break as I don’t think I can do it without sounding a thousand years old. Suffice to say we came back two days early due to the chunk of flesh taken out of Baby Boy’s foot from the slick walkways of the resort in a rainstorm. If a California Girl leaves Mexico early to come back to the arctic tundra then you can surmise one of three things:

a. The vacation wasn’t that great.

b. Said California Girl has adjusted to Minnesota even better than one would ever imagine.

c. Instead of being 12 below zero (like it was when we left) the Minnesota temps jumped up to a balmy 37 degrees.

I think it’s d: all of the above.

Meanwhile, I’m completely behind on my TV watching which borders on sacrilege for me. I managed to catch up on the last three episodes of Girls and feel the need to discuss.

For starters, if you don’t watch Girls, it’s time to catch up. It’s foul-mouthed and graphically sexual. If that draws you to it, great. If it doesn’t, you might want to give it a try anyway just for the humor/drama.

Secondly, Lena Dunham is a genius. I know it’s cool to like Lena Dunham and that should make me not want to like her but it doesn’t. I like her. I want to be her friend. There. I said it. She’s hilarious, thoughtful, quirky, neurotic, crazy smart and (my personal favorite) doesn’t give a crap what others think of her. Whether or not that last part is true or if she just wants us to think that of her, I don’t know. Either way, she’s pure magic. The fact that Judd Apatow is her partner in this fabulous series gives her major street cred to me as he is my hero.

In the episode where they go on location out of the city and she and Jessa visit Jessa’s family, I was worried Girls had jumped the shark. The second season is too early to jump the shark. I lost sleep over this and felt let down like it was a real sophomore slump.

Thank you Jesus, I stuck with it and they made up for it. The Girls finale had a happy ending (which I think may have been tough for Lena) and most of all hope. I cheered. I laughed out loud. I wanted to clap, but was worried my kids would hear me and make fun of me. I really shouldn’t worry about that since they make fun of me regardless of what I do. They’re teenagers. It’s their job.

I love hope. Hope makes the world go round just as much as love. And deep down, Lena Dunham, for all her tattoos, quirky clothes and ultra-hip personality, is like the rest of us: a girl who likes happy endings and needs hope.

In one scene in the finale, Hannah’s (Lena’s character) Mac (more cred for me that she’s a Mac user) shows a line she wrote that said, “A friendship between college girls is grander and more dramatic than any romance.” Take out the college part (age isn’t necessary) and truer words were never spoken.

A true friendship is grander and more dramatic than any romance.

Lena Dunham needs to read Gridley Girls. Lena Dunham is a Gridley Girl. Are you?

Y.A.L.

* Spoiler Alert. Don’t watch video until after you’ve caught up on Girls! *

I Believe in Your Right to Religious Freedom/Why I Support Gay Marriage

President Obama took a bold stance on Gay Marriage today and I’m so proud of him.  As a Republicrat (© 2012 Melissa Carlin), I was worried that the President was just using the gay vote to get elected.  Today he showed all Americans not only that he is a President of his word but he showed us all that he believes like I do:  Gay Marriage is a Civil Rights issue.

I recently posted the following on my Facebook page and Q & A on this site and wanted to share it with you here too since it means so much to me and Gridley Girls everywhere.  Thanks for reading…

It’s important to me to make sure that people understand that I’m never trying to push a “gay marriage” agenda on anyone. I believe that everyone has the right to their religious freedoms. That’s what America was founded on. It is my belief that gay marriage is a Civil Rights issue and not a religious issue. That is why I am in support of it.

It’s important to me to make sure that people understand that I’m never trying to push a “gay marriage” agenda on anyone. I believe that everyone has the right to their religious freedoms. That’s what America was founded on. It is my belief that gay marriage is a Civil Rights issue and not a religious issue. That is why I am in support of it.  As an ELCA Lutheran, I do not believe that being gay is a sin. But that is my belief. As Americans, we owe every American the same governmental freedoms that we enjoy and hold so dear. Just as I was born straight, gay people were born gay. No gay person will ever tell you they grew up with a dream of being gay. It just doesn’t happen.  I dream about the day I will get go to a gay wedding and it will simply be called a wedding.

Please note again: I am not trying to change your viewpoint. Any negative comments will be deleted.  This is a hate-free zone.  I embrace your right to view homosexuality as a choice and a sin. If that is your belief, I will fight to protect that for you as an American.

God bless America and God bless our President.  Amen. ♥