Monthly Archives: July 2012

ALONE

You lie coiled in embryo sleep

below the blue painting of the fisherman;

the checkered blanket tousled on the floor.

This old house creaks in reply to the quiet wind.

A car passes

and the glow of the streetlamp

dances through the shutters in hysterical patterns.

I lie engulfed by emptiness.

Moving silently, disentangling myself from you,

I grope in the dark for cigarettes.

Across the room I sit observing you.

Otherwise, there is no change;

not in the way you lay curled up . . .

not in the sounds that never come from you . . .

not in the discontent I feel.

Categories: Bipolar/Depression, Love, Poetry, Romance/Dating | Tags: , , , , | 23 Comments

CLASS REUNION

I put the top down on my convertible and start up the car. The air is warm and mild and it smells sweet. It is so quiet that I can hear my tires on the road as I pull away. It is a rare and perfect early summer morning.

I drive slowly from the Grosse Ile Yacht Club while still basking in the afterglow of a successful event and a wonderful night of laughter and silliness with friends. My 35th high school class reunion has just ended.

I leave the radio off, drive in the silence of a 2:00 a.m. morning, and get lost in fun recollections of the evening.

My first thought is of me tending the table at the entrance to our party. I remembered NO ONE! I recall how I began the evening with, “I’m sorry, I don’t remember too many of our classmates; what’s your name, please?” and ended up with, “Who are you?!”

Patti, a kind classmate, recalled me asking her to join the committee and then promptly proclaiming my exasperation at my own involvement and saying, “But I don’t even like people!” She told me tonight, after several drinks, how that had scared her a little. But she joined me anyway. And she was vital to the resulting wonderful evening. I call her brave. And gracious.

One of our committee members wore a striking ensemble that inspired the evening’s most memorable quote which involved a wedge of watermelon and was thusly dubbed, “the watermelon lady!” A title I suspect that she will wear for a very long time. I remember telling her to act like a rind. She laughed and did something funny with her arms. (I will post something like this on her Facebook wall later).

And our poor DJ. I kept calling him Tim, although his name was Paul. Thing is, I hired him. He smiled a lot when he saw me coming.

And my somewhat reserved friend, the “closet” dancer. She was quite the flexible little creature out there dancing tonight. She moved so quickly that I was only able to get one pic of her. I muse now in understanding of her intense addiction to, “So You Think You Can Dance?”. . . And another piece of the puzzle falls into place.

I remember how we all laughed at our graduation pictures that were on our nametags. I never knew the handsome guy I talked to at our pre-party the night before until I saw his nametag tonight. “Oh, THAT’S who you are!” I screamed in recognition.

I think about the infamous “rock” that adorns our school’s entrance and how every year a proud class will declare themselves by painting it with their graduation year. Ours was 1977.

Couple that with the mustache and beard that I drew on my nametag and titled, “Menopause”, and I have just one word of explanation:

Regression. I guess I’m being the bad girl I never was in school. A real rebel, ‘eh? Ha ha. Funny thing is, no one seemed to notice. Sheesh.

A little crazier was the girl I didn’t know who freaked me out by trying to suck on my neck, and the fact that I posed for a picture on a handsome man’s lap, stuck my finger in his ear, and now cannot for the life of me, remember his name. There is something inherently wrong with that. Oh gosh.

I pull myself from the night’s memories and back into the present moment and drive slowly down East River Road. It is a beautiful, quiet night and ever so still.

I round the infamous East River Road bend where the houses cease to be on the right side and there is only the river. I am acutely aware of the silence.

As I resign myself to the conclusion of a memorable evening, I see a shadowy figure up ahead near the water. I stop my car.

A single large, lovely, deer slowly walks across the road immediately in front of me. He turns his head and looks at me as he crosses. My camera is not handy, so I sit perfectly still and watch in awe. But it looks something like this.

Wow.

Now that, my friends, is the perfect ending to a great night; and one that I did not anticipate . . . another precious moment to remember.

Grosse Ile, Michigan, it will always be my home.

Gosh, I love this place.

Categories: Downriver/Detroit, Michigan, Friends, Holidays/Birthdays, Humor | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , | 27 Comments

COIN TOSS

The first time he telephoned, we talked for over an hour. He made me feel light and funny and girly. And I liked it. Normally I don’t slow dance; I’m terrible at it. I get tense and become as stiff as a board. But that night on the phone, I danced. He led, but I didn’t need to follow. Because he carried me; my feet never touched the floor.

“I almost didn’t call you” he said.

“Why?” I asked.

“Oh, it just gets to be a little too much, you know? All these first dates; I wasn’t sure if I should bother.” He said.

“Really?” I asked, miffed that he wasn’t more excited, “What made you decide to call then?”

“I flipped a coin.” He said.

“WHAT?” I shrieked. “You flipped a coin?! Are you serious? Ha ha ha!”

“Yep. I flipped a coin.” He said.

“Well, what won?”

“Heads. So I called you.” He said.

The next night we met for dinner and had a wonderful evening. Our conversation was constant, natural, and excited; and our laughter seemed to last for days. I’ll bet the sparks of our attraction could be seen from afar, like the flicker of fireflies on a hot summer’s night.

After several hours, he reluctantly paid the bill and walked me to my car.

“Can I kiss you goodnight?” He asked as he gently brushed the hair from my face.

I reached into my purse and pulled out a quarter.

“I don’t know. Call it: Heads or tails?”

Categories: Humor, Romance/Dating | Tags: , , , , , | 37 Comments

WOULD I GRIEVE A SUNRISE?

Driving in my convertible, my hair goes wildly to the wind; I honor his birthday with my display of freedom and my disregard for someone else’s thought of it.

The Angel Statue silently greets me, surrounded as she is by a hexagon of paving bricks.

I kneel.

“Happy birthday, sweetie. Mamma’s here.”

006

For many years my grieving was trapped internally; tearing at things as it bounced about trying to find its place.

Today, I wear it on the outside . . . let it breathe and know the air. Without pride or care of observation, I come and kiss his name. It isn’t sad. This memory brick is like a Christmas tree.

CHRISTMAS TREE

Not meant for quiet repose in a solitary heart, it longs for light and decoration, and celebratory songs to warm it. It is in the sharing that the greatness comes.

Would I grieve the sight of a beautiful sunrise . . . because the rising is done and it is now a new day?

“Sunrise in Petoskey, Michigan”, by Julia Kovach.

*****

For more information on the Christmas Box Angel Statue and the DECEMBER 6TH CANDLELIGHT VIGIL at Angel Statues across the country, please read, “An Author, An Angel & A Healing Brick” at: http://wp.me/p2ckKM-nx .

Any may God bless all our baby angels and the ones who have lost them.

*****

Categories: God/Spiritual, Grief/Healing, Nature, Photography | Tags: , , , , , , , | 25 Comments

SOME LIKE IT HOT

I don’t.

As a youngster, I enjoyed the winter, but looked forward to the summer. Now that I’m older, summer is too hot and winter is too cold. Sheesh. Seems like an old gal just can’t catch a break.

This past week, Michigan’s heat wave has been one for the books. Ugh . . .

Towards the end of our first record-breaking day, with temps of 102 degrees, my electricity went out. Just like that. Done. Over. Nadda. Adios TV, adios lights, adios air conditioning.

Hello humidity . . . humility . . . heartache. Okay, maybe not heartache, but a lot of whining, for sure. Why does this always happen to me?

“Lord, you’ve mistaken me for Job! I’m Julia!”

After groping in the grey for a power bill with a phone number, talking to a computerized automated system for several minutes, and waiting through an unimaginable hold time, I was told that a power restoration time could not be estimated and that I was free to call back for an update. I was left pitifully powerless. 

The heat had its affect on all of us.

Allie did this:

Baxter did this:

And I did this:

And this:

And this:

(I would’ve done THIS anyway!)

I tried reading by candlelight but the air got thicker and I started to panic, so I settled for a restless sleep.

During the night the power came on; the television blared, the floor fan whirred, and the air conditioner purred like a beautiful baby kitten.

I thanked God, (and DTE Energy), smiled, and went back to sleep.

In the morning, I awoke and realized something disturbing; I can’t survive without air conditioning! I’m a  modern girl, a whimp, a lightweight! I admit it! I don’t have a tough bone in this calcium deficient, decrepit, old bod.

It got me to thinking: Who invented air conditioning?

So I Googled it and this is what I learned.

In 1902, only one year after graduating from Cornell University with an Engineering degree, a young Willis Haviland Carrier was challenged by a Brooklyn printing company to solve their temperature and humidity problems. Carrier carried us into a new era with the invention of the first reliable and stable air conditioning unit that addressed humidity control.


(Employed by the Buffalo Forge Co. for a starting salary of $10.00 PER WEEK.)


Other temperature-sensitive industries, like tobacco, breweries, bakeries, and food processing plants, were quick to prosper from the new invention.

In 1924, the first “human cooling”, (rather than industrial cooling), units were installed in the J.L. Hudson Store in Detroit, Michigan.

And in 1928, Carrier developed the “Weathermaker”; the first residential air conditioner. Yay!

So today, it is with enormous gratitude that I dedicate this week’s blog to my new hero, Willis Haviland Carrier, who is soley responsible for my spoiled and luxurious 21st century survival.

I raise a glass to you, Willis; your insight and ingenuity have allowed me to live healthy, happy, comfortably, and . . .

Categories: Humor, Nature, Physical Health | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , | 38 Comments

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