In Praise Of Those Pesky Dandelions In The Middle Of Our Manicured Lawns...and Other Thoughts On The Pursuit Of Pefection

Stop for a moment and take a look at this...

weed?

piece of perfection?

natural mystery?

perpetual propeller?

We pass it by every day.

Sometimes we are annoyed with the dandelion fluff as it teases us, even mocks us, as it stands so tall among the well-behaved blades of grass...daring you to try to remove it.

Good luck!

Just by the very action of plucking it, you spread its seeds...such a clever mode of transportation.

Maybe you could pick it and make a wish...transporting yourself to a more carefree chapter in time.

Or you can wish it didn't exist with its bold brand of yellow...wish it away...and there's always the option of raining down a little poison.  

Round Up Ready.

So much of our life is just like this...

trashing the miracle...

wishing it away...

trying to change it...

and pouring on the poison.

We poison ourselves with the pursuit of the perfect lawn, the perfect abs, the perfect wrinkle-free skin and see no joy in any of these gifts.

As I watch all of my neighbors kill their lawns because of our severe drought, I sure wouldn't mind a lawn or two with dandelions.

As I notice people with so many health problems, I'm pretty happy with my abs of imperfection.

As I slather on the sunscreen around my eyes, I can't help but feel those laugh lines as they get deeper and more pronounced...almost everyday I wonder what I've been laughing about.

Too many good memories.

So fun to imagine which joke, which comedy, which unexpected joy made those lines.

I must have been having one heck of a time along the way.

Perfection is a hollow pursuit.

We know this.

In our heart  of hearts we feel its truth.

Yet, still we let the illusion allow us to abort babies that we wanted but have suddenly been identified with an extra chromosome.

No longer satisfied with ordinary seeds we literally add toxins to the DNA of seeds to resist the pesticides and call them natural.  We praise genetic engineering while pouring on even more pesticides on our crops.

Not good enough.

We berate ourselves internally for our "muffin tops", our "wobbly thighs", our age spots, our gray hair...never cherishing the stories behind each of these changes.

We can't have our houses clean enough, our clothes pressed enough, our children well-behaved enough or our spouse sexy enough.

We are always asking for more.

Me included.

Which brings me back to the dandelion.

Thank God for them.

Thank God for mine.

I'm done with the poisonous lies.

Done with the fractions of truths.

Done with it.

Today, I was reintroduced to a piece of art that I learned about in 2006.

It's called "Sam and The Perfect World" by Peter Lentz.

In 2006, it won the National Portrait Gallery's Outwin Boochever Portrait Competition.

Here are Peter Lentz's words:

"My wife Rosemarie had just given birth to our son Sam, and although he appeared perfectly healthy, something, nevertheless, didn't seem right. There was an awkward silence in the room, no words of congratulation or comments about how cute he was even though he was cute. Five minutes later the diagnosis was given: Sam has Down Syndrome. "Are you going to keep him?" a nurse asked. Later that evening someone else came by to "console" us. "It's every mother's worst nightmare," she said.

Welcome to the world, Sam.

In America today, perfection is highly valued. We dump loads of chemicals on our lawns to try and get rid of every weed, every dandelion. Models and supermodels are tall, impossibly fit, their clothes stylish and wrinkle-free. Images like this tend to change our perceptions, our ideals, until finally they leave us looking around at the peeling paint on our own houses, and our less than fit bodies, and it leaves us wanting.

Perfection, I would submit, is overrated. And besides, I like dandelions.

In the painting Sam assumes the role of presenter, host, even tutor, of this most revealing examination of the civilization man has made for himself. Sam is not society's accepted definition of perfection. In spite of that, or perhaps because of that, he really does have an important message for everyone to hear."

Umm, I like dandelions too.

I'm blowing it off.

Making my wish.

Enjoying the bright, bold yellow in the thick of the green.

Perfection deserves some Round Up.

Not us...not a single one of us.

Your job today: accept and love the people in your life, 

most especially, yourself.

Eighties Ladies

"When grace is joined with wrinkles, it is adorable.  

There is an unspeakable dawn in happy old age."  -- Victor Hugo

Every September, we celebrate my mother-in-law's birthday.  Like Easter or Thanksgiving or Christmas, it's a required once a year family celebration...except that for the last few years it hasn't really happened with very much flair, if at all.  

Before that, when our kids were younger, we'd go down and make a week-end out of it...swimming and sunning and being leisurely with grandbabies.  We must have looked like a micro-version of the Kennedy's on Martha's Vineyard.  

But like all good traditions, kids got bigger and school and sports and the busy-ness of life happened and before we knew it, late September blended into early October and the celebrations got smaller and smaller.

That is, until this year.

This year, Suzie would be 80 and a party was necessary.

I was informed that we would be hosting it at our house...

the week-end before Mary Kate left for college...and the party would not just be the tiny little family affair of days gone by.

Nope, this one was going to be a PARTY with a capital P, 

well actually more like a real authentic Mexican Fiesta.

(Can you say: ai, yi,yi,yi??)

Formal invitations

White table cloths

Flowers

Mariachi Music

The Whole Shebang

Can you say: please, pretty please, no?

Can you say: don't wanna?

Can you say bad attitude?

That's me, over here.

It was bad timing.

It was a royal pain.

It filled me with dread.

And it was the exact opposite of how I wanted to spend my last week-end with Mary Kate,

but...

it was awesome.

There were gobs of Ladies in their Eighties.

Plenty of gents too.

They had their children give them rides.

Virtually all of them needed some sort of help walking.

But they were dressed up and they were ready to party.

They showed up on time, early even.

Quite a departure from the events I host where being a half hour late is the norm.

The party started at 3pm.

The entire group was here by 2:50!

I was dying.

I had to wear a Mexican dress...

grumbling about hell freezing over I did...

turns out those things are comfy. :)

Mary Kate and I rocking that fiesta look -- olé!

The guest of honor arrived by limo -- I told you this was big time.

And the friends of old arrived soon after.

They were polite.

They were delighted.

They were tickled.

It was awesome.

Watching them catch up on forty or fifty years of history was crazy.

Hearing tiny snippets of their life stories stopped me cold.

There was Faye who was married only three months before she had to say good-bye to her husband who went to India for the war for two years.

After he came home, they moved from San Francisco to Butte City (talk about polar opposites!)

and proceeded to keep house for not just her husband and herself but for his two brothers too.

For FOUR years!!

Yep, Faye played surrogate mom to two eligible bachelors for four years 

(can you imagine the reality show version?)

no complaining, 

no irritation,

she just did it...cause that's how it was done.

Of course, she did get her own sweet reward: 

she had a bit of an influence over who those brothers would marry.

Today, all three of the brothers have passed away.

But Faye came to the party with her sisters-in-law, Teresa and Maureen.

It was non-stop adorable.

There were couples there who were literal extensions of each other's limbs.

Together, they climbed the steps.

Together, they navigated the difficulties of the lawn turning into cement and chairs being too close together  and the dexterity required to maneuver to visit someone in the distance.

These guests were gracious, interesting, charming and fun.

They were touched to be invited.

They were the kind of people who still enjoyed life at 80 or 85 or 90.

I want to be rocking a Mexican dress at my 80th birthday too!

And it made me ashamed at how few parties in their honor we have.

I celebrate my children's birthdays in a big way.

But this was my first big party for the generation above me -- 

well, except for an anniversary party or two.

That's just not right.

These people deserve to be celebrated.

We need to honor them and cherish them and bring them out into the sunshine.

They need a big ole fiesta.

They have a lot to celebrate.

And a whole lot to teach us...

if only we would take the time to listen.

I'm grateful that the universe forced my hand.

I'm grateful to the children who drove.

Grateful to my darling sister-in-law and brother-in-law who came to help early and stayed late to clean up...and brought Mexican dresses and Gerbera daisies and delicious cupcakes.

Mostly, I'm grateful to the ladies in their eighties who showed me how to live.

It was awesome -- thank you!