The following is a post from my website Chrissy…In Her Sixties, which I am currently working on shutting down. The website you are now looking at, That Hobbit Lady, has been with me since November 2004 (nearly 20 years) and contains over 500 posts. In Her Sixties only goes back to 2017, with less than 40 posts. So, you see…in the interest of consolidating, I could either send 500+ posts from That Hobbit Lady to In Her Sixties, or 30+ posts from In Her Sixties to That Hobbit Lady. In addition to the math of that first option not making much sense, it also happens that the term “In Her Sixties” will only to apply to me for a few more years. But I will be a Hobbit Lady forever. So: no-brainer.
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January 3, 2018
On my previous website, I’d gotten into the habit of writing a tribute whenever someone significant in my life died. I guess it was a way for me to remember them, and also mark the end of an era.
My mother died last year on January 3rd, and even though on one level I felt I should write something about her, at the time, I simply couldn’t. As time went on, I felt more able and began to put together what I would want to say, but somehow the timing never seemed right. Now it’s been a year, and I’ve found my voice, and the time is right. So, I’ll say a few words.
And a few words is really all I have to say. But not because Mom didn’t mean anything to me! More because when you look at her life, and think about her place in the world, it’s so easy to realize that what needs to be said about her can be said very simply.
She was a good person.
She loved her family.
She has gone to Heaven to be with God and Jesus.
That’s really all you need to know. Mom never did anything “great” as far as the world is concerned. She didn’t write books, produce movies, or make great scientific achievements. She loved her family and raised her kids. To her, the very most important thing in all the world was Family. That was her life. She was happiest when her children or grandchildren came to visit, or when getting together with her sisters. For her, it was all about other people.
I don’t think she ever wished harm on anyone. One of her favorite sayings was “You can’t go wrong doing right.” She always looked for the best in every situation. Her worldview was not complicated, and it was rooted in a belief in God.
As time goes on in this new journal I will probably have opportunity to tell many stories of my childhood, many of them involving my mom. But right now I want to mention two things in particular:
One of my fondest memories of Mom was a night probably in 1973, when we first moved to Florida. I would have been a teenager, maybe 15 or 16. Somehow, Mom and I started talking one night, about all kinds of things that were important to us, things we believed, that defined who we were. It was the kind of conversation most commonly had between best friends. We stayed up very late that night, talking and talking. I don’t really remember a lot of the content, but I’m sure it was personal and spiritual. I think we did not go to bed until two or three in the morning. I’ll always remember thatas one of the times I felt closest to my Mom.
Another time, probably shortly after that, Mom and I had started going to a little Christian church and decided to be baptized. Our family was Catholic, so of course everyone had been baptized as babies, but as brand new born-again Christians, we both wanted to express our faith through adult baptism. The little church we were going to was really strong on adult baptism, but as I mentioned, it was small, and didn’t have the facilities for full-immersion baptism. So Mom and I had to travel to a “sister church” in the next town over and met our pastor there. We both got the full dunking baptism. It was just me, Mom, and the pastor. But that was enough. It was official. Nothing signifies a connection between two people as much as an act of agreement about your spiritual beliefs.
In everybody’s life there are good times and bad. Mom’s life included both. But my main impressions of her, the things I will always remember most of all, when all is said and done, is what I said here at the top: she was a good person, she loved her family, and she’s now in Heaven.
For me, Heaven has always been this place where God is, where Jesus is, but as my life goes on and I see more and more of the people I love dying in this world and going to the next, my concept of Heaven, of the afterlife, is expanding. That is where I shall once again see Mom and all the others who have gone ahead of me. (I don’t fear dying. In fact, I look forward to it! I just don’t want to do it too soon…) But nowadays I am starting to feel as if I’m living my life with one foot in this world, and one foot in the next. Heaven is not only where I finally get to meet Jesus face to face, but it’s also the place where I meet my loved ones again. Including Mom.
And what about snow? I love snow! Well…a little bit of snow. My understanding is that the national average is about 25 inches per year. Way too much for me! That much snow in any given year would surely quickly lose its appeal. As I’ve been trying to identify the perfect retirement location, I look for a place that generally enjoys between 1-6 inches of snow per year.
First, a bit of background: I’m an amateur musician, having learned to play the violin when I was ten, and I’ve also dabbled on guitar and piano, but with much less impressive results. But my interest in music does not spring from playing it so much as merely listening. If there were such a job as a Professional Music Listener, I would be immensely qualified, and first in line at the employment agency. Of course no such job exists, but one of the things I love about my desk job is that most of the time I’ve got Windows Media Player going, providing everything from Strauss waltzes to Steam Powered Giraffe. In fact, I’ve often said there are only two types of music I don’t like: Rap, and Country. But under the right circumstances, if a bit of either is combined with any other musical genre, I will make an exception.
I particularly recall Sugar, by “The Archies,” (not a real band, apparently, just a group of studio musicians providing voice talent for a cartoon), and Lay Lady Lay, by the great Bob Dylan. I ask you, could there be two songs any more different? But I loved them both. I suppose this is where my eclectic taste in music began to take form. And remember, at this time I’m also learning violin, so I’m slowly being introduced to Classical music. Also, my family owns an 8-track, and what I mostly remember about that are the show tunes, from the likes of Gypsy and Fiddler on the Roof. All in all, I had a pretty diverse musical education. I was like a baby learning a language, absorbing it all in absolute glee! Not to mention, I was actually in the Glee Club at school around this time, where we sang not only The Battle Hymn of the Republic, but also the theme from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. And of course, I can never forget all the fabulous boy bands: Beatles, Monkees, Cowsills. Music was not only good for the soul, it was also a doorway to Romance.
I won’t go into detail about how my musical tastes have evolved through the decades (that would be a very long story), but let’s fast-forward to the early 2000’s. I’m a big fan of the X-Files TV show, and some time after seeing the first movie, while in my local library, I find the soundtrack and bring it home. Blown away! So many good songs! In particular, I love the dark, sad sound of One More Murder by the strangely-named Better Than Ezra (“Hey, have you heard that new band, Ezra? Yea, but this band is BETTER Than Ezra!”) From there, somehow (I don’t remember exactly how), I begin to collect and listen to all the music of Better Than Ezra. I now have my first official experience of Discovering New Music, and BTE is now officially My Favorite New Band.
So how did I discover all these bands (and others I haven’t even listed here)? Sometimes by paying attention to movie or TV soundtracks, and sometimes quite by accident. But sometimes it’s not accidental at all. My kids know the kind of music I like, and some bands have come to me by way of their recommendation. I distinctly remember Joey leading me to Blue October, and Mary suggested Placebo. Mary and I also share an interest in steampunk, so I know for certain she told me about Abney Park. But I remember stumbling upon Steam Powered Giraffe on my own, and giving her a heads up about their unique sound and “schtick.” 
someone who is otherwise not really so interested in adventures. Maybe a month would be enough before I would be ready to “return to reality.” Maybe a year. Maybe longer?
garage and car theme, with all the oil cans and signs, and license plates. Also, the whole image has a sort of nostalgic 1950’s feel, doesn’t it?
