Women Swimmin' at Cayuga Lake

On Saturday I participated in a fundraising event called Women Swimmin’ for our local Hospice Care Center. After my oldest son’s death I went to grief counseling at the Hospice Center. I wanted to give something back so I decided to sign up for Women Swimmin’ this year. So on August 8th, along with almost 300 other women, I swam the width of Cayuga Lake. We had to raise a minimum of $125 to participate in this event. It was a 1.2 mile swim – with lots of kayakers along for support.

The swimmers were divided up into two waves. Each wave was divided up into pods of about 15 women each. A huge two story boat took one wave at a time from the dock at the Ithaca Yacht Club over to the shore at Ivy Point – on the other side of the lake. Each pod took turns jumping from the boat into the lake. Kayakers were there waiting for us and escorted us the 1.2 miles back as we swam.

I loved being a part of this community event. I can’t find the right words to describe how it felt to be one of the women who participated in this swim. It was exhilarating, emotional, and empowering. I was in the second wave of women and as we boarded the boat we were cheered on by all those who came to watch us swim. My mom and step-dad were there – as well as my husband and my two youngest children. When the boat left the dock, all the women on board let out huge cheers of joy. It brought tears to my eyes. We passed the first wave as they were swimming back – and many of them stopped in the water to cheer us on. It was amazing seeing these women bobbing in the water and waving to us! When the boat reached Ivy Point all the women on board let out another cheer of joy! There were about a hundred kayakers in the water waiting for us and they enthusiastically returned our cheers!

I was pretty confident I could do the swim – but it was also comforting to know that I could rest at any point by hanging on to the end of one of the kayaks escorting us. When I first leapt into the water I couldn’t see when I surfaced . I couldn’t figure out what happened – did I loose my goggles and my contacts? I immediately panicked – how would I be able to see to swim back? It took me about a minute to realize that I still had my goggles on – but they were filled up with water. I emptied the water out and tried to start swimming but I was still panicky. I couldn’t relax – and my goggles kept filling up with water. My pod was pulling away from me and calling for me to catch up. I started thinking that this was the most foolish thing I’d ever attempted – I didn’t eat enough to keep me strong. I already felt weak. My arms were already tired from struggling. What was I going to do?

I know this sounds silly – but I was so panicky that it took me about five minutes before I realized that my goggles were too loose! It finally occurred to me that all I had to do was make my way over to a kayaker for help. One had already spotted me struggling – and was making his way over to me. He asked if I was alright - so I asked him if I could come over for help. He tightened my goggles up for me, introduced himself (Jeff), and said he would stay with me for the duration of the swim. He must have pegged me for a hysterical swimmer (which I was at that point).

By this time my pod had long left me behind. I was alone. I just put my face in the water and swam. Jeff stayed to my right. There was a strong current that, along with the wind, pulling me to the right – but with Jeff on my right I stayed on course. I quickly learned not to fight the rolling waves and let my body roll over them as I swam. Once I started to swim, I swam the whole way without stopping to rest. I felt strong and was never out of breath. I stopped only once when I passed a marker to ask Jeff if it was the half-way point – which he confirmed. When I passed the ¾ marker I knew I was about a quarter mile out so I picked up my pace. I can’t describe how it felt to be coming in close to the dock and seeing everyone there cheering.

This wasn’t a race – but I did time myself to see how long it would take me. From my leap into the water until I climbed up onto the dock it took me 1 hour and 4 minutes. Given that I probably lost 10 minutes to my initial difficulties, I estimate I did the 1.2 miles in 54 minutes.

Allow me to strut a minute. I swam the width of Cayuga Lake without stopping. Two years ago I was 49 and never thought this kind of feat was achievable. I am now 51 and I swam 1.2 miles across Cayuga Lake without stopping.

::chin up, shoulders back, struts to and fro:: Oh yeah – I’m bad.

~Swingset

Feeling Overwhelmed

It’s been a long while since I last posted. There are several reasons for this.

First, I’d been experiencing a feeling of overwhelming doom that started after my oldest son died that just kept getting worse. I’m learning that this is a common symptom of grief. I’m starting to feel better. It was gradual – where I’d have a day or two each week where I didn’t feel that way. The past month or so has been much better.

The other reason is because this semester has been an extremely busy one for me. I was asked to serve as Interim Chair of our department while our Chair was on sabbatical. In addition, I kept my normal course load because we needed the extra money. I’ve had very little time for anything extraneous.

I’ve turned the corner on my work load and am managing my grief better – so I’m ready to return to the things I love. Spending more time with my family, my artwork, and my new blog.

Tattoos, Tiger Stripes, Band-aids, and Little White Boots

I love tattoos. I have none. I want one. I am afraid.

My oldest daughter, E, recently got a tattoo to commemorate the life of her oldest brother.

My son was buried in a beautiful old cemetery surrounded by gates of wrought iron and walls made of a stone native to this area and quarried locally. There are paths throughout the cemetery that wind around small hills and gnarled trees. DJ is buried in a beautiful place underneath a Linden tree with a row of tall pines as a backdrop. On the day he was buried E took some of the leaves from the Linden tree to design her tattoo from. I love the design so much that I thought I’d post a picture of it here.

This isn’t E’s first tattoo. I’m not sure how many she has now – but I can recall two others. Her first tattoo is one of Tinkerbelle on her hip. She refers to it as her “I’m eighteen and I can do whatever I want now” tattoo. She asked a friend “What should I get for a tattoo?” and friend said “Oh! How about Tinkerbelle?” and so E said “OK.” The other tattoo that I recall is one she designed herself to represent me and her. This one is on the back of her neck. I love this daughter of mine fiercely.

My maternal great-great grandmother came to America when she was a young bride. She came from Scotland with her brothers, her husband, and her baby. Her brothers were carpenters and fine wood-workers. I have all of the hand planes and wood working tools they brought with them from Scotland.

The tools have the name MacRae stamped on each one – although sometimes the name is spelled McCrae.

Here is the MacRae Crest:

My brother, T, and my youngest sister, W, wanted everyone in our family to get a tattoo of the MacRae crest. My mom would never get one. My sister C (she who eats leaves) wouldn’t either. Although I’m game – as I mentioned earlier I’m also afraid. W went and got one first three years ago – she was 41. It was supposed to be a butt crack tattoo but the artist who did it was having so much fun with the design that it just unfolded across her back.

My brother T got one next. His is on the outside of one of his calves. It’s much simpler – more like the crest pictured first.

I want to get one. I really do. Once I bought E a Henna tattoo kit and she drew a spray of forget-me-nots (my favorite flower) across the top of my foot! I loved looking at it every single day – and loved that she did it. I was very sad when it faded away.

My youngest daughter, M, has also shown a strong interest in body art. Ever since she was old enough to hold a pen – and know what to do with it – she has drawn all over her body. She would sneak my red marker grading pens into bed with her at night. When I’d wake her in the morning she would be covered in red stripes. “I’m a tiger, Mama!” she would say. This was not a onetime occurrence. She routinely covered her arms, legs, tummy, neck, and even her cheeks, forehead and nose with red stripes. When she became a more sophisticated artist (as in able to draw circles too) she moved away from stripes (I was sad to see the tiger go) to all kinds of designs all over her body. Then there were the shoes. M started wearing her shoes on the opposite feet as soon as she was old enough to put them on herself. So from the time she was a wee tot until she was about 5 she wore her shoes this way. I figured, since she was so persistent about this, she must know something I don’t. I let her do it. What really amused me about this was the number of people who would say to me “do you realize that she is wearing her shoes on the opposite feet?”

Day Care, however, never even batted an eye at M’s antics. They were used to this stuff from my kids by now. Her brother (my youngest son), A, had already prepped the Day Care center well. Only his body art took the form of multi-media. His favorite media was band-aids. It started one morning when he was 3 and he told me he had a stomach ache as we were leaving for Day Care. In trying to deduce whether the complaint was real or not I asked him if a band-aid would make it better. He said “yes Mama, I think it would,” so we put a blue band-aid on his stomach. Over the next few weeks this grew into needing several band-aids on his stomach to one day showing up at Day Care with a band-aid on his forehead, one on each cheek, and one on his chin. He needed band-aids for about 6 months. I figured if it gave him comfort and got us all out the door in the morning then it was worth it. He also developed a love for thin knitted gloves. He would wear them to Day Care every day. Some days he really liked to mix it up – he would wear two different gloves. Then we went through a whole year of various costumes. I did have to draw the line at wearing the underpants on the outside of his pants though. So I made a deal with him. He could do this as long as he only did it at home.

It will be interesting to see how each of my two youngest children’s early form of body art will be expressed when they are adults. Even though E has tattoos as an adult, she didn’t draw all over herself as a child. When she was small she would become very attached to things she wore. She loved to wear the same ::fill in the blank:: every single day. Her first article of obsession was her little white snow boots. Every single day the winter she was two she wore her white snow boots. When the summer came she started wearing her tiger bathing suit – and the little white snow boots. Every single day she put on her tiger bathing suit. Every single day I let her. When the bathing suit became too small for her she slept with it.

I was also very much like this as a child. When I was in sixth grade I took a shirt of my mother’s – a faded blue cotton oxford shirt that was very soft from many washings – and paired it with a dark blue jumper. I wore this outfit every day for weeks. When I was finally made aware of this fashion faux pas by my peers I cut back to wearing it every other day. Then I started wearing the shirt to bed every night. Another time it was a pair of black leotards. I wore them every day and slept in them every night. I actually don’t remember when I stopped wearing them – I think my mother must have stripped them off me some night while I was sleeping and burned them. To this day I wear something until I wear it out. I use the same purse until it falls apart. I wear clothes, coats, etc. until they are thread bare. Not because I’m frugal or anything. Just because when I get something I love – it just makes me happy to wear it. I will buy the same style of shoe again when the first wears out simply because I love it so much. I do not get tired of things I love.

The permanence of tattoos does not bother me. When I finally build up the courage to get one, I will get three. A Linden leaf like E’s, a spray of forget-me-nots, and the MacRae crest. Maybe I’ll even throw in a band-aid and a couple of tiger stripes.

My First Posting

Why did I start this blog? My oldest son passed away on August 6th at the age of 31. He loved life more than anyone I have known. I wrote a eulogy for him and in it I spoke of what I believed his legacy to be. I've been thinking about what it means to leave a legacy ever since - and I realized I wanted to start blogging about my own life. I want to write about my past, my present hopes and dreams, and my future aspirations so that my other three children will know me as an individual and hopefully have a better understanding of who they are. This is my legacy to them.

~Swingset