Category: The Fairytale

letting go

Letting Go

Mikki Eveloff Leave a comment

If you let go a little, you will have a little peace. If you let go a lot, you will have a lot of peace.” ~Ajahn Chah

holding onI was reminded the other day of all the times in my life when I couldn’t let go. I was such a control freak. I thought if I controlled myself, my family, my life, situations, that things would turn out the way I planned. I thought control meant perfection. If I let go, all hell would break loose. If I let go, my life would be chaotic. If I let go, my world be disordered. I was never one of those cool moms who let their kids pick out their clothes. Or do their own hair. Clothes had to match. Hair had to be brushed. Styled. Neat. Shoes had to be clean. We had a toy room. They played. And then the toys were cleaned up. There was order. Beds were made. Dishes were always cleaned and put away. I did laundry. Every day. Clothes every day. Towels one day. Sheets another. Order.

letting go 3I wasn’t always that way. At least not as “ordered” and controlled. My room had clothes in total disarray. My closet was a MESS. My drawers were a disaster. I grew up with “neatness” so I think I rebelled for a while. And then the Gregger brought it back full circle. He was a “neatnik.” He loved order. He loved clean. So I learned to love it too. We lived by such routine. Up by the alarm. Morning workout. Breakfast with the kids (when they were school age). Drove them to school. Gregger headed to work and I headed home. Workout. Grocery. Clean. Pick up kids. Drove from school to activities and home again. Family dinner. Every night! Most important part of our routine. Thank goodness we NEVER gave this up. It was time to talk. Time to share. Time to fight. Time to laugh. Time to build memories. We waited for Gregger because this was OUR time. The MOST important FAMILY time. After dinner, the kids scattered for homework, social time, TV time, or bed. Gregger and I cleaned. We couldn’t leave a messy kitchen. It was a sign of disorder. Chaos. Lack of control. So we cleaned. And THEN we spent time with the kids. That was backward. They were doing homework, watching TV, getting ready for bed. What were we thinking? If we died tomorrow would anyone remember if we had a clean kitchen? If our kids had matching outfits or groomed hair? Would our kids remember a clean house or the time we spent with them? We needed to LET GO of what was NOT important and focus on what was.

I am not sure WHEN we had our “wake up” call. I’m not sure WHAT caused it or WHY. I just know something changed. I realized I could close doors and what I didn’t see didn’t matter. The equation was simple. More letting go = more peace, more happy household.  My big job was working on the Gregger. I was uptight, but he was wound tighter. I understood. He had a ton of responsibility. A business. A family. Sending his kids to private schools. Paying for activities. College in the future. Weighed on his soul. But slowly those coils unwound. They were little things. He left dishes in the sink. He came home at night, threw his briefcase on the counter and scattered papers across the kitchen counter. My nerves got edgy. I took deep breaths. I reeled it in. Not important. Let it go. Enjoy the moment. Talk. Be together. The mess didn’t matter.  

life is not perfectAs my kids grew, letting go became a daily lesson. I had to let go as my major role as mom. It was the hardest but most empowering choice I’ve made. Allow them to choose their paths. Allow them to choose their friends, their mates. Allow them to live their lives. As much as I wanted them to remain a HUGE part of ours, they had to go off on their journeys. This was hard. But letting go allowed them to grow. I wanted them to come home when they chose. I wanted them to be with us/me because it was their choice. Not an obligation. So I “let go” every day with the hope that my kids would always WANT to come home again. With the hope that home would always feel like a place of comfort and LOVE. I believe that letting go has given them that freedom. At least I hope so.  

I pushed for Gregger to “let go” when we were in Hawaii. He was struggling. He was being pulled in so many directions. Pressured to get work done. Wanting to be with his family. He knew where his heart was, but time constraints made his choice difficult. So we came second. Kind of. We were so “FIRST” that he worked that hard. If he had that choice to make again, I believe he would make a different one. He would say, “screw it.” This is my time. Family time. Precious time. Time we don’t get back. Ever. I deserve this. But he didn’t. I saw the stress in his eyes. I felt the struggle in his heart. If only he could have just “let go.” So our time was cut short. I felt cheated. Cheated for the years we wasted on inane things. Cheated for the years we will never have together. But I will let that go too. I cannot control what happened. I cannot change the past. I can be present, grateful, and appreciate the gifts that life has given me. And in that journey I will find peace.

As I finished writing this piece, I received my horoscope for the day. Life is just too strange: “Don’t stress yourself out trying to control things you can’t control. If you can’t control them (and you know what ‘them’ are), you can’t control them. So take a step back and then take a deep breath and then let go. You’ve done everything you can do (and you know it), so just enjoy the free time, if you can (and you can). Why do you always have to be doing something, anyhow? Some days it’s okay to just be.”

So for today, I will just BE.

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Happy Fourth of July

Happy Fourth!

Mikki Eveloff Leave a comment

fourth 4Fourth of July. A time for traditions, picnics, parades, parties, fireworks, and flags. It sounds so unAmerican, but Gregger and I weren’t all rah-rah when it came to the fourth.  I’ve HATED fireworks ever since I was a kid. My family would pack up the car geared up for a night of beauty in the skies. While they blanketed beneath the stars, I was hiding in the car cowering with my ears covered. I would peek to see some of the pretty colors, but the NOISE…OUCH! I don’t think Gregger was a fan either. Fireworks were meant to be seen from far, far away! We rallied our American spirit for the kids and experienced the elaborate displays of color exploding in the sky for a few years. Then we made excuses. Parties at the house. Too late. Too much traffic. Watch in the backyard. Whatever. We just didn’t want to go anymore. The kids got busy. Tennis tournaments, travel, life. It became another day off for the Gregger. The store was closed. YEAH! He was 100% disconnected. We loved it. I loved it the most.

We had some really fun fourths. Maui. Fireworks over the Pacific. Aspen. A high-spirited fourth celebration with local residents and visitors from dawn til dark. A goofy parade, U.S. Airforce jet flyby, concerts, a kid’s bicycle rodeo, and a breathtaking fireworks display over Aspen Mountain capped off a magnificent day. We’d hang on the streets with coffee in hand and soak up the American spirit. It was contagious, joyous, and just plain old fun.  fireworks

As the kids moved away from home, it became our day. A day to sleep in a little bit later. For Gregger, that meant 6 am if we were lucky. He’d have a boatload of chores he “thought” he had to get done before the world was awake. Why should he sleep when things could get done? So even on holidays he was up and running with his routine. Drove me nuts! But I wasn’t going to change him. I finally just accepted. Let it be. This was not a battle worth fighting anymore. He was always going to win. Sometimes we’d just hang. Do nothing. Sit and drink coffee. Check emails. Facebook. Go to Starbucks. Sit and talk. Go for a walk. Too hot to walk? We’d hang at home and just be together. Happy. So rare. But so much fun. I’d give anything for one more of those “nothing” days.

fourthThe Fourth is a day of independence, celebrating the history, government and traditions of our great country. I believe this year has a greater significance with the victory that the Constitution guarantees a right to same-sex marriage. While I was unable to attend one of the weddings last year, Gregger was proud to be part of two very special marriages. These four people played a very significant role in both of our lives and still do today. I know Gregger and I share in our joy that this liberty can no longer be denied. As this decision impacts friends and family, there is no greater time than Independence Day to say, “Woo-hoo!”

 I will look to the skies this year. I will see stars. I may see fireworks. But most of all I will see Gregger. I can feel him embracing me with his love, warmth, and compassionate spirit. Happy Fourth of July!

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Memories are worth a thousand words

A Picture’s Worth a Thousand Words

Mikki Eveloff Leave a comment

me and greg (1)Some people collect expensive antiques or art; others collect stamps, coins, trading cards, or other miscellaneous items. I started collecting when my kids were born. I believe I was protesting my mom’s disregard for our “valuables.” She loved to clean out, get rid of the old. Her rule of thumb, “If you haven’t used it in a year, get rid of it!” Well, I hoarded quite a few collections in the growing years. The boys began with He-Man. At one time Castle Grayskull took over my family room invaded with the likes of Skeletor, Keldor, Prince Adam and their comrades. With two boys eighteen months apart, I couldn’t just buy one of everything. I had to buy in multiples. Then it was transformers, a variety of mini vehicles that “transformed” into robotic figures. The trends swooped in like a raging storm and as soon as the collection was filling itself, it was dead, kaput, washed up. So I was stockpiling a treasure trove of timeworn superheroes while the boys were moving on to bigger and better collections.

 transformers    “A camera is a SAVE button for the mind’s eye.”

Gregger got into the next game. Baseball cards. Now this was something he could wrap his head around. Of course it made sense to spend $$$ on signed cards that would be invaluable some day. Boxes and boxes of cards. Individual cards. Signed cards. Unsigned cards. Some framed for posterity, others stashed in notebooks or thrown haphazardly in boxes. This progressed into balls, jerseys, and other sports memorabilia from all arenas until we were overflowing. Collections of wishes fulfilled, some for the young, some for the old.  baseball cards

beaniesI was crazed with collection fever when Ashley was born. From stuffed animals to Madam Alexander dolls, Barbies, Care Bears, My Little Ponies, Ferbies (still in the box) and the ultimate Beanie Babies. If truth be told, I think the collections were more for me than Ashley! A long lost yearning. I would hunt down those Beanies like they were gold, paying top dollar for far too many. Gregger loved to raz, “You’re going to sell those to pay for her college education, right?” I don’t think they would have covered the cost of books for a semester.  Now thousands of beanies are neatly packed away in bins (yes, that is multiple!), plastic bags, and other storage units waiting to be passed down to the next generation. So much for priceless collections! Collections of wishes fulfilled, some for the young, some for the old.

“Life is like pictures. You can look back on the moments. But you can never recapture them.”

So while I was busy collecting useless toys, Gregger loved collecting boxes, wires and remotes. Lots of them. The guy couldn’t throw a box away. If it came in a box, he saved it. If it came with wires or remote, he stashed it for “just in case moments.” But when technology moves on, those “things” becomes extinct. Not in our house!  We have more empty boxes than junk! Boxes for computers, printers, phones, tvs and other electronics that are long gone. Half of the stores are out of business. We have wires with plugs that don’t go to ANYTHING and remotes that are ancient beyond recognition. So I gathered my courage, piled everything in a big garbage bag, said a silent prayer, and tossed it! Good riddance to good rubbish! This was one collection I could live without. Sorry Gregger!

pictures 4 (1)While my collective obsessions became a little more refined over the years, my collection of MEMORIES is the one I cherish most. While I attribute my brown hair, blue eyes, and shorter than desired height to my ancestors, I believe I inherited the “picture” gene from my mother. Never heard of it? It’s the uncontrollable urge to carry a camera everywhere. It’s never missing an occasion, a moment. It’s capturing EVERYTHING on film, disc, or video. It’s having those you’re photographing give you “the finger,” turn their backs, or walk away because they are so sick of your constant snapping. But it’s a collection of LIFETIME MOMENTS, MEMORIES that can never be relived again, except through photographs. Pictures not only capture experiences, but moods. They seize a sparkling smile or sullen scowl. They are pieces of a life puzzle, jigsawed together in captured moments. Photographs are everlasting. The edges may fray, curl and yellow, but the image is embedded for memories sake. Timeless. Priceless. Memories. Etched in our hearts. Etched in our minds.

“I was looking at the photographs and I started thinking that there was a time when these weren’t memories.”

I am so grateful for the gift of the “picture gene.” Especially today, especially in these moments. Photographs and memories are my lifeline to Gregger. Without them, memories could fade. With them, memories are ALIVE, colorful and bright. A picture is worth far more than a thousand words. It’s worth everything we shared together. Magic moments captured in time. Magic moments hung on walls, pasted in books, and embedded in clouds. These are the collections I will treasure forever. Priceless.

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The Wonder of Our Hair!

Mikki Eveloff Leave a comment

Scan 93Scan 2Growing up in the 60’s and 70’s, we were all about the hair. “Let it fly in the breeze and get caught in the trees. Give a home to the fleas, in our hair. A hive for the buzzing bees, a nest for birds, there ain’t no words. For the beauty, splendor, the wonder of our hair.” As our life changed, so did our hair. It created its own fairytale!

1974: Era of streakers, chokers, and Watergate. Gregger’s hair, best described as the brillo bushy-style, comb-over to the left, sideburns covered with wiry hair. Lip covered matching stache was classy! I wasn’t any better. I had a matching helmet head. Same comb-over to the left, hair covering my ears, and FROSTED! Not blond, not brown, but frosted with a touch of silver.

Scan 61976: Year of the tunic, Fonz jacket, Rocky and we got married! My hair had grown out into  a flippy-do style without much body. It was a mousy brown with a touch of blonde-streaked in. Gregger still had his bush helmet and stache. But I thought he was the best looking guy on the planet. And that green velvet tux with the frilly shirt was the ultimate! Not to mention my wedding dress!

Scan 38 (1)1979: Village People, jumpsuits, walkman, and ADAM was born!  Christmas morning Gregger decided it was time for the stache to go. I LOVED it! I didn’t know him stache-free. He was a whole new kind of handsome! His hair was thinning, much to his despair, and his forehead was growing wider with age. But he had the answer – BIGGER glasses!

1980’s: Fanny packs, Air Jordans, Nintendo, and the ultimate HAIR decade! More changes than I could count. From brown to blonde and back again. Straight to curly. As I was changing, Gregger was losing it and trying desperately to hold on. In all honesty, it was time for it to go! It was best described as the “fringe.” But he used his Pert shampoo and dried it daily with his old-fashioned brush dryer. I’d stand idly by wondering when the day would come that he would just give it all up! In the meantime, I was going through my own hair crisis. Holy crap! I had the super high bangs, glued with a can of spray; the curly perm that Adam called my “Lion Head;” and the Scan 10busby head. You name it, I had it! Scan 7

1990’s: Platform shoes, fanny packs, and “The Rachel.” Bring it on! I decided as Gregger was losing it I should start cutting. From back to shoulders to ears and total buzz – what the hell was I thinking? At one point I think Gregger’s hair was LONGER than mine! And I kept it that way for over 15 years! Gregger was either a great guy to let me do what I wanted or a schmuck for letting me walk around looking like crap! I thought I looked great, so I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt on that one! Needless to say, he was thrilled when I started to let my locks grow again! Scan 33

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 2000’s:  Juicy Couture, rhinestones, and Uggs. This was a real time of change. It was the beginning of a new millennium. The internet, digital technology, texting, smartphones, and social networking were on the rise while the length of my hair was growing. Gregger’s was gradually disappearing. Literally. We finally convinced him it was time to buzz. No more Pert. No more hair dryers. Buzz. Simple. Maintenance free. And he loved it. So after all those painstaking years of trying to save the last remnants of hair on his head, he was finally free. And he looked AMAZING! His eyes twinkled. His smile shone brighter than before. And who the hell cared anyway? It was simply hair. It was the super guy inside that I loved. It was his heart. His soul. His compassion. His kindness. Lucky me. Bald was truly BEAUTIFUL!!!!

me and greg

At Least We Had Paris

At Least We Had Paris

Mikki Eveloff Leave a comment

DSC_0321I am so sad. I just read that Paris is not only banishing the tradition of “Love Locks” on the famed Pont des Arts, but removing the ones already blanketing the bridge. Gregger and I left our mark there September 2013. We promised to go back one day. We marked the spot. We took pictures. We knew just where our love lock, inscribed with our initials, remained, bearing our eternal love for one another.  DSC_0322

Apparently the locks have become a safety hazard. City hall workers will begin removing the locks to prevent the bridge from caving. I get that. But it’s like another piece of our hearts is being tossed away. Paris was our last “alone” trip together. We dreamed about that trip for so long. It was a HUGE deal for Gregger to take time off in the fall. New, exciting merchandise. Clients back in town after a long, hot summer. Push time. We vacationed in July or August when it was quiet. Gregger never wanted to miss anything or anybody. After 40 years together, I got it. So this was something special. Not just Paris, but Gregger in September!

Two weeks before our grand trip, I blew out my back. BAD! I couldn’t walk. There was no way in hell I was canceling this trip. Gregger thought we should postpone, but I was not giving up this opportunity. I chose to get poked, prodded and numbed with an epidural. It wasn’t perfect, but I was ready to rock and roll. I endured a thirteen-hour plane ride. I passed the first test. And then we were off and running. Using Fodor’s guide to Paris, we mapped out our daily plan. With only four days to cover this magnificent city, we had to be efficient.  And efficient we were. From the moment we landed, we trekked our way through the city, savoring every awesome sight. It was an amazing trip jam-packed with so many incredible memories. Paris was everything we dreamed it would be and more. We not only soaked up every ounce of history and culture, but treasured the romantic ambiance. It was exhilarating, breathtaking, and awe-inspiring!

DSC_0493We were staying smack in the middle of the Champs-Elysees, a few paces from the Arc de Triomphe. Stepping onto our balcony we could circle around to have a birds-eye view of the Eiffel Tower and Sacred Heart Basilica of Montmartre in one swoop. Gregger enjoyed the chill morning air with his Starbucks in hand (yes, Starbucks!) as I readied for the day. Paris was good for him. He chilled. It was good for us. We were grateful. Grateful for each other. Grateful for time. We traipsed our way from Place de la Concorde to Notre Dame Cathedral, crossing the Pont Saint-Louis bridge to sip wine on the sublime streets of Ile Saint-Louis. We got up close and personal with Mona Lisa, Venus de Milo, and masterpieces by the likes of Monet, Van Gogh, Degas, and Gaugin. Magical. Dreamy. Unreal. We climbed to the top of the Eiffel Tower, the Arc de Triomphe. Gregger tried to stop me. He didn’t think my back could take it. Nothing could stop me. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity. Let’s go. So go we did. We took a sunset cruise on the Seine. Magnificent. Breathtaking. The city of lights. We hunted the Marais for hours, searching for the ultimate falafel at L’As Du Fallafel. Our feet were numb and blistered, but Gregger got his falafel – belly full, happy man. Museums, gardens, palaces, and more – endless moments marking memories for a lifetime.DSC_0354

DSC_0352Every afternoon at 3 we stopped at an outdoor cafe. Our time. Quiet time. Gregger indulged in French onion soup, a beer. I delighted in berries, some French wine. One afternoon we struck up a conversation with our neighboring table. We exchanged pleasantries. Where are you from? What do you do? It turned out their brother-in-law lived a few streets away from us in Scottsdale and their nephew went to the same high school as Ashley! Of course, Gregger knew where they lived, people who lived by them, yada, yada, yada. The conversation was crazy. They were coming to Scottsdale. They would stop in the store and shop. And here we were on the streets of Paris. Crazy! But so much fun. Life. All part of the journey.

So Paris was full of beautiful memories. Our last special trip together. Before Hawaii. Our lock is still there, along with nearly one million others. I believe our solid love will ALWAYS be there. That can never be taken away. So while it’s sad the locks are coming down, “LOVE is everlasting; infinite. It has no boundaries and no barriers. Love, is just like the universe, forever.”  DSC_0451

Why He Loved His Lucy

Why He Loved His Lucy

Mikki Eveloff Leave a comment

lucyFor years, Gregger called me his “Lucy.”  While I was no blazing redhead, I certainly matched her wacky naiveté. I don’t think I always had my head in the clouds. I want to believe I had a pretty good head on my shoulders. As a first born I was organized to a fault, obsessively disciplined, and crazy cautious. I was focused, determined, had my eye on the ball. I was in control and fairly self-controlled (although my kids might beg to differ on that one!). I think all hell broke loose when my three kids entered three different schools with multiple activities. Maybe juggling all those school, sports, dance, and social events juggled a few of my brain cells. I’m not sure. But somewhere in those years I got a little loopy.

Around the same time frame, I developed a severe “I Love Lucy” obsession. I’m not sure why or where, but I LOVED LUCY! I watched every rerun, over and over. I’d wake up early in the morning or stay up late at night to catch my favorite episodes on Nick at Nite or Hallmark. I collected every piece of memorabilia from cookie jars, dolls, coffee mugs, and lamps to coasters, magnets, and one of the ugliest purses you’ve ever seen! Holidays were great for my kids. Get mom something with LUCY! So my collection grew until I had no room left for LUCY in my life. Now Lucy is neatly tucked away under bathroom cabinets, in hallway closets, and, as unfortunate as it sounds, buried in the garage. I still love LUCY, but my obsession is a bit more grounded. As much as I hate to admit it, I still watch reruns every morning at 5:00 am. She makes me smile. She makes me laugh. She reminds me of the lighter side of life. And she reminds me of the great love between husband, wife, and friends.

I was Gregger’s kooky sidekick. His Lucy. He responded to my quirky behavior with an emphatic “L-U-C-Y! You got some ‘splainin’ to do!” And most of the time I did. It was his way of diverting anger. I could deal with that. And most of the time I had some “splainin” to do. lucy 3

  • Before the days of debit cards, I wrote checks everywhere. We didn’t adopt the “card” for a long time. Gregger was a cash and carry kind of guy. He forgot to give me cash one day, so I carried the checkbook with me, wrote a check for the groceries and came home. Later that night he was preparing to pay bills and asked for the checkbook. I knew I had used it at the grocery store that day. I remembered carrying it home. I thought it was in my purse. Nope. I looked in the car. Nope. I searched every grocery bag. I went so far as to dig through the trash. UGH! I knew I had that damn checkbook! So while I was searching and searching, Gregger was screaming…L-U-C-Y!!!! You’ve got some ‘splainin’ to do!!! And I certainly did! He was not a happy camper. I decided to start dinner and recommence my search after filling everyone’s stomachs. As I went to the outside freezer to grab something, sitting on the shelf was my CHECKBOOK! I ran into the house, checkbook in hand, screaming, “I told you so.” Why not put the checkbook in the freezer? Isn’t that where everyone keeps it? Well, I didn’t really know how to “splain” that one, but at least it was resolved.
  • The next time I experienced a “Lucy” I was alone. It was a beautiful day in Scottsdale. I was driving with my top down, sunglasses on, hair flying in the wind, headed out for some basic errands. First stop – the bank. It was a quick run-in so I popped out of my car, did what I had to do, and was back in a flash. Checking for lipstick on the teeth or something else amiss, I pulled down my visor mirror. I was horrified to see that I had walked into the bank with my sunglasses on (that’s not a  problem), with ONE LENS IN and ONE LENS completely MISSING!!! I had no idea I was walking around like that! Really? How could I not know! I took a selfie, sent it to Gregger and gave him a good laugh for the day!
  • I must have a problem with sunglasses because my major LUCY occurred at Starbucks one afternoon. I was having coffee with a dear friend and excused myself to use the bathroom. I hooked my sunglasses onto my shirt, went inside, “did” what I needed to do, and came back outside. I was horrified to discover my sunglasses were gone! Did I leave them on the table? Did they drop in the bathroom? These were brand new sunglasses and NOT the kind that I needed to lose! I ran back to the bathroom. I searched around the toilet, in the toilet, under the toilet, in the trash, everywhere. The sunglasses were gone, gone, gone! I went to the counter. I thought for sure someone had turned them in. No. I went back outside. I searched the ground. I was literally shaking. I asked the girl who had used the bathroom right after me if she had seen any glasses. She looked at me like I was nuts! I thought maybe she took them! I was angry. What the heck? Sunglasses don’t just disappear! I called Gregger. I told him I thought someone took my glasses. I was really reaching at that point. What should I do? Breathe. Calm down. They are just glasses. About 10 minutes later, I walked back inside to check with the manager again. I walked back to the restroom to do a once over. The bathroom was closed. Something was wrong. It was backed up. The manager was in there working on it. And guess what he found? MY SUNGLASSES! DOWN the toilet! They had fallen off my shirt, into the toilet. I had FLUSHED them! OMG! Embarrassing to the max! The ultimate of LUCYS!!! I certainly had some “splainin” to do! I think Gregger was rolling on the floor with laughter when I called him. His L–U–C–Y could have been heard across the country and rightly so! It took me a while to show my face at that Starbucks again. I’m sure they had a good laugh themselves! L-U-C-Y topped herself on that one!
  • About a week or so after Gregger died and we were settling back at home (well, as much as we could), I was pulling out of the garage. I hate parking in the smaller third car parking space but for one reason or another I had been moved into that space. Fully equipped with backup camera, beepers, lights, and everything that could prevent me from running into any walls or people, I slowly backed up. Swerving to the left I heard an unbearable CRUNCH, CRACKLE, CRUNCH and I literally screamed at the top of my lungs! This could not be happening. I had somehow jammed the front into the side of the garage so perfectly as to pull it completely to the ground! I dropped to my knees in tears. I was screaming to Gregger. Why? How could I be so stupid? I had pulled out of here for 20 years and never done anything so stupid. And then I heard his voice. “L-U-C-Y…you’ve got some ‘splainin’ to do!” I actually started laughing. I realized it was just a car. It could be fixed. I would get it back. It was so unimportant in the scheme of things. Let it go. And it was easy to ‘splain.’ I was distracted. I was thinking about Gregger. I had my head in the clouds. I was missing him. He would tell me it’s ok. So I had to let it go and let it be ok.

I loved being Gregger’s Lucy. If I was a little wacky, I’d rather be wacky with him. He got me. And I’m sure he’s up there saying, “Lucy…you’ve got some ‘splainin’ to do!”

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new-york-city

NYC…The City That Never Sleeps!

Mikki Eveloff Leave a comment

FullSizeRenderMay 30th, 2014.

NYC with the Gregger. He was on business as usual, I was on fun. But we always made time in the middle for “together time.” That was the best time. People always asked me, “Did you see this show, that show? Did you go to this museum? Restaurant?” Sometimes. But most of the time we were happy walking hand in hand down Fifth Avenue, through Central Park, or just around the city doing nothing. We’d stop for coffee, a glass of wine. We had our favorite eating hangouts. They were timeless. We were creatures of habit. Some would say we wasted our opportunities in a city like NYC, but we believed we used every opportunity we had to spend time just being. Gregger loved New York. If he had his druthers, he would have moved there. Gregger loved the hustle-bustle city life. Four days and I was cooked!

NYC 3Our first trip to NYC was magical in a unique way. I was preggers with Ashley. I was about five months along, but I was huge. My feet were swollen and busting out of my shoes. But I was determined to do New York right. Gregger did NOT believe in cabs. It was walk, walk everywhere! As much as I love to walk, my belly, butt, and feet were a bit weary after treading the streets of Manhatten. From Central Park, Radio City, Rockefeller Center to the Empire State Building, Wall Street to the World Trade Center (still standing back in 1985), Times Square, Broadway, and Soho we covered as much ground as my preggo body could tolerate. We ate our way through the city. Why not? I was eating for two! Gregger even convinced me to take a subway once and only once! I was terrified and rightly so. Heading to Soho and Greenwich we descended into the Subway. I clutched his arm, digging my nails in with fear. We boarded and the fear was overwhelming. Suddenly some bedraggled guy saunters  through and yells out, “I am not here to hurt anyone. I am not armed. I am not here to harm you in any way. I just need money.” Awesome! He proceeded to rant, walk and beg as I clawed my nails deeper into Gregger’s arm. Get me to Greenwich! It was years before I ever boarded another Subway train!  It was just one of those things.  It was all part of the magical journey.

FullSizeRender_2Gregger surprised me with a carriage ride through Central Park. It was romantic. For the first 10 minutes. And then we looked at each other and were SO over it! The horse poop smell. The slow clip-clop of the horse’s hooves on the pavement. We hugged. We snuggled. And then we were so done. We were ready for food and whatever else the night was going to bring. Been there, done that, over it.

We had so many other great trips to the Big Apple. It became familiar. Home-like. I could navigate without Gregger, without fear. I even overcame my fear of the subway. I cruised that city like a true New Yorker, straight from Bloomies to Saks to Bergdorfs. I  nailed it! Gregger loved sharing the sites of the city he loved with the kids. We ventured out to Ellis Island (in pursuit of our ancestry), the Statute of Liberty, Little Italy, Canal Street, and Chinatown. What a magnificent day! Capturing the world in one big city! We walked from Columbus Circle to South Street Seaport and back. That is one long hike. But there was no other way to soak it all it in! That was Gregger’s way!

NYCLast June was our last trip to NYC together. We stayed at our choice hotel. We had reservations at our best-loved restaurants. We cheered at happy hour. We walked in Central Park. Gregger stole Saturday for Bloody Mary’s and our day in the city. An extraordinary trip and then it was time to head back to reality. Or so we thought. After four or five hours of sitting, waiting, and drinking, the plane was grounded with mechanical problems. While my theory is always “better safe than sorry,” Gregger was slightly annoyed. I figured why not make the most of another great night together. US Airways was putting us up for the night, paying for dinner and drinks. How could we lose? Well, we could. The hotel was dirty. The food was disgusting. And we just wanted to get home! But why focus on the negative? We were together and that was really all that mattered. All in all the trip was full of magic, moments, memories.

New York will never be the same for me. I went back last January. It was cold. Freezing. Sure, it was winter. But it was colder because Gregger wasn’t there. His smile, his laugh, his infectious aura. The retail industry had their own private memorial for Gregger. It was a first. They saved it for the BEST. I’ll go back someday. But for now I’ll cherish those memories like all the others. We were lucky. We had a full life. We really got to LIVE. It was shorter than we hoped for, but what a blessing!

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memorial day

Holiday Weekends for the Heroes

Mikki Eveloff Leave a comment

Memorial dayMemorial Day Weekend. Lost in the shadows of barbecues, beer, and brotherhood, Memorial Day commemorates those who have given their lives for our country.  The heroes. Flags flutter in the wind, flowers grace cemeteries, store sales abound, sporting events blast the tube and government stops. It’s a time for family, friends, and community. For the fashion conscious (which runs in this family), Memorial Day marks the official acceptance of “white wear.” White clothing, white shoes. Yes, even Gregger pulled out the white jeans and bucks! We savor these three-day weekends. We plan, we party, we poop out.

For Gregger and I these holidays were simply a “day off.” For many years he closed the store. He was a rebel. He believed people deserved the day off. If it was a holiday, close the store. Everyone needed rest. He defied the rules. Then the shopping center gods stepped in. Lease rules. No overstepping the boundaries. So he did it his way. Holiday hours. He sucked it up and did what he had to do. Memorial Day was one of those holidays he passed off. I got lucky. I had him for two whole days. It was strange at times. I wasn’t used to his being home for two days straight. Most people would find that odd. But for 40 years Gregger worked six days a week. He never took extra days off. Two days in a row. That was really something! We savored those moments. But that was in the later years.

Scan 102 (1)This holiday weekend I was thinking back to days gone by. Memorial Days when Gregger and I were in our prime and the kids were blossoming and athetically active. Watching the French Open today brought back a bevvy of memories and emotions. I missed so many holidays with Gregger. I was busy traveling with the kids. Nothing extravagant or flashy. We were staying in roadside motels, driving from state to state.  The boys were competitive tennis players. It was a crazy life. Tennis never had a season. A year round activity. Year round schlepping to practice. Year round juggling homework, practice, tournaments, and social life. Year round stress.  And the big tournaments were always over holidays. From Labor Day to Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Years, Easter to Memorial Day, they never ended. Our travel took us southwest, midwest, California. Gregger was stuck at home working his tail off to pay for all of the travel, coaches, equipment, and other paraphernalia. Each weekend Ashley lugged her backpack filled with coloring books and crayons.  Her faithful companion “Woof-Woof” tight in hand, Ashley sat silently on the sidelines. Meanwhile, I paced, gnawed my nails, clapped, and faked calmness as best I could (I completely failed!). If one or both of the boys made the finals, Gregger might hop a plane to surprise us. Or, if we were lucky enough for a Tucson destination, he would make it down for a match or two. It was a crazy life. But certainly a life none of us would change. Or maybe we would. The vote is out on that one.  ryan tennis

JFKI spent this weekend with new friends (stepped way out of my box – thanks Marcia and Geoff!), my son (who was sweet enough to drive over from AZ), and alone (learning to cope). I would much rather be chumming with my “buddy,” but he’s not here. I hope he’s enjoying his day off. He looked so forward to two days in a row. He lingered a little bit longer with his coffee. He scrolled slowly through his facebook page (but wouldn’t admit it!). He got a bit of “scruff” after not shaving for two days. He even settled back with a beer or two (maybe even a Jameson) to catch up on some TV. They were fun times. Good times. Memorable times. With the kids. When the kids were grown. So on this Memorial Day, I honor the heroes who died fighting for our country. But I honor my lost hero too. I miss you.

Mother's Day - A True Love Fairytale

Mother’s Day

Mikki Eveloff Leave a comment

pregnantWhen I was younger people used to ask me what I wanted to be when I grew up. My answer? I wanted to be a mom. So unconventional for my time. It was the time of burning bras, Equal Rights, Gloria Steinam. It was a time when women were moving from the kitchen to the boardroom, Billy Jean King was killing it on the court, and being a “mom” was not the coolest career in town. I didn’t care. I went to college. I taught special education, an incredibly rewarding job, but, I just wanted to be a MOM!

Getting there wasn’t so easy for me. I wasn’t one of those first timers who thought about getting pregnant and, BAM, it happened. Unfortunately I was slightly cursed with endometriosis and some other delightful pelvic disorders that cramped the pregnancy process. This was extremely disheartening for one who only strived to be a MOM. My life became a series of doctor’s visits, surgeries, and overall disappointment when this endometriosis thing decided to crush my plans of becoming a mom.

Gregger was my rock through the whole process. He schlepped to doctor’s visits, he sat by my bedside during interminable hospital stays, he hugged me when another month went by and no good news. It took a strain on both of us. The temperatures, the tricks, the prayers, whatever it took, but nothing worked. We went to an adoption agency. We put our name on the list and spoke with a social worker. At the same time, we talked about fertility drugs. We had to wait until I got my next period. We waited and waited and waited. Come on! I finally had a good plan. This might actually work. We went back to the doctor and asked if there was something he could do to bring on my period. He did some blood work to make sure everything else was okay. Great! What else could be wrong? Well…only the GREATEST THING EVER! I WAS PREGNANT! This was ludicrous! We had been to the adoption agency (we were on a list); we were waiting to do fertility treatments; and now I was REALLY pregnant!

“A mother’s heart is a patchwork of love.”

I think I was the happiest pregnant person walking the face of the earth. My belly popped (very little, but to me it was huge) within two weeks. Back then we wore those hideous polyester, stretchy pants with matching tunics, not the cute stuff of today. I didn’t care. I was loud and proud, belly, butt, and all.

“Mother’s hold their child’s hand for a moment and their heart for a lifetime.”

I was about 4 months pregnant for my first Mother’s Day. It wasn’t quite official yet, but official enough for me. That baby was in my belly and I was going to be a mom. We hadn’t started setting up the nursery (4 months seemed a bit premature) but Gregger surprised me with my dream mama’s gift…a cane rocking chair. Looking back it was really quite ugly, but I rocked all three of my kids in that chair. It moved with us five times and kept on rocking. I think a few of the canes broke here and there but we just cushioned the seat and a-rocking we did go. That chair saved me many a night when someone was crying, sick or hungry. I read countless fairytales, sang untold nursery rhymes, and rocked ’til my bottom was numb. But those were some of my most cherished moments. Where did the time go? It seems like just yesterday that I was rocking my #1 baby to sleep and now he has two babies of his own.  rocking chair

Mother’s Day will be different this year. My kids will make it special just because we will be together. Nothing fancy.  No brunches or dinners. Just time together. We’ve all learned the value of a moment. We will miss Gregger. But somehow he will be right there with us as he always was and always will be. Thanks to Gregger I was lucky enough to become a mom three times! And one blessed mom I am!

“Most of all the other beautiful things in life come by twos and threes, by dozens and hundreds. Plenty of roses, stars, sunsets, rainbows, brothers and sisters, aunts and cousins, comrades and friends but only one mother in the whole world.”

Happy Mother’s Day to All!

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On Bended Knee

On Bended Knee

Mikki Eveloff Leave a comment

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“A good life is a collection of happy moments.” Blessings, treasures in a memory bank…a place to go when I need a hug, a smile, or some sunshine on a rainy day.  I put on my wedding band today and was reminded of Gregger’s “first” proposal…so simple, so funny, so unromantic, yet one of the happiest moments in that treasure bank. After a whirlwind romance and a trip to Disneyland I think I pretty much hounded him enough until engagement was the only thing on our minds. We both had a year left at ASU, were completely unprepared for the real world at the ripe age of 20, but “the happiest place on earth” had given us a reason to think marriage was the next and best step (or at least I thought it was and went on to convince him). He came to St. Louis to meet my crazy family over Christmas. Now that could have been the biggest mistake of my life! As he entered the house he was inundated with “noise!” Kids everywhere…one spinning cartwheels, another throwing footballs, and my parents asking what the hell he did in Iowa! This poor guy didn’t know what hit him. I thought he was going to dart out the back door and I’d never see him again, but he sat there with that twinkling smile and took it all like the gentle soul he always was…kind, compassionate, full of heart. He cheered for the cartwheels, tossed the football, and answered the questions like a sport. After a few days we were off to Iowa…then it was my turn…UGH!

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I flew off to Council Bluffs, Iowa to meet the fam. I don’t think I had the confidence of Gregger. I was definitely more timid and shy. This was my first real “meet the parents.” What if they didn’t approve? While Gregger was a pretty self-assured, independent guy, the blessing of his parents was key. If Sammy and Nonie nixed this plan, I was a goner…I was sure of that. I really wasn’t sure of anything the first few days. I didn’t know if I was just there for a “run through,” a “meet and greet” or if this was going to be the real deal. I just knew I was in it for the long haul and I was praying I got a “thumbs up.”

imageLife long friends of the in-laws and Gregger’s, the Gallners, were throwing us a welcome party on Sunday night. This was extremely kind since we weren’t officially engaged. I was just the girl from St. Louis. Here comes the fun part…setting the scene. Standing in Gregger’s childhood room with cowboy wallpaper covering the walls, dressed in a rather ratty bathrobe and still prepping with no makeup and a head full of curlers, Gregger entered the room. I could clearly tell he had something on his mind. No flowers. No box. So this COULD NOT be the proposal. Not the romantic Gregger I knew. But…he tells me to sit down on the bed. I am in a bathrobe with curlers literally covering my head!!! He hesitates a second and says, “So we are going to this party at the Gallners tonight. Do you want to marry me?” Huh? In my dreams I had so many magical proposals. I imagined being in a beautiful setting with my love on bended knee, an open box with something glittery in front of me. I would hear these “gushy” words that I had been waiting to hear all of my life and I would melt inside, but, here was MY PRINCE in his bedroom proposing and suddenly NOTHING really mattered at all. I jumped into his arms, shouted “Yes” and then proceeded to ask in my inimitable way, “Are you sure? Are you sure? Is this for real?”

The Gregger proposed to me two more times in our forty years together, once on our 25th and again on our 35th. No fancy dinners or romantic settings – just me in my robe while prepping to go “somewhere.” This was OUR day…it never mattered what was going on in our lives, we took the time to spend this day together.  So all that really mattered was that my Prince Gregger was still standing before me proclaiming his love, vowing to stay together for a lifetime. It made me believe in real fairytales. I realized Prince Charming does not have to bring the glass slipper or even the diamond ring…all he has to do is love you unconditionally, curlers and all. Although we vowed to be together for 75 years, I was blessed with just short of 39 …treasures in my memory bank that fill my heart with love. image