Carol And Me

I am proud of my lovely, amazing wife.
I am proud of my lovely, amazing self.
Because we are trying.
We are trying to create a little space for ourselves, a little breathing room. Trying to taste a little independence, grab a little dignity.
On Saturday, while I was wasting my life at The Booze Emporium, Carol took an hour drive to a joint that sells cool stuff. You know, those kind of crafty places you see all around New England.
She brought a bunch of stuff that she crocheted in the hopes the owner would take them and try to sell them for her.
Which she did. The owner was impressed and quite confident Carol's stuff will sell. It felt so good to come home from my dead end job and see her enthusiasm, feel it, see her happiness and hope. That is the fuel we both run on.
Carol crochets exquisitely. She makes beautiful things. Everybody marvels at what she can do.
She crochets every, single night. Been doing it for over a hundred years. Or more.
It relaxes her, brings her peace and pride.
Her dream is to make a little money doing it. Maybe get to the point where she can quit her job and just crochet.
She participates in craft fairs, visits craft shops and sells a lot of stuff to friends, relatives and acquaintances. She tries and tries and tries.
She is FAMOUS for her crayon pillows. Makes them for kids. They look exactly like a crayon, a gigantic crayon, she'll make them in any color you want and put your kids name on them. Kids absolutely love them. She has made a couple million of them.
She has recently whipped up a couple of tablecloths that are exquisite and take more effort than anything I have ever seen her do. She is quite proud of these and she should be; they are art.

I write. I write well. Been doing it all my life. People have been telling me forever that I have talent, that I could get paid for writing.
I write opinion stuff, poetry, dabble in fiction. I write as often as I possibly can because it is my talent, it is my love, it is my release.
When I was in college I wrote epic poems about stupid stuff me and my friends did. On weekends we would take camping trips that we called getaways. On Monday, back in class, my friends would wait for me to churn out a poem summarizing the insanity. I made them laugh and felt good about it.
Side note: We once got banned from an entire state. We raised so much insanity that a park ranger or a cop kicked us out of the campground and told us he didn't want to hear about us anywhere else in the state. We were proud of that.
I stopped buying greeting cards way back. I always buy blank ones and write my own stuff. Because it is heartfelt. Because it is good. People love them. My parents framed a couple of them.
I started writing opinion type, blog type stuff way back. To release my anger. This was bitter stuff filled with poison but there was a lot of creativity there too.
I finally evolved to the point where I try to be more creative, more entertaining, more interesting.
I send stuff out to magazines and websites. Got rejection notices hanging on the walls in my writing room complete with handwritten comments by me expressing my opinion of them.
I try and try and try.
Carol will be fifty nine on November 26. I will be fifty nine on January 1.
I am proud because we haven't given up.
We each have a talent that we use to bring us peace. We each have a talent that we use as a weapon against the world. To fight back. To create our own space. To buy us some independence. And dignity.
So many people our age are bitter. Cynical. So many of them have given up and are riding out disappointment to the grave.
Not Carol. Not me.
We are trying and we have hope. We are committed and determined.
Even if we never make it, we will have done something positive with our lives instead of just bending to the will of subservience.
I am proud of that.
I am proud of us.