Auld Lang Syne

 A 92 year old friend phoned today to express her gratitude for our friendship this year.  It was a strange year to attempt closeness while social distancing.  At a time that loving people meant staying away from them, maintaining connection was challenging.  To express love without hugging was frustrating for many people.  Our heads understood the health risks but our hearts longed for the ability to greet and embrace each other. 

We have learned to never take these simple expressions for granted.  Eye contact.  Hugs.  Travel.  Visits.  Hopefully soon we can once again welcome loved ones in to our home.  We can attend the theatre and sports events.  We can return to our favorite restaurants.  We can vacation and discover new places.  

Let’s not forget to continue making an effort to stay connected.  Phone calls matter. Visits matter even if you are masked and chatting from a safe distance. 

We lost so many dear friends this year. How we long for just one more conversation with them.  One more hug.  

Our friends and support systems kept us going when we were at our lowest during this pandemic.  It isn’t over  but we have learned where to turn for humor, strength, compassion, faith and empathy. We learned who we could be quarantined with and survive.  We learned more about sacrifice.  

We have witnessed despair.  We have seen enormous loss.  We have also seen the magical ability of the human spirit. We saw health care workers and essential workers give so much.  We heard folks cheer and bang pots and pans to celebrate them.  We have mourned every loss.  We have celebrated every patient who made it through.  

Our children taught us resilience.  Our elderly once again exhibited unimaginable fortitude.  Each and every time we were down, love lifted us back up.

The lyrics to Auld Lang Syne ring true this year.  It is time to say goodbye to 2020.  So let’s sing the song even if we only partially understand the words.  

Should old acquaintance be forgot,
and never brought to mind?
Should old acquaintance be forgot,
and auld lang syne?

Chorus:

For auld lang syne, my dear,
for auld lang syne,
we'll take a cup of kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.

And surely you'll buy your pint cup!
and surely I'll buy mine!
And we'll take a cup o' kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.

Chorus

We two have run about the hills,
and picked the daisies fine;
But we've wandered manya weary foot,
since auld lang syne.

Chorus

We two have paddled in the stream,
from morning sun till dine;
But seas between us broad have roared
since auld lang syne.

Chorus

And there's a hand my trusty friend!
And give me a hand o' thine!
And we'll take a right good-will draught,
for auld lang syne.

Chorus

Don’t Let The Parade Pass You By

 If you asked her what she did over the weekend, you should prepare for a lengthy list of accomplishments including both productivity and fun. It definitely would include an act of kindness for someone else. She was indeed a light in this often dark land. To some she was their compass. To others she was their North Star.  To some she was simply home. She was a sounding board and confidante. She was Nancy. 

An invitation to our home for dinner would result in her arriving with a bounty of gifts from her garden or freshly baked goods from her kitchen.  Empty-handed she was not.  Even a spontaneous last- minute dinner invitation would result in her saying she would arrive in ten minutes. But she would arrive in nine apologizing for being “ late”. She would have showered and be bearing home-made brownies hot out of her oven and an enormous colorful tossed salad.  We never could figure out the algorithm making that possible. We once considered she might be an extraterrestrial.  

Everything about Nancy was authentic. And extraordinary. 

If her faith was a force, then, the force is strong with this one. And her wish would be : May the force be with you. In times of strife: Keep the faith. She always did. 

She valiantly fought cancer. There was no surrender. She was a formidable opponent.  Her fight was resilient and tenacious.  But cancer is not the story of her life. 

Her love of her family was immeasurable. Her “ kids”. She loved them to the moon and back and then lapped it another million times over. She saw in them everything that was good and right about the world. Multiply that again hundred-fold with the grands. Her kids grew up with a hands on/ arms wide open mom making gingerbread houses and crawfish costumes. Their guardian angel has her wings. Her siblings and the mighty Coffey clan : start with the parades and polkas and end with the love. They all love to gather. To be together. 

About the parades... How many people do you know who casually and repeatedly referenced being in parades ?  The Rockettes.  Macy’s balloons.  Ferris Bueller. College Marching Bands. Nancy. 

Movies. Board Games. Concerts. Birthday cookie cakes. Long talks. Laughs. Cards. Tomato Pie. Margaritas. Mojitos.  Scotch. Fish Salads. Pizzas. Lunches. Dinners. Puzzles. Christmas Lights. Photos. Moments.  Precious priceless moments.  Pudge. Merritt. 

Nancy had a method of delivering bad or stunning news in a mumbled blur followed by a rapid succession of changing the subject.  We often thought perhaps we misheard or we had suffered some sort of neuro episode. She drove in the same way she lived, multitasking and accomplishing many things at once including alarming her passengers. 

She rafted, fished, gardened, cooked, painted, sewed, baked and ran marathons. She was ultra organized and could plan anything. She loved to pounce a revealing board game on you. She was a mixologist and loved to travel. 

If she was eating dinner with us, then she was walking with friends, going to a movie with others, meeting a couple for coffee and possibly having a cocktail with others beforehand.  There was never a wasted moment. Not a minute.  Not a second. 

She loved to dance. It is a metaphor for her life. She was out there engaging with others. Laughing  Lit up with a smile.  She was never a bench warmer. She was always in the game.  It wasn’t a spectator sport.  Nancy loved music.  John Prine.  Emmylou Harris. Lee Bains.  There is a long list. 

She returned to teaching nursing at a challenging time and predictably changed many lives including students and colleagues.  Her work ethic was stellar. Her patience was classic Nancy. ( She did tell some funny stories.)   Nancy was a teacher in every sense of the word.  She, of course, was the advisor to the student association because...you know, she didn’t have enough to do.  And her contributions were in fact, award-winning. 

Nancy embraced life with the zest of anyone committed to saying yes to any possibility in the form of a trip, challenge, adventure or new chapter.  Her humor. Her selflessness. Her curiosity. Her capacity to give  of herself.  Her love of life.  Her love for others. Her courage.  Her humility.  This was Nancy. 

There are so many memories and stories.  Some poignant.  Some hysterical.  Those are for another day.  

She was a rock star.  She was a super hero. Nancy could stare down a grizzly and achieve world peace and still refuse to call it a day.  But it isn’t about the quantity of what she packed in to an hour...a day...a week...a month.....a life.   Her example is how she lived.  Her lesson is that she lived with a force and joy  that was never-ending.  Be like Nancy Coffey Mitchell.  

Don’t let the parade pass you by. 

#GirlDad

My dad was a #girldad and he rocked it. He had three daughters with a variety of interests and talents and he supported them all. Unconditional love. One of my favorite series of memories is sneaking out of bed on school nights to watch late Monday Night Football games with him.  He loved it. I loved it more.

He loved football, fishing, ping pong, tennis, poker, solitaire, rook, pinochle, yard work, the beach and all things BAMA.  He was thrilled if we participated in or showed interest in any of those things . But he showed interest in anything that brought US joy.  He endured dance recitals, pageants, student-faculty basketball games, sleep-overs, birthday parties and more with patience and a smile on his face.

My dad was affectionate and a good listener. He was present. He loved to laugh.  He always told us how good we looked and expressed his pride in our accomplishments.  When I scratched the car up and locked myself in the bathroom, he was on the other side laughing.  It’s just a car, honey.  It’s just a car.

When he and my uncles kicked the tires when inspecting a relative’s new car, his daughters didn’t necessarily “ get it” but we were happy he was happy.  When we gave him gifts, he truly loved them whether they were home-made or priceless.  He loved our pets and when they perished, he buried them.

He often surprised us.  He loved Andre Agassi, long hair and all. ( This was many years ago when Andre had hair.)   He respected his talents and his individuality.  I bought him an Andre t-shirt and he wore it proudly.  He would willingly wear anything we gave him, whether we made it in home-economics class or not.  He acted surprised when opening yet another necktie or  poorly camouflaged tennis racket.

My dad was sensitive to our needs and the needs of others.  He actively participated in civic groups and taught us responsibility and caring.  He was empathetic and sincere. He was the real deal. He was authentic.

The guy bought more dolls and stuffed animals than elves produced at the North Pole.  He bought medicinal ice cream cones and wiped tears with his handkerchief.  We cried on his shoulders and bled on his shoulders when we experienced real scrapes.  We sat in his lap.

My dad took us fishing and shared that holy place with us.  He baited our hooks and de-boned our fish when he fried them later.  He played football and basketball with us.  He slaughtered us in ping-pong but managed to do it in a gentle way.

He took us ( and my mom) to  Disney World, Silver Springs, Panama City Beach, Daytona Beach, Cypress Gardens, Six Gun Territory and more in Florida for family vacations.  He jumped waves and bought floats, beach balls and snow cones.

My dad was fearless.  He handled all things that go bump in the night.  He killed spiders. Big spiders. Enormous spiders.

He taught us to be independent and self-reliant. He showed us integrity and work ethic. He taught us the spirit of competition. He didn’t believe in discrimination of any kind. My dad was a #girldad .