MAUDE THE MOOSE

This entry comes from my soul friend from college. It's so perfect for a Maine Summer story that I asked permission to share it.


The true story of Maud, the moose, was a family favorite--

Aunt Loretta and Uncle Moot's camp was on an offshore island in Canada. each summer when school ended, Loretta and Moot closed up their house, packed up their car and headed north. throughout the summer Moot made weekly trips to the mainland in their motor boat to replenish camp supplies.

on one such resupply trip, Moot saw a tired young female moose struggling in the water with no sign of an adult moose nearby. Moot managed to throw a rope over the young moose's head and tow the moose back to camp. the camp kids named the moose Maud and Maud chose to make the island and camp her summer home. Maud wandered around, in and out of cabins, was never aggressive and became an over-sized camp mascot and pet, fond of campfire marshmallows and people, her adopted "family". 

for several years, each summer soon after Loretta and Moot arrived, so did Maud. Maud thrived and grew into an impressively large moose but always remained docile and friendly, walking up to campers and counselors to be petted and scratched. 

then one summer Maud didn't appear. now full-grown, Loretta and Moot thought that perhaps Maud had found a mate on the mainland and had given birth until Moot stopped in a local bar for a beer when he made a weekly resupply run and saw Maud.

Maud's head was mounted on the wall behind the bar and a guy seated at the bar was bragging about the humongous and aggressive moose he had skillfully bagged. with effort, Moot kept his mouth shut, finished his beer and returned to camp. 

                                              **********************

strangely, this true story wasn't perceived as sad but just as a fact of life. 

shooting moose was legal.

Maud was a moose anomaly. 

some people are braggarts and liars. 

being born a creature considered "game" is not the best karma. 

thereafter, Moot settled for buying a soda from a vending machine in town rather than having a beer in the bar. 

I HAVE TWO DEAD BOYFRIENDS!!!

That's a hell of a title, but that's what came to me. Can't control truth burps!

Two very important loves in my life are dead. Social media told me so. 
I'm not new to people that I love dying. But most have been older than I am and 
there was some getting used to the idea.  My mom and dad died 10 days apart so
that was unique and poignant and very very funny. (That's for another burp)
I grieved proudly and formally for them. They deserved a little honoring grief.
And I have had three college friends die. Kind of weird and getting close to home.

But boyfriends aren't supposed to die. They just aren't. Nor age. Nor stop
loving me even if I stopped loving them first. It does help that I haven't seen a picture of them
since we were in love.  I have seen some photos of other boyfriends and was surprised to see 
they all looked like old men versions of themselves. I had to dig around in their faces for awhile to
get a glimmer of a Prom date. 

This reminds me that I had a moment  of relief to know that my two dear guys 
(one high school, one post divorce) would never see me and have to adjust their
idealized image of me to current reality. Vanity eventually gets humbled. Why hurry?
My eighty-three old husband still gets phone calls from former girl friends who he is shocked 
to realize are also eighty-three!!  

My high school love was a kind of torment. I was crazy about him. I have to admit I liked the Adrenalin of
deciding what to where each day and how to manage to walk by him at his locker at just the right time.
And dancing the last dance together. (Yes, it mattered. I feel sorry for any of you that haven't experienced the last dance and its meaning), We were off and on but never not connected from sixth grade through the first year in college. I ended it. I fell in love with the freedom of dating lots of guys with no anguish or love involved--just fun and dancing! New love every semester.

My post divorce guy was in the Peace Corp with me and my husband at the time. He heard I was divorced and called me and said, "At last, I can let you know I love  you."  It was nice to hear. He was fun and funny and generous and loved my kids and lived in Connecticut while I was living in Illinois.We sailed his boat and partied and had a few visits of  crazy in love times and one 600 dollar phone bill which was monumental then and I cried to the phone company and got them to accept 25 dollars a month.  Distance finally killed this love as I began to date back in Illinois where I lived. 

So RIP dear Jim and Billy Bell. I am right. Past loves aren't supposed to die and they don't.

TO BURP OR NOT TO BURP

I guess I could write this blog ahead of time. But I don't. It would betray the surprise for me about what I want to write. I do think about it. This week I planned to write about 'staying on your own path' and I will later because it is an active thought for me.

But here is my burp. I just wrote my former husband a letter. I had super indigestion about it and just had to 'burp' it. Seriously, I felt compelled. It is June 11th and today would have been our 53rd wedding anniversary. We were married for 13 years and had two children. We have had very little contact over the years. There are many reasons for that--mostly hurt on my side and maybe guilt on his. I don't know. I find myself being fond of the youth we shared together. We were young once-- and innocent. We started our marriage in the Peace Corps. A newpaper photographed us with the title, "Saving the World from Communisn". That's the kind of youthful innocence I'm talking about.

I visited my former mother-in-law last week-end along with my daughter and hers and it was just right to do. She is 97 and gorgeous. Check it out on my Facebook page JoyceWS. We have stayed connected and she loves and flirts with my husband David. David and I were lucky to have all grandparents of the kids like the idea of a combined family of five kids. They were nuts too. 

The visit was long enough to elicit lots of good memories and history. I had periodically thought of a more complete resolution of my former marriage but you just try five kids and a demanding job and try to think of gathering energy and goodwill to do it!!  

Here is the only sentence that matters in the letter and that I want to share. "I want to move into the present tense with peace and love for all of us and our history." That's it. It is my present truth that was nagging at me and needed to be spoken. It so clears the clutter of past wrongs and hurts. Now if I only could and would  do the same with the physical clutter of the same number of years!!!
 

CELEBRATING!!

 Off to California for a long week-end to celebrate 4 generations of women.  My daughter and her daughter are off to visit my former mother-in-law who is just old enought to be impressive.
So glad to be doing it. So excited I can't pack. Mama Mia. Talk to you next week. I go computerese.