Diary Door

My Three Children, Home for Christmas

Sky lightening and the moon full over the snowy landscape.  It's Christmas Eve.  Children and dogs still sleep; it's quiet.  I write in each of their journals, one after the other, a Christmas entry:

To my youngest, this wrapping elf who sat last night on the dining room table amidst wrapping paper and secret surprises for others, and suddenly exclaimed:  "This is the first time I'm signing 'Love Santa' on a tag!" She is full of the joy of knowing who Santa really is this Christmas.

To my oldest, I write about losses, letting go, new beginnings, unanticipated blessings and surprises.

To my middle child, this prodigal daughter, who volunteered to clean the kitchen at 10:00 p.m., and insisted despite my willingness to do it myself and my concern that she should get some much needed sleep.

Some day, long from now, wherever I am, wherever we all are, they will open the diaries, find - and have - the blessings of this special Christmas again.

Kelly

The Story Fire

We cross paths, my son and I, in the middle of the night. 

Tires spin on driveway ice at 3:00 a.m. The dog barks, I wake.  My son's friends, here to play guitar, are leaving.  He goes out into the freezing night with sand and chains to free them from the driveway glacier.

Cold, he returns to sleep soon, as I begin my day.  I make coffee. build a fire.  He crashes near its warmth on the couch - his basement room too cold for comfort this freezing winter night.  Judy joins him, sinking into the down comforter, his sweet puppy, and soon they sleep.  I sit by the roaring fire, open his journal, and write. 

I wrote - in the very beginning to my infant son - hoping he would want to read it some day.  Now, I know he does.  The fire warms, comforts, inspires me. . . I am awake.  Aware.  He will have my stories, he will have my fire, even as he sleeps.

Stay warm. . .

Kelly

Cheese Puff Recipe for Christmas Tradition

My youngest wrote in her journal at school the other day about her grandmother's cheese puffs - the absolute necessity for this tradition to be carried on - and her delighted anticipation of visiting her grandmother that very night, then going home with her Aunt Jo and mother to make batches and batches of cheese puffs for family Christimas parties.  This is our third year of making them together now that my mother isn't able to make them anymore.

Here's what always happens, this is what my daughter witnesses at the big family Christmas party, with all the cousins and aunts and uncles, the cheese puffs - little cheddar and bread appetizers - coming hot out of the oven, quickly placed on plates, passed from guest to guest, greedy hands grasping, the plate emptying, another sheet pulled from the oven, another plate passed, "Shirley's cheese puffs are ready!  Did you get a cheese puff?  Are there any more?"  There are never enough to satisfy demand. 

My mother made these by herself, but it takes three or more, a group is ideal.  There are wonderful challenges to be met:  Unsliced bread must be found, and not all stores have it available.  This year I found five loaves, first try.  The crusts must be sliced from the loaves, then the bread is cut into fluffly white cubes, bite-size.  (My sister Joanna is an excellent crust trimmer.)  We improvise a double boiler to melt the blocks of cheddar cheese, butter, and cream cheese.  (There's nothing low-fat about this treat.)  Eggs are separated, whites are whipped stiff, and must be every so gently folded into the melted cheese. (Joanna taught Franci how to separate the eggs, and I showed her how to whip them 'til just right.)  Dipping takes practice, patience!  The cubes must be lowered by spoon, gently tossed for complete coating, and placed on cookie trays for freezing.  (I've become the best dipper.)  In the morning, the frozen puffs are placed in ziplock bags for  the waiting period for the parties.  . . .Unable to travel, my mother will not be at the party this year, but we will bring the cheese puffs to her. 

Someone shared this recipe with my mother, and I'll share it with you:

Hot Cheese Puffs

1 loaf firm un-sliced white bread
8 oz. pkg. cream cheese
½ cup butter
¼ lb. sharp cheddar cheese
2 egg whites stiffly beaten

Trim crusts from bread.  Cut into 1"cubes (or less).  Melt 2 cheeses and the butter in a double boiler 'til of rarebit consistency.  Remove from heat and fold in egg whites.  Dip cubes in cheese mixture until well coated.  Place on cookie sheet.  Refrigerate over night or put in freezer for future use.  Bake in a hot oven 400 degrees 12-15 minutes.

Let me know if you make them, and how they come out.  Enjoy!

Kelly

Imagination and Inspiration

Sometimes diary entries capture images and symbols that cry out for deeper exploration.  Bloom, my short play inspired by a diary entry to my son, was written years later than the original diary entry.  I was re-reading the entry while preparing for a workshop on diary writing, and I was moved to tears.  In the next few days I spontaneously began writing the play, copying out the dialogue sparked by this imaginative mother and son.

Everything in the play is fiction but the powerful dream symbol of my garden flowers blooming in winter.  Here's the dream transformed into this fictional mother/son encounter, as JOSH gets ready for his prom:

(JOSH is dressing in front of mirror [audience], dancing uninhibitedly to the music plays on his boom box.  A knock.)

JOSH

Enter at your own risk!

            KRISTY

(Entering with a vase of fresh flowers.  Sets it down.  A beat.  Turns off music)

You’re getting ready?

            JOSH

Gettin’ there.

             KRISTY

            (Turning music off)

Why didn’t you wake me?

             JOSH

What for?

            KRISTY

I was going to pick up your tux.

             JOSH

Dad got it.

            KRISTY

Wow!  Pretty sharp, for a rental.

            JOSH

He splurged. 

            KRISTY

It’s new?  That’s crazy!  When are you ever going to --

           JOSH

-- He insisted.

            KRISTY

What about my deposit? 

            JOSH

Ah, I dunno.  Guess he put it toward the purchase. 

            KRISTY

                        (Under her breath)

What a waste.

(A beat)

Want me to press the jacket?

            JOSH

Doesn’t need it.

            KRISTY

Are you hungry?

            JOSH

Nope.  What’s up with you?  You look sick.

            KRISTY

No, just waking up.  I was outside all day, mulching my beds -- that sun’s scorching my perennials!  I came in for lunch and fell asleep on the couch. . . I was dreaming. . .

                        (Shivering)

. . . that it was winter – why’s it so cold in here?

            JOSH

I turned up the air.

            KRISTY

The wind was blowing, bitter cold, and there was snow on the ground. . . but when I went into the back yard I saw that all my flowers – you know, where the lilac bush is? – were in bloom! All these stems of. . . white peonies bursting wide open. . . huge, radiant, blossoms. . .  I pressed my face into one. . . I can still smell it. . . They were blooming through the gate, and all along the path, and I was showing them to. . . to your father. . . and worrying. . . They’re blooming too early, I said -- or is it late?. . . And, you know what he said?

            JOSH

No, but I have a feeling you’re going to tell me.

            KRISTY

He said, what does it matter?  They're blooming now. . .

Excerpt from Bloom, Copyright by Kelly DuMar, published by Heuer Publishing.

Diaries, Dreams and Change

I dreamed my garden bloomed in winter. . .

Whether or not we are ready for the changes our children will go through, we can explore the feelings the change brings when it arrives in our diary writing.  As I wrote in the final chapter of Before You Forget, as children head toward puberty there are all the questions and concerns about budding romances that we must begin to explore.  I wrote this entry to my son to celebrate his first interest in dating a girl and ended up exploring my own feelings, harvesting helpful insights to guide me in dealing with these developments in the future:

To Landon (age 12), January 16, 2000

. . . So, a happy weekend was ushered in.  Seems like it was a busy couple of days organizing all the plans.  For weeks you've been trying to get C. and you to the movies, and she can only go if you go in a group.  I suggest you invite Kevin overnight, and you do, but his parents don't want him to go w/ girls alone yet (C. is bringing A. so, I suggest Scott, and that gets arranged . . . then, it turns out later Kevin will meet you all at the theatre w/ his father, Dad will take you.  You & Scott come home [and] you include Ross . . . so I make pizza for you. . . . Dad takes your crowd . . . you are bouncing on your toes w/ a happiness I have seen you reserve only for special events w/ Joey.

The evening is a great success, I think.  You all go out for ice cream after the movie. . .
"C. is a really nice girl!" Dad says. . . .

I think Dad felt very proud and took great pleasure in sharing this momentous event w/ you - your first real boy/girl event. . . .

I fell asleep as soon as Dad got home, and woke early for my trip down to psychodrama in New Haven, waking from a vivid dream which might very well have some relevance to our relationship.

It was winter, as it is now, and when I went into the back yard, I saw that all the flowers in the garden where the lilac tree is were in bloom.  Bushy, bright white bunches of mums were in full blossom where the peonies grow.

They were quite beautiful, but they worried me, and I felt like I should do something, but, of course, there was nothing I could do.  There were white blossoms through the gate and down the side of the house, and I was showing them to Dad and some guests, like family, and worrying - why were the flowers blooming early in the middle of winter?  How could I make them last?  Would they bloom again?  Was there something I needed to do to try to make them last?  They were so light, so bright, so big and beautiful. . . .

Just enjoy them, perhaps.  Relax and enjoy them.  Yes, they may be blooming out of season, before they are "supposed" to, but nature has its own mysteries, cycles, and timing.
As I woke, and began chatting w/ Dad about the night before, I said that I thought that this had been a peak experience for you.

Yes, it was a joyful, peak experience for you.  And I watched, with pleasure to see your innocent happiness in full bloom, and yes, was surprised by your interest in girls emerging so suddenly, so intently this fall.

But I think I can relax, enjoy it, watch you blossom.  "Let" you blossom.  Realize that you will blossom when you're ready, in your own timing not mine.

This dream, transformed into fiction, became my short play, Bloom, now published by Heuer Publishing.  More on this tomorrow. . .

Kelly

We Agree to Share the Diaries

My son grew up at least twenty years yesterday on his twentieth birthday.  A short time after celebrating his birthday dinner - all five of us together! - we were involved in a multi-car accident on the highway on our way home.  We are fine.  My son, my youngest and I were in the car that lost control on black ice - a spot where others had recently done the same, and the evening unfolded into miracles that provided for our safety.  But my son managed a chaotic and challenging situation with maturity and courage and presence of mind, and I'm proud of him.

At dinner in the restaurant, I brought his first diary, and read a couple of passages to the whole family.  As I probed his request to have the diaries, it became clear that what he really wants right now is to read them.

"I always figured you'd give them to me when I got married." 

Oh.  Okay!  I told him I had put his 22 diaries in a box and asked if it would be okay if I kept them, but let him read them. 

"Sure."

I probed some of my own fears, concerns, questions, including:

"Does this mean you want me to stop writing in your diary?"

"No."

I told him of my fear that Judy Blue, his new puppy, might chew the diaries, and he could see the danger.

For now, it appears, he's content to have access to read the diaries.  And I'm honored to begin sharing them with him. And I'm grateful for so many blessings and miracles in my life today. 

Kelly