Trying not to expect too much

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art, birthday, chocolate, cocktails, fun, Jane Butler, Jane Paffenbarger Butler, love, movies, skating

You cannot will yourself to have a happy birthday, especially if there’s a pandemic limiting your life. Typically my husband and I would hop a train to NYC and see a Broadway show, then walk around town and get some great dinner before heading back home.

This year was different, and somehow, even better than all that. My husband prepared a gorgeous breakfast of eggs Benedict, then entertained me by using a silly gif that substituted my face for Dolly Parton’s or Jack Sparrow’s. For lunch we a fish fry delivered to our car from the local fish market, then took a dear walk around our county seat where we ate Eclat chocolates and then Dia Doce cupcakes. We had to hurry home, though, for the best part of the day.

It was the Frick Museum’s Friday at 5:00pm Cocktails with a Curator via live stream. My husband made the complimentary cocktail for the piece of art the curator had selected to discuss, and then we set ourselves outside in the January air on our front porch to enjoy it all. There we sat on fluffy blankets and sipped our drinks while we learned about Boucher’s “Four Seasons.” This has become our mandatory start to the weekend. But besides relaxing with a cocktail, the study of art signals a departure from the week’s work to a focus on the spirit and matters of culture.

To make this outdoor experience even more lovely, a young lady stopped by, a neighbor home from virtual college, and talked to us on the porch for twenty minutes or more, an in-person surprise that further bolstered my happy day. And, as if that were not enough, my daughter and husband agreed to take the hour-long drive to the dairybar of my choice at 6:30pm, to finish off my day with a hot fudge sundae.

The rest of the weekend was just as thrilling. We went ice skating in center city Philadelphia, played hilarious games with my sons and daughter-in-law via zoom, then met up with a friend, live, for a two-hour walk around a cute little town where we shared bonbons and stories. I even indulged in a midday movie via zoom with cannolis which my son arranged to have delivered, to wrap things up. Friends dropped by with gifts, and texts and phone calls came in.

A trip to NYC is wonderful, but this year I was reminded how these simple acts of love, the smaller, sweeter experiences, and my relationships with others renew my spirit and allow me to stop for a moment to appreciate all that I have in the world right now.

Sisters

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being yourself, change, dreams coming true, express feelings, forgiveness, friends, friendship, inspire, Jane Butler, Jane Paffenbarger Butler, joy, love, play, relationship, security, trust

 

To all my acquired sisters (and brothers) out there: I love you and appreciate all that you bring to my life!

But my background is unusual, and a little fraught, and so the idea of having carried a sister with me from that difficult past into today, to help interpret what was and what is now, would be terribly sweet.

A scene like this picture above always makes me take pause. It is two sisters. Before the pandemic, I used to see them often and just like this, eagerly engaging in whatever it is they have to share, obviously friends. They report, lest I be confused, that as sisters things are not categorically smooth all the time.

I do love romanticizing the idea of two women who have know each other their whole lives. Partners in life who have seen it all. A trusted friend who knows what others do not and can engage in the lifted eyebrow communication reserved for so few in our lives.

My own sisters and I took different paths, primarily characterized by flight. One ran away physically, and the other, although she did move a thousand miles from home, fled by engaging with everyone through that effective distancer, anger. I haven’t gone as far away on the map, but my world is profoundly different than the one I shared once with them.

I’ve always thought it would be fun to have a sister. But it’s kind of too late now. One is gone at the hands of breast cancer and the other has herself hidden far away. There was so much threat in our lives we learned not to trust anyone, even each other. Real communication, like sharing our feelings about anything as it seems these two sisters above have been doing for a lifetime, that’s off the table.

Too bad, too. I was always up for it.

My conversation with Mark Twain

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being yourself, express feelings, goals, higher power, inspire, Jane Butler, Jane Paffenbarger Butler, joy, listening, love, mentors, teacher, words, writing

Mark Twain and I were chatting the other day when he said to me, “When in doubt, tell the truth,” as if I hadn’t heard THAT before.

What was he even talking about? Of course, I tell the truth, that’s the whole point of my memoir. But you can’t just tell the truth as if it is a finite thing, Mark. Nope, I’ve learned over the years, and it’s been a difficult surprise, that my truth is not necessarily your truth.

“If you tell the truth you don’t have to remember anything,” he explained.

Mark Twain seemed a little exasperated as he stared back, not even batting an eye. He sat still as a stone, a cold chill flying off his shoulder directly at me.

But you might consider, he continued, “It is better to keep your mouth closed and let people think you are a fool than to open it and remove all doubt.”

Thanks for that, Mark, but I can’t stop myself, I told him.

He seemed a little testy now.

Best I can do is be as honest as possible and hope others see that’s what I’m aiming for. I want to make a point, you know. About how we try to love each other and about how it doesn’t always work out that well.

Mark softened and I thought I saw him smile. His parting words, which I chose to interpret as supportive, were all I needed to head back to my desk and hit the keyboard again, back on my way after our brief interlude.

“All you need in this life is ignorance and confidence, and then success is sure.”

Thanks, Mark. Looks like I’m ready then.

Poetic gesture

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being yourself, express feelings, inspire, Jane Butler, Jane Paffenbarger Butler, joy, listening, love, marriage, mentors, natural talent, parents, passion, relationship, words, writing

My friend was recipient of a most romantic gesture. Her partner built and installed this beautiful poetry post. It is positioned right next to the sidewalk so passersby may read her poetry every time she puts up something new.

This guy taught me how to laugh

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being yourself, dreams coming true, express feelings, friends, Jane Butler, Jane Paffenbarger Butler, joy, love, marriage, relationship, writing

Jane Paffenbarger Butler – author – with the man she captured in her giant blanket

Somehow at the age of nineteen, I spotted a guy who would stay with me for the next 40 years and counting. To be fair, he spotted me and I ran the other way, and it was only because several acquaintances pointed out his obvious interest and implored me to take him seriously, that I finally noticed him as a potential partner for life. He’s been nothing but steadfast, nothing but kind, and nothing but improved with age. Thank you friends who did that.

He knew not how to plumb a bathroom when I met him. He was not a loving parent or sole breadwinner. But since then he has become all these things and more. And in addition he’s propped me up through thick and thin, he’s counseled me on what I have not known and he has encouraged me and been my advocate when I didn’t know I needed it.

His winning attributes in the beginning were that he was funny and he was kind. He made me laugh and then taught me how to do it, and now, all these years later we are still laughing together.

Believe me, I had no idea what I was doing back then, but my gut reaction to this man has served me well through the years. He hasn’t changed much really. The kind, shy, funny, smart, encouraging guy I met at nineteen is still there, it’s just that all of that has morphed and matured and come along in an even better form right up to today.

This month, in Psychology Today online I tell the story of my young husband who takes me to his Aunt Maureen’s at Christmas where I discover that everyone refers to his Uncle Dave as Meathead, thus beginning my education in humor. Take a look at “Introduction to Meathead Therapy” on the Healthy Connections blog post by Maryann Karinch.

Introduction to Meathead Therapy

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being yourself, express feelings, forgiveness, friends, Jane Butler, Jane Paffenbarger Butler, joy, listening, love, marriage, parents, psychotherapy, relationship

This month I am featured in Psychology Today’s Healthy Connections blog by Maryann Karinch where she tells the story of what she calls my introduction to “meathead therapy.”

When my husband and I were young and first married we went to his Aunt Maureen and Uncle Meathead’s on Christmas Eve. Theirs was a modest gathering, but I loved it because the one thing that was not modest was the connection I saw between the people who came and went. Folks arrived at the door and each was welcomed like a king. They were offered a drink, some food, a seat, and all the time in the world, crowding onto the attic stairs when room at the table ran out.

The goal was to entertain, to tell funny stories even at each other’s expense, even as it exposed each other’s bullheadedness, ignorance or misery.

And I was spellbound.

These folks cared for each other. I’d go so far as to say they loved each other. My family didn’t sit around the kitchen table on Christmas Eve welcoming one another in with drinks and smiles and all the time in the world because of our handicap of taking life seriously and rejecting one another for our human foibles.

Since that night with Maureen and Meathead, and with my steadfast husband next to me, I have worked hard in psychotherapy and have learned about the healthy attitudes of accepting one another for who we are and learning to celebrate one another no matter how goofy we get.

I think the healthy connections we make are born of the dedicated showing up at each other’s kitchen tables no matter what the circumstance.

 Check out my story in Psychology Today.

 

 

Is it possible to be more romantic than this?

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being yourself, dreams coming true, express feelings, friends, friendship, higher power, inspire, Jane Butler, Jane Paffenbarger Butler, joy, listening, love, marriage, passion, relationship, words

Paris Opera House Ceiling

Everything about this moment was romantic. It wasn’t enough just to be back in Paris thirty-five years after we’d honeymooned there, but we were also staying at the same hotel and stopping in at Fouquet’s, the same place on the Champs-Elysee we’d stumbled onto late one night when we were newlywed where we had chocolate mousse we hadn’t ever forgotten.

No, all that wasn’t romantic enough.

My husband thought we should have a date out on the town and lined up a trip to the opulent Paris Opera Garnier. We donned our fanciest travel clothes and sat beneath the blessing of Marc Chagall’s colorful celebration of art itself.

And as if that wasn’t enough, the program that night, an homage to Jerome Robbins, harkened back to our early days. As newlyweds we often attended the New York City ballet at their outdoor summer home at Saratoga Performing Arts Center in upstate New York. The staging of “Glass Pieces” in particular was so familiar that it took my breath away to know I was in Paris, France, at the Opera House, with my boyfriend who was still following me around and delighting me with his thoughtfulness and kindness and shared joy of all things artistic, that I could barely watch through the tears in my eyes.

We left that night, awed by the layered gilded building, the rainbow of Chagall’s ceiling, the drama of ballet and the deep thankfulness in our hearts for one another and for the great good fortune to be able to hold each other’s hands still and take it all in.

Wedding Love Altar

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being yourself, dreams coming true, express feelings, friends, Jane Butler, Jane Paffenbarger Butler, joy, love, marriage, parents, relationship

This is the “love altar” I created as a centerpiece for my son’s recent wedding. A number of women special in their lives were invited to make a table decoration that reflected the love they feel in their lives and particularly as it relates to either the bride or the groom. Each table had a different creation but all had a crystal as the centerpiece. After the wedding the bride and groom took home the crystals and now have a centerpiece there, of crystals, to take into their future that are charged with the love of family and friends.

My card reads, “The authentic bird’s nest here represents the happy home that the bride and groom have created that will serve as the foundation for their love going forward. Mom’s love, the groom’s love for his bride, and her love for him, are sometimes expressed through baking, thus the spatula. Worn but faithful, Spot, is present at this wedding as a reminder of the security found among old friends. They joy, laughter and sense of extended family is tied up in one Wise and Otherwise playing card. The wooden photo frame made by and depicting the groom’s great-great-grandfather hints at the groom’s own creativity, a source of solution should trouble arise. And the idea, no matter how lame, of the groom’s parents as Brazilian dancers, suggests you do not have to be great at what you do together, you just have to mean it.”

Stepping out

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being yourself, dreams coming true, Jane Butler, Jane Paffenbarger Butler, joy, love, marriage, mother-in-law

He may look tired and worn but Spot would not miss his old buddy, my son’s, upcoming wedding. He’s all decked out in a custom bow tie I made him for the big day.

 

Teach your kids to be honest about how they feel

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being yourself, express feelings, family, Jane Butler, love, Thanksgiving

Here’s why we must teach our children to be honest about how they feel, not squelching emotions and denying the truth. When kids grow up they must use this ability to survive the holidays. Take a look at what I mean:

I went back into scared kid mode this Thanksgiving! It happened, fittingly, when my last baby tooth broke. Yes, I still have one baby tooth that never came out, and the day after Thanksgiving the hors d’ouvres did it in. I have been dreading this my whole adult life, avoiding the inevitable.

There are many turns in this story but the end result is that I was unnerved by both this experience and the ensuing laughing and joking about my tooth problem by the gathered family. I left the room angrily telling people to stop talking to me like this. I went up to my room and looked in the mirror.  I cried. I felt awful.  But eventually I went back downstairs.

By the time I returned to the group people were mad and leaving! I had ruined what had been up until my tooth broke, about the most fun time I’ve had with family ever. We’d been to a terrific show that had us all laughing and howling with delight. And we were happy to be together, as always.

The little kid in me was a mess, though. I had acted out of the fear of the dental work to come and the embarrassment of a missing tooth (right in front) and who knows what else. And I had ruined everything. People were mad.

I pleaded with my sister-in-law not to leave but she said I had been rude and they had to go. I was shocked. I had no idea my feelings could have this effect. Thankfully, I blurted out the truth. I felt afraid of dental work and the embarrassment of a missing tooth. That I had been dreading it my whole life. That I didn’t mean to snap at everyone or leave the group angrily. That it was just me being scared. Upset by the joking. Sorry everybody, I said. It isn’t you, it is me being afraid.

That changed everything. Coats came off, folks would put the dinner together for me. I was told to go upstairs and recover, then get down here and join in the group. And by the way, we love you.

What??? This never happens. People understanding? My little kid mode swears that adults don’t understand, or say they love me. That’s the experience my little self had. People didn’t understand and people didn’t say they loved me.

So, this Thanksgiving weekend, after I’d screwed up pretty bad, I risked telling the truth. Being vulnerable to the rejection I am most familiar with, at least, that is when I am being scared and acting like a child. I was taught through years of training that my problems didn’t matter, my fears were unwarranted and wrong. I was taught to reject my own feelings as invalid and unimportant, and it has taken a lifetime to get that straightened out.

As miserable as this situation was, it worked out well because I told the truth about how I was feeling.

I aim to teach all my kids to do the same.