Do you ever think that the networks are missing out on the ULTIMATE reality series? I mean, what has more drama, sick humor, running mascara, and (sometimes) hair-pulling than widowhood?
When I think of the millions that could have been made on my life in the last few years…well…it seems like such a waste. Anyone with a camcorder could have followed me around discreetly as I annoyed family members, shocked random bystanders, and started my own wine bottle recycling program and they would have been set for life. (If you’re reading this and you’re a producer, shoot me an email.)
Forgive me if I borrow this from Sophia on “The Golden Girls.”
Picture it. Denver, 2007. A young girl awakens to the sound of a phone ringing. She rolls over in her frightening, but somehow endearing bedhead stage to answer it, thinking that it’s her mother to confirm lunch plans.
Skip to that same girl, who should have had nothing else to worry about other than whether she should be feeding her kids pancakes or French toast for breakfast, racing to the hospital to find her husband on a stretcher and in a neck brace after an accident on his way to work.
Now, depending on whether this show gets picked up by TLC or CBS, they may or may not show the entire hospital scene. Being the PG-13 girl I am, I’m choosing the CBS version. TLC shows a little too much in their baby birthing shows. At least at CBS I know it’s ketchup.
Now, the next few episodes will involve that same girl shopping for overpriced urns, dealing with in-laws when she is (to say the least) ill-equipped, and trying to remember to put her kids’ shoes on the right feet on their first day of school. (In case you’re wondering…I did send my daughter to school with her shoes on the wrong feet.) She does all of this with a smile on her face, knowing that the audience would be uncomfortable with the fact that she’s an emotional wreck.
This would be called “putting off her grief.” She’ll do that until she has a break and they start showing re-runs. In the meantime, she keeps waiting for “The View” to call and schedule an interview.
Skip to the next season. The audience is hopeful. They want to see that this girl is moving on, happy in a widow sort of way, and doing what she can with the situation she’s been handed. And she is really wanting to oblige her legions of fans by showing them that she’s the model widow. She shows that she’s trying to get it together. She’s packing lunches, showing up for work without her slippers on, and switching to sparkling cider. Then they show a scene of her in an elevator with her kids, taking them to their yearly physical exam.
And then suddenly the musak version of “Stairway to Heaven” comes on and she’s a complete wreck.
You would think this show of emotion would go over well with those fans who want to see a little drama. But it really just makes them uncomfortable and switch over to “Shark Week” on Discovery.
By the third season, she starts getting very concerned about making her audience uncomfortable, so she moves on into “I’m The Most Capable Widow You Will Ever Know” mode. She bakes homemade cakes for birthdays, holidays, and the Chinese New Year. She gets up an extra hour early every morning to make sure that her kids’ lunches are made with love. And she has perfected the smile and nod that comes with listening to others talk about how hard it was to flush their fish, Toto.
Next season.
She doesn’t give a shit about what the audience thinks. She has long ago given up trying to keep up on her highlights, giving her the less desired “skunk” look. She will, at random, blurt out things that are “socially undesirable” which the network hates, but keeps the censors in business. She’s tried dating and can’t find one guy to give a rose to.
The network warns that she may get canned so she seriously thinks about giving birth to sextuplets so that she can stay on the air.
Post show:
No sextuplets.
Possible rose…we’ll call him a bud.
But somehow…between the musak, bad hair, and somewhat bad language…someone real emerges.
And that’s who everyone seems to want to interview.
© Catherine Tidd 2010
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Monday, July 26, 2010
Ringing in Widowhood
As widows, we are so concerned with the wedding ring. When to take it off. What to do with it after. Which one of our kids is really our favorite so we know who to leave it to.
Sometimes I feel completely insecure without my ring. It’s like I've gone outside without pants or something. I feel exposed and vulnerable. There are days when I walk around, feeling like I forgot something important. And then I realize that I have a naked finger where a bejeweled one should be.
I guess it just reminds me that I’m really alone. That I’m no longer half of a partnership. That he is, in fact…gone.
To be honest, sometimes my ring finger just flat-out itches where my wedding ring used to be. It’s like my husband is getting back at me for taking it off by giving me some rare widow fungus.
There are days that I miss it so much. Partly because of what it symbolized and partly because my husband was such a jewelry person and had great taste. What’s funny is that when I was married I didn’t always wear my ring. It wasn’t a conscious move…like I was trying to go out and get me some. Sometimes I was cooking or gardening and didn’t want to get it dirty so I just took it off. Sometimes I was working out and my hands would swell. And sometimes I’d go out for a beer and realize that I’d forgotten to stop at the ATM.
Don’t judge me. My husband was just as frugal as I am. And we always agreed that a free drink is a free drink.
These days, I’ll slip it on again, where it should be, just to feel that security. I know that if I wanted to wear it all the time, I could. But the truth is that I don’t really feel married anymore, so just like not wearing it when I was...I don’t want to wear it now that I’m not.
Taking off your wedding ring is an incredibly personal decision. I don’t know about you all, but I had not really thought about it before my husband died. And then when he was gone, I agonized over it for months. I don’t know what it was, but when I finally decided to not wear it anymore, I felt like I couldn’t go back. It somehow just felt so…final for me.
I think what bothers me the most is that, now that I’m not wearing it, I think people just assume that I’m divorced. It’s like I want to tell every stranger on the street that I’m not single by choice…this was beyond my control. I’m not saying that to be divorced is somehow less acceptable than being widowed. It’s just different.
I wish we could have a widow ring. Can you imagine all the problems that would solve? It wouldn’t be assumed that we’re divorced. And once again, it would be a way to let people know why we’re such a mess. People could ask what’s wrong and we could just give ‘em the finger. So to speak.
And if someone ever comes up with one, I think it should be at least 5 carats of something. We’ve earned it, for crying out loud. That ring should come with your life insurance or social security check. At least one of those damn “thinking of you” cards should come FedEx with a jewelry box attached. And I don’t care if you’re a man or a woman. If you’re a widower, you’re just going to have to suck it up and wear the damn thing.
Just not on your pinky. I’m envisioning it and that’s just creepy.
I mean…seriously. Don’t you think we ought to get something? A merit badge for walking and breathing at the same time. A stamp on our driver’s license that will get us out of any ticket for the rest of our lives. At this point, I’d even take a t-shirt that says, “Widowed: Been there, done that, got the t-shirt.”
I guess until that happens, we’ll all keep going about our business, explaining to strangers why we’re not wearing a wedding band, hoping that it doesn’t inspire them to say something ridiculous. Or cause us to have one of our unexpected meltdowns (which is why I’m on the probation list at Wal-Mart).
And if you ever see a woman out there, walking in circles in an insecure way, looking like she forgot something, itching her ring finger…
…don’t be shy. Say hello. ‘Cause that’s me.
© Catherine Tidd 2010
Sometimes I feel completely insecure without my ring. It’s like I've gone outside without pants or something. I feel exposed and vulnerable. There are days when I walk around, feeling like I forgot something important. And then I realize that I have a naked finger where a bejeweled one should be.
I guess it just reminds me that I’m really alone. That I’m no longer half of a partnership. That he is, in fact…gone.
To be honest, sometimes my ring finger just flat-out itches where my wedding ring used to be. It’s like my husband is getting back at me for taking it off by giving me some rare widow fungus.
There are days that I miss it so much. Partly because of what it symbolized and partly because my husband was such a jewelry person and had great taste. What’s funny is that when I was married I didn’t always wear my ring. It wasn’t a conscious move…like I was trying to go out and get me some. Sometimes I was cooking or gardening and didn’t want to get it dirty so I just took it off. Sometimes I was working out and my hands would swell. And sometimes I’d go out for a beer and realize that I’d forgotten to stop at the ATM.
Don’t judge me. My husband was just as frugal as I am. And we always agreed that a free drink is a free drink.
These days, I’ll slip it on again, where it should be, just to feel that security. I know that if I wanted to wear it all the time, I could. But the truth is that I don’t really feel married anymore, so just like not wearing it when I was...I don’t want to wear it now that I’m not.
Taking off your wedding ring is an incredibly personal decision. I don’t know about you all, but I had not really thought about it before my husband died. And then when he was gone, I agonized over it for months. I don’t know what it was, but when I finally decided to not wear it anymore, I felt like I couldn’t go back. It somehow just felt so…final for me.
I think what bothers me the most is that, now that I’m not wearing it, I think people just assume that I’m divorced. It’s like I want to tell every stranger on the street that I’m not single by choice…this was beyond my control. I’m not saying that to be divorced is somehow less acceptable than being widowed. It’s just different.
I wish we could have a widow ring. Can you imagine all the problems that would solve? It wouldn’t be assumed that we’re divorced. And once again, it would be a way to let people know why we’re such a mess. People could ask what’s wrong and we could just give ‘em the finger. So to speak.
And if someone ever comes up with one, I think it should be at least 5 carats of something. We’ve earned it, for crying out loud. That ring should come with your life insurance or social security check. At least one of those damn “thinking of you” cards should come FedEx with a jewelry box attached. And I don’t care if you’re a man or a woman. If you’re a widower, you’re just going to have to suck it up and wear the damn thing.
Just not on your pinky. I’m envisioning it and that’s just creepy.
I mean…seriously. Don’t you think we ought to get something? A merit badge for walking and breathing at the same time. A stamp on our driver’s license that will get us out of any ticket for the rest of our lives. At this point, I’d even take a t-shirt that says, “Widowed: Been there, done that, got the t-shirt.”
I guess until that happens, we’ll all keep going about our business, explaining to strangers why we’re not wearing a wedding band, hoping that it doesn’t inspire them to say something ridiculous. Or cause us to have one of our unexpected meltdowns (which is why I’m on the probation list at Wal-Mart).
And if you ever see a woman out there, walking in circles in an insecure way, looking like she forgot something, itching her ring finger…
…don’t be shy. Say hello. ‘Cause that’s me.
© Catherine Tidd 2010
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Retail Therapy: How Widows Will Pull Us Out of the Recession
Let’s face it. We start spending the moment our loved ones take their last breath. Wait a minute…we really start spending way before that. Most of us are the reason why our own personal physicians drive such nice cars.
But if you think about it…our contribution to the healthcare industry is just the beginning.
Once everything is done, we have the funeral to deal with. I’ve been to small funerals and elaborate ones, but, even on the small side, we usually spend at least a couple thousand dollars. You’ve got a casket or a seriously overpriced urn. You’ve got flowers with ribbons that looked great in the catalog, but you think look a little cheap once they’re sitting next to that shiny new casket. You’ve got all that food you had catered by Chick fil A. I’m telling you…this really adds up.
You’re welcome, Funeral Business.
Now, I realize that this isn’t fun spending, but for some of us, it sends us into a credit testing tailspin of epic proportions. Because once the dust settles on that whole memorial business, most of us are left wondering, “What the heck do we do now?”
That’s when the bright lights and self-opening doors of Target start looking like the safe haven we can’t get enough of.
It starts small doesn’t it? You pop in there thinking, “You know…I think I’ll just pick up some new linens and give my bed a little lift” or “I’m having so much company lately, I really need to get more towels.”
Then next thing you know, your new towels don’t match the paint color in the spare room. And we all know that that just will not do.
Enter Home Depot.
Now, once that spare room gets a little pick-me-up we start wondering why we would spend that much money on a room just for our guests, when we really need a place to call our own. I know some of you out there wouldn’t dream of changing your bedroom and want it exactly the way you had it when your spouse was with you. However, others would rather make a space that is entirely different so that they are not reminded of the intimate moments they shared in that room with a love that they’ve lost.
That’s when those T.V. ads for Furniture Row begin to look reeeallly inviting.
I don’t know about you, but once I got that new bedroom all spruced up and organized, it really bothered me that I didn’t have the right clothes to go with my new room. I mean…if my room got a little face lift, surely I deserved one, right? It started small…I just began looking for the perfect red purse. Then I realized that the coat I was wearing did nothing for my new purse. Eventually I just moved from the outside…in.
And it ballooned into my own personal parking spot at TJ Maxx.
Eating out because we don’t have the attention span to cook. Extra daycare because we don’t have the attention span to parent. Gym memberships because we don’t have the attention span to do anything else other than walk on a machine that takes us absolutely nowhere.
Think of it, people. Without us, the entire economy would just collapse. Hallmark would lose at least a fourth of their business. Florists would never make it. Airlines would feel the pinch because we wouldn’t be trying to escape from wherever it is we are.
And wineries…where would they be?
We know why we do it. It’s instant gratification. Knowing that we’ve found just the right thing makes us feel better for a minute. And in the grieving game, if you can feel better for a minute, you’re doing pretty good.
It’s busy work. It keeps us from thinking about what’s really bothering us. Concentrating on not falling off the escalator at Foley’s gives us an escape for just a moment and we’re not thinking about the world falling down around us.
It’s empowering. It makes us feel in control of something…even for just a second. And when you’re living with how out of control life can be, you’ll take what you can get.
I’m not saying this is healthy. I’m not saying you should run out and blow your entire savings just so you can feel better for a minute. I’m saying forgive yourself a little. And be aware of what you’re doing and why you’re doing it. I know that always makes me think a little before I hand over that piece of plastic.
I mean, right now, I’m feeling a little small and powerless. And there’s one thing I keep thinking over and over.
I’d feel a lot better if I just found the right car to go with that purse.
© Catherine Tidd 2010
But if you think about it…our contribution to the healthcare industry is just the beginning.
Once everything is done, we have the funeral to deal with. I’ve been to small funerals and elaborate ones, but, even on the small side, we usually spend at least a couple thousand dollars. You’ve got a casket or a seriously overpriced urn. You’ve got flowers with ribbons that looked great in the catalog, but you think look a little cheap once they’re sitting next to that shiny new casket. You’ve got all that food you had catered by Chick fil A. I’m telling you…this really adds up.
You’re welcome, Funeral Business.
Now, I realize that this isn’t fun spending, but for some of us, it sends us into a credit testing tailspin of epic proportions. Because once the dust settles on that whole memorial business, most of us are left wondering, “What the heck do we do now?”
That’s when the bright lights and self-opening doors of Target start looking like the safe haven we can’t get enough of.
It starts small doesn’t it? You pop in there thinking, “You know…I think I’ll just pick up some new linens and give my bed a little lift” or “I’m having so much company lately, I really need to get more towels.”
Then next thing you know, your new towels don’t match the paint color in the spare room. And we all know that that just will not do.
Enter Home Depot.
Now, once that spare room gets a little pick-me-up we start wondering why we would spend that much money on a room just for our guests, when we really need a place to call our own. I know some of you out there wouldn’t dream of changing your bedroom and want it exactly the way you had it when your spouse was with you. However, others would rather make a space that is entirely different so that they are not reminded of the intimate moments they shared in that room with a love that they’ve lost.
That’s when those T.V. ads for Furniture Row begin to look reeeallly inviting.
I don’t know about you, but once I got that new bedroom all spruced up and organized, it really bothered me that I didn’t have the right clothes to go with my new room. I mean…if my room got a little face lift, surely I deserved one, right? It started small…I just began looking for the perfect red purse. Then I realized that the coat I was wearing did nothing for my new purse. Eventually I just moved from the outside…in.
And it ballooned into my own personal parking spot at TJ Maxx.
Eating out because we don’t have the attention span to cook. Extra daycare because we don’t have the attention span to parent. Gym memberships because we don’t have the attention span to do anything else other than walk on a machine that takes us absolutely nowhere.
Think of it, people. Without us, the entire economy would just collapse. Hallmark would lose at least a fourth of their business. Florists would never make it. Airlines would feel the pinch because we wouldn’t be trying to escape from wherever it is we are.
And wineries…where would they be?
We know why we do it. It’s instant gratification. Knowing that we’ve found just the right thing makes us feel better for a minute. And in the grieving game, if you can feel better for a minute, you’re doing pretty good.
It’s busy work. It keeps us from thinking about what’s really bothering us. Concentrating on not falling off the escalator at Foley’s gives us an escape for just a moment and we’re not thinking about the world falling down around us.
It’s empowering. It makes us feel in control of something…even for just a second. And when you’re living with how out of control life can be, you’ll take what you can get.
I’m not saying this is healthy. I’m not saying you should run out and blow your entire savings just so you can feel better for a minute. I’m saying forgive yourself a little. And be aware of what you’re doing and why you’re doing it. I know that always makes me think a little before I hand over that piece of plastic.
I mean, right now, I’m feeling a little small and powerless. And there’s one thing I keep thinking over and over.
I’d feel a lot better if I just found the right car to go with that purse.
© Catherine Tidd 2010
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