Such a Wonderful Experience Representing Team 60 at Generation Women DC!

“Generation Women blends a lively literary salon with the tradition of handing down wisdom from community elders. Join us around the matriarchal campfire for an intimate monthly event that celebrates the hearts and minds of many. Alongside cis women, we cast all gender expressions including non-binary folk and trans women.

I am so grateful that I got chosen to speak at this event. I miss the best friend, Hilary Olsen, that I ever had. I tried not to cry during my talk (which was a tribute to Hilary, molded without much effort due to her magical presence in my life, to fit the evening’s theme), but a few tears flowed (they did in the audience, as well). I spoke about how I asked her, as she lay dying, to send me heart-shaped items if that were within her power. Especially at challenging times in my life, heart-shaped things show up. They are so unexpected that they are magical. My talk is at the end of this entry. Comments welcome!

More about Generation Women and the Show:

“At each of our live shows, six storytellers of note share an original, true story on a theme. Of those performers, one is in their 20s, 30s, 40s, 50s, 60s, and 70s+. Our diverse line-ups will make you laugh, cry, and reflect on the cycle of life. Generation Women is an intimate literary salon that brings together people of all ages.

Generation Women founder Georgia Clark was moved by conversations with her mother, Jayne, about Jayne’s feeling of disappearing as an older woman. Jayne said the older she got, the more it felt like people were starting to look right through her. Georgia was inspired to create a warm and interesting space where people of all ages could come together, tell their stories, and be celebrated. A space where older women in particular could feel validated, respected, and seen.

DC producers (and longtime Generation Women fans) Lina Patton and Brittany Kerfoot are thrilled to bring Generation Women to DC, a city brimming with fascinating subcultures and people from all walks of life.”

The theme for the October 22 event was "Spooky Season: Stories of Myth, Magic & the Unexplainable."

“Overview

True stories of strange encounters, old legends, mysterious moments, and experiences that defy explanation. Come curious!

Some stories have an explanation. Others…not so much.

This October, Generation Women DC steps into the shadows for an evening of true stories that explore the mysterious, the magical, and the downright unexplainable.

Hear from women of all different generations and perspectives for a night of stories that are funny, haunting, heartfelt, and surprising that left our storytellers wondering: What the heck just happened?

Come for the stories, stay for the mystery. And maybe don’t walk home alone. 👻”

Showtime!

“We'll hear from our multigenerational lineup in age-order, beginning with Team 20s and moving all the way through to Team 70s+! There will be a 15-minute intermission in the middle of the show.”

Learn more: https://www.generationwomendc.com/

From left to right: the Team 20 speaker, Team 30 speaker, Lina Patton (co-founder of Generation Women DC), Team 40 speaker, Brittany Kerfoot (co-founder), Team 50 speaker, Team 60 speaker (me), and Team 70 speaker. What a fantastic group of dynamic women!

Theme: “Spooky Season: Stories of Myth, Magic & the Unexplainable"

She Puts Hearts in My Path Every Day

            Her breast cancer came back.  The best friend I have ever had, Hilary, lays dying on her hospital bed.  The room is dark and heavy with despair.  I grasp her hand.  Tears leak down my face onto the sheets.

I am not ready to lose her.  At this point, I am 55; she’s 56. We married brothers decades ago, though I got divorced 5 years prior.  We raised our children together.  Now I’m 63 years old and still believe Hilary is the only person on earth who understands the family dynamics we navigate in this particular dysfunctional family.

I need to stay connected to this extraordinary human.  She fearlessly stuck up for me.  “How can I do this without you?” I silently pleaded.

I need at least to feel her presence, even if she is physically removed from me.

“If there is any way you can put heart-shaped things in my path — like clouds or something -- to let me know you’re still with me?  Will you do that?” I selfishly blurt.  She manages a weak nod, her normally bright blue eyes resembling a cloudy sky themselves.

She dies the next day.  And heart-shaped objects started appearing before me almost immediately.  First rocks and leaves, then in stains, holes and food.  When I most need her, Hilary is still there.

Shortly after Hilary died, for example, someone gifted me a 23andMe DNA test kit. I never would have bought one. 

My Mom was an immigrant from the most Catholic country on the planet, the Philippines.  My violently alcoholic birth certificate father was a white, Irish-Catholic American.  I was raised Catholic, attended Catholic schools from first grade through college, raised my kids Catholic and served on the board of one of DC’s biggest Catholic churches.  I was named Maria for the Blessed Virgin Mother.

23andMe revealed that this lifelong Catholic is, genetically speaking, half Southeast Asian and half Ashkenazi Jew!  I’ve never met a Jewlipina before.  Have you?

Turns out I was the product of a one-night stand my Mom had in the 60s.  Turns out my bio-Dad is an actor I’ve watched on the big and small screens. The initial shock left me bereft and feeling untethered.

I wandered around outside seeking a sense of calm.  There it was, a whole bed of ivy with heart-shaped leaves.  I wanted to dive into the plant bed, but remembered that my dog sometimes pooped in such areas.  I took a deep breath.  “I will be ok,” I whispered to myself.  “Thanks, Hilary.” And it turns out, it was. I was blessed to spend eight years getting to know him.

Before Hilary died, I drank myself out of a 25-year marriage.  Hilary had helped me survive that painful chapter. “Hilary also helped me stay sober, for 5 years after my divorce. But the drama of my marriage remained. For example,’ my ex-husband called right before family therapy weekend at my son’s rehab. 

“I’m getting married,” he informed me.  He was to marry his tall, thin, blonde, leggy spinning instructor.  Everything I was not and thought I wanted to be in the 70s and 80s.  I coached myself to employ a tip I learned in rehab:  Squeeze your glutes together and you will not cry.

His announcement floored me.  The AA admonition to practice restraint of pen and tongue flew out the window.  I hastily sent my ex an article I came across entitled, “Get a Prenup! Especially for a Second or Third Marriage, Which Have Even Higher Divorce Rates.”  I fessed up about this to my AA sponsor.  “Call him and tell him not to open the envelope,” she counseled.  There was no need.  When I texted him not to open what I sent him, he replied, “Don’t worry.  I wouldn’t have opened it.”

I regret what I said about my ex’s new wife while at family therapy at my son’s rehab, too.  Especially because my son— who many of you may know, the funny and talented Chris Olsen, People Magazine’s Sexiest TikToker with 22 million followers across platforms—put my angry words in his bestselling memoir that came out last month!

Ugh.  I was struggling.  So, I hatched a plan.  I would marry myself on the same day as my ex’s wedding.

I emailed an invitation to three friends to meet me on a western mountaintop to attend my wedding…to myself.  They know me and how out there I can be.  They made immediate reservations.

At the wedding, I recited my vows:  “I will be solely responsible for my own happiness.  I will no longer seek outside affirmations as a barometer of my self-worth.”  The words felt solemn.  We enjoyed a hot tub reception under the glittering stars.

Strangers stopped to witness the outdoor event.  “You have given me courage to leave my abusive relationship,” exclaimed one young woman through tears.

The wedding ceremony was healing.  I know Hilary would have loved it.  As I flew over the Grand Canyon on the way home, I spotted towering ridges that formed a giant heart shape.  Hilary was still with me and I felt ready to face whatever was coming next.

I lost my Mom last year in a freak accident.  I desperately searched the sky for heart-shaped clouds on my way to her memorial service.  Hilary did not disappoint. 

I continue to talk to Hilary. Especially when trying to help my son, who has struggled with substance abuse, just like his Mama.  Sometimes  I talk out loud. 

“Should I respond to the editor who wrote a piece, including my photo, erroneously stating that Chris’ mother ‘has apparently entered old age’?”

 Or, “Should I respect my son’s wishes that I never comment on press articles?”  I talk to my therapist, too, but Hilary is a superb listener…who never judges or interrupts. 

I also travel frequently post-divorce, and Hilary follows. I have visited 83 countries.  Lots of heart-shaped flora in the tropics!  Unfortunately, TSA nastily yanks larger heart-shaped rocks and shells out of my suitcase on my way home.  But happening upon these items feels like a great big hug from my best friend.

I have found heart-shaped potato chips, heart-shaped holes in bacon strips and salad leaves, heart-shaped pieces of discarded paper.  I even found a heart-shaped fur spot on the friendly puppy clamoring onto my lap at my Airbnb in Montenegro.  The randomness makes the heart discoveries even more magical. 

When I did a Boston half marathon benefit run in Hilary’s memory earlier this month, she put a heart shaped wad of discarded chewing gum in my path at mile 12 when I felt like giving up.  (I had failed to prepare for the run and my quads screamed for a whole week.)  

When I crossed the finish line I sobbed and yelled, “Please don’t ever leave me, Hilary!”

I choose to believe that Hilary is sending me these hearts.  That which I focus on becomes magnified in my life, so I take time to savor anything heart-shaped.  She’s sending me strength and comfort every day.  Maybe I am simply manifesting it.

So, look around you after you leave tonight.  I bet Hilary – or someone else you love -- will send you a heart, too.

Getting ready to speak, but not wanting to be emotional (the founders said my emotion added to the authenticity of my tribute to Hilary….)

My sponsee got into the spirit of Halloween and supported me at the event. Other sober sisters came to the event, too. I am so blessed!

Some vibrant people I met at Cantler’s in Annapolis the evening before who showed up to hear me speak! Yes, I am an extrovert who often befriends strangers who quickly become friends!