Love ‘n Stuff

Thump, thump, thump. That was the sound of the 20 cup percolator working its magic to recaffeinate the “wenches” on the third and final day of “Wench Weekend 2023”. Although the first rule is what happens at WW stays at WW, I’m going to violate that dictate in order to summon the reason why it is so very special and we are so very lucky.

On the heels of her mother’s untimely death due to a life long struggle with a bad heart after a terrible childhood case of scarlet fever (our beloved Auntie Dottie), cousin Linda decided to host the ladies who stepped in and hugged her tight when all things fell apart. I remember her trying not to cry in the waiting room of the ICU as Mom hugged her, she herself knew all too well the pain of losing one’s mother. It was the first death that really hit me, I bawled my eyes out after the funeral watching the video Linda had made of Auntie Dottie, documenting all the moments that meant just so much over those last precious few years. The video ended with Kate Bush’s “This Woman’s Work”, need I say more? Linda needed the women who meant so much to her growing up and even more now. We ladies were very willing to oblige. Food, shopping, wine for the elders, soda for the “TWITS” (teenage wenches in training)? Sign us up, we could do all of those things very very well.

On a cold winter weekend of 1992, we piled in to Mom’s woody station wagon, I in the way back in the rear facing trunk seat at the awkward age of 13 along with my ability to sweat through all my clothes despite the frost in the air. Smelly gawky years as Barb says. We drove to Holyoke and snuggled in to Linda and Thom’s house, Thom being her then husband but now she’s married to a wonderful woman named Kristi, Thom is still a wonderful and talented man, very much a part of their lives. He even came to Dad’s wake. I digress but I wanted to point out that sometimes things work out for the best and I see them as a shining example of that. Poor Thom had nowhere to hide that weekend, he quietly accepted us ladies into his home and wrote drum music in his office for the drum corps he conducted at UMass. I heard him rattling sounds off when I walked by, I was fascinated by whatever was happening—I do love creativity. As the weekend unfolded, we shopped in all the places, bought the things, ate copious amounts of Italian food and garlic, went to the Heavenly Hana Hot Tubs in Northampton until all that garlic in us made soup, crashed here there and everywhere in the house, and Linda made French Toast out of English muffins. I learned things about the women in my life I never heard before, things that painted a picture and provided a framework for the many paths my future life as a woman would take. I was in awe and god we loved Linda, one of the funniest humans I know. She coined the “Wench Weekend” title and it has stuck.

We managed to do this weekend once or twice more after that, this time at Linda’s new home in Hadley, the same one that warmed us the past three days. Linda, a young mother, slept in her son’s room to give Mom and I her bed. Although we all loved going and spending time together, life got busy and messy as it does and the tradition fell away. The last one we had, Nana went and it was her last. She died about three or four years later.

Over the past 20 years, as life has thrown us joys and sorrows, we women have all had to face challenges that have stared us down. We still face those challenges today, fresh hell always awaits. These are the things that have not exactly defined us but have made us the badasses we all are. We all live and love differently; we will talk about anything under the sun. “Did you get your UTI pills?” Mom shouted at me from the opposite end of the table. “Not yet but it sure is a good thing I’m not a private person!” I quipped back. I think the most recent challenges spurred Linda and Kristi into action this year, an email was sent and an invite mas made—us OG Wenches were unanimous in our RSVP of hell to the yes. We showed up at 4:30 on the dot, the time they had set.

As all attendees arrived, the house filled with laughter, music, conversation, and crying. We learned things from one another, Maire and Lucy (the new TWITs) looked on and absorbed, Maire was in a bit of shock, fidgeting endlessly with one of Linda’s toys. Most of us were assigned to meals with the rule of those who cook clean and that’s it for the weekend. We sat on couches after dinner and watched videos of Nana that Linda had made, one being a one on one interview that brought a few tears to our eyes. I remembered Dad watching this once and wiping tears away, for the first time I saw him as someone’s little boy. Nana was the original Queen Wench or, as we decided today, the “Qwench”. We shared stories, reminisced, and slept like logs. On Saturday cousin Kristin drove a carload of us to the Connecticut River for a walk, unloading her trunk in seconds to make room. We had a healthy walk, more than I’ve done in a while. After, we shopped at Snow Farm, a learning center for the creative arts that sells their wares. Mom got very winded, a lung cancer survivor’s battle is never over. She insisted on powering through, sitting only when forced. Mary Paul will quite literally shop ‘till she drops. I did not get that gene, my focus being food. We all walked away with a treasure or two, I looked into their summer art program for Maire. She had crafted a dried flower crown with cousin Liz that morning, proving her skills and talents. Finally she had something to do, Liz has a knack for teaching. “You need to do a workshop, Liz.” I told her. She really does.

Last night, we did an accessory swap of all our gently used bags, bobbles, and such. I got tie dye sweats, a fun scarf, a vest, and a bag. Cousin Ginny taught me how to dance disco, Maire sent the video to her brothers. “That’s fire” J.D. sent back. Auntie Janice and Janet served us an exceptional meal of Chicken Marbella with fresh green beans, orzo, and sage and cider bread. Kristi said a blessing that made us smile and cry, Mom especially who said “I can’t stand it!” out of pure emotional overload. Dessert was a pear almond torte, cookies, and Kristi’s kickass apple crisp. We drank wine, told stories, and danced. As we buzzed around the living room in all our revelry, I looked at Mom and saw the tears in her eyes. “Oh, Mom, are you having a moment?” I asked. “I’m fine. It’s just…how did I get so…lucky?” she asked as I hugged her. “You worked hard. You earned and deserve this.” I assured her.

After the percolator finished this morning, we hit that thing hard and fast. Caffeine is what fuels many women I know and certainly these women in particular. Maggie, Liz, and I prepped breakfast and served others and ourselves. We walked again, it was colder today. We saw three bluebirds and an eagle, Maire held my hand. “Tell me about this podcast you’re starting.” Kristi asked me about a plan that’s in that works. “It’s going to be about strength and humor through adversity.” I told her. Maggie said “that sounds right up your alley, Kristi.” Kristi is a published author but, more importantly, an awesome human and one of the warmest people you will ever meet. I had wanted to try to record a conversation this weekend but food and joy distracted me, I gave up that quest. I told Kristi that she could be my first guest. She is doing a reading in Vermont today as a matter of fact. “I just want to keep the art of vocal storytelling alive. I’m going to be hosting a local spoken word night soon.” I told her. I am, by the way, so stay tuned. Homestead Harvest in Whitman has agreed to be my venue. Kristi encouraged me and agreed wholeheartedly to participate in any way. Thank you, Kristi. Consider yourself booked my sister from another mister.

After we came home from our walk, Auntie Janice and Liz made arrangements to figure out why their car was sadly dead. I hope it is soon solved, we felt bad leaving them behind but our car runneth over. Before we said our goodbyes, I placed the flower crown on Mom’s head and dubbed her Queen Wench. “You are the Qwench” I informed her. She accepted her new role happily and willingly. Katy offered to let her house be the next landing spot for Wench Weekend. You’re on, Katy! We already RSVP hell yes. We are on our way home, Barb is watching dog videos and Mom said “Glory! What is the fascination in watching that?” These wenches, the ones I call mine, are some of the biggest badasses I know. We are fortified with a renewed sisterhood to surround us, knowing we will need them to help hold us up whenever we inevitably stumble. My dear wenches, you mean more to me than I can capture in words. Indeed. How did we get so lucky? From the bottom of my soul, thank you all. As our dear Nana used to say on her cards—Love ‘n stuff.