I dreamed of my ex-husband again last night, as I often have since Jim died four years ago. We were travelling together, visiting family. In reality, we had separated and divorced over thirty years ago and thereafter rarely saw one another except for our children’s graduations. We don’t end up as a married couple in my dreams either.
Before Jim’s death, I never dreamed about him. Why after, I’m not sure. Maybe I’m supposed to look back and discover some nugget of wisdom.
At twenty-three, I believed “I do” was a life commitment. I gave him my troth and was a loyal spouse, sharing children, family, friends, finances, and possessions. He wanted more. At the time, I thought if I worked harder, surely, I could save our marriage. But all we had left after sixteen years was my loyalty and protest. “This is not my story! A divorced woman is not who I am. I’m loyal till death us do part.”
Now I can see that neither of us was loyal. He strayed, and I gave, showing him firm and constant support without giving me. I couldn’t offer that person because I didn’t know her. But after my marriage failed, she and I got better acquainted. And I became worthier of a loyal marriage.
Am I loyal to my husband Keith if I dream about my ex? That’s a troubling question. I can’t control my dreams, but this I know. When Keith and I said “I do” this month seventeen years ago, we gave our beautiful, flawed selves to each other and became one. Obedient and devoted. Trusting and committed. Till death us do part.
To me Loyalty is something I bestow not because it is demanded of me - because wrapped up in it is Trust and Forbearance and I have discovered that forbearance plays a vital role.
The thirteen years I spent with my first husband, a prolific and dedicated artist, were transformative for me. However sometime during the final year of his life, I realized that my trust and forbearance had been wavering because of miniscule, incremental actions of his over time. I began to reflect on the positive and negative implications and concluded that I should leave my marriage.
Just as I had mustered up the courage to do this my husband became seriously ill, needed hospitalization and, to survive, a strict regimen to follow. I chose loyalty to him over my personal desire, there was time for my needs to be met.
Well, he chose to ignore his regimen and within 3 months suffered a massive heart attack. On his last day as I was drawing in another room, he put his head in and said “everything will be alright “as he continued down the hall and collapsed. And everything has been alright. Over the past 53 years I have been the loyal steward of his life’s work and continue to be so and have been duly rewarded as his legacy prevails.
I believe I'm a very loyal person. If someone trusts me with a secret my lips remained sealed. But at times that secret gets let out to the person I was holding it for and then does the other feel I wasn't loyal to them.
After my husband passed and when I first started dating again I wondered if I was going to be perceived as being disloyal. After all I was still young and wanted another chance at love. Did I feel disloyal. I think initially. But I also I know he would have wanted me to continue to live life.
I was loyal to my employer for 30 years and then one day, I as I was told, my performance as far as they were concerned wasnt good enough and they fired me.
Yes it depends. Maybe I believe loyalty has to be earned now. Maybe I'm more cynical than I used to be when it comes to loyalty.
The pandemic afforded us a glimpse of rather touching reciprocal loyalty. We bought and moved into our lovely home here in the slightly forlorn coastal town of Seaford in August of 2019. There didn't seem to be any need to rush out and explore the community right away and we spent much of our time nesting and settling in, we were still feeling like newly-weds after all. The heart of town functions much like a village with shops run by the owners, pubs serving regulars, neighbours catching up in the lane, and the church bells ringing out for special occasions. We even have a town crier who wrote the official nationwide proclamation for the King's coronation! Of course, there is a supermarket which we do use once a week for the staples and ingredients we cannot procure from the local vendors but since we arrived we always purchase our goods from the green grocer, the butcher, the fish monger, the natural foods shoppe, and Julie's Scoop & Weigh bulk foods. The prices are undeniably higher but we support shopping local and package free, finding savings in other ways. By the time Covid hit and shopping became strange, with supplies often very limited, those vendors were already familiar with us and voluntarily put things aside like eggs and flour. Our pantry was never lacking and it went a long way toward making this feel like home.
An alleged characteristic of people born in the Chinese year of the dog is that they are loyal. Perhaps there is some truth to that.
In my case, maybe loyalty manifests as a feeling of connection to old friends, no matter how far away they may be physically or emotionally. But where is the line between nostalgia and fear of loss? Chalk that up to having your favorite parent move out during your formative years. How close is that to the urge to be dis-loyal, always being the first to quit a relationship to avoid be-ing the one left behind?
Some military groups have loyalty and honor as their motto. Why and how are they related?
A familiar mantra in dance and Western yoga is to “honor your body,” though at least in the former you are sometimes expected to push it to the edge. Over years of dance class, feuding parents, and even motherhood I internalized a contradiction: being sensitive to my feelings yet disregarding them, the excuse being some higher goal beyond my own needs or wants.
Perhaps even harder than learning to accept the insecurities inherent in any relationship has been learning to be loyal to myself.
Loyalty is a word with such positive connotations and yet, and yet, on first instinct the word brings me to dark places, to unpleasant memories of pasts that sometimes barely seem to be my own. I have always been careful who I give loyalty to. By that, I mean very slow to give it fully, because for me loyalty is often synonymous with vulnerability and when you come from nothing--poor families, ramshackle homes, drugs and guns--vulnerability is a privilege with consequences, should they appear, too large to entertain.
And yet, and yet, at the end of the day no matter how careful you are, a human is a human is a human. I can count on one hand the people I gave my full loyalty to, and there is perhaps only two I can say I don't regret. Because once the loyalty is there, it takes so much for me to back away. With loyalty, your own identity gets mixed in to what it is you are loyal to, and if they go rogue, your identity feels at risk.
Now I am learning that what someone does with my loyalty is not my fault, and in the end I just need to remember to hold my boundaries if they are crossed.
My context for writing this is America, MAGA, and Trump. Yesterday, I said to my husband, "His followers don't want to hear anything but what inflames their passions and supports him. They want nothing of sober discussion and reason, let alone actual facts (as opposed to Conway's "alternative facts").
My oldest was describing the convoluted plot of the show she’s currently hate-watching. One girl lies and takes the fall for a crime her sister committed, because the sister already has a felony conviction and would face prison time. When the parents find out, they collaborate.
My kid is one of those oldest children who, like Katniss Everdeen, would jump at the chance to save her sister from peril.
“But the parents!” I say. “They just went along with it?”
“Wouldn’t you?” she asked, clearly indignant. “If she’d have to spend three years in prison?”
I thought for a minute. “I don’t think so. I don’t want you screwing up your life to save her from her mistakes.”
My kid only has one sister; I have two daughters. Her loyalty only has to stretch far enough to save the person she loves most of all. Mine is a more complicated equation.
My father said Thank You to me tonight after dinner.
He was downstairs, jacket on, ready to go back to his house, and hollered up,
“Karen, there is something I forgot to ask you.”
He came back upstairs, stood next to where I was sitting on the couch.
“Was I here every meal during the pandemic?”
He was. Since my mother died in 2017 we spent weekends here in Maine, buying a house near him. With the pandemic we felt he needed us full time. We joke that we came for the weekend in March 2019, and never left.
“Yes you were here every meal. Remember? You would come for breakfast around 8:30”
He chimed in, “Then we would walk to the marsh?”
“Yes, and then you’d go do your own thing, and come back for dinner”
He sat down on the couch next to me, jacket still on.
“I sort of remember but it got absorbed now with my new life” He means his life with his new girlfriend, who we love, who lives with him now.
He patted my leg.
“I just want to say Thank you. You sure know how to take care of your father.”
Except, the first time I was eligible to vote, I didn’t vote for them. I voted for the Liberal Democrats, because they said they would scrap university fees. Instead they formed a government with the Tories, and the only thing they scrapped was benefits for people who needed them.
I will never vote for anyone else again. I would quite like to vote for the Green Party but I can’t, in case voting for them somehow helps the Tories win more seats. I don’t really understand politics, but I am loyal to free milk for kids, and grants for students who can’t afford the fees. Workers’ rights and welcoming refugees. I'm very loyal to my idea of Labour; not so interested in today's actual Labour politicians.
At the end of a life, certain truths are laid bare, impossible to hide. The evidence contained in what we leave behind, particularly in the event of unanticipated death, confirms pieces of who we were. What is left is a state of suspended animation, to be dealt with by the living. It reminds us that we are temporary. Our earthly impact slowly disappears only to be revived in our memories; the loved ones left behind.
This is a real-time tribute to my uncle and close friend, Bob. We were all just talking to UB two weeks ago, now he’s moved on. After a phone call with my dad this past Saturday, I dropped everything and was on a flight to be present as he lay dying. He left us quickly, mercifully, my dad’s only sibling, his little bro.
The good people of Philadelphia, City of Brotherly Love, know a thing or two about loyalty. Family and friends from near and far arrived in Northeast Philly, gathering to show the same respect and loyalty this man gave to them. He brought all types together, like any good shepherd, his flock united by good times and fun. He knew he had this ability and took great pride in his friendships, building bonds that last a lifetime. Loyal to the end.
During a multi-day race, a situation arose that upset me. I wasn't feeling very well that day. I was struggling with heat and abdominal muscle cramps. Then finally the last checkpoint. Now there was one last big climb, and then the trail flattened out and became twisting with some trees in the middle.
Suddenly I saw a runner, who was running behind me, leave the course. She ran between the trees, cut short and then found herself in front of me. Maybe she didn't see the markings? But she did see me running there? Maybe she is overheated and tired? We all are, but we don't cut corners just in front of another runner. These thoughts were going through my head like crazy. I wasn't concerned with placing, it didn't matter in my category. But the principle of someone cutting corners in front of me and overtaking me in this way annoyed me. Maybe she was not aware of that?
Then about 1.5km before the finish, there was a last uphill through lush bushes, but she ran straight ahead. I called her back. She crossed the finish line 3 minutes after me. These minutes were totally irrelevant. But this situation left somewhat on my stomach.
I dreamed of my ex-husband again last night, as I often have since Jim died four years ago. We were travelling together, visiting family. In reality, we had separated and divorced over thirty years ago and thereafter rarely saw one another except for our children’s graduations. We don’t end up as a married couple in my dreams either.
Before Jim’s death, I never dreamed about him. Why after, I’m not sure. Maybe I’m supposed to look back and discover some nugget of wisdom.
At twenty-three, I believed “I do” was a life commitment. I gave him my troth and was a loyal spouse, sharing children, family, friends, finances, and possessions. He wanted more. At the time, I thought if I worked harder, surely, I could save our marriage. But all we had left after sixteen years was my loyalty and protest. “This is not my story! A divorced woman is not who I am. I’m loyal till death us do part.”
Now I can see that neither of us was loyal. He strayed, and I gave, showing him firm and constant support without giving me. I couldn’t offer that person because I didn’t know her. But after my marriage failed, she and I got better acquainted. And I became worthier of a loyal marriage.
Am I loyal to my husband Keith if I dream about my ex? That’s a troubling question. I can’t control my dreams, but this I know. When Keith and I said “I do” this month seventeen years ago, we gave our beautiful, flawed selves to each other and became one. Obedient and devoted. Trusting and committed. Till death us do part.
To me Loyalty is something I bestow not because it is demanded of me - because wrapped up in it is Trust and Forbearance and I have discovered that forbearance plays a vital role.
The thirteen years I spent with my first husband, a prolific and dedicated artist, were transformative for me. However sometime during the final year of his life, I realized that my trust and forbearance had been wavering because of miniscule, incremental actions of his over time. I began to reflect on the positive and negative implications and concluded that I should leave my marriage.
Just as I had mustered up the courage to do this my husband became seriously ill, needed hospitalization and, to survive, a strict regimen to follow. I chose loyalty to him over my personal desire, there was time for my needs to be met.
Well, he chose to ignore his regimen and within 3 months suffered a massive heart attack. On his last day as I was drawing in another room, he put his head in and said “everything will be alright “as he continued down the hall and collapsed. And everything has been alright. Over the past 53 years I have been the loyal steward of his life’s work and continue to be so and have been duly rewarded as his legacy prevails.
Hmm. Loyalty. Well I think it depends.
I believe I'm a very loyal person. If someone trusts me with a secret my lips remained sealed. But at times that secret gets let out to the person I was holding it for and then does the other feel I wasn't loyal to them.
After my husband passed and when I first started dating again I wondered if I was going to be perceived as being disloyal. After all I was still young and wanted another chance at love. Did I feel disloyal. I think initially. But I also I know he would have wanted me to continue to live life.
I was loyal to my employer for 30 years and then one day, I as I was told, my performance as far as they were concerned wasnt good enough and they fired me.
Yes it depends. Maybe I believe loyalty has to be earned now. Maybe I'm more cynical than I used to be when it comes to loyalty.
The pandemic afforded us a glimpse of rather touching reciprocal loyalty. We bought and moved into our lovely home here in the slightly forlorn coastal town of Seaford in August of 2019. There didn't seem to be any need to rush out and explore the community right away and we spent much of our time nesting and settling in, we were still feeling like newly-weds after all. The heart of town functions much like a village with shops run by the owners, pubs serving regulars, neighbours catching up in the lane, and the church bells ringing out for special occasions. We even have a town crier who wrote the official nationwide proclamation for the King's coronation! Of course, there is a supermarket which we do use once a week for the staples and ingredients we cannot procure from the local vendors but since we arrived we always purchase our goods from the green grocer, the butcher, the fish monger, the natural foods shoppe, and Julie's Scoop & Weigh bulk foods. The prices are undeniably higher but we support shopping local and package free, finding savings in other ways. By the time Covid hit and shopping became strange, with supplies often very limited, those vendors were already familiar with us and voluntarily put things aside like eggs and flour. Our pantry was never lacking and it went a long way toward making this feel like home.
An alleged characteristic of people born in the Chinese year of the dog is that they are loyal. Perhaps there is some truth to that.
In my case, maybe loyalty manifests as a feeling of connection to old friends, no matter how far away they may be physically or emotionally. But where is the line between nostalgia and fear of loss? Chalk that up to having your favorite parent move out during your formative years. How close is that to the urge to be dis-loyal, always being the first to quit a relationship to avoid be-ing the one left behind?
Some military groups have loyalty and honor as their motto. Why and how are they related?
A familiar mantra in dance and Western yoga is to “honor your body,” though at least in the former you are sometimes expected to push it to the edge. Over years of dance class, feuding parents, and even motherhood I internalized a contradiction: being sensitive to my feelings yet disregarding them, the excuse being some higher goal beyond my own needs or wants.
Perhaps even harder than learning to accept the insecurities inherent in any relationship has been learning to be loyal to myself.
Loyalty is a word with such positive connotations and yet, and yet, on first instinct the word brings me to dark places, to unpleasant memories of pasts that sometimes barely seem to be my own. I have always been careful who I give loyalty to. By that, I mean very slow to give it fully, because for me loyalty is often synonymous with vulnerability and when you come from nothing--poor families, ramshackle homes, drugs and guns--vulnerability is a privilege with consequences, should they appear, too large to entertain.
And yet, and yet, at the end of the day no matter how careful you are, a human is a human is a human. I can count on one hand the people I gave my full loyalty to, and there is perhaps only two I can say I don't regret. Because once the loyalty is there, it takes so much for me to back away. With loyalty, your own identity gets mixed in to what it is you are loyal to, and if they go rogue, your identity feels at risk.
Now I am learning that what someone does with my loyalty is not my fault, and in the end I just need to remember to hold my boundaries if they are crossed.
My context for writing this is America, MAGA, and Trump. Yesterday, I said to my husband, "His followers don't want to hear anything but what inflames their passions and supports him. They want nothing of sober discussion and reason, let alone actual facts (as opposed to Conway's "alternative facts").
If that's loyalty, I want nothing of it.
My oldest was describing the convoluted plot of the show she’s currently hate-watching. One girl lies and takes the fall for a crime her sister committed, because the sister already has a felony conviction and would face prison time. When the parents find out, they collaborate.
My kid is one of those oldest children who, like Katniss Everdeen, would jump at the chance to save her sister from peril.
“But the parents!” I say. “They just went along with it?”
“Wouldn’t you?” she asked, clearly indignant. “If she’d have to spend three years in prison?”
I thought for a minute. “I don’t think so. I don’t want you screwing up your life to save her from her mistakes.”
My kid only has one sister; I have two daughters. Her loyalty only has to stretch far enough to save the person she loves most of all. Mine is a more complicated equation.
My father said Thank You to me tonight after dinner.
He was downstairs, jacket on, ready to go back to his house, and hollered up,
“Karen, there is something I forgot to ask you.”
He came back upstairs, stood next to where I was sitting on the couch.
“Was I here every meal during the pandemic?”
He was. Since my mother died in 2017 we spent weekends here in Maine, buying a house near him. With the pandemic we felt he needed us full time. We joke that we came for the weekend in March 2019, and never left.
“Yes you were here every meal. Remember? You would come for breakfast around 8:30”
He chimed in, “Then we would walk to the marsh?”
“Yes, and then you’d go do your own thing, and come back for dinner”
He sat down on the couch next to me, jacket still on.
“I sort of remember but it got absorbed now with my new life” He means his life with his new girlfriend, who we love, who lives with him now.
He patted my leg.
“I just want to say Thank you. You sure know how to take care of your father.”
I am loyal to the Labour party.
Except, the first time I was eligible to vote, I didn’t vote for them. I voted for the Liberal Democrats, because they said they would scrap university fees. Instead they formed a government with the Tories, and the only thing they scrapped was benefits for people who needed them.
I will never vote for anyone else again. I would quite like to vote for the Green Party but I can’t, in case voting for them somehow helps the Tories win more seats. I don’t really understand politics, but I am loyal to free milk for kids, and grants for students who can’t afford the fees. Workers’ rights and welcoming refugees. I'm very loyal to my idea of Labour; not so interested in today's actual Labour politicians.
At the end of a life, certain truths are laid bare, impossible to hide. The evidence contained in what we leave behind, particularly in the event of unanticipated death, confirms pieces of who we were. What is left is a state of suspended animation, to be dealt with by the living. It reminds us that we are temporary. Our earthly impact slowly disappears only to be revived in our memories; the loved ones left behind.
This is a real-time tribute to my uncle and close friend, Bob. We were all just talking to UB two weeks ago, now he’s moved on. After a phone call with my dad this past Saturday, I dropped everything and was on a flight to be present as he lay dying. He left us quickly, mercifully, my dad’s only sibling, his little bro.
The good people of Philadelphia, City of Brotherly Love, know a thing or two about loyalty. Family and friends from near and far arrived in Northeast Philly, gathering to show the same respect and loyalty this man gave to them. He brought all types together, like any good shepherd, his flock united by good times and fun. He knew he had this ability and took great pride in his friendships, building bonds that last a lifetime. Loyal to the end.
I love you and miss you, UB.
During a multi-day race, a situation arose that upset me. I wasn't feeling very well that day. I was struggling with heat and abdominal muscle cramps. Then finally the last checkpoint. Now there was one last big climb, and then the trail flattened out and became twisting with some trees in the middle.
Suddenly I saw a runner, who was running behind me, leave the course. She ran between the trees, cut short and then found herself in front of me. Maybe she didn't see the markings? But she did see me running there? Maybe she is overheated and tired? We all are, but we don't cut corners just in front of another runner. These thoughts were going through my head like crazy. I wasn't concerned with placing, it didn't matter in my category. But the principle of someone cutting corners in front of me and overtaking me in this way annoyed me. Maybe she was not aware of that?
Then about 1.5km before the finish, there was a last uphill through lush bushes, but she ran straight ahead. I called her back. She crossed the finish line 3 minutes after me. These minutes were totally irrelevant. But this situation left somewhat on my stomach.