COMING SOON

The Museum of Michael’s Mind:

Memoirs, Memories, & Meanderings

VOLUME ONE

BACK COVER

“With soft humor and gentle wonder, Michael generously shares his reflections on compassion and connection. What he has learned will resonate in your heart and mind.” 

Patricia Anderson May 2010 EWW Conference.

• • •

Over 150 short writings including creative non-fiction, fiction, dreams, thoughts, experiences, memories, and more. Michael’s writing is easy, engaging, and at times eloquent. Figurative, fanciful, and at times funny. Meaningful, meandering, and at times moving. Detailed, descriptive, and at times deep.

• • •

“…the audience for which he wrote this book includes: (unabashedly) himself, those who might have thought similar thoughts to his, those who have had similar experiences as he has had. It is for those who have wondered about things, those who have looked for answers, those who have supported a close one through living with Alzheimer’s, those who have grieved the death of a loved one and celebrated the birth of a new being. He hopes to let the reader know they are not alone in this frightening, overwhelming, impermanent, wonderful world.”

• • •

His author’s “voice” suggests that you get a cup of coffee and join him in a conversation about life. Since it is his voice, you will probably not be able to get a word in but still, the experience should be an enjoyable one!

He made a baker’s dozen of his favorite chocolate chip cookies with walnuts. If you do to like the nuts, just pull them off and put them on the side! Another cup of coffee? Sure. And have another cookie. 

Christmas Is Always Filled With Magic

This is a photograph of the "N" Guage train that Gregory and I used to put up in the hutch in our home at Christmas time. When we moved to the condo, we decided that we did not have room to properly display it and gave it to Whitney, one of our God-Daughters. She was the eldest so that is why she got it and not Emily.

For a while, at Christmas time the train lived at the home of her parents, Cheryl and Larry, and therefore both Emily and she got to enjoy it. When Whitney got married, she took the train to live with her and Nick in Washington D.C.

Maybe when I am ready to pass on my new "Z" Guage train, I will give it to Emily so they are even when it comes to model trains!

While we love both Emily and Whitney, Whitney is significant to Gregory and me in one additional special way. Cheryl and Larry were trying to decide what to name her and it had to begin with "W" in memory of one of their parents. They were having a terrible time coming up with a name they both liked when Gregory piped in, "Whitney." They both loved the name and the rest, as they say, is history!

Whitney and Nick are visiting with their parents this holiday and this painting was dropped off for me at the condo's front desk. I am tickled to have it as a holiday gift. It is so significant in many fond memory ways of Gregory and my time together, of experiencing Cheryl and Larry's kids grow up, and more.

 

The Ghosts of Christmas Past and Christmas Present

This Papier-màché Nativity was made by Gregory when he was eleven years old. Helen, his mom put it out each Christmas and took good care of it. Shortly after Gregory and I became a couple, she gave it to us, her agency for it having been completed. 

• • • • •

For some reason, this Christmas season has gotten off to a more than usual sad start. I usually have my "Christmas Cry" early in the season, missing all those people with whom I spent the holiday over the years and who made the holiday very important to me. But for some reason this year is different. I will visit the possible reasons later in this essay. 

Close to 50 years ago, Robert, my first lover, and his family introduced me to Christmas and that brought out again the little boy in me. Mom Dorothy and dad Robert Sr., devout Catholics celebrated the holiday fully and accepted me into their family and into their family traditions. Robert used to tell me that my boyish excitement in the glory of Christmas helped rekindle the holiday for them as well. 

Robert's Grandma Anna and her sisters Clara and Frieda all celebrated the traditions reflecting the decades of their raising their families, living with the losses of family, and with their slowly disappearing abilities to execute Christmas in the way they used to. But they were always cheerful, laughing in the kitchen over forgotten ingredients, and pushing themselves to put on the most amazing celebrations I have ever experienced in my adult life.

While I was the token Jew in the group, and while Robert and I were homosexual (in those days when it was not acknowledged or discussed) his family just loved me without qualification. In some ways, I was the son (as is often the usual role of a son-in-law) the Planing Family needed without the history or loading of the usual family relationships.

When Robert and I broke up, I still spent Christmas with him and his family. Slowly my involvement was curtailed as Dorothy and Bob moved away, as Robert and I grew further apart, and the elders grew older. 

I used to visit Grandma Anna at the care facility to which she eventually moved. I would bring a few shopping bags of decorations to convert her room to Christmas and the gifts I gave her were usually of the kind she could regift to her home's friends and staff: for example chocolates, nuts, cookies, etc. Once Bob, Anna's son and Robert's father wrote me a letter telling me that he continued to care for me and appreciated what I did each year for his mother.

The story is similar with Gregory and his family. I loved them. They loved me. And I loved Christmas which was obvious to everyone! I believe that they enjoyed me enjoying Christmas in my characteristic "little boy" manner. We spent most Christmasses with his family in Goshen, Indiana and then Battle Creek, Michigan. In some ways, I was more involved with the Maire Family than my own. Again, I reference the difference to the absence of the baggage of growing up with my own family and the expectations or lack of them, which I erroneously or not, brought along for my own family.

As a teacher, the school year and therefore the months of my life seemed to run from holiday to holiday with creating appropriate bulletin boards, writing season-specific educational activities, and celebrating the holidays with my students including appropriate refreshments. For example, on the first day of winter when it snowed, I would get up extra early to bake chocolate chip cookies and make hot chocolate to bring to my class to celebrate the occasion with my students. I encouraged parents to bring refreshments to class and join us to celebrate the student's birthday. If there wasn't a specific type of food for a specific holiday, I would declare it "Gum Chewing Day" and would provide the first round. 

Gregory and I always decorated our home at Christmas time with an abundance of decorations. Was that Gregory allowing me to do my thing? Partly, but he also loved the holiday. I remember the time we had an eight-foot tree in our first home on Poplar Avenue in Evanston which Gregory painstakingly decorated with over 5,000 miniature white Italian lights. He wove the stands of lights from deep inside the tree to the feathery tips and then back deep again. There were no other decorations on the tree except the tree topper silver star. I can close my eyes and still see and feel that tree.

We always baked cookies, stocked the house with candy, invited people into our home with countless parties, large and small. There was the Jewish Family Party, the Gay Family Party, the Neighbors Party, and when we moved to the condo the later party branched into the Old Neighbors Party and the New Neighbors Party. 

With the onset of Gregory's journey with Dementia, most likely Alzheimer's Disease, we continued the tradition of entertaining for the Christmas and New Year's holidays. Slowly he was able to be of less help and I had to do more. But he enjoyed the parties and while you might think that the crowd of people would be disorienting to him, they were on the contrary energizing. At one point I felt like such an adult when I had my housekeeper Halina come in to help me at the parties.

I always was "beat up" for the week after the parties and Gregory had a more difficult time with "reentry" to his routines after the excitement of the occasions. But it was a wonderful way for me to support Gregory, keep his life active and joyful, and I would do it again if he was still with us.

The last year of his living at home was like a train running away towards a wreck. Gregory's cognition failed and I canceled all our Christmas Parties and deep snow helped me to cancel the New Year's Eve Party without too much guilt. By January 10th he was somewhat successfully ensconced at the Lieberman Memory Care Facility, if any of that can really be successful vs painful but necessary!

Gregory died on October 4, 2015. This year will be five Christmasses which I have spent without him, alone (not that friends and family are not there for me but without Gregory, it still feels alone!) The first year I left our decorations in the closet and purchased a small live tree, brought new lights and ornaments, and baked a few cookies. By the next year I was able to get out the old decorations but with the goal of sending those which no longer held great joy for me on to a new life with families at La Casa Norte.

Even though I pare down my decorations each year, I continue to need to purchase a few new, glorious decorations each year and allow myself that. Last year I bought myself a Z-gauge electric train set. Z-gauge is the smallest made and can fit in a briefcase. I foraged my various collections to create a little village for the train to circle. There is a mirror skating rink with sleds and skaters circling as well.

This year the holidays have been more difficult because of the isolation necessary due to COVID 19. So the annual July 4th party in honor of the birth of Gregory and of our nation was canceled. Halloween and Day of the Dead got decorated but not celebrated and I avoided as much candy as possible. Thanksgiving consisted of all the "tastes of the holiday" picked up at a local restaurant. And now Christmas begins with my decorating the condo on the Friday after Thanksgiving.

I will share photos of what this year's Christmas looks like. I am pleased with how it turned out and it is quite differently arranged than in previous years. Watch for the photos in a future post. 

So while writing all and revisiting this has helped me make me feel better, why has this season felt sadder? COVID 19 is the biggest culprit. So many people are out of work, or ill and dying, or lonely. tRUMP figures in after four years of his making everything into shit with acceleration during his last year in power!

My turning 75 and feeling older is most likely part of the reason. My sister's passing figures in as well. She had a difficult time after a fall and breaking her back and pelvis but she made an amazing recovery and was doing so well. Then she unexpectedly decided the day after her 80th birthday, October 4th, that it was time to die and was complicated by the fifth anniversary of Gregory's having left us. As I get older, holidays seem to be more retrospective and more introspective.

So as I contemplate this Christmas I wonder how many will I have left? Who else might not be around to be part of the celebrations next year? I remember those who have left us. As I unpacked and placed all the decorations I was aware that there would be no one to share them with this year as the COVID 19 self-quarantining continues. I realize that the beautiful stories that are paired with each and every decoration will die with me. 

The memories of Christmases Past, even though filled with love and fondness, leave me feeling sad. Up until this year, there were exciting events to which to look forward, friends with whom to celebrate and spend a dinner or some wine and cheese or some homemade cookies. Not this year. Not during a COVID year! No parties. No visit to see the lights at the zoo and hear the groups singing carols to the animals, no walks through the Botanic Garden with its light show and displays, no shopping with the crowds at the malls, no visits and overnight guests from family, no picking up specialty foods at various grocery stores.

And though it might sound silly, it has always been important to me since my childhood, to buy a few gifts at the drug store like a gift box of lifesavers, or a special ornament for a friend, and from many years gone by, saving my pennies to purchase a cobalt blue bottle of Evening in Paris cologne for my mom. As a more year old, I can still smell it sitting on the couch in the living room of Kedzie Avenue (my childhood home) watching her standing in front of the powder room mirror putting on her apple red lipstick before going out to a party.

Ah, memories!

Eddie Liang Bloom, You Are Very Welcome!

FLOWERS SENT TO JESSIE (With Ron looking on!): "To CELEBRATE you on all the work you did to keep Eddie safe and happy until it was time for you to bring him into this world and for you and Isaac to welcome him home! What a blessing! What a joy! What a miracle! 

BELOW: Omg Michael, 😭 This was the sweetest gift, ❤️ And his first mail! Thank you 🙏🏼

Eddie Liang Bloom

October 16, 2020

Hahaha. While Biff decided to stay to live his life in Paris after having toured with Gregory and me; after having helped bring you, and Whitney, and Emily, and my nieces and nephews into the world; I found this surrogate Biff! Glad you like it!

Do you remember when Gregory and I moved into our first home on Poplar Avenue in Evanston, your mom and dad had sent a “welcome” card ahead and it arrived with the postwoman just as Gregory and I were paying the movers, their just having finished unloading the van? Simultaneously, your mom and dad were at the hospital as your mom was giving birth to you!

Curb Scrapers

When I turned 16, my father gave me driving lessons. The year was 1961. We were driving down McCormick Blvd in Chicago. I was behind the wheel, my dad was in the front with me, and my mom was in the back.

We were going around the curved run on McCormick, near Oakton. Apparently I had not “curved” enough, so I got too close to the curb and the feelers sounded.

My father threw a “hissy fit” or whatever the masculine version is.  I didn’t hit the curb and quickly corrected the car but my father still was exploding.

Shortly after, my mom decided that my father was not the best candidate to teach me how to drive so she signed me up for private lessons. Lessons in one of those cars that had two steering wheels, one for me and one for the teacher!

We could hardly afford the lessons but my mother knew that we could hardly afford the damage to my psyche he would cause and the possible heart attack for my dad!

I Wanna Ice Cream

Michael's Museum Memories

The original Michael's Museum as designed by Gregory and assembled by me in the guest room of our home in Evanston.

In some ways, looking back at these photographs makes me miss having the collection to myself and I am amazed at what a wonderful piece of "Folk Art" the room represented. Every collection, every item sat in the open available to be picked up, touched, admired. Even the tiny things in the unlocked cabinets were available to me and to the museum's few visitors: family, friends, neighbors. The museum was all about "playing!"

At the same time, I am so grateful to CCM and over the last ten years, the ability for millions of people to experience the collections.

The Ghosts of Christmas Past, Present, and Future Revisited

Why this titled post at this time? I do not know. Is it because of Christmas Past, Present, and Future? Is it because holidays make me think more about Gregory and how much I miss his daily physical presence? Is it because of thinking of all those who have "gone before?" Why am I thinking of and processing the ghosts and silence that death brings?

I am energetic, so I am told. My energy flows freely from me and out towards others, people I know and those I just pass on the street. I smile and nod at the beggar on the corner as he asks for spare change to buy some dinner. I guess I smile a lot, for strangers often smile back as we walk past each other. I always have something I can say to fellow acquaintances in my condo building as we get on and off the elevator. I easily engage with strangers when sitting at a table of ten at some function or another, even if I do not know the other nine.

My energy also flows into the keypad of my computer as these posts seem just to flow out of me. Editing always later but the ideas and organization usually are in place from the beginning!

There is energy in abundance as I arrange and rearrange my collections, which can be found all over the condo. I am told that even though there is a lot to look at, my home seems peaceful and organized. When asked, I usually have a story or two to tell about each item: its significance, where it came from, did I buy it or did someone give it to me, how long I have had it, why do I like it?

Each room, in many ways, is a wonderland and a museum, much like Michael's Museum: A Curious Collection of Tiny Treasures which has been a permanent exhibit at Chicago Children's Museum on Navy Pier since 2011.

My desk in the living room has a collection which lives in front of the computer and which grows until the space is completely filled, gets emptied into a plastic shoe box, only to grow again and again. Kiddingly I attribute this to the Collection Elves working secretly at night.

On the left side of my desk, various collections come and go. Currently, there are some miniature Christmas Trees approximately 12" tall with antique German glass ornaments. There is a 1940's black ROYAL typewriter with a letter to Santa inserted in the roller.

In the living room plants adorn the desk, the kitchen island, and the intersection of the front hall and living room.

Paintings by Aydin, friend and owner of Prarie Joe's Diner in Evanston; and photographs (some antique and some by other friends) are hung on the living room walls and above the desk. A collection of fake grass fills the window over the desk.

In the living room, two leaning ladder shelves made of recycled wood hold more books.

The kitchen features a backsplash running the width of the room, made of alternating 8"x 10" and 8½" x 10" glass front picture frames with enlarged photographs I have taken of "kitchen things," like appliances, the stove, a pie, and a cup filled with coffee. The top of the cabinets is filled with vintage 30's and 40's greenware pottery. There are approximately 150 pieces!

My master bathroom has an immense collection of little things from China, Japan, Thailand, Taiwan, etc. All things Asian.

The guest bathroom features my Gnome collection: all sizes, colors, shapes, and engaged in all types of activities. My favorite "shoots you the moon" as you wash your hands. Here you can also find several art pieces by my friend Jake; beautiful oil paintings mounted on miniature canvases of interesting rocks and stones with the stone "model" glued to the back of the piece.

The guest room is lined with paintings, mostly of people, by Gregory and friends. Many of my souvenirs from Mexico are also in the guest room.

The entry hall has my "Leaving Shrine" with sounding bowls, Buddhas, prayer wheels, items representing the four elements (fire, earth, wind, water.) On the bottom shelf of the shrine is my bowl collection including bowls of ceramic, wood, rock, aluminum, pewter, silver, clay, basket, and one made of stitched together buttons.

Also down the length of the front hall are black and white photographs, all in matching black frames of the same size. Lined up on top of each frame are four smaller frames, in matching black frames, of miniature paintings we have purchased on our travels over the years. There are a few larger framed photography by friends.

Two shelves of miniature Buddhas, 25+, finish out the entry hall.

My bedroom includes most of my library including a full wall of books and a recently added reading nook.

Most recently, across the top of the bookcases, the width of the room you will see some 30+ "hands." They consist of glove molds, display fixtures, palm reading hand maps, and ones of metal, plastic, ceramic, and wood. They come in all sizes and colors as they reach towards the heavens.

Gregory's shrine lives in the bedroom also on a bookcase shelf on the side of the room that used to be his. Each night, his cat Gigi visits the shrine before she settles in for the night. There is an 8 x 10 photograph of him in a black frame. Grandma Carrie's, Gregory's much-loved Grandmother, sewing box contains his remains and some momentoes and photographs of his life. There is a sounding bowl all his own which I ring when I sit down to have a chat with him.



There is a collection of 25+ hearts of all sizes and types. There are a few bars of dark chocolate, which are his favorite. A Taiwanese wooden temple is on the self with a dozen miniature Buddhas surrounding the temple's porch. I have had a terrible time remembering to keep up with fresh flowers or miniature plants, so I have resorted to using some very tasteful artificial flowers in a beautiful vase. I say very tastefull because Gregory really hated fake :-)

• • •

So all of this brings me to the point of this post. Lately, I have been experiencing what it will be like when I am no longer here, alive, to put energy into those things I love, those things around me, those things I seem continuously to create. It is as if I am walking into the condo experiencing what it will be like for others when I am no longer on this physical plane and feel the silence, the stillness, the missing parts.

These feelings are not a foreboding or premonition of imminent death but rather, I believe, an overview look at my present place in life; past, present, and future; and my current state of being. It looks at the many "shrines" I create to life and to myself.

For the most part, my thoughts center around the fact that the story will be gone. For most people except those closest to me, the stories will be finished. There will be no more new collections, the existing ones will be dismantled, the coffee pot will no longer share the smell of freshly ground beans and the refrigerator will no longer keep the milk fresh.

The rooms will no longer entertain guests and will no longer cycle between clean and dirty, organized and disorganized, bright by day and lamped by night, nor reflect the seasons or holidays.

It is not that I am afraid of dying, it is not that I am so attached to the THINGS that I am sad or upset that I will no longer be able to PLAY with them. It is just that their essence, their souls, their energy will dissipate and eventually disappear, as I dissipate and disappear as well. 

Then my proverbial question of “What makes a Life?” will come into play. I will be remembered, I know. My name will be spoken, I know. Some of my stories will continue. Some of my things will sit on family and friend’s tables and shelves.

Most of the things will be enjoyed one way or another, whether by family or by strangers who purchased them in an antique shop, but they will no longer be alive or energetic as they are now and more sadly, for the most part, the STORIES will be gone. Except maybe this one and a few like it.

So what difference does a life make and the events and things which make up that life? Perhaps the memories left behind are what matter as well as being in the moment to enjoy the here and now which so fleetingly passes. When a waiter at a restaurant or a clerk at a shop asks me, "Do you have any questions?" I usually kiddingly reply, "What is the meaning of life?" 

For me, it is to LOVE and TO BE LOVED. That is enough. Let the things and the stories scatter, it was and is the LOVE that matters!