Elaine Ambrose

Bestselling Author, Ventriloquist, & Humorist

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Elaine Ambrose

Four Weeks and a Funeral

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funeral flowers

A month ago, I followed Alice in Wonderland and fell down a mysterious rabbit hole and experienced events that must have been orchestrated by the crazy rabbit and the hookah-smoking caterpillar. I soared, laughed, cried, and crawled through a series of events that changed my life forever.

On October 16, I endured an MRI for a knee injury and wrote a silly blog titled “Don’t Fart During an MRI.” I scattered 632 words into ten paragraphs and submitted the essay to The Huffington Post and it was published on October 27. In two weeks, the piece went viral and received more than 640,000 likes on Facebook and was reprinted on dozens of websites around the world. I received emails from people in other countries and had offers to host trips for middle-aged women, appear at wine tasting events, arrange book signings, and appear at a music show in Nashville.

On November 6, Whoopi Goldberg mentioned me on the ABC show “The View” and talked for several minutes about the essay. My book sales soared, and people subscribed to my website newsletter. I’ve been a professional writer for several decades and never intended to reach international status by passing gas. It definitely was the fart heard around the world, and I was amused at being the “air to the throne.”

On October 21, I had surgery to repair a torn meniscus in my knee and a cracked bone in my leg. I couldn’t put any weight on my ravaged leg for one week, so was confined in my recliner with my leg strapped to an ice machine. At least I had my laptop so I could blog about the wonders of legal narcotic painkillers.

My sweet mother’s health had been declining for several years, and compassionate Hospice associates were keeping her comfortable at a nearby assisted living facility. During her last week, I was able to use crutches to go to her room, join my daughter as we talked with her, and play her favorite spiritual music. On October 31, my husband Studley and I made our last visit and kissed her goodbye. She passed away the following morning. I blogged about her on Huffington Post for several days as I planned the funeral for November 11.

My mother’s funeral offered beautiful music, an inspirational message, an amazing display of floral arrangements, and heart-felt tributes from my children to their grandmother. At the following graveside service, a chill wind passed through the cemetery. My 7-year-old granddaughter, named after my mother, sat on my lap and we kept warm under a blanket. The sky was overcast as we walked away, as if all the heavenly tears were waiting for us to leave before they fell. My dear Studley held my hand, as usual.

On November 8, I learned that I had received three writing awards: First Place for Humor in the North American Book Awards competition for my book Midlife Cabernet, one of the Top Ten Authors in the Idaho Book Award program, and First Place for Cover Design. The awards ceremony was November 13 in Boise. Of course, the awards were presented on a stage that had 12 enormous steps and I resembled Quasimodo from the book Hunchback of Notre-Dame as I lumbered up post-surgery to accept the trophies.

All these events created the perfect storm of intense physical and mental pain combined with feelings of recognition and personal achievement. I struggled with the agony in my leg and sobbed for my dear mother while I checked my Huffington Post numbers and wrote a news release about the book awards. This surreal time has caused me to reflect on priorities and evaluate what is truly important. I conclude that life is crammed with highs and lows, joy and sorrow, opportunity and struggle. I feel fortunate to hang on and not fall off of this wild, funny, traumatic, and magnificent ride.

In the 1994 movie Four Weddings and a Funeral, Andie MacDowell and Hugh Grant play delightful characters in the popular romantic comedy about love and loss. These past four weeks have presented a powerful personal script and I only wrote a small part of it. Now it’s time to grab some popcorn, find a comfortable seat, and get ready for the sequel.

 

 

 

 

Pain Sucks

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stop the pain

This morning brought a splendid gift: I can walk without pain for the first time in two months. I feel like joyfully dancing in the street, but I’m so uncoordinated that I’d trip on a pebble and break a bone. I’ll just be quiet and appreciate the simple pleasure of moving without projectile spittle, profuse swearing, and the manic desire to club strangers with my crutches.

After falling down with such spectacular efficiency that the meniscus tore beneath my knee and the leg bone cracked, I needed surgery to repair the damage. It’s humbling to depend upon others to care for me but there are some handy perks.

If you endure an accident and are temporarily incapacitated, here are some tips for surviving the ordeal:

  1. Realize that everything is relative. Forget fashion. My sassy shirts and stylish capris weren’t touched for two months because I could only wear sweat pants and comfortable tops. It didn’t matter if my socks matched. But I still wore earrings, even while confined to my recliner. If I can’t put on earrings, my family will know I’m near death.
  2. The world will continue to turn without you. By canceling appointments and staying home, I gained a new appreciation for my house, chair, books, and silence. I also saved a lot of money not buying gas.
  3. A loving, patient partner is better than gold. For weeks, Studley took me to doctor’s appointments, made meals, washed dishes, did the laundry, and maintained the ice machine on my leg while also working a demanding, full-time job. However, there is a limit. I told him last night that he was welcome to continue these activities, and he remarked that a nearby apartment complex has some openings.
  4. Appreciate your family and friends. I received nice phone calls, hot meals, hugs from grandkids, and a can of chocolate-covered pecans from Texas! I exploited the situation to full advantage.
  5. Be kinder to disadvantaged people. My discomfort lasted for two months, but there are people who suffer for years with physical disabilities and chronic pain. Find ways to help them. When I finally was able to bumble about on crutches, I was thankful for those who opened doors for me, allowed me to go first in line, and didn’t complain when I used my handicapped parking permit.
  6. Do not become a television zombie. Daytime television offers a bunch of brain-eating crap! The soap operas have had the same plot for 30 years, and the beautiful actors always have the same tortured expression at the end of every angst-filled scene. Lady, if I had clothes and jewelry like yours, I’d at least crack a smile every now and then. Reality talk shows display and exploit the worst of humanity, and game shows remind me of rats in a maze at Vegas. There are some good shows on Public Television, the Discovery Channel, the History Channel, and I love the old movies. The best part of home confinement was to be surrounded by books, and I actually read some from cover to cover – a splendid treat.

Accidents happen, and our attitudes can hinder or help our recovery. I didn’t always follow the instructions of my physical therapist, so my healing time took longer. Finally, I obeyed the order to be still and rest, and my body responded and became stronger. The best part of physical pain is when it goes away. Today, I can walk, and the world is beautiful.

 

Mill Park Publishing Wins Four Awards

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Angel of Esperanza cover          MidlifeCab_ApproxLayout

           

Two recent books published by Mill Park Publishing of Eagle, Idaho will take home four trophies Thursday, November 13 at the Idaho Author and North American Book Awards program. The awards ceremony will be at the Powerhouse Event Center in Boise.

The Angel of Esperança by local author Judith McConnel Steele won Second Place in the Fiction Category sponsored by the North American Book Awards competition. Steele writes with hypnotizing imagery and seamless narration to tell the haunting story of Helena, a young wife and mother in the mythical village of Esperança. This is the second award for the book as Steele was selected last year for the Top Ten Authors in Fiction from the Idaho Author Awards.

Midlife Cabernet – Life, Love & Laughter after Fifty by local author Elaine Ambrose won three awards: First Place for Humor from the North American Book Awards competition, First Place for Cover Design from the Idaho Author Awards program, and Ambrose was named one of the Top Ten Authors in Nonfiction from the Idaho Author Awards.

Midlife Cabernet also won the 2014 Silver Medal for Humor from the Independent Publisher Books Awards program (IPPY), and Publishers Weekly wrote that the book is “laugh-out-loud funny!” Ambrose’s irreverent humor can be found on the Huffington Post and other websites.

Mill Park Publishing produces books written by local women writers and donates a portion of the sales proceeds to charity. The company also organizes writing retreats for women and sponsors writing events throughout the area. Details are on the website, www.MillParkPublishing.com

 

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Serendipity Breeze

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yard chimes

In the silent expectation of dawn, just before the first slice of silver reveals the horizon of a new day, a slight breeze moves through the pine trees in my yard. The brief rustle of branches releases a faint smell of long-past adventures in summer mountains and stirs the chimes that hang in the arbor. I look upward and smile at the memory of my mother.

Her morning ritual remained the same for twenty years. She woke early, and slowly walked down the lane to retrieve the newspaper. Her breath came in puffs as she tugged her sweater closer against the chill and gazed at the stars before they faded behind the emerging sunlight. Back inside, she turned on her radio, sometimes she listened to the farm report or else to gentle sounds from the 1940s. She fixed some toast, sipped coffee, read the paper. She did this every morning by herself.

Widowed for two decades, she forgot how it sounded to be greeted every day, to feel the touch of someone else in the house, to hear her husband ask for more coffee. Even though her schedule was full of volunteer activities and various appointments, she never got used to the loneliness. Her regular companions were the ticking clock over the mantel, the cooing mourning doves outside the window, and the pleasant voice on the radio telling her to have a nice day.

I finally convinced her to move into an assisted living facility 100 miles away from her home but closer to my grown children and me. She had endured too many serious falls, too many minor car accidents, and a growing number of health issues. On the last morning before the move, she lingered outside on her morning walk and noticed a warm breeze meandering through the trees, as if to say farewell. She nodded and went inside.

Years later, after enjoying the company of others in the facility and regularly seeing her grandchildren, her mind and body began to fail. Confined to a wheelchair and lost in dementia, she preferred to stay in her tiny room and listen to her spiritual music.  Finally, she knew it was time to go and she stopped eating. Not even congenial staff or patient family members could convince her to swallow a single bite of applesauce. She died in her bed on a quiet autumn morning as Tennessee Ernie Ford promised there would be peace in the valley. Outside her window, a sudden wind tossed the tree limbs, and the leaves floated to the ground.

A week later, I woke earlier than usual, dressed, and stepped outside. The stars were still bright as I walked to get the newspaper. I turned to go back and a fresh gust of wind tickled the chimes. “Good morning, Mom,” I said, beginning my own ritual of greeting her in the morning. “Let’s have a nice day.”

 

 

 

 

 

Crying isn’t Just for Babies

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crying babies

I was raised in a hard-working farm family, and no crying was allowed. We were admonished to be tough and never look like sissies. That’s such bullshit.

There’s a powerful cleansing release that comes with tears. I am not embarrassed or ashamed when I cry, and the only reason I won’t speak at my mother’s funeral next week is because I don’t want the snot running down my chin to be a distraction.

We don’t need medical science to advocate reasons for crying, but it’s good to note that experts agree that stifling tears can be harmful. Sara Courter, a certified wellness counselor, recently wrote in the MindBodyGreen Newsletter:

  • Crying is cathartic. By shedding tears we are releasing toxins, pent-up emotions, and easing stress. Crying is an authentic and mortal means of helping ourselves to simply feel better.
  • Crying is natural. Some expressions of, say, anger are not natural. Feelings of anger can be manifested as violent actions, and this is not a wholesome way to experience emotions. Crying, on the other hand, is an organic expression of a wide range of emotions. It is the human body’s clever way of seeking release and comfort, naturally, as it always has been. One does not need to identify a particular “reason” for crying. So often we are asked, “Why are you crying?” Well, why not? It’s a natural human expression. It’s not as though you’re running naked down a busy street, crying is not an absurd thing to do so let’s refrain from treating it that way, or from allowing others to make us feel as though it’s absurd.

As a caveat, I don’t endorse endless sniveling. There is a time for a good cry, then a time to blow your nose, pull up your big-girl pants, and then go tackle whatever issues are interrupting your happiness. It doesn’t hurt to find something that makes you laugh: a book, movie, or silly friend. As the old Proverb says, laughter is the best medicine. As this middle-aged writer says, take several doses daily.

As do many teens, I had a contentious relationship with my parents. My father often threatened to send me away to boarding school. I always retorted, “Give me ten minutes to pack.” Now both my parents have passed away, and I wish I had one more chance to give the perfect response: “I don’t want to leave. I’d rather stay and find a reason to laugh with you. Okay?”

 

Don’t Lose the Body: Eight Tips to Plot a Funeral

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stone angel grave

I’ve helped organize weddings, including a few of my own, but planning a funeral is a different type of hectic, emotional activity with a demanding timeline. The details could leave you breathless. Oops, wrong word.

In a wedding, you have months to prepare. With a funeral, you have days and you’ll need to interrupt your own grieving to organize the deadly details. A few generations ago, the family would clean and dress the body, prop it on the dining table next to the potato salad, throw a party, and then bury the dearly departed in the family plot on a nearby hill. Now, there is a complicated checklist that rivals the NASA instructions for a lunar landing to make sure your loved one has a proper burial.

Because everyone eventually dies, someday you may need to organize a funeral. Here are some helpful tips:

  1. Don’t lose the body. My sweet mother recently passed away. I had arranged for a local funeral home to pick up the body and transport it to another funeral home 100 miles away to her hometown. Two days later, she still hadn’t arrived. After frantically calling and trying to use my inside voice, I received an email saying that the driver was in route and my mother was near Bliss. I responded, “Of course, she is.” (Bliss is the name of a village near her intended destination.) I have no idea where she went for the weekend, but I assume she had a good time and that, somewhere, my parents were laughing.
  2. Don’t allow details to be the death of you. Notify key family members, but tell them you don’t need any help because planning through a committee could be fatal. Open a bottle of wine, sit down with a notebook or computer, and begin to make decisions: choose pall bearers, write the obituary, approve the death certificate, notarize details for the IRS, finalize the funeral place and program, chose the music and performer, arrange for food and flowers, contact the cemetery, make decisions about embalming and donations, and decide what clothes the person will wear and who should do the hair. Do you want rings removed? Do you want the casket with the pretty roses or the sunset? And, don’t forget the musical video. Do all this in a few days while keeping a stiff upper lip. Sorry, wrong word again.
  3. Don’t present a stupid program. If you think Aunt Bernice will go to the podium and wail for 20 minutes, discreetly suggest she save her remarks for the reception, preferably after the first two rounds of drinks. If you want to include some literary orations, avoid Robert Service’s famous poem, “The Cremation of Sam McGee.” And, finally, if all your music sounds like the “The Funeral March of the Marionette” followed by a requiem, a dirge, and a lone bagpiper, expect some of your guests to fall onto the ground and beg to be the next to die.
  4. Don’t overwhelm the undertaker. I’m thankful I chose a reputable Funeral Director instead of Billy Bob’s Burial and Tire Changing Service. After my mother died, I had numerous questions. The Funeral Director patiently listened when I called in alarm and asked who would dig the grave. “We’ll handle everything, Ma’am,” he said. I was so relieved that I wouldn’t need to ask my son to bring a shovel and a backhoe.
  5. Don’t turn the funeral into a bazaar. I once attended a wedding where one of the guests brought along Cutco knives to sell to the attendees. This is not appropriate for weddings or funerals. Even though I’ll have a captive, emotional audience, I don’t plan on arranging a book signing event after my mother’s service. She always bragged to her friends that I wrote books, even though she never read any of them. I told her I wrote under the pen name of JK Rowling.
  6. Don’t allow expenses to haunt you. You may need to dig deep to unearth some money because the base cost for a funeral can range from $5,000 to $10,000. The choices vary from a pine box tossed into a swamp to an elaborate $25,000 casket carried by a procession of white limousines into a private plot. If you’re hosting a boisterous reception after the funeral, save enough money to buy some quality liquor because you care enough to say goodbye with a fine Scotch instead of cheap moonshine.
  7. Don’t forget the living. After the funeral is over, use your energy and emotions to appreciate and connect with those around you. There are still a lot of people who aren’t dead yet, and some of them need a friend.
  8. Don’t stop celebrating life. If anyone cares to organize a funeral for me (after I’m dead, or course), I want a full marching band to play John Philip Sousa marches and an open bar with plenty of exquisite Cabernet. And, I’m requesting lots of pie with ice cream because finally gaining weight will no longer be an issue.