Into Thin Air

“It’s clouds illusions I recall

I really don’t know clouds at all.”  —Joni Mitchell

   

I remember watching the late show alone in the basement.  Tony Curtis on stage disappeared behind a screen or in a box and metamorphosed into his beautiful assistant, Janet Leigh.  Or maybe it was the other way around.  While Tony disappeared and reappeared, my dad, my sister and brother were probably upstairs sleeping, and my mom was certainly in the living room reading and tapping her fingertips to her thumb back and forth as if along the piano keys.

Earlier this week I saw a most impressive magic trick that no magician could explain or duplicate.  Out in the courtyard of the nursing home, my dad, another resident Steven and I sat and watched the trees and clouds alive on that windy Tuesday.  Conversation was limited and repetitive: “Boy, look at those trees,” and “Look how fast the clouds are moving,” and “The sky is so blue.”  A large cluster of thin, ragged edged clouds traveled overhead.  I commented on how they were all separate but flying together, keeping their form.  Steven, who tells me daily that he was a paratrooper in Korea, said, “In formation.”  I watched the group drift in formation.  One by one, before my eyes alone, the thinnest clouds thinned until they just disappeared, evaporated into the blue.  In my fifty-six years I have never seen such a feat: an entire cluster of clouds, not just gone from view, but gone.  I told the guys the clouds were disappearing but they figured I meant they were flying fast past the trees. 

I think I understand life pretty well, at least how it fits for me.  But with the disappearance of my mom back in December, I really don’t know clouds at all.  It’s such a strange thing; you live an entire life, struggle, laugh, love, get caught up in little snipes and grow and learn, and then poof! You’re gone, at least from this world, from everyone who’s still here.  And what the heck does that even mean: this world?  One cloud disappears and throws off the formation.  The next cloud, the one we’re all gathered around right now, is thinning.  I wonder what will happen to our formation when he disappears into thin air. 

I’m not looking for answers from anyone; coming to terms with death and keeping a hold of life’s meaning is really a personal privilege. 

Right now, my sister is in my front room crafting cards.  My dad, with his flimsy faculties is temporarily safe in his flimsy facility.  My brothers are a phone call away.  My mom?  I think she metamorphoses in all of us: in my brother when he pets and talks to her dog or when he composes his music; in my sister when she laughs and sings; in me when I write or tap my fingers on my thumbs as if on a piano, in all of us as we love and stretch with the wind.

Like my sister said this week, “When I think about Mom’s death, it all seems so surreal.”  Yeah.  Like watching clouds disappear before your very eyes.

And now, for our next feat, watch these hors de oeuvres disappear before your very eyes when you serve them to your cluster of friends and family.

Stuffed Portobello Mushrooms

12 small Portobello mushrooms

balsamic vinegar

olive oil

red pepper flakes

½ large sweet onion, chopped

2 cloves garlic, chopped or pressed

1 package of button mushrooms, cleaned and finely chopped

1 package of frozen chopped spinach

Juice of half a lemon

Salt and pepper to taste

Long package goat cheese

Sprinkle balsamic vinegar and drizzle a little olive oil on upside down, stem removed Portobello mushrooms.  Sprinkle a small amount of red pepper flakes.  Bake in 375 degree oven for about 10 minutes.  While those are baking, sauté onions and garlic in olive oil until translucent, then add mushrooms and let cook for a couple of minutes.  Add spinach with water squeezed out, lemon and salt and pepper and cook until all is hot.  Spoon as much of the spinach mixture as you can fit into the mushrooms, then top with a big glob of goat cheese.  Place back in the oven for about 5 to 7 minutes.  These are pretty good for you and not too high in fat.

Maybe you can take your cluster of pals and mushrooms out on a deck and watch the clouds drift by.