Friends through the Azaleas
When my son, Spencer was fourteen, I used to drive him every Sunday morning to Aikido class at a Judo School in Forest Hills, Queens.
It was his choice to take this form of martial arts. Aikido is martial art that combines fluid movement, grappling techniques and channeling of internal energy, your *ki, to defend yourself. It teaches you to not oppose the force of an attack or what is coming at you in life, but to redirect its energy into something you desire. As a philosophy of life, it teaches you to take any negative energy away from you and turn it into something you can handle. Week after week, I would watch and want to join the class.
*Ki can be thought of as positive thinking, belief in yourself, faith, confidence, or a state of mind/body unification. You have used ki quite naturally many times in your life, at those moments when something totally captured your interest and imagination. It may have been while you were playing a sport, working late into the morning on a project that was important to you, playing with your child, or simply spending time with someone you love. – from http://www.bodymindandmodem.com/KiEx/KiEx.html
But Spencer and I had an agreement; this would be his own special thing, something that he wasn't doing with his mom. Being always one to want to participate in life, and not sit on the sidelines, I needed to turn my anxious energy of wanting to join in on the class into something positive. So every Sunday, I would watch a few minutes of the class and then stroll into the surrounding neighborhood to unleash my energy. At first I would walk briskly, but soon I would get into the rhythm of the neighborhood.
Forest Hills is an upscale, quaint area filled with English Tudor homes, turn of the century streetlights, and private winding roads. Just two blocks off the bustling Metropolitan Avenue, you get lost in almost a Hansel and Gretel type atmosphere.
I would walk along Ascan Avenue and admire the well-manicured homes with their stained glass windows, and arched doorways. There was a very peaceful quiet in the neighborhood. Every Sunday I would turn down any street and just follow the path trying to keep my sense of direction about me. It was a little game I played; I would just follow my heart and turn corners on a whim, and then go down interesting little back streets and see what I would discover. Then I'd try to make sure I could figure my way back to Spencer before his one-hour class was up.
This one particular morning, it was Mother's Day. All the flowers were in full bloom. A light rain had just occurred, which deepened all the colors and made the fragrance of the air feel fresh. The world was splashed with a crisp, clean, color. Trees hung with deep purple and pink fuzzy ball like flowers. Orange flowers with bright red stamens sprang from many gardens. Gorgeous Cherry Blossoms leaves where lying in the green grass encircling the trees with velvet pink blankets. It was a God's palette come to life. I stopped often to smell the flowers, and then realized, that I must look like a walking cliché.
It was getting near the end of my walk, and I turned down one street that was not quite as pretty as the others. I was a little disappointed because the bright colors of the other streets did not line this one. I was going to turn around and choose another street because I wanted to stay in the world of color that was filling my eyes with peace. But then I decided I was really going to look for something that made this street beautiful. I was near the very end of the block when I spotted it.
Along a green hedge, in front of this white house, were hundreds of these tiny purple flowers with perfect little pin-sized golden balls at the end. They looked like miniature Christmas ornaments. I had never seen anything like it. The odd thing was you really had to look to see them. I easily could have missed these perfect gorgeous beings. I stared at them for a while. There was something about how perfect and brilliant each of them was that made me happy.
I realized I was running late so I quickly noted the street, Juno and 71st and worked my way back through the maze of streets to Spencer.
As always, Spencer came out of class excited, with a new technique he had learned. He asked, "Mom, you look really happy. What did you do while I was in class?" I was filled with excitement, "Spencer I took this fantastic walk, and the colors were so brilliant. Wait! Hop in the car, I want to show you these gorgeous little flowers I found." I drove the car in and out of the streets trying to retrace my steps. Spencer couldn't believe that I had walked this far and back in an hour.
Then I came to the house with the perfect flowers. I pointed them out to Spencer from the car. "Come on let's get out. I want you to see them up close." At that moment an elderly Chinese man stood in the pathway of his home looking at us rather oddly. "Mom, I'm not getting out of the car, that man probably thinks we are burglars or something. This is getting embarrassing, can we just leave please?"
I turned to Spencer, "We're not doing something wrong. We are just looking at his flowers. I will just go up to the man and explain it. Besides, it's Mother's Day, please play along with me." Spencer paused, "Mom, that's not fair, this is really embarrassing. Please let's just leave; it's a private street we shouldn't be here anyway. I'll make you breakfast or something else."
I was determined to let Spencer see the flowers. They were too beautiful not to see. I got out of the car and the man approached me.
"Can I help you?" he said defensively like a man protecting his turf from an intruder.
"I know this is going to sound strange, but I was walking in your neighborhood and spotted these gorgeous flowers. I brought my son back to see them."
He looked me over for a second as if to size me up, and then decided I was harmless. He smiled and then his face then lit up. "These are Azaleas. They are imported, a rare kind. They have been here since I bought the house. I love them. You are the first person to ever stop and notice them. Tell your son to come out of the car and look."
I motioned to Spencer. He reluctantly got out of the car, still embarrassed that his mother was stopping to talk to a stranger. The man was very well spoken, and explained, "Typically an Azalea has flowers that have just one flower rather than a truss. The notable exception is this one, the Azaleas that have a very tight shaped golden ball truss. These are very special."
We talked for a few minutes and then he invited us into his garden. Just on the other side of the hedge was a man-made pond about six feet wide, with flowers all around it, and golden Coy fish happily swimming around inside. His garden was like a little paradise. He had Cherry Blossom trees whose petals lined the path to his front door. He had another pond up on a little hill that was surrounded with stones, and pebbles of all shapes and colors. As he was proudly showing us his garden his wife came out. Probably wondering who these strangers are that were now in their garden.
I introduced myself and Spencer. She responded, "Hi, I'm Lisa. I thought I heard people out here. I see my husband Frank is showing off our garden." We explained how it all came about and had a good laugh over it. We talked for about twenty minutes, laughing and exchanging our thoughts on life. I told her how Spencer felt awkward at first. She then turned to him and said,
"My mother was the same way with people and I used to get embarrassed too. She would go to the store to buy food and come back two hours later with stories of people she met, meanwhile us kids were starving." She laughed, "Are you hungry Spencer?" He shook his head, "No thanks" and smiled, thankful she understood.
We talked some more and found out they were a family of attorneys. They guessed I was a writer by the way I described their garden. I talked about my adventures and how I now had it in my head that I wanted to climb Kilimanjaro. Turns out their daughter, Amy had climbed Kilimanjaro last year. They told me of all her adventures. Lisa said, "You and my daughter would get along fabulously." Then they spoke of their son David who is into video games just like Spencer.
After forty-five minutes we exchanged phone numbers and web addresses. We hugged our new friends goodbye.As we walked back to the car, Spencer shook his head, "I can't believe it. How do you do it? How do you walk up to a total stranger who looks like he wants to kill you, and make friends with him, get him to invite you into his home and become friends with him all over some flowers?" I said, "Spencer it's like this. You know I'm not even a flower person, but I do know that you have to look for the beauty in life. I did learn something from watching all your Aikido classes and that is to flow with the energy. The man had a negative energy at first because he thought of me like a threat, until I talked about our common bond, the flowers. Then everything was transformed, and our energies became one."
"Oh brother mom, that sounds way too Zen".I laughed, "It does, doesn't it…but it works. And in the end, if you can find something that
creates harmony, and makes everyone happy, no matter how you explain it, that's a good thing".
We got back in the car and drove away, thinking of how odd life can be at times that something so simple can become so powerful. After all, if you think of it, we became friends through the Azaleas.
What a wonderful way to start a Mother's Day.



Comments
Hi!
Happy Mother's Day! You know flowers do have amazing power. I know I've share the story of my own mother who is now in heaven (cloud number 7) to be exact.. anyway.. she still finds a way to send me yellow roses and I always think of her when I see them. She also LOVED lilacs.. and lilacs are a sweet purple ..just like your story of the azaleas. The family and I just watched the March of the Penquins. What a sweet story of parenthood. I had a great mother's day and I hope you did too. Love you lots.. there is only one you.. and Spencer loves you now.. but as the years roll by I know he'll love you even more...I feel as if I had the best mom in the universe and I miss her terribly on Mother's Day.. but since the birth of my own kids I feel like her love lives on in me and through them.... I see you as being the same kind of mom as my mom was... ZANY, WONDERFUL, FULL OF LIFE Your a good mom.. and a great egg! Your pal.. Donna
Posted by: Donna | May 14, 2006 8:03 PM
Fran great pix of you and Spencer. He's going to be a heartbreaker
Posted by: Ellen Easton - Tea and etiquette expert/author | May 16, 2006 7:44 AM
Went to Sweet Connections and I liked what you wrote, you are a amazing writer.
Posted by: Dean Gould Editor of "The Alternative Book of Records" | May 16, 2006 7:48 AM
Hi Fran,
I just got finished reading your blog, checked my
emails and the only one that I found interesting was from you, about Happy Mothers day story. Well 45 minutes later I realized that I better get some work done. Looking forward to more of your story's.
Thanks,
Joe
Posted by: Joseph N. Palmisano | May 16, 2006 7:51 AM
Just wanted to compliment you on your very impressive web site, as well as being a great mom, super entertainer, great risk-taker and an all around superific friend and humanitarian! How's that for a sentence? lol!
Posted by: Kenny Warren - Author/Ventriloquist/Entertainer | May 16, 2006 7:53 AM
Hey Fran,
I look forward to reading the adventures in your blog every week and I feel fortunate to be part of "Fran's World". Keep up the great work. You're an inspiration and a great friend!
Your Friend,
JB
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