🤪 A Letter To Who Showed Me How to Stay Spunky
Dear Omi: A Tribute to Your Unforgettable Spirit (letter 220)
I invite you to listen to my recording of this letter by pressing the play button above.
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July 24, 2024
Dear Omi,
Thank you for never losing your spunk.
Even after
Moving to America at the ripe age of 24,
Married to a serious thirty-three-year-old,
That dad tells me only told two jokes.
You were lonely in dirty Philadelphia,
Home-sick for cows and grassy fields,
Your friend Deeny,
But you stuck the change out and started a family. 
Then dad came along and me because of that. After a long day, picking me up from school, Classical music playing, In your golden Malibu max hatchback, With that wide open trunk for your flower beds And my lacrosse stick, we’d sigh together with relief, “ha haaaah,” knowing Life could be hard sometimes, That in fact life is hard most times, Especially when it seemed easy going to others. As we left school, I felt home with you. We’d wave hello to the elderly man on his red tricycle, Who was always at the bottom of the hill. We'd count freighters, watch the magnolia petals fall, Remark at the vibrant yellow forsythia, And the bright red buds that are actually magenta colored. Sometimes you’d drive over the curb, Looking at life out your window, We’d giggle and I’d be grateful you were in the right lane. Driving 25 in the 35 is okay there. You taught me mindfulness, appreciation, The importance of saying “thank you,” Two starbursts out of the rooster tin after school, no more, no less, One for each hand, And the grace of a sweet treat of ice cream on a hard day. You showed me how to feel the feelings, Mad, or sad, or everything all at once, Validating my experiences, Coming early to get me from swim practice to see me lead my lane. Giving me the courage to quit ballet, When it made me insecure and out of place. You taught me nobody likes to feel like “Pete snot,” alone and excluded. You showed me how to use my hands to create, Sewing, knitting, crafting, Walking the aisles of Joann Fabrics, Being wide-eyed dreaming up the possibilities of what we could make, I aspire to be ambidextrous, just like you. You taught me to focus on the process Rather than the outcome, Like the first floral blue dress we made, That never fit my pubescent body.
You taught me how to be silly,
Making goofy faces,
Sticking out my tongue, crossing my eyes
Walking and talking like a chicken,
How to have fun for the sake of fun.
You were quite the social butterfly,
With girlfriends, Tanta Adri phone calls,
Detroit Garden club, Dutch girlfriends,
Memorial church knitting club.
Teaching me that life is about friends,
About having joy, about staying connected.
You showed me what a cozy gezellig home is, To be friends with the cats, to filll the bird bath for the small birdies, Even the blue jays that were bullies, And to get the leftover bread from restaurant to feed the squirrels. You taught me how to turn organizing into a game With three piles: one to keep, one to give away, one to throw out. You cherished the Dutch royal family, Their picture always on your fridge, And buying picture frames because you liked the photo in it. Loving the Dutch shutters on your house, You were unapologetically yourself. You encouraged fierce independence, Making your own stride through life, A widow for more years than a bride. Learning languages, creating moments, Dropping off magazines for "nothing special" moments, keeping dog bones in your trunk just in case, Sharing stories for the mere sake of connection, The best type of intention. It's been five years since the physical world lost you. Not a day goes by that I don’t miss you. I still have your phone number memorized, Wishing I could call you. I cherish my voicemails with your Dutch accent. You taught me so much, Omi. A beautiful life, making me feel courageous, Even when you didn’t remember me in the end, That’s okay. I'll never forget the day I knew I was losing you, The Wednesday before Thanksgiving in 2016, When you forgot our broccoli cheddar soup at Panera Bread. The feelings we shared, our moments together, That’s what matters It’s not your faulty walnut’s fault. I miss you, Omi. So many things I wish I could show you today. I think of you often, channel your goofy, courageous spirit. Family says I got the dingbat gene, The highest compliment, Life is better that way, a bit whacky and crazy, Rather than boring or dull. You inspire me to keep my hobbies alive. You’ve taught me to stay crazy. Thank you for being one of my biggest fans. Thank you for never losing your spunk. I’ll love you forever. Your spirit lives on with me. Ik hou van jou, Your snoeperdoltje Arnolda Edith Vermet lived a beautiful life from 12/23/28–12/5/19 ❤
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Aloha fellow learn-it-all 👋
Greetings from Honolulu, Hawaii
❓Question to think about
What would you write in a letter to your grandma?
📜🖋 Poetry Corner
Desiderata
Latin for “Things discovered”
I first read this while cleaning out Omi’s house.
A prose poem written in 1927 by Max Ehrmann
Go placidly amid the noise and the haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even to the dull and the ignorant; they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons; they are vexatious to the spirit. If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter, for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism.
Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment, it is as perennial as the grass.
Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be. And whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul. With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.
🎧Listening
Panis Angelicus by The Priests
This is one of Omi’s favorite songs. It is indeed a church song. It's the first church song I have ever put in these letters, but it’s a beautiful song, religious or not.
Panis Angelicus is a Latin phrase that translates to "Bread of Angels" or "Angelic Bread.” It is the penultimate stanza of the hymn Sacris solemniis, written by Saint Thomas Aquinas for the feast of Corpus Christi. The hymn is part of a complete liturgy for the feast, which includes prayers for the Mass and the Liturgy of the Hours.
Latin Text
Panis Angelicus fit panis hominum
Dat panis coelicus figuris terminum
O res mirabilis! Manducat Dominum
English Translation
The angel's bread becomes the bread of men
The heavenly bread ends all symbols
Oh, miraculous thing! The body of the Lord will nourish
🔍Word to define
Spunky: spunky | ˈspəNGkē
(adj.)courageous, spirited, determined, unwilling to give up, full of spunk
Etymology: 1786, from spunk (n.) + -y (2). The Scottish sense of "showing a small fire or spark" is attested from 1791. Related: Spunkily; spunkiness.
🌟Quote to inspire
“As you grow older, you will discover that you have two hands, one for helping yourself, the other for helping others.” -Audrey Hepburn, one of Omi’s idols
📸Photo of the Week
I’ve been walking a lot lately. Around Kapi’olani Park or looping around Le’ahi. It’s been such a hoot. Pluck the flowers I see and put them in my hair. Gardenias on this day. Nature’s natural deodorant.
Sure, I get sweaty, but that’s what the body was made to do while overheating. Sometimes, listening to Julia Cameron’s Artist’s Way or podcasts or music. Other times, naked ears and hearing the waves, the birds, and the pedestrians passing by. It’s lovely.
🙏Shoutouts
To
who shared his letter to his 12-year-old self in Coming back into practiceTo my dad and brother, who completed sailing the 100th annual Port Huron to Mackinac race a couple of days ago. It was a pleasure to join the Large Marge crew last summer in Michigan on the fifty-foot beauty. I miss sailing, alas here’s a throwback from 2023 at the helm at dawn:
That’s a wrap on letter 220. I appreciate you reading this!
If ideas resonate, I’d love you to press the heart button, leave a comment, reply to this email, or reach me at vermetjl@gmail.com. If you forget who I am, I welcome you to my online home.
Keep on learning 😁
Mahalo 🌺
Jen
Ps - if you’d like to read my previous letters as a part of this series, check out Dear Hawai’i and Dear baby Jen in a bucket
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