Fate has a way of taking over a life without warning. One never seems to know when destiny has arrived until it is too late to change courses. For some, that's a good thing. Fate scoops those lucky ones up, holds them close forever, steers the course and finally, fate delivers the chosen safely home to Jesus. Those of us who get off course are the lonely ones. Somewhere along the way we lose ourselves. We don't even remember who we were in the beginning, because we have let those around us take over. We just tend to wander aimlessly through time in a reactive state.
I have talked with people from all walks of life. I know the very successful, the people who flew in the Concord when it was still in the skies, the CEO's of the Fortune 500 companies, lawyers in the most successful firms, Hollywood directors, political giants and I also know the people who wander the streets and those who live in mental institutions most of their lives. I am most comfortable with the latter, perhaps because I could have been a part of that world. It would be appropriate to say "but for the grace of God," but I don't believe God's grace dictates tragic lives for some and happiness for others. It's not God's fault some of us wander away. When we lose ourselves in the process of living, we don't have a lot of survival choices left. You can go with the emotional pain and let someone somewhere stamp your file with a label and live amongst the downtrodden. Or you numb your feelings with alcohol and drink yourself into oblivion. Or you can become a workaholic and your job becomes your lover.
It is very hard to tell whether the mentally ill, the alcoholics or the workaholics are the saddest. From the outside looking in, the mentally ill laugh, eat and believe it or not, most are a lot more comfortable hiding behind the walls of crazy than trying to deal with the harsh expectations of the world around them. They may be the most sensitive. "Blessed are the poor in spirit, for they shall inherit the earth," God said. There are a million interpretations for that, but I believe it means these gentle loving people who roam the streets of America and cause heads to turn...some to stare at them and others to look away, are God's people. The emotional pain is so severe and the soul is just too gentle to fight anymore.
On the other hand, the workaholics use their job to keep the mind busy. A busy mind doesn't have time to think about what has been lost along the way. If you don't take the time to think about it, you can kid yourself into believing it never existed in the first place. We just go about our day meeting every responsibility in such a way it becomes a need for us. We are going to be the best at everything. We don't feel anymore. We become robotic in nature. We can meet all of the expectations of others. We no longer have control of our destiny, because we don't even exist as an individual. We belong to others. We are owned by our businesses, our employees, our families, the public and by all who for some reason, are drawn to us. We look real, and we can even convince ourselves we are living, but in reality, our life is an illusion. You have to look deep into the eyes to see the souls of these people.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Something about nothing...
I am feeling guilty today, because I have ignored this blog for so many months. I let the daily demands of life interfere with the challenge of keeping my public blog up to date. When I started this, I vowed I would write in it at least three times monthly. Some would say that I don't take vows too seriously anyway, since I have had three husbands. Well, I actually still have one of them. I could blame him for keeping me away from blogging, but that really isn't true. It wouldn't be the first time I blamed him for something he didn't do, but I figure that makes up for the times during our 34 years together he has slipped something by me. That is how it works in long term marriages. It is called give and take. I do take vows seriously and that is why my guilty feelings have driven me today to try and find something hidden deep inside my brain that is worthy of writing. I now sit here wondering how I was ever capable of handling a weekly column for the San Diego County Herald. My brain has been purged. There is nothing in there of interest to share. Knowing that and since fools rush in where angels fear to tread, here I go.
I am working on two books, and they have been taking up some of my time. One, for now, is entitled "How To Fight Like A Woman." The other, for now, is entitled "River of Life." I just finished up my part of a year long project of licensing a day program located at a horse ranch. The program combines traditional services with equestrian activities. When I wasn't literally attending training, completing paperwork, developing operational manuals and completing many other steps towards the goal of obtaining a license, I was thinking about the project. It is now licensed, and I have a very good director managing the services. It seems like I have been living with my computer. I handle our personal finances on the internet. I am on the computer, of course, when working on the books. The computer is used for the majority of my business correspondence. All of our management personnel are using the internet for communication. Tenants and landlords are using the internet for communication. Finally, California's super agencies have decided to use the internet for communication with providers of services throughout the state. Our local regional centers also use the internet for keeping providers informed and meeting our mutual communication needs. I also invoice for our services through e billing. Add to the list of internet communicators contracted business services, employee issues and the list goes on and on. The bottom line is that my laptop and blackberry have become my office. It also has become a place that allows me to stay in touch with family members and to occasionally be surprised by people who have passed through my life in the past. Jerry bought a very small laptop for me this year, and it goes with me when I leave town.
Saving the best for last, I have to mention Facebook. What does Facebook mean to me? It means that I can take a break any time I choose when I see a comment pop into my email file telling me that someone I am friends with on Facebook is saying something on Facebook. I can choose to click in and make a comment, or I can delete it. This means I can take a break without feeling like I am wasting time. After all, I am right there working while "talking" to someone. It is sort of like working in an office filled with people I enjoy. It means my day is filled with laughter and nonsensical statements. Facebook is a place that allows me to stay in close touch with people who live far away. On Facebook, I can share my personal challenges like I did recently when my beloved English bulldog, Max, died. There was so much love and support offered by friends, family and even strangers. I will not forget the day I kicked up the computer and saw Max's face on so many friends and family profiles.
There...something about nothing, but by golly, I wrote in my blog. My guilt is gone, because I explained it all away. Didn't I?
I am working on two books, and they have been taking up some of my time. One, for now, is entitled "How To Fight Like A Woman." The other, for now, is entitled "River of Life." I just finished up my part of a year long project of licensing a day program located at a horse ranch. The program combines traditional services with equestrian activities. When I wasn't literally attending training, completing paperwork, developing operational manuals and completing many other steps towards the goal of obtaining a license, I was thinking about the project. It is now licensed, and I have a very good director managing the services. It seems like I have been living with my computer. I handle our personal finances on the internet. I am on the computer, of course, when working on the books. The computer is used for the majority of my business correspondence. All of our management personnel are using the internet for communication. Tenants and landlords are using the internet for communication. Finally, California's super agencies have decided to use the internet for communication with providers of services throughout the state. Our local regional centers also use the internet for keeping providers informed and meeting our mutual communication needs. I also invoice for our services through e billing. Add to the list of internet communicators contracted business services, employee issues and the list goes on and on. The bottom line is that my laptop and blackberry have become my office. It also has become a place that allows me to stay in touch with family members and to occasionally be surprised by people who have passed through my life in the past. Jerry bought a very small laptop for me this year, and it goes with me when I leave town.
Saving the best for last, I have to mention Facebook. What does Facebook mean to me? It means that I can take a break any time I choose when I see a comment pop into my email file telling me that someone I am friends with on Facebook is saying something on Facebook. I can choose to click in and make a comment, or I can delete it. This means I can take a break without feeling like I am wasting time. After all, I am right there working while "talking" to someone. It is sort of like working in an office filled with people I enjoy. It means my day is filled with laughter and nonsensical statements. Facebook is a place that allows me to stay in close touch with people who live far away. On Facebook, I can share my personal challenges like I did recently when my beloved English bulldog, Max, died. There was so much love and support offered by friends, family and even strangers. I will not forget the day I kicked up the computer and saw Max's face on so many friends and family profiles.
There...something about nothing, but by golly, I wrote in my blog. My guilt is gone, because I explained it all away. Didn't I?
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Memorial Day 2009....
What do fried chicken, hot weather, racing and a radio have in common? They were all a major part of the celebration of Memorial Days for one family on a remote farm in Southern Illinois in the 1950's. Memorial Day was a very special day for the adults to remember and honor the veterans who only a few short years before had given their lives to protect the freedom of others. It was an easy assignment for the folks who had lived through World War II. Everyone had a relative, neighbor or friend who had either died or was seriously wounded in the war. Even I had not forgotten the worried look on my dad's face as he listened to the news every night while his two brothers and oldest son were in combat. Noone treasured their freedom more than the folks who lived through the great depression and the wars. Now they were enjoying a peaceful and productive period....the fruits of their labor.
As a child, Memorial Day represented for me a holiday filled with relaxation, good food and fun. It was one of the few days my father rested from his sun up to sun down work. Mother would spend the morning preparing a meal of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, creamed peas, salad and a tasty dessert. Everything tasted better then, because the young chicken had been running around the farm the day before and vegetables were either freshly frozen, canned or picked from our huge garden.
To me, it also meant that the official days of summer would soon be here. No more school until September. Memorial Day would be followed by bike riding, blackberry picking, swimming at the river and lying around under a shade tree reading books and imagining all of the things I would accomplish in life. If I was reading Tom Sawyer, I was going to cruise down a river someday. If I was reading the Bobbsey Twins, I knew that I would have twins when I got married. I read everything I could about the adventures of others and imagined myself experiencing everything I read. It also meant I could go barefoot. I loved the feel of the earth warming under my feet, and the grass between my toes. Long hot seemingly never ending summer days were ahead with Hank Williams singing on the radio while my brother listened to the Grand Ole Opry. He had photos of Hank Williams on his wall. Soon I would crawl into bed at night and listen to the tractor motor going back and forth across the field as my dad worked even into the night during planting and harvesting seasons. Memorial Day was as much about the beginning of summer for kids as it was about the holiday.
Every Memorial Day weekend, my dad would tune in the Indy 500 on our radio. We would all gather around and listen to the excitement of the race and dream of someday being there to see all the action. Imagine my excitement when my daughter many years later in 1998 competed against women from all over the world at the Indy track for a spot in the ALMS WGGT series. She would race the next two years in that series at tracks all over the United States, but there was never anything quite as special as being at Indy. As I walked through their museum, I remembered the names of drivers of the past. I was in awe looking at Billy Vukovich's car and remembering the day he was killed following three years of winning the race. We were all very sad that day. Another hero was gone.
The Indy 500 is still a part of my celebration. There will be no Hank Williams on the radio, but I do have a few of his songs on my i-pod. I will have good food, but not quite as tasty as freshly grown. Summer is just around the corner. Our country is at war again and on the edge of a depression. However, I am thankful for the veterans who have fought and are fighting for our freedom, and I am thankful for the blessing of family and friends much like my parents were in the 1950's. Time marches forward but many things stay with us forever...like special memories and traditions. Memorial Day, 2009.
As a child, Memorial Day represented for me a holiday filled with relaxation, good food and fun. It was one of the few days my father rested from his sun up to sun down work. Mother would spend the morning preparing a meal of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, creamed peas, salad and a tasty dessert. Everything tasted better then, because the young chicken had been running around the farm the day before and vegetables were either freshly frozen, canned or picked from our huge garden.
To me, it also meant that the official days of summer would soon be here. No more school until September. Memorial Day would be followed by bike riding, blackberry picking, swimming at the river and lying around under a shade tree reading books and imagining all of the things I would accomplish in life. If I was reading Tom Sawyer, I was going to cruise down a river someday. If I was reading the Bobbsey Twins, I knew that I would have twins when I got married. I read everything I could about the adventures of others and imagined myself experiencing everything I read. It also meant I could go barefoot. I loved the feel of the earth warming under my feet, and the grass between my toes. Long hot seemingly never ending summer days were ahead with Hank Williams singing on the radio while my brother listened to the Grand Ole Opry. He had photos of Hank Williams on his wall. Soon I would crawl into bed at night and listen to the tractor motor going back and forth across the field as my dad worked even into the night during planting and harvesting seasons. Memorial Day was as much about the beginning of summer for kids as it was about the holiday.
Every Memorial Day weekend, my dad would tune in the Indy 500 on our radio. We would all gather around and listen to the excitement of the race and dream of someday being there to see all the action. Imagine my excitement when my daughter many years later in 1998 competed against women from all over the world at the Indy track for a spot in the ALMS WGGT series. She would race the next two years in that series at tracks all over the United States, but there was never anything quite as special as being at Indy. As I walked through their museum, I remembered the names of drivers of the past. I was in awe looking at Billy Vukovich's car and remembering the day he was killed following three years of winning the race. We were all very sad that day. Another hero was gone.
The Indy 500 is still a part of my celebration. There will be no Hank Williams on the radio, but I do have a few of his songs on my i-pod. I will have good food, but not quite as tasty as freshly grown. Summer is just around the corner. Our country is at war again and on the edge of a depression. However, I am thankful for the veterans who have fought and are fighting for our freedom, and I am thankful for the blessing of family and friends much like my parents were in the 1950's. Time marches forward but many things stay with us forever...like special memories and traditions. Memorial Day, 2009.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
I Quit My "Job."!!!
Ok...I love my daughter. I even admire her for stepping into her husband's job while he is recovering, managing a kid with 2 year old behavior who challenges the odds minute by minute throughout the day, and running to and fro to a hospital, meetings, making sure her aging mother (the dear one who has been willing to stay at her house and help her out....yeah that's me) has her favorite foods and a glass of wine (or two) in the evening and in her spare moments, shampooing her carpets. She really did shampoo her family room carpets at least once weekly while I stayed in her home. However, I now draw the line.
My last day there was a heart attack inducing experience. The two year old, my darling little granddaughter Carson, who tries to climb over security gates, chases the dog with a pastic 18 in. baton, flushes toilet paper down the toilet while saying "bye bye paper," in a soft angelic voice, runs from her grandmother and falls on the floor in giggles, takes over my blackberry and plays a game that most six years old couldn't handle....yeah that one had just fallen asleep yesterday morning. Her mother had checked in and was on her way home from work. She was actually a block away. I decided to run into the computer to check and see if a new hire had cleared fingerprinting. I heard the front door open, and I heard my daughter screaming..."Oh my God. Oh my God. Call Marty." Well, my first thought was that sleeping baby who I had looked at literally 2 to 3 minutes before must have woke up and was hanging or wasn't really sleeping but was unconscious or worse. I leaped up and ran into the family room and was told, "Call Marty. There is a rattler and he struck Penelope."
Penelope is a huge white English Bulldog. As Dana ran to get the rest of the dogs (they have five and yes, I have been babysitting in a kennel for the past couple of weeks,) into the house. I called Marty to find that he wasn't home, but was in another town at least 20 to 30 minutes away. Marty said call the fire department. Seriously? I thought animal control came after animals and predators. I called the fire department, and heard this wonderful kind lady telling me an "engine" was on its way and she hoped the dog would be ok. Dana, in the meantime, is putting a leash on Penelope who is starting to look stoned and leading her to the car. Her parting words were, "don't let that snake out of your sight, Mom. If it moves, follow it." WHAT????!!!!! Follow a rattler, I would rather take on the meanest bureaucrat in government. Follow a snake...surely you jest. I moved right on to..."Oh please God, don't let the snake move." All of this noise and little angel just dozed away in her buggy only 3 feet away from the snake with a sliding glass door between them. I watched the snake.
Soon...4 or 5 firemen arrived. The four dogs now safely locked into the kitchenette area were carrying on and if you have ever heard a Chinese Crested yell, you will know what I mean. I started to let the firemen out the door and said, "Oh, you can't go out there. There is a doggie door. Let's go through the master bedroom. Oh, I forgot, there is a doggie door there too. Ok...there IS a side yard. Can you go through the outside gate." The firemen said, "Of course. We can do that." they left, except one stayed in the house standing by the sliding glass door in front of the baby's buggy as if he wanted to make sure if the snake tried to come inside, he was ready to protect the baby. It was quiet now. The rest of the firemen were using a long pronged tool to pick up the snake and guess who chose to wake up at that moment. You got it. Precious little Carson. When Carson awakes, she always slowly opens her eyes in a sort of slit position sometimes going back to sleep and sometimes working towards being awake. Well, one little peek and her eyes opened up to about the size of silver dollars, and she reached out her little baby arms saying very softly, Nana...Nana...but never taking her eyes off the tall fireman standing in front of her buggy. I picked her up and of course, I then had to show her the scary...danger...oh no...(using all the words I could think of familiar to her to represent danger...don't touch.) The firemen put the snake in a bucket. They did tell me that it was good that Dana told me to watch it and go with it wherever it went, because too often, they go to pick up a rattler and people say, "It's here..well it was here a few minutes ago." One fireman did ask what kind of dogs are those? I asked, "Oh the naked ones." They are hairless Chinese Cresteds, the black one is a French Bulldog, the brown one is an American Bulldog and the English bulldog is the one that was struck by the snake."
The snake is captured. The baby now says "Nake...Nake...No, No, No," while she shakes her finger back and forth in my face. She goes to the front window and as the fire truck pulls away, she says "bye bye fire truck, bye bye fire truck."
Penelope made it to the vet on time. What a day...oh...and I forgot to mention, it was my daughter's birthday. Happy Birthday Dana. Your Mom is out of here. Your husband is coming home today from the hospital. Your dog is in the doggie hospital, and you have a $1,600.00 vet bill. Is there anything else you would like?
Bye Bye Carson. Bye Bye Nana. Nana loves you. Come and see me when you are 3. Oh, I forgot to tell you, Dana. Your brother says since the snake is a baby, there will probably be more of them.
My last day there was a heart attack inducing experience. The two year old, my darling little granddaughter Carson, who tries to climb over security gates, chases the dog with a pastic 18 in. baton, flushes toilet paper down the toilet while saying "bye bye paper," in a soft angelic voice, runs from her grandmother and falls on the floor in giggles, takes over my blackberry and plays a game that most six years old couldn't handle....yeah that one had just fallen asleep yesterday morning. Her mother had checked in and was on her way home from work. She was actually a block away. I decided to run into the computer to check and see if a new hire had cleared fingerprinting. I heard the front door open, and I heard my daughter screaming..."Oh my God. Oh my God. Call Marty." Well, my first thought was that sleeping baby who I had looked at literally 2 to 3 minutes before must have woke up and was hanging or wasn't really sleeping but was unconscious or worse. I leaped up and ran into the family room and was told, "Call Marty. There is a rattler and he struck Penelope."
Penelope is a huge white English Bulldog. As Dana ran to get the rest of the dogs (they have five and yes, I have been babysitting in a kennel for the past couple of weeks,) into the house. I called Marty to find that he wasn't home, but was in another town at least 20 to 30 minutes away. Marty said call the fire department. Seriously? I thought animal control came after animals and predators. I called the fire department, and heard this wonderful kind lady telling me an "engine" was on its way and she hoped the dog would be ok. Dana, in the meantime, is putting a leash on Penelope who is starting to look stoned and leading her to the car. Her parting words were, "don't let that snake out of your sight, Mom. If it moves, follow it." WHAT????!!!!! Follow a rattler, I would rather take on the meanest bureaucrat in government. Follow a snake...surely you jest. I moved right on to..."Oh please God, don't let the snake move." All of this noise and little angel just dozed away in her buggy only 3 feet away from the snake with a sliding glass door between them. I watched the snake.
Soon...4 or 5 firemen arrived. The four dogs now safely locked into the kitchenette area were carrying on and if you have ever heard a Chinese Crested yell, you will know what I mean. I started to let the firemen out the door and said, "Oh, you can't go out there. There is a doggie door. Let's go through the master bedroom. Oh, I forgot, there is a doggie door there too. Ok...there IS a side yard. Can you go through the outside gate." The firemen said, "Of course. We can do that." they left, except one stayed in the house standing by the sliding glass door in front of the baby's buggy as if he wanted to make sure if the snake tried to come inside, he was ready to protect the baby. It was quiet now. The rest of the firemen were using a long pronged tool to pick up the snake and guess who chose to wake up at that moment. You got it. Precious little Carson. When Carson awakes, she always slowly opens her eyes in a sort of slit position sometimes going back to sleep and sometimes working towards being awake. Well, one little peek and her eyes opened up to about the size of silver dollars, and she reached out her little baby arms saying very softly, Nana...Nana...but never taking her eyes off the tall fireman standing in front of her buggy. I picked her up and of course, I then had to show her the scary...danger...oh no...(using all the words I could think of familiar to her to represent danger...don't touch.) The firemen put the snake in a bucket. They did tell me that it was good that Dana told me to watch it and go with it wherever it went, because too often, they go to pick up a rattler and people say, "It's here..well it was here a few minutes ago." One fireman did ask what kind of dogs are those? I asked, "Oh the naked ones." They are hairless Chinese Cresteds, the black one is a French Bulldog, the brown one is an American Bulldog and the English bulldog is the one that was struck by the snake."
The snake is captured. The baby now says "Nake...Nake...No, No, No," while she shakes her finger back and forth in my face. She goes to the front window and as the fire truck pulls away, she says "bye bye fire truck, bye bye fire truck."
Penelope made it to the vet on time. What a day...oh...and I forgot to mention, it was my daughter's birthday. Happy Birthday Dana. Your Mom is out of here. Your husband is coming home today from the hospital. Your dog is in the doggie hospital, and you have a $1,600.00 vet bill. Is there anything else you would like?
Bye Bye Carson. Bye Bye Nana. Nana loves you. Come and see me when you are 3. Oh, I forgot to tell you, Dana. Your brother says since the snake is a baby, there will probably be more of them.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Mother's Day 2009
Can it be that I am actually experiencing my 44th year as a mother? I vividly recall a very painful time period in my life when I thought I would never be one. I wanted a baby more than anything else in the world. I had been married for 4 years, and as my friends were basking in the throes and joys of parenthood, I remained childless with nothing to say in baby discussions. I had played with dolls from as far back as I could remember up until I reached 7th grade while always fantasizing about my future as a mom. There never was an alternative plan for me.
When he saw my emotional pain, my father said, "Joyce, when God is ready for you to be a mother, that is when you will become one. There is an unknown reason why you are not having one now." Three and a half years later following a divorce and another marriage, I was holding my first born in my arms marveling at the miracle of childbirth and a bit at Dad's wisdom. I got to experience that incomparable joy twice again when my daughters arrived two and twelve years later. This means on this mother's day I am the grandmother of two granddaughters, Leanne and Carson, 17 years and 20 months old, respectively and the mother of a son and two daughters. I see all of my kids and grandkids on a regular basis and sometimes phone calls several times each day.
Today the flowers and cards have started to arrive. Although it is a day used by kids everywhere to honor their mothers, I feel like it is a time for me to be reminded of God's greatest gifts and honor Him for answering my prayers. I simply appreciate and love my kids.
When Leanne gave me a card this morning with a hand written note "You will always be my favorite grandmother," I felt smug and happy. Hey, this girl has three other grandmothers, and it has taken 17 years to hear I am her favorite. I used to try and fool her into saying it when she was a tot, but she would laugh and say "Grandma Shirley says that too, Gold Grandma."
Leanne has so many grandmothers that she established a simple way of tagging a unique name on all five of us when she was 3 years old. Her grandmother Shirley had dark hair, so she called her Black Grandma. Her two step grandmas were labeled Grandma Kathy and Grandma Carole. She decided I had gold hair, so I became Gold Grandma. Her grandmother Meserole had white hair, so she ended up being White Grandma. Later White Grandma would become Little Grandma as Mother kept getting smaller each year. At any given time in my life, I might have been Red Grandma or perhaps even Multi-colored Grandma, especially on those bad hair dye days. I was grateful to end up being Gold Grandma when I think of all the possible names she could have given me. She did raise a few eyebrows in the small town of Red River, New Mexico with her name choices. She was having dinner out with her daddy, when he asked her if she was ready to go home and see her mommy. She said, "Yeah, I want to see Black Grandma too." They were on a father daughter ski trip when the little mountain city is always filled with Texans. No doubt the people sitting around them had to wonder how the pale faced little girl could possibly have a black grandma.
I wanted to make sure Baby Carson doesn't use Leanne's system today, since I am sure I would be Wrinkled Grandma. I have diligently prodded her into calling me Nanna.
Marty, my son, is the CFO of our company. He calls me Joyce or Dr. Swineheart most of the time in order to avoid the use of "Mom" in business meetings and/or when talking to employees. You know a response to a business associate of "I'll discuss it with Mom," or "You need to talk to my Mom about that," might sound a little strange for a 44 year old business executive. It would especially be shocking for those who might not realize that I am his mother. "Hey, I'm new here. Is the CFO whacked or something...telling me to have his mom handle this matter?" This same guy has given me beautiful rings and a diamond necklace for Christmas a couple of years ago that caused me to gasp, so I am not insecure about being called Joyce.
I get Mom cards from Marty for special occasions and sometimes he will say "Is my Mom there?" when calling unless he is in the work mode. Then he may ask Jerry if Joyce is home. My girls call me Mom and occasionally Mommy. If they are unhappy with something I have said, they call me Mother with an emphasis on the first syllable.
As I sit here enjoying this year's peaceful Mother's Day, I am just so happy that I am a mother. I don't care what they call me. It only matters that they exist. I cannot imagine life without even one of the people who have made such a significant contribution to my feeling whole and complete.
Many times, I heard my mother say she did not want to live one day longer than any of her children. I now understand what you meant, Mother. I am sure you are up there somewhere hearing my message while nurturing the babies in heaven. Happy Mother's Day 2009. You are the woman who taught me how to be a mother in a most loving wonderful way.
When he saw my emotional pain, my father said, "Joyce, when God is ready for you to be a mother, that is when you will become one. There is an unknown reason why you are not having one now." Three and a half years later following a divorce and another marriage, I was holding my first born in my arms marveling at the miracle of childbirth and a bit at Dad's wisdom. I got to experience that incomparable joy twice again when my daughters arrived two and twelve years later. This means on this mother's day I am the grandmother of two granddaughters, Leanne and Carson, 17 years and 20 months old, respectively and the mother of a son and two daughters. I see all of my kids and grandkids on a regular basis and sometimes phone calls several times each day.
Today the flowers and cards have started to arrive. Although it is a day used by kids everywhere to honor their mothers, I feel like it is a time for me to be reminded of God's greatest gifts and honor Him for answering my prayers. I simply appreciate and love my kids.
When Leanne gave me a card this morning with a hand written note "You will always be my favorite grandmother," I felt smug and happy. Hey, this girl has three other grandmothers, and it has taken 17 years to hear I am her favorite. I used to try and fool her into saying it when she was a tot, but she would laugh and say "Grandma Shirley says that too, Gold Grandma."
Leanne has so many grandmothers that she established a simple way of tagging a unique name on all five of us when she was 3 years old. Her grandmother Shirley had dark hair, so she called her Black Grandma. Her two step grandmas were labeled Grandma Kathy and Grandma Carole. She decided I had gold hair, so I became Gold Grandma. Her grandmother Meserole had white hair, so she ended up being White Grandma. Later White Grandma would become Little Grandma as Mother kept getting smaller each year. At any given time in my life, I might have been Red Grandma or perhaps even Multi-colored Grandma, especially on those bad hair dye days. I was grateful to end up being Gold Grandma when I think of all the possible names she could have given me. She did raise a few eyebrows in the small town of Red River, New Mexico with her name choices. She was having dinner out with her daddy, when he asked her if she was ready to go home and see her mommy. She said, "Yeah, I want to see Black Grandma too." They were on a father daughter ski trip when the little mountain city is always filled with Texans. No doubt the people sitting around them had to wonder how the pale faced little girl could possibly have a black grandma.
I wanted to make sure Baby Carson doesn't use Leanne's system today, since I am sure I would be Wrinkled Grandma. I have diligently prodded her into calling me Nanna.
Marty, my son, is the CFO of our company. He calls me Joyce or Dr. Swineheart most of the time in order to avoid the use of "Mom" in business meetings and/or when talking to employees. You know a response to a business associate of "I'll discuss it with Mom," or "You need to talk to my Mom about that," might sound a little strange for a 44 year old business executive. It would especially be shocking for those who might not realize that I am his mother. "Hey, I'm new here. Is the CFO whacked or something...telling me to have his mom handle this matter?" This same guy has given me beautiful rings and a diamond necklace for Christmas a couple of years ago that caused me to gasp, so I am not insecure about being called Joyce.
I get Mom cards from Marty for special occasions and sometimes he will say "Is my Mom there?" when calling unless he is in the work mode. Then he may ask Jerry if Joyce is home. My girls call me Mom and occasionally Mommy. If they are unhappy with something I have said, they call me Mother with an emphasis on the first syllable.
As I sit here enjoying this year's peaceful Mother's Day, I am just so happy that I am a mother. I don't care what they call me. It only matters that they exist. I cannot imagine life without even one of the people who have made such a significant contribution to my feeling whole and complete.
Many times, I heard my mother say she did not want to live one day longer than any of her children. I now understand what you meant, Mother. I am sure you are up there somewhere hearing my message while nurturing the babies in heaven. Happy Mother's Day 2009. You are the woman who taught me how to be a mother in a most loving wonderful way.
Saturday, May 2, 2009
A blog sort of day....
The first thing I consciously heard this morning was the security alarm warning that someone had either entered or left the house. This means you have too few seconds before sirens start screaming, bells clang, dogs bark and the phone starts ringing. This also meant I jumped out of bed and was half way to the control unit in the master bedroom when I heard my husband plugging in the code. He opened the front door a second time, and a forestry department plane sounded like it was going to come through the front door. I thought, "Oh no. It's going to be one of those kind of days." I grabbed my glasses, so I could see the time of day. Without them, I can barely see my watch. 9:00 AM. How did that happen? I have already missed a couple of hours of the day. I consider crawling back into bed, but decide it would be only a futile effort to grab a few extra winks.
By the time I get downstairs, the bulldogs and husband have returned, and the bulldogs are standing in the kitchen waiting for their treats. Once again, Daddy intentionally "forgot" to give them their reward for being such good dogs. He has an attitude that dogs shouldn't have to be rewarded for answering nature's call.
The coffee is "perking," or whatever coffee does in today's modern pots. When I was a child, I always loved watching the coffee rise into the little glass lid handle as it perked away on the open flame while Mother hurried around the kitchen preparing my father's breakfast. I knew that soon the coffee pot would be placed on a hot pad on the table. My dad only had so much time before getting the tractor into the field to begin his day of planting or tilling, depending on the season. He would pour his coffee from his cup into a saucer to cool it and then drink it from the saucer. I wasn't allowed to have coffee then. It became one of the many goals I had like getting to iron his shirts, getting to bring in coal for the coal stove, carrying water into the house from the big well across the road and washing dishes. I was given no fail assignments like drying the utensils, going upstairs to get a jar of canned food for dinner,and wiping off the table. It's interesting how much time I spent longing to do chores, and how that matched up against the hours I would later spend trying to avoid them. I had an advantage in those days. I was a girl, and I was the baby of the family. That meant chores usually got assigned to my brother. The rest of my siblings had already grown up and left home.
I was an observer of life. I used to count how many times Mother would place her foot under a cat's belly and toss it across the yard when she was hanging out clothes and marvel that the cat kept coming back to rub against her leg. I swear it went sailing through the air further each time, always landing on its feet and returning. I thought it wanted to annoy her. Now I wonder if it simply liked flying.
There was a special way Mother hung the laundry linking one item to the next, white to whites, clolored items to colored items and always putting the clothespins in the same place on each piece of clothing. She managed the clothes basket, the clothespins, the wet laundry and the cats in a precision manner week after week. Wash day was always on Monday, and it was an all day job although she cooked three hot meals while getting the laundry done. Her laundry area looked like an assembly line with dirty clothes sorted in piles on the surrounding floor, a huge long tub of water heating on an open flame double burner stove, a washing machine that chugged like a little steam engine, the buckets she used to carry water into the house where she heated the water and poured it into the machine, the wringer where she ran every item through and let them fall into a big tub filled with cold water, which was the rinse water. Then she wrung the small items by hand. Larger ones might be put back through the wringer again. She carried all of the items outside to a clothesline strung between two poles the entire length of the house and more. I use to love to weave around through the wet clothes as they flopped in the wind but always had to stop when Mother saw what I was doing. Tuesday was also used for drying on the line, and Wednesday was ironing day.
Everything was ironed. Sheets, dish towels, Daddy's work shirts and pants, our dresses, skirts, and literally all items were ironed. Just like her laundry routine, she also ironed in a orderly fashion. First the collar on the shirt, next cuffs, then the sleeves, and next was the back of the shirt. She then ironed under the button and button hole areas and followed with ironing both front sides of the shirt paying close attention to both pockets. When she felt it was finished, she would hold it up for inspection and sometimes touch up the pockets, cuffs and collar. Every item was ironed in the same order weekly. When it rained, she had to change the laundry days and on a farm, this means you have to pick up the pace or get behind. You should have seen her run when the clothes were on the line, and it started raining.
There was always a precision to Mother's tasks whether she was doing laundry, canning, preparing meals, or doing the dishes. We didn't have a dishwasher. The water had to be carried in for cleaning and the dirty water carried out after it was used. There was no sink either, so she started with the cleanest and finished with the dirtiest. That's why glasses were always first followed by cups and saucers, then the plates and utensils and lastly, the pans beginning with the cleanest pan. Every item had to be dried also. Dishes were done after each meal, which meant she had to do this three times per day. No garbage disposals, so leftover food on plates had to be scraped into a bucket and carried outside.
Day after day, month after month, year after year, my mother kept our home going while my dad farmed the fields. I guess that's why they never spent much time wondering about life. They were just so focused on surviving.
Whew! As my mind wanders into the past, I think that security alarm issue this morning was a pretty minor annoyance. I have to go now. Oh one more comment...our security on the farm was my Dad's 12 gauge. It put the food on our table, and it killed many a varmit trying to steal from our garden or hen house. But that's another memory.....
By the time I get downstairs, the bulldogs and husband have returned, and the bulldogs are standing in the kitchen waiting for their treats. Once again, Daddy intentionally "forgot" to give them their reward for being such good dogs. He has an attitude that dogs shouldn't have to be rewarded for answering nature's call.
The coffee is "perking," or whatever coffee does in today's modern pots. When I was a child, I always loved watching the coffee rise into the little glass lid handle as it perked away on the open flame while Mother hurried around the kitchen preparing my father's breakfast. I knew that soon the coffee pot would be placed on a hot pad on the table. My dad only had so much time before getting the tractor into the field to begin his day of planting or tilling, depending on the season. He would pour his coffee from his cup into a saucer to cool it and then drink it from the saucer. I wasn't allowed to have coffee then. It became one of the many goals I had like getting to iron his shirts, getting to bring in coal for the coal stove, carrying water into the house from the big well across the road and washing dishes. I was given no fail assignments like drying the utensils, going upstairs to get a jar of canned food for dinner,and wiping off the table. It's interesting how much time I spent longing to do chores, and how that matched up against the hours I would later spend trying to avoid them. I had an advantage in those days. I was a girl, and I was the baby of the family. That meant chores usually got assigned to my brother. The rest of my siblings had already grown up and left home.
I was an observer of life. I used to count how many times Mother would place her foot under a cat's belly and toss it across the yard when she was hanging out clothes and marvel that the cat kept coming back to rub against her leg. I swear it went sailing through the air further each time, always landing on its feet and returning. I thought it wanted to annoy her. Now I wonder if it simply liked flying.
There was a special way Mother hung the laundry linking one item to the next, white to whites, clolored items to colored items and always putting the clothespins in the same place on each piece of clothing. She managed the clothes basket, the clothespins, the wet laundry and the cats in a precision manner week after week. Wash day was always on Monday, and it was an all day job although she cooked three hot meals while getting the laundry done. Her laundry area looked like an assembly line with dirty clothes sorted in piles on the surrounding floor, a huge long tub of water heating on an open flame double burner stove, a washing machine that chugged like a little steam engine, the buckets she used to carry water into the house where she heated the water and poured it into the machine, the wringer where she ran every item through and let them fall into a big tub filled with cold water, which was the rinse water. Then she wrung the small items by hand. Larger ones might be put back through the wringer again. She carried all of the items outside to a clothesline strung between two poles the entire length of the house and more. I use to love to weave around through the wet clothes as they flopped in the wind but always had to stop when Mother saw what I was doing. Tuesday was also used for drying on the line, and Wednesday was ironing day.
Everything was ironed. Sheets, dish towels, Daddy's work shirts and pants, our dresses, skirts, and literally all items were ironed. Just like her laundry routine, she also ironed in a orderly fashion. First the collar on the shirt, next cuffs, then the sleeves, and next was the back of the shirt. She then ironed under the button and button hole areas and followed with ironing both front sides of the shirt paying close attention to both pockets. When she felt it was finished, she would hold it up for inspection and sometimes touch up the pockets, cuffs and collar. Every item was ironed in the same order weekly. When it rained, she had to change the laundry days and on a farm, this means you have to pick up the pace or get behind. You should have seen her run when the clothes were on the line, and it started raining.
There was always a precision to Mother's tasks whether she was doing laundry, canning, preparing meals, or doing the dishes. We didn't have a dishwasher. The water had to be carried in for cleaning and the dirty water carried out after it was used. There was no sink either, so she started with the cleanest and finished with the dirtiest. That's why glasses were always first followed by cups and saucers, then the plates and utensils and lastly, the pans beginning with the cleanest pan. Every item had to be dried also. Dishes were done after each meal, which meant she had to do this three times per day. No garbage disposals, so leftover food on plates had to be scraped into a bucket and carried outside.
Day after day, month after month, year after year, my mother kept our home going while my dad farmed the fields. I guess that's why they never spent much time wondering about life. They were just so focused on surviving.
Whew! As my mind wanders into the past, I think that security alarm issue this morning was a pretty minor annoyance. I have to go now. Oh one more comment...our security on the farm was my Dad's 12 gauge. It put the food on our table, and it killed many a varmit trying to steal from our garden or hen house. But that's another memory.....
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Someday...
Some people say "but for the grace of God, it could have been I." I can't totally go with that thought. Why? I don't believe that God would choose to take a loved one from one family and protect a loved one from another family because he is selectively passing out grace. I don't have the answer, but it has to be something more than "but for the grace of God." I believe that God's grace encompasses all. When tragedy hits and pain floods through our souls, God's grace is the only thing that moves us forward. Today, however, I am acutely aware of the strangeness of fate. I do believe God can save people from dying, but I have to admit that understanding all about how life and death works...who gets to stay and who doesn't...gets a bit fuzzy for me.
Why am I even writing about this? Well...Sunday, my son who is 43 years old was playing on the dunes in the desert east of San Diego when the off road vehicle flipped. Marty was injured when the roll bar hit his head and shoulder as it overturned. Marty immediately realized he had a concussion. He really didn't know the way back to his camp. He told his daughter that he needed to sit for a few minutes. Soon they were on their way back to camp. He took a hard hit. Even a few hours later, he couldn't remember the details of the accident. Like Natasha, he refused to go to the doctor.
On Monday and less than 24 hours later, Natasha Richardson fell on a beginning ski slope. Her initital symptoms seemed less severe than Marty's symptoms. Yet, today she is gone and he is healing. I remember my dad talking about a scripture in the bible which tells us two men shall be on a rooftop and one shall be taken and one shall be left. He was discussing what he called the end of time. We see "one being taken and one left" in our lives today. One person will survive a major crash and several will die. A shooting leaves some dead others injured.
I am so thankful my son's life was spared from death as a result of an injury that certainly could easily have caused his death. I have thanked God for his life this week. The loss of Natasha from what appeared to be a minor fall on a ski slope should make all of us even more aware that in a second, a loved one can be gone. But Why?
There is so much we won't understand until we get to the other side. I always have loved the old gospel song "We will understand it better by and by...by and by when the morning comes." The loss of babies.....the burdens some people must carry throughout life...and so many mysteries will always be just that until we meet our Savior. It's all about faith. If we knew and had total understanding, it wouldn't require faith. In the meantime, thank you God for our blessings and someday I will understand it better.
Why am I even writing about this? Well...Sunday, my son who is 43 years old was playing on the dunes in the desert east of San Diego when the off road vehicle flipped. Marty was injured when the roll bar hit his head and shoulder as it overturned. Marty immediately realized he had a concussion. He really didn't know the way back to his camp. He told his daughter that he needed to sit for a few minutes. Soon they were on their way back to camp. He took a hard hit. Even a few hours later, he couldn't remember the details of the accident. Like Natasha, he refused to go to the doctor.
On Monday and less than 24 hours later, Natasha Richardson fell on a beginning ski slope. Her initital symptoms seemed less severe than Marty's symptoms. Yet, today she is gone and he is healing. I remember my dad talking about a scripture in the bible which tells us two men shall be on a rooftop and one shall be taken and one shall be left. He was discussing what he called the end of time. We see "one being taken and one left" in our lives today. One person will survive a major crash and several will die. A shooting leaves some dead others injured.
I am so thankful my son's life was spared from death as a result of an injury that certainly could easily have caused his death. I have thanked God for his life this week. The loss of Natasha from what appeared to be a minor fall on a ski slope should make all of us even more aware that in a second, a loved one can be gone. But Why?
There is so much we won't understand until we get to the other side. I always have loved the old gospel song "We will understand it better by and by...by and by when the morning comes." The loss of babies.....the burdens some people must carry throughout life...and so many mysteries will always be just that until we meet our Savior. It's all about faith. If we knew and had total understanding, it wouldn't require faith. In the meantime, thank you God for our blessings and someday I will understand it better.
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Mission Accomplished.....
Thanks to some very good friends and a half dozen understanding strangers, I believe I can say our trip to North Carolina this past week was successful. Our goal was to fly into Charlotte Saturday and return to San Diego Thursday. Our purpose was to officially accept possession of our warehouse in Mooresville, which we had leased to Jarit Johnson (NASCAR super star Jimmie Johnson's brother.) Jarit was moving his business and notified us in January that he would be leaving February 28th. I certainly was stressing over the fact that I was going out of town when I felt I needed to be here taking care of business. Although I had a lot of confidence in Jarit and had entrusted several possessions to his care, I was also nervous about trying to get the warehouse cleaned and ready for rent in such a short amount of time (4 business days.) I was scheduled to meet Jarit on Monday and a potential tenant from New Jersey on Tuesday. Dana and Brandon arranged for a friend of theirs who lives in Austin, Texas to stay at our home in San Diego to take care of our bulldogs, Lilly and Max, in exchange for an airline ticket to San Diego. She is considering a move to our area, so it would give her the opportunity to check out the area.
Our first "incident" happened before we left the airport when Jerry mistakenly put someone's cell phone in my carry on bag. We made it through security and arrived at Gate 34. He told me he would "be back in a minute" and left. I decided to move the bags around, so it would be obvious that I was using the seat next to me. When I picked up my bag, I felt something vibrating. I had turned off my cell phone, so I assumed it was Jerry's phone. I pulled it out of the bag and thought, "Oh, he must have bought a new cell phone." It is not uncommon for him to upgrade a cell phone not to be noticed by me for several days after he purchases it. I answered the phone and found myself talking to US Air security. Of course, I said what every thief says when I was told I was holding a stranger's cell phone, "How did it get in MY bag?" I followed that up with "My husband must have thought it was mine." It was obvious they were more interested in getting the cell phone than listening to my excuses. I told them I was at Gate 34 and very soon two armed security guards and a very frantic looking cell phone owner came around the corner. I had pulled my cell phone out of my bag, so I could show them how easily it would have been for someone to mistake one for the other. The owner of phone was very pleasant. Four and a half hours later we arrived in Charlotte.
Greg, a very good friend of Dana and Brandon who has become also a close friend of ours met us at the airport and drove us to our condo at Lowe's Motor Speedway. Having flown the red eye, we were road kill all day Saturday. Greg and Lisa came over Sunday, and we all went to Wal-Mart to pick up a few items and out to lunch. We so appreciated their willingness to interrupt their regular schedule to see that we had supplies and whatever we needed for the few days we would be in North Carolina. They also brought our truck to us, which is a 1996 Dodge Ram diesel truck named "The Red Dragon" by the younger generation in North Carolina. They tease us about our old truck, but we like it. We can go to Lowe's and bring home half the store in one trip.
Late Sunday afternoon it began to snow and by Monday morning, we knew we were not going anywhere. The area had the biggest snow storm they had experienced in 20 years. The Red Dragon looked like a snow bank. They have little snow in Charlotte, so the roads were a mess. Jarit agreed to meet us on Tuesday. I invoiced on line for our San Bernardino services on Monday, so the day wasn't a total waste of time. However, we knew that we wouldn't be able to accomplish much of anything with only Tuesday and Wednesday left to work. We were scheduled to fly back to San Diego on Thursday. The sun came out bright and early on Tuesday morning, so we went to Mooresville to meet Jarit. When I walked into the warehouse, I literally had to hold back my emotions. Jarit had cleaned it for us. It was as immaculate as possible for a warehouse. Not only had the cleaned the entire 7500 square feet, he had boxed up small items in boxes and really had everything ready for us. That and the big hug he gave me as a welcome meant (and means) so much to me. We chatted for a while catching up on our respective lives. Jerry and I went to lunch and with a great sigh of relief, we returned to the condo.
We were supposed to meet a potential tenant on Tuesday, who now lives in New Jersey. However, he had called and said they were covered in snow, and he had been shoveling it all day. He decided to come down later in the week. Greg and Lisa said they would take care of showing him the warehouse, since we were leaving on Thursday. They also insisted on taking us to the airport to catch our flight on Thursday.
We had a bit of another incident when going through security at Charlotte on Thursday. I forgot to prompt Jerry to remove my laptop from the bag he was taking through security. He became impatient when my bag didn't come through and when he heard it was because the laptop wasn't removed, he got very upset. He doesn't handle obstacles well at all now. He never had a lot of patience, but these days he has no patience. Since the laptop wasn't removed from the bag, they decided to search that bag and my other carry on purse/bag. I think they noticed I had my hands full with my husband, so they were pointed about carrying out their training but at least, they were pleasant with me.
My career has given me expertise in working with elderly, mentally ill patients, developmentally disabled clients, adults with addictions, persons with serious behavior disorders, and veterans with serious mental health problems. However, I have no expertise in the care of Alzheimer's patients. This is a learning experience. I know now that I need to prompt Jerry when he is in unfamiliar areas and has responsibilities. I am becoming an expert at redirecting him when he starts to get upset over something. There are some matters that require me to firmly disagree with him, but I am trying very hard to avoid that. Most of the time it works. When he wants to sell acreage and buy a helicopter, instead of responding as I would have a couple of years ago with "There is no way that is happening," I now can let it pass and let him put up the sign. In this economy, I think it will be a few years before the property sells.
Jerry and I have always been best friends. Yet, we have spent years trying to force our opinions on each other. It is not my way nor his to concede in any situation. I know that isn't a virtue, but nonetheless, it is embedded in my personality to push my point to the end. It requires a lot of discipline now to "let it go." When your loved one has Alzheimer's, it's amazing how quickly winning takes a back seat. Why was it ever a priority?
I had another "peek" this week at where we are headed with this Alzheimer's disease, and I know it is not going to be easy. In fact, I know it will be a very long way from easy. I just hope it is bearable. Thank God for good friends and caring people. They certainly made it work for us last week.
Our first "incident" happened before we left the airport when Jerry mistakenly put someone's cell phone in my carry on bag. We made it through security and arrived at Gate 34. He told me he would "be back in a minute" and left. I decided to move the bags around, so it would be obvious that I was using the seat next to me. When I picked up my bag, I felt something vibrating. I had turned off my cell phone, so I assumed it was Jerry's phone. I pulled it out of the bag and thought, "Oh, he must have bought a new cell phone." It is not uncommon for him to upgrade a cell phone not to be noticed by me for several days after he purchases it. I answered the phone and found myself talking to US Air security. Of course, I said what every thief says when I was told I was holding a stranger's cell phone, "How did it get in MY bag?" I followed that up with "My husband must have thought it was mine." It was obvious they were more interested in getting the cell phone than listening to my excuses. I told them I was at Gate 34 and very soon two armed security guards and a very frantic looking cell phone owner came around the corner. I had pulled my cell phone out of my bag, so I could show them how easily it would have been for someone to mistake one for the other. The owner of phone was very pleasant. Four and a half hours later we arrived in Charlotte.
Greg, a very good friend of Dana and Brandon who has become also a close friend of ours met us at the airport and drove us to our condo at Lowe's Motor Speedway. Having flown the red eye, we were road kill all day Saturday. Greg and Lisa came over Sunday, and we all went to Wal-Mart to pick up a few items and out to lunch. We so appreciated their willingness to interrupt their regular schedule to see that we had supplies and whatever we needed for the few days we would be in North Carolina. They also brought our truck to us, which is a 1996 Dodge Ram diesel truck named "The Red Dragon" by the younger generation in North Carolina. They tease us about our old truck, but we like it. We can go to Lowe's and bring home half the store in one trip.
Late Sunday afternoon it began to snow and by Monday morning, we knew we were not going anywhere. The area had the biggest snow storm they had experienced in 20 years. The Red Dragon looked like a snow bank. They have little snow in Charlotte, so the roads were a mess. Jarit agreed to meet us on Tuesday. I invoiced on line for our San Bernardino services on Monday, so the day wasn't a total waste of time. However, we knew that we wouldn't be able to accomplish much of anything with only Tuesday and Wednesday left to work. We were scheduled to fly back to San Diego on Thursday. The sun came out bright and early on Tuesday morning, so we went to Mooresville to meet Jarit. When I walked into the warehouse, I literally had to hold back my emotions. Jarit had cleaned it for us. It was as immaculate as possible for a warehouse. Not only had the cleaned the entire 7500 square feet, he had boxed up small items in boxes and really had everything ready for us. That and the big hug he gave me as a welcome meant (and means) so much to me. We chatted for a while catching up on our respective lives. Jerry and I went to lunch and with a great sigh of relief, we returned to the condo.
We were supposed to meet a potential tenant on Tuesday, who now lives in New Jersey. However, he had called and said they were covered in snow, and he had been shoveling it all day. He decided to come down later in the week. Greg and Lisa said they would take care of showing him the warehouse, since we were leaving on Thursday. They also insisted on taking us to the airport to catch our flight on Thursday.
We had a bit of another incident when going through security at Charlotte on Thursday. I forgot to prompt Jerry to remove my laptop from the bag he was taking through security. He became impatient when my bag didn't come through and when he heard it was because the laptop wasn't removed, he got very upset. He doesn't handle obstacles well at all now. He never had a lot of patience, but these days he has no patience. Since the laptop wasn't removed from the bag, they decided to search that bag and my other carry on purse/bag. I think they noticed I had my hands full with my husband, so they were pointed about carrying out their training but at least, they were pleasant with me.
My career has given me expertise in working with elderly, mentally ill patients, developmentally disabled clients, adults with addictions, persons with serious behavior disorders, and veterans with serious mental health problems. However, I have no expertise in the care of Alzheimer's patients. This is a learning experience. I know now that I need to prompt Jerry when he is in unfamiliar areas and has responsibilities. I am becoming an expert at redirecting him when he starts to get upset over something. There are some matters that require me to firmly disagree with him, but I am trying very hard to avoid that. Most of the time it works. When he wants to sell acreage and buy a helicopter, instead of responding as I would have a couple of years ago with "There is no way that is happening," I now can let it pass and let him put up the sign. In this economy, I think it will be a few years before the property sells.
Jerry and I have always been best friends. Yet, we have spent years trying to force our opinions on each other. It is not my way nor his to concede in any situation. I know that isn't a virtue, but nonetheless, it is embedded in my personality to push my point to the end. It requires a lot of discipline now to "let it go." When your loved one has Alzheimer's, it's amazing how quickly winning takes a back seat. Why was it ever a priority?
I had another "peek" this week at where we are headed with this Alzheimer's disease, and I know it is not going to be easy. In fact, I know it will be a very long way from easy. I just hope it is bearable. Thank God for good friends and caring people. They certainly made it work for us last week.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Working 9 to 5 .....
It's almost 9 AM Monday morning, and it feels like my mind is racing faster than NASCAR was running at Fontana yesterday. I have read the San Diego Union-Trib, my ever shrinking newspaper, and had my morning coffee. Jerry got up earlier today. Lately, he has been sleeping in until 9 or 10, but today he was up shortly after my early morning rising. I always prepare the coffee the night before, so whoever is up first simply turns on the urn. We pre-programmed it for years, but anytime the electricity was off for a few minutes, our coffee might be made at any time and always when we didn't want it. Now, we just add turning on the coffee pot to the routine of turning off the exterior night lighting and de-programming the security alarm.
It is always at this time of the day I check our personal on line bank account, pay bills and try to get my brain to focus on what other assignments must be handled today. There is $1.06 in our checking account, so that means I have to stop at the bank to make a deposit on my way to get a haircut. Since we are leaving for a 5 day trip to North Carolina on Friday, I will get the haircut out of the way now. This insures that unexpected demands later on the week won't prevent me from getting it accomplished at all. I tend to postpone hair and nails when business calls.
I note that the bank has still not given credit for my phone pay to Macy's. I recently made a $500.00 payment, and the bank took two payments from my account. Macy's claims they didn't get the payment, and the bank claims they sent it to Macy's. I have now asked the bank to prove where the funds were deposited, and am waiting for the proof. Since I have to stop there today, I will talk with Patty and see if she has been able to find out what happened. I also have to drop off a corporate financial statement to her for the purpose of renewing our credit line.
The status of the banking industry has me quite worried these days. It's as if the whole lending community is collapsing. I know our small (in comparison to Citigroup and Bank of America) community bank is in trouble. It's not a good day when you see your bank in the headlines. Apparently, our country is on the edge of nationalizing banks. Scary!
I think we are going to have to look at a lot of areas before we really find the solution to our economic problems. So far, the government is addressing the obvious such as banks failing, auto industries failing, etc. I compare it to medicine. If a doctor continues to treat the symptoms but ignores what is causing the symptoms, eventually the patient will die. Government needs to begin with self examination. I would raise some questions such as "Who decided that it was OK unionize "public servants?" "Who could have ever thought that government should have pension plans that allowed some retirees a higher annual income than when they were working?" "Why wasn't the social security system good enough for public employees?" After all, private working citizens are required to pay into social security and accept the return. Perhaps the government knew they were running a "Ponzi Scheme" with social security, so they wanted to protect themselves by creating Mercedes pension programs for public employees? Who could have ever thought that the private sector could create enough jobs and make enough money to support people who are employed by government forever and ever? What legislator made it a law that even if stock values drop public employees pension plan values cannot drop? Now that is really crazy. Isn't it? I am sure 401(k) owners right now would have liked that protection.
I guess I am asking..."Are we really a government of the people, by the people and for the people or have we a government out of control whose interest is in the growth and protection of government?" If of the people, then I vote for immediately passing federal, state and local laws that require all "public servants" to participate in the social security system and eliminate other "pension" opportunities for new employees. I also would pass local, federal and state laws that prohibits "public servants" from being unionized. Unions were a necessity when they were formed years ago before effective labor laws were developed. Employees are now protected by labor laws, and the unions have outlived their purpose. Unions are simply working as lobbyists for politicians who support them. Maybe the "fat cat" unions could empty out their coffers and rescue the economy.
Well...I am going to sign off before I get labeled as one of those radical right wingers. See how my mind races if I let it run free when it needs to be focused on today's responsibilities. Working 9 to 5 .....
It is always at this time of the day I check our personal on line bank account, pay bills and try to get my brain to focus on what other assignments must be handled today. There is $1.06 in our checking account, so that means I have to stop at the bank to make a deposit on my way to get a haircut. Since we are leaving for a 5 day trip to North Carolina on Friday, I will get the haircut out of the way now. This insures that unexpected demands later on the week won't prevent me from getting it accomplished at all. I tend to postpone hair and nails when business calls.
I note that the bank has still not given credit for my phone pay to Macy's. I recently made a $500.00 payment, and the bank took two payments from my account. Macy's claims they didn't get the payment, and the bank claims they sent it to Macy's. I have now asked the bank to prove where the funds were deposited, and am waiting for the proof. Since I have to stop there today, I will talk with Patty and see if she has been able to find out what happened. I also have to drop off a corporate financial statement to her for the purpose of renewing our credit line.
The status of the banking industry has me quite worried these days. It's as if the whole lending community is collapsing. I know our small (in comparison to Citigroup and Bank of America) community bank is in trouble. It's not a good day when you see your bank in the headlines. Apparently, our country is on the edge of nationalizing banks. Scary!
I think we are going to have to look at a lot of areas before we really find the solution to our economic problems. So far, the government is addressing the obvious such as banks failing, auto industries failing, etc. I compare it to medicine. If a doctor continues to treat the symptoms but ignores what is causing the symptoms, eventually the patient will die. Government needs to begin with self examination. I would raise some questions such as "Who decided that it was OK unionize "public servants?" "Who could have ever thought that government should have pension plans that allowed some retirees a higher annual income than when they were working?" "Why wasn't the social security system good enough for public employees?" After all, private working citizens are required to pay into social security and accept the return. Perhaps the government knew they were running a "Ponzi Scheme" with social security, so they wanted to protect themselves by creating Mercedes pension programs for public employees? Who could have ever thought that the private sector could create enough jobs and make enough money to support people who are employed by government forever and ever? What legislator made it a law that even if stock values drop public employees pension plan values cannot drop? Now that is really crazy. Isn't it? I am sure 401(k) owners right now would have liked that protection.
I guess I am asking..."Are we really a government of the people, by the people and for the people or have we a government out of control whose interest is in the growth and protection of government?" If of the people, then I vote for immediately passing federal, state and local laws that require all "public servants" to participate in the social security system and eliminate other "pension" opportunities for new employees. I also would pass local, federal and state laws that prohibits "public servants" from being unionized. Unions were a necessity when they were formed years ago before effective labor laws were developed. Employees are now protected by labor laws, and the unions have outlived their purpose. Unions are simply working as lobbyists for politicians who support them. Maybe the "fat cat" unions could empty out their coffers and rescue the economy.
Well...I am going to sign off before I get labeled as one of those radical right wingers. See how my mind races if I let it run free when it needs to be focused on today's responsibilities. Working 9 to 5 .....
Saturday, February 21, 2009
A Peaceful Day in Southern California....
Today is laundry day. I am trying to "knock out" as many loads of laundry as possible in one day. Uh oh...trouble just arrived. Jerry just walked in the door. He is returning from his favorite activity...flying.
In the midst of working on the laundry in San Diego, I have been negotiating the possible rental of 2500 square feet of our 7500 square foot warehouse in Mooresville, North Carolina with a man in New Jersey. Now isn't that a testimony to our 2009 lifestyle? I'm here...he's there...and the warehouse is somewhere else. I had hoped that Jarit would stay one more year in the warehouse, but he recently notified me that he will be leaving at the end of this month. Jerry and I are going to North Carolina next Friday (flying the red eye to Charlotte) for the purpose of officially taking possession of the warehouse. I know there is a roof leak, so I have to get a roofer lined up to take care of that. We are only going to be there for a week, so there is a lot to try and accomplish in a short period of time.
I'm doing laundry in San Diego. Who knows what my prospective tenant (Steve) is doing in New Jersey? Thanks to technology, we can both take care of business matters while meeting our daily reponsibilities. I do have an advantage. There is no way that New Jersey can offer him what living in Southern California is offering me today. The sun is massaging our English bulldogs as it casts a warm glow over the dark brown leather chairs in our family room.
A few years ago, my husband moved our laundry facilities onto a lower patio outside the 2nd master bedroom suite. He strung a clothesline between support beams, which means I can pull our clothes from the dryer and hang them on hangars in the fresh air while enjoying a view of the Pacific ocean and taking in the beauty of our exterior surroundings. Instead of dreading the chore of laundry, I look forward to it now. I enjoy the smell of the clothes after they have hung in the fresh air for a few hours before being brought inside the house. The hawks cry overhead as they search for heir next kill reminding me of my childhood when I could sometimes be found lying out in tall grass on a hot summer day watching birds of prey cruise around hunting and diving to catch their next meal. I was always torn between admiration for their speed and success versus the helplessness of the rabbit or field mouse who could be seen dangling in the air beneath them as they flew away. Must there always be a victim to another's success?
Living in a mountain community, I can often hear the voices of people talking on the other side of the hill mixed with the sounds of dogs barking and even an occasional crow of a rooster. I don't know how a rooster managed to find housing in our city, but I am glad he did. I usually hear him in the early morning, and I really have to wonder what he has to crow about these days. I guess a rooster isn't impacted by the stock market.
My daughter and son in law and their friend from North Carolina, along with my son, loaded up their respective motorhomes yesterday and headed for the sand dunes. I received a text from my daughter this morning that simply said "Everything is great." That means they arrived safely and are having a good time. It's only a couple of hours away from San Diego to Southern California's playground...the sand dunes and a little further down the road, the Colorado river north of Yuma. Even in a bad economy, families in San Diego try to hang on to their desert and river "toys." It's just a way of life to grow up riding quads and dune buggies over the dunes in the winter months and boating up and down the river in the summer time.
Jerry just went upstairs to take a nap. He spends a lot of time sleeping now, which I am told is common for Alzheimer's patients. He said he really enjoyed his time in the air today. He is a good pilot, but since the diagnosis of Alzheimer's we agreed that he will only go up in the plane with another pilot aboard. I believe flying has slowed the progression of the disease much like what happens with brain training programs. A deep sadness comes over me if I fully accept the reality of our future. I try very hard to just focus on today. Today is definitely tolerable and often quite enjoyable.
I hung some more family photos on the walls today. We had packed up a lot of items in 2007 in anticipation of selling our home for the purpose of downsizing. Once the economy took a huge dive, we pulled the house off the market and decided to wait it out before selling. About the same time, Jerry was diagnosed with early Alzheimer's and keeping the family home took on a new purpose. He was pleased when he saw that I was pulling framed photos out of storage this morning. In his words, "so you are in the process of making this a home again?" I feel the same way. There isn't any way that looking at the most expensive art work on our walls can compare to the feeling we get when looking at family photos holding loving memories of days past.
Just another peaceful day in Southern California.....
In the midst of working on the laundry in San Diego, I have been negotiating the possible rental of 2500 square feet of our 7500 square foot warehouse in Mooresville, North Carolina with a man in New Jersey. Now isn't that a testimony to our 2009 lifestyle? I'm here...he's there...and the warehouse is somewhere else. I had hoped that Jarit would stay one more year in the warehouse, but he recently notified me that he will be leaving at the end of this month. Jerry and I are going to North Carolina next Friday (flying the red eye to Charlotte) for the purpose of officially taking possession of the warehouse. I know there is a roof leak, so I have to get a roofer lined up to take care of that. We are only going to be there for a week, so there is a lot to try and accomplish in a short period of time.
I'm doing laundry in San Diego. Who knows what my prospective tenant (Steve) is doing in New Jersey? Thanks to technology, we can both take care of business matters while meeting our daily reponsibilities. I do have an advantage. There is no way that New Jersey can offer him what living in Southern California is offering me today. The sun is massaging our English bulldogs as it casts a warm glow over the dark brown leather chairs in our family room.
A few years ago, my husband moved our laundry facilities onto a lower patio outside the 2nd master bedroom suite. He strung a clothesline between support beams, which means I can pull our clothes from the dryer and hang them on hangars in the fresh air while enjoying a view of the Pacific ocean and taking in the beauty of our exterior surroundings. Instead of dreading the chore of laundry, I look forward to it now. I enjoy the smell of the clothes after they have hung in the fresh air for a few hours before being brought inside the house. The hawks cry overhead as they search for heir next kill reminding me of my childhood when I could sometimes be found lying out in tall grass on a hot summer day watching birds of prey cruise around hunting and diving to catch their next meal. I was always torn between admiration for their speed and success versus the helplessness of the rabbit or field mouse who could be seen dangling in the air beneath them as they flew away. Must there always be a victim to another's success?
Living in a mountain community, I can often hear the voices of people talking on the other side of the hill mixed with the sounds of dogs barking and even an occasional crow of a rooster. I don't know how a rooster managed to find housing in our city, but I am glad he did. I usually hear him in the early morning, and I really have to wonder what he has to crow about these days. I guess a rooster isn't impacted by the stock market.
My daughter and son in law and their friend from North Carolina, along with my son, loaded up their respective motorhomes yesterday and headed for the sand dunes. I received a text from my daughter this morning that simply said "Everything is great." That means they arrived safely and are having a good time. It's only a couple of hours away from San Diego to Southern California's playground...the sand dunes and a little further down the road, the Colorado river north of Yuma. Even in a bad economy, families in San Diego try to hang on to their desert and river "toys." It's just a way of life to grow up riding quads and dune buggies over the dunes in the winter months and boating up and down the river in the summer time.
Jerry just went upstairs to take a nap. He spends a lot of time sleeping now, which I am told is common for Alzheimer's patients. He said he really enjoyed his time in the air today. He is a good pilot, but since the diagnosis of Alzheimer's we agreed that he will only go up in the plane with another pilot aboard. I believe flying has slowed the progression of the disease much like what happens with brain training programs. A deep sadness comes over me if I fully accept the reality of our future. I try very hard to just focus on today. Today is definitely tolerable and often quite enjoyable.
I hung some more family photos on the walls today. We had packed up a lot of items in 2007 in anticipation of selling our home for the purpose of downsizing. Once the economy took a huge dive, we pulled the house off the market and decided to wait it out before selling. About the same time, Jerry was diagnosed with early Alzheimer's and keeping the family home took on a new purpose. He was pleased when he saw that I was pulling framed photos out of storage this morning. In his words, "so you are in the process of making this a home again?" I feel the same way. There isn't any way that looking at the most expensive art work on our walls can compare to the feeling we get when looking at family photos holding loving memories of days past.
Just another peaceful day in Southern California.....
Saturday, February 7, 2009
Sarah Palin Did It....
I don't really have anything worthwhile to say today. I just wanted to make sure everyone reads my blog, so I decided to use Sarah Pain's name in a title. Is there anyone besides me who has noticed that if it involves Sarah Palin, the media is going to cover it? Even Ashley Judd is capitalizing on the name to promote her cause. Ashley could have substitued the state of Alaska for Sarah Palin's name in her campaign to save the wolves in Alaska, but she didn't. She knew that she wouldn't get invites to talk shows and raise as much money for the foundation she supports if she didn't say "it's Sarah Palin's fault."
Sarah Palin may have been the only candidate in the 2008 presidential election who truly wanted to represent the interests of the average person. She certainly was not a Washington insider.....you know, not privileged to hang out amongst the crowd of people appointed by President Obama to run his administration. Those people would be the ones who have walked the hallways of the Senate, Congress and even the white house for several years now and under President Obama's administration, have been given the privilege of hanging out there another four years. Well....at least those Democrats who have paid their taxes will be there. That growing list of officials who haven't paid their taxes may lose their "insider ticket." Someone said that the change Mr. Obama was promising was that the Democrats would start paying taxes. At least, we know why Democrats support tax increases. They don't pay their taxes.
Should Sarah ever become president, I think she would appoint some people who have never even been to Washington, D.C. Maybe that's why the liberals are furious with her. Who wants someone running the country that doesn't owe favors to lobbyists or unions or maybe even the media? Besides, it's easier to remember the names of our leadership if you just nominate the same old people year after year.
I wonder if the outcome of the election would have changed had the voters been told the Clinton administration would be reinstated (without Bill, of course.) Or had the voters known the people casting blame on others for the failing economy were tax evaders? Surely noone thinks the positive recent elections in Iraq two weeks following the presidential swearing in ceremony should be credited to the new administration. Do they? How do the great "sins" of Sarah Palin (didn't tell Katie her choice of magazines, has a pregnant daughter, fired a burearcrat who wasn't doing his job, can see Russia from her backyard) stack up against a campaign agenda filled with promises of change (no change), no tax deductions (tax deductions), immediately bring the troops home (now bringing them home on President Bush's schedule), and the list goes on.
In my opinion, she stepped up to address the people of the United States of America and spoke the truth as she saw it. I like that. I like that better even if she makes a few mistakes than the alternative of getting a complete "snow job" from the Democrat's ticket. I find President Obama to be very charming. I find his campaign manager to be brilliant at running campaigns. Of course, I was looking for something more than that when I voted. I was hoping for honesty. I wanted to see new faces in Washington. I definitely did not want someone in office who would support the unions who have made a major contribution to the loss of jobs in America.
It doesn't look like the media is going to give my blog any attention either if I don't further the cause of blaming Sarah Palin. Ok...Sarah Palin did it. She raised my hopes for change and fresh faces, but she didn't get elected. It's Sarah's fault.
Sarah Palin may have been the only candidate in the 2008 presidential election who truly wanted to represent the interests of the average person. She certainly was not a Washington insider.....you know, not privileged to hang out amongst the crowd of people appointed by President Obama to run his administration. Those people would be the ones who have walked the hallways of the Senate, Congress and even the white house for several years now and under President Obama's administration, have been given the privilege of hanging out there another four years. Well....at least those Democrats who have paid their taxes will be there. That growing list of officials who haven't paid their taxes may lose their "insider ticket." Someone said that the change Mr. Obama was promising was that the Democrats would start paying taxes. At least, we know why Democrats support tax increases. They don't pay their taxes.
Should Sarah ever become president, I think she would appoint some people who have never even been to Washington, D.C. Maybe that's why the liberals are furious with her. Who wants someone running the country that doesn't owe favors to lobbyists or unions or maybe even the media? Besides, it's easier to remember the names of our leadership if you just nominate the same old people year after year.
I wonder if the outcome of the election would have changed had the voters been told the Clinton administration would be reinstated (without Bill, of course.) Or had the voters known the people casting blame on others for the failing economy were tax evaders? Surely noone thinks the positive recent elections in Iraq two weeks following the presidential swearing in ceremony should be credited to the new administration. Do they? How do the great "sins" of Sarah Palin (didn't tell Katie her choice of magazines, has a pregnant daughter, fired a burearcrat who wasn't doing his job, can see Russia from her backyard) stack up against a campaign agenda filled with promises of change (no change), no tax deductions (tax deductions), immediately bring the troops home (now bringing them home on President Bush's schedule), and the list goes on.
In my opinion, she stepped up to address the people of the United States of America and spoke the truth as she saw it. I like that. I like that better even if she makes a few mistakes than the alternative of getting a complete "snow job" from the Democrat's ticket. I find President Obama to be very charming. I find his campaign manager to be brilliant at running campaigns. Of course, I was looking for something more than that when I voted. I was hoping for honesty. I wanted to see new faces in Washington. I definitely did not want someone in office who would support the unions who have made a major contribution to the loss of jobs in America.
It doesn't look like the media is going to give my blog any attention either if I don't further the cause of blaming Sarah Palin. Ok...Sarah Palin did it. She raised my hopes for change and fresh faces, but she didn't get elected. It's Sarah's fault.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Another Preventable Tragedy.....
I am deeply troubled to see that another person has committed homicide and suicide. The family's photos in the newspaper are like those of any normal and happy looking family. A suicide note to a reporter indicates that a man and his wife living in Southern California agreed to kill themselves and their five innocent children. He claims they were left with no hope after being terminated from their medical technician positions at Kaiser Permante. The father further claimed that an administrative employee at Kaiser had told him a few days ago that he might as well go home and blow his brains out. This comment was supposedly related to an allegation that they were being fired for falsifying records related to child care subsidies.
Can we just pass this terrible tragedy off as the results to be expected from obviously mentally ill people? I don't think so. Most homicides are not committed by persons suffering with serious mental disorders anyway. Some crimes are so horrible we just want to believe the person was disturbed. Was it caused by untreated depression? We certainly have to assume depression had a role in it, but was depression the only cause or even mostly responsible for a young father and mother's agreement to kill their children and themselves? I think we have to dig a little deeper to identify what led to this awful outcome?
How do people lose so much faith in God and hope in living that killing their own kids becomes an option? How does a mind become so confused that it convinces anyone that killing their loved ones is better than leaving them behind? Are these decisions just another result of our failing economy? Are we a society that gives the impression if you don't have a job or a lot of possessions, you are unworthy?
During the depression in the late 1930's, my father worked for the WPA. The WPA were jobs created for poor people who needed work and at the same were jobs that improved the country's infrastructure. Thank God my dad's sense of self worth, his belief that all human life was valuable prevented him from taking his life, my mother's life and the lives of his children during those desperate times. He knew his personal worth was not measured by his level of income. His feeling of self worth came directly from a strong faith in God and values taught at home and in the classrooms.
Somehow we have to find out why my father and thousands of others like him who financially struggled in the mid 1900's and had so much less in possessions than people suffering today could persevere. Have we created a generation or two now that truly believes one's value is solely determined by their income? If so, how has that happened? Are we losing faith in God and His promise of protection? Somewhere in the Holy Bible He reminds us that he even takes care of the birds so why would we doubt that He would protect us...His children.
As a country, we are committed to an educational system that promotes a standard of leaving no child behind. However, offering a child the best education should never take priority over promoting human value systems. Yet, lawsuits over what is taught in the classrooms abound. Most are for the purpose of making sure nothing is said by teachers nor placed in the textbooks that would in any way promote values, especially those that may be taught in the churches. In fact, public school systems are prohibited from acknowledging God. I believe the separation of church and state wording in the U S Constitution was intended to protect churches and worship rights from government interference. I don't think our forefathers ever thought that it could be used in just the opposite manner by ambitious lawyers and non-believers to prohibit prayer in classrooms and forbid teachings of basic human values so carefully outlined in the Holy Bible. In fact, at the time the constitution was developed, there was prayer in the classrooms and noone was objecting to it. Even during the 1950's when I was in elementary school, a prayer was said each morning in public classrooms across America. Our school day began with singing songs like "God Bless America."
We are living in economic times in the USA today that require us to have a deep faith and belief that things will get better. When we can't trust ourselves, we must rely on God. Our personal survival depends upon it. The highest level education and brightest men and women can't promise things will get better and have the people believe it anymore. Man is losing faith in man. However, those people who never put their faith in man in the first place and instead have spent years trusting God.....they will survive. Those who have been fortunate enough to learn either from their parents, attending churches or private religious based schools will lead us forward. Wouldn't it be nice if all children were exposed to faith based values just in case their parents didn't teach them? Teachers are in the position to make that happen, but teachers have to fear that someone will sue them dare they mention religion. Too many teachers want to teach children it is wrong to believe in creation. I'm afraid we are throwing the baby out with the bath water now that God's values can't even be discussed in a classroom while doctrines that are not faith based are zealously promoted. Our public schools should not support a particular religious group, but teaching common values found within all types of religions could go along way in creating and maintaining a society of non-violent citizens. We tend to try to explain God's actions and ways with our limited capacities. Yet, God is all powerful. I believe that He could be a part of both creation and revolution. Won't that just be a big surprise for all when the end comes?
Teaching integrity and a faith based way of living to our children should be a priority. These common principles shared by all religions and the unity and sense of purpose coming from shared belief systems will bring communities together to influence our youth away from theories now being promoted in the public schools which disavow God, and leave us without hope in our darkest hours.
Can we just pass this terrible tragedy off as the results to be expected from obviously mentally ill people? I don't think so. Most homicides are not committed by persons suffering with serious mental disorders anyway. Some crimes are so horrible we just want to believe the person was disturbed. Was it caused by untreated depression? We certainly have to assume depression had a role in it, but was depression the only cause or even mostly responsible for a young father and mother's agreement to kill their children and themselves? I think we have to dig a little deeper to identify what led to this awful outcome?
How do people lose so much faith in God and hope in living that killing their own kids becomes an option? How does a mind become so confused that it convinces anyone that killing their loved ones is better than leaving them behind? Are these decisions just another result of our failing economy? Are we a society that gives the impression if you don't have a job or a lot of possessions, you are unworthy?
During the depression in the late 1930's, my father worked for the WPA. The WPA were jobs created for poor people who needed work and at the same were jobs that improved the country's infrastructure. Thank God my dad's sense of self worth, his belief that all human life was valuable prevented him from taking his life, my mother's life and the lives of his children during those desperate times. He knew his personal worth was not measured by his level of income. His feeling of self worth came directly from a strong faith in God and values taught at home and in the classrooms.
Somehow we have to find out why my father and thousands of others like him who financially struggled in the mid 1900's and had so much less in possessions than people suffering today could persevere. Have we created a generation or two now that truly believes one's value is solely determined by their income? If so, how has that happened? Are we losing faith in God and His promise of protection? Somewhere in the Holy Bible He reminds us that he even takes care of the birds so why would we doubt that He would protect us...His children.
As a country, we are committed to an educational system that promotes a standard of leaving no child behind. However, offering a child the best education should never take priority over promoting human value systems. Yet, lawsuits over what is taught in the classrooms abound. Most are for the purpose of making sure nothing is said by teachers nor placed in the textbooks that would in any way promote values, especially those that may be taught in the churches. In fact, public school systems are prohibited from acknowledging God. I believe the separation of church and state wording in the U S Constitution was intended to protect churches and worship rights from government interference. I don't think our forefathers ever thought that it could be used in just the opposite manner by ambitious lawyers and non-believers to prohibit prayer in classrooms and forbid teachings of basic human values so carefully outlined in the Holy Bible. In fact, at the time the constitution was developed, there was prayer in the classrooms and noone was objecting to it. Even during the 1950's when I was in elementary school, a prayer was said each morning in public classrooms across America. Our school day began with singing songs like "God Bless America."
We are living in economic times in the USA today that require us to have a deep faith and belief that things will get better. When we can't trust ourselves, we must rely on God. Our personal survival depends upon it. The highest level education and brightest men and women can't promise things will get better and have the people believe it anymore. Man is losing faith in man. However, those people who never put their faith in man in the first place and instead have spent years trusting God.....they will survive. Those who have been fortunate enough to learn either from their parents, attending churches or private religious based schools will lead us forward. Wouldn't it be nice if all children were exposed to faith based values just in case their parents didn't teach them? Teachers are in the position to make that happen, but teachers have to fear that someone will sue them dare they mention religion. Too many teachers want to teach children it is wrong to believe in creation. I'm afraid we are throwing the baby out with the bath water now that God's values can't even be discussed in a classroom while doctrines that are not faith based are zealously promoted. Our public schools should not support a particular religious group, but teaching common values found within all types of religions could go along way in creating and maintaining a society of non-violent citizens. We tend to try to explain God's actions and ways with our limited capacities. Yet, God is all powerful. I believe that He could be a part of both creation and revolution. Won't that just be a big surprise for all when the end comes?
Teaching integrity and a faith based way of living to our children should be a priority. These common principles shared by all religions and the unity and sense of purpose coming from shared belief systems will bring communities together to influence our youth away from theories now being promoted in the public schools which disavow God, and leave us without hope in our darkest hours.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Life's Changes and Challenges....
The past week has been filled with mini challenges. Jerry was invited by his friend to fly over to Phoenix in the helicopter to attend the Barrett Jackson auction. They left Wednesday and returned on Friday. It was a neat experience for Jerry. We have often watched the auction on television, so it was fun for him to attend. I baby sat Carson on Wednesday evening, while her parents bowled. It was a good evening. She was fast asleep by 8:30 PM after playing, having dinner and finally a bath in Nanna's kitchen sink.
I am always uneasy when staying alone, although my house has a sophisticated security system. I also have two English bulldogs who hear every unusual outside noise and react accordingly. I slept in the downstairs family room the first evening, because the air conditioning system for the eastern end of the house was not working. Yes, in San Diego we still sometimes need air conditioning in January. I decided to sleep upstairs on Thursday evening without air conditioning versus camping out on the couch. When I am alone, I always have a gun at hand, a garage door opener and my car keypad so I can open the garage and set off the alarm in my car should I have a problem. I read somewhere that this could alert neighbors. Of course, the house alarm automatically calls the police in case of an emergency and the outside sirens on the house would wake the dead.
Jerry returned Friday afternoon. It was obvious he was pleased to be home. I was happy too. He was very tired and slept a lot Friday and Saturday. When he is tired, he seems to struggle with keeping up with conversational details now. I guess it could best be described as having a "who's on first....no who's on second" type of conversing.
I believe we could say that the "heart" of our relationship was created around having lively conversations. We often would disagree but both of us enjoyed the game of introducing "what if's" into the many scenarios we would lay out when talking about business and/or newsworthy events. He really can't do that anymore. He is showing a need for me to be more literal in our conversations. "What if's" only serve to confuse him. I am deeply saddened to lose this. I want to repeat anything that he doesn't understand until he gets it. Yet, that would only cause him distress. Instead, I let it go when I see that he isn't getting it.
I hate this Alzheimer's disease that slowly robs people of their being...their spirit...the essence of who they are and were then and now. Yet, I will walk beside him as we go forward and try very hard to make sure I respect him by clarifying the spoken word when I should and when it is more respectful to just let it go.....let it go.
Today...I believe it was best to let it go....I love you, Jerry.
I am always uneasy when staying alone, although my house has a sophisticated security system. I also have two English bulldogs who hear every unusual outside noise and react accordingly. I slept in the downstairs family room the first evening, because the air conditioning system for the eastern end of the house was not working. Yes, in San Diego we still sometimes need air conditioning in January. I decided to sleep upstairs on Thursday evening without air conditioning versus camping out on the couch. When I am alone, I always have a gun at hand, a garage door opener and my car keypad so I can open the garage and set off the alarm in my car should I have a problem. I read somewhere that this could alert neighbors. Of course, the house alarm automatically calls the police in case of an emergency and the outside sirens on the house would wake the dead.
Jerry returned Friday afternoon. It was obvious he was pleased to be home. I was happy too. He was very tired and slept a lot Friday and Saturday. When he is tired, he seems to struggle with keeping up with conversational details now. I guess it could best be described as having a "who's on first....no who's on second" type of conversing.
I believe we could say that the "heart" of our relationship was created around having lively conversations. We often would disagree but both of us enjoyed the game of introducing "what if's" into the many scenarios we would lay out when talking about business and/or newsworthy events. He really can't do that anymore. He is showing a need for me to be more literal in our conversations. "What if's" only serve to confuse him. I am deeply saddened to lose this. I want to repeat anything that he doesn't understand until he gets it. Yet, that would only cause him distress. Instead, I let it go when I see that he isn't getting it.
I hate this Alzheimer's disease that slowly robs people of their being...their spirit...the essence of who they are and were then and now. Yet, I will walk beside him as we go forward and try very hard to make sure I respect him by clarifying the spoken word when I should and when it is more respectful to just let it go.....let it go.
Today...I believe it was best to let it go....I love you, Jerry.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
My Brother....
My brother was born 86 years ago. He was the son of a share cropper, and the grandson of a fisherman who tried to make a living off the Little Wabash River in Southern Illinois. His father was my father. We had different mothers, because his mother and father later divorced and I wasn't born until 20 years later. His mother was 16 years old when he was born, and his father was 17. Before one judges his parents because of their age when he was born, it is best to keep in mind that 86 years ago people often married at a very young age. Little girls were raised to be homemakers and mommies, and little boys were usually working to help support their own immediate family even before starting a family of their own. Higher aspirations were only for the wealthy. His parents had three more children. One little baby sister died. Their relationship was turbulent. His dad was a rebel coming from a family of five brothers and one sister. His mother was too young and overwhelmed trying to handle three kids and a rowdy husband. In spite of all of that, my brother overcame the odds and succeeded in life on all of society's scales used to measure success. He was just that kind of guy. He was always responsible. Maybe it had something to do with being the first born. Maybe it was due to his apparent intelligence or as they would say in the world of psychology, his "innate ability."
I was born in 1942. He was already a Marine and serving his country in the South Pacific in 1941. Daddy was still a sharecropper, and my mother was a young Irish woman who all of her life wanted most to have a family and create a loving atmosphere for her children. Her mother and father had divorced when she was a small child. She wanted something better for her children. Her first husband died on Christmas Day leaving her with a five year old daughter. Together, she and my father had two children, first a son and then me six years later.
A few years after I was born, life in the United States significantly improved for all citizens. The war ended. Prohibition days were over. It was a time of peace in the nation, and family lives also began to improve. I can't remember the effects of the great depression. Being raised on a farm, I was never hungry. We grew our vegetables, and my father hunted for our meat. We raised chickens and our milk came from a cow.
I know it was a lot tougher for my brother. I am sure the personal issues in his family contributed to his choice of becoming a Marine. Apparently, that was a good choice for him and from what I can see, he only made good choices thereafter. He married a young woman named Lucile, and they had two children. That marriage lasted until she passed away after their children were grown. He then married Marilyn, and that marriage lasted until he passed away this week.
I have wonderful memories of his many visits home to the farm throughout the years and observed his success in his career and with raising a family. His children both graduated from college. I am sure he was extremely proud, and believe those were probably two of the most important days of his life. He knew the value of an education. In spite of his not having the privilege to attend college, he worked side by side with other well educated field engineers earning more money than he probably could ever have imagined when he was a kid roaming the countryside of Southern Illinois. How was he able to do achieve that? It was due to his intelligence, dependability, perseverance and desire to make a difference in the lives of those he loved. Yet he knew that with a formal education, he could have risen even higher in the company.
One might wonder how we could have had anything in common due to the age difference, but there is a bond that is formed between siblings whether caused by genetics or designated by God, that is strong and forever connected. We actually shared a lot of common interests. So many that I often wish we had been born closer in age. It's quite something when the first born and the "baby" of the family connect, and there are twenty years, a war and a lifetime of living between us. I can just imagine had we been a couple of years apart how close we would have been. Well...that wasn't to be, but we did share a couple of family reunions in the past three years in Southern Illinois. I arrived from California, and he arrived from Shawnee Mission, Kansas. When we parted the last time, he hugged me really tight and with tears in his eyes, he said, "Take care of yourself." As we drove away, I said to my husband, "I think my brother believes this is the last time we are going to see each other."
Thank you, Dear Brother, for all of the fond childhood memories (my childhood...your adulthood) of holiday celebrations on the farm, laughter, country music, 4th of July's and most of all, thank you for being a role model that has given me a lot of years of being able to brag about the accomplishments of my brother. Tomorrow you will be laid to rest. I will see you in heaven. "Harold G. Meserole 1922 - 2009"
I was born in 1942. He was already a Marine and serving his country in the South Pacific in 1941. Daddy was still a sharecropper, and my mother was a young Irish woman who all of her life wanted most to have a family and create a loving atmosphere for her children. Her mother and father had divorced when she was a small child. She wanted something better for her children. Her first husband died on Christmas Day leaving her with a five year old daughter. Together, she and my father had two children, first a son and then me six years later.
A few years after I was born, life in the United States significantly improved for all citizens. The war ended. Prohibition days were over. It was a time of peace in the nation, and family lives also began to improve. I can't remember the effects of the great depression. Being raised on a farm, I was never hungry. We grew our vegetables, and my father hunted for our meat. We raised chickens and our milk came from a cow.
I know it was a lot tougher for my brother. I am sure the personal issues in his family contributed to his choice of becoming a Marine. Apparently, that was a good choice for him and from what I can see, he only made good choices thereafter. He married a young woman named Lucile, and they had two children. That marriage lasted until she passed away after their children were grown. He then married Marilyn, and that marriage lasted until he passed away this week.
I have wonderful memories of his many visits home to the farm throughout the years and observed his success in his career and with raising a family. His children both graduated from college. I am sure he was extremely proud, and believe those were probably two of the most important days of his life. He knew the value of an education. In spite of his not having the privilege to attend college, he worked side by side with other well educated field engineers earning more money than he probably could ever have imagined when he was a kid roaming the countryside of Southern Illinois. How was he able to do achieve that? It was due to his intelligence, dependability, perseverance and desire to make a difference in the lives of those he loved. Yet he knew that with a formal education, he could have risen even higher in the company.
One might wonder how we could have had anything in common due to the age difference, but there is a bond that is formed between siblings whether caused by genetics or designated by God, that is strong and forever connected. We actually shared a lot of common interests. So many that I often wish we had been born closer in age. It's quite something when the first born and the "baby" of the family connect, and there are twenty years, a war and a lifetime of living between us. I can just imagine had we been a couple of years apart how close we would have been. Well...that wasn't to be, but we did share a couple of family reunions in the past three years in Southern Illinois. I arrived from California, and he arrived from Shawnee Mission, Kansas. When we parted the last time, he hugged me really tight and with tears in his eyes, he said, "Take care of yourself." As we drove away, I said to my husband, "I think my brother believes this is the last time we are going to see each other."
Thank you, Dear Brother, for all of the fond childhood memories (my childhood...your adulthood) of holiday celebrations on the farm, laughter, country music, 4th of July's and most of all, thank you for being a role model that has given me a lot of years of being able to brag about the accomplishments of my brother. Tomorrow you will be laid to rest. I will see you in heaven. "Harold G. Meserole 1922 - 2009"
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