My daughter, Megan, is the genealogist of the family. Like my brother before her, she has amassed an enviable amount of information about her/our ancestors--fascinating stuff. She's had a little bit of professional experience with this business and is a bit of a perfectionist when it comes to documenting relationships and organizing the information to make it easier to access when desired. She is also a whiz at Internet searches, which comes in handy for genealogy work. On her father's side of her ancestry, she can go back six or seven generations, so far. (His folks moved to Putnam County, IN, and stayed there.) On my side, the generations don't go back quite so far, for reasons that may become clear later on in this post. We both get wrapped up in the drama of the lives of the people we seek to find. Hours upon hours can be spent on this, without noticing!
A year or so ago, we borrowed the photo albums that are in my sister's custody in order to scan all of the old family pictures, to save them. Old photographs are quite fragile. Moisture, light, tape, mishandling, acid from hands, etc., can all destroy them over time. Thus, saving them on the computer prevents them from being lost should disaster happen. Meg faithfully scanned most of them, with only a little bit of help from me. There are more to be done, of course, but much has been preserved.
Understand that the albums we borrowed from my sister weren't professionally done. We--a combination of my sister, Megan, me, and our aunt--took the pictures out of a big box after my folks' deaths and plopped them into albums without any attempt to identify who was in the photos. And one album consisted of a branch of the family that no one knew much about. (Not sure how we came to possess that one.) So now, the task remains to figure out the subjects of the pictures, and where/when they were taken.
Late last Sunday, as I sat in a blue funk, having gotten myself into trouble on Facebook again, (which I've already written about), Meg told me I could help her a great deal if I would go through the scanned pictures in order to ID them. All I had to do was tell her when I was ready and willing to do that. I had nothing to lose. Maybe doing this would steady my frayed, snowed-in nerves. So, Meg gave me access to the site that held the pics, with the authority to edit. I began. Easy, right?
WRONG! I never really knew my father's family. His parents both died before I was born. He was the youngest of ten children who were all pretty much scattered. He also avoided much association with them because he had his own family and life to tend to, but here are the pictures of them, and I'm supposed to be able to name them! Also, three of his six brothers--one of which wasn't really a brother--were known by knicknames: Boy-boy, Honey, Swede. Ack! Which one is which?? I only met two of his brothers, although I knew all three of his sisters...sort of.
I was quite close to my mother's family, however.....but....many of the pictures are of times and events that took place before I was even born. Some include friends of my grandparents who were only a whisper in my life after I WAS born. Some are distant relatives whose connection to the family is unknown to me but is somewhere in the back of my brain. Identifying people, places, and events was a bit of a labor of love, but it also became an exercise in driving myself nuts trying to come up with names to place on semi-familiar faces. One picture was particularly vexing because I knew the names of virtually everyone except one child, a child that I had known. A child whose name should not have eluded me! (After two days and an email to my sister, the name appeared...but it was only a pop-up in her mind, too!) The appearance of the family farm had changed substantially from the time of the pictures to the time that I knew it. The dates could only be estimated by the apparent age of the folks in the pictures. In short, the supposedly simple task of labeling pictures has become a major exercise of dredging things from the corners of my memory. Sometimes, it was stressful! It's there, somewhere. Why can't I remember? (Why I can't remember has to do with the fact that all of those people are gone, and I am 66 years old!)
Meg's research has provided a lot of dead ends. Some of the most frustrating are:
*An ancestor who died at Valley Forge during the Revolutionary War. Can't find a grave for him because no one seems to know what they did with their dead.
*My grandmother's paternal ancestry because she was born out of wedlock (and hid that all her life), so we have no clue where to start to locate blood relatives on that side of the family.
And so it goes. On one bright note, Meg discovered that she is distantly related to Daniel Boone because his daughter or sister or someone married a Bryan, which carries on through her paternal grandmother's side of the family. She is also related to Pearl Bryan, the unfortunate woman of local legend who was murdered/decapitated because she was pregnant out of wedlock. (You can search for her on the Internet. There is much there.)
I couldn't make this stuff up! We are a collection of all of our ancestor's experiences. I find it absolutely fascinating, when my brain isn't weary from trying to remember old names and old faces! I'm not done with the picture project yet, but it has helped to keep me out of trouble elsewhere.
If I can glean anything from all of this to pass on to you, find that big box of pictures in your family (you know there is one!) and begin to label who's who and what's what. Do it NOW. If you wait and you pass before it is done, is there anyone after you who can do it? Don't let these precious family mementos get away unnoticed! And good luck draining your memory banks!
Friday, January 31, 2014
Wednesday, January 29, 2014
My Problem with Being a Hoosier
I am an Illinois native, born and bred. I've lived all over the world with my father's tenure in the Navy, but we always came back to Illinois. That's where the family farm was, the roots, the love. It was home.
When in college, I noticed that other students talked "funny". If they lived south of Springfield, IL, or east of Champaign, they had a twang. South of Springfield became the Kentucky influence, and east of Champaign was the Indiana influence. I tended to look down on that because I was (and still am, to some degree) a language snob. What I didn't know then is that there is a pecking order in state societies: Illinoisans looks down on Hoosiers; Hoosiers pick on Kentuckians; Kentuckians make fun of Tennessee folk...and so it goes, ad infinitum
Then I married a Hoosier in 1977. We both lived and worked in Illinois--he, a graduate of Fillmore High School and Indiana State University, and me, a graduate of a Chicago suburban school and Illinois State University. His family lived near Greencastle, IN. That was my first introduction to Indiana--going to visit his folks. In 1988, when he lost his principalship in the town where we lived, we launched a huge search for a position in a desirable location. Then a position in a school district just 10 miles south of his parents in Indiana showed up. There were complications, but we worked hard that summer to make it work. In the hot summer of 1988, we moved to Cloverdale, IN.
We hadn't been in Indiana two years before my husband's eye wandered to his secretary in Cloverdale. He left the marriage, leaving me no choice but to divorce him. Secretly, I think my father was hoping that I would move back to him on the farm in Streator, IL. He thought I could stay there rent-free, help take care of him, get a local teaching job, and all would be well. I didn't see it that way. Living on the farm wasn't something that Megan could have survived in a healthy way. And my job was in Indiana, with no promise of any positions anywhere near my dad's.
Megan and I moved to Plainfield, IN, where I still live. At first, she and I rented an apartment in what people in Indiana call a "double". (Other places call it a duplex.) I was newly employed as a teacher in the Monroe-Gregg School District, still having to take college classes to get my teaching certificate up to snuff after our move to IN. My ex had the house in Cloverdale. I decided that our daughter should not have to live in a rental place when her father and his paramour had a 2,000 square foot home just 31 miles away. I decided to look for a home to buy, just for us.
My landlady for the duplex was a real estate agent. I talked to her about helping me, and if I could break my lease if she found something for us. She was totally agreeable. In short order, we looked at two places and settled on a small, affordable house-on-a-slab. All I needed was a downpayment. I went to my father who agreed to give me the funds, but in his disappointment that I wouldn't be returning to Illinois, he spat out, "I suppose this means you're going to be a HOOSIER!" It stung. I actually bought the house with him in mind: all on one level. No stairs. If I needed to bring him here to live, I was ready...but it was not to be. Meg and I moved into the house in March of 1992. He never saw my home before he died in 1994. And I became a Hoosier.
With all of that as background, I have to confess that I knew nothing of Indiana politics. Illinois is notoriously Democrat, with Mayor Daley's "machine" in Chicago leading the charge. It was corrupt politics, but it was no more corrupt than the Republicans of Indiana who find ways to skirt the law. I was politically naive. Politics was never part of my family's conversations, except for my mother saying that FDR was the "Great White Father" to her parents during/after the Depression. That was all I needed. If the Democrats could save the family farm from ruin when the chips were down, I was for it.
And now I live in a Bible Belt state that is so politically conservative/Republican, with no basis for such in the masses of its residents, I'm shocked. I'm leaving out a lot about a committee that I was part of in the early 90s in my school district, surreptitiously led by a local Baptist preacher/school board member, where accusations and stupidity abounded. I am leaving out some stuff about how I received, in the mail, something for a previous homeowner that requested funds for a campaign to run Christians for school boards on suspicious platforms so they could gain control. To me, this is totally insidious because the American public doesn't always THINK about things before they act. The Internet and Facebook show me that, big time. Religion and patriotism gain votes, no matter the circumstances.
Indiana legislators are now engaged in the process to amend the state's constitution in order to prevent same-sex marriage. I read today that they are also engaged in bills to drug test welfare recipients and put limits on food stamps so that only "nutritious" foods can be purchased with them.
Yes! Gays should NOT be allowed to marry! They might besmirch the fantastic record of heterosexual marriages. No one heterosexually married ever cheats on a spouse, abandons children, divorces a spouse? The Bible doesn't define marriage. Marriage is a civil thing, and nothing in the Bible can be construed as "one man and one woman". Heck, many Old Testament icons were polygamous. (Of course, wives were not permitted to have more than one husband) But Indiana can do better than the Bible. Obviously, the Bible was flawed!
And yes! People on welfare should be drug tested and not allowed to purchase certain foods with food stamps! They are on the public dole. How dare they presume to purchase potato chips! They don't deserve anything more than beans and rice! All they do is take food stamps and welfare money to run amuck! (Do you detect my sarcasm?)
I am in constant contact with a family that is trying to provide for four kids with both parents disabled. Let's just make things so difficult for them that they can't survive and see where that gets us in Indiana. I don't get it. What "Hoosier values" are we modeling? The state already bans the sale of alcohol on Sundays, Thanksgiving, and Christmas. Does that stop alcoholism in the state? No...but it gives liquor store owners a day off, which is one of the reasons the law hasn't changed. You also can't buy a car on Sundays in IN because it isn't allowed, by law. In Indiana, we protect the provider and not the consumer.
After 26 years as a "Hoosier", I STILL can't accept the politics of this state. On the whole amendment to the constitution thing, I have written to state congresspeople and even the governor to express my opinion. I have the feeling that I'm being ignored. What is "right" doesn't matter in this state. It's all about what will draw votes. Religion and patriotism draw votes. Put a Christian bent on things and you will succeed. Never mind that Christsianity is NOT about excluding gays or the poor or the disabled as viable citizens.
Sometimes I am ashamed to say I'm a Christian if "we" can't do better than this. And sometimes I'm ashamed to say that I'm a Hoosier.
When in college, I noticed that other students talked "funny". If they lived south of Springfield, IL, or east of Champaign, they had a twang. South of Springfield became the Kentucky influence, and east of Champaign was the Indiana influence. I tended to look down on that because I was (and still am, to some degree) a language snob. What I didn't know then is that there is a pecking order in state societies: Illinoisans looks down on Hoosiers; Hoosiers pick on Kentuckians; Kentuckians make fun of Tennessee folk...and so it goes, ad infinitum
Then I married a Hoosier in 1977. We both lived and worked in Illinois--he, a graduate of Fillmore High School and Indiana State University, and me, a graduate of a Chicago suburban school and Illinois State University. His family lived near Greencastle, IN. That was my first introduction to Indiana--going to visit his folks. In 1988, when he lost his principalship in the town where we lived, we launched a huge search for a position in a desirable location. Then a position in a school district just 10 miles south of his parents in Indiana showed up. There were complications, but we worked hard that summer to make it work. In the hot summer of 1988, we moved to Cloverdale, IN.
We hadn't been in Indiana two years before my husband's eye wandered to his secretary in Cloverdale. He left the marriage, leaving me no choice but to divorce him. Secretly, I think my father was hoping that I would move back to him on the farm in Streator, IL. He thought I could stay there rent-free, help take care of him, get a local teaching job, and all would be well. I didn't see it that way. Living on the farm wasn't something that Megan could have survived in a healthy way. And my job was in Indiana, with no promise of any positions anywhere near my dad's.
Megan and I moved to Plainfield, IN, where I still live. At first, she and I rented an apartment in what people in Indiana call a "double". (Other places call it a duplex.) I was newly employed as a teacher in the Monroe-Gregg School District, still having to take college classes to get my teaching certificate up to snuff after our move to IN. My ex had the house in Cloverdale. I decided that our daughter should not have to live in a rental place when her father and his paramour had a 2,000 square foot home just 31 miles away. I decided to look for a home to buy, just for us.
My landlady for the duplex was a real estate agent. I talked to her about helping me, and if I could break my lease if she found something for us. She was totally agreeable. In short order, we looked at two places and settled on a small, affordable house-on-a-slab. All I needed was a downpayment. I went to my father who agreed to give me the funds, but in his disappointment that I wouldn't be returning to Illinois, he spat out, "I suppose this means you're going to be a HOOSIER!" It stung. I actually bought the house with him in mind: all on one level. No stairs. If I needed to bring him here to live, I was ready...but it was not to be. Meg and I moved into the house in March of 1992. He never saw my home before he died in 1994. And I became a Hoosier.
With all of that as background, I have to confess that I knew nothing of Indiana politics. Illinois is notoriously Democrat, with Mayor Daley's "machine" in Chicago leading the charge. It was corrupt politics, but it was no more corrupt than the Republicans of Indiana who find ways to skirt the law. I was politically naive. Politics was never part of my family's conversations, except for my mother saying that FDR was the "Great White Father" to her parents during/after the Depression. That was all I needed. If the Democrats could save the family farm from ruin when the chips were down, I was for it.
And now I live in a Bible Belt state that is so politically conservative/Republican, with no basis for such in the masses of its residents, I'm shocked. I'm leaving out a lot about a committee that I was part of in the early 90s in my school district, surreptitiously led by a local Baptist preacher/school board member, where accusations and stupidity abounded. I am leaving out some stuff about how I received, in the mail, something for a previous homeowner that requested funds for a campaign to run Christians for school boards on suspicious platforms so they could gain control. To me, this is totally insidious because the American public doesn't always THINK about things before they act. The Internet and Facebook show me that, big time. Religion and patriotism gain votes, no matter the circumstances.
Indiana legislators are now engaged in the process to amend the state's constitution in order to prevent same-sex marriage. I read today that they are also engaged in bills to drug test welfare recipients and put limits on food stamps so that only "nutritious" foods can be purchased with them.
Yes! Gays should NOT be allowed to marry! They might besmirch the fantastic record of heterosexual marriages. No one heterosexually married ever cheats on a spouse, abandons children, divorces a spouse? The Bible doesn't define marriage. Marriage is a civil thing, and nothing in the Bible can be construed as "one man and one woman". Heck, many Old Testament icons were polygamous. (Of course, wives were not permitted to have more than one husband) But Indiana can do better than the Bible. Obviously, the Bible was flawed!
And yes! People on welfare should be drug tested and not allowed to purchase certain foods with food stamps! They are on the public dole. How dare they presume to purchase potato chips! They don't deserve anything more than beans and rice! All they do is take food stamps and welfare money to run amuck! (Do you detect my sarcasm?)
I am in constant contact with a family that is trying to provide for four kids with both parents disabled. Let's just make things so difficult for them that they can't survive and see where that gets us in Indiana. I don't get it. What "Hoosier values" are we modeling? The state already bans the sale of alcohol on Sundays, Thanksgiving, and Christmas. Does that stop alcoholism in the state? No...but it gives liquor store owners a day off, which is one of the reasons the law hasn't changed. You also can't buy a car on Sundays in IN because it isn't allowed, by law. In Indiana, we protect the provider and not the consumer.
After 26 years as a "Hoosier", I STILL can't accept the politics of this state. On the whole amendment to the constitution thing, I have written to state congresspeople and even the governor to express my opinion. I have the feeling that I'm being ignored. What is "right" doesn't matter in this state. It's all about what will draw votes. Religion and patriotism draw votes. Put a Christian bent on things and you will succeed. Never mind that Christsianity is NOT about excluding gays or the poor or the disabled as viable citizens.
Sometimes I am ashamed to say I'm a Christian if "we" can't do better than this. And sometimes I'm ashamed to say that I'm a Hoosier.
Wednesday, January 22, 2014
That Crazy Old Lady
Every neighborhood has one. Or so it seemed when I was a kid. There'd be a crotchety old man down the street who would yell at children not to ride bikes on his lawn, or a crabby old lady who would peek out her windows to see what kind of nonsense the local kids were getting into--or even a crazy type who might be out sweeping the street with a broom and mumbling to him/herself. And now, so soon on the heels of my prvious post about forgiveness, I find that I have become one of those crazy old people!
When my daughter was a toddler, I would take her to the nursing home to visit my beloved grandfather. I adored that man. He was such a kind and gentle (and stubborn) soul, but Megan was a 2-year-old and my grandfather was in his late 80s on our last visit. When she did something toddlerish, he snapped at her. Secretly, I was offended. My mother and I were both in attendance and watching her. We were on it, so to speak, but he snarled before we could even act. I made up my mind then and there that I would not take Megan to visit under those circumstances again--not out of anger but rather as an effort to protect them both. I didn't want my grandfather to think of my precious child as a nuisance, and I didn't want my precious child to remember her beloved great-grandfather as a nasty old man.
What I didn't understand then (but is clear to me now), is that we become less patient as we age, maybe because everything we do takes more energy and effort than ever before. I can fall on my face at the end of a day now, exhausted, when I haven't even done anything all day long.
My life is pretty boring, actually--especially now that the long, cold, snowy winter has kept many of us old folks inside. Oh, there's plenty to do, but I often don't have the oomph to do it. Instead, I spend endless hours sitting in front of this computer keeping up with the world through social media and watching mindless television enough to keep me (and my bottom) numb. It's probably a bad idea because I have lost my perspective on some things.
I have a couple of pet peeves that are only exacerbated by watching TV or reading Facebook. One is something insidious: politics. I find that I have absolutely no patience for people who follow party lines, regurgitating political buzzwords without thinking for themselves. Honestly, it makes my blood pressure go up!
Another follows along with that: on Facebook, people post false information that they have not checked out for validity, as if it were truth. One might claim to be quoting our country's founding fathers or respected personalities, when in fact they are quoting some nameless author from a century ago. It takes only a few moments to check these things out on a number of Internet hoax sites before posting, but it is apparently easier to jump on bandwagons of popular belief than to be accurate. I hate that. It isn't just. It isn't right. I hate hypocrisy, and I end up correcting these things almost every time I find them. It doesn't make me very popular, I'm sure.
The biggest pet peeve, however, has to do with people who are posting radical ideas, complete with profanity and name-calling, in an attempt to make themselves appear in the know or intellectually superior--but they misspell words, use homonyms, or have incorrect grammar that just glares at me in their posts. I spent 40 years of my life correcting that sort of thing with my students. It's tough to give that up in my old age. Of course, spelling and grammatical errors don't bother me so much if the writer is merely expressing personal feelings, but making a big deal out of proving his/her "rightness" on something while merely only proving ignorance of one's own language simply begs for me to speak up. And I do. I try to keep sarcasm in check, but it isn't always easy. And again, it doesn't do much to endear me to those to whom I am responding. It makes me the crazy old lady peeking out of the window trying to catch people doing something wrong. The self-appointed Internet Police. The Crabby Appleton of cyberspace.
And you know the worst part in all of my well-intentioned zeal? I come off looking like more of a pompous ass than the people whose pomposity I'm trying to correct!
More than once, I have had to backtrack and apologize to people who weren't really asking for a fight. It is then that I realize that I have no life--that the winter's isolation that has kept me cooped up for weeks, along with my growing disabilities, has transformed me from the once-patient person that I was to the curmudgeon that I've become.
It happened again yesterday within my own family. My niece posted an old photo-shopped hack of Bill Gates holding a sign saying he would give money to people who "liked" the picture...or something like that. No one in their right mind could possibly believe that Bill Gates is going to give out millions of dollars to people on Facebook who click the "like" button, but there it was. Again. So I said something to her about it in an open post. Apparently, she took offense. Then, a couple of days later, her son posted something about how he'd been playing with his "nephew" who actually is his first cousin. I felt the need to correct him, so I did. I didn't mean anything bad by it. I just thought he might not have understood. What I did in doing so was arouse the ire of his mother (again) who came to his defense. She informed me that her son DID know that his "nephew" is actually his first cousin (and he later confirmed that). Then she zinged me. Said I'd been "on a roll" lately. Called me bitter. Said it wasn't like me.
I sat back, took a gasp, and realized that she was right--not with the "bitter" part, but I certainly must seem that way. I have lost my patience. I have lost my ability to let certain things go. Even my daughter has tried to temper my ardor by suggesting more productive things to act on my frustrations with the world. Thus, I have decided, that even if I can't get out more until (unless) the weather begins to improve, I will bite my literary tongue and try to do better. I'll be more demure. More tolerant. More reliant on "accepting the things I cannot change"...and TRYING to find the wisdom to know them when I see them. I need to free myself from those little things that irritate me so much because my world has become so narrow. In short, I need to regain my ability to "consider the source" and forgive people in the way that I spoke of in my previous post!
I don't want people to remember me as a crazy old lady. But really, folks, you're going to miss me when I'm gone! Who will keep everyone in line then???
When my daughter was a toddler, I would take her to the nursing home to visit my beloved grandfather. I adored that man. He was such a kind and gentle (and stubborn) soul, but Megan was a 2-year-old and my grandfather was in his late 80s on our last visit. When she did something toddlerish, he snapped at her. Secretly, I was offended. My mother and I were both in attendance and watching her. We were on it, so to speak, but he snarled before we could even act. I made up my mind then and there that I would not take Megan to visit under those circumstances again--not out of anger but rather as an effort to protect them both. I didn't want my grandfather to think of my precious child as a nuisance, and I didn't want my precious child to remember her beloved great-grandfather as a nasty old man.
What I didn't understand then (but is clear to me now), is that we become less patient as we age, maybe because everything we do takes more energy and effort than ever before. I can fall on my face at the end of a day now, exhausted, when I haven't even done anything all day long.
My life is pretty boring, actually--especially now that the long, cold, snowy winter has kept many of us old folks inside. Oh, there's plenty to do, but I often don't have the oomph to do it. Instead, I spend endless hours sitting in front of this computer keeping up with the world through social media and watching mindless television enough to keep me (and my bottom) numb. It's probably a bad idea because I have lost my perspective on some things.
I have a couple of pet peeves that are only exacerbated by watching TV or reading Facebook. One is something insidious: politics. I find that I have absolutely no patience for people who follow party lines, regurgitating political buzzwords without thinking for themselves. Honestly, it makes my blood pressure go up!
Another follows along with that: on Facebook, people post false information that they have not checked out for validity, as if it were truth. One might claim to be quoting our country's founding fathers or respected personalities, when in fact they are quoting some nameless author from a century ago. It takes only a few moments to check these things out on a number of Internet hoax sites before posting, but it is apparently easier to jump on bandwagons of popular belief than to be accurate. I hate that. It isn't just. It isn't right. I hate hypocrisy, and I end up correcting these things almost every time I find them. It doesn't make me very popular, I'm sure.
The biggest pet peeve, however, has to do with people who are posting radical ideas, complete with profanity and name-calling, in an attempt to make themselves appear in the know or intellectually superior--but they misspell words, use homonyms, or have incorrect grammar that just glares at me in their posts. I spent 40 years of my life correcting that sort of thing with my students. It's tough to give that up in my old age. Of course, spelling and grammatical errors don't bother me so much if the writer is merely expressing personal feelings, but making a big deal out of proving his/her "rightness" on something while merely only proving ignorance of one's own language simply begs for me to speak up. And I do. I try to keep sarcasm in check, but it isn't always easy. And again, it doesn't do much to endear me to those to whom I am responding. It makes me the crazy old lady peeking out of the window trying to catch people doing something wrong. The self-appointed Internet Police. The Crabby Appleton of cyberspace.
And you know the worst part in all of my well-intentioned zeal? I come off looking like more of a pompous ass than the people whose pomposity I'm trying to correct!
More than once, I have had to backtrack and apologize to people who weren't really asking for a fight. It is then that I realize that I have no life--that the winter's isolation that has kept me cooped up for weeks, along with my growing disabilities, has transformed me from the once-patient person that I was to the curmudgeon that I've become.
It happened again yesterday within my own family. My niece posted an old photo-shopped hack of Bill Gates holding a sign saying he would give money to people who "liked" the picture...or something like that. No one in their right mind could possibly believe that Bill Gates is going to give out millions of dollars to people on Facebook who click the "like" button, but there it was. Again. So I said something to her about it in an open post. Apparently, she took offense. Then, a couple of days later, her son posted something about how he'd been playing with his "nephew" who actually is his first cousin. I felt the need to correct him, so I did. I didn't mean anything bad by it. I just thought he might not have understood. What I did in doing so was arouse the ire of his mother (again) who came to his defense. She informed me that her son DID know that his "nephew" is actually his first cousin (and he later confirmed that). Then she zinged me. Said I'd been "on a roll" lately. Called me bitter. Said it wasn't like me.
I sat back, took a gasp, and realized that she was right--not with the "bitter" part, but I certainly must seem that way. I have lost my patience. I have lost my ability to let certain things go. Even my daughter has tried to temper my ardor by suggesting more productive things to act on my frustrations with the world. Thus, I have decided, that even if I can't get out more until (unless) the weather begins to improve, I will bite my literary tongue and try to do better. I'll be more demure. More tolerant. More reliant on "accepting the things I cannot change"...and TRYING to find the wisdom to know them when I see them. I need to free myself from those little things that irritate me so much because my world has become so narrow. In short, I need to regain my ability to "consider the source" and forgive people in the way that I spoke of in my previous post!
I don't want people to remember me as a crazy old lady. But really, folks, you're going to miss me when I'm gone! Who will keep everyone in line then???
Saturday, January 18, 2014
Forgiveness
In all my years as a human being, including childhood, I've been blessed with the ability to understand both sides of most stories. I honestly think that is due to the fact that I lived in Japan just 12 years after the end of WWII, when I was on foreign territory, yet had only total respect for the Japanese people. They had a story; we had a story. Had I known it all, beyond a child's ability to understand, I might not have been so understanding. Thank God, I was an innocent child seeing a country as it really was, not the way politics would have had me think.
When I became a teacher many years later, I heard stories that would make hair curl. I came to understand that I could only believe half of what I heard--then realized that parents were also hearing horror stories about things that happened at school, only half of which were accurate.
If all of the things that happen in life, unintentionally, are to be forgiven, people first need to understand the circumstances. If a child hurts your feelings by something he/she says, you forgive the child because the kid doesn't know any better. It is MUCH harder to forgive so-called normal people because they should know better.
I have had two events in my life that have caused immeasurable harm to me. One, I forgave because I was asked to. (Always easier to forgive someone who asks for it, isn't it?) The other, I forgave without even realizing it because I understood that this person is not capable of normal relationships. It's like absolving a retarded child from misbehavior because it is part of his/her disability. In short, I understand that forgiving the hurts we live with is all about US not THEM. Forgiving isn't saying that what they did to us is okay; it's saying "I am ready to give up my anger because hanging onto it takes away my freedom".
On a side note, I hope I am forgiven as much as I forgive. I don't even pretend to be perfect! Not even a little....
When I became a teacher many years later, I heard stories that would make hair curl. I came to understand that I could only believe half of what I heard--then realized that parents were also hearing horror stories about things that happened at school, only half of which were accurate.
If all of the things that happen in life, unintentionally, are to be forgiven, people first need to understand the circumstances. If a child hurts your feelings by something he/she says, you forgive the child because the kid doesn't know any better. It is MUCH harder to forgive so-called normal people because they should know better.
I have had two events in my life that have caused immeasurable harm to me. One, I forgave because I was asked to. (Always easier to forgive someone who asks for it, isn't it?) The other, I forgave without even realizing it because I understood that this person is not capable of normal relationships. It's like absolving a retarded child from misbehavior because it is part of his/her disability. In short, I understand that forgiving the hurts we live with is all about US not THEM. Forgiving isn't saying that what they did to us is okay; it's saying "I am ready to give up my anger because hanging onto it takes away my freedom".
On a side note, I hope I am forgiven as much as I forgive. I don't even pretend to be perfect! Not even a little....
Tuesday, January 14, 2014
Cell Phone Mentality, Part II
Cell phones are both a blessing and a curse. People who own them are so totally reliant on them that the phones have become their lifeline to social interaction, even though they don't come face-to-face with the people they are talking to. Why? They aren't talking! They are "texting". Sending a text message is apparently cheaper than actually talking on the phone, so a whole generation of people (kids) do that rather than talk to the folks they are trying to connect with. In fact, the whole obsession with texting has become an issue, for even with people who do it. More and more states are banning texting while driving and even cell phone use while on the road. And why not? It is impossible to watch the road and the phone screen at the same time.
More than once, I have been in the company of people who are either trying to show me something they've saved on their phones or are so engrossed in a text sequence with someone that I might as well not be there. They ignore their spouses and their kids for whatever they deem is so important coming in on their phone. Sometimes it IS important. Most of the time, it isn't. What I take from that is disrespect. The person is essentially saying "You do not mean as much to me as what is happening on my phone."
People have been dying on the roadways because they lose control of their vehicles while texting. But now the inevitable has happened. In a theater in Florida, a man was supposedly texting his young child at home during the movie previews when a retired cop behind him asked him to stop. Things escalated. Some popcorn was thrown, and the retired cop felt that his life was in danger, so he pulled out a weapon and shot the guy, dead.
Interestingly, in reading comments at the end of the article I read online about it, one person said, "I should be allowed to text wherever and whenever I want!" I guess it is now considered a freedom of speech issue. Sad, really. Americans with a chip on their shoulders can stand by their rights to free speech, etc., but don't want to deal with the ramifications of that. Yup, you are an American, but if you stand in the midst of a crowd of Muslims and declare that they are Devil spawn, not even the government can save you! Freedom of speech, you know. Time to understand that there are consequences for everything.
I don't have a lot of sympathy for people who choose to shoot off their mouths but don't want to deal with the aftermath. The dude in the theater should probably have shut off his cell phone, but since the main feature hadn't started yet, he probably didn't think that he had to. The guy that shot him was reacting more to the disrespect than to any threat to his safety. There is no doubt about that. Two lives are forever changed...over what?????
I won't live long enough to see how the whole cell phone thing plays out in society. I know that it is a fragile technology in a disaster situation. And now, what happens when there is no disaster except the ones we create? Life is too short. If your phone or your interpretation of your right to freedom of speech gets in the way of connecting with the real world and real people, it's time to put it down.
And may God have mercy on us all!
More than once, I have been in the company of people who are either trying to show me something they've saved on their phones or are so engrossed in a text sequence with someone that I might as well not be there. They ignore their spouses and their kids for whatever they deem is so important coming in on their phone. Sometimes it IS important. Most of the time, it isn't. What I take from that is disrespect. The person is essentially saying "You do not mean as much to me as what is happening on my phone."
People have been dying on the roadways because they lose control of their vehicles while texting. But now the inevitable has happened. In a theater in Florida, a man was supposedly texting his young child at home during the movie previews when a retired cop behind him asked him to stop. Things escalated. Some popcorn was thrown, and the retired cop felt that his life was in danger, so he pulled out a weapon and shot the guy, dead.
Interestingly, in reading comments at the end of the article I read online about it, one person said, "I should be allowed to text wherever and whenever I want!" I guess it is now considered a freedom of speech issue. Sad, really. Americans with a chip on their shoulders can stand by their rights to free speech, etc., but don't want to deal with the ramifications of that. Yup, you are an American, but if you stand in the midst of a crowd of Muslims and declare that they are Devil spawn, not even the government can save you! Freedom of speech, you know. Time to understand that there are consequences for everything.
I don't have a lot of sympathy for people who choose to shoot off their mouths but don't want to deal with the aftermath. The dude in the theater should probably have shut off his cell phone, but since the main feature hadn't started yet, he probably didn't think that he had to. The guy that shot him was reacting more to the disrespect than to any threat to his safety. There is no doubt about that. Two lives are forever changed...over what?????
I won't live long enough to see how the whole cell phone thing plays out in society. I know that it is a fragile technology in a disaster situation. And now, what happens when there is no disaster except the ones we create? Life is too short. If your phone or your interpretation of your right to freedom of speech gets in the way of connecting with the real world and real people, it's time to put it down.
And may God have mercy on us all!
Cell Phone Mentality, Part I
I confess that I'm a geek. Understand that geeks are a step above nerds in society. Nerds have no social skills. Geeks, however, can still fit into comformity without calling too much attention to themselves, and I'm one of those. What happens to aging Baby Boomer geeks in the world of modern technology? They become helpless/hopeless blobs of trying to keep up with the creaks in their knees as well as the glitches in their computers.
I also confess that I was dragged, kicking and screaming, into the world of computers by my once-teenaged daughter. When I arrived, I was hooked, but I scarcely had the skills to carry on in those days. (Early days of personal computing.) More than once, I woke Megan up at night to ask her to help me do something I couldn't do on my own on the computer.
That was then; this is now. Fifteen years later, it is still happening. On more occasions than I care to admit, I ask Megan to get on Team Viewer software so she can see my computer screen and tweak things.
When I became an amateur radio operator in 1997, I was aware that the geek factor was alive in my life. My daughter--still a teenager--found it "annoying" that I had radios and scanners on in the house and car. I, however, single mother that I was, suddenly found myself surrounded by friends on the radio--people who talked me through being alone on the roadways late at night; people who came over to do things for me that I couldn't do; people who thought I was special at a time when I didn't feel special at all, and Megan was often a beneficiary of that. And then came cell phones.
Cell phones were around before this but were called "car phones" at the time--and only rich people had them. Then, quite suddenly, the whole technology boomed. As cell phone antenna towers (a technology developed by amateur radio, by the way) abounded, more and more people had them. I bought Megan a $15 Tracfone about the time that she and her first husband were moving to Muncie, and that silly phone became a lifeline for coordinating the move. She soon went on to bigger and better as her needs and understanding got bigger and better, too. I inherited that Tracfone...and then still another after that. In short, I have a cell phone. I just almost never use it!
The cell phone that I have is turned on when I am taking long trips--like to my daughter's or sister's. Once in a great while, if the power goes out at home--and my landline phone with it, due to U-Verse, God bless them--I turn it on. Whatever. I can't really text on it. It has no perks for the Internet. It is a PHONE. Period. Still, I am aware that the rest of the public has discovered the convenience of the ability to have instant communications. I was amused one day when I entered a gate area at an airport preparing to fly to California to visit my daughter. In the line of seats next to the windows, taken up by other folks awaiting their flights, was a whole line of people talking on cell phones! Every stinkin' one of them! They were totally unaware of the people around them. It is a new age!
I also confess that I was dragged, kicking and screaming, into the world of computers by my once-teenaged daughter. When I arrived, I was hooked, but I scarcely had the skills to carry on in those days. (Early days of personal computing.) More than once, I woke Megan up at night to ask her to help me do something I couldn't do on my own on the computer.
That was then; this is now. Fifteen years later, it is still happening. On more occasions than I care to admit, I ask Megan to get on Team Viewer software so she can see my computer screen and tweak things.
When I became an amateur radio operator in 1997, I was aware that the geek factor was alive in my life. My daughter--still a teenager--found it "annoying" that I had radios and scanners on in the house and car. I, however, single mother that I was, suddenly found myself surrounded by friends on the radio--people who talked me through being alone on the roadways late at night; people who came over to do things for me that I couldn't do; people who thought I was special at a time when I didn't feel special at all, and Megan was often a beneficiary of that. And then came cell phones.
Cell phones were around before this but were called "car phones" at the time--and only rich people had them. Then, quite suddenly, the whole technology boomed. As cell phone antenna towers (a technology developed by amateur radio, by the way) abounded, more and more people had them. I bought Megan a $15 Tracfone about the time that she and her first husband were moving to Muncie, and that silly phone became a lifeline for coordinating the move. She soon went on to bigger and better as her needs and understanding got bigger and better, too. I inherited that Tracfone...and then still another after that. In short, I have a cell phone. I just almost never use it!
The cell phone that I have is turned on when I am taking long trips--like to my daughter's or sister's. Once in a great while, if the power goes out at home--and my landline phone with it, due to U-Verse, God bless them--I turn it on. Whatever. I can't really text on it. It has no perks for the Internet. It is a PHONE. Period. Still, I am aware that the rest of the public has discovered the convenience of the ability to have instant communications. I was amused one day when I entered a gate area at an airport preparing to fly to California to visit my daughter. In the line of seats next to the windows, taken up by other folks awaiting their flights, was a whole line of people talking on cell phones! Every stinkin' one of them! They were totally unaware of the people around them. It is a new age!
Thursday, January 9, 2014
The Storm
Megan and Denis were due to come through Indy on their way back from Florida to pick up their cat and break up the trip for an overnight here. This was for Friday, January 3rd. Indiana had been bracing for a mega-winter storm for days, supposed to hit overnight on Saturday. I had really hoped the kids could stay until Sunday, but the forecast told me they needed to get out of Dodge as soon as I could get them on the road on Saturday morning. There were warnings for their neck of the woods up north, and for here. I was a Nervous Nelly!
M and D arrived on my doorstep around 6:30 PM, as expected. I had a corned beef dinner ready for us to devour. and their cat soon decided that she could come out of hiding. I gave Denis some sweats to wear, and Meg got a robe, so I could wash the clothes on their backs. (We didn't want to unpack the car for clean clothes, if there were any.)
After dinner, we watched Fantasia on VHS. Denis had never seen it, but Meg thought he should. He did, although I truly think he would have been happier just going to bed!! We all crashed after that. Nice lullabye!
Saturday morning, we kept watching the weather reports. I fed the kids one of my famous "skillets" and let them shower, etc....then watched the cat become terrorized when the feline realized that the dreaded cat carrier was on the horizon for her. They finally pulled away from my drive just a few minutes after noon, Indiana time, and made pretty good time on the trip back to Grayslake, IL (probably 40 miles north of Chicago). We kept in contact via the Internet all the way. They stopped at a grocery store just blocks from home to pick up needed items before hitting the homestead...and I'm glad they did!
What happened hereafter that has been legendary. The snow had already started at Meg's after they got home. It started here shortly (Sunday) and didn't stop all day. The airport (seven miles from here) reported 11 inches, quickly followed by high winds and sub-zero temperatures. All efforts to clear the roads were thwarted by drifting and temperatures that would not allow road salt to work. Luckily, I had already been to the store to stock up on foods and items that I thought would see me through. Best thing I ever did! MANY in Indiana have been without power since Sunday. I, however, am not one of them.. Praise God, my power has stayed on...and now that the temps are moderating, etc., I have been dug out, with a lot of help from my friends! Schools have been canceled all week, so far. I'm so thankful that I am no longer in that rat-race!!!!
Thus endeth the holiday saga from here. My son-in-law's parents, Luda and Sergey, should be close to home by now, having left Florida yesterday. I pray for their safe return to the homeland. They had a layover in Germany, then flew to Helsinki...and have to find a way back to Russia from there. Loooooong trip!
M and D arrived on my doorstep around 6:30 PM, as expected. I had a corned beef dinner ready for us to devour. and their cat soon decided that she could come out of hiding. I gave Denis some sweats to wear, and Meg got a robe, so I could wash the clothes on their backs. (We didn't want to unpack the car for clean clothes, if there were any.)
After dinner, we watched Fantasia on VHS. Denis had never seen it, but Meg thought he should. He did, although I truly think he would have been happier just going to bed!! We all crashed after that. Nice lullabye!
Saturday morning, we kept watching the weather reports. I fed the kids one of my famous "skillets" and let them shower, etc....then watched the cat become terrorized when the feline realized that the dreaded cat carrier was on the horizon for her. They finally pulled away from my drive just a few minutes after noon, Indiana time, and made pretty good time on the trip back to Grayslake, IL (probably 40 miles north of Chicago). We kept in contact via the Internet all the way. They stopped at a grocery store just blocks from home to pick up needed items before hitting the homestead...and I'm glad they did!
What happened hereafter that has been legendary. The snow had already started at Meg's after they got home. It started here shortly (Sunday) and didn't stop all day. The airport (seven miles from here) reported 11 inches, quickly followed by high winds and sub-zero temperatures. All efforts to clear the roads were thwarted by drifting and temperatures that would not allow road salt to work. Luckily, I had already been to the store to stock up on foods and items that I thought would see me through. Best thing I ever did! MANY in Indiana have been without power since Sunday. I, however, am not one of them.. Praise God, my power has stayed on...and now that the temps are moderating, etc., I have been dug out, with a lot of help from my friends! Schools have been canceled all week, so far. I'm so thankful that I am no longer in that rat-race!!!!
Thus endeth the holiday saga from here. My son-in-law's parents, Luda and Sergey, should be close to home by now, having left Florida yesterday. I pray for their safe return to the homeland. They had a layover in Germany, then flew to Helsinki...and have to find a way back to Russia from there. Loooooong trip!
Suicide
I was watching an old Dr. Phil re-run today (because daytime programming is awful!!) and saw a program about a documentary filmed at the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco, which is apparently the suicide capital of the world. It seems that 25-35 people every year decide to end their lives by jumping from the bridge...and it's not a pretty sight.
I've been under that bridge three times in my life. The first time, at age 10, (1957) on board a Navy ship taking my family out to sea on the way to Japan. The second and third on the same day, as my daughter and grandchildren and I were visiting San Francisco (2010), taking a boat tour of the harbor. We went under the bridge, then turned around and went under it again on our way back to shore. Thank God, no one jumped from it on any of those occasions!
Since I'm pretty much all snowed in here, I rely a lot on TV and have only myself to talk to...and Facebook...and my blog. The best part about that is no one is here to argue with me, so everything I think or say seems profound to me. I have long judged suicide as a coward's way out of tough situations. September 11, 2001, changed that idea for me. The jumpers....oh, yes, the jumpers...raised the question of "no other choice" with me. In researching some of that, I came upon the story of a photographer who was trying to identify one 9/11 jumper whose family (or supposed family) became totally incensed with him for suggesting that their dead loved one could have been one of the jumpers. Why? I would have thought they'd be satisfied to know what had transpired, but they were not. Because they were Catholic. According to Catholic belief, those who kill themselves cannot be buried in consecrated cemeteries, nor can their souls go to Heaven to be reunited with their loved ones after death. I was blown away by the mentality that the family could not see beyond this to the reality of what their loved one had to endure in order to make the split-second decision to jump to an instant death rather than die in agony. Try as I might, I don't understand it.
I guess I am lucky. I've been depressed from time to time. Even horribly depressed. Only twice in my life, however, did I consider that it had no meaning and would be better were I not here. I could never commit suicide, but I did (suddenly) understand the thinking. The first time was in 1998--which I will not talk about here--at a time when I was so utterly ashamed at my behavior and what I faced that I didn't even want to get up in the mornings. The next time lasted much longer, caused by a family situation that had me searching deperately for a way out of the hole. I'm not sure I will ever completely get over that one, but I have forgiven and tried to move on.
I've made a lot of mistakes in my life, but one of them has NOT been lack of caring. I can't fix the past, and I don't have resources to fix the future, but no one can accuse me of giving up. Thank God for that!
I've been under that bridge three times in my life. The first time, at age 10, (1957) on board a Navy ship taking my family out to sea on the way to Japan. The second and third on the same day, as my daughter and grandchildren and I were visiting San Francisco (2010), taking a boat tour of the harbor. We went under the bridge, then turned around and went under it again on our way back to shore. Thank God, no one jumped from it on any of those occasions!
Since I'm pretty much all snowed in here, I rely a lot on TV and have only myself to talk to...and Facebook...and my blog. The best part about that is no one is here to argue with me, so everything I think or say seems profound to me. I have long judged suicide as a coward's way out of tough situations. September 11, 2001, changed that idea for me. The jumpers....oh, yes, the jumpers...raised the question of "no other choice" with me. In researching some of that, I came upon the story of a photographer who was trying to identify one 9/11 jumper whose family (or supposed family) became totally incensed with him for suggesting that their dead loved one could have been one of the jumpers. Why? I would have thought they'd be satisfied to know what had transpired, but they were not. Because they were Catholic. According to Catholic belief, those who kill themselves cannot be buried in consecrated cemeteries, nor can their souls go to Heaven to be reunited with their loved ones after death. I was blown away by the mentality that the family could not see beyond this to the reality of what their loved one had to endure in order to make the split-second decision to jump to an instant death rather than die in agony. Try as I might, I don't understand it.
I guess I am lucky. I've been depressed from time to time. Even horribly depressed. Only twice in my life, however, did I consider that it had no meaning and would be better were I not here. I could never commit suicide, but I did (suddenly) understand the thinking. The first time was in 1998--which I will not talk about here--at a time when I was so utterly ashamed at my behavior and what I faced that I didn't even want to get up in the mornings. The next time lasted much longer, caused by a family situation that had me searching deperately for a way out of the hole. I'm not sure I will ever completely get over that one, but I have forgiven and tried to move on.
I've made a lot of mistakes in my life, but one of them has NOT been lack of caring. I can't fix the past, and I don't have resources to fix the future, but no one can accuse me of giving up. Thank God for that!
Saturday, January 4, 2014
In the Books
The holiday season of 2013 is now officially done for me. My daughter and grandkids came here on their way to Florida for Christmas to open presents and drop off the cat for me to watch in their absence. Then I went to my sister's for a couple of days for Christmas Eve and the actual holiday, with my neighbor checking on the cat. Then I celebrated New Year's Eve with the family via the Internet, and waited for them to come back through here on their way back to Illinois from Florida. This happened last night.
The grandchildren had already flown back to the Midwest before NYE. Megan and Denis stayed a few days longer, then started the long drive home via my house for an overnight to pick up their cat. They arrived in time for a traditional corned beef dinner and a movie...then we all crashed. I would love to have visited more with them, but we were under a stressful situation: a major snowstorm due tonight into tomorrow, with one to start earlier in the Chicago area. I figured we had a small weather window to work with so wanted them on the road as soon as possible this morning.
I did my best to get them on the road quickly. They didn't even bring suitcases in last night...just things that would be affected by the cold. I washed the clothes on their backs, putting them in robes and sweats for the evening. Fed them a substantial Grandma "skillet" this morning and sent them on their way. They were on the road slightly after noon, Indiana time, then kept track of their progress via text message. They didn't experience any bad weather between here and there and were back in their garage after stopping for groceries in pretty good time. Grayslake, IL, where they live had 16 inches of snow last week. More to come. Here, too. I'm just happy that everyone is where they are supposed to be now, before the storm.
I've been a bit amused by posts on Facebook talking about how crazy the grocery stores have been today. Ha! I beat the system! Because I spent too much money in December, I was largely out of funds before the 1st January. Thus, on the 2nd, when I DID have money, I headed to Walmart. This was Thursday....before anyone really got serious about storm shopping. I went in the morning. That helped. I spent over $100 on food and ingredients without running into huge lines or empty shelves. I should be able to eat for weeks now! Bring on the snow!
Okay....so....I had the opportunity to go to Florida with Meg and family. I was invited. Even my "ex" who lives down there called to say I was welcome, which was a total switch from previous intentions. I just didn't think it was wise for me, for a lot of reasons...and I still feel that way. So I missed the warm weather and the trip to Disney World, but I didn't have major stresses to deal with...and my family didn't have to worry about my presence. I'm 100% okay with all of that! They all had a wonderful time; the cat was taken care of; Denis's mother got surgical care that was terribly necessary (did I write about that??); and I got to be with my sister and family for the first time in many holidays. It's all good.
God's in His Heaven; all's right with the world!
The grandchildren had already flown back to the Midwest before NYE. Megan and Denis stayed a few days longer, then started the long drive home via my house for an overnight to pick up their cat. They arrived in time for a traditional corned beef dinner and a movie...then we all crashed. I would love to have visited more with them, but we were under a stressful situation: a major snowstorm due tonight into tomorrow, with one to start earlier in the Chicago area. I figured we had a small weather window to work with so wanted them on the road as soon as possible this morning.
I did my best to get them on the road quickly. They didn't even bring suitcases in last night...just things that would be affected by the cold. I washed the clothes on their backs, putting them in robes and sweats for the evening. Fed them a substantial Grandma "skillet" this morning and sent them on their way. They were on the road slightly after noon, Indiana time, then kept track of their progress via text message. They didn't experience any bad weather between here and there and were back in their garage after stopping for groceries in pretty good time. Grayslake, IL, where they live had 16 inches of snow last week. More to come. Here, too. I'm just happy that everyone is where they are supposed to be now, before the storm.
I've been a bit amused by posts on Facebook talking about how crazy the grocery stores have been today. Ha! I beat the system! Because I spent too much money in December, I was largely out of funds before the 1st January. Thus, on the 2nd, when I DID have money, I headed to Walmart. This was Thursday....before anyone really got serious about storm shopping. I went in the morning. That helped. I spent over $100 on food and ingredients without running into huge lines or empty shelves. I should be able to eat for weeks now! Bring on the snow!
Okay....so....I had the opportunity to go to Florida with Meg and family. I was invited. Even my "ex" who lives down there called to say I was welcome, which was a total switch from previous intentions. I just didn't think it was wise for me, for a lot of reasons...and I still feel that way. So I missed the warm weather and the trip to Disney World, but I didn't have major stresses to deal with...and my family didn't have to worry about my presence. I'm 100% okay with all of that! They all had a wonderful time; the cat was taken care of; Denis's mother got surgical care that was terribly necessary (did I write about that??); and I got to be with my sister and family for the first time in many holidays. It's all good.
God's in His Heaven; all's right with the world!
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