Perhaps you think I made a typographical error in the title of this post. Au contraire! Once upon a time, when I was a kid many decades ago, the word Halloween was spelled with an apostrophe between the e's. That is because the original name for the occasion was All Hallows Evening, or Hallowed Even. The terms were consolidated into one word, and the apostrophe was inserted to show that the "v" was left out. And somewhere along the line between my childhood and now, the apostrophe was dropped. How do I know this, you might ask? I know because the holiday term appeared on more than one spelling list in my grade school days. In order to be correctly spelled, it had to be capitalized, and it had to contain that blasted apostrophe. Miss either one, and the word was counted WRONG on the test. Horrors! I was a Spelling Nazi who never missed words on tests, except that one. And now, everyone thinks I'm nuts when I tell them it used to be spelled with an apostrophe. The response is usually along the lines of, "No, it wasn't", or worse, "How old are you, anyway"?
It has become somewhat traditional for me to post an after-action report about the nightly visitors that darken my door on Halloween. Here are my observations for 2017:
1. This is the first year that the bat wreath hung on my front door actually did its job. The wreath, purchased at a Covered Bridge Festival craft fair many years ago, has a battery-powered motion sensor. When anyone approaches the door (or even drives by on the street, it seems) the bat laughs maniacally while its red eyes flash. Most years, kids hardly even notice it. That may be because I've always had the top half of the storm door windows pulled up to keep the cold air out. Yesterday, I endeavored to pull the window up for the winter but thought I'd leave it down just for one more day. Thus, when it laughs, the kids can hear it. Every single kid or group of kids that came to the door tonight saw it and heard it. One small group of costumed young ladies even shrieked when they saw it. Two more girls--maybe aged 12 or so--actually screamed and ran away from the door. We laughed and laughed. Even the parents waiting on the sidewalk thought it was funny. Yes! Finally, the wreath did what I intended for it to do--although, in truth, it's pretty tame. Note to self: remember to leave the storm door window down until after Halloween from now on.
2. One group of little ghoulies showed up on my stoop, right ahead of their young parents with what looked like young Chocolate Labrador dogs. Except the dogs were in costume. They were disguised as Dalmations. Couldn't fool me!
3. A majority of my early trick-or-treaters tonight were bigger kids--like 6th grade or older. Usually, the early ones are the little kids, but not this year. I began to wonder if it was too cold for parents to want their little ones to be outside. (It's only 42 degrees. At least it's not raining or windy.) One older kid said, "I'm 16 now, so this is my last year." Sixteen? Heck, my parents made us quit along about age 10 or 12. Not fair!
4. One family came roaring up in the yard in a golf cart. How very decadent!
5. My very first trick-or-treater was a mother. She was wearing some sort of a rabbit costume, and she came before the hours declared by the Town of Plainfield. She had three bags: one for her, and one each for her two children, neither of which were with her. "One's in trouble, and the other one is sick," she said. I thought to myself, "So the one who is in trouble still gets Halloween candy anyway, without having to go out in the cold to work for it?" Hey...where can I get a gig like that???
6. One father and son combo that came to the door turned out to be one of my former students who lives just down the street from me, and his soon-to-be 9-year-old son. He stood at the door and talked for a bit, then insisted that I take down his phone number after he asked if I had any family nearby. He kept saying, "If you need help with anything, I want you to call me. I would love to help you out. I really mean it." I assured him I would. What a sweetheart!
Funny story about this young man. I had his older brother in 4th grade, then 5th grade, then 6th grade...and when he was about to graduate to the Jr-Sr high school, he discovered that I was transferring there, as well. His parting words to me were: "Gee whiz, Ms. McNary. Are you going to follow me to college??"
The boys had an older sister whom I didn't have in class. When she graduated, she left this note in her Senior Last Will and Testament: "To the teachers, I bequeath my brothers. And if you think the older one is bad, wait until you get the younger one!" The younger one was the one at my door tonight. I never had a single problem with him in class, although I'd heard stories. Ah, that's sisterly love for ya!
7. Every year, I fill up a big bowl with candy and put it by the door, and every year, I have at least one-fourth of the candy left. Some years, I tried to count the number of ghosties that came to the door, just to have an idea of how many I should count on in the future, but I always lost track after 30 or so. Still, it never seemed that I had as many as, say, 60 kids. This year, I splurged and bought a bag of the expensive stuff. You know, the M and Ms and Twixes and Milky Ways and Snickers kind of good stuff. The bag said there were 60 pieces. No problem! The candy sat around here for a couple of weeks, and although I did sit down and calculate the number of Weight Watcher points in each piece, I never ate a single one. I figured I was set for an evening of doorway marauders. However, even though I only gave out ONE piece of candy per kid, I ran out of the good stuff and had to dig into my own stash of York Peppermint Patties to get me through the final count. Oh well!
~~On a non-Halloween note, I went to Walgreen's today to get my flu shot. Two years ago, my pulmonologist told me he wanted me to get flu shots every year. He also wanted me to get a Prevnar13 (pneumonia) vaccination. I was under the impression that it wasn't wise to get both at the same time, so I got a flu shot and determined that I would get the pneumonia shot another time. Last year, I never did get around to going for either one. Today, my to-do list included getting this year's flu shot, and when I got there, I asked the technician about getting the other one. He said there would be no problem with getting both at once, so I decided just to do it. One in each arm.
The technician asked which side I normally sleep on. I indicated that I do both sides but sleep more on my left side than my right. He said that people complain more about soreness from the pneumonia shot than the flu shot, so he injected the left arm with flu vaccine and the right arm with pneumonia vaccine. Honest to goodness, I didn't even feel the flu shot. The pneumonia one stung a bit going in...but...guess which arm is quite sore tonight and will probably cause problems with sleep? Yep...the flu-shot arm. The one that isn't supposed to hurt as much. The one that I will be trying to sleep on. Well, what did I expect? I mean, it IS Halloween, after all. Trick or treat! Guess the trick's on me. Now, where's my treat???
Tuesday, October 31, 2017
Thursday, October 12, 2017
The Art of Grieving
Some things that I've observed about grief situations:
1. It is not uncommon for the bereaved to end up comforting others who are supposed to be doing the comforting. The phenomenon has something to do with the attitude of the one who has lost a loved one. We go to do something or say something to try to help the one who is grieving, hoping beyond hope that he/she isn't simply a pool of blubbering flesh. We don't know what to do, in that case. And when they seem to be holding up, we are relieved...refreshed, even...to be able to say that we went to visit and all seems well. Truth is, all is NOT well, but in our efforts to navigate the mine fields of grief situations, we tiptoe carefully, and when the survivors seem to be sane and dealing with things in public, we sigh, but we leave encouraged. What we don't understand is that people who are in the early stages of loss are often numb. They are functioning on auto-pilot, just getting through each day because they have to, not because they feel confident that they can.
2. It is often quite difficult for those who are grieving to ask for help. This is particularly true of people who have lost loved ones suddenly or unexpectedly. They have, up to now, lived their lives independent of needing others to supply anything to them. They now feel weak, vulnerable, and wondering what will become of them without the person they lost. Even those whose loved ones passed after a long and protracted battle for life are left questioning themselves. "I have to do this alone now. I should be able to handle this because I've known the end was coming...yet I feel so unprepared." Asking for help only affirms their fears that they can't handle things by themselves. They can. They just can't grasp it yet.
3. Everyone comes rushing to help in the beginning...and then...after the funeral is over and the dust has settled, they slowly begin to disappear into the mist. That's when the grief gets rough. "I have all of these bills. The family income has gone way down. I have these kids to feed, but the lawn needs to be mowed and the floors are dirty, and I am too emotionally exhausted to handle it all." Yeah...that.
4. Anyone of any age at all has lost someone to the inevitable fate of death. Those trying to comfort those who mourn find themselves recalling their own feelings when their loved one died. We share those times in an effort to let the bereaved understand that we are with them in spirit. I'm not certain it is always helpful, but it is normal.
5. People who are grieving are in emotional pain that can also affect the physical body. Emotional pain hurts. We want it to go away as soon as possible so we can function normally once again. We seek one day without crying...one day without aching...one day when we can actually laugh again and forget all of that nasty grief stuff...but it hangs on. We draw lines in the sand, hoping or expecting that tomorrow will be better. And when it isn't, we get impatient with ourselves. We spank ourselves for not getting well sooner, or (conversely) spank ourselves for daring to have a moment of happiness when the loves of our life have died. How DARE I smile? How DARE I not carry on as if all is well?
6. Not knowing what to say to someone who is bereft is an awful burden. What if I say something that reminds him/her how hurt he/she is? What if I say something that makes things worse? How should I handle this?? I have a list of things that we say that I consider offensive even if well-intended.
A. "You have my thoughts and prayers." Great. It is comforting to know that people are thinking of you and praying for you--but no amount of thinking or praying is going to change your reality. Maybe it's better just to express the truth. "I can only imagine how much you must hurt." Or "My heart is with you now and always." Or "I'll be over tomorrow from 2:00-4:00 to watch the kids so you can take a nap. Let me know if it won't work for you."
B. "He/She is in a better place." I particularly hate this one. Better for whom? I'm pretty sure the one who died wasn't particularly happy to do so; I'm positive that the ones left behind would have preferred another outcome! The "better place" thing sounds religious and assumes that the deceased lived a saintly life. No one does! Having an "angel" watching over us sounds attractive, but maybe we'd rather have the angel in person on earth!
C. "Everything will get better in time." While this is true to a degree, it seems to me like telling a child whose puppy just died, "Don't worry. We'll get another puppy." The raw grief that we feel doesn't ever go away. It gets put in another part of the brain, in time, to be taken out only when we feel safe enough to do so. I've seen it. I've lived it.
7. Grief is not reserved just for those who have experienced a death in their lives. It also happens with divorces, betrayals, and personal hurts that come at a level so deep that we can't always talk about them. I'm not speaking about someone who merely gossips about you. I'm talking about something that happens that hits you to the very core of who you are. Situations in which you were so emotionally invested that someone unilaterally changing the relationship rules throws you into an emotional tailspin over a long period of time. As surely as you will experience grief due to a death, you will also experience one or more of these. Not if, but when. Prepare your heart.
I am writing all of this because yet another of my friends has lost a loved one. Her wife died, suddenly, while being treated for throat cancer. (Yes, I said HER wife.) They had kids together. The funeral was today. I notice that my friend seems impatient with herself because things aren't getting any easier yet. Holy Moses...it is waaaay to early for her to be ready for things to get easier. She has a long row to hoe, and she needs to give herself permission to grieve. If she doesn't, it will follow her for years. (Hint, hint, to my niece Lynn.)
I ache for the grieving and hope for the best. It is the unfortunate part of life. We are assured the "pursuit of happiness" by the Constitution. Doesn't mean we will always get it.
1. It is not uncommon for the bereaved to end up comforting others who are supposed to be doing the comforting. The phenomenon has something to do with the attitude of the one who has lost a loved one. We go to do something or say something to try to help the one who is grieving, hoping beyond hope that he/she isn't simply a pool of blubbering flesh. We don't know what to do, in that case. And when they seem to be holding up, we are relieved...refreshed, even...to be able to say that we went to visit and all seems well. Truth is, all is NOT well, but in our efforts to navigate the mine fields of grief situations, we tiptoe carefully, and when the survivors seem to be sane and dealing with things in public, we sigh, but we leave encouraged. What we don't understand is that people who are in the early stages of loss are often numb. They are functioning on auto-pilot, just getting through each day because they have to, not because they feel confident that they can.
2. It is often quite difficult for those who are grieving to ask for help. This is particularly true of people who have lost loved ones suddenly or unexpectedly. They have, up to now, lived their lives independent of needing others to supply anything to them. They now feel weak, vulnerable, and wondering what will become of them without the person they lost. Even those whose loved ones passed after a long and protracted battle for life are left questioning themselves. "I have to do this alone now. I should be able to handle this because I've known the end was coming...yet I feel so unprepared." Asking for help only affirms their fears that they can't handle things by themselves. They can. They just can't grasp it yet.
3. Everyone comes rushing to help in the beginning...and then...after the funeral is over and the dust has settled, they slowly begin to disappear into the mist. That's when the grief gets rough. "I have all of these bills. The family income has gone way down. I have these kids to feed, but the lawn needs to be mowed and the floors are dirty, and I am too emotionally exhausted to handle it all." Yeah...that.
4. Anyone of any age at all has lost someone to the inevitable fate of death. Those trying to comfort those who mourn find themselves recalling their own feelings when their loved one died. We share those times in an effort to let the bereaved understand that we are with them in spirit. I'm not certain it is always helpful, but it is normal.
5. People who are grieving are in emotional pain that can also affect the physical body. Emotional pain hurts. We want it to go away as soon as possible so we can function normally once again. We seek one day without crying...one day without aching...one day when we can actually laugh again and forget all of that nasty grief stuff...but it hangs on. We draw lines in the sand, hoping or expecting that tomorrow will be better. And when it isn't, we get impatient with ourselves. We spank ourselves for not getting well sooner, or (conversely) spank ourselves for daring to have a moment of happiness when the loves of our life have died. How DARE I smile? How DARE I not carry on as if all is well?
6. Not knowing what to say to someone who is bereft is an awful burden. What if I say something that reminds him/her how hurt he/she is? What if I say something that makes things worse? How should I handle this?? I have a list of things that we say that I consider offensive even if well-intended.
A. "You have my thoughts and prayers." Great. It is comforting to know that people are thinking of you and praying for you--but no amount of thinking or praying is going to change your reality. Maybe it's better just to express the truth. "I can only imagine how much you must hurt." Or "My heart is with you now and always." Or "I'll be over tomorrow from 2:00-4:00 to watch the kids so you can take a nap. Let me know if it won't work for you."
B. "He/She is in a better place." I particularly hate this one. Better for whom? I'm pretty sure the one who died wasn't particularly happy to do so; I'm positive that the ones left behind would have preferred another outcome! The "better place" thing sounds religious and assumes that the deceased lived a saintly life. No one does! Having an "angel" watching over us sounds attractive, but maybe we'd rather have the angel in person on earth!
C. "Everything will get better in time." While this is true to a degree, it seems to me like telling a child whose puppy just died, "Don't worry. We'll get another puppy." The raw grief that we feel doesn't ever go away. It gets put in another part of the brain, in time, to be taken out only when we feel safe enough to do so. I've seen it. I've lived it.
7. Grief is not reserved just for those who have experienced a death in their lives. It also happens with divorces, betrayals, and personal hurts that come at a level so deep that we can't always talk about them. I'm not speaking about someone who merely gossips about you. I'm talking about something that happens that hits you to the very core of who you are. Situations in which you were so emotionally invested that someone unilaterally changing the relationship rules throws you into an emotional tailspin over a long period of time. As surely as you will experience grief due to a death, you will also experience one or more of these. Not if, but when. Prepare your heart.
I am writing all of this because yet another of my friends has lost a loved one. Her wife died, suddenly, while being treated for throat cancer. (Yes, I said HER wife.) They had kids together. The funeral was today. I notice that my friend seems impatient with herself because things aren't getting any easier yet. Holy Moses...it is waaaay to early for her to be ready for things to get easier. She has a long row to hoe, and she needs to give herself permission to grieve. If she doesn't, it will follow her for years. (Hint, hint, to my niece Lynn.)
I ache for the grieving and hope for the best. It is the unfortunate part of life. We are assured the "pursuit of happiness" by the Constitution. Doesn't mean we will always get it.
Thursday, October 5, 2017
Confessions of a Reluctant Non-Recycler
Once upon a time, I had a garage. It was just a one-car garage, but a garage nonetheless. When I first moved to this little house-on-a-slab, one of the first things I bought was a set of three bins that nested on top of each other, to be used for recycling paper, plastic, and cans. It was in the garage along with just about everything else that wouldn't fit in the house. I used them...a little.
Plainfield's trash service provided curbside recycling, for which residents are charged a minimal fee with the water/sewer bill. And for said recycling, they provided big open tubs. BRIGHT ORANGE big open tubs. At one point, Plainfield changed trash service companies. The new company provided their own bright orange recycling tubs, so then I had two of them. The three bins, two bright orange open tubs, and my garbage cans all resided in the garage. Keeping them there meant I didn't have to go out in the cold to deposit the trash bags in them, nor did I have to worry about critters getting into stuff. It was easy enough to drag the trash cans to the curb on trash day...but organizing the recycling was a pain. No one ever explained how to do it. Does the waste paper need to go in plastic bags at the bottom of the tub so it won't get wet while waiting for the trash truck in the rain? Do the cans need to be washed out and de-labeled? Will steel or aluminum cans recycle the same? Did I need to check every plastic container to see if it was recyclable or not? It got to be WORK, and I got worse and worse about it as time went on.
And then the garage went bye-bye. My daughter and her two young children came to live with me. My little house had three small bedrooms, the smallest of which I was using as a radio shack/computer room. That left two bedrooms. For a whole year, my granddaughter slept in my water bed with me, and my grandson slept in a double bed with his mother. It didn't work well. The adults were putting the children to bed at their appointed hour, then tiptoeing around to get in bed when it was our turn. The children, being children, were thrashers. The adults weren't sleeping well. Finally, daughter and I decided that the garage needed to become Grandma's room, with a double bed, radios, and desktop computer; my old room with the half-bath became my daughter's room. The next largest bedroom became the granddaughter's bedroom, and the smallest one became my grandson's room with a Spiderman loft bed to double his usable space. We hired a relative in the construction business to transform the garage into a big room. Everything in the former garage was moved to the covered patio. It took years to get it all sorted and disbursed. YEARS...
Without a garage in which to stash all of the equipment, recycling went by the wayside. Then, in a single stroke, daughter and grandchildren departed. So there I was, all alone, having spent $10,000 (much of which came from my daughter) with no garage and four bedrooms. And still no place to keep the recycling stuff. The trash cans went to the front of the house. (They really belonged behind the privacy fence, but that became a problem when the gate would freeze shut in the winter.) The bright orange tubs went to the mini-barn because they were too open and too orange to keep at the front of the house. I pitched the bins. And thus ended my futile attempts to recycle.
I haven't totally abandoned the whole notion of recycling. My church has two big paper recycling dumpsters at the back of the church lot. They use the money that comes from that to fund the paper purchases for the church. For a long time, I recycled paper there, in paper grocery bags....but...the bags would rip...my back didn't like me for hauling heavy, ripped bags to the car and then to the church. I finally gave that up, but I DO still recycle magazines there.
Then, too, I recycle the plastic bags that groceries get packed in. I hate those things. I swear they breed. Put two of them in the pantry, and the next thing I know, there are dozens of them! I keep a few to reuse for keeping things dry during transport to other places, but I DO put them in the recycle bins in the vestibules of grocery stores a couple of times a month. (Interestingly, the "red" State of Indiana, led by then-Governor Mike Pence [now Vice President of the US], passed a law under the radar, forbidding any county or community to ban the use of those damnable plastic bags!)
So there it is. I plead the Fifth. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak. I don't buy individual plastic bottles of drinking water, but I do buy big packages of meat, then repackage them in plastic freezer bags. I do cut up the plastic rings that hold pop bottles together, but I very rarely buy "sodee" that comes with those. I use a lot of paper plates and bowls and foam cups, very bad for the environment, but using regular plates and bowls and cups/glasses consume a lot of water to wash them. Also bad for the environment. What's an old lady to do??
Plainfield's trash service provided curbside recycling, for which residents are charged a minimal fee with the water/sewer bill. And for said recycling, they provided big open tubs. BRIGHT ORANGE big open tubs. At one point, Plainfield changed trash service companies. The new company provided their own bright orange recycling tubs, so then I had two of them. The three bins, two bright orange open tubs, and my garbage cans all resided in the garage. Keeping them there meant I didn't have to go out in the cold to deposit the trash bags in them, nor did I have to worry about critters getting into stuff. It was easy enough to drag the trash cans to the curb on trash day...but organizing the recycling was a pain. No one ever explained how to do it. Does the waste paper need to go in plastic bags at the bottom of the tub so it won't get wet while waiting for the trash truck in the rain? Do the cans need to be washed out and de-labeled? Will steel or aluminum cans recycle the same? Did I need to check every plastic container to see if it was recyclable or not? It got to be WORK, and I got worse and worse about it as time went on.
And then the garage went bye-bye. My daughter and her two young children came to live with me. My little house had three small bedrooms, the smallest of which I was using as a radio shack/computer room. That left two bedrooms. For a whole year, my granddaughter slept in my water bed with me, and my grandson slept in a double bed with his mother. It didn't work well. The adults were putting the children to bed at their appointed hour, then tiptoeing around to get in bed when it was our turn. The children, being children, were thrashers. The adults weren't sleeping well. Finally, daughter and I decided that the garage needed to become Grandma's room, with a double bed, radios, and desktop computer; my old room with the half-bath became my daughter's room. The next largest bedroom became the granddaughter's bedroom, and the smallest one became my grandson's room with a Spiderman loft bed to double his usable space. We hired a relative in the construction business to transform the garage into a big room. Everything in the former garage was moved to the covered patio. It took years to get it all sorted and disbursed. YEARS...
Without a garage in which to stash all of the equipment, recycling went by the wayside. Then, in a single stroke, daughter and grandchildren departed. So there I was, all alone, having spent $10,000 (much of which came from my daughter) with no garage and four bedrooms. And still no place to keep the recycling stuff. The trash cans went to the front of the house. (They really belonged behind the privacy fence, but that became a problem when the gate would freeze shut in the winter.) The bright orange tubs went to the mini-barn because they were too open and too orange to keep at the front of the house. I pitched the bins. And thus ended my futile attempts to recycle.
I haven't totally abandoned the whole notion of recycling. My church has two big paper recycling dumpsters at the back of the church lot. They use the money that comes from that to fund the paper purchases for the church. For a long time, I recycled paper there, in paper grocery bags....but...the bags would rip...my back didn't like me for hauling heavy, ripped bags to the car and then to the church. I finally gave that up, but I DO still recycle magazines there.
Then, too, I recycle the plastic bags that groceries get packed in. I hate those things. I swear they breed. Put two of them in the pantry, and the next thing I know, there are dozens of them! I keep a few to reuse for keeping things dry during transport to other places, but I DO put them in the recycle bins in the vestibules of grocery stores a couple of times a month. (Interestingly, the "red" State of Indiana, led by then-Governor Mike Pence [now Vice President of the US], passed a law under the radar, forbidding any county or community to ban the use of those damnable plastic bags!)
So there it is. I plead the Fifth. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak. I don't buy individual plastic bottles of drinking water, but I do buy big packages of meat, then repackage them in plastic freezer bags. I do cut up the plastic rings that hold pop bottles together, but I very rarely buy "sodee" that comes with those. I use a lot of paper plates and bowls and foam cups, very bad for the environment, but using regular plates and bowls and cups/glasses consume a lot of water to wash them. Also bad for the environment. What's an old lady to do??
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