The majority of my Thanksgivings in my formative years were at my grandparents' farm, with my mom in charge of the meal. The traditions were magnificent. We were a close family. Very close.
I can recall at least two years as an adult, when I was wending my way south to the farm on the night before Thanksgiving, when I wondered if I could get there. It was snowing and nasty. One time, I gratefully followed a salt truck on I-55, hoping that I could arrive in one piece. I did.
We were a Navy family. There was always a pre-dinner Happy Hour. My parents were drinkers; my grandparents were not, but participated. One year, my grandmother got silly after one martini. My grandfather got silly after two. He came to the dinner table, ate a whale of a meal, retired to his recliner thereafter to nap. When he woke up, he asked when we would be eating "the boid". He didn't remember eating his Thanksgiving dinner!
One year, when my grandparents were still living, my father left the Thanksgiving table after the meal and headed out to go rabbit hunting on the farm. After some time, we heard a KA-BLAM. Expected Dad to come in with a rabbit or two. What he came in with was a shattered pinky finger. He had seen a rabbit, shot and winged it. The rabbit headed toward the granary. Dad didn't want it to go beneath it and die there, so he started to run after it, tripped over a clod of dirt, and fell on his shotgun, crushing his little finger. For reasons known only to God, the gun did NOT discharge, or this story would end quite a bit differently. He came in, showing us a finger that he could not hold upright because the bone structure was shot. He broke a clothespin and splinted his own finger. A few minutes later, Mom asked, "Where's your dad?" Uh...I don't know. We looked. His car was gone. Without a word to anyone, he had driven himself in to the hospital ER. He came home with a professionally splinted finger and the admonition that the finger was badly broken and would probably need surgery if it was ever to work properly again. He was told to see his doctor when he got home on Sunday, which he did. They surgically pinned the bones in his finger back together, then kept him overnight. Only my father would think he could outrun a rabbit!
Another year, the snifter of martinis got to my mother. She was cooking and very, very happy. In fact, she was sooo happy that we began to wonder if dinner was actually going to make it to the table. It did, and it was delicious, but the rest of us had to step up and make sure it happened.
My father always ordered fresh turkeys from the local grocery--the bigger, the better. He grew up hungry. We never had less than a 25-lb. bird. Mom had it in the oven by 5:00 or 5:30 AM. When we got up, the house already smelled wonderful! When that turkey came out of the oven, my father would oooh and aaah like a child in a candy store. Later, Mom pushed dinner time for later in the day, which began the family tradition of putting out a table of hors d'oeuvres so she could cook the feast without having to stop and make lunch for everyone. That table consisted of shrimp and cocktail sauce, pickled herring, raw oysters, cheeses and crackers, and California Onion Dip and potato chips. It was wonderful! (Except for the raw oysters which only my mother and grandfather--and later my husband--enjoyed.)
For a couple of days before Thanksgiving, whole loaves of bread would be open and spread out to get stale for dressing/stuffing. Mom broke the stale bread into pieces and mixed it with sauteed onions and celery, with butter and broth and sage before she stuffed the bird. She also fixed a separate dish of oyster dressing.
And...just for the holiday...Mom always used REAL butter instead of margarine in her mashed potatoes. OMG! The wonderful tastes!
Then, in late October of 1986, my mother had a "mild" stroke. She was hospitalized, with the left side of her body somewhat paralyzed. She was doing well in rehab and was just about ready to be sent home when she had some kind of a relapse. They sent her back to acute care just before Thanksgiving. She told me she didn't think she could stand not being home for the holiday. Dad, of course, was going to make sure that Thanksgiving would still happen, so I took over. He was in no condition to do what needed to be done. It was an abbreviated Thanksgiving. My sister and family couldn't be there. She was in Missouri, helping her daughter with her newborn son. I was fighting with my husband over things that had been festering for a month. It wasn't a particularly happy time.
On Thanksgiving that year, I was sick. I even wore a mask around my mom because I didn't want her to catch whatever it was that I had. My brother, who had been there for the holiday, went home the day after. My husband had gone to Indiana to visit his parents with his children from his first marriage, against our earlier agreement that we wouldn't split those poor kids among three families in four days. (Very long story.)
Sparing the details, our mother died suddenly on the day after Thanksgiving that year. For a long time, Thanksgiving was never quite the same. Fortunately, time has healed the unhappy memories in favor of the happy ones. My sister and I have kept the traditions, as best we can. Our parents, grandparents, and our baby brother have all died.
Thanksgiving isn't all about past memories. It's about NOW. Today, I'm thankful for what I have. Today, we are blessed and need to be thankful for that. Today is the beginning of tomorrow.
Whether or not we are religious people, we need to express gratitude to whatever powers that be for all that we have. When we turn our backs on thankfulness, we open ourselves to negativity. May that never happen!
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!
Wednesday, November 21, 2018
Tuesday, November 20, 2018
What Do You Bring to the Thanksgiving Table?
Once upon a time, I was the Indiana State Coordinator for The Salvation Army's Emergency Disaster Services communications network--SATERN. I'm not a Salvationist, but I believed in their mission and was friends with the founder of the network. We worked hard to keep things going and alive.
I am an amateur radio operator--a ham. I was encouraged by my "elmer" (mentor) to start a SATERN network on an HF band that he was on daily. I introduced myself on that band, and the bad boy that everyone seemed to love, while drunk online every night, did everything he could to embarrass me. I was the only female. The first thing the bad boy said to me was, "When was the last time you slept with a man?" I waited for someone to shut him down, but no one did. Not even my "elmer" who had lured me there. In fact, when the time came when someone wanted to report this bad dude to the FCC, I contributed. He was given a year's banishment, and my dear elmer thought it wasn't fair. Whatever.
Not a single radio operator on that band--not one--ever played out the real reason for amateur radio operations: to help. I was trying to establish an emergency radio network but was shut down by the good ol' boy fraternity of accepting the locker room mentality. I never went back. My elmer seemed perplexed. Huh??
Which brings me to my point.
I used to tell my students, and have also posted online, that if you are sitting on your haunches while the rest of the world is suffering, you have no room to criticize people in need. Pick a charity. Volunteer. Do something. Why? Because it will happen to you. It WILL happen to you. Tornadoes, earthquakes, tsunamis, floods, fires--loss of job, abandonment, death in the family. You name it. If you survive those events intact, you are truly blessed.
Which brings me to my NEXT point.
Give because you can. If you don't have money, give time. If you don't have time or money, give love. Bring something besides food to the Thanksgiving table. Man does not live by bread alone.
In the name of all that is holy, look out for your neighbors because there will come a time when you will need them.
May God bless you with "enough"...what you need. Nothing more; nothing less. If you have enough for today, you are truly blessed.
I am an amateur radio operator--a ham. I was encouraged by my "elmer" (mentor) to start a SATERN network on an HF band that he was on daily. I introduced myself on that band, and the bad boy that everyone seemed to love, while drunk online every night, did everything he could to embarrass me. I was the only female. The first thing the bad boy said to me was, "When was the last time you slept with a man?" I waited for someone to shut him down, but no one did. Not even my "elmer" who had lured me there. In fact, when the time came when someone wanted to report this bad dude to the FCC, I contributed. He was given a year's banishment, and my dear elmer thought it wasn't fair. Whatever.
Not a single radio operator on that band--not one--ever played out the real reason for amateur radio operations: to help. I was trying to establish an emergency radio network but was shut down by the good ol' boy fraternity of accepting the locker room mentality. I never went back. My elmer seemed perplexed. Huh??
Which brings me to my point.
I used to tell my students, and have also posted online, that if you are sitting on your haunches while the rest of the world is suffering, you have no room to criticize people in need. Pick a charity. Volunteer. Do something. Why? Because it will happen to you. It WILL happen to you. Tornadoes, earthquakes, tsunamis, floods, fires--loss of job, abandonment, death in the family. You name it. If you survive those events intact, you are truly blessed.
Which brings me to my NEXT point.
Give because you can. If you don't have money, give time. If you don't have time or money, give love. Bring something besides food to the Thanksgiving table. Man does not live by bread alone.
In the name of all that is holy, look out for your neighbors because there will come a time when you will need them.
May God bless you with "enough"...what you need. Nothing more; nothing less. If you have enough for today, you are truly blessed.
Thursday, November 15, 2018
Young Love vs. Old Love
"Everyone knows"--as our President would say--that the world is all about people aged 35 or younger. Don't believe me? Look at every magazine on the planet. Look at TV commercials, Facebook memes, and everything that smacks of family. Valentine's Day? All about diamonds and flowers and young love. Thirty-five and under. Change my mind!
Young love is full of sexual tension, putting the best foot forward, wanting to please the other person because of wanting to attract him/her. Egos are involved. Physical attraction is huge. Conquest. Financial stability. Family acceptance. Equality in the household. Chasing tail, then working one's own tail off the make ends meet to raise a family. Needs to be met--everyone's. Doing stupid things to keep a family together in spite of everything.
And then, one day--or many, many years later--something happens. You get old. Your spouse gets old. Your spouse gets sick, and no matter how faithful and hard-working you are/were, your spouse dies, and you are alone for the first time in 50 years or more. Then, out of the darkness arises someone you are interested in. You weren't seeking a new relationship, but life is different now. You don't have the "fullness of days" to hang around in misery. (You can, but all that will happen is that you will die alone and lonely if you don't carpe diem.)
Old love isn't fraught with sexual tension. You've raised your family. You have fulfilled your vows of "until death do us part." You have fought the good fight, run the race, and kept the faith. Maybe the physical stuff doesn't work anymore, but hugs do. What you seek in life isn't a sexual partner; you just need a loved companion. Someone to do things with. Someone to make you feel less alone.
Unfortunately, when you are older in life, family seems to think they know how you should behave. They aren't thinking about you. They are thinking of themselves, and it is so not fair!
My sister has been a widow for just over two years. Her husband died of FTD dementia. For at least the last five years of his life, she dealt with his needs and quirks, his combativeness, his irrationality. Her entire world revolved around him. (Do NOT be misled by the dementia commercials on television. It isn't sweet and loving and comfortable to live with someone with dementia. It gets ugly. Very ugly.) The truth is that my sister worked herself into the ground to attend to the needs of her husband and her adult family. Mourning the loss of her husband started years before he actually died. When he finally did pass, she was so very sick with pneumonia that we had to put off the funeral for a few days just to get her well enough to be there. (She's a total trouper!)
For a lot of circumstantial reasons, my sister has reconnected with a gentleman from her past who also lost his spouse to a long-term cancer illness. My best guess is that he, too, started his mourning process before his wife actually died. The unfortunate part is that he has been alone for only about seven or eight months, and his children are pushing back. He is trying to be sensitive to their feelings while addressing his own. Who wins?? Only time will tell.
In the meantime, the drama and so-called offenses from family make these people walk a fine line between passion and diplomacy. If they were in their 20s or below 35, no one would challenge them. (We all know that doesn't work!)
If my sister and her delightful gentleman friend decide to call it quits, I pray that the reasons will be internal rather than from family members who selfishly care more about their own agendas rather than the happiness of their parent/grandparent. My whole reasoning is: do those who object to the relationship want these two to spend the rest of their lives alone and lonely?
God works in mysterious ways. I am praying that Old Love will win, in this case!
Young love is full of sexual tension, putting the best foot forward, wanting to please the other person because of wanting to attract him/her. Egos are involved. Physical attraction is huge. Conquest. Financial stability. Family acceptance. Equality in the household. Chasing tail, then working one's own tail off the make ends meet to raise a family. Needs to be met--everyone's. Doing stupid things to keep a family together in spite of everything.
And then, one day--or many, many years later--something happens. You get old. Your spouse gets old. Your spouse gets sick, and no matter how faithful and hard-working you are/were, your spouse dies, and you are alone for the first time in 50 years or more. Then, out of the darkness arises someone you are interested in. You weren't seeking a new relationship, but life is different now. You don't have the "fullness of days" to hang around in misery. (You can, but all that will happen is that you will die alone and lonely if you don't carpe diem.)
Old love isn't fraught with sexual tension. You've raised your family. You have fulfilled your vows of "until death do us part." You have fought the good fight, run the race, and kept the faith. Maybe the physical stuff doesn't work anymore, but hugs do. What you seek in life isn't a sexual partner; you just need a loved companion. Someone to do things with. Someone to make you feel less alone.
Unfortunately, when you are older in life, family seems to think they know how you should behave. They aren't thinking about you. They are thinking of themselves, and it is so not fair!
My sister has been a widow for just over two years. Her husband died of FTD dementia. For at least the last five years of his life, she dealt with his needs and quirks, his combativeness, his irrationality. Her entire world revolved around him. (Do NOT be misled by the dementia commercials on television. It isn't sweet and loving and comfortable to live with someone with dementia. It gets ugly. Very ugly.) The truth is that my sister worked herself into the ground to attend to the needs of her husband and her adult family. Mourning the loss of her husband started years before he actually died. When he finally did pass, she was so very sick with pneumonia that we had to put off the funeral for a few days just to get her well enough to be there. (She's a total trouper!)
For a lot of circumstantial reasons, my sister has reconnected with a gentleman from her past who also lost his spouse to a long-term cancer illness. My best guess is that he, too, started his mourning process before his wife actually died. The unfortunate part is that he has been alone for only about seven or eight months, and his children are pushing back. He is trying to be sensitive to their feelings while addressing his own. Who wins?? Only time will tell.
In the meantime, the drama and so-called offenses from family make these people walk a fine line between passion and diplomacy. If they were in their 20s or below 35, no one would challenge them. (We all know that doesn't work!)
If my sister and her delightful gentleman friend decide to call it quits, I pray that the reasons will be internal rather than from family members who selfishly care more about their own agendas rather than the happiness of their parent/grandparent. My whole reasoning is: do those who object to the relationship want these two to spend the rest of their lives alone and lonely?
God works in mysterious ways. I am praying that Old Love will win, in this case!
Wednesday, November 7, 2018
I Am Stunned
One of the members of my adult Sunday school class just showed up on my doorstep to deliver an envelope full of goodies that makes me humble. What she delivered was probably $80 worth of things she probably can't afford by way of thanks for taking her places. It makes me cry!
Emily is a woman alone, as I am. For a number of weeks, she showed up in class with a walker because one of her knees wasn't working well. And then she had the knee surgically replaced. We prayed for her...and then came the time to put our money where our mouths were.
My co-grandma was doing a lot for Emily. I wanted to relieve her some, since she also is taking care of a live-in son recently diagnosed with Parkinson's Disease. Thus, I took on the Emily taxi thing...but in reality, I had no reason not to! Honestly, I probably got more out of our ventures to Physical Therapy, haircuts, and trips to the grocery store than she did. I came to know her a little bit better by our weekly trips. She struggles the same that I do.
Yesterday, after quite a few weeks, she was finally released to drive. Freedom! And then she showed up on my driveway today like a Greek bearing gifts. Dear Lord, I am humbled by her gifts! I didn't take her places hoping for any thanks or remuneration! I only knew that, were I in her situation, I would need the same help.
So...I wish her God's blessings. She would do the same for me. In the meantime, I'm just stunned.
Emily is a woman alone, as I am. For a number of weeks, she showed up in class with a walker because one of her knees wasn't working well. And then she had the knee surgically replaced. We prayed for her...and then came the time to put our money where our mouths were.
My co-grandma was doing a lot for Emily. I wanted to relieve her some, since she also is taking care of a live-in son recently diagnosed with Parkinson's Disease. Thus, I took on the Emily taxi thing...but in reality, I had no reason not to! Honestly, I probably got more out of our ventures to Physical Therapy, haircuts, and trips to the grocery store than she did. I came to know her a little bit better by our weekly trips. She struggles the same that I do.
Yesterday, after quite a few weeks, she was finally released to drive. Freedom! And then she showed up on my driveway today like a Greek bearing gifts. Dear Lord, I am humbled by her gifts! I didn't take her places hoping for any thanks or remuneration! I only knew that, were I in her situation, I would need the same help.
So...I wish her God's blessings. She would do the same for me. In the meantime, I'm just stunned.
Sunday, November 4, 2018
This Blog
A few years before I retired from teaching, I had students that insisted I should be on Facebook so they could keep track of me. I thought it was a sweet idea, so, with my daughter's help, I registered on FB. Along about that same time, or shortly before, I also established this blog (short for web log).
In the beginning, I used the blog almost as a diary, not expecting anyone to read it. It chronicled my daily activities and foibles in the same way a journal would, but, over time, it has changed. Now, I write on topics more than just stream of consciousness things. I am proud of some of my posts. Some, not so much. I am also much more aware of the fact that people DO read it and can find it on Internet searches, so I am a bit more careful about what I write, even though I want it to be a factual representation of how I think and feel.
But here is the question: who cares how I think or feel?? Why do I write on this blog at all?
My zillion years of teaching taught me that people just long to be heard. They want to know that they count, that they are needed and accepted. They have opinions that have worth. They have passions that need to be expressed. They have feelings to mean something to others--that someone, somewhere, will understand.
I live alone. There are days--in the winter, MANY days--that I don't come in contact with another human being. Sometimes, the only way to express what I think or feel is to write in this blog. It keeps my brain active at a time when I could easily just hibernate and disappear. Although much of it is just my mind blatherings, there are a few jewels in the mud. Maybe someone can take away something of value to him/her. Maybe a light bulb will come on over someone's head. Maybe my humble little life will encourage someone else to keep going.
Blogs are somewhat self-serving, but they really aren't narcissistic things. Yes, I express myself without debate on here, but I also accept that I'm not the Queen of the Universe. When I die, my child and grandchildren will have a testament to how I tried to live. And that means all the world to me.
In the beginning, I used the blog almost as a diary, not expecting anyone to read it. It chronicled my daily activities and foibles in the same way a journal would, but, over time, it has changed. Now, I write on topics more than just stream of consciousness things. I am proud of some of my posts. Some, not so much. I am also much more aware of the fact that people DO read it and can find it on Internet searches, so I am a bit more careful about what I write, even though I want it to be a factual representation of how I think and feel.
But here is the question: who cares how I think or feel?? Why do I write on this blog at all?
My zillion years of teaching taught me that people just long to be heard. They want to know that they count, that they are needed and accepted. They have opinions that have worth. They have passions that need to be expressed. They have feelings to mean something to others--that someone, somewhere, will understand.
I live alone. There are days--in the winter, MANY days--that I don't come in contact with another human being. Sometimes, the only way to express what I think or feel is to write in this blog. It keeps my brain active at a time when I could easily just hibernate and disappear. Although much of it is just my mind blatherings, there are a few jewels in the mud. Maybe someone can take away something of value to him/her. Maybe a light bulb will come on over someone's head. Maybe my humble little life will encourage someone else to keep going.
Blogs are somewhat self-serving, but they really aren't narcissistic things. Yes, I express myself without debate on here, but I also accept that I'm not the Queen of the Universe. When I die, my child and grandchildren will have a testament to how I tried to live. And that means all the world to me.
Saturday, November 3, 2018
My Cinderella
I finally bit on the proverbial bullet a few months ago and decided that I needed help in maintaining my home. I can take care of the laundry and the dishes and feeding myself--even dusting--but the bigger issues were going undone. Some of them backed up, spiraling out of my control, which contributed to my growing sense of worthlessness. In short, I decided that I needed a cleaning person. No...not JUST a cleaning person. I needed a Cinderella.
I reached out on a local Facebook page. Immediately thereafter, my grandchildren arrived for a visit (which is rare), so I never really checked back on FB. What I got, however, were two responses on FB Messenger from women who clean. I responded to both, saying I would get back to them. Only one actually followed up. So, when the kids left, I contacted her. We met. I checked her references. We agreed on prices and set up a schedule. And that's how I met Cinder-Debbie.
Deb doesn't work for a cleaning service. She is an independent worker. She's in her early 60s--a little slip of a thing--with a Type A personality and energy to burn. She is separated from her husband. She is helping to support a live-in adult son with recovering addiction issues. She has daughters and grandchildren, too. But here's the deal: she is totally aware of my issues (since she cleans for other old folks), anticipates what needs to be done, and does it!
To my utter amazement and gratefulness, she doesn't just do house cleaning. She also does yard work. She likes things to look nice. So, today, with leaves totally covering my yard, I hired her to come (extra) to blow my leaves to the curb. (Where I live in Plainfield, IN, the city has a free service that vacuums up leaves that are blown or raked to the curb.) She's using her own blower!
Yes, I know I am paying her. And yes, I am aware that some people prey on old folks. But not Cinder-Debbie. For instance, when she was here two weeks ago to clean, she noticed that I had a quart jar full of pennies. She volunteered to take it to her bank to cash it in. Today, she brought me the proceeds but was horrified that they didn't give the jar back to her and was determined to replace it. (FYI, I have a ton of empty quart jars in a closet.) She also brought a new rug to put inside my front door because my old rug had lost its rubber backing and was making a mess, slipping all over the place. I said, "That rug had to have cost at least $20." She said she would NEVER pay that kind of money for something like that, and would not tell me how much she did pay. Also, when she is here, she gets really nervous if she sets something down on the floor, worried that I will trip over it.
Today--right now, as I type--she has blown the leaves, has picked up twigs, has raked the leaves into a vacuum-acceptable pile, and has cut down/pulled out the dead stuff under my fence. I didn't ask her to do all of that. She says she loves to do outside work...that it is her "therapy".
God bless the woman! My Cinder-Debbie has become a welcome member of my extended family. I consider myself blessed that we "serendipitously" found each other. If she were just doing a job, I would pay her and be done with it. But this woman is going above and beyond. She is now a friend!
I reached out on a local Facebook page. Immediately thereafter, my grandchildren arrived for a visit (which is rare), so I never really checked back on FB. What I got, however, were two responses on FB Messenger from women who clean. I responded to both, saying I would get back to them. Only one actually followed up. So, when the kids left, I contacted her. We met. I checked her references. We agreed on prices and set up a schedule. And that's how I met Cinder-Debbie.
Deb doesn't work for a cleaning service. She is an independent worker. She's in her early 60s--a little slip of a thing--with a Type A personality and energy to burn. She is separated from her husband. She is helping to support a live-in adult son with recovering addiction issues. She has daughters and grandchildren, too. But here's the deal: she is totally aware of my issues (since she cleans for other old folks), anticipates what needs to be done, and does it!
To my utter amazement and gratefulness, she doesn't just do house cleaning. She also does yard work. She likes things to look nice. So, today, with leaves totally covering my yard, I hired her to come (extra) to blow my leaves to the curb. (Where I live in Plainfield, IN, the city has a free service that vacuums up leaves that are blown or raked to the curb.) She's using her own blower!
Yes, I know I am paying her. And yes, I am aware that some people prey on old folks. But not Cinder-Debbie. For instance, when she was here two weeks ago to clean, she noticed that I had a quart jar full of pennies. She volunteered to take it to her bank to cash it in. Today, she brought me the proceeds but was horrified that they didn't give the jar back to her and was determined to replace it. (FYI, I have a ton of empty quart jars in a closet.) She also brought a new rug to put inside my front door because my old rug had lost its rubber backing and was making a mess, slipping all over the place. I said, "That rug had to have cost at least $20." She said she would NEVER pay that kind of money for something like that, and would not tell me how much she did pay. Also, when she is here, she gets really nervous if she sets something down on the floor, worried that I will trip over it.
Today--right now, as I type--she has blown the leaves, has picked up twigs, has raked the leaves into a vacuum-acceptable pile, and has cut down/pulled out the dead stuff under my fence. I didn't ask her to do all of that. She says she loves to do outside work...that it is her "therapy".
God bless the woman! My Cinder-Debbie has become a welcome member of my extended family. I consider myself blessed that we "serendipitously" found each other. If she were just doing a job, I would pay her and be done with it. But this woman is going above and beyond. She is now a friend!
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