Grandma speaks on Covid-19

Thanksgiving 2019

Our last family gathering, Thanksgiving 2019

“Few things are more delightful than grandchildren fighting over your lap.” 

~Doug Larson

Last year for Thanksgiving, Lanny and I were blessed to have my two sons and their families here to celebrate. They were here for the long weekend, so we had a little time to just enjoy each other's company and Grandma Barb could get her fill of hugs from her three grandchildren. My sister and husband, and their daughter and her family that includes three little girls, were able to visit us over that same weekend, so the cousins and second cousins could visit for at least a little while. Grandma was so happy to have them all here!! We missed seeing Krissy and Nate, but they were able to visit at Christmas. 

Little did I know it would be the last time I would see them for a very long time. In fact, it will probably be into next spring if we're lucky before I can see them again. A year, and still counting... And it's because of being quarantined due to Covid-19. Lanny and I fall into the "high risk" category for this virus. That means that a hug from one of these precious offspring could spell disaster for us... and we certainly don't want to transmit it to any of them. The after-effects of this infection can be vast, as it attacks many body systems. Some people have no symptoms, some die, some have damage to vital organs that shorten their lives and make it difficult for the time they have left. And while those in the high risk group tend to fare less well, it is not possible to predict yet who might get a mild case and who might not. 

First, let me say that I have tried very hard to stay upbeat, to not complain about our situation. I am not really a whiner. And, there are so many who are so much worse off than I am. First, I am privileged financially. That is, my income, while fixed, does not depend on me working. So I don't have to risk my health to go to work. And, I am old enough that I do not have to face how to manage virtual school for any child and still try to earn an income. What a dilemma that is! Second,  I haven't lost a family member, nor do I suffer the terrible situation where a family member is in a nursing home and I can't visit them... but I have friends who have. Third, I have access to food delivery from our local grocery store, negating the need to go there in person. We get our prescriptions through a drive through window. We do drive through and pick up from restaurants. So, our physical needs are not in question, nor is the financial issue of how to pay for them. 

Other aspects of life-- the fun stuff-- has also gone virtual. We haven't been to a museum, a concert, an art gallery, a library in forever. We had a wonderful trip to England cancelled, and all other travel plans have been put on hold. But, if I want, I can get online and travel there virtually, and I have. I can get books electronically for a lower cost than buying a book, or our library has a new program where you request the book online and then drive by, where they come out and put it in your trunk.  Art galleries here have had some creative online endeavors to keep patrons engaged. And even work for many has become a virtual endeavor. My son works from home so he can provide supervision for his own children as they attend school virtually. And again, I remember and acknowledge that many, many people do not have the means to afford either a computer or iPad or the internet service that runs them. Some live where internet access is poor. Even around here, in these mountains, internet access can be dicey . 

But, with all the efforts of all these people to keep life ticking, there is one thing that simply cannot be replaced-- face to face human interaction. For me, the deepest felt need is to hug my kids and my grandkids. The lack of it has become almost a physical ache. I have not seen my family in almost a year, and it has been even longer for some of my out of town friends. All of my grandchildren have expressed a certain dislike for virtual school, and while they probably don't realize exactly what is the matter, it is the missing human contact that is probably behind a lot of their dissatisfaction. 

The virus has impacted us all, some more acutely with direct contact with it, others just by the inconvenience of having to deal with it. But I suggest that it is the lack of human interaction that is at the core of all of our suffering. And it is showing up as anger and fear in many. And that anger and fear has been dominating the news, especially during this election.

The answer is, of course, for the virus to go away. Some will say it will go away on it's own, but as a health care person I know better. This is the time for science to reign. Politics will get us nowhere in solving this crisis! The answer is literally right in front of us-- wear the mask, wash the hands, and stay home as much as possible. When you go out, stay as far apart from people as possible. When a vaccine has been shown to be effective and safe, get vaccinated. And we need to have public officials all on the same page, all saying the same thing, so those who do not have a background in health care will understand. Please, please... listen to the experts. And experts are not those in Congress, the White House or local politicians... they are public health experts. And I am advocating that we hold our elected representatives in these high places to account if they do not listen to the experts and base their policy responses to the virus on expert advice. 

One final plea... the way to defeat this virus is to look outside our own needs and attend to the needs of others as well. That's what wearing a mask and social distancing will do. That's why it works. I protect you (and myself to a certain extent) and you protect me (and yourself as well!). It's being a part of the community. Of each of us doing our part. On behalf of grandmothers everywhere, I am begging you to do your part so we can once again hug our grandchildren in person...

Addie and Grandma

Will and Grandma

Sam and Grandma

Going to the Dump!

Memories of childhood were the dreams that stayed with you after you woke.      

~Julian Barnes

     This afternoon Lanny had planned on taking a load of old stuff to the local dump for a toxic material drop off. He had several big cans of latex paint, and some old electronic gizmos that no longer worked that had been taking up space in his work shop. Since we have been quarantined for over 10 weeks now, when he asked if I'd like to go along I jumped at the chance. I mean, who doesn't love a trip to the dump??

     The trip sparked two distinct memories for me. The first one was from my childhood. We lived in a duplex with my grandmother living upstairs and my family downstairs. Grandma Ruth was a saver. She had boxes and boxes of old canning jars and other seldom used old things stored down in the basement. My father was not a saver at all. He looked forward to early spring when he could borrow a friend's pickup truck, clean out the junk in the basement that accumulated over the winter, and haul it away to the local dump. Likewise, a similar cleanup occurred in the fall. He would pull the old truck up so it was parked next to the basement window, head to the basement and start sending boxes of stuff up through the window. The stuff would get loaded into the truck and then hauled away. There was always a "discussion" between my father and my grandmother over the stuff he wanted to get rid of, sometimes ending in the box being carried back down to the basement by my not happy father. Finally the back was loaded up and off Dad would go. Sometimes my sister would go with him... when she was old enough to not get into trouble. I only went once that I can recall. My mother warned me to "stay away from the rats!", which filled me with dread, and a sense of danger that was more than a little enticing. Secretly I was excited. Off we went in that old truck, wind whistling through the open windows. The dump was down a dirt road full of pot holes, so the ride was bumpy. It was stinky when we got there, and my goodness there were indeed rats there. I'd heard about boys learning to shoot by shooting rats with bb guns at the dump... Mountains of trash of all sorts. Did I mention the smell?? Not the place for the prissy little girl that I was. I did not ever ask to go again. 

     The "dump" here in Asheville is a completely different place. An open iron gate with landscaped shrubbery and a paved driveway greeted us. We were met by a friendly gentleman who asked what we were dropping off, and then guided us to the correct place for their disposal using a map. Area Five was a covered building where three more employees (and a friendly labrador retriever) directed us where to place the paint cans. A separate place for electronics was found, and soon the back of Lanny's air conditioned truck was emptied. Except for that distinct smell, it was a completely different experience. Only the smell was the same, and it carried me back to that other dump, long, long ago.

     Our trip took us along the shores of the French Broad River, which after a week of heavy rain, is way over it's banks and has places of thundering white water as it tumbles through the valley on it's way to Tennessee. As we drove along, there were homes and campgrounds all along the bank that were flooded. We used to have our creek back in Avon flood every spring, and apparently the same thing happens here. With climate change, there is more water here than there used to be, so the flooding can cause some real damage. As we drove along looking at it all, I was reminded of the flooding that occurred the year I lived in Hazard, Kentucky. Hazard sits along the East Fork of the Kentucky River, and the ARH Hospital where I worked sat just across the road from the river. I used to follow the river from where I lived in town to the hospital. One day after some pretty heavy rains, I headed in to work. Driving along the river, it was already over it's banks. I could hear the pops of gunshots too. Everywhere. Turns out when the river flooded, river rats had to run up the banks to escape the rising water, and the locals would go sit along the banks and shoot at them... I parked in the employee lot and walked in through a rather small front entrance to the hospital. The visitors' lot was full, which was unusual for that early in the morning. Unbeknownst to me, the flood warnings had been issued locally. The lobby of the hospital was crammed with people, too many for the chairs, so many were sitting on the floors. There were old folks, young folks and children, all crammed into the lobby. I found my way to the unit where I worked and asked what was going on. It was explained to me that where the hospital sat put it at risk of being cut off by the flooding on both sides of the road, making it impossible for anyone to get in or out as long as the road was flooded. The response of the people in the area, many of whom lived up in the hollers on dirt roads, was to bring the whole family down to town and camp out at the hospital... yup. In case somebody got sick, they were already there.  

     This may sound silly, but if you think about it, it makes sense. These were people with very limited resources who were in a scary situation. They came to a place they knew would take them in, keep them safe. 

     There are rising waters in many places right now. If you are in one of them,  I hope you too can find a place that will take you in and keep you safe! And to us all, stay safe and healthy. 

Talking to Birds

"Cardinals appear when angels are near."

~Victoria McGovern

     When I was a kid, my father was an avid bird watcher. He had a maiden aunt who was an Audobon Society bird expert, and he had learned to appreciate birds from her. We always had a full bird feeder in the yard within sight of the front living room window, no small feat in the middle of a Western New York winter. As a small child, I learned to identify blue jays, nut hatches, and especially cardinals. I knew what kind of birdseed they preferred and could identify their song. My father taught me all this and more. In the evenings there was often a male cardinal that would sing from one of the big trees in our yard and often you could hear another cardinal in the distance calling a reply. My father learned to mimic their call, and sometimes he would go out in the yard and start a conversation with them. Yup... my dad talked to cardinals!

     He was a huge presence in my life, of course. A loving father who became my most ardent supporter as I ventured out to make my mark in the world. He doted on my children as well. I could always count on his wise counsel if I was facing a difficulty. He was a good listener.

     The day he died, my mother, sister and I returned home bereft from the hospital to the cottage  my parents lived in, It seemed so empty!  It was a warm, beautiful Indiana June day, so we ended up out on the enclosed porch at the back of the house. Under the windows of the porch was the rose garden my father had planted and tended, and there were several in full bloom. One was a bright yellow rose. Perched on the stem of this gorgeous rose was a yellow bird I'd never seen before. It was there for a moment and then with a chirp it was gone. We all three were stunned. I looked up the bird in Dad's bird book and found that it was a yellow warbler, common in Indiana in June. But we'd never seen one before, and I have not seen one since. My mother remarked that maybe it was my dad, just checking in for one last goodbye.  And ever since then, I have associated my father with birds, especially yellow warblers.

     Here in our mountain home, keeping a bird feeder full of food would be wonderful, but it comes with the knowledge that black bears love bird food and are great tree climbers. Keeping one full is like inviting a black bear to lunch. Indeed, our neighbors have had that exact experience... So, reluctantly, I have not kept a feeder.  Living in the woods, though, we are surrounded by birds, many of them different than those we saw regularly in Indiana. I keep my dad's copy of A Field Guide to the Birds by Roger Tory Peterson close so I can look up any we do see. Lanny has become more than a novice in this regard, and since his eyes are better than mine, he often sees details on a bird that helps us identify it.

     Today, as I was sitting in our living room, there was a tapping sound on the window. I looked out in amazement to see a male cardinal, resplendent in his red plumage, peering in the window at me. He chirped when I looked, tilted his head for a moment and then flew away. I was immediately transported back to my childhood and my father talking to those cardinals, and then I remembered the quote at the top of this blog. Whether it was my father or just a wonderful coincidence, it gave me a warm memory of a central figure in my life. I was reminded of my father's love for me. Of course I miss him, but  his gifts to me fill my life with goodness. And gosh, I needed that in this weird, troubled time!

Many thanks!!

"In ordinary life, we hardly realize that we receive a great deal more than we give, and that it is only with gratitude that life becomes rich." 

~Dietrich Bonhoeffer

     When I was working, especially as a bedside nurse in maternity, often after a baby had been born I was thanked by the family. Often tearful, full of gratitude for the new life in their family, they would thank me over and over again. And my usual response was to tell them that it was a privilege to witness the birth of their baby and my pleasure to care for them during the process. I was only doing my job...

     Fast forward to today. I have been retired for almost ten years (I cannot fathom this... but it's true, according to the calendar...) so it has been a long time since I have been on the receiving end of such grateful expressions. However, I have tried my best to help when I see a need, to be friendly and courteous to those I come in contact with. So occasionally someone thanks me and it feels good. 

     But as I age, more and more, I am finding I must ask for help from other people. I'm not used to that, and I am not comfortable with doing it much. It demands a change in my self image from the caregiver to the one being cared for. That makes me feel weak and old and I don't like it! And this Covid-19 pandemic has made me aware of how vulnerable I have become. I am officially in the "High Risk" group for contracting the disease, at least in terms of age. So we have quarantined ourselves in our mountain home. 

     We have been quarantined for 7 weeks now. In that time I have physically seen my husband, and a handful of neighbors from a distance. I have Zoomed and Facetimed with other friends and especially those grandkids, and it has helped some. I have been outside our neighborhood only twice. Once to pick up a prescription at the drugstore through the drive through window and once to get some fresh vegetables at our local farmers' market (which operated so differently with six feet markers, no touching the produce rules and a central pay desk that used a credit card reader... and we wore masks!) We have our groceries delivered by a local delivery service.

     Today we put in another grocery order, expecting a delay of up to five days and discovering they could do it and deliver it within 2 hours... wow!  I completed the list online and a young man named Graham got the list and shopped it, loaded it into his car and delivered it to us in way less time that we could have done it ourselves. There were a few items I had ordered that were not available, but all of the important stuff was obtained. Graham delivered it to our porch where we could gather it up, one item at a time, sanitize the item and bring it in the house. This process takes awhile but it keeps us a little safer.

     So, as I put the last item away, I got to thinking about Graham, and how lucky we were that he was willing to risk his own health to help us stay protected. Armed with PPE and that sense of invincibility that comes with  youth, Graham wound his way through the store picking the items I had ordered, scanning them, bagging them up, loading them into his car and driving it here. We tip generously, assuming Graham is one of those out of work folks just trying to survive during a very difficult time. There are also the workers at the store who unloaded the stuff from the trucks that delivered them and placed them on the shelves. There are the truck drivers who brought the items from their source. The workers at the plants where the items were manufactured or the farms where they were harvested. So many helpers just to bring us our food!  

     A sense of deep gratitude washed over me. Lanny and I are so blessed... we are healthy, happy together, comfortable in our home with plenty to eat. Health care is available should we need it. All because so many people are out there willing to help us should we need them. Today and every day, I send my deepest thanks. 

"Acknowledging the good that you already have in your life is the foundation for all abundance." 

~Eckhart Tolle

Freedom Through Education

"I think by far the most important bill in our whole code

 is that for the diffusion of knowledge among the people. 

No other sure foundation can be devised, 

for the preservation of freedom and happiness..."

~Thomas Jefferson

     Every morning I start my day by going through my emails and logging on to social media. I enjoy reading and responding to emails sent from friends and family, and to sending out any of my own. I also enjoy catching up on social media, seeing photos of friends and family, new babies, weddings, and all manner of catching up with people I don't see much any more. There are posts having to do with my interests-- knitting and home food preservation being two big ones. There are posts about books I'd like to read, and some on history. There is much to enrich my mornings for sure. 

     This morning I happened on a most interesting history related post. It was from the Monticello Foundation, the organization that maintains the home of Thomas Jefferson in Charlottesville, Virginia. It is a virtual tour of the home, and is so well done I spent the better part of an hour and found I'd only "toured" three of the rooms!  There was his art collection, his collection of Lewis and Clark memorabilia, maps on the wall and various scientific tools of his day. A very interesting piece was a clock in the Hall, with a complex mechanism that worked the clock face above the front door. On the inside it measured hours, minutes and seconds, and a second face on the outside of the house above the door measured just the hour. It is still working, and must be wound weekly, which is a complicated procedure involving a ladder and a big wrench that pulls the clock weights back up to the top of the line they hang from. You can click on the icon by the clock and it takes you to a video of the clock being wound. 

     The tour, though virtual, was as good as the real ones I've taken at Monticello, because the real ones had so many people it was hard to see sometimes. The virtual one allowed me to meander about the room, clicking on the many icons that lead to descriptions and videos and snippets of information given by docents. If you are a history buff, I highly recommend a visit here:

http://explorer.monticello.org/virtualtour/

     As I toured through, one of the things that was emphasized was Jefferson's focus on the importance of education to liberty. His opinion was that educating the populace was so crucial to the system of democratic government he favored that it was all a part of the same system. Public education was critical to the functioning of the government. An uneducated populace was more likely to fall victim to despots, dictators, scam artists and dare I say, conspiracy theories. He was so convinced of this that he founded The University of Virginia in Charlottesville, and on his tombstone that achievement is listed just below Author of the Declaration of Independence. Third President of the United States of America is not mentioned!

     Jefferson's emphasis on public education brings to mind where we are today with our educational system. Teachers are underpaid, feel disrespected, and indeed have been criticized and hounded by public officials who offer up ridiculous testing schedules for students or charter schools with religious ties as the answer to educating our children.  I am not opposed to religious education... if it occurs within a religious organization outside the public system.  I think Jefferson would argue that the emphasis in school should not be religion but in the study of art, science, math, history, philosophy. I agree with him... the goal of education should be to teach the student to think, to use rational thought to solve problems, to learn from history so it isn't repeated and that teaching creativity in art can expand into creativity of thought. A populace educated in that way can solve problems, advance knowledge and the human condition! And, maintain and promote our democracy...

     Jefferson was not a perfect man. He has been justly criticized for being a slave owner and for fathering children with one of his slaves. How could someone who wrote so eloquently of liberty have enslaved so many fellow humans?  I have found I can still find value in his words, in his home, in his enlightenment to the arts, education, science, math, etc. if I include the paradox of his slave owning in the mix. It makes him flawed, less godlike. Brilliant but culpable. A creative, highly educated man who had much to teach us in both his achievements and his flaws. I highly recommend going to the link above, and reading more about this complex man. 

"I know no safe depository of the ultimate powers of the society, but the people themselves: 

and if we think them not enlightened enough 

to exercise their control with a wholesome discretion, 

the remedy is, not to take it from them, 

but to inform their discretion by education. 

This is the true corrective of abuses of constitutional power."

~Thomas Jefferson

Welcome Back! Solitude

the view from our mountain in NC

There are days when solitude is a heady wine that intoxicates you with freedom, others when it is a bitter tonic, and still others when it is a poison that makes you beat your head against the wall.

                                           ~Colette

     It has been quite some time since I have written a blog... much has happened in my life. Three grandchildren, the death of my mother, and a much planned for and anticipated move from Indiana to the mountains of North Carolina. Donald Trump was elected president, and suddenly the world changed on a dime. As I have said to Lanny many times, it feels like I went to bed one night and woke up in an alternate universe. 

     And now, we are facing even harder times with the Covid-19 pandemic. It has been just a few days short of a month that we have been quarantined here in our mountain home. We are shut away from the outside world as much as humanly possible, though as I consider how we are living, I cannot find much to complain about. Being quarantined has been a mixed blessing. First, lets get the whining over with:

1.  I miss seeing my new friends!

2.  I miss going out to eat, to shop, to see and do cultural things here.

3.  I miss being able to go visit my children and grandchildren. Oh how I miss their hugs!!!

4.  I worry a lot about our health. As "seniors" we are at risk for health issues in general. 

5.  The pandemic has caused a national financial crisis, and this has certainly impacted us too. Our "nest egg" dwindles daily...

I know a lot of readers worry about these things too. Nothing feels quite right, does it? 

But... there is much for me to be thankful for. And expressing gratitude can be contagious, so here is a list of what I am thankful for:

1.  I live in a world of technology, where I can use social media like Facebook to interact with my friends. When you have to type out what you want to say, it can certainly make you think twice about what exactly  you are saying!

2.  We are being encouraged to help local restaurants by ordering take out food. However, we live far enough from town that most things are not hot by the time we get them home. And there is the fear of some viral contamination. So... we cook! Sometimes together (my favorite!) or sometimes he cooks, mostly I do. And I try to be creative. AND we get groceries delivered to the house. Wow... that is really amazing. I may keep that up after this whole thing is over!!

3.  Again, technology helps grandparent/grandchildren interactions with FaceTime. It's simple, and gives both sides a sense of being together. It is reassuring to hear how parents are coping with having the kids home, howe e-learning is happening, how they are amazingly resilient. Kudos to moms and dads for helping kids not be afraid. 

4.  Our health is excellent. We are forced to focus on staying that way, by such things as walking every day (where we live it really is uphill both ways!!). It's easy to walk here because the scenery is so magnificent. And it's spring... it's been a beautiful one so far. There is a reason Aaron Copeland named his piece Appalachian Spring!!

5.  We can't go out so there is not much to spend money on. Our expenses have dropped significantly. We are financially fine. 

6.  Being forced to stay away from people, for distancing ourselves from the world in general, has made us much more aware of what we do with all our time, what is important, who is important to us. It has caused a lot of introspection. Lanny and I are closer than ever because we seem to be in synch with what we see as important. We tend to talk more about what is important, to have a little more patience with each other, to find a little bit of joy each day with each other. 

Don't get me wrong... this quarantine has been scary and not much fun. But it isn't all bad. And I have much to be thankful for. 

"Enough" is a feast!

               ~Buddhist proverb

What we do matters...

Remember there's no such thing as a small act of kindness. Every act creates a ripple with no logical end.          ~Scott Adams

She had been retired for four years, and with each passing month she felt farther and farther removed from the work world that had dominated her life. It was such a pleasant life, this getting up when she woke up and going to bed when she was tired! After her husband had retired, they did most things together. They took trips together that were wonderful-- Italy and Switzerland, the southwest US... and of course to visit family. Grocery shopping. Socializing with couple friends. It seemed the only time she went out by herself was to visit her aged mother and the occasional meal out with old friends. She found herself feeling a little isolated...

When the invitation to join some former work friends for lunch came, she jumped at the chance. It had been a long time since she'd visited with these friends. They were all nurses, one was retired like she was, the other two still working. They had been part of a leadership team that had meant a great deal to her-- together they'd built a fledgling new hospital into an excellent center of healing.

They met at a local restaurant, just a short distance from the hospital so the two still working could get back to work quickly. The server who waited on them was a large woman, fairly young. She was all business, and very efficient and polite. Like all good servers, she made herself useful without intruding on the lively conversation that the group of four were having.

They talked about their families, their lives, how the hospital was faring these days. They laughed and shared a few photos. The food was really not that important to the enjoyment of the get together, but it was good.

About the time they were ready to take the checks, the server approached them. She looked at one of them and asked, "Did you work at the hospital?" Shelley nodded. The server looked again, this time at Nell and asked the same question, "Did you work at the hospital?" All four chimed in-- "We all did! Two of us still do!"

She had been approached in the past when out in public by former patients who remembered her and she always held her breath, thinking, "Did I do a good job for them? Did everything go okay? Are they okay now?" She was certain all four were thinking this as the server spoke. What if she is going to complain? Or get mad?

The server began to tell her story... of how she had her baby (on the unit Barb was leading at the time...), ended up with complications that resulted in a two week stay on the Med/Surg unit (that Lisa had led...) and a referral to the Wound Specialist (Shelley!). And Nell, the VP of Nursing at the time, had been in to visit with her several times during her stay to make sure everything was going okay. Each of the four had touched her life in some way. Their jobs had been to make sure her stay went well.

The server ended her story by saying, "Thank you for the work that you do. Thank you for your kindness. It made all the difference. What you do matters to those of us out here... God Bless You!"

Still a little misty thinking about this, she realized that what she will remember most from the server speaking to them is  "What you do matters to those of us out here... " She will try to remember those words when she feels isolated and perhaps a little left behind. Kind acts of service years ago can have a ripple effect that one will rarely will ever know about. No matter one's profession, what we do matters. Not only nurses, but literally everyone... even retired people... can impact the lives of those around us in ways we can't fully know. What we do matters.

Perhaps the dream isn't dead?

I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.

                    ~Martin Luther King, Jr.


February is Black History Month.  I have heard that my grandsons are learning some important lessons in pre-school and pre-K about the contributions that black people have made to our country. My son recently posted this photo on Facebook of 5 year old Sam's project on Mary Eliza Mahoney, the first black nurse in America.

Of course I was touched to the core by Sam's use of me as the example of how to be caring. What grandmother doesn't want to be seen in this way by her beloved grandchildren! And his interpretative drawing of his grandmother as a skinny blond made me smile even bigger. I will admit to a few happy tears!

I've been thinking about Sam's project all week...

First of all, I think all my fellow nurses would be pleased that a 5 year old's description of a nurse is strong, brave, loving and caring. Yup... that's a nurse!  I think of all the times I had to move a 200+ pound pregnant woman, immobilized by an epidural, up in bed or over on her side all by myself, or assist the surgeon during a cesarean using close to brute force to extricate the baby, or bend and stoop over and under a bed... well, no wonder my feet and joints are a mess. And having to intervene in a family dispute occurring in the hospital while a woman was in labor happened way more often than I care to think about, and it took some bravery. Or to call a physician in the middle of the night with bad news. And of course, Ms. Mahoney had all this and a terrible lot more to deal with. She did her nursing duties without the one huge obstacle I never had to face-- institutionalized bigotry. This is a burden so large I can't adequately speak to it, other than to say that she is indeed a superhero to me for having persevered through that.

But there is more to this than just a thank you to a nurse and an acknowledgement of her achievements. Look at Sam's drawings...

She was as strong as Iron MAN. As brave as a fireMAN. As loving as his family. As caring as his Grandma Barb.  There is a lot of diversity in this...

Sam lives in a suburb of Washington, DC in what has to be one of the most diverse places in the country. The son of German/English and Italian/Irish parents, his classmates and friends are all colors, from all over the globe, diverse religions, and women and men who work outside and inside the home along side each other. In Sam's world, women are as strong and brave as men, and men are as caring and loving as women. And different religious beliefs mean he gets to participate in new holidays-- he loves the Sedar meal served during Passover at his friend's house, and singing songs about Hannukkah as well as Christmas in December. I have heard other languages I couldn't even identify spoken at his preschool program. And the diversity of culture means many, many different restaurant choices for us to try when we visit!

A kid growing up in this environment barely notices when people look or talk differently than he does... and so it was natural that he would describe a black woman from long ago (when women were seen as weak, and black people were routinely mistreated to the extreme...) in terms that are usually reserved for white male superheroes.  I love this... Sam's view of the world is the one that feminists from his grandmother's era were striving for. And that I think Martin Luther King, Jr. was referring to when he gave his "I have a dream" speech. I'm not saying we've fixed racism, sexism, religious bigotry--not by a long shot. But Sam's experience gives me hope that it is possible.

Bless this little boy, and his mommy and daddy and his teachers and all his friends...

Just a Mundane Monday?

If you wait, all that happens is that you get older.          ~Larry McMurtry, Some Can Whistle

     Last weekend Lanny and I had a wonderful conversation reminiscing about the time when we were dating. He remembered very fondly the first time I invited him to my home for dinner. It was a weekday evening, so I had had to work that day. However, I managed to prepare a delicious beef burgundy and bake a peach pie. My intent was to wow this new man in my life with my culinary skills, and it worked... so much so that he could recount, over a decade later, vivid details of the meal. He was whistful in his remembering-- and it dawned on me that I had not ever fixed this dish since that evening.

     This past Monday, with that conversation fresh in my head, I realized that I had all the ingredients for beef burgundy-- including a large bottle of burgundy wine. Neither of us had any plans for the day, and it was a beautiful day weather-wise, so Lanny planned on spending it working out in his shop. I was planning on spending the day knitting. I had no plans for dinner, thinking that when the time came I'd grab something out of the freezer and throw a meal together. As I thought about our conversation it dawned on me that delaying a special meal until the weekend was just stupid. The time to treat my husband and I with a special meal was now.

     I had fixed a nice meal on Sunday night, so I knew the last thing Lanny would expect was a second special meal. The element of surprise made it all the more fun. I set to work, getting the beef thawed and cut up, browning it and some onions, mixing the wine and some beef stock, peeling and mincing garlic. I even found a loaf of french bread in the freezer, and set to making some garlic bread. I had the whole thing in the oven in about a half hour. It takes three hours or so to let the meat slowly cook in the wine, so I cleaned up the prep dishes and spent the rest of the afternoon knitting, as planned.

     The aroma of the meat simmering in the wine filled the house and was literally intoxicating... and when Lanny came in from the shop his eyes lit up. He knew something good was in the oven. I had set the table with the new placemats and linen napkins and got out the good wine glasses. I opened a bottle of better red wine (burgundy, in my opinion, is okay for using in recipes but not really all that good as a drinking wine-- especially the cheaper kind that is available in the grocery store).  It didn't take long to prepare the mashed potatoes and the peas, so when Lanny came downstairs after a quick shower, dinner was ready.

     His delight while eating the meal only increased my own pleasure... we sat longer than usual sipping wine and remembering the first time I'd fixed the dish. My plan was to remind him that I still loved doing special things for him, that he was very special to me. In doing so, my own day had become a special one... and it was "just a Monday". There is no time like today to make those you love feel special-- whether it is a special meal fixed for their pleasure, or a special experience, or perhaps just an expression of your love for them. Whatever it is, make today special!!

The American Girl

I think she is growing up, and so begins to dream dreams, and have hopes and fears and fidgets, without knowing why or being able to explain them.           ~ Louisa May Alcott, Little Women

     In May my granddaughter Addie turned six. She has had a terrific first year of school, tackling kindergarten with enthusiasm. To my amazement, she learned to read. It was time... you see, I have been waiting on her to learn to read before I gave her a special gift. I wanted to give her an American Girl Doll.

     For those who don't know about American Girl Dolls, they are high quality dolls, all of them are 18 1/2 inches tall, and come in a rainbow of skin, hair and eye colors. Some of the dolls are characters from different times in American history-- so one doll may be modeled to be from the 1810's, complete with a wardrobe and accessories from that time period. These dolls based on history all have books where the doll's character is the heroine.

     You can buy these dolls online, through a catalogue, or you can visit a store. There is a large American Girl Doll store in Chicago in the Water Tower Place, a high end shopping center right on Michigan Avenue. It is about 3 1/2 hours from central Indiana, where Addie and I live.

     I have a dear friend Kathy whose granddaughter Karolina just turned seven and is already an American Girl Doll enthusiast. Kathy suggested that she and I take our granddaughters together up to Chicago for a day of shopping and girl fun. So... last Friday that is exactly what we did.

     I had an American Girl Doll catalogue here for Addie to look through, so she could figure out which of the many choices in dolls she would like. Did she want one of the ten or so historical character dolls or did she want to get one that would look just like her, with similar skin, hair and eye tones? She spent quite a bit of time mulling this important question over, and we decided she could make up her mind when we got to the store.

     Addie had never traveled outside of our local area, so a 3 1/2 hour car ride was a real adventure. She told us as we drove through northern Indiana flat farm country that she'd never seen a farm before. We passed a windmill farm, and that was new to her. We stopped at a rest stop on the interstate, and that was new too. And finally, when we spotted the skyline of Chicago looming in the distance, she got her first view of a really big city. As we drove into the downtown area, with all the skyscrapers, she was awestruck. Karolina had been there before, so wasn't quite as impressed... but both girls chattered excitedly about being in the city.

     We parked the car in a high rise parking garage and walked a short distance to the store. Michigan Avenue ("The Magnificent Mile!") was full of all manner of people, honking traffic, and the noise of the city. Addie held my hand tightly! We passed beggars and a homeless man asleep on the sidewalk, and saw people of all kinds, including a woman in a full berka (that generated an excellent conversation on how people can have very different opinions and beliefs than we do...) When we walked in the front door of the store, she was awestruck... there in front of her were thousands upon thousands of the most beautiful dolls she'd ever seen. We walked the displays and looked at all the historic character dolls (there was one named Addy that I thought she might go for...) and then we took the escalator (Yes! This store is two floors of doll displays, and has it's own escalator!) up to the "My American Girl" department. Here were display cases full of dolls of many hues-- starting from pale skin toned blond hair and blue eyes all the way through dark skin, black hair and brown eyed dolls. There were probably 50 or so of them.

     Addie picked a doll that looked just like her-- reddish blond "caramel" hair, blue eyes and light skin.  At first she named the doll "Candy" but as the day wore on that changed to "Isabelle"-- perhaps because of the featured doll of that name that was a ballet dancer, or perhaps because Addie just loved the name. At any rate, we looked at the clothing for the dolls, matching clothing for little girls, all the accessories (one of the historical character dolls from 1974 comes with a Volkswage bug convertible!) and furniture. Karoline bought some clothing for her doll, and then took the doll to the Ear Piercing Salon. Yes. You read that right. An ear piercing salon for the doll... her doll emerged with pretty silver earrings in her ears and 5 more pair of earrings to change into as needed. There was also a doll hair salon, a doll hospital, a bakery/sweet shop, and a restaurant. Even the bathroom stalls had special hooks to hang your doll on while you completed your task. I was amazed! Addie was thrilled!

     We had reservations mid afternoon for lunch at the restaurant, which gave us some time to hang out with the girls in Water Tower Place. We went to the Lego store, and then had great fun going up and down on the escalators and the glassed in elevators. Addie probably could have skipped lunch and just ridden the escalator, but soon it was time to go eat.

Having fun in the Lego store!

     The restaurant was at the back of the store, and was decked out in linen tableclothes and napkins. They had booster seats for the dolls (!) and once the dolls and the little girls were seated, the dolls got their own dish and cup. The napkin holders were hair ribbons. The desserts were decorated with silk flowers that could also be added to a doll's hair (or even better-- to a little girl's!) We dined elegantly on a four course meal that was delicious, ridiculously expensive for a 6 and 7 year old, and a lot of fun. The girls were on their best behavior, and were polite and fun.

Addie with her doll named Isabelle

Karolina with her doll named Rebecca

Two Grandmas and their Granddaughters having lunch at the American Girl Cafe in Chicago

     The ride home was a little quieter in the back seat. Addie hugged Isabelle most of the way. Karolina hugged her doll too. The girls chattered away happily, watching DVD's at times and playing on Ipads as well. We arrived home after dark, way past Addie's bedtime. She was still excited about the day but very, very sleepy. She went to bed at Grandma's house in her special little girl bed, dreaming dreams of travel, adventure and of her new doll. Grandma fell asleep too, tired but happy to have spent the day on such a grand adventure, with a very special little girl!

     Was the store a bit over the top? Well, yes. Was it too expensive? Absolutely. Perhaps I was really shopping for myself? Maybe... But I only have one granddaughter, and I have looked forward to taking her to this store for a long, long time. I think we created some memories that both of us will remember for our whole lives.  And that, quite honestly, was worth the time, money, and effort!

Karolina and Addison-- they are in front of a display with a historic doll named Caroline and another one named Addy!

This is Addie the next morning, hugging her new doll named Isabelle.

Musings on my college graduation...

This is the time to remember because it will not last forever; 

these are the days to hold on to because we won't although we'll want to.

          ~Billy Joel

Yesterday afternoon I was knitting and found my mind wandering a bit... and then it hit me. Forty years ago I had graduated from college. Forty years!  I found myself remembering a lot about that time in my life-- the four years I spent in college were formative-- I entered a kid, really. And graduated as an adult, ready and eager to take my place in the world. Full of ideals and plans for my life.

There were four of us who became fast friends that first semester of our freshman year at the University of Michigan. All of us were nursing students. I thought of the four of us and how different our lives have turned out than what we thought. My college roomie is perhaps living the closest to what I would have predicted for her-- but even she had a few unexpected turns in her life. She isn't married to the person she thought she would marry back when she was a freshman. She matured past the high school boyfriend, eventually met another wonderful guy as a junior, and married him a year or so after graduation. She was a nurse, loving the complicated patients in the ICU-- but eventually "left the bedside" for a job in research with a pharmaceutical company. Happily, she is still married to that wonderful guy and has two delightful daughters and a son-in-law and grandson. And she too retired recently.

Then there is the one who was the most cheerful of the four of us-- always laughing, always trying to look at the bright side of life. She was extremely popular with the guys as a freshman, dating lots of them. She met a special one, married him the summer before we were seniors. She worked in various bedside nursing jobs early on, but finally found her niche in social work and counseling. Her marriage ended abruptly and very badly after 25 years, leaving her single with 2 almost grown sons. She swore off men, got the boys raised and then started going on mission trips... where she met a wonderful widowed man who eventually convinced her to risk marriage again-- and she has been very happily married ever since. Her new family includes step sons and daughters and I'm not even sure how many grandchildren. She loves them all! She has retired as well.

Another of our fab four left nursing school after her personal life came crashing down with a broken engagement. She never graduated, but eventually married a guy she met in school. She was the one who drifted the farthest from our group-- though kept in touch with us. And she is the only one who is no longer with us. She passed away suddenly from a devastating stroke at too young an age.

And then there is me. I met my husband the first week of freshman year, and that was it-- we were a couple almost immediately and eventually married 2 years after graduation. That marriage lasted 26 years, long enough for us to raise two wonderful boys. I went into OB nursing, as I had predicted I would. I worked at the bedside the longest of any of the four of us, but eventually got into administration and an office. After my divorce, I swore off men too. But that was a lonely life, so I gave an internet dating service a try and met Lanny...  and you all know how well that turned out! I am also retired from nursing.

All of us at the time of our graduation envisioned happy lives spent with the men we had met in college and fallen in love with. We envisioned a happy family life, a rewarding career that would make us all contributors to the society we lived in. Each of us experienced bumps along the way-- marital breakups, seriously ill children, jobs that were so hard on us either physically or mentally that we had to leave them... and one of us died way too soon. But each of us, I think, did live up to the expectation of making the society we lived in a better place. And each of us, I think, would agree that we were better people because of the friendships formed with one another that first semester of our freshman year at University of Michigan.

I have been reading lots of posts on Facebook about graduations. Last night we could hear the reverie of a graduation party in the neighborhood... and I think about all those young people with hopes and expectations for their futures, just as I had when I graduated.  My wish for them is to find friends to travel the road with, to help them with the bumps in their lives. And to realize there will be bumps, the road won't be straight at all, and there will be moments of sadness, tragedy and desperation. Friends will help them face all of that without loneliness or fear.

So here's to you Cindy, Donna and Marty! And Jean and Kathy! And of course Patty! And Kathy and Karen! And all the other friends along the path of my life. Thank you all for enriching my life, for making it the grand adventure it has been. And here's to the journey as we all head into the future-- which remains as bright as the day we graduated because of our friendships...

Here I am with my closest college friends at our last reunion a couple years ago. None of us has lived life exactly as we thought... but we've contributed to society and stayed friends.

My friends have made the story of my life. In a thousand ways they have turned my limitations into beautiful privileges and enabled me to walk serene and happy in the shadow cast by my desperation.

         ~Helen Keller

A cherished visit from the little people

I love these little people; and it is not a slight thing when they, who are so fresh from God, love us.          ~Charles Dickens

     The little black SUV pulled away from the house in the very early morning light, windows down, two sets of little arms waving through them. Goodbyes and I Love You's were shouted from both the car and the front porch, where the grandparents waved almost as hard as the children. The grandmother watched as the car pulled out onto the road, and was gone.

     Still in her bathrobe, she turned to go back into the house. It was dark, despite the light on in the living room. There on the floor were the remnants of toys and games that had provided so much fun for the little ones. She could pick them up later-- the day stretched in front of her now, void of much excitement or activity. She smiled at the pirate ship toy that had been so popular with all of the children... it was a good garage sale find.

     Walking into the kitchen, she picked up the last bits of a hurried breakfast with the children. Just minutes before she had sat at the table with the two little boys, telling herself to cherish and remember the quiet sleepy conversations she had with each of them as they ate their bagels and bananas. The table was still a bit sticky-- and would need to be washed off... later. On the refrigerator were the crayon colored drawings of both boys-- one done with a bit of precision, that had been presented to her "to help you remember me..." and the other a glorious mashing of colors outside the lines, drawn with gusto but left behind as an afterthought. She smiled at how different these two brothers were-- one is deep thinking, verbal, sensitive and precise, the other dashes through his day with gusto, often unwilling to share his thoughts with his grandmother, a bit rebellious, and full of fun. They were exhausting, and yet they were, along with their cousin, the lights of her life. This had been a wonderful 3 day visit, complete with two days of extended family here to celebrate the birthday of their matriarch. There had been tons of family laughter and reconnecting with seldom seen loved ones. She had worked hard in the kitchen, spent a few hours overseeing three active children, tended to getting tables on the deck, making sure everyone had drinks and food and whatever else they needed. The family didn't get together like this often, and the time spent with them and memories made were precious.

     She was unaccustomed to rising so early and had not slept well that night so she climbed the stairs to her bedroom for a try at a few more hours of sleep.   Walking down the upstairs hall she passed the guest room where her son and wife had slept, and then the room where the boys stayed. Sheets were a mangled mess, intertwined with books and stuffed animals. Vacant beds that only a few minutes before had held her precious grandsons and their parents. Empty. Quiet. She noted the sheets would need to be washed today... later.

     She opened the door to her bedroom, went in and closed it. She climbed into the bed, pulled the sheets up and closed her eyes. Memories fluttered through her mind of the weekend... It was so quiet... She smiled... and fell asleep.

   

Lessons from Adolescence

The hardest thing about adolescence is that everything seems too big. There's no way to get context or perspective, ..... Pain and joy without limits. No one can live like that forever, so experience finally comes to our rescue. We come to know what we can endure, and also that nothing endures. 
          ~ Sara Paretsky, Bleeding Kansas

I was reminded today of a painful time in my adolescence. I am not going to give specifics, but suffice it to say that there was a time in my young life when I was unhappy and felt pretty alone. It was a short time, and is something that has never dominated my life or my self confidence. I was very lucky in that I had a loving family who helped me over the bump-- and I was able to remove myself from the situation that was making me so miserable. Life went on, and so did I. I "got over it"...

Also today, Lanny and I were having a discussion that turned a bit serious, and we were both worrying about our offspring. They are doing fine, but as parents we see the bumps in their roads and want to help smooth them out. That is what parents tend to want to do.

As I thought about it, I realized two things. First, without those bumps in the road of my adolescence, I might not have been able to weather the really big bumps that came later in life with my divorce. Those feelings of being alone and unwanted could have been my undoing-- except that I had experienced them before and had tackled them by simply putting one foot in front of another and "getting over it".

So, the second realization I had was that Lanny and I cannot solve our kids' problems for them. To do so might make life easier in the present, but it just might deprive them of a learning experience that would help them over a bigger bump later on.

That doesn't mean we don't help them out when we can. Helping is one thing-- solving things for them is another. And lest you wonder, both Lanny and I spoke today of how proud we are of our kids. They are all doing well, living independently and contributing good things to the world. And someday, if they ask for advice about their own kids, I'll tell them to love and support them, but NOT to fix all their problems... but that's another blog post!

Even as kids reach adolescence, they need more than ever for us to watch over them. Adolescence is not about letting go. It's about hanging on during a very bumpy ride.

          ~Ron Taffel

The confidence and happiness I find in my life now is partially due to learning the hard way how to deal with the bumps life threw at me. The same is true for Lanny.