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. 

Happy Mother's Day!

A mother is the truest friend we have when trials heavy and sudden fall up on us; when adversity takes the place of prosperity; when friends desert us; when trouble thickens around us, still will she cling to us and endeavor by her kind precepts and counsels to dissipate the clouds of darkness and cause peace to return to our hearts.
          ~Washington Irving

Myself, my mom and my sister

     Today is Mother's Day and I am incredibly fortunate to be able to spend the day with my own mother. My sister is also here-- she joined us from out-of-state just for this special day.

     Just like most kids, I have wonderful memories of my childhood, almost all of which center around my mother and father. My mom was gentle but absolutely dedicated to what she though was best for my sister and I-- so sometimes her decisions were not what I wanted.  Later, in my young adult years when I was a young mother, her wise counsel and good example helped me mother my own children. If I was a good mother (and I think I was...) it is because of her. 

     She in turn has often spoken of her own mother, and what a wonderful, caring woman she was. My grandmother provided her with a good example to follow.

My mother's mother

     And my own boys are wonderful dads to their kids. My hope is that their children will follow their parents' good example when it is time for them to be parents. 

     I firmly believe there is no greater legacy we can leave our children, no greater gift than the example of being a loving parent. I remember when my father lay dying-- and it was time to turn off all the machines and let him go. He was still lucid, and knew what was going on. It was time to say a final goodbye. I had been thinking about what I could say to him, and all I could think of was this exact thing-- I thanked him for being such a loving, wonderful father and told him that if I had any notion of what a loving Heavenly Father was, it was because my earthly father showed me what true love from a father was. 

     That is the power and the miracle of becoming a parent. It is the gift we are given by our own parents, who despite their human inperfections love us fiercely and do the best they can for us. And it is the mightiest gift we give our own children. What a legacy! 

My mom and three of her four grandchildren-- still an example to them too!

And here she is with her great grandchildren. Another generation of children to experience her unique way of showing love.

     Happy Mother's Day to all the mothers out there, including of course, my own. Never underestimate the power of what you do, of the influence you can have. And take some time today to consider your own mother-- and be thankful for her example of love that carries you forward each day.