Coming Full Circle

This has been sitting in my list waiting to be edited since July 22, 2011.  I only mention this to encourage you fellow procrastinators out there.  You know who you are.

Lately many things have been reminding me how lucky I am to have grown up where and when I did.  If you don't know that you already won a lottery by being born in America, think about that for a minute.  The odds are not great, when you think about how big the world is.  Add in the rate of abortions and the odds get a lot slimmer.  So if you are born in America, as far as I am concerned, you are already extremely lucky.

In addition to being born an American, I was also lucky enough to split my childhood between two small Missouri towns, so everywhere I went, everybody knew me.  Or at least who I belonged to, which will go a long way toward having no need for a formal police force, as any one from a small town will tell you.

Most of my teachers in high school were long time residents and graduates of our small school, so there was not a lot of political correctness observed. Of course these were days before political correctness, the 80's to be exact.  In fact, most of us were related one way or another, and it was not uncommon for one teacher or another to lecture us as if we were their own children.  Don't get me wrong, they were our teachers, and we knew that.  But they were also our neighbors, relatives, and elders, and they took their jobs seriously in that they brought us up and trained us as if they were going to be living beside us for the rest of their lives.  In other words, we were brought up the right way.  We were held accountable.  We learned that to try to pull the wool over their eyes was futile, and that the odds of our parents taking our side against theirs were slim indeed.  Where there are few people, there is often much sense.  I believe this strongly.

So, about 6 years ago I had agreed to meet a girl I grew up with for supper to catch up.  We went up to the local Pub and got seated, as it happens, at a table adjacent to where one of our high school teachers was sitting.  The Pub was owned by her son, who is also a distant cousin to at least me if not my friend also.  You get the picture?  There are no strangers around here, not for long.  I do not want to embarrass her so I will not name her here, as anyone who knows her will not need the name provided.  Not that she should be embarrassed, but she is a lady, and I was raised never to put one in a compromising position. Ahem, (a nod to my former superintendent, who as far as I am concerned pretty much walked on water.)  But I digress...

My friend and I had at this time two daughters about 13 and 14 years old.  We proceed to dive into a discussion of how horrible our girls are behaving, how outrageous their clothes choices,and how they were driving us completely crazy.  Between the laughter and the (mostly) suppressed cussing, were having a really good conversation.  At one point, my friend is trying to find words to express her feelings on the length of a skirt her daughter tried to leave the house in and is speechless.

I look at her and say "I said the words, "Not while I'm still living."... with a wide eyed look that intimated that was the end of the line and I was now my mother  (a notion that had hounded me all my life and I was beginning to make peace with).  I knew she understood all that this implied.  Mainly, we were now old, man.........and at that point our former teacher ( and neighbor, and distant relative) bursts out laughing, wipes her eyes, and says "I'm sorry girls.........I just cannot tell you how good it is to see you two  here and know that you have teenagers now!  It's just so gratifying......."  laughing hysterically.

We looked at each other and told her we were getting to the age where we could understand her perfectly well!  It struck me how refreshing it was to be called a girl again, and I felt such comfort.  I knew that I was not alone.  I also knew that while my only teacher had only sons, she had invested her time for decades trying to prepare us girls for the experiences my friend and I had just been discussing.  Not because the former teacher had to, but because she had known, when we did not, exactly what was going to come to us, regardless of what path we chose in life.  This led to much reminiscing that night.

That teacher was the one who told me and the rest of my class that women were never to wear white before Memorial Day or after Labor Day.  Being the children of the first generation of women to work, that information had gotten lost in the shuffle. In those days I was under the impression that we were not going to have to know how to garden or can food because we were going to work.  We were going to have careers.  If I gave any thought to who would raise our children, I do not remember it.  I probably was still under the impression that the pill worked without fail.

I hope you can see that I have come full circle.  

I can remember that teacher also telling us how important it was for us, especially as women, to take some time at the end of the day to have things just be quiet for awhile.  She said life provided enough background noise and if we went to bed listening to music, we wouldn't get any quiet time and it was essential.  We rolled our eyes at the time.  Now I can only hope she knows how much I appreciate everything she ever told me, if belatedly.  She might be surprised at how much I remember, and I would hope she would also be gratified.  She should be.  She worked for hardly any wages at all and little retirement for no other reason than that she was born to teach.  I would like to thank her and all my teachers for their service.  I hope they know that it was not in vain.l

The older I get, the more I realize how much I have always been surrounded by people who have had my own best interest in mind, even when I didn't.  This was just one teacher, and just one moment, where she got to know for sure that not only were we getting everything we deserved, but we were handling it appropriately.  If I didn't feel like a grown up before then, I certainly did then.

I proudly take my place with the older ladies.  I have finally earned it, and it has been worth it.

Thank you for giving me a good example and insisting that I follow it, even if it meant yelling at or embarrassing me.  The world would have been a much harder teacher, and without you I would have been woefully unprepared.

You taught me not only that I didn't know everything, but to have the respect to listen to another side ( a miracle with teenagers and an example I have struggled to match with raising my own).   This was enough, but to listen to me complain about my own and to be on my side when I came full circle?  There are no words.  There is only me and all the other kids you taught, continuing the lessons we were taught so well.

I am bad at this....

I have fallen down on the blogging again. Sorry to anyone who cares.  I just seem to feel that I should have something to actually say.  Which is silly.  I almost always have something to say, so here are my thoughts in case anybody cares.

I read a cute little sign today that said Middle Age: when you get your head together and your body starts falling apart.

I think that was a true and brilliant sign.  My body is still holding together but the wrinkles are starting to get me down.  So I started using a rich emollient night cream.  I had noticed no difference in the wrinkles when I had to  suffer through large, below the skin pimples. The kind that hurt all the time and stay forever, are you familiar?  Presumably from all the rich emollients, but there is not way to really pin it down.  

After about a week of having at least one large, below the skin pimple throb in rhythm with my heartbeat every time I so much as leaned over, I gave up on the night cream, questioning God on why I am still plagued by an adolescent's burdens.

This set me up perfectly for the Home Shopping Channel to show me some kind of machine that 'stimulates' your skin and apparently freezes it to make you look about 20 years younger.  OR at least as many years ago as you didn't have wrinkles, I guess it would depend on your age.  The demonstration was both miraculous and mesmerizing.  I can only hope is isn't actually some kind of machine that will shock my muscles into paralysis.  But even if it is and it works like it did on television I think I may still be very very happy.  At least about my appearance.

Anyway, it was a very reasonable price, so I picked up the phone, which if you have ever called them before, you already know that all you have to do after that is keep pressing 1 and presto zingo, your treasure is on it's way to your door.  There is no time for deciding or questioning your impulse.  This is the American way, although you can always get your money back with HSN.  I will not list the hoops you have to jump through, and I hope you never have to find out.  Just don't throw anything away and you will probably be fine.

Now all I have to do is live with the dread of spending even a very reasonable amount of money on something that may or may not work but at the very least may stop me from spending time or energy on the horrible pimples.  I mean really, people, I am fricking 47 now.  Still with the pimples?  I have to wonder if they are not some kind of sign from God that I am doing something wrong.  Or maybe a punishment from something I did when I was 14.  There must be a reason.  If I only knew what it was I would certainly fall into line, but no, I just wander around hoping nobody else can see very well anymore either.  And honestly, considering where I go and the people who are at those places, the odds are VERY GOOD that they can't see anymore either.  I always did hang out with people who were older than me, and all can do is congratulate myself on that.  Good on you, girl!  You have a very good seat to see what's coming attcha and at least some information on what you can possibly do about it!!

This is my comfort.  If it comforts you also, you should stay home all the time and then when you do go out only hang out with people who are older than you are.  We have to take our comforts where we find them, and I am telling you that you could do a lot worse.  You could probably do a lot better too, and if so I only wish you would contact me immediately.

I read a book about a woman the other day who was going through a stage where "she didn't feel like a mother, a writer (her job), or even much of a woman", these days, and I thought "Hmmm.  Other people feel this way too."  At least one other person, in this case Joyce Carol Oates, but it was just so good to know that SOMEBODY else had been where I seem to be at.  For the lady in the book this meant big changes.  I can only hope it portends the same thing for me.  One big help would be for me to be able to drag up any desire to do anything.  Yesterday I didn't really even eat anything.  It's like I'm languishing.  Remember Charlotte's web?  I always thought 'languishing' sounded so relaxing, and I can't say it's not.  It is a little scary to my head, but every other part of me just can't bring themselves to care enough to get up.  Perhaps Geritol is the answer I seek.  Do they still make Geritol? 

Will I care if they don't?  

I DOUBT IT!

Until then I will be awaiting the arrival of the miracle machine from HSN ( but not anxiously, because I just don't care that much).  After that I may be euphoric and re-charged (who am I kidding here?  Me or you?), or in a rage to get my money back and kicking myself in the butt for buying into the BS again (much more likely.  If you are a betting person, the odds are good here).

It could go either way, but probably both of these things will happen in exactly this order (truth).

The bright note of the week was when I tried to explain to some college student why it was not a good idea to raise the minimum wage again.  I asked him where he went to school but I should have just asked for his mother's phone number. Because whose fault would that really be?  The school's?  No.  Ultimately it is the parent's responsibility and all this finger pointing going on in this country is about to make me go postal.  Where are all the adults??  You may ask.  I can't help but think we are all wondering.

He backed away quickly in any case.  No doubt on a community organizing event, organized by his college, or "school", on the taxpayer's dime.   Sigh.......

Oh, and I had to laugh the other day at what 'scientists' have now termed "care-giver fatigue".  This is a 'syndrome' in which you become exhausted from caring for children and/or older parents, especially if you have both.  This is what we used to call 'life', of course, but now that they have made it a 'syndrome' no doubt drugs and therapy programs will follow.  Just cannot wait to see what they do with this.  Be warned, and stay sane, ladies and gentleman.  When they come to you, and you know they will, probably catching you by some random question on the questionnaire to get in to see the doctor, be ready to laugh in their faces and shout Poppycock!  Tell them that you are blessed to have so many people who love you and that taking care of them, while, yes, exhausting, is also the reason you are on this earth.  Tell them that to have someone else fulfill these 'obligations' would be a betrayal of the care these same people have given, or will give, to you, and you would not have it any other way.  Then question why they think the Dr., or the government (not much difference anymore) would even get involved in that.  THEN tell them the government may find more success if they stick to the defense of this nation and the highways.  If they can do that right that would be more than enough.  Really.  Be a responsible adult in charge.  It's a new concept I'm trying to get off the ground.  OK, it's an old concept.  Old as the world, actually, but to these kids now it's new again.  Carry the flag, pass the baton, give these kids some kind of security that there are adults in charge.  Please?

Another bright note is that in Missouri we are now into the normal mowing season.  I only mention this because we were forced to start mowing in March this year, as opposed to the more normal May, and this caused quite a lot of consternation on how to mow the grass but keep the flowers yet to bloom undisturbed. 

Of such small problems may all of your lives be made up of, until next time!

The Secret Of Life.....

I suppose that there as many 'secrets of life' as there are people, but for me it is learning to live in the moment.  One thing about getting older is you feel you have seen or heard about pretty much everything before, and you also know that most of the time, people will live through it and life will go on.  

I find it quite wonderful to be the one to say "There, there, dear, these things happen", rather than to be the one bawling and squalling and at the mercy of all the hormones running mercilessly through your body, along with the tears that seem to be your constant companion throughout your 20's and 30's.  I remember it as being just exhausting, even before I had children.  I must say, I do not miss it.   I find it quite hilarious to remember what I thought I needed to shield my mother and grandmother's from when I was younger.  As if they hadn't walked down that same road at least once and probably several times before.  What a waste!  It is the blessing and the curse of youth that one can be so self absorbed and completely unaware that it has all happened a million times before.  Well, they will learn.  A lot of it will happen to them, and they will live to tell the tale.  Not to anyone who will want to hear it, alas, but then that is what blogging is for.

This is what makes me glad to just be here, now, most of the time.  It was the lesson I learned while my mother was preparing to leave this earth.  When you find out that you ( or a loved one) have terminal cancer, and it's the worst thing you could possibly imagine, and you try to wrap your mind around that, you might think you would lose your mind.  You might wish you would lost your mind!  But no, you wake up in the morning and the world goes on.  You slowly come to realize that what is needed now is not frantic activity, but simple appreciation of the fact that you are alive today and look outside!  See what God has given you this day!  Feel the soft breezes, listen to the birds, the beauty of snow in sunlight can be mesmerizing.  It should be mesmerizing.  Whatever is going on in the world is going to continue, but so will the soft breezes, the birds, the snow and the sunlight.  This was my lesson and it became my mission for the rest of what remains of my life.  The trick is to appreciate what you have right now.  Spend time with quiet, and let yourself listen to God.  You might be surprised how much He will talk if you will just be quiet and listen to Him.  Talk about having seen it all before, you may have no idea....

I am back to regular life now that Abigail is gone this week.  My house is decidedly quiet with just two teenage boys, who keep looking around and letting the dogs in, as if it just seems wrong without someone to snuggle up with you.  It is wrong.  The dogs are in heaven.

I was thinking of all this last week, since I was on vacation with a 3 year old, I even took a vacation from the news.  I turned my back on it.  Was not speaking to it.  Did not care what happened.  You want to know why?  Because several times when I lost myself in such trivial details as cutting an orange into an even and perfect 8 slices, the sweetest little girl would come up and kind of melt into me, and say "Mimi?"

"Yes, my angel baby?"

" I luff you", she would reply, and I would lean down and swoop her up into my arms and I would rock her. She loves to rock, always has, and she likes Down In The Valley best, which I love also because I actually know all the words to several verses.  It is also incredibly easy to make up words if you forget, and they never know any different.  (wink wink)

And while I rocked her, (which I did a lot) I told her that even if she got big enough someday that I could not rock her anymore, she would never be too old to lay her head on my shoulder and tell me everything she  was glad or sad or mad about.  That she would never be alone.  That God was always with her even when she seemed to be all alone, and that there were so many people who loved her, even if they couldn't be with her all the time.

When we went to the park and she wondered where "all the people" were, (she is used to city living, poor thing, and seemed to be wondering where everybody was no matter where we went) and I caught myself worrying about whether today would be the day when Iran would finally achieve nuclear missiles and attack Israel once and for all, I looked down and saw this:

And made myself be here, now.

Instead of worrying about what my children's lives would be like ( they will only rent houses, never own, may possibly be led down the path of socialism and live like slaves, never be able to feed their children) I listened to laughter as I watched this:

And this:

And this:

When I told her she could pick all the yellow flowers out of the yard (dandelions), bless her soul, she filled up a whole little bucket!  She kept saying "These flowers are for the people!"  and I told myself that this was an extension of 'the people' she kept looking for everywhere and NOT some kind of socialist indoctrination delivered via some state funded daycare.  It's ok, her mother doesn't take her to daycare anymore.  She is running a daycare out of her home so that she can stay home with her children and I am so very glad to see the younger generation re-claiming the right to raise their own children.  They might have to fight for that right before long, but they are pretty tough and I have faith that they can win.

I told her we might be eating those before long and we laughed!  They all bloomed again the next day and she thought it was a miracle.  Who am I to say it wasn't?  Every day is a new day and so far the world is still here and there are children all around who would just LOVE to tell you some things if you will only listen.

I think it's the only way to save the world, not to mention America, which is kind of tied to the train tracks right now, not that I think you should let the stress get to you.  Breathe, just keep breathing and listening.   It is not rocket science, it just takes some time, which is still free so far.  Knock on wood.  We have to keep working at it one good deed at a time.  Is there a child unattended around your area?  Get to know them, you know some stuff, they can help you weed, rake, or burn leaves.  They just love to burn stuff!  They also like knowing there are nice adults around who listen to them, even when they don't think they have anything to say.  You will see their world through their eyes.  You will probably be amazed.

As I rocked, or picked flowers, or pushed her on the swing, I thought of the movie Finding Nemo.  Remember the part where they find the turtle and find out about the Gulf Stream?  They can't see it, but once they are in it, they can get where they are going much faster and easier.  You can't see it, but it's right there, and once you get in it you know it.  That is the secret of life, letting yourself be in it, having faith that it is there, right beside you, and all you have to do is let yourself find it, and it will carry you forward, to exactly where you are supposed to be.  It might not be where you thought you were going, but it will make you the person you are supposed to be.  With any luck, you will find it rocking a baby, but picking all the yellow flowers is good too.  Never forget to count your blessings, it's a great way of keeping things in perspective.  Spend quiet time listening, even if it's only to birds or the breeze.  

Just some advise from an old lady who doesn't know anything.  Wink wink.