Bandwagon

One of the nice things about November is that the elections are over.  In this case, my favorite causes won in the national election- Elizabeth Warren, Mazie Hirono, and Tulsi Gabbard all won historic spots in Congress, bringing women up to a record (and still not 50%) number of women representing all of We The People in Washington.  Tammy Baldwin became the first openly lesbian senator from Wisconsin.  It's not that I'm so "pro-woman" or "pro-LGBT" (ok, yes, I am, but I have a bigger purpose here) as I am adamant that our representatives reflect the demographics of who makes up our country.  I am glad that these people- Hindus, Buddhists, Christians, Atheists and women- have stepped up.  In many cases, in my opinion, it's just a matter of finding the right person with the courage and backing to go forth and put themselves out there.  I'm not sure I would have the wherewithal myself.

But enough of political talk.

November is also a month of gratitude for many of my friends.  They list all sorts of things they are thankful for, from books and warm houses to coffee, friends, family and even death. I thought about jumping on the bandwagon.  I am grateful for those things too, and would also add technology (hint to my in-laws: we'd love to skype with you!) my job, my amazing husband and boots and snow and a house that doesn't leak.

I love reading what people put up.  It's poignant and often insightful, whimsical and sometimes just sentimental. I guess I could make a short list..

I'm grateful for Eleanor, who is 16 and a cat, for waking me up every day around 6:30 to give her water from the faucet because such a grand dame cannot possibly drink out of a bowl.

I'm grateful for snow because it gives me a chance to stay inside and get fat over the winter.

I'm grateful for coffee for powering my life and uh, keeping things moving...

I'm grateful for my friends in Oklahoma who somehow have the courage to live in a state that not only preemptively banned Sharia law but also in the last 10 years finally banned cockfighting and allowed tattoos, and has only this month done away with Affirmative Action.  Mmmmm yeah...

I'm grateful for breath mints.  If anyone ever, EVER offers you one, you eat that motha and like it.  I don't care if it's not vegetarian.

I'm grateful for deodorant.  See above, you smelly hippie.

I'm grateful for underwear too.  Warm underwear.

And cheese graters.

And unemployment.  When we decided to move here, Grey sacrificed his job in Oklahoma and moved across the country so that I might follow my dream.  As it turns out, this is a very small town with not a lot of employment opportunities.  And it's taking some time to find something.  There are often over 100 applications for every job.  What this translates to is a very patient man who does a wonderful job of distracting his attention into positive energy.  He researches, plans and cooks amazing and nutritious dishes.  I eat like a queen and all I have to do is dishes.  So while I hope Grey finds what he is looking for, I benefit directly from that not working out quite yet.  Nom Nom Nom!

I'm grateful to my mom because she makes amazing and beautiful quilts.  She made me one for my graduation last December and it's currently on the bed, keeping us warm on these frozen nights.  Now if Eleanor would just stop farting on the bed...

I'm grateful for my brother-in-law.  There was a time not too many years ago- long enough that my nephew, his son, would not remember but not long enough for me to forget- that we were not friends.  In fact, there was this moment during an angry confrontation between he and my sister that I had out a knife and I was a few moments of terror and self-righteousness away from letting a little more light into his noggin.  It's no secret that my sisters and I grew up a little on the rough side, and that means quite often that we made choices in our dating and marriages that sometimes involved rough guys.  And my brother-in-law was a rough guy.  And I about stabbed him, straight up.  I'm not proud of that.  I had to go to years of counseling to work out those issues.  The really great thing is that when you flash forward to ten years later, I am glad to report that one of the cool things about visiting my sister is also seeing my brother-in-law.  He is sober and clean and involved with his son's life.  He is supportive of my sister.  He goes fishing and is an expert at smoking salmon.  I should know; it's the only meat I really eat unless my cousin makes duck.  If B-- is making deer jerky, smoked salmon, or anything with crab or shrimp, I'm there.  I feel sorry for everyone who isn't me when B-- cooks.  I eat the hell out of that food and the only stabbing going on is if someone gets in the way.  On second thought, they are much more likely to get bit.  Grey got to witness this phenomena on our last visit.  He wasn't horrified, but let's just say that the honeymoon is over. 

Classic rock is also on the list of things I am grateful for. ZZ Top, Led Zeppelin, Bob Marley, Jimi Hendrix, Bob Seger, The Eagles, Queen, The Doors, The Rolling Stones, Aerosmith, Rush, Sting (with and without The Police) Iron Butterfly and the plethora of music that I grew up with and still love. We didn't get to bring any stereo equipment when we moved, so I listen to Pandora and a favorite classic rock station in Oklahoma City.  Classic rock is the soundtrack of my life.  Ok, that and classical music.  Don't judge me. Because, seriously, if you were going to judge me, it should have been about the meat-eating or stabbing confession above.

There are a few less tangible things for which I am grateful.

Like perspective.  I had a rough week.  Things just did not go the way I wanted them to go and for the life of me, not everything is under my control. I also know that my dandelion had a rough week too, probably much rougher than mine.  A friend of mine finally got the news this week - after weeks of waiting- that her husband does not have lymphoma as originally thought.  How difficult to wait to exhale for two weeks, and how lovely to get such good news!  My other friend sent me a text this week too- her mom, who is only in her 60s, has been sent home with hospice care for renal failure.  Her diabetes has made it impossible to keep her on the kidney transplant list.  It is a matter of time, and when she goes, my friend will be an orphan.  Her dad died when she was 19 and that's a tough thing to lose both of your parents by the time you are 32.  When I put into perspective how lucky and blessed I am to live the life I do, I am on the whole a fortunate person. So I don't get everything I want- who does? This does not mean I cannot be happy.

Anger.  I am grateful for anger.  For the longest time, I had two feelings: extreme joy or burning hot anger. Over the years, I have been able to identify and feel lots of feelings in between, like indifference, annoyance, slightly okie-dokie, significantly non-plussed and bemused.  The toughest one is "little bit pissed but still reasonable", which is as far as I want to go towards anger.  The acronym I have for self-assessment is HALT.  If I am angry, I have to do a quick self-assessment: Am I Hungry? Angry? Lonely? Tired?  If I am any one or more of those, it means I need to do some self-care before approaching human beings.  I often just need a nap, a sandwich, a hug or a few minutes to reflect on my part in a situation so that I can refocus on making things better rather than worse.  That just leads to regret.

Regret. I am grateful for the stupid things I have often done.  I tend not to repeat those mistakes and since I'm not 39 and about halfway through my life, I think I have made about half of my mistakes.  I am fairly confident, however, that the mistakes I make from here on out are not the crazy, life-changing ones I made in the past.  Like that '78 Firebird I bought so that I could teach myself to power slide.  Or that time I moved to Denver on 24 hours notice.  Or how I was a bartender for about a year, and not a good one.  Or how I broke a few hearts. 

There are some things I never got to regret.  I had three older sisters I could watch grow up.  That saved me a lot, you know.  I never made their mistakes and they were protective of me.  So protective that on my first date, I was home by 9 with a quick peck on the cheek from a boy terrified that Yvette would beat him up.  She had a reputation for doing that- she beat the snot out of a kid for beating me up in sixth grade.  I'm pretty sure he went on to live a normal life.

Family.  I think this is my favorite intangible.  There is the family you get and the family that gets you.  I have both and I am lucky.  I wouldn't trade my family for anything, as crazy as we are.  My sisters are so funny, creative, laugh-inducing and heartful.  And like me, they each have a streak of iron through them.  We get each other as only siblings can.  Sometimes we tell the old stories, to reassure ourselves that these things really happened.  We used to tell them to someone draw out the poison.  Now we tell the new-old stories, of the younger years in my nieces and nephews' lives.  Of dance parties and grandparents and becoming women.  And now we plot new stories for our families.  And we connect on a deeper level than I can with anyone else.  I married someone who fits right in without even trying, and he is becoming part of those stories. The rest of my family is comprised of long time friends from Washington and Oklahoma. People who know the other parts of me, who have helped me become an adult and who saved me as much as I saved them. 




I guess I jumped on the bandwagon after all, in the style of oversharing and gratitude.  If you are reading this, I am grateful for you too, and hope you have a wonderful holiday season.  Stay warm, eat some turkey (or tofurky) and spend some time with people you love. 

Sculpture

That's not powdered sugar

Home

Grey

The Meantime

One year ago today, I talked Grey into coming to Norman to meet me.  It didn't take much, just a photograph of some blueberry pancakes up on Facebook. 

The rest is history. Happy history. And so happy anniversary, Grey.  It's been the best year of my life.

In the meantime, people struggle.  I have several friends and family members who are just having a hard time right now.  My mom is recovering after some surgery.  She is doing much better but this wans't a simple procedure.  My dandilion is having a rough time of it financially as it is impossible to pay the bills with only one full time job.  In Norman, it's also just about impossible to find a job that is full time anyway, so he is just doing the best he can.  His church and friends help, but he is also recovering from a bike/car collision a couple of months ago. Others are fighting the regular fight- not enough day at the end of the day and too many things to do just to stay afloat or get a bit ahead of the curve.  Some are in school, or home schooling or figuring out how long-term medical care for dependents.  One friend just had a hysterectomy.  Another is still undergoing a long recovery from a surgery this summer to allow him to walk much farther without his wheelchair.  Charlotte's asthma is more or less under control but she has some mysterious blood iron deficiency.  Cathy's mother-in-law is in the hospital.  Wildfires have been burning, even within 5 miles of town, for the last month outside of Ellensburg. Things are falling apart. I struggle too. It is terrifying to think that since we moved, neither of us will have significant paycheck for another 2 weeks. We planned well but we are being conservative until things even out. 

I am reminded of something I learned in Al-Anon.  I was totally broke, living alone in a small prison town.  No friends around and without any real support except for the huge amounts of phone calls and online chatting.  And I was lonely.  I went to the grocery store every day just to be around free people. I had Eleanor, who despite being a cat, helped me keep it together.  My Uncle Vernon died.  I went to work every day in a place that was designed to punish people.  I called a friend, neck-deep in pain, but I also regularly indulged in self-pity.

"I am sorry you have to go through this." she said. "Things will get better.  But in the meantime, you'll do mean time."

She advised me to go do something nice for someone else and to quit feeling so sorry for myself.  I also made a list of things for which I am grateful. I did do something nice for someone else and I felt a little better.

I am doing that today.  Because you know what? I could use a little gratitude. Here are five things I am grateful for.

1. Cool weather. I sleep so well in cold weather and am loving the slow ascent to autumn.  I'm sure that should be "descent", but I like to think we are ramping up for winter, not sliding into it.  I love to walk to work in the brisk morning air and walk home smelling the warm breeze.
2. Grey. I don't know what I would do without him catching my back, cheering me on and just being there the talk to.  What a great friend; what a wonderfu partner.
3. Friends.  I talk to my friends every other day and usually much more often through text message. 
4. Health. It's been very smokey here since there are wildfires almost completely out of control.  Yesterday, they were about 10% contained.  There are many days when people are advised to stay inside and not breathe the air.  Others walk around wtih face masks.  Desipte this, there are clear days when the wind blows and I can even go jogging.  Most days, Grey and I go for a walk.  It feels wonderful to have my health and to take deep breaths of air. We still haven't even used half a tank of gas in three weeks.
5. Water.  The water quality here is excellent.  I am willing to drink tap water, as it beats even the filtered water in Oklahoma.  On top of that, my office has a community drinking fountain with filtered water and a special part for water bottles.  I will never have to buy water as long as we live here. 

We all do mean time, I think.  It is a part of the human condition.  I have been leaning lately on others, and in some measure have been there for support. 

Once upon a time, my friend Charlotte was in the hospital pretty frequently.  Youself Kazemi, one of my beloved former employees, gently took her hand in his, encompassing all of her small hand in warmth.  He said "When you need me, just close your eyes and imagine I am holding your hand, and I will be."  It is one of her favorite gifts, and one we have shared many more times that I can even remember. So if you are having a hard time right now, know that I am thinking of you and holding your hand too. 

Haven't I Said This Before?

Lashanda Armstrong, Susan Smith and Andrea Yates all had a commonality: Each mother drowned their children. For Lashanda, it was driving her minivan into the Hudson river and killing all inside, including herself and three of her four young children.  Her oldest son was able to escape and go for help. For Susan Smith, it was strapping her two toddlers into their car seats and releasing the brake on their car, watching as it sank into a lake in Union, South Carolina. She blamed "a black man", saying that she had been carjacked at an intersection, and kept up the ruse for nine days.  Racial profiling, anyone? For Andrea Yates, it was the denial of her extreme mental illness and hallucinations and a doctor who took her off of her medicine two days before she drowned her five children in a bathtub, saying "Think positive thoughts". She had told her mother-in-law several times that she filled the bathtub with water "in case I need it". In the first two cases, the women were described as good moms who would never do anything harmful. In Andrea Yates' case, let's face it: there were many many warning signs that were flat-out ignored by her husband, his family, their loony pastor (who might just be as culpable as Andrea) and mental health professionals.



As I reflect on these tragedies, I wonder how it would be possible for a woman to find herself in such an impossible situation.  I remember growing up that we moved early and often, and that there was little permanence to our residences.  Things happen in families; bad things, tragic things and events from which one might never recover.  In my mom's case, it was the loss of her husband, leaving her with three young children and another on the way.  What kept her from becoming a homicidal maniac?  What keeps any woman from doing the same?

I'm not sure I know. But I have a few ideas.

My niece Jessica and Me

Janis showing Britton her new tattoo

For the record, I love my mom.  She's a lot tougher than you might imagine a sixty-five year-old woman could be.  She is not well educated and she is certainly not well-off. But my mom can do things- practical things- which will forever escape me.  For instance, she can knit, crochet and quilt.  She can make clothing. She is a decent photographer and in my younger years, made beautiful stained-glass objects, including a lampshade and several window hangers.  She and my step-dad taught me how to skin and process a deer.

My mom had support her whole life. Not so much financial support, but emotional.  She was able to count on other women when her plans and ideas went astray.  My dad's sister, Lorraine, was there when my dad was killed.  They had spent years together raising children- Aunt Rain (as we call her) had four of her own, and only one boy out of eight). Eventually, my mom moved "home", to Dayton and had others to count on; aunts and female cousins and some high school friends.  She made friends along the way, too. Currently, my mom lives in Joseph, Oregon, with her husband, and spends time with her women friends and she also visits my sister in Dayton, because they are the ones who keep her sane.

I want to know where the women were in the lives of Lashanda, Susan and Andrea.  There is no mention of Andrea having women friends or even an intervention by her own mother.  Susan's mom betrayed her.  When Susan's step-father molested her, he was only required to leave the house for one night.  Then Susan's mother brought him home, saying she would rather sacrifice her child for her husband.  He continued to rape her for years and years afterwards.  Susan didn't have female friends- other women were merely competition.  Of Lashanda I know nothing.  I suspect, however, that for whatever reason, she didn't have many women to rely on or trust.

Did we not used to band together as women to spend time working and talking and raising children together? I remember camping and family reunions and friendships~ many of which still continue today from when I was a child.  I do know where my friends are.  They serve different purposes in my life. Sometimes my women friends and I plot the takeover of the world.  Sometimes we complain and listen to each other's problems (then plot the overthrow of the world).  Sometimes we just go have fun and be silly and other times we buckle down and work our asses off together to accomplish more and keep each other focused.  We talk about the men in our lives.  Yes, men, we talk about you!  But it's not what you think.  Ok, sometimes it is what you think.  But not all of the time.  Not all of my female friends are heterosexual, and we still talk about men- but also about women and people in general. And women talk about politics and how the world might be a better place. We inspire each other and act as that safety valve for letting off steam when circumstances (even those of our own doing) make life a daily pressure cooker. My friends remind me to be gentle with myself and that I am worth taking care of.

Shelly and Mindie

This is not to say that I don't have important male friendships in my life.  I do. I have a number of healthy friendships with men.  One of my favorite men is my first cousin, Christian.  It's nice to have a shared family history and to speak frankly to one another without fear of hurting each other's feelings. It's good to have someone call me on my bullshit. Men need other men too, for the purpose of community and yes, even an emotional connection so that when things go bad (or good), you know that someone has your back. I'm not certain how those things work but I believe there is hunting or sports involved, plus a little beer and a ton of Brut cologne.  Or Old Spice.

Mindie and Kat

Orinda and Me- friends since 1986

Perhaps if more people had healthy same-sex friendships and a feeling of connection and belonging, there would be less pain in the world.  My life is made better by the friends I have made and kept up with, most especially my women friends.  For me, this is one of the factors, one of the things that makes a difference between the Lashonda Armstrongs, Susan Smiths, and Andrea Yates' of the world and the rest who do not commit violent acts. It's not the only thing, but community and belonging are important components of mental health.  So today instead of grading papers, I'm going to go to Norman and Oklahoma City and catch up with some friends.

Family! My cousin Chryssee, her daughter (my "niece") Allie, and my Grandma

Peace.