Yesterday morning

Yesterday morning I went grocery shopping.  My husband and I arrived home from San Francisco Monday night, picked up our younger two children from my sister's house and came home to an empty refrigerator.  We also came home with four people rather than five, because we had just moved our oldest child to college.

Shopping for groceries, I thought of this change.  With our biggest eater away at college and not packing school lunches anymore, the things in my cart were a bit different.  As I was checking out, I vaguely heard from another checkout lane the sound of a crying baby whose mom was trying to comfort her.  I later saw that mom in the parking lot loading her groceries into the back of her car, with a baby in the front carrier and a toddler in the shopping cart seat.  I quickly put my own groceries in the back of the van and returned my shopping cart.  The mom of the littles was heading to return her own cart, and I offered to take it for her.  I remembered shopping with two or three little ones in tow, toting them along in a combination of carrier or backpack and shopping cart.  I said to her "It's hard to shop with little ones.  You're doing a good job, mama."  We smiled at each other and went our separate ways.

I returned to my car full of emotion.  Because here's what I didn't say:  It goes so fast.  Too fast.  Appreciate these times.  I just dropped off my oldest son at college a couple thousand miles away, and my heart is full of.  Full of...pride, sadness, excitement, worry, joy.  All those things jumbled together.   

 

All those things jumbled together...  Earlier this summer, I was quickly flipping through photos for a poster the night before my son's graduation party.  I came across this one.  He's about a year and a half old.  The stuffed monkey pre-dates the little boy.  It was a gift from my sister when she and my mom visited me in Guatemala when I had surgery there.  I don't remember when or how the boy and the monkey became acquainted.  There were other stuffed animals in the house, which he received as gifts before and after his birth.  But for some reason, this was the one.  We named him Georgie, after the storybook character Curious George.  The little boy carried Georgie with him just about everywhere during his toddler years, and then slept with him in his bed or kept him in his room for many years afterward.  

 

Georgie eventually ended up in a basket full of stuffed animals in the basement.  Feeling sentimental about my son's upcoming move, I went to look for Georgie a couple of weeks ago.  I brought him upstairs.  Georgie has all the signs of being a well-loved stuffed animal.  The ear that was rubbed for comfort is worn, as are patches of "fur" where he was hugged and cuddled.  A couple of days after I brought Georgie upstairs, he disappeared.  The boy, now a young man, had taken him to his room. 

 

The days before taking our son to college were filled with lots of activity - packing, a family dinner, goodbyes to friends-family-coworkers, paperwork, and preparation for the trip.  In a flurry, with little time for reflection, we boarded our plane on Thursday morning.  The plane was full, and the three of us were unable to sit together.  Alone at my window seat, I put some photos of family and friends into a small album for my son.  Finally able to sit and think a bit, tears streamed down my face.  I didn't dare engage in conversation with the couple sitting next to me.  I was too emotional for that. 

 

The weekend was full of visiting with my cousin and her family (the lovely people with whom we stayed!), exploring San Francisco, moving our son into the dorms and attending orientation events.  It was truly a wonderful weekend.  On Sunday, while my son and husband attended one orientation workshop, I attended another.  My workshop ended early, and I took a few moments to write a "quick" letter to my son.  It ended up being nearly three pages.  The time of our parting was Sunday evening, and we all felt the inevitable approaching.  Then we did it - the three of us shared our goodbyes, full of emotion and assured of each other's love.  The next morning my husband and I boarded our plane for home.  I cried once again as the plane took off.  

 

You will think I am terribly sad.  I am certainly a little bit sad, but also full of other emotions.  I am so proud of my son who is spreading his wings in the way that he has chosen for himself.  And I'm excited for the opportunities before him.  I'm incredibly grateful and happy for the amazing journey of being his mom and watching him grow.  Tears flow from feeling all of those things deeply too. 

 

And so four of us returned home to our house in Milwaukee Monday night.  We all caught up on our five days apart.  On Tuesday, groceries were picked up and laundry was washed.   Later in the day, I looked in on my son's room.  He admitted he had left it a mess in the midst of last minute packing, so I wasn't surprised.  The room is littered with the stereotypical detritus of a teenage boy's life.  The clothes he decided to leave behind are flung about.  Crumpled school papers, a CD, a jar full of change and a crusty cereal bowl and spoon are crowded among other things on the desk.  A bath towel is flung over the chair.  The bed is unmade.  But sitting very neatly on the pillow at the top of the bed is Georgie.  And, oh my heart, I think...he's always there for you.  Just like we are.  Happy for you and missing you and figuring out how to adjust to you being so far away.  And here for you.  Always.   

 

 

 



Fear & the illusion of control

Popular "mommy bloggers" and others have already written extensively and very well about all the parent blaming and shaming that have occurred in the wake of recent incidents - the toddler who fell into the gorilla exhibit at the zoo and the two year old who tragically died when he was dragged away by an alligator in Florida.  I cannot imagine the grief of losing a child, and I hold the family of that little boy in my heart and pray for them.  As other parents have mentioned, this could have been us.  One of my three children was definitely the type to wander off in public places as a younger child.  I didn't raise him any differently than the other two.  He got the same safety talks and the same preparation for outings.  I am a fairly vigilant parent.  Nonetheless, when he was around preschool age, we lost him once for several minutes at a wildlife park up north.  Even more scary, when he was about nine years old, we lost him when he wandered off on a family trip in a foreign country where he did not speak the language.  We were lucky.  We found him both times, and he was okay.

The moment we become parents, we begin to fear for our children's safety.  In various ways and to various extents.  Some parents will be more relaxed.  Others will be more worried.  All parents will fear for their children though.  We will want to control things to keep our children safe.  But we cannot control everything.  There are many, many things outside of our control. 

I experienced this very early in parenthood, when my oldest child was born with a heart defect and had open heart surgery at two weeks old.  I've written about this in my post "This baby."  But here's an interesting thing I remember...  In the midst of those weeks of recovery after his surgery, while explaining the surgery, the recovery, all my time at the hospital, the medications, trying to start up breastfeeding again, etc., someone said to me, "I couldn't do it."  I was slightly taken aback, but I didn't think about it much until later.  You couldn't do it?  Yes, you could.  You would have to.  You have to deal with what happens.  Some people also asked me in the weeks afterward, "Do they know why he was born with a heart defect?"  or "What happened during your pregnancy?"  Well, neither my husband nor I have a family history of heart defects or problems.  And I didn't do anything crazy during my pregnancy either, if that's what they were hinting at.  Obviously, somewhere in utero my son's heart did not develop normally.  We even participated in a study at Children's Hospital to help researchers understand, diagnose, and maybe prevent this sort of thing from happening. 

It's okay to ask questions and to seek solutions to prevent further problems or tragedies.  It's okay to say that zoo exhibits should be constructed with more of a barrier between the public and the animals.  Or maybe even to say, "Should we really have these creatures in captivity at all?"  It's okay to say there should be better signage at bodies of water that contain alligators or to wonder about other ways to prevent what happened at that resort in Florida.  But it's not okay to blame parents or to shame them.  People are upset when they hear these types of accidents or tragedies.  They want to think it could never happen to them.  And so they comfort themselves by blaming, I think.  It makes them feel like they are in control.  But they aren't. 

I have a child who is going to attend college very far away in a few short months.  I am nervous and excited.  And yes, I'll be worried.  I will not be able to control what happens to him there.  But nor am I able to control everything that happens to him while he still lives in the same city and even under the same roof.  We cannot control everything that happens.  We love, teach, parent, advocate and live to the best of our abilities.  We cannot control the world we live in.  What we can do is let go of that illusion.  We can try to trust more and fear less.  And most importantly, we can try to live with more compassion in the face of the tragedies and frailties of human life.  That's what we can do.

Any of you dummies know how to type?

Today my mom and I visited the cemetery where my dad is buried.  My dad has been gone for five and a half years.  I miss him so much.  My dad had an amazing memory for stories from his childhood and young adulthood.  I regret that I didn't write down more of them.  An acquaintance recently asked if my dad served in the military, and I remembered the story of how he landed his particular assignment as a young draftee in the Korean War.  I interviewed my dad and wrote this story for a family newsletter over twenty years ago.  And I'm so glad I did, because I wouldn't have remembered all the details that he told me at the time.   

This is a photo reproduction of a drawing of my dad that is dated October 17, 1954. 
Given the artist's signature and the date, I'm assuming this was done while my dad was on leave in Japan. 

My dad was drafted into the army on his 20th birthday, Christmas Eve 1952.  He remembered how hard this was for his mom, being Christmastime.  On January 26th, my Dad reported to Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri.  There he went through training - infantry, combat engineering and carpentry.  After basic training, my dad and the other soldiers took a train to Washington State.  He told me about a bus trip to one of the Aleutian Islands before setting sail for Korea.  There was only one tree on the whole island, with a sign posted next to it - "Adak National Park."  I just googled "Adak National Park" and found that Adak National Forest contains exactly 33 pine trees.  Apparently Christmas trees were planted to cheer up troops stationed there during World War II, but the climate wasn't conducive.  According to the link:  "At one point, there was only a single tree left. It was at this time that the sign that reads "You are now ENTERING and LEAVING The ADAK NATIONAL FOREST" was placed here on a whim by soldiers in the early 1960s."  My dad's account suggests that the sign was there prior to the early 1960s.  Further reading tells that the site is now a National Historic Landmark for its role in World War II.   

From the U.S., my dad and the other soldiers sailed on a troop ship carrying 2,000 people to Pusan, Korea.  On my dad's way over to Korea, a cease fire had been signed, but the negotiations went on long after that.  Upon their arrival in Pusan, the troops rode in a truck to the engineering battalion.  They were to work as combat engineers, setting up bridges and other structures.  But when they got to the battalion, the Battalion Adjutant asked if any of the recruits knew how to type.  Although I don't have this in my written account, I clearly remember my dad quoting the Battalion Adjutant as saying, "Any of you dummies know how to type?"  My dad was the only one to raise his hand.  He had taken two semesters of typing in high school.  The adjutant told him to report to the Administration Area, which my dad referred to as "just a Quonset hut with desks."  The next day, my dad was handed the "Universal Code of Military Justice" and told to type the entire book, which was as large as a textbook.  He remembers that it took him two to three weeks to type the book.  That's all he did seven days a week for those few weeks.  Because he was serving in a combat zone, there were no days off - not even Saturdays and Sundays. 

When my dad finished typing the book, the adjutant told him that he was now going to be the battalion legal clerk.  That meant that he was the court reporter on all trials and also served as a resource person for the defense attorney.  My dad remembered that they usually assigned the defense attorney duties to the "new officer on the block," and the prosecutor was often more experienced.  They didn't really want the enlisted to win.  My dad sat in on all the trials and disciplinary hearings.  He was responsible for recording the testimony, every word of who said what.  This was without the help of today's modern technology.  He went to the trials equipped with plenty of legal pads and pencils and took down everything in his own version of shorthand.  The next day he typed up the report, and then it went to headquarters for officer approval.    

Because of my dad's court reporting skills, he was sent on a temporary assignment to the Demilitarized Zone for "Operation Glory."  This was the process whereby the North Korean-Chinese forces and the South Korean-U.S. forces exchanged bodies.  My dad sat in a tent and prepared lists with the names of the deceased.  Another temporary duty included going to an island off the southern tip of the peninsula that was used as a POW camp.  There were not any prisoners there at the time.  He was there to take inventory before the island was turned over to the South Korean government.  While serving in Korea, my dad took a couple of R & R trips to Japan.  He was in Korea a total of one year, ten months and twenty-two days.  He was drafted for the usual two years, but was let off early for having served in a combat zone and in order to be home in time for Christmas 1954. 

My dad was always glad that he learned how to type; it saved him from more dangerous military duties.  Maybe that's why he encouraged all seven of his children to take typing during high school.  When my siblings and I were in high school back in the 1970s and 1980s, none of us knew how big a part of our lives personal computers were going to be some day.  But given that reality, we're all grateful that we learned how to type. 

Thanks, Dad!  We love you and miss you every single day! 

I hug the trees too.

Today's blog post, continuing in the form of a list, is based on a journal entry I wrote after a walk in the park about one month ago.

1.  It was a beautiful, sunny Friday afternoon in April.  A rare day this spring that has often felt more like winter.

2.  I went for a walk to visit my favorite trees in the neighborhood park.

3.  Approaching the trees at the top of the hill, I was hidden from the view of anyone at the basketball court or playground but within sight of a woman walking her dog down near the tennis court.

4.  Still, I walked up to the first tree and put my right hand on its beautiful-old-strong trunk.  I closed my eyes and stood there for a moment, just breathing.

5.  The warm sun and a slight breeze touched my face.  A crow called boisterously and squirrels scampered in last year's dead leaves under a cluster of newly-budding shrubs.  From from across the river came sounds of drilling and construction. 

6.  I opened my eyes and walked down to another of my favorite trees, one that's off the path and closer to the tennis court.  It crossed my mind for a second that my tree visiting might appear strange to the woman with the dog. 

7.  I put my hand on the other tree also.  Then I leaned into a curve in its trunk that held and supported me.  It felt more like receiving a hug than giving one.  It felt good.   

8.  The trees are steadfast and give me peace when I visit them.  Our individual lives and the world at large are often both full of changes and instability, uncertainty and chaos.  The trees change with the seasons but remain standing, steady and strong.

9.  Returning down the path, I met the woman and her dog walking up.  We smiled at each other.  "I hug the trees too," she said.  Our conversation was brief, remarking on the beauty of the trees and the fine weather.  We shared a moment and wished each other a good day.  I know my day was lighter and sweeter for the exchange.  I hope hers was too. 

10. Nature, neighbors, vulnerability, openness, connection.  A walk in the park.

*****

I purposely did not bring my phone with me on the walk chronicled above. 
The photos in this post were taken today.

 

I've written about these trees before in the post "See the trees."
You might also like "Nature therapy." 

January through April reading notes: ten reflections on books & reading

Last Monday, I wrote about the difficulty of getting back to writing after not doing so for several weeks.  I had the idea of starting with lists and came up with a list of ten writing goals for May.  My last installment of reading notes was at the end of 2015.  So today's list catches up my reading notes with reflections on reading and books from the last few months. 

1.  Reading books in different places makes them memorable in different ways.  I was totally engrossed in Agatha Christie's And Then There Were None on our recent trip to Poland.  The weather was rainy and gloomy for a few days, which coincided with the mood of the book.  I often have stronger memories of books that I read on trips or vacations.  I'll never forget how the release of the last two Harry Potter books coincided with our annual northwoods summer vacation.  I had Amazon ship those books to the resort where we stayed in St. Germain and devoured the books lakeside, lounging at the cabin and in bed late at night and into the morning.

  
2.  Two girls who changed the world:  I enjoyed reading two very moving, but structurally different, autobiographies and discussing them with our middle school literature group.  Through My Eyes by Ruby Bridges is more of an advanced picture book autobiography with Bridges looking back at the tumultuous events of her childhood through her remembrances and those of the adults in her life as well as photographs and news accounts.  I am Malala: How One Girl Stood Up for Education and Changed the World by Malala Yousafzai and Patricia McCormick is the young readers edition of Malala's compelling and heroic story.

3.  I love a really good mystery.  As mentioned in #1 above, I read And Then There Were None.  I pride myself on often guessing the culprits in mystery stories, but Agatha Christie kept me guessing (and compulsively reading!) until the end.  I look forward to watching the 2015 BBC miniseries adaption of the book.   

4.  I also love all things Jane Austen.  Which is why I really enjoyed Longbourn by Jo Baker, a book that tells the story of the servants of the house at the same time as the events of Pride and Prejudice.  Purists or "Janeites" may disagree and lament the inaccuracies and anachronisms, but for me it was a delightful pleasure to revisit the settings and characters from a different perspective.

5.  Modern day angst can be funny but also annoying.  I laughed out loud at Lauren Fox's wry observations on parenthood in Days of Awe.  Rainbow Rowell also makes some keen observations in her book Landline.  Both of these books deal with faltering or failing marriages.  The protagonists in both sometimes annoyed me with their self-absorption.

6.  Dystopian fiction is addicting.  Still.  I enjoyed Julianna Baggott's Harriet Wolf's Seventh Book of Wonders last year, so I thought I'd try her post-apocalyptic Pure Trilogy.  These books are better written, darker, deeper and include more science fiction elements than other series that I've read in this genre. 

7.  There are pros and cons of reading on an e-reader or tablet.  On the one side, attempting to read a very long novel, such as Daniel Deronda by George Eliot, on a transatlantic trip - I appreciated the lightness and portability of the device as opposed to the heft of a nearly 900 page book.  On the other hand, it was harder to page back when I was trying to remember what the heck was going on.  I do love Victorian-era novels, but they are not easy to read.    




8.  "Southern novels" - I want to look away, but I can't.  I decided to read The Heart is a Lonely Hunter by Carson McCullers because my son was reading it for American Literature class.  This is a beautifully-written novel.  McCullers wrote it when she was only in her early twenties!  The fascinating and ultimately tragic characters really drew me in and illuminate the darker realities of the human condition.  But it was so, so sad.

9.  I learn a lot from books I read with my children.  Norse myths, yellow fever, the Magna Carta...just a few examples of stuff I wouldn't know much about otherwise.

10.  I read more before I had so much technology in my life.  The bombardment of information from so many different sources is definitely distracting to me.  That doesn't mean I have to look at it, but I often do.  One of my writing-related goals from last week is to focus on reading more books rather than clicking to read random articles.   

*****

January through April complete reading list:

Through My Eyes by Ruby Bridges
Burn by Julianna Baggott
Fuse by Julianna Baggott
D'Aulaire's Book of Norse Myths by Ingri D'Aulaire and Edgar Parin E'Aulaire
The Secret Chord by Geraldine Brooks
Days of Awe by Lauren Fox
American Copper by Shann Ray
Fever 1793 by Laurie Halse Anderson
Longbourn by Jo Baker
The Door in the Wall by Marguerite deAngeli
I am Malala: How One Girl Stood Up for Education and Changed the World (Young Reader's Edition) by Malala Yousafzai and Patricia McCormick
Landline by Rainbow Rowell
And Then There Were None by Agatha Christie
The Heart is a Lonely Hunter by Carson McCullers
Daniel Deronda by George Eliot
The Magna Carta by Walter Hodges
Knight's Castle by Edward Eager
Echo by Pam Munoz Ryan

New month, new me? Making lists & getting back to writing

Over six weeks have passed since I visited this space or since I've written much at all.  And that's not good, because writing is essential to my well-being in many ways.  I wrote about this in the post "Why Write" almost two years ago:

...writing actually makes me feel better.  I love the way author Lori Pickert describes this sentiment in one of her blog posts:  "Writing makes me feel happier and less likely to stab someone with a fork, so I'm going to try to do it a little more often."

Lots of ideas have been percolating in my mind, but I haven't put pen to paper,  The longer I haven't written, the harder it has become to start again.  This is not news to me.  I know this.  But still I make the same mistake.  Why?  Fear, procrastination, perfectionism, time-wasting, busy-ness, etc.

Regardless, I need to plunge back in.  I had a "breakthrough" at yoga this morning.  Just start making lists.  So I started composing a few of them right there in my head during savasana.  And I jotted down some ideas when I got home.  And today's list is:

Ten writing-related goals for May:

1.  Write everyday, starting today.  Even if just for ten minutes. 

2.  Blog once a week.

3.  Work on drafts for two essay ideas I have from our recent trip to Poland.

4.  Complete and post my first vlog (video log).  This is something I've already started working on.

5.  Revise any one of the various pieces written in my online writing classes and submit it. 

6.  Read Crash Course: Essays from Where Writing and Life Collide by Robin Black

7.  Read more books and less "articles" that appear in Facebook.  Yep, I'm looking at you "Top 10 Celebrity Plastic Surgery Botches." 

8.  Color, collage, draw with chalk on the sidewalk, etc. - do some "art" once a week. 

9.  Go on a solitary walk or hike once a week.

10.  Continue going to yoga on Monday mornings.

Only half of the goals involve writing.  But even the goals that are not actual writing are very much writing-related. 

Stay tuned for more lists!

You had a bad day.

A couple of weeks ago
you had a bad day

You woke up in the morning
with a splitting headache
you felt nauseous and
you haven't felt that close
to vomiting in ages
what did you eat
yesterday?

You still went to
get your haircut
she washed your hair
massaged your head and
made your frizz
pretty and smooth
that was a not-bad
part of the day
and the headache
went away

You got an e-mail
that you were not
selected for that thing
you auditioned for
again
you were disappointed
you cried just a little bit
alone in the bathroom

Your kid found out
that he didn't get
that one scholarship
you were all
hoping for
that would have made
all college decisions
easier

You took your
tween & teenagers
shopping
you hate shopping
the kids found stuff
but not you
in all of the stores
none of the clothes
fit you

You moped somewhat
you listened to
sad songs
you went to a fish fry
with family you love
at your mom's church
cheap beer and
all you can eat
that was another
not-bad part of the day

A few days later
you received a gift
from a friend
more importantly
the letter she wrote
we (parents) all do the best we can
and she encouraged you
to keep writing
and you needed that

And even though
you had a bad day
you know your bad day
is not so bad at all
because
your bad day
still includes
a house
central heating
indoor plumbing
clean water
beds and clothes
stores and food
books and libraries
freedom and peace
your friends
your family
joy faith hope
love love love

*****

When I have a bad day, I think of the children's book Alexander and the Horrible, Terrible, No Good, Very Bad Day.  I can't remember much of the plot since I haven't read it for years.  But what a great title!  If I'm feeling melancholy or dramatic, it might help me laugh at myself a bit.  "Mary and the Horrible, Terrible, No Good, Very Bad Day"  :)

Also, this song: