We Drank A Toast To Time...

Today would have been my grandmother's 108th birthday. I thought about her a lot this morning, Dan Fogelberg's "Same Old Lang Syne" running through my head.

My grandmother was born in 1900 in a small town in the midwest, the youngest of seven children. Her father was French by descent and a farmer as well as a tintyper. His father had died years before from milk sickness, otherwise known as tremetol poisoning - their cows had eaten some white snakeroot. The entire family had grown ill from the milk and because of that, her father never drank milk again as long as he lived. Her mother was of Irish descent and was a Quaker, a decision influenced by a Quaker family whose home she had worked in as a housemaid.

Her parents met during a local fair along the Wabash River in 1885 when her dad stopped her mother to ask if she'd like her picture taken. They married in 1886.

After having three children -- and losing three, one at the age of 2 from an accidental fall into the fireplace and another two at birth -- my grandmother was born when her mother was 40. She was less than two pounds at birth and she told me her father could cradle her in the palm of her hand. He took a shoe box, placed it in the pulled out bottom drawer of a nightstand and moved it near the fire. That was her crib. They didn't expect her to live through the night.

But she lived, all right. She died four months before her 102nd birthday.

Oh, but she lived! Her brother fought in WW1. She rode a horse to school and only attended until the 6th grade. She took a cross country trip in a Model T around 1919 and worked in a shoe factory in the 1920's. She saw both World Wars, the Great Depression, Korea, Vietnam, and the development of aircraft, automobiles, television, cameras, radio, telephones, spacecraft, and computers. That in itself is simply incredible. Would that my life be as far-reaching in scope.

She met my grandfather at 27 but they didn't marry until she was 34. My grandfather's mother had died when he was 12 from influenza so he was the sole provider for his aged grandmother and great-aunt during the Depression and he worked as a mechanic to take care of his womenfolks. After the Depression was over they continued to date. My grandmother waited patiently for him to decide, as was her manner. She was a firm believer in the power of patience. After a few more years had gone by -- six of them! -- though, her patience had run its course. In her no-nonsense manner she told my grandfather, "I've given you leave to decide whether we're to marry. I'm getting no younger and I have waited long enough. If we aren't to marry, I will leave."

They married a few months later.

She lived her life like this. Patience, caring, love, acceptance. She allowed my grandfather to run the family and rarely made the "waves" that modern women make, angsting about decisions and feelings and rights. She didn't consider her choices a sacrifice and she didn't believe that she'd given up any of her own power by allowing these things. My grandfather listened to her counsel, believed in her, leaned on her and was devoted to her. She knew that while my grandfather was the rock of the family, she was the root. She was calm like the port in the storm. She rarely put her foot down with him but when she did, he invariably acceeded to her wishes. They were married 55 years.

I didn't really get to know her until she was in her 70s since I wasn't born until she was in her late 60's. We grew very close after my grandfather died and my love for her was the kind of love that I hold for no one else in the world, save my child. Nothing could shake her; she'd seen and lived through much and there wasn't much about life that surprised her. She told me at her 100th birthday that she thought they should legalize marijuana! She was 4'10" but in her small package she managed to meld pragmatism and childish innocence; a curiosity and appreciation for the wondrousness of living that I don't see often enough. She taught me so very many things.

The last few years of her life were a little rough. She suffered a number of mini-strokes over the last decade of her life and finally a few months shy of her 101st birthday one stroke was bad enough to render her incapacitated and she moved from my parent's home into a nursing facility. Though we were told that her brain had been damaged by the stroke, I wonder sometimes if she was aware enough to know -- in some distant sort of way -- what was happening to her. She'd told me many times over many years that she was ready to die when it came her time and though I understood why she said it, my gut always clenched when she would. She lived this way for about a year before finally succumbing to another massive stroke. It was a blessing and through my grief I knew that she was relieved to have it over and done with.

There are precious few people on this earth that I miss profoundly after they're gone. I don't believe that people persist after death but there is a part of me that wishes that they would, and even hopes that they do. I can see why many religious sorts find an odd sense of comfort in the thought. I thought about my grandmother today and wished with all my heart that I could see her again, if for no other reason than to apologize for my behavior in the face of her decline and death.

When she went into the nursing home I rarely visited her. It reeked of death and decay. It wasn't the reek of her bodily functions so much as the reek of what was inside her, killing her. Her breath smelled dark and rank, like death was her passenger and only her autonomic system and our efforts to sustain her were keeping her fixed here. She had a DNR so she wasn't on machines but she was fed through a feeding tube. Bu none of that would have mattered to me had SHE been there....the light in her eye, I mean. The glint of life still being lived underneath it all. I would have visited much more than I did. As it was, I felt uncomfortable and sad and petty that the glint mattered to me. She looked tired and miserable and I didn't want to be there as witness to her loss of dignity or remember her in that way. So I stayed away. I wish now that I hadn't.

I hope -- if she did know that I didn't come -- I hope that she forgave me. I hope that she understood the whys of it. I'm driving the two hours to her grave tonight. I can visit her in the peace of death. I hope if by some crazy way she's there now, she can see me again.

I love you, grandma. Sleep well.

((Song: "Same Old Lang Syne" by Dan Fogelberg. Lyrics here:
http://www.afn.org/~afn30091/songs/f/fogelberg-same.htm ))

But You May Feel A Little Sick...

I got a flu shot this season but it's probably not the flu I need to be worrying about. A lot of people in my office have been sick and instead of staying home they come shuffling in, hacking and coughing and sniffling. I can't stay home to avoid them, so I end up swimming in the miasma of germs they cast off. Grrrrreat.

Tis the season and all, right? I know something's going around. The kiddo is home from school today with a sore throat. This time last year I was weeks away from my bout with pneumonia. I don't care to be that sick again. After that I started taking zinc and a multivitamin and gargling with salt water and using a neti pot. Eating more greens and fruits. I took the flu shot when it was offered. Yet I'm thinking my immune system must still be made of tissue paper. I'm not sick -- yet? -- but I've had a headache for the last day and a half and my throat feels a little tender. Damn it, what else can I do? Grrrrr.......

Tonight will be an early night. I'm tired and my health meter feels slightly askew, if you know what I mean. Hopefully a good night's sleep with some aspirin and chicken soup will help.


((Song: "Comfortably Numb" by Pink Floyd. Lyrics here:
http://www.pink-floyd-lyrics.com/html/comfortably-numb-wall-lyrics.html ))

Girls Just Wanna Have Lunch

Yo texted me this weekend and asked me out for lunch next weekend.

I kept telling myself I'd ask her but I just kept putting it off. There were all kinds of reasons why it was a good idea for me to do the asking -- be the mature person here, help the transition, make the effort to soothe some jealous edges -- and only one real reason why not to. I didn't want to, there was really nothing to say. But she asked, so I said all right.

Now I know she's trying to fit in because she doesn't feel like there's a place for her. She's looking for me to set her at ease. She wants to make nice. I know all this but really, deep down I never did bother to ask her for any alone time because I don't really have much to say to her. Other than the ex and the kiddo we've got little in common. She's a kid. I am curious, though. I wonder what I'll talk to her about once the 'safe' topic of kiddo is exhausted.

Guess we'll see, huh?


((Song: "Girls Just Wanna Have Lunch" by Weird Al Yankovic. Lyrics here:
http://www.com-www.com/weirdal/girlsjustwanttohavelunch.html ))

If You Try Sometimes, You Just Might Find You Get What You Need...

I've decided to take a more novel approach to a recurring problem that I've been having with my kiddo. The problem is school. She's uninterested and her grades have been slipping. Although some of it can be attributed to her father's wedding (her language teacher said she noticed a rather sharp downturn about three weeks ago and ex said that Yo's son is also acting out a bit at his preschool) I'm not very surprised at this turn of events. Kiddo usually starts out strong and begins to slide. School isn't a priority for her and unlike me, she's never equated good grades with her sense of self-worth...at least not enough to strive for top grades like I did. She just says she doesn't want to.

Barring a lengthy explanation, I've come to the conclusion that grounding her isn't really a long-term solution. While we've grounded her now and she'll stay grounded until she brings her grades up to acceptable levels, I've got this other idea to test.

I'm not really thrilled about it but it's worth a try, especially if one believes (and I do) that part of why my kiddo is so lackluster in the motivation department is because she modeled it after me. I was so driven as a child and young adult and somewhere along the way I stopped being so because I realized that any return I was seeing wasn't worth the effort. I simply downgraded my needs and wants until they matched what effort I was willing to make to realize them. I let my husband take care of me. I stated many times within kiddo's earshot that I was lazy and didn't much care, it was "who I am and I am okay with it."

I know I contributed. So time for me to step up to the plate.

Here's my idea. Since I can't expect her to just suddenly get the desire to buckle down and do the distasteful work just because she's grounded (let me rephrase that; I can expect it of her but it doesn't mean it'll happen) I need to lead with honey and not with vinegar. I've been talking the talk and she knows it. She thinks I'm giving her the vocal equivalent of "do what I say and not what I do." There's no real motivation there.

I need to get her motivated and make her actually want to study so I need to turn it into a situation that'll play on what does inspire her to act. I know she enjoys feeling like she knows more than other people do about some things. She likes a bit of competition. She likes being respected for her ability, and she likes adapting a mentoring stance.

So.....yeah. See, there's this one thing that I've put off forever because I hate doing it so much. I know I should do it but I've made every excuse under the sun for avoiding it. My favorite? "I don't want to." Sheesh. In this, I sound very like my kiddo.

What I'm referring to, of course, is....*shudder*......exercise. Gagggggghhhhhh.

Kiddo knows I feel this way about exercise. She's bugged me for a long time about it but I've blown her off. She's athletic and in JROTC and she's proud of her fitness levels. She feels superior to me for this and it amuses me. Anyway, I feel sure she'll see that if I'm going to voluntarily offer up exercise it's a serious matter indeed and that's exactly what I need her to think. I need her to see that I intend to do more than just talk, but walk the walk.

I see it going something like this: I have to do so much exercise a week, she has to do so much studying. I have to report in to her and I'll make sure to ask for 'tips' from her so she feels like she's mentoring me and making an investment in my success. In return she has to report in to me about her grades. I help her study. She helps me get fit. Ideally, we're each other's cheering section.

I want her to feel like I do when I see her get good grades. I want her sense of competitiveness to rise and I hope that when she gets a real taste of how good it feels to succeed I hope that she'll find it easier to make more of an effort. Maybe if she sees me giving effort to something I despise and becoming better and stronger and more proud of myself for it, maybe she'll be more willing to make the same kind of effort as well.

This might end up being a stupid idea. But the other ways haven't worked so far so when it's broken, you try to fix it, right?


((Song: "You Can't Always Get What You Want" by the Rolling Stones. Lyrics here:
http://www.keno.org/stones_lyrics/you_cant_always_get_what_you_want.htm ))

Hail To The Chief, Who In Triumph Advances....

The historical election is finally over, and thank goodness! I swore to myself that if I had to sit through another political ad I was going to commit violent atrocities upon myself or others. Some simper, some plead, some accuse, some persuade, some uplift, some tear down. Doesn't really matter to me. All are variations on the same theme. It all comes down to a simple fact -- whether they attempt to use vinegar or honey, they are all trying to attract the same flies.

The whole thing kinda makes my stomach turn.

I don't vote. Can you tell? I'm an apathist. If you push me into a corner I lean toward Libertarian but on the whole I really don't care. Four years is a drop in the bucket. The congress and the senate play heavy roles and the president isn't the law unto himself that a lot of people seem to think he is, though he does get to play the unenviable role of scapegoat when things don't go well. He's like an assistant principal.....he has to be the bad guy out there representin' regardless of what actually happens behind the scenes. Doom- and gloomsayers aside, I don't think our country will go to hell in a handbasket in four years and I don't think (except in rare cases) that a president molds the times as much as the times mold the president.

They'll be a lot of commentary from people about the election and their thoughts on the winner. Obama this, Obama that. Color barrier. Man of change. Whatever. The man won the same way every man before him has won -- mostly on popularity since it's like a high school class president election but with bigger budgets -- and he deserves the same sort of chance that anyone else does. He doesn't have experience? True. He doesn't. But then again, how can I sit in judgement of him? I don't have experience in half of what I do either and that doesn't automatically dictate that I don't have the talent or desire or the plain old ability to do the job regardless of my so-called experience. Convicting him before he's had a chance to step to the plate is very short-sighted and borders on the hypocritical. I can't expect one set of rules to apply to me and another to him so I'm more than willing to see what kind of performance he'll provide before I start spitting vitriol. I would hope others feel the same.

I just hope and pray that some wacko nutjob white supremacist doesn't assassinate him. Besides throwing us back 100 years, that will be bad. Really bad. Lock the front door and wait for things to settle down bad. Please, oh pasty white nutjobs, for the love of all that's holy.....stay locked up in your trailers or bunkers or basements or cellars or wherever the hell you choose to gather. I can't stand the idea that I share a skin color with you and get lumped into the same pile of mashed taters.

And California voted down gay marriage. I won't even go into what I feel about that.

Anyway, the real test will not be the fact that Obama made it into the White House. That part -- though it might not have seemed like it -- was easy. Although there are many people in this country who wish nothing more than the status quo, there are a great many others for whom Obama represents a path we've never taken. I liken it to our tradition of manifest destiny; we feel we have the god-given right to take what we want and we want the prospect of change or the appearance of novelty and progressiveness. It fuels our collective spirits. No, the real test will be whether Obama makes it in again in four years. If there's another thing we Americans tend to do, we fall easily into a sense of ennui. Once we've sampled something we're eager to be on to the next thing. Buy a new car and after a few years we start to notice the strange pings and the missewn upholstery. Soon we're bitching about how the paint is chipping or it doesn't drive like it used to and we're eyeing that new model on the showroom floor.

In four years, Obama will be less the "wowee-gee ain't this new and historic" candidate and more the incumbent president who has either performed well or performed badly. At that time his merits -- or lack thereof -- might have a better chance of obfuscating his color. That will be the true test. This is what I'm very curious about. Will we give Obama a get out of jail free card in four years because he's black? Will we excuse his missteps and praise every little victory because he's black? Will he begin to feel like his abilities are being forgotten in the wake of the swelling tide that is his color and begin to feel like the unspoken end to everyone's sentences are the words "....for a black man?" Or will we crucify his every move and find fault where there is none just to prove that the amorphous 'theys' of the country elected a man because he wasn't a WASP?

Time will tell. I wish the poor man luck. He's gonna need it.

((Song: "Hail To The Chief." Music by James Sanderson, words by Sir Walter Scott. Lyrics here:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hail_to_the_Chief ))