The Long Struggle to Live

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This sunny photo of me, my dog, the garden and my beloved Aunt Cary obscures the reality that she struggled with what was then called manic-depression, though I didn’t know it. I loved her high energy, her warm love and and kind spirit. By the time I went to college in 1965, Cary was hospitalized in Chicago for a while. There was no treatment for bipolar disorder at the time, and she experienced manic highs and desperate lows. In November of 1969, she jumped off a ledge of a Manhattan hotel room.

This week we learned of the hospitalization of another dear family member, now 39, who has endured the ravages of schizophrenia since she was 18. Medicine contains it somewhat, though the medicine has discouraging side effects. Still, she was suicidal and was again taken into care.

On November 19th our church holds an annual Mass for the families of those who have taken their own lives. We light candles, hear their names read, and weep together for those who lost the struggle to live.

May we be kind to one another. May we recognize the daily struggles around us of people just trying to make it through another challenging day.

Winding Down

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It has been a very long time that we have suffered through the 2016 Presidential election in the United States. I think it has left many many people deeply demoralized and discouraged about the future of the country. Ugliness has abounded, truth seems to be up for debate. Not any particular truth, but the existence of truth itself seems to challenged.

I was this tiny baby born just after the horrific conflict in World War II. I joined the “boom” of infants born then to visibly show faith in the future. Now two of us are grappling for leadership of this country with conflicting views of the future of America.

I cannot seek to “make America great again,” knowing as I do the multitudes who were excluded from that purported Eden. Instead I look to a future that deals with the reality of a massively shifting economic base, globalization and climate change. These things are true. They will not disappear by calling them lies. There is no way to return to some imagined perfect past. May we rise to the challenges ahead and vote with our hopes, not our fantasies.

Leonard Cohen and Apple Pie

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Leonard Cohen recently released an astounding album which runs for 36 minutes. It turns out that the time it takes me to peel 10 apples, slice them, sugar and cornstarch them and put them in a pie crust is 36 minutes. It is a wonderful juxtaposition to be listening to dark, end of life musings while making an sweet apple concoction. Somehow it seems metaphoric, that dark and light can co-exist, both in me and around me.

I first heard Cohen when he and I were very much younger, back in the mid-1960’s. In fact I knew a girl who had slept with him in Toronto. (Probably hundreds of women know someone who slept with Cohen!) Now as he muses about Judaism, life, cults, death, sex and love, I experience reverberations of my own past. Lovers come and gone, spiritual struggles, a desire to reconcile with those estranged.

The music accompanied bittersweet remembrances. The pie welcomes home my husband, present time love. It reminds me that most things have turned out well after all.

Gone Too Soon

~ Elizabeth ~ 2 Comments

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This is All Souls’ Day, and I am thinking about the people in my life who have lost children in sudden and unexpected ways. I refer to them all by initials only to protect their privacy.

I remember M, beloved son of M, who died in a brief freak snow burst on an interstate highway on his way home from work. His car was rear ended by a truck and he died instantly. He and his mother had last had an argument, and there was no time on earth for a repair of the rupture.

I remember R and L, beloved son and daughter of P and R.  R died in a one car crash at 19, the floor littered with empty beer cans. His sister L died one night of a heroin overdose, having battled addiction for twenty years. There was no time for repair of either relationship before their sudden deaths.

I remember J, beloved daughter of N and J, who died on the operating table from a “routine” operation. Only 13, she left her parents without a chance to say for the 1000th time how much they loved her.

Giving birth to a child changes us forever. Losing that child leaves a pain that, while sometimes eased, never departs. Let us never add to the pain by asking why they “aren’t over it by now.”

Shame and Photos

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At some point, I began to be ashamed to have my photo taken. And ashamed of the pictures of me.  I was pondering this reaction while looking at a photo shoot a wonderful photographer just took of my family.

I suspect it is tied into the time I began to live in my head away from my body. That separation lasted many years, but it began around fourth grade. Before that I look confident and self-assured in pictures. After that, not so much.

I wonder how often that happens for girls as they leave that easy childhood and approach adolescence. I also wonder if those selfies which have proliferated everywhere mask a struggle between how we actually look and how we think we ought to look. And how often do girls “pose” instead of moving naturally in their bodies as they did as younger children? Is a “pose” any more embodied than I was in those years?

All Saints and All Souls

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It is comforting to be observing these two days in the Catholic Church. Growing up, this time of the year was replete with demons, witches, goblins and horror tales. For most of the American culture, the focus is still on Halloween, long divorced from any sense of the All Hallows’ Eve source.

Today we had a litany of the saints, as the cantor read out the name of each parishioner or family or friend of any parishioners who had died in the previous year, as we responded in song after every twenty names. It is a meditative opportunity to reflect on those many lives who have touched our own. Two names were especially poignant for me, Father Andrew of whom I have written, and Steve Starski. Steve died after a long bout with colon cancer, but not before he was able to be certain that each of his adult daughters knew, without a doubt, that he loved her.

Our world is full of people like Steve, working quietly(in his case for the phone company), staying faithful to his wife, and loving his children and grandchildren. These days allow us to give thanks for “ordinary” people quietly walking out the Gospel.

Home Again Home Again Jiggityjig

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Well no, I didn’t really travel by horse and buggy, but we did hit the trail for a family vacation to Walt Disney World. I earned an “I Survived Disney World” badge, but I couldn’t find any for sale in the 456 stores that dot the place. We went for the kids, and one of them announced on the car ride home,”Actually, Disney World was awesome!” So it was a success.

I did follow the deep wisdom of my child who wouldn’t let me take the grandchildren to Disney as they emerged from the womb. In fact she insisted that I wait until no strollers were needed for the kids. I insisted we go before I needed a scooter for myself! We did see many screaming toddlers and many older people on scooters, so we chose wisely.

It will be nice to return to the rhythm of blogging and to catch up with those I follow.

A New Twist To My Routine

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After my successful experiences in the gym, I realized I needed to add another activity to my routine to improve my balance and flexibility. I work with a trainer two days a week now, so I wanted something new and equally challenging. Enter Tai Chi at our local senior center.

In this photo I am holding onto a chair to support my first steps. In Tai Chi, I am holding onto a chair to try to begin to learn to balance on one foot! Well, technically resting one finger on the chair, but the chair is definitely helping. This is called a beginner class, but most of the people in the class have been doing it for a long time. I really needed an “absolutely really sincerely beginner class,” but no such luck. So  I am reminded that less than two years ago I had never even heard of proprioception, and I remember that mine is pretty tenuous. It would help if I had less than four limbs, each doing something different for the movements in Tai Chi. It looks effortless for those so-called beginners, but it’s going to take quite a while before I can move with grace.

Right now I am going to try balancing on one foot. For longer than 5 seconds!

Staying Sane

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Some people enjoy getting scared. The idea of “thrill rides” is, well, thrilling. The middle swing in this picture is of my husband and two grandchildren high in the air on a carnival ride. Needless to say, I am the one on the ground taking the picture. I was scared enough growing up to last me several lifetimes. Adrenaline and I are rarely friends.

The election is having a destabilizing effect on me, and I read this morning that it is having the same effect on many Americans. I am alternatively sucked into reading every word I can find about it and hiding from all information. The rhetoric is frightening, but it is not useful for me to be frightened by it. That only adds to the unsettling atmosphere around me.

I have been reading American history instead. It is comforting to see that we have come through equally difficult times. One Senator even repeatedly bashed another with a walking cane over the head on the Senate floor, rendering him incapable of serving for the next three years.

I have one vote, which I will cast on November 8. Until then, I will try to stay sane and not allow the ugly to live rent free in my brain.

Comments and Likes

~ Elizabeth ~ 4 Comments

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I have only been blogging since mid summer, but I am starting to notice the temptation to look for “likes” on my posts. They seem to hit my 10 year old self who gets tickled that someone likes her. Of course, who doesn’t want to be liked? The problem arises when I start to get suggestions from people about how to increase my “likes.” I have the opportunity to reconsider why I am writing at all in the public sphere.

I find comments very helpful. They seem to connect with the adult who began this process to share my thoughts. I also enjoy “likes” from people I have heard from previously or with whom I have traded comments on their posts.  I especially enjoy the several writers I follow and interact with each week. The process reminds me of my childhood pen pals. Just yesterday I found a new writer I particularly enjoy writing about issues of social justice.

Wanting to expand my pool of like minded writers, I tried searching for genealogy blogs, but my first hit was a picture of a naked woman writing about “the genealogy of an O,” so I haven’t tried that again!

I am trusting that over time I will slowly meet writers I enjoy and that we can accompany each other on our journeys. That is the reason I began this, not to be liked.