Oxygen and Pepsi...for the Good Life!

We are now at T-minus three weeks until I fly to Michigan and return with my mom to help her establish a new life in Colorado. I know it is going to be challenging for her, physically and emotionally. And I know I’m in for a lot of anger, tears and unkindness. I don’t relish that part. But I am hopeful that I can give her the space she needs to talk about her feelings and I hope I can help guide her to a place of forgiveness. I hope she will eventually understand that the things my brother, sister and I have done in the past year have been out of love and concern for her. And I am working on strategies to diffuse her vitriolic outbursts with kindness and humor. The other day Steve said he thought if anyone could give my mom the room she needs to feel what she feels it would be me. I truly hope he is right.

In the meantime, I seem to be surrounded by older people. Maybe I always have been and I just didn’t notice until I realized that much more of my life is going to be lived in the presence of older adults. Regardless, I am paying closer attention and recognizing the value of a life well lived as I see it played out in those around me.

The decision to move my mother to Colorado prompted an evaluation of my day-to-day life and the need for a more routinized approach to getting exercise. Otherwise known as stress management! I joined our local rec center and have been working out several times a week. Because I choose to work out in the late morning, I’ve noticed that the majority of people working out with me are older. Much older. Downright elderly.

And delightful.

While I’m swimming laps there is a water aerobics class taking place in the same pool. I see sagging skin and grey heads bobbing in the water. I see the group of mostly women and realize that I’m on my way to exactly the place they are. I seek out the faces that seem most joyful and focus on how I want that to be me! Sometimes when I’m running on the track I pass a man who is walking the same track…with a cane. I silently cheer him on each time I pass.

But my absolute favorite workout contemporary was the man I saw today. As I ran the track there was a man who looked to be in his mid-80s, toting his portable oxygen machine. He was on a weight machine and drinking a Pepsi and deeply engrossed in a conversation via his Bluetooth headset! He made me smile inside and out!

I have no idea what circumstances caused him to have to use oxygen. And I’m pretty sure Pepsi isn’t the recommended beverage for workout rehydration and I wonder about his ability to focus on good form while chatting on his headset. But he was there! And he was doing something! And, clearly he was enjoying himself!

So…as I prepare for my big life change and that of my mother’s, I am blessed by my daily encounters with joyful older people doing what they can to restore or maintain their health. I can’t predict what the future will look like once my mom is here but I do know that there is no coincidence in my daily encounters and the reminders that old age needn’t look like sadness and anger. Maybe I can bring something of this mindset to my mom. I don’t know. I know I’ll try. But regardless, these older adults are showing me a face of aging that makes me look forward to my future years. They provide me with a role model and something to which I can strive.

Who knows…maybe what I see in them can somehow translate to my mom. Never give up hope....

Ready or Not...Here She Comes!

The winds of change do seem to be blowing in my life. There seem to be a lot of shifts and gusts. So, I guess my normally calm existence is due to get a bit more exciting.

Mommie Dearest is headed west.

Okay, first off, Mommie Dearest is a term of endearment. Sort of. My mother wasn’t ever physically abusive. I just think it is funny to call her that. Secondly, when I moved over a thousand miles away from Mommie Dearest twenty-five years ago I had no idea that I’d discover in myself a person whom I really liked and who had been shoved beneath the surface by Mommie Dearest’s controlling ways. Once I moved away I never wanted to go back. And there was a good bit of safety in knowing I never, ever had to live near her again. Or so I thought.

Mommie Dearest is elderly now. Arthritis has crippled her body and she challenged by much of life. She lives in a retirement community in Michigan but a recent family decision has her moving to Colorado in just a few short weeks.

God help me. Literally.

I was a big advocate of the move. I still am. I am also terrified. But, this move allows her to move out of the chilly, damp climate of Michigan to the warmer and dryer air in Colorado. It also allows her to be near family who are willing to see her regularly, help her out frequently and be engaged in her life.

The problem with the plan is that Mommie Dearest is often mean spirited, regularly negative, and always a control freak. In years past when I knew she was coming for a visit I would sink into an uncharacteristic depression days before her arrival. Since the decision to have her move here I have had significant mood swings. Maybe it is because she is planning to move here. Maybe it is because I can’t seem to get my head wrapped around my dissertation or maybe it is because my body seems to be making some plans to start into menopause. I’m not sure which. Maybe all three.
Catch me one minute and I am looking forward to doing what I know is right and best for her. Catch me another minute and I’ll wax philosophical about life change and how I long to embrace it. Another moment might lend itself to different perspectives on aging. And then there are those moments when I want to curl into a fetal position and cry.

Regardless, she’s coming! In three weeks I’ll head back to Michigan and when I return to Colorado it will be with Mommie Dearest in tow. Let the adventure begin!

A Soggy Story

Having just come off of the Thanksgiving holiday and having recently spent time reflecting on the things for which I am thankful I, of course, feel a renewed sense of gratitude for the obviously meaningful things in life; home, family, provision, country. I am very grateful for those things and, unfortunately, far too often take them for granted although I try to remember to be thankful for every little detail of life.

I had one of those little ‘detail of life’ moments recently and I admit, as silly and simple as it was, it brought me joy and thankfulness for the way I sometimes get cut a break even when I don’t deserve it.

Last summer I collected a number of books from the library that I planned to read or scan to see if I could use them for my dissertation and, if so, if I needed to purchase them or simply borrow from the library. I try to buy as few as possible due to the cost involved but in some cases I know I’ll use a book extensively and it makes more sense to purchase it.

Such was the case with Methods of Critical Discourse Analysis. Snappy title and all, I knew I needed this book in my collection. But, I had recently resigned from my full-time job and money was feeling a little tight so I hadn’t made any effort to buy the book, just made a note to myself that I should.

Late in the summer I got up early on a Saturday morning and took my nice steaming cup of coffee and oh so exciting Methods of Critical Discourse Analysis book outdoors to sit in the porch swing by our pond with the pretty little waterfall . It was a beautiful sunny morning. Birds and squirrels did their bird and squirrel things. The sun was warm but not hot. In all it felt pretty idyllic. Later Steve joined me and we sat reading for a good bit of the morning. When we went indoors to refill our coffee we decided to get around and go do some errands we had planned for the day. Shortly thereafter we left the house, ran our errands and were out for several hours.

During our time away from the house cloud cover began to build to the west. It built to the point of bursting and when the clouds drifted over our house they opened up and dumped a doozey of a rain and hail storm. By the time we arrived at home again the storm had all but finished, the temperature had dropped considerably and evening was settling in.

Much later, when it was dark, Steve went out in the backyard for some reason and when he came in he was carrying the Methods of Critical Discourse Analysis book I had carelessly left in the backyard. He carried it by one corner and all the way in the house the book produced a steady drip of rainwater. All attempts at drying the book failed and I finally resorted to just letting it air dry knowing that I would now be buying the book in its waterlogged, crinkled and slightly musty smelling condition.

Of course, I had planned to buy the book used and at the lowest price possible. I dreaded talking with anyone at the library to find out how much I would have to pay for my forgetfulness believing that I would pay top dollar for damaging a book owned by the state of Colorado! I renewed it until I couldn’t renew anymore and finally, one day last week I went into the library to see how much I was going to pay. The answer, much to my surprise was $40! Forty dollars? I expected to pay far more than that! But indeed, the book came from outside the library district and for some reason the flat fee for replacing an out of district book is $40. So, I happily paid for it and came home to search for what it would have cost me if I hadn’t let it sit outside in a drenching rain storm.

The least expensive copy I could find was $140! My irresponsibility had saved me $100! Now granted, the pages don’t exactly bend and it doesn’t lie flat but still…I saved a lot of money with that deal! The content remains the same even if it smells a little bit when I open it!

So, in my review of things for which I am thankful, I added that sometimes when my own actions are foolish or irresponsible and I don't deserve it, I am cut a break. I didn’t want to gloss over that because I don’t think it is insignificant.

I think that is what we call grace.

I Love My Life

I’ve had an interesting encounter with stress recently. Actually I’ve had an encounter with peace. But my encounter with peace led me understand the degree to which I had been living with stress and the contrast between the two was far more powerful than I’d ever realized.

Let me back up a little.

For several years I stayed home with my children. I educated them at home until my oldest started high school and for those years I lived a relatively low stress life. I know there are those who think raising children is extremely difficult. Those people would be right! But I always felt that I was working with people whom I adored and, sure, we had rough days but in the end spending my time with them is what I most wanted to do.

When my children started attending public school, I decided to pursue the doctorate I had put on hold while they were growing up. Full-time school and part-time work led to full-time work and part-time school. I finished my coursework and started working on my dissertation. Along the way I added an adjunct teaching job to the full-time job, dissertation and family. I was pretty sure I could handle it all. Afterall, like many growing up in the 60’s and 70s, I survived crazy, dysfunctional, addicted parents. Juggling several large jobs should be easy in comparison!

Like the few extra pounds that gradually accumulate, my busy schedule didn’t happen overnight. I took on a little here and adjusted; a little there and adjusted. I didn’t feel the pressure building. Rather, I didn’t think I felt the pressure building. In hindsight, I realize some of the things I love and enjoy most in life ceased to be nearly as fun. The constant voice in my conscience was reminding me of all the things I wasn’t getting accomplished. There was never enough time.

A series of events led to my feeling that something needed to change. I wasn’t sure how to articulate my desires. I’m not even sure I knew what I needed to do. But when Steve rather apologetically approached me one evening with the suggestion that I resign from my jobs and just focus my time on helping our daughter adjust to high school and writing my dissertation I immediately burst into tears. Clearly he had touched a nerve. In the true spirit of a soulmate, he spoke my heart.

We set a plan in motion and before long I was leaving my professional position and my teaching role. I loved and was good at both of them but I knew that I was stepping into greater freedom. It didn’t happen all at once though. It took weeks for me to stop the feelings of being under pressure. It took even longer for me to stop feeling I was too idle.

Yesterday I awoke to a quiet house and the smell of coffee brewing. Before getting out of bed I took a little time to inventory my life and my first thought was….I love my life. I set goals for how much of my dissertation to write each day. Some days go better than others but as I make steady progress I know I’ll finish in due time. I’m often surprised, but not dismayed, by how much all of my children still need me as they grow up and emerge into adulthood. Could I have been as available to them if I hadn’t made a dramatic change? Of course not!

I don’t have a salary. I don’t have a title. I’m good with that. What I have is time. Time to live and love and enjoy. Time to complete my dream of earning a doctorate but most importantly, time to be present for and with the people who are my life. Time without stress. Time with peace.

I love my life.

Farewell Sweet Friend

The day finally came when Boe’s cancer grew stronger than he. We knew it was time to take him in to the veterinarian to be euthanized but we dreaded making the trip. Sweet as he always was, the poor old guy was suffering. He was obviously in pain and we needed to be kind to our friend. We made a plan on Friday night that we’d take him as soon as possible on Saturday. Amid many tears our sweet kittie slipped off easily and peacefully and he’s now in the backyard with our other beloved kitties who have moved on.

It was a difficult weekend. We love our animals and consider them a part of our family. No, we didn’t spend thousands of dollars to try to eradicate his cancer. For one thing the cancer had spread to his lymphatic system before we knew he had it and for another he was, afterall, a cat. We loved him but also realized he was a cat.

Nevertheless, our grief at his loss is real. I’ve had many kind friends express their sympathy. Even those who aren’t big fans of the cat world. Those friends have at least been kind and compassionate enough to know that losing Boe was painful. But, I’ve felt sad at some of the insensitivity that Charles has had to face. Mean spirited comments by insecure men. Several of his friends who are kind souls have been caring so it isn’t as though he hasn’t had anyone who has offered sincere condolence. In fact, the only place he hasn’t faced kindness over losing his best buddy is at work.

After Boe’s death and burial on Saturday Charles felt that he needed time to grieve. He called in to work and explained the situation. He probably shouldn’t have told the reason for not going to work as he was then harassed and teased when he went to work on Sunday.

Seriously?

What kind of mean, insensitive, jerk would make fun of someone who is hurting? Apparently some misguided macho man. Someone who delights in other’s pain. It makes me feel angry that someone would hurt my son by his verbal barbs but it makes me feel sad for the person who can’t feel compassion toward another.

And so the world goes. Even if I don’t have the same life experience as another, even if I don’t believe what someone else believes, a little kindness goes a long way. Maybe this mean spirited person in Charles’s world isn’t a cat lover or even an animal lover but would it hurt to be understanding of Charles’s feelings?

Yes, Boe was a cat. But he was a kind cat. He accepted everyone. He befriended all cats and people who came into our home. He was an example, in my opinion, of what we should all strive to be.

I know it is easier said than done but really, if we put our own hurts and insecurities aside and just show some kindness, can’t we make our little section of the world a better place?

Stuff That Matters....

Recently my siblings and I cleaned out our elderly mother’s house to get it ready to sell. Mom had reluctantly moved into a retirement community after falling twice in a six-month period. The onus for cleaning out the house fell on the three of us and, with the help of a couple of our children, we managed to get it done in just a few grueling, intense days.

The work was physically taxing but also emotionally taxing for me as my mother seemed unable to part with anything. She had lived in her house for over 30 years and it seemed she hadn’t gotten rid of anything. Nor did it appear she had gotten rid of anything in the 30 years prior to moving into that house! The job was daunting and her emotional response was painful. We didn’t let her join us at the house as we knew her presence would render the process impossible. She simply wouldn’t have let us give or throw away anything!

In the months since we finished the job she has asked over and over about different items. My brother, sister and I have found her attachment to ‘things’ both curious and unsettling. How, we wonder, can someone be so attached to ‘stuff.’

After having the experience of cleaning out her house, I vowed never to do the same thing to my children and decided to begin the process of purging my own home of unnecessary stuff. Last weekend my husband and I started to clean out our garage. He pulled box after box from the rafters in the garage. I couldn’t imagine what we had put up there years ago and started to sort through the boxes. There were things our children might actually treasure some day: diplomas, photos, memorabilia of our youth. We decided to keep those things.

One box was particularly heavy and when I opened the lid I found it packed full of old training manuals from my first ‘professional’ job at Taco Bell, Inc. I had landed the job as soon as I finished my Master’s Degree. I was 24 years old, cocky, and looked to a bright professional future. The job I held was created so that my boss could justify hiring me with no experience. I was quickly promoted and given hefty raises. I was in my element and took on the most challenging assignments in the department. Now, years later the only physical remnants of that time were the manuals I had painstakingly written and neatly organized in a cardboard box.

I decided to put them in the garbage. What did I need with old Taco Bell training manuals? Who would look at them? Who would care? Of what use could they possibly be? None. They were obsolete, useless and taking up valuable space. I carried them to the curb. Later, I noticed the box resting precariously on top of a large plastic garbage can full of unnecessary, unwanted trash.

The next morning as I was pouring my second cup of coffee I heard the loud rumbling of the garbage truck heading toward my house. For an instant I felt the urge to rush to the curb and rescue my valuable training manuals from a landfill. Wait, I thought…those manuals are all I have left. Those manuals represent the person I was, the life I lived, the professional I planned to be. When they are gone, so are those days! I can’t let them be tossed out like garbage!

I stood at the counter, drank my coffee, planted my feet, and calmed my soul. The truck arrived. The box of manuals was unceremoniously placed with the coffee grounds, cat litter and other refuse of my neighbors and, without a moment of hesitation, the truck pulled away from the curb on to the next house.

My manuals were gone.

But the manuals were just the physical evidence of those former days. They didn’t represent what I had learned, how I had grown, or who I am today. They were merely the tangible product of the work I had done. Work for an organization that, today, given my convictions, I couldn’t work for at all!

The manuals were gone. For a few minutes I thought about how getting rid of that one box had stirred my soul and brought to light the passing of an era in my life. I thought about how my mother must have felt when most of her 81 years met a similar fate. And, in my next thought I realized how freeing it was to let go of something that no longer had meaning to anyone. Including me. Yes, those were good years and yes I had many accomplishments in those years. But those years were the building blocks to today and my ‘todays’ are the building block to tomorrow. Do I really need ‘stuff’ to remind me of who I am? Do I really need ‘things’ to represent the person I’ve become?

No.

My moment of panic, when I heard the garbage truck pull up, helped me understand my mom a little better but ultimately having the manuals dumped freed me of the need to hold on to things that have little to no meaning. What matters are the people I love, the souls that have intersected with mine, the person I am and the person I’m still learning to be.

Saint Thor

I am a cat person. Thought I ought to get that out there first. I love cats of all kinds, colors, breeds and personalities. So, it is probably no surprise that I find lessons to learn in my interactions with them. At present I have three cats but this story just involves my two boy cats.

Boe isn't my kittie, actually. He belongs to my son. We've had Boe for 11 years and recently discovered that he has cancer. There wasn't any hope of eliminating his cancer so we decided to make him as happy and comfortable as possible until the inevitable comes. I've fed him homemade cat food and given him numerous herbs to help his situation. Nothing about Boe's peaceful and sweet demeanor has changed. It would be hard to even know he has cancer except for the large tumor on his leg. A tumor which has recently evolved into a large oozing sore. I'll spare you the details on that except to say that along with the blood and fluid there is a particularly unpleasant smell emanating from Boe these days. I have to wash his bedding daily and he's sometimes challenging to be around because of the way he smells.

In addition to Boe we have a little young, feisty Manx named Thor. Thor was found on the corner of a busy intersection in a snowstorm. We don't know much more about him other than he was a baby when he was found and he is slightly deformed. His spine is crooked and his body curves at his backside. When he walks he looks like his back legs are trying to get ahead of the rest of his body. He's ornery and loud and a little gross. And he's adorable.

Boe is a pacifist. He is kind to everyone. His endomorphic body gives away his love of food and leisure. We're pretty sure Thor has ADHD. He will, on impulse, jump on one of the other cats for a tussle or run streaking through the room so fast that he can't stop and slam into a wall. We love them both.

When we first brought Thor home to live with us he was sick. He had a major kittie cold complete with lots of green nose mucus. Boe was kind to him. I wouldn't say he planned to be best friends, but he was gracious. Over time Thor would climb in the cat bed with Boe and they would snuggle up to sleep. Boe never looked like this was his first choice but he tolerated Thor. Boe's cancer has affected some of his habits, however, and one is sleeping in the cat bed. He has abandoned that location for other, presumably more comfortable locations.

As Boe's smell has become more unpleasant we have tried to be kind and still interact with him. At first the other cats kept their distance. My heart broke for Boe as he loves physical touch and interaction. We tried to keep our human interaction going, although it was difficult at times. But, I knew Boe needed the interaction of his kittie siblings. One day, I noticed that Boe was lying in the sun and really, the heat wasn't doing anything to help his odor. Thor walked up to him and I watched and anticipated the need to shoo Thor away from Boe if he started wrestling with him. But Thor didn't wrestle. He gently licked Boe's head. I watched in awe as Thor lovingly groomed his terminally ill, unpleasant smelling, senior cat friend. Boe embraced the affection as he closed his eyes and purred a thank you.

I had a new hero.

I've watched the same interaction a few times and yesterday, as Boe was having a particularly tough day, I watched Thor settle in for a nap right next to him. They did their cat thing and slept all day side by side all day. Being near Boe took an act of bravery yet Thor snuggled next to him for hours.

Thor, for all of his Thorness, has demonstrated love in a way so many humans seem unable to do. He has loved Boe in his last days with gentleness and care but also in a way that appears to say that he doesn't even notice Boe's affliction. He reminds me of those Saints who wanted to kiss the sores of lepers. A practice that, frankly, never really appealed to me!

The end is coming soon. More quickly than I'm ready to face. Thor knows it too and I believe his saintly behavior toward Boe is his way to say goodbye. When Boe's time is up he will know that his human family loved him but he will also know his kittie buddy loved him too. What sweeter way is there to end a live well lived.