In the fall of 2012 I made a decision. I adopted a mantra to live by: A new me in 2014. I gave myself a year to sift through the memories of my life and plan for my future. And I've spent this year working on rediscovering me.
It's not easy to be truthful with ourselves. We want to deny that we have "bad" traits or that we have messed up sometimes, although it is only human to make mistakes, to "mess up" sometimes. I ask for forgiveness from those I might have offended. And then I forgive myself for my mistakes and go on.
It feels like I have alienated friends and acquaintances because my opinions differ from theirs. And our opinions should be able to be different without causing friends to no longer be friends. But, these are different times we are living in. If you disagree, if you speak what you are thinking, hoping for an exchange of ideas, that isn't what you get.
So, a few people have stepped on my toes this year. And I have said what I thought. And now they don't want to speak to me so I feel like I was wrong to express what I thought and felt. When I expressed that I was assured that wasn't so. Still, when I post to an online group and nobody responds to it I, like so many others--maybe the reader, maybe the people I have tried to reach--take it personally, even though I tell myself I shouldn't. Why does it matter so much to me what people think? I don't want them to think I'm a neurotic woman, a loose cannon. I'm not those things. But not knowing me well enough to judge--and I am probably doing the same thing to others here and judging from what I see and read--well, it has created "issues."
Except, I'm not sure that is true. I attended the calling hours for the mother of a childhood friend. I remember all the hours we spent together and think of the neighbors at that time as "extended family." I was thanked for coming, told it meant a lot. But one of the daughters of the deceased looked at me, and voice dripping in condescension, said my name as if I was unworthy of being there. Obviously she does not hold our childhood memories in the same "family" status as I do. Well, my conscience is clear. I paid my respects to a woman who was deserving of respect and always spoke to me with mutual respect whenever I saw her. I offered my support to my friend and her sister who do not, apparently, regard me as that same friend, but just someone they used to know. Ah, well. I will love them like sisters forever, even if I'm just a distant stranger to them.
Here's to the memories of childhood where we accepted everyone and offered patience, love and kindness to all...And tolerated the bullying from those who were bigger than us and were so low class as to pick on someone too small to fight back. Cowards.
I can't apologize for that last bitter note.
Friday, November 29, 2013
Tuesday, June 11, 2013
Dreams set us on our way
“You can do whatever you want, achieve whatever you set out
to do if you’re willing to work hard to get there.” Mom said those kinds of
things all through our childhood, growing up years.
“You’ve done so much with your life,” she said, this from
the vantage point of her eightieth year, this said by a woman with many gifts,
raised in strict Victorian style and restricting patriarchy in an American
Bible belt.
ALL of my writing for the past 15 years has revolved around
the values, lifestyles and local society that has influenced me, governed me,
and perhaps imprisoned me. Each step I’ve taken started with a tentative step—the
first step being the most difficult, but commitment rising quickly. If I’m
going to take a step I am going to plunge forward…until a conflict arises
between what is best for me vs. what my family needs, all with my personal
perceptions based on what I know, mostly from my own experiences, my own
observations, my self-education.
Always I have put my family first. My journalism career was
good for me. If Mom hadn’t been at my back, pushing, urging, encouraging my
reluctant footsteps, I would not have spent 14 years in radio and print news.
But when I perceived my children at risk, I could not, in
good conscience, put myself ahead of them. I made the conscious decisions to
bring each of them into the world, at first tentative because parenting carries
such a deep, consistent commitment and dedication. But when that first step was
taken, my honor and commitment carried me full-speed ahead. I have NEVER regretted
those choices I made, even when an ignorant receptionist refused to assign an
appointment with my OB-GYN because my husband’s job was gone in the Economic
Malaise and we had no insurance. I should get an abortion, she recommended. I
feel such joy when I am sharing life with my twin daughters, now 26 years old.
What did that stupid woman know?
It’s not that I haven’t been published nationally. It’s that
I have my sights set on something more.
“You’ve done so much with your life,” Mom said.
It seems like there is so much yet to do. My motivation is
that I stand for my mother and my grandmothers who were not given opportunities
to excel with their gifts and talents, and to teach my daughters (birth and
adopted—that means my daughters’ friends who have called me Mom) and
granddaughters to learn who they are, why they are, to set their goals, dream
their dreams and reach for the stars.
Mom tried to do the same for me. I’d say she succeeded given
where she started from. I am passing the lessons forward. But it’s a two-way
street because my daughters are excellent teachers, too.
©2013 Cathy Thomas Brownfield ~ All Rights Reserved.
Monday, May 27, 2013
Perspectives
“You really look like your mother,” Carol said to me
yesterday at a Spruce Street gathering. Mary and Sandy agreed. (Carol is “Dorothy,”
Mary is “Rose,” Sandy is Blanche and Dolly is Sophia. Dolly was absent.) I am
amused. ROFLMBO!!!
When I moved in at Mom’s after Dad passed away, Mom and I
settled into a pattern. Routine is an important point in Alzheimer’s. Every
night after the 11 p.m. news broadcast, Mom and I watched reruns of The Golden
Girls. When the broadcast was ended, Mom would put her crocheting down, go to
the bathroom and change to her pajamas and say goodnight so I could get my
rest.
Everything about being there was about a safe haven. Even
with the stress of AD-related events, there was love and respect there. A
certain camaraderie. I wished my husband would agree to live at my mother’s
house and help me to take care of her. He declined.
In 58 days it will be two years since Mom’s passing. I am
looking at things from a different perspective these days, some of which may be
related to my approaching Purple-Ten birthday.
Sometimes we come up against reality and clarity. We finally
grasp that thing we have tried for so long to understand—or avoid. And we need
to remember that moment of clarity when we are inclined to soften our resolve.
Change isn’t always easy but sometimes it’s necessary.
© 2013 Cathy Thomas Brownfield ~ ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Thursday, May 16, 2013
A Parting in Progress
She and I were never close. Mom said the problem was that I
intimidated my sister-in-law. Me? Intimidating? How on earth could that be? I
am so “down-to-earth,” so non-threatening, harmless. Why would anyone be
intimidated by me? I still don’t know the answer to that question.
Last week my nephew contacted me to let me know that his
mom was in the hospital. She was in a coma, but nothing like he had ever seen
before. She has been diabetic for a lot of years now and on dialysis for a
number of those years. She didn’t take care of herself to control the diabetes.
I wonder if she thought, “That happens to other people. It’ll never happen to
me”? Mark thought his mother was dying. He was worried, afraid.
I visited my
sister-in-law in the hospital. I thought if she heard my voice, saw my face, it
might help bring her out of whatever was going on. We have been at odds enough
that her old feistiness might push her to respond. She opened her eyes at the sound
of my voice. She looked at me. Her eyes looked terrible, but I didn’t say
anything about that. She started to stir in the bed. But she didn’t speak. I
didn’t stay long because there just didn’t seem to be anything that I could do.
It was told to me that Deb’s sugar level dropped to 10 and
when she was found in that condition, they had no idea how long she had been at
that level. The doctor feared brain damage. After a few days he ordered an EEG
to see what was going on in her brain.
For whatever reason, a feeding tube was inserted. I asked my
brother if his son—who would not leave his mother alone, had been at the
hospital since Saturday—had told them to do whatever they had to do to keep his
mother alive. He said yes.
It’s so hard to let go of someone who is dying. I understand
that. But a feeding tube only prolongs the suffering for someone who is never
going to recover, is never going to be more than a body in a bed. I don’t want
that for myself. Why would I want that for her?
A few days ago Bill, my brother, talked to me. He said Deb woke and
talked to him. She was so weak it tired her to talk much. But I think it gave
him some hope that she would recover. In my mind I knew it was not that she
would recover, but that moment of clarity that happens so often just before a
person’s condition takes that turn for the worst that leads to their demise.
Her health is just too fragile to rebound.
My brother contacted me yesterday (May 15, 2013). Deb has
been removed from life support. Hospice has been called in. Social services
support has told him and his children that they are doing the right thing. I
know this is a difficult thing to do.
My niece was there yesterday, at the hospital. I was glad to
hear this. Her father and her brother need her to be there. She was nowhere to
be found when our dad died in 2009. She was nowhere to be found when our mom
died in 2011. Her grandparents. They were always there for her when she needed
someone. And she failed to show up when they passed away. If she didn’t want to
be there for them, why wasn’t she there for her family who needed her? And when she needed her family. I still
do not understand that.
So, here we are at the end of my sister-in-law’s life…her
last days. She and I were never close. Her life was difficult, more than
challenging. I hope for her to have a better place on the other side of the
River. Deb, go in peace.
(c) 2013 ~ Cathy Thomas Brownfield ~ ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Short post for a long thought
What is respect?
What is self-respect?
© 2013 Cathy Thomas Brownfield ~ All Rights Reserved
Wednesday, May 8, 2013
Humming
Why didn’t
I think of this before? Oh. I did. I just have never found time enough to do
that, mostly because I’m always doing things that others think I should be
doing instead of what I think I should be doing.
I want to plant a hummingbird
garden.
Those
tiny birds are a wonder. I wonder how they beat those tiny wings so fast and if
their hearts ever skip a beat the way they dart around. I wonder if they see
colors since they don’t care for yellow or white, but like bold colors like
orange and red. Ah, but they like pink, too. They don’t care all that much for
roses or geraniums but gravitate to wildflowers and native flowers like columbine,
coral bells, gladiolas, lilac, Mexican sunflower, red hot poker, scarlet runner
beans and trumpet vine; those flowers that produce more nectar on which they
feed. They apparently prefer jewelweed and cardinal lobella, which are wetland
plants.
For
nesting, provide fuzzy plants like cinnamon fern, pussy willow, thistle and
dandelion or other materials they may use for nesting. Pruning plants to
promote flower growth rather than wood growth will encourage the hummingbirds
to come back to your house. Planting patches of flowers, and flowers that don’t
all bloom at the same time also will enhance a hummingbird garden. No
insecticides should be used.
Hummingbirds
eat spiders and insects. They bathe in shallow water, even if it’s just a few
drops of water in a leaf. How economically and environmentally-minded they are!
Indigenous
to Ohio, the ruby-throated hummingbird is found only in the Western Hemisphere,
advises the ODNR (Ohio Department of Natural Resources). It is the smallest
bird, weighing less than an ounce. Males are about the weight of a penny,
females a little more. They summer as northerly as Canada and Nova Scotia, as
easterly as the Atlantic Coast, as westerly as the central plains of the Great
Plains and southerly to the Gulf Coast and the east coast of Texas. They are
more of a tropical bird, arriving in Ohio between mid-April and mid-May and are
gone, mostly, by mid- to late-August. They are the only hummingbird that nests
east of the Mississippi River.
No wonder
I like hummingbirds. They are solitary creatures. But they also are aggressive
and challenge the other birds at the feeder. They nest near woods and/or water.
Their feeding times are early morning, late evening and just before a major
thunderstorm.
Some
facts about ruby-throated hummingbirds:
·
* Males and
females are together only for mating.
· * Female
rears the two offspring alone.
· * Females
are on nests by mid-June.
· * Two
broods may be produced each year.
· *
Two white
eggs are the size of sweet peas.
·
* The nest
is half the size of an English walnut shell.
· * Life
expectancy is 2-3 years.
The
recipe for making food for hummingbirds:
1 part
sugar to 4 parts water.
Boil
mixture for 2-3 minutes. Let cool before filling feeder. Store unused portion
in the freezer for later use. You may add a little red food coloring if you
like, but it is not necessary. Do not use honey because of potential issues of
fungus.
When the
food in the feeder becomes cloudy or dirty, get rid of it, clean the feeder and
provide fresh nectar for them.
As I read
this information about hummingbirds, a plan is formulating in my mind. A pool
of water surrounded by wetland plants…Already I have honeysuckle twining on our
fence. There is plenty of dandelion around. Where did they come from, seemingly
overnight? But the issue is the dogs…who think they can tramp on anything
within that fenced in backyard.
(c) 2013 Cathy Thomas Brownfield
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