Dear Mom and Dad,
It’s hard to believe how quickly time passes. In 12 days, Dad, you will be gone three years. Did you listen to that nurse make the call to me? How I made sure everyone in the family was called to get there? Did you watch my speedometer as I pushed past 80 mph on Route 45? And you were already gone. I should have stayed with you that night.
And did you gather with Ashley, Beth, Christie and me as we sat in Beth’s living room drinking French vanilla cappuccino so none of us would be alone? And Leslie had taken off on foot to walk across Salem to her apartment. Richard and Dawn made sure she got there. And I wished she was with us at Beth’s house.
I was looking for a place to watch the sunrise with you that morning. The fairgrounds was not the highest point to watch the sun crack the horizon open. But I looked at the hillside. At the top, in the distance, was a row of trees. From one of the branches a single bird took wing. It traveled alone. I watched until it disappeared from sight, and I knew you were gone.
Ah, Dad. There were so many things I still wanted to talk about with you. I guess those things will have to wait…or maybe they don’t really matter all that much. There are only two things important: You loved me and I loved you…because you were Dad.
Mom, you’ve been gone 6-1/2 months. There are still moments when I think, “I should go see Mom today.” Or, “Mom would get a kick out of that.” Oh, how could it have slipped my mind that you were ready to move on to your next adventure.
Adventure. Do you remember telling me you woke up every morning and before you did anything else you talked to God and asked, “Lord, what wonderful adventure are we going to have today?”
It was my privilege and honor to be your daughter. I hope I have never ever caused either of you a moment’s humiliation, embarrassment or shame. Your respect for me was one of the most valuable gifts I ever earned.
Love,
Cathy
(c) 2012 Cathy Thomas Brownfield ~ All Rights Reserved
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Missing Mom
I miss Mom. She's been gone almost six months. I could talk to her about anything. She wasn't domineering. We just got along very well, like best friends after I grew up, married and started my family. If I got in a jam, Mom was there to help me. If I wanted to go somewhere, she always said she just needed time enough to pack a bag and we could be on the way. We quilted our first quilts together. I don't think I could have done it without her. We made "cabbage patch" dolls for my daughters, Beth and Christie, and for ourselves. We did a lot of things together. If I was upset about something between my husband and me, I used Mom as a sounding board to make sure I was being fair to him. After all, my goals in marriage were to ALWAYS be a good wife.
In less than two hours time the world seems to have fallen apart. My world. It's been happening for a while. Mom and her two living brothers passed away in 2011: Uncle Ed at the end of February, Mom in August and Uncle Dale in early October. One of my adult children walked out of her marriage, nuf said. Now, another broken romance, my paycheck that for nearly 12 years has been direct deposited is no longer being direct deposited and nobody bothered to tell me about it so I don't get a payday today...and my husband gets his back up because I asked why he didn't do a menial task here and he's going to pack his stuff and leave. "Ya do what you have to do," I said. He's downstairs playing pool. I guess I'll have to fix the stupid window myself. Then I can go to Home Depot and find out how to run new water lines from the source to the water heater to the taps so I can have hot water in my kitchen after a year of living in the early 19th century instead of the 21st. And when the weather is warm enough I can get the materials and reroof the garage so it doesn't rain inside the garage as if it were outside. At this point I'm not sure why I have a man in my life.
My attitude needs a great adjustment. I am uncertain how to make that happen. And Mom is six months gone. I can go to her grave site and talk to her, but she isn't going to talk back to me. I am the matriarch now. And I don't have the answers we all need. Geez. How do I fix this?
In less than two hours time the world seems to have fallen apart. My world. It's been happening for a while. Mom and her two living brothers passed away in 2011: Uncle Ed at the end of February, Mom in August and Uncle Dale in early October. One of my adult children walked out of her marriage, nuf said. Now, another broken romance, my paycheck that for nearly 12 years has been direct deposited is no longer being direct deposited and nobody bothered to tell me about it so I don't get a payday today...and my husband gets his back up because I asked why he didn't do a menial task here and he's going to pack his stuff and leave. "Ya do what you have to do," I said. He's downstairs playing pool. I guess I'll have to fix the stupid window myself. Then I can go to Home Depot and find out how to run new water lines from the source to the water heater to the taps so I can have hot water in my kitchen after a year of living in the early 19th century instead of the 21st. And when the weather is warm enough I can get the materials and reroof the garage so it doesn't rain inside the garage as if it were outside. At this point I'm not sure why I have a man in my life.
My attitude needs a great adjustment. I am uncertain how to make that happen. And Mom is six months gone. I can go to her grave site and talk to her, but she isn't going to talk back to me. I am the matriarch now. And I don't have the answers we all need. Geez. How do I fix this?
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
Clarity
There are statements my mother made that struck me at the time she spoke them and now, months or years later those things still strike me. Perhaps I should write my mother's story for posterity, that is, for future generations. (I wish you could see the whiteout on the other side of my window as I type this.)
When I went back to college (2007-2009) I learned that "history" was the story more of "mankind" than "womankind." Often women have not been important enough to be mentioned by name, perhaps because of the shame of her actions that is being told? Or because someone is intimidated by her intelligence? Who knows for sure why women are less likely to be named in history? Of course, Cokie Roberts got my attention with her book, Founding Mothers: The Women Who Raised Our Nation.
Remember Lot's wife? She's the one who looked back and was turned to a pillar of salt. She didn't have a name. At least, she was not named in those scriptures.
And when you took history in public school, what did you learn about Benjamin Franklin? Did you know his wife's name was Debra? Did you know he went to Europe and lived as a diplomat for 12 years, never visiting Debra in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania USA where she oversaw his business ventures? That the only reason he returned then was because she was dead? You can read it in Cokie's book.
Women's stories DO need to be recorded for the generations of women who follow those women. How did women arrive at this modern moment in time? What did they have to suffer through simply to survive? What sacrifices did they make--have to make--to enable today's women to enjoy the opportunities that are available?
I don't know everything about Mom's life, but with my knowledge and with the assistance of recorded history, recorded herstory, perhaps I can create a composite of the chutzpah of women who have been dominated by patriarchy and rose above it. (My doctor tells me that "we don't live that way any more." I didn't say I agree with him.)
My mother did a lot of things, but she never realized the dreams she aspired to, was born to. Perhaps through me (her daughter), her granddaughters, the women who knew her, her dreams may be realized to some degree, to inspire the Self to strive for the greatest potential regardless of the biology of the body.
"You can do anything you want, achieve what you want, if you're willing to work hard to achieve it."
When did Mom become so tired? When did she realize there was no point in fighting any more because she wasn't ever going to win?
How can it be a complete white-out one moment, and just less than a second later the sun be shining and the red brick of the house across the street so sharply defined?
(c)2012 Cathy Thomas Brownfield ~ All rights reserved.
When I went back to college (2007-2009) I learned that "history" was the story more of "mankind" than "womankind." Often women have not been important enough to be mentioned by name, perhaps because of the shame of her actions that is being told? Or because someone is intimidated by her intelligence? Who knows for sure why women are less likely to be named in history? Of course, Cokie Roberts got my attention with her book, Founding Mothers: The Women Who Raised Our Nation.
Remember Lot's wife? She's the one who looked back and was turned to a pillar of salt. She didn't have a name. At least, she was not named in those scriptures.
And when you took history in public school, what did you learn about Benjamin Franklin? Did you know his wife's name was Debra? Did you know he went to Europe and lived as a diplomat for 12 years, never visiting Debra in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania USA where she oversaw his business ventures? That the only reason he returned then was because she was dead? You can read it in Cokie's book.
Women's stories DO need to be recorded for the generations of women who follow those women. How did women arrive at this modern moment in time? What did they have to suffer through simply to survive? What sacrifices did they make--have to make--to enable today's women to enjoy the opportunities that are available?
I don't know everything about Mom's life, but with my knowledge and with the assistance of recorded history, recorded herstory, perhaps I can create a composite of the chutzpah of women who have been dominated by patriarchy and rose above it. (My doctor tells me that "we don't live that way any more." I didn't say I agree with him.)
My mother did a lot of things, but she never realized the dreams she aspired to, was born to. Perhaps through me (her daughter), her granddaughters, the women who knew her, her dreams may be realized to some degree, to inspire the Self to strive for the greatest potential regardless of the biology of the body.
"You can do anything you want, achieve what you want, if you're willing to work hard to achieve it."
When did Mom become so tired? When did she realize there was no point in fighting any more because she wasn't ever going to win?
How can it be a complete white-out one moment, and just less than a second later the sun be shining and the red brick of the house across the street so sharply defined?
(c)2012 Cathy Thomas Brownfield ~ All rights reserved.
Sunday, October 30, 2011
On learning about life
Lessons are learned from the people who populate our lives. As children we learn from the adults who influence us. As adults we learn from the children we have influenced through their lives. We learn about who we are—or not—from the people with whom we have relationships.
My mother always made remarks that stopped me in my tracks…thought-provoking remarks. Some took me by surprise because I never would have seen them coming. Some were spoken soft and low, the two of us alone in my car, as if she were afraid God would hear and condemn her to Hell.
Mom was somewhere in the middle of her Alzheimer’s journey. She drove her car to my house to pick me up, probably to go shopping. And she said to me, “You can drive if you want to. You probably don’t trust me to drive.” She found her way to my house. I wasn’t afraid to ride with her. And I told her so. But the day did come when we had to take her car keys from her. She was SO angry about that.
“I’ve been driving since I was 16 years old,” she argued. “Much longer than you…You’ll know how it feels when your children do this to you.” I recognized the Alzheimer’s doing the talking.
I still can’t understand why Dad took her to renew her driver’s license the last time. Unless he thought the BMV wouldn’t renew her license. But they did. So we had to take on the responsibilities of protecting Mom and everyone around her who might be hurt if she drove her car.
I never felt like we did role reversal. I was never her mother. I was her daughter. I knew her, how she did things, what she expected, so I let her make decisions but used my own common sense to assure they were viable decisions with good consequences. She was satisfied that she had some control over her life.
I think about my abilities, when I will have to relinquish my driving privileges. (Driving is not a right. It is a privilege. And when we can no longer drive safely we must give up our keys, our cars, and rely on younger drivers who are safer drivers to get us where we need to go.) I’d like to own one more new vehicle and travel a lot before I have to give up those privileges. I may even have time enough to own two new cars.
A young woman, grown tired of neglect and emotional cruelty from her husband resolved to leave, “I am almost 40 years old. I only have one life. I’m not going to waste any more of it!”
An older woman asks, “How do you break promises to God?” And is told the promises were made to a man, not to God. And, anyway, it’s hard to comprehend the hold of patriarchy over a woman who has been neglected and unhappy for years but cannot bring herself to leave the unhealthy relationship even though she has been informed that God doesn’t want his children to live in a state of unhappiness. And the husband has broken his vows so their contract is null and void. But, but, but, she could be happy if her husband would be the man he needs to be…that she needs him to be. She can’t change him. And he’s not going to change. What is she going to do?
On Sunday I clicked a link to a story with this headline: “Thoughts of God make us slackers, study suggests.” (http://www.livescience.com/16784-thoughts-god-motivation-temptation.html). Why? “People ‘behave’ because God knows when they’ve been bad or good. Being reminded of the presence of an all-knowing God helps people resist temptations for fear they will be ‘caught’ by God and punished…”
THAT is patriarchy.
My mother always made remarks that stopped me in my tracks…thought-provoking remarks. Some took me by surprise because I never would have seen them coming. Some were spoken soft and low, the two of us alone in my car, as if she were afraid God would hear and condemn her to Hell.
Mom was somewhere in the middle of her Alzheimer’s journey. She drove her car to my house to pick me up, probably to go shopping. And she said to me, “You can drive if you want to. You probably don’t trust me to drive.” She found her way to my house. I wasn’t afraid to ride with her. And I told her so. But the day did come when we had to take her car keys from her. She was SO angry about that.
“I’ve been driving since I was 16 years old,” she argued. “Much longer than you…You’ll know how it feels when your children do this to you.” I recognized the Alzheimer’s doing the talking.
I still can’t understand why Dad took her to renew her driver’s license the last time. Unless he thought the BMV wouldn’t renew her license. But they did. So we had to take on the responsibilities of protecting Mom and everyone around her who might be hurt if she drove her car.
I never felt like we did role reversal. I was never her mother. I was her daughter. I knew her, how she did things, what she expected, so I let her make decisions but used my own common sense to assure they were viable decisions with good consequences. She was satisfied that she had some control over her life.
I think about my abilities, when I will have to relinquish my driving privileges. (Driving is not a right. It is a privilege. And when we can no longer drive safely we must give up our keys, our cars, and rely on younger drivers who are safer drivers to get us where we need to go.) I’d like to own one more new vehicle and travel a lot before I have to give up those privileges. I may even have time enough to own two new cars.
A young woman, grown tired of neglect and emotional cruelty from her husband resolved to leave, “I am almost 40 years old. I only have one life. I’m not going to waste any more of it!”
An older woman asks, “How do you break promises to God?” And is told the promises were made to a man, not to God. And, anyway, it’s hard to comprehend the hold of patriarchy over a woman who has been neglected and unhappy for years but cannot bring herself to leave the unhealthy relationship even though she has been informed that God doesn’t want his children to live in a state of unhappiness. And the husband has broken his vows so their contract is null and void. But, but, but, she could be happy if her husband would be the man he needs to be…that she needs him to be. She can’t change him. And he’s not going to change. What is she going to do?
On Sunday I clicked a link to a story with this headline: “Thoughts of God make us slackers, study suggests.” (http://www.livescience.com/16784-thoughts-god-motivation-temptation.html). Why? “People ‘behave’ because God knows when they’ve been bad or good. Being reminded of the presence of an all-knowing God helps people resist temptations for fear they will be ‘caught’ by God and punished…”
THAT is patriarchy.
Friday, October 21, 2011
Making ends meet
There are just some things you need to say, but you keep them bottled up inside. You don’t want to upset anyone. You want to keep your ship steady as she goes because the world around us is filled with so much chaos and you think if you can just adjust this, tweak that, you might be able to fix your little parcel of the world and all will be well.
But at this moment chaos reigns and there doesn’t seem to be a way to mend fences, reconcile differences, heal broken hearts, and get feet on solid ground. Winter is uncomfortably close, expected to be long and cold. When the buzzards depart Nov. 1 to winter in the south, maybe I wish I was flying away with them. Things that should have been taken care of weren’t. No garden, no harvest. I really wanted a garden. I wanted to put up tomatoes, freeze peppers, make jams and jellies beginning in June with strawberries and working my way through the fruit seasons. Someone has to clean out the rain gutters on the house where trees have begun to grow. Someone has to caulk the windows to keep out the cold of winter. Someone needs to patch the garage roof, find the reason why the security light kicks out the breaker every morning when the light clicks off, cut the dead branches out of the oak tree and that’s just the outside work.
I was searching online for information about senior resources and ended up researching a news headline: “Report: Drug dealers buying prescription painkillers from Ohio senior citizens.” It sounds like there are folks who have it worse off than the rest of us. Seriously? Selling their potent prescription painkillers to street dealers??? The Ohio Substance Abuse Monitoring Network reported, “Drug dealers around Ohio are developing new sources for prescription painkillers by buying them from senior citizens, sometimes as the patients leave pharmacies.” The said report “shows Ohio’s prescription painkiller epidemic is continuing and in some cases, may be getting worse. (http://blog.cleveland.com/health_impact/). The release is dated Oct. 4, 2011. “The network cites reports from Dayton, Toledo and Youngstown of drug dealers buying painkillers from seniors WHO OFTEN NEED THE MONEY TO MAKE ENDS MEET.” (Emphasis mine.) And that reportedly is the Youngstown area.
The drug dealers convince the seniors to go to the doctor, fake pain, get prescriptions for Oxycontin, etc., then take them to the pharmacy to get the medications, and then pay them for the drugs. I can’t…comprehend…This is the literal “last resort” to providing for an individual’s needs??? Why does this smack of irresponsibility? Drug dealing is illegal! Conscience—doesn’t anyone know anything about conscience and honor and doing the right thing? What if their own grandchildren were on the receiving end of those medications…and something terrible happened? Of course, they would never know. Not seeing the faces of the people who will use those drugs makes it alright?
Yet another news story caught my eye over the weekend. More Americans than Chinese are going hungry. Makes me ask if Washington DC really thinks we believe the Great Recession is subsiding. Really? As hard as some have worked to “dumb down America” maybe we’re smarter than “they” think. So, how are we all going to survive the winter?
I started out this blog entry complaining about the windows that weren’t caulked, the garden we didn’t grow, the tree branches, long dead, that fall to the ground when a gusty wind hits them just right.
But at this moment chaos reigns and there doesn’t seem to be a way to mend fences, reconcile differences, heal broken hearts, and get feet on solid ground. Winter is uncomfortably close, expected to be long and cold. When the buzzards depart Nov. 1 to winter in the south, maybe I wish I was flying away with them. Things that should have been taken care of weren’t. No garden, no harvest. I really wanted a garden. I wanted to put up tomatoes, freeze peppers, make jams and jellies beginning in June with strawberries and working my way through the fruit seasons. Someone has to clean out the rain gutters on the house where trees have begun to grow. Someone has to caulk the windows to keep out the cold of winter. Someone needs to patch the garage roof, find the reason why the security light kicks out the breaker every morning when the light clicks off, cut the dead branches out of the oak tree and that’s just the outside work.
I was searching online for information about senior resources and ended up researching a news headline: “Report: Drug dealers buying prescription painkillers from Ohio senior citizens.” It sounds like there are folks who have it worse off than the rest of us. Seriously? Selling their potent prescription painkillers to street dealers??? The Ohio Substance Abuse Monitoring Network reported, “Drug dealers around Ohio are developing new sources for prescription painkillers by buying them from senior citizens, sometimes as the patients leave pharmacies.” The said report “shows Ohio’s prescription painkiller epidemic is continuing and in some cases, may be getting worse. (http://blog.cleveland.com/health_impact/). The release is dated Oct. 4, 2011. “The network cites reports from Dayton, Toledo and Youngstown of drug dealers buying painkillers from seniors WHO OFTEN NEED THE MONEY TO MAKE ENDS MEET.” (Emphasis mine.) And that reportedly is the Youngstown area.
The drug dealers convince the seniors to go to the doctor, fake pain, get prescriptions for Oxycontin, etc., then take them to the pharmacy to get the medications, and then pay them for the drugs. I can’t…comprehend…This is the literal “last resort” to providing for an individual’s needs??? Why does this smack of irresponsibility? Drug dealing is illegal! Conscience—doesn’t anyone know anything about conscience and honor and doing the right thing? What if their own grandchildren were on the receiving end of those medications…and something terrible happened? Of course, they would never know. Not seeing the faces of the people who will use those drugs makes it alright?
Yet another news story caught my eye over the weekend. More Americans than Chinese are going hungry. Makes me ask if Washington DC really thinks we believe the Great Recession is subsiding. Really? As hard as some have worked to “dumb down America” maybe we’re smarter than “they” think. So, how are we all going to survive the winter?
I started out this blog entry complaining about the windows that weren’t caulked, the garden we didn’t grow, the tree branches, long dead, that fall to the ground when a gusty wind hits them just right.
Friday, October 14, 2011
Respect is Earned
Mom insisted we should have an honor code. We would respect our dad because without him we would not have been born. We would be courteous, considerate of others and we would keep our troubles to ourselves because everybody has problems and they don't want to know about ours. If we look around, we can always find someone worse off than we are. Mom insisted we should live by the Golden Rule: Treat others the way you want to be treated.
Respect. That's what I've always wanted, to be respected. But it isn't something that is due us, a right. It is something we must earn. We earn respect through everything we say and do. That's a great lesson for young people, but how does it apply in the outside world?
The 1960s was a great time to grow up: the love generation. Or maybe as 1969 rolled around everything at our house was measuring up to the American Dream. Mom had always told me I could do anything I wanted, achieve anything I wanted to do if I was willing to work hard. It wasn't about biology, gender. It was about ability. And she believed I was loaded with ability, qualities I didn't consider special. Wasn't everyone like me? Wasn't I just human like everyone else? I really didn't think there was anything special about me. Besides, boys didn't like girls who were smart.
No, Mom said. I couldn't expect everyone to perform at the same level as me because everyone doesn't have the same abilities I do. I needed to be patient with those who aren't as capable as me. Some people misread me. They thought I was arrogant. (If they only knew!) But actually, don't my children deserve to have good things, too? What is different about their desires for their children and my desires for my children? That makes me arrogant? Oh, well. I digress.
l
The late 1970s were...hm...well, I remember when the steel mills in the industrial heartland locked their doors. I felt terrible for the families who lost everything they had worked for all of their lives. I thanked God it wasn't us. Oh, but I--and many around me--was about to learn some valuable lessons in economics, things like "trickle-down" and "ripple effect." When the mills closed, all of the industry that relied on domestic steel was hit. Domestic steel couldn't match the affordability of the Japanese imports. (Thanks, Uncle Sam in Washington, for giving away the store.) By 1991, my husband's job was on its way to Romania in Eastern Europe. (And you thought the loss of jobs to overseas markets was something new in the new century.)
With no paycheck we couldn't spend. The stores, businesses and professions, with no customers, began to fade away. Population dropped from 112,075 in 2000 to 107,841 in 2010, according to the U.S. Census Bureau as of June 3, 2011. Some other data from the county's census report include: 84.5 percent of 25-year-olds and older are high school grads, 11.8 percent hold bachelor degrees. The per capita income (2009 dollars) is $19,785; median household income, $38,004. Persons below poverty level, 16.4 percent in the county (17,686) at a time when the state poverty level is at 15.1 percent. Women-owned firms in Columbiana County are 28.1 percent and 27.7 percent in the state. Of the $90,592,062 federal dollars sent to Ohio, only $755,832 of it came to our county (2008). The land area of Columbiana County is 532.46 miles. Population is 202.5 persons per square miles (2010).
Admissions at the Kent State branches in Salem and East Liverpool go up when jobs go down. But when they complete their education, do the students stay or do they leave to follow the jobs? It looks like they leave. And what does that do to the fabric of the extended family?
What does all of this have to do with respect? There are different forms of respect, the most important being self-respect because if you don't feel good about yourself, how can you see good in others or in the world around you? When the jobs went away, people were robbed of their self-respect when they could no longer take care of their families and their obligations. When they were told they did not qualify for foodstamps so they should buy food and not pay their bills--AND THEY WERE--how do you suppose they felt? What did they think? Feel? How did they respond?
Yes, this blog entry is all about respect when you read between the lines and walk in the other man's skin for a while.
Funny that I found this article just hours after writing this blog entry. Maybe you will want to check this out: http://news.yahoo.com/blogs/lookout/more-americans-chinese-t-put-food-table-132752601.html
Next time: To Kill a Mockingbird...What is Courage?
(c) 2011 Cathy Thomas Brownfield--ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Why am I so sure that someone somewhere on the planet will think the copyrights that belong to me don't apply to them? If you are interested in using my words, please contact me for permission.
Respect. That's what I've always wanted, to be respected. But it isn't something that is due us, a right. It is something we must earn. We earn respect through everything we say and do. That's a great lesson for young people, but how does it apply in the outside world?
The 1960s was a great time to grow up: the love generation. Or maybe as 1969 rolled around everything at our house was measuring up to the American Dream. Mom had always told me I could do anything I wanted, achieve anything I wanted to do if I was willing to work hard. It wasn't about biology, gender. It was about ability. And she believed I was loaded with ability, qualities I didn't consider special. Wasn't everyone like me? Wasn't I just human like everyone else? I really didn't think there was anything special about me. Besides, boys didn't like girls who were smart.
No, Mom said. I couldn't expect everyone to perform at the same level as me because everyone doesn't have the same abilities I do. I needed to be patient with those who aren't as capable as me. Some people misread me. They thought I was arrogant. (If they only knew!) But actually, don't my children deserve to have good things, too? What is different about their desires for their children and my desires for my children? That makes me arrogant? Oh, well. I digress.
l
The late 1970s were...hm...well, I remember when the steel mills in the industrial heartland locked their doors. I felt terrible for the families who lost everything they had worked for all of their lives. I thanked God it wasn't us. Oh, but I--and many around me--was about to learn some valuable lessons in economics, things like "trickle-down" and "ripple effect." When the mills closed, all of the industry that relied on domestic steel was hit. Domestic steel couldn't match the affordability of the Japanese imports. (Thanks, Uncle Sam in Washington, for giving away the store.) By 1991, my husband's job was on its way to Romania in Eastern Europe. (And you thought the loss of jobs to overseas markets was something new in the new century.)
With no paycheck we couldn't spend. The stores, businesses and professions, with no customers, began to fade away. Population dropped from 112,075 in 2000 to 107,841 in 2010, according to the U.S. Census Bureau as of June 3, 2011. Some other data from the county's census report include: 84.5 percent of 25-year-olds and older are high school grads, 11.8 percent hold bachelor degrees. The per capita income (2009 dollars) is $19,785; median household income, $38,004. Persons below poverty level, 16.4 percent in the county (17,686) at a time when the state poverty level is at 15.1 percent. Women-owned firms in Columbiana County are 28.1 percent and 27.7 percent in the state. Of the $90,592,062 federal dollars sent to Ohio, only $755,832 of it came to our county (2008). The land area of Columbiana County is 532.46 miles. Population is 202.5 persons per square miles (2010).
Admissions at the Kent State branches in Salem and East Liverpool go up when jobs go down. But when they complete their education, do the students stay or do they leave to follow the jobs? It looks like they leave. And what does that do to the fabric of the extended family?
What does all of this have to do with respect? There are different forms of respect, the most important being self-respect because if you don't feel good about yourself, how can you see good in others or in the world around you? When the jobs went away, people were robbed of their self-respect when they could no longer take care of their families and their obligations. When they were told they did not qualify for foodstamps so they should buy food and not pay their bills--AND THEY WERE--how do you suppose they felt? What did they think? Feel? How did they respond?
Yes, this blog entry is all about respect when you read between the lines and walk in the other man's skin for a while.
Funny that I found this article just hours after writing this blog entry. Maybe you will want to check this out: http://news.yahoo.com/blogs/lookout/more-americans-chinese-t-put-food-table-132752601.html
Next time: To Kill a Mockingbird...What is Courage?
(c) 2011 Cathy Thomas Brownfield--ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Why am I so sure that someone somewhere on the planet will think the copyrights that belong to me don't apply to them? If you are interested in using my words, please contact me for permission.
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Recovery Begins
I recall some things my mother said, things that are very important to remember. These things are so important that I am recording them...In a novel. I see it as potential Pulitzer stuff. And when I have a complete body of work, the Nobel in Literature. I know. Some people will think that's pretty lofty goals, but I was told that God likes it when we dream big because he likes to achieve big. And since he provided me with a big brother named Jesus, and since those places in the sand where there was only one set of footprints was/is when he carries me, I guess it's OK to dream big.
My mother had Alzheimer's for, well, she was diagnosed in March 2001. Quite a year toward the end of 2001, wasn't it? Well, Mom shared a lot of things with me. As her memory became more impaired she might say, "I can't remember anything." I would answer, "That's OK, Mom. I will remember for both of us." She would smile and say, "OK." One day she said to me, "I am afraid to talk." We were in her room at the nursing facility. (I will never call them homes again.) "Why?" I asked. "I think I'm not making sense. Sometimes I can't think of the right thing to say, the right word. I am afraid I look foolish." "Don't you give that a thought, Mom," I comforted her. "We all love you. We understand. It's OK. I don't want you to ever stop talking to me. Do you hear me?" "Yes." Relief washed over her.
I remember when she said to me with tears in her eyes, "I think we are too close." It was just a few years into the Alzheimer's journey. "What do you mean?" I asked. "Well, when something happens to me you are going to hurt really bad." "Why don't you let me worry about that?" I suggested. "Mom, I want all the memories you can give me. They will get me through the times when I don't have you any longer." "Are you sure?" she asked. "Yes."
The lives of women have changed so much over the centuries...since the beginning of time! Women have been demonized, been designated second class citizens, not intelligent enough or too emotionally fragile to sit on a jury or vote in an election. Often they have been nameless. Never in history or social studies classes did I ever hear the story about Deborah Franklin, wife of statesman Benjamin Franklin. Never in literature classes did we read On the Vindication of the Rights of Women by Mary Wollstonecraft, published 1792. I don't recall a time when we read poetry by Anne Bradstreet or Phyllis Wheatley. The stories of women were not worthy of being recorded.
Early in the summer 2011 I had lunch with my friend and former English professor. I talked...no, I complained about my situation and asked, "How do you break promises to God?" I thought Patti was angry with me. Later I apologized for making her angry. She replied, "I wasn't angry with you. I am upset about the deep hold of patriarchy over you."
Well, that was quite a statement!
One of my sisters-in-law recently asked me, "Are you sure you aren't Catholic?" I have a strong command of Guilt, but no, I'm not Catholic.
Patriarchy may have very good purposes. But it also has done a lot of damage, preventing many women achieving their dreams and goals because of gender: they are "female." Surely everyone understands that intelligence is NOT biological! Why do some men have so much difficulty understanding that intelligent wives are wonderful assets to the family. Why are they so intimidated by intelligent women? And where on earth would a 40-year-old man get the idea in his head that it was OK to correct a 58-year-old woman?
I am not a feminist. But maybe I bend toward egalitarianism. It takes both partners in a relationship to make a relationship work. When times are hard, those two partners have to work together if they stand any chance at all of getting through the hard times and come out on the other, sunny, side together. Not so unlike those early hunter-gatherers who traveled in small bands, following the food, and everyone working together just to insure the survival of human beings. Respect doesn't discern gender. Respect is something everyone deserves if they are willing to work to earn it.
Maybe next time I will talk about Respect.
(c) 2011 Cathy Thomas Brownfield ~ All Rights Reserved.
My mother had Alzheimer's for, well, she was diagnosed in March 2001. Quite a year toward the end of 2001, wasn't it? Well, Mom shared a lot of things with me. As her memory became more impaired she might say, "I can't remember anything." I would answer, "That's OK, Mom. I will remember for both of us." She would smile and say, "OK." One day she said to me, "I am afraid to talk." We were in her room at the nursing facility. (I will never call them homes again.) "Why?" I asked. "I think I'm not making sense. Sometimes I can't think of the right thing to say, the right word. I am afraid I look foolish." "Don't you give that a thought, Mom," I comforted her. "We all love you. We understand. It's OK. I don't want you to ever stop talking to me. Do you hear me?" "Yes." Relief washed over her.
I remember when she said to me with tears in her eyes, "I think we are too close." It was just a few years into the Alzheimer's journey. "What do you mean?" I asked. "Well, when something happens to me you are going to hurt really bad." "Why don't you let me worry about that?" I suggested. "Mom, I want all the memories you can give me. They will get me through the times when I don't have you any longer." "Are you sure?" she asked. "Yes."
The lives of women have changed so much over the centuries...since the beginning of time! Women have been demonized, been designated second class citizens, not intelligent enough or too emotionally fragile to sit on a jury or vote in an election. Often they have been nameless. Never in history or social studies classes did I ever hear the story about Deborah Franklin, wife of statesman Benjamin Franklin. Never in literature classes did we read On the Vindication of the Rights of Women by Mary Wollstonecraft, published 1792. I don't recall a time when we read poetry by Anne Bradstreet or Phyllis Wheatley. The stories of women were not worthy of being recorded.
Early in the summer 2011 I had lunch with my friend and former English professor. I talked...no, I complained about my situation and asked, "How do you break promises to God?" I thought Patti was angry with me. Later I apologized for making her angry. She replied, "I wasn't angry with you. I am upset about the deep hold of patriarchy over you."
Well, that was quite a statement!
One of my sisters-in-law recently asked me, "Are you sure you aren't Catholic?" I have a strong command of Guilt, but no, I'm not Catholic.
Patriarchy may have very good purposes. But it also has done a lot of damage, preventing many women achieving their dreams and goals because of gender: they are "female." Surely everyone understands that intelligence is NOT biological! Why do some men have so much difficulty understanding that intelligent wives are wonderful assets to the family. Why are they so intimidated by intelligent women? And where on earth would a 40-year-old man get the idea in his head that it was OK to correct a 58-year-old woman?
I am not a feminist. But maybe I bend toward egalitarianism. It takes both partners in a relationship to make a relationship work. When times are hard, those two partners have to work together if they stand any chance at all of getting through the hard times and come out on the other, sunny, side together. Not so unlike those early hunter-gatherers who traveled in small bands, following the food, and everyone working together just to insure the survival of human beings. Respect doesn't discern gender. Respect is something everyone deserves if they are willing to work to earn it.
Maybe next time I will talk about Respect.
(c) 2011 Cathy Thomas Brownfield ~ All Rights Reserved.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)