The Beginning

Speaking Up

Y’all know I usually don’t comment on political measures. Personally, because it does little to no good to even try to stand up when the government rolls right over you. I taught my kids “one voice can make a difference”…but now I wonder.

We (the US) is supposedly built on the foundation “of the people, for the people”. I’d really like to know WHO these people are. Because it sure as heck ain’t me.

I am mad. I am beyond mad. I am red headed Irish up, Scottish blood screaming, Southern raising hollering mad. This is not a good thing. And since I don’t relish jail time, I will vent that anger here.

Case in point:

Years ago, I applied for state assistance as a mother of 6, with 3 additional extended family members and the sole income in the household. I was told I made $25/month too much to qualify. Yes, $25/month. You know what $25/month is to a family with 7 teenagers and 2 pre teens? It’s milk for a couple of days and a couple of loaves of bread. Our mortgage was 3/4 my total monthly salary.

So…we did what we had to survive: A series of ‘personal’ loans and credit cards. And guess what? They added to to the point when my former hubby died, every dime of his life insurance went to these personal loans payoff and his funeral. Not a dime for the massive medical bills. Not a dime for the mortgage. Not a dime for the car payment.

And I still was left with medical bills it will take my entire lifetime to pay off.

Because, after all, my state is ‘communial’. So when one spouse dies, the other is responsible for the debts. Ain’t that a hoot?

Though I will say: God bless the hospital where my former husband was taken immediately after his accident. I have, for over 7 years, sent them a check every month for $25 towards his over $200,000 bill from his accident in 2001. And this was the total AFTER ‘hardship assistance’ help. This hospital sent me a letter 2 days ago ‘forgiving’ the rest of the debt. That’s right, they wrote off the rest of the debt, and made me not responsible any longer. It’s gone.

Not sure why they did this. Probably some Board member somewhere got some sense and realized I was never going to be able to pay this debt off. Or maybe God touched the heart of someone who said, “She really shouldn’t be responsible for this”. Though I doubt it, since this would mean someone somewhere had SENSE, maybe they realized charging me $75 for one pill of medication he took 12 years ago was excessive. Cruel and unusual punishment, if you will.

I dunno. But God Bless them. I wish the other 4 hospitals I owe would do the same, lol.

And now comes word my Bank who holds my mortgage, the largest in the US, is offering ‘loan assistance’ to those ‘struggling’. This is because of a Federal Ruling about ‘unfair’ mortgage practices by the Bank. They will give ‘loan forgiveness’ to anyone who: Owes more than their house is worth (me), has had a motgage with the bank at least 5 years (I have for 15), who has at least one account with the bank (I have 3, checking, and 2 credit cards) and who has been late at least 60 days in the last 12 (I haven’t). It’s up to $150,000. I don’t even owe that much on my whole house.

So I don’t qualify. Because I paid on time.

Wow. They will pay people to be LATE on their mortgage? Wow. And here I thought you were supposed to BE ON TIME.

I got NEWS for you idiots: We are ALL struggling to pay our mortgage. Maybe not like some, and I agree there are people who have lost jobs, been laid off, have a family, had medical crisises (geeze, this is all ME too!!!) who can’t pay their mortgage and face foreclosure. I am probably being blind to those truly drowning. For that I apologize.

But still…We ARE ALL STRUGGLING. Every one of us. I don’t know anyone who can honestly say they have never thought, “OMG, how am I going to pay this bill? The mortgage is due the first and I won’t have the total, what am I going to do?”

And to me, right now, this ‘assistance’ looks like a reward for being late. Right or wrong, it does. And once my hubby talks this out with me, I will probably see the situation more clearly. But right now, I don’t.

While my kids never wanted for what they needed, there was ALOT I wanted them to have I couldn’t give. I don’t want my son struggling to pay off his student loans like I am, and will be, for the next 10 years. I want my granddaughter to have things, and dance lessons and music lessons and her own room. I want my daughter to have a better car. I want my younger son to have a better computer, not his brother’s outdated 5 yr old one.

And I want my 78 year old father to actually RETIRE and not worry how the hell he’s going to pay for insurance and medical care for himself and my mom. I want my friends to be able to go out to dinner and not worry how to pay for gas for the car. I want those who want to travel to be able to. And those who want to buy groceries be able to.

I want members in my support group to not have to decide between treatments and paying bills. I want choices made on treatments to be based on HEALTH and not on money. I want them all (and yeah, me too) to not face a mountain of debt for trying to simply stay alive.

And to have the choice to go ‘non traditional’ if they want, without losing their home to do so.

I would like a MA degree. And it’s $30,000. So it ain’t happening anytime unless I win the powerball lottery.

I’m venting. Big time. It’s not ‘fair’, but then so much in Life is not.

BUT…

I am, somehow, making that mortgage payment on time. Thank God for that. I have 27 years and 5 months more of payments. Which means I could pay this house off before I retire. I will be almost 70, but the house will be paid. And it will be falling apart, because there’s no extra money for repairs. But it will be paid. And not worth what I owe.

IF I am not late and the payment goes up. And IF I live that long (which I truly don’t see).

And the hospitals all get $25/month from me. They will see my name a long, long time every month. I gave up the dream of being ‘debt free’ a long time ago. I hope the baby ducks on my checks make them smile each month.

And now…my state voted to ban marriage between anyone except a man and a woman. I won’t go into whether I support ‘gay’ marriage or what I think, but I do NOT think ANY government has the right to rule my personal, private life. Period.

“Social consciousness”. That’s the reason for this ban? Ok, to quote the Book all of those screaming for this ban use: “Let he (or she) without sin cast the first stone”. So…let the Higher Power decide. And focus on things we, as people on this planet, CAN control. And SHOULD control.

Consenting ADULTS deserve the same treatment and rights. Period. Regardless their race, gender, relationship, etc. It is not for the government to dictate what is ‘right’ and what is ‘wrong’. God will do that. The government sure as heck shouldn’t, esp. when it’s riddled with scandal itself.

(Just look at the time and money being wasted on NC former politican John Edwards’ trial. Seriously, the man cheated and got caught. He stole and he lied. Why are MY hard worked tax dollars paying for a trial where he won’t be punished anyway??? I want MY tax dollars in the public schools, the child care subsidy, the colleges where tuition costs are making college impossible for most).

When my current hubby and I married, I made certain my debts stay my debts. So he will never be saddled with them if I die before he does (which is my plan, since I absolutely refuse to live within him).

I mean, come on: NC is ranked one of the lowest in the US for education. In June, the child subsidy, which pays a portion of child care costs for hundreds of working parents, will run out of funding, leaving numerous families unable to pay for child care while they work. So where will these kids go? Stay at home alone?

Why the heck is this state wasting money on governing what ADULTS do in their private life? Why aren’t we focusing on EDUCATING OUR FUTURE and making certain our children have SAFE places to stay while their parents work?

And on, while I’m ranting on a roll: There’s this HUGE pothole in the road near work. NC has 45 cent/gallon tax on gas and the highest gas prices in the South, for ‘road repairs’. So why is this pothole, which has been there for months, not being fixed????? Just WHERE is this tax money going? Cause it sure isn’t in fixing that stupid pothole.

Ok, that’s enough. I am calm enough to now head for work, so I can make a paycheck to pay my mortgage on time.

One Year

I graduated one year ago tomorrow. It doesn’t seem possible in some ways that was a whole year ago. And yet, in others, it was a lifetime ago.

There’s a cute little movie, Natalie Portman before Star Wars the prequels fame, named Where the Heart Is, where she explains to her best friend, “Life can change with every breath we take. And the best we can do is hold on and love each other”.

It’s true. Ask anyone who has lost a loved one to death. Birthed a baby. Graduated. Gotten married. Gotten divorced. Been told, “You have cancer”.

Every breath is a beginning. Or an end.

The simple act of breathing: we don’t think about it, it’s automatic. There’s a medical term for it, those body systems we don’t have to think about to perform, like breathing, heart beating, etc. And we take them for granted. Until they don’t work like they should.

THEN we sure as heck notice.

Isn’t that Life, too?

We go on ‘autopilot’ until something interrupts the mundane, the ‘normal’, the ‘typical’. The automatic. Thenm we sit up, take notice and respond. Good or bad, we react.

And Life changes.

WIth every breath we take.

We either move AWAY from what interrupted…or we move TOWARD it.

I didn’t just wake up, take a breath and graduate. I had years and millions of breaths of classes beforehand. Every breath before 5/8/11 led me TOWARD that one breath that changed me from a dream of a degree to the reality of a degree.

Just as every breath we take moves us one breath closer to the last one.

And geeze, I am philosophical this morn. Must be the lack of coffee, which is going better than I thought. It helps the taste of it makes me slightly ill, so what was a two pot a day (16 cups) habit is now a one cup a day habit. And my cup WAS 32 oz— then hubby gave me a special 6 oz cup I have to use to see his eyes light up as he spies me drinking from it, so I have really cut back.

And it happened in one breath.

In one breath and dozens of bounces, smiles, giggles, laughs and a shake of the Chancellor’s hand, I went from a dream to a reality. In one breath six weeks later, I opened a package in the mail and saw my name across a thick piece of paper. In one breath, I could, if I so choose, add ‘BSBK’ to my work signature in email. I still remain the sole person in my state in the corporation to have the mandatory degree the Federals demand for our positions. In one breath.

In one breath, I closed doors I should have closed long ago and released things—and people— I didn’t need dragging down my spirit and soul.

In one breath, I said, “You bet I do!” and married my soulmate.

In one breath, I answered the phone and heard my sister, my Aunt Maddy, her beloved Jules, were no longer on this plane with us.

In one breath, I heard a newborn baby’s cry and became a Gram (and now she is TWO!! Holy Lord, TWO YEARS OLD, how the heck is THAT possible????).

In one breath, I opened an email saying my superviser had resigned. In one breath I answered a phone call asking me to move 900 for another job.

In one breath, I drank champaign and ate strawberries with my Heroine Survivor. And laughed like I never have.

In one breath, I said, “No” and stopped chemo.

In one breath, I laughed so hard at pictures of a wedding across the world, where friends who met online married in an ancient castle. And had smurf cupcakes.

In one breath, I watched my friend Sami and live in caregiver move across country, give up her entire life, to care for her ailing mom.

In one breath, a dear, beautiful, selfless friend emailed and asked if she could help my son with his increased tuition.

In one breath, my Mom told me she realizes there’s times she’s “not here”. And that she regrets causing us all pain. And that she wishes she could “go ahead on” so we wouldn’t be here to witness what this horrid disease is taking away from us, one breath, one piece, one memory, at a time.

In one breath I realized I did something, somewhere, somehow correct and my Son is not only a Grown up, he’s a beautiful example of what we all should strive to be.

All these. In one breath.

I guess it doesn’t matter if it’s the first breath into a new life, be it married, divorced, widowed, left here while others move on, graduate, birthday, moving, new job, etc. Or if it’s the last, closing doors, Spring cleaning, letting go, giving up, giving in, releasing.

It matters what you do in that one breath. That short, short span of drawing air in, and releasing air out.

It’s said Life can change in the blink of an eye. I like the breath one better.

Sometimes it doesn’t seem like it. And sometimes it hurts, with a pain that physically attacks every pore in your body and soul, to simply breathe. But we do it, because we can’t not do it. Not while one tiny spark of Life survives and fights and hopes and dreams and struggles.

Because every painful breath we take does take us closer to where it’s not a struggle to draw in air and release it. To where we can laugh again, dream again, hope again, LIVE again.

No, it’s never, ever the same. But it’s LIFE. And it’s yours, and mine, and ours, and theirs, and we have to breath through it and find the laughter, the hope, the Love, the happy, on the other side.

So in addition to ‘Breathe. Just breathe’ (a favorite song, first heard on Grey’s), we need to LIVE. Just LIVE.

I’m declaring a ‘floating’ holiday. Breath Day. This should be every day, every hour, but Life does tend to rear its head and take over everything and anything we focus upon. So in those quiet reflective times we get (I know, I know, few and far between, but work with me here), celebrate Breath Day.

And the fact Life DOES change with every breath we take.

Happy Breath Day, Everyone. May every breath you take today be a breath for something great in your life. Even if it doesn’t seem like it at the time.

Grown Man

My Mom says, “All parents can tell you the exact moment they look at their children and KNOW they are an adult. Just as all children can tell you the exact moment they look at their parent and KNOW their parent is old and mortal”.

And she’s right.

My oldest son, my ‘still waters’ is an Adult. Sure, by age he already is. And he has shown me glimpses that my little boy who would rather curl in the house with a book rather than play rough sports is now a studious young man about to embark to graduate school. But this weekend, he showed me he’s not only an Adult…he’s an Adult with a huge heart.

Tuition at US Universities is outrageous. It’s insane that students finishing college have more debt than the average American with credit cards and a mortgage. My son is a finishing junior, almost a Senior at Uni, and plans Law school immediately after. We received word at Christmas (and what a ‘gift’ that was) his tuition is raising 9%. Doesn’t sound like alot, but works out to an extra $2400.

He had a full scholarship the first two years then work study and a partial scholarship this year. He also has a part time job and a full time girlfriend who cooks (for his meal plan, since the Uni’s idea of a ‘meal plan’ is $10/day. Yes, DAY. $10 is a burger and soda at lunch, not to mention breakfast and dinner. So his lady cooks for him. Though to be fair, he buys groceries every other week for them). But the $2400 is above all that.

His Senior Year. There is NO way he is not finishing. I would literally sell my soul before he dropped out because of $2400. His family could raise that amount. Not easily, but we could.

And he quietly said, “No thank you. I will do this on my own.”

He took a full time Summer job along with his part time one. He is foregoing the Summer vacations and fun many Uni students do to work near the Uni and assist in the Summer programs. He should have the $2400 by July, all goes well, and it’s needed August 1.

He called me Friday to say he was doing the 24 hour walk at the Uni for Relay For Life. That alone makes me prouder than I can say. His reasoning is he does this for me, since I would be out there walking with him the whole 24 if I could but I’m not allowed per medical. And he can study in relative quiet, being blessed with the ability to read and walk at the same time and Finals Week is this week.

He also donated $200 of the needed $2400 to RFL. In my name. And in my sister’s.

I wanted to shake him, to shout he NEEDS that money, it’s part of the $2400. It’s a HUGE amount to a college kid (it’s a huge amount to many of us) and he sweated and busted his butt to get it. And his calm reply, “It’s so maybe one day no other kid has to watch his mom or his aunt go through chemo and cry alot cause her hair falls out.”

And that was also the moment I realized my little boy is a Grown Man. Sure, I’ve seen it before. But this was like a hammer to my head. He. Is. A. Grown. Up. And a truly Good One. I’m so darned proud of him. Even if I do still want to shake him.

Plus…

He pressed hard for me to come spend Sunday with him. Have lunch, hang out, spend the night. I couldn’t, of course, having loads to do here. I didn’t tell him I had less than wanted test results Friday, and the situation at work has drained me to where I’m sleeping alot on the weekends. But there was a reason he needed, yes, N-e-e-d-e-d me there.

Sunday was the seventh anniversary of Micheal, my former husband’s, death.

In years past, I couldn’t be in this house on that day. Since Micheal died here, it was too painful to be here THAT day. Why…not sure. But it was. The first year, I was flying to Australia and that day was the ‘lost’ day one loses when one flies TO the Great Down Under, and gains back when one flies home (the flight is 24 hrs, plus due to the time zones, a day is ‘lost’ flying: I left on Tuesday and arrived on Thursday; coming home, I left on Friday at 2PM and got home Friday at 7PM). Every year after, I was away that day for one reason or another.

This year…I simply don’t care. So it doesn’t bother me. Mainly because my Hubby now has shown me what a true marriage is, and how Love heals. Plus Time does heal most things. And I Spring Cleaned and let go. I’m at Peace.

It affects my son more than me. He doesn’t want me alone here. Ever. He doesn’t like it. He doesn’t visit long in this house, because he can’t bear the memories of happier times. And though he would deny it from one end of the earth to the other, he is the most superstitious of all my children, and the one most like me and my mom, though he looks and acts exactly like my dad. He hasn’t come right out and said he’s seen the spirits here, but he has. And he doesn’t like it.

So it took speaking with my now Hubby to convince my son Mom really is fine, not upset and it’s behind her. I don’t curl in the corner and sob as I did in the months following The Death. And I don’t break into wails when the song we liked plays. I smile a bit now, and have resigned it to the Past.

So Grown Up Son has yet another reason to adore New Hubby. Besides, of course, the fact New Hubby can blast Wii games with him and knows all things Computer and loves Bond movies and Dr. WHo and Sci Fi. Listening to the two of them is like being at a Geek Tech Convention. And I love it.

He’s a Grown Up. An adult. Not because he donated money when he really needs it himself. That’s True Compassion. Not because he’s 22 years old and by ‘standards’, he’s legally an adult. Not even bvecause he worries about his mom and wants her safe.

But because he proves the Future has a chance, with more like him out there in the world trying to make things right and good. Not perfect, but better. And because he’s someone *I* want to be when I grow up.

For my Grown Man son…I love you. Please don’t ever change. And thanks for thinking of your mom.

CrossRoads

I posted a few weeks back regarding my Corporation’s unexpected lay offs and my Supervisor’s unexpected resignation. One of my peers took her place and I have discovered, Life under her leadership makes my former boss look like a fairy tale sweet-n-innocent Snow White.

The term ‘soulless’ comes to mind. As does ‘Steppford Robot’.

I may be unfair. Let me try to explain.

The new motto is ‘TEAM!’ which stands for Together wE Achieve More! Sounds great, huh? There’s even a lovely picture of a boat with rowers all rowing together to win the race.

The New Boss made a comment: “We are all rowing together for the common good, to be excellent. And if someone can’t row with us, for whatever reason, such as being too weak, we’ll stop at an island, leave them and send someone back later to pick them up. Nothing must stop us.”

And it’s become more and more evident…that someone being ‘voted on TO the island and outa the boat’ is…me.

Oh, it’s subtly done. The Corp is smart enough (or its new HR Director is) to know they can’t come right out and fire me when I haven’t done anything major wrong. But they can, will, and have, made my life, and that of my staff, hell to force me into resigning.

Such as…

Every report or email I send generates 10-20 questions from New Boss. Some are legit. Most are…shall we say…petty. “Why did you capitalize this ‘We’ and not the ‘We’ in paragragh 8?” “Please send me the news report which shows rain that delayed your return journey from training the week of the 15th.” “Please project your numbers for the year” and when I do, based on a summary of the previous year, “Why would you think it will be hotter this Summer than last?”

Ummm…let’s see…because we have had 3 weeks with temps in the high 70s and 80s the entire month of April? Because the whole country and every weather man I hear is projecting same?

I have bookmarked the Farmer’s Almanack (an excellent book written years ago, strangely prophetic on weather conditions every year) and Good Morning America news show. And I cut and paste this links.

Then. .

Besides traveling over 10 hours for the last six weeks in a row (I think my yard was pretty this Spring, I’m not sure, since I didn’t see enough of it to know), one particular week of training fell on the week before Easter. We adjourned training at 4:30, on Maudy Thursday (the day before Good Friday, a paid holiday for our Corporation), which meant my staff and I should have been home around 9:30-10:00 (we have a 5 hour drive from the Corporation headquarters to home). It was stormy, rainy, and we ran into a mass of traffic and people trying their best to get away from the Big City. We got home around midnight.

So while ‘the team’ quit rowing at 4:30…4 of its members had to continue rowing for an additional 7 hours. That really does promote ‘togetherness’ ehh?

Or telling me to deny leave to the staff who asked for a Saturday training off to see her child’s school play. We will travel 10 hours for a 2 hour training and she reasonably asked to do the training by video, Skype or teleconference, all of which the Corp has utilized in the past. She was denied. And I had to tell her.

I think she will be sick the day of the training. I did not in any way tell her to do so. But I did give her the Personal Manual Section about employee rights and sick time off. That section describes she needs a doctor’s note if she is sick during a mandatory training. If she brings me one, the Corp can’t retaliate.

Did I stop rowing the boat for the Team? Or did I consider the needs of one of the so-called ‘weak’ rowers?

Oh…and did I mention another employee was given the afternoon of Thursday completely off since she was assisting the minister at her church in Maudy Thursday services? Allowances made for one employee (who is, hahaha, former staff of New Boss) but not for others.

Discrimination comes to mind.

And other subtle comments and hints. Such as the staff turnover at my center is not because employees are chronically laid off every Winter and can’t survive on unemployment and no medical insurance, so they find jobs where they know they have full time year round work, even at less money…but because I am a bad leader.

They never went head to head with a cancer survivor, I doubt. We are the most stubborn, heels-dug-in, never-gonna-give-up folks God ever created. And I may be ‘put off the boat’ in the long run…but I darn well with take a few of them with me.

But…every Survivor also knows, so I am told, when it’s time to lay down the oars and stop the fight. When enough is enough. When fighting isn’t for you any more, but not worth the effort.

I need to decide when enough is enough.

I can’t be soulless. I can’t be heartless. I can’t see things in black and white and ignore the person under them. I couldn’t be a nurse because I got too involved in the person who was the patient, in trying to help ease suffering and not being able to be objective.

Maybe this isn’t the boat I need to be in. Maybe I’m not supposed to be a rower. Maybe I need to voluntarily step out and go to the Island.

I’m having migrains. I come home so wound up and stressed out my husband has to endure hours of me complaining, crying, whining and raging. I missed Thanksgiving already with my family, from being ill due to overwork at the center, and now Easter. Baby Em turns 2 the week of the Mandatory Saturday training, and her party is that Saturday. Which I will miss. Or miss alot of it.

Most of all…I’m beginning to doubt myself. I know I am not a strong Steppford leader. I’m not even sure now I’m a GOOD leader. I have 2 degrees, and yet every time a report or email comes back, I feel illiterate, inadequate and 4 years old, watching all the big kids run off to the big swings while I stay on the baby ones.

And the kicker to all the above… my former Boss called me yesterday.

Not as my Boss, but as “your friend”. She told me how I am considered ‘the weak link’ and have ‘powerful enemies at the top’.  Not because of my job performance, per say…but because I am emotion driven, and insist on considering each employee as a person. Because I see us as people, and stand for my staff and refuse to be a robot. Because I have a heart and fight the system that says money is the only thing that matters.

I am rocking the boat.

She also said if something better comes along job wise I should take it. Immediately. That I am young, have degrees and deserve a better life than what the Corp can give me. That she cares about me as a person and has done all she can to show how me and a couple of others are the very backbone of the Corp, (the spine of the boat, so to speak), and that the Corp. won’t survive without us. But I should never ever cry for the Corp or anyone in it. And to trust NO ONE. Absolutely NO ONE. To always watch my back.

And she told me the real reason she left. She got tired of fighting. She said enough is enough. And now she is happy. More happy than she ever realized she could be.

I’m at a Cross Roads.

Got any ideas, Gold Team? Or know any places wanting to hire a boat rocker with a degree who thinks of people first?

Dream? Or Premonition?

March 20, 2012

I got one of ‘those’ calls yesterday. The ones that come at 4AM and you automatically KNOW it is not someone calling to say hello or tell you good news. ‘Those’ calls are NEVER good.

It was my adopted brother, calling to tell me Mom was on route via ambulance to the hospital. She had fallen and hit her head. She was “bleeding alot” and since Dad couldn’t tell how she fell, the medics were taking her in for stitches and to see why she decided to get out of bed at 4AM and what made her fall. She wasn’t “in danger” but it “seemed serious”.

So I waited 4 hours, wondering if I should jump in the car and head down there, making the 5 hour trip on 3 hours of sleep. I called every 30 minutes, and my brother would say, “she’s with the doctor” and “no, don’t come, there’s no reason—yet”.

The result was: 14 stitches for a head cut where Mom fell getting out of bed and her head hit the nightstand. Dad was asleep, too, and has no idea why she got up, so maybe she got tangled in the covers and tripped, maybe she got up too fast and fell, or maybe her blood pressure (which was way way too high) made her dizzy and she fell from that. Her doctor kept her overnight for observation and this morning she is headed back home.

I didn’t head down there, my Dad was adamant there was no need, and for me to wait to come when I might really be needed. So late afternoon, I talked to her via the phone.

She doesn’t recall falling. She was also not very cooperative with the medics and emergency room staff, so her doctor sedated her. When I talked to her late afternoon, she was in this time period, groggy and couldn’t understand “all the fuss over a little fall, and they used oil in my hair and now they say I can’t wash it (hair) for 2 weeks! I can’t go 2 weeks without washing my hair! What will people think? And I have a very bad headache.”

The ‘oil’ was the gel-type stuff the hospital used to clean the wound so they could stitch it. They also shaved a bit of her head, but none of us were brave enough to tell her that yet.

But it was what she said right before the phone call ended that got me. “This is good practice for all of you for when I die later this year.”

Most of you know my Mom has a progressive disease which mainly affects her memory, recall and orientation. She also has heart disease. She has been saying the last few weeks, when she’s ‘in this time’ (that’s what we call the periods when Mom knows it’s 2012, and who we all are, not 1978 or 1980, etc.) that she will die this year.

Yesterday, with that call, I wondered if this was the day I heard Mom’s statement was true.

Mom is somewhat of an enigma. She has dreams that come true, just as her mom did, and her gram, and Aunt Maddy. It was scary, at times, when she’d say, “I had this dream…” and then later that day, or week, or month, what she dreamed happened for real. Premonition, folks call it. ‘The Gift’ or ‘The Sight’ Uncle Seamous would say. ‘Coincidence’ those of science say.

I have done this, at times, too. Dreamed things that happen. But I am by no means like Angel M, or my mom or Aunt Maddy. Mine are ‘hit and miss’…like the ‘feeling’ I had to buy a powerball lottery ticket Tuesday because I was CERTAIN I would win. Well, I bought one and I didn’t win.

So, a fluke? Or just a silly dream? Better yet…a WISH?

But with Mom’s health, is this statement she feels about 2012 being her last here on earth…is that ‘truth’? Dream? Or Premonition? And the only way to know for certain…is after it happens.

It’s been a week where I saw our ‘tough-as-nails’ state director at the corporation break down in tears telling us my immediate supervisor definitely wasn’t coming back. And that a 38 year old board member we all saw just this past week had died of a massive heart attack, though he was in ‘perfect’ health. And how a fellow Director has had 2 heart attacks in the last six months, though she is in ‘perfect’ health, 36 years old, a 110 pounds and no history of heart disease.

I had to console a friend who was unjustly attacked by someone. I had to pour loads of water on fires of hate and gossip. I had to travel, which I hate, and deal with the after effects of my body recalling the poison of chemo. And hear in meetings how the Corp is expanding, at the risk and loss of the heart which has kept it going for 40 years.

The incident with my Mom…only makes me realize how petty and stupid all the above is. How it will not matter next week or next month or next year who said what to who and when. Or how I was sick yesterday. Or how the Corporation expands and what The Board does, since I either will or won’t have a job.

It’s all in how we see it. Does it REALLY matter? Or do we just think it does? So the same with the Dream or Premonition or Whatever my Mom is having. It’s all in how we, those who love and know her, handle it.

Life’s too short.

I also finally received closure on something I needed long ago. It’s not what I expected. So I’m still dealing with the after effects of the ‘what if’ and ‘why’. And letting go.

And the realization I am in, for the first time in my whole life, a relationship that is healthy and good and RIGHT, with a man who is perfect for me, believes in me and supports me in all ways.

So that nagging…thought…dream…premonition I now have that my mom is correct, that she is preparing us, that the next time I get one of ‘those’ calls will be the one I dread…is a bit easier not to freak out over, since I know I will have support regardless.

But it’s still there…the Dream. The Premonition. And for me, it Matters.

An Apology

March 11, 2012

Like the title says, this is an apology post for several people and also, a realization.

First, Gold Team…forgive me being distracted and slightly out of touch. I’m cramming six weeks of unexpected break into a week of catch up at work. Plus traveling somewhere every week for the next five. It’s insane.

And it’s no excuse for not being around.

And speaking of work, my immediate Superviser resigned. It’s a blow. As most of you know, we had a love/hate/hug/pull-my-hair-out relationship. I miss her. I realize now, in the “you don’t know what you have until it’s gone” category, how much she did for us and buffered us from the harshness of the state head. She pushed me hard, made me want to scream with frustration…but she stood for me when there was a difference of opinion between the program and the corporation.

And I fully support her decision to leave. Even as I mourn it.

From what we at work can gather, since no official statement has been made (she resigned 2/29, we received an email 3/8 from the state head mentioning a condolence card for her but no official notification), she resigned to be with her terminally ill mother.

This is the Supervisor who took 11 weeks FMLA (Family Medical Leave, an Act in the US which protects your job position during emergencies and health needs, but does not pay you: it simply garentees you can’t be fired or your position permanently filled during the weeks you are out; the limit is 12 weeks) to be with her grandchildren in August, September & October while both her son and daughter-in-law, active military, were sent to Iraq and Afghan (so the myth if you are military and have kids you won’t be sent overseas is just that a MYTH).

So she only had 1 week left. She used that week in January, when her mom had a fourth heart attack in 4 months. Her father died 3 years ago. She took voluntary lay off, with all her staff (us) and went to be with her mom. Her mom was placed with Hospice 2/12 (this is an agency which helps patients and families in the final stages of life; patients typically are entered into hospice in the last 30 days of life). She never returned.

From what we, her staff, now piece together…she asked for 2-3 weeks over the lay off time to be with her mom and family at the end and after the funeral. The state head refused and told her to return to work, or lose her job. She resigned to be with her family.

It was the right choice. It was the ONLY choice. And I seriously wonder now, in a corporation I already wondered about, whether this is truly a place I want to work.

Many of you recall the post ‘Dear Supervisor’ I wrote before my own surgery last August. I was furious and hurt by this Supervisor who said it was ‘inconvienent’ for me to take time off for what may have been life saving surgery. Now I realize she had the same choice I did, to stay at work and risk her own mental health while her mother died thousands of miles away, or quit a job she has held for 22 years.

She made the right choice.

I apologize to my Supervisor. While I was upset and hurt in August when I made that post, and in some ways justified (I still think the remark was tactless), I see now the struggle she must have had in not issuing a choice to me of being off or being fired. She choose to support me. Her own supervisor, when it was her turn, choose to support a corporation that doesn’t give a damn about its employees.

Granted, I have FMLA time left and she did not. But what is more important: Family or a job? Couldn’t another choice have been made by the state head?

It’s something I will be thinking seriously about the next few weeks.

An apology too, for my friend Kylie. I’ve been caught up in the work mess, and didn’t spend the time with you I know now you need. I’ll be visiting you in Duke next week, and as long as you need me. And darn it, next time, yell at me when you need me, will you? My thick red head needs a good bop every now and then to see what is right in front of me.

(Kylie is a Liver Cancer Survivor. She had a section of her liver removed this past week, and is in critical but stable condition at Duke Hospital. She’s a sweetheart, selfless, a true Fighter in every sense).

Friends or your job? It’s something I will be seriously thinking over in the next few weeks.

Most of all, an apology to my husband, who tolerated a lot of rants, tears and complaints from me the last couple of weeks over this work mess, not to mention a huge mess as I tried to pack for a business conference left to the last minute. You truly are the Best Husband ever for me, my DB. I’m blessed. And I promise to leave work at work as much as possible from now on.

It won’t be my Spouse or my job. That’s not a choice at all nor does it require any thinking over. Because it will always be HIM. I have indeed learned that lesson.

So why is it even a decision for me about my friends, and possible family? I should have been there more for Kylie. For my Gold Team. And if…or possibly when, it’s *my* mom who needs me…will I even think about whether I want my job or being with my mom?

That’s also another no brainer. It’s my mom. Always.

So maybe I have already made the choice. Maybe I just need to complete it. And maybe, just maybe, I need to read over past posts from the view of others and put myself in their shoes. So I don’t realize, too late again, “what I have until it’s gone”.

I don’t want to have to make apologies for wasting time again. Or for not being there when I am needed.

Would you?

As a PS: To my friend Gayle’s family: May you all receive the blessings and comfort in knowing Gayle is now beyond the pain and chemo, that she IS a Survivor in another place and will always be with us all. To Gayle: Give ‘em heck up there, babe. And tell Maddy and Sarah hello for me, will you?

(Gayle is a breast cancer survivor who passed away Friday of complications due to chemotherapy. She was 54 years young and will be greatly, greatly missed).

Legacies

Webster’s Distionary defines the title of this post as:  something transmitted by or received from an ancestor or predecessor or from the past.

I received a Legacy from Aunt Maddy and Jules this week.

It’s not money, because we all always knew Maddy’s wealth was going entirely to the World Charities she so loved. And that’s the way it should be. Had I asked, she would have sent me whatever I needed, but she knew I would never ask. It’s the struggle that makes you appreciate the victory more. And though I admit to sleepless nights and loads of tears over making ends meet and paying bills, I prefer, when I finally do, if I ever do, stand at the top of this finacial pit to know I got there though my efforts, and not Aunt Maddy’s.

The Fed Ex Delivery Man brought me all the family history stories and documents from my maternal side. Aunt Maddy was the family historian and now all her documents have passed to me.

It’s a JOb I’m not sure I deserve.

I am blessed in knowing my family history. Both of them. My adopted side and my birth side. It’s something more precious than money to me because it shows me who I am, who my children are, and because I love the roots and stories and records and just knowing YES WE LIVED.

But it’s more than that. It’s more than the names and places they lived It’s the causes of death and the treatments.

For example, my birth great grandmother died in 1956 according to her death certificate. Of Respiratory Failure related to pnemonia related to…get this… Lung Cancer. She was 96 when she died, born in 1860. The fact she was alive during the American Civil War (ok, I’m Southern: It’s really ‘The War of Northern Aggression’), WW1, WW2, Civil Rights movements, Women’s Rights, & the beginnings of the US space program astound me. She was walking history. Though, at the end, she suffered from ‘delusions, severe chest pains and mental anguishes requiring confinement”.

I imagine she did have severe chest pain. Lung Cancer is neither painless nor kind. But then, nothing about The Big C is. I don’t know if she smoked. She lived in NC her whole life, the Tobacco Producing King State of the US where the first cigerettes made didn’t have filters and FDA warnings of cancer, and she grew up on a tobacco farm. So I imagine she did. After all, the hit US show I Love Lucy often showed Lucy smoking, so it was accepted that women would smoke.

But what struck me is the Big C has been around longer than I thought as an Enemy to my family. I knew of my birth mother, and my sister. To now see my great grandmother, and 3 aunts and 2 uncles with ‘cancer’ or ‘possible cancer’ written on their death certificates…it’s affected me deeply.

I’m not sure why. Maddy would have known, of course, what the records said. She hand wrote family trees that go back 16 (yes, SIXTEEN) generations. There are letters, preserved in plastic, written in what I think is old Gaelic (I will need to ask Uncle Sea, or maybe some Irish friends). She and I never took the time to sit down and go through all these records, though we always said we would.

Me, who says so often DON’T WASTE TIME…I wasted time finding out more about these records from Aunt MAddy. And now…well, now, I will be shifting through these records alone, half guessing at some things, and making assumptions, right or wrong, about others.

This isn’t the first time I have dug into family history. My father’s great uncle, who also fought The Big C and died of. . Colon Cancer…was the paternal family side historian. When I was a young mom, pregnant with my second child, I got an avid interest in having my family tree ready for the new baby and his older sister, in knowing what my family roots were. So Uncle Bill and I wrote dozens of letters back and forth (this was before email was big and when calling long distance cost more than any of us could afford). He gave me the stories behind the documents, telling me the tales passed down verbally yet somehow never written.

Like Grandfather William, a leutant in the Civil War (Southern, of course) who was “dismissed for conduct unbecoming a southern gentleman”— his discharge papers really say that—n 1864. He survived Gettysburg, one of the deadliest battles of this War, with a shoulder wound. And while recovering…he began an affair with a pretty southern belle who just happened to be the wife of his commanding officer. Once discovered, she was sent away and he was discharged.

I guess he’s lucky he wasn’t shot. And to be dismissed from an army that desperately needed men at the time when the US South was falling to its knees tells how great his ‘sin’ was to the husband and others in places of power.

Uncle Bill gave me my paternal history and so much more. Though I had no idea I myself would one day write, as he did, “Please forgive me if this writing is hard to read, or if my mind wanders. The chemo treatments are taking alot from me, and my mind is the one thing I miss most”, I recall reading his final letter, where he wrote that statement, 2 weeks before my son was born and laughing at a world where ‘southern gentleman conduct’ mattered more than having an able bodied man to fight a losing war.

How far the world has come, eh? 150 years later, an affair would cause some newspaper and internet news headlines but would he be dismissed from the army? Nah. He’d be transferred, the wife would get a divorce and they’d end up together or not. ‘SOuthern Gentleman conduct’ would not even be mentioned.

But what caught me about Grandpa William. .. on his death certificate, in 1896, it states he died of ‘lung failure’ and ‘possible brown lung disease’. This was the early name for Lung Cancer.

So the Big C has stalked both sides of my family for a long time.

My paternal grandfather, who died in a coma from a car accident in 1984, was one of 14 children. There were only 2 daughters,one who died at age 2, the other who lived to age 96 and died of.  .liver cancer. The 12 brothers all began to have heart trouble around age 55, many would eventually die of heart failure or heart disease. Someone finally put the pieces together and figured out all these case of heart attacks in the men at middle age had to mean something, and he—Uncle Bill took this cause up, probably trying to find where his own cancer had come from— began to trace the disease.

And he discovered a heart disease, genetic and congenital, where the heart muscle slowly begins to wither and die over the years. It strikes the males, mostly, and to a man, every one shows heart problems after age 55. My own father had his first heart attack when he was 54. My brother, the last direct male of this line, is now 53 and has beginning heart disease.

And me, being me: I am the first direct female of the line diganosed with this disease that slowly destroys your heart muscle, proving it has decided to go ‘co-ed’. It’s what became a huge barrier in my cancer treatments, and that I have referred to in these posts as “my literal broken heart”. And it means my daughter is not ‘safe’…nor is my granddaughter. There’s no known ‘test’ for this, beyond MRIs of your heart, to see what functions and what doesn’t.

14% of my heart doesn’t function. In my oldest son, 4% of his heart is affected. My other 2 children seem fine. For now. Baby Em will get a MRI when she’s 12. But knowing is better than walking down the street one day and suddenly collasping from a heart attack.

And it’s because Uncle Bill took time and sorted records and pieced together what should have been right before our noses.

It’s something we all hear and few take the time to do: Talk to your family members, chart their diseases and go back as far as you can while you can. Aunts, uncles, grandparents. SIblings. Find their actual death, birth and marriage certificates. They hold a wealth of info.

The NC Death certificates I have from Maddy for members of the family list 3 causes of death, if there are that many, the doctor’s name, his notes and comments, where, when, how death occured and the spouse, parents and children. From Great Grandma’s I learned her parents, her husband’s and her children’s names (all 16 of them…omg SIXTEEN kids, 12 who lived to adulthood). There’s a wealth of information for the Family Historian.

I wish I had sat down with Maddy the last Christmas, in 2010, when we were together and talked about this. Sure, we all told stories after dinner, the ones all the kids loved, about the Great great Grandmother who ran away with a traveling circus and was blacked out of the family Bible records and the great uncles who blew up a bank in Alabama running an illegal moonshine still. But no one had ever written all these stories down.

And now Maddy can’t tell us stories anymore. And neither can Uncle Bill.

So it’s a Two Fold Legacy. The stories that make these people REAL and the diseases that affected and killed them. And the ones I am now writing down (ok, so I’m typing them, same thing).

I can’t stress enough what having this info does for me. Not only because it’s tells me, as I said, who I am, but because it helps me help my children know what is in their genetic make up so they can be aware. NOT afraid, but aware.

SO the Big C likes both sides of my family. And its been around longer than I thought. It will find the family motto “Never Give In, Never Give Up” alot harder to overcome. And it may ‘win’ some, but it loses some too. After all, Great Grandma was 96. Great Grandpa WIlliam died at 88. Uncle Bill was 72.

The Big C may have ‘won’…but look at the years they won first. They LIVED. Right, wrong, good, bad, dishonorable or never known outside their own family, they LIVED.

And so do I.

Love Day 2

Y’all get back to back posts on this blog from me. A first :). And in the editting I’m doing (yes, Sharpy, Hubby is cracking the whip and I am muddling through) for this blog-turned-book, I noticed last year’s Valentine’s Entry I said to make sure you tell the folks who matter most to you every day what they mean.

I stand by those words. But then, my Gold Team, you already know this. Perhaps someone who doesn’t will read this and understand.

I also said Give the Gift of Yourself. Love isn’t about roses, candy and love songs, it’s about Emotion & Truth & Giving Yourself freely. Don’t get me wrong: flowers are lovely, but they wither (and the silk ones get dusty). Candy, esp. chocolate, is sweet and mmmmmmmmmm…but it’s gone too soon, esp. chocolate. And love songs, as Music, can do amazing things, but even the most beautiful song ends, regardless if you hit ‘replay’.

Nothing replaces the Truth of Giving Yourself.

I don’t think I ever truly understood that before 2011. Before my Husband. Before I watched my folks this last Christmas. Before I saw the bond between Maddy and Julius not even death could stop.

My Dad was supposed to retire Jan. 1. He partially did, but retained his part time status for the health benefits. He’s spending every free minute with Mom, while she’s still mentally with us most of the time. He’s giving of himself now because when he gives himself later, she may not know. She won’t know him and she won’t recall.

But I think, I KNOW, some part of her WILL recall, WILL know, WILL remember. I have to believe that. Just as we all believed Grandpa, though deep in a coma, knew when we were close and that we loved him.

That’s what Love is.

I mentioned yesterday my husband wrote me a love note. He doesn’t hand write things. EVER. But he wrote me a two page note, to tell me how he felt, and why and what I mean to him. He gave of himself. To me. Not because it was Valentine’s Day. But so I have a visible piece of him I can always carry with me, just as I wear his ring and the necklace he gave me.

It’s not the THINGS, even as much as I adore them, and the meanings behind them. It’s what the Things stand for, the material proof of Love freely given, without expectation of anything in return.

That’s what Love is.

Maddy and Julius are, to me, the Greatest Love Story I will ever know. They endured alot to be together, stay together. I will always believe when Death claimed her, he simply gave up life to be with her again. The defied every known taboo about couples society holds and became an inspiration to all who met them. It wasn’t easy, they weren’t accepted in so many places, but they endured because what they felt was bigger than any mean-spirited prejudice.

That’s what Love is.

I grew up in a world limited by what a group of few believed was ‘right’. While I broke free, eventually, the price of Freedom is never cheap. It costs, sometimes more than we are willing to give, which is why prejudice stays. And though I don’t hold those narrow views as Truth…I see them slyly seeping into things I think and feel even these days.

Some battles never end. Even when we think we have Peace. But instead of an all out war…the trick to winning is sometimes simply to let go, let live and let your beliefs be your own. Truly YOUR OWN. Not what someone else thinks. Not what someone else leds you to. Not what someone else says. But what YOU feel and know in your own heart, mind and soul.

And accept that what YOU believe is what YOU think is correct and just and perfect for YOU…and that others have the same right to believe what they hold is true and right and perfect and just. We are, in the end, responsible only for what we ourselves do. If someone is doing something ‘wrong’…he/she is responsible for it. Not you. Not anyone else.

Acceptance even when different. Belief in yourself when all around you claim you are ‘wrong’. Standing true to what YOU believe is right. And knowing you are the BEST you anyone can ever be.

That’s what Love is. Self Love for YOU.

This post took a turn I didn’t expect, but then, all of them usually do.

I love you, Gold Team. May each of you find Love in all its forms, shapes and expressions. May you always have Self Love most of all. And a few chocolates, roses, chocolates, Music and chocolates along Life’s Journey.

For my husband: Thank you for being in my Life. And for showing me I can love again and to always be true to who I actually am. And for showing me back to the Path I need to walk and the knowledge I never walk alone. And most of all, for simply being YOU. Us. Together. Mutual. One. Always.

That’s what Love is.

Happy Love Day Every Day Everyone.

Music

There’s been alot of focus the this weekend on Music. With the Grammy Awards, where no other event in the world can combine every genre of music possible and still produce something entertaining airing Sunday night to coverage of the death of Whitney Houston, that’s expected I guess. Music plays such a huge part in our lives, in ways we often don’t even notice. Or appreciate.

Take for incidence, exercise. Ever try to exercise to no sound? No radio, tv, M3 player, CDs, etc? It’s horrible. I think my views on exercise (I call it ‘necessary torture’) are fairly well known. But I also can admit, walking the treadmill goes ALOT better with up beat fun music blasting than to the tv news. It goes ‘faster’ when faster music plays.

As much as I love Nora, Janet, James and others…reading just isn’t the same as grooving to ‘Party Rockers in da House Tonight’, ‘Don’t Stop Believing’, ‘Rolling on the River’, ‘Rolling in the Deep’ or ‘Layla’ while stretching, cardio-cising and sweating.

There’s a reason why hospitals play up beat music during chemo. Because it’s the sort of ‘feel good’ stuff you HAVE to have. Healing is 90% mental, maybe more. Our Support Group gives out blank CDs to burn your favorite songs to so while the poison seeps into your body, at least your mind is focused on something happy and positive.

I don’t mean to sound negative. I am thankful to Cyndi, The Boss, Journey, BB, Adele, Whitney, Bonnie, Red Hot Chilli Peppers, Greenday, Carrie, 38, A-Ha, Billy, Bon Jovi, Duran, Guns n Roses, Huey, INXS, Madonna, Madness, Pat, Prince, Queen, StacyQ, Tina, The Bangles, Micheal, Flogging Molly, Bananarama, U2, Twisted Sister, Yes, ZZ, Everesence, and many more. Yes, I am way diverse in my Music choices and preferences.

And I love it all.

Their tunes got me through the hours of chemo. They helped keep me calm in the MRI machines (I used to recite music lyrics in my head to distract me from where I was). They got my through alot of times I was curled in a ball feeling sorry for myself.

House cleaning goes alot faster when you can mop to ‘We’re Not Gonna Take It’ and ‘The Point of No Return’. We had a special ‘Painting CD’ we played only when we painted the rooms of the house. Ever try house painting with teenagers?? I wrote and published an article in a home improvement magazine called ‘10 Things to Remember when Painting with Teens’. One of them was to ALWAYS have music playing. After all, music drowns out the complaints. And the fights.

There was one Saturday, I had the Painting CD blasting ‘Major Tom’ while my daughter in the hall painting trim was blasting Pink, her brother at the opposite end of the hall was blasting the ‘Lord of the Rings Soundtract’ and the other brother, supposedly cleaning brushes and making sandwiches for lunch in the adjacent kitchen, was blasting (and belting out) ‘I Walk Alone’. Yeah, it was a chaotic mess, we probably lost some hearing ability and it remains one of my fondest memories of this house and my kids.

We recall Movies because of the music. Disney is infamous for its musical movies. I still know the words to ‘Under the Sea’ and ‘Part of Your Word’ and ‘Be Our Guest’ and ‘Never Hadda Friend Like Me’. But besides the musicals (West Side Story, Brigadoon, Grease, Chicago, Mama Mia), we recall the hits from movies like ‘The Bodyguard’, ‘The Matrix’, ‘Superman’, ‘Space Jam’. Music can make or break a movie.

One of the things I love about the sleeper hit ‘10 Things I Hate About You’ is how Heath Ledger belts who ‘You’re Just too Good to Be True’ in the bleachers of the school while the heroine is practicing soccer. THAT made the movie. Would ‘Star Wars’ be the same without its easily recognizable theme music? Harry Potter surely wasn’t the same with different music mid-way through the series. I admit I missed the original score almost as much as I missed the original actor who was Dumbledor.

‘Superman’, ‘Lord of the Rings’, ‘The Blues Brothers’: none of these would be the same without the music such a part of them.

When I wrote full time, I had to have Celtic tunes: pipes, drums and flutes. I wrote action scenes to ‘Braveheart Soundtract’, seduction scenes to ‘Lorena McKinna’s Marco Polo’, love scenes to BB King and Barry White. The words flowed better, somehow, with music edging them on.

I keep the ‘clean’ radio station on at work, whenever I can. ‘I Don’t Wanna Work’ and ‘California(it’s CAROLINA when we sing it) Girls’ make the worst reports look not so daunting. Cheesy, sure, but ‘Don’t Worry, Be Happy’ is a sure fire pick up at staff meetings. Before staff trainings, I play a burst of classics: ‘Macarena’, ‘Electric Slide’, ‘Twist’, ‘We Go Together’ and anything Flogging Molly. It’s amazing how these tunes get blood flow and people grinning, even when we know we will be sitting on hard metal chairs for 8 hours.

Music makes a party, a quiet romantic dinner, a family picnic, holidays. The first song my husband and I ever danced to was ‘The Lady in Red’ and our song, one of them, is ‘At Last’. He sang “Everything I Do’ to me this past Friday. Sang it. And you have to know him to understand how HUGE a thing that is, because he does NOT sing, usually. He hums when he’s concentrating, something I find utterly endearing and cute, but to sing. . I cried buckets while he sang and smiled at me.

I can recall when MTV showed all Music Videos. No ‘real tv’ crap (sorry to those who like it, but I’m sick of screaming roommates, sobbing ‘true loves’ and bratty stars). And the videos MADE SENSE. They told stories and fit the lyrics. ‘Video killed the Radio Star’ was MTV’s first ever shown video. Recall A-Ha’s ‘Take on Me’ comic strip video that became ‘real’ at the end? Cyndi’s ‘Girl’s Just Wanna Have Fun’ & ‘Time After Time’? ZZ Top’s ‘Legs’ & ‘Sharp Dressed Man’? Donna’s ‘She Works Hard for her Money’? Micheal’s ‘Beat It’ and ‘Billy Jean’?

The images stay with us, in our minds, playing in forgotten corners of our brian until something triggers them to the forefront again. Why this is can be as personal and unique as the person who holds the Music in their mind.

And gosh…Music cries with us, rages with us, sorrows with us, comforts us, rocks us. Any break up has a break up song. We all have THAT song we play when we’re down in the dumps while we consume a container of Chunky Monkey or Chocolate Chunk Ice Cream.  ‘Someone like You’, ‘Unbreak my Heart’, ‘Immortal Beloved’, ‘You’re Beautiful’, ‘Poison’,”If You Love Someone Set Them Free’.

I went through high school, got married, had kids, finally got the strength to leave an abusive relationship, started a new life and went back to college in the decade of Micheal, Madonna, Whitney and Journey. When I heard of Whitney’s death, I thought, I was with her from when I started dating the man who turned out to be a monster with ‘I wanna dance with somebody who loves me’ to ‘where do broken hearts go’ when I finally got the strength to leave. When we were closing on this house, we had 7 set back delays and dates to sign the final papers. And every time I doubted, it seemed the radio blasted ‘When You Believe’ for me.

There’s all kinds, all forms, all sorts. I have a greater appreciation for Music, I think, because it was forbidden when I was growing up. Well, not all was forbidden: traditional gospel was allowed, and traditional country (yes, I know Waylon, Willie & the Boys (Johnny Cash, Statler Bros., Glen Campbell), Loretta and Reba. It was the only Music considered ‘acceptable’ by my folks. So I hid my first ever albums,(Journey, Air Supply, Men at Work, Whitney, Micheal, Def Lepord & Madonna) bought by my best friend for my 16th birthday, under towels in my Hope Chest and played them while my folks were out of the house.

Few industries seem to see more ‘burn out’ than the Music one (Hollywood aside). We, the fans, the public, WE raise these performers way up because they lift US way up. Than we sit in judgement when our idols prove they are human. That sounds harsh, but yeah, we do: We say how this one has ‘gone down’ or gained weight; how she looks old or he is horrible. And it’s often TRUE, which somehow makes it all the sadder. It’s happening more and more: The deaths from drug abuse and alcohol. Elvis, Micheal, Amy, probably Whitney.

I am NOT defending the use of drugs. EVER. Drug Abuse is something close to my heart, for reasons those of you closest to me well know. But I understand now, in ways I never did, why it’s easy to ‘escape’ in a drug that makes you feel ‘good’ or lets you sleep or takes away the pain for a little while.

There were times, in chemo, I would have sold my arms to stop vomitting non stop, to be able to sleep, to not feel pain, to be ‘normal’. There are still moments like that now, when my joints lock up or my brain can’t function, when I would do anything to be like I was. So I ‘get’ the WHY.

But MUSIC should be the answer. And it’s heartbreaking that it’s often the problem, not the solution.

I’m glad the Grammy’s did a tribute to Whitney. But we Lost MORE than just Whitney this year. We lost Legend ETTA JAMES to the Big C. We lost promising new Amy Winehouse to alcohol. We lost Jani Lane, Mike Starr, Gerry Rafferty. And scores more. I pulled the ‘Tribute List’ from the Grammy Web Site to post here, for ALL those lost just in the last year.

Some I have no clue who they are or what they did. Y’all may be able to tell me. But the list is long and extensive, in alphabetical order, so EVERYONE is honored. Not just the stars and the legends, but all.

I found it interesting Steve Jobs, who never sang a note, was honored in the Tribute telecast on the Grammy’s. Not as a performer, but for designing the devices so commonly used now to hear the music we love. So many on this list don’t sing, or play an instrument. They are the ‘behind the scenes’ folks who make it possible for us to hear the Music we love.

SO all that said…maybe we should recognize MUSIC more. Like telling someone every day You Love Him/Her. Reach for Music, not a bottle of anything. And honor those who contributed, even if we don’t like their voice, or style or tune. Simply because they gave.

Two links for you:

A fan of 80s videos? Back when ‘Video was King’? Here ya go, compiled by a DJ Friend in SL: And a warning: These can cause you to lose track of time.

http://www.vwnfl.com/vids/80s/index.html

And the List of Those Lost in the Music Industry, from Feb. 2011-Feb. 2012. Thank you for all you did and gave. May you always hear the Music you love best.

http://www.grammy.com/news/we-will-remember-you

The following is a list of artists and industry professionals the music community lost in 2011–2012. The 54th GRAMMY Awards telecast on CBS will feature an In Memoriam segment highlighting some of these individuals via a video tribute. The Recording Academy salutes each individual for their respective talents and contributions to our culture and community.

Being Human

This is a Gem Show I discovered on Netflix. And it fits alot of what I’ve been thinking about lately, too. There’s a UK and a US version; I watched the US entirely, all 13 episodes of its first (and looks like only) Season; the UK has 3 seasons and about 25 episodes. They pretty much are the same with a few variations.

The story follows roomates and fellow hospital cowrokers Josh and Adain. Adain is a nurse—and a vampire. And no, he does not sparkle. Josh is an orderly and a werewolf, a very VERY relunctant one. There’s a couple of sarcastic comments about ‘team Edward and team Jacob’. But their friendship is solid. They are bonded as self proclaimed monsters who only want to be ‘normal’ and ‘human’. Hence the name.

They move into a townhouse badly in need of renovation and encounter their third roommate: Sally, former owner and trapped as a ghost in the house. Sally is the worst at first; mopey, whiny. Each episode follows each roommate as they struggle with the search to be ‘normal and human’ in a world that will never accept any of them as they are.

It’s violent and bloody in places, and not for the faint of heart. Adain battles ‘the elders’, including his creater, in a power struggle. Josh battles his own family who can never accept what he is. And Sally has to come to terms with her death, her boyfriend, and how the need for revenge can destroy all you are and want to be.

It made me think, as I watched some of the episodes, how we all struggle to be accepted and be ‘normal’. Media gives us the images of ‘perfect’ and ‘beauty’ and ‘smart’ and ‘funny’. And we all want to be that image, that person, that model or althete or pop star.

Is that what ‘being human’ really is? Always trying to be what we aren’t?

I dunno. Maybe I just have too much time off with this enforced unexpected vacation from work. Or maybe my ramblings have a grain of truth and I need to explore more fully why we all seem to think there is something better than what we already are.

My husband is the most modest person I have ever meant. He refuses to take credit and believe how wonderful he is. Not because he thinks there’s someone ‘better’ but because he geniunely believes he is ‘plain ole normal me’. And while it bugs me at times to no end to hear this wonderful, incredible, gifted, brillant, gorgeous man (I’m not biased at all) claim to be ‘nothing special’, he shows me every day how to be happy with who you are right now. And not some dream impossible image.

And he’s shown me how Love can accept you, just as you are. He sees me as I am; thin hair, extra pounds, loads of scars and so imperfect, and he loves me anyway. He doesn’t cover up that yes, I don’t fit the ‘dream image’ the media says is beautiful. But to him, I AM beautiful, just as he is to me. That’s what Love truly is. Acceptance.

Isn’t that ‘normal’? And what ‘being human’ is?

I have struggled my whole life with insecurity. A side effect of adoption, maybe, but more probably, just what’s in my genetic make up. We are sooooo programmed to believe we’re too fat, too plain, too ugly, too stupid, we miss the Beauty we all have inside. It’s worse when you have the Big C running amuck and taking away everything you once thought you could call ‘pretty’; most noteably, your hair and skin. But some diseases do the same thing. Anyone taking medications can tell you they cause often horrible side effects. Weight gain is the worst.

And even those without a chronic condition don’t see what they are; but what they wish to be.

Insecurity is a sneaky rat. It slips in when you least suspect, whispers slyly in your ear and holds you back from seeing it’s not only ok to be YOU…it is the BEST thing. Insecurity will ruin each and every relationship you ever have. If you let it.

I almost let it. But I am Blessed with a Husband who realized Insecurity was muttering in my ear and while he did not fight the battle for me, he gave me the reason to find the tools I already had to defeat this Foe.

I still look in the mirror and see the extra weight. I still cry when I comb or wash my hair and the sink/shower shows strands washing (and clogging) the drains.I still compare me to people I see. But I know I am loved for ME.

And while I am all for self improvement and realizing your dreams to be who you want to be (helloooo, degree and graduation a few months ago), I also am beginning to realize some things we need to accept as simply ‘plain ole us’ and that it is NORMAL to feel and be that way.

The most Beautiful People I know aren’t Beauty Queens and Stud Muffins; they are normal everyday people at peace with themselves. And trying to help others find that peace, too.

Shouldn’t THAT be what ‘being human’ is all about? Not whether someone is so thin, or hair’s so shiny, or clothes so designer or rich or high placed. But that each one is at peace with themselves, in whatever form, shape, condition, fashion or appearance you already have.

Lose weight because YOU want it for yourself. It’s the only way you ever truly will lose the pounds and keep them off. Change your hair because YOU want it, not because Actress X has the same style. Wear the clothes YOU want, and not because a designer out to milk us of our hard earned cash says this is ‘in’.

And most of all… accept ‘plain’ is NORMAL and not something we have to change. If you are happy as you are, BE THE BEST YOU EVER. Show that happiness and strength and let others see it. Do what feels right to YOU. YOU are a Fabulous Human Being. And that’s what truly matters most.