Only Love

It has been awhile since I’ve written a blog, but I just couldn’t until now.  My usual blogs revolve around life events, things that strike me at a particular time.  The last few weeks, every time I sat down to write, I found myself writing about my dog, Popcorn, who my husband and I had to put to sleep a few weeks ago.  However, I didn’t want to sit and write about that experience as it was so heart wrenching. But, it seems I have to, as until I do, I can’t seem to write about anything else at all.

How do you ever know if you did the right thing?  I don’t want to focus on the sadness and the guilt I still feel, but it’s there.  I had hoped that Poppy would pass naturally, without any intervention, but that wasn’t to be.  Everyone who saw Poppy the last few months told us it was time.  But, he didn’t cry, didn’t complain, so how do I know for certain that he was really suffering?  My husband and I kept putting off the thought, hoping for divine intervention.  Finally, after seeing him walking into walls and constantly starving because, although he ate like crazy - nothing stayed in him for too long, we had to believe he was not happy.

The weeks since that sad day have passed and even though I still look for him at the top of the steps when I come home and sleep with my legs bent because he always slept at my feet, I now know he is not going to be there.  It’s funny how one tiny ten-pound dog can take up so much space in your heart.  How one tiny animal that had long since ceased been playful and bouncy, is missed so very much.

Poppy’s passing marks an end to one era of my life, the era of a house full of people and busy goings on.  But, as they say, one ending leads to a new beginning.

No one knows where the next minutes, hours, days, weeks and years will take us, but we all have hopes that the future will bring good times.  This week I learned that an acquaintance, someone my family has grown to respect and appreciate through the last 13 years even though we only knew him professionally, died suddenly.  When I found out, it was as if I was punched in the stomach.  I just always assumed Jeff would be there to book our family cruises and call with questions, which he would answer, in his soothing, helpful voice. Last week at this time he was probably heading to his travel agency…….. 

These recent jolts have led me to realize how lucky I am to have so many wonderful people in my life to lean on, confide in and sometimes even share a hug.

As time moves on, we have to go with the flow, the stage, the scenery, they change, but hopefully, the play continues. As the coming change in scenery is approaching, we are forced to clean out and throw out so much that has accumulated over the years.  What will we find as we clean out?  Well, so far, I have uncovered old family videos and spent hours listening to my Father’s voice, something I haven’t heard outside my own head for 3 years.  My Dad, my nephews Joel and Scott, my Aunt Elsie and my Aunt Anita…my Grandparents…great aunts, people that were such an integral part of who I am yet who have passed on…. hearing and seeing them in the videos this week was a deep reminder of all that is so precious, all that really matters ~ loved ones, both family and friends, and the willingness and opportunity to share good, fun times together.  We always make time for the sad times, we take off work for funerals…. but, for good times?   Taking time for good times – THAT is the trick and those are the memories that live in our heads. 

Listening to the young voices of my children, their laughter has brought smiles and happiness.  Watching these videos is life affirming.  We all pass through this world; the goal is to make a positive impact and mean something special to those you love and care about.  Things are truly meaningless, you could own the most beautiful car, have the loveliest of homes and go to the most expensive restaurants, and believe me, it’s all fun and great and I hope to win the lottery sometime ~ but, I wouldn’t trade anyone in my life for any of these ‘things’.  I always remember my Dad telling me his words of wisdom when I was little and spilled paint all over the carpet in his bedroom…”Sweetheart”, he said, “never cry about things ~ only people deserve your tears.”  My Dad also told me, “If you’re worried about money, that’s good, because it means you have no REAL worries.”

My Dad was brilliant.

So, now, on this quiet Friday morning, a Friday after my Mom’s 86^th birthday, I am thankful and hopeful as I reminisce and appreciate not only all who have meant the world to me yet are no longer here but also I will make a point to let those here now know I appreciate them with all my heart. I will hope for good health, happy times and safety for those I love and cherish and yet not rely on hope that they know I love them with all my heart ~ I will tell them.

Enjoy the day, take care of yourselves and please, let’s take care of each other ~ life is fleeting and it is the good we do that lives on, not the things we buy.  To Poppy ~ thanks for all the years of love.  You were the greatest companion and brought only love to each and every day!  Your loss may hurt today, but I wouldn’t trade away the hurt because of all the years that the joy of your presence made my heart smile.

I am sorry that much of this blog has been rambling thoughts, but it is just how my brain has been these last few weeks.  My main thought through all of this is only love ~ it is truly all that matters in life.  Love each other and be thoughtful of each other, the rest is meaningless.

The Seesaw that is Life

A young woman is sitting behind a huge desk in the lobby of the nursing home.  She has a big, beautiful smile, as she seems delighted to have someone to welcome.  My husband leans down and signs the visitor book as he notices that his father has been there since 10 am this morning, it is now 6 pm. 

My mother-in-law was placed in this facility about a month ago when her Alzheimer’s reached a point where my father-in-law, at 89 years old, simply found it impossible to properly care for her and protect himself (and her) at the same time.   One evening, when my father-in-law refused to take her on a fool’s errand, one she had imagined in her Alzheimer’s state, she attacked him with her cane.  The police were called and the last few years of getting by, of making do and getting along…they were blown away.

My father-in-law is a mellow man.  Actually, until my mother-in-law became ill, he never really spoke much at all.  I was always amazed at his silence and just assumed it was his way of coping, getting along and keeping the peace.  But, in reality, I think he was just deeply in love with his wife and wanted to please her.  My mother-in-law was a strong woman; I don’t mean to speak of her in the past tense as she is still here physically; yet mentally she is no longer strong.  Alzheimer’s and medications have left her docile.

For a bit over 63 years my in-laws have been married.  The balance that such a long-standing marriage demands has become more and more obvious to me as my marriage is now half way through its 33^rd year.  In order for a couple to remain together, roles are taken and kept and as long as things remain in their usual pattern, there isn’t much change.  From an outsiders’ viewpoint, my in-laws marriage had a unique balance in that my mother-in-law made the plans, the rules, and held the upper hand while my father-in-law went along so as to not upset the apple cart.  I am sure that if something truly mattered to him, he would have spoken up, but, for the most part, his sanity and his peace were enhanced as long as my mother-in-law was happy. 

When my mother-in-law’s Alzheimer’s became more and more evident, the balance gradually shifted.  As my mother-in-law grew more silent and became less capable, my father-in-law grew louder and took on more responsibility.  The balance was maintained; only the seesaw was heading in the other direction.  It took for my mother-in-law to get so low that no amount of balance could be maintained, for outside forces to be needed and for the time on the playground to come to an end.

Now, my father-in-law sits with my mother-in-law in the nursing home most of the day.  He keeps her company until he just cannot sit anymore.  He comes to our house for dinner or takes himself out, then goes home.  It must be a very odd feeling for him.  He must feel a mixture of loneliness and relief.  Loneliness for the wife he knew and loved all those years, yet relief in the lifting of the burden and the fear that comes from caring for someone who has lost her ability to think clearly and is a potential danger to all around her.  After all, the fire department was called twice as small fires started in their apartment because she forgot and left something to burn in the oven.

Watching this transformation these last few years, a transformation that I have mentioned before, is in many ways (of all things) a life affirming reality.  When, in a previous blog I wrote that one of the nice things about Alzheimer’s is that my mother-in-law forgot she never really liked me, I meant it.  The wall that she built, from the time my husband told her we had decided to marry until the time that her illness became evident, collapsed.  I tried very hard to knock down that wall in the beginning of my connection with the family, but after years of watching the wall get ever stronger, I simply gave up.  Yet now, the wall has vaporized, with only the indentation left on the ground where it once stood. The indentation is the memory of the years of hurt that once existed, but there is no longer anything there to push the buttons.

Life changes.  My children are grown, my father passed away over three years ago.  With each sunrise we step ever so closer to the next stage of life.  That next stage had always been filled with excitement and promise in my mind.  From teenage years to college years to young married life to having babies, then to enjoying the beautiful people the babies grew to be…each stage was filled with light and laughter for the most part, and for that I am eternally thankful.

What will this next stage bring?  I see my father-in-law and how he has so drastically morphed into a new person, at 89!!  Although his transformation has grown out of hardship and necessity, he has still come into his own.  I am sure he would gladly revert to the introverted, silent man with the happy, forceful wife if given the choice, but the choice is not an option and so he has adapted.

There is much to look forward to, I hope, in the years to come; with laughter and love and as our family expands through my children’s relationships.  I look forward to weddings and grandchildren and vacations and new homes, G-d willing.  I enjoy the families that are becoming an ever important part of my own – the parents and families of my children’s significant others.  These beautiful people I now consider family!  Who would have guessed I would have family in Colorado and Connecticut?!  These new family members have grown very important to me.  I am so thankful, so grateful that we all feel so instantly attached.  I am so extremely honored to be included in their lives.

Because of this, it is with great optimism, love, promise and warmth that I am looking forward to this next stage in life.  The more the merrier!!  As the seesaw of life moves, I believe the trick is to enjoy each and every vantage point, each changing view as it happens and go with the flow.

The days may go round and round like the carousel, but the ups and down of the seesaw are the years.  In either case, hold on tight and never let go of those you love.

Two More Days of Passover.........

Two more days left of Passover; two more days of eating Matzos (which are a lot of Weight Watcher points by the way), and other assorted matzo derived products.  Two more days of celebrating the freedom of my ancestors, a freedom from slavery that we relive through the telling of the story of the exodus from Egypt before we can eat dinner at our Seders - a freedom we then continue celebrating by eating unleavened bread and other assorted Passover approved, dry foods for eight days.

I keep Passover my own way.  Any religious person would laugh at the way I keep Passover – I don’t eat bread, cake, cookies, crackers, etc.  – In other words, I refrain from eating anything obviously made with flour (oh, except matzo).  Since I am the only one in my house who keeps it in any fashion, I have bread in the house, which automatically means I am not keeping it, according to any normal Jew.  I do not change my dishes; I do not scour the house.  I am odd and apparently not very clean!

I keep Passover, my way, out of respect for my heritage, I keep it in order to challenge my discipline, and myself and I keep it out of a love of tradition.  I keep Passover, my way, because it is part of who I am. However, the fact that I continue to keep it, logically, makes absolutely no sense in the larger picture, as I don’t believe the reasoning for it makes any sense at all.

To those who don’t know, the reason Jews refrain from eating leavened bread this week, it is to remember that when our forefathers were freed from slavery in Egypt, released from bondage, they had to flee quickly and did not have the TIME for the bread to rise.  So, they gathered what they could and exited stage left at lightening speed.  (Jews moving at lightening speed?)

Time, they didn’t have time.  They had the ingredients, just not the time.  So, how do we as Jews celebrate this lack of time?  We celebrate it by spending an inordinate amount of time in the kitchen.  There are Passover cakes and cookies that take tons of time to make, they rise, but they are okay to eat!  We eat matzo, which is flour and water, so we had the ingredients…now how does this make any sense to anyone? 

Twenty-five years ago, when I was just pregnant with my son and very aggravated that the matzo wasn’t sitting extremely well, I remember talking to a religious friend of mine who I respect immensely.  However, in the midst of our discussion of the holiday, which he deeply loved, I couldn’t contain myself any longer.  Maybe it was the hormones, but I just couldn’t keep from expressing how weird our celebration of this particular holiday seemed to me.  I told him that Christians have MUCH better holidays!!  Christmas, they decorate their homes with lights, yet Chanukah is the Festival of Lights so we light a candle!  On Easter, they get through Good Friday, the day Jesus was crucified, and then they celebrate his coming back with chocolate, with bunnies, with colored eggs and fun!  They decorate baskets and give sweets and toys!  They don’t wallow in the horror of the crucifixion; they celebrate the joy of the resurrection!  If Jews celebrated the holiday of Easter and all it encompasses, we would have to suffer for a day, maybe fast, before we would set our alarms early and have to rise at dawn on Easter Sunday! 

But what do we Jews do to celebrate being freed from slavery? Are we free on this day to eat whatever we want?  After all, we are now free!!  Do we have a joyous celebration; maybe even serve something otherwise forbidden, like a bacon cheeseburger?  No, absolutely not, we, in our infinite wisdom of holiday celebrations, continue, for eight LOOOOONG days, to eat cardboard (otherwise known as matzo).  How do I prove Passover foods are not great? How many people do you know that eat Passover cakes and cookies AFTER the holiday, how many make them year round?  Also, how many Christians seek out matzo products compared to how many Jews look for a good Zitner Coconut egg?

Now, I have to say that when I was growing up, my family was not very religious and our Seders consisted of having Matzo on the table and serving gefilte fish as an appetizer.  We didn’t have a long retelling of the exodus from Egypt, my Dad would say, “We’re free!  Let’s eat!”  We had our own stories that were told, mostly about the significance of the foods, but those you can read in prior blogs.  To me, those stories, these family thought up life lessons and morals, were more relevant and more important.  The tales about why matzo balls are round and why brisket is cooked so long, these stories dreamed up by the women in my family and handed down to us, these are a personal legacy that I will always enjoy and honor.  It is those stories I would love to retell to my Grandchildren should I be lucky enough to have them one day.

Today, I had matzo with my breakfast.  This afternoon I will head to my brother and sister-in-law’s house for a beautiful Easter celebration as my sister-in-law is not Jewish.  Their house will be filled with love and laughter and I am thrilled to be a part of the happiness; however, I will test my discipline when dessert is rolled out.  I am bringing chocolate covered matzo so there will be symbol of our Jewish heritage, something sweet and tasty for dessert, but I will salivate when the cookies and cakes come out.  And so, I, as a Jew, will celebrate freedom and the lack of time my ancestors had to flee Egypt, by eating dry foods that take extra time to prepare??????

Happy Holidays everyone ~ no matter what you celebrate, I hope you celebrate with those you love.  THAT is the best of times ~ no matter what you eat!

http://www.dummies.com/how-to/content/the-haggadah-and-the-steps-of-a-seder.html

Our Popcorn

 

Almost 17 years ago, my children were little and our adorable black and white, half poodle, half yorkie ~ a cute little girl dog, Pumpkin, died.  We were heart broken.  My husband and I bought Pumpkin when we were first married and had our first home.  She was part of our family before we had children.  She was a great dog, loving and fun and always good company ~ she went from being the star of our home, to a happy buddy for our children. 

Pumpkin died a few short months before we were to leave for a family vacation.  Although we knew we wanted to have another dog in the house, as a family we decided to wait until after our vacation.  We didn’t think it was fair to bring a new puppy into the house only to kennel her for 10 days almost immediately after bringing her home.  This plan was in stone……

That was summertime, 1996.  In those days, we belonged to a swim club near our home as it was prior to us building our pool in our backyard.   It was a warm, wonderful summer and every day possible we would go to the club and sit with friends, enjoying the sunshine, the camaraderie and the pool.  My son and daughter had fun with children their age and I sat with my good friend Robin, and another wonderful woman, Beth. 

On day, early in the summer, Beth mentioned that her Maltese just had a litter of puppies.  Growing up, I had two Maltese dogs (both female), Chi Chi and Cutie Pi.  Unfortunately, Chi Chi died young, but Cutie Pi was my buddy all through my years growing up.  Cutie Pi was my friend, my confidant, and I loved her.  Maltese dogs are cute, small, happy and adorable. 

I had an instant premonition that our plan of not having another dog before our Florida vacation was quickly vanishing. 

In trying to think of a way out, a way I would not be tempted, I told Beth that I definitely wanted a female dog as I had always heard horror stories of boy dogs damaging furniture.  I don’t know where I got that idea, but it was in my head.  When Beth said she had a female for sale, I knew I was in deep trouble. 

With the idea of “just visiting” the puppies, we all went to “see” them that night.  We drove up to Beth and Marc’s home and as they opened the door the cutest sight hit us.  There were little balls of fluffy white, tails wagging, slight yapping and lots of jumping all around us.  Beth led us to her den where a child’s playpen was set up.  Inside the playpen were the puppies for sale. (The ones yapping and playing all around us were Beth’s own Malteses’, the parents of the puppies in the playpen)!

In the corner was a very cute little female puppy. She was sitting calmly, nestled against the weave of the playpen.  We tried to pick her up, but this other little dog, a male, “Mr. Piggy” Beth called him because of his amazing appetite, kept getting in the way!  Gently we pushed Mr. Piggy aside as we ABSOLUTELY did not want a male dog.  The female tried to evade us, meanwhile, Mr. Piggy was jumping all around, wagging his tale, running to Michael then to Lauren, looking at us and just being generally Mr. Personality if not Mr. Piggy! 

I did not want a male dog.  That was certain.

Beth picked up the female and brought her to us.  I already had a name in mind, Sweetie Pi….in keeping with my Maltese, Cutie Pi.  We held the little, tiny girl Maltese and tried to play with her, but she truly had no interest.  Meanwhile, there hopped Mr. Piggy!  He jumped over to my son and licked his hand!  He then bounced over to my daughter and sat near her, his tail flapping happily from side to side.

Needless to say, we bought Mr. Piggy.  Beth promised (and kept her promise) to babysit him during our Florida vacation so we didn’t have to kennel him.  I went home with a happy family, and an ecstatic male Maltese.

The rest of that day and that night we couldn’t get over the personality this little puppy possessed.  He was just so cute.  But, we had one more issue, a name.  Since he was a boy, Sweetie Pi just didn’t seem appropriate.  Although Mr. Piggy was a cute name, we wanted to choose his name ourselves.  Hercules, Kiwi and Paul were top contenders, but somehow, they just didn’t seem right.  As we threw names out and while we were making signs for a garage sale we were holding that weekend, my son decided it was time to make all of us a snack.  Popcorn.   Popcorn!!  Popcorn!!!!  The perfect name for this cute, white, fluffy, happy puppy previously named Mr. Piggy!! 

Well, that was almost 17 years ago.  Today, as I’ve written before, Popcorn is still here.  He may have a weak heart, no teeth, can’t see well and doesn’t hear much…. but he is still here.  He has accidents and has ruined our carpet, but he doesn’t seem to be in any physical pain.  We love him.  He is the last of his litter to still be alive.  He has kept us company through good and bad times.  He has played joyfully and eaten heartily, but now he mostly sleeps.  Popcorn was once the cutest, happiest, most fun dog, a male dog who never damaged one piece of furniture, but now he is old, tired and sometimes a bit cranky. 

How do we know when, if ever, the time is right to compassionately put him to sleep?  How do we even consider such a thing, even though most people we know seem to think it is the right thing to do at this time?  I asked a vet that came into the store where I work the other day and he simply said we would know; he said there is no right answer.  But, then Poppy, as we sometimes call him, will have a coughing fit.  He will arch his back and stretch his leg in a weird, stiff, uncomfortable looking way.  Is he in pain?  He doesn’t yelp.  How do we know, are we being selfish?  Should we just let nature take its course? 

Looking at Popcorn now, it is miraculously easy to look beyond his weaknesses and remember the happy little bouncy puppy that seemed to dance before us with a top hat and cane, tempting us to take him home and become part of our family.  Our going with our hearts at that time was one of our most wonderful decisions even though it went against everything we had sworn we would do.

So, I guess that tells me that the decision to make now is to go with our hearts.  Our hearts say, stay Poppy.  Stay until you show us, and we know it’s time you want to go.  You showed us it was right to take you home years ago and I have to believe you will let us know when you want us to let you go now.

You have been such a great friend and such an important part of our family, Popcorn.  We love you.  

The Light of The Soul

I’ll never forget this week three years ago; it is burned into my head in a way that is not normal for me (my memory is not so hot).   But, in this case, I remember conversations, peoples’ eyes, specific strangers, but mostly, I remember my Dad for it was this week, three years ago, that my Dad passed away.

That week started like an ordinary week at that time.  The EMT’s came to my house to take my Dad for his Monday dialysis treatment.  He did not want to go.  As my Dad had become weaker toward the end of his illness, he still showed signs of his prior strength from time to time; this Monday morning was one of those times.  He was telling us he was done with dialysis and he adamantly refused to go.  My Mom pleaded with him, I pleaded with him, we argued with him, and then we cried together as they strapped him into a wheelchair and lifted the chair, with him in it, out of the house and into the ambulance and on to the dialysis unit. 

Not long after the ambulance drove away, my Mom received a call from my Dad’s doctor that my Dad wasn’t feeling well and that they were not going to do his dialysis treatment. Instead of treatment, they were sending him, via ambulance, to the hospital.  The doctor continued by telling us he did not see dialysis as a beneficial treatment for my Dad any longer. Patients have a way of telling the world when they are finished, he said, even in their otherwise not totally coherent state.  My Mom and I knew he was saying it was time to let him go, but this was not something we were ready to think about.

Once my Mom was off the telephone with the doctor, she and I ran out of the house and drove hurriedly to the emergency room to meet my Dad when he arrived.  I have already told the story of his time in the hospital that week.  We met with “end of life” specialists and listened more intently, with more awareness and openness than I would have thought possible.  The doctors took time and spoke with us about my father’s care and where we were in his treatment.  Once the decision to stop dialysis was made, after talking with my brothers, they could only keep my Dad in the hospital for a few days.  During that time, it was surprising how well he seemed.  With the nurse, we sang show tunes, with a hearty appetite; he enjoyed eating the foods he had been forbidden to eat for so long, (feeding my Dad carrots from his tray was unbelievable, he enjoyed every mouthful as if it was the most awesomely prepared cuisine!)  We watched the winter Olympics, he enjoyed visits from his grandchildren and he spoke on the phone to my brothers with clarity and strength.  It was as if he was getting better, stronger, as if he felt more alive than he had in years.  He was coherent, funny, and strong and for a few days it seemed as he used to be.  A lovely religious representative stopped by one afternoon.  She told us she was on her way to Israel and asked if we would like to give her a note of prayer to place in the Wailing Wall.  My Mom and I wrote a prayer of hope and gratitude, which she tucked into her purse and took with her to Israel. 

After visiting with the hospice organization near our home, we were confident with the people, not so confident with the surroundings.  Hastily, on the day my Dad was released from the hospital, we arranged for hospice in my home.  Our family gathered together that day.  My Dad was with all of us, and he even visited via Skype with my brother in Florida.  Before going to sleep my Dad said he loved us all.  At 3:22 AM he passed away.

That was three years ago this week.  Three years since I have had the chance to hug my Dad.  But, when I now think of my Dad, I usually don’t think of those last years, I remember my Dad when he was strong, my protector.

I don’t know, one way or the other, if the soul and the spirit are real or if I just wish they were, but last night certainly helps me believe.  As I said, this week marks three years since my Dad passed away, but yesterday was his actual Yahrzeit.  For those that aren’t Jewish, Yahrzeit marks the anniversary of the death of a loved one and it is tradition to light a candle in remembrance. The candle is lit and burns for 24 hours until it burns out; the flame is symbolic for the human soul.  This connection comes from the Book of Proverbs (chapter 20 verse 27), which states:  “The soul of man is the candle of G-d.” 

It is said that the flames, like a human soul, must breath, grow, change and fight against darkness only to eventually fade away.  In this way, the flame of the burning Yahrzeit candle reminds us that life is fragile and must be protected, embraced, and cherished while we remember our loved ones.

I lit my Yahrzeit candle for my Dad at sundown, as did my Mom, who lives with us.  My candle burned out almost to the minute of 24 hours.  However, my Mom’s burned for an additional twelve hours, keeping her room lit all through the next night.  My Mom insisted it was my Dad’s spirit shining his light for her. 

Unbeknownst to me, while her Yahrzeit candle was continuing to burn far longer than it should, I was having dream after dream of my father.  In my dreams he kept repeating three life lessons that he wanted me to remember.  I kept repeating the three in my dream, I would wake up, fall back to sleep, return to the same dream and once again hear the three life lessons.  When I woke for the day, the dream was still in my mind and as I showered I could recite the three life lessons, two of which I remember him telling me throughout my life, one was new and honestly something I don’t remember him telling me in real life.

The first of the three lessons is one he continually told me as I was growing up. He would sit with me and tell me how I could always know right from wrong when I was not with him.  He would say, “Always remember, if someone asks you to do something, think to yourself…could I tell my father about this in the morning?  If yes, then it’s okay, if no then it’s wrong.”  An easy and foolproof method of telling right from wrong that I think of even to this day, even knowing he is no longer physically here to tell.

The second was to always remember that ‘If you’re worried about money, you have no worries.’  He always said that because when really bad things happen, you don’t worry about money, so if money is what you are worried about, be thankful.

Now, the third…the third is something special that my Dad told me last night that I really don’t remember him telling me during his lifetime.  He told me to live life and appreciate the warmth, love and light that every moment provides.  Meanwhile the Yahrzeit candle my Mom lit to honor his memory was shining well beyond the normal time, illuminating her room and brightening her world.

Whether or not that was the spirit of my Dad, I can’t prove, but in my heart I feel it was, I feel him with me as I type these words.  My Dad, who sang Frank Sinatra songs better than Old Blue Eyes himself, my Dad, who was the life of any party and who told a joke better than any comedian, my Dad lit this house last night with his love.  I feel it; I know it and it makes me smile, just as he always did.

I love you, Dad.  Thank you for always being such a shining light in my life.  

Cleaning House ~ Cleaning Mind

My house is cluttered.  My brain is cluttered.  Just as there are rooms and rooms filled to the brim with useless, unwanted and unneeded accumulated extraneous things in my house, there is area after area of extraneous thoughts in my head.  I need to clean both.

Nineteen years is a long time to live in one house.  Fifty-four years is a long time to live in one head, especially my head.  Nineteen years ago, when my husband I moved into this house from our townhouse, we were in our mid thirties.  Nineteen years ago, my precious children, Lauren and Michael, were 10 and 5 respectively.   Life was so very different then.  I never thought those days would end.  They were so happy for me.  My children always got along with each other, they were so easy, they were so much fun.  From the time they could speak and could be reasoned with, they were the best company in the world.  Nothing made me happier than being home with my family.  Nothing.  That is still true, but the times when it happens are now rare, not commonplace, certainly not daily. 

Over these fleeting 19 years, I have accumulated so many things.  These items range from huge pieces that take up a ton of space in the basement; old bedroom sets and a no longer used foosball table to small things like newspaper articles, school assignments and outgrown clothes.  In order to move on to the next phase of my life, the empty nester phase, I need to get rid of so very much, but how?  Every item is packed with memories of shared times, laughs, silliness, and just the every day specialness that was that time.  Perhaps holding onto the furniture and the clothes, even knowing all the while they will never again be useful to me in my life, perhaps it’s a way of not letting go of the life that was.  The life I adored.  The life I miss.  The life I will never and should never have again. Wow, that was dramatic. 

Those memories of that time in my life fill my brain like the old furniture fills the basement; although I visit the memories in my head way more often than I venture downstairs. And, the memories in my head, I must say, are in much better shape. 

But, it is true. Those days of 19 years ago are gone, as they should be.  After all, as a parent I want my children to be self-sufficient, healthy and happy with their own lives, dreams, goals and opportunities, but, what do I do now?  What is my role?  I have always felt that my children are my friends.  I never remember having to “parent” them.  They were always well behaved, trustworthy, hard working and mature.  I remember hearing other parents complaining about how irresponsible their children were.  I never had those complaints!  As a matter of fact, I was the irresponsible one who would pressure my children to take a day off from school!  Yes, I would ask them to play hooky, so we could spend the day together!   I used to give them “personal days” like those earned at your job - after all, wasn't school their job?  When they wanted a day off, they could just use a personal day.  I loved those days so very much!!  But I remember them each saying to me, at various times, “Mom, I can’t take off today, I have too much to do!”  Oh my, they were always so responsible!! 

But, back to house cleaning.  You see how even in this blog, the clutter in my head keeps me from moving forward, just as the clutter in my house keeps me from moving to the next location.  I need to move on, in both instances.

By clinging to the unnecessary clutter in my home, I cannot even think about selling my house, a house which has been such a warm, sheltering home; a home that has kept us safe in the harshest of storms and has been a welcoming place for friends and family in times of celebration as it has been a haven of love and support in times of loss.  The carpet is worn from not only my aging dog, but also from years of having transports come to take my Dad to and from his three time a week dialysis treatments.  The wear and tear on this carpet, which so badly needs changing, is evidence of the way life leaves its mark.  There is no sense for me to change this carpet now, as my dog is very old and very ill.  He messes the carpet on what is pretty much a daily basis.  By all logical thought, we should probably think of what the next best step is for our dog, Popcorn, but I am just not ready for that yet.  I guess Poppy is another thing to hold onto, but he is a living animal that I love.  Do I have the right or the nerve to put him down because he can’t control himself like he used to?  How do I know when he is ready?  Am I being selfish keeping him here?

Meanwhile, the dog, the house, and my thoughts are weighing me down; they are keeping me in the same spot when everything else in my life has moved on.  I sit, night after night, day after day,  in this same spot, while everything around me has changed.  So, the spot may be the same, but it doesn’t feel the same, it no longer fits.  In order to find out who I am now, where this 54 year old woman wants to go, I need to clean house and mind. After all, it is not those things that are keeping me down, it is my refusal to let go of them that is doing that.

So, with that, I started small today.  I cleaned out, ready for this????.....  I cleaned out the refrigerator!  After all, it’s so much easier to throw away expired sour cream than a sweatshirt that was well worn by my son or daughter.  But, it was a start.  I cleaned the refrigerator, scrubbed the drawers, cleaned the side and then went on to vacuum and dust my children’s’ empty bedrooms.  I didn’t throw anything away, except the expired sour cream and some shriveled carrots I found in the refrigerator, but I started. 

So, three cheers for me today!  This was one small step for house cleaning, one giant leap for moving on!  

A Time for Sanity

When listening to the gun debate currently raging in the press, I try to remember that most of my fellow Americans are not crazy.  We are wiser, calmer, not as fox-brainwashed as we appear, as evidenced by the re-election of President Barack Obama.  But, there are times when the basic intelligence and decency of many citizens needs to be doubted, exposed and explored.  This is obvious whenever I see Wayne LaPierre, the National Rifle Association's public face.  It is the face of a bizarre human being. Watching him speak, I have doubts as to his mental capacity to even BE a gun owner, let alone gun promoter!

A few months ago, I wrote a blog about a man who blindly crashed his car into my mother’s parked car outside our home.  The man was obviously on “something” and was carrying a loaded gun in the front seat.  He was distraught over his break-up with his girlfriend and who knows where he was headed, in that state, with his loaded gun.  The police, when they arrived did nothing to him.  As a matter of fact, the force of their speech was to my husband and I, telling us we didn’t understand because we are not “gun people”!  No, I am not a gun person, I readily admit that.  However, the schism between that and driving intoxicated with a loaded gun seems to loom large.  It seems the lecture should be directed to the guy acting irresponsibly who just crashed into a PARKED car!

Anyway, I digress, but it simply proves to illustrate the gun culture of this society.  I have been keeping a close eye on the gun debate currently raging in every part of the press.  On television, the radio, in print, both sides are active, on high alert.  Even our government, with sane voices like that of the President of the United States and others are being heard.  The narrative, which I believe the mainstream media promotes courtesy of the NRA, is that this is much bluster with nothing real or tangible able to happen.  I refuse to believe it.

Twenty 6 and 7 year olds along with six young teaching professionals were gunned down less than two months ago by a young man with a legally purchased (by his mom)  Bushmaster AR-15 rifle. There are zero federal restrictions on the ownership of AR-15 rifles in the United States, zero. The gun used in Newtown, Connecticut has been used before in many mass massacres in the United States recently.  Hunters do not use these rifles, as the bullets would tear apart the flesh of their prey and the shooting is pretty much general and not accurate.  These rifles are not even good at protecting from a home invasion for the reason given…they are not accurate as they are meant to kill massive amounts of people, not one directly attacking you.

There is no reason that I have heard on any of the numerous debates I have listened to that have resonated as to why any civilian would need an AR-15.   None.  The purpose of this gun is mass shooting.  It is a weapon of war.  The premise that we cannot, as a nation, have sensible control of such a dangerous, destructive, heartache-producing weapon, is absolutely amazing.  Banning the further sale of these weapons along with extended magazines that aid in killing as many innocents as possible, should be obvious and without argument, even by the NRA.  IF that organization would stand for sane regulations, perhaps they would not be so despised by so many of us.

An AR-15 was also used in the mass massacre of moviegoers in Colorado on July 20, 2012.  According to the letter from Aurora victims' family members – “an AR-15 assault rifle was used in the movie theater killing on July 20. "We listened to the 911 tapes played in court and sat in agony as we heard 30 shots fired within 27 seconds, wondering if one of those bullets killed our children," the letter read.

Arguing for the continued sale of these weapons and these extended clips is what the NRA is standing for at this point in our history.  Unbelievable, but true! No one on the other side is saying that banning these weapons will end all violence in our country, we are, unfortunately a society that applaudes and rewards violence in our movies, our video games and our rhetoric. However, if some lunatic is going to come at me in some public place with violence in mind, I sure would rather he/she was not carrying an AR-15 with an extended clip!

Common sense tells us that this violence, death and destruction cannot and will not be completely halted by the elimination of this class of rifle and the extended magazines.  However, it can only help.  Just as putting a warning on the side of cigarettes didn’t stop all from smoking, smoking is much less common than it was….the art of romanticizing smoking was removed from movies, advertisements were taken off television, all of this helped lessen smoking and thus cancer deaths in our country.  This all simply proves that as Americans we need to ALL participate and work together to lessen unnecessary death.

No one is fighting to eliminate the second amendment.  As much as I despise guns, and I admit that I do, I realize that hunting is a way of life to some.  For some reason going out as a family and killing animals as they try to peacefully exist is sport.  (I know, that was laced with sarcasm, sorry, can’t help it.)  But, I realize it is and I even realize, in spite of my feelings, that when not hunted the deer make life crazy and dangerous for many of us driving around the country.  So, although hunting to me seems a bit barbaric, I can acquiesce to those who do and agree to disagree.  It is a part of the diversity of our culture that I love and admire. 

I also understand how many might want a handgun in their home to protect from invaders.  I would not want one in my home, but I understand that there are single women, people living in dangerous neighborhoods, and probably most of my republican neighbors who own handguns, guns which, they say, makes them feel safer. 

A gun in my house would have the opposite effect.  According to a recent National Public Radio interview, having a gun in the home made the death of a member of that household 43 times more likely than that gun being used for self-defense. That same interview followed with more facts, out of 743 deaths from firearms, 398 occurred IN the home with the gun.  Of these deaths, 80% were suicides, 13% were murders, and 3% were accidents.  As it turns out, most homicide victims are shot by either fellow family members or their roommates – only 7 of the 398 deaths were self-defense, SEVEN!

Despite those statistics, if you feel you need or want a handgun in your home, to protect from an invader, go for it.  If you feel you need to carry a handgun to protect yourself, okay.  But, you do not need a semi-automatic rifle with an extended clip.  You just simply do not.

I just heard that Wayne LaPierre, recently stated that even background checks were not something he could get on board with.  He really said that.  He said that criminals wouldn’t go through the checks.  Well, for that matter, why have ANY laws?  Criminals won’t abide by them, so what the heck…..go for it people!  Why have speed limits?  Speeders won’t abide!  Why make shoplifting illegal…..people still steal!

That argument obviously doesn’t hold water, but he makes it and lemmings repeat it.

There ARE common sense laws and common sense aid to this horrific problem we have in our nation of gun violence.  Of course no law or group of laws will be 100% effective, but just as enforcing drunk driving laws have lessened automobile deaths, common sense gun restrictions could lessen mass murders, random, horrific, tragic, mass murders; and we have to do everything in our power to lessen these tragedies as the next one might be in YOUR child’s school, YOUR neighborhood movie theater or YOUR area mall.

Yes, the problem is vast and yes we need to look at keeping violence in our video games and movies down, not glorifying the death and destruction.  Yes, we need to better treat the mentally ill, but please note that just like the vast amount of legal gun owners are not criminals, the vast amount of mentally ill are not criminals either.   Funny how the gun lobby, the NRA, which makes money for every gun sold, has no problem having a data base for those with mental problems but is against that same registration for ALL gun owners – even those who buy through gun shows and private sales.

It has been proven that background checks actually help two fold, first, the obvious that it makes it that much harder to get your hands on a weapon of death, and second,  many with severe mental issues find it difficult to fill out the forms on a background check.  They get befuddled and don’t do it.  A win/win in keeping weapons out of the hands of those who should not have them!

In conclusion, I am proud to stand with the majority of Americans, even those in the NRA if not their “leader”, who are willing to look at all angles of this horrific problem facing us all.  The tragedy of gun massacres across our great country has to be dealt with right away.  If the rhetoric could be lowered to a point where we aren’t arguing extremes, perhaps something could be accomplished.  No one is saying all guns should be banned.  However, just as machine guns were banned decades ago, with no slippery slope coming to be, we can and should ban semi-automatic weapons and extended magazines for  only when reloading was the man who killed so many in Colorado, stopped.  If he had only had a 10 round magazine, instead of a 30, how many more would be alive today and if one of them was your parent, brother, sister or heaven forbid, child, yes, it would absolutely matter.

It is time to prove that we are civilized, that we are intelligent, and we are worthy of our role as being the shining light on the hill.  We need to care more about our fellow human beings than the rights of those who can’t even defend their ownership of such destructive weapons.  Yelling the Second Amendment at a grieving father is not a reason.  Defending against our government, a government with nukes, drones, tanks, and every possible weapon of war, is no argument.  It is time for rationale discussion, rationale laws and rationale thinking.  The time for bluster and posturing ended with the deaths of twenty 6 and 7 year olds in their first grade classroom.

Please see the following for a story worth the 11 minutes:  http://www.storyofamerica.org/darren