Category: Memoirs

Mar 30

Privilege Part 2

As I’ve been parsing my privilege, I have realized that it starts at birth.  We won’t even consider the fact that I am a white American born citizen descended from generations of the same.  Those points of privilege are a given.  Anyone who doesn’t realize what advantages come with them just isn’t paying attention.  

My first privilege was a stable home environment.   I was born to a happily married couple of honest hardworking people.  They didn’t marry until they were 30 and 31.  They had known each other for about five years.  I was born a year later and from that day until my father died, I never heard them argue, never saw them angry with each other.  I’m not saying they never disagreed, just that they worked out their problems quietly and without letting it affect us kids.  As far as we could tell, our parents had the perfect marriage that lasted more than 35 years. 

Part of that stability was the fact that, even though we were never well off, we always had a clean, comfortable home and plenty to eat.  With five children and a limited income, it wasn’t easy but my parents saw to it that we always had what we needed and, at least, some of what we wanted.  They also instilled good values and a strong work ethic in us, mainly by setting an example.

My second privilege was being fortunate enough to be born healthy with no disabilities.  My aunt and uncle had a stillborn daughter and a son with spina bifida.  I had another aunt who had severe scoliosis.   Three of my four brothers were also born healthy and strong, but the other one was subject to seizures that eventually got so severe they had to be controlled with medication for years.  Two of them had dyslexia at a time when no one knew what it was.  They never did learn to read well which limited their employment opportunities.

Consider how many people in this country, never mind other parts of the world, are raised in broken homes or are mired in poverty.  How many have parents who fail to give them good values or the loving attention that every child needs.  Look around at the number of people who must deal with limiting handicaps all their lives.  Think of how many families are homeless or living in refugee camps.  

I have only scratched the surface of the myriad ways that my life has been filled with advantages.  Things that I, like most people, have usually taken for granted; and being able to do that is a privilege all by itself.  I’m not done yet with this subject.  Stay with me.  Part 3 next week.

 

2
comments

Jun 07

Searching for the Past

daddyduringWWII-1It’s the anniversary of D-Day and everyone seems to be putting it front and center.  I don’t remember them doing this last year or the year before….I’m not sure I remember it ever being such a high priority.  Maybe it started because of old men with brittle bones indulging is past memories like the one who convinced officials to let him do a re-creation of the jump he made 70 years ago.   Maybe it’s because someone realized those heroes are almost all gone.  I’m not saying it isn’t that important or that we shouldn’t honor those who fought there, just that people seem more involved this year than previously.  Maybe it’s a nostalgia thing.  WWII was definitively “good against evil,” a situation that isn’t always as clear in today’s wars.

All the hullabaloo, plus Father’s Day coming up, got me to thinking about Daddy.  He would have been 101 on the 16th of this month.  He passed away in November of 1979 from lung cancer.  There are times when I miss him still.  Today is one of those times.  I want to talk to him about his service.  He never spoke about that time and I never asked him about it.  Now, I wonder what it was like for him.  Since he never talked about it, I can’t be sure where he was stationed or how involved he was in the fighting.   I do remember one thing he said about the war, “Don’t move when you can be still, don’t stand if you can sit, sleep and eat whenever you get the chance.  You never know how long it will be before you have the opportunity again.” ( Read more )

0
comments

May 16

Changing times

Sometimes I forget how much things have changed during my lifetime.  Wednesday, while I was visiting my granddaughter and her family in Richmond, we passed a small two-seater sports car.  I’ve wanted one for most of my life.  It just wasn’t practical when my own children were growing up and I couldn’t really afford one later.  I voiced our standing joke, “He stole my car.”  My daughter and granddaughter said I have too many great grandchildren to buy one now.  As we discussed it, I realized my longing has been compromised.   

My thirty year love affair with convertibles has been contaminated by maturity.  The only way I would own one now would be if it had a roll bar.  I’m not sure when the possibility of a rollover began to outweigh the wind in my hair.  It must have been a gradual thing because I don’t even remember when it started.  Perhaps its a side effect of too many movie crashes or maybe it is part of my recently acquired inability to feel secure in a moving vehicle without a seat belt.  Now, I find myself reaching for one when I sit down in a theater.

I know where that one comes from.  In 1996, I was driving to work one rainy morning.  As I approached the section of road where the parkway becomes a surface street the car hydroplaned.  Luckily there was still a concrete divider between the lanes, at that point, that kept me from sliding into oncoming traffic.  However, that same barrier created a feeling of panic when the left front wheel began to climb it.  I was desperately trying to steer the car back toward the edge of the road so, as soon as the wheel gained traction on the vertical surface, it turned and sent me back across two lanes to jump the guardrail and wind up on the grassy bank beside the highway.  The vehicle landed right side up, but for an eternal moment, I had thought it was going to roll.   It was months before I could drive or even ride in the left lane without flinching. ( Read more )

0
comments

Mar 01

A Spiritual Journey

Path2We all grow up with a cultural background.  Some will include a heavy religious influence while others will be noticeably lacking in that area. Whether or not it is included in the beginning, sooner or later, religion will touch our lives.  Even the most rabid of atheists have been touched by religion.  Humans in all corners of the world throughout recorded history have searched for a higher power and tried to find ways to explain or connect to it.  Our search for spiritual enlightenment has been equaled only by the expansion of our scientific knowledge and could, at times, be just as destructive.

I was raised with religion.  My family did not just go to church on Sunday; we had devotionals with bible readings and prayers at dinner every night.  It wasn’t a matter of listening as my parents read, spoke and prayed.  As we became old enough to read, we were assigned parts to play.  Mostly these came from the Upper Room or Secret Place booklets that my mother subscribed to, but she would also offer inspirational pieces from other sources when she felt it important.  She believed firmly in “train up a child in the way….” and she practiced it.

My brothers and I grew up with God as a personal entity with whom we interacted daily.   There was no time when we were suddenly “saved.”  We knew Jesus as a “personal savior” long before we understood what that meant.   Like most children, we assumed that our lifestyle was normal for everyone.  It wasn’t until long after I was grown, that I came to realize there were people in the world who followed a different path or who didn’t even Believe at all.

As a young adult, with three children and 6 years of marriage behind me, I questioned my parents’ teachings.  I wondered if the human race was outgrowing the need to believe.  Had science answered the mysteries that we used to attribute to God?  There had certainly been no new prophets for a very long time.  Were the cynics who proclaimed “God is dead!” correct?   Quite frankly, the idea terrorized me.  To me, that meant that there would be no order in creation.  The whole of human existence would be chaotic, random, with no “meaning.”  I rejected the concept of no “higher power” and went happily back to church.  Path1

A few years later, as my first marriage was breaking up, I sat in my kitchen and experienced that chaos inside myself.  It felt as though my mind was spinning apart.  I feared for my sanity and prayed fervently for help.  With the very next breath, calm descended.  I was filled with the most joyous peace I had ever known.  Needless to say, I considered it an answer to my prayer.  Others might explain it psychologically, but to me the science of it didn’t matter.  I had cried out and gotten an answer.  The methodology of it was not important.  I felt that I had been “Born Again” and I accepted it gratefully.

In the intervening years, there have been times when I have drifted away from the church, but never from my faith.  Even at the lowest points in my life, I have always felt the Presence and known I could call on it.   I am not perfect, only trying to do the best I can within the circumstances.  Sometimes I fall short, but I always get back up and try again.  My mantra is “You haven’t failed until you stop trying.”

Lately, I have been bothered by the fact that people seem to think everyone with different traditions or names for God is worshiping someone different.  I know this is not true of Jews, Christians and Muslims.  Whatever we call Him: YHWH, I am, Allah, Lord, Father….She is still the same powerful being that loves us and wants to be loved in return.

If I subscribe to the theory that there is only one God and we are all talking about the same Supreme Being, then I need to go further than the three core religions.  I need to be able to include Hindus, Buddhists, Native Americans, Taoists…everyone who searches for the Mysteries.  Not the ones that can be proved with Science, but the inner ones that govern the growth of the soul and the possibilities of an afterlife.  I realize there are too many to count.  I can’t possibly learn about all of them.  I can only research the primary ones that are accepted by large numbers of people.

Path3So, this year I embark upon that search.  So far, this semester, one class is covering Judaism, Christianity and Islam, a second one has covered a general overview of Hinduism and begun the study of Buddhism.  Later it will look at Confucianism and Daoism.  Don’t misunderstand.  I do not seek to change my religion or expect to fully understand other traditions and cultures through a couple of classes.

I simply want to synchronize things inside my own head.  When I tell people: “There’s only one God.  We all worship Him/Her in our own way, building our own personal relationship to the Almighty One.  We simply use different names, just as we call our mothers and fathers by different words in different languages or cultures.” I want to have more authority behind my statement than my own small opinion.  So, I am searching.  For parallels, similarities, a way to merge it all together in my soul.

I don’t expect to change the world.  I have never felt the need to spread my beliefs into the world.  I simply want to be able to grasp a greater meaning to the concept of “God” than what I now have.  As I grow close to the day when I will meet Force face to face, I need to know that I have done all I can to prepare myself.

2
comments

Dec 27

You’d Better Be Good

elfphotoI guess I’ve been living in some kind of “three monkeys” world, but I had never heard of the “Elf on the Shelf” until this year.  After reading the post by Kasie Whitener over at Life on Clemson Road about the “Elfing,” I did a little research and found out parents have been using these innocent little creatures to torture their children for several generations.

According to Wikipedia, the first version was told in the 1960s by Flora Johnson to her own children. It became a family tradition. When her grandson called in 1983 to tell her about the Elf who had showed up in his home, she decided to write her story down and publish it for other children to enjoy. For the next fifteen years, she made over 10,000 Elves and sold them with a children’s story book called “Book One: Christopher Pop-In-Kins Pops In” that her husband, Al, hand published. Her version of the toy and book has won numerous awards and can still be purchased today either online or at select toy stores listed on the company website.

The version reviewed by Kasie was written in 2005 by Carol Aebersold and her daughter Chanda Bell with illustrations by Coë Steinwart.  Their version is slicker, more modern and (dare I say, commercialized?) also available at various locations.

However, while the original story was mostly fun, with the little elf coming to spend December playing with the children and only returning to the North Pole on Christmas Eve, the newer one makes the Elf a spy for “that jolly old Elf.”  Watching to see if the child is “naughty or nice” and reporting back to Santa every night.  ( Read more )

4
comments

Follow

Get every new post on this blog delivered to your Inbox.

Join other followers: