Thanksgiving Memories

Growing up on the farm set the stage for loving Thanksgiving.  The harvest was in.  The cattle back from the South pasture, the crop was celebrated and tucked neatly away in bins and storage places.  The midwest weather was somewhat predictable...snow was coming and it was time to hunker down.  So, all the animals were housed for the winter.  All the corn was picked and ground up to fatten the cattle.  All the cucumbers were neatly stuffed in jars to become pickles, and all the family gathered 'round the piano.  Childhood memories.  Sketchy.  Wonderful. 

I grew up and moved away.  Thought something better was out there.  Little did I know.  But, on Thanksgiving, everybody came back.  My parents made it wonderful.  Mom in the kitchen making pure magic.  Dad on his machines showing the children wonderment. 

Many Thanksgivings blur into one wonderful memory.  Dad on the tractor pulling a wagon of family.  Everyone.  The Corporate Vice President, the business owner, the music teacher, the California queen.  All them and their bitty ones too.  We all climbed in the wagon and took a ride.  Great grandma had to be lifted on.  Round and round we would ride. "Over the river the through the woods..."  There was no real river and no real woods, but the flavor was there.  We rode with joy over the hills of the land that was ours. 

The children connected.  They connected to who they are, where they came from, where they were going, and who rooted them.  Those children are now adults.  Most have children of their own and are giving them their own version of the grandpa wagon ride. 

Farm heritage is dirt blood.  It's real and complete and will grow in the soul like a seed in the dirt.  It's good.  Sometimes hard, but good.  It's very close to God.  God and dirt flow through the farm girl's reality with fluid exchange. 

So, that's why I get teary on Thanksgiving...because I've been so very blessed and this day reminds me of  wagon ride experiences. 

Years have passed.  Mom's magic stopped suddenly almost 30 years ago.   Dad's more recent, but the heritage, the connect, the knowing, the dirt knowledge, the corn power, the hills and the hunt, they remain. 
I am so very thankful for the family God gave me, for the one He gave my children.  Thanksgiving brings tears and laughter and joyful memories. 

Today was different, but lovely. Jed and I had a day to ourselves.  I made soup.  That makes me happy and connected to family.  Margaret brought us a plate of turkey and all the trimmings and we sat in bed and ate her deliciousness.  We practiced standing and then went outside.  Built a fire on the deck and talked to loved ones.  It was nice.  Wagon rides are those kinds of things that happen without knowing how treasured they will be.

Giving Thanks

We set aside a special day.   A Giving Thanks Day.  We, being USA, and I think, Canada too.  We set it aside to celebrate who we are.  Where we are, and who we have in our lives.  So, here is my Giving Thanks Letter. 

Dear Everyone who has ever touched our lives,

 Here it is 2011 and I'm 63 years old.  Jed just turned 72.  As I write it, I find it shocking that we are that age, but we are, and we have cumulative 135 years of knowing people and doing things which have brought us right here where we are.  And that's what it is, knowing people and doing things.  People from our childhood, people in our family, people we've worked with, people who we have passed by or noticed, people who have worshiped with us or fought with us, or divorced us, or made love with us.  Jed got a phone call this very day from a childhood friend who is dying of cancer.  The memories flowed and the chest welled up. 

I have flashes of people I've noticed and never spoken to:  the legless/armless woman who breathes into a tubed wheelchair to be a part of the world, the bedragled sheep herder in Idaho, the many weary  road sign holders who smiled and waved us on.

I wonder about people from long ago; the childhood friend, the college diva, my first principal, the professor and the typing teacher.  All these and the thousand others have molded me.  I honor them on this Giving Thanks Day.  My brothers, parents, assorted family...some quite lovely, some very interesting and some downright remarkable. Kids and grandkids fit here.  And then there's the friends.  The stick to you like glue friends that no matter how much time goes by we're familiar and warm.  We're forgiving and accepting.  We know the truth about one another and love in spite. 

On this Giving Thanks Day I honor them all.  It has been them who have made me me. I wrote a song for my daughter's wedding.  Some of the lyrics say, "If you've ever pondered the ways and the wonders of why we all do what we do, then surely you're touched by the mythical magic, this love has been blessed by you."  I'm into that...the ways and the wonders of why we all do what we do.  I've pretty much decided it's simple.  We  do what we do because of the people who have been in our lives.  Jed and I have been blessed by amazing people. 

So, on this Giving Thanks Day, I give the thanks to God for passing these people through my life, or me through theirs.  It's been a lovely ride.  One I hope continues for years and years. 

The stuff that we're doing now is made bearable by the reality of the people we know.  The standing practice, the pain, the pills, the walking effort, the practice, practice, practice to do basic things like brushing teeth and eating.  It's okay.  It's very easy to look at what we don't have.  And with us, it's arms and legs.  I've been a little teary lately because I so miss who we were, Jed and I.  But, who we are now is quite amazing.  It's amazing because we have amazing people tugging at us and pulling us through.  Some are therapists, some are neighbors and family, but most are friends.  We are very blessed.  Amen. 

How Do You Live A Life?

I had an amazing childhood.  Nurtured.  Loved.  Accepted.  Stuff of most peoples dreams.  I had an amazing heritage.  So how do you live a life after that?  It's good to start well.  My start was so good  that I didn't know bad existed.  But then you have to live it yourself.  Try as I will, my attempt seems a bit lacking.  Some would say I've done good.  Some would not agree.  The only one that need evaluate is me.  Me.  Myself.  My life.  Mine.  So, how do you live a life? 

Educate yourself?  Did that.  Marry well?  Did that twice.  Make good friends?  Check.  So, I'm sort of smart, have great companionship and wonderful friends.  Why then do I sometimes feel at the bottom of the food chain about to be eaten by anything that eats?  How do you live a life? 

Sometimes life is just complicated.  Sometimes its just hard.  And sometimes it unbearable.  We move on with the memories of being given a good start and making good decisions, but knowing our reality.  The contradiction is sometimes too much to bear.    

Jed and I have both tried hard to live a good life, be good to people, help people out, love each other and respect and appreciate our heritage.  We've lived a good life.  But, here we are, every day and night, dealing with the truth that he is a quadriplegic and I am a care giver.  We both had a great start.  We both educated ourselves well.  We both have great friends.  We both end each day with a little misery on our shoulder. 

Truth is, it doesn't matter.  Very little matters.  The only thing that seems to matter is peace in the heart.  The peace to face another day when hope seems bleak.  Where that peace comes from is up for dispute.   Some would argue heritage, others would say, God.  Others would argue that the self has the capacity for creating peace.  How do you live a life?  With humility and awe.  It is so very precious.  However it's dealt you, it's yours.  Make it beautiful. 

New Wheel Chair

It was two years ago this month that a representative came to our home and measured Jed for his new custom wheelchair.  We were naive and believers in the system, so expected all to go well and waited paitently for his chair to be manufactured.  We were told that it would be a few months. 

After more than a few months we followed up.  Lo and behold they didn't even know who we were and had lost all the paperwork.  This started a scrambling game that involved three wheelchair companies, lawyers and insurance companies in two states.  I can assure you that we are no longer naive. 

I had to report one company to Medicare Fraud for billing Medicare without providing us a chair.  After months and months of dealing with the fraud and finally being released by Medicare to pursue a new chair, we found ourselved in a insurance claim issue related to a little old lady in Colorado who ran into Jed while in a loaner chair. 

So, two years later he got his new chair.  This one is his.  It was made especially for him based on his measurements and his needs.  It felt like Christmas to me.  The guy who delivered it seemed like Santa Claus and I was happier than you can imagine.  I felt like I had been to war, came home a hero and had a fine limo to ride in. 

Jed, had a little bit different response.  "It's okay."  "It's a little harder to work with."  I'm silently screaming, "You've got to be kidding.  I fought wars for this damn chair.  It's got to be perfect and you have to love it!" 

It's now like the day after Christmas.  Tree is bare and gifts are opened and imperfect. 

It's just that a chair can't fix what is wrong.  The chair is good, real good, but Jed still can't do for himself.  He cried the other night because he can't brush his own teeth.  And I wanted him to be happy happy joy joy with his new chair.  Yes, it's good.  Yes, we are go very glad that this battle has been won, but we have so many more to fight.  I get it, why he wasn't so completely overjoyed.  I get it.  Maybe I am still a little bit naive. 

Daughters

When she was born, she was perfect.  I looked at her and couldn't believe that she really happened.  Everything about her was perfect.  The years of her growing tall were vital to my life.  She gave me breath and purpose.  We both loved and hated one another.  We are so much alike.   She was everything I wanted to be, and I was everything she needed.  Mothers and daughters.  What a breath of womanhood.    I'm so sorry that I didn't let my own mom know what a rich and wonderful heritage she gave to me. 

So, now, she's getting married. My daughter, the bride.   I wish and pray and hope for a perfect life for her.  Being a parent is a very hard job.  We want to protect our children from all the pain and hurt we've gone through.  We want them to just "flow" through life happy and content.  We want, we want, we want.  So much of life is a decision.  We can decide to be happy or miserable.   I wish for her happy decisions. 

Moms and daughters have a very important roll.  It's written in stone.  We will support and lift one another in wonderful times and. when life turns black.  we  will cry together.   It will be hard on both of us, but it will be rich. 

But now, I thank God for my daughter.  I thank God for Jason.  Angie has waited a very long time for a life long love.  I pray that their love can withstand the stuff that comes to us.  As the mother, I want to say,"I will protect you from anything that isn't perfect in your life."  But I know that life will happen to her as it has happened to me, so all I can give her is my love. 

Being a mom is the most remakable thing in life.  I'm a mom.  Oh, my God, I am so thankful for the privelege.  She was perfect when she was born and she is perfect in my eyes now.  I wish for her a roller coster life. 

No matter what you do

Sometimes, no matter what you do it's wrong.  How can that be?  I was raised in a very protective environment (on a farm in the middle of Nebraska.)  I was led to believe that if you worked to do the right thing, the right thing would come about.  But then, maybe that wasn't the lesson I was to learn as a child. 

My parents were amazing people.  They worked hard, were self sustaining, and raised the four of us with unseeming ease.  They gave us a heritage that has power.  It's connected to dirt and sweat and honesty.  It's connected to sky watching and tractor fixing and church going.  Mom used to say, "the week just goes better when we go to church." 

But I remember times when no matter what they did, it just didn't go right.  Once dad extended himself beyond his imagination and bought a prize bull.  The bull had a strong will.  Dad needed it in the south pasture and the bull just wouldn't go.  So, dad harnessed the prize bull and wits to hoofs they battled the quarter mile slowly and determidly.  Dad won.  But, once in the pasture of cows galore, that darn bull heaved and died. 

Now that was a big one.  Prize bull.  More money than dad had ever spent on a bull.  I think it almost killed my dad, but instead we had amazing steaks for a very long time.   Sometimes, no matter what you do it's just wrong. 

I suppose the reason I just keep going is that I know these prize bull experiences are few and far between and it really is true that if you just keep on going on, trying to do the best you can, things will work out. 

Life isn't easy for us.  Sometimes we pick at each other because, why not, who else can be blame for an imperfect life?   I'm thankful for the heritage that I was provided.  Sometimes, the hail would ruin the crop, sometimes the rain wouldn't come.  But we always managed.  If the bull died, we ate it and moved on. 

Tonight has been a no rain, hail, bull dying night.  But, we will move on.  Because, no matter what you do, sometimes, it's just wrong.  But there's always tomorrow and some wonderful steaks to be had.  

Life Goes On, And On, And On....

So here we are, a week from the auction of our home, and what are we doing?  Planning a wedding, looking forward to the (two years in the waiting) delivery of a wheelchair, setting up a "gym" in the sunroom for walking, meeting folks to buy their stuff for the shop and ignoring what lies ahead.  I don't know if it's faith, or hope, or mystery, or belief in the system or simple exhaustion, but we just keep on keeping on and don't really look at the dark side.  We've hired a lawyer, he says he's filed a suit to stop the auction, but, we don't know what lies ahead. 

But today I went to a woman's home who, two years ago, was a blithering mess of pain and nerves and anger.  Today she was confident, beautiful and looking forward to a beautiful new future.  Life goes on and on, and on.  

When Jed and I first started our lives together we spoke of mountain tops and deserts and valleys (all symbolic of life experiences.)  We agreed that we wanted life on a roller coaster not a merry-go-round.  Safe as it is, a merry-go-round is just boring.  So we lived life on the edge.  And we had fun.  Lots and lots of fun.  We took the quick turns and the slow climbs as part of the exciting ride.  When Jed fell, we were at the top of the ride.  We had climbed and climbed and climbed, almost to a stop, but we were there, right at the top, where the ride was to be glorious, and then he fell.  The ride has been trecherous.  Sometimes I think of the merry-go-round with envy.  Safe seems rather nice now, given our pending future.  But, we're not merry-go-round people, so we will prepare ourselves for whatever ride is ahead and in the meantime get on with life. 

My daughter is getting married next month.  My heart is full for them.  She has chosen well.  They will have to decide how they will live their lives, merry-go-round or roller coaster....who's to say? My prayer for them is that whatever the choose, the choose together.  Life will go on and on and on.