Mother's Day 2013 is not Today

I thought today was Mother's Day. But I am going to leave this up because I am obviously a week off and am thinking of the mothers today.

 It's a windy and rainy day here. Most likely if the mothers were still alive, we would have them here, sitting in front of a fire and fixing them lunch and dinner.  Then we would give them a few presents. My mother liked pretty things, while my MIL liked practical things.  No mothers are around anymore for us.

I can look back and remember them so well when they were bustling about and not infirm, crippled by age and illness.  Sometimes, flashbacks happen, and I am transported back to when my mother would read to me, take me on scientific collecting trips, help me with homework, and console me when I was anxious about something.  Or she will come to me in dreams, in which I am helping her.  I can recall her in those moments as if she never left.

With my MIL dying so recently, I have thought many times of her over the past two months.  I see so many things that she did for her daughter.  Her pressed tablecloths are still in the linen closet, wrapped in wax paper.  Nearly everyday, we come across something that reminds us of her.  And yet, the sadness of loss is being replaced with wistful thoughts of what used to be.

The loss of parents is a reminder of my own aging which I have been feeling more and more of late.  I can still physically do a lot, but I have a sense that the days are slipping by too quickly.  I am considered middle aged now.  I saw what aging did to my parents and has done to my in-laws.  Thankfully, my parents died suddenly without a prolonged illness.  My MIL and FIL were not so lucky.

I don't feel like giving in to aging but realize that the things I used to do all day cause me to ache some now.  I gave up running because it began to hurt too much.  And I have more of a desire to simply relax now and not push myself to do more.  I am certainly conscious of my age.  I understand now when my mother told me that she still felt as if she were 25 on the inside.  But for me, there are days that I feel my age on the inside too.

So today I'm wishing for all the mothers that there is some happiness in knowing that you are loved. Inside the core of every child, there is a bond with the one who gave us life, no matter what the actions or words of the child may be. I hope that you enjoy your day, do something good for yourself, and realize that you are a very special person.

“But there's a story behind everything. How a picture got on a wall. How a scar got on your face. Sometimes the stories are simple, and sometimes they are hard and heartbreaking. But behind all your stories is always your mother's story, because hers is where yours begin.” ― Mitch Albom

The reunion

I am back home after one of the best times I have had.  The HS reunion was a blast.  For some reason, I knew that it was the right time to go and am so glad that I did.

The venue was great.  The event was held on a large farm owned by classmates who married after HS.  They have a lot of huge farm equipment, a crop dusting plane and a helicopter. The latter was in operation for most of the time of the reunion because R. was giving rides to anyone who wanted to go.  He and his wife A. had set up many tables in their plane hanger and each was decorated with chrysanthemums.  The photos will speak to the event much better than my words.

I reconnected with so many people I hadn't seen since graduation.  And, yes, many of them still live in the county where they grew up.  But everyone was funny and engaging.  One fellow told me that he never had a shot at the good looking girls or the smart ones, so when he married one of the most popular girls he definitely "married up".  Another school friend said that he would do his best to cheat off my paper in the math classes where he sat behind me.

So many people would come over and shake my hand or give me a hug, recognizing me after all these years.  I have to say that more people recognized me than I them.  Loss of hair and weight gain made it hard for me to tell who most were.  I had to look at the name and the photo on the badges.  I still have hair and haven't changed much in weight.  I apparently got taller too! What mattered was that once we recognized each other, there was sheer joy.

I saw several of my old teachers.  Mrs. P. who taught me algebra, geometry and trig was there.  And I talked to my former political science and government teacher.  I am grateful for the good education I received from them and others.  Mrs. P. was tough and had old school gentility.  She wasn't a particularly likable person, but I found out later that she had a difficult husband and her only child who was a wild fellow, died in an accident.  Knowing the burdens that others have makes it easier to understand their behavior.    

I saw my old girlfriend from HS and some other ladies that I dated.  My former girlfriend came up behind me and put her arms around me.  It was nice to talk with her and find out about her life.  She has twin boys and lives in California.  I also talked to another lady who has known me since first grade!  We had a great time laughing about the adventures we had growing up. She remembered that I would keep trying to crawl out of the classroom in first grade and that I stood in the corner a lot!

Several of my classmates have died--some by suicide.  The girl that I took to the prom my senior year killed herself a few years ago.  A memorial table had been set up for those who died.  That was a nice touch and a reminder that I'm glad to still be here.

I went to this event with low expectations, and I came away with a wonderful feeling of friendship.  I made amends to those that I thought I had wronged. I don't care that most of these people have different political or religious views or that they didn't go to college. We didn't talk about any of that.  We just shared what it was like, what happened, and what it's like now--just telling our stories to each other and connecting in a good way.  I've already signed up to go to the next one!

And here are some photos from my home town. So glad to know that I can go home again.

near the Court House

Main Street 

Looking north on Main Street

The old Ordinary (or tavern) dating to the 1700's

The old library where I checked out so many books

The former drug store where I read comics

Family graveyard

One of the old places that I remember, badly in need of restoration now

Going back

I am leaving in an hour to travel to my home town.  I'll be getting together with some people I haven't seen in decades.  We went our separate ways--some stayed in the town, others moved far away.  It will be interesting to hear their stories, take some photos and see where life has taken each of us.

I haven't been back to my home town in a couple of years.  I'll go by the family plot and visit the graves of my parents and grandparents and other ancestors.  It's a quiet spot.  I'm not sure why I go back to the grave site really.  I guess there is some feeling of obligation, but I know that all these who are dead and gone are part of the greater energy now.  They don't dwell in these graves.

I was glad to get away from where I grew up.  Now I'm looking forward to visiting.  Someone asked if I would want to live there again.  Not a chance.  Life is good right here.  I am happy that somehow I was transplanted to this place.  Besides, the town where I lived is not the same.  My mind still tells me that it's the same.  It's a lot like waking up after many long years of sleep and seeing how everything has changed.  It's a bit of a shock really.


I read Thomas Wolfe so many years ago.  His words "You Can't Go Home Again" meant to me that attempts to reconnect with childhood memories will fail. But I know how things have changed. I'm not attempting to relive my youth there.  I'm going back to see people who I may not see again.  A connection and a chance to make a living amends.  I'll be up there for two days.  That's enough time.


“I believe that one can never leave home. I believe that one carries the shadows, the dreams, the fears and the dragons of home under one's skin, at the extreme corners of one's eyes and possibly in the gristle of the earlobe.” ― Maya Angelou

The elephant is not invisible

A fellow blogger asked a question about the effects that alcoholism may have on her child. I can only relate what I experienced at an early age.

One of my earliest memories was of my father being brought home by the sheriff. He had been in a single car accident and broken his arm. There was no local hospital so the town doctor came to the house to set his arm. My father had been drinking and driving recklessly. I believe I knew at that moment that my dad had a problem, even though I was so young.

After that there were many other instances of his drinking. I felt each and every one and feared what would happen on his days off from work. It was as if a cloud hung over me. A cloud did hang over me, and it was called alcoholism. I wanted my father to be like how I saw other dads in the neighborhood--not angry, not morose, not slurring his words.

Although he was a functioning drinker and provided for us well, there was something about him that caused me to worry and made me ashamed. I became shy around others, minimized contact with him, wished that he would die, was ashamed to bring what friends I had home and developed a huge fear of failure by trying to be perfect.

I wanted order in my life. I thought that if I got great grades, made no trouble, and kept quiet around him that perhaps he would stop drinking. The tendrils of alcoholism had already wrapped around me as a child, shaping who I was to become later in life.

I wish that my mother had talked to me and explained what was going on. She was in denial about his problem. I think that if there had been one person I could have talked to about my fears, it would have helped. Instead, the fears were those I faced alone.

If you have a child who is around an alcoholic or addict, be assured that they do know something is "wrong". Talking to your child about alcoholism, offering reassurances, perhaps even counseling can help. Doing nothing and hoping that the elephant in the room is invisible is the worst thing and will hurt all involved.