“Finding Hope”

11 Jul 2012 Leave a comment

by Melbiker in assisted suicide, dying relative, Family Life, Parenting, personal stuff, Political, Weird Misc. topics Tags: , , , , ,

It’s just a four-letter word – a noun, a verb and can even be a name, yet it’s so hard to find and so easy to lose.

President Obama campaigned and won on “Hope.” There are currently two TV shows with the word “Hope” in the title and at least five that have been on in my lifetime. It’s what religious leaders preach about constantly, and yet, it often seems so elusive.

Benjamin Franklin once said “He who lives upon hope will die fasting.” while Emily Dickinson wrote in a poem:

“Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune–without the words,
And never stops at all,”

I don’t think it’s a new concept that people in the U.S. are losing Hope in the powers that be who make final decisions about our laws, control our economy, and the systems that control that power. If you don’t know what I’m referring to, then you’ve been in a coma for the last 4-8 years. Jobs are scarce, people are paying more for necessities, yet making less money, working more hours, and yet they still can’t keep up. The standard of living that our parents and grandparents afforded is out of reach for most families, and the reality of that is widespread depression, alcoholism, domestic violence, divorce, crime, suicide, murder, and everything in between. What makes it especially hard is that those who are suffering the most seem to be the children. In 2009, one baby was born every hour addicted to prescription drugs. Three years later, and who knows the increase in that statistic. In 2010, the highest number of citizens with food insecurity was recorded in the U.S. When you think of the starving children, they sadly, are likely found in your own community.

It isn’t hard to figure out why people lose Hope after losing their jobs, their homes, their dreams and their futures. Those who can hold onto it and resist the temptation to drown their sorrows and despair in alcohol and drugs are usually the ones who have a lot of faith, but what exactly determines where that line falls between faith and despair?

My wife’s niece died on the 4th of July at the young age of 35 years, presumably from the effects of many years of active drug abuse and depression. Her death was likely accidental, this time, but her life was governed by addiction, and although surprising, her death was not unexpected. Many people had tried multiple times to help her, but the allure of the “high” was ever-present. Another casualty. Another child is left without a mother. Another wasted life.

I worry that my children will be the last generation to know Hope. They’ve been raised as by-products of parents born in the 60’s, when Hope was still alive and the ability to enact change was still a possibility that seemed within reach of the average citizen.

How are we able to counteract the results of the Republican stranglehold on the Congress and the ability to change the system that favors the wealthy and leaves the rest of the 99% to fend for themselves?

When I ran out of thoughts a moment ago and switched back to a Words with Friends game, the word my opponent had just played was “Hope.” I don’t really believe in coincidences, so I will take that as my cue to keep writing, or ranting, as my blog implies!

What does Hope mean to me? It’s a desire for people and things to be better, for love to win out over hate, for peace to persuade war that we can all live happily without fighting. It’s the desire to move through my life with enough, for myself and my kids, my friends and my neighbors, my town, my community, my State, and my Country, and the entire World! It’s about the “haves” helping the “have-nots” and not taking away from those who have suffered enough.

As I am writing, we are leaving soon to pick up our littlest girl after a week of sleepover camp. I’m guessing that after a week apart from all of us, she will be happy to see us. I know her moms will be overjoyed to see her! Getting the other two young ones to happily get up early and make the hour plus drive is the hard part, but after hammering home the concept of  “family” and “support” and “love for your sibling,” they have reluctantly agreed to remove the sourpuss attitudes. What I’d like to somehow infuse in their psyches is that all of what we “make” them do as children will hopefully be appreciated when they’re adults. I see that “sense of family” reflected in at least one of my older girls and know that it is there, but reflects more soberly in the other. I have gratitude that all of my ducklings will be safely nestled in known locations soon, and I desperately Hope that they will all cherish the security that we provide for them until they are able to swim (or fly) on their own!

My Hopes for our children are that through their own lives and experiences, they will always know that they are loved, and that they will do their part as healthy, happy human beings to extend multitudes of Hope and love to many other people so that the flame of Hope will not be extinguished!

* Author’s note- I know that Hope isn’t capitalized, but I Hope that you don’t mind that I did it anyway!

Letting Go…

02 Jul 2012 Leave a comment

by Melbiker in change, Family Life, LGBT Issues, Parenting, Weird Misc. topics Tags: , , , ,

It’s almost comical how little I actually produce of value these days. It used to be, that when I was working, really working for a salary and running a business, that I got more done in a day than most people do in 3. As a parent, I remind myself daily how valuable my presence is to my children but I too-often find myself searching for value in my life around my work, as I continue to search for meaningful employment.

We all move in cycles. Once, in my 20’s, I had the world at my feet! I knew that I was in love, that I wanted to be with this person for the rest of my life, have kids together, make a home…everything was a rainbow of colors everyday. We had the house, the dogs, the two kids, were starting a business together, and then “poof,” it disappeared…

Years later, My life is great, and luckily I never did collapse from that fall, but I did change. I had to re-group, re-define, and try to understand who I was as a person when not with this other person. And, I needed to learn how to be a mom without the same family unit- the other parent who wished this child/children, into this world.

With many LGBT couples, the idea of having a child, whether biologically or not, adopting, fostering, whatever the case, it is a conscious choice. For me and my then partner, it was one that we planned for 6 years. It had much fore-thought, and it was very quickly successful both in the getting pregnant and birthing process once we fully committed. Almost 7 years into being a mom, which then included a 3 and a 6 year-old, I was not planning to be a single parent.  I had also not planned to see my kids only half of their lives! That idea, once it sunk in, broke my heart. 18 years later, and having lived through that time, I am a changed mother.

There are many events that I’ve missed and  don’t even know about, that my kids did with their other mom and her friends and family. There are boo-boos, fears, crushes,  friends, clothes, outings, and special meals I’ve missed. There are relatives I’ve never met, and artwork they’ve made that I’ve never known, pictures and videos that I’ve seen but not been there for… It makes up half of their beings.

Almost all of the friends I knew in my 30’s as young lesbian couples, either with young kids or trying to have kids, are now divorced. They see their kids 3 or 4 days a week, split weekends and holidays, and have either a harmonious relationship with their ex. or a completely rancorous one, and sometimes even the known is unpredictable. The toll that it takes on the kids is unknowable, but it can sometimes come out in behaviors towards parents or siblings, or trouble at school, poor eating habits or obsessiveness with technology, TV, or anything! As a parent, it’s crazy-making because you can never have consistency. It’s a new norm, this consistent lack of consistency, and it doesn’t lend itself to consistent parenting. For those of you who either are going through this now or have gone through this with an ex, you know what I mean.

It’s becoming the norm in our society to ask our friends, “do you have your kids this weekend?” When did that become commonplace?

Yes, well we have our kids EVERY weekend. We can’t always plan ahead, and our lives are ruled by game schedules every day, not just monday thru wed.

No, we do not have any privacy. Our now 13 year-old stays up past our bedtime. She’s entered the Twilight zone and will be there a good 8-10 more years, staying up into the wee hours and then sleeping as late as possible. One good thing that’s happened this year, is that we can now leave the 2 littles with her at home and go out for a short time at night without worrying too much. They fight but it hasn’t come to punches yet!

This week I’m feeling like a mother duck whose ducklings have all wandered off. I’m searching in my mind to pinpoint all of their locations, reassuring myself that they are fine, wherever they are. My oldest is off in a mid-western state and calls me once a week. My next, college student daughter is working at a camp in the Berkshires this summer. My middle child, is at a soccer tournament with her team minus either parent and away from home for the first time on a multi-night trip. She’s making grown-up choices and experiencing new worlds.

I thought I’d be home with my both of my 10 year-olds tonight, but after attending my nephew’s graduation and birthday party, my son jumped for joy at a chance for a few days of individual attention with her Aunty and family. Meanwhile my wife is representing us at her nephew’s wedding and staying over with a relative. Tomorrow, we leave early to take our “little, little girl,” to her first week at sleep-away camp!

So what’s this all about anyway?

It’s about reminding myself to enjoy my life while it’s happening. Back when my “first” family fell apart, I was mourning the loss of my everyday connection to my children. I eventually reconciled with it, but I was acutely aware everyday what the impact was on them as children. It shaped their lives, and it’s shaping all of my friends’ kids lives now. Early on in my present relationship, my wife and I grew to relish in our alone time when the kids were not there. It gave us an appreciation of how much a relationship needed to be nurtured and how as individuals, we needed our alone time as well. Guilt-free time, I suppose, when one knows that the kids are getting enough attention from someone else.

Now that we have three more, we see how important that time is still, and have always tried to build “date night” into our weeks, but we can also see that the time will soon be upon us when they are all grown and have moved on, only to arrive home on holidays.

Enjoy your kids. Before you know it they’ll be all grown and working it all out in therapy!

A Child’s Worst Nightmare

21 Apr 2012 2 Comments

by Melbiker in Family Life, Parenting, personal stuff, Relationships, suicide, Weird Misc. topics Tags: , , ,

You’ve heard the expression, “a parent’s worst nightmare.” If you’re a parent, you’ve surely had your share of them. The news reports of a family with seven kids whose van gets slammed by an errant vehicle, causing a fiery blaze that kills all of the children yet the parents are left alive. And the child who is abducted, like the last Grey’s Anatomy, who 10 years later as a  teenager breaks free from her captor, only to be scarred by the years of sexual and physical abuse, and who barely recognizes, nor acknowledges her parents. I could go on, but why?

Recently, a woman who I knew, not well, but well enough to consider a friend, hung herself. I don’t know the intimate details of why she felt that life held absolutely no hope for her, but I knew that she must have had reason enough, or she wouldn’t have done it, especially when her children were the ones to have found her. The fact that a beautiful, once vibrant soul, would feel the helplessness and futility to do such a seemingly rash act without the forethought to protect her children, is mind-boggling to me and haunts me daily.

No, it’s not the dead that suffer, it’s the living.

I knew this woman through our children. She coached my daughter in soccer, and I coached hers in basketball. Two similarly built strong, towhead daughters with active athletic moms. We shared stories about our kids and often compared their zest for sports. How would I have known that she was suffering…

She had Lyme Disease, untreated for a long-enough time to have caused irreparable damage. Some days, apparently, she was so debilitated that she couldn’t get out of bed-but that was all here-say. I did not speak to her about her illness. I hardly knew about it personally, but I do know that there were many people who knew her and loved her, as was obvious by the 700+ people who attended her memorial service. I did not attend, having already planned to be out-of-town, as it was school vacation. Who knows how many people would have been there if they could have, or wanted to. It was unfortunate that I had to miss it, but I know that I’d have been a complete mess if I’d attended. I get teary even now every time I think of it – the sadness, the kids, the life that could have been.

I don’t know Lyme disease. I do know that it’s primarily caused by ticks that carry the disease. I don’t know if she even knew that she’d been bitten, but I still imagine the scenario and the randomness of it is unacceptable to me. A once-vibrant woman, beautiful, athletic, energetic, probably out on an activity with her family, gets bitten by a tick, and all life changes thereafter. Is this the definition of what is “meant to be?”

My great-grandfather hung himself. I remember hearing the story as I was growing up, but I know no more than that my own grandfather, the youngest of 13 kids, was the one that found him. What is the impact on a child who finds a parent hanging from a rope, having taken his/her own life-choosing death over those who remain living? How does that define the children who must remember that memory every day?

This is still raw in all of our lives, and I know that my personal feelings are no matter compared to those who were intimately involved with her, yet my life is affected still. My heart goes out to this family, the remaining husband and children, parents, in-laws and friends. I also hope that it can serve as a stark reminder to anyone who knew her who also feels like their life has become hopeless, to get some professional help and work through the pain to get to the other side. Killing oneself may relieve one from immediate pain, but the pain that is left in the wake may be worse than the original pain for those who remain. I am not sitting in judgement, and I wouldn’t deign to imagine her pain – I just can’t imagine doing that to my children.

I have not written a blog entry since February, mostly because my prevailing themes seem either repetitive or depressing. I’m sorry that I can’t be more uplifting, but this is just one of the things that rules my life right now. Life is tough. The future seems bleak a lot of the time as the economy plummets, joblessness is on the rise and the Republicans persist in their war on the middle class. I will work hard on trying to see the positive in life and to try to share more upbeat and inspiring topics in the future.

Pessimistically optimistic at the seashore…

24 Feb 2012 Leave a comment

by Melbiker in change, Family Life, Parenting, personal stuff, Weird Misc. topics Tags: , , , , , , , ,

I’m in Florida this week with my family minus my two big girls, enjoying a resort with a pool, a bay side view, and a nice white, sandy beach. “Life is good” says my T-shirt, and it is. Thanks to a generous gift from my father-in-law, we can enjoy this time together while the kids have school break.

All would be blissful if everything had fallen into place on the Friday before we left. I had expected a call back about a job – one that I’d interviewed for on Wednesday and had a call back on Thursday for a second interview. The job, a 30 hr/week position which barely paid a living wage, was exciting and challenging, and would evoke all of my creative talents. I was optimistic that it seemed I was the only person called back for a second interview, as the director was headed out-of-town right after our 8am meeting. I was feeling good, thought we had a great rapport, and was eager to get going on the job. All I thought she had to do was to check my references, which I was confident would be superb. Friday came and went and still, knowing that she hadn’t reached them all, I was disappointed to not hear over the weekend, but excused that fact and then again for the Monday holiday. By Wednesday, I finally got a call and was shocked to hear that she had given it to someone else.

I could have gone spiraling into a downward mope of depression and self-pity, and even though I did feel sorry for myself for a moment, it just wouldn’t  last. What I felt predominantly, was anger- at myself(again)for letting any job get into my psyche that much before I got it! I think that I’m going to get it, and I know that if I don’t stay positive, it could affect my interview, and if I say to myself, “you probably won’t get it anyway,” or “that interview really sucked” for various reasons,” or if I keep telling myself  “if you get it, it’s a bonus!” then I am casting self-doubt. That will never get me a job. Either I’ll get it or I won’t. In one case, I’ll be happy(I think), and in the other case, I’ll be upset, sad, and depressed. How long will and can I stay that way? We’ll see.

Being a very visual person can be a curse, you see, because I can see myself projected into a role easily, complete with my work attire, organized desk area, daily routines, and even the lunch I’ll pack. When I ‘m called for an interview, I diligently research the job, finding out about everyone involved in the organization, policies, staff, website, publications, history, business trends, innovations in the industry-you name it, I know it! So when I don’t get a job, it’s like a nice dream I just awoke from and discovered it didn’t really exist. It’s a major let-down and hangs with me for days or weeks, during which time I also rationalize every possible reason I might have not succeeded: “Too old”, “over-qualified, will probably leave for a better job,” “too gay,” “too strong and self-assured,” “really wants to take my job,” “won’t fit in with our style,” and the list goes on.

Am I pessimistically optimistic or optimistically pessimistic? I used to believe that I was a perpetual optimist. I could find the good in anything and always believed that things would work out for the best. “Whatever will be, will be,” is my motto, and I truly believe in the will of my higher power, but lately, I’ve got this she-devil sitting on my shoulder, saying “I told you not to get excited over that job.” “No one wants to hire you,” “you’re a threat to them,” “you’re too eager and want it too much!”

So here I am, at the beach, knowing that instead of jumping feet first into a new, exciting job on Monday, I’m still searching, sending off resumes to jobs that I mostly don’t want at places I can’t imagine working. That rare special job has eluded me again and I just need to believe that a better one is waiting for me. It just needs to come soon!

I went out for a walk on the beach alone today, heading out for some exercise and thinking time. While I could have collected shells, admired the surging waves and water fowl, I kept to my intentions and tried to just keep up a good stride and think about my feelings. I thought about one of my favorite books, Gift from the Sea, by Anne Morrow Lindbergh, and the beauty and life lessons she extracted from the nature around her. I won’t pretend to have found anything as profound as that, but I did come to cherish the importance of my time here with my family and the memories that we’re creating. I picked out a few shells on my way back, snapped some interesting photos, and now am sharing them with you. Everything happens for a reason!

SAD Spring Smells

09 Feb 2012 2 Comments

by Melbiker in change, Family Life, Parenting, personal stuff, Weird Misc. topics Tags: , , , , , , ,

It’s no secret that this “winter” has been one of the warmest on record for us in Western MA so it didn’t surprise me at all to hear birds chirping outside and to see buds on our Rhododendron bushes this week. I should be happy that we haven’t been hit by any significant snow since Halloween, thus lowering our heating and plowing bills, which I am, but it comes with the black cloud of global warming hanging above me and the world.

I have been a bear this week, not only in my (non-employed) isolation, but also in my mood. I don’t want to dwell on the negative, but suffice it to say that my waning hormones and waxing moon have wrought havoc on my psyche in the last few days. I’ve been short with my loved ones, barely tolerant of any shortcomings (yes, even more than usual), and would like it if everyone would just leave me alone to do what I do best, which right now is to just take things as they come.

I know it’s getting bad when my wife has to ask me(not in a sweet, but in more of an obligatory way) before we go to bed “would you like a goodnight kiss?” Normally, there’s never a question, but after living through 16 years of my mood swings coupled with her cycles as well, we’re lucky if there’s one good week a month between us! If I say “no,” then I’m going to piss her off, and if I say “OK,” and lean over to give her a kiss, I can’t help the running narrative in my head that’s saying “why is it that I always have to be the one who has to sit up and give her a kiss?!”  Yes, I know it’s petty, and at the same time, it flickers through my mind like it usually does when I’m in a pissy mood and don’t really want to kiss, dammit! Kissing really shouldn’t need that much processing!

It’s doubtful that many men are reading my blog, except possibly a few relatives who are probably not learning anything new about me, so if hearing about hormones and cycles is distasteful, you guys can sign off now. For us women, by the time we start our periods as girls, we’ve already experienced raging hormones for a while even if it’s gone unnamed. My wife and I joke all the time and have for a year now that our 10 year-old daughter is raging hormonally when she gets on a rampage. At least we can recognize it!

All of my life, the women in my family have been credited for having an extraordinary sense of smell. That’s right, and we got it from our mother and I have passed it to my kids. It’s a curse really, because unless it’s served us to protect from fire or explosion, most other smells need not be heightened. Yet, as I teeter closer and closer to full-on menopause, my sense of smell has gone up 5 notches from “super sniffer”  to the level of unbearable. I can smell  cigarette smoke coming from a driver in a car 5 cars ahead of me at a stop light! Imagine how I react at a friend’s house who owns a dog that never gets a bath, or nasty smelling soccer shin guards as my daughter changes her clothes on the way to basketball practice, burnt popcorn at a game, that chemically smelling bad men’s cologne. I’m one big sponge to those sickening smells and unfortunately it makes me react in a way that feels like I’m trapped in a locked room with biting rats if I can’t get away from the smell!

Today, I woke up knowing that after I made 5 lunches and  took my 12-year-old to school, that I’d come home to an empty house. Yippee! I love to have the day alone in my house! Yesterday, my wife didn’t work, so we shared the space for 6 hours, and she had the nerve to ask me questions and disrupt my routine. You see, I don’t like to have to explain where I’m going, what I’m doing, how I’m doing it, etc. Unfortunately, when she’s around there’s much more of that dialogue and it messes with my day.

So, after my work-out buddy cancelled, I decided to brave the colder than the “new” normal temperatures and exercise outside. It was bright sunny, cold but not too harsh, and very invigorating! After about a half-mile, I realized that I already felt better. I’ve unofficially diagnosed myself with Seasonal Affect Disorder (SAD), so I purposefully don’t wear sunglasses if I don’t have to, exposing my pineal gland to as much light as I can. I’m sure that physiologically, it doesn’t happen instantly, but nevertheless, my mood brightened sharply! I was ready to take on the day, knew what I wanted to make for dinner, planned my shopping excursion, mentally jotted my to-do list, played a couple of rounds of WWF’s and outlined my blog post-all before I got to my first mile. I was so ready to be done with it and get home that I almost turned around with excitement and energy and a renewed outlook on life! But I didn’t. I stuck it out, observed the nature around me and a lone gummy worm discarded on the bike path, and made it home an hour later.

Soup’s made, shopping is done, and I’m ready to take on life, and Spring? If it’s going to come early, I sure hope everything’s died off from winter because I count on that cleansing of the earth process. It’s like taking a shower and starting all over again with sweetness and regeneration, and I really need to smell some swell smells!

Thank you Alec Baldwin!

28 Jan 2012 Leave a comment

by Melbiker in change, Family Life, Parenting, personal stuff, Relationships, Weird Misc. topics Tags: , , , , , , , ,

I haven’t met Alec Baldwin or talked to him or even seen him on the street, but he’s been a big part of my life’s “work” or should I say “play,” in the last month. Since I was laid off from my job on December 13th, the behavior for which he got thrown off an airplane has now transformed most hours of my waking life into a less-boring non-job, playing “Words with Friends!”

I’ve always been a competitive scrabble player, but this really brings the game into my everyday life instead of a “friendly” game now or then with certain friends. I now know that there are 16 two-letter words that start with “A,” and was surprised to discover there are no 2-letter words at all with a “C,” “V,” or “Z” in them. There are also many more words with a “Q” and no “U” than I ever imagined, and I don’t pretend to know or use more than a few of them. Exciting life, right?

Mainly, what I’ve learned from becoming unemployed again, is that unless I have something to do, a job or a daily to-do list (that I’m getting compensated for), I get little to nothing done with my day besides a bit of brain stimulation!

Yesterday, I got outside to exercise after being cooped up for at least 3 weeks (only by my own lack of motivation to be out in the cold). I scuffed along and slipped over the black ice on the sidewalks, alternating between the crusty snow, the sides of the road near traffic, just to “enjoy” the frigid yet invigorating fresh air. I had managed to survive more than half of my trek without falling, even playing a few rounds of WWF, until “boom!” I went down with barely a nanosecond to recover, landing me on my butt and slightly injuring my wrist. For years I’ve been saying, to no one in particular, that “after 50, we’re just a fall and a hip-break away from losing all independence.”

My wife doesn’t want me to talk about our house because we hope to move someday soon, and having been a Realtor, she knows that any (even imagined) negative review of a property will hinder its sale. I trust that y’all either aren’t in the market for my house nor will you squeal. The problem is, we live on a hill. It’s not the worst hill ever, and since we have a neighbor uphill from us, we know he has it worse, but it’s steep enough that a thin layer of ice will prohibit our vehicles from reaching the top of the drive, causing us to have to slide back down, as we pray that we can move the car out of the way enough to not block other vehicles from reaching the neighbor’s house. We then must cautiously attempt to walk up the dangerous terrain!

Why did we ever buy such a property, you ask? Because, in our excitement to have the many other “good” qualities of this property, we erroneously(or stupidly) believed that owning a snowplow already for our then business would uniquely qualify us to be able to care for our own plowing needs. Five winters, (the first one In which I quickly abandoned all hope in the truck we owned), and four snow plowers later, we’re no better off. We’re either waiting for the plow guy, waiting for a thaw, or throwing caution to the wind and sliding sideways down our drive in an attempt to get our kids to school on time. Yes, and winter has barely even arrived yet!

So back to Alec Baldwin, (who I also love in his character on 30 ROCK), and my love for Words with Friends… I truly am thankful. I may be an addict, and I may be a bit over the top when I try to maintain 7 or 8 games with various people simultaneously, but I’m keeping my mind active, warding off Alzheimer’s, even if it’s only imaginary, and I’ve got virtual company to pass my boring days while I search for a job. It could be worse, I could be addicted to something stupid like The Sims! Please, I have enough drama around me in real life!

So, with a month between my last post and this, I can tell you that I’ve learned that in the Yuan Dynasty, surrounded by my cortege, I might savor tea from quays but probably not from a padouk while I ponder the grok of life and may measure it in okas and pay for it in jias to a yenta while I learn to skate a triple lutz! What have you learned this month?


	


	

			




		
			




			
Changing Tides and Good Tidings!
	
	
19 Dec 2011 Leave a comment


			

			by Melbiker
				in change, Family Life, Parenting, personal stuff, Relationships, Weird Misc. topics
				Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , 
					

	
	

		
My youngest children, my twins, turned 10 last week. I don’t believe that I’d thoroughly prepared for that milestone as it had gotten shuffled between the craziness of life, sports, school schedules and the harried holiday season. Sure, I’d remembered presents but it has always been a flurry of gift-buying at this time anyway for the large family and extended family, so it wasn’t like I was totally unprepared. It was more an emotional wake-up to no longer having kids under 10, which put me in a different parent category. It may just be in my paranoid mind, but there seems to be less sympathy for parents who have older kids vs. younger. It’s as if other parents think that we somehow lose our memory of how hard those years were and that we can’t possibly “really know” what parents of toddlers are going through. Again, maybe just my imagination,but as a parent of twins, let me tell you that those young years are indelibly etched in my mind!


At ten years old, the gifts have moved quite a ways from crafts and toys, to clothes  and whatever’s new in electronics. When we had the family birthday party, minus both of the older sisters for the first time in their lives, it was different, for sure. There were 4 minor things for them to each open, one after another of mostly clothes that they had picked out themselves. Before they had received their main present, my wife decided to play a bit of what seemed like emotional torture on them as she asked our daughter if she had a nice birthday. “Yes,” she beamed, which made me even more uncomfortable for her. What if she was secretly hoping for something she hadn’t gotten but was afraid to seem disappointed? I could wait no longer and instructed their 12 yr. old sister to fetch their surprises. I had worked hard to find them both gently used iPod touches on eBay, outfitted them with new cases, and wrapped them up tightly and repeatedly so that the suspense would be prolonged. The excitement and surprise were beyond my imagination and their thankfulness made me proud. Of course they were from both my wife and I, but I also knew that electronics aren’t her thing, so the blissful time then (in my mind) would probably not last long(in hers)!


Several days later and we’ve got app addicts. After we give them a week to work out their excitement, they will need them confiscated every day before school, before meals, and before bed. They may even go to a reward system sign-out sheet if after a week this drug-like desire does not wane. “No, I do not want to FaceTime with you while I’m making dinner.” “Yes, I’m an adult, when you get to be an adult you can take your itouch into the bathroom with you too, but right now, it stays out here!” And, “yes, I’m coming up to put you to bed soon but just let me finish down here before you text me again!!” We’ve created monsters. A new generation of soon-to-be adults who will no longer be able to communicate without abbreviating!


Ten years ago, on the day that my wife gave birth to our twins, the most vivid memory that I have was in the pre-dawn hours when she woke me to say that her water had broken and she was in labor. We were ready with a bag packed and contingency plans in place for our then 2.5 yr-old who was asleep upstairs, but we had not planned on a snowstorm that night. I got up like a flash, ascertained that my wife was capable of getting ready to leave by herself, and dressed to go out and get the car warmed up. At no time the previous day were there warnings of an impending snowfall, so imagine my surprise when I opened the garage door to see at least 8 inches of white stuff blocking our exit. I quickly ran back into the house to tell my wife, call the neighbors for help, and to quiet my panic. No answer across the street. No other friends would be able to get to the house to assist unless they had a plow. Did we have a plow company to call? I didn’t handle that job, my wife did. I didn’t want to panic her… “Honey, I’m just going to go back out and shovel us out a bit.” “No, it’s not bad. I’ll be done lickedy split!”


I returned to the task, which seemed insurmountable at the time, but resigned myself to making quick work and getting to the hospital safely. I surely didn’t want to deliver them at home and knowing that a C-section was pending gave even more fury to my shoveling!


As I looked down the street, my eyes seemed to be playing tricks on me. I saw one golden light haloed by the falling snow. It was moving towards me ever so slowly, quietly, but coming nearer until I could see the outline of some sort of tractor. It was our new plow person, a farmer, apparently, who my wife had just the day before arranged to plow us that winter! I didn’t know him then, but he will be forever known as our angel who guided us by plowing the entire 2 miles to the main road. We still don’t know how and why he was there at that time with that singular purpose, but we are grateful that our treasured spirits were watching out for us and got the message to him!


We attended the annual family Christmas at my in-laws the other night. It has been a zoo every year for 16 of the years I’ve attended as the 8 children, 24 grandchildren(probably more…) and increasing numbers of grand kids and great nieces/nephews under 3 were underfoot in the small house. It seems that every year at this festivity, we mark the day with the memory of one who is no longer with us. It is a reminder to me of my own pending mortality as I imagine the day when these new parents will be seasoned parents and maybe even grandparents, mourning the passing of us middle-agers.


New babies arrive, older relatives die, and the cycle goes on. At the other end of the spectrum, my wife’s dad, who in his mid-eighties is the oldest and the patriarch of the family. He has been spiralling downhill in the last year and will likely be the next to go. The loss of a friend or relative near a special holiday or occasion seems to leave a permanent damper on one’s soul. I/we could use to get through this season with no more sorrow to add to an already emotion-filled time.


As the Christian holiday approaches, and those who are religious as well as those of us who either practice another religion or cling to the residual effects of an upbringing laden with spiritual overtones, I hope that we can all remember the joy as well as the memory of those who have passed and who will forever be in our hearts!


Happy Holidays, Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Kwanza, Mele Kalikimaka!

	


	

			




		
			




			
Found Objects
	
	
07 Dec 2011 1 Comment


			

			by Melbiker
				in Family Life, Parenting, personal stuff, Weird Misc. topics
				Tags: , , , , , , , 
					

	
	

		


I found a photo on the ground yesterday when I was out walking. It was slick with dew, lying adjacent to a lawn with no trash cans in sight and discarded as if it fell out of someone’s pack on the way to the bus stop. Five women were staring up at me, faces aglow with the happiness that comes from what I gathered was a very fun and memorable wedding and neatly labeled on the back with the bride’s name, her mother, and three friends. It was a captured frame of the joy in their moment  and a memory that would likely live on in the minds of these five women forever. The picture certainly had seen its day and was eroding before my eyes. I picked it up carefully and cradled it in my hand, curling it only slightly to maximize the exposure to air so that it could dry. For what purpose I wanted to preserve it, I didn’t know.


I’ll just get this out there now…I’m a pretty nostalgic gal. I like pictures, video, anything to preserve a moment and a good time. I’ve been known to snap photos at most events, capturing  any emotion, and taking pictures of people is by far my favorite hobby. On numerous occasions I’ve grabbed my video camera to preserve a tantrum of one of my kids, mostly to distract, but also to deflect the absurdity in the moment to the silliness that lurks below. It doesn’t always work, but the result is preserved for their own kids to see if the need arises! “Yes, your dad had tantrums too- isn’t that just ridiculous to be crying over the fact that your sister called you a butt?!”


I am my father’s daughter, and like him, photography has always fascinated me. I learned my way around my father’s darkroom by 4th grade, and by 6th grade, I was venturing into my first real enterprise – taking pictures of my teachers, printing up copies and selling them to my friends at school for a quarter. Never mind that the chemicals and paper cost me more than that; it was a great experience in supply and demand for a budding businesswoman. That teacher, one who had taught my older sisters and who was much-loved by many students, was retiring after our year, so the demand for my goods was high!


Unfortunately, thinking about that time also brings up the memory of a few years later, when visiting that teacher, who lived nearby, and who often played his accordion while I joined in on my violin, tried to kiss me on the couch in his living room. His old man smell and bristly unshaven face are now etched in my mind forever instead of that bold, well-loved, handsome man in my photo. What memories we preserve…


By the end of my walk, I had found several other goodies – an elastic rip cord shoelace in decent condition that my son would find a purpose for, and 3 more, very disturbing  items – dog poop in bags, neatly tied, and set along the sidewalk on the grass as if waiting to be picked up by some elusive dog poop picker-upper.


Anyone who knows me knows that I have a few pet peeves. Irresponsibility is up there at the top. Intentional irresponsibility is even worse! I don’t have a dog, for many good reasons, (kids who can barely take care of themselves as top on that list), and not because I don’t enjoy them; I have had a good number of dogs in my life whom I’ve loved dearly. Back when I did have them, it was before the time of picking up the poop in public places, but instead, we just resorted to a leash-pull maneuver and coaxing to get the dog to poop in a benign wooded area. While I do understand the inconvenience of capturing and bagging the deed, I don’t understand the absurdity of bagging and deserting it, thus, my need to go back and state the obvious so that this derelict and any others thinking of a copy-cat offense knows that I AM WATCHING!




I clearly realize that the older I get, the less I care about what people think of me. “Crazy old lady” putting up signs next to dog poop is right up there with “crazy old lady who had 40 cats living with her in her car,” but it’s more than that for me. I’m not a “teacher” in any sense of the word but I teach every single day. My classroom may be small, rude  and resentful at times, but I’m hoping that the values I try to instill in my kids will be ones that they can admire and respect me for  someday. If we don’t do it, who will?


By the time I arrived home and set the photo on my counter, I was disappointed to see that the picture had nearly disappeared. The ink-jet printing layer had turned to dust and all but two faces were totally gone. I know, it wasn’t my memory to preserve, but for about an hour, it was mine.





	


	

			




		
			




			
Thanks, for What?
	
	
22 Nov 2011 Leave a comment


			

			by Melbiker
				in change, Inequality, Political, Weird Misc. topics
				Tags: , , , , , , , , 
					

	
	

		
I was thinking today, with Thanksgiving coming up, that this is a time that I often reflect on what I’m thankful for. I can give you all of my cheesy answers, my family, my health, a great life…but I’m having trouble today, getting images out of my head, ones that no one could be thankful for. My son saw the news this morning and said “mommy, this police officer just sprayed pepper spray at these people!” Why would he do that?”


Why…


What could he have been thinking before he did such a thing? Did he think that passive protesters, sitting peacefully on the ground, arms linked and silent posed a danger to him? Was there ever any violence that would have prompted such a response? Had he ever personally been sprayed with pepper spray and if so, was it so benign that he would equate it with the way he would spray the ground around his house to protect against ants? Are passive protesters like pests, just there to damage “his” precious domain that he has vowed to serve and protect? Is he even a real police person or law enforcement officer or just a guy with a uniform? Does he have a daughter or a son and would he want them to be subjected to such a punishment for no harm done to anyone?


I have been sickened and extremely saddened by such overt displays of power and injustice. Whether you agree with the 99%’ers or not, such an act is despicable and wrong.


What did I say to my child? “Yes, it’s awful. And it’s wrong!”  What else could I say?


So THANKS for all of the budget cuts that are forcing people to ignite the fire that lies within! If the politicians in Washington can’t get it together to find cuts in our budget that don’t further affect the poor,  and find ways to raise revenue by making the rich pay their fair share, the rich will continue to get richer while more and more of the 99% get poorer. How long until we find some common sense and morals in this country? How many more people need to die because they can’t get medical help for problems that a one-time congress person’s “government-run” insurance policy would cover for the rest of their lives?


Luckily, in this age of technology, those of us who may not have the time, energy, guts, or gumption to join the 99%’ers in person, still have ways to respond to the cause. Propelling the news of injustices, personal stories, responses by politicians and law enforcement is important. Facebook, email blasts, twitter, blogging and any other way of sharing is vital to keeping these issues alive and energized. This isn’t a fringe movement. It is reality, so please help do your part. None of us is immune from the ramifications of losing anymore funding. If it doesn’t affect us directly, it will certainly affect a friend or loved one. Now is the time to continue to energize the movement to highlight these discrepancies. It’s awful, and it’s wrong!

	


	

			




		
			




			
My daughter “came out” as a heterosexual.
	
	
15 Nov 2011 3 Comments


			

			by Melbiker
				in Family Life, LGBT Issues, Parenting, Relationships, Weird Misc. topics
				Tags: , , , , , 
					

	
	

		
I have tried to be a good lesbian parent. I’ve exposed all of my kids to Pride marches and gay festivities since they were babies, have always dressed them in gender-crossover colors, never sex-stereotyped roles in the family, and have read them “Heather has Two Mommies” since they were old enough to understand. We belong to a church that has a Welcoming Congregation, have had a lesbian Mayor for most of their lives, live in  “Lesbianville, USA” (Northampton, MA ) according to Esquire Magazine, yet somehow we’ve raised a straight child.


Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against straight people. Many of my friends are straight.  I know lots of kids who are heterosexual, but I haven’t had to deal with it so personally before. My big girls went to an all-girls school, so they were barely even exposed to guys after middle school.  They never talked about boys and if they wore make-up, I didn’t notice it until they were almost graduated from high school. If there was any co-mingling with the opposite sex, it was kept secret from me and certainly not exposed to the rest of the kids. I never worried about my kids getting pregnant, but I guess I was just naive.  Now, I’ve got three more kids who are all in public schools and they are constantly associating with the opposite sex. I’m not sure I’m able to handle this- movies, boys, stylish clothes, crushes, make-up- it’s all just too much for this lesbian mom!


How did I find out? Well, plans were made with a friend to go to the movies…turns out only 2 other boys besides the two girls were going. “Is it a date?” I stupidly and slow-to-grasp this new concept asked? I got a shrug and some sort of mumble in reply.


I’m still in shock that my 12-year old daughter is a heterosexual. Although I’m sure it’s a phase.  I grew out of it.


In 7th grade, I had a crush on “Doug” who I can’t even remember his last name. It was the thing at that age to want to “go out” with a boy. I wanted to be in the cool crowd, so I set out to find one. Somehow he found out I was interested in him and we probably exchanged notes with silly sentences proclaiming our “like” to each other. Maybe I even had him circle a “yes” or “no,” to the question, “Do you want to be my boyfriend?” I don’t remember. What I do remember, vividly, and with much embarrassment, is buying some 4″ tall, white iron-on letters and putting his name “D, O, U, G” down the side of my left leg on my new jeans. How ridiculous and revealing! That romance lasted for much less time than my jeans did, and luckily the letters peeled off, but the memory still lingers.


How am I going to get through this? Are there parent support groups? Books to read? Maybe I should have her see a psychiatrist like my mother wanted me to do when she found out I was a lesbian. Or, maybe I’ll just leave her alone and let her figure it out. Luckily, she knows that we’ll love her no matter what!

	


	

			




		
		
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