Our BEST wedding present came from the Universe - a totally unexpected, utterly blissed-out Reynolds family reunion. Make that a total family reunion, bringing together genetic & family-of-the-heart relatives for a weekend of joy laughter connection.
Literally from the time the Ripleys got on the plane from Sacramento to Philadelphia, it was a weekend filled with the gloriously unexpected & the forever treasured.
Mom & I had expected Peggy & Jack to make it - they came to Peter's wedding & to Mike's. But to have everyone - even Uncle Paul - celebrate with us? That possibility never dawned on us.
It took me years to realize what a shock it was to John to discover how my sibs actually feel about me - nothing in that special time gave him the slightest inkling. Of course, he didn't know about Peter's upset at not announcing my engagement, hadn't a clue that PRL had threatened to boycott the announcement party if he wasn't given the honor. And certainly NOTHING in how Peter acted at that very special celebration would have suggested he was anything but unabashedly delighted to be with us.
John was clueless because our wedding celebration weekend - which extended over several weeks - was filled only with happiness. Like the weather on our Day of Days, not a single cloud besmudged that time out of time.
Twenty-five years ago, the Lockhart ladies were putting the finishing touches on the evening's open house honoring Mike & Kerry, Scott & Karen (okay, and the bride & groom). So much happiness, having our family & friends surrounding us with love & best wishes. So beyond anything I could have dreamed of, not even at our engagement party.
What better gift could the Universe give ME than moments filled with connection, with family, with friends, with life working as our Creator intended? Twenty-five years later, am still offering up my thanks.
Friday, August 29, 2014
Wednesday, August 27, 2014
My Mother's Stories, by Mim
Several times, Mim published her poems in our school's alumni journal. This one is especially dear to my heart...
My Mother's Stories
She sat with me, around our kitchen
table.
Recounting the stories of her youth.
She talked while we washed all those
dishes.
Or at the lake while we watched the shun
set over quiet water.
My brothers and sister called these her
"War Stories," all the adventures of
Dorothy, Alpha, Bob, Kay and Beth...
They live their lives again in my
Mother's stories, and I am forever
connected to their
Adventures.
I smell the aromas, see the
sights, hear the the sounds, feel the
feelings and bear the burdens
Of these children who lived in another
time, and other places.
My mother made them live, and forever
gave them life... In her stories.
Mim Lockhart 1996
At the same time that I love it, there is a teeny part of it that also perplexes. Mim had an interesting trait of setting herself somewhat distant from others. In a family picture I drew at eight or nine, Ian is up in heaven, Dad & Mike ^ Peter are standing to the right, Mom is smack dab in the center, I'm to her left & Mim is to mine. All of us - except Ian, in the upper right corner - in some way touches another family member. Not Mim. There she is, to the far left, not touching anyone else, not in any way. Separate, apart.
She does it in this poem, too, distancing herself from the rest of her sibs. It baffles me. It's the line, "My brothers & sister called these her 'War Stories...'" No one said "Mom & her War Stories" more than Mim did. I always thought it was Mim who came up with the phrase, which covered all of Mom's growing up years, bracketed by the two world wars but not exclusive to them. But in her poem, it's her brothers & sister who use the term. The rest, not her. Very Mim.
My Mother's Stories
She sat with me, around our kitchen
table.
Recounting the stories of her youth.
She talked while we washed all those
dishes.
Or at the lake while we watched the shun
set over quiet water.
My brothers and sister called these her
"War Stories," all the adventures of
Dorothy, Alpha, Bob, Kay and Beth...
They live their lives again in my
Mother's stories, and I am forever
connected to their
Adventures.
I smell the aromas, see the
sights, hear the the sounds, feel the
feelings and bear the burdens
Of these children who lived in another
time, and other places.
My mother made them live, and forever
gave them life... In her stories.
Mim Lockhart 1996
At the same time that I love it, there is a teeny part of it that also perplexes. Mim had an interesting trait of setting herself somewhat distant from others. In a family picture I drew at eight or nine, Ian is up in heaven, Dad & Mike ^ Peter are standing to the right, Mom is smack dab in the center, I'm to her left & Mim is to mine. All of us - except Ian, in the upper right corner - in some way touches another family member. Not Mim. There she is, to the far left, not touching anyone else, not in any way. Separate, apart.
She does it in this poem, too, distancing herself from the rest of her sibs. It baffles me. It's the line, "My brothers & sister called these her 'War Stories...'" No one said "Mom & her War Stories" more than Mim did. I always thought it was Mim who came up with the phrase, which covered all of Mom's growing up years, bracketed by the two world wars but not exclusive to them. But in her poem, it's her brothers & sister who use the term. The rest, not her. Very Mim.
Tuesday, August 26, 2014
Ah! That's what mom was writing about...
A previous post refers to a few comments in Mom's handwriting that talked about two letters that seemed to contradict each other. My guess was they were from Kerry, but was only half right - one was from her, the other was from Mike. And Mom was spot on - the two letters do reflect two opposite perspectives.
Mike had mentioned to Mom in an earlier letter to clue him in if she needed any financial help. So, she'd sent off a request for help, listing a wide range - from minor amounts to significant investment - for him to pick out whatever suited him best.
That note was the backdrop of the two wildly different responses. Mike had talked about the things he'd picked out for support, while Kerry blew a gasket over Mom coming to them with her hand out. She pointed out that they'd already covered the bills she'd "run up on (her) last trip" - the medical bills for the stop-gap surgery that made it possible to get back to the USA for the full procedure. They'd already given their share for her expenses & she could be content with that. Oh, and she had never been sufficiently grateful for all that Kerry & Mike had done, which still hurt her loving daughter in law.
Whew!
Impossible to imagine my mother NOT thanking them for paying the related hospital bills, but perhaps she wasn't overly grateful enough. I know for a fact that she knew Mike & Kerry were on the hook for the Down Under medical expenses related to the infected kidney. Due to changes in her Medicare coverage, she no longer had out-of-country coverage. Mike & Kerry had to literally sign off -to both the Australian government AND to Mom - that if any health care was required during her months long stay, they would cover it. But in all the previous six visits Mom had made between 65 & 85, she'd never come down with so much as a serious cold.
But then, she'd never flown straight through from Philadelphia to Sydney before either - she'd always stopped over in Los Angeles and sometimes also Hawaii or Tahiti. I'd had a fit when it turned out she & Scott would fly straight through, to save money. She assured me all would be well, that they had a long lay-over in L.A., that she'd make a point of walking around the airport to get her circulation going, to take a long nap.
It was only after she died that I discovered the lay-over was just one hour. Small wonder she suffered an infected kidney. Far younger people than Mom have died due to the pressure on their bodies of the long flight.
Did Mom write back & blast Kerry for not sufficiently thanking HER for getting her mind, body & spirit in fit enough fiddle to fly home to the USA for the major surgery, so it would be covered under Medicare instead of fall fully on their shoulders? Of course not. But she didn't just apologize, either, which was a huge step forward for Mom, who detested confrontation. She pointed out to Kerry that she'd been told time & again that "Lockharts never share how they feel" & "keep their heads in the sand." Well, she'd plucked up her courage, had let them know how she felt, what she needed - and, as she'd feared in the first place, was slammed for her efforts.
It's just a little piece of paper, with just three or four sentences. But, realizing the context & the courage it took Mom to not just roll over with profuse apologies - - well, to me it is a priceless treasure, reflecting a very brave, massively courageous elder.
Mike had mentioned to Mom in an earlier letter to clue him in if she needed any financial help. So, she'd sent off a request for help, listing a wide range - from minor amounts to significant investment - for him to pick out whatever suited him best.
That note was the backdrop of the two wildly different responses. Mike had talked about the things he'd picked out for support, while Kerry blew a gasket over Mom coming to them with her hand out. She pointed out that they'd already covered the bills she'd "run up on (her) last trip" - the medical bills for the stop-gap surgery that made it possible to get back to the USA for the full procedure. They'd already given their share for her expenses & she could be content with that. Oh, and she had never been sufficiently grateful for all that Kerry & Mike had done, which still hurt her loving daughter in law.
Whew!
Impossible to imagine my mother NOT thanking them for paying the related hospital bills, but perhaps she wasn't overly grateful enough. I know for a fact that she knew Mike & Kerry were on the hook for the Down Under medical expenses related to the infected kidney. Due to changes in her Medicare coverage, she no longer had out-of-country coverage. Mike & Kerry had to literally sign off -to both the Australian government AND to Mom - that if any health care was required during her months long stay, they would cover it. But in all the previous six visits Mom had made between 65 & 85, she'd never come down with so much as a serious cold.
But then, she'd never flown straight through from Philadelphia to Sydney before either - she'd always stopped over in Los Angeles and sometimes also Hawaii or Tahiti. I'd had a fit when it turned out she & Scott would fly straight through, to save money. She assured me all would be well, that they had a long lay-over in L.A., that she'd make a point of walking around the airport to get her circulation going, to take a long nap.
It was only after she died that I discovered the lay-over was just one hour. Small wonder she suffered an infected kidney. Far younger people than Mom have died due to the pressure on their bodies of the long flight.
Did Mom write back & blast Kerry for not sufficiently thanking HER for getting her mind, body & spirit in fit enough fiddle to fly home to the USA for the major surgery, so it would be covered under Medicare instead of fall fully on their shoulders? Of course not. But she didn't just apologize, either, which was a huge step forward for Mom, who detested confrontation. She pointed out to Kerry that she'd been told time & again that "Lockharts never share how they feel" & "keep their heads in the sand." Well, she'd plucked up her courage, had let them know how she felt, what she needed - and, as she'd feared in the first place, was slammed for her efforts.
It's just a little piece of paper, with just three or four sentences. But, realizing the context & the courage it took Mom to not just roll over with profuse apologies - - well, to me it is a priceless treasure, reflecting a very brave, massively courageous elder.
Sunday, August 24, 2014
Is it right to write?
Mim FINALLY sent an address for Peter. Now the dilemma - my every instinct is to send him a card, but would he want to receive one from the little sis he seems to find so... irritating?
Am on such tenterhooks when it comes to my sibs - never know when what I think is a friendly gesture gets interpreted in a wildly different way. Past experience tells me that whatever I do, the response will be questionable. sigh....
Wait a sec - am writing to everyone who touched us in a special way over our wedding celebrations. Whew! Mim's delay turns out to give us a natural reason to write & for it to be from both of us.
Am on such tenterhooks when it comes to my sibs - never know when what I think is a friendly gesture gets interpreted in a wildly different way. Past experience tells me that whatever I do, the response will be questionable. sigh....
Wait a sec - am writing to everyone who touched us in a special way over our wedding celebrations. Whew! Mim's delay turns out to give us a natural reason to write & for it to be from both of us.
Had I but known...
Louise Doering Stevens took a weight off my shoulders, going through Mom's book shelves & bureau drawers after the Gramster's reunion with her O Best Beloved. She came out of the bedroom, with that special wry Louise smile, holding a pile of books. The journals I'd given Mom, each written in for a page or so, then abandoned.
Except for the Country Desk Calender for 1988. Guess I'd assumed she'd treated it like the rest of the journals I'd given over the years, because I never gave her a second, or third, or ... What I didn't know was that she wrote in THAT journal faithfully, all through that one year. The year BEFORE John.
Never knew, not until after she was gone. How wonderful, reading all her entries, even the most mundane made special because it's in her writing, about her life. Bermuda, Australia, home, then back down to Australia.
Oh, what we miss because of what we just don't know. The desk diary format prompts were as natural to her as the other journals were apparently fatally artificial. One of my great treasures!
Except for the Country Desk Calender for 1988. Guess I'd assumed she'd treated it like the rest of the journals I'd given over the years, because I never gave her a second, or third, or ... What I didn't know was that she wrote in THAT journal faithfully, all through that one year. The year BEFORE John.
Never knew, not until after she was gone. How wonderful, reading all her entries, even the most mundane made special because it's in her writing, about her life. Bermuda, Australia, home, then back down to Australia.
Oh, what we miss because of what we just don't know. The desk diary format prompts were as natural to her as the other journals were apparently fatally artificial. One of my great treasures!
Oh, blessed pen & paper!
In looking back over the past 25 years, am awed at how happy moments were experienced with joy & how even the most difficult ones have, over the years, turned into new-found insight perception lessons.
Would most of those transformed difficulties, even heartbreak, been possible without simple paper & permanent ink? I think not. From notes & jottings from Mom to herself & others to ancient letters from my sibs & Kerry to her, from dashed off comments or page #s in novels to her own started/stopped journals, they helped clarify what was actually happening around me when it seemed something else was.
Just now, going through a long-ago journal, came across a single-sheet of writing paper, apparently thoughts Mom had jotted down before writing to Kerry. Since there isn't anything they connect to, don't know what they specifically reference, although the message is pretty clear - at least to me.
"Comparing these two letters is confusing. They contradict each other." Two letters from Kerry? One from Mike, one from KCL? No idea.
"You wanted me to say what I feel and think. When I did, you were offended. Please know that I love you and want what is fair for you and for me." (Mom originally wrote good, then crossed it out & wrote fair.)
At least I know the situation. She had written to Kerry about something that involved her daughter-in-law. Unlike her usual style, which Kerry had roundly criticized through the years for "sticking her head in the sand," Mom had gone waaaaaaay outside her comfort zone to be open & honest about a difficult situation (no memory what it was). And Kerry had not taken it well.
Mom experienced something I'd learned decades before - from her! It is one thing to say you want something, when it is in the abstract. Quite another if someone takes you up on your request for change & you suddenly discover it's not as peachy as you'd envisioned.
At least she had a reference for it. Several years before, I took Kerry at her word & was open with her on a difficult subject. Whew! Let's just say it did not go well.
Always struck me as weird that Mom had no hesitation with telling Dad - as discreetly as possible, and always along with cheddar & Ritz crackers & a glass of sherry - her mind, yet was loathe to bring up differences with her children, including (especially?) me. She never feared Dad's response, but was apparently petrified of being slammed by their kinder.
Will never forget the day she first really spoke up to me, really spoke HER truth rather than keeping quiet or seeming to agree. Wish I could say it was okay, but 'twould be a lie - totally flipped out, missing that she was doing the very thing I'd encouraged since forever. How did she respond? Shut down & withdrawal or call me out? Praise be, the later! "Wait a second! You tore into me for doing the very thing you've always told me to, what you've roundly criticized me for NOT doing in the past - standing by what I believe."
I looked at her, blinked, and accepted the truth of her statement. She WAS doing what I'd downright lectured her to do, and there I was, slamming her for it.
Did the only thing I could - acknowledged the truth of her comment, thanked her for sharing her true feelings instead of masking or burying them, then gave her a big congratulatory HUG. If memory serves me well, a few happy (Mom) proud (me) tears were shed.
Would most of those transformed difficulties, even heartbreak, been possible without simple paper & permanent ink? I think not. From notes & jottings from Mom to herself & others to ancient letters from my sibs & Kerry to her, from dashed off comments or page #s in novels to her own started/stopped journals, they helped clarify what was actually happening around me when it seemed something else was.
Just now, going through a long-ago journal, came across a single-sheet of writing paper, apparently thoughts Mom had jotted down before writing to Kerry. Since there isn't anything they connect to, don't know what they specifically reference, although the message is pretty clear - at least to me.
"Comparing these two letters is confusing. They contradict each other." Two letters from Kerry? One from Mike, one from KCL? No idea.
"You wanted me to say what I feel and think. When I did, you were offended. Please know that I love you and want what is fair for you and for me." (Mom originally wrote good, then crossed it out & wrote fair.)
At least I know the situation. She had written to Kerry about something that involved her daughter-in-law. Unlike her usual style, which Kerry had roundly criticized through the years for "sticking her head in the sand," Mom had gone waaaaaaay outside her comfort zone to be open & honest about a difficult situation (no memory what it was). And Kerry had not taken it well.
Mom experienced something I'd learned decades before - from her! It is one thing to say you want something, when it is in the abstract. Quite another if someone takes you up on your request for change & you suddenly discover it's not as peachy as you'd envisioned.
At least she had a reference for it. Several years before, I took Kerry at her word & was open with her on a difficult subject. Whew! Let's just say it did not go well.
Always struck me as weird that Mom had no hesitation with telling Dad - as discreetly as possible, and always along with cheddar & Ritz crackers & a glass of sherry - her mind, yet was loathe to bring up differences with her children, including (especially?) me. She never feared Dad's response, but was apparently petrified of being slammed by their kinder.
Will never forget the day she first really spoke up to me, really spoke HER truth rather than keeping quiet or seeming to agree. Wish I could say it was okay, but 'twould be a lie - totally flipped out, missing that she was doing the very thing I'd encouraged since forever. How did she respond? Shut down & withdrawal or call me out? Praise be, the later! "Wait a second! You tore into me for doing the very thing you've always told me to, what you've roundly criticized me for NOT doing in the past - standing by what I believe."
Well, that stopped me in my tracks.
I looked at her, blinked, and accepted the truth of her statement. She WAS doing what I'd downright lectured her to do, and there I was, slamming her for it.
Did the only thing I could - acknowledged the truth of her comment, thanked her for sharing her true feelings instead of masking or burying them, then gave her a big congratulatory HUG. If memory serves me well, a few happy (Mom) proud (me) tears were shed.
Wishing I could say that Kerry had the same response.
Thursday, August 21, 2014
At last!
Praise be, Mim sent the address of Peter's rehab facility (as requested). He seems to be making progress.
She included a pair of lovely memories from long ago. No idea how she is or what type of place she is living in or really any details of her here & now. But cherishing sweet reminders of precious times in our past.
She included a pair of lovely memories from long ago. No idea how she is or what type of place she is living in or really any details of her here & now. But cherishing sweet reminders of precious times in our past.
Wednesday, August 20, 2014
three little words
Could three little words have significantly changed things in my life? Looking back, I think that the overall status would have remained fairly quo. But in little ways, those three words would have made a big difference. How? Will never know.
How many times in my adult life did I wail to Mom, "WHY do they dislike me so? What have I done?"? And every time she would push-tosh me, assure me that of course they liked me - they loved me. "You're their baby sister."
Mom never had to go into any details, if she even knew what they were, for why Peter, Mim & Mike's wife heaped such scorn upon my head. It wasn't until 1997 that I added Kerry to siblings who seemed to have no use for me, but the other two were pretty upfront with their anathema since I was in elementary school. Mind you, Peter didn't seem to have any use for any of us, but his ire seemed particularly focused on me - yeah, the baby sister.
To this day, it makes no sense. Have wracked my brains, searched my memory banks, and can't come up with anything I did or said that would explain Peter telling a counselor that what had drawn him closer to Mim was discovering that she didn't like me, either.
And I sensed it. From an early age, I sensed it, although it went unquestioned until my thirties. Every time it came up, would always get the same "Of course they like you..." response.
All Mom ever had to say were those three little words - "I don't know." At least I would have known my read was right.
My apologies if this has already been covered, but nothing could have been more jaw dropping than the time that Mim, without malice, confirmed that she bore no love for her baby sister. Said it twice - repeated, after Mom responded to the neutrally given information with "Of course you do!" Looking back, she might have been as horrified by the calm with which Mim said it & with which I received it as by the admission.
After the second, confirming statement, Mom did the only thing that she could - she left the room. No comment, just departure.
How different some key dynamics would have been if she'd only been able to accept that, perhaps for reasons unknown to her, that my sister & sister-in-law & oldest brother had no warmth or love or friendship toward me. But she couldn't.
Thank goodness, there were many lessons learned from all of this.
AND don't - ever - dodge responding openly to a question, even if it's to say you can't answer it. All Mom had to reply was, "I don't know," or, if she actually did, "I can't say" (which sounds the same but covers a lot more bases).
Poor Mom. Want to hold her in my arms & tell her it's all right, because in the long run she was the one who couldn't handle a full answer - whatever it might have been - not me.
How many times in my adult life did I wail to Mom, "WHY do they dislike me so? What have I done?"? And every time she would push-tosh me, assure me that of course they liked me - they loved me. "You're their baby sister."
Mom never had to go into any details, if she even knew what they were, for why Peter, Mim & Mike's wife heaped such scorn upon my head. It wasn't until 1997 that I added Kerry to siblings who seemed to have no use for me, but the other two were pretty upfront with their anathema since I was in elementary school. Mind you, Peter didn't seem to have any use for any of us, but his ire seemed particularly focused on me - yeah, the baby sister.
To this day, it makes no sense. Have wracked my brains, searched my memory banks, and can't come up with anything I did or said that would explain Peter telling a counselor that what had drawn him closer to Mim was discovering that she didn't like me, either.
And I sensed it. From an early age, I sensed it, although it went unquestioned until my thirties. Every time it came up, would always get the same "Of course they like you..." response.
All Mom ever had to say were those three little words - "I don't know." At least I would have known my read was right.
My apologies if this has already been covered, but nothing could have been more jaw dropping than the time that Mim, without malice, confirmed that she bore no love for her baby sister. Said it twice - repeated, after Mom responded to the neutrally given information with "Of course you do!" Looking back, she might have been as horrified by the calm with which Mim said it & with which I received it as by the admission.
After the second, confirming statement, Mom did the only thing that she could - she left the room. No comment, just departure.
How different some key dynamics would have been if she'd only been able to accept that, perhaps for reasons unknown to her, that my sister & sister-in-law & oldest brother had no warmth or love or friendship toward me. But she couldn't.
Thank goodness, there were many lessons learned from all of this.
- You never really know how people actually feel about you, for good or ill - until 1997, hadn't a clue Kerry held me in such contempt; wouldn't discover until 2007 that Mom knew it since at least 1973.
- Flat-out asking for a straight answer doesn't mean you're going to get it.
- Trust you gut - mine told me that I was odd man out in our family long before it was confirmed.
- Don't think of family as the end all & be all of relationships - you didn't ask to end up with them anymore than they asked to end up with you.
- Don't get invested in what any others, even your nearest & dearest, think about you. What they think about you is none of your business.
- Don't take things personally. Because it usually isn't.
- Cut people a break. We know a lot less than we think we do.
- I'd rather be me, holding all my sibs in my heart, than be any one of them.
AND don't - ever - dodge responding openly to a question, even if it's to say you can't answer it. All Mom had to reply was, "I don't know," or, if she actually did, "I can't say" (which sounds the same but covers a lot more bases).
Poor Mom. Want to hold her in my arms & tell her it's all right, because in the long run she was the one who couldn't handle a full answer - whatever it might have been - not me.
Wednesday, August 13, 2014
hazarding uneducated guesses
The best we can ever do in any given situation is to make our best uneducated guess about the hows & whys & wherefores. The info we have at hand might seem like a lot, but it's usually just a teensy bit of what could be learned. And our personal filter always colors what little we do seem to grasp. Uneducated guesses - that's the best we can ever do.
a lifetime of getting it wrong
It took a letter just shy of 50 years old to wake me up to a lifetime of getting things wrong. Or not...
For practically my first quarter century, I thought that my older sister was the sun moon stars to my inconsequential planetoid. For over the second quarter, I thought that she was so blindsided by Ian's death, she consciously acted in ways that would bind me to her, heart & soul. In my third quarter, am facing the reality that it might have been intentional, it might just have been her...
Oh, how lovely it would be to truly believe it was unintentional on her part. Sadly, she could intentionally devastate her youngers, even her olders. Within a year of being married to Peter, Pam commented on how the whole family was afraid of Mim. While we thought her observation a total hoot, she was spot on. The fact is that she knew everyone's hot button & just how to push it. With Mom, it was withdrawing affection. With me, it was denying connection. No idea what it was with Dad, but am sure there was one. She knew just where to go with Ian - one day when they were coming home from school & he triggered her ire, she reached into the stack of books he was carrying, drew out his favorite, and dropped it to the pavement, breaking its spine.
For certain sure, she never seemed to get the sense that she was adored by her baby sister, nor a clue that she was admired by all of the family & considerable more, in spite of her degree from NYU, her masters from Rutgets, and being officially recognized with a formal proclamation by the New Jersey State Legislature. The letter she wrote Mom from Houston is sort of pathetic, in her assumption that her baby sis didn't miss her, just what she could do for me or - worse - the idea of missing someone, rather than specifically HER.
Been thinking about that thought - "I think she ... likes the idea of missing someone." WHY would anyone want to miss a generic someone? For the drama of feeling completely alone? Did she really never understand that I couldn't be fully myself without her wind filling my sails?
Praise be for old letters. They reveal realities that would have seemed incredible if someone had suggested them. As tied - bound - as I felt to her, she apparently felt totally ... what would the word be? She rented a t.v. for one day a week in order to watch The Big Valley in order to have a way to communicate with me. Sheez.
It doesn't matter whether she acted intentionally or unintentionally, whether she meant to emotionally bind me to her or had no idea the impact of how she acted around me. What's clear is that the certainty with which I once saw things was all wrong, that I spent a lifetime of being sure about something that could be totally wrong. Or not. Will never know.
This I do know, for certain sure. Mim is an amazing sister with remarkable gifts, some of which she's shared & some of which she seems incapable of seeing, let alone embracing. I might have spent a lifetime getting her all wrong, but at least it was a lifetime of appreciating her as the unique incredible exasperating person she most definitely is.
For practically my first quarter century, I thought that my older sister was the sun moon stars to my inconsequential planetoid. For over the second quarter, I thought that she was so blindsided by Ian's death, she consciously acted in ways that would bind me to her, heart & soul. In my third quarter, am facing the reality that it might have been intentional, it might just have been her...
Oh, how lovely it would be to truly believe it was unintentional on her part. Sadly, she could intentionally devastate her youngers, even her olders. Within a year of being married to Peter, Pam commented on how the whole family was afraid of Mim. While we thought her observation a total hoot, she was spot on. The fact is that she knew everyone's hot button & just how to push it. With Mom, it was withdrawing affection. With me, it was denying connection. No idea what it was with Dad, but am sure there was one. She knew just where to go with Ian - one day when they were coming home from school & he triggered her ire, she reached into the stack of books he was carrying, drew out his favorite, and dropped it to the pavement, breaking its spine.
For certain sure, she never seemed to get the sense that she was adored by her baby sister, nor a clue that she was admired by all of the family & considerable more, in spite of her degree from NYU, her masters from Rutgets, and being officially recognized with a formal proclamation by the New Jersey State Legislature. The letter she wrote Mom from Houston is sort of pathetic, in her assumption that her baby sis didn't miss her, just what she could do for me or - worse - the idea of missing someone, rather than specifically HER.
Been thinking about that thought - "I think she ... likes the idea of missing someone." WHY would anyone want to miss a generic someone? For the drama of feeling completely alone? Did she really never understand that I couldn't be fully myself without her wind filling my sails?
Praise be for old letters. They reveal realities that would have seemed incredible if someone had suggested them. As tied - bound - as I felt to her, she apparently felt totally ... what would the word be? She rented a t.v. for one day a week in order to watch The Big Valley in order to have a way to communicate with me. Sheez.
It doesn't matter whether she acted intentionally or unintentionally, whether she meant to emotionally bind me to her or had no idea the impact of how she acted around me. What's clear is that the certainty with which I once saw things was all wrong, that I spent a lifetime of being sure about something that could be totally wrong. Or not. Will never know.
This I do know, for certain sure. Mim is an amazing sister with remarkable gifts, some of which she's shared & some of which she seems incapable of seeing, let alone embracing. I might have spent a lifetime getting her all wrong, but at least it was a lifetime of appreciating her as the unique incredible exasperating person she most definitely is.
both & neither
Talk about a cuckoo in a robin's nest! The combination of my personal dynamic & the rest of my surviving family was disaster waiting to happen. Where I've always had to sing out the situation in front of me - so well illustrated by my question to Ken Stroh after Ian was killed - they were, as Kerry aptly put it, happiest with their heads buried in the sand. Two extremes of the communication spectrum.
After teaching a Health unit based on four generations of my family - grandparents, parents, self & sibs, nieces & nephs - would ask the students, "MY style was verbal & very direct; the surviving others were non-verbal & triangulated. Which communication style is right & which is wrong?" It always blew them away that the correct answer was "both" and "neither" - each style worked, in its own way.
There are a bunch of core issues I'm working through in the here & now, some of which reach back into the long, long ago. They involve my looking at the perception I had of things apparently done & said. Some are easy to say, "Yes, I see this or that happened." A lot are up for conjecture or interpretation or even individual memory. All are important.
It helps to know that probably NONE of what I might share agrees with what my sibs experienced perceived remembered. Peter remembers leaving home when he went away to college - and never coming back. Mim recalls that while I offered to do things for her, she never took me up on it & forge through life without my proffered support. Kerry considers that the care I provided Mom was no more & no less than any one of the rest of the gave. Mike agrees with whatever Kerry thinks. Whitney & Reynolds have such ghastly memories of me, she unfriended me on Facebook & he never accepted my friend request. Who knows what Scott & Karen feel (am grateful for the warm FB friendships that have developed).
Who are right, who are wrong? Both & neither. All I can say is that these will be my stories, and I'm sticking with them.
After teaching a Health unit based on four generations of my family - grandparents, parents, self & sibs, nieces & nephs - would ask the students, "MY style was verbal & very direct; the surviving others were non-verbal & triangulated. Which communication style is right & which is wrong?" It always blew them away that the correct answer was "both" and "neither" - each style worked, in its own way.
There are a bunch of core issues I'm working through in the here & now, some of which reach back into the long, long ago. They involve my looking at the perception I had of things apparently done & said. Some are easy to say, "Yes, I see this or that happened." A lot are up for conjecture or interpretation or even individual memory. All are important.
It helps to know that probably NONE of what I might share agrees with what my sibs experienced perceived remembered. Peter remembers leaving home when he went away to college - and never coming back. Mim recalls that while I offered to do things for her, she never took me up on it & forge through life without my proffered support. Kerry considers that the care I provided Mom was no more & no less than any one of the rest of the gave. Mike agrees with whatever Kerry thinks. Whitney & Reynolds have such ghastly memories of me, she unfriended me on Facebook & he never accepted my friend request. Who knows what Scott & Karen feel (am grateful for the warm FB friendships that have developed).
Who are right, who are wrong? Both & neither. All I can say is that these will be my stories, and I'm sticking with them.
Tuesday, August 12, 2014
alternate realities
Okay, that "black hole rather than blazing sun" scenario - that's how I view my sister-to-sister dynamic. What Mim recalls is sure to be a far different story.
Which is really what's it all about, Alfie. Stories. I tell you my experience, Mim tells hers. Mom Peter Michael Ian Dad Kerry Whitney Reynolds Scott Karen Pam - all would have a different take from everyone else. And they would all believe their version, utterly completely forever.
Unless they are the sort of person who holds reality lightly in their hands, as (if you ask me) is the sanest way to view life.
My challenge is that I've always longed to hear my sibs view of our presumably shared family experience. They won't. And the reasons they won't usually (always?) revolve around my response to what they might say. Because they don't trust me, they keep mum.
For years & years, their steadfast silence kept me silent, too. How could I speak out, it they weren't going to balance my view with theirs?
How dumb was that? They can write their own blogs, with their own truth. Or they can write a totally untouched guest post on this one.
But this blog is about my truth, a truth that I seriously do my best to hold as lightly in my hand as possible without refuting it.
So many families think THEIR dynamics are the worst ever seen in this or any other time. The more I hear, the more this is clearly NOT the case. My family had a truly funky approach to a lot of things, but I've heard so much worse about other messed up families. In fact, it feels like my own family was at least pretty darn interesting, if more than a little challenged.
Going to look at a bunch of personal experiences & even some stories handed down to me, primarily by Mom, who hadn't a clue they were in the least bit revealing.
My stay at Omega Institute got me mulling over how we'd all be helped if instead of silently holding them close to broken hearts, sure their peculiar family dynamics were the worst of this or any other time, we opened up about ,messed up experiences, inviting everyone to jump into the cauldron.
Maybe broken-ness is part of what we're supposed to experience, maybe it's all part of the mish mash we're meant to ultimately make sense of for ourselves, not others.
Is it possible that truths seen by Me John Mim Mom Dad Peter Pam Mike Kerry Scott Karen Whitney Reynolds et al are ALL genuine? Or NONE are?
For myself, I stand by my whimsy - okay, by Lord Pete Wimsey, who commented, "'Truth, they say, was nobody's daughter; She took off her clothes and fell into the water." That piffle is about as good a commentary on the whatever passes for truth as we're ever going to find. In the end, it's all piffle.
So, read what I write or don't. If my sibs have alternate realities to share, let 'em scribble away. Here's where you'll find my whack at things seen heard experienced in a plethora of cuckoos' nests.
Which is really what's it all about, Alfie. Stories. I tell you my experience, Mim tells hers. Mom Peter Michael Ian Dad Kerry Whitney Reynolds Scott Karen Pam - all would have a different take from everyone else. And they would all believe their version, utterly completely forever.
Unless they are the sort of person who holds reality lightly in their hands, as (if you ask me) is the sanest way to view life.
My challenge is that I've always longed to hear my sibs view of our presumably shared family experience. They won't. And the reasons they won't usually (always?) revolve around my response to what they might say. Because they don't trust me, they keep mum.
For years & years, their steadfast silence kept me silent, too. How could I speak out, it they weren't going to balance my view with theirs?
How dumb was that? They can write their own blogs, with their own truth. Or they can write a totally untouched guest post on this one.
But this blog is about my truth, a truth that I seriously do my best to hold as lightly in my hand as possible without refuting it.
So many families think THEIR dynamics are the worst ever seen in this or any other time. The more I hear, the more this is clearly NOT the case. My family had a truly funky approach to a lot of things, but I've heard so much worse about other messed up families. In fact, it feels like my own family was at least pretty darn interesting, if more than a little challenged.
Going to look at a bunch of personal experiences & even some stories handed down to me, primarily by Mom, who hadn't a clue they were in the least bit revealing.
My stay at Omega Institute got me mulling over how we'd all be helped if instead of silently holding them close to broken hearts, sure their peculiar family dynamics were the worst of this or any other time, we opened up about ,messed up experiences, inviting everyone to jump into the cauldron.
Maybe broken-ness is part of what we're supposed to experience, maybe it's all part of the mish mash we're meant to ultimately make sense of for ourselves, not others.
Is it possible that truths seen by Me John Mim Mom Dad Peter Pam Mike Kerry Scott Karen Whitney Reynolds et al are ALL genuine? Or NONE are?
For myself, I stand by my whimsy - okay, by Lord Pete Wimsey, who commented, "'Truth, they say, was nobody's daughter; She took off her clothes and fell into the water." That piffle is about as good a commentary on the whatever passes for truth as we're ever going to find. In the end, it's all piffle.
So, read what I write or don't. If my sibs have alternate realities to share, let 'em scribble away. Here's where you'll find my whack at things seen heard experienced in a plethora of cuckoos' nests.
alternative universes
Let's admit it - my family & I inhabited alternate universes.
Got to thinking about this - again - after coming across another letter from Mim to Mom, back when she was attending the University of Houston, in the middle '60s. Boy, do her letters home illuminate so much that befuddled me over the years.
Mim mentioned hearing from me "finally." Wondering - how many kids in their early teens think about writing letters? Frankly, I doubt that it sank in, then or ever, that any of them, including my idolized big sis, particularly cared about hearing from me.
In a particularly telling paragraph, Mim writes, "I don't know why she (me) misses me so - we only fight when I'm home. I think she misses me taking her places and likes the idea of missing someone."
Fights? I don't remember any. But maybe she is confusing how disagreeable she seemed to have found me (which I only learned decades later) with actual fights. Was she really that unaware of how I utterly had her up on an untouchable pedestal? Hullo - right up through my early 20s, she was my sun moon stars. And even then, it was she who turned away from me (having disagreed with her for the 1st time) rather than vice versa. She never noticed my lack of friends? Didn't need them - SHE was my everything.
For some reason, am reminded of a quirky thing she did throughout my late 20s & early 30s. (I've written about this before, but seems to apply here.) She'd recommend going to Sunday brunch at the lushy plushy DuPont Hotel or the epic Plaza, or lunch in the Algonquin's legendary Rose Room - all buffets. As we worked our way down the tables, she'd look around, then make a disparaging remark - about US. Took several times before I responded, "Speak for yourself." Couldn't understand why she'd intentionally target buffets if she felt so conspicuous, until Peter explained it - she set it up IN ORDER to point out we stuck out like sore thumbs. Go figure.
In the same way, am still clueless at why she went to such lengths to ensure that my loyalties were to her & her alone. Was it utterly unconcious? The scathing remarks made as asides about other people & families, even relatives, she considered hopelessly bourgeois (learned that word at a very early age), the snide asides about a variety of things, the relentlessly negative comments about just about everyone & everything, while WE were forever painted as eternally outside the pale, something still held to be somehow above the common herd. It all tied me too her, utterly & completely.
At the same time, the cynicism & snark I thought were the foundation of standard communication, held others at a distance, confused when the sunny gal turned into a dark soul.
As for missing her because she took me places - almost right. Missed the PERSON, not the rides.
For almost a quarter century, SHE was the sun orbited by my sub-planet. She never really GOT that?
After Ian's death, consciously or not, Mim sucked me into her gravitational pull. It was easy - she snidely trashed everyone else, highlighted our outsider status within a close-knit community, was the epicenter of every glorious moment of my life. Yet, her letter paints her as unaware of my adoration & complete fealty, above everything, to her & her alone.
It's quite possible Mim didn't consciously realize her impact - not the self-gutting brunch scenarios, not how effectively she instilled in her baby sister a ghastly communication style (would be decades before it dawned on me that how she spoke with me was nothing like the way she communicated with the larger world), perhaps not any of it.
Guess that will always astonish me. For almost a quarter century, I held her as the fabulously flaming sun around which my piddly planet did adoring orbits.
Reading the letter, putting it in context with other similarly HUH? revelations, am thinking that it might not be that we inhabited alternative universes or that what I considered a blazing sun might well have been a black hole.
Got to thinking about this - again - after coming across another letter from Mim to Mom, back when she was attending the University of Houston, in the middle '60s. Boy, do her letters home illuminate so much that befuddled me over the years.
Mim mentioned hearing from me "finally." Wondering - how many kids in their early teens think about writing letters? Frankly, I doubt that it sank in, then or ever, that any of them, including my idolized big sis, particularly cared about hearing from me.
In a particularly telling paragraph, Mim writes, "I don't know why she (me) misses me so - we only fight when I'm home. I think she misses me taking her places and likes the idea of missing someone."
Fights? I don't remember any. But maybe she is confusing how disagreeable she seemed to have found me (which I only learned decades later) with actual fights. Was she really that unaware of how I utterly had her up on an untouchable pedestal? Hullo - right up through my early 20s, she was my sun moon stars. And even then, it was she who turned away from me (having disagreed with her for the 1st time) rather than vice versa. She never noticed my lack of friends? Didn't need them - SHE was my everything.
For some reason, am reminded of a quirky thing she did throughout my late 20s & early 30s. (I've written about this before, but seems to apply here.) She'd recommend going to Sunday brunch at the lushy plushy DuPont Hotel or the epic Plaza, or lunch in the Algonquin's legendary Rose Room - all buffets. As we worked our way down the tables, she'd look around, then make a disparaging remark - about US. Took several times before I responded, "Speak for yourself." Couldn't understand why she'd intentionally target buffets if she felt so conspicuous, until Peter explained it - she set it up IN ORDER to point out we stuck out like sore thumbs. Go figure.
In the same way, am still clueless at why she went to such lengths to ensure that my loyalties were to her & her alone. Was it utterly unconcious? The scathing remarks made as asides about other people & families, even relatives, she considered hopelessly bourgeois (learned that word at a very early age), the snide asides about a variety of things, the relentlessly negative comments about just about everyone & everything, while WE were forever painted as eternally outside the pale, something still held to be somehow above the common herd. It all tied me too her, utterly & completely.
At the same time, the cynicism & snark I thought were the foundation of standard communication, held others at a distance, confused when the sunny gal turned into a dark soul.
As for missing her because she took me places - almost right. Missed the PERSON, not the rides.
For almost a quarter century, SHE was the sun orbited by my sub-planet. She never really GOT that?
After Ian's death, consciously or not, Mim sucked me into her gravitational pull. It was easy - she snidely trashed everyone else, highlighted our outsider status within a close-knit community, was the epicenter of every glorious moment of my life. Yet, her letter paints her as unaware of my adoration & complete fealty, above everything, to her & her alone.
It's quite possible Mim didn't consciously realize her impact - not the self-gutting brunch scenarios, not how effectively she instilled in her baby sister a ghastly communication style (would be decades before it dawned on me that how she spoke with me was nothing like the way she communicated with the larger world), perhaps not any of it.
"I think she... likes the idea of missing someone."
Guess that will always astonish me. For almost a quarter century, I held her as the fabulously flaming sun around which my piddly planet did adoring orbits.
Reading the letter, putting it in context with other similarly HUH? revelations, am thinking that it might not be that we inhabited alternative universes or that what I considered a blazing sun might well have been a black hole.
Monday, August 11, 2014
past
Is the past best left in the past? This time a month ago, I sure thought so. The last thing on my agenda for talking about with Kim Vargas was a return to family issues. "The past is behind me. From now on, it's the future!"
Nice sentiment, but doesn't do a heck of a lot in scrapping off layers of emotional gunk, prying away dumb patterns, recalibrating messed up messaging. The things that distract deter undermine.
Sounds reassuring to state, "The past is the past!" Alas, it didn't make sense when Mim said it thirteen years ago, doesn't make sense now. Feels comforting, but I keep tripping over the blasted thing on my path forward!
Nice sentiment, but doesn't do a heck of a lot in scrapping off layers of emotional gunk, prying away dumb patterns, recalibrating messed up messaging. The things that distract deter undermine.
Sounds reassuring to state, "The past is the past!" Alas, it didn't make sense when Mim said it thirteen years ago, doesn't make sense now. Feels comforting, but I keep tripping over the blasted thing on my path forward!
Thursday, August 7, 2014
present
What a surprise to hear a voice on the phone saying, "Hi, it's Mim." Had just gotten back from an early morning bop. Her voice sounded so much lighter than I remembered, less guarded.
Strange, but true - someone had called her about a Mary Englebreit calendar & address book they'd found on the counter of the Southampton Post Office. Called her, the first name in the book.
What a happy oops! Fun talk with my big sis, for over 15 minutes. Recalled some special moments in our lives, got an update on Peter.
Per Mim, Peter is going to be transferred soon to another medical facility. She's not sure where he is right not, other than not at Mercy Hospital, and doesn't know where he's headed. Reynolds is coming up from North Carolina to help facilitate the move. What a good son! Am sure it's a comfort to Whitney, way down in Melbourne, AU, to know her bro is doing all he can, in spite of the distance.
It was a zippity-do-dah-day call! Have learned not to press for more information than I'm given. Feels like that can be experienced as pressing. Instead, it felt light-hearted all the way through. And I didn't get off the phone wishing there was more. Stayed in the present moment, which was the best present of all!
Strange, but true - someone had called her about a Mary Englebreit calendar & address book they'd found on the counter of the Southampton Post Office. Called her, the first name in the book.
What a happy oops! Fun talk with my big sis, for over 15 minutes. Recalled some special moments in our lives, got an update on Peter.
Per Mim, Peter is going to be transferred soon to another medical facility. She's not sure where he is right not, other than not at Mercy Hospital, and doesn't know where he's headed. Reynolds is coming up from North Carolina to help facilitate the move. What a good son! Am sure it's a comfort to Whitney, way down in Melbourne, AU, to know her bro is doing all he can, in spite of the distance.
It was a zippity-do-dah-day call! Have learned not to press for more information than I'm given. Feels like that can be experienced as pressing. Instead, it felt light-hearted all the way through. And I didn't get off the phone wishing there was more. Stayed in the present moment, which was the best present of all!
Wednesday, August 6, 2014
reframe the picture
On another blog - older2elder - I wrote about the advantage of bringing a mediator into potentially sensitive discussions between older parents & their adult family. To illustrate my point, I shared a story about my own family, an unfortunate communication breakdown between my Dad & one of my brothers that resulted in Mike moving to Australia instead of remaining here in Pennsylvania, working at Lockhart Lumber.
Fast forward 40+ years. John & I have a weekly date at Bell's Tavern, in Lambertville, NJ (good food at great prices, friends & staff who feel like family). Every week, we park around the corner, at Niece Lumber. Every week, I get the opportunity to reframe what happened between two men I love, to put a happy ending by tweaking their story.
Niece Lumber is what could have been - in an alternate reality - the outcome of Dad & Mike's head butt over a path forward for what might have been a family business.
In my reframed version, Mom reads an article in a Middle Atlantic Lumberman's Association magazine about professional mediators specializing in family businesses. (This is my reframe, so it's moot that they didn't exist back in the early '70s.) Over several days, when Dad comes home at night, he's greeted not only with a glass of sherry & a plate of cheese & crackers - it's Harvey's Bristol Cream sherry & slices of a lovely aged cheddar.
Mom makes sure the magazine is within his sight range. Later that evening, she wonders aloud if he'd read any of it. Did he see the article about this thing called mediators? Over the next few days, she builds off his grumbled "yes."
Slowly, never feeling pushed, Dad warms to the idea.
At the same time she was introducing the idea to Dad, Mom was also talking to Kerry. Kerry had a lot invested in Mike becoming more established in the business - she wanted to start a family & it couldn't happen until the two of them had a more secure idea of what their future held.
Mom believed that Kerry, a nurse (who would become a brilliant counselor back in Australia) & very practical person, would appreciate the advantages of having a disinterested person facilitating a productive discussion about what lay ahead for Lockhart Lumber.
After many sessions with the mediator, Dad & Mike come up with a business plan that satisfies both of them. Mike would look for a new location - one they could buy - and Kerry would come on board as an office manager, leaving Dad free to do the millwork, design & cabinet-making that he loved. Once they moved to the larger facility, they'd hire a second mill man & apprentice a designer/cabinet-maker to work with Dad. Over time, most of the business decisions would be Mike's responsibility, leaving Dad time to step back from day-to-day management while still having an important voice.
The new direction has Mom happy, because she & Dad have more time to enjoy each other. Kerry & Mike are free to start their family AND grow the business in the visionary way that once seemed overly ambition to Dad. Even Dad stops grumbling - not only can he take time to go on trips with Mom, the business doubles over the first year under the new business plan. His confidence in Mike & Kerry grows as their strong business partnership brings in greater sales & satisfied customers.
In my reframe, the business ends up like Niece Lumber. The main office building is Mike & Kerry's domain, where customers & contractors feel like their needs are understood & expectations exceeded. Framed certificates proclaiming "Best lumberyard ...." decorate the wall, along with newspaper clippings.
If anyone has a question about design or something Mike can't handle, they head over to the other office building, where Dad & other designers handle the special cabinetry orders. They have their own set of "Best of woodworking..." citations on the wall, along with framed articles from Philadelphia, House Beautiful & Dwell magazines.
The lumberyard itself is kept in the apple pie order that makes Mike's heart sing, and he steers clear of interfering when it comes to Dad's domain.
Dad finds himself happy to retire from full-time involvement in the day-to-day business. Now, with Mom by his side, he's the one researching new techniques & visiting major suppliers, a personal touch that gives the business a key advantage over lumber mega stores.
Lockhart Lumber builds on the reputation Dad established from the beginning - not the cheapest, but definitely the best.
When Dad dies at 68 (it's my reframe & I choose to give Dad an extra five years!, the transition is already completed. Mom is not only left financially secure, she has the joy of her grandchildren & a strong relationship with her son & daughter-in-law.
I get to run through a version of that reframe once a week, every time the car pulls up to the main office building at Niece Lumber, every time John & I stroll the tow path, past the tidy prosperous lumberyard.
It doesn't change reality, but somehow makes me feel better. And who knows - if family mediation had been mainstream back then, that just might have happened!
Fast forward 40+ years. John & I have a weekly date at Bell's Tavern, in Lambertville, NJ (good food at great prices, friends & staff who feel like family). Every week, we park around the corner, at Niece Lumber. Every week, I get the opportunity to reframe what happened between two men I love, to put a happy ending by tweaking their story.
Niece Lumber is what could have been - in an alternate reality - the outcome of Dad & Mike's head butt over a path forward for what might have been a family business.
In my reframed version, Mom reads an article in a Middle Atlantic Lumberman's Association magazine about professional mediators specializing in family businesses. (This is my reframe, so it's moot that they didn't exist back in the early '70s.) Over several days, when Dad comes home at night, he's greeted not only with a glass of sherry & a plate of cheese & crackers - it's Harvey's Bristol Cream sherry & slices of a lovely aged cheddar.
Mom makes sure the magazine is within his sight range. Later that evening, she wonders aloud if he'd read any of it. Did he see the article about this thing called mediators? Over the next few days, she builds off his grumbled "yes."
Slowly, never feeling pushed, Dad warms to the idea.
At the same time she was introducing the idea to Dad, Mom was also talking to Kerry. Kerry had a lot invested in Mike becoming more established in the business - she wanted to start a family & it couldn't happen until the two of them had a more secure idea of what their future held.
Mom believed that Kerry, a nurse (who would become a brilliant counselor back in Australia) & very practical person, would appreciate the advantages of having a disinterested person facilitating a productive discussion about what lay ahead for Lockhart Lumber.
After many sessions with the mediator, Dad & Mike come up with a business plan that satisfies both of them. Mike would look for a new location - one they could buy - and Kerry would come on board as an office manager, leaving Dad free to do the millwork, design & cabinet-making that he loved. Once they moved to the larger facility, they'd hire a second mill man & apprentice a designer/cabinet-maker to work with Dad. Over time, most of the business decisions would be Mike's responsibility, leaving Dad time to step back from day-to-day management while still having an important voice.
The new direction has Mom happy, because she & Dad have more time to enjoy each other. Kerry & Mike are free to start their family AND grow the business in the visionary way that once seemed overly ambition to Dad. Even Dad stops grumbling - not only can he take time to go on trips with Mom, the business doubles over the first year under the new business plan. His confidence in Mike & Kerry grows as their strong business partnership brings in greater sales & satisfied customers.
In my reframe, the business ends up like Niece Lumber. The main office building is Mike & Kerry's domain, where customers & contractors feel like their needs are understood & expectations exceeded. Framed certificates proclaiming "Best lumberyard ...." decorate the wall, along with newspaper clippings.
If anyone has a question about design or something Mike can't handle, they head over to the other office building, where Dad & other designers handle the special cabinetry orders. They have their own set of "Best of woodworking..." citations on the wall, along with framed articles from Philadelphia, House Beautiful & Dwell magazines.
The lumberyard itself is kept in the apple pie order that makes Mike's heart sing, and he steers clear of interfering when it comes to Dad's domain.
Dad finds himself happy to retire from full-time involvement in the day-to-day business. Now, with Mom by his side, he's the one researching new techniques & visiting major suppliers, a personal touch that gives the business a key advantage over lumber mega stores.
Lockhart Lumber builds on the reputation Dad established from the beginning - not the cheapest, but definitely the best.
When Dad dies at 68 (it's my reframe & I choose to give Dad an extra five years!, the transition is already completed. Mom is not only left financially secure, she has the joy of her grandchildren & a strong relationship with her son & daughter-in-law.
I get to run through a version of that reframe once a week, every time the car pulls up to the main office building at Niece Lumber, every time John & I stroll the tow path, past the tidy prosperous lumberyard.
It doesn't change reality, but somehow makes me feel better. And who knows - if family mediation had been mainstream back then, that just might have happened!
Tuesday, August 5, 2014
beth ann
My heart feels touched & a little tugged whenever I spot or see a photo of Beth Ann. Several years ago, sitting in a side pew of the church, keeping an eye on a grannie client in the nave, was swept with an unexpected sense as Beth Ann & her husband of many many years walked toward & past me.
"That," an inner voice said, "Is the gal Ian would have married."
What a lovely thought & one that came utterly unbidden. I really like her husband, who seems like a thoroughly nice guy. But I do savor the thought that here was the woman who would have been my sister-in-law. Since Ian - much to my surprise - was like me in many important ways, maybe she would have loved, even liked me.
Wonderful thought...
"That," an inner voice said, "Is the gal Ian would have married."
What a lovely thought & one that came utterly unbidden. I really like her husband, who seems like a thoroughly nice guy. But I do savor the thought that here was the woman who would have been my sister-in-law. Since Ian - much to my surprise - was like me in many important ways, maybe she would have loved, even liked me.
Wonderful thought...
not such wise fools
Here's my experience of the steps toward the highest form of wisdom - data information knowledge intelligence understanding perception wisdom intuition. Data may be first, but it's also least.
In my experience growing up in parochial schools, from kindergarten through college, the emphasis was on learning as much data as possible. There was no space on any curriculum for meditation, not even as an elective.
I think of what a difference developing meditation practices can make in every aspect of a person's life, including the home. I don't understand how any religion can teach the edict of the God of the Old Testament to "Be still & know..." and NOT recognize the importance of meditation, of finding stillness in the midst of whatever is around us, in developing a genuinely spiritual life.
Seems the religion I was born into & embraced throughout my life is another aspect of inverted life practices. The very things that were taught throughout the Old & New Testaments & in the Writings are the same that are shuffed aside in the teaching of them. Even to this day, my church spotlights learning & relearning points of doctrine & ignores the essential value of finding stillness in the midst of life's clutter. And so many American Christians seem to have totally forgotten that Jesus fed the multitudes without payment & gave life-saving free health care. They could do with a little stillness in their lives, a little reflection on what was revealed v. what they teach.
Data information knowledge intelligence understanding perception wisdom intuition. Our tech age takes unimaginable strides expanding the first three. Many people ace the next two. But the final three, especially the last?
In my experience growing up in parochial schools, from kindergarten through college, the emphasis was on learning as much data as possible. There was no space on any curriculum for meditation, not even as an elective.
I think of what a difference developing meditation practices can make in every aspect of a person's life, including the home. I don't understand how any religion can teach the edict of the God of the Old Testament to "Be still & know..." and NOT recognize the importance of meditation, of finding stillness in the midst of whatever is around us, in developing a genuinely spiritual life.
Seems the religion I was born into & embraced throughout my life is another aspect of inverted life practices. The very things that were taught throughout the Old & New Testaments & in the Writings are the same that are shuffed aside in the teaching of them. Even to this day, my church spotlights learning & relearning points of doctrine & ignores the essential value of finding stillness in the midst of life's clutter. And so many American Christians seem to have totally forgotten that Jesus fed the multitudes without payment & gave life-saving free health care. They could do with a little stillness in their lives, a little reflection on what was revealed v. what they teach.
Data information knowledge intelligence understanding perception wisdom intuition. Our tech age takes unimaginable strides expanding the first three. Many people ace the next two. But the final three, especially the last?
Monday, August 4, 2014
who ya gonna call? myth buster!
The more I talk to folks who are the youngest in their family, the more convinced I am that the universally accepted "the youngest are spoiled rotten" meme is more or less a myth.
Am astonished at how many youngest kids felt far from welcomed by older sibs, how many bore the brunt of providing family support, including but hardly limited to being the primary, even sole caregiver for aging parents.
Maybe it's more pronounced when there's a significant gap between the youngest & older sibs, but found it can also a phenom for youngest kids with brothers & sisters as close in age as toddlers to their newborn.
Am getting seriously curious about all this.
Gotta admit this is one of the things I truly madly deeply love about my life - the variety! As a side interest, am engaged in debunking the myth of "youngest kids are spoiled rotten" while, on the professional front, am immersed in developing ways to disperse the vast variety of disempowering myths around aging.
Little ol' myth buster, me!
Am astonished at how many youngest kids felt far from welcomed by older sibs, how many bore the brunt of providing family support, including but hardly limited to being the primary, even sole caregiver for aging parents.
Maybe it's more pronounced when there's a significant gap between the youngest & older sibs, but found it can also a phenom for youngest kids with brothers & sisters as close in age as toddlers to their newborn.
Am getting seriously curious about all this.
Gotta admit this is one of the things I truly madly deeply love about my life - the variety! As a side interest, am engaged in debunking the myth of "youngest kids are spoiled rotten" while, on the professional front, am immersed in developing ways to disperse the vast variety of disempowering myths around aging.
Little ol' myth buster, me!
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