May Day with Bessie

A little nostalgia today. May Day was my Grandma Bessie’s holiday. And she only shared it with me. It was our special tradition. Bessie had a lot of special traditions I remember fondly. The iridescent red candy dish filled with cold M&M’s for each of us around the kitchen table while the adults talked for hours after dinner in the living room, the mirrored vanity with drawers full of clip-on ear rings and beaded necklaces for trying on and admiring and the annual summer day trip downtown which included a bus ride, a movie and a treat at Brown’s Department Store lunch counter. But May Day was reserved for just me. (First grand child does have it’s benefits.)

Early in the day I was dropped off at Bessie’s house and it was just the two of us. We were on a secret mission each May Day to assemble several simple baskets made of construction paper and tape, fill them with the spring flowers, honeysuckle and dandelions from the yard and then secretly hang these baskets on her neighbors door knobs as an anonymous celebration of spring, neighbors and friendship. Looking back those baskets were nothing more than a sheet of construction paper folded in half and taped down the side. A simple handle was attached from a strip of ribbon. A child’s scribbled message and simple drawings of flowers and sun rays decorated the basket. And the flowers were just a handful of bright yellow weeds, nothing fancy. But the real fun came as we hand in hand quietly made our way to the neighbors door. Whispering so our identity would be kept secret we left our baskets and hurried home, laughing and wondering if they would find them soon. Later in the day Bessie’s neighbors would come by for a visit mentioning they had found such a wonderful surprise on their door, a little May Day Basket. Bessie would get out that beautiful red iridescent candy dish, fill it full of cold M&M’s and settle me at the kitchen table with that small treat while she made a pot of coffee and spent time with her friend, her neighbor, our secret mission.

Looking back this May Day on my Grandma Bessie’s tradition I see she was teaching me much more than how to construct a paper basket. She was teaching me how to love my neighbors.

May Day with Bessie

On going home

Visiting my aging parents brings a myriad of emotions, thoughts and reflections.  I reminisce with them of funny stories, vacations taken and camping trips soaked in rain.  There are the stories they can’t seem to recall, the ones they will never forget and the tales that grow over time with each retelling.  I observe their habits, how they manage thru the daily routine and try to get a sense of what life is like when it’s just the two of them at home alone.  When I slip away from the lunch table and busy myself in another room they forget that I am there. It is then that their conversation ranges from the mundane of the weather, the escapades of the squirrel’s routine visit to the yard (they’ve claimed him as their own and named him Speedy) and sometimes even a glimpse of their warm conversation with one another that displays a shared life of 58 years and the love and deep concern they have for one another.  This is the moment that I cherish and know that their love does run deep and strong, in spite of the rhetoric, bickering and “show” that is displayed for us, their children.  it is then that I begin to ponder my own path that I am carving out as I travel down that road of age and decline.

Several years ago as I thought back over my parents aging process I could see some very definitive choices they made.  In their 50′s and 60′s they were mobile, traveling, engaged and still expanding their world.  But somewhere along the way as they approached 70 and beyond they began to “circle the wagons” as I used to call it. Their world became smaller and smaller, less travel, the adventurous spirit was gone, no new friendships, and they became disengaged with the world and their contributions to it.  And I would say even their contributions to family, grandchildren. The circling of the wagons was to keep out change, vulnerability and danger.  To protect themselves from uncertainty, dangers and calamity.   As I watched their lives over the last ten – 12 years now I have seen their health decline, their mobility lessen,  nothing uncommon as we age into our 80′s.  But what about me.

I was just past 50 when I started to reflect on all this.  And I could often be heard saying, “I’ve got 20 good years left, maybe.  What am I going to do with it”. Some of my friends thought I had a death wish.  Some thought I was being presumptuous. But as I explained, if my life and health went as my parents had, then I have until about 70 to be active and healthy, if I get that long.  No guarantees.  So what did I want to do with my 20 good years, where I was engaged, involved, contributing, expanding my life?  I never wrote it down, but I made a mental list.

• Say yes as often as I could to opportunities.  Even if they were scary, I’d never done it before or it was unfamiliar. Say yes and try.
• Make new friends.  I wanted to keep expanding my circle of friends, and not the FB kind.  And not the acquaintance type.  Real friends,  the kind you laugh and cry with and share life with.  I wanted more of them.
• Plan to move. (don’t plan the going away party just yet) I want to be close to my kids wherever they are across the country (and at this point they are just that, CA, MI, IL) I want to visit them, spend time with them, in their lives and towns, not just mine.  If or when they have children of their own, I want to know them, which will mean going to them and welcoming them where I am.  Whether we move or not is still talk more than reality but I want to be mentally ready to start over, make new friends, learn a new town.
• Learn new things.  I want to keep reading, listening to discussions, engage in thought, keep up with technology, try a new game.
• Expand my world. The opposite of circling the wagons.  Embrace change, even create it if things seem too much the same.

The last 5 years have been full.  I have traveled, I took a class, I made new friends, I accepted a new position, I even dared to go onto the SU campus by myself, twice.  I have ventured to learn from some very bright people who allow me to be in the room with them and contribute.  Though I often wonder why, I am grateful they welcome me.  I have chosen to remain a learner, because I don’t know it all and never will.  And I have continued to grow in my faith as well.  My faith is not a destination but a direction that I choose to follow. One that takes me towards Jesus not away.  There’s no end in that.  I want to trust, reach, listen, obey. And that never stops.  I have seen others live ahead of me that have been great examples Doug B., Norma G., Jack M.  Their faith is real and continues to expand.  They have not circled the wagons and shrunk back, waiting for the inevitable.  They are pioneers pushing forward and I am hoping I can follow in the path they are walking.

I have invited my mom and dad to come to live in my town, in a house across the street  and their response was ‘that just wouldn’t work’.  Why? “We belong here.  In this house.”  They are tied to a place, a house, an address.  I told them I don’t want to be tied to a house, I want to be connected to people.  That is what home is, it’s who you belong to and with.

I come home to Fayetteville grateful for my husband, my kids and my life.  And determined to live it fully.  Because my 20 good years is down to 15 now.  If it is shorter than that, it’s ok.  I’m living it full on.  And if it’s longer, then that’s a bonus.

Nothing to Envy

When I first saw this photo of the Korean peninsula I was intrigued. How can a place so full of light be in such close proximity to a place cloaked in utter darkness. A friend and co-worker from Seoul, South Korea has told me of her life in a very modern city filled with technology, modern design and commerce. How could a country that shares a border and a common history be so different? And what must life be like in a place so dark, oppressed and isolated?

I read Barbara Demick’s book, Nothing to Envy: Ordinary Lives in North Korea, 2 years ago and it still haunts me today.  It tells of the everyday lives of several people in North Korea, their struggles to live, love and survive.  As I watch the news and see the rising tension surrounding North Korea I think not of the threat this country and its unstable leader poses to the world but of the ordinary people who suffer everyday, silently, in the darkness.  They are the forgotten people who are hidden behind the voices of a legacy of dictators.  They are the ones that are oppressed, starving, waiting.   This book reminds me that all conflict and war that we read, see and hear about through the lens of policy, government and the media have a vast array of people, ordinary people, that are suffering and forgotten amidst the rhetoric.  This book brings a sense of the humanity of the North Korean people and their need for truth and light.

It is a North Korean phenomenon that many have observed.  For lack of chairs or benches, the people sit for hours on their haunches, along the sides of roads, in parks, in the market.  They stare straight ahead as though they are waiting – for a tram, maybe, or a passing car, a friend or a relative.Maybe they are waiting for nothing in particular, just waiting for something to change.        - Barbara Demick, July 2010

Take action against modern day slavery with a phone call today!

I got this email today. Join me in taking action in standing against modern day slavery.

Kathy,

The House of Representatives has scheduled critical votes on the Trafficking Victims Protection Act today and tomorrow. Your member of Congress needs to hear from you today. We’ve been working with you for a year and a half to get this legislation reauthorized and we are finally near the finish line.

Please call the Capitol Switchboard right now at 202-224-3121 and ask for your Representative. When you are connected, here is a sample script:

“My name is Kathy and I believe in a world without slavery. I am your constituent and I am calling to ask you to support S. 47 – the Senate-passed Violence Against Women Act, which includes the Trafficking Victims Protection Act. Please vote NO today on the Substitute Amendment to S. 47, which is narrower and does not include the vital anti-human trafficking legislation. Then vote YES tomorrow on the final passage of S. 47. Thank you.”

You know the facts: the Trafficking Victims Protection Reauthorization Act is the cornerstone of American anti-trafficking policy. It sets vital funding benchmarks and increases our ability to protect victims, assist survivors, and prosecute traffickers.

Please make sure your Congressperson knows you support the final passage of S. 47.

We can do this today. Please call 202-224-3121 and follow up with an email now.

Mary Ellison
Director of Policy
Polaris Project

PS: You can let your friends on Facebook and followers on Twitter know you support the final passage of the S. 47. Thank you.

P.O. Box 53315, Washington, DC 20009
Tel: 202-745-1001, Fax: 202-745-1119
info@polarisproject.org | http://www.polarisproject.org

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The Courage of an Artist

We converged on the opening from both directions. East coast and west coast family meeting in middle America to celebrate her creativity, her design and, I think most importantly, her courage.

What courage it takes for an artist to share the work they have created with others. To allow strangers to gaze at their creations projecting different, perhaps even opposing emotions, thoughts or conclusions than the artist had in mind when designing and creating the piece. To stand in the gallery and listen to the reactions of others surrounding the work you have on display while they do not recognize or realize you are the creator. To share your inspiration, your process and your emotions not knowing if you will be understood or accepted by those observing your work and you as an artist.

Yes, I have come to appreciate the courage of my daughter as an artist. She is fully living, engaged and contributing. I recently read Brene Brown’s book, Daring Greatly, and she speaks of the courage it takes to be vulnerable.

“Rather than sitting on the sidelines and hurling judgement and advice, we must dare to show up and let ourselves be seen.” – Brene Brown

What a great picture this is of an artist displaying their work, allowing themselves to be seen. Literally.

Give. No Give.

I have always been intrigued by social dynamics and interactions and perhaps that is one of the reasons I enjoy golf. It is a new experience each and every time in observing social behavior and group dynamics, especially when you play outside your regular foursome. There are few settings where you meet 2-3 total strangers, shake hands, exchange first names and then expose them immediately to your short comings in coordination, athletic ability and the emotions that follow the errant tee shot off Number One. In four to five hours you share your history, family life, joys, frustrations, eating/drinking choices, humor, manners and emotional health. By the end of the round you are no longer strangers. You have shared an afternoon and learned a great deal about one another.

My husband and I shared a recent afternoon in Las Vegas at Rio Secco with a nice couple from Seoul South Korea. From the exchange of greetings on the first tee I knew it would be an interesting day of golf and social interactions. They spoke very little English but fluent golf. We found ourselves laughing with one another, cheering for our putts to drop, searching for frequent lost balls and politely remaining quiet after an errant shot. All with little common language that was shared.

A universal golf tradition in a friendly round is to concede your playing partner a putt that is close to the hole. You can often hear “that’s good” between playing partners when a putt is near the hole. There can be a bit of gamesmanship around this tradition when the players know one another well, as each player tries to gain an advantage over the other. And that was evident with our new Korean friends. She was a consistent, steady golfer with a nice smooth swing. Her mannerisms on the first green gave away her competitive nature as she fist pumped after her putt dropped. After two or three holes, her husband had a short 18″ putt, well within his ability to make. My husband jokingly asked, “aren’t you going to give that to him?” She quickly and curtly replied, “no give”. Later in the round when I had a much longer putt she quickly offered, “give”, as she looked at Russell with her sweet, yet demanding, smile. We laughed as she was generous to “give” putts to us but was consistent with her “no give” response to her 71 year old husband.

I was reflecting today on those phrases. Give. No give. I so much want others to give me a putt, a smile, a compliment, forgiveness, grace or the benefit of the doubt. But I am also very quick to ‘no give’ the same to others. How often we hold onto the very thing we so desperately want from others. Is it our competitive nature, our desire to be right, our pride, fear. What is it that keeps us from quickly saying ‘give’. Am I afraid that you will succeed and I won’t? Am I concerned that in you being right, then I must be wrong?

The scriptures say that if you give your life away you will find it. Give. No give. It’s a choice we make each day, multiple times a day. Give. No give. It seems if we give we will actually loose something. Perhaps the chance to beat someone at a game. To win the hole. But in choosing to give, we actually find much more. Joy, happiness, friendship, love, and life itself.

Playing golf again on Saturday. You’ll wish you were in my foursome. My response all day on the green will be … “Give”