I never knew my father…

Well, not strictly true.  My parents were married for over 30 years.  I was 20 when I left my parents’ home and 31 when my father died.  My quick memories of him are of a dour and unhappy man.  But when I look back at pictures, he had a lovely smile.  Why do I not remember him smiling more?  Pensive, yes, but smiling no.  Not even when I am actually in the picture with him.  Why is that?

It’s not that there are no happy memories.  When we were little and my father took the bus to work, my sister, brother, and I would sit on our front porch steps waiting for the bus.  When it got to our house, we burst off the steps trying to race the bus to the corner to be there when he got off.  What a lift it must have given him – and probably a smile to the other tired workers coming home – to see us racing to meet him.

The words of wisdom he gave me were also priceless.  When I was growing up in the 1950s and ’60s, women – and girls – were being taught by society to hide our intelligence.  He taught me to value mine.  I must have been 11 or so when I took our chess set into the stairwell of our apartment building to play chess with one of the boys.  When I returned he asked me who won.  I replied, “He did, but I let him.”  I got such a lecture on never hiding my intelligence, that I still remember it.  (I did try it one more time when I was dating in high school.  I went out with a boy who was, frankly, boring.  I realized then that what my father had said years earlier was true.  I was not going to be able to enjoy being with someone if I had to fake my intelligence level in order to boost his ego.)

Another piece of his wisdom came when I received my first piece of good jewelry – a pearl ring with little rubies on either side of it.  He said, “This is to be worn only when you are prepared to act like a lady.”  What a wonderful piece of advice!  I was only 12 or so and it gave me permission to continue to act like a tomboy when I was wearing “play clothes.”  But when I was dressed up and wearing good jewelry, I was to “act like a lady.”  I still take that to heart.  I don’t pretend to be a lady, except when dressed up, and then it is just that: a pretense!

But there are the questions I never thought to ask that I would love to have answers to:  How did he manage, coming from a small town in Pennsylvania, to get posted to Paris and Rome for 3 ½ years for the US Department of State, before being dumped back in Philadelphia?  He was “on loan” from the Veteran’s Administration, not a career diplomat.  Those are still considered prize postings.  The dots don’t connect.  Growing up, it seemed natural.  It’s just how it was.  But looking back, I’d love to know.

Who will I be if no one likes me any more?

This is not a frivolous question.  It lies at the heart of all our efforts to please other people.  All of our efforts to fit in.  And yet, it is the exact thing that causes us not to be “ourselves.”  Our true and authentic selves.  We are afraid we will not fit in.  That if they truly knew us, people would not like us.  We see all our own flaws, but not our own graces.

So when we see our own “flaws,” we assume that others see them, too.  And maybe they do.  But because we focus on our flaws to the exclusion of our graces, we don’t notice that other people focus more on our graces and either ignore or put up with our flaws because the graces outweigh the flaws.

But is it an instinctual or archetypal kind of question?  Does it stem from the days when if we were not liked, we would be ostracized from the group or clan and, left to fend for ourselves, we would die.  Or is it a more basic, infancy question?  If mom or dad don’t like me, they will abandon me and I will die?  In either case, it becomes a very visceral fear.  One that we cannot ignore.

Is this fear at the root of the anger and “acting out” that characterizes some Alzheimer and autistic behaviors?  Because I am different, will I be expelled from the tribe?  So the acting out, the anger, are ways of testing these boundaries.  OK.  They didn’t kick me out this time.  But the fear is still there, so I’d better test it again.  And again.  And again.  Because I need to know how far I can go before I get kicked out.

It becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy.  Eventually the caregivers can no longer control the behavior, nor can they cope any more.  They are burned out and don’t know what else to try.  What else to do.  So they give up and institutionalization becomes a reality.  (Because in our modern culture, if you have money or family, you are not left out in the wilderness to die, but left in an institution to die.  Although if you have neither, you become one of the walking wounded who populate our inner cities, carrying all their belongings in grocery carts or paper bags.)

Where do we go from here?  How do we quiet or remove that fear?  I don’t have answers.  Because I have enough – enough money to live a decent life;  enough food to eat;  enough friends to turn to;  enough intelligence to run my life efficiently – I don’t have to live with that fear.  But if I stop to think about the question “Who will I be if no one likes me any more?”  That fear does come up!  And if it comes up for me, how much worse is it for those with fewer resources than I have?

Doing a back flip off a trapeze is not as hard as it looks…

I went up to the Omega Institute for a weekend class with Dan Millman who wrote The Way of the Peaceful Warrior which was also turned into a movie Peaceful Warrior with Nick Nolte.  During the Friday evening orientation, the Omega staff said that the trapeze guy had finally gotten his rig up – it was a spring and summer plagued by a lot of rain.  Classes would be offered over the weekend for anyone who wanted to sign up.

I’m a bit scared of heights and for some unknown reason thought it might be a good idea for me to take this class, but I had to go to the evening session of Dan’s class.  So I spent the evening and Friday night praying that when I had the chance to go to the office to sign up for the Saturday evening course – the only session I felt I could fit in – the class would be full.

You guessed it.  No such luck!  They had all kinds of release papers to sign and even wanted to see a copy of my health insurance card.  Really reassuring, but I went ahead anyway.

They started us out on the ground, having us grab a trapeze bar from a step ladder set to the side.  Then we were supposed to get our legs over the bar.  I’m not a great exercise fan, but with the helpers pushing my bottom up, I was able to get my knees over the bar, let go with my hands, and hang from my knees.  (You must be wondering – as I was – who’s going to push my bottom up when I’m up swinging in the sky???)

Once everyone had had their ground try-out, we moved on to the read trapeze.  A very heavy canvas belt with swivel eyes on the sides was strapped tightly around my waist.  Once you are up on the platform, those eyes will be attached to ropes with a helper on the ground controlling things somewhat.  I do suspect that he controlled the rate at which we dropped into the net so that we fell on our backs or fronts, not the top of our heads!

The platform had to be at least a mile up in the sky. When it was my turn, I found myself praying that I would no throw up over all these nice people as I climbed.  The platform itself was probably wider than the ones used in actual circuses, but still not nearly wide enough!

It surely was not pretty, but at least I got it done.  And for a first effort, I have to say, I’m amazed that I did it!  You get a lovely stretched out feeling to your spine and I would love to have even a stationary bar to hang from my knees for that benefit alone.  So.  If you get a chance, go for it!

This Week I Listened To Celtic Thunder

I was working on populating my "Treasure Chest" (a subject for another post) with music that I love, listing my favorites artists and groups. That got me thinking about specific songs, including All God's Creatures Got a Place in the Choir. When I looked for that song on YouTube I came across this version by Celtic Thunder. Hope you enjoy it as much as I do!

Where does the urge to “accomplish” come from?

When we talk with one another, we might say “so, what did you do today?” We don’t ask what the other person thought about or what they felt. Only what they “did.” And we catalog for each other our activities: I did 3 loads of wash today. I shoveled the snow off the driveway. But never – unless we are Steven Hawking – do we say “I contemplated the origin of the universe.”

Children do actually think about things. A young child once asked me “Do God and Santa Claus talk to each other?” What a wonderful and profound question. I scrambled for an answer: “Well, I guess they both keep track of whether you’re being good or not, so I suppose they compare notes…” And that satisfied the young questioner.

A friend reported to me that her grandson asked his mother “Who’s in charge? Are you in charge or is God in charge?” The quick-thinking mother said “God’s in charge of some things and I’m in charge of others.” To which the child responded – clearly showing where his priorities of the moment were “Well, who’s in charge of the Halloween candy?”

But at some point, we stop just “thinking” and start “doing.” Why? Why do we feel guilty if we sit and think. Or sit and ponder. It’s sort of ok to contemplate nature. It’s ok to watch a sunset or sit at the beach – sort of. But other places require that we be “doing something.” Sitting on a boat enjoying the rocking of the waves isn’t enough. We have to fish. (We don’t really have to catch anything, just holding the pole qualifies as “doing something.”)

We can’t just sit in the woods enjoying nature. We have to hold a gun (or a camera) and “hunt.” Doesn’t matter if we don’t come home with a trophy animal or picture of one. But this way if someone asks what we did, we can say I spent the day in the woods waiting for a shot.

We feel guilty if we sit in front of the computer playing computer games, so we make excuses: playing fast-moving games improves our ability to make decisions quickly; it exercises our brains so we will retain effective brain function longer. Why can’t we just say “I enjoy it?”

I remember my grandmother at 95 bemoaning the fact that she couldn’t play pinochle any more because “the girls” were all sick or dead. “But, Gram, you go to the senior center every day. Surely you can find 2 or 3 people there who will play with you?” She drew herself up to all 4-foot 11 inches, and said “Oh, no! We work!” (She was part of the quilting group and the crocheting group.) I looked at her in amazement and said “Gram, you’re 95. If you can’t take an hour or so out a day to play pinochle now, when will you?” That seemed to do the trick and she started playing regularly and in fact, won a city-wide pinochle tournament of senior centers at 100!

But clearly the need to accomplish was strongly in-grained! Why? Why do we need permission to relax and just be? or just think?

Is it an American trait? Do other nationalities just sit? Is it a “Protestant work ethic” issue? Or is it, in fact, just me? What about you? Do you “just think?” Or do you have to “do” all the time, too?

This Week I Read...

My mail.

I got a letter from my health insurance company. I am mostly retired, but not yet 65, so I have to carry my own health insurance. I am healthy. I take no prescription drugs. I see a doctor once a year to track a thyroid issue. I think my “primary care physician” might have retired a year or two ago. I’m not sure, since I don’t need to see him.

What does this have to do with your mail, you might be asking. Here’s what: my insurer informed me that because of the new Obamacare directives, they cannot continue to offer the insurance program I participate in after my plan year ends in January. They indicated several options including doing nothing. If I do nothing, they will automatically transfer me to the program they have that is closest to the one I currently participate in.

I thought that was thoughtful of them and decided to check on what the change in premiums was going to be. I am currently paying about $355.74 a month for my one annual doctor visit and one set of blood work. I have no co-pay and no deductible for these services, so my annual health care cost is $4269. It’s high for what I’m getting, but I continue to carry the insurance because I might get hit by a car…

The new plan proposed by my insurer – which is closest to the services I currently pay for – will cost me $818 a month! A whopping 230% increase! This new premium comes with a 50% co-pay for doctor visits and prescriptions. It also has an annual deductible of $2650. Given that I won’t be using the prescription plan and have only one doctor visit and I think that I can have 3 doctor visits before I actually have to pay the co-pay, my annual health care costs are now going to be roughly $9816.

How is this providing affordable health care? They assure me I can get a subsidy – if I qualify. I haven’t checked that out.

So far I haven’t heard of anyone who will be paying less in health insurance under Obamacare. I’d love to get comments from anyone who is! To leave a comment, you have to click on the red “Comment” below. That will open a comment box. Please write!