Tag: family

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Information? Get Me Long Distance…

I learned something interesting the other day when I was on the phone with AT&T trying to correct a problem. They don’t consider phone calls outside of your area code to be long distance. In other words, when I call from Arkansas to my mom in Minnesota, it’s a local call. It’s only when I call out of the country that it’s long distance.

Which makes sense, but let’s face it, the idea of long distance is deeply ingrained in me. Let’s do the nostalgia thing. Remember when calling Grandma on Christmas was a treat because she lived 2,000 miles away and calling any other time was simply too expensive? That’s the way it was in my family.

Now things are different. I have relatives all over the country. Until he died, my dad lived in California. My mom still lives in Minnesota and my brother’s in New York. I don’t think twice about calling my mom every day and letting the call go as long as it goes. I used to talk to my dad every Sunday for up to two hours. My brother and I talk frequently and the calls go long.

But I still think of calling them as calling long distance. Frankly, they are long distance. It’s not like I can get in my car and drive over to visit them. Well, I used to drive up to Minnesota to visit my mom, but my car is older now and has a lot of miles on it. I’m nervous about the thought of driving it alone 650 miles each way.

But I digress. Technology is changing everything, including the way we express ourselves. So now I need to re-think the term “long distance” and get with the times. (Isn’t “get with the times” an older expression?) It makes me wonder what other terminology has changed, making my use of it outdated.

Yep, get me information…

Image Credit © Rawf8–stock.adobe.com

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Been There?

Daily writing prompt
What’s something most people don’t understand?
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Another broad question that I find difficult to answer. Is it something about me they don’t understand, something about politics, something about religion, or something about, say, cats? And most people? I hate to judge what others do or do not understand.

But I’m experiencing something first-hand now that I only knew about second-hand from other people, and that is, when an aging parent gets ill. My dad has pancreatic cancer. For those who don’t know, that’s not good. The five-year survival rate is about nil and generally it’s not caught until it’s too late.

Until very recently I could brag about how healthy my dad was. He took no medications (he called his vitamins his “medication”), he had no illnesses, he was very active. At the age of 89, he golfed three times a week, bowled twice a week, played bridge one or two times a week, and played bocce ball once a week. He chose to stay active. That doesn’t count all the sudoku and math games he played.

Then, in January, he began experiencing some pain in his side. It took a month, but they finally diagnosed the cancer. I was in shock. My exceptionally healthy dad has pancreatic cancer? It is stage three and as far as we know, it hasn’t spread to his lungs or lymph nodes. He’s started chemo, but there have been setbacks and they’ve had to cancel his chemo treatments a couple of times.

I’ll say it again, I’ve been in shock. They say the first stage of grief is denial, but I don’t think I’m in denial. I’ve talked to my friends about it and they sympathize. Coming to grips with an aging parent’s mortality is tough. My dad’s attitude is great, and if that has anything to do with it, he’ll live quite awhile longer.

I’m going out to see him soon and I’ll see for myself what’s going on. In the meantime, I’m learning I don’t understand what’s happening. I guess most of us don’t until we go through it ourselves. I’ve always tried to understand, but I realize now my understanding was superficial.

Maybe that’s what most people don’t understand: you can’t truly know until you’ve been there yourself.

Image Credit: Header: © Lila Patel–stock.adobe.com

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All I Want For Christmas…

Daily writing prompt
What is the greatest gift someone could give you?
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This is a tough question for me to answer. My mom bemoans the fact that she can no longer afford to buy me gifts, but that doesn’t bother me. I get very few gifts any more, and that’s fine, because I’m trying to downsize and gifts would just clutter up my already messy space.

A co-worker gave me a wonderful gift right before Christmas–a plateful of fudge and peanut brittle exactly the way my mom used to make it. I get nostalgic this time of year for the candy and baked goods that were so much a part of my family’s Christmas tradition. I don’t have the recipes–not that I could make peanut brittle anyway–and my mom is in assisted living, so she no longer makes any of those goods.

But the greatest gifts I’m getting these days are words of wisdom. So much of that comes from my blogging buddies, and I thank you for those thoughts. You may not be aware of the good that comes from sharing your life experience, but it’s there.

Then there are the gifts God gives us, sometimes in small measure, sometimes larger. This morning in church I was overwhelmed with the idea that I was created in the image of God, that God created me to be who I am. More than that, I felt a conviction that my parents were chosen for me, faults and all. I struggle with so much pain from my childhood and even my relationship with my parents as an adult, but perhaps that was all part of God’s plan for me. That’s pretty basic stuff for a lot of people of faith, and it’s not a new thought for me, but there was a wave of conviction I haven’t felt before.

I attend an Episcopal church, and I’m fortunate to have a priest who emphasizes God’s profound love for us despite our failings. We can fall again and again and God simply doesn’t go away. I find myself failing, but I know there is hope for the future.

I guess that’s the greatest gift anyone can give me, unwavering love despite my worst behavior.

Image Credits: Peace on Earth © cartoon-IT–stock.adobe.com; Fudge © olyina–stock.adobe.com; Family © GarkushaArt–stock.adobe.com

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Older and a Little Bit Wiser

cat and microphone on a pink background. the cat sings into theI used to dream about being a skilled musician. In my fantasies, I could play the piano with panache and sing the most difficult songs with ease. It didn’t stop there. I could also dance.

I no longer waste my time dreaming about those things. They simply aren’t in my skill set. If I can carry a tune well enough to soothe my cats, I’m satisfied. It has to be a simple song that allows for some improvisation at the parts out of my three-note range. Those songs are out there, as Walter and Mimi, my kitties, can testify.

Today’s challenges for me focus on what I can do. I can write. I can knit. I can design sweaters and other knitted goods for myself and my family. I still have a vivid imagination, something I didn’t lose when I grew out of childhood. 

But the most important thing I can do, something I didn’t fully recognize when I was younger, is to love myself, my family, and my friends. To be there for them when they need me. To help others when they can’t help themselves, or when resources are limited. To lend my support when times are tough.

AdobeStock_210621413 [Converted]In the past couple of months I’ve been talking to my dad on a regular basis. His wife Jeanne died in December, something I wrote about earlier. It’s been a powerful thing in my life, these conversations. I hope it has been the same for him. We didn’t used to talk much, and in recent years the phone calls got shorter and shorter.

I realize now that Jeanne had been going downhill for sometime and his energy and focus was on her. I didn’t realize how bad her Alzheimer’s was–or that she even had Alzheimer’s–until after she died. I feel a bit guilty that I was so unaware of something so important, but the reality is, not too many people knew. My brother was a little more clued in, and even he didn’t know the extent of the problem.

As anybody over the age of 30 can testify, you get older, you get wiser. You see things you didn’t see before, and recognize the signs that someone needs you. Sometimes, however, reality catches up with you and you see that you aren’t as wise as you thought or hoped. That’s a sort of wisdom in and of itself.

Older and little bit wiser.

Image Credits: Sapling © Arthon–stock.adobe.com; Singing cat © Elena–stock.adobe.com;  Telephone © stock.adobe.com

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Secrets in the Forest

Today when talking to my Mom, she commented that she’d been thinking about her late husband, my stepdad, all day. It bothered her, because what she was remembering were the tens of thousands of dollars he embezzled from the company he and a good friend had founded. She also mentioned tens of thousands of dollars she’d had herself that went missing. It all added up to one thing: she didn’t really know the man.

We all have secrets we take to the grave, and some will be revealed once we’re gone, whether we try to hide them or not. Some are amusing. My former roommate told me about a woman we both knew from church who’d tragically died in a bungled bungee jump. This woman was athletic, with a short, kind of manly haircut. We all thought she was gay, and perhaps she was. But under her bed and deep in her closet her roommate found dozens of romance novels of the bodice-ripping genre.

Other secrets are heart-wrenching. A good friend of mine found clues her brother left for her before he died of cancer, revealing that he was gay. This was a man who was conservative in his faith and his politics, which may have been why he stayed in the closet. He came out to a few gay colleagues, who comforted my friend after her loss. The thing that got to me when was she said she wondered if he’d loved someone and couldn’t–or wouldn’t–do anything about it. That broke my heart.

I have my secrets, but I don’t think any of them are bombshells that would shock friends and family after I’m gone. At least I hope not. I don’t want anybody close to me saying they didn’t really know me, at least, not in a negative way.

I think of secrets as something we keep hidden in the forest of our lives. Some are delightful, some are devious. Only we know the path to many of them. I have no words of wisdom here, only to say, your secrets are safe with me.

Image Credit: © PostReality Media–stock.adobe.com