What My Mother Taught Me: Part One

My mother was not around much in my life, and yet she made a powerful impact.  At 59 years old, I am still just realizing how much she taught me.

My mother, Muriel, was an intelligent, striking, sassy, outrageous, sometimes drunken, often angry, outspoken born-again atheist, anti fascism redhead.  She was passionately loving, hauntingly cool, fiercely vengeful... wow.  Just, wow.

My first memory is of arriving at my grandmother's house with my sister and my father when I was two - almost three.  I have no early memory of my mother, but I do remember my father telling me how beautiful she was - and how evil.  Later, he added the term crazy to that assessment.  Ah.... well, then.

Since this post is about my mother, let's skip forward:  One day, when I was about  7, my sister and I were living with "Aunt Lou" and Pete, who were actually, my grandmother's tenant's sister and her husband.  Aunt Lou got a phone call then came into the living room quite upset and told us to comb our hair, that our father was coming.  She was muttering about people who just show up without warning.

A few minutes later, Daddy arrived.  He had with him, totally unannounced, a woman.  They came in and sat on the sofa.  I kept looking at that woman, thinking I knew her, that surely, she was my mother. I had never seen a picture of her but there was just something about her.  She kept looking back at me like "yeah, that's right".  And what a look in her eye!  She had the most amazing eyes - piercing and intense and sparkling with fire and brilliance.

Lesson 1) It is never too late to show up.

We left with Mother and Daddy to go live in Williams Arizona (where we had lived with Daddy before). Daddy had a gas station and motel there called the Red Bluff.  Mother took over doing all the maid service at the motel.  She also pumped gas and did whatever was needed.

One night we were there late and some people came in looking for a room.  Daddy told them all the rooms were full.  They said they were bone weary and had tried everywhere.  My mother called some of the other motels and discovered there was indeed no room to be had.  The weather was severe and everyone had taken shelter.  My father told the people there was nothing he could do but my mother said yes there was.  She went and got our rollaway cots that we used when there were too many people for a room.  She got my father and the bookkeeper to clear away the furniture in the office and put those cots in and added some blankets on the floor and put those people up for the night.

And that was lesson 2) We take care of each other.

As a semi-orphan and the youngest, my life had included a lot of second class treatments.  For instance, every year, my sister, Elizabeth got a new swim suit and I got her old one.  So this year, Daddy took us to the fancy schmancy store and let Elizabeth pick out a new suit.  I begged Daddy to look at the suit I loved and consider it but he brushed me aside, made his purchase and home we went.  Elizabeth was so proud - and, of course, she did not miss her chance to lord it over me.  Mother admired her suit and then asked "Where is Rita's new suit?"  Upon being told that "Rita did not need one", as Elizabeth's old suit would do just fine, Mother said "Come on, Rita, let's go."  We got into her new blue Chevy Corvair and drove to the fancy schmancy store and Mother bought me the AWESOME swim suit I had longed for- a two piece, black, white and red, with a little pleated white skirt.

Lesson 3) I am worthy.

So there we were, with our fine new suits.  One day, at the Red Bluff Mother sent us next door with a friend to the motel that had a pool.  We played around in the shallow end and eventually, Mother came by to join us.  She was astonished to find that we were just bobbing around in the kiddie section because, inconceivably, we could not swim.  Remarking that a fancy swim suit in the shallow end was just not gonna cut it, Mother jumped into the pool, summoned us and matter of factly taught us to swim.

Lesson 4) Just do it.

One night we went to our school's big gala.  When my parents got dressed to go, my mother put on her skin tight cowgirl jeans, a sexy sweater that showed off her Jayne Mansfield type endowment, some sparkly earrings that accentuated her sparkly rhinestone trimmed glasses, makeup and a black hat that was almost like a wig.  My father threw a fit because my mother was dressing too sexy for the people in the town and what would they say.  My mother told him that this was who she was and that she could not dress like someone else, for God's sake, just deal with it.  So he did.  We went and I was so proud of her, the most ravishing, beautiful woman there.

Lesson 5) Just be yourself, for God's sake.

My sister got into trouble at school one day.  Her teacher slapped her.  Hitting children in Arizona schools was simply par for the course.  But when my mother learned of my sister's incident, she beelined it to the classroom and confronted that teacher.  We waited in the hall.  We heard a ruckus and my mother emerged, steaming mad, took us by the hand and we left.  This is what we heard:  "I slapped her because I did not like her attitude.  It's as simple as that"  SMACK  "I don't like your attitude. It is as simple as that".  Shortly after we arrived home, the police came and arrested Mother for assault on a public - I forget - servant?  My father said "We will just see about that" and off he went to chat with his friend, the mayor.  My mother was released within 20 minutes of being booked.

Lesson 6) Stand up for human rights.  It's ok, we got your back.

One day, on the way to the Red Bluff after school, I stopped at the dime store.  That store was chock full of stuff.  Today, there was something AWESOME.  An auburn haired baby doll in a blue taffeta dress.  Her eyes closed when you leaned her back.  I simply had to have that baby doll.  I looked at the price:  $5.00, which, in about 1961, was, in Full Monty terms, "a lot - a very lot".  I went to the gas station and found my father and said "Daddy?"  "What" he gruffly muttered, as he worked on taking apart a split rim tire to patch it.  "Can I have five dollars?"  "What?"  He put down the tire iron.  "Why on earth do you need five dollars?"  "I want to buy a baby doll."  That set off a chain of cussing and spitting and ranting about what had this world come to - five dollars for a baby doll! - which was interrupted by my mother's arrival.  "What is going on?" she asked.  Daddy said that "Rita wants five dollars for a baby doll".  "Come on", my mother said, taking my hand, let's go see this five dollar doll.
We went and she lifted the doll down for me to hold.  When she saw me melt with love for this "baby girl" she said "Well.  I reckon you have to have that doll, and we went up to the counter where she bought her for me.

Lesson 7)  A girl needs what a girl needs.  Men don't always get that.

Yeah, so this is kind of a highlight reel.  My mother taught me some sad stuff too.  And so much more. But one thing she taught me was - all things in their own time - and today is my 25th wedding anniversary so now I am off to play with my pal.  Tune in again, for some political savvy and other stuff my mother taught me.

COME ON, PEOPLE NOW, SMILE ON YOUR BROTHER... AND SISTER

I got blocked by a fb "friend" the other day.  I was out and about with my husband and a friend.  I am inexperienced with texting and I was responding on my phone to a fb post.  Because of 1) being distracted with going and doing and socializing, and 2) being, as I said, inexperienced with texting, my comment was blunt.  I knew, even as I submitted it, that it was a poor idea.

The guy had been irking me for a while.  Generally, we agree (that the world needs more love, that the current political climate is less than ideal, etc) and overall, I appreciate him and his efforts to make a difference - but sometimes he is very negative and that bothers me.  That particular day, he was being negative toward women.  I don't know what had led to his post but he was clearly miffed.

His post was something to the effect that when he says that women are stupid for being satisfied with only having 20% representation in congress, how dare women tell him to shut up.  He further said that women say "it is a good step" and that such an attitude will get us nothing.  It was a bit more scathing, as I recall.

I realized he was reacting to some interchange I was not privy to.  But when I saw a string of followers egging him on, I felt I must speak up and say the "emperor has no clothes".  Hence, my blunt, and yes, rude comment:  "I find your attitude regarding this arrogant, condescending and defeatist"  or something like that.

At that point I was the only naysayer.  He, Joseph, was offended and quickly lashed back calling me aggressive and rude and oh, I don't remember what all, and demanding I explain myself.  So I did.  I fell short of apologizing for being, yes, rude, altho, I really feel that calling someone rude is quite rude in itself.  I also failed to acknowledge his pain by saying I was sorry someone had told him to shutup, that surely we could all do better than that.

Ok, so I explained that having 20% representation is indeed a good step in the right direction, how difficult it is for women, who, in the big picture, only recently have been allowed to vote, much less represent, how chastising us for feeling good about our progress is not making anything better.

Meanwhile, other women chimed in, and Joseph with his mighty keyboard, shred us all to bits, never acknowledging one thing anyone said, always scorning and berating.

I stuck up for one woman.  I said that everything she had said was in direct response to his own statement and that I found her argument sound.

And.. meanwhile he had gone on to further denounce and insult - me in particular and all "women like me" in general.

I said something to the effect of:  1) Listen to women   2) Support women.  If you want more of us to stand up and go for public office, rather than chastise us for not meeting your quota, get out there and clear the way.  Trust me, you have no idea what it is to be a woman or what we are up against.

All this time I was fretting over the fact I was simply arguing with him and not working on keeping the peace.  Shortly after the last post, I arrived home and went straight to my computer so I could send Joseph a message saying that I did not know what had inspired his first post but that I wanted to apologize for calling him arrogant and that we all truly want the same thing so let's work together in harmony.

Too late.  I was blocked.  I went to his twitter page to see if I could find a way to send him a personal message, just to apologize and say what I had intended to and should have said in the beginning.  Not to get unblocked, necessarily, but just to do the right thing.  I could not find a way to contact him privately.

This morning, this unfinished business was still bothering me, so I went once again to Joseph's twitter feed, thinking "you know, we must all get along as best we can and if those of us who share common beliefs can not be civil to one another, then what hope do we have?"  So I went there intending to just post something on his feed like "Let us all honor each other" or... heck, I dunno, I figured something profound would manifest..

When I opened his twitter page, this is the post he had most recently done:

"I'm so tired of people who do nothing but complain!"

Which really set me back on my heels. This has long been my greatest complaint (silent but seething) about Joseph!

Ay, madre mia! So I recoiled. And here it is, all vomited out for your perusal.

Now what? Perhaps something profoundly peaceful and simple and apropos will come to me and I can go make my little gesture.

Ah, life, you little fox, you trickster.... you make me smile.

Family, Disparity, and Lotus Visions

My brother and his wife are coming to visit this week.  I love them.  My brother took care of me when I was a baby.  Then we were separated when I was two.  When I met him again a few years later, he cried because I did not remember him.

No, we have not been close.  I have been a life-long hippie and he has been a lifelong - hey, I am not sure what!  But politically, I support taxing the rich and he, rich, supports not doing so.  According to him, making him pay more taxes is the equivalent of charging him more for bread and he has a long explanation to support that stance.  My response is that when we all have bread, we can talk about that.

I promised my brother long ago not to ever ask him for money and in return all I want is for him to let me be his sister and stop holding me at arm's length for fear that - gasp - I may want something from him.  I have held up my end of the bargain, altho it is a strange thing to have a quite wealthy brother and to have this understanding - and such disparity in my own family, such that it is.  To be fair, my brother and his wife are quite generous in certain ways.  They have given a lot to help people obtain higher education.  At one point they gave all of their siblings, myself included, a sum of money as our "early" inheritance.  Strangely, it came in increments and I never received the last bit of mine, leaving me in a quandary... is asking for what I was promised asking for money?  So, reluctantly, I mentioned it... and was still left short!  15 years later...  and still I think about it.  This makes me realize how it must feel to be in my brother's position - with people calculating what "he owes them".

Here are the things I fret over and endeavor to resolve as the visit approaches:

1)  How can I explain to him that I believe in working together as a country for a solid infrastructure, for health and education for all, for clean air, clean water, renewable energy - without arguing, without being summarily dismissed, without angering him?  More importantly, without becoming angry or dismissive.

2) If he were not my brother, how would we feel about each other?  How can we get to know each other better and maintain that thread of family bond which has been so tenuously stretched through early childhood events and a subsequent lifetime of misunderstanding and neglect?

3) We disagree in another area too.  My brother is pretty darn sexist.  I often find his comments offensive.  Rather than retaliating when, for instance, he proudly proclaims that a proper woman should have small breasts (mine are astonishingly humongous, as I age) how can I maintain my "Ram Dass" serenity?

4)  How can I prevent my husband from blurting out what we paid for any particular item and why should I need to do that?  I am almost 60 years old and here is my brother continuing to chastise me for "spending money foolishly".  Does a sibling, even a remotely connected sibling ever allow "the baby of the family" to be an adult?  Ok, seriously, that would be up to me, right?  To allow myself.  I know!  My brother can be himself and I can be me and my husband can be himself!  Ah.... there now!

5) How can my brother and I simply love and accept each other?  I don't need to meet his criteria of beauty or political savvy or wealth.  He does not need to meet my criteria of - ah... but here is where I struggle... I do hold him up to the light of scrutiny in these areas:   Compassion, sexism, arrogance, yes, also generosity.  So... hey, thanks, people, I am glad we had this little chat.  Here I go, then, to envision my brother in pure light.

Hmm... encountering some resistance here...

Ah.... now I realize the most important question is:

How very fortunate am I to have this fine brother despite all our early life turmoils and how wonderful is it that, despite our differences he and his wife are coming to visit us?  What can I offer in the way of support and love?  How can I make this the very best sort of visit possible for all of us?

BODY CARE INCLUDES THE PSYCHE

I have been dismayed recently to discover, once again, that some of the very people professing to care about health and wellness - the people who actually manufacture "holistic" women's health care products openly use abusive language toward themselves and others.  Specifically, the abuse is aimed at verbally beating women into taking care of ourselves.  These people are determined to ridicule and shame - themselves and others - They refer to women as "cows" and "whales".

Whilst proclaiming that our bodies are our temples and that we would do well to worship said temples by eating right and exercising, these same people are seemingly unaware of a simple truth:  Words are powerful.  In fact, it is not simply what goes into our mouths that can poison us.  Equal care should be taken regarding what comes out of our mouths.

A study* by Dr. Masaru Emoto (a mind blowing and highly disputed study) showed the difference in water molecules before and after being blessed.  People have followed up with rice experiments with mixed but impressive results.  Granted, these are home studies, but they do tend to show that energy affects water and food.  

Of course, any of us who grew up in a religion probably grew up blessing our food before eating.  I believe that a lot of religious practices are based on common sense and, if you will, the magical phenomena of "believing equals receiving".    

Books have been published about talking to our plants and how that affects their health and vigor. 
Other books, such as "The Little Engine That Could" teach our children about empowerment. 

So.... perhaps you believe some of this stuff.  Perhaps not.  To a great extent, I do.  

When I discovered the book "Creative Visualization", oh, so many years ago, it changed my life.  I focused on two things: my physical health and love.  I started doing two affirmations.  The first:  "I have the body of a dancer.  I eat what I choose.  My body takes what it needs and discards the rest."  My body transformed.  I had energy.  I felt "dancer-like" in my body.   I assure you, I was not counting calories or eliminating foods.  In fact, when people asked me my secret I told them it was dessert for breakfast.  My second affirmation was "I am love", the boiled down concentrate of: "I am worthy of love",  "I am capable of loving",  "I am ready for love"  ~ This, coupled with consciously trusting the universe to bless me with the kind of relationship I longed for, whilst letting go to any attachment about who that significant other would be.  In a magical swirl of energy, I fell in love with Kevin, a man I had known for two years.  He, interestingly enough, was also doing very similar affirmations.  

I once took a class, "Women as Entrepreneurs".  It was half nuts and bolts of planning, navigating the legal system, advertising, etc.  The other half, taught by a different professor, was empowerment.  One exercise we did was to seat one woman in a chair and 4 or us lift her, then the four of us step aside and do a breathing/empowerment exercise before lifting her again.  The first lift was scary and awkward and difficult.  The second lift was effortless and magical.

I used to have a spice can called "love".  I used to sprinkle that "love" on many of my recipes.  I hope that whoever has that can now is using it lavishly.  

So - yeah - while I can not vouch for the accuracy of every study, I can honestly say that I believe that words and thoughts are powerful.  

What alarms me is how abusive so many of us are to ourselves and to each other.  Ok, not merely that, but that those who profess to be teachers, leaders, visionaries, suppliers of holistic health remedies straight from Mother Earth herself are so unaware of this important aspect of wellness.  

Why do we surround ourselves with things we love?  With pretty colors, art pieces, inspirational messages:  "Reach for the stars", "Dance", "Peace", "Embrace the Day"?  Because these things make us feel good.  Why then, would I buy a "holistic women's health care product" made by a man who calls young happy women joyfully frolicking on the beach "whales"?  Or from a woman who calls herself "a cow"?  I would much rather buy a product from someone who's motto is "find the good and praise it".  

Yes, I talk to my plants.  Kindly.

And today I am talking to you.  Speak kind words.  To yourselves.  To each other.


* http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TWAuc9GIvFo

Progression...

Last night our band, the Corvallis New Horizons Band, took part in a 'progressive' concert.  The groups consisted of 6th grade band, 7th grade band, 8th grade band, New Horizons 'geezer' band, and 8th grade/New Horizons Band combo.  That was very cool.  Not only does time march on, it salsas and  two-steps, as well....

Whilst sitting in the audience, I really enjoyed hearing the other bands play, as well as watching our director, an amaaaaazing musician in his own right.  I will admit, tho, that I was a bit distracted by a baby nearby.  She seemed to be half of a set of twins.  She was bopping to the music, giving the man sitting next to her a mischievous eye and generally enthralling me.  She, her sister, her dad and mum, and myself all had our own progressive ripple going on....

Afterward, we had a party at our president's house.  I chatted with some fellow(ette) gardeners and they were astounded if not downright appalled to learn that I catch the snails and slugs and release them in a location I consider non-threatening to other gardeners' plots.

Last night, I slept well, despite the blustery deluge of rainfall and this morning I awoke to too much rain to feel like going out de-slugging, so instead I watched an enlightening video about life and perspective and connectivity.  innerworlds

That movie was a great way to start the day and I highly recommend it.  After having my/our eyes opened by that film, I (astonishing as this may seem, yes, I actually did) looked at some daylily pics online.  I pointed one out to my husband as a truly beautiful flower with a wonderful plant habit, that altho it is many years old (this introduction), is still as lovely and awesome, really, as about any flower out there.  Well, pretty much, I think.  He largely ignored me, but hey, we get along.

Then, lo and behold, the sun broke out!  So I went outside to wander through the gardens and search for slugs and snails.  It was a lackadaisical effort so I wore no gloves and carried no bucket.  Partly because of the late hour, surely, or the sun actually coming out, there was nary a gastropod to be found.  But in good self aggrandizing form, I was congratulating myself on the fruits of years of effort, hand picking off the little buggers, and assuring myself that this was not some fluke but a sign of progress... and then... I found the grandmother of snails.  There she was, sitting on a lovely daylily plant.  Luckily for me, snails come with handy dandy, built in, well, handles!  So I gingerly removed her and she was kind enough to withdraw into her shell.  I headed for my secret drop-off site and watched her carefully as I walked - because those little slimy things can launch out of that shell and attach to your hand in the most alarming and yucky sort of way.  Again I was fortunate, cause Old Mother West Wind was blowing a steady beat and keeping my not so little gastropodarian tucked in for respite.

We made it to the (place that shall remain unnamed) both of us unscathed and I reasonably gently deposited my slimy friend, said goodbye (yes, I did)  and headed home, thinking about this catch and release thing, about what my bandmates had said last night about them not being native and that therefore I should kill them, thinking about the film I watched this morning, about connectedness, about another film I watched in which an adopted (by a gay couple) hispanic boy gave a moving speech, and proclaimed 'we are all Americans' and my ever so slightly filtered through racism mind flashed on that as remarkable..... thinking about how snails are here now so it does not matter how they got here, they can be immigrants.....

And I made one more pass through the garden, slightly dreading actually finding another critter of the family mollusca, thinking perhaps I would crush it if so, in order to lessen the number of trips to the drop off point, thinking no, no, I could not do that because we are all connected and they have the same...... but ah.... I did not have to make that drastic decision because thankfully, all the other snails and slugs had gone into hiding... I mean, er, my eradication program is working so well, that no others were apparent.

Before I came inside to coffee and interweb, I finished my patrol by giving the plant which had yielded gramma mollusca another once over and I found it standing free and clear and oh, so splendid.  I was happy that I had gently relocated that snail (after all, a snail shell so gloriously personifies the magical/scientific/glory of creation unfolding, does it not?) and everything was post rainstorm shimmery.  As I admired my lovely plant, I realized, that, cosmically, it was the very same one I had been discussing (by myself) 'with' my husband earlier, the timeless and lovely hemerocallis, "SPIRITUAL CORRIDOR"