Not my Usual Blog I’m using this site as a web site for now in order to recruit a new Personal Assistant for Walker. If you’ve found your way here, you might want to click on the list on the right and read some of my stories about Down Syndrome. Or, maybe you just want to know more about the job as Walker’s personal assistant, and that’s fine too. Walker is going to be 47 this month, and lives at home with us in East Memphis. He works at Superlo Foods on Spotswood, and has been there almost 24 years. He enjoys attending a number of social events designed for adults with Special Needs, and also attends a Language Learning Lab and speech therapy at the University of Memphis. Since Walker doesn’t drive, he needs transportation to and from his various activities and work, and the State of Tennessee provides funding for his needs under what is called “the waiver”. The waiver has requirements, which his “Personal Assistant” mist work within, and these will be explained to you more fully if you are interested in applying for the job. The hours for the job are somewhat erratic, and somewhat, but not completely, flexible. They generally work well for a U of M student or someone else with a flexible schedule. You can work about 20 hours a week. The pay is around $20 an hour. There are some requirements and training required, CPR and First Aid certification, Freedom from Harm training, and a background check are among these. It will take several weeks to get you into the system. If you think you’re interested, I’d love to talk to you. Please respond to morrishome1@bellsouth.net or call me at 901761-1020 for an appointment. Thanks for your interest! Janie Morris

What would Daddy Ever Think Today!

I'm wandering off my Usual Path This Morning. I don't usually write about my childhood, so most of you probably don't know that I was brought up as the child of a politician. After watching a good bit of the hearings into the insurrection that my husband has stated, and I probably concur with, is the most significant event in our lifetime, I started thinking about what my daddy would think of politics today. Daddy was a true-blue Democrat, but he would probably find the two parties of the forties and fifties unrecognizable today. My earliest conversation with him about political parties occurred in 1953 or '54 when I declared that I wanted to vote for Eisenhower. He told me first off that I couldn't vote because I wasn't old enough, and secondly, that Ike was a Republican, and we were certainly not Republicans. I was crushed, I liked Ike! He reminded me of my Popo, who had died not long before. I became aware of Ike when a friend gave me a pin with his picture on it, and Daddy had a Stevenson pin, and there was a decided difference in my young eye. Never mind. The issue was settled. When it came time to campaign, whether as an incumbent at the Public Service Commission, or as a wannabe Governor, Daddy was the most ethical of politicians. I know he would be horrified at what he called "mudslinging" that goes on today. In his day, it was considered taboo to so much as mentioned your opponent's name in a speech. He thought it was giving the other guy free publicity. He campaigned on his record of helping the "little guy" He believed that keeping utility rates as low as possible while not making it impossible for the businesses who provided them to make a profit was his job, and he did it well. Pretty much what the Dems espouse today. He had a relatively small, but loyal following, mostly comprised of people he knew from from his days at Auburn University or from the Marines. Daddy was proud of his family, and when campaigning, Mama was his biggest asset. She was pretty and vivacious, and remembered names and faces. He loved the trips when all of us appeared together on a platform stage in front of small crowds in little country towns. He came up with the idea of travelling in a small helicopter (pictured below) so that he could drop in on more of those towns, accompanied by a truck hauling a bed with a huge plywood book which two burly guys turned the pages on while we sat rather impatiently on the stage while he talked about his big ideas for the Great State of Alabama. Years later when I was in college, I was working as a volunteer in the Student Government office when we were told that Barry Goldwater was planning a campaign stop on our campus and that we would be in charge of the event. I didn't know Mr. Goldwater from a frog, but I was more than willing to pitch in as usual to make the event go smoothly. I don't remember much about the visit, but I was impressed by his speech, and if I had been old enough, I might have voted for him. I had no idea what party he belonged to! Daddy didn't live long enough to see what has happened to the two parties, and he wouldn't recognize them if he had. The hot button issue in his day was segregation and like almost everyone in Alabama, he supported it. Basically, he would have been unelectable had he not. One night when I was home from Auburn, I can remember him being served a warrant after we had gone to bed. A law officer knocked on the big brass knocker on our front door, He presented Daddy with a court order to take down the signs over the drinking fountains in all the bus stations designated "white" and "colored". Daddy, as President of the Alabama Public Service Commission was responsible for all public utilities, and the transportation system came under his control; I had no idea what came of the case, whether he complied with the order or not, I just went back to school and forgot about it until years when I saw movies about the incident and saw the signs come down. Daddy never talked about work with us. He just did his job. He held his job from the mid-forties until the mid-seventies when he was unceremoniously dumped in the Republican landslide when all Democratic incumbents were thrown out with the trash. For his many years of service to the state of Alabama he didn't receive so much as a plaque, as I remember. I don't agree with the ideas he held back when, by any means, but I do know the time he grew up in and I understand that he was not a bad man. The African Americans that came into our lives never had a better friend, always knowing they could come to him for help, night or day until the day they died, so I can't judge his politics by today's standards. I hope you won't either. I don't know what he would make of our former president, or of his followers. I know he would be horrified at the attack on the Capitol, because he believed in upholding the law, and being honorable. I think there are a lot of men like him out there who have been led astray by our former president. I hope they will stop and re-center as some of the people I've seen testifying seem to have done once all the evidence comes out. There is no divine right endowed on anyone simply because they were born with white skin or with a silver spoon in their mouth. That part in The Constitution about all of us being created equal really means something. Let's take a minute to think about that. Blessings, Janie

 

Making Yourself Obsolete is the Hardest Job

The really bad thing about being a parent is that you really need to understand from the beginning is that your job is to work yourself out of a job.  

That precious tiny infant, who once depended on you for life itself, simply must be taught to survive on his or her own, or you have honestly failed as a parent.  I’m not aware of any parenting book that actually tells you this fact, but it is so, and it's never too late to give this some thought and make some changes to learn to live with it.

From the time those little fingers let go of yours, or the coffee table, or whatever, your offspring is saying, "Hey, I've got this!"  All you have to do is believe them and kiss the boo boos as they happen and let them try again.

It doesn’t happen all at once, but always on their own terms and sometimes your child will need to be your child once again.  He or she will come to you for a little “mothering,” or maybe they won't, but it's up to them, not you at this point.  What they need might be joining the family for vacation, or a home cooked meal, or bringing laundry over because you have better smelling detergent than the facilities at the apartment building.  Whatever it is, the best advice I can give from the point of view of daughter and mother and grandmother, is to accept whatever it is for what it is without complaint and rejoice in the moment!

 In today’s society, where more and more offspring are establishing careers and having relationships that are serious enough to be complicated, but aren’t exactly marriage, sometimes this is even more important.  There may be several of these relationships in your adult child’s lifetime.  You might be more in love with some of these partners than he or she is.  You might justifiably or unjustifiably disapprove of some of the relationships, but that’s not your job anymore unless asked.  And, if asked, it’s your job to find out what kind of an answer your dear one is looking for,and offer that and no more.

You know that line in the wedding vows “forsaking all others” kinda means you too Mama and Daddy.  Your daughter or son who has chosen his life partner is actually choosing someone else to do most of your job. If you’re lucky and both of you are generous, you will all support each other on an “as needed” basis for the rest of your lives.  In an ideal world, that’s how it works, but we don’t live in an ideal world, do we?

That doesn’t mean that you have to cut all ties to your offspring as they develop more and more independence, not at all.  The happiest families I know of are the ones where the parents are there, on call, in the background enjoying their lives free from day- to-day responsibilities and cares of child rearing, because…wait for it…their children are no longer children anymore!

When I was a young mom overloaded with four children, one with special needs, trips back home where someone set the table and made my favorite dishes for dinner, put my kids to bed with the stash of Golden Books she kept for just such occasions, and let me have a blessed night of uninterrupted sleep in my own bed in my old room, were precious.  Mama gave me what I needed, when I needed it, when I could accept it.

In later years, I was fighting brush fires on all fronts, many of which Mama couldn’t help with, and I rejected her help in some rather harsh ways, which I now regret, I know I hurt my mother terribly, mostly while trying to protect her from my problems.  There was never a total rift in our relationship, but a sort of bewilderment on both our parts of who are we now and what are we supposed to do.

 
You are still who you’ve always been.  You’re the mother who loves her child, whatever the child’s age or needs, and if you’ve done it right, you’ll both know it’s okay to offer each other help when needed.  But remember the title of this piece...Your job is to make yourself obsolete!  That's not a bad thing.  That's a job well done.  So now rest a bit, find some new things to do with your time, help when you're asked, volunteer to help if you're not asked, but don't get in a huff if your help isn't needed, it only means you've done a really good job!

 

Juneteenth Another Fake Holiday, or Not

 

One of my daughters married into a family who didn’t seem to think much of the “Hallmark Holidays” that our family had always acknowledged in some way.  We had always thought about gifts and honored Father’s Day, Mother’s Day, Valentine’s Day,  and perhaps other special days with cards and gifts, some carefully selected, others thrown together at the last minute.  Our children went to kindergartens that worked on crafts to bring lovingly home to show off on refrigerators.  We wouldn’t think of ignoring the day.  In recent history there seems to be one after another of these being voted into law by Congress, no less, and even our family can’t keep up with all of them.  Facebook reminds us, merchants remind us incessantly.  There they are, here they come, HONOR THEM!

I never thought much about some of these holidays honoring minority groups as belonging to anyone but that minority until I gave birth to a son with Down Syndrome, and there became a day to honor those with the condition.  I realized that somewhere, sometime, someone had campaigned to raise awareness of the contribution to society the persons with Down Syndrome make, and that they succeeded in convincing the powers that be that it deserved recognition.

The other night I happened to be watching a panel of gurus on my favorite liberal talking heads show, and the white moderator was asking whether white people should celebrate Juneteenth, and I heard some very erudite answers from the panel of African Americans.  You can read more about it in this link from the Encyclopedia Brittanica: Juneteenth | History, Meaning, Flag, Importance, & Facts | Britannica , or just do a little thinking of your own. 

What would it mean to you as a person of color, or gender, or a person of different abilities, or of a different sexual orientation or preference if one day you were given official recognition that you had the same rights as all of the rest of society, and that the rest of society actually was happy about that right?

To me it meant that my son had the right to a public education appropriate to his abilities.  At the time, I wasn’t happy with what the public education had to offer, so I sent him to a private school, just as I did his sisters.  But had I not been able to afford a private school, and we  just barely could, he would have had the right for me to fight for what he needed in public education.  Later on, when he graduated, he was given some job training at no cost to me other than my tax dollars helping to pay for the public monies that paid for the programs he was enrolled in.  His employers had no right to discriminate against him simply because of his condition, but looked only at whether he was capable of doing the job they needed him for. 

 he has worked at the same job for almost twenty-four years.  He, and they, are really proud of this fact.  He receives assistance for transportation to and from work that also enables him to participate in community activities and church activities.  He leads a really great life, and that life will be celebrated on National Down Syndrome Day.  In our city, Memphis, hundreds of people turn out to help celebrate these wonderful people who participate in medal winning sports, own businesses, are employed, and even have their own ballet/dance company.  They contribute their community as well as receive…and yes, we celebrate that fact.  Our friends line up to eat hot dogs and watch the events and parade around a stadium to show that support!

The African Americans who were freed on Juneteenth so very long ago have gone on to have offspring who have become a reliable and strong labor force, and those who have been allowed a good education have become professionals like lawyers, doctors, dentists, and even Supreme Court Justices. They are fulfilling the dreams of those who long ago didn’t even know for several years that they had been emancipated, and even after emancipation even today face many hardships that aren’t all their own fault.

 Just like being born with Down Syndrome, they were born with darker skin.  Different on the outside, but with the same needs as everyone else otherwise.

Let’s celebrate with them in some way, large or small, and help them continue to be the same as the rest of us, achieving all they would like to achieve, each according to his or her abilities.

 

Only Casual Observations

Flying Free for Molly and Robert

This morning Robert IV departed home for what seems like the last time. He has accepted a position with the Department of State in Washington, D. C., leaving the nest for probably his final flight.  Molly is understandably a bit bereft, to say the least.

Robert is her firstborn and was almost lost to us to sudden liver failure at age four, saved and returned to the nest through the bravery of a liver donation of his Uncle John.  That is another story, but following that rescue, Robert followed the expected course of the gentlemen in his family, attending a challenging grade school and more challenging prep school, and finally graduating from the University of Virginia, and trying his wings at a job in Wyoming, far from home, but with familiar friends and a few distant relatives.  Taking a break from academics allowed him time to whet his mettle with completing in a Triathlon and learning to supervise those from another country in his kind and friendly manner.  During this time, he made more good friends and really enjoyed the “real world” as he was meant to do.

Most of the family expected that after this brief adventure he would return home to follow his father and grandfather in their successful careers in the financial world, but he had other plans brewing. Robert maintained close ties with friends and family all along the way, because he loved us all, but he grew more and more independent, learning to cook and clean for himself, manage his own money wisely, and make good decisions.  Much to the surprise of much of the family, before he left UVA, Robert had put in some applications, some of which didn’t pan out because of the physical requirements which the medications his liver transplant put on him.  He was required to have access to an immune suppressing drug, unavailable in many foreign lands, which got him rejected by the armed forces, the Peace Corps, and probably other organizations that had high standards for acceptance, including an absolutely perfect health slate.  Although he was able to do better than most, probably 99 percent of the people his age physically, he required the drug for life.

The Department of State recognized his high level of abilities overall, and the unlikely possibility of him not being useful because of his health, and after about four years, they contacted him with a job offer!  Of course he accepted, and this morning’s departure was the culmination of that long journey to a lifetime career. 

In our family Facebook discussion his mom, usually very private, spoke of her totally understandable heartache.  And, as her mom who has for all her life wanted nothing more than to see her child happy, offered a feeble attempt to make her feel better.  I hope it helped.

As I watered my plants this morning, I mused on a theory I developed as an amateur gardener, whom my friends think to be successful, but I personally know I only do what I do best, and learn by observing.  What I have learned from my plants seems to apply to people too.  The old adage, “Bloom where you are planted.” Doesn’t work for either plants or people, in my humble opinion.  One that seems to work better, in my opinion at nearly eighty years old is to, “Plant yourself where you will bloom!”  And then after that, replant if necessary.

I have learned to grow new plants through the years from old ones from the old ones, saving a few dollars every year.  I winter them over in a nice sunny area of my home, and then by Spring, they are ready to use around the pool, if I place them just right.  However, this year, with a lot going on, I forgot that Geraniums really are not lovers of so much sun, so after a short stay in the hospital for surgery, I returned home to some crispy leaves on my carefully tended Geraniums, because I had planted them where I wanted them to flourish, not where I knew they would do best, in partial shade.  There were several beyond redemption, but enough good ones that I moved them to a more desirable location and they should do better.

Perhaps the sun in Memphis, where Robert had a comfortable niche carved out for him, would have provided too much sun.  Too many old friends, not enough new ones.  Too much family with too many expectations, not enough fertile soil.  For whatever reason, I believe he was wise to relocate himself, although we will all miss him terribly.  He should grow and flourish in Washington, perhaps find more fertile soil to marry and produce offspring. Or, if not, he can always transplant himself…and wherever he finds himself, there will always be an opportunity to visit and refresh himself with loads of the fertilizer of love and admiration that the rest of us, his grands, his siblings, and his cousins, and most of all, his wonderful parents have in abundance awaiting him.

Fly free and happily young Robert, but don’t forget the way back home!

With all our love, Grammy