Plant Yourself Where You'll Bloom I went out to the remains of my zinnia garden this morning, as I've done every week or so even into the Fall, and I found a few hidden jewels among th crispy, mildewed leaes of the plants. They are probably past their prime. There were also some roses and my hypericum berries have revived. The annuals aren't gone yet, and I made another nice bouquet to put on the kitchen counter. I always do my best thinking when I'm in the garden, and today my thoughts wandered to the quote "To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven. (Ecclesiastes 3) For the past couple of years my awareness of my own time coming to an end has rattled around in my heart and brain, as it must for many of us over eighty. This was not a new thought, I began planning my own funeral long ago when I faced a serious surgery. Well, I made it through that surgery, and several more, and I'm still kind of kicking. I don't think this awareness of my mortality is changing who I am or what I want to do, only sometimes what I'm able to do. I just went through a barrage of tests and the results were that I'm in pretty good shape, especially for my age, but I have become accustomed to performing above my class for quite some time! It seems that I've fallen a bit behind in some areas, and that there's not much I can do to escape the natural aging that we all face. With aging comes some decisions to make, and I'm absolutely aware that my desires might not mesh with reality at some point in the future. For now, though, I am absolutely, sublimely content living as we always have in a house I love, with friends who hold me up when I'm down. We manage the house with some devoted yard and household help, to whom I am eternally grateful. I wasn't always so contented, though. The last house we lived in was also one we built, and was essentially the same house we live in now, with afew tweaks we made in building the second time. That house was built at a rocky time in my life and marriage, and was supposed to be a fresh start. Shortly after we moved in, though, I came down with breast cancer which was fairly easily cured, but managing the treatment from our distant home was difficult, and the aftermath took a long time to equalize my hormones and my body. I remember almost falling asleep while driving home from one of the latter treatments, and looking in my rear view mirror and seeing Walker pulling up behind me on his way home from a flight. I knew I could make it then. That experience was one of the deciding factors that convinced me that living in the country was the worst decision ever! I had thought that living out from town on seven acres would be a fabulous life. We built a playhouse in the back, mostly for Walker III and Sarah, thinking the neighbor children would stop by to play. They never did. And suddenly, the children were suddenly no longer children, and we had a married daughter and a granddchild. We were meeting our daughter in parking lots to hand off Baby Robert when we baby sat him. I seldom saw the girls in person, except when Katie came home for short visits or Sarah was breezing in and out of her busy high school life and then college life. My friends popped in to see the new house, but seldom visited the longer we lived there. I made no new friends, or met many people I really wanted to be friends with. This was foreign to me as I had had no trouble making friends back "in town". I also had had no idea how isolated I would be, or how conservative our new town would be or how that huge lot would separate me from my neighbors. We didn't even feel welcome at the local Episcopal Church where the only person who ever spoke to us was the priest upon our exit from services. That church now has a priest that I'm so fond of that had he been there, things might have been different. I had always been active in the church, teaching Sunday School, leading fund raisers, participating in a "Guild" which introduced me to my most devoted lifelong friends. I was even one of the first women elected to the vestry. Losing "church" left a hole in my heart, but not one enough to give me the determination to travel the thirty or forty minutes into Memphis on Sundays. Our lives had changed, and not for the better. When Sarah was about to graduate from high school she came home and found me on the sofa in my nightclothes. "Mom, you'd better find something to do or you're going to lose your mind out here when I'm gone." My teen aged daughter knew what I was afraid to face. We just didn't belong there. I had planted myself on infertile ground. My one attempt to have a small garden outside the side door resulted in all the plants frying in the heat from the gravel driveway. They knew what I didn't, that we needed to make a change. I tried going to graduate school and for two years I drove back and forth to classes, enjoying the interaction with my classmates and the intellectual stimulation. I tried out a "small group" experience at my old church, and I eventually took a course in Education for Ministry, but all these things were just too difficult from where we lived.Finally, one day, I had had enough, and I told Walker that we were going to have ot move back to town. As usual, he yeilded to my decision, especially when we sold the house for a nice profit. I had become spoiled by all the pleasures of living in a brand new house, and I didn't think we could afford a comparable house built by a builder, so I began looking for a lot in town for us to build on again. I felt like we could find the right place to build because a number of older neighborhoods were bulldozing the older, small houses and allowing new construction. I told every realtor friend I could think of that we were looking for a lot, or even a house, so we could move back, but had zero results until one day I ran into someone I had not seen in a long time. Mary Ann and I had been in a carpool for our Special Needs kids for several years, and I stood blocking the door to the grocery store telling her my needs. The very next day she called with a lot for me to look at. Walker was out on a flight, but I called him to meet me that afternoon at the lot, which was already vacant. I knew we had to move fast on the purchase, because I had barely missed buying a different lot in the same neighborhood. Walker agreed that the lot was workable, although not perfect. The back yard would be a steep slope, and challenging to landscape and deal with the drainage, but we agreed to make an offer on it. We truly built this house together, with me calling sub-contractors and suppliers daily, sometimes in tears, trying to get the house underway at a time when there was a building boom. The last house took roughly ten months to build, this one took half again as long, and it was a painful birth, over budget a little, but by June, almost in time for Katie's wedding, we celebrated the new house with an "Empty House Party" for friends in town for the wedding. My dreams had finally come true. The profit from the sale of the last house allowed me to hire a decorator and add some touches that made it special. We really worked at all the finishing touches, travelling to New Orleans to purchase a few vintage things and antiques. We put in a swimming pool, something I'd wanted since I was a teenager. When it was finally finished, I knew it was where I was meant to be. Of course, I'm going to leave this house in the not too distant future, but hopefully not until I'm ready. Right now, as much as I dread making dinner most nights of the week, I don't want anyone else deciding what I'll have to eat or drink, or anything else about my life and habits. I want to walk around the property in my bathrobe picking flowers in the early morning. I want to have gatherings for my friends on occasion, without worrying about the house being ready. This house hides imperfections well, thank goodness, just like I do! We finished out part of the large attic a while back, creating a nice guest suite, and at the same time gave Walker a nice office, leaving the downstairs one to me and the dog. I have grandiose plans for a second cutting garden this comng Spring; an 80th Birthday gift from my husband, who thinks I'm a little batty, but indulges me with minimal complaint. I'll keep my little zinnia and tomato garden, but this will give me more sun-loving flowers for bouquets to enjoy and share with friends. We might have to put in a railing to make it safe for me to go down to the "lower forty", but I'm doing well with the current situation for now. I also adopted the upstairs "play room" that Walker III rarely used, for an art studio on one end of it. My art has become a big part of my life, and recovering my ablity to go up an down stairs gave me a new appreciation for how fortunate we are to have this house. When I walk into the "Art Room" the smell of it is different from the rest of the house. A true escape. Now I'm not pretending that all is going to work out for me to "go out of here in a box", as I tell realtors who call wanting to list my house. For now, as long as we have a little help with the house and the yard, we're dong fine. I certainly don't, however, mean to infer that my choice should be yours choice. I know plenty of people who have moved to retirement homes who are sublimely happy. Some even find happiness and comfort in nursing homes, and I'm happy to see them where they will bloom, but I believe that here is where I have blossomed and finally bloomed, and with God's mercy I will continue to do so. If you're reading this long treatise, I hope it will inspire you to plant yourself where you will bloom. I know people that have moved to a totally new state to find that spot,others just downsize or upgrade their current homes to meet their needs. Whatever works for you is what truly matters. Blessings, Janie

The Story behind my Obcession with the Baptisms at Moon Lake and other things I paint

About twenty years ago our family bought a rickety old lake house at Moon Lake, a quiet little lake a little over an hour's drive from Memphis. It has a great history, including Tennessee Williams writing about it and some well known artists living there and finding inspiration, Sophie Coors being my favorite. One day in 2007, my dear friend, Cheryl McCormack gave me a copy of Delta Magazine she thought I'd like because there was an article in it about Moon Lake, specifically the Baptisms that take place there every Summer. Cheryl is an artist and I had admired her work, and I think she thought it would be fun if I took lessons with her, so eventually I did. What I really wanted to paint was the girls getting baptized at Moon Lake, and I had tried unsuccessfully on my own, So I signed up for watercolor lessons with Fred Rawlinson, Cheryl's teacher. Some two years later, Fred's lessons moved to a new date and time that didn't work for me, so I was on my own again, and I still hadn't painted those girls, but I had learned a lot about painting watercolors. So, I started trying again, and I eventually joined two art leagues, and to my surprise I sold one of my Baptism paintings, and people began to ask to buy them. I also gave some away to charity auctions, and one to a priest who eventually became a bishop. I'm so honored to know that my painting hangs in the office or home of Bishop Dorothy Wells of Mississippi! The original article was photographed by a famous photographer named Jack Spencer, who now lives in Nashville. I have never copied his photos exactly, so I hope I'm not going to get in trouble for being inspired by them! As time went on I found out that the Baptisms were no more. The little church no longer had access to the lake front as the property had been sold. One weekend my little Mah Jongg group, which included my good friend Cheryl McCormack, and our husbands spent the weekend at Moon Lake, and after a nice dinner at Kathryn's, we decided to go find the Baptism site. It was almost Summer, and it didn't get dark until late. We pulled up to the site, and while overgrown, we found that they had built a latice work bench seat and steps down to the water. The girls and I took a look, and I headed down the stairs to the water, and my girlfriends followed, probably to protect their crazy friend from her folly! Our husbands stood up by the road and chattind, apparently unconcerned for our safety, and we went all the way down to the water. Now this was not nice calm Summertime water, it was early Spring churning angry water, and I had serious doubts about being on that rickety stair case with a bunch of older ladies, all in their seventies and with various infirmities, including myself, but what a rush to realize that we were treading where those girls had trod. I couldn't wait to get home and start painting! And that is the story of how my obcession with the Baptisms at Moon Lake began. My painting has taken a few twists and turns. I also paint dragon flies after learning that they represent the transition to life ever after in many cultures. I paint trees reflectomg on water, just for fun, and I've painted College buildings, a man on a horse, and the Flat Iron Mountains for my grandchildren. I'm now experimenting with my zinnias in still lifes with no real success yet, but I'll keep trying because they are fun also. By the way, I just noticed that all my old Blogger posts are a MESS! They have messed up the syntax. I fixed a couple, but I doubt whether my opinions from long ago are worth my time and energy at this point. Maybe someday if I run out of things to do, I might fix them!

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

Have you Ever Felt Like an Outsider?

“Have you ever felt like an Outsider?”

Some of you who follow me on Facebook know that Walker is taking a class at the University of Memphis called Language Learning Lab.  Discovering this class, taught by his very first speech therapist, Darleen Winters, along with eight graduate assistants, has been one of the most significant turning points in Walker’s adult life.  Initially, it was simply a chance to reconnect with some old friends and classmates, and rediscover the love of learning that had seemed to end with him graduating from all programs offered to those with cognitive disabilities when he was twenty-one. 

In the intervening years, a LOT of things changed, and now there are many opportunities for adults to experience lifetime learning.  One of my regrets is that Walker did not have the opportunity to continue his education without interruption, but maybe those latent years were good for him too, because now, he is sopping up information like a dry sponge.  He LOVES going to school, and his more mature and experienced mind sees things in a different way.

The LLL class is centered on reading a book each semester and discussing and writing and making presentations about what they have read and learned.  In the process, the students have learned to use “google”, “power point”, and many other modern day technologies.  The graduate students are their “editors” and work with them in small groups.  This year’s book is The Outsiders by   S. E. Hinton, a book with some mature themes, which some of the parents have had their doubts about.  Since I’ve never sheltered my kids from the world, and I trust Ms. Darlene’s judgment, I didn’t get all worked up about her choice of this book, but just waited and watched to see how it all worked out.

Last week, I discovered how wise a choice this book truly was.  Just days after the bombing of the Synagogue in Pittsburgh, Walker and his friend Matthew were scheduled to interview Memphis’ most prominent Rabbi, Micah Greenstein as part of their classwork.  Walker has crossed paths with Rabbi Greenstein through the years when he has spoken at our Episcopal churches, and Matthew is Jewish and knew him, although he did not attend his Synagogue.   Both were extremely excited about going together on the interview.   

Walker and Matthew have a budding friendship which began when I invited Matthew to join Special Friends Fellowship Club at an Alumni dance for Walker’s old school.  “But I’m Jewish!”  he said.  I told him it didn’t matter that we were happy to have him if he wanted to come and make new friends.  It turned out he did, and the Special Friends, many who knew him from school, welcomed him.  It turned out that Matthew really, really wanted to be “best” friends with Walker. Gradually their friendship has grown as Matthew has learned that Walker can be a good friend, if not necessarily his “best friend”, and they have bonded.  I’ve been proud of Walker including Matthew in his group of friends.

The night before the interview, I glanced over the interview questions…I wasn’t sure who had composed them, but they were good questions, and I knew the guys would have a good conversation with the Rabbi, and didn’t think much more about it until after it was all over and I got a note from Rabbi Greenstein with some very complimentary remarks, which I passed on to Darlene.  “It really was profound,” she said.  “I had told Walker that the question, ‘Have you ever felt like an outsider?’ was the most important part, and he really took it seriously.  Micah was really affected by it.  It was a special moment.”

Just a few days before this interview I had attended a memorial ceremony at our local Jewish Community Center after seeing an invitation on Facebook for those of all faiths to join in remembering those lost about an hour before it began.  I couldn't find anyone to go with me, but I felt strongly that it was important for other faiths to be represented to I rushed our dinner and told big Walker I was going and headed out by myself, something I rarely do.  I found my way into the gathering, sat down by a lovely couple and introduced myself.  They seemed a little puzzled by my presence, and asked me why I was there.  I fumbled for words, and finally said that I felt that an attack on any religion was an attack on all religions.  They thanked me for coming.  Before the service was over so many people had thanked me for attending that I was overcome.  Rabbi Micah was one of the main speakers, and he asked all those of other faiths to stand, and when we did we were warmly applauded, and those around me reached out to touch me or shake my hand.  As I left many others did the same, and in one very moving moment a sweet woman teared up and hugged me and said "You have no idea."  I probably don't, but I'm beginning to.

Can you imagine how it must have felt for a Jewish rabbi, one of the most persecuted religions in the history of the world, to be interviewed by two young men with developmental disabilities, who face discrimination that they aren’t often even aware of, just days after the bombing at Pittsburgh?  It chokes me up to even think about it.

When people wonder about why I am a liberal thinker, and campaign against discrimination of all kinds…this is why.  When they wonder why I cannot abide those who publicly espouse hate of “the other”…any “other”…this is why.  One God made us all just the way we were meant to be.  He made us in all colors, of all faiths, ethnicities, genders, including mixed up genders and non-genders, and He loved us all and called us to love all those others, even the Outsiders, just as much as we love ourselves and the ones who look just like us.  

 Sometimes I feel like an Outsider just for thinking this way, and it makes me sad.  I’m working on loving those who don’t think like I do, because I don’t want them to feel unloved either.  That’s kind of hard, but I’m working on it.  What about you?

Blessings, Janie

A Very Special Christmas Eve

A very special Christmas Eve. For those of you who have asked, I do still write "Walker Stories", but don't post many anymore. I'm hoping to maybe publish some in the near future. Here's one of the oldies that some of you probably haven't seen.

Walker spends a great deal of time in his room or playroom with his assortment of stuff, and as I have come to realize in recent years, sometimes plans surprises for us all.

After Molly and Robert were married some of our traditional holiday customs had to be adjusted to accommodate the young couple’s desires to share the holidays with both of their families. It was agreed that our main Christmas meal would be on Christmas Eve, and I decided to invite Robert’s parents to join us. It was an opportunity for a new tradition, and we were all looking forward to it, but I was a little nervous about expanding our family to include the Gooches. Walker, however, was thrilled. He had enjoyed Robert’s parents, and especially his brother, Perry, during the wedding festivities, and the idea of having them with us made it like a party.

As I was making last minute preparations for the dinner, Walker came into the kitchen and asked me if he could say the blessing. This was a privilege he usually declines, probably because he is a little apprehensive about forgetting the words to the memorized blessings that his sisters have used through the years, so I was surprised, but readily gave him permission. I set up the buffet and everyone gathered in the dining room. As we bowed our heads, Walker began cleared his throat nervously and began to recite,...”T’was the night before Christmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, in hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there. The children were nestled all snug in their beds....”

I panicked, caught between being impressed with the time and effort it must have taken him to memorize the long poem and being uncomfortable with all of us standing there with our heads bowed in prayer as he recited it. The girls were stifling giggles, but Molly’s new in-laws acted as if this sort of blessing were the most natural thing in the world on Christmas Eve. Walker continued, “On Dasher, on Prancer, on Comet and Blixen...”

Finally, he began to stumble over the words to a difficult portion of the poem, and I suggested to him that maybe we should go ahead and eat our dinner before the food got cold. I assured him that he could finish the poem after dinner. He shrugged his agreement and we proceeded with the meal.

When dinner was done, Walker asked to be excused while we ate dessert. A few minutes later, I heard him clear his throat, and looked up and saw him sitting on the stairs with his “Night Before Christmas “ book. As we enjoyed the last of the wine with our dessert, Walker read the poem to us.

I don’t know whether using “The Night Before Christmas” will ever catch on as a blessing, but Walker’s well rehearsed version was a blessing to all of us that Christmas Eve.

Mama on Mother's Day

I know it's a Hallmark Holiday, and I've already posted a nice piece that someone else wrote about what I really want from my family which is more of the most precious commodity they possess...their time. How presumptuous of me! I remember those days when I felt like I was being pulled from every direction...children, friends, husband, community and perhaps a job, church...and the last person I needed needing me was my mother!  Anyway, how can I not think of Mama on Mother's Day????


I have some letters I wrote to her through the years that she had saved, and almost invariably they begin with an apology for not writing more, not visiting more, not calling more.  There were times when she called me so often that I dreaded hearing her say, "Haven't heard from you lately." because of the guilt it stirred up.  But through the years,  late in the afternoon, after five when the rates went down, and I'd put one of my ubiquitous casseroles in to cook and had a little time on my hands, I'd  pick up the phone and call her.  I knew she'd be thrilled....she always seemed to be.  I know I am when one of my girls call and the rates are cheap all the time!


She never scolded me particularly for not being more attentive, and after a few days visit from our rather large brood of children, I have a feeling she was pretty happy to settle back into peace and quiet and a couple of phone calls a week.  What I think she really would have treasured was some of my undivided attention, something I seldom found time to give her.  I found that time in the last weeks of her life.  At the end, I made her custard she had no taste for and did her laundry and took her to the oncologist who admitted her to the hospital, never to return to the little patio home she was so proud of.  I went back there and climbed up in the ugly blue velour recliner and rocked myself and cried because I realized that the time to give her what she wanted was over.


Today I went out to see if I had gardenias from her...it's just about time and Mama seldom disappointed me...and sure enough, there were exactly three blooms.  One each for me, my brother and my sister.  There will be many more later on, but for Mother's Day, she sent me three.  If she were still here, she would get dressed up in a nice suit and pantyhose and low heeled shoes and pin a white rose on her bosom in remembrance of her mother, our Mamo, and go to church.  She would expect us to wear a red or pink one on our shoulder in honor of her.  I'm certain no suits or pantyhose will be involved for me or my siblings or my children  tomorrow, and church may or not be, and my rose will be white if I wear one, but all of us will remember Mama if we get a whiff of a gardenia in the next few weeks.

Blessings,
Janie

The Year in Review 2016

The kind folks at Facebook suggested I repost something I wrote last year titled The Christmas Letter, and I re-read it, and it did remind me of the value of looking back over the past year and recording it in a somewhat more permanent way than my Facebook posts.  In that post I commented about not enclosing a summary of our family activities with our Christmas card anymore, and I guess I probably assume that most of the people who care about us stay in touch through Facebook, but that’s not really true.  And, that lovely Christmas album is still sitting in the armoire awaiting my getting “a round tuit” and filling it with the history of our family Christmases…so here’s this year’s update.

The Christmas Letter 2016

For some reason 2016 seems to have flown by faster than ever.  No major surgeries for anyone, although both Walker and I have had some really annoying lingering coughs which reminded us that we don’t throw things off quite so easily at our age.  Otherwise, we’re all pretty happy and healthy. 

Our most significant adventure was our trip to Israel.  Ten days of “forced marching” in the Holy Land is an amazing experience.  Highlights were staying in a guest house above first century “cave homes” where Jesus probably played and visited, and possibly lived, visiting the Al Aqsa Mosque—only the second group of Christians allowed inside (after being draped in appropriate garb), and a day at Masada on our own.

Most of the grandkids are tweens or teens, except for Beau and Emmett who remind us of the pleasures of having little ones around when they visit.  Emmett adores being with his cousins, and manages to keep up with the big guys amazingly well.  Beau is a ray of sunshine punctuated by intermittent thunder storms.  She’s a real chatterbox, sings all the time,  and is the best eater of the bunch.  We have to stock up on avocados and eggs and beans and rice when she visits.  The kids enjoy each other, and we take great joy in seeing them make music together.  They performed and recorded a special song for our 50^th wedding anniversary that brought tears to our eyes under Molly and Katie’s direction.  Sarah and her kids flew in and surprised us for that momentous occasion, making it just perfect!

Walker’s hobby farm yielded about 125 pounds of pecans this year, meaning lots of roasted pecans for gifts and lots for cooking.  The freezer is stuffed.  The most fun was the day in Arkansas at the “Indian Museum” and pecan picking with the whole family over Thanksgiving.  The older kids drove the four wheeler for the first time, and I even picked up my share.  He's had a decent number of quail covey's since the weather got cooler too and loves it when he and the dogs can find them with guests.

The most significant achievement of the year was the founding of Special Friends Fellowship Club, a project of the Diocese of West Tennessee.  It was Janie’s idea, prompted by seeing the work done by other denominations, and a nudge by a voice in the middle of the night asking, “Why aren’t you doing something with your own church?”  A letter to some clergy resulted in the trial run over the summer, and it went so well that the program was extended into the school year.  We have twenty special needs adults on roll, and the whole family has helped out through their churches.  Walker III is thrilled…it’s almost as good as Young Life, and he loves helping with the planning and setting up.  Big Walker is the muscle of the program, turning Janie’s nutty ideas into reality whether it be hanging a mirrored ball from the ceiling or hauling a hay ride around the church property…he’s always agreeable.  We have all been blessed by new friends from the diocese and these wonderful young adults and their sweet faith.

It was a hard year in some ways, some dear friends left us and others are fighting illnesses.  We are not happy with the result of the election, and are anxious for our country, but we have seen a lot of changes through the years, and we’ve weathered them all.  We carry on, knowing we will make it through whatever comes our way in the coming year too.  Seeing our grandchildren and their friends turning into such fine young people gives us such hope for the future, and maintaining friendships through it all is what it’s all about.

Happy New Year and Blessings to all,

Janie