Once again, thankfully, it is Rhetta Kutch's being born day...
HAPPY BIRTHDAY SWEETIE!!!
"When One of my bosses accused me of not being a team player, I responded with: You could not be more incorrect, I am very much a team player. It just that we happen to be on different teams."- Richard D. Reese
Robbie, a friend of my work buddy Mary Bradley, submitted this photo of a marmot to Jones Soda and they chose it- she is excited... what fun!
"There is only one thing more powerful than all the armies of the world, that is an idea whose time has come."- Victor Hugo
In my current job I do not have as much contact with clients, and I miss that. I still interview people but the interview is rather brief, compared to the couple of hours I am used to ... I was lucky enough to meet a couple of interesting gals recently though. I was standing in a dining area and I could feel someone come up behind me and start patting my hair. I waited and let her come around to my face- yes, nice curly hair she told me, or something to that effect. She had lost control of the words that came out, but the bits and pieces of words seemed full of meaning. The next day she approached me from the front, reaching up to pat my hair gently and again say incomplete words that sounded for all the world like "gibberish". It's funny how crystal clear even gibberish can be- is it still, then, "gibberish"?
Yet another time and place, another lady with very advanced dementia was giving words of reassurance to a fellow traveler on the same path as herself, "These people sure know how to take us out of the doom don't they?" And her fellow traveler nodded in agreement. The next day I knocked on the door of her room and she opened it, noticed me and with surprise noted I was still in the building. She asked me if I had moved in there to live and I told her that I was just there for three days. She smiled and shook her head, "It's nice to get away on a vacation isn't it?" she said knowingly. Later that day I ran across her offering comfort again, "Life knows what is best for us so we just go along with it, don't we?" She was amazingly verbal and social, and clear, amidst her profound confusion.
I also recently met a lady riding an electric cart. She knew that I was a social worker and asked me about services for her mentally ill son. It was information I do not have in my current position but I did know how to get it and gave her a resource to contact. She told me that her son has lots of problems and two years ago she had to stop taking care of him and move to a place where she herself could get help. She said she didn't know how she had made it all of those years, that the strain had been great on her. I nodded in agreement and understanding, but stopped short when she mentioned that he had turned 70 the week before. In my usual therapeutic way I blurted out, "How old are you?" She said she is 86. I told her she looked good for her age, because she does. "I had him when I was 17. I don't know how I did it. It was hard." A mother's longing for her child's safety sometimes finds no place in this world to rest.
"At fifteen life had taught me undeniably that surrender, in its place, was as honorable as resistance, especially if one had no choice."- Maya Angelou
Sigh... busy, tired... whatever the reason, few entries this week made it past the thinking stage. But I did remember that I intended to include one more small tidbit about my hair... will the hair thing ever end? Mmmm, not too soon I hope.
I sat on a kind of divan made for two people at the intersection of two hallways. An elderly woman stopped by to check out my smile and sat with me for awhile. I told her how pretty she looked in her outfit- how the color looked so nice on her. We sat for a bit, talking now and then and watching others go by. Then I think she wanted to join in with where I was, to pay back the compliment. She told me I had on a lovely top and when I glanced over at her I realized she was gazing up at my head. In this world of sucky people, there really are oh so many lovely ones.
The older you get the more you realize that kindness is synonymous with happiness.- Lionel Barrymore
Yesterday, Saturday the 12th, Jay and I had a wonderful afternoon and evening up in Bellingham. We visited a printing shop, had a lovely Indian dinner, went to a concert and went to the Whatcom Museum of History & Art.
At the museum we were treated to some of its huge collection of photos by Darius Kinsey, a northwest photographer from the late 1800s up into the 1940s. With his view camera Darius captured wonderful glimpses of local logging life while he and his wife lived in a town up the road from us, Sedro Woolley. He is pictured at left, taking a picture of himself. Click the picture to see a larger image.
Kinsey traveled around photographing everything about this neck of the woods as he attempted to capture history in images. His visuals are stunning, both in content and beauty. His brother, Clark Kinsey, was also a photographer located more south of Seattle, and his name links to a site with some of his work.
The image at right of loggers with a mammoth tree they are working on, will also take you to a larger, easier to see, version if you click on it. Once again I had to marvel at how very difficult life was not all that long ago and marvel at the sheer strength required to live here at that time. And who will have those same thoughts about our lifetime, and when? Despite the propensity of some to kick and scream for the good old days as we move forward, the reality is that they never really existed as they do in our heads.
I heard a gal on the radio mention that there is a Portugese word that means "a sense of longing for something remembered that may not even exist". Yes.
So on Saturday we also visited a shop we had read about a couple of months earlier in the Bellingham Weekly. I had cut out the article and stuck it on the refrigerator for future reference, and then tomorrow became today and the future was here.
Jay used to do typesetting until computers kind of took over the world. He cannot read anything without noticing the font and all these other things about the printing that I don't notice- and he is able to put together things to print and make them look better than anyone else in his shop. Thus he was interested in the article about a young couple starting up a traditional printing shop in Bellingham.
Saturday we stopped by Bison Bookbinding & Letterpress and Kevin Nelson, looking like someone Will and I would have hung out with in the '70s (a hippy), generously and happily showed us his finds, from hundred year old printing presses, to old printing books, to printing wood block letters. In their shop they bind books, make their own paper and print lovely hot metal and wood block items. Jay enjoyed seeing the appreciation of his craft and Kevin enjoyed the same from Jay. It was good timing and a good time.
"But words are things, and a small drop of ink, falling like dew, upon a thought, produces that which makes thousands, perhaps millions, think."- Lord Byron
Ok, the last of my reports on our outing last Saturday, maybe: So, we went to an Irish concert at The Leopold Ballroom and saw Paddy Keenan and Tommy O'Sullivan perform in the small, historic ballroom of the grand old Leopold hotel in downtown Bellingham.
Tommy played the guitar and sang in a very lovely voice- if you click on the center/top picture here it links to an mp3 file of a beautiful song of his (if you right click on the picture and 'save target as' you, of course, can have the file...). Paddy played uilleann (pronounced illan) pipes- a very interesting instrument with a bag he squeezed with his arm like a bagpipe kind of.
You can go to each of the artist's sites by clicking on Tommy at left or Paddy at right. It was fun and enjoyable- we recommend you see these two if they come your way...
"Is it not strange that sheep's guts should hale souls out of men's bodies?"- William Shakespeare
"Music washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life."- Red Auerbach
When I worked at Ypsilanti State Hospital I worked for a while on a couple of medical units. The patients, by and large, could no longer walk, could no longer control the wastes their bodies released. It was there that I first learned how fragile the barrier between "me" and the rest of the world was as I saw the holes that develop in the skin as a result of inactivity or simply brushing up against a bedsheet... Working with mentally ill people both there and here, I encountered parental and family anguish from losing their loved one while the body continued to be, continued to demand care without the person they knew inside. One young man I worked with, in his early 20s, had his parent move while he was out of the house one day, because the pain was too much to bear. I met many people who had been in and out of mental hospitals who did not know any longer how to contact family... and no family contacted them. The family anguish I encountered when I began working with dementia patients was by then very familiar. I've seen families decide about feeding tubes, or not decide. I've seen life without life.
I'm sure that there are people, caregivers, who work keeping up the bodies of patients who don't seem to any longer be "here" who would choose to continue to be kept alive if it were themselves- but I have not met people exposed to such life who would choose it for themselves.
I do not know Terri Schiavo or her husband or parents. I do not know what is right for her, actually she is the only one who knows. That is why it is important for us to share our own wishes with those who may have to make these kinds of decisions for us- often it truly is the spouse who knows, and not the parents. Who is it that you have confided these things in?
Many of my professional friends, along with myself, do not want to have our bodies kept alive and do not want to go into the world of dementia ourselves. We do not want to have our loved ones exhausting themselves and their money taking care of us. "Just shoot me." How many times have I heard nurses say that? Many. Please, do not keep me alive if I am no longer here.
God is easy to scapegoat, making Him responsible for keeping a body alive, but it really is science that keeps the body alive today. Using technology to keep a body alive that would, if allowed to follow a natural course, be dead, is the work of man. Science and technology are at convenient times seen to be evil, and at others seen as the hand of God Himself. This particular case is complicated by the disagreement between spouse and parents- that is a hard one, there is no easy answer. I could sit alone with Terri for a half hour and form an opinion of how cognizant of herself she is, and maybe she is aware, maybe she could even tell me, in some way, her wishes. It is up to her and her family- not politicians and those who would judge others as if they themselves are God. Those who invoke the name of God need to make sure that they heed their own source- do unto others as you would have others do unto you. Have you truly explored what it would be like to be in a vegetative state and be cared for? Have you done that caregiving? Is it possible that God's kindness includes simply letting our loved ones go home to Him? It may be helpful to stop shouting and listen, find the stillpoint and let the answer come.
Be careful what you wish for. Yes, and I would add: understand what it is you are wishing for.
Self-righteousness is a loud din raised to drown the voice of guilt within us.- Eric Hoffer
Lots of family showed up for our wedding on October 17, 2004 at my parents' home, including my cousin Sam Ellison. My sister, Linda, and my brother, Donnie, and I spent a fair amount of time as we were growing up visiting our cousins. My Aunt Lois and Uncle Ronnie lived the closest, in Charlotte, so we probably spent the most time with their children, our cousins, Diane, Sam and Sharon. Both Diane and Sam made it to our reception. Sam was casually dressed and Diane mentioned something about him smelling... come to find out he went back hunting after leaving the shindig. Diane emailed me an article from a paper back in Michigan lauding his big catch. Given that Jay is a vegetarian and I eat only a bit of meat, the cosmic implications are mind boggling, or something. Click on the picture of Jay and I to go to the article and a couple of pictures of my proud cousin Sam.
"I believe that imagination is stronger than knowledge -- that myth is more potent than history. I believe that dreams are more powerful than facts -- That hope always triumphs over experience -- That laughter is the only cure for grief. And I believe that love is stronger than death."- Robert Fulghum
I just finished reading Eugene Linden's book "The Parrot's Lament". It was fairly interesting reading as the author told stories about various animals that might indicate some higher reasoning, communication or ability to visual consequences. He was very careful to talk about the ease of slipping into anthropomorphizing or attributing human characteristics to animals, but pointed out "it is far easier to reason about the meanings of actions than it is to ponder the contents of animal daydreams, solipsisms, or other private mental events. Much of our own mental life never translates into actions and thus remains inaccessible to other humans, and so, barring some breakthrough in the mapping of how thoughts stimulate precise electrical events in the brain, the interior lives of animals will remain in the province of speculation."
His stories about the ingenuity of the orangutans in captivity using found or fashioned tools to escape from their cages (not particularly to go anywhere, as often they would simply hang around) as something to do, perhaps to exert some control and/or have some fun, were surprising. He included stories of animals appearing to experience grief that reminded me of a childhood experience. I don't know if my sister Linda remembers this or remembers it as I do, but I remember we had a male cat and became aware that a female cat was also hanging around our farm. I believe we thought the female cat
had belonged to Doreen and that she had maybe hitched a ride over under the car... but, at any rate, our male cat, like most of our cats in my childhood, met his fate out on the busy road in front of our house- maybe why I am less attached to cats? After he died, the female cat, who had previously hid from us and run away in our presence, came up near the back porch and cried. I remember Linda and I going out to find this previously skittish cat meowing, almost as if in pain, and leading us out to the barn to where her kittens were. We brought them in the house and she followed. After that she was just our cat, like any other. I remember at the time thinking clearly that she was crying for our dead male cat. I think I was in later elementary school. I really don't remember having much conversation about this, so it will be interesting to see if Linda remembers anything similar. Those childhood memories are sometimes fleeting and sometimes I wonder if I actually remember them or if I remember stories I heard about them.
I believe there is no source of deception in the investigation of nature which can compare with a fixed belief that certain kinds of phenomena are impossible.- William James
Who would have thought? My first grandchild is a dog. Bambi is now nine months old and has already been a flower girl in our October wedding- she wore the wedding garter stunningly!
Kira is looking for an apartment and she and her boyfriend Jon developed a page trying to make her dog ownership more palatable for potential landlords. You can view it by clicking on either of the stamp pictures- representing both Kira's and Jon's dogs.
"The reward of friendship is itself. The man who hopes for anything else does not understand what true friendship is."- Saint Ailred of Rievaulx
Once again, for the third Easter: my favorite Easter cartoon... click on it for a new one. Happy Easter.
He that cannot forgive others, breaks the bridge over which he himself must pass if he would ever reach heaven; for everyone has need to be forgiven.- Lord Herbert
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Pictures link to somewhere in the cyberworld, go ahead...click.
