Memories of Thanksgivings Past; Football, Food, and a Traumatic Slap

 

I just spent a bunch of time looking through old family photos to see if I had any good old Thanksgiving pictures. I was looking for a picture of our family sitting down for a meal, or even working in the kitchen. But back when I was growing up, pictures were not as easy to take, and my family didn't organize them well either. But I did find this one, taken in November of my first year of life (or that is the label on the picture at least), and it is a pretty nice picture of me and my three siblings. I am, of course, the baby. 

I don't have a lot of fond memories of my childhood Thanksgivings, and that is somewhat unfortunate because I think they were actually mostly good. I do remember quietly hiding in the living room with my brother and father watching football on TV while my sisters worked in the kitchen with my mom. And I remember that I often set the table; getting out all the fancy holiday dishes and placing them, with fancy glasses to drink out of. I really enjoyed drinking juice out of fancy wine glasses or goblets, while the adults drank wine. I know that has led to me continuing to enjoy drinking water (and wine too) out of nice glasses today. Simple pleasures. 

I also remember that we did spend a few Thanksgiving holidays visiting family in small town Illinois. It was often the only time each year that we would see my grandparents and aunt and uncles and cousins, so although they were very nice people they were almost strangers. We didn't have a big family, and I was younger than everyone else and I was shy, so unfortunately I remember feeling shy and scared a lot. I only remember a few of those trips, and my shyness made them pretty uncomfortable, even though my relatives were all really nice. I was just painfully shy, even around family. 

The years that we stayed home in Minnesota, I remember tension and discomfort. But also football. Football was a safe escape for me from the tension of the unhappy people in my family. I especially remember watching the Dallas Cowboys on TV and really admiring the calm cool demeanor of their coach, Tom Landry. At least one year it was contrasted with the crazy coach for the Oakland Raiders at the time, John Madden, and that contrast in coaching styles has always fascinated me. My dad was a soccer coach; and I saw him as being a bit like an Italian version of John Madden. I became a swim coach; and I always wanted to be more like Tom Landry. Those Thanksgiving NFL games had quite an impression on me. 

Other than the football games, the Thanksgiving meal was always the main event. I suppose I also watched the Thanksgiving parade on TV in the morning, but my memories are more centered around football and food. Unfortunately eating at the dinner table always had a bit more tension than I was comfortable with. I have memories of arguments, but even more of strained silence. But the single biggest traumatic memory I have is when my older sister burped at the table and was promptly slapped. I don't know how old I was at the time, but the slap was so shocking that I have never forgotten. The dinner table did not feel like a safe place to be. But I have always found solace in watching football on Thanksgiving. That is where my happier memories were. 

I still love watching football on Thanksgiving, and fortunately my recent memories of the holiday are more positive. I still prefer watching TV to sitting at a dinner table, but I am more comfortable with the people around me. And I can even look back at those old memories more fondly as well. Except the slap; I will never be fond of the slap. 

Re-Start/ Re-visit/ Revival

 

So here I am trying to re-start this blog again. I tried to re-start it a few years ago but stalled out quickly then. But one thing I am good at is dusting myself off and trying again. And again and again.  So here I go....again.

I *have* thought about starting a whole new blog, especially since this one never really went very far. But that is actually the point of this; I don't give up and abandon things....instead, I may step away for a bit, but for the things that are valuable to me I will come back and dust myself off and try again. 

Exercise? There's me every January 1st and every morning after the Super Bowl, re-starting some workout program. Healthy eating? Yep, those same dates. I also tend to re-start things around my birthday, and around New Moons. And I admit, the inspiration for re-starting this this time came at the New Moon a little over a week ago. 

I have been doing a lot of writing this year, especially with the pandemic, starting in March. I've written poems and stories and "essays", but have pretty much kept them to myself. Because let's be honest, even if I post things "out there", not very many people are going to read my words. So I have usually decided that it isn't worth sharing if no one is going to read it anyway. I've also wondered what kind of "bad" things could happen if someone does read my writing and then criticizes it or somehow does something else in order to hurt me... is it worth the risk to share my words? 

Sometime in the past week I decided that it was worth the risk. 

I like to read other people's thoughts. I don't want to use other people's thoughts against them. I do recognize that there are people out there that do, but I am writing for the people who are kind souls who are curious or want to feel less alone and feel a connection when reading other people's words. 

I will share my thoughts with you. 

I ask nothing in return, except perhaps a positive thought to someone in your life. Try to see the good in people and share kindness. 

Many years ago I shared a quote of my own that I still feel is true today: 

"I'm not as nice as some of you think I am, but my kindness is a strength. And I'm pretty damn strong." 

I'm not always "kind" as well, but I do try to be. I'm just a person who is trying to be good and kind and make the world a better place. I get a lot of value from reading or hearing other people's thoughts, so I am sharing mine in case it can be of value to you.

I will finish this post by copying the very first post I made on this blog back in 2009. It is still a good place to start:

MONDAY, MAY 18, 2009

My TOME.... (a definition and introduction)

The Dictionary.com definition of "tome" is:

1.	a book, esp. a very heavy, large, or learned book.

2.	a volume forming a part of a larger work.

In this case, My TOME also stands for My Thoughts, Observations, Memories, Etc.

This is my first post, so I really don't know if I will do much with it. We'll see. I tend to write a lot - volumes - but I don't usually share my writing. I'm not entirely sure that anyone really wants to read what I write, and usually what I write is really pretty private. Really I'm mostly writing for myself. But if anyone else gets something from it, then of course that is an added bonus, so I figure I can try to share and see how it goes. I don't promise anything earth-shattering or anything - just my thoughts, observations, memories, etc.

So here it is.
Enjoy....
-jc

Thoughts of a Childhood Rival and Friend

My childhood nemesis died last week.  I stumbled upon a Facebook post of her obituary, and audibly gasped.  It felt like a gut-punch, with years of memories flooding my brain.  She was 47 when she died, and her obituary was short and did not include clues as to how she died.  It felt like a rough draft rather than a completed story, and I spent much of the day after I saw it wondering what happened to her and genuinely hoping that she is at peace.

Our story had the feel of a Hollywood movie; I was the awkward shy hard-working nerdy geek, and Vicky was the more exuberant fun talented charismatic charmer.  We met in elementary school and became friends, and adversaries.  I have often referred to her as my nemesis over the years, and I say that I loved her like a sister. The truth is that there is no one other than my sister who hurt me as much as she did, and in that way she had an indelible impact on my life.  

Vicky and I attended elementary and junior high school together, but the place that we spent the most time together was the swimming pool.  We were teammates on our club team for many years, and that is where she tormented me the most.  Vicky was much more talented than I was, but I was a harder worker.  She was the kid who would play around in practice and pull on my feet and skip laps…and then blow me out of the water in meets.  When we were 9 years old, I almost quit swimming because my coach so blatantly favored her.  But looking back there were probably coaches who favored me as well. I just knew I wasn’t as good as her.

We were opposites enough in the pool that we ended up swimming different events and didn’t compete as much in junior high, but then she tormented me socially. I remember birthday parties where Vicky would shun me.  I remember how she made fun of me for not drinking.  And like a scene from a movie, I remember the time in junior high that she loudly pointed out a pimple on my face, in front of the boy I had a crush on.  Fun times. 

We ended up going to different high schools and going our separate ways.  Vicky quit swimming and I lost track of her.  I ran into her once years ago and we talked for a few minutes and were friendly, but that was it.  Whereas I went off to college and moved away, she was living in the same neighborhood that we grew up in when she died.  Of course I don’t know the details that would fill-in the years, and success is not measured by the distance we travel.  I hope that she had a lot of fun and love and happiness over the years. 

In my Hollywood version of the story, she was the mean girl and I was the ugly duckling that turned into a swan.  But this story took place in the Midwest, not Hollywood.  Vicky definitely tormented me, but I probably tormented her back.  I hated her but I loved her too.  I’ve traveled far and had some good success, but that doesn’t make my life any better than someone who stayed close to home.  It just makes it different. 

We all have our stories.  Vicky was incredibly important to mine.  Whenever I tell my childhood story, Vicky is a part of it.  A part of my childhood died last week.  I hope that her life was full of the exuberant energy that she had as a kid. I hope that that sparkle continued to shine.  RIP, Vicky.

Lunar Glow

I felt her pull, I felt her glow,

It seemed there were things she wanted me to know.

But partly hidden behind the trees,

The knowledge she possessed I struggled to see.

Still her pull was strong,

And she encouraged me along...

  
So finally, full within my sight,

She blessed me with her wisdom tonight.

College Search Caution

In a few days I will be traveling with my daughter to look at colleges.  I have been really excited about this because college is a chance for her to redefine herself and help shape her future, and I am excited about the opportunity for her to live in another part of the country. 

But in the past week, this article came across my computer screen (even though it is from 4 years ago): http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=124272157 and that led to a series that led to this: http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=124001493 and this: http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=124111931, and they hit way too close to home for me.

Sure, those articles were written 4 years ago; but that they describe similar events that have happened 8 years ago when I tried working on a college campus in sexual assault prevention, and 25 years ago when I was assaulted myself on a college campus.... and I have to say that it puts a damper on my enthusiasm for sending my daughter out into that world.

I tried to work in sexual assault prevention 8 years ago as a graduate student.  I was dismayed at the lack of progress that I found in the years since I had been an undergraduate, and ultimately I just couldn't be immersed in it.  It turned out that even after all my years of work confronting and dealing with my personal story, the memories were still too painful to be faced with every day.  Some people really just don't "get it", and others are actively trying to perpetuate a culture of violence and control over women, and it is just too exhausting for me to try to educate or change them.  I had to admit that I don't have it in me to try to change the world in that way.

But my daughter is another story.  How do I prepare my child to go out into such a dangerous predatory world??
(I had to pause after writing that to pull myself together, as tears and sobs threatened to overtake my body.)

I try not to be overprotective.  I try to encourage my kids to be adventurous and live their lives.  But I admit that I have discouraged my daughter from looking at my undergraduate university because of how they responded to my assault on campus; it is a great school, and I hope that things have changed in the last 20+ years, but I just couldn't encourage my daughter to go there.  But really no college is safe, and I know I can't fully protect her - any more than I can protect her from car accidents or any other accident or painful incident - and I know that that is just the way it is.  But damn it is scary. 

So I try to prepare us both for the college search and the college experience, and hope that I can help build in her the strength she needs to get through the next stage of her life.  I know that I was really vulnerable as a freshman - having already been a victim and not yet a survivor (there really is a difference) - and my daughter is a different person.  I know that fear is not a useful emotion and I certainly don't want to feed it in this situation.  But I do still want to make sure she is aware and prepared.  So again I wonder if perhaps the time has come for me to be more transparent about my own story... will she want to know?  Or does it fall into the category of things you don't want to know about your parent?  I am certainly not going to force it on her (wouldn't that be ironic?), but the story is available if she ever wants to hear it.

Me; my freshman year at college

It's a funky thing with trauma that once you become a survivor and life becomes good again you realize that those horrible things that happened helped shape the wonderful person you have become.  But we certainly don't wish trauma upon our children.  So I continue on this college search journey with my daughter very cautiously.
Please send us strength. 

January 2014, with some review of 2013

So.... it has been over a year since I have posted anything here.  I thought maybe I'd use the new year as an excuse to try again.

It isn't that I haven't had things to write about; I just haven't followed-through with posting anything on here.  2013 was a challenging year (but really, aren't they all?!) and I just got caught up with living and not writing about it.  So we'll see if 2014 is any different.  

When I look back at 2013 what stands out the most are 3 major changes/losses;  I had to say goodbye to my two sweet dogs, and there was a pretty major change in my mother's health with a series of small strokes that really effected my life by needing to help take care of her more.

Gomer - the beagle/ doberman mix - died in April, after a swift decline.  Although in hindsight there were signs earlier, it wasn't until we returned from a spring-break trip that we knew he was sick.  X-rays showed a mass in his lungs, and at the age of 12, any further diagnosis or treatment seemed cruel (it was either a fungal infection or cancer, and either of those things were going to be painful to treat and only prolong his life a very short time).  We did what we could to help him enjoy his last few weeks, but it was tough.

Kinsey - the australian shepard/ old english sheepdog mix - lasted until December.  Truthfully, at the ripe old age of 16 1/2, she would have kept going in a somewhat wobbly senile state, but I was going out of the country for 2 weeks and truly no one else could take care of her comfortably.  For the last few months of her life I needed to carry her up and down stairs and pick her up often when she fell on smooth ground.  She would bite at other people if they tried to pick her up, so it wasn't fair to them or her to leave her with someone else. She would still jump around happily (and then fall down) for food or some other memory and she continued to run in her sleep; but she didn't know where she was a lot of the time, and her legs just couldn't hold her up sometimes. She died very peacefully and was even running in her sleep again right until the end.

My mother spent most of the month of July in hospitals and rehab after having a series of strokes that began on July 2nd.  I was scheduled to be out-of-town for most of that time, and it was a challenge to balance important time with my kids with helping to take care of my mother.  It is still a challenge.  I will write more about that in another post.  The good news is that she is doing pretty well and the lessons I am learning are a blessing.

I can't promise that I will be more consistent about writing here, but I will take it one day and one post at a time.  We'll just have to see how it turns out.

I will end this one with another picture of that beautiful summer day in 2011 with the dogs... when they were both younger and healthier.  We had a lot of good years with those two, and I still miss them.

RIP Gomer and Kinsey.

My Connection with a Man on the Moon

Neil Armstrong took his last breath on Earth yesterday, some 43 years after he first walked on the moon.  I never met him.  However, I still feel like I had a connection to him, and his passing touches me. That famous lunar walk occurred just a couple days after I drew my first breath on this Earth.  I was still getting used to life outside my mother's womb when Armstrong took his first steps on the moon and uttered his famous words.  

Being an astrological moon child, I always thought it was pretty cool that man first walked on the moon around the time I was born.  Apollo 11 was on it's way there when I made my way here... or so I sometimes (with a sense of humor) like to think.  Maybe we passed each other in space.  :)  When I was younger and dreamed of being an astronaut,  Neil Armstrong was my hero.  I just always felt a connection with him for taking those steps as I was adjusting to being here on Earth. 

When my husband interviewed for a position at Purdue University, I didn't know much about Purdue.  For some reason, even though I grew up in Big Ten country, Purdue was not on my radar.  I didn't even know it was in Indiana, and my impression of Indiana was mainly that it was the home of that Vice President that derided Murphy Brown and didn't know how to spell.  I wasn't too sure about moving to Indiana, but when I realized that Neil Armstrong went to Purdue, it actually seemed like maybe I was meant to be there too... 

So maybe I never met Neil Armstrong, and my connection is more fantasy than reality, but whenever I drive past his statue outside the Neil Armstrong Hall of Engineering I feel like coming to Indiana was meant to happen.  I feel like there was a destiny that I have fulfilled. 

So RIP, Mr. Armstrong.  Thank you for lighting my path a bit in this life so far, and may your spirit continue to light the way for many in the future.