What’s to say?

 I’m reading a very good book, The Giver of Stars. And there are passages in it that bring me close to tears. Not the mushy, sentimental kinds of prose you might expect. It’s the parts describing small, everyday gestures of kindness of one  person to another. It reminds me of when my mother would make me soup or a soft-boiled egg and toast when I wasn’t feeling well, even after I was an adult. The parts about the support of a good friend, and the devotion of a man even when he isn’t going to get anything for it. It makes me wonder when, or whether, I will ever experience that kind of true friendship and companionship. 

Oh, I do have friends, very good, kind, and generous friends, and I’m very grateful for them. But it’s not the same as having someone near at hand; someone I can rely on to do something at a moment’s notice; someone to share activities with. Someone to cook me a meal. To hold hands with, walking. To rest my head on his shoulder in the evenings. Someone who will accept me as I am and think I’m the best thing that ever came along. 

I wonder why I’m so alone. All my life, I’ve mostly been alone.

I don’t feel like I need someone to complete me. I know how to entertain myself, and I’m surely happier being alone than living in a miserable relationship. But are those the only two choices for me? Why? 

I’d really like to find that person who appreciates ME. I sometimes wonder if there’s some defect of character, something unlikeable about me, and I wonder what that could be. It’s true that I’m pretty self-centered, often opinionated, and sometimes negative in my attitude. But I know others who are like this too, yet they have the undying love and admiration of their partner and friends. I wonder if it’s because I’m selfish. But then I remind myself of all the generosity I’ve shown to those who were important to me, and how it’s not been reciprocated. I think about some of the hurtful things the men I’ve been involved with have done to me, said to me, and realize none of them have ever apologized to me for it. 

My women friends have been great, but only one of them lives close to me, so it’s not convenient to see much of each other. I understand that. But it’s also not exactly what I’m speaking of. 

I sometimes wonder if it’s something I should have done that I haven’t done; or something I’ve done that I shouldn’t have. But honestly, I am very generous with my friends, and I’ve actually done A LOT for others. It’s what I do for people I love and care about, and even sometimes those I don’t know. So I don’t see this as being some kind of karmic debt situation; unless it’s for a past life. 

I would just about give anything to have the kind of person I know thinks the world of me, who will have my back no matter what, be my soft place to fall; someone to see the world with, someone who would open his wallet to buy me what I want, even though I’d seldom need to ask. Someone who I know would trust me to do the right thing, as I could him. Someone who would SEE me, know me. I’m so happy for those I know who’ve found this. But I still wonder, when is it my turn? 

Family memories

 When I was born, my sister was 13 years old. So I have little memory of her before she was already grown and gone, having dropped out of high school and eloped to escape her unhappy life at home. I know very little of what her life with our parents was like before then, so I can’t say much about it here. I do remember lots of yelling. My dad had a temper, and I do recall him taking a lot of it out on her. She has told me since of the physical and emotional abuse he inflicted on her. This is hard for me to come to rational terms with, the father I knew being so very different. But my mother acknowledged it at times also. Family dynamics aren’t something you get to just dispassionately and objectively observe when it’s your own family. They touch you very personally in one way or another, your place within them affecting your perceptions and reactions to them and your opinions about what happens to whom. It can affect how you feel about different persons within the family. But to be fair, we were all pretty scared of angering my dad. He never hit me, except for a very few spankings I got from him as discipline. But the yelling... that was traumatic. 

In his elderly years, Dad apologized to my sister for all the things he’d done. It meant a great deal to her, and it did change things between them from that point on. Even when our mother would speak disapprovingly about my sister, Dad would keep quiet. 

I haven’t talked too much to my brother about life with Dad, what it was like for him, I’m not sure why. Probably because Phil isn’t the type to talk about his feelings, he tends to be very private about them. I’m not sure if I asked, he’d be willing to say much. But I think soon I’m going to try, before it’s too late. 

As for my relationship with my sister, Debbie, I don’t know if you could say we were very close until I got to be closer to adulthood. Partly because of our age difference and the fact that she left home when I was about four. But I think it was also due to the fact that my mother was very protective of me, and feared Deb would be a bad influence on me. Our mom worked hard at controlling us all and maintaining her position as matriarch. As such, she didn’t want anyone else usurping that position or exerting a possibly competing influence over me. But as I got older, I got to spend more time with her. I admired and looked up to my sister a great deal. She seemed very sophisticated and modern to me. She was witty and fun to be with. She could be protective as well. And she was always elegant and up-to-date in her appearance; fashionably elegant in dress, hair, and makeup. She was quite attractive. I wished I could be more like her. Sometimes, when I’d spend the day at her home with my niece and nephew, she’d put my hair up in rollers and then rat it into a perfect bouffant, and occasionally she’d also do my makeup just like hers, applying the winged eyeliner and pretty eyeshadow, giving me cat’s eyes. I felt so grownup! 

Later, when I wanted to marry my first husband at 18 and my mother refused to be a witness for the marriage license, my sister said that she would. And as time went on, we became closer because of our shared experiences as women. We had periods of estrangement at times, though. Times when she’d stop speaking to me. Usually it had to do with some issue that our mother was in disagreement with her about. I would often side with Mom, hoping to forge a reconciliation somehow. Sometimes I just thought my sister was wrong, and that I should be able to tell her so without it causing a rift between us. But that’s not how it is with my sister. With my sister, her hurt feelings won’t allow objective conversation about things like the possibility of her being wrong about something. I do understand why, and most of the time I just accept it and leave it alone. And after all, I’m the same way sometimes. We come by it honestly. 

In truth, I think it’s hard for most people to hear that they’re wrong. It’s one thing when it comes to things that can be factually proven, like when an event occurred or something like that. But to be told that you’re wrong in your way of handling a situation, or an issue that mostly involves opinion, that’s very personal. You can’t change anyone’s mind about most things, and I am annoyingly determined to try. I think it’s because I’ve been successful once or twice, and it was quite gratifying. So I’ve sought to duplicate that, tried to figure out the formula that will allow the other person to see their error without causing them to feel threatened or lose face. 

At any rate, age and social media have only caused it to become more difficult. The written word loses a lot of the intent behind it. Subtle underlying cues like inflection, tone of voice, and facial expression are not there. But even in-person disagreements can be impossible with my sister; she’ll shut them down and refuse to allow any explanation or further discussion. Once she feels threatened, even when it’s just her perception, there’s no going any further; and if you do, it’s likely to result in estrangement. Such is the case now. And that estrangement has caused a rift between us that will be nearly impossible to repair. That makes me sad, because no one knows when one of us will no longer be here. None of us are getting any younger. 

For that reason, I have always been willing to forgive and put things behind. I feel like it’s important to do that with important relationships. Very little is so important to warrant estrangement, that’s always been my credo. But THIS time is different. 

There are times in a person’s life that are milestones, so momentous they can never be repeated; a milestone birthday, a retirement, an anniversary...or the birth of a child. 

I really thought I would never be a grandmother. Many factors seemed to indicate that would be the case. But a miracle happened, and my daughter got pregnant! I was overjoyed, but with some trepidation because of her relationship with the father and her lack of permanent employment at the time. Still, I was thrilled. My sister had chosen to stop speaking to me some months prior, first over a disagreement about a silly Facebook post, but ultimately because of the decisions that got made regarding our mother when she began deteriorating in the nursing home and then her final arrangements. Decisions HAD to be made, and there were three of us. For my part, I went along with some of the suggestions put forth by Phil and the nursing home staff, because in my opinion they seemed appropriate. I also strongly disagreed with trying to urge Mom to “hang on” until her 98th birthday. It seemed almost cruel to me; she had already hung on for over a week, with no food or liquids other than to wet her mouth, and no ability to communicate. 

I took the positions I took for the same reasons my sister took hers: they felt RIGHT to me. But at some point there has to be a tie breaker. Phil had POA. When there was a course of action that seemed reasonable to take, I agreed with it. If Deb differed from it, what were we supposed to do? She took it all so personally, as if she were being left out of it. In fact, SHE took HERSELF out of it. At some point a choice had to be made. A reasonable alternative to the other options that were unworkable was reached, but she disagreed with it yet she had no better one to suggest. I went along with Phil; it seemed a good idea, and so I agreed. What else could be done? Just leave her ashes in a box, along with Dad’s and Grandma Ethel’s, whose cremains are still sitting on my closet shelf to this day? No, Phil made a good decision. And even my sister has come around to it, TO HIM, now that she’s seen where they are. All that fuss, for NOTHING. 

But NONE of that is incapable of forgiveness as far as I’m concerned. It’s all inconsequential; I’d have probably already just given in to being the one to extend the olive branch yet again, but for the one thing: My sister NEVER acknowledged the birth of my granddaughter. I sent text message updates throughout the day to both her and Phil, as well as others who are important to me, when Andrea went into labor. My sister didn’t respond to any of them. No congratulations. No visit to the hospital to see Shaelynn and congratulate Andrea. NOTHING. This was not something that Andrea had anything to do with. This is not something you do to someone you care about on the birth of their grandchild, and what will likely be their ONLY grandchild. A grandchild that was never expected to be. It’s not something that can get a do-over or reenactment for those who missed it the first time. 

In life, there are those moments that you get to share with those you are close to, if you’re lucky. I never missed an opportunity to be there for those of everyone else, when I was able. And when I couldn’t be there at the moment, I got there when I could or at least acknowledged them with a letter, a phone call, or a gift. This is a wound that will never completely heal. It can’t be undone. I can forgive it, but certainly not without an apology and an effort made to show she cares. No. This time, I can’t just let it go. 

Same as it ever was...

 I’ve been much aggrieved by the untimely passing of Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg, the baddest Justice (or human being) that ever was. And reflecting upon the venerated highest court of the land caused me to think about the supposed principles of this nation. Freedom, liberty, equality, and human rights. And in thinking about that, I asked the question, “But are we, really? Have we EVER been about those things, really? For EVERYONE?” I’m afraid that when you look at the history of this country, the answer is a resounding NO. 

Think about it. This country as it is today is the natural progression of imperialist roots. The earliest settlers fled England because of oppression. But those who followed soon set up the pattern of imperial dominance. England, Spain, France; each sought to claim territory  here for their country’s king. So those early invaders fought and killed thousands of Native Americans, and each other, in that pursuit. The Natives were killed, lied to, forced into assimilation, and still had treaties broken and then were finally death-marched onto reservations. Even today, our government is denying them their rights and breaking treaties with them. It’s abominable and deplorable. 

We all know the ultimate result was the new American settlers defeating England and earning the right to establish the new country. But what did that look like? Wealthy white males, owning property. Then importing and buying slaves to work that property. Many brilliant Black people came up with ingenious inventions, but never reaped a penny of profit from them; it all belonged to their white masters. From Buffalo Soldiers to the Tuskegee Airmen, Blacks fought in our wars heroically but received no hero’s recognition for it. They still couldn’t even vote. 

Even our vaunted Constitution, from which we get our foundation of principles, has never really ensured liberty, tranquility, and equality for everyone. Not by a long shot. Only for wealthy, white, male property owners. That’s who the Constitution was written FOR. 

Over generations, we tried. We almost succeeded. The 60s and 70s saw some of the most progressive changes to our society, with Supreme Court decisions that affirmed freedom of expression, freedom of religion, and equal rights for women and people of color. But each time, the wealthy white patriarchy fought back hard. And it’s no different today. 

The Equal Rights Act has yet to be ratified, over 50 years later. So women still do not have equal rights. Blacks are still enslaved by the for-profit prison system and denied equal opportunity by systemic racism throughout our institutions, from banking to health care. 

No matter how far we think we’ve come, our nation’s distribution of power, liberty, and freedom isn’t very different from what it was at the very beginning. But we shouldn’t feel alone. When you get right down to it, if you look closely at the governments and social structure of the majority of nations worldwide, it looks pretty much the same. 

Why haven’t we done better? As human beings, why haven’t we figured out that we’re better off uniting? It’s actually possible to do that now, in ways never before possible. Think about it. Why should there be immigration limits ANYWHERE? Why should we not be able to travel anywhere we like, without passports except to show our country of origin and the places we’ve been? Why should we not be able to live wherever we like? Work wherever we like? Think bigger! If we have the ability to have global banking and trade, we have the ability to allow work, currency flow, and trading of goods. Instead of separate governments of countries each to themselves, there should be administrations of each country in terms of allocation of resources, monitoring income and outgo, and the like. One common pot from which to fund vital services and infrastructure, so no matter where you are, you have health care, safe and clean food and water, services like telephone and television. Imagine if EVERY NATION worked TOGETHER to create a cooperative world, each country unique but united in the goals of peace and quality of life. We COULD actually do this. Perhaps one country has more of a certain resource; that’s OK, another country has more of another. That’s the basis for cooperative equal trade. 

We may have come a long way. But in very many ways we’ve not come far at all, and we’ve still got a very long way to go. We CAN do this, but the time to begin is NOW.  

I have to say I just don't understand the thinking of the so-called conservatives in this country. Well, the most vocal ones, anyway. I think the ones we hear about are actually the minority; I pray that is the case, anyway. But even so, the fact that there is any media coverage of the rather extreme views of these neocons is disturbing. Because these are NOT the ideals that built this country. When the US began, we fought for our liberty from the oppression of a monarchy AND a religion. The framers of the Constitution truly did want separation of church and state, and one only has to look at the Islamist nations to see why. Just because Christians feel so much more comfortable with a Christian-based influence on governance of this nation does not make it any less dangerous and for the same reasons. This country was also created with the ideal of allowing all of those who want or need the liberties we have here, to be welcomed to work and live here, and obtain citizenship if they so desire. True, the nation had far fewer people then; but there was no condition of a certain number of immigrants before the gates got closed. That didn't happen until the Chinese found their way here during the railroad building and gold-mining days. And the immigration laws were VERY specific at that time, targeting the Chinese. There is a longstanding and shameful history of racism in this country. And it is sad that it remains today. I don't understand that, either. These are all HUMAN beings, and all people want the same things. WE are only here because our ancestors thought it was just fine to set sail in ships, land here, chop down some trees and build some houses, and clear and farm some land and declare it theirs. Never mind the fact that in so doing they also nearly wiped out the natives who were here first. This was THEIR land, until we took it. So we have no right to declare ourselves the only immigrants with rights here. All of us who consider ourselves to be US citizens, we really are only naturalized citizens. We got born here, by that fortune alone we are citizens. We didn't do a damn thing to earn it other than that. But that's birthright, and the law recognizes it, so that is a different matter. It's always interesting to see how many natural born US citizens can pass the citizenship test that immigrants have to pass in order to obtain citizenship. Most people fail miserably. I would probably too, because like everyone else I just take my citizenship for granted. Or at least I used to.

But nowadays, when I see some of the GOP candidates' agenda in running for President, it worries me. Of course, I know most if not all of the bullshit they espouse is nothing more than grandstanding and talking points to pander votes. Because they know, as surely as most of the rest of us do, that they cannot do half of what they say they will do. They know, but because most Americans anymore are so uneducated about due process and the Constitution and the functions of the Executive, Legislative, and Judicial branches, they just swallow the bait hook, line, and sinker and vote for the candidate who says what they feel inside.

And that is the part that bothers me so much. Even after all these years, the fact that apparently the numbers of closed-minded, bigoted, fearful, and hate-filled toward people who they perceive as being different from them, are enough that presidential candidates feel they need to make those "ideals" a part of their platform. It is repugnant, because a President ought to be running on the actual values of a country built on independence, and all the other values that built the nation, not on racism, bigotry, greed, and hatred. Those should not be acknowledged or tolerated, let alone a campaign built around them because then they only proliferate. It takes little to get that kind of latent malignancy to grow. We had come so far, so close to finally being a society built upon egalitariansim. And when I see this kind of reversal, it saddens me, disappoints me, and frightens me.

When I see legislation being passed by some of the individual states that is clearly overstepping their rights, legislation that is clearly unconstititional and will waste much taxpayer money being challenged before the Supreme Court, let alone the time that could have been spent on issues and causes that actually would advance and enhance the lives of the citizens, it is dismaying indeed.

I understand that the GOP candidates don't have enough substantive strategy or ideas to propose to counter the incumbent Obama administration's successes. The incumbent nearly always has an advantage, most especially when the economy is showing signs of being on the upswing. The price of gas notwithstanding, everything else is recovering--very slowly it is true, but what else could be expected when it had fallen so far for so long? So it is a difficult thing to beat an incumbent with success behind him (or her). Tried and true wins out over the unknown every time. But why not just continue with a campaign that holds to the traditional values that the party has always stood for, and not stoop to the level of pandering to the baser side of people's selfish interests and biases and fears? Run an HONORABLE campaign, one that will make you proud to look back on. If you lose, you can lose with your head high knowing you didn't lose your mind and abandon your integrity in the process. And then you try again in four more years, when both sides have to run new candidates. And may the BEST person win, not the one who can pander to the smallest, worst side of the largest number of people.

I have had three abortions. Yes. Three. I had to think long and hard about opening up about this facet of my life and putting it out for all the world to know; not because I am ashamed of having had them, despite the judgmental opinion, so popular these days, that I should be. If I feel any shame, it is for having allowed myself to be in the situation of needing one in the first place. My hesitance to speak of these abortions has less to do with shame than with a desire for privacy. The fact is, they are no different than any other aspect of my medical history--really nobody's business but mine. But precisely because of the furor going on about the issue of abortion, and because of all the political fight for the control of women's bodies and choices in this country, I felt it was more important to tell my story than to protect my privacy. 


Although I understand that many women do, I did not particularly agonize over the decision to have any of them, although I will say that the first one was most difficult for me mostly because it was, looking back now, so sadly unnecessary. I won't go so far as to say I regret having had even that one, though, because I believe firmly that all choices we make and the resulting consequences thereof, if any, direct our lives along the path they are meant to be on, and give our lives the form and texture of the tapestry they become. They teach us things about the world and ourselves. So I don't have much regret, even for the harsher times of my life, which have been few but enough to grant me the ability to have compassion for others who are experiencing difficulty.


That is not to say that I didn't think carefully about all the other options before having any of them. I most certainly did. And none of them were an easy choice for me to make. The reason I did not agonize over them, though, and the reason I don't regret them for one moment, is because when I made the decision I knew that it was absolutely the correct one to make for me, at that time. And that was the time in which I had to make it; there was no "saving it for later." I had to deal with what I had in the way of resources, life situations, etc. at those times. And so, I made peace with my decision and so it was not difficult. And I am grateful every day that I had that opportunity to make that decision, on my own, with a bit of input from my supporters. I haven't felt an ounce of guilt, again because I made my peace with those decisions.


Let me assure the reader that I also have two healthy, happy adult children. So I know what it is to carry a pregnancy to term, to feel the joy and wonder of a precious new life and hold it in my arms, to experience the joy of motherhood. I loved every moment of it. And I look forward to the day when I can experience it again vicariously, with grandchildren.


It may come as a shock to some of you that I had my first abortion when I was married to my first husband. One would think that such a thing would be the last thing that would be necessary for a married woman. But my first husband was insistent that we were NOT ready to have children at that time. He was in college, just beginning an engineering degree, and I was working at my first job, minimum wage. At that time, I was quite dependent upon my husband in every way; and he made it quite clear that if I went ahead with the pregnancy he would divorce me. So I did really mull that one over; and in the interests of preserving my marriage I acquiesced to his demand that I have the abortion. The reason I say it was sadly unnecessary is because, in the end, he left me anyway. So that was a bitter pill to swallow. But even still, it was probably the best decision because of that fact too. It is never really the best scenario for a child to be in the midst of a marital crisis, or to have to endure divorce, particularly with parents who both were of very limited means. And I really know I was not strong enough emotionally to have been able to raise a child on my own. So I remain at peace with my choice to have that abortion.


The next one was the result of sheer carelessness. I had been rejected by a man I was deeply in love with and still carrying a torch for him. A bonfire, in fact. But one night, at the urging of a friend, I went out to a club. I met a cute guy. We danced. We went back to his place. I'd had a little bit to drink, and frankly got carried away and yes, actually forgot that I was no longer taking birth control pills. It hadn't been that long...and it just wasn't on my mind at that point. It was ONE TIME! I was taken completely by surprise when I found myself having some strange symptoms about a month later. Oh, I had the guy's number, I knew I could have gotten hold of him. But what would have been the point? I really didn't know him! I knew a few things; he already had two kids of his own he was paying child support for, an acrimonious relationship with his ex-wife (naturally), and a kind of crappy apartment that was all he could afford. Not a viable partner. Plus I had my own two kids I already had; how would I explain this? What kind of example would it be? There was little question in my mind about it. Adoption? Again, this was not something I could countenance explaining to my kids. And besides, I have heard enough stories of adopted kids being miserable once they found out they had been given up. What right did I have to put a child through that? I had no way to be able to predict how this future child would deal with that. It seemed to me to be far more damaging to everyone to have had the child, than to have the abortion.  


The last one was again a situation where I was dating a man whom I knew I did not want to become seriously involved with. He was fun, nice, but...not a candidate for a serious, committed relationship. We really didn't even have an intimate relationship for a few months, and then finally when we did, it was one of those spontaneous things that we were not prepared for. As luck would have it, I got pregnant again. Since this man had a history of exposure to Agent Orange in Vietnam and had two kids with rather serious birth defects, that influenced me even more, although I knew I would have had the abortion even without that risk. I just knew he was not someone I wanted to be tied to forever. I ended the relationship a few days before I ended the pregnancy. And again, I know it was absolutely the right thing for me to do, for those reasons plus all the reasons for having had the previous one. I did, however, make a committment from that point on, not to ever have another intimate encounter of any kind without contraceptive protection. And I kept that committment. But I am still thankful I had the option available to me to have a safe, legal abortion. Because every child should be wanted. And every parent should be joyful and happy at the prospect of having a baby, not worried and dreading how they will provide for it, or endure a meaningless or acrimonious relationship because of an unplanned pregnancy. Children should not be punishment for acts of carelessness or stupidity. They should be wanted, nurtured and loved. If you know that will not be the kind of environment you can provide for that child, then it would be far more inhumane to force that child to be born into it. I don't see how any thinking person can deny that.


I could not take birth control pills because they gave me very bad side effects. I had taken them for over 10 years before I got pregnant with my first born, and between the birth of my second, with no problems. But after I had my daughter, I could no longer tolerate them for whatever reasons. So that was not an option; if I could have taken them, I certainly would have. But now our politicians want to remove even that option from us. They want to make children a punishment for us. I can't fathom what they could possibly thinking would be good about this, for ANYONE, least of all the future children. I just don't understand.

The point, however, in telling my story, is to demonstrate that a thinking, feeling woman, even one who has had children she loves as much as life itself, can have the need for an abortion. And she should have that choice. She should be able to MAKE that choice, on her own. It should be a choice made between her and God, her doctor, and whoever else she chooses to make a part of it. It is simply nobody else's. And just because she chooses it once doesn't mean she will use it as a form of birth control, or have subsequent children with birth defects, or that she'll have guilt and regret that will cause her horrible depression for the rest of her life. I understand that some women do suffer those consequences, and I feel sad that they were, in a sense, damned if they did and damned if they didn't; because they surely already felt they couldn't endure a pregnancy and parenthood if they ever made the choice to have the abortion in the first place. I hope they will find a way to come to terms and be at peace one day with their choice. I would like to see any woman making that choice get counseling beforehand and afterward to help her deal with it, if she needs it. But most of all, I hope she will always have that choice.