Human Pollution

Yesterday the interviewer arrived and I was not prepared mentally for the anguish that would be released from my heart, mind and soul. I had been asked to play a part in a film documentary about the links between illness and the environment. This project in the making will take several months to complete; of which I will be featured as a patient. My unique cancer and other illnesses are of particular interest to not only the writer of film but also to the entire crew. I was unsure of how the first interview would go and quite honestly I was a nervous wreck. I agreed to do this as I feel that my story is worthy of being told. I also need my story to be told! I have recently completed a novel about my journey; this film will be released along the same time frame as my book. My story has yet to be told in full. Many of my friends and family know bits and pieces of my life but I had NEVER revealed the entire journey........ for a lot of reasons. Fears of not being accepted or being judged too harshly have kept me in a silent prison; I very rarely leave my home anymore.  I have allowed some of the most amazing people in my life walk away instead of pulling them closer. The truth is most people don’t want friends with issues or drama, and most people are unwilling to be true friends when they need to be. That is a painful lesson to be learned.  I know that many individuals care about me; but I have yet to go the distance with anyone to achieve that bond. The horrible reality in this, is that my pain; not only physically but mentally has become too burdensome for me to carry alone. That is why I decided to write my story. Perhaps in my life or in my death I will finally be understood.

Yesterday I shook and cried, in fact my insides felt like they were vibrating up against my own skin as I retold the truth of my journey. For the very first time in my life I allowed myself to be completely and utterly vulnerable. The words and thoughts that came from my inner self left me in a state of mind that I have never experienced; it caused me to cry so hard that my stomach purged its’ contents several times. I continually had to remind myself that this is for a greater cause....I wanted to stop. Writing my book has been therapeutic in many ways and a much needed release, however they are my words, it is my book, it is a 500 page journal that I have....the decision to print and sell has yet to be determined. But sitting in my living room speaking to the writer of the film was different as I shared the most intimate details of my life with another person. The truth of my life was spoken, released, set free. I inadvertently unleashed something inside of me that I had been controlling for so many years.   

I was left scrambling yesterday once they left as I tried to regain control of where my mind went; to places I NEVER allow myself to go. We spoke about the environment and the pollution that we breathe in. The types of foods we ingest but every time the interviewer used the word pollution I could only picture people in my mind; not trash or emissions from corporations.....nothing of the sort! I pictured the pollution spewing out of people through their mouths. Evil. The judgements, the cruelness the toxic waste that people emit in our society were my only thoughts. The bullying, the hatred and shallow words that individuals believe they have a right to say to others.... that is pollution. The effects of me breathing in emissions from a diesel truck are far less damaging than that of the words I have ingested from people. The damage to my insides has been far greater. Every single day people spew words of hatred and judgement to and about others. That is why our society is so F’ed up today. Our kids are learning from us how to ruin a society. It is not just about the environment and the effects of global warming; it is global coldening of hearts. We all watched the video of Amanda Todd..... why did this happen? Because our society is pollution and we have told our children that it is ok to bully, pass judgement on people, and state opinion in a fashion that is unacceptable. 

Every one every single day looks at another person with contempt, and mostly for reasons that are not warranted. Example, you see a person in a wheel chair and you in a split second you confirm in your mind that in fact this person is unable to walk. Now if you see a person getting out of car after they have just parked in a handi capped space and you see them walking , do you not get angry? You assume that since there is no wheel chair that they mustn’t be handi capped. What about a person who suffers from depression.... “can’t they just get over their issues?” “ what is so wrong with their life?” Isn’t that easy to say or think? 

The damage to our world is a man made problem. Greed, jealousy, consumerism, gluttony.....We destroy people, we cause cancer, we cause pain and despair. We are to blame for all of the miseries that we experience. Our actions cause reactions and in the end we have become a bitter, cruel society that tosses aside the people who need compassion and understanding. We label and decide the worth of a person without ever taking the time to hear their story. Yes I am bitter! 

Why do you think people update their facebook status’s everyday with wonderful inspirational quotes?  We need to read them. We are all struggling to balance the reality of the world we live in. We need inspiration more now than ever! A feel good story goes viral on their internet and yet I watch or read the stories of what people are sharing and we get all emotional about them and I think BIG DEAL...... isn’t that what life is supposed to be like? Why are we making such a big deal about an act of kindness? Acts of kindness ........is what we did as general rule, now we make a spectacle of a good deed doer......... 

GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR

Human Pollution is killing us.....all of us

~Christine~ 

My Furry Daughter Sara...

Twelve and a half years ago my husband I decided to get a dog for our daughters. We had agreed to get a Lab. However, after visiting a breeder “just for fun” I ended up coming home with 2 tiny black fur balls; Sara and James. I had not expected to buy a Shihtzu, let alone 2 of them! James was the runt of the litter and would only eat or drink if Sara stood beside him. The breeder was concerned that he would die if she separated them, so like a sucker I bought both. The girls were absolutely thrilled with having 2 puppies, and believe me they were adorable. It was not long after that we realized how dependent James was on Sara. They did everything in unison. James always ate first while Sara quietly and patiently waited for her turn at the bowl. They shared dog treats and were always, always together. They walked side by side, and slept in the exact same position day after day for many years.

                                                               James and Sara

Two years ago we had to put Sir James down. He was such a sick dog. Forever having to care for his wealth of health issues and Sara was his full time nurse. Every day of his life she cared for him. Constantly licking his sore ears and making sure that we knew when James needed something. It was a devastating day when he was put down. I was very worried about Sara and how she would respond to his absence. The Vet even warned us about the possible depression she would go through. The first night he was gone we all fought over Sara especially about who would get to sleep with her. We even set a place at the table for her that night! It took us a while to get used to just calling her name as we were so used to calling James and Sara as if it were one name. For a few days she walked around the house looking for him. It broke our hearts. But somehow a new spirit awoke in her. At eleven years of age she began acting like a puppy again.  Often running around the house with such excitement, she even started playing with a tennis ball.

I joked with the girls that she was just bogged down by the weight of a man, and was finally set free from their relationship.... not nice but kind of funny.  Sara is my best friend, actually more like one of my children. She is a huge part of our family. Each of us spoils her and she responds with such loyalty. She waits by the door like clockwork each day awaiting the arrival of each child. When my husband gets home she goes crazy wild. Each of us does different things for her which just enriches Sara’s life. When our oldest daughter works midnights Sara waits at the bottom of the stairs for her to bring her up to bed. Sara will lay in bed all day with her.

She is very aware of each of us and our needs; and always responds accordingly. When I am not feeling well she behaves very gently with me. Her loyalty is commendable. When I first arrived home after having bypass surgery she never left my side. She was obsessed with lying on my right leg. I had well over a 100 staples and I know she wanted to heal me by keeping my leg warm. There have been times that my sugars have crashed (I am diabetic) and she goes crazy licking me and spinning around in front of me. I have no idea how she knows what is happening to me, but she never leaves my side. If I am in the shower she lays at the tub waiting for me.  She only does this to me. It is amazing how much I love this little dog. I usually greet her in the morning with a “good morning miss Sara”, and man does she ever go crazy. She loves what I say and how I say it.  Each of us have different nicknames for her, Sassy, or Miss Sasperella,  Sary, no matter what you call her she responds with such incredible enthusiasm.

In early December Sara suffered a stroke. She was unable to eat or drink for 4 days. She also was unable to walk. She drooled a lot and always patiently allowed us to wipe her mouth. You could see the gratefulness in her eyes as we cared for her. It was suggested to us that we put her down, but I just couldn’t do it. It was also during the period of time that both of my oldest daughters were completing their exams. I knew it would be stressful for them to deal with her death. So I waited. Eventually we were able to get her to drink and were able to hand feed her tiny pieces of food. Her back legs continually gave out on her as she tried to walk. We all took turns carrying her about. Christmas came and we planned that over the holidays we would as a family go the Vet’s office and put her down; at least that was the plan...Somehow she grew stronger each day and eventually was able to hold her own. She inspires me! Despite her pain and inability to do what she once could, I see the fight in her to get better.

She has not completely recovered and still has a difficult time with stairs and at times requires one of us to carry her. Her spirit is incredible. She is such a happy person; yes she is a person. Sara is a wise old lady trapped in a dog body. Lol. I know that Sara is a dog but I love her like a child. She is kind, gentle, loyal and has unconditional love for every person in this house. The qualities that I wish more humans had. Little Miss Sara we all love you so much.

~Christine~

                                             Little Miss Sara on Christmas Eve 2012

If Only....

It’s funny how the value of someone’s work or words becomes more valuable in death. Sometimes even relationships with individuals grow stronger as well.  I think the value of one’s life can also increase in value after death. A spiritual union so to speak; like the one I have with my grandmother (my dad’s mom). I can honestly say that I never knew her well. Her and my father had several hardships with one another, which at times meant she was not part of our life. What I do remember of her was that she was one classy lady. In the 70’s she traveled to Las Vegas often; she loved to see Elvis. Always in a pencil skirt, blouse and always looked glamorous. When she would visit she always talked about the clubs she visited; and based on how she looked I thought she was famous. I recall thinking and sharing with others that she was a star. She had presence about her that made me want more of her. The way she crossed her long thin legs and held herself was graceful. Even the way she smoked her long cigarettes was romantic. Agnes is one of the most complex and yet intriguing women I know. 

My grandmother passed away just before I celebrated my first year wedding anniversary. I had not had any contact with her for several years at that point. I was sad when I heard of her passing; mostly saddened by the loss of a relationship and how I wished things could have been different for us and her.  Grandma was a bitter woman; scorned by the man who is my dad’s father. He decided that when he was to return from the war he would no longer be in the relationship with her or his son. I had only met my grandfather one time when I was a small child, I believe I was 7 or 8 the first time he visited our home. I do not recall how well he interacted with my father but I remember the excitement I felt seeing an older man that looked just like my dad. I also remember being very happy to know that my dad had a father. 

It was not until Agnes's death that I once again had contact with him. I searched for him to inform him of her death. By the amazing grace of God it turned out that he was residing a mere 5 minute drive from where I lived in Chatham. I contacted him to let him know that Agnes passed away; he was incredibly surprised to know how close by we were. He thanked me for informing him of her passing and asked me to send along his condolences to my father. It was not even an hour after our phone conversation when the door bell rang at my home. My husband came into the kitchen and said “uh ...there is a man here that looks exactly like your dad!” I ran to him and we embraced, he kissed me all over my face. I spent many days with him for several years, and got to know him very well. We spoke of Agnes quite often but he always had rules about what he would speak of and what he wouldn’t. I respected that, and never pushed for the real questions I longed to ask him. I was just grateful that I had him in my life. 

 

My Grandfather did tell me that Agnes was one of the most beautiful women he knew and he bragged of her talent. Even though his relationship with her had ended, he had shared with me some of the letters that she had sent him. I was very surprised to know he kept them. Grandma was a very talented woman; she could sew, knit, crochet, paint, draw and write.  Several years after her passing my mother gave me one of her books. It is titled “This is My Song”. She had written some of the most painful poems I have ever read. She captured every detail of how she felt; living with a broken heart. She never got over losing the love of my grandfather.  Each day I read her poetry, and am reminded of her incredible talent. I feel the words that she has left behind paints an incredible picture of her state of mind; it also makes me understand her. It is not always what she has put to words it is what she does not say that moves me. I am connected to her... 

It is truly a blessing that she recorded her life through her writing. She has left our family with an incredibly valuable gift. The gift is the realization of who she truly was. “This is My Song” mirrors what she hoped and dreamed for her in her life, and unfortunately for her she never reached the goals of which she longed for. If only she had the courage to publish her works. Now that I have one of her books I want to honour her life and her dreams. I will publish her book this year in the honour of completing that dream. I want her legacy to survive; much the same as I wish to in my own life.  I know that her voice was never heard. Despite her bitterness and the scornful way in which at times she treated people I now know that her pain kept her from enjoying her life; with us her only family. I am so very happy that I have taken the time to get to know her; now, and it’s not too late to love her even though she is no longer alive.

The reasons in which I find myself writing blogs is very similar to what Agnes has done with her poetry. I have left my thoughts and opinions so that someday when I pass; my loved ones will have something to look upon and find understanding in the life that I have lived. Each day I find myself thinking of her and how much she has inspired me.  I will leave you with a couple of her thoughts...... Thank you Grandma.

~Christine~

This is My Song

If you think, that I am gay

Be with me now

-Before they lay me away.

If your lips, want to kiss me

Kiss me now

For I know, you’ll miss me

If you are, in love with me

Tell me now

Or in death, let me be.

And if you feel

It’s me that you seek

Tell me now

I beg you to speak

Don’t stand beside

My grave and speak

Your tender words of love

For if you love me

Don’t wait too long

Tell me now

-This, is my song!

~Agnes Berry~

Lonely

Telephone, Telephone

On the wall,

How come there is no one

Who wants to call?

Other phones

I’ve heard ring,

To other folk

Good news did bring.

But you are silent

As you nestle there,

A constant reminder

There is no one to care.

For to have a phone

That never rings,

Is worse than

No phone at all.

For without a phone

You can always think,

Maybe -someone

Wanted to call.

~Agnes Berry~

Black and White TV’s

When I was growing we had a coloured TV. It was in the corner of our living room next to the fire place. In the family room we had a couch that was along the wall and faced our large picture window.  Next to window was my father’s chair. Our living room was not fancy by any means but it served us all well. We did not have cable or satellite TV; we had a rotary antenna the remote control was us, the kids... we also had a portable black and white TV that on occasion I would sneak into my room late at night to watch. I would watch The Honeymooners and Archie Bunker. 

After church on Sunday I couldn’t wait to get home so that I could enjoy Laurel and Hardy with my dad. He would sit in his chair and I would sit at his feet on the floor. Mom was usually making a huge Sunday breakfast while dad and I watched our show. My favourite of all time was the Shirley Temple movies that would play once dad and I were done our show.  I was usually permitted to sit in his chair while I watched the little girl of my dreams on TV.  I wished I could be her. Although her life in the movies was always somehow disadvantaged; she had talent! That little girl inspired me. 

Before I started school I had blonde curly hair, in fact it was so curly that you could not brush it. I recall bouncing up and down as often as I could just to feel the impact of the curls hitting my face. When my dad would leave for work I would always make sure I was up early so that I could say goodbye. The truth is he would like clockwork bend down to kiss me good bye, he would place his hand on the top of my curls and say “ you better work hard today, my little Shirley”, God I loved him.  I remember thinking that I had to work hard at being Shirley, and I would all day long. Dance and sing as hard as I could.  I had pennies taped to the bottom of my shoes and I would for hours on end “tap dance” in the laundry room on the cement tiles. In a 2 foot by 2 foot space I would slam my little feet and sing until one day even my dad could not take it. He picked me up and ripped the pennies off the bottom of my shoes... lol.

As I got older I still enjoyed the black and white shows and more so now as an adult. The movies and actors I adore are not from this time period at all. I like the 40’s and the 50’s very much. Women and men were so glamourous; and life seemed simpler. I like the fact that women stayed home with their children and wore aprons and all that stuff women seem so dead against now. I think the simpler our lives are the better. Back then everyone had their place; the expectations were clear, the rules and procedures of life were set out and easy to follow. Before you get upset I know there were social expectations of women that were unfair and I recognize the repression  that women faced but overall I would give anything to go back and live in that period.

I always refer to “black and white TV days”, especially when I have “life” conversations with my daughters. I encourage each of them to have careers and to have independence, but I also encourage them to strike a balance as a woman. I am a very traditional woman, despite what some of you who know me might think. I am the woman in the house. That is my place. I have created that role and feel comfortable in it. I rise with my husband every morning and start my own day by preparing his clothing for work. I brew coffee, make breakfast and prepare lunches. I serve breakfast to my children before school and force them to take the homemade lunches I make. I bake almost every day. I make their beds and do their laundry. By 9 am my house is clean and I am ready to start thinking about what I will prepare for my dinner. Dinner is mandatory in my home; I insist we eat together regardless of what time in the night that happens. If even for 5 minutes that we are all together for dinner it makes a difference. The sharing that happens between us all about our day helps each of us understand one another a little better. Especially now considering everyone in this house is an adult . For the record even when I was working full time my routine was the same.   

My girls do not have chores, in fact I insist on doing every detail in the house. I figure one day they will move out and have to do all of this in the own home for the rest of their lives. Quite honestly I enjoy every aspect of being a woman /mom in life. Being a stay at home when they were preschool aged was incredible, but certainly more meaningful when they were teenagers. Each day when they arrive home from University, College and as a senior in high school the first thing they do is come to the kitchen to see what I have baked. If I am not home when they arrive I get a text message right away “mom where are you, when will you be back?” I know they love me and love what I do for them. That is what being a mom all is about for me.

A few months ago I started wearing vintage aprons while baking and washing dishes. I never realized how helpful they turned out to be. So I wear one all the time. My children laugh and make fun of me, but the interesting thing is one day they had several of their friends over and the friends were surprised by me wearing an apron as they had never seen one before. That literally blew me away! Seriously it was part of a woman’s attire in all the shows I grew up watching, even my mother wore one. Things have changed so much..... 

It is the same with respect to the way we all live our lives, more hours at work. Dual income earners to pay the mortgage of the bigger house, of the nicer cars, the toys the , the, the, the, ya....... a modest home, one vehicle, enough groceries, very little debt, a one week vacation with the family every summer seems reasonable to me. The unfortunate thing is living that today is unrealistic. Our kids are involved in eighteen thousand things and expect everything that industry today offers. Keeping up with the Jones’ is their reality. Having an expensive brand label or logo is a must to just be “normal”, so off to work we go to not just put the essentials in our homes but to feather the bed of our children so they fit in. I laugh at the parents who cater to all of that and I wonder how many of these kids who have it all will even come close to living the same way as their parents. I know I am getting off topic... but somehow it all is all connected, at least in my own thoughts and frustrations of how we all live today.

It was so much simpler back then! Most days while home I have my music blasting in the house while I write, clean or whatever I find myself doing. The music is usually of Judy Garland or Ella Fitzgerald, or old soul music. I find so much comfort in listening to this genre. I fit in. Pencil skirt, white blouse and my pearls, not to mention my garters....

~Christine~