Twelve Years

In the early morning hours of August 30, 1997, my world was turned upside down. I had just been married about 8 hours prior, which is enough to turn anyone's world on its head. That meant moving to a new home and becoming a step-mom. Again, plenty of upheaval. And I had just begun a new job less than 90 days prior--again, major shifts in my world.

But nothing compared to the call I received the early morning hours of August 30, 1997--the night my mother passed away. She had just been at my wedding those few short hours earlier. The last thing I had said to her was "I'll see you tomorrow, Mom. I love you." We weren't leaving for a honeymoon, since money was tight, so I would have been able to see her. In fact, I did see her, though she didn't see me.

My mom left us with one piece of advice that sets us free--she said "When I'm gone, don't feel obligated to come to my gravesite--I won't be there." So even though it's the anniversary, I feel like it's my choice whether I go to the cemetery, because I honor her memory every day. The things I say are so influenced by who she was that I lose track sometimes of what originates with me and what she instilled. Whenever I see extended family, they comment on just how much I look and sound like her.

So here's to you, Mom: You were the best, and even after 12 years I still miss you every day.

Sis Me

I was born a sister. I already had two siblings at birth, and one followed shortly behind. I had a pretty good handle on what it takes to be a sister. But as I was getting older and didn't have kids of my own, I thought it would be nice to reach out to the community and do something constructive to give back.

So two years ago, I signed up to be an official "Big Sister" through Big Brothers/Big Sisters. I was matched with a young girl, and we have been seeing each other regularly since then. Every week or two I pick her up and we do something together...summer has often had us swimming at my sister's pool, we've been to Chuck E. Cheese a couple of times, or most often we go to the movies.

There have been ups and downs. I have lost two jobs in the past two years, forcing me to limit my outings with her for budget reasons. Her mother, who had signed her and her sister up for the program moved out of state, forcing the girls to move in with their father, 20 miles away. Then I moved, so my home is actually 50 miles from hers now. The program actually limits the distance to 10 miles, to ease the burden on the "Big". However, I love my "Little", and I continue to see her even though the distance is inconvenient.

I knew that I would be making a difference in her life, and I'm glad that I have been a constant for her during phases of her life that seemed in perpetual flux. I didn't realize that she would make a difference to me. My refrigerator is covered in art that she has made for me. She freely hugs me and tells me she loves me...she introduces me to her friends and confides her secret crushes. She wants to share her snacks with me at the movies because she is a "big sister" and is used to splitting things, though I desperately try to give her things that she can claim as her own.

There are many ways to impact the world. You could say one little girl won't make all that much of a difference. But I'd say "It makes a difference to this one." And to this Big girl, too.

District 9 kicked my a$$

I just saw District 9 tonight. I knew it was getting rave reviews, and I knew to expect a bit of gore. I don't normally tolerate that too well, but the reviews (including the linked one in my title, from my friend Luke Y. Thompson) were too encouraging to ignore. Plus, I knew my boyfriend would love it...he's a fan of aliens.

What I didn't know, and couldn't have anticipated, was that it moved me to tears more than once. It's so easy to marginalize "other"-ness in people, and to treat them as less than simply because they are different than.

District 9 graphically exposed what that marginalization looks like. The example of man's inhumanity was disturbing, and made me weep for my race. I am moved beyond words, and encourage anyone who happens upon this post to go see this film.

Festering Loneliness

So there's a guy in Pennsylvania who was lonely, and after too many years of being lonely, he went on a shooting rampage. Because, somehow, that would solve his loneliness...? No, because it would vent his anger at the supposed instigators--women.

I'm not going to talk about gun control, I'm not going to talk about this particular whack job, I'm not even going to be so callous as to say that this made me glad I don't go to the gym. What I am going to say is that there's Loneliness, and then there is Festering Loneliness.

Everyone, at some point in their life, will experience Loneliness. You can be in a relationship, you could be in the middle of a huge crowd of people, or you may actually be alone, but that sense of being bereft will enter in, and physical proximity to people will not cure it. It may last, it may flit by...some personalities, I think, are more prone to loneliness, perhaps because they are deeply aware of their own individuality and the difficulty there is in truly connecting to another person.

But most people will move on, find that friend or lover, sometimes even a piece of art that lets them know they are not alone, they are not adrift, there is an anchor.

However, some people experience Festering Loneliness. They never seem to make that connection, they never grab on to the lifeline that pulls them ashore. They stay adrift, not seeing any way out. And it gnaws. It eats away at their soul, till at some point they lash out, in pain and fear and rage and desperation.

They don't all lash out with weapons, though those are the ones that make the news. I think it is like the experiments done with animals...you cannot keep them out of their natural conditions for too long without them displaying signs of mental disorders...neuroses, psychosis, rage...

And the natural conditions for humans is to be in relation to other humans. Festering Loneliness is a Catch-22...you are lonely and feel isolated, you brood on it and dwell on it, then you become a brooding person and people tend to shy away from you, which isolates you more...and so on.

I'm not sure what the answer is. We cannot force people to associate with those who are harboring a Festering Loneliness. Counseling would probably help, but to receive help you have to admit you need it, and most brooders have determined that they are not at fault for their status, it's all those people who are to blame.

And that, really, is my point. Whenever any of us starts to become aware that we are setting ourselves into a position of "me against the world", we need to pull ourselves up short and realize that we ourselves are the only common denominator in this equation. We are the only person we have control of, anyhow, so that's the best (and only) place to get to work.

Remembrance of eyes past

I spent yesterday with some extended family...aunts, uncles and cousins from my dad's side of the family. I haven't seen them in about 5 years. They live about 165 miles away...not an impossible distance, but not exactly convenient for quick visits.

My mom's side of the family mostly live within 50 miles of each other, so get togethers are more often. And most of dad's family stayed close to each other, except for my dad, who made the trip south and set up his life in OC. So our visits with them were not as frequent.

It's been over 17 years since my dad passed away, long enough for me to forget many things about him. One thing that this trip forcefully reminded me of was his eyes. As I stood talking to his next-younger brother, it was all I could do not to cry; he has exactly the same shade and shape of eyes as my dad. Different voice, different height and appearance, but the same brilliant blue eyes.

My uncle is normally a quiet man, one who sits and listens more than speaks. But yesterday we stood and chatted, and I found myself staring, like I was going back in time and looking right at Dad. Granted, all his siblings have lovely blue eyes, but my uncle had the exact same shape and skin coloring too, so it showed up the family resemblance even more.

It makes me sad to think how long it's been since I saw those bright blue eyes crinkle in merriment at his latest joke, or watching his grandkids play. So many things leave us in this life...it was nice to have the reminder, even though it hurt.