Zebrareader: The Quest to be Healthier

Cancer Free and Back

2012-01-07T10:56:00.000-08:00

Hello Everyone !

I am back. All surgeries have been completed, and I am cancer free. What a great year 2012 is proving to be. I had just worked on staying alive. I lost parts of me that had the cancer. Luckily, I do not need chemotherapy. I stopped writing in here. I changed email accounts. I got a Kindle so I can start buying books electronically because I don't have room in my home for actual books.

Pain and being tired

2011-10-31T19:35:00.000-07:00

I am getting better but I still feel tired when I go out to do some shopping. I also feel pain around my incision although not as much as I did a week ago. It is evident at least to my mind that I am having trouble moving around but some people really enjoy giving me a hard time and many others help me out. I have to move slowly. Some sales clerk at the Barnes and Noble Bookstore really was rude to me today. Needless to say, I will not be renewing my membership in January but it isn't because of her cold and impolite behavior. I just don't shop there anymore as I did in Redding, California. I shop far more at Powell's. I was there to buy a journal as Barnes and Noble have a better selection than Powell's.

I went to Grocery Outlet to get some needed supplies and there were no problems at all. I asked the clerk to find out if they had something for sure instead of guessing because I just could not hop around the store like I used to do before. They ran around for me and looked in the places they usually stocked certain things to tell me whether or not they had it. I was very grateful.

I got a land line telephone yesterday and except for a collection agency who is calling for someone I never heard of before, it is wonderful having the telephone. I called them back and they promised to stop calling after today. I have never been late paying my bills and never had an agency call five or more times per day. I had no idea they did things like that. I can't imagine such behavior would make people pay their bills sooner. I would think it would make people file bankruptcy. If I did not give out my new number, I would have asked for a new number.

I am back

2011-10-20T05:52:00.000-07:00

I am out of extended care and it is wonderful being home. I was in a wonderful place after being in the Portland VA Hospital. The care at the hospital was good although some of the nursing staff had trouble understanding that it was my recovery and not theirs. The food at the hospital also helped me lose weight for I just could not eat it. One percent milk is very dismal for me although I drank it along with the coffee because as my mother always said, I have a great imagination. It is good to be home drinking my own coffee again.

The extended care facility had trouble with gluten free but they learned and everything was fine. The food was so much better there than the hospital. I lost less weight there. I am still overweight so I am not worried. The staff at the facility could not be more friendlier and helpful. I bought some more night gowns from a catalog that they had. At first, they put me in a room with another woman which was fine except she watched TV all of the time. After a while, I was going to go home because I could not sleep at night. I also learned what a waste land daytime TV is. They moved me to a room of my own and it was wonderful since it was a quiet part of the facility. Finally, my phone charger came from my son and I was able to listen to music off my phone using earphones. The view from the window was wonderful. I had my books and I was happy.

I am still not done with surgery, but the worst is over. I still need to lose half of my thyroid. I am on over the counter pain meds now. Before my stitches were taken out, I had to have some heavy duty medications. I don't need them and haven't since coming home. Again, it is so good to be home.

There are some problems at the Portland VA Hospital, but the doctors were great. The care facility was also a great place to recuperate.

TV watchers and non-TV watchers should never be placed in the same room. Staff members were sneaking in there at 2 AM to turn off the TV and I was in the lobby trying to get some sleep. Again, they tried to get special earphones for the lady but she would not use them as she said they hurt her ears. It did not take long for the facility to move me. I am very glad of that.

Nightmares

2011-09-25T12:20:00.000-07:00

Recently, I have had a string of nightmares every night I have gone to bed. I know it is because of the pending surgery on Tuesday, September 27, 2011. My stomach was so upset this morning when I woke up that I was afraid to have my morning coffee, so I waited until noon. It felt great to be able to drink it.

One of the things I cannot do is change what is happening to me. If I want to survive a bit longer on this planet I must go through the surgery. I have done it before several times. It doesn't get easier when I have to face it again.

It is amazing(at least to me) how many times I have to tell my VA doctors what surgeries I have had over the years, but I do because they were all done at the VA and they are all in my medical record. It is in the computer. I have long suspected that no one reads anything. They give you these questionnaires to fill out and the last one I filled out I said to the nurse: "Why do we fill these things out since no one reads them?" She just nodded. It is all busy work meant to give the patient confidence that the doctors know what they are doing and not give the medical providers any trouble. I am going to make sure that the doctors know which lung to operate on by marking it with a magic marker. I learned to do that in California. I would hate to wake up and find out they took a lobe out of the left lung. It 's not that they can put it back.

The nurse in the pre-opt session asked if I wanted to see a priest before I went into the surgery. I said yes and was astonished that she asked.

"Is it possible?" I asked her.

"Oh yes, we will have a priest for you before surgery."

"I guess in Portland you can find a Buddhist priest," I said. "I don't care what denomination he or she is from. She can be a nun for that matter."

The nurse looked at me in puzzlement. "Buddhist?"

"Yes, it is written all over my records. I have been a Buddhist for almost 40 years."

As I wrote earlier, no one reads the medical records. I probably won't get a priest before my surgery although my hopes were raised somewhat.

The wind has died down outside which is a shame. I was enjoying it as it blew the leaves, big gold ones past my patio windows. I watched the squirrels running along the branches preparing for winter which as I understand does happen here in Portland. The crows were up this morning cawing and complaining about something that was happening in their world. I wonder if it helps to complain sitting on a branch and knowing only another crow understands and everyone else would throw something if they could at you. Maybe, another crow would not listen anyhow which is part of the complaint.

The only thing that makes me feel good is being home at the end of the year and both surgeries are over and I am getting well and there are no other procedures to do except recover. That would be nice. I have plenty of books, two computers, and a freezer full of food and some soup in the cardboard. The social workers at the VA seem ready to work with me which was more than they were at the other VA were I was at but to be fair I was at a rural one. Portland seems to have their "ducks in a row" better than Redding did on that score. The Palo Alto VA Hospital was the worst VA Hospital that I have ever been. I hope it remains that way. I want all of my nightmares to be ones I dream about at night and not ones I experience.

Fairy Tales

2011-09-23T12:43:00.000-07:00

I just finished reading "The Ice Queen", a novel by Alice Hoffman (Back Bay: 2005) and it is obvious that it is heavily influenced by the fairy tale. The fairy tale is an important part of our literary history that began first as an oral tradition in all cultures and then later were recorded. Hoffman took the fairy tale that some may dismiss as unimportant and gave it the meaning it deserves as she applied the stories to people, the characters, in this wonderful novel.

This book deals with many issues including death, life and love. It uses fairy tales to spirit the story along as the vehicle about an Ice Queen who is like all ice queens in the fairy tales we have heard or read, if one is lucky, and then uses it to tell the story of how we are in this life to share love and meaning in a life that seems on the surface without meaning.

I heard or read somewhere that we are the product of the choices we made in our life. Sometimes in life we make choices or we think we make choices only to find out that we really did not know all of the facts and circumstances. We find that there is more order in the world than we thought. I wrote somewhere that when I took literature classes in college the professors would make fun of those who thought there were things in life that were important such as love, relationships, meaning and such things. "There is none of that." They would say at their lectures and like a good student new to college I tried to hard to incorporate this into my life; but down deep I knew this was not true to me. There is meaning in life or it seemed to be. The protagonist thought there no meaning but found also there was.

I grew up in an household where parents did not read to their children. However, I had a wonderful aunt who took kids to the library. Ah, that was a wonderful thing to do for my parents did not do that either. She lived in Grants Pass,Oregon and the library was located in the basement at that time in a three story stone building that was the city hall. The library was full of old books and as I discovered full of books that had fairy tales so that the summer when I was 10 years old I read all of them. I remember feeling a degree of shame that at my age I seemed to need to read fairy tales although I knew there was no Santa Claus and no magic. And, I didn't just read them, I devoured them.

Growing up in the family that I did, no one took an interest in me. That seems sad as I took a great interest in my own children when they were growing up; but there are advantages for I was free to do what I wanted to do. In that old library, the fairy tales were in the adult section of the library, and I freely read whatever book I wanted to read. I had to read whatever book was available although in Grants Pass European tales were the vogue then. I now read folk tales from many cultures.

Reading Hoffman's book, I noticed the echo of many of those fairy tales in her book. She used many including other countries such as Greek mythology. I think I loved fairy tales because the hero was often female although the goal of the girl was to obtain the prince which did not sound completely true to me as I had reality all around me in the form of an alcoholic father who freely bounced not only my mother but us kids around. My mother talked about him in the past when he was her prince. The man married to my aunt was also a prince but he often hit her too. I did not want that for myself. Culture was still teaching us girls that the boy/man/prince was our only hope for a happy life. I enjoyed the tales but I was confused by them as well.

Hoffman reached down into the subconscious into those fairy tales that we were all taught either consciously or subconsciously and brought them into the light in this book. That is what a good writer does. She performed this task admirably. The reader doesn't have to agree with the premise of the writer but it has to be logical. Indeed, during my trip through the book I had doubts whether or not I would agree; but I did end up on the same page as the writer. I like the way the author resolved the issues in the book nicely. The choices of the characters also mirror those we all make in life. Those were addressed very well too.

When I think of fairy tales, I also think of Princess Diana and her end in a tunnel in Paris, France. Her prince turned out to be a dud. It is good not to take fairy tales too literally. I remember reading something by Joseph Campbell who said that if you read the Bible, you should view what Jesus said as a metaphor. He was a expert on fairy tales as well. I think that is what should be done on all stories and that is to view them as metaphors. Heavens knows, maybe the stories our kids tell us should be viewed as such. Some of those stories were duds but that is another subject.

I know I grew up angry with the world. It helps to know that there are old stories, tales to help us and guide us through the trials and tribulations on what befall us. I had rough beginning but I know others had a rougher time and others had it better. It is all relative. It's like climbing the stairs and noticing that there are handrails and that we can hold on to them to make it easier when we climb up. That is what those tales are, handrails. Sometimes, we have to adjust the things we were taught to believe in as we mature to fit the world we are discovering and the process of this never stops as I am learning now.

The main protagonist says in the book: "...The way to trick death. Breathe in. Breathe out. Watch as it all rises upward, black and blue into the even bluer sky." That is going to be one of my handrails on Tuesday when I have my surgery.

Getting Ready

2011-09-22T17:53:00.001-07:00

I have been getting ready for my surgery. It has not been easy, and I still have lots to do. I have my mail forwarded to my mail box. I have been trying to do all of my wash. I have been trying to get my "Healthy Veterans" program going so I will know what my current appointments are because my mail is somewhere in limbo because of the mail change. I have arranged for a friend to pay my rent on time and gave him my rent checks. I can't use my banking on line services because I could be late and that is a 75 dollar charge. I am trying to eat all of the food in the house that is perishable. I have gotten books to read and my radio on line changed so I can listen to it on my android phone. I have my ear buds so I can block television sound should that be necessary. I hate television and never listen to it except for some news programs such as PBS. I am severely limited to how much I can listen to it anyhow. I have returned all library books and DVD's.

I am scared to death, but the surgery must go on. Usually, I have been rushed into surgery on a emergency basis. This is the first time I am not. Still, I don't know what they will find. I won't be able to blog as I won't have my lap top. Then when I am done with the lungs and fully recovered, I will then have surgery for my thyroid and lose half of it as well. Hopefully, by the end of the year all will be done and resolved. I will be home recovering and getting ready for 2012.

Three-Legged Blues

by Jane Hirshfield

Always you were given
one too many, one too few.
What almost happens, doesn't.
What might be lost, you'll lose.
The crows will eat your garden.
Weeds will get what's left.
Your cats will be three-legged,
your house's mice be blessed.
One friend will take your husband,
another wear your dress.
No, it isn't what you wanted.
It isn't what you'd choose.
Your floors have always slanted.
Your roof has paid its dues.
Life delivered you a present—
a too-small pair of shoes.
What almost happened, won't now.
What can be lost, you'll lose.

"Three-Legged Blues" by Jane Hirshfield, from Come, Thief. © Alfred A. Knopf, 2011. Reprinted without permission but hoping it will be excused.

Temple Grandin

2011-09-15T09:44:00.000-07:00

I saw a film about Temple Grandin the other day that was wonderful. It was called "Temple Grandin" starring Claire Danes as Dr. Grandin. It is the story of a woman who gained a Phd in animal husbandry and revolutionized the way animals are treated in the meat industry. She did it all using the prism of autism.

I first came across Grandin through the writings of Oliver Sachs. I then read her books. Even with that background, there was a lot of Grandin that I did not know about that was in this film. Although she had a lot of help especially her mother, family and teachers, Grandin was determined to carve out a life for herself and to open the doors that she saw in front of her. She became a role model for others with autism and for those who work with autism.

She designed a special "machine" that kept her calm when she was agitated by the rejection of non-autistic people. She had to learn how to get alone with them and to read their reactions and to interact with people in such a way so she could get along with them. The film also showed how mean people could be when others showed behavior that was different from the mainstream of others.

There are now books out there written by people with autism. Grandin was out there when there was no one explaining what this particular way of thinking came to the public attention. It even showed the earlier viewpoint that autism was caused by "refrigerator moms" which was never proven but repeated over and over again especially by experts. Grandin's mother was accused of not giving enough love and affection to her daughter. Her mother was also told to but her daughter in an institution which she refused to do. Those institutions for the most part do not exist anymore.

Those who are different from the norm have to fight to get a place among society and Grandin fought hard to become a function and productive member. This film shows it admirably. It won many awards for it and was released in 2010 and is available on DVD. I really recommend it.

Could Harry Potter Be a Girl?

2011-09-10T15:35:00.000-07:00

I had a small get together at my place yesterday, and we all watched Harry Potter films although all of us had read the books. One question that came out of the small party was could the author, J.K. Rowland, have written the same series of books and had the same amount of success if she had made Harry a girl instead of a boy? The overwhelming consensus was no.

Potter was a boy that his parents sacrificed their lives to protect and other people have gone out of their way to teach and nurture as he grows into a man. He has many trials and he excels at all of these road blocks that life puts in his way. He defeats the powers of evil and grows into the man who knows that he must avenge the man who has killed his parents. People follow him and he has others who believe in him and stand behind him. Some of them even lay down their lives to help defeat the powers of the Dark Side. At the end, Lord Voltemort lies dead and good wins. Would everyone have done that to follow a girl?

Harry Potter by virtue of his manhood has the authority to instill in himself the power of his right to take on the fight to defeat evil. No one questioned his right to do this. After all, He Who Must Not Be Named killed his parents and had been trying to kill him from the beginning of his life. A girl would have to find a champion to stand by her and to protect her from the powers of darkness; yet, there would not be anything different between a Harry or Harriot Potter. So, what makes those two different? She can be strong, a capable warrior but she would be a girl and a woman. It would not work in fiction.

The Harry Potter series is a coming of age story of a boy. What is a coming of age story of a girl? Is it a girl who grows up, maybe goes to school but gets married and becomes a mother and wife? Harry eventually gets married and becomes a father but it is not the most important part of his story but in a girl's life it is. Can there be a story of a girl without a prince charming? In real life, there are plenty of stories of girls who get fooled and find themselves alone with a child and shunned by everyone. It is a girl's shame to be unmarried and thrown aside by someone who had loved her and walked out. Barack Obama's mother had to raise her kids by herself because her husband walked out on her. Bill Clinton's mother had to have her child on her own because her husband walked out on her and she married again to someone who beat her. Fairy tale stories are often in fiction and not in reality. Why is it that female heroes rarely in fiction? Why is it that a woman does not find fulfillment unless she finds a man? How come Harry Potter could never be Harriet Potter?

You would think that the small party at my place yesterday was full of women. Not so. There were men and woman there. At first, some did not think it made a difference if Harry was a man or a woman. The more we talked, the more it was evident. In today's society it makes a change in the dynamics in the plot and in life too. Someday, maybe it won't.

Nothing Happens To Me

2011-09-06T16:03:00.000-07:00

In the first part of the new Sherlock Holmes series," Study in Pink", Dr. John Watson is being told to write his experiences in his journal by his therapist. She says: "John, you are a soldier and it is going to be difficult to transition into a civilian. You need to write down everything that happens to you." John looks up at her and says: "Nothing happens to me." This was just before he meets Sherlock Holmes.

Sometimes in reality, the same happens. When I started this blog, I would have said the same. Nothing really happens to me. I thought the adventures were over for me. I was wrong. John was wrong. The adventures just keep happening. Of late, I have moved to Portland, Oregon. I am now fighting cancer on two fronts. I am scheduled for surgery this month and will be going to the hospital and a convalescent home for a while. Who knows what will happen next.

Is There Meaning In Life?

2011-09-05T13:03:00.000-07:00

A friend of mine named Ted who I have written about is reading a book I told him about, "The Elegance of the Hedgehog" by Muriel Barbery. He is a smarty pants and is reading it in the original French. He was in New York City and bought it in a bookstore that specializes in books in French. I finished the book last night to my sorrow for I did not want that book to end. I loved it. Ted is still reading it.

He gave me a call this morning to asked me a question that the book asks:" is there meaning in life?" That stumped me. I had to admit that life has meaning for me but whether or not it has for other people I don't know. I had never given it a thought. I used to believe the stuff professors in the universities I attended taught that there was no meaning in life and that anyone who thought so was deluded. Later, I discovered that for me there were plenty of meaning. I guess I got so turned off by the professors that I became reluctant to ascribe meaning to anyone life. Ted agreed for he said he found meaning in his life through the 12-step program and had been told by many "New Atheists" that what he was seeing as God and meaning was illusions. He said if they want to see God as an illusion in their life they are certainly free to do so but he is equally free to see God and meaning in his life.

On the other hand, Ted says, when he has book signings, he has to contend also with Fundamental Christians who feel he has the concept of God and the meaning he puts into his life all wrong. He has been picketed several times by some who are angry that he feels no shame for being who he is and that is gay. But getting back to the subject does life have meaning or does it have meaning if we want it to have meaning? I mean is it an option? Neither one of us knew. Again, both of us are very reluctant to ascribe a certain kind of reality to others that we find works for us. Can life be different for each of us? Can it have meaning for those who want it to have it and not for those who don't? I found that the godless stark black and white reality of some people's vision just did not exist for me. I find life to be very beautiful even during the worst of times. I have had people who threatened me with anger and wanted to knock off my "rosy sunglasses" off. Goodness.

Sometimes, I write these posts and conclude at the end that this is my answer,but I don't have one except each of us have to find their own answers and not jam something down someone's throats. Ted said that is true. It took him a long time to find his joy and peace and he is happy that he stopped looking in a bottle or some other chemical high. Life is good these days, he concluded. That is not to say that he doesn't have those down days, he said. When he does, he gives himself permission to be sad and then finds out why and then goes on to something else. The last time he was sad was when he found out he was going bald a lot faster than he expected. He is one of those people, he said, that does not look all that great bald. Not everyone looks like Patrick Stewart. Then he had to look further and find that he was really sad because he was growing older and that someday he will die. That really shook him up. Then he said he had a great espresso at some coffee shop and met a friend there and went on with his life. The meaning of life is a great espresso. For me, it is watching autumn come in the trees from the window as I sit in my recliner in my living room. It's different for everyone.

Beautiful Day

2011-09-02T18:38:00.000-07:00

I looked out the windows of my place and thought how beautiful it looked. Autumn is definitely in the air and I thought with the breezes and the falling leaves it was fun to watch the passing of a late summer day. Children and adults with their swimming suits were going up and down the stairs in the distance on their way to the apartment complex swimming pool. Luckily, it is heated for it never got above 70 degrees F. here.

I got a call from the Veterans Hospital in response to my phone call for information about my phone call asking for results about my needle biopsy of my thyroid. No cancer cells were found but the radiology doctor said that this result was not a guarantee that I do not have cancer. They would have to take out half of the thyroid that has the mass and do a study of it to know for sure. I asked if it isn't do they put it back and she said no. I knew the answer, but I agreed with her recommendation that it needs to come out. I have been getting cancer since my discharge from the military. I have no health issues except for the small cancer in my lung. Maybe they could do both at once.

Looking at this day, it is full of life. It is full of the promise of a longer life than this year alone. I have a feeling I will survive this particular trial. Someday, I will run out of track. I have my fingers crossed. I stopped trying to control what is going to happen each day and just take it one day at a time and let what happens, happen. I have a close relationship with my Spiritual Center and nothing will change that, not even death. I have been dead before as we all have been before we were born. I can do it again.

Autumn

2011-08-30T10:31:00.000-07:00

I have been watching the leaves falling outside my patio glass doors this morning. First, I saw two leaves fall and then a strong breeze pushed a bunch of golden leaves past the steps that are not far from me. The green trees now have golden streaks in them and for me they seem like gold for I now know if I did not move to Portland things would have turned out badly for me in Redding. I may have gotten my house purged last year but it created in me a need to leave and I would never have gotten the medical help I have been receiving here in Portland.

Yesterday, I learned that a medical problem that started about three or so years ago may be a sign of thyroid cancer. My doctor gave me some medication to control the problem but never investigated the cause. When the problem got worse, he increased the medication. The doctors here investigated the cause. I am going for a needle biopsy today after two other tests showed problems. Many people have survived thyroid cancer if that what it is. The lung cancer is in its early stages. Again, the problem was not looked into.

I am not saying that I got bad care there in Redding. They saved my life and caught ovarian cancer which is a big killer of women. I was exposed to Agent Orange in the military and I have had problems since. The Veterans Administration have done well with me on that score but I have had to be my own advocate.

The sun just came out. It is so beautiful out there right now. I can hear birds singing including crows who are cawing. Now, it is hard to see the golden leaves in the bright green leaves but I know they are there. September is hard on the heels of August. When I was growing up, this was my favorite time of the year. I grew up in San Diego and trees were not all that common especially when it was time for the leaves to fall. I had to look hard for the signs. Here in Portland, it is very apparent. The signs of life is also very apparent for me as well.

Meditation

2011-08-27T08:41:00.000-07:00

Knowing I will get old, I breathe in
Knowing I can't escape old age, I breathe out

Plum Village had the above meditation chant on my Facebook this morning. It is a good one to use in formal meditation. No one can escape old age unless death intervenes. You say it over and over again so the self can accept this reality.

A friend told me that one of child's playmate's died during the week. She was trying to explain this to her daughter. It was a two layer thing as she had to explain that her friend had died and what death was and explaining death to a nine year old is not easy. It isn't at any age even an adult. Her family had the child in question over the house on many occasions so all of them had gotten to know her well. She was a delightful child but a troubled one. The second layer involved the reason for her death. Her father had killed her in a dispute with the mother. That was very difficult to explain to her daughter. How do you explain that a care taker, a parent had done such a thing? He had killed himself later.

This was not about old age. Yes, it was. For a similar thing happened to a childhood friend when I was growing up too. We all leave friends behind in childhood as this daughter of a friend was learning now. It is part of life to experience death and to experience many things such as aging. We all have mirrors. We will all watch ourselves age from that childhood to old age.

There is no way we can avoid it, but we can deny this truth for many years. We deny death as we deny many things. If we are men, we can shave with our eye closed. Not all women wear make-up. We can avoid the mirror. We can avoid the friends that are no longer there, the relatives that have disappeared. Then one day it hits us like a bolt out of the sky. We are old, our hair is grey, our joints and muscles ache. Sales clerks start giving us senior citizen discounts.

Wouldn't it be better to slowly ease our way into older age? We have all seen people fighting old age with heavier and heavier make-up, dyed hair, fashionable and young looking clothes and more time spent at the gym and still having young children calling one grandma or grandpa. I know people who instruct their grandchildren to call them by their first names. It all catches up with us. The constant questioning: "How old do you think I look?"

I watched an episode of Midsomer Murders and it was set in an convalescent home. One resident said that when you get old, you become invisible. When people started to die in the home no one thought anything about it because the residents were elderly in the first place. Even the doctor got irritated with the people who lived there and their complaints. Culture and society places a lesser value on the older citizen. That does not mean the individual has to. I can't change the world but I can change how I view myself.

There is a lot of life that happens every day we have to strive to accept. As a child, we see death coming in early to take our playmates, relatives and even parents. This continues to happen as we grow older. There is so much of life to accept on a daily basis that I don't want to accept everything because it means so much more. Growing old means the death of dreams of so many things, of endless plans of living in places beyond the horizon, of romance and being young and beautiful, of living in a thousand fairy tales that I am the heroine. It means seeing the end of things of what must of been in the eyes of that little girl just before her father killed her.

It is a rough life out there, but as a zen master said once to Joseph Campbell, life is just what it is and nothing more or nothing less, life is. I don't understand what happens everyday and I have to accept that. I have to accept the fact I don't know a lot of things but what I do know is that I am getting older and nothing will stop that except death. Nothing will stop me aging. Breath in. I know I will get old. Breath out. My life consists of this moment. It is a small room, this moment and it is all that I have, all I should have, all any of us will ever have.

Listening

2011-08-26T09:56:00.000-07:00

I have both Facebook and Twitter accounts and because of that I tend to read articles and essays that I would normally not read. I read one on the art of listening and it was from Plum Village in France. It said that listening to other people was part of one's spiritual path. I had not considered that before or maybe I forgot.

I am also reading a book on autism, "Be Different, Adventures of a Free-Range Aspergian: With Practical Advice For Aspergians, Misfits, Families and Teachers" by John Elder Robison (Crown Archeype: 2011). The reader might wonder why I brought this up but this book by an author who suffers from a form of autism explains why he had to learn to listen and have an imaginary stop watch in his head so he could listen to people and not tell people all kinds of interesting facts in the first 30 seconds after meeting them.

I am a writer and often spend time alone writing and sketching in a journal or writing on a laptop. A laptop does not answer back and is a very willing listener. I get used to just downloading what I have to say without listening to anyone other than myself. I miss out on a lot of things that way. I do listen to my grandchildren but I had trouble listening to one of my children because he talked about technical matters and I have zero interest in anything of a mechanical nature. He would get so frustrated talking to me. I had to learn the hard way that I was being unfair to him. I was his mother and I had no interest in what interested him the most. I am better now and listen to him more.

I listened to my other child because he talked about literature and the arts. I am fascinated with those subjects. Inadvertently, I increased the sibling rivalry between them. Again this was not a good thing and it was my fault. There is a natural amount of it between brothers and sisters in the first place. When I was growing up, my parents did not want to listen to me which hurt me but they did not want to listen to my other siblings either. My father did not want to listen to anyone but himself and even that he did not do a very good job.

Listening involves listening to oneself. Many people forget that. I am doing that nowadays. I am trying to do that as honestly as I can which means hearing what is really said and not what I want to hear. I also listen to others and look like I am listening when I do. It is not only polite to do so, but also a very compassionate thing to do. I remember times in my life when people really listened to me. As the kids say, it is awesome when someone really listens to you. I need to do the same to others.

I read a great deal and sometimes I think that if it isn't in a book, it isn't worth listening to. That is so wrong. I need to put the magic glue on my lips and listen to someone and ask questions if I don't understand some aspect of it. Of course when the conversation is so practiced that you know he or she has told this same story many times it takes great amounts of patience to stay with the talker. That is when I ask questions to break the sameness of it. That does not mean I have to stay with someone who won't stop, won't consider the listener.

There is a Star Trek movie in which Mr. Spock's mother asks her son: "What do you feel?" To break the stream of someone's story that has been told countless times I have asked what do you feel about that? It is usually enough for them to stop the sing song words and say what they are feeling about the story they are telling and some real conversation gets started. If not, then I go somewhere else.

I know someone who always asks the same questions in a conversation but it works. What did you like about that experience the most, the worst? I don't know if he is really interested in the answers but it seems as if he is. It usually gets the other person thinking too. Listening is part of a conversation in which there is an exchange of ideas and information. No one wants to be part of a one sided conversation. That was what Robison wrote he learned from his experiences in talking with people.

When I worked for the employment department for the state of California, I did learn that the best thing I could possibly do was to listen to the people who came in to see me. They weren't just looking for work but also they were in pain after losing a job. Some men burst into tears. I tried very hard to stop this because I was a woman and I did not want them to be seen in tears in public because they would feel bad about it later. I did want them to feel they were being believed, listened to sympathetically. It is scary to be working in one job for 19 years and suddenly lose it a year before they could get their pension. They would blame themselves but it was their employers who wanted to save money. Employees also feel hurt by the callous behavior of people and companies they worked for so many years. Listening was essential. Then as I left that job I fell out of that skill of listening.

It was Plum Village that reminded me that is was part of my Spiritual Path to listen because it was a compassionate thing to do. When you do compassionate things, you become kinder and gentler towards your fellow human beings. It is a cycle of good and it helped me to be a better person and in turn a happier person. And by listening, I learned things about people. I also became calmer and took things slower. I started to remember what I knew before about being an active listener. I was a reader which is a form of listening. I am trying to put what I have learned into use these days. I don't want to leave this earth a worse place than I found it.

#NeverApologizeFor

2011-08-23T09:43:00.000-07:00

Every so often, there are a flurry of postings on a certain headings on Twitter. This morning was for "#NeverApologizeFor". I twitted a few things about not apologizing for liking certain things such as reading and listening to particular kinds of music such as classical. Most of call I think it is important to be who one is without apologizing.

I put down in my Twitter that one should own up to who they are. Some interpret this to mean their sexual orientation and it might mean that to them although it does not mean that to me. Some people think it means being rude to some people, but I don't think it means that for me. I like to not say things to people I don't mean. If people are gossiping about someone, I like the freedom to go somewhere else. I think gossip can be vicious and mean. It means saying things that are compassionate and kind as I did when I worked at a regular job for the state of California and getting criticized for it. I got awfully tired of being called a "bleeding heart liberal" for simply trying to understand why people do certain things. This is the way I am. I am not going to apologize for it. I just turn around and went somewhere else. I don't have to listen to it.

I love to read and television is boring to me. I am not going to apologize for it. I know there are many people who find my interests dull. So be it. I love museums and art shows interesting and exciting. There is room for all of us in this world and don't understand why some people have to tell others what they think of their interests. If you want to do things that I find boring to me, then do them and leave me alone to do what I enjoy. Heavens knows there are plenty of people doing things I don't like as there are people who enjoy being together that I don't like. I don't see why anyone should apologize for certain likes and dislikes.

I remember being on a train where one has to share the dinning room tables. The train was going through Nevada and I was seated at a table with a couple of senior citizens. I was on my way to a training sessions for my regular job in Denver, Colorado. I was astonished by the beauty of the mountains and desert. I said as much when I sat down. The senior passenger got very angry at me and told me that I did not know what I was talking about. Then the waiter was very nice to me as he gave me a very good breakfast and I tipped him. The man got mad at me for tipping and again told me that. I was in a good mood and was not going to be talked out of it. I told him that I always tipped the waiters, and I found the scenery beautiful. I just ate my breakfast and worked very hard to ignore him. The wife never said anything.

I don't think any of us should apologize for anything unless we make a mistake and err on the side of bad manners. I have done that. I have bitten someone's head off, so to speak, because I was low on sugar as I was the other day. I apologized for that. I still think I was right in saying that the person in question needed more training on her computer and never said I was wrong only that I should not have been so negative. She discovered the error herself and corrected it.

I love Twitter because of the chances we have to Twitter about different things ever so often. I rarely have the chance to add my own posting to a subject. I sometimes put down the name of the book that I am reading on Friday. Every so often they have something that is fun to add one's own two cents worth as they did today. I read what other people post. Others have posted writing such things as never apologize for telling the truth or being bigger than you are. I am not sure I understand all of the posts but it is fun to read.

Midsomer Murders and Art Fair

2011-08-22T16:47:00.000-07:00

This past weekend I went to Silverton, Oregon for their Art Festival. The weather was perfect for it and I went with dear friends and had a great time. There were some wonderful artists and photographers who were displaying their wares. I bought several coffee mugs and one friend interviewed someone for a magazine. I met some very interesting people including the mayor of Silverton.

When I wasn't at the Silverton Art Festival, I watched several episodes of Midsomer Murders off of Netflix on my laptop. It got warm in Portland and I enjoyed the coolness of my apartment which never went above 70 degrees F. I had not watched it before. It is a series made in England under the wide umbrella of the BBC. It is a beautifully filmed series and they used very well done scripts. Each episode starts with a brief scene of the murder and the rest of the series is spent in solving who did it. I am in the early part of the series which has as its main detective, Tom Barnaby and his partner, Troy. There are plenty of red herrings to go around.

What I like most about this series is that the murders has many layers like life and all reasons are addressed and looked into until all questions are explained. Some of the plots were weak on explanations but that was rare. For example a elderly woman murders a man so a will could be found so an innocent woman would not be blamed for a murder and her unborn child not get his inheritance. There is no real connection between the elderly woman and the woman and the elderly woman except a sense of justice. The other scripts are far more stronger than that. There is also humor and some strong friendships and even love between Chief Inspector Barnaby and his wife.

I don't watch that much television but what I do watch must have the elements this show has such as wonderful photography, good scripts, good character development and excellent action. It has all of that and more. I love the English countryside. The homes both inside and outside look absolutely delicious.

New Area of Concern

2011-08-19T22:31:00.000-07:00

Well, you know what they say, when it rains it often pours. I have another area of concern on my body. I was in for another cat scan today. The woman who was giving me the scan told me to be positive and I wanted to strangle her. I am already scheduled to lose one lobe of my lung. What else is going to happen? And she is in her early 30's and telling me to be positive. I suppose it is better than her being someone crabby.

I do feel positive about the whole experience. If I did not move here to Portland, all of these areas would not have been caught at such an early stage. I am positive, but I just don't want to be told. That is all. It is my thyroid that has something suspicious. Again, I have no signs of any problems. The worst that could happen is for me to lose the thyroid and many people live without one for many years. I feel my neck and I feel nothing. I glanced at the picture that the woman is running and it looked like there was something, but I am not trained. The woman wanted to make sure if I don't hear within a few days I should call my surgeon. I promised.

Then I went to the Women's Clinic to find out why I have not gotten my prescription medication. I only get one, but I have not gotten it as yet. I am not out but I usually get the renewal about two weeks ahead. The receptionist told me that my prescription was not in the computer. I know it is for I have seen it. By now, I am low on sugar and I can feel it. I am surprised because I ate a sandwich before I left home. I am getting irritated. I told the receptionist that the other clinics that I have been at in the hospital have asked me about the only medication that I take. Then I said it looks to me that she needs some more training on the computer program she works with. I said it in a soft voice but that is not normal for me. I leave. On the way home she calls me on my cell phone and tells me she found it and let my doctor know it needs to be renewed. I apologized and told her that I was irritated because my sugar level was low. She said it was alright.

I went to Powell's Bookstore after I went to New Seasons Grocery Store where I could eat something that is gluten free. New Seasons is a wonderful food store that is full of wonderful things to eat and has many things that I can eat. I went to the bookstore and bought a few books and magazine and went home after stopping at Goodwill's Superstore for a few items that were on sale. I got a coffee cup tree, a filter for my vacuum cleaner and a picture for my bedroom.

Portland was not hot today, but the sky was blue and the sun was out. It got darker sooner this evening and I enjoyed reading and looking out at the trees through my patio door. Life is what it is and I am not happy about the new area of concern in my body. I have been lucky in that I have beaten cancer several times already. I think I will beat it this time. Someday, I will run out of track but I don't think I am there just yet. I am trying very hard not to be concerned about it.

I have several books that I am reading now that are enjoyable. My apartment is set up exactly the way I want it to be. That is pretty good considering I moved here in May with only a few pieces of furniture. The biggest worry for me in the past was getting a job that would pay the bills and support my children. I don't have that problem anymore. I have enough income coming in that my bills are paid. I don't have a writer's block although I am not sending anything out because I have pending surgery. I am getting things edited and ready to send later. I seem to be getting along with relatives and friends. I am living one day at a time.

Bar of Soup

2011-08-18T11:34:00.000-07:00

I really thought hard about posting about this. If there are any readers out there, they are going to think I am mad; but because this seemingly harmless solution really worked for me and is harmless I thought I would put it out there. I called my son about it.

I suffer from leg cramps and pain during the night. I often can't sleep because of it. I read in the newspaper and on some Internet article that I forgot where about using a bar of soup. It is an old traditional way of treating this malady that many people swear by and doctors say that there is no reason that it would work. It has to be in people's heads. Well, I got tired of feeling the pain and scared about taking medication that really didn't work all that well. I went out to the store and bought an imported bar of milled lavender scented soap from France because I don't use hard soap in the bath. I use liquid soap. I was going to put it in my underwear drawer if it didn't work. Well, surprise it did work. I was simply astonished. It worked. You feel the pain and then rub the bar of soap on the afflicted area and the pain disappears. The pain did not return all night. I slept through the entire night and woke up at 9 am.

That is not the first time some old remedy has worked. I remember having some hemorrhoids problem years ago. I got some prescription medication that did not work all that well. I had a book that listed "old wives tales" and it listed a mineral you take in pill form. I bought for just pennies at the nutritional center and in 24 hours I was healed. Now if I think I am coming down with the problem, I take the mineral although I lost the book in last year's purge. I never have the problem again.

I remember someone giving me these band aids with magnets in them to help with joint pain. I just could not image them helping. They did but they were very hard to get and expensive. The band aids wore out and the magnets never did. They played havoc around computers. Now, I use soap at night but just rubbing on my muscles. Heck if I know why it works but it does for now.

I just thought I would pass it along. It is like baldness for women. Women's hormones will cure baldness in women and red heads who have this problem have tremendous problems with this. They can get relief from going bald by getting hormones. I have no idea about men but it works for women. I got that tidbit from a doctor. Sometimes, we use cannons for mosquito bites. A little old fashion medicine helps when that is all what is needed and the only way we are going to learn about these little "tricks" is from word of mouth so to speak. As I said, if it didn't work it would not have done any harm.

Tethered to a Phone

2011-08-17T12:43:00.000-07:00

I don't have a land line but use a cell phone. These days I am tied to the Veterans Hospital and am tied to my cell phone. Because my hearing is not what it used to be, I don't leave the house during the week until after the hospital closes so I won't miss a phone call. Getting the Veterans Hospital to answer a phone call is very difficult.

I need light bulbs(I also need bars of soap which I just found out works wonders on cramps on the legs. No one knows why it works, but that it does. You just rub it on your cramping legs and the cramps goes away.), but I can't get any until after 5pm when the VA closes. I am sitting close by my cell phone while it recharges. If I leave during the day, I can carry the phone but won't hear it. If I do hear it I might be driving the car. I never carry my phone on my person but in my purse. Even taking a bath is chancy as I move the phone into the bathroom while I take my bath and hope it doesn't ring as I would have to get out of the tub in a hurry. So far, that has not happened. I love the weekends because then that is not a problem as the VA is closed.

I have a friend that calls me from time to time and I always look forward to his calls. I don't like the beeping when another call is trying to get in. I remember a time when phones could not do that. My android phone does. I am glad I can get calls for the matter is my health and it is important. When I used to take trips to the lake I could get the news and listen to music. Now, I stay at home and wait for phone calls.

Finally, Some Answers

2011-08-16T09:35:00.001-07:00

I finally have some answers from my doctor. I will be having surgery again and this time I will be losing a lobe from a lung. Since getting out of the military, I keep losing bits and pieces of my body to cancer, however each time the Veterans Administration were able to stop it at that particular spot. Then, it is on to a new spot. My pet scan shows another area as well. Sigh.

I was thinking this morning that I am not as depressed as I thought I would be. I have already decided to live mindfully which means day by day. I am alive today and that is what counts. I still have a feeling that I will be able to survive this time and the new site that the pet scan found. I will be filing additional service connection with the VA for it but I am not hopeful. I am just grateful that they have been able to catch it in the early stages.

The doctor gave me this device to exercise my lungs and strengthen them for the upcoming surgery. It has actually helped me with my hay-fever and I really feel better using it. I cough less. I was tested for lung capacity and I am in the normal range.

Things change and this latest bout with cancer has changed me. I was behind this senior citizen yesterday coming home from the VA Hospital. He was in a brand new shiny Porsche and he was driving as if he owned the road. He didn't bother me at all and I just let him go on with his delusions. It wasn't that long ago I was smug in my own delusions(without a new expensive car, however) and feeling alienated from the real world as he is and I am no longer there. I am more compassionate towards my fellow human beings and I am more glad at that development.

We are all on our own spiritual pathways and each of them are individually crafted and engineered for each of us. I was able to take a step and understand some additional knowledge and as they say no pain, no gain. I am not even going to pretend to understand that man and his Porsche and how he is living on his spiritual pathway for it is none of my business. I am just grateful for mine. I just hope it lasts for a while.

The Timing of Comedy

2011-08-15T13:50:00.000-07:00

Last night I watched the movie, "The Producers", with Zero Mostel and Gene Wilder. It has been a long time since I watched that Mel Brooks movie and I remember laughing until I cried. I still laughed when I watched it last night, but it was different. I found parts of it not as humorous as I once did. I had changed. I still found the whole plot line funny and the play within the play of "Hitler In Springtime" hilarious; but I have altered my viewpoint. I did not like what role Mel Brooks had placed women.

In the film, women were sexual excuses for cheap jokes. There was the Swedish receptionist who wanted to have sex all of the time and who's idea of work was dancing with grinding motions or elderly women who had nothing better to do than play sexual games with a fat producer and give him money for his Broadway plays. The real emotions were those played by men in bonding. Even gay men were not excluded from those same tasteless jokes especially transgendered men. it was all done for the sake of a joke.

When I watched this same film years ago, I did not see the offensiveness of this movie and I don't remember the current remake. I think I have changed in what I consider funny and it is possible Mel Brooks has as well. I watched a more recent Mel Brooks film and as usual found it very funny and far less sexist. I still think "The Producers" is a good film. It's just that I have changed.

I remember re-reading a Mary Stewart novel and was shocked to read of the protagonist being physically abused by the romantic hero. He twisted her arm bruising her wrist. She wore a bracelet hiding the injury. She found him alluring and certainly did not run away from such a brutal man or even file charges. She married him. At the time I read it, I found it a romantic story. Now, I am shocked that I would have thought so. I was a teenager at the time. The novel did well then. It is buried now. People have changed. Nowadays, people would protest such a story line.

There are other stories that I watched or read that I did not object to but find it shocking now. I find the "The Philadelphia Story" staring Kathrine Hepburn to be an awful movie although I loved it the first time I saw it years ago. Hepburn divorces her first husband because he was an alcoholic and somehow it is her fault because she did not trust him enough. Then in the film, Hepburn's father blames her for his extramarital affairs. In "Camelot" with Richard Harris, it is Guinevere's fault that Camelot failed. Lancelot is held blameless. When I first saw it, I was enthralled with the story and did not see the underlying "hatred of women" theme.

It would be a rare thing if comedy stayed funny no matter when it was performed or when it was written. Comedy is based on what was funny at the time. We are all products of the times we live in. I watch old movies and can see how much I and the current mores have changed. How people look at people of color and at women is so obvious in movies. I can see how the image of gay, lesbian and transgendered people have changed in recent years. The altitudes of people have changed along with it so that more people are in favor of same sex marriage than they were only a few years ago. When I was a kid, television was a small round screen with Eddie Canter dancing and black face dancers were common. That would never happen now. These changes are in my lifetime.

In television, when someone asks for a doctor or a lawyer one can encounter a man or a woman in that role and nothing is thought about it. I remember during my teen years when to be a woman doctor was a rarity. I remember engineers, scientists looking for work and not finding it because they were women and if they were women of color they could just forget it. I remember the demonstrations in San Diego when people insisted that bank tellers be hired that were people of color because up to that time they weren't. Unfortunately, they were men and they could support families and buy houses. Now, many tellers are women and buying houses on their income is uncommon.

Things have changed for me since the old movie, "The Producers", came out. I don't think Mel Brooks was a sexist and I still enjoy his movies such as "Young Frankenstein". He made movies that attracted the audiences and they certainly did. No one stays the same. Movies change. I was glad they did for I was getting tired of the Doris Day and Rock Hudson movies when the hero chased the virgin until she married him. It wasn't based on any sense of reality. I love Fred Astaire and Ginger Rodgers movies and watch them frequently. Many people do. Our tastes change in what we consider funny and on a personal level I change. One day, I will go into a movie house and see a movie that I love and still find very funny and the younger people sitting around me will be sitting stone-faced. It will happen.

What Do We Know of the World?

2011-08-14T11:39:00.000-07:00

"What do we know of the world?"
This is a question that one of the characters asks in the book that I am reading, "The Elegance of the Hedgehog", by Muriel Barbery. It is supposed to be a question that has been occupying philosophers for generations if not hundreds of years. Even as philosophers view this question, they also have argued on how to address it: Can one answer it from one's own experience or can you use information outside this experience?

I remember as a child realizing that I was a unique being, that I was an 'I', and that there was a world outside of myself. I even remember walking on a small sidewalk in Linda Vista in a housing project that no longer exists. I don't remember my age except that I was under the age of nine. I have heard of other people making this same discovery.

As for the world, I just knew I wanted to escape the family of origin that I was in and live by myself and have control over my life. My parents were desperately unhappy and believed in spreading that unhappiness onto their children. Luckily, I had a great big make-believe world that I created aided by books. I stayed in this world for long periods of time. Maybe that is why I never really went into the problem of what is the outside world. I was too comfortable in my own one.

The character who brought up the subject in the book that I am reading described some of the philosophers and read their works looking for the answers. I knew of some of them from my own reading but I was never much of a reader of philosophers. The only reading that I did was in my education at the university and as it pertained to the evolution of how humankind viewed science. I was more interested in literature,poetry and history.

I mentioned in earlier blogs the book that I am reading and the one that I mentioned here has gotten me thinking about different subjects. Occasionally, I read into the science of Physics since it is part of my reading of the changes of how people view the world. I have been reading about the String Theory and find it fascinating especially the part of the different dimensions. I have always felt that time does not exist the way we as human beings think it does and that is why I have read different ideas in Physics since it is a science that deals with time among other things.

I have also wondered how real the world is in the first place. I read in other religions and Eastern thought as well. It is fun for me but I know if I did not turn the wheel of my car when I come to a curve in the road, I would hit the wall and really feel it. Speculation is what you do when you are sitting in a comfortable chair sipping coffee or tea in one's living room.

When I am visiting my grandchildren, I never consider the world not real for I love my grandchildren very much and they are very real to me. It is all relative. Maybe that is why there are so few women philosophers, mostly men in the field. Love and affection for our family and friends have a way of overshadowing everything. I am very much a loner, but I love some people very much. They don't have to be relatives either. There are some friends who I love and will always love even when they pass away. They are very real to me.

What do I know of the world? Not much. I have never been interested in grand conspiracies that some have spent a great deal of time and money on. I worked for the government for years and learned that the right hand usually did not know what the left hand was doing. I just can't imagine any organized human activity that would perform the sort of thing as direct certain crimes although I can see corporations doing all sorts of things to make sure they turn a profit. I can see culture as having a superego as one anthropologist speculated once years ago (Krober) so a certain set of beliefs would live beyond the life time of its members. People often adopted these set of beliefs without conscious thinking so it would live in the minds of people in the form of archetypes (C.G. Jung). These things still change but slowly as people become aware of these things.

To become more understanding of who we are and to question is the specialness of this book. We as human beings are, alone, capable of this and then to record those questions is truly wonderful. The character said of all of the philosophers who tried to answer the question, not one came up with an answer. It was the asking that was important. I am sorry to say I did not ask all that much, myself. I just asked, "who am I?" I answered similar to Descartes, "I am, therefore I exist." I thought that was enough. Evidently, I did not go far enough. How interesting to speculate further. I think Barbery is a very good philosopher for she encourages the asking.

Reading to Learn

2011-08-12T14:16:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, I wrote about how a book, "The Elegance of the Hedgehog", by Muriel Barbery was changing the way I looked at my life. This was not the first time books have changed my life. Books have changed my life many times over the years.

Sometimes, I went looking for answers in books and found them and other times I found both the questions and the answers. Sometimes, as in the above book, it was a new way of looking at an old problem. Sometimes, the book that I was reading was my own journal as I sat there not knowing what the problem was and I would write aimlessly as in writing meditation and before my eyes the issues appeared. That has happened numerous times.

In journal writing, we touch the resources within, the unconscious where an enormous amount of power lies but it is also unknown and it can be a bit scary at times. You never know what is going to appear at the end of one's pen or on a computer screen. It can often be something you have been trying to avoid for years. I have learned when something ugly and awful appears it is worthwhile staying with it because the other side is almost always a rainbow. It turns out what the self is dreading, avoiding is not some awful truth of oneself but some aspect of reality that has no one to blame and a black shadow dissipates into the sunshine of mindfulness. It is really quite lovely.

I have known people to write through grief and sadness and to read through it as well. Ignoring it or even self-medicating it through drugs or alcohol makes it far worse. I have a friend who learned the hard way that if he wrote about it, he did not have to drink the alcohol he was drinking to escape and he found he could make a very lucrative living at it. I read a review this morning of a woman who read a book a year to get over the death of her sister ("Nina Sankovitch, Allaying Grief Through Books" New York Times) and then wrote about it.

I went through a rough patch in my life when I was in my 40's. I had moved to California from the Midwest and was working as a teacher but with adults. I felt I was in a dead end. I was a professional teacher with credentials but working with others who were not. My marriage had ended and I felt at a loss to what I was going to do with my life. I went to a discount bookstore and there was a sale of books written by women from Australia and New Zealand. I bought books by authors I have never heard about. I did not so much read as I absorbed them in which the books were about women who were in similar places as I was. They did not find a new romance as many books that I had found in the bookstores by American authors but different and unique ways of coping with the changes in their lives. A new romance with a new man wasn't going to fix what was ailing me. I had to find new ways of coping with life. I always thought that I was able to sidestep a breakdown and to look at new and different ways of fixing what I thought were intolerable things in my life. I did. I got a new job in a professional setting and started living a life that I wanted to live. Those books that I remember lined a wall in my bedroom gave me the breathing space to come up with ways of dealing with my current problems.

I don't think I am writing down here a cure-all for everyone. This was one way I did it. I was able to remove myself from the situation I found myself in and detach enough to figure out what I needed to do. I did it with reading and writing. My journal was very important during that time. Sometimes, as in the example of a friend of mine, a spouse can provide the support and guidance the other needs. We don't always have it. Sometimes, a spouse is one's worse enemy as in the case of one friend. Sometimes, it is one's fellow girlfriends, the ones who grew up with. I don't know if men bond with other men quite like some women bond with other women but I have not heard they are as intimate with each other as women are. Some people have gotten the same results with religion. In years past, there would not have been books so readily available and certainly pen and paper for all to use nor event he skill to use them effectively. I was reading the history of books and often a library in the distant past would have been only one shelf of books. Many people would never have even seen a book let alone have some in their home. We can thank the printing press for that phenomena.

Whatever the method that is used, the greatest resource for solving one's problems remains and will always be the self. Even religious leaders have gotten their greatest revelations by going into the wilderness alone or sitting under a Bod-hi tree alone. We can do worse but reading a book or by recording our problems in one, the journal. I would rather trust my self than depend on someone else to find my answers. It is certainly cheaper. When I was starting my life as a young adult I was very poor and it was far cheaper to read a book about my problems than to go and see a therapist who I could not afford. Over the years, I was able to see therapists but it was the books whose author's words have stayed with me over the years and of course the explorations into one's inner worlds that have done the most good.

"The Elegance of the Hedgehog"

2011-08-11T11:40:00.000-07:00

"The Elegance of the Hedgehog" by Murel Barbery Translated from the French by Alison Anderson Europa: 2006

I often get a new and fresh viewpoint from books, but I never expected the perspective from the above book. It is not the plot so much as the way the author looks at the world through two of her characters, a girl and a 54 year old woman. It is not their vision of the world that is breath taking but the way it is done with such freedom and uniqueness that gives the reader the freedom to perform this free flying task oneself. Otherwise, can each of us look at the world on our own without linking our senses to what others have seen before we opened our eyes. The answer is this manual on how we can do it too. At least this is how I am taking the reading of this remarkable book.

I started to question the beginning of the day and to everything that comes across my mind. I saw the beauty of the clear beginning of the sunrise and instead of ruminating of what was not done this morning, I threw the whole thing out. Certainly, a clear day in Portland does not happen all that much and I just enjoyed the sun. Growing up in a Christian household I was always taught we were sinful beings and full of original sin we inherited from the Garden of Eden. I had rejected much of it when I converted to another religion but still felt bad about what I did not do yesterday. No, I am determined not to play that card. It is a wonderful day and I am starting fresh. Why should I slap myself? I did the best I could. That is all any of us can.

There is so much life that comes our way all of the time we often don't see because we are lost in the past. Instead of looking at the crows playing in the branches outside and listening to them cawing in the summer air, I am thinking of what happened years ago or what I had inadvertently said to the apartment manager yesterday. There are zen masters living among us who live mindfully all of the time but I am not one of them. I have to remind myself to skip to the present as I do in meditation. A friend of mine felt a Buddhist nothingness twice in his life and counts it as a precious time. I understand some feel it more. I am not going to beat myself over the head because I don't feel it all of the time either. I just keep trying. What I am going to look for is the squirrels that are playing on tree branches, kids that play on the playground equipment, flowers that are everywhere and those special books that come by every so often.

Trees

2011-08-10T07:22:00.000-07:00

All of my furniture was finally delivered yesterday including the right office chair and end table. I am now sitting in one of my new recliners in my living room looking out the glass patio doors and at the trees that form a green lacy pattern out there. It is too cold to open the glass sliding door even a crack. I put a temperature gauge out there and I an see that it is still in the late 50's degree F. out there. It is 7:30 AM.

Sometimes I think that the real treasure of the USA is the wonderful weather we have in this country. I know it is very hot in some parts of the country, but one can find a weather forecast that is pleasing to anyone someplace in the country. When I found out that there was no air conditioner in this apartment, I found myself panicking. Although I was raised in San Diego where my parents did not have one or need one as it was close to the ocean I had not lived in an area that was conducive to going without one. How in the world did people live without one not too long ago? Looking around, no one living in the basement apartments had one either. There is an odd air conditioner in a window in a third floor apartment here and there but not very many. It is the 10th of August and I can say for sure that there hasn't been one day that I felt I needed one here. The weather is very mild in Portland, Oregon.

I have always been fond of trees and in San Diego there are few enough of them for trees to be a pleasure in parks and in the country surrounding streams and in the higher elevations. I had relatives in Oregon although not in Portland and so I used to associate trees with coming to visit them. What made Balboa Park really beautiful in San Diego for me was the astonishing was the different kinds of trees that were planted there by someone at the turn of the 20th century.

In Portland, it isn't easy to chop down a tree even if it is on your land. You have to get permission and so on. I like that myself but then I don't own land here. When I was researching the area before coming here, I looked it up on Google and saw that it had plenty of trees. That was a big plus.

Of course, Redding has trees. One of my favorite places when I lived there was Whiskeytown Lake, not far from my house. It had lots of trees, mostly evergreen. It did have enough deciduous trees to make the autumns fantastic. I am expecting the fall to be beautiful as well here too.

Being Radiated

2011-08-09T07:20:00.000-07:00

I took a pet scan yesterday at an university that is connected to the Portland Veterans Hospital. It was an odd day. The campus is connected by an enormous sky bridge that I took to a campus that I did not even know existed. The university itself is connected by a tram that goes up to the top of one of its hilltop buildings and the machine that took the pictures was the very floor it landed on. Walking on that sky bridge as it is called, a young man walked by me and told me that he loved me. I never seen him before. That was just the beginning of a rather bizarre chain of events that day.

There were small coffee shops everywhere but I could not have a cup of coffee as I was on a fast for the test. That is in a direct contrast to the VA Hospital where the only coffee shop is on the first floor. The campus is spread everywhere but no one knows how to get from one building to another including the information desk that I saw immediately after I got off the sky bridge. I was not suppose to exert myself because of the test but had to climb up and down stairs. There were elevators that I could not use as I was not staff. There were also lots of people who felt very good about telling me that I could not use them. I almost went home.

Finally, I found a information booth that had someone who did know how to find an elevator I could use. It was apparent that patents had a low priority at the medical university. Since no one is going to tell me that I am inferior without my cooperation, I did not cooperate. I asked them to stop with the game playing and just tell me how to get where I need to get to. I could not believe that a new campus such as the one I was in could not have a way of transporting the patients. I found out later they did.

I found the waiting room and the bad treatment of the patients continued there. The receptionist insisted before I could say anything that I fill out forms with a pen tied to a flower. At no point was I asked for ID. At the VA, I would have had to present my VA photo card. Luckily, the woman in charge of the test itself was not that way(She was very nice.) and I took the test which lasted two hours. They inject radium and then take pictures of the whole body. I had never heard of the test before.

Then on the way back to the VA Hospital, I saw a woman with a baby carriage on the sky bridge and causally looked in as I usually do to see the baby and saw that in it was a full grown terrier dog. If all patients are treated as badly as I was at the medical university, I could see someone bringing their dog. People here in Oregon, as a rule, are very nice and friendly; but at that place they were mean and rude. At one point, I went to a doctor hoping he would be the exception but he barely spoke English. At least he apologized that he did not. The staff at the VA Hospital are thankfully not that way. I have no idea why this is so. I was never so glad to see the VA Hospital again at the end of the Sky Bridge.

Maybe, I was just in a strange mood. On the way back to the VA Hospital, I found someone at a information booth who told me the correct way of getting to the VA. I took the correct elevator and then found the signs who told me to follow them to the VA and I never had to climb mountains of stairs. I don't know why the other stations did not know about these detours or shortcuts to the VA. What I do know was that it made a scary procedure even more scarier and I don't know what I would have done if I was in a wheel chair. These were people being trained to treat patients and their teachers. Again, maybe I caught them on a bad day. I was glad to be home and not have to see any of them for a week.

Delivery of Furniture

2011-08-07T09:38:00.000-07:00

I found a second hand store that had furniture and had a policy of delivery. It is not without its problems as I was to discover. A friend came over and waited with me to receive my furniture but I did not get the dining room table and chairs as the store sold me the chairs that were sold previously to someone else. I asked for them to choose another dinning room set which they did. I thought it worked out well. The office chair was not the one I purchased and my end table went to someone else. The delivery people said for me to come by on Tuesday and they will work things out. The office chair is very uncomfortable and too small for me.

Even with all of the problems, I got a set of matching recliners that seem brand new. I needed them badly. I also got an end table with two drawers in it. I also got a six foot tall book shelf that is solid and nice looking. It all cost less than one hundred dollars. I was really surprised. I am sitting in one of my recliners now.

The second hand store is run by a Christian mission with volunteers. The merchandise is just as nice as Goodwill and Value Village except that the mission does not have a work force that rehabilitates the things that are given to them as Goodwill and Value Village. Some of the furniture are brand new and some are not. I really think the recliners are new but the dinning set is not although in good shape. The bookshelf is not new but also in good shape.

Most of my week was spent in medical procedures at the VA Hospital. I have several scheduled on Monday. Today, I have to be on a high protein, low carbohydrate diet and no exercise program. My arms are black and blue from the tests that are taken. At least, I won't be required to take a cab tomorrow. I can drive myself.

I am still hopeful about the results of the tests as the doctors seem to be. They think they caught the cancer at the early stage although I don't know the exact kind of cancer that I have and I am hoping I will know by tomorrow afternoon. So far, all of the cancers that I have had have been the slow growing kinds. I am hoping that my luck holds out.

I moved here in the first week in May with very little and now this apartment has everything I need. It is ironic that the main reason I moved here was the "purge" of my house by my ex-husband while I was working in Korea. I felt violated in my house and did not feel safe there anymore. I then learned that he was on his way back to Redding from Kansas. Since my oldest son said he would take over the payments, I left Redding and moved to Portland, Oregon a city I have been wanting to live for some time. I now know that if I did not move here, my cancer would not have been caught for it was the cat scan for a small benign tumor that my previous doctor did not want to scan but my current doctor thought she should showed on the corner of the scan the presence of something suspicious in my lungs. I have no symptoms of cancer at all. I have never smoked but was a passive smoker in past jobs when it was legal to smoke indoors.

I love Portland and have a good friend here. I have the atmosphere great and now my apartment is just the way I want it.

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

2011-08-02T09:45:00.000-07:00

My son called to say hello yesterday and asked if I heard about the deal about congress and the agreement regarding the debt ceiling. I told him that I had. I was concerned about it only because I have blinders on right now. I wanted to make sure the Veterans Hospital stayed opened and that I continued to receive my Social Security as I have health issues right now.

I saw a cartoon in the paper this morning. It was Ziggy and he was on the phone waiting and he received a recorded message: "...Your call is very important to us but ANSWERING your call ISN'T!" I really understood that joke because nothing is more funnier than something with a kernel of truth at its center. I even put it on a tweet this morning. I put it here as well.

I just got a call from someone in the admin office of the VA office about my travel. They wanted to make sure I was aware that they will be making the arrangements for my travel to the hospital since I am a disabled veteran. Again, I was brought to their notice by a call from the central office of the VA because of a note that I wrote on the VA Facebook Page. They also wanted to make sure I was getting all of the services I needed. I said yes. Although I did not get all of my calls answered, I am only concerned about my cancer at this point. I am very happy they are going to take care of my transportation.

I will be doing a series of procedures and I did some of my shopping yesterday because I have no idea if I will be able to do it after Thursday. I will finish the rest of it today. I remember when I was involved with cancer and the VA before and I was not able to do it. I also will be returning my library books because I don't want to worry about that either. I went to Barnes and Noble and bought some murder mysteries that were on sale. I have one of their discount cards. They also had a 75 percent off sale and I bought two blank journals and several classic books that I have been wanting to read.

I just had another call from the VA and this one from the social worker department. They were wondering if I had enough money to live on. I told them that there was not an issue now that the transportation issue being worked on. He was very nice. Again, I am astonished to the amount of attention I am receiving thanks to Facebook.

It has occurred to me that that I have always been known as a trouble maker; but what if I was a veteran who had trouble putting things together? What would have happened to me then? I shudder to think about it. When I was a veterans' representative in California, I considered it my duty to make waves for the veteran who sat at my desk asking for help. I got in trouble for it many times and some of my fellow vet reps really resented my doing it. Still, I could look at myself in the mirror although I earned some serious enemies in the Veterans Administration. Luckily, that was long enough ago that it is forgotten and in another state.

I am still hoping that I will survive this latest health crisis. Last night as I was sitting reading my book and looking out the patio door it occurred to me as I looked at the beautiful scene outside in the evening dusk that many people that I have known over the years are now gone. My parents and brother are gone. Several close friends have passed away and my first love recently died. It would not be so bad to die now, but I don't want to at this time. I still have things to do.

On the Internet yesterday, there were a series of names, ages and pictures of the people who were killed in Norway. They looked like an assorted bunch of people one would know as neighbors. Many of them were so young and some were close to my age although not many. They had things to do too but a mentally ill person took their lives. Just because I feel that I have things to do does not mean that I will be allowed to do them. That is the new reality that I have been facing lately.

Most people have war stories that they tote out ever so often. Those stories become polished by their telling and re-telling. I am no different. I went to the second-hand store last week and bought a wonderful large map of the USA that I put just below my map of the world that I had in South Korea last year. I used the world map last year to see where I was then and to look at the USA. Now, I look at California and now at northern Oregon where I am now. California is green and Oregon is orange and Washington is bluish purple. I am just a few miles from Washington but I have never been there. I was waiting until things calm down so I can drive there and say I have been to Washington. I would do it today, but things have not calmed down yet. Maybe someday soon they will.

The Power of Facebook Again

2011-07-31T13:10:00.000-07:00

This last Monday, my doctor from the Veterans Administration Hospital called and stated that I had a tumor in my right lung and said that she sent a referral to the pulmonary department of the hospital so they can work up a biopsy. As my earlier blog mentioned, I have been waiting since then for a call. Nothing. I called them and gave the appointment person a heads up regarding the referral on Tuesday. She said that the doctors had not reviewed the referral as yet and that when they did their nurse would call me. I called on Thursday. The doctors still did not even look at the referral and they had no idea when they would. Then I put a note on Facebook that I was worried about the length of time it would take for the doctors to review and decide the next step for my treatment. I was exposed to Agent Orange and have already had cancer more than a few times. The chances was good that it was a cancerous tumor and I was scared. I know it does not seem long, but I have had trouble with this hospital responding. On Friday, everyone was calling me including my doctor.

Maybe, I jumped the gun. I don't know. The last time I waited for a cat scan that was supposed to happen in a few days did not happen for almost two weeks. I learned not to wait but to call. I did not know there were appointment numbers I was supposed to call. In the Redding VA Clinic there were no appointment numbers. The different departments called the patient or sent them a letter. Since the Portland VA Hospital had trouble with my current address, I was concerned. When I did call the appointment person, they were vague about when the doctors normally reviewed the referrals. I got the answer "in a while" or "in a little bit" and so on.

I had used Facebook one time before and got the answer I wanted from the Veterans Administration. I still have not heard from phone calls I have made three or more weeks ago. Those calls had nothing to do with the lung issue and I can do without them. I am amazed that the notes placed on the Facebook Page of the VA can be so powerful. My son said that the one thing no government agency wants is embarrassment. Having a veterans putting a note for all to say stating they can't get anyone to answer their calls is embarrassing.

All I can say is thank you Facebook. I sent a message to someone from Washington who sent me a message from the VA there and thanked him for bringing it to the attention to the VA in Portland. I have been promised that I will have an answer to my question by Monday. It shouldn't have to be this way, but I am glad there is an avenue I can use to get answers when my life depends on it.

Sky King

2011-07-29T10:53:00.000-07:00

One of my favorite programs growing up was Sky King staring Kirby Grant. He had a niece named Penny played by Gloria Winters. I was the only one of my friends who loved that show and it would surprise me that my mother let me watch it on Saturday mornings for she rarely let us kids watch television but she did me. I think it was only 30 minutes long.

Sky was always saving people including his niece, but he insisted that she learn to fly her own plane. A nephew came to live with them for a while, but he left which was good as I did not like him all that much. I identified with Penny. I liked Sky King's ethical code of ethics. I was growing into my teenage years and did not like what I saw around me. Many of King's stand of what was right and wrong became mine. He believed in women's rights and in the rights of everyone regardless of race to make their own decisions. I wasn't a teenager yet, but I carried those ethics right into my adulthood. I still do.

I never saw the actor do any other role but Sky King nor Gloria Winters do anything else. They retired not far from where I lived but I never saw them. They remained an influence to me. I was never a big western watcher although I admired Wyatt Earp or at least who I thought he was. I liked the western, "Tombstone Territory", because the story was about a sheriff or marshal and a newspaper editor. It was of short duration and disappeared into the television past. I liked Wyatt Earp because I read a book about him although the book was not based on truth which was a shame. I read another book years later that was and I found it fascinating.

I remember that time before I started into teenage years as a time when I wanted to find a foothold into who I was as a person. I did not find it in my parents for my father was an alcoholic and he found himself in the bottle. The parents of the kids I knew were very confused or I saw them as such in those days. The books that I read then were as confused as the people I saw. Many of the books in the library was on the suburban life which I had not found fascinating. I found books that were being written in those days were on either Henry the 8th or on Nazis. I read them because I had no choice. Young adult books were almost non-existent and I was finding the ones I did find as out of touch with the life I was seeing around me. There were exceptions but not many.

Television did not have much either. I could see there was change in the air though. I was optimistic about that and movies began to change with such movies as "The Graduate" and "The Sand Pebbles". There was still fluff being made and shown but good movies were being made that were more realistic and books began to change too. Foreign books were beginning to be translated and I was beginning to be able to read them such as Camus. I found the magazine, The Saturday Review, to be my window to these books.

Of course, the Women's Movement helped and so did the Civil Rights Fight helped as well as open my eyes. The Beat Generation also presented literature and poetry in a different light if one could get it. All of this is a highly selected viewpoint of what happened during the 20th century. Even my time in college was not as open to what was happening in the world as I would have liked but found out more in years to come.

Most things are happenstance in our lives. I don't know how Sky King came into my life, but I am glad he did. He gave me a good solid basis for starting my ethical conscious because it seems to me that I like the ideas he presented to me. It was not the ones my parents had nor the same ones other members of my family had. My sister married a hardcore Republican and she in turn became a conservative. My brother became a love child but without the solid commitment that most hippies had at the time. He seemed to like the trappings and then just dissolved into the drug scene not really thinking about anything. He left the world after serving as a U.S. Marine during the Viet Nam War. He seemed to be a person slipping and sliding into someone without any solid point of view except he did not like the world he lived in. He went on to try the next one.

The actor Kirby Grant, was pretty much like the role he played in Sky King and lost his life at the age of 73 on the way to watch the launch of the Space Shuttle Challenger in a traffic accident. He was interested in helping the many children who watched his show. I have often read people who wrote about how important his show was to their upbringing. He is buried in Montana where he was born. I was certainly one of them. When I hear a plane sometimes, I think of the Songbird which was the name of his plane and of all of the hours he logged flying for he was really a pilot.

Escape

2011-07-28T11:31:00.000-07:00

I used to be so much better at escaping reality than I am now. I want to escape right now and I can't. In the past, I wanted to escape being me too. I thought I was a really boring, dull and not very intelligent person so I wanted to be someone who was not any of those things and used my imagination to do just that. I think that is called dissociation. I think I used to spend about 95 percent of my time in that made up world and the rest of the time in this one. Then I went into treatment with a wonderful therapist who helped me with the extreme forms of post traumatic stress disorder that I had. One of the side effects to the work I did with him is that I spend most of the time in this world.

A friend of mine who writes memoirs for a living is often criticized for not living in the present. He is actually in the same situation as I am. He used to lived most of the time in his imagination and because of his recovery from drugs and alcohol (I did not have this particular affliction), he now, like me, lives in reality. He uses his writing of memoirs to center himself in this world. I write journals. No one pays me for my journals. Ted says many times a day he wishes for that ability that he lost to just escape from the day to day existence he has to stay in this world. Recently, he spent some time in jail and although some good things came out of it, he had moments when he was there that he wanted to leave that place for a nice place and it was hard to convince himself that the talent for doing so went with the booze and drugs. He had to stay.

I am waiting for a phone call and the realization that I might not survive the current fight with cancer is something I can't run away from. The first time it happened in my life, I could hide in my imagination but I can't anymore. Ted told me that I need to really show my love for myself by staying in the present, by being mindful. I can't be mindful if I am full of fear. That is true. Instead of trying to hide, I have to face what is happening to me. Then I can exist in the present even if I don't like it. I certainly can't change it. I also can't make the phone ring although after a while if it doesn't I can go to the patient's advocate for some help in dealing with the pulmonary department of the Veterans Administration Hospital. My doctor called me on Monday and made the referral. It is only Thursday. I can do the 12 step program and give it to my Higher Power.

Friends have been supportive. Even my grandson who is 16 years old called me last night although he could not speak because his phone is not hooked up to a service. My oldest son calls often. My art teacher called last night as I have not been going to class. That was nice.

My best friend is myself and my Spiritual Guardian and nothing will be separating us even if I don't make it. I am feeling good about where I am living and will be going to see friends this weekend and attending a book club that I like. I did not like the last book we had to read but really like the one we are reading this time. I even lost a pound on my diet recently.

Last night I watched a movie that made me laugh. It was a movie about Dudley Do Right and the Canadian Mounted Police. It was a silly movie but I loved it. There were discussions about good and evil all of the way through it and of course good wins at the end when a character who turned his life around because of Dudley happens to reconnects with his family and his wife happens to be the new prime minister of Canada and orders the Mounted Police to save the Indians and Dudley from the evil guy from wiping them out. Again, it was silly but I laughed and felt good that good always wins over evil in those movies. I skipped the news after the movie which is a form of escape; but I read the paper this morning.

The fact that I can't escape like I used to is good because I have to face what is out there. My father could not face reality and drank a lot to do that creating a Hell on earth for the rest of his family. I know someone who weighs well over 300 lbs because he can't face reality and eats his way into fantasy and that is not healthy. I wasn't facing the things I needed to face or doing the things I needed to do because I was blissful in my own little world. I was good at it. I still visit that world but I use that time to write about it. One time I was sitting with several other women and an accident happened in front of us and I did not see it. I was in lala land. The others did and gave an accident report and I just repeated it. I was so glad I was not sitting at the bus stop alone. It was a man who in a drunken stupor rammed into a woman with her children who had stopped her car for a stop light. He really hurt that family. It is not pleasant right now, but I am glad I am here in reality.

Waiting

2011-07-27T08:28:00.000-07:00

There have been times I have felt I spent my life waiting for something to happen in my life. This has been events centered in my earlier life such as waiting for people to give me lifts in their cars, waiting for people to call me about jobs, waiting for my grades to come in the mail, and so on. Now, I find I am in the waiting mode again. This time I am waiting on the Veterans Administration to tell me when my next medical test will take place and what is going to happen regarding the tumor in my lung.

I find the people I have to talk to are maddening with their explanations of time such as "it will take a little bit of time", "there are other patients", "someone will review your doctor's request in due time" and so on. I have learned that the people who make the appointments don't know anything about anything. I did not know the rules of the VA Hospital in Portland and lost some valuable time. Now, I know more but not enough. I sit here at home waiting and not knowing for sure if this is what I need to do. I talked with someone yesterday at a number I discovered on the Internet and he said that if I don't hear from anyone by 11 am this morning to give the same number a call again. It isn't even 9 am and I am waiting, checking my phone ever so often to make sure that the phone has enough battery to keep it charged up.

I listen to my body now and wonder whether or not every pain and discomfort is a sign that the cancer is spreading. My back is killing me because I have an old office chair and I sat in it too long or has the cancer spread to my back? I think my back is hurting because it is an old chair and the trip to Redding was really hard on it. It was seven hours one way. I took some pain reliever and am sitting in my bed with cushions because it is comfortable. I am waiting and carrying the phone around the apartment when I fix coffee or use the bathroom.

I know from experience that when you miss a phone call from the VA, they rarely answer it when you call back. One phone call that I got on the 15th from a doctor that I missed never answered my calls back. One time I had to go to the patient advocate to get an appointment at the cat scan which she did get for me. They would not call back.

I am a writer who has on occasion sent stories in and have waited at the mailbox. That was hard to wait for an answer on whether or not something was acceptable for publication. Then I was told that a check was in the mail for something and to wait for it to appear. I don't have much patience for boyfriends or I didn't years ago. It was not good form to call them and a woman had to wait. Many a woman's heart has been broken for the want of a phone call.

I remember once dating someone after I was divorced and I waited for his call and it did not come so I called him. He let me know immediately that he did not like women calling him. I thought the rules had changed but evidently they had not for him. We dated after that but I never called him again but waited for his call. I was glad when his job transferred him to a new city. He thought I would quit my state job and follow him. No, I would not. He thought I would move me and my children in with him and hope he would marry me someday. No thank you. I never regretted that decision.

This time, there is no romantic reason for my sitting here waiting for a phone call. I am not dealing with jobs or romances but a bureaucracy in an attempt to stay alive. There is nothing romantic about that.

Television

2011-07-26T10:39:00.000-07:00

I moved here to Portland, Oregon the first week of May of this year. It was a good idea and I keep learning over and over again how good it was to have moved here. The one thing that I have not done was watch television. Sure, I watched the PBS Murder Mystery Theater about three times, but that is all. In Redding, I watched far more than that.

Across the street from my house in Redding, I had a neighbor named Rose who started to watch television from 12 noon and finished at 2 or 3 am, seven days a week. At noon, she would pull the curtains open and sit in her arm chair and turn on the television and eat all of her meals on a TV tray. I would often go over there and say hello and would find the same book on her small table next to her chair. I offered to go to the library for her but she said no. She had ordered that book off an add on the TV. She left the house for doctor's appointments only and a food truck delivered her meals. That went on for seven years until an ambulance to her to the hospital where she died.

We all choose the life we have. I used to think I did not want to spend all that much time watching television. When I thought about being on my death bed, I could not fathom thinking about episodes from television programs. I wanted to think about things that were real. For me, reading and listening to music help me enjoy life more but television was dead time. I would start watching a movie on television and several hours would disappear. That would be alright ever so often but as a steady diet I did not think that was for me.

I have Netflix and watch movies ever so often. I usually watch it on the weekends although after my walk last night I did watch a movie called "The Holiday". It was on another movie service and I thought it was very good. It was about several women who exchanged houses for the Christmas holidays and they find romance. It was fun, but I doubt if I will watch another movie today. I was at an impasse on a short story that I was writing. Now, I know what to do with it.

When I was a youngster, I loved the television show, "Bonanza" I watched it every Sunday but I can't recall any of the stories although I can remember the actors. The same goes for "77 Sunset Strip". I really liked the parking attendant, Cooky. Yet, the television series, "The Defenders" had stories that I remember to this day. They never have "The Defenders" on reruns. That was the series that stared E.G. Marshall. I did not watch all that much television then, only on the weekends. I loved "Star Trek" and can remember many of the episodes. I really admired Spock.

I remember going for walks after I did my homework in the evenings back then and I would hear the sounds of televisions coming out of the homes I passed and the sounds of canned laughter. That depressed me for some reason. It was beautiful in the Southern California evenings and in those days there was no smog. You could see the stars and moon clearly especially over the Pacific Ocean and the small islands off the coast. Usually, I was the only one walking. I could hear the "I love Lucy" and Jackie Gleason" shows. I thought what was happening outside was better than what was happening on those television sets.

When you sat in those living rooms and watched television programs, you did not have to talk to each other. Few people read books then as few people read now. Here in Portland, more people go to the bookstores and read in them. I don't know what is popular on television which is ironic since some of the programs are filmed right here in Portland.

I went out for a walk last evening and there were a lot of people walking and playing games. I walked on some of the walking trails that are around my apartment. I first went to Starbucks and bought some coffee and read The New York Times. I found myself just staring out the window at the trees and flowers in the small shopping center. There is a Lamb's Thriftway Market and I watched some people walking in and out of there. Finishing the paper, I left it on the table and walked outside. It was comfortably warm so I walked on the trails as I said and enjoyed the large old growth trees that are in my neighborhood. There are some nice apartments and houses around here too as well as a golf course.

I am glad to say that I was not alone. There were many people out enjoying the evening. In Redding, I would have been alone. Not in Portland. I am not sure why this place is so different. I wondered if the people here know how lucky they are to live in such a beautiful place but maybe they do. They were out walking in it, all different ages. There was a couple who were barefoot which was silly but that is the current rage. I am sure some orthopedic doctors will be making some money off that fad. I saw lots of dogs but all of them were on leashes. There were the normal amount of men out using their cell phones talking urgently in corners and one was in the kids bus shelter. Television was the last thing on their minds.

To my mind, television is a sort of suicide. It kills time but it kills the soul. I tell my grandchildren that it fries their brains. There I was in Redding allowing it to fry mine and that was not good. I am glad I am not doing that anymore. I lived in Korea last year and never had a television and never missed it. Of course, I had this computer that I am typing on now and the Internet. I watched documentaries. Now, I never watch them on the site I used. I read books when I could get them. I wrote a book of short stories. I was never happier except here. I love it here too.

I don't know why Rose, my neighbor across the street in Redding, watched TV so much. Maybe it made her happy. She told me she had a set schedule of shows that she watched everyday. She used to be active and involved with other people and with clubs but gave it all up. She began a relationship with her television instead. For all of those years I lived across the street from her, she never went to my house. She was not crippled or housebound. There was something that she did not want to see outside of her house anymore. She had a daughter who visited her and she never went to visit her either. In her obituary, her daughter put down that she was a active reader. When she had a garage sale, she put that book out for sale, the sales slip still inside of it. I don't know if anyone bought it although someone bought the television set.

Julia

2011-07-25T11:13:00.000-07:00

I met a woman on one of my walks the other day. She was about ten years younger than me. Her name was Julia and she was pushing in a stroller a sweetheart of a boy, less than two years old. She explained that he was her youngest grandson and he was wonderful the way he laughed and played with his grandmother. She said his name was Jason.

We got to talking and exchanged first names only. We were in one of the small parks that is near where I live. She lived with her daughter and her husband and was caring for Jason while his parents were at work. Julia had a job working in part time in a non-profit senior center as an administrator in the mornings. I walk in the evenings after 5pm so I don't miss my phone calls from the VA Hospital.

Julia explained that she was getting a divorce from her husband of 30 years because he was so hateful and angry at her now that he was so ill. She was so glad that she had gotten an education while she was married and now had a decent job. He was a retired airline pilot and her cash settlement and the eventual part of his pension should give her a good life. I asked her if it was his illness, ALS, that was making him so difficult to live with. She was sure it was as she stated he was in the later stages of the disease. She told me that after she left he had to hire people to help him and none of them lasted very long. His doctor was now recommending that he go into a convalescent home. I wondered out loud if instead of a divorce, she could just put him into a home. She said she could not do that to him. I apologize and said it wasn't my business to say that. She said he was angry that he had this disease as he had been so healthy all of his life.
Once he was deceased, she would get their house back and she would move back.

She was looking for an apartment and asked about the ones that I lived in. I told her that I was very happy with it but that it did not have laundry hookups. I did not find that to be a problem. She wanted to stay in the same area as her daughter and her part time job.

When I got home, I realized that taking care of someone with ALS, is not pleasant. Gradually, paralysis spreads to the body and her husband because he is in the later part of the disease is having trouble swallowing. She mentioned that he needed help in breathing. Not only was her husband angry that he had ALS, but she was unhappy with it too. She probably felt she did not sign up for it either. She would have to take the abuse her husband gave to anyone that cared for him in his last illness. It would be better to get a divorce and then go back after his eventual death since there is no cure.

Julia told me that when she first met her husband, he was a pilot and she was a flight attendant. He was very good-looking and had many women chasing him. He was proud of his looks and thought she was the best looking woman he ever met. Even at her age, she was still a good looking woman. She worked hard to keep herself trim and in good condition. It must be hard to be let down by one's own body or the body of one's husband. He had been working at the gym on a regular basis even after retirement from the airlines when he noticed something was not right and went to his doctor. She said he was devastated by the diagnosis.

There is no happy endings in life at times. I just found out that I have a tumor in my right lung. No one knows for sure if it is cancerous or not. I will have to go under for a biopsy or whatever it is called. I just hope I don't get angry about it.

Death of a Young Person

2011-07-24T10:38:00.000-07:00

I am writing about Amy Winehouse who was found dead at the age of 27. Like so many people I have read stories about her from time to time about her battles with alcoholism and drug addiction. Different journalists said it was expected, but I did not expect her death. I had hoped she would somehow find her way out of the black hole she had found herself in. I am not really writing about Winehouse who seemed genuinely talented and gifted musically but about all of the young people who leave this planet too early. I am very sad for them.

I remember being that age. I had issues from childhood that were very real to me then, and I am not writing to second guess Winehouse's issues for I have no idea what they were. I just know those issues from my childhood had a strong hook into my life. I had no children and no reason to live except the sense of optimism that somehow I could escape the grasp of that nightmare and find something better which I did. Death did look good to me at times, but not enough to actually open one of the many doors that led to that place for many of my friends were into drug and alcoholism which I knew led there. My own brother went through that door and died at an early death.

I had more friends in those years than I do now. I had more lovers then too. I fell in and out of love more than several times but only one or two times actually stayed for good in my heart. One of them recently passed away. In those days, my parents were alive and in the throes of their misery too. Friends were alive that are now dead. Everyone I knew were trying to find a form of happiness and so few found it. I did not know very much but I knew happiness did not come out of a bottle or out of a needle or powder. I knew it because my father was an alcoholic. My brother was one as well as my sister.

I guess I am sad because so many young people walk down the hallway and open doors that look good on the outside but are deadly to use such as drugs and alcohol. I am not saying that had anything to do with Winehouse's death. But it did not help her with her life. I know I looked at alcohol with longing for it gave me some moments of forgetfulness when I did drink. It numbed the memories which seemed so horrible and abhorrent that I wanted those moments of peace. I saw what happened to my father when he crawled back to sobriety from a night of drinking and all of the unhappiness that resulted. I wanted no part of that. I said no to that and I guess I did not inherit the propensity for alcoholism as my brother and sister did. I lucked out.

I don't know why I survived and why so many in my past did not. I remember talking to my brother who I got along well. I told him that he needed to get some help. He was a Viet Nam veteran and the VA was of no use then. They did not care about him and just ignored him after they gave him a check every month. He was homeless. He could not stay in an apartment. I did not know about AA then. He did and it helped him from time to time but his shadows were too dark, too deep and they swallowed him up in the end.

It is said we are our own best friends. I know this is true. My brother never made friends with himself. I know my own father hated himself too as my mother hated herself. It took long hard years for me to make friends with myself, but at the age of 27 I was not my best friend. I would alternately like and hate me too. I did not want to know me too much as much as I wanted to change me into someone I would like so the war raged for years. I ended up calling the war off. That did not happen until I was older and probably wiser.

The Dalai Lama said that so many people he has met in the West hate themselves. He said he was astonished by this. I also met so many students as a teacher who did not trust themselves as writers and that is the first thing that Natalie Goldberg writes in her book to writers they must do and that is trust themselves. Trusting oneself and loving oneself is really the same thing. I know that was a hard lesson for me to learn and as a senior I am still learning it.

As a young person at the age of 27 years, I did not know it at all. I wish I did for I would have had a better life than I did. At that age, I had a rough life and it was made worse because I did it to myself. I gave myself a worse time than what was happening. Granted it was not pleasant but it would not have been so bad. It was good too as my children were born then. Their births and the births of my grandchildren were definitely the highlights of my life.

I am in a good time of my life now although even with some pending health issues I am much happier than I have ever been because I am not beating myself up. When I do get depressed as I was on Friday after my latest cat scan and parts of yesterday it was because I forgot to connect with my Spiritual Connection that I find very useful. I started to feel sorry for myself and look for solace outside in others. I have never found it in others but in my Spiritual Guardians. That is my karma. I also find it in meditation and that form is in my writing. I also know I need to live in the mindfulness of life.

One time in my teens, I felt utterly alone. I knew no one cared about me. My parents did not love me as they were too deep into their narcissistic needs to care and my friends were too involved in their needs, which eventually killed them not too many years later and I found myself on a lonely gray beach. I walked into the surf intending to not come out again. Then as I was going down a surfer that I had not seen pulled me up and dragged me to the beach. I thanked him and watched him go out again and surfed some more. I did not do that again. I thanked God for that nameless person. I made up my mind if no one loved me then I would make my life better. I asked for help in doing that. I believe I was given help.

Every time I have asked for help, I have been given it. I think all of us have that ability to ask the Divine for that help. All we have to do is ask. I don't believe it is any particular religion. It has happened on other occasions and it has worked each single time. I am not saying that the help I envision was what I got; but it was help and it worked every single time.

Sometimes, I think someone might read this blog and get something out of it. These blogs are the chapters in my life on how things have worked for me. I was physically and sexually abused by both of my parents. I survived that. I could not have done that without help. I got help all along the way because I asked for it. I was also taught the things I needed to learn on my Spiritual Path because I asked for that too. I also asked to win the lottery. I didn't win that. I have very little in my checking account. What I am saying is hold off from using that door that leads to death. Try something else. Ask for help from one's Spiritual Resources instead whatever they are for you and trust in your ability to find your way home.

Sunshine

2011-07-23T11:55:00.000-07:00

I woke up late this morning or late for me. The sun was streaming into my bedroom window at 7 am. When I went to sleep last night I was thoroughly depressed. I had taken a cat scan yesterday and I am waiting for the results. I did not see how I could feel better. I woke up feeling better much to my surprise.

I always say or even write that it is a plus to wake up at all. Well, it is easy to say that when one does not have a real reason not to wake up. These days I have some health reasons and the big unknown sitting on the horizon. Still, I am not in any pain. I have been in this position before. I never get used to it. Still, I am not depressed this morning. The sunshine helps.

I am listening to a series of classical music from Rhapsody of different selections that are very nice. The series of selections are about seven hours long and are supposed to help you get through the day. I have not listened to them before. I have recently discovered the playlist central. I don't always search around the two music services I subscribe to as I am a person of habit. I find something I like and then stick to them. I like baroque music in the morning and different kinds in the afternoon but usually instrumental as I like my music in the background and not to be a distraction. I don't like easy listening as it reminds me of being in an elevator.

Last night, nothing would get me out of my depression, not even music. I watched a grade B movie that might have been a made for television film with Katherine Hepburn in it. It was probably one of the last she ever made. The people in the film with her were those I never heard of before but it was about an elderly woman with grown up children who were waiting for their mother to die so they could inherit her money and property. She decided to get married instead and they were upset with her as she married her doctor. He was an elderly man who was lonely too. There were echoes of my life except I am not rich although I feel it. I have everything I want except servants as she did. I looked it up and it was a television movie called "Mrs. Delafield Wants to Marry (1986)" Frankly, I am glad I don't. Even her neighbor got into it as he had retired with his wife and he did not want her to change either. It was the one bright spot in my life last night.

Glancing out my window, I think being alive is preferable than being dead. So many people I have known in the past are now under the sod. That is not odd or unique. We are all in that position. I just don't feel so different than when I did when I was nine years old. I look in the mirror and I have to say "what the hell happened?". There is this old lady looking back at me. Or I am talking to someone who says to me that they always had respect for the elderly and I am thinking "are they talking about me?" WHF?

Maybe that is why we all yearn for heaven or some place where things stay the same. Where my children don't grow up and get older than me. I was in the VA hospital yesterday and none of the doctors are middle aged let alone closer to my age. They are like me, retired or worse deceased. The doctor who operated on me in 1970 died ten years later. He was not that much older than me. I never told him "thank you".

I think some of us get so depressed because there is so little in life that we are in control of, have any knowledge about. We are taught that teachers have the answers, doctors can cure us, writers and professors are wise and religious leaders know all about god. Our leaders in congress don't give a damn about any of us and have as much education and knowledge as my five year old grandson although not as much heart otherwise they would not be doing what they are doing now. We run around sprouting hatred towards each other when the real person we hate is ourselves. No one really knows anything. We really have to find our own answers and that is hard.

Looking into the sunshine of this morning, that is what I needed to do. I needed to find meaning in my life and in today. I have no choice and we are all given resources for doing that. It is all inside each of us. It is so simple we forget. It is a matter of watching the leaves in the breezes, the squirrels playing in the trees which is what I am doing and listening to the crows cawing somewhere.It is sometimes called meditation. I am drinking a wonderful cup of coffee and drinking a glass of juice. Grocery Outlet had Naked Juice on sale for one dollar a piece and I never tasted them before. They are wonderful. It is the small things of life that come our way from time to time that make it all worth while.

New Rules

2011-07-21T18:04:00.000-07:00

I am dealing with the Veterans Administration regarding possible cancer in my lungs. I need further tests to determine whether or not I have it. I moved to Portland, Oregon from Redding, California the first week of May, 2011. There has been problems with this move. One is the computers at the VA can't keep my new address in their system. That is minor in comparison with the possible cancer.

When I was a kid, my mother let me do whatever I wanted to do as long as I was home for dinner. She had this old cow bell she would ring at dinner time and my brother and sister would have to come home as dinner was ready and my father was home and wanted to eat. Every so often I would go to Grants Pass, Oregon to visit my aunt who was my mother's sister. The first time I stayed for a full year, I left in the morning as usual and did not come home until dinner. I was nine years old and my Aunt Sonia was livid with rage and beat me with a strap that raised welts all over me. I was astonished. When did the rules change?

When my doctor called and told me that I had failed the first cat scan and that I would be taking more blood work and another cat scan she told me that someone would call me about the times. I sat around waited for the call. Then I got a call from a dietitian regarding another matter and I asked her what I should do about not getting a call. She looked into the computer and said that the cat scan was ordered as well as the blood work. She said I was supposed to be on a fast before the blood work. I went to the hospital and took the blood tests. I went to the cat scan place and they said that no one calls me, I am supposed to call them. That is the way it is supposed to be done at the Portland Hospital. I called and called and left messages but no one called back. I already had a call from some doctor and I answered back and left messages and no one called back.

I went to a volunteer at the hospital this morning and told him about what was happening. What is the proper procedure since I did not know the rules here. He sent me to the patient advocate. Well, I got through to the cat scan people and will be taking it tomorrow. The person called and said she was puzzled why they said I had to wait to take the liquid as it is not required for a lung scan.

When you are dealing with a large bureaucracy such as the Veterans Administration, one expects problems; however I am looking at possible lung cancer. I was exposed to Agent Orange which makes me very vulnerable to cancer and I have had it several times. The VA has saved my life more than a few times. I am scared and don't want to wait until the VA gets its act straightened out. Usually, when cancer might be around the VA acts very quickly which it did at first. I just did not know the rules of the Portland VA Hospital. I did not even consider that it may be different. That was my error. I should have gone down to the hospital earlier and asked.

When I was in the military or working for state or federal governments, I was always told not to assume. I was well treated at the VA in Redding. I knew the rules and the people who worked there. I was a Veterans Rep. in Redding for over ten years before I retired. That was a mistake. Never assume anything. In this case, it could have cost me my life. In this case, it didn't and I will find out more about what is happening in my body.

Obituaries

2011-07-20T17:03:00.000-07:00

I admit I read obituaries. I have been reading them for years. I don't hope to see friends listed, but I admit I hope to see people there I don't like. Sometimes, I do. It means I don't have to try and avoid someone. He or she is no longer around to make my life miserable. Of course, they don't make my life unhappy; I let them. Still, it is nice not to worry whether or not someone is going to be around or not.

There used to be a guy at a bookstore I went to who would stalk me and even follow me. Since I was not living alone I did not worry. Still, it bothered me sitting in the cafe in the bookstore and his staring at me. I would sit in the corner and take my radio and ear phones. At first, I thought he was looking for a chance for some face time, so I started a conversation. Not so, he was mean and bitter. He did the same act with many people and I saw many women who would sit not far from him and wonder what he was up to. He even did it with men. Then I saw his name in the obituaries. I could have sang all day.

Of course, there are times when friends' names show up. That is sad. No wonder they did not pick up their phones or call. Sometimes it was unexpected and sometimes they had gone into a convalescent home without telling anyone. All of us who were friends were left wondering what happened to them. Then the orbit announcing their death appeared. That was sad.

I am getting older and we leave estates and relatives sometimes have funerals and sometimes to save money don't have them.The relatives who often don't have funerals are general those who were not close. They leave those little naked announcements that cost nothing and one never knows for sure if it is them or not. One woman who works the phones at a funeral home says she often gets calls from people who ask if the newly deceased worked at this place or lived at a certain street or came from a certain state.

A friend of mine says he reads the death notices to see if he died. That is a joke but I actually know someone who was declared dead and he was very much alive. He had a devil of a time getting his Social Security checks going and even lost his car which he had to sell to pay some bills during the process. He had a common name and someone else with the same name had died in the same city as he did. You would think the Social Security Administration would check their Social Security numbers. I understand this is not an uncommon problem.

Last year I was in Korea and left my house in my younger adult son's hands and the contents got stripped by my ex-husband and another son. I was shocked when I got back. I told my adult children that I did not die but was gone only one year and left money to pay the house payments and taxes. I lived on the money I made in Korea. My son paid the utilities. So much was missing that I could not live there anymore and just left since my son said he would pay the house payments. I am glad. I did not feel safe there anymore. I am much happier here even if I don't know the outcome of my current health issues, I would rather face them here than in Redding which seems a darker place there anyhow.

I look at the dates of the beginnings of people's lives in those notices and see most of them creeping up towards my own. Of course, plenty of people die early. Children die and others who are younger than me die for a variety of reasons; but now I don't fear the idea of death as much as I used to although I would rather not die at this time. When I used to visit older relatives I would often run into people who would wish for death in the homes my relatives were in. I am hoping that when it is time for me to go I would be wanting it, desire it and wishing for it so that when the Grim Reaper comes it would be a welcomed guest instead of a dreaded presence. Who knows? Most of us don't know the end. I happen to believe we all were dead before so it shouldn't be such a big deal to be dead again.

Now, back to the obituaries. I will never read my own unless it is a big mistake as what happened to Mark Twain or Ernest Hemingway when their deaths were prematurely announced. They had to make announcements to the press that they were very much alive. I would hate to go to the Social Security Administration and try and get my checks started again. I would think that would be a lot harder than a press release.

Deep in Summer

2011-07-19T10:42:00.000-07:00

Everyday, I put a different design on my Firefox homepage and then the message of good morning and date on my Facebook Page and Twitter. It occurred to me that it is deep in summer. One would never know it here in Portland for it is overcast and I have one window cracked open. I love my new city, but it is not overly hot here. I have written here that none of the lower apartments have air conditioners, and I have lived in places for the last forty years or so that need air conditioning including Korea.

When I worked for the state of California, it was proper procedure for the state to dismiss its workers when the air conditioning failed in Redding as it did on several occasions. When I moved into this apartment, it seemed scary that there was no air conditioning at all. Here it is in July and I have not needed it. There were nights when I was cold and just added a blanket because turning on the heat seemed obscene.

I know there is severe heat going on in parts of the country and there are cooling centers being opened in such places such as Texas. Summer has always been my favorite time of the year because it always was a time of freedom. One could go anywhere without worrying about the weather. I still love summer and enjoy looking out my window at the trees and flowers that are in abundance here in the Northwest. It does not seem so free in other places now. People have to take shelter from the heat.

When I was a youngster, I loved summer because I could read what I wanted and hide out in the empty schools and trees. Sometimes, I would babysit and then take the bus to parks such as Balboa Park which was for me heaven on earth. In those days,all of the museums were free and I could wander through them looking at the exhibits. The San Diego Zoo was free on Sundays and I love to go there and look at the animals. All of that have changed. I don't know what I would have done if I was a kid growing up now. At least the books in the libraries are still free to check out. It was summer that I read the most. I was too poor to have a television, thank heavens. I could not afford to go to the movies unless someone paid my way or I worked in them. I still think fondly of summer and books.

Recently, I read that the bookstore, Borders, is liquidating its books and closing for good. I never lived anywhere near a Borders but it saddens me. I remember when Barnes and Noble opened its doors in Redding. I have never waited impatiently for a store to open as I did that one. The only bookstore in Redding would not order books that I wanted and I had to order on line from Amazon when it became possible. I became a steady customer. Here in Portland, I shop at Powells all of the time. I am also a library user. I rarely used the library in Redding.

I don't watch regular television except the news on PBS and cable. I have a subscription to the newspaper here in Portland and I like it very much. It is full of local news. I have plenty of things to do here.

Reality has been hitting me more clearly of late. I find that I am planning my time a bit more than usual. For instance, I am going out to get some papers signed for my oldest son and get some milk and coffee. I think I will hit the library as well. All of it can be done within a short distance from my place.

I finally got my apartment exactly the way I wanted it and I did not need to get a truck to transport furniture. I bought smaller chairs for the living room than the overstuffed ones that I thought I needed and put it in my Honda. I bought the last one at Value Village yesterday as I had a coupon. The chair had paint on it which I was able to take off with polish remover I happened to have. It looked much better than I expected. I don't need to go to the second hand stores anymore. I am good now.

I really enjoyed seeing my grandchildren this last weekend although it took a lot to drive down and back. I won't be doing that too often. With gas prices, it is too expensive anyhow. When I was in Redding, I could feel that it was not my home anymore. It was good to get back home again. I enjoyed the trip back home better than on the way down as there was more road rage on Friday than on Sunday. There was more police cars on the road on Sunday. I was glad of that.

I took my grandchildren to see the last movie of the Harry Potter series and paid extra for the 3D effect. I really enjoyed it. That seemed special somehow as I started to read the books there in Redding and saw the movies there too. I thought it was the best movie of them all. I thought the books were always the better of the movies except the last movie. I would be hard pressed to say whether the book or the film was the best. I am also glad they chose Daniel Ratcliff as the actor to play Harry Potter because he consistently did an outstanding job and carried the films to the end. Some kid actors lose some ability in growing up, but he did not. He got better.

Lastly, to me if there was a place like heaven, it would look like Portland with all of the trees and flowers but there would be a blue sky and sunshine. It would always be summer or that is my version anyhow. Maybe that would be the time we would all enjoy being with each other and truly listen to what each of us would have to say. I don't know. I could be around my grandchildren as much as I would like without having to have my home vandalized by anyone. I think my place looks pretty close to heaven now. I hope none of you reading this think I am being so corny. Even with all of my problems, I feel pretty good right now.

New Rules of Life

2011-07-18T10:20:00.000-07:00

This past weekend, I went to see my grandchildren in Redding. It was wonderful. I took a book with me that I had read long ago and had in my library that was stripped from my house last year by my ex-husband. So, I bought it again here in Portland. It was "Wild Mind: Living the Writer's Life" by Natalie Goldberg (Bantam: 1990).

Goldburg said in her first sentence of this book: "Life is not orderly." Well I understand that especially now. I am a writer, not a great publisher writer, but I writer none the less. In this I share many of the things Goldburg does and expresses in her book; but her book is more than a book about writing. It is a book about the Zen way of looking at life. As she wrote at the beginning of this book, life is not orderly and Zen can't be either. There is a saying that if you want to make God(s) laugh, tell him (or her) of your plans.

At the beginning of every workshop that this author does, she has a set of writing practices. I have heard from other writers that I know that they are more than rules of writing. Many people consider them the rules of life because the bottom line of all life and of these rules is learning to trust your own mind, yourself. Goldburg, herself, says that these rules can be applied to anything. I am making them my rules for life.

I got a shock recently and about the possibility that it may be more limited than I thought it was. I am re-thinking a lot of things.

1. KEEP YOUR HAND MOVING.

If I am going to write for ten minutes or for an hour, I am going to write regardless of what is going on and not stop even if the phone rings or the desire for a cup of coffee hits me. Goldburg states there is a creator and an editor and they are two different people. Write what you want to write and the Hell with what anyone else thinks. If you keep your creative hand moving, your editing hand can't keep up with it. Editing is a good thing. It is shaping and making sure your writing says what you want it to say; but sometimes you first have to write down what you mean and ignore everything else that tries to stop your hand moving.

2. LOSE CONTROL

Say and write what you want to say. Everyone needs to have a place where they can do that. Don't worry if it is correct, polite, appropriate or not. If you don't write, go out to a place where you can say things just they way you want to say and not worry who will hear you. If you are mad at someone, give yourself permission to be mad and say what is on your mind to a lake or a canyon. In writing I want to say I am mad at this person or that and then I might tear it up or keep it in my journal. Everyone needs a safe place to let off steam but not to hurt someone, but in a safe and secure area.

3. BE SPECIFIC.

If I am writing about a car, what kind of car. If I am telling someone about a tree, what kind of tree. Too often my writing is general. Too often my words to people are general, too general. This weekend I went out of town to visit my grandchildren. I went to Redding to visit my three youngest grandchildren and we went shopping and saw the last Harry Potter film in 3-D. It was wonderful. My youngest grandson missed me so much he held my hand and would not get out of the car when it was time to leave.

4. DON'T THINK

When writing, sometimes it is best to put down the first thoughts. The first thoughts that flash in our mind is often the more honest ones that we are thinking about. When drawing or painting, don't think about it just draw. When biking, don't think about the bike just bike. When walking, just think about walking, just walk. When living, don't think about living just live. It 's going to happen anyhow.

5. DON'T WORRY ABOUT PUNCTUATION, SPELLING, GRAMMAR.

When I am writing, I try not to worry about the rules of writing. Nothing will stop the flow faster than worrying about stopping to check the spelling and so forth. That goes for everything else. Life is for living and not worrying about the rules. Some people know the definition of Buddhist terms and I don't. I don't think it is important. I am a Buddhist and if I get it wrong, I don't think it matters one bit.

6. YOU ARE FREE TO WRITE THE WORST JUNK IN AMERICA (AND THE WORLD)

If you worry about getting things right, you will not only not even try but not enjoy whatever you are trying to do. The thing to do is enjoy yourself. I write this now, but I have to remind myself all of the time whenever I am trying to do something. Just have a good time doing what ever you are trying to do.

7. GO FOR THE JUGULAR

If something scary comes up in writing or in your life, go for it. That is where the energy is. When it is time to remember your life, you won't remember the safe times but when it was the roughest. If I am writing something that is scaring me, I will get more out of it if I continue. I have done that and never regretted it.

During these times when I am facing the scary times, I am going to try and remember the above rules and stay mindful about my life. The worst time is when I am lying in the dark at night and the unknown comes up out of the dark like the monsters used to creep up from beneath my bed. I am going to try and remember the above rules and face it.

Wrong Size of Sheets

2011-07-15T08:26:00.000-07:00

Since I have moved to Portland, Oregon, I have had to depend on just a few belongings and what fitted on the back of a pickup truck. It wasn't very much. I had a large apartment and my son went home with his truck. I have a small compact car. I had to depend on second hand stores which luckily are great here in Portland. I have more than enough to live on, but I had to buy everything from scratch, more or less.

One of the things I needed to buy was sheets for my bed. I had one set and no washer or dryer in my apartment. At Value Village second hand store, they have a color tag that is 50 percent off each day they are open. To stretch my dollar I use that option more than I use the 25 percent off for seniors on Wednesday. I bought a set of sheets for my bed that were brand new that were gold. To be honest, the color was beautiful and the quality was exceptionally nice, much nicer than I usually can buy brand new. Then I tried them on at home after I washed them. Oh oh. They were the wrong size. That is why some store gave the sheets to Value Village. I tried to fit them on my bed and the sheets would not stay put.

Since finding out that I may not be staying in this life for long, I stopped trying to make this purchase for three bucks and just tossed them. It wasn't worth it. I was trying so hard to make things work. I had to ask myself if it was really worth it and it wasn't.

I am beginning to ask myself more in earnest what is important and what isn't. I went to a ,murder mystery club last night. This was the second time. I really like the people in it but the employee from the book store who runs it does not like me very much. I caught onto that last time and it did bother me. This time, I didn't really care. I don't really know her at all and have no idea why she dislikes me. It isn't important to me. The book group is important to me and I will continue. We have never exchanged names and so I have total freedom and I like that. I think the members are wonderful judges of the books we have read so far. If the employee has a problem with me, it does not take away from my pleasure of the group.

Hmm. I seemed to have changed a bit. For the better I think. I like that. I received a post card from the hospital for a phone consult next week. I still have a chance, that I don't have anything serious. I have my fingers crossed. Already, I can see changes in my life though.

My Six Regrets

2011-07-14T17:19:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, I wrote about how an hospice nurse saw her end of life patients expressed their regrets and summed them up. This morning, I put down how things have suddenly changed in my life and I may be facing this end of life sooner than I had expected. I really don't know for sure as all of the tests have not been given, but the possibility exists. I am now looking at this and thinking what my regrets would be at this point in my life. These are my six regrets:

1. I came to Portland to try and fly in some of my dreams that I have held dear all of my life. Although I have been trying here and there, I have not been trying giving it my full attention. I have been doing other things. I regret this, deeply. If I am going to be reaching the end of my trip I will never know if I would have succeeded or not. I still put it off and for that I am for sorry.

2. I have six grandchildren and I would love to see how they turn out as adults. One, the oldest is already an adult and he has turned out well. I would regret not knowing how the others turned out and not being there to be a supporter of who they are and accepting them and loving them fully for that.

3. I want to finally lose my weight fully and be a nice thin senior citizen. I have been over-weight all of my life for the most part and I regret I will never be anything else but just an overweight person. I want to be thin and to be be able to buy clothes in my size in any style I want.

4. I want to be able to walk and hike without pain, if it is possible, and to be seen as a normal person walking on the trail. This might be related to the above regret. I want to blend in with the rest of the population instead of standing out as I do now.

5. I want to reach a part in my journals that I finally have total self-acceptance and feel great about everything I do. I want to feel a deep sense of compassion about my fellow human beings. I am closer than I ever was, but I have suffered grief and pain from experiences and that I am recovering from. I have not completed it yet but I am close. I would regret that I have not completed my goal.

6. I would like to travel more and see some more places such as Canada and Scotland before I die. I regret that I will never see Vancouver, Canada or Spain and other places such as Sicily. I want to see them as a thin person. I am tired of being treated with hostility and anger just because I am overweight. Traveling would be so much easier if I was like everyone else.

Well, it remains to be seen if I am given another chance to complete what I want to do. I have my fingers crossed. If not, well I had a grand time of it anyhow.

Everything Changes

2011-07-14T05:40:00.001-07:00

The Buddha when asked to condense his philosophy said that it would easily fit into the sentence: everything changes. Being a brave soul or one who likes to pretend I am one I put that as one of my favorite quotes or at least until something happens in my life that changes my entire life. Then I don't like it one bit. I failed my CT scan at the Veterans' Administration Hospital. Oh shit.

It is only the first of steps to determine what is happening in my body that is supposed to be my best friend. We all know that story. We have all had experiences in which our body does things each of us would rather it didn't. I have had cancer over the years on numerous occasions starting in 1970. I don't know the exact cause. I will probably never know, but I have beaten it in the past and I am hopeful I will if I have it again beat it again. I don't know for sure. Several years ago, I beat ovarian cancer and that is a big one for women. That is when I found out how dangerous that disease is for women. Up to then I had no idea. Now, it is my lungs. I don't ever smoke but I have smoked passively in the past although I have tried not to.

I look out the window of my new apartment and the joy that I have been feeling is suddenly muted. I finally got my apartment the way I wanted it and now this. I read the news everyday. I read of the the bad turn of events that happen to other people without much reaction at times and now it is looking back at me. Of course, it really doesn't make any difference whether I feel as if I connect to the people with bad luck or not; but it does make some connect to me now. I might be one of those people now. Suddenly, the stories glare back from the newspaper and I realize that I have been isolating myself.

I have made some changes in my life. I have dropped one art class because I signed up for too much. One of my grandsons was coming to visit me this month and I had to ask him not to come because if I have to have surgery he would be alone. That would not be good. All of my well laid plans are now up in the air so to speak. Everything changes. I am suddenly not so brave. I would rather that things not change, but they have.

Top Regrets of Dying People

2011-07-12T09:51:00.000-07:00

There is a list of five regrets that Bronnie Ware sums up out of her experience as a hospice nurse that is on the Internet (She has a Facebook Page). They are as follows:

1. I wish I'd had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me.

2. I wish I didn't work so hard.

3. I wish I had the courage to express my feelings.

4. I wish I had kept in touch with my friends.

5. I wish I had let myself be happier.

This list changed my life. Each of them were from many people in which Ware was there for their last moments. I had heard from people who told me about relatives who were on their death beds and had said some of the same things but not so well as Ware did above. It is far more detailed in the above web address. She is working on the book and there are different web sites based on "Five Regrets" on the Internet. I put it on my Facebook and Twitter.

Ware said the first one was by far the most common of all of the regrets. It is the one that I am dealing with right now. It is also the hardest to do. Being who one really is in this life is not easy and it is easy to see why people often don't do it. It also takes courage and audacity. People, our friends and relatives, don't want to see us change even if it is attempts to be who we really are. Strangers don't want to see strangers be authentic so it would be very difficult for them to see these attempts in their loved ones. Friendships and even relatives relationships have been severed because of this and yet this is the number one regret of dying people.

I have had friends who came out of the closet, so to speak, in their senior years and disclosed their true sexual orientation even when they are grandparents and lose everything. Some families just go along with it while others cut all ties with the individual. My friend Ted has never regretted coming out with his status as a gay man. He said it was hard living a life that was a sham with so many lies and many of them were to himself. Even now, people he has known for a long time will throw them up to him. He feels better he does not have to lie anymore but sad that he did for so long.

Both Ted and I pledged the other day to be honest. In a sense, it is hard to do that and already I have run into trouble but I don't regret it. I feel lighter at the end of the day. I can imagine living a lie full of deceits so that one's life is what everyone expects it to be and then on the death bed wanting to live just one moment the way one wanted instead of the way everyone else wanted especially when those people died a long time before you did, namely one's parents.

I had a friend who married right out of high school because that was expected but she never loved her husband. He was a good man and he died a few years ago and she missed him for a while but felt empty because she never did the things she wanted to do when she was younger because she did what her parents wanted her to. She loves her children and grandchildren but wishes for something she can't identify, an empty feeling in her chest. Her parents are long gone and her life's circumstances are comfortable. She finds surrounding herself with things that many people can't buy and traveling to places many can't afford to go just to make herself feel better. I suspect she will be one of the ones on her death bed who will regret that she never lived her life the way she wanted to because in a sense she is still living the life her parents expected.

Looking down that list, there are other things that I have done that I wish I had not done. I have let friends go. Once when I tried to reconnect with one very dear friend I found out she had passed away. I was grief stricken for awhile because I did not say goodbye. I don't know what happened to so many people I knew over the years. I kept running away from bad memories forgetting that there were good ones in there too. Life is so damn short.

Everyone assumes that we all want to be happy and do what we can to be as happy as we can. It's not true. We get these fixations that we don't deserve happiness and joy. It is all in our gasp. Yesterday at the Loaves and Fishes where I have two art classes, this senior citizen told me to move aside and that I was in his way. He was walking as I was and not much older than I was. There are many seniors there that grumble about this or that. I wrote about this one woman who complained that I wanted to be gluten free there and that was just too much for that organization. Yet, when I said hello to her downtown because I thought I recognized her she was impressed that I would be friendly. Instead of being irritable as she usually is, she was very friendly. I always am friendly with anyone. It takes so little to be friendly. I don't remember people so I smile at everyone. Many people growl back. I don't take it personally. It takes more to be irritable than to be friendly. The grouchy man did not make himself feel better, not at all.

Music especially good classical music makes me very happy. When I was in Korea, I thought I would die for some J.S. Bach or any classical music. When I heard it for the first time on a bad sounding radio, I thought it was sublime. The woman who was there thought I was mad because it had such bad sound. She was so unhappy and did things to make herself so unhappy.

Many of us do so many things that make us unhappy as that woman did such as lying and taking things that did not belong to her. Of course, she will continue to be unhappy. I had a supervisor who was very mean to those he supervised. He could not sleep at night because of bad dreams. He hated people who were happy and made fun of them. One woman who volunteered at the mission to feed the homeless worked there. He sneered at her and called her Mother Teresa. There are sociopaths and psychopaths in the world who do not feel badly when they do horrible things to people, but I don't think the five regrets pertain to them. They don't regret anything and have little or no feelings.

We all do things that make sure we are less happy in our lives. We lie on our income taxes and gossip about our neighbors and cut someone off in traffic. These are the things that prevent us from being happy although at the time it does not seem that way. What can explain a whole nation such as Germany in the early part of the 20th century doing what they did to their own citizens or what some in the Middle East are doing now? On their death beds, there will be some heavy sighs.

We are all human beings. We all make mistakes. The above list gives us a second chance to make some changes so that when we are on our death beds and we are taking the one way train trip to the cemetery it won't be such a sad one after all. Make no mistake, we all have to take it. We owe a great deal of gratitude to Ware for compiling it.

Honesty

2011-07-10T10:16:00.000-07:00

My friend Ted who spent a night in jail recently called me again this Sunday morning. He said he felt rested and better after indulging in some fisticuffs with an Arab-American and then getting thrown in jail.

"He really got me mad. I mean, I was trying to be so Zen, so Buddhist and so middle of the road and said we all have issues of one kind or another," he said to me.

"Well, you are most of the time," I said.

" I wasn't being honest. I really wasn't. I was looking at him and all I could see was all of those newspaper reports of what those in Afghanistan and Iraq were doing to our troops, how the women and girls were having acid thrown in their faces for wanting an education, how Arab terrorists killed the grandnephew of Vincent van Gogh for a movie he made and how the Arabs in this country killed their own daughter for refusing to marry a man of their choosing and ...well.. you know the rest."

"Goodness." Was all I could say, but I understood. All of us were angry at the current news and at the people who were doing those things.

"He said that people got mad at him all of the time for what others were doing and not what he was doing. I denied I was thinking about it, but I was deceiving him and myself. That is when he hit me right in the mouth. I hit him back because he was right. I was really angry because he was right and because my mouth hurt me. My image or lack of truthful image hurt me."

"Anger doesn't go away does it?" I said.

"No, it doesn't although I am not angry at him anymore and he isn't angry at me either. We talked it all out and I admitted he was right at the jail and so did the others. We were all deceiving ourselves in thinking he was the stand-in for everything that has been going on. He's not. You know what really got me mad?"

"No."

"I thought I had my shit together. I thought I had been writing all of these books and making good money and I thought I was above all that. My relatives, my mother, they all lied to themselves but I thought I was better than they were. Then I started to go over all of the things I lied to myself about. The list is pretty long. Do you lie to yourself?"

At first, I wanted to say no; but as I started to think I knew the answer was the same as Ted's. "I don't lie to myself as much as I used to. I used to lie in my journal and that's is pretty bad. I think I still fib there every so often. I lie to friends and to people I just met. Again, not as much as I used to. I don't lie to my doctor though. I think it is insane to lie to one's doctor although I lie to the nurse. They are white lies such as the amount of exercise I actually get. "

"Maybe, we should make a pact not to lie anymore. If we can't tell the truth then say nothing. I find most people don't want to know my business anyhow. The books are not lies but surfaces stories and I go deeper and deeper as I write them. I think one book is the absolute truth and then I find out there is a deeper version. That is not lying."

"I agree because I do that too. I think I know what happened in one memory and find out that I did not." I answer. "I think you have something there. I felt bad about a book club meeting that did not go well. I had to be honest with myself and found out that I did not do anything. It was that I blamed myself for the bad meeting and it was really no one's fault. It was a bad fit for all of us. Then I started to see the humor and wrote it up as a Alice in Wonderland Tea Party Meeting which it did resemble. Honesty worked out very well."

"I am going to try and be mindful when I talk to people and when I write in my journal," said Ted. "That is why I like talking with you. You and I seem to be traveling on the same pathway or wavelength right now. "

I said: "Well, we have the same things in common as far as our past. I wish I was as successful in writing as you are."

"You are working on it and that is what counts. Still, I am glad I called you. I think this is a good way for me to react to people. I am also going to put it in my book that I am writing. "

We talked some more about people we knew and other things happening in each of our lives. I did agree that I have been giving honesty some thought recently. Ted just brought it to a conscious level. It is a good policy. If I can't be truthful with someone, I won't say anything at all. I will just have to work on the mechanics of that.

Use of Substandard English

2011-07-09T11:30:00.000-07:00

I was directed to a page today and it was about existentialism; however peppered through the essay was words such as "yr, cuz, " and so on. It threw me out of the loop of the meaning the author was trying to explain in his or her explanation of philosophy. It was set on a high level and it took all of my attention to understand what the meaning of the essay was and then I was stopped by these silly substandard English words. For instance, "yr" can mean your or year and so on. By reading in context I assumed it meant "your". It was extra work and it prevented me from following the logic of thought in the work itself. It also gave me the impression that the author was a youngster which may or may not be the case. It detracted from his or her ideas.

When writers blog, they go out all over the world and many people are using English that they were taught in the universities and there are readers out there of different ages who do not have the definitions of what is current in the younger set of readers in the USA. That is why all who write on the Internet should use standard English so all can be understood. That is why authors should write in standard English. No one would want to buy a book and find out it is written in a form of English that only those who were brought up in Australia can understand. It would make no sense.

When I was teaching high school in the USA, I always taught in standard English because I would explain to my students that they would be getting jobs in which most would need to be understood by all levels of society. They would need to know Standard English to get a job and to survive in college should they elect to continue their education. If they want to speak another language with their friends, that was their choice and not a problem as long as they could be fluent in Standard English. At one time, I could speak Spanish and can to some degree to get along in places in the USA where Spanish is only used.

It was in this vein, I taught English in its simpler form so that students could write and edit their resumes and letters of introduction so that they could express themselves on the Internet or to their future employers. As an employer myself, I have received letters from prospective employees in which I had no idea what the letter writer was trying to say. This is a disservice to the letter writer and not very difficult to learn. Most students were afraid to put anything down because of past experiences in school. I spent more time just trying to get them to just try and work on it from there. Starting from the beginning is learning Standard English in the first place when communicating with the world at large.

Well, I won't bore you with my pet peeves anymore. Needless to say not only did the paper on existentialism bore me but it angered me that I had to try so hard to figure out what he or she was trying to say that I might have missed something important only because the writer was too much in a hurry to not use the necessary words that would have pushed the essay into the light of an educated paper instead of the gobbledygook that was the result.

A Friend in Need

2011-07-07T15:31:00.000-07:00

I have written about a friend named Ted from time to time. Last night he called to tell me that he had just got out of jail. I was afraid that he had relapsed and went back to drugs and alcohol, but he assured me that he did not. He had gotten into a fight at an AA meeting in New York City. Someone with an Arab background had told him that he had no idea what suffering was until he lived as a Arab-American and a Muslim in the USA. Ted told him that everyone suffers and that he wasn't the only one. Things got heated and several other AA members all ended up in a physical fight and getting arrested when the police were called.

No charges were pressed and everyone was released the next morning. It was not the first time that Ted spent a night in jail but it was the first time since he became sober. One of the men who worked at the jail told him that the argument that caused them all to be jailed was happening everywhere in New York City although it was the first time he had heard it happening at an AA meeting he was sure it would not be the last. The guard said that most Americans were so mixed ethnically that it was hard to claim one ethnic group was better than another except that the Arab-Americans were finding themselves on one side and all other Americans including non-Arab Americans were on the other. Ted thought it was more of a religious thing than anything else. I didn't know. I don't even know any Arab-Americans although I have known some Iranians that I worked with when I worked at a hotel while in graduate school. That was before 9/11 and the last Bush Administration.

The guard was an AA member and cautioned Ted that the next time might not end so well for Ted and the others including the Arab-American who was also let go from jail without charges. Things were getting worse instead of better now.

Later all of them all went to a coffee shop and had some coffee even the Arab-American. He had to admit it was hard for him to admit he was an alcoholic since in his culture he was not suppose to drink let alone admit he was powerless against the effects of it. He had to hide the fact that he was going to AA meetings but he would lose his job with the city if he didn't. He thought the city was looking for reasons for firing him since he was a Muslim. He had no idea that Ted was a writer and was intrigued that Ted wrote about his bad experiences as a kid and made money doing it.

One member was part Irish and noted that there were a lot of Irish in New York and many of them had trouble with alcohol. Most of his relatives were with the police department but he was not. He was a butcher and was glad he was. When he was drinking he was always afraid he would cut off his hand while working. Now, he was more sure of himself although his wife left him because of it. She had remarried and refused to let him see his kids although he had stopped drinking several years ago. He even took anger management classes as he used to toss her around a bit before she left him. He did not know if she would ever let him see the kids but they were asking about him and he had his fingers crossed. Her new husband was not working and they all lived on his child support which really irked him, but he didn't lose his temper anymore although he wanted to. At least his kids saw him in a better light than his wife's new husband.

Another member was Italian-American and not anything else. His great-grandparents on both sides of the family came from Italy and he also had family members who had trouble with alcohol. His twin brother had more trouble with drugs and was into crack and was somewhere in Manhattan dealing and using the stuff. Family members expected to find his body in some drug house someday. The member was a pharmacist but lost his license when his brother stole some drugs from him and he could not prove it was not him. Now, he was a sales clerk in a video store which was going out of business. His wife was the one who really brought in the money that supported all of them. She was a elementary teacher in a private Roman Catholic school. She was very bitter towards his family for not doing more when he was arrested for his brother's theft of drugs from his drug store.

The last of them was disabled and on Social Security. He had cancer and it was a matter of time before it killed him. He drank to kill the pain since he could not get the pain killers as prescribed by his doctors because Medicaid would not pay for them. The law had changed and now he can take marijuana as prescribed by a doctor although he was forever getting busted by the police. He grew his own stash in a closet that had a special light. He wanted to grow it on the fire escape but kids were always stealing it. He wanted to buy it from a special store but the police often staked it out and then harassed him when he went in.

It occurred to Ted that the Arab-American still did not understand that all of them in one way or the other had severe reasons to drink but did not. He was so heavily enmeshed in his own tale of persecution that he could not see beyond where he was. Mohammad would just have to find his own way in his own time. Each of them did. Ted said he remembered a time when he thought he was the only one that had troubles as bad as he did. Since writing his first book, he hears from people with the same or even worse situations as he did.

Ted told me that when he was drunk or stoned, he would lie on the stone floor of the jail and wake up feeling so sick and achy in the morning that he would want to have a drink right away so the pain would stop. He would be dirty and filthy and he would feel ashamed. This time all of them just sat through the night talking to each other and listened to the drunks that were on both sides of them of them. The guard had put them in a cell by themselves. He even put the Arab-American with the rest of them. That was taking a gamble but it worked. They talked it all out and no one was going to hit each other in jail especially with other men in the other cells going through the withdrawal from alcohol and drugs all around them. The past memories were too real. The guard stayed around them. The brotherhood between the men were strong. They had more in common than ethnic bonds.

I thanked Ted for sharing what he did with me. He told me that every so often something in life happens that is special. If someone had told him that a night in jail was such a special event he would have thought that was mad. It was very special. All of them admitted that something had happened that they should all remember and include it in their road to sobriety.

I asked him why he was in New York City. He said he didn't know. He just said he felt like coming and would stay for a while. I told him to get some sleep.

Visit to the Library

2011-07-06T07:12:00.000-07:00

There is a small but delicious library across the street from my apartment. They always have a rich array of new books and I always bring back a few books that excite me. There are actual librarians on duty who are more than willing to order books for the patrons if they want and since I am a member of the Washington County Library system I have a large number of books to choose from. The maintenance man here at the apartment complex said that there is a new county every two blocks and evidently not all counties are the same in the number of books the county library system has. I live in a different county than the one that is across the street where the library is located so my library card is different from other patrons. It is all such a jolly system here in Portland. I just love it.

The books in the library are all fairly new and right now I am reading books in the murder mystery genre written in the 1930's and earlier. ( I had a bunch of such books in my collection that I had been buying to read that I lost last year. )It is wonderful to be able to ask an actual librarian if it is possible to access a list of murder mystery writers who wrote in the early part of the 20th century. The young man did and gave me a list:

G.K. Chesterton
A.E.W. Mason
John Dickson Carr
Margery Allingham
Georges Simenon
Cyril Hare
D.M. Greenwood

Some of the authors I was familiar with and some I was not. I ordered some books from other libraries and checked out some books that I did find that interested me. He apologized and said that because they were limited on space they did not have older books. I told him that I understood completely. It was then I looked at the boyish looking young man and at the library collection and felt a pang of regret for there was no way I would live long enough to read all of the books I want to read. I felt very old. I also wondered if the people of Portland and all of the intersecting counties would understand their luck in having librarians and such good libraries in their town and surrounding areas. In Redding, it would never be the case. Even the school district in Redding did not have an actual librarian in the whole district.

One of the books that I checked out of the library was "Things I've Been Silent About: Memories" by Azar Nafisi. I had bought the book, "Reading Lolita in Tehran" and read it and found it wonderful and insightful. It was one of the books I lost in the purge in Redding last year. I had heard about this book as she put more information about her time in Iran and in reading and teaching literature there. It was ironic that I had that book in my hand as I walked out the door in Portland. I was reading books in Portland like I never could in Redding not that I couldn't although there was the purge of my books last year but because there was a lack of book groups and people in love with reading there or at least I never could find them. Here, there are many book groups in Portland and enlightened people to discuss what they are reading. They may not agree with each other but they are reading as witnessed by the Tea Party at Powell's that I attended not too long ago.

While I was at the library across the street, I looked at the shelves and shelves of ordered books, papers sticking out from them from patrons who had ordered them. Maybe some of them had ordered books on cooking, art, novels, and what not. While I was talking to the young man many had come up and asked for their orders, gave them their cards and he checked them out to them. They were of different ages and ethnic backgrounds. I was having fun trying to read the titles of their books.

I told the young man that I had a chance to become a librarian when offered a scholarship but a requirement was there had to be jobs in it. This was in Kansas and there were none in the state so I could not be approved. I went into journalism instead. Too bad I was not living in Oregon. He asked when it was I had this chance and I said 1970 and it was probably before he was born and he said it was. All of my years suddenly weighed down on me.

Still, we all have our allotted time on this planet in this lifetime and I would not spend it watching television or other empty activities. Reading is such a pleasure and although I can't read all of the books I want to, I will give it one good try.

4th of July Weekend

2011-07-05T07:11:00.000-07:00

I had a great 4th of July weekend. I spent it alone. I have been so busy going somewhere every single day seeing so many people I was beginning to feel exhausted. I have not been doing the work I have been wanting to do around the house nor even the art work that I need to do for my art classes. I decided to spend the weekend alone.

It was some time ago that I discovered that some people are afraid to spend time alone. I am not one of them. Sometimes, it is a struggle to find a place where I can be by myself. In the military, it was in the middle of a marching field when it was deserted. As a child, I climbed trees where I could read and be safe. I also went to the school when it was deserted and read and to this day summers always reminds me of science fiction as I read more science fiction in deserted elementary schools as a child than any other place. I had friends growing up, but they did not understand my propensity for reading. Librarians knew me by name.

This weekend I read, wrote and had a grand time listening to music and watched a few movies on Netflix. I did not watch regular television. I really haven't since coming to Portland. Over the weekend, I watched several Joseph Campbell documentaries. He was such a marvelous scholar and mythologist. On film, he also had such an engaging personality. I know he lived a very long life, but I find myself wishing he lived longer.

The weather was wonderful. The sun was out and the sky was clear as it is right now. I used my patio and even took my laptop out there. I enjoyed my kitchen and cooked some nice meals. I did not go anywhere and just enjoyed my apartment. It was easy to do since I did not need anything. I have plenty of books to read and finished two library books. One of them was so interesting I zipped right through it. It was a new book by Jon Ronson, "Psychopath Test: A Journey Through the Madness Industry" (Riverhead: 2011). I had heard about this book from the Daily Show with Jon Stewart. I had made a note in my head to read it and found it in the library across the street. I also had the new edition of the magazine, Bookmarks, which I read as well.

There were a lot of people at the pool, and I did not envy them since I never like to swim in pools. I can see the pool from my patio but the fence around it blocks the people and the playground which I can see from my apartment has been empty for the most part since the pool opened. It is a heated pool so even when the day seems a bit cool, there are people there.

There are balconies above me, but I seem to be the only one that spends any amount of time in the patio with the possible exception of the smoker above me. I would have to have the only smoker. When he is out there the smoke drifts down to where I am, and I have to leave and go inside which of course is a shame. Still, he does not seem to be a chain smoker. He has stopped dropping his cigarettes off the end of his balcony, thank heavens.

There were lots of fireworks or at least I listened to them. I did not see them as there are trees that block the horizon. I also did not see the jets that flew over in formation and I have seen enough of those to know what was happening without seeing them. It was during those times I miss my mother for when I moved to California I would take my mother to 4th of July parades and her favorites were in Ashland. She lived in Grants Pass, Oregon. I would also take her to Crescent City, California which she would love and the last thing we talked about before she died was her dream of a trip we took there to see the light house. 4th of July was a big event for my aunt who lived in Grants Pass as well and we would have these wonderful picnics on Gilbert Creek with all of the people my aunt and uncle knew. I always think of them during the 4th as well. My uncle died in 1976 and my aunt died in 2001. Ah....memories. What would we do without them?

I said hello to the apartment manager as she headed to the pool. She is a very friendly woman in her 40's and her extended family live in this complex. She has some very colorful tattoos that I can see as she passes by because she is wearing a bathing suit. I talked with her by phone before I got to Portland. I was reminded of my impression of women with tattoos from my living in the Midwest that they were bikers. Now, I laugh but I remember seeing my first supervisor in Redding who was covered with them and my thinking she was a biker and my eyes must have almost fallen out of my head. Talk about culture shock.

Being alone stores up my batteries. When I was in Redding, I would head out to Whiskeytown Lake and spend some time alone in my car. I don't need to do that here although I don't know a lake like Whiskeytown. That lake is very special. Today, I intend to walk to the library as it is just across the street from this apartment complex. I need the exercise. It looks like a beautiful day for it. The people who work in it are very friendly and knowledgeable about the small but excellent collection. I have other things to do this week including one doctor's appointment. I think I will be up for them now.

Alice in Wonderland and that Tea Party

2011-06-30T10:37:00.000-07:00

I went to a book group last night to see if I wanted to join it. The book under discussion was Lewis Carroll's "Alice and Wonderland" and "Through the Looking-Glass, and What Alice Found There"

It is hard to put down the emotions I felt in this group. I was the new member and untested. The leader was missing. There was one man in the group who the self-appointed leader deferred to. It was soon that I felt I was in the tea party of Alice's Wonderland complete with the Mad Hatter and the Red Queen. Since no one introduced themselves I felt free to write this blog characterizing what happened. The discussion had the same mad logic the book had.

Much was made of the annotations in the books many of the readers used. The Mad Hatter wanted to talk about Sigmund Freud and Carl Jung. The Red Queen wanted to praise the Walt Disney version of the book and one lady who was rather sweet and more like the dormouse kept saying she did not understand the book at all and she had a very strong British accent. I liked her the best because of her honesty.

I have joined several book clubs this month but will not be joining this one. At first, I thought it was my personality. It was evident that they did not think well of me, but I think I made them feel uncomfortable. They kept changing the subject as those at the tea party did in the book. I could keep up since I was well acquainted with the subjects they switched to. There was no logic to the subjects they brought up. Still, I kept up. The Mad Hatter kept making pronouncements of things completely off the wall and the only thing the Red Queen did not say was "off with their heads."

It wasn't until I started to write this that I found the whole meeting funny.

Open Window

2011-06-29T06:05:00.000-07:00

I slept with the window open last night as it was warm and could smell the scents of the night and now the early morning as the sun endeavors to bring in the new day. Ah, the sounds of the birds as they twitter. There are distant cawing of crows, not close as they were yesterday.

There were suspicious ash on the window still last night as I opened the blinds and sash. I have no idea where they came from. I am new to this area. Is the black particles normal for this area? It wasn't for Redding. Are the smokers who gather on the balcony not far from my window responsible for their presence? I was reminded of the ash of ash Wednesday of Christian churches for I have been thinking of past memories of late. I was thinking of my friend who died many years ago, killed by her new husband while holding their baby. We used to go to her Roman Catholic Church and sing in the choir. She had asked the priest if she should stay with her husband who beat her and he had said yes. It was her duty to reform him, to lead him to God. I was thinking of her as I looked on the ash on the window. Two years after her death he killed his new wife in a traffic accident this time with the baby. My friend's family would spend the rest of their days in deep morning for all of them and in deep hatred of their son-in-law and of the law that gave no justice.

I was reminded of the ash that fell from the death camps on the surrounding towns in Germany in the 20th Century filled with people who did not know what was happening in those places of death. There are no death camps here. Portland is a city of trees and roses, of people who read books and of people who don't. Still, when the streams of people enter the highways they turn on their sadness and pour out their frustrations on each other here as they do everywhere else. I love to drive and see the wonderful trees looming out from the hillsides while some angry drivers jockey for position on the roadways. You don't see many angry riders on trolleys or it doesn't seem as if you do.

At Loaves and Fishes you see some of the seniors with angry bitter looks lining up for food. Some of them look at you as if you are going to take something away from them. There are no death panels in Oregon as they have in Arizona but in all of this beauty something is wrong with those who stand in line. Ashes fall everywhere here but why?

The bushes outside my window lost the wonderful red flowers that appeared one morning but new leaves appeared in their stead. I can see new buds growing and there will be another crop of red flowers very soon. The old petals have yet to drop away from the worn out flowers where new growth have bush through. When it rains, I can see the rain drops glistening on its leaves. It rained last night for I can see from here goblets of water. The crows are now closer. They are cawing louder. I wonder if they know where the ash is coming from, maybe it is from the leftovers of yesterday's day. The sun has just appeared and it is good to see it as it makes few appearances in Portland. If the ash is the bitterness of life, it is good it lies on my window instead on my heart and everyone wakes up feeling better about the goodness of life. I can always get a paper towel and just wipe it clean.

MOVE Program

2011-06-28T19:49:00.000-07:00

I started the MOVE Program today at the Veterans Administration. They have an approach that won't work as it is a one size fits all. All participators are of different sexes, races, ages and so on. I decided to go with it as it has a structure that might prove beneficial for me at this time. I asked for an appointment with a dietitian who I hope will understand what celiac disease is. I have found that few do and the ones I met have little inclination to learn. Many of them treat it as a fad. It isn't so I will take the point of view of taking what is useful and leaving what isn't in this program. The follow-up is done by phone. That is the main reason I am staying with the program.

I have a real need to eat a more healthier diet. I don't. I am now at a stage where I need vitamin B shots. I have a very low level in my body. The doctor that I was seeing required that I take folic acid which I do but only ever so often. I can't take regular vitamins except calcium without my body having a reaction. I am really hoping I can get some real tips on how to eat what I can eat without my intestinal track going on overload.

I am far more active than I used to be which presents problems with pain with my arthritis. Still, it is a different matter than having pain because there is damage in my joints. I don't have that. I can take pain reliever that I buy over the counter. I will be starting an exercise class that specializes in arthritic exercises. That is starting in a few weeks. I would like to have some exercises that I can do in the morning when I wake up. I will see what I can do. I can ask my medical provider for an appointment with a physical therapist for some exercises that won't create problems with the injury that I had with my last major surgery.

Losing weight is far more complicated than it appears on the surface. It is far more than just a change in life's habits. I have already been interviewed for some help in the VA's mental health department. I will need that in order to lose weight and to keep it off as well. It is scary for me to change my body image. There are a lot of issues having to do with my weight. Although celiac disease is responsible for my overweight to some degree, it is not the only reason. I have used overweight to give me protection for some fears and issues in my life. I will need some help in resolving that as well. Of course, I will be doing my own work in that area.

I am hopeful that MOVE can help me with some structure in losing the excess weight that I am presently carrying. Not all of the program will be useful and I will just ignore the parts that are not. It is basically a program that was created for men. Men can lose weight much easier than women can. Most men have helpmates who are helping them with the program while women generally have to do it alone. That is why MOVE can help me there, but it can help me without become obtrusive such as the programs such as Weight Watchers and other such programs can be.

I think I can do it. I have dusted off my old food journal and will be doing it starting tomorrow morning. I had sworn I would never do it again, but I will. I will also record as much the MOVE program wants me to record. I will even go back to record the calorie intake which I have not done in years. They gave a sheet in a folder they want the record to be modeled on. Again, I am optimistic I can do it. In Korea, I lost 50 lbs and gained only after I came back to the USA specifically Redding. I have lost weight since coming to Portland. It showed in how much I weighed today.

The trick is not to give power to the food as I once did. I will continue to write in my journal and to keep active. Thank goodness I have other things that I am interested in. I don't want to sit around and just eat. That is no good. Depression does not seem to be a major factor since coming here either and that is a help. I often ate to make myself feel better. I don't need to because I already feel better as I am in a better place now.

A New Reality

2011-06-27T05:58:00.000-07:00

Someone who I have known a very long time recently died. I like to say it was unexpectedly, but it was unexpected for no one but me. He was in his 80's. He was 11 years older than me, and I never expected that he would die before me although that is not reasonable anymore than my deep seated belief that somehow the Grim Reaper would keep missing me and go for someone else. We all have that hope. It is unreasonable and it is in vain. We all meet in the cemetery for a laugh when this life is over.

I pictured him on the highway of life as a yellow car with the license tag that said "splat" and driving ahead of me. I remember feeling quite astonished that he would do that, go ahead without me. I am sure some of you reading this, should there be any, would say so what? Well, this friend was a basic part of me, a someone that I admired and looked up to, a plank in my life. He wasn't supposed to go before me. I still remember him as I did the first time I met him as a young man although he definitely wasn't the last time I saw him. I guess I ignore who I see in the mirror when I wash my hands in the bathroom or comb my hair.

I have been thinking of him for a while and processing other memories for the last week. When it rains, it pours. It seems like a wake-up call for me. I have a grown up child who says to me "you always think it is about you." Well, I don't have anyone else in this body. Yes, it is about me when one thinks about death. My friend isn't here to tell me that I should be thinking of him. He isn't him anymore. I don't know who he is except he isn't him anymore. So, I think of me since I am me. My son thinks I am mad and I guess this proves it. Sigh.....

I do miss him. I can't call him anymore. I want to pick up the phone and ask him where he is. Even my Android, which can do almost everything, can't do that. I probably been thinking about him more than I usually do but really about me when you get down to it. Death seems friendlier to me now. I am not wishing for it but it seems more possible now that people I know seem to be disappearing.

When you hear about an accident or war and there are lots of deaths that is sad but when it is someone you know quite well, it is different. I am lucky in that I have never lost a child. There were times in the past in this country where it was expected to lose one. People lose them but not as much. People see them die in other countries still. There is no differences between people in other countries and myself but the luck of being born in one place from being born in another.

I used to know this woman, named Pamela who hated to talk about death. Wouldn't you know she died. At least she didn't have to talk about anymore. She died in a traffic accident and never knew what hit her. It was a drunk driver who died too when he plowed into her car as she stopped for a red light. She thought if she did not discuss death, it would not happen to her. So much for that theory. she was in her 40's which was a shame. The drunk driver was a kid in his teens.

This is not an essay about where my friend went for I have no idea. I just saw him heading down the road without me. Anyone who says where people go after death is just whistling in the dark. I do believe we were all in that place before being born but I don't remember. None of us do with the possible exception of some Zen Masters, I suppose. They aren't saying too much. They're meditating. As for me, a new picture of reality has emerged from all of this as it does for each of us when our friends and relatives die. Then we get up off our duffs and get on with our lives until it is our time to head on down the road towards that mystery ourselves.

Lori Du Val-Uncovering Old Memories II

2011-06-24T10:35:00.000-07:00

It is amazing to me how rethinking old memories with today's mind creates new memories. I began to see things in a new light and re-frame what happened so many years ago or to see not what I thought happened but what did happened. I was so sure of what I was seeing with my teenaged eyes that I miss some important clues that I did pick up with my senior eyes. It was not as I thought but different. Everything is still back in those bubbles of time but not the way I thought they were.

I can see now that the professor was far more angry at women than I suspected after the love of his life dumped him. I could also see that he did not include me in the women he went through and that he did throw passes at me but stepped back from going through with them. He did like me but as I suspected I was not the type he wanted to punish His mother also saw me as a threat to her meal ticket. I see that now from all of the statements she made to him that I overheard.

I am working to heal the wound that was inflicted so many years ago. The wound was not as bad as I thought. Again, I went on with my life that was longer than it would have been if he had been a bit of a cad which he was not. He knew I had a crush on him. He could have taken advantage of that but didn't. I saw him looking at me. Things went on the way it was best for me and I can't say the best for him as I have no idea what his life was like after me.

In conversations with other women, we often talk about our first loves. I am not different than many of the friends I have exchanged stories with. I did not grow old with someone that I loved. I envy women who were able to do this. Love stories are rare, so rare that songs and books are written to describe them when they happen in real life. My aunt who lived to be over a hundred lived with a man she loved for over 5o years. It was a wonderful love story. Another aunt had a similar love story with her husband. It happens but did not with me. My mother lived with an horrid man who almost killed her on several occasions and was cruel to his children too. I had a close friend who died during the time I knew the professor. She was killed by her husband who almost killed their child. He used to beat her before that night in Arizona when he finally completed the job.

Life has showed me many things and it has been a mixture. The story of my first real love is typical in many ways as it was full of sad and happy events. Then the participants went on to different things. I found the chapter of this memory and read it again dusting off the incident and looking at it in a new light. It did not change what happened, far from it; but it did give new meaning to something that happened so many years ago and affected me so greatly.

Uncovering Old Memories

2011-06-23T07:28:00.000-07:00

For the last few days I have been dealing with some old memories that recently surfaced when I awoke. I felt depressed and since that is a good sign that I need to journal I did. Oh, it was like peeling back a layer of me and finding a wound that had never healed. I just covered it up and tried to forget it although it has been slipping out here and there.

It involves a job that I had when I was a teenager in which I helped take care of a single man's mother while I was going to college. He lived elsewhere. He was a college professor and had an active social life. I was very innocent in those days. For being around and making sure his mother had everything, I got a place to live and a small allowance. It freed me from getting a job that would take hours away from my schoolwork.

It lasted only a year but it affected me in ways I did not want to remember. I never tried an arrangement like that again. My best friend died during that time. I developed deep feelings for the professor that never went away. The mother ended up going back East, but I never forgot that time which seemed magical in many ways. It was the only time that I went to college and did not have to work at a regular job. It seemed wonderful.

That year ended a time of my youth and started one of my adulthood. I think I had a vision of my life having happier endings because I had a dysfunctional childhood. I nestled in a storyline that had at best an adulthood that life would be better when I reached it. It became apparent that it was not to be. That year was an introduction into reality. I fell in love with someone who did not love me back.

What was ironic was the professor had graduated from a university and was posed to take a job teaching at an university and to marry a woman he loved very much but she married someone else. He became very ill and almost died. He lost tremendous amount of weight and almost died. His mother came out to nurse him and then he found out later his mother was losing her sight. He took the job of teaching and then began to take care of her as her only other relative, his brother, refused to do it as he had a large growing family to care for back East.

Maybe, she was not going back East, but he had fired me. I don't know. I was depressed myself after the death of my friend. Maybe, his mother wanted an older woman and not a student. I got a job and continued to go to school and found an apartment. I went on with my life and he continued to teach at the state university until he retired. I saw him only once and he pretended not to see me. That hurt my feelings.

My feelings, as I said, never changed. I still think of him. In my mind, he is still in his early 30's. I looked him up as one can do on the Internet and he lives in Hawaii. He is in his 80's. I can't imagine his being that old. My life went on as everyone does in the same situation. It was nothing odd or strange. I fell in love several times after that but nothing ever was like that first time. It should have not been so important to me, but it was. Maybe, it was the timing of it all and the reality that life was not going to be the wonderful golden time I dreamed it would be. I thought I would find the fairy tale that it was promised by the movies and the stories I had read. It wasn't. He was not a bad man and certainly was not cruel or abusive. That I am very grateful for. I fell in love with abusive men later. It was easy to fall out of love with them. He was a kind and gentle man who almost died from love himself.

It is funny how life turns out the way it does. I remember all of the stories his mother told about her oldest son. I know he did not like children and he insisted that all of his girlfriends know he did not want to marry especially if it meant marrying someone who had kids. Most of his girlfriends were divorced women and he was chased by women all of the time and I know that because when I worked there I was always being asked by women who knew his mother who her son was dating. They were also wondering if he was dating me. He never threw a pass at me. I wasn't his type. I was always going with her to visit women her age who had unmarried daughters who wanted to know this information. He was a very good looking man.

I ended up marrying an abusive man. I had several children by him and those children were well worth having in my mind and of course the grandchildren. In those early years, I was very ill and did not know it. It was the birth of my first child that created conditions that brought out the cancer that would not have been detected had I not been pregnant. In fact, many of the doctors I saw during the pregnancy thought my illness was in my head. Thank goodness, I saw an expert that happened to be at the Veterans Hospital one particular day. I would have died otherwise. I have told my son that his birth saved my life.

I went on and had a great life after the professor. I have no idea what kind of life he had as I never really saw him except that one time he ignored me. I went on and became much happier than I was during that year that I worked for him. I am sure his mother is gone now. I have been writing about the fact that if for some reason he fell in love with me as he had with that woman who left him at the altar I would not be alive today for I would never have had my son who saved my life. I would never have the other child and grandchildren and all of the other experiences I had since then. I would have had other experiences and an early death and a place in some cemetery. Still, I can still see him in my mind's eye as he looked so many years ago. The ache I felt in my heart is still there. He is as old or even older than his mother was then. He was so handsome and I guess he will always be to me as women's prince charmings are.

Staying In

2011-06-21T11:58:00.000-07:00

Last night as I went to bed, my whole body hurt, from head to toe. I took several pain relievers (over the counter luckily) and went to bed. I don't have anything to do, so I decided to stay in and read and write. It is sunny outside and I might sit on the patio and drink some iced tea or soup. The Oregonian newspaper said that this spring, is the wettest one that they ever had or close to it. Seeing sun and having it nice and fairly warm is special.

I love to work in the morning. I make myself some coffee with some cream and some toast and it is heavenly. The only window that I have to close in my apartment is my bedroom. The other windows do not catch the sun directly. I sit in bed and listen to Baroque music and have a great time. Then I start to work on my writing although I do have to do some reading.

I need to finish a book by this weekend about a woman who spent some time in the U.S. Navy. She has two issues she brings out in her book. She found the navy very negative towards women in the service and what it was like to serve secretly as a gay American. It is a novel but my impression is that it is based on her experience. It is hard reading as I was in the U.S. Army and although I was not gay I found similarities in the way the army treated the women in the military especially since both of us shared the same years of service although her years of service was far longer and she was an officer.

There is something to be said staying in on certain days. I usually have a class on Wednesday, but it was canceled so I might just go to Value Village to see if there is anything there that I need for the apartment or to Grocery Outlet for my trip to Salem. I need to prepare a potluck dish. I want to fix a vegetarian dish as some of the people in the book club are vegetarians and I want to make sure it is gluten free in case there are no other dishes that I can eat. I now have some cookbooks to go through and of course there is the Internet. Thursday is another drawing class.

Because it is sunny, I want to do a wash and hang it up on the patio. My sheets that I put out there last night are almost dry. I will be doing another wash as soon as they are ready to come in.

Living alone is such a treat since I can do anything I want which is what I am doing today. I am listening to the music I want to hear and eating what I want to eat and when I want to eat. Life is great now. Some people would say that I am being selfish as a woman, but I don't care.

Sunday, June 19, 2011

2011-06-19T13:12:00.000-07:00

The long awaited sunshine and heat have not materialized as yet. I have wash hanging out on the patio and they are slowly drying and I mean slowly. I would not have done a wash today, but I need to do another wash soon. I don't use the small laundry mats in the apartment complexes where I live. I would just like to put the wash in and then get back later, but if you are late or worse someone is even more impatient one's wash ends up on a table even before the machine stops. I wash by hand and then I hang them up on a rack I bought at Goodwill. Even the towels don't take that long as my patio has a cover. The only problem I have is the man upstairs smokes and dumps his cigarettes over his railing, and they often end up on my patio. How rude!

Someone told me that it rains often in Portland and I must admit it does. It still is worth moving here though. There is so much to do including my homework for my art classes tomorrow. I need to draw a bowel of eggs and I am glad I have a bowl and some eggs to put in it. I also need to paint a landscape of my choosing although it can't be one that someone else has painted. I will select one from the Google images and paint it today. I am looking at the clock; and I have plenty of time which is a danger as when you think you have plenty, you end up with none.

I was going to get dressed a few hours ago, but I have not done so. I will still need to as I am going to the store. I am going to buy some bread and get some change for Loaves and Fishes tomorrow. That is the location of the art classes and I need to have change for lunch which cost three dollars. The volunteer is not happy with the fact that I am unable to eat gluten and so I want the three dollars exactly. She does not think I have the right to insist on a gluten free lunch. I got one last time but chose an extra dish from one side of the lunch entrees and skipping the other. The main course was a pasta dish and some other gluten meal. I just selected extras from the side dishes. It was no big deal. I guess she expected me to eat gluten which of course I would never do.

The parking is eight dollars a day which hurts me but I can absorb it; and I can use my debit card. Everyone who eats there is on foot or takes the bus. I have too much to carry to do that. It is for seniors which is ironic. The law is on my side. I don't want to go that far. The others there are very nice about it.

In Redding, I could not find a book club to join. In Portland, the area is full of them. I did join two and I am reading as fast as I can to finish the two books I started before the meetings. One is next week and I am only half way through it. I don't particularly like it. The other one is a murder mystery and I love it.

I will end this as I need to go to the store to get some bread and maybe some butter depending on what the cost is. Luckily, although the day is overcast it does not seem to be raining.

A Difficult Friend

2011-06-18T07:45:00.000-07:00

I didn't know how I was going to write about this subject. I had breakfast with someone I have known for sometime. He was in town for some meetings regarding a business matter and a short visit with his mother who is in a nursing home here in Portland. I always found it difficult to talk with him, and I have disguised this friend in here so no one will know who he is. I am not writing to criticize him, far from it because a lot of good came from that brief meeting. Maybe, I will see him again someday; and I visit his mother from time to time.

I will call him Joe and he comes from Portland although I met him in San Diego when I was growing up and then we lost touch until I met him again in Lawrence, Kansas where he was a college professor at the University of Kansas. He no longer works there as he lost his job there for some reason as he has lost all of his jobs down through the years. Luckily, he inherited a trust fund from his family, the same one that pays for the nursing home his mother is in.

He gave me a call and since I was finishing an art class I met him at a restaurant near the airport on his way out of Portland. He now lives permanently in New York City at an apartment he inherited from some relative.

I had not seen him for about ten years, but the first words I heard was a severe criticism of the way the West Coast makes coffee. Then the conversation went on to the horrible conditions of the airport here in Portland and then to the airline he was using. He was telling me how he could not find any employment because of all of the complicated paperwork it now takes to get work in New York City. He is trying to get work in other states, and it is the same thing. He feels he is too old now to get a decent job teaching.

When I tried to say anything he got very irritable with me and gave me the impression that he did not think I knew what I was talking about. He tried to collect Social Security but was not old enough yet and his physical problems were not extensive in themselves to get Social Security based on disability although he was 60 years of age. When I mentioned working overseas, he said that he tried that and the paperwork was even more complicated than the paperwork in this country. Finally, he admitted that he did not think he could pass a background check because he got arrested in a demonstration. I told him that those are misdemeanors and not a problem. Many people had them. He then told me he was convicted and instead of serving the sentence of community service he took off. When I told him to see an attorney and get it cleared up, he really got mad at me. It was all the fault of the system against people of his age and education.

He irritated the server by making demands when she was the only one on duty in the section of the restaurant. They were very busy. He was cold towards her and talked down to her. I was getting more and more upset as the breakfast progressed. Finally, I took him to the airport and dropped him off in front so he could catch his plane.

I came home and was very upset about the whole episode. Joe was far more irritable than he used to be since I last saw him. I know he has physical problems and I really did not know why he continued to keep in contact with me as he considered me beneath him in the scheme of things. His mother was like that as well but although she was also born and raised here in Portland she had no one who visited her at the home and I saw her occasionally since moving here. I brought her little presents that she looked down her nose at but what can I do? She liked the soaps I brought when I could find them though. You would think they came from the nobility of France or Spain instead of a insignificant family in New York. Still, they were friendly when I went to school at the University of Kansas and she lived there in Lawrence with her son.

Joe never married and had no children. His father died when Joe was in his late 20's. He was a businessman but his mother and Joe never talked about him. Of course, I saw him briefly when they lived in San Diego. I think he was in the importing business, but I was never sure. They lived down the street from where my parents lived in Chula Vista. He did go to Yale for his degrees which was paid for by his parents. I have no idea which side of the family had the trust fund that was paying his current living expenses.

To be honest, I don't remember Joe being involved with demonstrations but he could have been when he went to Yale. He wasn't very attractive and never did have many girlfriends although he certainly liked them. I was too busy working at the nickel and dime jobs I did to get me through college at the community and state colleges and universities I attended. I served in the military when that road ended when Ronald Reagan was governor in California. I attended the University of Kansas when I met up again with Joe. I never took a class from him which I will be eternally grateful as many people were not happy with them.

I felt so bad the next day after he left, I had to sit down and figure out why. I use writing meditation as the method. I was astonished at the reasons I felt the way I did at that breakfast meeting. It wasn't because of Joe himself. However, there were many issues and subjects undercurrent in that meeting that had nothing to do with Joe. They all had to do with me and my own experiences. As with most things that come up and bother us, the people we meet are just the messengers. It didn't make any sense to get mad at Joe for he was just being Joe although in a more concentrated form. I had to face the fact that Joe, like myself, was getting older.

Joe is irrational and always has been. He can be smiling one moment and then rear back like an angry stallion and kick you metaphorically in the face. My father was like that but far worse than Joe could ever be. I lived my whole life in abject fear of never knowing how he would react in any given situation. I did not have to say anything for him to suddenly take offense at something I said, didn't say or something he imagined I said. No one never knew what was going to happen. I hated coming home if he was home from work. My mother would react in anger to us kids when he wasn't there and be silent and unassuming when he was there. I thought I left all that behind when my father died. I did not appreciate it one bit spending time with Joe, but I said yes when Joe called me. I was also mad at myself for being there.

Growing up, I blamed myself for everything that happened. I did not realize that I did that until I started to journal about my breakfast meeting with Joe. Being a good co-dependent kid, I tried to manage everyone so that my father had fewer outbursts and my mother got mad less. Of course, I could not do that but I thought I could. My mother was always trying to tell us kids to keep quiet as if that did any good. It didn't. My father still had the outbursts, still drank and still beat up on everyone including her. There was no magic formula that would stop his behavior.

I continued these assumptions into my adult life. I believe that I held magical abilities to stop people from over-reacting and when I could not I blamed myself for their bad behavior. I thought it was my bad behavior that created Joe's bad reactions, bad decisions, self-deceptions. I am not to blame. What I am to blame is saying yes to Joe when he calls. I need to stop doing that because I don't enjoy the talks. He sits and blames everyone under the sun for his problems. That is ridiculous. He uses me as a sounding board for his bad decisions. Then he uses me to feel superior to what he sees as an inferior person. I really must stop this.

That is another assumption on my part. I think I can change him. This is something from my earlier life in which I felt I could change the situation from the bad one I was in to a better one. I can't. It is nothing I have any control over. The only person I have any control over is myself. Maybe I am doing the same thing he is and allowing myself to be around him so I can feel superior. I don't know. What I do know is I can't change him in anyway. I need to go somewhere else. Maybe I don't think I have the right to say no. Yes, I think that may be right. Well, I do. I like this bringing things into mindfulness, into the light of consciousness. I have the right to expect better things to do with my time and I don't have to deal with people who are not where I am. There is a whole world out there I can't change and it will continue long after I am gone.

As I said before, the breakfast with Joe was a meal in Hell; but it wasn't all that bad. I learned a lot from the experience. The part of it that was not enjoyable was not Joe's fault for he has not changed through the years. The fault was mine and that means I have the power to change things. I intend to do just that.

Art Classes

2011-06-15T18:33:00.000-07:00

This week I started my art classes and I am exhausted. The store that I decided to buy my supplies neglected to put all of my supplies in my bags so I had to go back and get them. Then they had given me oil brushes instead of water color brushes. I went back and exchanged them but the woman who waited on me was very unhappy with me. I will not be going back. Now, that I know more about the art classes, I will go to other places closer to home and find cheaper prices. Someone told me to try some places on the Internet.

Overall, I am happy with the classes but tired. I have enough skill to be able to keep up with the rest of the class as they had taken the classes before. I have been drawing and sketching in my journal for years. I have never worked with pastels and it is a matter of watching the teacher and the others around me. The other students are very nice as the teacher is knowledgeable.

Tomorrow, the drawing and watercolor teacher is having a free session in a garden. I am planning on joining her and other students. You have to bring a lunch. That is going to be the only problem since it is hard to pack a gluten free lunch. It starts around noon.

Letting Go

2011-06-13T07:10:00.000-07:00

"Forgiveness is primarily for our own sake, so that we no longer carry the burden of resentment. But to forgive does not mean we will allow injustice again."
-The Buddha

I keep returning back to letting things go because I am an angry person. I found the above quote on Facebook this morning. Ah, such wisdom in one sentence. The Buddha(Gautama) was such a great teacher. I probably knew this but could not put it in one small sound bite, one small sentence. Yes, I knew this but didn't.

I remember years ago wrestling with the ethical question of whether or not to forgive those who hurt me in the past. I was with others who were hurt as I was and some who were abused worse. It was the consensus of that meeting that we did not have to forgive. We thought we were taking the high road. I always felt uncomfortable with that decision, and wish I could go back to that group and explain how wrong it was at least to me. Forgiving isn't for others. It is for the self.

I have seen films and read of abusers who have gone back to their victims and asked for forgiveness and expected their victims to make them feel better. The abusers often felt angry when the victims reacted with anger to them. The bullies were still mired in their egos and still wanted others to take care of them. The victims have no such obligation. The abusers needed to make peace with themselves and do the work and not expect others to do it for them. They still have some miles to travel on that road.

I had a remarkable dream yesterday during a nap. I dreamed that I was with two people who were friends a very long time ago. I was at a place that was a combination of several universities that I had attended and graduated from and also several work sites that I worked in for some years and left. Those places were important to me and felt like I had undergone life changing events.

In the dream, the two friends were leaving, as I was, the job site and I was asking what they had been doing since I last seen them many years ago. I told them that I now lived in Portland, Oregon. I also said that I did not have a writer's block anymore. They told me what they had done. The two left and as I was walking down some stairs, someone walking up said to be careful or I might fall. I thanked her for the advice. I watched as I stepped down the stairs that resembled the ones that are outside this building.

In a way, it seemed as if I was leaving those events behind me. I was finally able to forgive the people that seemed to have done the most hurtful things to me in the past. Those things dropped off of me like a coat. I had reached a point that I had forgiven them. Maybe, I had forgiven my part too. That did not mean I was going to allow the injustices to occur again for I am not. But, I am going to detach from those events and let them go and start my life anew. I am getting on with my life without the anger I had been feeling, the resentment that I have been carrying. I think it is time.

Being Part of a Group

2011-06-12T07:25:00.000-07:00

I have never been part of any group. That is why I don't mind not having a following for my blogs. I don't follow anyone else's that much. I often say I am a Buddhist but I am not that much of one to be honest. I don't fall into one particular sect. One person called me a "salad bar Buddhist" in that I take what I want and leave the rest behind. That's true.

There have been times when I have been in groups and there is a mass hysteria going on and I was glad I did not feel it. I just watched it. I usually don't follow fads although the few times I did I understood why people did for it as it does give one a feeling of belonging and inclusion. I did not bond with my family of origin because it was so dysfunctional, I chose inanimate things such as books and fictional characters.

This characteristic has served me well as a journalist and writer. Sometimes, I feel left out of things, but as a whole I like it. I am not trusted by others completely though and again this has its downside. I think as the world changes it is more common for people to live on the outside of society as I do. The Internet with its social engines such as Facebook and Tweet were made for people such as me. I don't require the intimate closeness of people.

There is an element within me that mistrusts intimacy because of the experiences that I had. Don't get me wrong. I am a very happy person for the most part. Being a writer is a good fit for me. I do have friends and some of them are like me. We are happy being solitary and in fact require some time alone to more or less restore the batteries. I knew a married couple who got along very well because they lived in different houses. They had their own interests they pursued although the only intimate relationship is between themselves. There are couples that have other lovers and I am not talking about these couples. I will not pretend to understand that. The first time I was married, I had trouble in that my spouse did not want to be alone. He did not understand that I had other interests and hobbies that did not include him. The biggest problem was he did not have any interests or hobbies, but that is another matter.

No one is responsible for the happiness of another. This is hard for some people to understand. I have all that I can handle taking care of myself; and to be responsible for someone else is just too much. When I was a single parent it was part of my duty to take care of my children. My kids are all grown up now. I don't want a fully functioning adult to care for. Many men feel they need a woman to take care of them. I see it all of the time, and there are plenty of women who are willing to perform this for them. This is not for me.

I noticed long ago that people are afraid of being alone. I am afraid of not being alone. Work places are full of people who are not at work to earn a living as much as to be with others in a group setting. Some people who do not have to work for economical reasons still do. Many senior centers are full of volunteers who need and desire to work for free just to be with others. I don't. I don't mind volunteering if there is a need, but I remember the first time realizing that the competition was as strong as it was for paying jobs. Since I work at home, I decided I could stay at home instead.

If this was the past, I would have been considered a hermit especially if I was male. It is not safe for women to live alone in the mountains so I live alone in the city. There is safety living alone in communities such as in the United States. There are many countries where women living alone would be at great risk. Some men do not like to see women living alone because it seems to be a affront to their manhood that women could do without them. Often women live with other women for this reason especially if some of them have children.

There is a growing trend in the world community right now where banks and other organizations are realizing that if they invest in women, they can get more for that investment as woman are more likely to be successful and make sure their children are fed and educated then men who might invest any money given to them at the nearest pub or other house of pleasure. Women do well in groups of economic units and the trend is expanding not only to other countries but continents as well. Loners are not part of this phenomena. We are the artists, writers, poets and others who might employ others like ourselves. We do better in religious communities.

It takes all kinds of people to make this world. I remember writing in a journal when a man who I knew slightly came up and while looking at a couple with kids told me that if I did not spend so much time writing I could have what that woman had. I was astonished and said that I did not want what she had. I was quite content being where I was writing in my journal. My kids were grown and I enjoyed my grandchildren from time to time; but I did not want to be in that situation at all. He got mad at me. He said I was denying my destiny. Needless to say we did not remain friends.

I am glad I am not part of a group. I am glad I am where I am right now. When some people thought I should be jealous of those in a certain couple situations, I went along with it. I thought they must be right. It has taken me a while to think for myself in all ways. No, I don't want to be with someone all of the time. I do like people who give me the space to be myself. The friends I have give me that space and I hope I give that space to them as well. I also am willing to admit the truth too. I had paid too much attention to others. I am glad I am me and others should be too.

"Move" questionnaire

2011-06-11T22:04:00.000-07:00

I go to the Veterans Administration Medical Center and went to my first appointment the other day. Because I am overweight, the nurse practioner(NP) referred me to the "Move" Program. I told the NP that I had tried it in Redding and found it useless as it had a one way fits all approach. I have celiac disease which puts me outside the regular lose weight programs. Also, I have to go to a meeting in which I am usually the only woman in a large room of men. Men and women have different issues in losing weight. In Portland, the NP explained that the "Move" program is individualized and it can be done by phone.

I had to take a 23 questionnaire online and then leave my name and last four numbers of my Social Security number and the Move program facilitators will call me back and set up a way for me to start the program. They will also send me the needed information. I am hopeful that I will be able to do this. As for exercise, In I could not walk from my house in Redding because of the loose dogs in the neighborhood. That is not a problem here in Portland and there are trails to walk across the street and sidewalks everywhere. I will not have to walk on the streets which always scared me. I am willing to give this program a try.

The VA Hospital here in Portland has a Women's Center so I am hopeful that I will be able to get other needs addressed here as well without traveling long distances as I did in Redding. I used to travel to Sacramento and San Francisco. It really wears a car down when you have to travel long distance.

Art Classes

2011-06-11T21:40:00.000-07:00

I signed up for some art classes and one exercise session and all start this coming week. I went to an art store and bought the supplies and almost fainted at the expense. I am so glad I signed up for the classes at the senior center which shares the same teachers as the other places but the prices for the classes are far less expensive.

I am taking drawing, watercolor and pastel classes and a special exercise class for those with arthritis. I have never taken art classes before and need to know how to do the basics of art. When I lived in Redding, there were no classes available for seniors and the community college was too full for seniors to take classes. The state of California was talking about limiting the classes even further.

On the way home, I saw some women who were having a car wash and stopped to get my car washed. It really needed it. They were from a women center. I donated some money and talked with them. It was in a section of Portland that I have never been in before. I could identify with the women who were all there because of abusive relationships and were trying to make a new start in their lives. I was in Portland for the same reason; but I had more resources than they had and was glad I could help them out. I know I had help in getting where I was now, so it was good that I could help others.

I also went to the Grocery Outlet to buy some frozen vegetables because I have not been eating healthy for a while When I was in Redding, I did not have access to a kitchen, but I do now. I bought some frozen vegetables. I am going to start buying fruit at a farmer's market soon. I had a medical appointment this last Friday and the doctor asked if I was eating healthy, and I had to admit that I was not. I am determined to change in this regard. Many people eat out in restaurants. At least, this is something I rarely do.

I am looking forward to the art classes and the other things I have planned this month. I was leaving one of the Powell's bookstores the other day and I saw a sign that warned people to be careful of birds who might swoop down and protect their nests which was above. Only in Portland would you see such a sign. Things are coming together here in Portland.

Second-Hand Stores

2011-06-09T16:40:00.000-07:00

When I moved to Portland, Oregon from Redding, California I had to move in a hurry in one truck. There was so much I could not take. I have been slowly replacing the things I left behind. The resource that I could not have done without is the second-hand stores especially Goodwill and Value Village.

Yesterday was senior discount day as it is every Wednesday for Goodwill and Value Village. I was going to buy a table at Stables Office Supplies because they have free delivery if you order from their warehouse $70.00 or more. I was going to order a long table that would have been around $80.00. I needed a legal size file cabinet but could not afford both. Then yesterday I found both at the above second-hand stores for $19.00 and $11.00. I bought a hand truck for $24.00 which was on sale at Bi-Mart and with rope got everything home in my Honda. I was so lucky I was not stopped by the police. I was astonished.

Today, I went to Goodwill who has things 50 percent off for certain colors of their tags and got a set of linen off along with a lamp that I needed in my bedroom. I could not find a decent lamp shade but the lamp is great and matches my room for $4.00 and it works great. I found two wonderful pictures for my office 50 percent off for $5.00 for both. These are not cheap pictures, but expensive prints. I bought some dishes of ones I have always wanted but could never afford for well under ten dollars. I also got some cook books that I needed. I bought a lot of other things. Some such as the linen were brand new. I bought something that will hold my art supplies which was not on sale but it was $6.99. I have art classes next week. I spent a total of $52.00. I also have the satisfaction that my purchases go for the employment of lots of people in the Portland area. I even bought a clock for the kitchen.

I don't know what I would have done without the second-hand stores here in the Portland area and the additional discounts of being a senior citizen. I am slowly getting my apartment in great shape. My office is now ready for me to work in. I got here in the first part of May and I have been working in my bed in the morning. Now, I can work in my office. In my room, I now have two lamps so I can clearly see what I am doing now.

The only store I was disappointed in was the Salvation Army Store. Their prices were way too expensive. Goodwill seems to be the best while Value Village is a close second. Their prices are not low, but they have very nice quality items and have frequent sales. As I said above, both stores have senior citizen discounts with 10 percent for Goodwill on Wednesday and 25 percent for Value Village. Everyday, there is a color tag that is 50 percent off. Many of the items I bought today were 50 percent off.

In Redding, there were no Goodwill or Value Village stores. When I was a kid growing up in Chula Vista, the big store was Value Village, but the only money I ever had was what I could make babysitting and it wasn't very much. It was rare that I could afford anything in a second-hand store especially Value Village. Things are much better. Other people who shop there are much like myself. All of us are trying to make ends meet. Gas is cheaper in Oregon than it is in California, but it is still expensive. I don't make much in writing and I am playing catch up these days.

I am listening to a flock of crows outside my window right now. I am enjoying their cawing and see them flying among the leaves and the blue skies behind the trees. It is worth the extra effort it is taking to get my home in shape for I love it here.

I Love My Life

2011-06-08T06:46:00.000-07:00

Oh, this is going to sound so repetitive...maybe but here goes: I love my life. I love waking up in the morning. I love sitting here in bed with my laptop and drinking my coffee writing this. I am so damn happy knowing that I am in control of my finances, the apartment I am living in, my life.

All of my life or so it seems I have been working towards this, having my life to do what I please. To decide what to do with my time, to read what I want, to listen to whatever music I want, to spend my money on whatever I feel I need to, to live where I want to live, to take classes on whatever subject I want to only limited on what is available, to write on whatever I want to, to think whatever I want to...This is getting repetitive.

My income is my own. It is not based on someone else's labors but my own. I raised my children and I supported them for the most part. Of course, I live in a country where I can do this. In some countries, such as Saudi Arabia, I could not even drive a car. I realize that I have those elements at my disposal. Still, I remember babysitting as a kid for single women who barely had enough to support their children and themselves because the father of their children decided to take off and not pay child support. In those days, no one could force them. Now, they complain because there are strong laws that make them do it. I remember when there wasn't and women really had to suffer because the men were living well and they barely had enough to feed the children.Men make more money than women do on the job. I remember seeing my children's father living a lot better than I was and I was getting child support most of the time. When he stopped, there was nothing I could do about it. All of my paycheck went towards the support of my children. Now, all of my paycheck goes for the support of myself.

If I need a pair of shoes, I can buy them. I don't have to ask anyone for the money. I did when I lived in Redding. I ended up going to Payless Shoes when I had the money in the bank for the good shoes I needed but could not buy because my son said no. Now, I buy the good shoes I need. I look at the bank balance and decide what I should do. In Redding, I needed slippers and bought them in a second hand store. I had worked without a break since the age of 15 and supported myself and my children as a single parent and I also supported my way through college. I never bought my children second hand shoes. Yes, I often bought them second hand clothes when money got tight, but never bought them second hand shoes. When I got back from Korea, my oldest child would not give back control of my checking and savings account. I wanted to keep everyone happy and went along with it.

Now, I buy books when I need them. My office is still not up and running. I am hoping to have the table I need to do that by today or tomorrow or at least to order it. I have everything else. I will just order things bit by bit as I go along. I have a second hand chair but it will do until I get the chair I need. I bought one file cabinet last month for my personal papers and I will use it also for my writing until I can buy a separate one for my writing.

I bought a small vacuum last month as well from Fred Myers and noticed that there were second hand vacuums at Value Village and Goodwill. The vacuum at Fred Myers was cheaper than the ones at the second hand stores. Now all I have to do is use it.

To get back to what I started to write about, I love my life because I am in charge of it again. I was in charge of it in Korea and loved the freedom of it there and lost it when I came back to the States. Now, I have it back. It's hard to describe and explain what it is to be under the control of one's family or spouse to some who have always had the freedom to do whatever they wanted to do. Some people or at least some of the people I have talked with like having someone take care of them. I don't. There is the disadvantage of being in charge of one's life. If you fall down, you have no one to blame but yourself. If you run out of money, there is no one else you can get money from. I have been paying this price all of my life, so I was astonished that I could not enjoy the spoils, so to speak, in my retirement. Now, I am.

When I was working as a medical social worker, a fellow worker thought I led the most boring life she had ever heard of. Well, she ran off from time to time with men to different cities and left her five children who were old enough to take care of themselves. That was her choice. She fed and took care of them. They had a great house to live in. I did not want to do that. I loved my children and spent time with them and we traveled as a family. I read and went to school and got my graduate degree. I wrote and published my writings. To me, that was exciting. We all choose the lives we live. I don't envy someone's life because if I thought there was a better way, I would do it. To me, this life is great. I love what I am doing. I don't have to wish for something better. I am living the good life now.

The Influence of Friends

2011-06-07T08:05:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, it becomes apparent to me how much our friends influence us. Yesterday, I was writing about my friend Ted who writes memoirs that are published. They do very well and have many readers as they tie horrible experiences he had as a kid with a terrific sense of humor. Of course, it helps that Ted is a very good writer. Not only does he earn enough money to run around the country (and world too) which he loves to do; but he gets a sense of relief from the memories of those times. He also helps others deal with their own nightmares.

I start to think about what happened to me as a child. Ted and I have a lot in common. We used our imagination to escape the ordeal we both lived through by living in another world although we still were there for the most part. Mine was terrible, but I have often thought Ted's was worse but who knows. Both of us had parents who were in twisted and ugly worlds and who were so egotistical that they could not even image getting real help so they would not include their own innocent children in their hellholes.

In some ways, I was beaten far more than Ted was and cautioned more to not diverge the secrets that were in my family and to not believe what my eyes and ears were telling me. In both of our worlds, sexual matters were forced on us at a very early age without our consent. It corrupted our view of it. Both of us have trouble with close intimate relationships. Unfortunately, this is not a rare occurrence in the human population. When Sigmund Freud came up with this very issue early in his career, the outrage was so loud and strong that he had to recant or lose his promising start in the treatment of his patients. He had no idea that incest of children was such a widespread problem.

Incest travels in families for generations. I thought it stopped in mine, but five years ago discovered that it did not. I am so sick about it. When anything in people is hidden, denied and circumvented as strong as the sexual instinct, it comes out ugly and thwarted.

The closest parent that I had was my mother and she was so angry at her lot in life. The only ones she felt she could take it out on was her children. Because we were young, she thought she could do it and we would not remember. Of course we did. Because she was molested, she molested others. She did not have the ability to examine her inner motives so she became the conduit for furthering the line of incest. I did not molest, but I did not see the abuse that happened around me. That is part of the incest. Incest is abuse at its worst.

What is ironic is down through the years, I sought help at different places. I could not get it until I moved to Redding. There I found that the mental health field finally caught up with what I needed. I tried so hard to get help, to read all sorts of self-help books which did not help and could have made it worse. I found help with a man who had the exceptional skills of hypnotherapy. He did not have advanced degrees. The others did. They were of no use. Along with my journal, I was able to climb out of the abyss.

I read Ted's books and how he fought towards sanity and against the relatives who ranted and railed against his books. They sued him and lost. They wrote him letters that accused him of lying and he kept writing the truth. People kept buying his books. He wrote more books and he delved deeper and deeper into his childhood. He is not at the bottom of it yet; but he feels he is getting at a point he might be looking at another career in writing. Several times, he let me read some of those letters when they were so black and insidious that he feared for his own black despair coming back. Thank goodness, he kept writing. The black clouds that had gathered on the horizon dissipated.

When I was a child, I would have dreams that would repeat over and over again. One dream would be that I was walking with my brother and sister and we would be trying to catch up with our mother and she would not slow down for us. I can't even estimate how many times I had that dream. Luckily, I made peace with my mother in the last few years of her life. I can now rest easily with the memories.

I have Netscape and watch it from time to time. They have old television series on it. One of them is Pushing up Daisies. In it, the portrayal of memories is very important to the plot and to the different characters in the series. In another television series, Drop Dead Diva, the plot is enriched with the past of the main character. In Pushing up Daisies, it is done on a fairy tale model and it is done very well.

I don't think one can live one's life without dealing with the past. Of course, I have been working on detaching from anger and fear from what happened to me in my childhood and that is what Ted has been doing in his memoirs. He told me that once they are in his book and on the shelf for people to read, they are no longer part of his life as living and breathing emotional baggage but just memories, history of what was and what is no more. He gets letters and email from people all of the time telling him of things in their lives and how his books give them the courage to face those memories so that they can put them in the past and get on with their lives. He feels good that he can do that for others and himself.

Sometimes, a memory will float up from my life and I will write about it in my journal and it helps. Reading Ted's books helps me with the courage to write about it in my journals. When I was getting treatment with the hypnotherapist, I would be so afraid that someone would punish me for telling him what happened to me as a child. I would want to hide behind the chair as I was talking to the therapist. Then I would explain that fear and he would tell me that it was a common reaction to therapy. It is all of us helping the rest of us escape the living nightmares of our lives.

I lost all of the books, Ted signed and gave me in the Purge of last year. There will be more as he always gives me signed books of the new ones coming out. I have often wondered what people thought of the small notes in those books I lost. I don't know where those books went that my ex-husband stole from me. They were personal notes that only I would understand. I read them as soon as I got them and the lessons of those books stayed with me and could not be taken away.

My ex-husband sits in the Veterans Hospital therapists' offices taking a huge amount of drugs and has nightmares at night and no one knows why he can't sleep without screaming. He was not in combat. Sometimes I think he wanted to punish me for divorcing him. He never forgives a grudge. I used to see my life as one long tunnel and remember seeing the light at the end of it for the first time years ago. Lately, I feel as if I finally emerged into the light. Ted says the same. He is walking around the grass, flowers and under the trees; but he also know the cave that he came out of is not far from where he is and must work to continue to walk into the sunshine. I must do the same.

The Seasons

2011-06-06T10:46:00.000-07:00

A friend of mine who knows I write about him called me at the crack of dawn to talk to me about a dream he had. He writes memoirs that get published and they do very well. I have given him the name of Ted. Anyhow, he told me that he has a worry that he is going to run out of material which is based on his life. This was the first he had mentioned this to me. Financially, he is fine. He has invested the money he has made and it looks good, but he likes to write and is looking for new fields. He had a wild dream last night he wanted to tell me about.

In his dream, he had a dream about a wizard that lived on a island of magical people who were governed by four queens. Each of the queens represented one of the seasons. The island was shielded from human beings as they did want to interact with them and if any of them washed up on their shores they returned them to their own lands. They kept their population down and if anything had trouble keeping the numbers high enough. They usually did not have crime as they could have anything they wanted and could do anything and none of them ever ventured beyond their borders as they disliked people.

Ted said that I could describe this dream as he was not interested in writing this up as a story but of the philosophy behind it. The wizard he met in his dream had told him a story about how one wizard had fallen in love with the Winter Queen who was without an escort although her three older sisters had escorts. He had tried so hard to win her hand but he also tried to change her so she would fit his needs. Because each of the queens were in their elements during their seasons each of the queens were very different from each other. The Winter Queen was solitary and loved her time alone. She was beautiful but in a cool way, with long white hair and crystal blue eyes, white clear skin and tall and slender. He wanted to be with her all of the time and for her to be warmer instead of the cool touch she had. If it was 40 degrees outside, she wore a light dress and even if it got close to freezing she felt comfortable although he had to wear a thick coat. The Winter Queen knew that it would never work out between them and spurned his attentions. He was heartbroken.

The wizard in the dream said people were drawn to certain seasons or times of the year. Ted said that he and I were drawn to early Autumn and that we were most excited at the beginning of things as we liked the beginning of the school year but like the beginning of the time of solitude of winter. Some people like the dead of winter where they could spend time with others in warm rooms visiting others waiting for the winter months to end while others yearned for the solitude of the long winters. Summers were for picnics, swimming and being with others and spring were for the beginning of life and for being in groups to planting of the fields, for children and the rearing of children. Autumn was for thinking and contemplating what was to come and enjoying the past of summer and spring and of the winter that was to happen.

In that land of wizards, different magical families were attracted to certain queens and served certain ones. The least popular one was the Winter Queen but she was still necessary for the other ones to exist.The one who wanted to be her lover wanted to change her because he thought, she looked like death. He wanted to change her into a season he was happier with. She was happy with herself and would not change.

Ted said we are all necessary and that some would view us as inferior or unattractive and profess love for us even as they are trying to change us to something we are not. It is a great mistake for any of us to change for someone else as we are all necessary for the balance of the world. He told his last 12 step group this philosophy but they did not seem to understand it. I asked him where he was. He said he was in Maine because he met someone who lived there. He was coming to Portland in a few days. He said it did not bother him that the group did not understand him. They told him that he was making his own life more complicated than it needed to be. There were only a few people there including his new friend. Ted explained that they were people of the summer and all they wanted to do was have a good time and thinking about the meaning of life just wasn't it. It was a perfect description of how his philosophy worked. They were not compatible.

He is thinking of writing fiction but under another name. He thinks his dream shows that he might be able to and I agree. He does not think he is ready as he has another book he is working on and it looks good. Still, he is thinking about what he wants to do. The dream shows he has an active imagination and that is all he needs at least as a start. I think his season philosophy shows a lot of promise too.

The Bad Times

2011-06-05T11:40:00.001-07:00

There is a book that I am reading, “Read for Your Life”, by Joseph Gold. I reminded me of the time when I first got married. It was a terrible time. I got depressed just being reminded of it. Just before that book, I was reading “My Navy Too” by Beth F. Coye Commander, U.S. Navy (Ret.). That book is a novel but closely modeled on the author’s experiences as an officer in the American Navy. I stopped reading this book which I don’t think is well written, but also because it reminds me of my experiences in the U.S.Army just before I got married. I hated the military and while I was there had become ill and no one would listen to me. The military got everything wrong including my blood type. I never felt so alone and I was sick.

When I am feeling down or depressed, I know there is something that I need to write about, something I left in an old chapter in my life that is unfinished and left unsaid to myself. Heavens knows I was both very happy at the coming birth of my first child but very ill. I would tell the doctor how ill I was and describe the symptoms and the doctors would ignore me and ascribe my fears to my feelings as a woman. I knew different. I knew I was very ill. Then I saw how my in-laws disliked me. They called me names in Spanish and I would explain to them I knew what they meant. They didn’t care and continued to call me names. My husband would not defend me. My husband was becoming very uncommunicative. I had no friends or relatives in Kansas. I was scared. I was desperately unhappy.

My child was born and I became even more ill. Some military nurses in their meanness had me thrown out of the U.S. Air Force hospital. Women in the military are very mean. I thought I might be dying and had no insurance and at that point I gave up. My husband did what his father told him to do and took me to the Veterans Hospital. His father worked there. I met a wonderful doctor who saw me on Thursday and I was in emergency surgery on Tuesday. I had a serious cancer that killed most people in those days, but he saved my life. I didn’t even know I could use the VA Hospital. During surgery, I almost bled to death. Dan was not there for he refused to get off work after I begged him to for six hours. I knew how serious it was. I was alone except for that remarkable doctor.

I had to live for 12 months to see if the cancer came back. It didn’t. My spouse became more and more emotionally distant. He was doing mean and twisted things and then denying that he did them. I was so confused. I wanted to believe in his goodness while seeing the evil in him. I lived in a city that I hated and we were so poor. I could not find employment and when I did the babysitting ate up my check. I decided to go back to school as it included the GI Bill. Then in the middle of it, I found out I qualified for Chapter 31 which was a lot better than the GI Bill which did not pay for college fees and books. I went to the University of Kansas. Things began to look up as far as money was concerned but my husband was getting more and more emotionally abusive. I could feel my mental health falling apart.

The process of those times continued until Dan went to my house and purged it last year. The bad things that happened such as Dan taking me to the VA at the urging of his father saved my life. The purging of my house sent me here. All that helped me find happiness here and a gate to my final leg of my life has been open. But it was a very bad time when I was in the service and when I left the service and married my spouse.

I can still feel the depression of those times as I did when I started to describe it in here. Yes, it worked out and I ended up being the better for it; but the damage of those actions of others were still inside of me just festering. I can’t say I feel anger as much as I feel hurt and pain. I rarely trust people. I had learned to trust him and he was not worthy of my trust. I had two children. I suddenly found myself in the same situation that my mother was in when I was a kid. I did something my mother did not do. I walked out, but I did not sever the connection with him. He continue to emotionally abuse him over the years. I cannot tell you the number of times I would find myself in shock after he did something that seemed so unbelievably cruel. I would then “forget it”.

I know why I left Redding. If I did not leave my house, I would not have survived. I was going back to those dark places I was in when I was discharged from the service. My adult children had learned only too well from their father his behavior patterns. What he did to me, they were doing to me as well. I ended up blaming myself for their treatment of me as I blamed my own husband’s treatment of me. I had to put one foot in front of the other and leave. My bliss in finding myself free of them is proof that I did the right thing. I still feel so bad for allowing an abuser to have so much control over my life and my children back in the early years. All I can do is pray for mental health, forgiveness for me and my sons. I wish I could have woke up earlier. That is what abuse does. It blinds you. At least I am not allowing them to do it anymore. That is a step in the right direction.

I don’t know what else I can do. Maybe taking responsibility for what others do is not the answer. Look at what my behavior has done to my adult children so far. They need to examine their own behavior and take responsibility themselves. My oldest told me not long before I left Redding that it was my fault that my youngest was the way he is now. They are both middle aged. I told him that makes as much sense as my blaming my parents for what I do now. Yes, my parents abused me severely, but what I do with what life now is up to me. I need to let my adult children take that gift of self-responsibility that I took for myself as well and do what I did. Take control of their lives and not blame others. It is better late than never and I am alive to tell them what I should have showed them years ago. I can only do the best I can do now. I protected them too much from themselves. I need to stop doing this. I moved here for my sake but for theirs too.

A Perfect Breakfast

2011-06-05T06:38:00.000-07:00

Since coming to Portland, Oregon, I have discovered that stores sell gluten free products. Even the nearest store to me (And if I wanted, I can walk there.) sells a variety of gluten free products. It would have to take someone who has Celiac disease to understand the rarity this. When I discovered years ago that I had an intolerence to gluten, it was exceptionally hard to find anything. In Redding, it was possible to find gluten free products, but the amount and variety was not great.

My favorite breakfast is coffee and toast. Unfortunately, I have not been able to eat that for a long time so I have given up eating breakfast. Sometimes, I drink juice if it is on sale but anything else is too much in the morning. Lunch for me, on the other hand, is great for egg dishes such as omelets or scrambled eggs. I just can't deal with anything past toast in the morning. Now, this favorite breakfast is back. I also don't like anything on my toast but butter. So, this morning I had English muffins and some melted butter and coffee with half and half. I can't imagine a better breakfast. I should be good until 2pm or so although I will probably drink coffee until then.

In Redding, I shopped regularly at Grocery Outlet. The one I found here was alright but not as good as the one in Redding. Still, I was able to find some gluten free items on sale. Again, years ago that would never have happened. I bought some gluten free pasta and will probably have some spaggetti for dinner. Later this week, I am going to try another Grocery Outlet that is closer that someone told me about and also mentioned that it is better. I have my fingers crossed.

I used to eat salad but don't anymore. It's all that salad dressing that is poured all over it. My teeth is now very sensitive so that eating raw vegetables is hard. I noticed that difficulty a few years ago and drink V-8 juice from time to time. I used to love cucumbers and tomatoes. Not anymore. I might buy a watermelon which goes well with meals. Watermelon is not a vegetable, however.

There is no doubt that I need to eat more vegetables and fruit than I do now. When I lived in Redding I did not have the room to store it or even cook it. In Korea, I could not afford it. Now, things have changed. I can afford it and have the room to store it. I bought two cook books that have information and recipes that are gluten free. I need to read the books and plan on how I am going to improve my diet. The cooking classes that I was going to take at the Senior Center are full and have a very long waiting list. Maybe, I will see if there are some gluten free cooking classes in Portland that I can take.

Things continue to improve since I have moved here. I have been here only one month. Only this morning I discovered after sleeping with the window open and the blinds up that there are lots of birds singing when the sun comes up. I had no idea. It is quiet enough here that one can hear them. What a wonderful place it is here.

Beautiful Day

2011-06-04T13:18:00.000-07:00

It is a beautiful day here in Portland, Oregon. The sky is blue and the sun is shinning. Today, I understood it was going to be warm-maybe 80 degrees F. I hurridly did a washing and put it on the wooden rack I bought from Goodwill. The wash seem to be drying. There are laundry rooms here at the apartment complex but with only one washer and dryer. It involves carrying the load of laundry up a flight of stairs. No thanks. I wash my clothes here in my apartment and and hang them out to dry as I did in Korea.

I can hear the kids playing in the pool not far from my apartment. It is heated and it opened yesterday. I am not a swimming pool person, so I am not tempted to use it myself. The opening of the pool was delayed because the pump had problems and the parts were late in arriving here to be installed. I love to swim but not in pools which always seems such a sterile place to have fun in. I remember the name the Beverley Hillbillies called pools, the cement pond. It fit. I love to swim in the ocean, rivers and lakes; but the cement pond? No thank you. I remember my aunt taking me there which was nice, but I swam only because I did not want to hurt her feelings. When she was in Harbin, China (although it was Russia then), it was for Europeans only. It was a privilaged place for white people only. I just don't like swimming in artificial places and not exploring the surrounding river, lake or seashore.

I have been working in my room as my office is not complete although I have my fingers crossed that I will be able to get a table next week. I also need a file cabinet. I have one for my personal papers, but I don't for my writing. Working in bed is not bad. I have my laptop on a small bed table I found at Goodwill. I am surrounded by books and there is a tray with my tea things. I am listening to some music that I am playing on my computer/Internet from my office. I listen to the Internet radio more than anything else.

The only window that had direct sunlight is my bedroom and only in the morning. I have not opened the blinds yet as it is barely afternoon. I just ate lunch and watched some repeats from a television show called The Medium. I have no idea whether or not it is still in production but it is interesting as I watch it from Netflix. I think I like the characters of the Medium's children. I don't know who found the actors who play the children, but they did a great job especially the one that plays Aril.

I have been reading about the bad effects of cell phones and I am concerned about it. I don't stay on the phone that much. I don't have a regular phone anymore. I just have a cell phone. I was not happy with a land line I had a few years ago and swore I would never use AT&T again. The phone keep going out and everytime AT&T came out after I waited a few weeks, it would cost me a hundred dollars here and there and then the phone would go out again after it would rain. I gave up and just had a cell phone. Most of people I know did the same with the result our phone bill went down. If it is true that cell phones cause cancer, I don't know what those of us who use them, and there is a bunch of us in the world, are going to do.

Speaking of noise and sound, I have lived close to the road for a very long time even in Korea that it is odd not to anymore. There might be a small driveway that is not used very much close by but the main road is not near. I don't hear cars anymore or even trains. I hear planes ever so often. It is very quiet here except for the kids who are swimming and they are not loud at all. Sometimes I hear the sound of someone using a diving board. I can live with those sounds, but not the sounds of loud music with deep bass which is what I used to hear when my windows were open in Redding.

I am writing, reading and listening to music. To some, this might be boring. To me, it is the most wonderful time of my life. I feel as if I have landed in Paradise.

Domestic Abuse

2011-06-03T11:20:00.001-07:00

I was writing and talking with people about domestic abuse this morning both on Facebook and in person. A friend said that if a spouse starts to hit you, it is a matter of time when he starts to hit the children. She said: "Walk out before that happens."

On Facebook, another person said pretty much the same thing that anyone starts to beat up on you, you need to walk out. It is hard for some to do it. My mother used to endure years and years of physical abuse before she finally left my father after 40 years of marriage. His heavy smoking was the cause of her death in the end although he was already dead himself of cancer. Her passive smoking weakened her heart so that when she underwent surgery for her knee, she had a massive heart attack and died soon afterwards. Growing up, I have hit my father with a chair when he was choking my mother and knocked him out otherwise he would have killed her. Still, she stayed with him and I left home at 16 years for good.

Everyone remembers the murder of Nicole Simpson and the waiter who came to her house to return her glasses. Even when you walk out and even divorce the abusive husband, he can come back and kill her and in this case he walked. He is in prison but not for her murder but for a botched robbery.

I never allowed any man to hit me and walked out of any relationship when a man would slam me for something. I remember a man who many people thought I would marry would bring his hand down on my thigh when I disagreed with him. It did not leave a mark but I knew it would be a lot harder if I was married to him. Many people thought I would marry him because he was so rich. Well, I never thought I would marry for money anyhow. I didn't like him all that much. He may have had tons of money, but he didn't have a lick of common sense. He took me to see "The Planet of the Apes" and at the end of the film told me he knew the character that Charleston Heston played was on earth all along because of the scenes in the movie was from a national park he had visited once. I was speechless. Where else where they going to film the movie, on Mars? Of course, I didn't say a thing.

I did marry a soft spoken man who never never laid a finger on me. What he did do was extreme emotional abuse. I tried to counteract it and never could. I thought it was OK because it wasn't physical. I was really wrong. It had taken me years to recover from it. I never did anything right. He never told me he loved me after we were married. He never remembered me for my birthdays and even for Christmas. He never talked to me. He would take my clothes and wash them in hot scalding water and ruin them. He threw away sentimental things I kept from friends and relatives and never say a word when I searched for them. He never forgave a grudge, never. He was the one who performed the "purge" when I was in Korea years after we were divorced although I never took anything from him during that divorce and even returned all of the presents his family gave us. I wanted to be so fair. I never used the kids to get back at him and even did not make him pay child support. I should have walked years before I did because he taught our kids to do the same.

I spent a lot of time trying to figure out what made my ex-husband tick. That was a big mistake. It takes two people to create a domestic situation. Without the victim, there is no domestic abuse. If I did not take it for years, my ex-husband would not have abused me as badly as he did. Now, he lives tormented by some unknown mental illness. I did not do myself or him any good by permitting that abuse. At least, I went and got some help after I finally said no more. I also moved out of the area and am getting better.

My father did beat up on his kids. My brother committed suicide after living a life of drugs and alcohol. My sister is a pychopath. After so many years of not getting along, I finally did make peace with my mother and the last years were good years. I really don't think my life is so odd and unreal. Many people have worse lives. Many people have better lives.

I remember watching "Father knows Best" as unreal and as something from Fantasyland. I couldn't even enjoy it. I used to think when the cameras were off, the father was beating the crap out of everyone and sneaking up to the bedrooms of his daughters at night. The only program I used to believe for some reason was Skyking. I watched that every chance I got. I believed it and trusted the ethics that it taught. Maybe because it did not have a mother trying to mouth the values of a society that said we girls need to keep our mouths shut and do what they did when we grew up. Uncle Sky even got mad at his neice in the program but he never laid a hand on her.

I am sure there has always been domestic abuse in human society. My father knew there was no place for my mother to go as she was from another country and had no way of making enough money to support us kids and herself. It is power that keeps domestic abuse going. If a man knows his partner will knock the crap out of him if he tries to hurt him or her, domestic abuse doesn't happen. Chances are that person will not be in a relationship where he or she can't abuse that person. Women abuse too. It doesn't happen as often or it isn't as well known. I have known a few but not many.

The subject of this blog is health. It is not healthy to be abused. I was abused for years and because it was not physical I thought I had to stay in the marriage and work it out. To summarize it, no I should not have. Anyone in a relationship that has any form of abuse needs to say stop it and if it does not stop after one warning then they need to WALK OUT. I wish I had done so. And if someone ever tries to "purge" my home again, I will press charges even if it is a relative. I promise the world and MYSELF. I am not angry anymore, but I have learned my lesson.

Going to a New Place

2011-06-02T09:21:00.000-07:00

Lately, I have been writing about coming to Portland and to be honest feeling pretty good about having the courage to do it. Then a relative reminded me that my mother traveled from Peking to the United States and prior to coming here she lived for five years, from age 15 to 20 years on her own in China until she got the papers to join her older sister who had married a U.S. Navy officer and had moved from Peking to the United States. Afterwards, when her husband had to serve on a ship during World War II, she traveled from San Diego to Grants Pass, Oregon on a bus looking for a home for them. When she settled in that city she knew no one. She had gotten sick while traveling on the bus and stayed in a motel until she got better. Then looking at Grants Pass, she decided the city was exactly the place she was looking for. My uncle took her at her word and came back from service and lived there for the rest of his life. He was from Austria and had joined the U.S. Navy when he was 14 years and worked his way to officer, a tremendous achievement. My own father was from Waldron, Arkansas and had joined the U.S. Army during the Depression and served at Fort Rosecrans, California and settled in San Diego where he met my mother.

According to the science of genetics, all of us modern human beings started from a band of Africans in East Africa thousands of years ago. Then slowly scientists following our DNA traced the paths as we traveled different until we settled in all parts of the world. Going from Redding, California to Portland, Oregon is not such a long trip as human beings are concerned and even as my family is concerned. Even as this country acquired land as it did when President Thomas Jefferson added the Louisiana Purchase, people decided to start anew and head out west following in the footsteps of Lewis and Clark or the foot steps of ancestors who were there already.

In some countries, it is against the law to move and take residence in a new place or tradition is so strong it is hard to move away from your family and people. However in many places, moving to better oneself is something we humans do. Rural populations often move into urban areas for employment and for educational benefits for our children. It is the way we human beings are. I was not striking out and doing something new. I was following a age old practice.

It still felt scary although I was not going someplace that is not settled. Living in Korea was hard as I was always faced with the possibility that I could not be understood by the populace. I did not speak Korean and few Koreans speak English. Many are trying but English is not an easy language to learn. I went to the main bus stops because I was not assured I would get on the right bus if I went to the smaller ones. I never rode the subway because I could not figure out the system. I never rode the trains alone as I could not figure out when to get off the train. Buses were easy as they went from one place to another.

There are always people who want to make you feel as if you are an outsider. They exist in every culture, society, city. I grew up with them. I was the first in my family to go to college and I felt ever slight, real or otherwise, as deep cuts. I was a first generation American and it was a time of McCarthyism. The hearings were on television and my family were given a bad time. Coming to a new city and community is as they say, a piece of cake. I have been welcomed in Portland and I have met many who have come from other areas especially from California.

To be honest, I am tired of traveling right now. I would like to stay put for a while. I love the idea that I can go anywhere and everyone is going to speak a language that I can understand. I still carry my passport though. It seems there are new laws everywhere that create the necessity of proving one's an American. In order to get my Oregon driver's license, I just can't have a valid California license. I have to have proof that I am an American and in order to vote I have to have proof of the same. I carry around my renter's agreement so I can prove that I now live in Oregon. It's not Oregon only who is doing this. These laws are the latest bunch of laws from state governments. I shudder to think what I would have done if I did not already have a current passport.

When my aunt first came to this country from China, she had a bunch of papers she would keep with her all of the time. It was 1928 and in this country, she did not have to have so many. She came into San Francisco and had to surrender those papers for just one. She said it was one of the hardest things she ever did. Now, when I run around Portland, I carry a bunch of papers too although probably not as many as my aunt did when she came but certainly more than she exchanged her papers for. Well, as the old adage says: Thing change.

I was reminded that my move here was nothing new. Human beings have been doing it for centuries. In Ancient China, some archeologists found evidence of some Celtic People even with evidence of their tartans. I am not Irish, but I can understand the need for people to want to go someplace to get away from some place else and start anew. Their genes were absorbed by the people there and there is no present day evidence of their lives except their graves. I did it and others will be doing it when I am long gone from this earth.

A Matter of Choice

2011-05-31T05:41:00.000-07:00

It occurred to me as I wrote in my journal this morning that my choice of where to live was the first time it was not based on someone else's wishes. Every time I lived somewhere, it was because I had married someone who lived in a particular state, came out to California because a good friend came out to Redding to make a new life and I just followed for the same reason, went to Korea because that country asked me to, and on and on.

This time, I sat in Redding and wanted out of a house that was violated by an adult child and an ex-husband. Another son said to me that I could live anywhere I wanted to, anywhere in the United States or in the world for that matter. I love San Francisco but could never afford it and thought about Vancouver, Canada and even Tasmania, Australia. Then I thought about the one city I have always wanted to live in, Portland. It was not too far away so that my son could easily help me move for I knew I had to go in a short time. He had a truck.

I am a senior citizen. In Korea, I knew if I had medical needs I did not feel comfortable about going to Korean doctors for they did not treat some diseases such as diabetes very well or at least I did not see it treated as vigorously as I saw it treated elsewhere. I have celiac disease. Korean doctors have no training in this at all. I was hesitant about going to another country where I would not have medical benefits. Because of my Agent Orange exposure, I have had cancer several times. Luckily, I have been able to beat it with the doctors at the Veterans Administration. I even had ovarian cancer and that is a big killer for women. The VA medical system is an excellent medical system. The only complaints I have ever had was the mental health care for women.

Portland has a large and extensive V.A. Hospital. It also has a Veterans Affairs Center. I had been in Portland several times. I knew it was a beautiful city. I told my son that I needed to move to Portland and found an apartment on the Internet. My son showed me how you can use the Google Map System to look at the neighborhood and it looked great. I talked to one particular apartment complex and liked the manager. I went up Portland early and stayed at a motel and looked over the apartment, paid the deposit and my son drove my stuff up here.

When I was in Redding, I was always looking for a book club. Here in Portland, they are everywhere. Bookstores are everywhere and authors hold book signings all of the time even in grocery stores. I have always loved Powell's book stores. I still do.

Flowers and trees are everywhere in great abundance. It does rain more than it did in Redding, but it was beginning to really warm up in Redding and it gets very hot there and the air conditioner was turned on from time to time. Here, I don't even have one in my apartment. I did not have the heat on last night but turned on the heat briefly to take the coolness out of the apartment. I can have an air conditioner if I want, but I have a basement apartment and none of them have one although there are several third floor apartments that have one but those are very few and they are small units. Although I have a basement apartment I look out on flowers and trees at a regular height on one side of my place. There are no buildings looking back at me but just trees and sky. There is a small children's playground and a heated pool not far from my place.

I seemed to have lived in places where I stood out. I don't seem to anymore. I had friends in this area before I came and they had been my friends since the 1980's when I lived in the Midwest. I had moved to Redding with them, but they did not like it there and moved to Salem, Oregon. They will be retiring soon there. It is about 30 minutes from Portland. I did not want to live in Salem as it is too much like Topeka, Kansas.

I always lived in places that family members decided that was where they wanted to live. This time, I decided this is where I wanted to live. I had gotten used to doing what others wanted that it never occurred to do otherwise until my son told me I could. This time it wasn't a job, relative or anything else that decided for me where I needed to go. I went somewhere because I wanted to go. I always considered myself independent, but I have been raised a woman and a family's needs always came first. Not this time.

Zebrareader: The Quest to be Healthier

Cancer Free and Back

Pain and being tired

I am back

Nightmares

Fairy Tales

Getting Ready

Three-Legged Blues

Temple Grandin

Could Harry Potter Be a Girl?

Nothing Happens To Me

Is There Meaning In Life?

Beautiful Day

Autumn

Meditation

Knowing I will get old, I breathe in Knowing I can't escape old age, I breathe out

Listening

#NeverApologizeFor

Midsomer Murders and Art Fair

New Area of Concern

Bar of Soup

Tethered to a Phone

Finally, Some Answers

The Timing of Comedy

What Do We Know of the World?

Reading to Learn

"The Elegance of the Hedgehog"

Trees

Being Radiated

Delivery of Furniture

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

The Power of Facebook Again

Sky King

Escape

Waiting

Television

Julia

Death of a Young Person

Sunshine

New Rules

Obituaries

Deep in Summer

New Rules of Life

Wrong Size of Sheets

My Six Regrets

Everything Changes

Top Regrets of Dying People

Honesty

Use of Substandard English

A Friend in Need

Visit to the Library

4th of July Weekend

Alice in Wonderland and that Tea Party

Open Window

MOVE Program

A New Reality

Lori Du Val-Uncovering Old Memories II

Uncovering Old Memories

Staying In

Sunday, June 19, 2011

A Difficult Friend

Art Classes

Letting Go

Being Part of a Group

"Move" questionnaire

Art Classes

Second-Hand Stores

I Love My Life

The Influence of Friends

The Seasons

The Bad Times

A Perfect Breakfast

Beautiful Day

Domestic Abuse

Going to a New Place

A Matter of Choice

Knowing I will get old, I breathe in
Knowing I can't escape old age, I breathe out