Sunday, January 10, 2010

Apologies to Mother Blog








When I was in my early 50's , I resigned from teaching to make my living as a published author. Sound familiar?? I felt I could write articles for magazines, which I did, a novel, did that too, but nobody was interested in them. One Christmas, I compiled a small booklet of what I considered my "best" editorials, talks, essays, etc. as a Christmas gift for my children. That one received little commentary; one son even said, "I was so bored when I was at Grandma's that I read your book." Now, in my late 60's, I'm having difficulty thinking that what I have to say is of much value in the over-all scheme of things. This blog is a good example. I've neglected the blog. I think about it; I even get onto the site sometimes and stare at the blank page, trying to think of something to write. I often look through my many pictures, trying to find inspiration there. However, the creative juices just aren't flowing right now.
That's not to say that my life is dull--far from it. It's just to say that my life is routine. I have learned also not to open my mouth in public and blurt out profundities like, "My children would never do that!! I've taught them better!!" My children have done that. As a senior citizen, my opinions and ideas are rarely considered in the public forum; I'm nodded at and cajoled but not taken seriously when I make a suggestion. So, I do what I do, think my thoughts--pure or im--and try to fill the blank page of my blog.
When I started this post a week or two ago, I was, obviously, in a bit of a rut!! Life, with its myriads of high roads and low, has hit me straight between the eyes, however, and I'm finding that I have lots to contemplate and share.. Our son, Steve, just received his rank (??) of surfman. If any of you have seen or heard what a surfman in the Coast Guard does, think The Guardian, you'll know that it was no mean feat. This was Steve's second major training in six months, and this week he began EMT certification. We're proud of Steve and his career choice. Whenever I think of Steve in the dangerous situations he finds himself these days, I remember a sight etched in my memory forever. It was May; the sky was cloudless and blue as Steve's eyes. A multi-colored hot air balloon floated above me with Steve dangling from it hooked to a bungee cord. His face was pasty white; my heart was pounding so loudly I could hear it. Above this scene, I heard Steve shouting---"Awesome!!"
Our daughter, Susan, just sent this note in a family letter: "Secondly, I'm sure some of you have heard by now, but my endocrinologist found a cyst in my thyroid. He said it looked "suspicious." Eric and I met with a surgeon on Monday who said it's "beyond suspicious." Apparently with the thyroid, the doctors can never be 100% sure it's cancer until they operate, but both docs said they are 95% sure the cyst is cancerous. The good news is that, from everything I've read and heard, thyroid cancer is very slow moving and rarely fatal. Nevertheless, my doctors feel I need to have my thyroid removed in the next 6 months....At this point, I don't know what we need besides a quick prayer or two. I have absolute confidence that I will be perfectly fine; in fact, I'm embarrassed by the concern I've already caused. My mother-in-law says I need to be 'a little bit more of a drama queen,' so here you go..." My thoughts of Susan tend toward a time when Susan was about four, and I tried every strategy I knew to get her to sleep--bedtime prayers, stories, etc. to no avail. So, I got tough and locked her bedroom door, figuring she'd play until she got tired. You know the outcome of this one. I forgot to unlock the door. At 2am, I found her crawling in bed with us, saying, "I scared." She had figured out how to open her bedroom window, crawl out the window, walk in the pitch black night outside around to the back door, climb up the stairs in a pitch black house to find our room. I think this "un-drama queen" will be fine.
Finally our son, Tom, and his wife have decided to "take some time to heal and then work on a healthy and mutual separation." For Tom, this has meant coming back home, enrolling in school and looking for a job. It's meant some changes in our lifestyle. My car and camera seem to move in and out of my life. Since Tom's student loan hasn't arrived yet, Mom and Dad are in a bit of shock over the cost of college textbooks--over $500 this quarter. Instead of writing that novel, those articles I mentioned earlier, I should have written a college text book or two. As Tom takes long walks all over town and the surrounding area, taking some stunning pictures, I am reminded of when he was a little boy take "wahks" and "camp twips" in our backyard as a little boy. He almost decimated my silver spoon set getting "diggers" for his various adventures.




We're dealing with all the changes the way we always do. Tom is working on what we're now calling the "lower" deck, and I've just purchased a quilt top to hand quilt for my oldest granddaughter and I'm trying out quilt square patterns for Connor, our number eight grandchild, whose the next child up for a quilt. No more writer's block--blank pages for me!!












"While we try to teach our children all about life; our children teach us what life is all about."
Love from here. Mom

3 comments:

Susan said...

Thanks for the sweet words, Mom. I'm tough - I'll be fine :)

For the record, I loved your book of essays. I've used stories out of it for at least 3 Sacrament Meeting talks. You're a fabulous writer and, more importantly, a wonderful mother and friend. Love you!

Your favorite sister said...

Like Susan, I absolutely love my book! I love reading your essays and you have brought tears to my eyes and made me laugh as well!

Glad everything is going well there!

The bottom deck looks great! I can't wait to see all the stuff that you have done!

April said...

I love to read your blog, It brings me back home to White Salmon. You bring the thought and pictures to my mind. I do think that we do learn so much more from our children then we teach them.