On Being Different

Don't know why this spoke to me today, but it did.  We each have a story that must be told.  Live your story. 

"I suspect that you knew you were different at an early age.  Not that you stood aloof or failed to find friends, but that you carried an awareness of life that was not easy to share.  It was not just your outward sign, how you appeared to others, but an inward reality, a way of seeing, a sense that the air around you was scented with the fragrance of something sacred.  And so you held your secret close, listening, waiting, until your time came, until your name was called by a voice familiar.  You are what you were meant to be.  You are called.  You have a story that must be lived to be told.  But I suspect you know that." 

Bp Steven Charleston, Hope as Old as Fire (2012, Red Moon Publications)

Art, History and Genealogy

One of the first books I loaded onto my first Kindle was something called His Majesty's Dragon, a novel by Naomi Novik.  It captivate me.  Read it at least twice, then all other available (read available for free) titles in the sequence.    They are set in the period of the Napoleonic Wars and feature the British Air Corps.  Aircraft?  Dragons.  The central character is a dragon named Temeraire.  The history may or may not be accurate. 

I am not particularly a fan of British military history, British Naval history, or the Napoleonic period so I was reading fiction.  The names of characters and places meant little unless I pulled out the maps to follow the geography mentioned.

Then I read a piece written by a genealogical researcher in Australia about one of my 3rd great-grandfathers, Richard Holmes.   It is part of a 65-page report which touches briefly on my direct line.  Graeme  Hicks writes:

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Richard Holmes, Esq.

It has not been possible to find when or where Theodosia’s great grandfather Richard Holmes was born or died but some aspects of his life are known.  He was a Royal Navy purser[1] commissioned in 1793.  A full list of the ships in which he served is difficult to discover but at the time he married, in 1796, he was purser of the Colossus (74)d and in 1799 he was on the Impregnable (98).  Further, in about May 1803 there is record of him, formerly of the Temeraire (98), being appointed to the San Josef (112), both flagships which served with the Channel fleet.  Richard was still serving on the San Josef in mid 1805.  As both the Colossus and Impregnable were lost at sea and a mutiny occurred on the Temeraire[6], Richard’s naval career was not without incident.

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[1]           See the Navy List.  Although it was necessary to be commissioned as a purser, pursers to a large extent operated as merchants independent of the Navy.  With a ‘captive’ clientele it was often a lucrative business.

[6]           In late 1801 the Temeraire was removed from Channel duty to escort a convoy to the West Indies thereby inciting a mutiny by many of her crew – with rumours of the war about to end they thought they would be returning to England.  Richard was most likely serving on the Temeraire at this time.  Twelve men were hanged as a result of the mutiny and when Temeraire returned from the West Indies in late September 1802, due to the Peace of Amiens, she was laid up at Plymouth.  Temeraire later distinguished herself at Trafalgar, the only battle in which she fought; she was second in column behind the Victory.

Off I went to Google "Temeraire", only to discover that since Trafalger there has always been a ship in the Royal Navy carrying the name.  There is even a well-known painting, The Fighting Temeraire by Jonathan Turner, depicting the ship at Trafalgar.  I've been aboard the Victory, a major visitor site in the Royal Naval Shipyard Southampton.   That visit was recalled dramatically as I read about the Temeraire. 
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Suddenly my 3rd great-grandfather's naval career has acquired facts that will stick in my memory.  He was a purser -- as was my favorite uncle.  He served aboard the Temerarire, and was probably her purser during the infamous mutiny.  He was NOT aboard her at Trafalgar; by that time (Oct 1805), he had been assigned to the San Josef.    I have learned about a British landscape painter whose name previously meant little to me.  As it happens, I have recently been researching a Turner family, linked to the painter only by a common surname.  But it's a mnemonic that will stick. 

Because I am a genealogist I am continually learning about history.  In this case, I learned something about a British artist as well. 

Give thanks for learning, in whatever way it presents itself.  
Don't forget to pray....

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Passing the Buck

Governor Romney says, "I'll solve the federal budget crisis by passing the responsibility for ... to the states.  After all, that's the responsibility of the states."    That has left me pondering questions about responsibility and problem solving.

How many of you live in a cash-strapped state?  Is your state meeting its own budget crisis by passing funding responsibility down to the counties?

Where are your state's priorities?  Does your county have law enforcement personnel and fire fighters who earn more than your teachers?  My county does.  California prison guards start as apprentices at substantially higher wages than a new teacher currently earns in the first district I worked for, but cap out at about the same level.  Wages are a little higher in historically high income communities, about the same or a little lower the Central Valley, even lower in rural areas.  In San Francisco, journeyman plumbers start at a higher wage than most teachers in small to medium-sized California school districts can ever hope to earn.

When I  graduated from college, the best public schools in the nation were in California.  Now, a good many years later, California public schools are somewhere very near the bottom of the educational barrel.  Instead of educating our children, we provide more places to incarcerate our adults -- and give them better educational opportunities and tools than most of our public schools can afford to provide.

Do you find any of that troubling?

But this isn't meant to be a rant about teacher salaries.  In my county, I'm told, as much as 10 years ago the county was lagging years behind -- something like 2 to 5 years behind -- in paying the salaries of part time public defenders.  They are private attorneys appointed for those who are arrested and told, "...if you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you."  They fill in when a county-employed PD is not available.  The attorneys keep doing the work,.  I don't think they stand a prayer of getting paid.  Any why was the county not paying?  Because funding was actually from the State, but the State was not paying their invoices.

So how do states solve the problem?  They ultimately throw up their hands and transfer to the already cash-strapped counties the whole responsibility for whatever it is that the State budget can no longer afford.  Or they dig in and make very hard decisions.

The same pass-the-buck tactic is being suggested at the federal level.  Those Medicare and Social Security programs that eat up a huge percentage of the federal budget?  Get rid of them! Send them down to the states to worry about.  States that are already cutting welfare and mental health program to sub-minimum levels.  States that cannot afford their existing social burdens.  It's not just California.  I'd guess that your state has similar issues.  They may not be out on the table in the same way as California's, but I'll bet you can find them.  You just have to  look.  

I don't know the solution.  But I do know it does not lie in shifting responsibility, in pointing a finger at a younger sibling or a more vulnerable neighbor saying, "It's his fault."  It doesn't lie in hiding by virtue of distance from the center of activity, by putting the problem out of sight and therefore out of mind.  Nor does it lie in looking longingly at past glories or jealously at someone else's good fortune.  Digging in to really fix a problem is never easy, seldom fun, never accomplished quickly.  How do we get there?  I'm reasonably sure that changing horses at this point will fix anything.

Don't forget to pray ....

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Whose problem?

I thought I learned about taking responsbility for my own actions from my mother. 

"Don't come whining to me about ---" she used to say, filling in the blank with the latest crisis in my teen life.  "You got yourself into this.  It's not my job to get you out of it." She wasn't being mean, just practical.  Encouraging independence, responsibility.

Another time, watching our neighbor care for several granddaughters of questionable legitimacy:  "Don't run off and get married, then bring your children home for me to raise.  They are your children, you raise them."  I was still in high school, not even contemplating marriage much less children. 

My favorite mental health counselor often admonished, "Assign the problem where it belongs."  Usually it was a reminder.  Sometimes she added,  "If you can fix it, do.  If you can't fix it, it is not your problem." 

So it is a little startling to hear my  mother, in an apparently rational state, say things suggesting that all her problems are caused by someone else.  Once upon a time, all her ills came from my father.   Now it is her doctors.   "I was fine until they changed my medicine."  That's partially true -- but the new med is also deflecting a whole range of more sinister conditions lying quietly, waiting to pounce.   The new med is also keeping her pain-free. 

Nor does her attitude address the things she can do to mitigate the negative impact of the new medication. Actions she chooses not to take. 

Change seldom comes easily.  Change is especially not easy when you are out of practice.  Or after 98+ years of living. 

Acceptance of difficult circumstances is even harder, especially when the ultimate difficulty involves your own mortality. 

What choice will make a difference in your life? 
Don't forget to pray....

The Slide

Yesterday I was bragging that my mom was still mentally sharp, reading, researching, doing her own accounting.  

Yesterday was a difficult day.  It was especially difficult for my brother, who has not had a lot of direct care-taking opportunities in his life, particularly end of life care-taking.  See his post of yesterday, 22 Sep, at ilind.net.

Yesterday, our mother slept from 9 a.m. to 7 p.m., then thought she was waking up at the start of a new day.  Yesterday morning she could still sit up in bed unassisted.  Yesterday morning she was in pain, but reasonable stable on her feet behind that walker.  On Friday she could easily put the battery in her hearing aid.  On Friday she could reliably open and read her mail.  On Friday she  was taking meals at table.  On Friday she was directing how life should be in this household -- we need to be on a schedule, you (meaning me) need to go off and do things for yourself, I will eat this but not that ... 

Today is different.  Today she cannot sit up in bed without assistance.  Today  she is unsteady, even behind her walker.  Today she looks at but does not read the morning paper.  Today she eats what is put in front of her, takes her pills as directed.  Today I am not confident she is reliably reporting what she is feeling. 

Jackie, our mother's lead Hospice Nurse, called this morning, obviously having gotten a report from the on-call weekend nurse.  Jackie suggests that that "tingly feeling" on the side of the head may be something real and physical -- or not.   She says what we are seeing is also consistent with coming off certain medications.  She says monitor and report.  She suggests we have absorbent bed pads and diapers on hand -- just in case -- when the prunes and other laxitive products kick in.  She is ordering a bedside commode, which will be delivered tomorrow. This may pass, she says.  It may also be another step in the path toward that inevitable door. 

I love you. 
Thank you.
Forgive me.
I forgive you. 

Don't forget to pray....

One more time ....

My mom was admitted to a Hospice program this weekend.  Third hospice patient I've been directly involved with, third hospice provider.  Our experience in Tuolumne County was brief but heaven-sent, and allowed Ray to die at home.  My dad was in a nursing home when enrolled in hospice care, and it was a very different experience. That hospice program seemed to chug along on its own steam, doing what it does every day without making any accommodation for our specific situation or desires.  Except for who paid the bill, there was no discernible difference in day-to-day existence. 

We have yet another Hospice provider for my mother.  She is at home.  We're still adjusting, have already had a medication issue, but it got resolved and  I get a response when I call their office.  We've met Toni, the Weekend On-Call RN; Alicia, who did a qualifying assessment; and Jomel, who made the first contact with a potential patient.  All have been young and polite.  None have been local.  Jackie, the Case Manager RN, is also young, but she is local.  Thinks on her feet.  We don't ask "ordinary" questions.

It's not that anyone expects my mom to die in the next month, or in the next few months.  It took some talking to get people to realize that her "on paper" condition is very different from her real-life condition.  On paper, she is healthy, better than 99% of people her age.  She can toilet herself, feed herself, walk unassisted in her 4-wheel walker -- by doesn't go anywhere without that walker. When she squeezes your hand, her grip is still firm.   But none of the normal measures of health and fitness consider her long naps -- morning, afternoon, and early to bed,  18 hours or more of sleep each day.  They do not address her decreasing food intake and gradual weight loss.  I jokingly say "Conversation would be nice!", but it's true.  Often communication is in one word commands, waves of the hand, or just pointing with a grunt.  Now I learn these behaviors are indications of withdrawing into oneself, and a typical end of life behavior.  It was those cumulative behaviors that  tipped the scale to qualilfy her for hospice. 

The steep downward spiral began on August 23.  The day before her doctor told her that her white cell count was up a little bit and asked if she had a cold or the flu.  "No." she said.  Then she came home and thought about it.  "No wonder I haven't been feeling very good," she said.  "My white cell count is up."  She could have added, "and my kidneys are no longer working at their best."

All the books on death and dying say that sometimes you have to give a person permission to die.  Or in my mom's case, to feel sick.  To let go, stop struggling to put on a strong front.  It wasn't her imagination any more.  She wasn't sick enough for medical intervention by her doctor (who refused to give her an antibiotic), but she is not completely well, either.  Now she is allowing the rest of us to know she feels less than perfect, allowing herself to sleep as much as is needed, allowing  herself to take enough  pain medication (and it's powerful stuff, beyond Tylenol and Aleve and aspirin) to stay relatively pain free. 

So we watch.  We wait.  We keep her comfortable.  We strive for sanity in the midst of chaos.  We love her.  Unconditionally. 

Don't forget to pray ....

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Manu o Ku, Hawaii's "Bird of Peace"

It was a new bird in the mango tree last week.  A pair, actually.  At first I thought it was a pigeon, but the wing span (the bird book says 24") was too wide, the wing shape wrong.  And the color!  This fellow clean, white, with black beak, large black eyes, and dark feet  A beautiful, unique bird.  Here he is, more or less as I first saw him.

The bird book says he is a Fairy Tern (Gygis Alba), a native in Hawai'i and not to be confused with the Australian Fairy Tern.   To avoid confusion, he is better known as White Tern.  Or by his Hawaiian name, Manu o Ku.  He is a listed as threatened species, but his numbers are increasing.  He's migratory, arriving in April and leaving again in September.  Some breeding pairs like Hawaii so much that they remain here year round.

He is described as friendly and curious, not afraid of people.  Nope, not afraid; I thought one was going to land on my head the other day!  A fish-eating sea bird, but raises its young on a tree branch -- sans nest.  Raises only one chick at a time, but may have three nesting cycles in a season.

More looking.  The Fairy Tern may be threatened, but is considered a common bird in the major parks around Oahu and in the unpopulated islands and atolls of the northern end of the Hawaiian chain.  He is also the official bird of the City of Honolulu.

Give thanks for those things -- like the birds -- that add beauty to our lives!
Don't forget to pray ....

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