TBT: Parents, milestones, hugs

My parents' anniversary was August 31, and their birthdays were September 4 and 7. Those days became a significant trinity early in my life, and that hasn't changed. Whatever else is going on at this time of year, I find Mom and Dad on my mind, gently reminding me of family, origins, and home.

Mom, in the dress she made

August 31 this year was the 75th anniversary of their wedding. When Mom was in her 60s, several of her friends celebrated their 40th anniversaries, and she seemed taken with this milestone--almost jealous, and certainly looking forward to getting there as well. She was diagnosed with colon cancer just after their 38th anniversary, so the 40th took on a new significance. But she died a week before, and when August 31 came, just after her funeral, my Dad and I couldn't even bring ourselves to speak of it. I hadn't really kept track of the years until my brother Allen noted that this was the 75th. They were a well matched pair, I think, and they both worked hard to give their six children a good start in life.

September 4 was an even bigger milestone, the 100th anniversary of my dad's birth. He died just five years ago, frankly amazed to have lived so long. His parents and sister had all died quite young, and he seemed to be aging quickly so he retired from work at age 62. He reached a point at which he had been retired for the same number of years (33) he had held his job! When Mom died just a couple of years after he retired, he married a long-time widow he met at a church spaghetti supper. She complicated our lives, and that's all I'm going to say about that.

September 7 was Mom's birthday, and had she lived she would be a feisty 99 this year. For many years Mom and Dad celebrated with a group of friends who also had early September birthdays. It occurs to me that of the 10 or 12 people who gathered (for lutefisk, lefse, and Swedish meatballs) just one is alive today, and she turned 104 on Saturday. She is still alert, happy, and loving, and she credits her longevity to her lifelong habit of walking long distances. I think good Italian genes might also have something to do with it.

Our families spent a lot of time together while I was growing up, and now this lady calls me periodically to catch up and to tell me she loves me, and my siblings. I didn't make it to her birthday party Saturday, but I will drive the hour or so to visit with her in the next few weeks. Her children and grandchildren treasure her and know how lucky they are to still have her with them. And just now I think another hug from her would be a perfect gift from home.

TBT: Being thankful for every day

This first appeared August 26, 2009; it was my third-ever blog post. 

Today's Cryptogram was "Write it on your heart that every day is the best day in the year." It's Ralph Waldo Emerson (not LL Cool J, who apparently posted it on his web site recently).

Just yesterday I was thinking about the fact that being grateful for each new day is one of the better pieces of self-help advice I ever got. Habitually making the conscious choice to appreciate what you've got changes your approach to the day. I notice it in my responses when greeted with "How are you?" Old responses: tired, overworked, hate the weather, I have this ache.... New responses, at least some of the time: great, love this sunshine, too busy but glad to have a job in this economy, and of course the newly popular, having the time of my life being a grandma.

That single change makes things go better, and it's a bit of a gift to others, too, since negative energy sucks the life out of everyone around. Being open--loving life, things, people--makes us grow existentially; we expand to incorporate in our being that which we love.

I was thinking about these things last night while I couldn't sleep (which made today's Cryptogram a timely surprise). I started thinking about the prayer we were taught to say as children: "Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take." My mother assured me that I was asking God to watch over me, but it sure seemed that I was inviting someone to snatch my soul in the middle of the night. What a creepy thing to teach a child. What did we learn from this recitation, except fear? How did it teach us to be good little people?

So at 2 or 3 a.m. I asked myself, "What prayer would I teach a child, if I were going to do such a thing?" I decided it would be something like, "I give thanks for this new day; please help me use it well." And later in the day, "Thanks for all the good things that happened today." And then we'd talk about good and not-so-good things from the day that offer teachable moments.

When Peter woke up too, I mentioned this, and we agreed that these are messages Augie and Vi are already getting. Mommy Abby is effusive and animated about pretty much everything they do and see in the course of a day, and any little gift or kindness that someone extends. They can't possibly just take things for granted when she is so relentlessly appreciative. I talk to Augie about this beautiful day, the beautiful garden, the wonderful sunny day... and now we hear him express his own appreciation of beauty...that's a beautiful cat, look at all the beautiful flowers, etc. And we all celebrate the kids' achievements, letting them know how clever, funny. strong, talented, beautiful, kind, and loving they are.

I sometimes have wondered whether we confuse the quest for happiness with spiritual growth. But I have no doubt that these life-affirming, positive, confidence-building messages are totally superior to anything I got from the Catholic Church of my youth. When happiness is based on authentic appreciation of what one has and is and does, it will produce children (and grownups) who are far more fully developed individuals, in pretty much every dimension, than we ever were. As for me, in my new-found blissed-out state, I am a better person than I have been for a long time!