Politics

Spring Semester is finally here. And, although I only wish to take Art History and French courses, I must get through the necessary courses such as College Algebra and American Government in order to actually receive my degree. I have taken most all of these core requirements years ago. However, due to the fact that it was three decades ago, and the college I attended is “questionable” in their academic standards, I’m forced to take them again.

So, today was the first day of my Political Science class. As usual, I am the token “old lady” or as I refer to myself “Shirley” from the show Community. I read the syllabus and am excited that a big part of our grade is an essay on a political policy of our choosing. I think of the possibilities..all of my bleeding-heart liberal ideals that I cling to. Then, as the professor introduces himself to the class, there is a big hitch in my “giddy-up.” He is very upfront about how conservative his political views are. That’s okay….everyone is entitled to their own views. The thing that bothers me is – I know he is not going to like me. I have no real basis for this statement other than a very strong intuition based on a lifetime of experience of not being liked by this demographic. So, I decide a very low profile is a good idea if I want to get an “A”.

Later, a staff member stops in the class to ask if anyone would be interested in being a “note taker” for a disabled student for the semester. Having decided on my new low profile, I resisted and waited for someone else to volunteer. No one did, and so I raised my hand. I met the young man that I am to scribe for, and it gives me great satisfaction to be able to help……and, I need to be needed.

So, I’m thinking the whole low profile idea was just silliness on my part. We are who we are. If people don’t like us just because of our views, then they are missing out. And, perhaps I should give this professor a chance. Perhaps it is me that is the closed minded one.

When I Think of You

When I think of you
I think of your beauty and effervescent smile.

When I dream of you
I dream of a time that stands still for a while.

When I speak of you
I speak of the laughter that lit up your face

When I pray for you
I pray that you somehow can feel my embrace

I will think of you……speak of you…dream of you…pray for you…

with love always

Blooming in the Dark

I received some tulip bulbs a couple of years ago as a gift, and because there were so many, I didn't get around to planting them all. After my move, I kept them intending to plant them as soon I as I was permanently situated myself. A while back, as I was looking for something packed away in my basement storage, I saw a bloom. It was stemming from an old bulb that had been tossed aside in the corner of the dark room.

I wondered how it was able to bloom without the soil, light, and moisture that it required. Then I thought of the familiar quote "bloom where you are planted."

There may be times that we are in the dark or forgotten, and yet we continue to grow and bloom with the hope that one day someone might crack open our door and see the most glorious flower.

Resilience

"Resilience is accepting your new reality, even if it's less good than the one you had before," ..... "You can fight it, you can do nothing but scream about what you've lost, or you can accept that and try to put together something that's good."

- Elizabeth Edwards

The Poem As A Reservoir for Grief by Tess Gallagher

“It is important that we be strengthened by the wisdom of our grievings. The scientists may tinker, the politicians may instruct us in the various ploys of unconsciousness, the physicians may delay death awhile with yet another cure, but, until each individual maintains a responsible relationship to his or her own losses and changes, there will be no such thing as a hopeful future. For, as in the Taoist description of the wheel in terms of the strong, empty spaces between the spokes, one’s future depends not only on the visible spokes of the present, but also on those invisible elements from the past, those things we are missing, are grieving for, have forgotten and left behind, so that they may be recovered.”

Cancer Diaries

I don’t mean to be morose by writing about my cancer experience. But when faced with day to day difficulties, I find that reflecting on tough times that have since become a distant memory, is very therapeutic for me.

My Cancer Diaries

I was at home recuperating from a minor surgery and was relishing the few days off from work and I had happily settled into watching a marathon on Bravo’s “Project Runway.”

My pleasure was short-lived when I received a phone call from the surgeon who had performed my surgery, which included taking a small amount of tissue from my abdomen.

“Well Ramona, it’s cancer.” He explained. We talked for a while, and the next few days flew by in a flurry of phone calls, making appointments for the oncologists and labs.

In the course of the following days, I received my pathology report and notes from my surgery. I was reading over it, hoping that seeing the diagnosis in black in white would somehow make it seem more real to me. Ovarian Neoplastic Malignancy…… “Okay,” I thought……hey..wait a minute!” I continued to read, "..the patient is a 43-year old, slightly overweight female.." Slightly overweight! I was horrified.

I have an explanation for my vanity…..Since I had absolutely no control over my diagnosis but could still regulate my weight, I wanted to be able to control something. So, I did what any newly diagnosed cancer patient would do…….I went on a diet!

It was very easy to drop the weight, with the surgery and chemo…..I don’t suggest it for a weight reduction plan however.

Over time, I felt more and more at ease with my illness and realized that as a patient I really could have some form of control over the disease, as far as what doctors I decided to visit, and what treatment options I pursued.

So, the lesson I learned here? You can tell me I have cancer….just don’t tell me I’m overweight.

Outside The Fence

A few years ago, I went along on a family trip to Arkansas and Missouri traveling through the various towns that our ancestors had settled in the 1800's. We discovered historical markers and magazine articles depicting the colorful lives that they had led.

But the most poignant moment for me was visiting the cemetary where Jacob Mooney, our forefather was buried.....outside of the fence.

Jacob was successful and somewhat influential. He lived near the Whiteville Church and is buried there. But, remarkably, at the time of his death, because he was known as a person who befriended and lived among people of a different race, the townspeople put his grave on the outside of the cemetary, along with the graves of the "mixed-bloods" who lived with him.

We walked around the small white church, and the cemetary with grave markers from long ago. Then searching beyond the wire fence, among the brush and debris, we came upon Jacob's grave.

I really don't know what lesson I took away from that experience....other than, when given a choice, I think I prefer to live my life outside the fence.