It may be an odd question to ask, but so many of us say, “I’m me, why would I act like I’m anyone else” – we act the way people expect, and that is not always who we are inside.
Last July, my twenty-one-year-old granddaughter, Sav, told me she identifies as a boy. She has since made this truth available for others to know. His name is Orion (pronouced like the constellation), and, yes, it was hard when I saw him in August to think of him as…well, “him” and not refer to him by his birth gender or name. He is beautiful and brave to me, and through my understanding/acceptance, I have grown with this change. Not that it has made letting go of my granddaughter any easier, but I’m getting through that phase bit-by-bit.
I get up every morning, look in the mirror, and know I am a female; there is no question in my mind. I also know I am heterosexual, no doubt in my mind there as well.
Can you imagine looking in the mirror and not see the person you are “supposed” to be? What if you don’t identify with who is staring back at you? Perhaps the knowledge was there for a long time, but how do you explain to others that you’re not who you appear to be, or how society wants you to be?
Statistically, there are about 100 million births worldwide every year. Some are not born with ten toes and ten fingers. Some don’t get the IQ that would stand out in a crowd. Some of us are lefties, while the general public is right-handed. Some have blue eyes, while others have brown eyes – but we see the occasion green eyes. Some cannot see. Others cannot hear. The list goes on and on – but we accept people as they are because we believe the heart and soul of that person are good.
We can understand their physical difference from ours because we can see it. It is either physically evident or a mentally challenged person, but we see and recognize.
These physical/mental differences develop as our body evolves in the womb. The DNA has inherent characteristics. The extra chromosome, or a misfire of others.
So many variables are visual to us, but if someone is gay, transgender, or hasn’t figured out who is looking back in that mirror yet, the acceptance isn’t there.
Many squawk because the LGBTQ groups have a parade in an attempt be accepted. Today you will see gay people on television and movies, so people see and learn to accept it as usual, or whatever the term might be. Those opposed call it indoctrination; others say it is non-traditional, so they don’t want to see it on their screens. Others say it is what the kids are being taught in school – “it’s a radical left” movement.
Maybe if there had been a parade for “left-handed” people (like me) back in the early days, people might have accepted them? But that didn’t happen. Instead, they were burned as witches. How many people must hide who they are to make unaccepting people happy?
We have grown accustomed to seeing sex, violence, and drugs on TV – and many of us do not change the channel. Yet a gay/transgender person isn’t accepted? Someone born hermaphroditism aka intersex, a condition of having both male and female reproductive organs, is understood because that is visual at birth, but what will the prominent sex be? No one knows until the child is older. Just because it isn’t visible to people that someone is gay or transgender shouldn’t matter – it is their body and soul this is dictating who they love, who they identify as, or who they feel they are in their heart of hearts.
The world is changing. I get the fact that not all change is good. As a Baby Boomer, I choose to hang on to some of my traditional ways along with embracing the new. I will always remember, love, and learn from our history, our parents culture and traditions. Not everything was bad regardless of what so many Gen X and Millenniums think. Life is different now, and true to change there may be areas that are bad, but there is also good changes for many people.
Sometimes we are personally connected to a situation that changes us, our thoughts, our feelings, our beliefs. I chose to change, to accept, to be understanding because I have no right to judge another person.
What I also choose to keep true is when I love someone I want to love them with all of my heart. I may have to grieve the loss of my granddaughter, Savy, but I’m so happy to love my grandson, Orion. Love is love.
Thanksgiving has always been my favorite holiday – at least as an adult. It is the one holiday of the year without expectations of gifts other than love…and there is always lots of love to go around. Everyone in my family, and sometimes people that had nowhere else to go, would gather at the selected house (loved it when it was held at my house) to eat…actually, overeat food of such deliciousness that I can’t describe how happy my taste buds were. But to me, Thanksgiving had less to do with the food and everything to do with the people. It was the joy of people trying to talk over the football game cheers while sipping wine, cooking, and hearing children laughing in the background. It was going for a slice of the chocolate pie, only to find my daughter and niece had once again, as years before, snatched it and ran off to hide and share between them. After dinner, our time would be filled with laughter as we played board game after board game. The laughter never stopped – then one day life changed, brought on by a few events, and Thanksgiving has never been the same. Now, cooking that perfect turkey, mash potatoes, and all the trimmings isn’t tapping on my shoulder, knowing the house will soon be filled with people I love, but it is still a day to be thankful, as every day is. It was never a stressful time for me, nor was it too much work for me – I miss it. I treasure the memories I have gathered throughout the years prior. I have some years that are my favorites, but in reality, all of my adult Thanksgiving memories will live in my heart deeper than any other holiday. Of course, having my daughter born around Thanksgiving brings added memories and a big smile filled with love…she is and always will be my “turkey baby.”
To Dan, the big draw in November is hunting – so, his focus is on the season…not the day, always thankful if he can fill the freezer. There is no big gathering with his side of the family, so it will only be my husband and me; regardless, I’ll work my magic in the kitchen with turkey, mash potatoes, and all the trimmings. Then it will be “let the games begin” as the two of us play Marbles (like Aggravation but with the added element of cards) and a few rounds of our go-to card games.
I’m so thankful for many things – my health, my safe home, the beauty around me, my love, and both of our families.
Life changes for the good and the not-so-good. Am I sad about the changes Thanksgiving has taken on? Most definitely, but I’ll reminisce over the memories and be thankful for them, knowing it is more than some people have.
With COVID, life has changed in general for everyone around the world, so it is important to hold onto memories of special days. Even if the loss in the manner of how I celebrate Thanksgiving may cause a few tears to fall because those days are gone, it’s more important to smile and maybe even laugh over some of the fun moments I have had.
I wish everyone a Happy Thanksgiving, no matter how you are celebrating. Hopefully, we will all continue to move forward, regardless of what life throws our way because life has meaning…no matter what that is to you, it is worth holding onto, treasuring memories, laughing with friends, sharing new moments, and praying for a better tomorrow.
As a child, I thought I was stupid because I wasn’t learning like other children. I didn’t have special classes in school and became lost in the sea of kids. That was life in the ’50s and ’60s – unless you stood up and said, “Help Me,” – you did what was necessary to get by. I was too ashamed to ask for help, and as a quiet (I heard those snickers…lol) and painfully shy child (were those more snickers), I have spent my life ashamed because I struggled to learn, read, understand, comprehend, and retain information, and at times, even explain the world around me.
No matter how I was doing at work, the same question niggled in my brain, “Am I just stupid?” – as an adult, when I finally did talk to my family doctor, I was in my mid-twenties, I’d started working for the bank and my stress level with life, and work was maxing out me out. He talked to me about dyslexia, and from there, I started finding ways to help myself. Even knowing it wasn’t my fault, a good amount of shame and embarrassment comes with the diagnosis, so there is not talking about it to anyone. I just had to determine how things would work for me.
I began figuring out little tricks to help me along the way, but the most important step that helped was reading. Thankfully, over the years, I realized reading for fun meant it wasn’t a race. If it took me five months to read a book, so be it. When I was a young adult, I would watch my sisters read at lightning speed and remember what they read…good grief; my “stupid” light was brightly shining. But I never gave up. Reading novels brought a new appreciation for words and how, when strung together, they bring joy, fear, suspense, and any other emotion felt when reading a good novel.
So, how did I learn to do my different jobs? I practiced for hours every night until I learned the task at hand. When my kids were tucked in bed, I was studying, running over notes, making new notes, and hoping the action of hand to the brain would work. I knew the sooner I got a handle on the task, the sooner I would earn my downtime in the evening, i.e., movies.
When I first went to work at the bank, I had to run a 10-key machine – right-handed – I’m left-handed. I practiced at home for hours at a time until I could key with the best of them. I’ve always written poems to express my emotions, so I decided why not use writing as a step to help at work. When I worked for the Lockbox Dept at the bank, I realized what would help me learn was to volunteer to create procedural documentation for new employees. I could use a step-by-step process to make that connection between writing and remembering. Through my years of working, I never disclose my disability; because I was concerned, it would jeopardize their view of me and possible advancements – basically my job. Over the years, I learned to have my assignments done early enough, so I’d have time to check, double-check, and triple-check my work. Over the years, I’ve taken three I.Q. Tests – if only to convince me, I am not stupid. I’ve always ranked between 125-130, so seeing that helps me realize I have a disability, but I am smart – trust me, it helps push me. But I continue to have a dictionary and a thesaurus with me at my desk, I use a program called Grammarly – and where would I be without spell-check…just saying.
Retiring was the most relief I have felt in my life. Knowing from that day forward, anything I was going to need or want learn was not going to affect a paycheck – it was for fun. My husband says I am, by far, the most determined person he has ever known. He has been witness to my self-learning areas around publishing my books, just for starters. But he still has to work with me when we are attempting a project together. I can’t have instructions just hollered at me and then expect me to absorb them like others, including him. I have to chunk it out so my brain can figure out what is expected. Over the past few years, I have been open with my disability, and now I want to help others understand it, too. I hope the facts I shared during this week gave you some insight into my world and other dyslexics because we are everywhere.
I realized over the past few years that I don’t know who I am – but not in the sense of needing to “find myself” but that my beliefs are not lining up with one political party or the other. With this virus, all of our lives have changed. I watch people spewing their disdain for how awful a political party is, how poorly they handle our different situations, and visa-versa.
We are fighting two wars now, the COVID-19 war and the political war. They both feel like a virus to me, and I wonder if either of them will die away? It’s unfortunate that, in reality, remanence of both will always be there. The stress and tension the political parties are causing people is as bad as the stress and anxiety in our need to avoid COVID-19. Still, some will contract the virus and may die. Others will protest for their beliefs and die as well. Maybe the way death arrives isn’t the same, but people are dying regardless. There are too many examples to list – but the question remains, are there any winners in these wars?
That is why I say I am “nothing” anymore. Not in the emotional, physical sense – but the political mind. I’m not a Republican; I’m not a Democrat. I am a person who believes in Pro-Choice, so, apparently, I can’t be a real Republican. But I also believe in protecting my backyard, so I can’t be a real Democrat either. I support LGBTQ and Black Lives Matter, so that takes me out of the Republican side from what I understand – but I’m stopped from crossing the line over to the Democrats because I don’t believe in how the “special rights” are handled either. I am left-handed, have dyslexia, and I’m a woman – so do you want to talk special rights, because I’ve never had any. If you look closely, you will see the scars on my hand from being slapped with a ruler for using the “wrong hand.” Maybe take a look in my soul and see the devastation within from a lifetime of feeling stupid because I have severe dyslexia and cannot learn like the rest of my family, friends, and classmates.
I don’t believe in slavery, so I’m back to supporting Republicans because they abolished slavery. I don’t want people shot because of the color of their skin, but I’m not going to support the Democratic ideas to defund the police force either – we need order. We need to take control over bad behavior with whatever authority is needed, and no, that does not make me a communist. And for the record, I’m also NOT a racist because I recognize the differences in culture. So, saying Asian store owners carry Asian food items is factual, not racist. Or that Black people have more rhythm – or that White men can’t jump like Black men. I won’t feel bad that I’m white, but I’m sorry for any ethnic group that has been discriminated against. I was called “Poor White Trash” growing up – it might not be the same in some eyes, but discrimination comes in many forms – and it stays in you for a lifetime. However, recognizing ethnic facts is honoring their culture, period. I’m in trouble if I say “all lives matter” or “I see people, not their color,” – yet everyone wants to be treated equally. At first I was offended by the comments “Black Lives Matter” and “White Privilege” – but only because I thought we were fighting for equality. Then I educated myself on the meanings – now I understand, and I hope you do, too. There are some differences I embrace – seriously, who doesn’t like a good Taco, or Fried Rice – while other aspects don’t fit in my lifestyle – but that does NOT make me a racist. Regardless of ethnic profiling, if a group is causing people harm – well, I’m all for blasting them with a fire hose. I’m not a coddler, and I won’t baby bad behavior – so now I’m back on the Republican side…good grief.
I’m not confused about how I feel, but I feel frustrated because I don’t fit anywhere anymore. I want to help people, but I don’t want them abusing what is provided. It’s a complicated place to be. I rule with “spare the rod, spoil the child” theory, but I don’t believe in being abusive or unreasonable – where does one draw the line. If I lived in one of the oppressed countries, I would do whatever it took to beg, borrow, or steal my way into this country. But once I was here, I would do whatever it took to become a citizen and pull my weight – but if the government doesn’t supply the necessary means for that to happen, then how is that my fault if I’m in desperate need of freedom. And to top it off, the only people who are true Americans are Native Americans – the rest of us are descendants of invaders or those who were dragged here…good grief, people, we are all privileged, and we don’t even deserve it after what our ancestors did to get this land…just saying.
As a young adult raising kids, I didn’t notice life sliding by me this fast. Now my mortality is staring me in the face, and I want to spend my few years loving people and living a simple and happy life, but I want to hold people accountable at the same time. When I was a teen I wanted to make a difference, and I was a part of some good changes, but I see the “need to be right” or “noticed,” for that matter, as a growing epidemic – and I’m here to tell you, folks, it’s bigger than any of us – and it’s not going away. Can we make changes, you bet, but how we go about it can sway people’s reactions. Pushing something down someone’s throat the wrong way will only push them away. I do not claim to have answers…just so you know.
I rarely talk politics with anyone, including my husband, because it is likely to stir up differences, or the need for one person or other to argue their point. In reality, not once have I seen anything good come of arguing over politics or religion. Feelings get hurt; the stands very rarely ever change (though the other party may say it’s changed just to change the subject) – so what is the point. The fact is there is a variety of extenuating circumstances for every situation. Nothing is ever clear-cut; nothing fits perfectly in any box. Sometimes you might give me food for thought, and times you cannot convince me to cross over to your way of thinking. I do wish people could find common ground and get along, but that’s only a fantasy anymore.
At this point in life, I’d rather enjoy each other’s company talking about a book we read, a movie we watched, or a new series we like on Netflix or Hulu while we drink a cup of coffee, sip a cup of tea, or celebrate life with a glass of wine.
I apologize for fluffing up my dander. None of this is directed towards any conversations with anyone, so please do not take this personally as it is not meant to be, but, as always, thank you for reading my ramblings.
I hope you will keep one thing in mind – life is precious; life is good – life is a journey, so enjoy the ride.
Leap Year has always been significant enough to be the year for the presidential election, but it holds many historical events – to list a couple:
- 1940: Actress Hattie McDaniel became the first African American to win an Academy Award. Hattie McDaniel won Best Supporting Actress for her role as Mammy in “Gone with the Wind.”
- In 1964, Princess Alexandra of Kent gave birth to a son, James Ogilvy, on Leap Day. The baby is believed to be the first royal baby in history born on February 29.
However, the event that will always remain in my heart on Leap Year is the wedding between my wonderful daughter, Kristin, and a great man, Steven Baxter – but let’s start at the beginning…
Our morning started when the alarm went off at 5 a.m. – Dan and I flew out of Escanaba on the morning of 26th to Detroit for a three-hour layover. As we were landing, I mentioned to Dan that it was snowing. Now, mind you, I’ve survived a winter in Upper Michigan, so seeing snow isn’t a big deal – unless you need to fly home for an important date. My stomach tensed up, thinking about sitting in a terminal for three hours watching the runway get worse and wondering if flights would start getting axed. I checked the status board – pretty much every chance I could. The days were on the countdown, and I wanted to be at my daughter’s wedding more than anything. It should be no surprise to those that know me that I was already mentally reviewing the movie Trains, Planes, and Automobiles to see if I was going to have to get creative. Fortunately, Detroit is an excellent airport, and we boarded on time. We remained in line on the runway for our turn to be de-iced, but before long, we were off the ground and heading to Seattle for a funfilled event. We enjoy a beautiful sunset flying into Seatac, landing as expected at just past 6 p.m. ready for a glass of wine – or on my part anyhow.
When the big day came, everything fell into place without a hitch – not an easy feat for a wedding, but it happened, and their day was terrific. To see my baby girl so truly happy does something deep inside your soul. We love these great people, and all four of the children their family is made up of now. 
As Dan enjoyed the honor of walking his last daughter down the aisle, we were soon listening as they committed their lives to each other, blending their two beautiful families. And, for a fun fact, they will be married for eight years before they are even out of the two-year honeymoon stage since they only have an anniversary every four years. These two people have the most excellent sense of humor and fun in life – which will keep them young, with happy hearts and minds. 
Kristin was more than just beautiful; she was stunning. Steven’s reaction when she walked down the aisle said it all.
Because it was an intimate setting, we were able to hear the vows they wrote to each other. The words spoken were beautiful and heartfelt, with their added funny moments as they radiated a love few couples have – leaving each of us in attendance knowing they have something extraordinary. I am still in awe of how wonderful an event it was, and will treasure the day always.
We stayed with two of our grandkids while Kristin and Steven enjoyed a honeymoon. When the happy couple returned home, Dan and I spent another week at my sisters. The two weeks went by too fast, and before I knew it, we were heading back to Michigan. But not by plane, this time we were driving back with my Toyota with the last of our stored items.
We did have plans to visit more families on our trip back, but as you can imagine, the virus decided for us. Though I couldn’t help being somewhat concerned about staying in hotels and eating in restaurants, sometimes you do not have a choice. We had about three hair-raising days driving on icy roads and snowy weather, but finally, the weather broke, and the last two days were clear roads ahead.
I don’t want this blog to be about the virus – we are all living it together. That said, I do have to say this is likely the first time I can say I’m grateful to be an introvert.