For The Calendar Tells Me So

“Time marches on.  And sooner or later you realize, it’s marching right across your face”

– Dolly Parton

My father has been dead 15 years, as of yesterday.  He was a wonderful man, and for years I kept him “in the loop” of our lives emotionally and in thought.  I remember for a long while I focused on the bad things he’d avoided by dying.  For example, he missed the tragedy of 9/11, and the subsequent changes that caused in the world.  In death, he remained innocent to it.

On the ten year anniversary of his death, I got a tattoo (admittedly after 3 martinis), to honor him.  A large, colorful US Navy anchor on my left upper arm.  After about a two month identity crisis directly afterward, I have grown to love it as part of me. 

At the 15 year mark, the pertinent dates of his life still make my consciousness.  My parents’ wedding anniversary (January 15^th), his birthday (in May), and, his death.  Admittedly, I have a strange “thing” for dates.  I still recall the birthdates of lots of past friends, and the exact date I lost my virginity.  This has always surprised me, as I am quite unsentimental about most things.  Maybe storing dates is my way of relegating memories to their proper place and amount of energy.

How we feel about loss is dependent on so many variables of the people and situations.  There is no right or wrong way or timing – only that, like all things, it changes over time.  I can tell you from my process, I learned the following:

-You can continue to have a relationship with someone long after they are gone.  Even now, I sometimes consider how my dad might have reacted to a person or event – taking his “advice” posthumously. 

It happens less and less as the years go by, but it’s there, and I am so grateful. 

Here is a poem I wrote on the subject at about the 10 year mark.

Jabberwocky

The charismatic sheriff left town.

He was the only one who believed I’d be the people’s poet.

Words are, after all, the perfect veil for the encomiast.

He was dead tired.

Then,

dead man walking.

I watched him fold up like a gate leg table,

speaking in tongues of undulating stares.

Still unable to get yoked up to the jesuswagon.

Dead silence.

Oh, how the preacher tried!

Just plain dead.

So now I brush and love his white horse.

The one he rode at forty.

And the silvered leather tack gets polished

every time I speak of him.

(you see, this poem is earning its keep)

In town, the street again filled with daily dust,

and the saloon door swings one direction.

Unladylike for a gal to drink alone.

But land sakes,

I’d give my spurs for one more sunset.

 

Thank you for listening.  I bid you peace, and welcome your comments or contact in confidence at swashblogger@gmail.com.

Xoxo

Jean

Gallbladders, Healthcare, and Hospitals - Surveying the Situation

Hello Again.

I have not posted in a long while.  I could blame poor health (more on that in a bit), a busy life, writer’s block, and on and on.  Instead, I will admit to an intellectual laziness brought on by wondering if anyone is really out there.

But, when I began writing a facebook post this morning (let’s be honest – the epitome of intellectual laziness) it became so impassioned, I had to write it here instead.

Ten days ago, I had a cholecystectomy or gallbladder removal surgery.  This came after literally 20 years of stomach issues off and on.  In the 6 weeks leading up to it when the troubles peaked, I had a rather dramatic weight loss and some even more dramatic evenings spent playing “Is It Worthy of the ER?” with concerned family members.

I will spare you the more boring details, because the point I want to make is not about this particular extremely common procedure.   It’s actually about the recent changes being made to healthcare delivery in this country, and how we have more control and responsibility than ever.

Forget that I probably spent decades with unnecessary discomfort.  I am taking responsibility for that because I didn’t push doctors hard enough, articulate my symptoms well enough, or take MYSELF seriously enough to see that I got answers.  So many avoidable things can occur because of our cultural need to “not be a pain in the ass”.

Doctors work for YOU - so treat each malady as though you are the supervisor.  But, as with all power, there is great responsibility, Grasshopper.

For starters, please read (or reread) my earlier post about your role in your communicating your health.  It rings more true to me than ever – even though I myself fell short!

http://lmtpoet.blogspot.com/2013/07/in-praise-of-western-medicine.html

Another VERY important point is about the new accountability factor for healthcare workers.  Medicine is one of the only industries I can think of where employees (everyone from the desk clerk to the surgeon), are not paid according to their performance as perceived by patients.  We have now been offered a chance to weigh in on our experiences as a patient, which will have a DIRECT effect on how much insurers pay those doctors and their staff.

I just took in the mail, and in it was a Same Day Surgery Survey from Hinsdale Hospital where I had my operation 10 days ago.  It would be easy enough to throw it away, but that would be akin to not voting, and then bitching about who became President (and we all know THOSE people.  Ahem)

Look.  Hospitals are a business.  Let’s help them be successful by doing our part in the process.  It matters and here are the major points to the individual as I see them.

-The future of insurance payments appears to also be dependent to some degree on how well you have taken care of yourself.  Obesity and smoking, for example, are going to affect how much of your portion is paid for.  Don’t say you weren’t warned.

-Tell your doctor everything.  Provide information to the best of your ability, always. 

-In turn, expect a responsive, caring and tenacious effort to answer your concerns.

-Fill out ALL feedback surveys you receive.  This newly implemented step, over time, will greatly influence which doctors, nurses and other workers remain successfully in medicine.

Let me close by saying, as surgeries go, I had a pleasant as possible experience with an excellent outcome.  My team is getting two thumbs up.  But if it had gone another way, believe me they’d have heard about it.

As always, I am open to your comments and any experiences you might like to share.

Stay well.

Xoxoxox

jean

Wishing You An Enlightened and Gentle New Year

Maybe it’s because of the 4:00 AM hour (or the fact that I notoriously take January 1^st too seriously), but this struck me as brilliant. 

The very best of everything is wished you, as we all say.   But when the hardship comes, know that we all share in it.

Pass it on.

Xoxo

Jean

http://www.elephantjournal.com/2013/03/we-are-not-here-to-fix-each-other/

The Cigar Smoking Poetess - Spotlight on Amy Lowell

Amy Lowell (1874-1925) was an award winning American Poetess, from a long line of brilliant people including a Harvard president and a noted astronomer.   She never attended college because, you know, it wasn’t proper for a woman.  Lowell was reputed to be a lesbian, which is reflected in some of her love poems.  She died at the age of 51 of a cerebral hemorrhage.  Her work enjoyed a renaissance in the 1970’s when the women’s movement got a foothold.

It may seem an odd time to ponder a poem entitled “Summer”.  I encourage you to give it a read, as it is actually singing the praises of winter.  What a lovely paradigm shift, and a sentiment I share with the author.  Poems about nature are very often too idealized or saccharin to feel sincere.  This one rings true to me, and I am adding it to my “Best of the Best Anthology”.

Let me know if you agree.

Summer – by Amy Lowell

Some men there are who find in nature all
Their inspiration, hers the sympathy
Which spurs them on to any great endeavor,
To them the fields and woods are closest friends,
And they hold dear communion with the hills;
The voice of waters soothes them with its fall,
And the great winds bring healing in their sound.
To them a city is a prison house
Where pent up human forces labour and strive,
Where beauty dwells not, driven forth by man;
But where in winter they must live until
Summer gives back the spaces of the hills.
To me it is not so. I love the earth
And all the gifts of her so lavish hand:
Sunshine and flowers, rivers and rushing winds,
Thick branches swaying in a winter storm,
And moonlight playing in a boat's wide wake;
But more than these, and much, ah, how much more,
I love the very human heart of man.
Above me spreads the hot, blue mid-day sky,
Far down the hillside lies the sleeping lake
Lazily reflecting back the sun,
And scarcely ruffled by the little breeze
Which wanders idly through the nodding ferns.
The blue crest of the distant mountain, tops
The green crest of the hill on which I sit;
And it is summer, glorious, deep-toned summer,
The very crown of nature's changing year
When all her surging life is at its full.
To me alone it is a time of pause,
A void and silent space between two worlds,
When inspiration lags, and feeling sleeps,
Gathering strength for efforts yet to come.
For life alone is creator of life,
And closest contact with the human world
Is like a lantern shining in the night
To light me to a knowledge of myself.
I love the vivid life of winter months
In constant intercourse with human minds,
When every new experience is gain
And on all sides we feel the great world's heart;
The pulse and throb of life which makes us men!

Volunteer Work - Just Say NO

I’ve been noticing a trend that I do not like one bit - giving away one’s talent, services, and skills…for free.  This is not the pure thing it was in past, when Aunt Susie volunteered two days a week at the Pink Elephant store in town.  Oh no.  This is blatant disrespect, as I see it, for the professional creativity and skill of others. 

Now, I’m pretty sure we are all grateful for people like volunteer fireman, professionals who do pro bono work for those unable to pay for their services, and neighbors who step in to help when someone is in trouble.  As a massage therapist, I have offered my time and skills to various charities and individuals whom I felt I could help.  The operative word is “offered”. 

If I am solicited for my professional skills, I expect payment.  Now, before you tune me out and say “oh, there goes the almighty dollar, getting in the way of good deeds again”, let me explain the principle. 

Let’s say you have an art opening, for which you wish to have live music.  Your guests are coming free of charge, and as much as I LOVE art, I do not consider it a life or death necessity (ie you’re not the children’s cancer ward at the local hospital).  Why on earth would you not charge a dollar or two per person at the door and give some of it to your skilled help and performers?

Again, it’s principle.  You may only be able to pay 20 bucks to someone who worked all day to make YOUR event a success, but it matters.  And before you hold up the “gilded lily” of beefing up their resume’ or garnering future clients, let me say this – a PAID gig (the exact amount is not important) looks good on a resume’ and in my experience, those attending fully free events are not generally seeking the services of musicians, caterers and the like, so that’s a dead end. 

Furthermore, those who do this sort of gig out of friendship, or frankly, insecurity in their skills are setting the bar low for their respective industry.  In other words, you are screwing your own colleagues out of being taken seriously and ultimately making a living from their chosen profession. 

So please, think twice the next time some long-faced event planner hits you up for your time and service for absolutely zero effort or money.  There is almost always a more worthy recipient of your talents.

*smacks you on the ass*

jean

"Hominy, Hominy, I Think You Dropped A Bomb on Me!"

As I write this, I can almost hear my husband rapping that phrase – which he invariably does when I make this soup.  Oh, and there’s a little dance that goes along with it.  I’m sure he will be thrilled I am telling you that.

Unless you frequent authentic Mexican restaurants, where this soup is typically only made on weekends, you may not have heard of Posole.   Posole in Mexico is what we call hominy.  It’s a white corn, with distinctive, yet somehow mild flavor and texture.  The recipe, along with a lot of raunchy phrases in Spanish, were taught to me by the women I worked with in a manufacturing plant 25 years ago.  I have made it (and swore in Spanish, come to think of it) at least once per year ever since.  There’s nothing like coming home to an Army-sized vat of this soup on a cold day, which is why Nick tends to break into a little song and dance. 

I am going to publish here, for the first time, a vegetarian version – which could easily become vegan with one small change.  The original variety is very meaty, caloric and expensive to make if you do not stock multiple varieties of dried peppers in your cabinet.  I hope you find my updated, ultra-healthy version something you make throughout winter to warm you up.

What you’ll need:

-Large stockpot

-Blender

-2 to 3 Chicken bouillon- try Knorr brand soft cubes (or vegetable broth for vegan) 

-A good 2 lbs. of tomatillos (green tomatoes).  Husks removed and rinsed, left whole.

-A few regular tomatoes, any variety, cut in half (this is a great thing to do with overripe ones)

-One large or two small onions, peeled and cut into quarters

-Crushed red pepper, black pepper, minced garlic, ground cumin….all at your discretion.  I’d say about a teaspoon of each.

-2 to 3   15.5 oz cans of Hominy, drained.  Bush’s is fine, or there are some Mexican brands (I can’t tell the difference)

What to do:    In the stockpot, place all tomatoes, onions, bouillon and spices and cover with cold water.  Bring to boil and let simmer until tomatillos “explode”.  They will get soft and seeds will spill out.  Let cool slightly.

Ladle the pot contents into blender.  It may take more than one fill up to blend it all, and it’s okay to leave the bulk of the water in the pot, as you are only trying to blend the tomatoes and onion.  Pulverize it and put back in stockpot.

Bring it back to a boil and pour in the hominy.  Stir well and it’s done!

Now, heres the fun part.  When serving the truly Mexican version, provide one or preferably ALL of the following fresh “condiments” to go on top of the hot soup.  It’s like a salad on your soup. 

-squeeze of lime (this one is pretty much mandatory)

-Tabasco or other favorite hot sauce for the inevitable person who wants it hotter.

-sliced avocado

-sliced radishes

-finely shredded green or purple cabbage

-finely chopped onion

-cilantro

-Chihuahua cheese

-corn tortillas for dipping

Try serving this at one of your football gatherings this winter.  It’s a real crowd pleaser, and you’ll get points for thinking outside the “chili” box!

Xoxo

jean

10 Things I Know For Certain - Jeanslist

A number of popular magazines have a section called “Things I Know For Sure”, or something similar.  Many times, I skip to this section – regardless of whose list it is.  I am fascinated by a summation of what life has taught any individual.  That is why I don’t feel it overly self-indulgent to create and publish my list for you (Although, let’s be honest. The very act of blogging is a pretty self-indulgent practice). 

 Many of you I have never, and will never, meet in person.  Why would you care what I have to say about the meaning of life?  You don’t necessarily, but it is my hope that it will inspire you to create your own list.

So please read the following, knowing that they are NOT presented as some sort of empirical truths, but rather “The World According to Jean”.  For me, this list is fluid and should change as new things come to light.  And since I believe the meaning of life is whatever the individual assigns to it, this sort of exercise is pretty important to me.

In a world where we are always faced with the unknown, and bombarded by just how little we do know, I find it strangely comforting to tie a string to my own kite of wisdom and watch it fly!

In no particular order……

1.       Being overly concerned with how others perceive you is narcissistic.  Claiming to not give any sort of shit about the perceptions of others is anti-social.  It is yet another thing we must balance.

2.      If you are doing them right, sex and friendship will get more satisfying with age.

3.      If you plan to live past 50, no suntan will ever be worth the ravages it leaves behind.

4.      One’s children are the only vulnerability that cannot be overridden.

5.      Doing a constant post-mortem exam of your past is an excuse to not listen to the answers that are in the present.

6.      Anything that science and psychology has not yet explained, has simply not been explained yet.  For me, there is no comfort in anything mystical.

7.      Love does not conquer all.  In fact, it is often quite impractical.

8.      Even “honesty” is subjective.

9.      The greatest virtue is kindness.  

10.  The greatest travesty is mismanagement of resources.  I’ve never met a person who did not in some way waste what was available to them, myself included.

So there it is.  It took me a surprisingly short time come up with these -and I could likely write 20 more fairly easily.  It was not an emotionless endeavor.  Some of these were learned with great pain.  Still, looking at them all in a row is the adult equivalent of turning on the closet light to scare off the Boogeyman. 

Your challenge, should you choose to accept it, is to come up with a black and white list of your own.  One day, when you feel particularly adrift, it might just be your anchor.

I bid you peace.

xo

jean