Our National Anthem and the Olympics

I think I was in my twenties when I first listened to the words of our national anthem. I listened enthralled as the song unfolded. Sure, I'd endured years of my childhood saying the Pledge of Allegiance but it never inspired me as much as our national anthem. I love our anthem. I love it so much and it makes me proud and often it makes me tear up. The flag, our symbol of freedom had lasted through the night. Yes, it was still there. Wow, we are still here.

I feel so proud when I hear it. Especially when I hear it at the Olympics. The emotion of the moment plays across the US gold medal winner's face. A life time of dreams, a life time of sacrifice, a life time of work. It finally pays off, the US Olympian has won gold. Then they play the Star Spangled Banner as they raise the flag in salute. I see their tears, I feel my tears, I feel their pride. The highest achievement for a life time of work.

Yet, this pride for my country has a double-edged sword. I love my country, yet, I see that my country hasn't always acted in ways that make me swell with pride. I can't control what my government does but my hope it that I can behave in a way that is respectful of humanity.

Supreme Court

I’m not a very political person but the recent ruling by the Supreme Court has really mad me mad. Well, it’s not surprising since they have five conservatives and four liberals. As I understand it, they’ve decided in favor of a ruling “that opens the door for corporations, labor unions, and other organizations to spend money directly from their general funds to influence campaigns. (from Yahoo! News)”

So, my non-political brain interprets this as WalMart, Warren Buffet or RJ Reynolds gets to choose who will serve in any and all of our public offices. Here’s my nightmare: my next public school official will be someone supported by Wal Mart and RJ Reynolds. Their private agenda? Buy all supplies from Walmart. Lighten smoking campaigns targeting our youth.

I just looked at a list of rich people in America and it scares me to think that they will all have access to controlling how our political campaigns turn out. Yahoo! News reported that 80% of ALL Americans of all political backgrounds are against this ruling. I think if most of the country is against this ruling, the Supreme Court should take notice.

One thing that I like about local politics is that ordinary men and women have access to it. I fear that with this new ruling, ordinary people will be left out and our important local decisions will be left to corporations. Dang, I hope it doesn’t turn out this way. I hope I’m just making a mountain out of a mole hill.

Bad Dates

A friend of mine is promoting her book, Good Drinks For Bad Days at a local hotel bar this week. They're having a bad date contest. So, I began to think of my past bad dates. I guess I can't include dates with my husband. If so, I might have to include the time I yelled at him on his birthday.

Back to bad dates, I can think of a few. I met this man at a book store and we chatted over the fiction books. He seemed interesting. He liked jazz. I don't like jazz but I thought maybe his interest in jazz might be a window into a deeper person. We agreed to meet for breakfast. This is a bad first date choice because if it doesn't work out, well, you know, you're stuck. And, I was really stuck. He talked mostly about himself and when he asked me anything, I was so spaced out from ignoring him that I had to ask him to repeat his question. It dragged on and on. Finally, we split the bill with him pointing to his throat while he muttered that he had a sore throat and had to leave. I shrugged and said, "Yeah, me too." Then I left.

More bad dates. Hmmm. I got stood up by the Kinko's guy. He'd been making deliveries for months and finally he asked me out. Yay! It was the first time I'd been asked to go swing dancing. I was thrilled. As a former ballerina, I loved dancing, especially anything that was romantically restrained. You know, stolen glances, the heat of your partner's hand on the small of your back, spins that end in a second-long tight embrace. Needless to say, I was really looking forward to this date. I got ready with care, which is saying a lot for me. I'm a jeans, t-shirt and no make-up kind of girl. So, I got ready and waited and waited and waited. He never showed. He never showed at work. The new Kinko's delivery guy told me that he quit.

A couple of months later, I was on another date and ran into him. I just said hi. I wasn’t hurt or angry and there was no need to go into why he stood me up. But he persisted and shared with me that he had a nervous breakdown and had been in the hospital. He said he was better and I was happy for him. He was a nice person. He seemed to pause like he wanted to ask me out again. Quickly, I wished him well and thanked my lucky stars that he stood me up.

My Pal

When I first met my friend Ann, I was in college. I'd had best friends before but being friends with Ann was something special. She was the kind of person who made you feel worthy and special just for being you. She sees positive attributes in everyone she meets. She has a great sense of humor and she cares about humanity. She's probably intensely upset about the earthquake in Haiti. She is the kind of person who creates a delicious meal, sets a simple and lovely table, and shares it with friends.

When we'd hang out, we wouldn't really do anything specifically. It was more about being near each other and sharing. We'd ride bikes around, pick flowers, watch TV, drink coffee, cook things. Normal stuff.

She was the first friend that I had who actually voiced the words, "I really like you, Camille." I was really astounded when she told me that. I appreciate that Ann told me how she felt. In the past, I had just assumed that my friends liked me. But she made me see how important it is to tell people how you feel about them. I told her I really liked her too. We were bonded from that moment and I still feel close to her, even though we don't live in the same city or  talk as often as I'd like.

She is definitely a once-in-a-lifetime kind of friend. I miss my pal. I wish we could spend idle time gathering moments. I wish we could spend time cooking stuff. I wish we could be having coffee right now.

Under the Knife

I love that phrase, under the knife. My mom is a nurse and she chuckles about the patients who refer to their surgery this way.

Speaking of surgery, I asked my dad if he saw my brothers when he went under the knife. He said didn't see anything. "Any bright lights? I asked. Even though my dad is quite self sufficient and reserved, I still think there's a part of him that likes all the attention that being sick garners. I sensed this in him while he was repeating the story of his surgery for the fifth time.

After he finished with his aneurysm story, he solemnly said, "My days are numbered."

Thinking back to when my brother died instantly after slamming into a rock wall, I replied, "Aren't they all. I mean, how much time do any of us really have here."  Then I asked him, "So, how long did the doctor give you?"

"Well," he said in a drawn out way, "the doctor actually didn't say that. I just think that I won't be around for much longer. It'll be quick though. I'll just drop dead when the aortic aneurysm bursts and I won't feel a thing."

Wow, what exactly do I say to that. Finally, I settled on saying, "that's how I wanna go. I want it to be quick, maybe doing something that I love." Then I add, "I'll miss you dad, I'll miss you a lot."

 

Fathers and Children

Seeing fathers and children together during a tender moment has always made my eyes tear up and my heart swell with emotion. I feel happy that the child has such a nurturing male figure in their lives, grateful that there are caring people in this world, and blessed to be in the presence of a loving exchange between a father and his child. Yet, at the same time, I also feel some longing tug at my heart because I never had such a close and caring relationship with my own dad.

I’m thinking a lot about my dad these days because he’s going in for surgery soon. They’re putting a stent in his heart. A stent in a man-made tube that’s inserted in a passageway, an artery in his case, to keep the fluids flowing along.

 

At this point, I’m not really sure what to write. My parents divorced when I was three and I grew up without knowing him very well. When I did happen to see him I always wanted to leave right away. Throughout my whole life, he’d basically ignore me. He’d only say what was necessary which meant he was silent for much of the time. I was about 35 or so the first time he told me he was proud of me. So, he’s mostly been absent from my life until recently.

He moved nearby after my brother died. He only began telling me he loved me after my second brother died and he only says it at the end of our phone conversations. Maybe it’s his way of making up for lost time. And, it’s sad but, we’re not really any closer emotionally. He lives nearby but I don’t see him very often. Even though I’ve always wanted a supportive and nurturing relationship with my dad, I know that it won’t happen. It’s just not his way. In the face of his possible demise, the best I can hope for is an, “I love you,” from him. This is miles from how he used to treat me. The funny thing is, I’m okay with this.

He’s a reserved and very proper person. But lately, he has surprised me with some silliness. By the way, silliness is unheard of in his realm. I made dinner for my husband, my small child, my dad and myself. Sometimes just before we eat, we like to hold hands and say, “One, two, three…Blah, blah, bugga, bugga, boo!” I expected my dad not to say it because it’s goofy. Dad amazed us all by joining in. It makes me smile when I think about it. If this surgery doesn’t go well and he ends up dying, I’m going to think about the time that he said, “Blah, blah, bugga, bugga, boo!”

I never thanked my mom for making my tutu

She made it out of kelly green tulle netting and added dark green sequins on the ends to make it sparkle. It was for my dance recital. I absolutely loved it! I played with it for many years and when it no longer fit my waist, I’d wear it on my head and rock out. 

This one simple act of my mom’s gave me years of pleasure and creative play. I imagined I was a ballerina performing on stage or a princess dancing at a ball. Sometimes, I used it as a mega car ramp, a tumbling tumble weed, or a volleyball. Some of my fondest memories are from when I’d rock out. I’d put on my sparkly green tutu-hair, tune my air guitar, and perform my latest hits for all my fans. My fans, AKA stuffed animals, loved it.

When she made my tutu, she was a single mom in her thirties with three kids and she worked full time. She must have been exhausted. In fact, now that I’m a parent that I can empathize with how physically and emotionally tired she must have been. 

Thanks mom for making my tutu. I loved it and thank you for taking the time to give me such a wonderful gift.