The View from Here

New Days, New Ways

My current medical evaluation required that I have an MRI yesterday. In a family known to have faulty spines, and given my own history of accidents and surgeries, the procedure is equivalent to other people having their teeth or eyes examined periodically for the inevitable changes that come with age.

I’ve had at least six of these procedures in the past. Most were done at the same facility and some of the staff has even remained the same. However, yesterday was further evidence of how much our world has changed.

In the past I would have encountered a waiting room of at least a few people -- some filling out paperwork, others waiting for patients. Now…one patient at a time and alone. I automatically stopped at the window to have my temperature taken, having previously done so at every other medical facility I’ve visited. I wore my mask until I was situated in the machine. The staff kept theirs on. When the test was completed, I went to my truck and wiped my hands, purse, and cane.

Next week I’ll go to my doctor’s office to review the results with him. I’ll wear my mask.  I’ll have my temperature taken in the lobby. I’ll get on the elevator alone. I’ll stay six feet from the two or three other patients who will be in the waiting room. I’ll talk to my masked doctor. I’ll follow my routine in my truck and at home.

These days I don’t think twice about the need for a mask or the procedures required by medical facilities. However, I do find it interesting to think that when I was a teenager Dr. Moose made a house call to treat me for pneumonia. New ways indeed…

Outside - Where Life Feels Normal

        

We’ve discussed “normal” and the “new normal” before. There are still almost daily mentions on the news and FB about “getting back to normal”, “living a normal life again”, etc. I’m weary of even bothering to point out the fallacy of that statement. Regardless of what year or circumstance or challenge we discuss, we will never live our lives backwards. We never have. There is only forward…and forward always means change. Most of the changes are small and often subtle, but perhaps one day we’re drinking our morning coffee and looking at photos of the grandchildren or remembering our last work day or the last time we walked to the mailbox without a cane…and suddenly we realize that “normal” may be an expectation, but it is seldom a permanent condition or routine.

                Yesterday I enjoyed some time on the patio, and I spent time thinking about the many years I’ve spent outside with nature. Nature has provided consistency, comfort, peace, joy, and even entertainment for me. I was born to be outside with nature…with animals and plants and the sun and wind. Outside in nature is where I’ve always gone to escape. Outside is where life feels normal.

Midnight Mayhem

This actually took place at 3am, but it doesn't matter. Also doesn't matter that I will need to pick up some pots and refill one of my bird feeders. I've missed the raccoons from our place in the country. I was thrilled to see these. 

White Pants

Labor Day is on the horizon. Have you packed away your white pants and other summer clothing?

                One of our local newscasters has already mentioned that tried and true wardrobe mandate. And I thought about it as I stood in line at Walmart yesterday. A woman in front of us was wearing white pants, and so was the woman in the next line. I stood there trying to remember the last time I wore white pants. The answer was “never”.

                White was not one of my mother’s favorite colors for anything except sheets or kitchen towels. Nothing white ever stayed that way, especially if it was worn by a child. My father, and later my brothers, each had at least one white shirt for any formal occasion that might arise, but their usual church attire was a pale blue or yellow shirt. The same guidelines applied to my mother’s clothing and my own. Pale pastels were the closest we got to white.

                I do recall buying a few white blouses after I became a working adult. I regretted each purchase. I guess I’ve just never been one of those women who could avoid food or animals or children, and all resulted in stains!

                I did a quick Google search this morning to determine why people in the past were urged to pack away their whites in September. It seemed to be something that well-to-do people just typically did at the end of the summer vacation months. I know from previous research that some of the wealthier families from our area routinely spent the entire summer in cooler regions such as the mountains of Colorado or the beaches of either coast. White clothes were a symbol of leisure and were considered best for warding off the hot rays of the sun. Labor Day seemed like the perfect reminder that it was time to get ready for a new season of work and prepare for changes in the weather. I assume that as the white pants were packed away the brown and black sweaters came out of storage.

                I found this handy tip in a September 1916 issue of an OK newspaper: “When you put your white summer clothes away for the winter, put an extra amount of bluing in the last water. In the spring, wash again and they will be beautifully white.” In 1935 there was a similar piece of advice in a household hint column. Guess I don’t have to worry about that. My summer and fall and winter clothes all share the same closet. Of course, in Oklahoma I might need all of them next week!

Bringing up Baby

            By the time I gave birth to my first child I had more than a little experience in dealing with babies and meeting their needs. Nothing really prepares you for having one in your life 24/7, but I was certainly as prepared as any other young woman in my circle of friends. I had four younger brothers, including one born when I was sixteen. I had been babysitting since I was nine. I had numerous younger cousins. A couple of my cousins and one of my good friends already had babies. And of course I had a mother, mother-in-law, two grandmothers, a great-grandmother, and numerous aunts who were more than happy to give me advice…whether I asked for it or not.

            Perhaps the memory of my own experience helps explain my recent amazement at finding a series of parenting guidelines from 1913 entitled “Babyology”. The series was published in connection with a nationwide movement called “Better Babies”. This scientific approach to raising and harvesting a better crop of children was promoted by the Woman’s Home Companion magazine and was popular for a couple of decades. Babies were judged at county and state fairs, just like crops or livestock, and earned medals, certificates, and money.

            Of course, if you’re going to have a point system for something, and you’re going to give prizes, then you have to create a method for improving your chances of earning those points and winning the top prizes. So, Anna Steese Richardson, the director of WHC’s Better Babies Bureau, created a series of articles to educate parents on the basic concepts of raising a healthier, better child. The concept of “perfect” was often implied, but never directly stated. Parents were urged to clip the articles and place them in a scrapbook for reference. Many were quite long and very detailed. The articles were printed in numerous papers from coast to coast and at one time forty states were promoting baby contests. The series was reprinted in 1914.

            Mrs. Richardson was a talented writer and conducted hundreds of interviews with doctors, nurses, and parents in order to write the series. She had also raised three of her own children. As far as I can determine, she had no medical training. (You may also recognize her as a playwright.) Much of her advice was logical and practical and sound. However, some of it seems rigid and cold-hearted. I think the one piece of advice that bothers me the most is “don’t sing”. I have lovely memories of my mother singing my oldest brother and me to sleep when he was a baby and I was four.

            And as a last note, I looked at my family tree to see who might have been reading this advice. It turns out that one of my great-grandmothers had her first child in 1912 and the other had her fourth in 1913.

            Here then, are highlights from the series:

1. What is Babyology? “It means that branch of scientific study of man which deals simply, clearly, directly, and comprehensively with the baby as the foundation on which is built national health, strength, energy, intelligence, and morality. It involves consideration of every phase of baby’s life, physical, mental, and moral, from its food to its play, from its cleanliness of body to the sort of love lavished upon it. A more fascinating science for women has never been evolved.”
2. Breastfeeding is best and the mother should make sure her diet is healthy, beginning at least a month before the birth. Babies should be fed every 2 hours during the day, but only once at night – at 2am. After a week the baby should be fed every 3 hours during the day and once at night. (Formulas and charts were available concerning bottle milk formulas and the introduction of solid foods.)
3. Breast-fed babies should be weaned by 12 months. (There was also a detailed plan for emergency weaning due to the illness of the mother.) Bottle babies should be weaned by eighteen months. Bottle babies should also be given 2-8 tsps. of orange juice per day, beginning at six months.
4. Babies who cry before their scheduled feeding should be allowed to cry for up to thirty minutes. At six months they should sleep from 6pm to 6am with a “quiet” feeding at 9pm. Babies should not be rocked to sleep. “Do not sing.” Undress the baby, make it comfortable on a mattress without a pillow in a dark, well-ventilated room. Babies should sleep alone. Babies should nap from 9-11 and from 1-3. Children up to 6 years old should sleep twelve hours per night.
5. (“Belly bands” were used during this time and mothers were urged to make sure they were “non-binding”.) Clothes need to be light, soft, simple, and kept very clean.
6. Babies need to be methodically bathed each day between 6 and 9am. The temperature of the water and the room should be measured and the baby’s linens kept separate from all others. Gauze used during bathing is to be burned afterward.
7. Specific advice: Mothers were urged to make sure babies were positioned so that ears were not mashed and deformed. Those who sucked their fingers or thumbs could sleep wearing mittens to discourage that habit. Finger shape could be improved by frequent massage. Eyelashes could be thickened (see attached). Skin could be smoother with good care.
8. Fresh air and exercise. Whenever possible babies should be kept outside, not in the kitchen. Naps can take place in the shade of a tree or in a net-covered enclosure. Babies should dictate their own movements. (Mothers were discouraged from propping them up or holding their hands and urging them to walk.) Babies should be out of bulky diapers by 12 months so they can more easily walk on their own.
9. Nursery emergencies. Mothers didn’t call the doctor each time their baby coughed or had a fever. They learned to deal with illness, minor cuts, sprains, and sometimes life-threatening situations. Even when a doctor was available, the delay in getting the child to them might be several hours. It gave me chills to read some of this article.
10. Baby milestones. There were charts and lists available for understanding what baby should be doing. Some of these were available in the paper and others could be ordered. Mothers were urged to weigh their baby once a week and measure body proportions once a month. Proportions were very important in the contests. These were included on the score cards: 6 months- Sits alone. Plays with simple objects. Turns in the direction of noise. One year- Stands without support. Walks with support. Says one or two words. Knows mother. 18 months- Walks without support. Follows “intelligently” what is going on around it. 2 years- Makes short sentences. Speaks without defects. Interested in pictures. Points to eyes, nose, ears.

I’m not quite sure if I would have qualified as a good parent during this time.

Gluttony...The Acceptable Sin

Yesterday I posted a simple survey on FB:

If we accept the concept of the “seven deadly sins”: pride, envy, wrath, greed, gluttony, and lust, which do you think is currently the most harmful to us personally and to our society? A one-word answer is fine.

I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised to read that the majority of participants responded with “greed”. And you shouldn’t be surprised to read my nerdy analysis of that answer or the following explanation of my own.

If we take a closer look at greed, envy, pride and even lust, they can all be considered somewhat “secret” sins. No one needs to know how we really feel, unless we choose to act upon those feelings. Greed is defined a “selfish desire” for something. That doesn’t mean we act on that desire and start acquiring wealth or possessions. And I believe the problem with greed isn’t in the wanting, but in the selfishness. My grandmother was fond of saying, “If wishes were horses, then beggars would ride.” Wanting often creates worthy goals and accomplishments.

Wrath and gluttony, on the other hand, are actions --  obvious manifestations of selfishness and sin. I think of wrath as the consequence of extreme anger. I think of wrath as vengeance and violence.

Which brings us to gluttony.

Gluttony is the “acceptable sin”.

Gluttony leads to obesity.

Obesity leads to death.

I read yesterday that according to some studies there may be no greater harm to the collective health of the U.S. than obesity. It is second only to tobacco in the number of deaths it causes each year.

Obesity causes or is closely linked to heart disease, stroke, diabetes, high blood pressure, unhealthy cholesterol, asthma, sleep apnea, gallstones, kidney stones, infertility, and as many as 11 types of cancers.

Obesity affects a person’s quality of life. Job discrimination and lower wages are often linked to the stigma of obesity. Obese people have difficulty with many of the physical requirements of daily life.

Social and emotional problems associated with obesity can lead to depression and suicide. We can talk all we want about accepting people for who they are and the size they are, but we know in our hearts that prejudice against fat people is real, especially among young people.

Obesity is expensive; millions of dollars are spent on extra medical care for obese patients, especially those with type 2 diabetes. Money is lost because of decreases in productivity, absenteeism, disability, and increases in health insurance. It’s been estimated that medical expenses linked to obesity may account for 20% of ALL medical costs in the U.S.

Let’s go back for a moment to the concept of gluttony being the “acceptable sin”.

If you’ve been in a restaurant anytime in the past ten years you know that portion sizes have increased tremendously. Patrons love the larger meals!

Scroll through FB for even a short while and you’ll see post after post of plates and bowls and platters piled high with food. Friends brag about huge pizzas, bags of fries, tubs of chicken wings.

Confess on FB that you sat in a closet and drank a bottle of whiskey and you’ll more than likely be condemned, pitied, or forgiven and prayed over. Confess that you ate a whole bag of Oreos or a box of doughnuts and you might get a laughing emoji and the comment “Who hasn’t?” or a semi-serious, “Why didn’t you ask me to join you?”

Gluttony is slow to show its true nature, and not always obvious, even when we think we are paying attention.

So that’s my vote…

Eating for Entertainment

A new restaurant just opened in our area and of course there have already been photos on FB to show off their signature dishes. This is one of those famous chains and a “big deal” for the area. Those who enjoy such things will flock to the place to see if their reputation is warranted. I’m sure there will be a lot of excitement, reviews, and of course…more FB photos.

As someone who has always had a love/hate relationship with food, food preparation, cooking, restaurants, and well…everything about eating…I find the whole situation amusing and yet disturbing.

I don’t remember ever being hungry as a child. Our usual fare wasn’t that bad since we raised our own meat and grew our own vegetables whenever we could. We had cake or some other desert on Sundays and for special occasions. But I disliked eating beans so often and my dad was a “clean plate” fan, even if I hated what we were eating. I was jealous because my best friend could drink milk for dinner. I had a few friends who ate lovely dishes I’d never even heard of and couldn’t dream of Mom cooking. And only once, from childhood through my teens can I ever remember my parents going “out to dinner” without us. Our family meals “out” were usually to a greasy burger joint or pizza place.  

Somewhere along the way I developed some doubts and fears about the cleanliness and safety of food, especially restaurant food and school food and church potluck food. Perhaps it was in those first home economics classes, or my stint working in our summer camp kitchen. I also grew up in my grandmother’s café. As a teen I worked as a waitress -- first in a small café, and then in a large dining room attached to a bowling alley. I’ve spent my entire life training my brain to accept the fact that anything we put in our mouths represents an act of faith. Letting someone else cook it is further proof of that faith. But we have to put aside our fears in order to enjoy a meal at a restaurant with those we love. We have to “eat, drink, and be merry” when someone expects us to.

And let’s just be honest. With all the salt, sugar, and fat in those HUGE portions now served at most restaurants, it’s not always that much of an imposition to stuff our mouths.

I told you…LOVE/HATE/LOVE/HATE…an endless cycle.

Now that I’ve lost thirty pounds and my brain is trying to focus on how to make better choices so that I can lose a few more pounds, be healthier and live longer, well, I just can’t imagine eating for entertainment. I want to check that one off my list and say…been there, done that…don’t need to do it anymore.

Back to Nature

Gary had an appointment in the area, so we spent a couple of tranquil hours at Hagerman National Wildlife Refuge near Pottsboro. 

Transition

I’ve thought a lot about the concept of change this year. I’m sure it has been on your mind as well. It seems at times that 2020 has been a year of nothing but changes. Each time I turn on the television there is a new warning or mandate about something that was thought to be “okay” yesterday. I try to assess if and how the new information affects my life and act accordingly. However, yesterday, on a routine drive to Sherman, TX I found myself witnessing the true nature of change.

For many years, perhaps even a decade, there has been an ongoing controversy over a section of highway 69/75 that extends from Durant, OK to just south of the town limits of Calera, OK. The highway continues on to the Texas border and is the main artery for north/south travel. It has long had the reputation of being a very dangerous road – always too hectic and crowded with trucks. It has too many crossings. There are small businesses on both sides of the highway. Locals, tourists, and countless people who live in OK but work in TX, have cautiously driven it for as long as I can remember. I was one of those commuters (from Caddo to Calera) for over four years. Since my retirement I’ve continued to drive it several times a month to visit the library in Calera, shop in Texas, see my son in Sherman, and go to the wildlife refuge near Pottsboro.

Just a few years ago the state revealed its plans for a total makeover of the highway – wider road, overpasses, the works. I don’t mean to oversimplify the process, but after a lot of local meetings, heated arguments, and emotional reactions, the highway renovation, set to take four years to complete, is well underway. Because of COVID and some other issues, yesterday was my first view of the project since March.

There were certainly some major changes that immediately caught my eye. I was particularly impressed by the new overpass that will provide better access to and from the casino complex. There was barely a hint of it in March. Now it extends over traffic like a giant arm. Other changes were made so long ago that my eyes no longer noticed them. Even on my return trip to OK, when I passed under the overpass for the second time, I didn’t scrutinize it as closely. And I barely glanced at the new hotel being built next to the casino. It’s been reaching toward the sky for nearly a year.

For the next ten minutes, as a I drove to our house, I tried to recall the way the road, the businesses, and the houses looked just two years ago when we moved to this area. For the most part, I could not recall what “used to be there”.

That is the true nature of change. We conscientiously decide to make a change in our life or we reluctantly make a change required by life, and we notice everything about it for a short time. We compare the new with the old, the different with the familiar, but we continue to behave in the new way…until one day we just act without any awareness at all.

I looked up the definition of transition this morning: the process or a period of changing from one state or condition to another.

That’s our world, our society, our reality, in one concise sentence. We are in the process of changing from one state to another. Despite the fact that I still hear people talk about “when things get back to normal” there is no going back now. Transition, once begun, only goes in one direction…forward. Next year, or the year after, our lives will be very different, and we probably won’t even notice.

Sunday Memories

I was sorting through some papers yesterday and came across a church bulletin from 1984 that was in Mom’s things. She saved it because it contained a “thank you” she wrote after the church gave my parents a house-warming. I wasn’t here at the time; we had returned to CA a couple of years before that.

Seeing the bulletin reminded me of the many ways that Sunday has changed over the years. In fact, I don’t think any other day on the calendar has gone through as many alterations as the first day of the week. Nearly every aspect of church attendance – from location to attire to the sermon delivery – is different. The Sunday actions and activities of people have certainly changed. If you drive through any town on Sunday you will find a limited number of businesses are closed. Those that are open can sell you almost anything; “blue laws” only exist in a few states. And finally…Sunday is a major “sports” day.

In the spring of 1964 we returned from Fresno, CA to my parents’ hometown of Caddo, OK. In some ways it was a difficult change, but in other ways it didn’t feel like a change at all. I had spent all of my life visiting Caddo at least once a year. I knew most of the people. I had attended school, church, community events. By the summer of ’64 my life was as routine as any other teen’s in town.  And Sunday was one of my favorite days.

Sundays began with a big breakfast. Dad was fond of biscuits and gravy. I was quite fond of pancakes drenched in syrup. There were often eggs on the table because we always kept chickens. Sometimes we had sausage, supplied by Pappa Springer, who made it in his kitchen.

After breakfast everyone dressed carefully in clean, ironed, starched clothes.  My brothers usually protested anything that was starched, and at least one of them managed to get something on his shirt before we left for church service. Mom and I usually wore gloves; hose and heels for sure. Sometimes I wore a hat, just because I liked them and they were popular at the time.

Sunday School classes, worship service – lots of reading, prayer, singing, traditions. Afterwards we visited with friends and family, then hurried back to the house.

By then the paper had arrived and Dad liked to start reading the comics while Mom and I prepared lunch. Sunday lunch was often fried chicken or spaghetti or pork chops. There was always some type of potato or macaroni dish and vegetables from the garden and baked bread of some kind. Sometimes we had company so we tried to be a little quicker by making potato salad and other dishes the day before. Once a month I was SO grateful to eat at Mama Della’s. We just took a dish Mom had prepared earlier! I didn’t have to cook anything, just help with dishes and cleanup afterward.

After lunch we rested, spent up to an hour reading the newspaper (it was huge), or watched television. Sometimes I worked on homework that was due on Monday. The boys played in their upstairs room or out in the yard.

Later we snacked on leftovers, went to evening service, then home for a little preparation for Monday, baths and early bedtime. Dad was always strict about bedtime. I can’t even count the number of times I had to go to bed without finishing the chapter of a book or seeing how a movie ended.  The clock ruled!

Sundays were relaxing, rewarding, and rejuvenating, even for a teenage girl. After Sunday I was always ready to face the new week.