The View from Here

Behind the Curtain

As a child I had a love-hate obsession with The Wizard of Oz. I first saw it at the drive-in when I was young enough to fit on the shelf under the back window of our old Buick. I clutched my little blanket and shivered as the evil witch waved her broomstick and the winged monkeys did her dirty work. But I was spellbound when Dorothy sang and the lion roared and the good witch saved the day. In the years that followed I watched the movie many more times and laughed when the evil witch and monkeys appeared on screen because I knew they would be punished and good would triumph in the end.

It wasn’t until I became an adult that I began to realize that the most fearful character in the movie was the wizard, the man behind the curtain who tricked everyone into thinking he was powerful, sent them on a dangerous mission, and then convinced them to accept an alternative reward instead of the one he had promised. In the end it was Dorothy who saved herself, using the faith and skills she had always had. Sure, Glinda had to remind her, but you have to give Dorothy credit for believing anyone again after her experience with the wizard.

I’ve replayed that curtain scene in my mind a hundred times over the years. It represents one of life’s greatest and most powerful lessons- no one is exactly what they seem to be. Every person we meet is a mixture of good and evil, honesty and deception, appearance and disguise. We are attracted to the good in people and hopefully align ourselves with those who share our values and encourage our own goodness. But there are those among us who take advantage, who deceive, who rely on our naiveté about the evils of the world. They use their status or relationship or occupation to fool us into thinking they are rewarding us. That’s why it’s such a mistake to label people as good or bad based on their status, occupation, ethnicity, religion, relationship, intelligence, beauty, wealth, or anything else other than our own day to day experience with them. If we can be deceived by someone working beside us day after day or someone preaching from our church pulpit on Sunday or someone on our streets in uniform, think how much easier it is to be wrong about someone we don’t even know.

The Bible says that all have sinned, but it also warns us against true evil. I have been blessed to know many more “good people who make mistakes” than “evil people who intentionally mislead”. However, the evil ones have left a painful scar on my heart because they have worn the mask of beloved relative, preacher, teacher, colleague, and friend in order to hide their true identities as child molesters, murderers, and thieves. I can’t begin to describe the heartache of thinking you “know” someone and then finding out that behind their professional title and charming personality was a pedophile. Or knowing someone through the most ordinary circumstances and reading in the paper the next day that he went home and killed his wife. You can’t make these things up, or erase them from your memories.

I suppose some might think I am foolish to continue to have faith in the goodness of people, but I believe in my heart that we are still the majority and that the wicked of the world will be punished and good will triumph in the end.

Proverbs 6:12-16 New King James Version (NKJV)

The Wicked Man

¹² A worthless person, a wicked man,
Walks with a perverse mouth;
¹³ He winks with his eyes,
He shuffles his feet,
He points with his fingers;
¹⁴ Perversity is in his heart,
He devises evil continually,
He sows discord.
¹⁵ Therefore his calamity shall come suddenly;
Suddenly he shall be broken without remedy.

As the Stomach Churns

I remember being at the Laundromat once when I was a young bride and overhearing a rather personal discussion about the actions of a young woman and her fiancé. It was one of those “I shouldn’t really be listening” moments when you wish you were somewhere else, but have no other choice but to continue folding towels.

The two women having the discussion were quite animated and I found it a bit embarrassing that they weren’t being more discreet. Then something about one statement sounded quite familiar.  I paid closer attention and finally a name was mentioned. Good grief!! They were talking about a couple on “As the World Turns”, my mom’s favorite soap opera! I forced myself to stifle the laugh that threatened to choke me. My brother and I were fond of asking Mom about “As the Stomach Churns”, our attempt to disparage her show, and we were critical of her affection for the characters, but NEVER had Mom ever carried on a conversation that made the characters seem this real. I wondered if the two women had their own families or had literally adopted the people on the show as replacements.

We didn’t always have a television when I was growing up, but when we did it provided my mother with a diversion from the more tedious tasks of daily home maintenance. Cooking, cleaning, laundry, and child care were much more labor intensive than they are now. My mother spent hours shelling peas and snapping beans, starching and ironing laundry, washing windows and cleaning floors. To make the tasks, especially ironing, more enjoyable, she watched game shows or soap operas while she worked.  The people of As the World Turns, The Guiding Light, Another World, The Edge of Night, and Days of Our Lives provided a welcome distraction from the fact that she was ironing fifteen shirts, ten pairs of pants, six skirts, two jackets, and five blouses…again.

I have to confess that if we had a school holiday or I was home with a cold I was apt to be right in front of the set during Days of Our Lives. There was just something about that one that I found irresistible. Mom always said that the appeal of soap operas was that the people were so preposterously perfect. They could suffer anything from a near-fatal car accident to a hurricane and still look good doing it. They argued and cried and schemed and deceived and still managed to live “happily ever after”. Some even came back from the dead…well sort of.

The one emotion I was always left with after a dramatic episode of Days of Our Lives was disappointment. Why was my life so boring and ordinary? Why couldn’t we look that good? Why didn’t my mom wear heels and jewelry while she washed dishes? Why didn’t our house look like a magazine layout? But quite often my mom would discuss situations on the shows that revealed her wonderful insight into the way people truly lived. And then I felt lucky that we had such an ordinary life.

I abandoned soap operas shortly after leaving home. They just lost their appeal as my life moved in other directions. Mom, too, watched only her favorite, and not as often. I’m aware that some are still on the air and watched by loyal fans, but they must compete with a plethora of game shows, talk shows, cooking shows, and “reality” shows. And of course there is always Facebook to occupy our spare moments in the afternoons, but I’m not sure Mom would approve. After all you can’t “like” and iron at the same time!

The Wall

I’m re-posting this for those of you who didn’t read it the first time. So…in no particular order…

1. A major building project of this kind will require planning, surveys, geological analysis, environmental studies, and land procurement. Some of the border land is privately owned; imminent domain lawsuits already created unexpected delays in erecting the existing fencing.
2. Anything affecting U. S. waterways (Rio Grande) necessitates the involvement of the Army Corps of Engineers. Project approval requires study and time.
3. Opponents have already questioned whether the wall would violate the Environmental Protection Act, the Endangered Species Act or both. Lawsuits might have to be argued and decided before the project could be approved.
4. Building the wall will require a huge workforce. They will need water, food, shelter, equipment, transportation, security, protection, and medical care near the building sites.
5. Building a concrete wall, rather than a fence, will require either on-site pouring, or nearby manufacturing plants for pre-made slabs.
6. Engineers recommend that the wall extend at least five feet below ground and twenty feet above ground to deter humans from tunneling under it or climbing over it. Current rumors suggest the wall will be 50 feet high.
7. According to engineering experts, building 1,000+ feet of wall will take an estimated five to ten years to complete and cost…..
8. Building the wall will impact Native American land. Current fencing has already created controversy with the Tohono O’odhamin tribe in Arizona.
9. The wall will still need human supervision. Anything built by man can be destroyed by man. We currently employ over 20,000 border patrol agents. It is unclear how many will be needed once the wall is completed.
10. There are millions of tourists, students, and legal workers who cross the U.S./Mexico border each day. Either the wall will prevent them from doing so, or gates/crossings will still be needed for them to use. ANY break in the wall will then be subject to an illegal breach and require strict security.

Flawed...

I wrote this ten years ago, but this morning seemed like a good time for a repeat. I pray that it is a blessing to someone. It was a good reminder for me…

I was feeling a bit overwhelmed this weekend. I’ve let myself get fat again. I’m behind on several projects. I’m trying to finish all my paperwork at school. Our house is still chaos. The packing boxes are stacked high. There are rooms unfinished, unpainted, undecorated. I was sick and tired Sunday and feeling guilty about not attending church. Then God sent me a little messenger. I was getting some water from the kitchen and had turned to look at the pond when a beautiful butterfly landed on the sliding glass door. I recognized it as a Painted Lady because we’ve raised them in class. I was admiring it when I suddenly noticed that there was a small piece missing from the bottom of its wing. “Flawed”, I thought. “But still beautiful” answered God. My heart heard those words as surely as if they had been shouted.

Flawed. That’s been my outlook lately- looking at all the things around me that have gone wrong, that aren’t quite right, that don’t work. When I start feeling bad about my life it is usually because I’m seeking a level of perfection that cannot be attained. I can’t be all things to all people. I can’t work on my body and health while I’m moving. I can’t work on the house until school is over. And no matter what I do there will always be more to do. Instead of being a depressing thought it’s rather uplifting to know that life goes on. I need to be more mindful of my blessings. There are those who have bodies in far worse shape than mine- people with cancer and other diseases who are beyond the worries of fat vs. thin. There are people who wish they could work, but can’t. There are people who don’t have homes to paint or finish or decorate because they’ve been destroyed by the forces of nature. There are people with problems far greater than my own.

“Flawed” is not a description, it’s a fact. We are all flawed in some way because only Jesus is perfect. We can hope. We can strive. We can work. But we will never be perfect except in heaven.

 So life goes on… people with imperfections manage to be happy. Homes with imperfections still provide shelter and comfort for people in need.

And butterflies with imperfections are still beautiful…

Services No Longer Needed

This morning I read this interesting item in the 1913 Caddo Herald:

I have secured the services of Mr. Lon Morrow as soda dispenser at my fountain. Mr. Morrow has had fifteen years experience in the fountain business and is expert in his line…W. F. Dodd

Although I understand that Mr. Morrow did much more than pour sarsaparilla in a glass, the item still reminded me of some of the nearly-extinct jobs that people commonly did when I was a child.

The first one that comes to mind is elevator operator. They usually wore a uniform and in some fancier buildings, gloves. When I was very young my father worked for a large hotel and we often encountered this man. I loved to tell him what floor we wanted! Gary’s cousin was an elevator operator for over twenty years.

I can’t recall that we ever had a milk man when I was a child. We usually kept our own direct source of milk. But when Gary and I first married we signed up for milk delivery. It was very trendy at the time! In addition to milk, the delivery man carried sweet concoctions that we probably wouldn’t have purchased in the store. I realize this is a service that is still available in many communities, but it has been decades since I’ve personally seen a milkman.

We seldom had a telephone, but I do recall asking the operator to dial a long-distance number when it was time for our Christmas call to grandmother. For years the switchboard operator was essential for getting any kind of service. And many businesses also required telephone operators. My mother worked for a while as a switchboard operator for a store. So did I.

When my father was a teenager he worked as a movie theater usher. He said the worst part was seeing the same movie several times a day for a week. I remember going to the movies as a teen and the usher not only shined his flashlight to make sure we got to our seats, but didn’t hesitate to tell us to “hush” if we talked too loudly.

My friend, Doris, took me along with her to one of the first “self-service” gas stations in our city. She was so proud of the fact that she had learned such a manly skill! Before self-service became the norm a whole team of gas station attendants rushed out to fill the tank, check the oil and tires, wash the windows, and give candy to the kids.

Those were just a few of the services people once provided that are no longer needed. There are dozens more: bowling pin re-setter, vacuum cleaner salesman, ice man, encyclopedia salesman…What do you remember?

Pain

Pain is one of those inevitable universal conditions of life that is difficult to qualify or quantify for another person. We think we understand it since we’ve all experienced it at some time, either briefly or for what seems like forever.

Medical personnel show us those little smiley-face charts and we attempt to pick out the one that best exemplifies our current level of sensation. Based on that and their own assessment, doctors dole out the medications and treatments they hope will alleviate at least some of the pain and allow us to live our lives as normally as possible.

Loved ones are sympathetic and do their best to ease our pain with assistance, distraction, words of comfort, and prayer. But in the end there is only the pain and the person who is living with it.

Each person’s acceptance of pain, and their adaptation to its existence and limitations, is based on their own mental and physical condition, their past experience, their overall attitude about life, their expectations, and their tolerance. None of us can truly understand the physical sensation that another person is feeling because even if we have “been there, done that” as the saying goes, pain can’t be recreated. It is one of the blessings of life that we can remember being hurt, remember feeling horrible, remember wanting relief, but we can’t bring about the actual pain of a past injury. We might come close in a nightmare, but we typically awaken before doing so, and much of what we are reliving is really the emotional pain.

Our emotions certainly play a huge part in our management of pain, especially chronic pain. While the goal of care after an injury or surgery is a smiley face 0 or 1, many of us have learned to live quite well with a 3. Pain can be tolerated at certain levels if it doesn’t interfere too much with daily functions and quality of life. Most people over a certain age will tell you that your body has a way of reminding you of past injuries and indiscretions, so many of us are accustomed to a little daily resistance from our aging bodies. Others with more serious diseases and conditions cope with daily pain that is beyond our comprehension.

My hope today is that we will be more understanding and tolerant of those in pain, including ourselves. Let us not lose sight of the fact that we all have the ability to make a difference in someone’s life by being kind and encouraging. Prayers for those of you in pain...

Good People

Yesterday, as I sat in my husband’s hospital room and watched the parade of people passing down the hall, I was reminded of how many good people are involved in the moment-by-moment operation of a hospital. We speak often of the advances in medical research and the changes in current practice and the progress made possible by technology, but most of it is worthless if not taken up by the hands and hearts of good people.

Gary and I have a somewhat different understanding of hospitals since both of us previously worked in medical care. We’re a little more comfortable with the routines and procedures. We understand how difficult it can be to treat everyone quickly and efficiently. Perhaps that makes us a bit more appreciative of good care and more sympathetic when things aren’t done perfectly.

We also have a too-long history of previous hospital stays, both as patients and visitors. I’ve had eight surgeries and numerous accidents. Gary has had five previous surgeries and some serious illnesses. All of our children have been in the hospital more than once. Add in a few other relatives and close friends and we could easily count up a year or two of hospital residency. However, in all of that time I can truly recall very few bad experiences that were directly due to terrible care. Yes, mistakes were sometimes made, pain was sometimes inflicted, and expectations were often misleading, but not by intention or animosity, simply as a result of human error.

One specific compliment that must be made this week is that ALL of the staff of Alliance Hospital has shown a friendly attitude and concern for patient care. Everyone from the volunteers in outpatient admissions to the custodial staff on the third floor has been cheerful and helpful. More than once someone has stopped in the lobby to ask if I needed direction. A woman who was cleaning in the hall stopped to ask if I was “stretching my legs” or needed something. The cafeteria staff has been quick to explain my food options and they also serve great coffee at all hours. And the nurses…

What can you say about someone who is charged with maintaining the life, health, and comfort of someone who is fragile, in pain, afraid, and cranky? I’ve always respected and admired nurses. I thought seriously about becoming one, but veered off into teaching instead. Nurses have to have compassion, knowledge, patience, and a vast repertoire of “people skills”. I can’t even imagine the array of personalities they encounter each day. All of the medicines in the world won’t help you as a patient if they aren’t administered correctly. A combination of sympathy, encouragement, and “drill sergeant” enthusiasm might be necessary to promote recovery. Nurses hold the key to getting out of the hospital as quickly as possible and back to our normal lives.

So, I am grateful today for the good people we have encountered at our hospital and I hope that each of your will join me in saying a prayer for the staff of your local hospital.

Grapes

It was warm and windy today so I wandered outside and pruned our small grape vine. It probably wasn’t the ideal time to do so, but I rarely worry about such things in Oklahoma. I had been thinking about the task for a while, but just hadn’t felt Dad nagging me yet. Today I looked out the window and knew it was time.

Grapes have been a part of my life since I was four years old. I spent most of my childhood cutting grapes, pruning and tying vines, irrigating vineyards, loading boxes for the winery, and watching our neighbor’s raisins drying in the sun. Dad was always there, supervising, instructing, admonishing me to do whatever I was doing “better and faster”.

When we moved to Oklahoma I thought I would never see another grape vine, but during the time I had been living far away in California a successful winery had sprung up near my grandparent’s old home place. I also discovered lots of home gardeners were growing grapes. If they did so during my childhood visits here I guess I just hadn’t noticed.

When we moved to a house in the country near Caddo there was a healthy grape vine on the fence.  And crazy optimist that I was, I planted two more. So, there I was pruning and watering grapes again. And whenever Dad visited he always reminded me that I hadn’t pruned them enough or tied them correctly. I told him I really didn’t care- I quickly learned that I couldn’t harvest the grapes anyway because the raccoons and other critters of the woods always beat me to the fruits of my labors.

I find it ironic that even though we moved to town there is still a fence with a grape vine to be watered and pruned and tied. And Dad still nags me in my mind about taking care of it properly. And the local birds, squirrels, and perhaps even a raccoon, still eat the grapes before I can. I guess if I really want to eat some I need to buy a bunch from the grocery store.

Sharing the day...

My great-grandmother, Edna Alexander, or “Big Mama”, was born on January 8, 1888. My father was born in 1930, on her forty-second birthday. And of course, Elvis Presley was born in 1935 on my father’s fifth birthday. It isn’t unusual to have family members who share birth dates with each other or with famous or infamous people. After all, there are only 365 dates on the calendar and about 360,000 people born each day. My granddaughters share their day. I realized only this week that I share my own birthday with Ansel Adams, photographer.

I don’t often think of the day that my father died, and I had to look up the date that Big Mama died. Oh, I have vivid memories of both days. In fact, I was at work when Mom called to give me the news about Big Mama. I think it was the only time she ever called me at work. But however emotional those memories are, it is their shared date of birth that brings forth the best memories of them and the impact they had on my life. It is today, January 8, that gives me a day-long “movie in my mind” of some of my favorite days with them.

My father and I did not always get along. As most girls do, I alternated between thinking he was my hero and my worst enemy. He was gregarious, opinionated, generous, obstinate, and demanding. He made me laugh often and cry more than once. Eventually we developed a strong friendship that made allowances for our many differences. We shared a love of gardening and travel. He was always curious and enjoyed hearing and reading about other people and places. One of my fondest childhood memories is of him sitting in his chair reading an encyclopedia to me. We only had about four volumes, giveaways from a grocery store, but we enjoyed every page together!

Big Mama, on the other hand, was my soul mate. I can’t remember a time when I didn’t want to be just like her. She was feisty and funny and strong. She was a good cook. She loved her garden and pretty flowers. She joked and laughed and had a strange way of saying, “yasteday” that made me laugh. Her house smelled strongly of the snuff she discreetly dipped. I admit that I didn’t have the opportunity to spend as much time with her as other family members, so I probably didn’t know as many details of her life or personality, but that never mattered. We shared important conversations as we stood in the quiet of her garden. We also shared some goofy times. I remember that she always wore a dress…and pantaloons. One day as she bent over to pick a flower I snapped a picture of her (yes I had a camera even then), and she immediately wanted to know if her pantaloons were showing. She threatened to whip me if I let anyone see them! Then we both laughed hysterically.

I can’t say that I ever knew much about Elvis. I loved to hear him sing and I think I saw every movie he ever made, but I wasn’t the kind of star-struck groupie who knew his favorite foods or followed his every move. I had a classmate who attended a concert during which he touched her hand, and she swore to never wash it again! But I admired a dozen singers, and his behavior off the stage didn’t exactly impress my dad. Sadly, the fact that he shared his birthday didn’t impress dad either.  So it was never a big deal at our house!

So here we are again, January 8. I’m sure thousands of people are celebrating a birthday at this very moment (Happy Birthday Tricia!). And I’m spending the day celebrating some great memories…

Snow Day...

While our definition of a “snow day” is different from our Eastern neighbor’s we certainly took advantage of the beautiful white stuff today. We got a light dusting of flakes and some “snow pellets” which were rather odd. I rescheduled my doctor’s appointment and Gary, who had been sick all night anyway, stayed home from work.

We watched the birds and drank hot liquids and watched the birds some more. I thought that yesterday’s group was spectacular, but all 18 species from yesterday returned and we added four more. For those of you who like details, here is the list:

1. Crow
2. Red-bellied wood pecker
3. Chickadee
4. House sparrow
5. White crowned sparrow
6. House finch
7. Nuthatch
8. Titmouse
9. White-throated sparrow
10. Harris sparrow
11. Blue jay
12. Cardinal
13. Junco
14. Robin
15. Downy woodpecker
16. White winged dove
17. Inca dove
18. Mourning dove
19. Mocking bird
20. Gold finch
21. Yellow-bellied sapsucker
22. Grackle