Monday, November 26, 2012

That ain't no house cat!

Toby has been gone for many years, now.   He lived with us for over fourteen years before kidney failure killed him. He showed up on our front porch asking for food.  My mother fed him, of course.

He was an enormous cat, not fat, just big. His head was even with my knee when he stood on all fours. A classic tabby, his fawn and black swirls reminded you of an ocelot.  I told my mother that such a beautiful animal must belong to somebody.  She responded, "Someone dumped him."  I think she was correct.

Even though we had dogs, Toby did not leave. He probably knew that for all their noise, they liked cats. The second day he appeared on the porch, I decided to take a closer look at him, so I could place an ad in the newspaper ( this was long before the internet).  He was neutered that was good, someone had cared about him.  He had enormous feet, but the front ones looked a little strange.  To my horror I discovered  that he had been declawed.  Neither Mother or I believed a cat should be declawed. We also believed a declawed cat should never be outside. (Toby would change our opinion on that.)  I looked him straight in the face and realized his head was lopsided. One side was much larger than the other. It only took me a moment to determine that Toby had a large lump on the side of his head just over his jaw joint. He did not protest as I felt it and that scared me. I thought cancer.

Off to my veterinarian this new cat and I went. When we arrived, I was asked for a name for my new cat. "Toby," I said without thinking, and Toby he was. The veterinarian examined the lump.  Toby never moved.

"He's a good cat. I think this is an abscess that needs to be drained," my veterinarian said.

Those words were great news.  An abscess could be treated.  

She took a scalpel out of a drawer and made an incision. Toby did not like that, and it took all my strength to keep him on the exam table.  He was big and strong.  He wanted to leave, but he did not bite.

The veterinarian's diagnosis was correct. Yellow pus flowed out of the incision in a torrent. Once drained and flushed,  she filled the hole with antibiotic ointment. I left with pills and ointment and instructions to bring him back if he did not improve.

He improved.  The wound healed without any complications and no visible scar.

I placed the ad in the paper and asked around the neighborhood, but no one claimed Toby. He became part of the family, unphased by four dogs and two other cats. We did not try to make him an indoor only cat because we had a doggy door that opened into a fenced yard. We hoped Toby would have sense enough to stay in that yard, and for the most part, he did. The yard was surrounded by a six foot chain link fence (tough neighborhood, bars in back and a flop house across the street in front). Toby loved to perch on a fence post and survey both the back yard and the adjacent alley.

One day, my mother was in the back yard trimming shrubbery. Toby had assumed his normal perch on the fence post where he could supervise. My mother was five feet two inches tall and slender. That meant there was a twenty pound cat with the markings of an ocelot teetering on a metal fence post about a foot above her head.  Mother paid no attention. Toby did this all the time.  If he lost his balance, he simply jumped to the ground.

Suddenly, she heard a man yell, "Ma'am, ma'am, look out for that wild cat."

Mother looked around.  She did not see the wild cat.  The only cat in sight was Toby, who had now decided to jump to the ground beside her.

"Ma'am," yelled the man who was sprinting down the street toward the fence, "Run."

At that moment, it dawned on Mother that the wild cat the man was so concerned about was Toby. As the man reached the fence, Mother reached down and petted Toby.

"He's no wild cat. Toby is a house cat."

The man had reached the fence and now simply stared at mother. "Are you sure?" he finally asked.

"Yes," said Mother. "He's a family pet."

The man shook his head, turned and walked away.

Mother heard him mutter as he left: "That ain't no house cat."

Monday, August 20, 2012

A Christian Response to the Conservative Mantra, No Help Through Government

The Bible passage below seems to be ignored by many conservative Christians, and Republicans in the House as evidenced by their vote for the Ryan budget that shreds services for the hungry, poor, homeless and ill.  I fear this is the budget that Romney will inflict on this nation if elected.  I would offer my own updated version of  Matthew 25:41-45.

On the day of judgment, Jesus will ask "Why did you not care for me when I was  hungry, poor, homeless, disabled, and sick?  Conservative Christians will answer, "We did not see you suffering like that in our neighborhoods."  Then Jesus will answer, "I am everywhere in the world with the least of my people.  In your nation, you elected representatives to cut all the programs funded by the federal government that would feed the hungry, aid the poor, help the handicapped, and provide medical care for the sick.  Conservatives will answer, "The help would have come from the government, not us personally.  We would help those next door."  Jesus will answer,  "Do you think I only want you to care for the person next door?  Do I care if you help with your own hands or through the hands of others?  I care for the least of these my brothers and sisters.  When these least were hungry, struggled in despair with no money, wandered the streets of your great cities, and died alone in your parks, I starved, had no money to care for myself or my family, slept under the bridges in your cities, and died alone in a homeless camp. 'Truly I say to you, to the extent that you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to Me.' "
photo by kkirugi

Matthew 25:31-45

New American Standard Bible (NASB)

The Judgment

31 “But when the Son of Man comes in His glory, and all the angels with Him, then He will sit on His glorious throne. 32 All the nations will be gathered before Him; and He will separate them from one another, as the shepherd separates the sheep from the goats; 33 and He will put the sheep on His right, and the goats on the left.
34 “Then the King will say to those on His right, ‘Come, you who are blessed of My Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world. 35 For I was hungry, and you gave Me something to eat; I was thirsty, and you gave Me something to drink; I was a stranger, and you invited Me in; 36  naked, and you clothed Me; I was sick, and you visited Me; I was in prison, and you came to Me.’ 37 Then the righteous will answer Him, ‘Lord, when did we see You hungry, and feed You, or thirsty, and give You something to drink? 38 And when did we see You a stranger, and invite You in, or naked, and clothe You? 39 When did we see You sick, or in prison, and come to You?’ 40  The King will answer and say to them, ‘Truly I say to you, to the extent that you did it to one of these brothers of Mine, even the least of them, you did it to Me.’
41 “Then He will also say to those on His left, ‘ Depart from Me, accursed ones, into the eternal fire which has been prepared for the devil and his angels; 42 for I was hungry, and you gave Me nothing to eat; I was thirsty, and you gave Me nothing to drink; 43 I was a stranger, and you did not invite Me in; naked, and you did not clothe Me; sick, and in prison, and you did not visit Me.’ 44 Then they themselves also will answer, ‘Lord, when did we see You hungry, or thirsty, or a stranger, or naked, or sick, or in prison, and did not [a]take care of You?’ 45 Then He will answer them, ‘Truly I say to you, to the extent that you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to Me.’
 

Sunday, June 10, 2012

The Lost Generation

My mother's generation is always lost.  None of the brothers and sisters have any sense of direction.   I could not drop my mother at a mall and expect her to find the ntrance later so that I could pick her up.  We learned to find mall entrances that were named.  That way she could ask people how to find that exit and know when she reached the correct exit where I would be waiting.  Usually, I just went with her.  It was much faster because I could go directly to whatever store she wanted to shop in.  I found out that alone she meandered through the mall periodically asking directions and backtracking frequently.  She was not disturbed by this, I think, because she had done it for too many years.

My mother is gone, but her younger sisters and two brothers survive.  I keep an eye on my 88 year old aunt., Sue.  Sue lives alone, still works three days a week, and is even worse than my mother about directions.  In the grocery store, she will turn back to the aisle she has previously visited because she has no sense of which overall way she should be heading.  I shop with her just to save time.  Sue has shopped in the same store for the last five years but will still get lost.  She copes well.  She simply heads in one direction until she reaches a landmark or an employee.

As it turns out, the men are just as directionally challenged.  When my grandmother died at age 96, all her sons and daughters were alive and came to the cemetery located in a very rural area of Central Texas.  Her three sons decided to visit the old home place (where they grew up) which was not far from the cemetery.  When the rest of the family realized the three planned to go together, intervention was called for.  My uncle by marriage was dispatched to go with them and to bring them back to the church where a luncheon had been prepared.  Lunch was well underway before my uncles returned.   My uncle by marriage came in and sat down with a sigh. "I will never do that, again.  Joe(my grandmother's middle son) can't drive and none of them know where they are or where they are going."

Photo by Lewsisms
Now to the present.  I usually take my Aunt Sue shopping, but in the last week I have been ill and told by my doctor to take it easy.  My cousin,Gene, 55, who is profoundly autistic, was home with his mother, my Aunt Sue, for a week.  My aunt and my cousin were invited to swim at Kathy's (another cousin's) home.  All went well with swimming and pizza.  Then. my uncle, Ralph, who lives with his daughter, Kathy, and her husband, offered to take Aunt Sue, his sister, home.  Sue asked if they could stop by Walmart on the way home.  "No problem,' Ralph responded.  Kathy overheard and took action.  She told her father how to get to the store and carefully wrote out the directions to the Walmart nearest Sue's apartment.  The store was on the way to Sue's apartment.  She handed Uncle Ralph the directions.  He insisted they were not necessary, but she made him take them.

Ralph, Sue and Gene (in the back seat) headed to Walmart.  Soon they were nearing the area where the store should be located. Neither Ralph or Sue could remember Kathy's directions, neither really knew where they were, and neither could find the written directions.  With Gene (who cannot speak)  protesting, but unable to tell them they were off course, they continued on.  At the time, Ralph and Sue assumed Gene wanted to go home.  Later, it dawned on my aunt that he had known they had missed Walmart.  Gene quieted, I am sure realizing that he could not help.  After several attempts at finding the store, they gave up and proceeded to Sue's apartment with the aid of  Ralph's GPS device.  Only there did they find Kathy's carefully written instructions.  My aunt had been sitting on them the whole time.

The saga of the lost generation continues.

(Names changed to protect the directionally challenged.)

Saturday, March 10, 2012

Memories of Childhood

I think of my childhood as fairly normal until I talk to someone about it.  Seems they find having a bone disease that puts you in a wheelchair and a schizophrenic mother rather odd.   I always think my childhood ended when my mother's schizophrenia was diagnosed.  I was 13 years old.   At 18, I  committed my mother to the state hospital for the insane. After treatment. I brought her home again and made her my responsibility for the rest of her life.

Navajo child photo by Neeta Lind
When I look back I realize there were other odd things in my childhood.  I lived in Austin, Texas but I had a Navajo playmate when I was five.  Texans had done an excellent job of removing Native Americans from Texas.  Early Texans either killed Native Americans or married them.  I have a Cherokee and Choctaw ancestor.  I never thought that having a Native American playmate was odd.  His mother and my mother were friends. What struck me as odd was that his name was Norman.  His family moved away and my mother lost track of them.  I wonder what Norman is doing now.

When I was four, I remember being downtown shopping with my mother.  After much whining on my part, she bought me candy cigarettes.  Hey, this was the fifties: smoking was cool.  My mother only allowed me one.  I was very miffed about that.  I got my revenge ( totally unplanned, I swear) in the elevator of the only department store in Austin.  As the doors on the elevator closed on a full elevator,  I turned to mother and said "Give me my cigarettes."  Mother did not flinch although the elevator was now silent.  She looked at me and said "No."  She did not explain the situation to a bunch of strangers.  I did learn she had felt some consternation when she told my paternal grandmother what had happened.   I did not get the "cigarettes" until we were home.  I never remember having another pack.

I was a smart kid, but it took me a long time to realize that.  I always expected to fail the next test in school.  I  never did.   I just thought I was lucky but weird.  As an adult, I know I am just weird.  Most days that does not bother me.

Wednesday, February 22, 2012

Abortion is the Issue


Most of my family and many of my friends are conservative evangelicals.  That is a function of where I live: a state where Southern Baptists predominate.  Sad to say, most are one issue voters and that issue is abortion because their church tells them you are not a Christian if you do not want the government to end legal abortions. I belonged to evangelical church for many years, even though I was a liberal Christian.  My evangelical church narrowed its beliefs until there was no place for me.  Evangelicals in general seemed to me to have become less accepting.  I  moved to another denomination where my views are accepted, but not necessarily believed by all.

I do not know when a clump of cells changes to a person.  I personally would never have had an abortion unless my life was  in danger.  At my age now, the question is moot.  At some point in a pregnancy, I believe it is morally wrong to terminate the pregnancy because the fetus has acquired a soul.  However, I do not believe I have the right to impose my personal belief about abortion on others.  I certainly do not believe that the government has any right to impose anyone's religious beliefs about abortion on others.  I am pro-choice and anti-government interference.

Conservative evangelicals ignore the science of biology.  Theirs is an anti-intellectual mindset.  From their viewpoint, a fertilized egg has acquired a soul and therefore should not be destroyed.  Never mind that studies have shown that over 70% of all fertilized eggs do not implant during a woman's lifetime.  I do not think that God is wasting 70% of all souls.  The God I know is not so capricious.

I want to stress that conservative evangelicals have been taught that ensoulment begins when sperm meets egg by their churches for so long that it is accepted as fact.  I have had discussions on this issue with my family members and friends.  There is absolutely no reasoning with them.  I lose friends from such discussion.  My family members assume I am not a Christian and pray for my salvation.

Abortion is the single issue that always determines how conservative evangelicals vote.  If the abortion stance of all the candidates is the same, then conservative evangelicals will  choose who to vote for on the basis of other issues.   Evangelicals will knowingly vote against their own economic self-interests to choose a candidate who is anti-abortion.  I do not think that will change in 2012.

Wednesday, January 11, 2012

That's a Baptist Myth

Monday I picked up my 87 year old aunt at the dentist.  She had taken Special Transit Services there.  She needed to pick up medicine at her pharmacy and then do some grocery shopping.  This was no problem and the reason that I picked her up.

At the pharmacy we had to wait for one prescription to be filled.  At 87 she only takes three medications, two are for the same ailment bone loss.  The other is a very mild drug to reduce her blood pressure.  Her mind is sharp, she still works, and she lives alone.

Our conversation began innocuously.  We talked about what she needed at the store and her plans for the week.   I recently began attending a church that has communion every Sunday.  I told her I liked that.  She agreed having attended a country church with an eclectic membership that also had weekly communion.  Now my aunt attends a Baptist church.  Baptists have the Lord's Supper quarterly.  I have always thought that uncomfortably meager for an ordinance designed to make us one with Christ.  My aunt agreed.

Now you have to know that my whole family, including my aunt, are conservative fundamentalists.  That sounds redundant but trust me it is not.  I am the only one outside the fold of fundamentalism.   My rule at family gatherings is to never discuss religion.  I simply wander away when talk goes to areas I cannot agree with.  My mother was liberal, too.  I often asked her if she was sure she was related to these people.  She would smile and nod.  She was one of ten siblings.  I am an only child, but my extended family is huge, huge and conservative.

I love my aunt and know that I worry her immensely.  I once let slip that I did not believe in hell.  She prayed for me for months, afraid for my salvation.  I do not understand how your salvation can be threatened by the belief in the existence or non-existence of hell, but she sincerely believed it matter.  This slip took place not long after Southern Baptist voted for hell.  A question: Why would you vote for eternal torment?  Anyway, my aunt finally came to the conclusion that I was still saved despite my aberrant belief.  It probably helped that I am the one that looks after her.  I take her to the doctor.  I stay with her in the hospital.  After her knee replacement, I did all her grocery shopping and other chores.

Photo by htlcto
So now we are discussing the Lord's Supper  and she tells me that at the independent church she went to in the country, some of the members wanted to use wine instead of grape juice.  I muttered something about doing it both ways.  "Oh, no." she said.  "Jesus did not drink wine.  It was unfermented so it was just grape juice"  Without thinking I replied, "That's just a Baptist myth."

I knew from my aunt's expression that I was in trouble. I got a lecture on reading the scripture and believing the Bible.  She was absolutely positive that "fruit of the vine" at Passover was grape juice.  In my childhood church (Southern Baptist), I remember whole sermons devoted to this.  I knew better that to do anything more than say I would read up on what Jesus drank at his last meal.  That seemed to mollify her, but I suspect my salvation is once more a worry for her. 

Of course, I learned long ago that Jesus drank wine.  As a teenager, I investigated the unfermented wine hypothesis put forth by my childhood church and found it ridiculous. Jesus first miracle was to change water into wine.   I have always assumed his mother was so adamant that he make water into wine at the wedding at Cana because he and his buddies drank so much.  Jesus shared wine the last night of his life, not grape juice.  That he drank grape juice is a Baptist myth.

Sunday, January 8, 2012

The Golden Idol

By Barry Blitt
We are a self-centered nation.  Our goal is wealth.  Our God has become the golden idol of gratification.. Our corporations, who we are told are people, look only at the bottom line, not the worker at the bottom.

Romney tells us he is for a "self-reliant" nation not an "entitlement" nation.  What does that mean?  Do we expect the disabled and the elderly to be "self-reliant?"  Does the GOP expect to send representatives to nursing homes to tell the residents they must be "self-reliant" and care for themselves?  Do they euthanize those that are not?   Oh, no, nothing that extreme Republicans would say.  But they would return Medicaid to the states without oversight.  States like Texas provide as little care as possible even with federal supervision.  Without federal oversight, nursing homes would become swift tickets to the mortuary.

 Christ told us there are only two commands.  Love God and love your neighbor.  How do you love your neighbor?  Christ answered that in many ways.  All touch my heart, but the ones that sear my soul are these:"For I (Christ) was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in.  I needed clothes and you clothed me. I was sick and you looked after me.  I was in prison and you visited me."   How do we make these words the truth?.   When we do for "one of the least of these brothers of mine."

How can we as Americans let the homeless sleep in the gutter?  How can we deny health care to those who cannot afford it?  We have a for profit prison industry which lobbies for laws that provide more prisoners for their facilities.  The health insurance industry makes money by denying care to the sick.  Republicans wish to repeal the law that went into effect this year that makes insurance companies use 80% of the money they collect in premiums for the health care of those paying the premiums.   Profits above lives. 

Too many flee to gated communities in fear of the other.  I believe Christ wants us to embrace the other.  Those that flee to those protected communities may find that another kind of evil has been locked up with them, a spiritual evil,  an evil that is only satisfied by avarice and separation.  

We need to become a nation that sees every person as too valuable to be lost.  We need to argue for future greatness not for protection of the status quo.  Our goal is should not be wealth. We must dethrone the golden idol of gratification.

Saturday, January 7, 2012

Coming of Age

I had a pretty good childhood.  I did have a bone disease that left me wheelchair bound for a few years, but by the time I turned 13 I was walking.  That was when my mother had her first nervous breakdown as they called it in the 60's.  Actually, she had a full psychotic break because she was schizophrenic.  Nice to find out when you are 13 that your mother is really crazy.

I won't go into the details, but after a lengthy hospitalization my mother did come home and go back to work.  Part of her hospitalization time was spent at a private hospital that did nothing to help her but weekly reminded me, a 13 year old, that my mother had neglected herself to take care of me.  When her insurance ran out, Mother was transferred to the state hospital.  "Horrors!" everyone told us.  Yet it was in the state hospital that Mother received the treatment and the medication that let her function normally and subdued her illness.

Mother's siblings had initially helped us, but when my mother was transferred to the State Hospital and her insurance ran out, they offered no assistance. They did seek to have me made a ward of the state and removed from the only home I had known and the care of my paternal grandmother.  My paternal grandmother refused to go along with their scheme.  She held firmly to the belief that my mother would recover.  Luckily for me, Mom did.  My father lived in Michigan with his second wife and wanted nothing to do with his only child.  One aunt told me I could live with her family, clean, cook and care for the children and she would keep me from becoming a ward of the state.  Those were some scary times.

Mom came home and I expected life to return to normal.  It did not.  My grandmother continued to care for the house and cook, her favorite pastime.  Mother went back to work.   Yet, I suddenly was making all my own decisions as well as many for my mother.  My grandmother had gone to work when she was thirteen, she saw no reason to supervise me.  Mother no longer could or would.

I did not recognize the change for a while.  I remember my first dental visit after my mother's hospitalization.  My grandmother gave me a signed blank check and told me when the appointment was.  I rode my bike there, got my teeth checked and cleaned, and wrote the check.  I was a little nervous, but I had been to the dentist before.   What had changed hit home when it came time for me to choose courses for the next semester in junior high.  I brought home the materials but both my grandmother and mother told me to do what I wanted.  I did.  From that day forward, I never asked them about school matters.  My mom would sign my report card happily, but she did not meet with my teachers or discuss my schoolwork.  Years later, she told me she knew I was much harder on myself than she would ever be.

I stopped attending church soon after my mother's hospitalization.  The church had completely abandoned us during mother's illness.  The only ones that helped us at all were members of my grandfather's Masonic lodge who sent a little money and some school clothes for me.  By that time, too,  I had decided I was going to be a scientist. ( I had read too much science fiction.)  I was full of questions, especially questions about our Sunday School lessons.  The teacher usually ignored me, but finally I was told that I should not ask questions because that showed a lack of faith.  I left the church with no plans ever to return.  Mother did not like that I had stopped going to church, but she never returned to church after her illness.  There was too much stigma attached to mental illness for her to feel comfortable in that church.  Again, leaving the Baptist church was totally my decision.   In the sixteen years that followed, I became a deist.  I saw Christianity as incompatible with intellectual pursuits and certainly with science.

My grandmother gradually ceded decision making about the household to me.  We bought a car the summer I turned sixteen, and I learned to drive.  The agreement was that it was my car, but I must put taking my grandmother and mother where they needed to go first.  I drove it to school and anywhere else I wanted to.  Neither my grandmother or mother ever checked on where I went.

You would think that with all this freedom, I would have been a wild teenager,  After all, my teenage years were in the 1960's.  I knew about drugs, smoking and alcohol.  I never smoked.  I did not drink nor do drugs.  I simply was afraid of losing control of my mind.   As I told a friend, I never thought about misbehaving.  I focused on school and taking care of my mother.   Finances helped keep me on the straight and narrow.  Mother was a telephone operator.  We just barely made it month to month.  My grandmother's tiny Social Security check made the difference.   The one thing my mother put her foot down on was my working.  She would not let me do it.  Looking back, I see she was right.  I had my hands full with school and home responsibilities.

I came of age at thirteen in 1960.   I have made my own decisions since then.  I have taken care of both my grandmothers through their last years and final illnesses.  I took care of my mother until her death from complications of Parkinson's disease.  I made it through college and worked all the while.  I possess a Bachelor of Science degree, a doctorate in chemistry and a law degree.   I would make some different choices for myself, but not the one's that pertain to my grandmothers and mother.  I do wish I could have enjoyed being a teenager more.