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.)

A Christmas Day Miracle 2011

Photo by Mike_fleming

I fixed Christmas dinner for my aunt, her autistic son, Henry, and her irrational son, Drew, and his wife, Ann. Henry and Drew are in their fifties.  I am some years older.   My aunt is 87 years old and preparation of a major dinner is beyond her.   This year it was almost beyond me.  Two weeks before Christmas, I caught a cold.  One week before Christmas, I had pneumonia.  I got the pneumonia treated and was told I could safely prepare and serve Christmas dinner.

I did not feel up to grocery shopping until Friday.  I went first to a high end grocery store that stocks nothing practical, but does have good produce and a great variety.  I purchased all my produce there, but the free range turkeys must have been gold-plated considering their cost.  That sent me on to my regular grocery where a purchased a fresh Butterball turkey.  I paid a little more for the Butterball, but I was still annoyed at the Thanksgiving Islamic bigotry that led to an internet smear of  Butterball.  I also purchased paper plates, plastic cups, pretty napkins and plastic flatware.  I was finished by 3 pm and totally exhausted.

I did not trust myself to be able to rise early Christmas morning to prepare the whole dinner, so I decided to to most of the cooking on the day before Christmas. I cooked the turkey, smashed potatoes with broccoli, and Brussels sprouts, then headed to church for Christmas eve services.  The next morning, I rose at seven to prepare the cornbread dressing including sauteing the onions and celery in butter.  I used the broth from cooking the gizzard, liver, heart, and neck as the liquid for the dressing.  I chopped the same parts to include in the dressing.  I did this because my aunt said Drew had ordered her to make homemade cornbread dressing because he had decided I would make bread dressing.  Once 30 years ago, I served bread dressing, but if something offends Drew, he never forgets.  She said that with Henry home she could not make the dressing.  I assured her I would make my best cornbread dressing.  Of course, Christmas Day it turned out she had made dressing because she is so intimidated by Drew.  She did not bother to tell me, so I did all that work for nothing. I was hurt and angry when I found out.  More about that later.

Around eleven, I loaded everything into the car to take to my aunt's apartment for Christmas dinner along with small presents for all.  I am so broke these days that I usually eat Ramen noodles 5 or 6 times a week.   This dinner was only possible because friends gave me money for Christmas.  My aunt and Henry were in church.( I did not attend my church's services because I was cooking that dressing.)  I have a key to her apartment, so I let myself in and unloaded all the fixings.  By noon, I had the turkey carved and the meat reheated, all the side dishes warmed, and the table set with festive paper plates and plastic cups.  This was important because Henry eats on a tight schedule.  He has to sit down to eat at noon.  Christmas Day he entered the apartment at noon already alarmed that he was late.  But because I had everything ready, he could quickly change clothes and come to the table where I had his plate waiting.  My aunt had decided to eat with Drew and Ann because of Drew's attitude.  She requested that I do the same.  I fixed a small plate of salad and sat and ate with Henry.  He was content.  My day seemed complete at that point.

My aunt called Drew and reached Ann.  They were just leaving home even though they had been told we planned to eat at noon.  Drew is never on time and in the past has been deliberately late because he knows it upsets Henry.  Drew and Ann live in the country so they were at least 45 minutes away.  Henry was happy to stay on schedule and went to his room to lay down until three.  My aunt dithered about what to do next. while I reset the table.  She finally put away the fresh fruit I had brought her for Christmas.

Drew and Ann arrived a little after one.  Drew would not take off his jacket.  The apartment was warm.  He proceeded to tell us about his last work trip.  He is a truck driver.  He gave us a detailed rundown of every highway and every stop he made.  He totally ignored all the preparation activity as we reheated everything.  The food was on the island so that we could go around and serve ourselves.  We did, but not Drew.  He sat down and continued his comments on his last week of driving.  After she served herself, Ann had to prepare his plate and set it in front of him.  He seemed oblivious to the food.

My aunt interrupted Dre4w long enough for me to say the blessing.  I had expected my aunt to do that but she deferred to me.  Drew continued his monologue all through dinner, but he did eat very slowly.   When Ann made a comment about an area in Oklahoma that she had previously traveled with him, he took that as a personal affront. The conversation had been dismal, but it got worse.  Drew was telling Ann how little she knew when my aunt, his mother, interrupted.  Drew turned and told her "Shut up, I'm talking" in a loud, abusive tone.  That was too much for me.  Drew and I exchanged words,
and he did half apologize to his mother.  (My aunt never wants me to say anything to upset Drew, but there are limits.)

The rest of the dinner went better although Drew spent some time talking loudly to wake Henry.   Henry did come in for a few minutes to grin at Drew who he adores.   Drew finally removed his jacket when he headed for the bathroom, having announced his destination to all.  He dropped his jacket on the floor by my aunt's chair.  Ann was quick though and picked it up before my aunt noticed.  Ann and I cleared the table, then everyone moved into the living room.  My aunt returned to the kitchen and I followed her.  That was when I discovered she had made dressing and concealed it from me, but made sure Drew had some. That was when I lost it.  I told her how put upon I felt and that if she had told me I would not have been up making dressing that morning.  I did not tell that I could have attended Christmas services, but I thought that.   She realized that this day was rapidly becoming a bad scene for me.  She apologized and I accepted that, but I had really been hurt by her thoughtlessness and behavior.

Something happened then that changed the day.  My aunt and I had not raised our voices, but Henry must have heard us anyway.  As I went back to putting food away, there was Henry looking worried.  He reached out and hugged me while he nodded and looked me straight in the eye.   Henry had never hugged me before.  His autism makes it difficult to make normal human contact.  He does not make eye contact.  Yet there he was comforting me.  Nothing mattered  anymore.  It was a wonderful Christmas.

True Texans

Photo by Paul Lowry

My ancestors came to Texas when it was still part of Mexico.  They settled on the frontier in what is now Caldwell County, Texas.  The area had sandy soil and tall pine trees.  Making a living from that country was no easy task, but they did it.   They did it as a community. Helping each other when needed. They were not conservatives, they were individualists who knew when to depend on their neighbors.  Some went to war when Texas declared its independence from Mexico.  One ancestor rode with Sam Houston at the Battle of San Jacinto where Texas won its independence.  Another fought in the Mexican-American War and died in Mexico.

These men and women looked forward to Texas becoming part of the United States and were proud when that happened.  Later, when the southern states began to secede, votes were taken on whether Texas should secede.  Sam Houston was against secession.   So was one of my ancestors living in Gonzales County.  He voted against secession even though he was the only voter in his precinct and everyone would know his vote.  Indeed, he was the only vote against secession in the whole county.

Another ancestor joined the Confederate Army and fought for Texas.  He refused to surrender when his unit was surrounded and escaped to rejoin other of his comrades.  At the end of the war, he walked home from Louisiana to Central Texas.  He believed that the war was a mistake or as he said to his children and grandchildren (one grandchild was my grandmother): "A rich man's war, but a poor man's fight."  He helped build the courthouse pictured above.

World War I saw more family members fight for the United States.  They saw the United States as their country.  World War II came, uncles joined the army and so did my mother.  She met my father at Fort Hood before he headed for the Pacific and an island hopping war. Korea found my youngest uncle in uniform.  Viet Nam saw my oldest cousin off to fight.  He came back permanently damaged, never the same person again.  He and I are only six months apart.  Now in these wars, another cousin flies huge transport planes in support of the troops.  Sometimes landing in then midst of enemy rockets.

Do we all believe the same?  By no means.  We are a mixed bag of conservatives, liberals, independents, and contrarians.  The contrarians just vote any way the majority doesn't.  We are city slickers and cowboys, truck drivers and writers, but we still get together in memory of the men and women who settled Texas and were our ancestors.

Texas is not conservative and it is not liberal.  True Texans are individuals who chart their own paths and make up their own minds.  Sadly. many that carry on about being from Texas are pale images of real Texans.  Many act tough and brag about their deeds, real or mostly imaginary.

The one image passed from generation to generation in my family is that of the individual that never bragged nor acted tough ("shut-mouthed" my grandmother would say).  Quiet men that impressed many with their even temper.  Beneath that facade though lay the person unafraid to take a stand no matter what his/her neighbors thought.  A person that was slow to anger, but who was willing to risk all to right a wrong.  No one told them what opinions to have, and they saw no need to impose their views on others.

Today, too many people living in Texas do not think on their own.  They are simply sheep being led by the goats.  They do not stop to think of the consequences of reducing an already lean budget.  Texas ranks 48th to 50th in the help it provides to the least among us.  My ancestors would be ashamed as I am.  It is time for those living in Texas to stop following the herd, to stand up for the elderly, the mentally ill and handicapped, and the physically handicapped.  People living in Texas need to stop being selfish and remember those that settled this state, men and women who stood together and helped one another, fought for one another and died for one another. 

People who claim to be Texans need to break from the herd and be independent.  Honor Texas by caring for "the least of these brothers of mine".

Palin and My Family

Sarah Palin reminds me of too many members of my family who never take responsibility.  One recently quit his job because he was told to take a training course in something he thought he already knew.  When he had difficulty finding another job,  his excuse for quitting became "The company wanted to get rid of me, but I beat them to the punch."   Sarah Palin in her comments on the Tucson shootings did the same thing, to paraphrase: "Me, little me, I did nothing wrong,  It's just the mean old Democrats and media picking on little me."

I think that Sarah Palin scares me because I do see her actions reflected in those of certain members of my family including my long-dead  paternal grandfather who blighted the lives of his children.  Those members of my family like her carry a constant chip on their shoulder.  They are always being picked on in their minds, even though everyone else is simply reacting to their reprehensible behavior, in my grandfather's case drunkenness and debauchery.  These are the bullies of the family, bossing everyone around, berating their mothers for imagined wrongs, yelling at the autistic cousin.  They are always angry.  Suggestions as to appropriate behavior no matter how gently offered result in adult temper tantrums. Most no longer participate in family get-togethers because "no one likes them."  The truth is the family has tried numerous times to include them, but too often their bullying behavior leads to tears and anger.  I do not want a Presidential candidate like that.

I want a President that can admit mistakes and own up to their bad behavior.  Most of all, I do not want a President that always blames someone else.  I do not want a President who thinks "The Devil made me do it."