Sunday, October 8, 2017

Feeling very thankful on a Canadian Thanksgiving long weekend

Personal repurposed art by the author, Jeannette Marshall


by Jeannette Marshall

@optioneerJM

Sunday, October 8, 2017


I really cannot recall whether I've ever blogged on Thanksgiving before, then I realize I haven't!!  For that:  I truly am sorry!!

My blogs where I write straight from the heart or emptying knowledge in my head, seem to be the more popular.

I started to write this on Friday, and didn't get very far, obviously.  Now, just on the phone with my mother, I realized I have to try to capture those memories.

I remember with my father, up to three years, leading up to his death.  Whenever we got on the phone together, he would get wrapped up doing some wandering back into memory row.  I remember being fascinated by these versions of famous family lore.  Maybe it was sketchy for me to recall, because I was in my youth.

Now, I want to catch some of these words of wisdom that is being shared from the heart.  A mother's love flows in mysterious ways.  Sometimes it seems that the substance is repetitive, then one moment you realize, like catching a falling star, take that wisdom and try to capture.

My mom was telling me plays bridge, crib at her seniors' condos.  I couldn't capture everything she said.  She told me that she competes and how great the tournaments, which are $25, but includes a breakfast, nice luncheon, then you can win some money.  (Depends, if a slam $10 each you can win back).  Which is a good deal for the entertainment, the food, the competition with the potential wins.   

She was telling me how she doesn't have Alzeimer's to her girlfriends from the complex, because she remembered how you can put the TV on to music.  She said she goes to the Classic Country Music.  She could make the names with the music.  Remembering, she grew up with classic country music.  So she remembered being able to name songs with artists and dates.  So she was saying that joking about Alzeimers is a kindred joke among the ladies in the complex.

3 ways your brain goes:

1) old age (forgetfulness)
2) short term memory loss that happens to many of us, more as we get older
3) Alzeimers - once it is gone, it doesn't come back, unless you've talked about it

She said this Priest talked about that you may fall into one of those compartments:  1) 2) or 3) .. but you couldn't remember which compartment it was filed under.

I recalled Mom and Dad having conversations with Donna & Mac, from lots of memories, I remembered:  " Trying to fall asleep, but the committee upstairs decides to call a meeting. "

That is my thing.  I've been having a lot of meetings with the committee upstairs, which has inhibited my sleep.

Perhaps it is because I am being diagnosed with anxiety, developed from being bullied.  That is an example of one symptom.  Part of the debate, is whether anxiety is a mental disorder, it appears.

When my mom was born, she was left with only one piece of this left part of her brain, causing her with silent vowels, spelling words.  It doesn't stop her from doing other things.

The brain is quite the function.  When I was going to write something.  When she saw someone who was at a good writer I would.  That person so adored and flourished under that praise, which made me very embraced being blessed under praise.

But if there was an area that she saw needed improvement, she doesn't hesitate to give her opinion, which seemed harsh.  Before she wouldn't directly.  She has decided that today, she is going to give honest feedback, without sugar-coating it.  People are more educated.  They are more smart in one area, i.e. violin or singer, other's had certain niches the were excellent, but not good in a bunch of other things.  Her father's mom constantly bragged about my father's eldest brother.  It was "Bob, this and Bob that".  My mother similarly had this similar battle with her mother, because she constantly said:  "Bertha this and Bertha that".  My mom started to try to excel at cooking.   When we returned from Germany after five years, how she had to rebond and build a new relationship with her mother as her mother was aging.  Making her aware of mistakes, and saying she was sorry.

Sometimes parents do the best they can.  My mom sewed all of our clothes and we were dressed to the nines from her sewing.  She told me she had to wear sacks of flour as underwear.  She said in those days, you didn't waste anything.  In those days you used everything.  She said her mother would buy flour sacks because the material was finer and made better underwear.  She was reflecting how she learned not to be a waster as she's grown with age.  People didn't waste anything in those days.  She was ten years when the Second World War II was ending.  She said they had learned to go without because "that's the way it was" back then.  She said that is why it was so important that we would always be dressed in nice clothes.  She said she had everything pressed.  We had play clothes, we had school and we had Sunday church clothes.  We hung up our school every day.  The only pair of shoes we had were runners and a pair of Sunday shoes.  No wonder I'm shoe aholic now.