You know you are an author when.........

I spent over an hour yesterday reconstructing the family trees of two of the characters in my book so that I could accurately describe their relationship. 

Fictional accuracy is important.

Once Upon A Time in America

Once upon a time in America, John Grisham wrote a book titled "A Time to Kill".  In that book the plot depended on good people doing the right thing in spite of the race of the people whose lives they held in their hands as a jury.

I'm not sure we are that America anymore, and it breaks my heart.  In fact, I seriously doubt that we are.  It seems in today's America, the first step is to find out what your demographics are, and then to decide how to feel about you.

I observe more and more often that people are not guided by a moral or ethical compass, but by whose "team" is being either exalted or criticized.

No matter what someone from your team or tribe does, it is excusable and supported.  The enemy is always wrong.

This is a certain path to the destruction of democracy.

Democracy is an ideal, an idea that government can exist by and for the people.  If the people have built ideological bunkers around themselves and all who they consider theirs, then democracy cannot survive.

Democracy depends on dialogue and truth.  In today's America, for many, truth is relative.  If the truth doesn't support a specific narrative, it is discarded by all who want that narrative to be true.

Right and wrong do not have a relationship with party affiliation, or gender, or race, or religion, or ethnicity, or gender identity, or sexual orientation.  When evaluating any situation, the evaluation of right and wrong, guilt and innocence, should be absent any demographic identifiers of the participants.

This is why the statue of justice wears a blindfold, and the term "justice is blind" is so important to a fair judiciary.

I understand that no perfect society or system of government exists.  From the origins of this nation, America, we have struggled to become a more perfect union.   The sins of the past, from slavery, to denying the vote to women, to denying the vote to minorities, have not yet been fully overcome.

The sins of the present, of systemic racism, and systemic misogyny, and systemic religious discrimination are actually being fed and nurtured by the current tribalism.

Anyone who loves America can do one thing to help get us out of the mess we are in.  We can all put ourselves into the stories we hear and read.  If a person did that to me, would I be happy or sad?  If I did that to someone, would I be proud or ashamed?  Does the truth matter to me, or is it more important to be right?

There are many things that I see happening today that make me believe there is a collective psychosis gripping much of America.  I hope that the veil lifts soon.  Our freedom may depend on it.

Continuing the Tradition

When I decided to do a Christmas post last year, it became the third in a row, thus creating a line.  I'm trying to keep the line unbroken.

I've tried to make my Christmas posts uplifting and heartwarming.  I never expected to be writing my Christmas post less than a month after the death of my mother.

Mommy was sick for a long time, and suffered from Alzheimer's and ordinary dementia.  It was hard seeing her become less and less herself, but it was and is still hard now that she is gone.

I've been thinking about this post for a week, and have not really come up with anything.  So I am giving myself a pass, and my Facebook post will be a blog post from last December.

But for you, my blog readers, I'll be more honest.

I'm doing my best to celebrate this Christmas, because Mommy loved Christmas and that is what she would have wanted.

We have Christmas trees, and we drank eggnog.  We've watched countless Christmas movies.  We went to the play, Elf.  There are a few presents, and we're having a special dinner.

I'm forgiving myself for any lack this Christmas holds.

And there is the important message.  As I told my daughter last night, we can have Christmas any day.  We will pick a day in the future when we are together and call it Christmas.  We will eat special food, and play Scrabble, and laugh and remember.

Christmas, in the Catholic tradition, is about salvation.  It is about love, and ultimate sacrifice.  Christmas is about strangers offering comfort, gifts and escape from danger.  It is about a child born in poverty saving the world.

As much as I miss my mom, it is Christmas that gives me certainty that I will see her again.  It is because the Christ child was born that I believe I will be reunited with my mom and all my loved ones in Heaven.

At Mommy's funeral, one of the readings was from St. Paul's letter to the Romans, in part it read:

For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor principalities, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord...

And since we are all one in the Body of Christ, I'm still with my mother.  And without Christmas, without the birth of the Savior, everything I believe that comforts and sustains me is gone.

So while the human part of me is struggling, the faithful, spiritual part of me is so very glad it is Christmas.  And that God sent His only Son so that we could all look forward to eternal life.

At the end of the long goodbye

Harriet Elizabeth Dunn was born June 14, 1927, the third daughter of Bill and Sophie Dunn.  Mary, their oldest was three, and Grace, their second child died in infancy.  After Harriet came Dorothy, and Frances, and finally, Bill, Jr..

Mom told me once that she thought when she was little that everyone put their flags out on her birthday to celebrate her, she didn't realize her birthday was also flag day.

Mom was an adventurer when she was a young adult.  She worked as an executive secretary for  Johnson & Johnson, and traveled by plane in an era when that was quite exclusive.

She married my dad, George, when she was twenty-nine and he was thirty.  They had four children, George Jr., Frances Claire, Anne Marie and Mary Elizabeth.  They lived on a tight budget until Mom went to work part-time, but we always had what we needed.

George and Harriet lived a great love story.  They were always happiest in each other's company.  They spent countless hours together as volunteers of one sort or another.  Cooking spaghetti dinners for fundraising, chaperones for drum and bugle corps and color guard activities; if there was a need and George and Harriet could help, they were always there.

They loved to host parties.  The house was small, but it always had enough room in it for another guest when there was a party.  A New Year's Eve Party, followed by a St. Patrick's Day Party, followed by a birthday party for Anne Marie and Mary, a Labor Day Picnic to celebrate Sophie's birthday, and a birthday party for George and Fran to finish out the year.  The birthday parties were great, but the New Year's Eve Party and the St. Patrick's Day Party were epic.

They always had something going on.  There was square dancing when we were small, and then Father's Club dances (Or maybe it was Holy Name Society), Chinese cooking lessons, American Irish Club activities; George and Harriet had an active social calendar.  And even though Daddy had Amvets and Holy Name Society and the Father's Club, and Mommy had the Rosary Altar society, most of their activities were together.

When we were small and money was tight, they would have date night at Arthur Treacher's.  I thought it was some fancy restaurant.  I was almost grown by the time I realized it was a fast food fish and chips place.

We played games as a family, and did crafts as a family.  Mommy made us girls matching dresses and matching pajamas.  We grew up in a loving home.

Dad was diagnosed with Alzheimer's in his early sixties, and Mom was his primary caretaker, with lots of help from my sister Mary.  We were very blessed that Dad was present for a long time, and there was only a few months when his quality of life was very poor.

Not the same for Harriet.  I believe she never recovered from Daddy's death.  She could get up for an event, but she was never the same after Daddy died.

In 2010, before her stroke, she was starting to get more confused, and more anxious.  After the stroke, the brain damage it caused combined with her existing dementia made it impossible for her to be without twenty-four hour a day care.

She spent the last eight years at St. Joseph's Senior Home, a truly remarkable gift for those of us in need of elder care.  She was loved and cared for at St. Joseph's better than I could have ever imagined.  The staff there truly treated Harriet like a beloved family member.

Each time I was there to visit, Harriet was less and less herself.  She would repeat series of numbers.  She couldn't have a conversation.  She spent quite a bit of time reliving difficult times from her past.  There were visits where she could be entertained with pictures, but most of the time in the past few years she just slept.

A strange thing happens when you lose someone to dementia.  As the person becomes less and less present, you miss them and mourn them.   But you still love them, and you still are comforted by their presence, even though you miss them while you are with them.  It can be hard to find memories of them when they were themselves, it is almost like your brain can't cope with the person you love being so different than they were in a different time.

After my dad died, I found my memories of my whole and healthy Daddy again.  I remember and treasure my Dad with Alzheimer's too, because he was so brave and loving despite what he was losing.  I'm hoping that the same thing happens with my mom.  That instead of being sad and thinking "poor Harriet" when I think of her, that I am able to remember more of the whole and healthy Mommy again, and remember her with a smile.

The most important thing about my mom that I never forget, and has never dimmed in spite of how much of her we lost to Alzheimer's, was her sincere and honest desire that no one ever feel left out or lonely.  She taught us to reach out to people, to be inclusive, to make sure that no one was alone outside the circle of love she created around her.

As people learn of her death and offer condolences,  so many refer to her kindness.  She was a kind and caring woman who tried hard to make the world a better place through her actions.  She loved my dad with an amazing love.  She loved her siblings and siblings-in-law, her children and grandchildren, her nieces and nephews, and her many friends, including her children and extended families friends.  She loved through action with kind words, food, visits, gifts and her company.

Mother-daughter relationships are complicated, and my relationship with Harriet was complicated for a long time.  But I was lucky that it simplified greatly as I got older, and learned more about myself from my own relationship with my daughter.  My relationship with my daughter allowed me to see my mother differently.  It allowed me to see how hard she tried to be a good mother, how all she wanted was for me to have the best life I could possibly have.  And just like all humans, sometimes she didn't get things right from my perspective.  But she always tried her hardest.

That is the Harriet I want to remember and cherish.  A flawed but wonderful human being who loved others with all her might.  A woman who loved God and her family and her friends.  A woman who tried, every day, to make things better for those whose path crossed hers.  I know I am very lucky to have had my mother share the earth with me for fifty-eight years of my life.  I know many don't get the gift of that much time.  So I will try to be grateful for what I have had and not be sad for what I have lost.

Rest in Peace, Mommy.  I hope you and Daddy are having a wonderful reunion.

Kindle Countdown Deal

A Kindle Countdown deal has started on Unexpected Blessings.  It is currently available for $0.99, and will go up a dollar at a time until the full price of $3.99 is reached.  If you've been waiting to read it - now is a good time.

Unexpected Blessings - Kindle Daily Deal

Problem solving

One of my favorite things about my job in safety was solving problems.  Digging through data, figuring out what went wrong, and brainstorming options to fix the problem so that it would not happen again.  I miss that about my old life.

I can create problems for the people in my novels, and figure out how to solve those, but it just isn't the same.

Doris Chan's crochet patterns give me problem solving opportunities.

I love Doris Chan's patterns.  The only problem I have with them is that all the pieces seem to be for people much smaller than me and my family.  So I always end up having to figure out how to make the garment work in a larger size.

It can be quite challenging, because often the garments have repeating patterns.  And I want that repeating pattern to stay true.  And not look like I made a mess of what is supposed to be a beautiful garment.

I am currently working on a tunic.  It is way too short.  I figured out how to lengthen it keeping the pattern and all I have to do is execute.

The sleeves were an entirely different matter.  I finally have them the way I want them, but I had to rework them four times.

Yep, four.  Stitches in, stitches out.  Repeat.  Put it together, take it apart, repeat.

I don't like rework.  I'm a little angry at the garment right now and am taking a break from it.   Which is crazy, but hey, I never said I didn't have crazy moments.

This tunic has been testing me since I started it.  It all started when I saw some really pretty yarn in Michaels, and purchased three skeins of it.  It sat in my yarn collection for about two years. 

I kept wanting to make something with it, and kept looking at different patterns.  When I saw this tunic, I knew that is how I wanted to use my yarn.  First hurdle.  The yarn is discontinued, and I couldn't get the rest of the skeins I needed to make the tunic.

No problem, I'll find a coordinating yarn and use two colors.  I looked and looked and finally found one that would work.  The two colors are hunter and wolf - which is totally cool in its own right.

Then I had to figure out how to use the two colors so that it would look good.  That took a couple of false starts.  Then the too short thing.  The sleeves didn't work thing.

This will probably end up being one of my favorite things I ever make because it has challenged me so.  And it gave me lots of problem solving opportunity.  And I think it is turning out to be a really cool garment.  I'll amend this post with a picture of it when I finish.

I'm going to plan my next project better.  Do something smart, like buy all the yarn in advance. 

But first, I have to get past my aggravation with the current garment and finish it.  Deep breaths - I can do it.

I hope whatever is aggravating you right now is small, like this tunic.  And that you can find your way out of it soon.

Thinking about things

I read a tweet this morning that really got me thinking.  The tweet referenced Joe Kennedy's appearance on the Colbert show, where he shared stories of Americans helping other Americans.

The tweeter pointed out that while those stories were nice, what would really be nice would be if America had a robust social safety net system so that people wouldn't need extraordinary acts of kindness to survive.

I want to make perfectly clear that I believe in social safety nets.  I think that any civilized society is only as healthy as the systems it has to care for its most vulnerable citizens.  I am a huge believer in a living minimum wage, universal health care, free public education to employment, elder care and youth care systems so that no one goes uncared for or hungry.

That being said, even if the very best social support systems are in place, there is still a need for compassion and generosity at the person to person level.

Unfortunately, many people on the tweet thread could only see either how sad it is that America's social support systems are woefully inadequate, or that it shouldn't ever be the government's job to provide social safety nets.

It makes me sad that it seems like so many people seek the extremes instead of the center.

In the center, you have great social safety nets, but you celebrate the wonderful generous people who supplement them.

You celebrate the people who volunteer as class mothers and fathers, and who chaperone field trips and dances.    You celebrate the volunteer coaches.  You celebrate the foster parents.  You celebrate the couple who stops to help the young mother change a tire.  You celebrate the woman who offers to hold a baby so that the mother can manage a melting down toddler in the store.

I worry that America is dying.  I know that many others do too.  If I am going to have the energy to try to save my country, I need to believe that there are people in it worth saving.

That is what the stories of ordinary Americans doing extraordinary things for other Americans does for me.  It gives me the energy to keep trying to make America a good country for all of its citizens.

If the only voices I hear are the loud and hateful voices on social media, I might throw up my hands and pray for a happy death for this nation.

So, I will keep fighting for a better America with the kind of social support systems that I think are the hallmarks of a great civilization.

And I will continue to recognize and celebrate the extraordinary acts of kindness by ordinary people that make America worth fighting for.