I'm Back

I'm Back

An Update on My Life

   My apologies for such a long delay between posts.  It's been a long 7 months.  In September my mother died.

   Soon after my last blog in April mom fell.  The Senior Center where she lived was used to her walking around at all hours of the day.  The first time she fell she just injured the area around her eye (she managed to get her glasses caught in an eyelid of all things).  The second time was about two weeks later.  This time she managed to break her hip bone.  She was in the hospital for about 3 days-including surgery to put in a partial hip replacement.   She was never the same.

   Mom spent almost all of her time in the hospital sleeping-or at least trying to.  She deliberately chose to step away from reality and retreated into herself.  She would emerge when I came into her room, but only for a short time.  It was a forerunner of what was to come.

Although mom did have physical therapy back at her Center, she never walked unaided again.  She would leave her bed only if the nurses and aides forced her.  They began to have to help her eat.  On her own mom refused to eat.

   By early summer I knew the time was drawing close.  There were still days when I could have a coherent conversation with mom.  But those were becoming further and further apart.  In July mom's remaining sister and some of my cousins came to visit mom.  I am so very glad.  My other brother (who lives in Arizona) also made a quick visit out.  It was time to say goodbye.

By the end of August my mom was in increasingly poor health.  Her weight had dropped to less than 100 pounds.  She wasn't eating unassisted.  That's stage 7 of 7 on the Alzheimer's scale.  I knew she was ready to go, but when would her body let her go?

Finally in mid September the staff and I had a conference.  According to mom's wishes, she had a DNR (Do Not Resuscitate) order.  No heroic measures to keep her alive.  And I made sure the staff understood mom's wishes.  After listening to the options, I agreed (as mom's person in charge of decisions) that a temporary feeding tube be put in.  As soon as the meeting was over I went to explain this to mom.

   I should back up a few days.  Around the 15th of October mom actually spoke to me for the last time.  I didn't know it at the time.  I think it was the following night I had an odd dream.  In it, mom spoke to me and asked if it was a good time to talk to me about something.  I, of course said yes and woke up.  My this time, mom wasn't talking.  I told her about the dream and asked her if there was something she wanted to tell me?  She gave me a loving smile, but didn't say anything.

   Anyway, on the 19th of October the feeding tube was put in.   Mom was pulling deeper and deeper into herself.  the nurses told me that it was clear she didn't like the tube.

I was at work on the 20th when I got a phone call from the Center.  Could I please come down as soon as possible.  Mom's breathing was labored.  Could they do a chest x-ray and determine if she qualified for hospice care?  Yes to both.  My work was wonderful and let me leave right away.

   As soon as I walked in the room I knew it was time.  Mom's eyes were closed and her mind was not connecting to anyone in the room-not even me.  Her focus was on trying to breath.  The x-ray had come back-pneumonia again.  I think it was the 3rd time in less than a year.  The hospice nurse was on her way.

I got to spend several hours with mom.  The nurses came and went.  The hospice nurse was a very nice, very organized woman.  We agreed on the goal of making mom's passing as gentle as possible.  The woman was going to stay with mom the whole time.

   Eventually I went home to have dinner with my son and his girlfriend.  They wanted the news, and to see me.  I got the hugs I needed.  I was getting ready to go back to the Center when I got the call that I needed to get there soon.

   It was a short drive, but my mom was gone by the time I got there.  I'm ok with that.  It's not crucially important in our family to actually be there for the final breaths.  I do know that when mom's body finally let her go, my dad was probably there to show her the way.

   The nurses gave me some time with mom's body.  That was very strange.  Talking to my mom, though really, I was just talking to her shell.  And yes, I cried.  I'm teary eyed typing this.  Eventually it was time to move on.  My children had already informed me that they did not want to see their beloved grandmother dead.  So I had the Center call the mortuary and I went home to spend some more time with my son.  And to talk to my daughter.

   I took the next day off work so I could start to process everything and to start notifying people.  I still probably haven't gotten to everyone, but I'm hoping the Christmas letters will take care of most of the rest.  Like when my dad died,  I made my lists and started getting stuff done.

   The memorial service was about 2 weeks later.  It was very lovely and the right people came.  By that, I mean the people that mom would have wanted there came.  She would have liked it.

   And now, coming up on two months after her passing, I thought I'd be doing ok.  Instead, physically I'm run down and I'm dealing with unusual amounts of exhaustion.  I feel like an old lady myself.  I finally went to see my doctor and his theory is that I have been hyper vigilant in making sure mom was cared for properly for so long that now that I don't have to be that way, my body is forcing me to relax.  To allow myself to catch up.  It's a good theory, but it's not making my life any easier.

 

So, I am still getting as much done as possible, but I'm not pushing myself as much as I used to.  I'm finding that I still need more sleep than before.  I'm hoping I can get past this soon, but for now I'm allowing myself to grieve and to get stuff done as I can.

 

I hope to be able to start writing here again soon.  Let me know if you have any topics I should write on for you.  Thank you for listening.

Mom's Family

Aunt Alice Stories

   Last week I wrote about my Aunt Alice-what her life was like.  Today I'd like to just tell some Aunt Alice stories.

  I don't remember many stories about Alice as a young girl.  She was 11 years older than my mom, so they didn't really get to know each other until they were both adults.  That's where the stories start.

  Alice and Murry were an interesting couple.  He was, frankly, self righteous in so many ways.  He knew how his life and his family were supposed to be.  An example:  My mom worked in downtown Los Angeles.  On nights when Murry had a meeting to attend (usually something church related-or Knights of Columbus), Mom and Alice would plan.  Sometimes the plan was for mom to pick up "movie" magazines and Alice would pick up a couple of bottles of beer.  Or chocolates.  Or ice cream.  All of these were not allowed in Murray's world.  The two would have a relaxing evening (while still doing chores), and all evidence would be gone before Murray got home.

   As soon as Alice had her final child (Elaine, #6), she went forward with her plan to get back to teaching.  Because her teaching credential was from New York, she wasn't able teach in local public schools.  I think she took some classes.  She was able to get a job teaching at a local Catholic elementary school.  Where they lived was right on the border between Catholic parishes, so the family attended church where Alice taught.  They stayed at that church until the kids were high school age.

   My mom and Alice stayed close, even after mom married.  She and my dad baby sat for Alice and Murry until their oldest could do the job.  The two couples tried to be social together, but Murry was the problem.  My dad and Murry would go shopping for a meal together.  My dad would pick up 4 bottles of beer for the evening.  Murry would put two back commenting, "Let's not be pigs."  Sometimes I'm amazed Aunt Murry didn't injure him.

  But Uncle Murry did have his good points.  He loved his children.  And he did have a sense of humor.  The entire time mom lived with them Murry tried to teach her the proper way to wash and dry dishes.  Almost every night.  Years later, after a family get together at his house, Murray was helping mom wash dishes  He commented, "So did you ever learn the proper way to wash dishes?"  It was his attempt at a joke and my mom took it as such.

   I remember that my Aunt Alice like good wine.  Since my mom worked for Trader Joe's, she would bring over bottles, when she could, for Alice (and Murry if Alice couldn't hide it) to sample.  If Murry was out, the two woman would share.  Over the years Alice had a few favorite wines.  Mom would spend the extra money for them.  After Alice got sick with her final ailment,  mom would go over to Alice's more often, usually with a bottle of Alice's favorite wine.  The two would spend time, enjoying the bottle and remembering.

   Towards the end Alice couldn't drink alcohol because of her pain medication, so my mom ended up with a couple of bottles of Alice's favorite wine.  On the anniversary of Alice's death my mom and I drank one in her honor.  I think mom gave the other to Alice's kids.

   Alice had a giving heart.  She made this a part of her religious service.  Alice and Murry were always helping others.  I remember taking clothes and food to immigrant families.  If there was a need, you could usually find them involved.  One story relates to that.

  Like many women of their generation, they tended to make part of their clothes.  My mom always said that Alice was a much better seamstress.  Mom could make the simple stuff, but Alice usually had to help mom with anything complicated.

   One time my mom made a lovely and striking dress that was intended for going out on a date.  Mom had worn it once, but was saving it.  One night she came home from work, intending on wearing the dress for a date (possibly with my dad).  It was gone!  Alice had gotten a call that some charity needed clothes and so Alice raided closets for clothes to give away.  My mom was furious!  Alice's response was, "You only wore it once and they needed clothes."  My mom made it very clear that mom's belongings were off limits from then on!  I think my mom was remembering all the times that their mom, Ruth, had gone through their belongings looking for money and stuff.

  My Aunt Alice amazed me.  Her husband was such a pain.  Murry didn't mean to be.  He just knew he was right.  I enjoyed watching Alice maneuver Murry.  He would enter the kitchen (Alice's domain until after a meal) all upset about something.  She'd let him rant on about it for a few minutes.  But before he could decide his plan of action, she would say something to take his mind in a more productive direction.  Sometimes she would redirect to him to another topic altogether.  Often, later on he'd come in informing her that they needed to come up with a solution.  Alice would tell him that she had already taken care of it for him-based on his ideas, of course.  She kept him convinced that he was in charge of virtually everything that went on in their house.

   And that was my Aunt Alice.  Always keeping things moving, always helping.  She had a big heart.  Of course, if you weren't behaving properly, she had no problem telling you so.  She was, after all, a teacher.  But mostly you remembered her love.

Mom's Family - Aunt Alice

Mom's Family

Aunt Alice

   My personal life is rather hectic right now, so I'm taking a break from some of the blogging.  In order to focus on the more positive, I'm going to take another look at my mom's family.  This time I want to examine all of my mom's siblings in a more cohesive manner.  Starting with my Aunt Alice.

   Alice Connor was born in June of 1915.  A year and 3 days after her parents marriage.  She was born in the family home in Staten Island.  Babies weren't born in hospitals back then.  In fact, 5 of Vincent and Ruth's 7 children were born there.  It was an older home in a good neighborhood.  The family considered itself (upper) middle class, even though most of the men worked in what we would consider blue collar occupations.  The family had servants and raised all of the children living there with their middle class standards.

   Before Alice started school a series of disasters began to befall the family.  Between 1919 and 1920, almost all of Vincent and Ruth's parents and grandparents died.  Ruth's father died the next year.  With John Turnpenny's death things began to change.  Within 6 years (after probate and the splitting of the proceeds) the family had sold the family house and most of Ruth's siblings had moved to upstate New York.  Ruth, Vincent, and their 5 children bought a small dairy farm and joined them.  Alice would have been 7 years old.

   The 6th child, Louise, was born within months of the move to the farm.  Ruth was in the late part of the pregnancy during most of that.  The youngest, living child(Joan) was born 2 years later.  Looking at the records,  All of the children had the normal diseases.  As the oldest girl, Alice must have been very busy helping.

   Approximately 1936 both Alice and Ralph graduated from high school-Ralph 2 years early.  Despite the lack of money, it was expected that the children would go to college if they could.  Since Ralph was already a professional musician, it was decided that the limited family college funds would go to Alice.   And so started what was probably the first real freedom that Alice had ever known.

   Alice attended college (to become a school teacher) just far enough away from home that she would have to live on campus.  So she found a job with a family who let her stay there as long as she helped out-a sort of live in maid.  Before that she got a job at Tupper Lake-an upstate New York summer resort.  She enjoyed her time at the Lake.  In fact, that was her summer job throughout her college years.  She did come home, but only for short visits.

  In June of 1937, after only 10 years of unsuccessfully trying to run a dairy farm, Ruth and Vincent sold what was left and moved back to Staten Island.  Not to the nicer neighborhood Alice had spent her early childhood in.  Instead they moved to Manis Harbor, down by the docks.  If was a rough, blue collar neighborhood.  But there were a lot of families, equally down on their luck.  Alice visited, but it wasn't where or how she wanted to live.

   There are a lot of facts that I don't have.  I know that brother Ralph (who Alice stayed close to most of their lives) married Betty in 1939.  I don't know if Alice was able to finish college, though I think she did.  I do know that some time after 1941 (probably around 1943), when the War started, Alice moved out to California with Ralph and Betty.  Both Ralph and Betty were tired of Ralph always being on the road with his music.  And Ralph was finally ready to go to school to become a doctor.

   Alice was ready for the big move because of a personal tragedy.  While at college she had become engaged.  The young man joined the air force and became a pilot.  Whatever plans they had died when her young man died became a casualty of a Natzi sinking of his ship (transporting him to Europe).

   Why California?  I think partly because it was on the other side of the country.  And because of the better winters.  Brother Everett had come through CA, via San Francisco on his way to the fighting in the Pacific.  Everett had declared that after the War, he was moving to California.  I suspect the whole family became infected with "California fever", because almost all of the family eventually moved there.

   While Ralph and Betty were getting settled in, Alice found work at a plant that was involved in the War effort.  It was Southern California, in the Los Angeles area, so maybe an aircraft plant.  In any event, she met a young man there.  He was an efficiency expert (the source of many a family joke after), single, Roman Catholic (like her), and blessedly 4F.  This was a man she wouldn't lose to the War.  They married and their first child was born in 1944.

   Alice's life was very busy after that.  They ended up with 6 children total.  The last 2 were against the advice of her doctor.  Brother Del came out to CA in July of 1945.  Ruth, Vincent, Louise, and Joan came out to CA after the War ended, in August of 1946.  In September of that year, after a major fight with her mom, sister Joan came to live with Alice and Murry and their growing family.  It was a time for the two sisters to finally become friends.  The eleven year difference in their ages had made that difficult.  They remained friends the rest of their lives.

   In 1949 Joan moved out to marry Jack Houk.  By then Alice and her family had moved into a house in the city of Alhambra.  The housing tract was supposed to be for veterans, but they were the second owners of the house.  They lived there on Camellia Drive until after Alice died.  Joan had her wedding reception there.  It was a house filled with life, laughter, and love.  Joan and her family lived in the next town, so they were close enough to visit each other often.  Alice had no problem letting Joan's daughter stay with them so the young couple could have some vacation time alone.

  There are a lot more stories that could be inserted here.  Hopefully I can do so later.  But to close this for now...  Eventually Alice retired from teaching at a local Catholic elementary school.  All of her children had married.  Only one divorce, that of her policeman son.  All were doing well.

   Alice was diagnosed with Leukemia.  She and her family had time to spend with each other.  Her time with her sister, Joan was especially precious to her.  Finally she had only one more goal.  Her oldest granddaughter was due to get married.  She wanted to be healthy enough to attend the wedding.  The story is that Alice met with her oncologist, asking for stronger pain killers so she could take part in the wedding.  This young man initially refused, stating that he didn't want to take the risk of her becoming addicted.  My aunt had been a school teacher, raised 6 kids, and dealt with a difficult husband-a mere doctor wasn't going to stop her.  I think her response was something along the lines of, "And this is a problem why?"  She got her drugs and was able to participate in her granddaugher's wedding as she had wanted.  I remember that she died less than a month later.

   Alice's memorial service was very fitting.  Since she knew she was dying, Alice had planned her service.  And it happened the way she had planned.   She had been one of the pillars of her parish for many years.  I think it was a memorial by the church to make sure her plans were carried out.

   I remember my Aunt Alice with much love.  She was a woman who had gone through a lot, but always found a way to help others.  She and my uncle lived a life of service to their children and others.  In many ways, they were the best Catholic Christians I've ever known.

Holy Week

Holy Week

   Real life has been remarkable lately  My job has altered several times in the last few weeks alone!  By the Sunday after Easter my job situation should have settled down (praying) and I should have my mom moved to more appropriate care.  Until then, I'm rather busy.  So only one posting this week-my thoughts on Holy Week.

   In the Christian world, Holy Week refers to the time between Palm Sunday and Easter.  It is the most holy of Christian holy days.  It's a time when we remember the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.  How it is celebrated varies amongst Christian churches.

  It is most celebrated amongst traditional liturgical churches-Roman Catholic, Lutheran, Episcopalian, Orthodox, etc.  Sadly, many of the other Christian churches do not keep a liturgical calendar, so the concept of Holy Week is limited.

   

   Lent is the season before Holy Week.  It's a time to prepare your heart and mind for the upcoming high holy days.  It starts on Ash Wednesday.  The theme of that day is that we need to remember that we started from the earth and will one day will return to it.

   The preparation of the heart and mind can come in various ways.  Fasting is often encouraged.  Common is the idea of "giving something up" for Lent.  This ranges from doing without certain foods or drinks, to giving up certain activities.  It's up to individual to choose.  Along with this is the idea of adding.  Individuals who choose to give up, for example,  one meal a week, can use that time in extra prayer.  And the money saved to donate for the poor.  Reading of spiritually encouraging materials works as an add as well.  These choices should be personal and not health challenging.

   Holy Week starts with Palm Sunday.  This is the annual remembrance of the triumphant entrance of Jesus into Jerusalem.  The crowds greeted Him with shouts of, "Save us!"  The crowd thought Jesus was going to be a political savior-to free them from Roman rule.

   Historically, Jesus spent the time from Palm Sunday to Maundy Thursday teaching and preaching in Jerusalem and camping outside the city.  They were poor and Jerusalem was full of people coming into town for Passover.

   Maundy Thursday is a very important day.  That evening was the first night of Passover and it was the last time that Jesus was to celebrate it with his disciples.  And he knew it.  The format of Passover celebrations hasn't changed all that much since the days of Jesus.

   That night, as was their habit, Jesus and His disciples went back to their campsite at the Mount of Olives.  Judas, the betrayer, had already left to bring the Temple guards to capture Jesus.  Instead of sleeping, Jesus spent much of that night in prayer.  It is recorded that He prayed twice, asking that He not have to go through the death that was preordained.  After that, His prayers were for help during the ordeal to come.  The disciples slept through this.

   After Jesus was done praying the guards showed up and Jesus was arrested.  He went willingly.  The Temple leader held a trial which took quite a while, because they couldn't find two witnesses to agree.  Eventually a guilty verdict was reached.  But since they couldn't condemn Him to death, Jesus was hauled to King Herod, the local political leader.  Herod knew what a political hot potato Jesus was and refused to condemn Him.  So Jesus was brought to the  Roman authority, Pontius Pilate.  The Temple leaders really wanted Jesus killed and brought strong political pressure on Pilate.

   So Jesus was condemned to die.  He had already been ridiculed, tortured, and whipped.

Churches that hold Maundy Thursday services often hold what are called vigils.  Prayer times.  Times to remember the sacrifice of Jesus.

  What is commonly called Good Friday is often called a Holy Day of Obligation.  Roman Catholics are required to attend church that day.  It is a day of mourning.  Jesus has died on the cross.  He has been buried in a borrowed tomb.  The Jewish officials, remembering what Jesus had said about His resurrection, posted guards at the tomb.  I don't know about other churches, but in the Roman Catholic church the normal candles are extinguished.  Even the priests' robes are somber.  Since Jesus traditionally was on the cross from 3-5 p.m., that's when the Good Friday service was, growing up.  Longest church service of the year.

   Many non-traditional Christian churches hold their Good Friday services that evening.  The message is still that of the death of Jesus and what that means for us.

Holy Saturday is a day of waiting.  Jesus is still in the tomb.  Traditional churches continue holding prayer vigils.  For some, it's a way of identifying with Jesus.  In specific ceremonies (no matches), the church candle lights are re-lit.  Waiting.  Lent is almost over.

Easter can be an amazing day.  It's a celebration.  Jesus has come back from the dead.  If you have spent Lent preparing your heart and mind it's a great release.  It's the end of fasting.  Easter is a day to feast.  Chocolate figures highly in my day.

   Protestant churches popularized the Sunrise service.  I'm not a morning person, so I don't often attend Sunrise services.  But many people love them and find them very inspiring.  This year I have to work during the day, so I'll be attending an evening service.

Christ is risen!  He is risen indeed!  And we are reborn as well.

Freque Factory - Spring Break at the Beach House

Freque Factory

Spring Break at the Beach House

Since this coming Sunday is Palm Sunday (and since I drove by the site of this set of adventures last weekend), I decided to take a break before starting to talk about my time at LWT.  This set of adventures takes place while I was in high school.

   When I was a sophomore in high school I found out that my senior Girl Scout troop had a tradition.  Every year, during our spring break, we would use a beach house on the coast north of Ventura, CA.  The beach house was actually owned by a church group, but one of the girls (a year older) had a father who was a minister and that was how we got to use it.  We had to be, well, Girl Scouts while we were there.  No misbehavior, which included sex, alcohol, and drugs.  We also had to keep the place clean as well.  But it did mean that our group had the use of a lovely multi story home in a small beach community.  And by beach house, I mean we walked from the back patio right on to the sand.  It was wonderful.

   For some reason, Monique couldn't come with me that first year.  The car I was riding in for some reason turned out to be the last one up there.  Since I didn't have best friends (like most of the girls a year older) saving bed space for me, I had to hunt for a place to put my sleeping bag.  I think I ended up on the floor of one of the upstairs rooms.  The rest of the folks in the room mostly managed to avoid stepping on me.

   The place was sort of in the middle of nowhere.  There were about a dozen houses on the road.  At one end was an odd pier that was an oil pipeline (there were oil pumps close by).  The other end was a surfing beach that butted right up against the highway.  Down the road a way, if you could safely cross the highway, was a very small town with an even smaller market.  It was the only one in the area.

   I don't think any of us minded.  Most of the girls were typical Southern Californians.  They were out there on their towels, soaking up the rays right after breakfast.  Me, I like laying out in the sun, but it doesn't like me.  I blame my Northern European ancestry.  If I put on enough sunscreen, and stayed out of the water (and stayed somewhat covered up), I survived.  Luckily, I really like walking along beaches.  And during the heat of the day I could be inside-reading a book, writing, or playing a card game with someone.  I was not particularly close to most of the girls.  I had a few friends there, but I like being solitary.

One of the things I will always remember about the first trip was how the world didn't end.  You see, some well known prophet had predicted that the world was going to end on a specific day (and time).  That day just happened to be when we were up at the beach house.  I realized that the odds of that actually happening were pretty slim, but I decided to go along with it.  Besides, I figured, what better place to be when the world ends than sitting on a beautiful beach?  So at the appointed hour I was there on the beach, wearing my hat, eating my lunch.  I had a lovely time.  Eventually it was late enough in the afternoon that I needed to go in to start helping fix dinner.  So yeah, I was waiting, but the world decided not to end that day.

   A side benefit to that day was that I was sitting down towards the last house in the row.  Just happened.  The owner of the house came over and we started talking.  We laughed about the world not ending.  Turned out he was just a few years older than I.  For a living he was a guide to groups who wanted to tour the outer Channel Islands-visible on the horizon.  He wasn't much to look at, but fun to talk to.  He told me to look for him next year if I came.  When he was out on a tour he'd be gone a week or so at a time.  So we'd see.

   The second year of our spring break beach house trip, Monique was able to come along.  I knew it was going to be interesting.  By then we had trained our Scout leaders that, despite their misgivings, we were reliable.  Hippies yes, reliable also yes.  The big thing that we tended to do on weekend camp outs (especially ones near beaches) was to go on long walks together.  Our usual plan was to leave some time after breakfast with our lunches.  We'd tell our leaders where we were going and when we'd be back.  Usually  we stuck to our plans.  When we didn't though, it was usually epic.  Which reminds me, I really do have to write down some of the other epic hike adventures.

   When we arrived at the beach house our Junior year, I once again had a hassle finding sleeping space.  I think I ended up on the same floor.  But this time I think everyone in the room was closer friends to us, so it was more fun.  And being in an odd room on the second floor meant the leaders were less likely to raid us.  On our first short hike the first evening I determined that my friend at the end house was indeed home.

   Now we were under 18 years old, so any interaction with an adult male had to be secret.  So of course, Monique and I were able to do it.  We managed to spend several hours in his house, talking to him and his friends.  They invited us to go with them to the local swap meet the next day.  That would take much more serious planning on our part.  We left with plans for the next day.

   For the rest of the day and that night we were on our best behavior.  It had to have made our leaders suspicious.  But no one had seen us talking to the guys, and we certainly didn't tell anyone of our plans, so all was well.

   The next morning we informed our leaders where we were going to hike.  To go that far would take 2-3 hours.  Our leaders themselves had made that hike the prior day, so we got approval.  We grabbed the lunches we had made and took off.  Once we were beyond the sight line, we ducked back to the first house.  The guys were waiting and we hopped in to the car.  All the way down the road we  crouched down by the floor boards, so we couldn't be seen.  

   It was a fun swap meet.  Monique bought some jewelry.  I just had fun looking.  We made it back on time, well maybe a bit late.  Our leaders said they hadn't seen us.  We told them that we had crossed the highway (which we weren't supposed to do without permission and an adult) and walked down that way.  We got in a bit of trouble for that, but nothing like we would have if the truth were known.  I think we had to do extra chores and were limited in our hikes.  Not a problem.  We knew that soon enough some of the other girls would do something foolish and our "mistake" would be forgotten.

   The third year the guys weren't there.  We were high school seniors then, preparing to take on the world.  We actually got the bed in our little room on the second floor.  We took our younger friends with us on hikes and considered walking out the odd pier at the other end.  We eventually figured out that there was probably some sort of security and we really didn't want to be in that much trouble.  Turns out we were right.  There were some other teens staying in a house down that way who did try it.  Cops showed up and everything.

   It was a quiet year, but we had fun.  The end of our high school was soon.  We knew that we wouldn't be able to return to that beach house again (and we didn't).  It was a lovely place full of happy memories for us.  Every time I drive by that stretch of beach I remember and thank God for the generosity of the church folks who let us use it.

Mamma Sandy Says - Marriage Stressors, Part 3

Mamma Sandy Says

Marriage Stressors, Part 3

The Other Stuff

  I've talked about the two biggest stressors to a marriage or long term relationship-money and children.  Times to finish this up with a discussion about the other big ones:  illness and travel.

   Having a child who is seriously ill is an incredible source of stress on a relationship.  And not just for the couple.  This affects every one in the family.  Because one child is seriously ill, they require more care, more time.  Any other children tend, justifiably, to feel neglected.  And will, most likely, act out.  Adding more stress to what is probably already a volatile situation.

   And the causes of stress with a sick child are many.  To start with, who is caring for the sick child?  If at the hospital, add in travel time and time away from everything else, including care for the home.  If the child is at home, is there professional nursing available?  If not, who?  How is this affecting the rest of the family?  If mom is doing most of the nursing chores, then who is picking up her household work?  Is she still able to fulfill other, outside responsibilities (like the other kids sports, lessons, scouts, etc.)?  Who's keeping the house clean and organized and making sure permission slips get turned in on time?

   Don't forget about the money.  How is all this being paid for?  Who is dealing with the insurance company, the hospital, the doctor, and (hopefully not) the collection agencies?  Are any of the working adults having to take time off to care for the sick child?  Again, more money problems.

   And the blame game, don't forget about it.  With all that stress it's easy to get into fights and to try to find reasons why all this is happening.  Your other children will do it too.  And let's not forget about the sick child.  They're going to have their own issues.  And they'll probably blame themselves for being ill.  And even more blame themselves if the family implodes.

  Moving on now to the other illness issue- non child family members.  I'll speak specifically about senior parents, though it can be a sibling or other family member as well.  I'm a member of what is being known as a "sandwich generation."  While caring for my children I've also had to deal with a sick parent.  My dad died when my kids were in grade school.  Luckily, it was a reasonably short illness, but it still had its effect on our family.

   Any time you have care of a family member, you are dealing with many of the same stress causers.  When dealing with seniors, it can be worse, especially if it's a long term, terminal illness, such as Alzheimers.  A lot of other stuff gets thrown in.  Whose parent/family member is it?  The other spouse may become resentful of the time and resources being spent.  As well as any children.  Are any of the other siblings helping?  How much?  What's the money situation?  Is the rest of the family helping?  Potential for arguments that can have far reaching effects on more than just your family.

   And when the parent dies,  a whole new bunch of problems dealing with the estate.  Who gets what?  Who pays for what part of the remaining bills?  Hopefully the deceased had things set up to avoid most of it.  But there is still the probability of potential heirs just coming in and stealing stuff they think they deserve.  Sad.

I don't want to talk about the problems without talking about potential help.  The big thing to remember if you have children with serious, or long term problems is that you have to be aware of what's going on.  Take the time to analyze how people are doing and what the problems are.  Then make a plan to fix the problems.

   One of the biggest problems is caregiver stress-that goes for helping the elderly as well.  The caregivers cannot expect to have their normal work loads as well as caring for the sick.  It doesn't work, as I can attest.  Look into respite care.  Somehow get others to come in and give you some time off.  You really, really, really need to care for yourself as well.  I know a family that had a seriously ill child.  The mother was the primary care giver.  Due to the nature of the illness, she had to be up nights a lot.  She didn't have any respite care and wound up dealing with Sleep Deprivation issues.  The child eventually was fine, but the mom ended up in the hospital for over a month.  She's still a bit fragile and the family imploded.  The father couldn't handle all of it and is now gone.  Get help when you need it!

   Here's the quick bits of advice.  Don't be too proud to ask for help.  Of all kinds, including help in understanding and dealing with the hospital, etc.  If that's where you're at, get prayer.  It helps.  Make sure you don't go beyond your own limits.  Take time for your own health-both mental and physical.

Last, there are issues of travel that can tear families apart.  Most of us are aware of how life in the military can affect families.  My older brother was a career Marine and I remember what a hassle it was for his family every time he got transferred.  Usually he would have to move first, so it would be his wife who would have to finalize the move, arrange everything, including transferring the kids to a new school.  Once at the new location, it would be her job, often, to get everything organized.  If there were there long enough, she could get herself a job-only to do it all again.  When my brother had to go overseas where he couldn't take them, his wife became a single parent mom.  He could advise, and there was money, but she had to do all the work and take all the stress.  I was amazed the marriage lasted as long as it did.

   But besides military families, there is a growing trend for companies to have their employees travel-often a lot.  I'm aware of more and more of my children's friends having to be out of town for work.  And not for sales jobs.  These are larger companies that don't care that their employees may have families.  And not all of these jobs pay that well.  

   Recently I got to meet up with a friend who now lives on the East Coast.  She was out here for a few days for company meetings.  If she hadn't been here, she would have been in Italy, also for company stuff.  Luckily she has a husband who doesn't have to travel as much and can even work remotely when their child is ill, mostly.  First world problems, but it's growing.

   Like the other problems, it requires planning and awareness.  The spouse who is feeling the stress needs to say something.  And the other spouse needs to really listen.  And they need to figure out solutions.

So be aware, in these kinds of situations.  Look for signs that family members need help.  Find ways to help.  And be patient.

Freque Factory - Kings Mansion, Part 2

Freque Factory

Kings Mansion, Part 2

   I've described what the house looked like and who was there, time to talk about my adventures while I was there.

   When I first moved in no one in the House was attending a local church, despite the House rule about that.  I soon found out that was a recent development.  The House inhabitants had been attending a local church that had been supportive.  Then suddenly the support was gone.  As far as we knew, we hadn't done anything to upset anyone.  Eventually the news came out that the pastor was having an affair.  I don't remember all the details now, but it led to our leaders pulling us out of there.

   Eventually they decided that, for now, we would start attending Calvary Chapel Costa Mesa evening services.  Chuck Smith was an excellent Bible teacher and the Afterglows were good.  Although it was about an hour drive each way, we went for many months and almost always enjoyed it.  We loved the music!  We finally stopped when the crowds got too huge.  It wasn't as nice when you had to sit outside-and with our distance we didn't always get there in time to get an inside seat.  I think also that may have been when some changes started.  I seem to remember the Afterglows were no longer encouraged.  Probably that was about the time that Lonnie Frisbie stopped leading them.

  Probably one of the best adventures we had was due to lost tickets.  There was to be a huge 3 day Christian music festival at the Orange County Fair grounds.  All of the good contemporary Christian music groups we liked were performed.  The local Christian music store was selling tickets.  For some reason the House had agreed to sell a block of tickets.  Came the day to turn the money in, the tickets were gone.  No one in the house remembered agreeing to sell them even.  But we owed the money, apparently.  P contacted the Festival promoters and cut a deal.  In exchange for the missing money/tickets, we would provide 3 days worth of volunteers.

   The fair grounds were just down the street from Calvary Chapel, so it made for 3 really, really long days, but it was so worth it.  I mostly worked at the check-in table at the performers entrance.  I didn't get to hear a lot of them perform, but I did get to meet many of them and deal with their problems.  The big thing I discovered was that my favorite performers were very human.  I saw band leaders with egos, with tempers, and some that were humble and helpful.  That event was so much fun!  I wish I had kept a program of it.

   I celebrated my 21st birthday while living at the House.  My dad took me out for lunch at our favorite Mexican place, Panchitos.  I ordered my first legal drink (in CA), a Margarita, of course.  That night was a meeting night at the House and there was a cake for me.  As everyone present was singing the birthday song for me I realized that this was my real birthday.

Things started to change at the House when M announced that she was pregnant.  Suddenly she didn't have the energy to do everything she had been doing.  We began to realize just how much she had been doing.  Her prior complaints made much more sense to us.

   I think impending fatherhood got to P as well.  He began to voice his feelings of inadequacy in dealing with the House.  Well, he was being a spiritual father to all of us!  So he started looking for a low cost Bible college locally.  The two of them had also started visiting local churches again, since we had stopped attending Calvary Chapel on Sunday nights.

   One Sunday P & M came home very excited from visiting a new church down in Monterey Park.  It was the home of the Bible college he had found.  The very next Sunday, he declared, everyone in the House was going there for Sunday morning service.  As far as he was concerned, he had found our new church home.

  There was something about the name and location of the place that seemed familiar.  Could it be the same church that Lisa had taken me to (in what seemed) so long ago when I was a brand new Christian?  That place was very Pentecostal, as Christian churches go.  I was what was being called Charismatic, so faith wise, it wasn't such a stretch anymore.   And a lot of what I had thought so strange back then, wasn't so strange to me now.  Sunday would tell.

   The following Sunday was life changing for many of us.  As I had suspected, the church, LWT, was indeed the Pentecostal church Lisa had taken me to.  The worship band was as strange as ever, though not as strange as it seemed before.  Eventually I got used to the mix of piano, drums, guitars, trumpet,  steel guitar, and harmonica.  The important thing was that God was there.

   In the middle of worship prophecy broke out.  Ignoring the Pentecostal "Thus sayeth the Lord..." the message was clear.  'The place I was standing was Holy Ground.  I should take off my shoes (Biblical precedent).  This was where I belonged.  I was not to leave until God told me it was time to go.'  I took off my shoes and stayed.

   There was a lot of uproar around the House after that.  Some of us, like me had clearly heard from the Lord and were committed to our new church.  Others wanted no part of it.  Things came to a head a few weeks later when M told me that the house would be closing soon.  She and P needed to focus on the next phase of their life together.  And two weeks later, we were all moving.

Kings Mansion was an amazing place for a very transitional time in my life.  As I started learning how to be a Christian, in Huntsville and then at the Christian coffeehouse, I realized how little I knew about my new faith.  And how far I was from what I could be as a Christian.  As I read the Gospels I realized how radical the faith was that Jesus preached.  It wasn't just church on Sunday.  It was a totally new lifestyle.  The more I read, the more I liked that lifestyle.  And I especially liked the fact that God was helping me get there.  But I knew I needed more help in starting that faith walk.  I wanted to life in a place where I was surrounded by God.

   The Kings Mansion was that place for me.  If I had a question about what I was reading in the Bible (and I had a lot), there would be someone around who could help.  Need prayer?  Someone was always there.  And I could be there for them.  We all learned that it is almost as good to serve as to be served.  I needed to feel loved and I was.

   In many ways, it was like moving into a Catholic convent.  Our lives were centered around God.  None of us dated (at the time).  It was like living in a Second Chapter of Acts life.

   Was it perfect?  Not at all.  We were all very different individuals, each of us with our own opinions on how everything should be done.  But we really tried to live a Christian life.  And mostly we succeeded.

   I think it was because I was living there, immersed in learning what it was to be a Christian, that my transition from the hippie drug culture was so easy.  Why would I want sex or drugs when I was experiencing the love of God first hand?

So what happened to the people of Kings Mansion?

   P & M drifted away from our new church.  I think he only finished one semester of the  Bible college he so wanted to attend.  Several years later I ran across M.  She and her child were fine, but she and P had divorced.  He wasn't doing well.  I pray he was able to deal with whatever it was and has since found happiness.

   F, T, Lori and C all went with me to the new church.  More on them later.  I wish I could remember the Opera singers name.  He vanished when the House closed down.  I'd like to know if he was ever able to be successful in his career choice.

  L. didn't do so well.  His rebellious nature caused him to go off on his own.  He fell into drug and alcohol use.  I happened to talk to him a few years ago.  He was mentally unstable, dealing with a lot of stuff.

  Kat and Susan stayed with the Altadena house people.  Blessings upon them.  I wish I was still in contact with them.  Charlie didn't actually live in the house and attended a church with his family.  We rejoiced with him when he graduated from high school and prepared to attend college.  But by then the House was closed and the group was scattering.  Charlie went his own way-away from us.

   Troubled Noel did finally find his way to the Lord and was living with us at the end.  He got into trouble at the new church (I'll talk about that later) and I lost track of him.  I just checked, he does have a facebook page, so maybe someday we'll talk.

   F's family friend, Kieto went with F to the new church.  Kieto loved the Lord until he died a few years ago.  I look forward to seeing his smile again.

In conclusion, Kings Mansion was a unique part of Christian history.  It was part commune, part half-way house, and part school of Christian living.  It and others across the country like it created safe places for those wanting to leave the hippie culture with it's drugs and increasing violence.  It was a place where people like me could transition to more traditional churches.

   So many of us needed places like Kings Mansion.  As we were to find out, many of the more traditional churches weren't ready for an influx of former hippies turned Jesus Freaks.  They had no idea what to do with us.