The Crab Chronicles

Playing Outside

Saw a great meme on Facebook a minute ago, a black and white photo of some kids on bicycles with this caption:

"This was called PLAYING... It required no batteries, no electricity, and was done outside. And the only birds were in the trees, and they were not Angry Birds."

This is me at age 7, with my Barbie doll. I loved to play Barbies, but I also loved to play with footballs and basketballs and play soldiers.

I didn't need anything electronic. In fact, I remember being more entertained by a swimming pool or a game of kickball than by anything on TV.

I liked to make mudpies. I liked to get dirty. The woods behind my house in Augusta were an endless source of fascination. We had a playhouse back there. We caught fish in the creek.

I remember drinking out of the garden hose countless times, because I'd been running around the neighborhood.

How many kids today have EVER gotten a drink from the hose? How many kids today can wander around woods without cell phone, with only the admonition to "come in when it gets dark"?

I know parents today are basically always freaked out that their child will be kidnapped. Heck, I live in a nice middle class neighborhood and there are kids on my street who are never seen outside. Lots of them. They don't play outside.

My concern is that in trying to be super cautious, something is being lost. How does a kid learn to be creative and use their imagination when everything is always on a computer screen of some sort?

You show me a big box, as a kid, and I saw all kinds of possibilities. We used to make forts out of army blankets, incide, on rainy days. I played with paper dolls. Bruce played with green plastic soldiers.

I always ran around barefoot. Sometimes I got stung by bees. Sometimes I stepped on splinters. Sometimes I fell and hurt myself.

nobody freaked out.

It was called being a KID. It was called PLAYING.

I had a friend years ago who said "My children will NEVER play with toy guns or weapons! I want to raise peace-loving children!"

Well guess what. Kids will take a stick and make it into a toy gun. It's instinctive. He admitted defeat after a while. I had to privately chuckle.

See the shot below? Me and my cousins? We had all been in the yard playing.

I miss those days.

Monuments Men

I did something yesterday that I almost never do any more: I went to a movie with my friend Dana. We saw The Monuments Men. It was not a wildly exciting film but it was fascinating. It's about a group of men who were asked by President Roosevelt towards the close of World War II to find all the famous artworks stolen by the Nazis and return them to their owners. It stars George Clooney, Matt Damon, John Goodman, Bill Murray, Bob Balaban, and a hunky French guy whose name I can't remember. Obviously, the Hollywoodization of the story simplified it greatly. That's inevitable. The real story is much more complex. There are not that many of these men still alive [5] and they deserve recognition and honor.

There is a documentary that I want to see called "The Rape of Europa" that goes into far more detail than the movie. This article in the LA Times tells more about that.

The only thing that was a bit disconcerting about the film is how incredibly old most of the big name actors look. Bill Murray looks like a grandpa, as does John Goodman. [Not that there's anything wrong with looking like a grandaddy; it's just disconcerting...] George Clooney isn't looking like such a hottie either - not that I ever thought he was hot. I just never understood that who fixation some women have with him. Of all the folks in the cast, Matt Damon is the most attractive, to me. I don't want to have an affair with him though; I'd like to have a nice long lunch maybe...

Actually I'd like to have lunch with all of them. Goodman and Murray are genuinely witty guys, unlike so many actors who can barely say anything that isn't scripted.

The only real issue with a cast filled with stars like that is that none of them ever get that much individual screen time. Bill Murray had some really touching moments; I don't want to say more but his performance is nuanced and lovely.

Cate Blanchett is in the movie and I think she did some egregious overacting and scenery chewing. I kind of cringed every time she was onscreen..

Below is a clip from the movie and it's one of my favorite scenes:

 

An Evening of Poetry

I had a terrific time last night at Phoenix and Dragon bookstore, a really fun place to hangout. I was there for the monthly poetry reading. It was great to see my friend Cliff Brooks and hear some excellent poetry. I am always inspired when I attend an evening like that.

One thing that a good poem or a good sermon always evokes in me - reflection.

Here's one of the poems I read last night. It's a work in progress.

 

The Cowgirl

I was different from the moment I was born,

 late and scrawny,

waiting until Independence Day,

until Mama was at a barbeque,

and the cord was choking me.

(Thank God the obstetrician threw the party.)

 

Months later-

I liked to throw the baby bottles out the car window,

Sit on top of the swingset,

Bump down the stairs on my butt.

I snacked on Purina dog chow, and ran around the yard nekkid.

 

Only spanking threats got me into the ruffled dresses

and black patent leather Mary Janes on Sunday morning.

 

My brother’s 6^th birthday party: Punky’s Ponies were hired. I spent the afternoon in a cowgirl outfit and pink wax lips.

I took off my shoes and shirt because I was hot.

That was always the small me: barefoot, shooting from the hip, demanding to ride the ponies.

 

Adolescence birthed several decades of Caring About What Others Think. I wish I could go back and slap some sense into that idiot Me.

I kept notes about all my outfits so I wouldn’t wear the same one too often.

As a teen and young woman, I jazzercised, aerobicized, raquetballed, speed walked.

I wore out half a dozen curling irons, and spent a fortune on pantyhose.

One Sunday afternoon I found myself riding down Peachtree Street, after the gym, drinking a Starbucks latte and listening to a CD on the car stereo, and I thought with great horror, I AM A YUPPIE!!

Somewhere inside me the cowgirl sneered.

Years of refusal sped by. Many things were offered that I refused - sorority membership, law school, Junior League, marriage.

I realized at age 34, after Dad died, I had never lived up to what my dad had wanted for me: husband, two children, the minivan, the country club membership.  I spent my prime childbearing years in love with a man I later learned was gay.

After the fog lifted I began a long unfurling from the confines of the cubicle.

I smoked in public. Then I quit smoking.

I vacationed with friends.

I kept a loaded pistol under my bed.

I bought my first home.

I quit wearing pantyhose and threw out the curling iron.

 

I flew to Russia.

After that nothing was ever the same.

I asked God for a family and he gave me two traumatized orphans and my own mother.  

Suddenly the days were very full.

I quit watching TV.

 

Once I realized I didn’t care about getting married, or what my hair looked like, or whether or not I was “normal,” life got better.

Despite ups and downs, illnesses, trips to the ER, estrangements, personal and professional losses -

Now… well, I like me.

My house  is old and quirky and drafty. Nothing matches.

I only wear pants with elastic waistbands.

My son is 17, and has three piercings in his ears. He is saving up for a tattoo. He hates school more than I’ve ever hated anything in my life.

My bassett hound runs the house, and steals food off the kitchen counter as often as possible. We love her anyway.

I don’t own a curling iron or a pair of pantyhose.

My give-a-damn’s busted and it ain’t ever gonna get fixed.

I look at people without expectations,

grateful to God I’m still here,

glad for every laugh I can find.

 

The Boy from Kazakhstan

Today is the 7th anniversary of the day I met my son Michael in an orphanage in Petropavlovsk, Kazakhstan. He has only been my son for 7 years [as of April 3rd] but it feels like he has been mine for his entire life. He is the light of my life.

above, eating at the Bliny cafe on trip one  / below, the kids in his group, the day I went to take him home, each child holding a small gift bag

The most remarkable thing to me about the past 7 years is that Michael has fit so seamlessly into our family. He is a perfectly normal boy, and yet he has qualities that are rare in 17 year old boys. He is mature and reasonable. He is a deep thinker. He sees the world with the perspective of a much older person than his biological age.

If someone had told me ten years ago that I would be adopting a limb difference 10 year old from Kazakhstan, I would've thought that was just goofy. I was barely familiar with the fact there was a country in the world named "Kazakhstan."  I had no friends raising disabled kids. Yet, God knew exactly the right boy for our family.

One final thought... I never envisioned being a single mom until the day I met my daughter. However, it's not so bad. I have great friends and family, lots of support. If I had the money, I'd adopt more kids. There are other "Michaels" out there in orphanages or in foster care. My prayer is that one day all of them will find a home.

 

An Amazing Gift

Well, I have the most amazingly talented cousin in the world, my cousin Pat Parson, who lives just outside Charleston. She sent me the MOST gorgeous quilt! She had told me she was making me a small one, last fall, and asked what colors I liked, etc.

I was thinking she would send something the size of a small throw, but this is a really generous size, and it perfectly fits with the crab theme! I cannot remember when I've gotten a gift that was more delightful. The past few months have not been too happy, and this really boosts my spirits.

I love how she did the crabs with button eyes!

Look at the adorable backing, too - more crabs!

She also included two additional gifts which were very thoughtful, some tea made in Charleston [I am a tea person, can't wait to try it] and a cookbook of Charleston recipes!

I love cookbooks!

Pat's mama, Fleta, was my dad's first cousin, and she was a good bit older, and more like a big sister to him. Fleta and her family were the only cousins on the Thompson side of the family that Dad was really close to throughout his life. 

Fleta was a twenty-something and living in Cordele in the summer of 1937 [I think that was the year] when my grandfather played and managed the Cordele baseball team that summer. Fleta's husband Woody was one of the players on that team. Mamaw and Papa and the kids lived in a boarding house that summer, and Fleta actually babysat my mother sometimes; Mom was around 3 or 4. They figured that out years later. It's quite likely that Dad rode over to Cordele with his family that summer, and he probably met Mom. He was 4 years older. He said he didn't remember it. Doesn't matter. The families were connected. Years later, my grandfather enjoyed talked to Woody about that summer.

Anyway, through the magic of Facebook, Mom and I have re-connected with Pat and her sisters Pam and Kay. What a blessing. 

Pat and husband Buddy in the summer of 2012, when they stopped in for a visit. Pat has grandchildren now.

Huge thanks to Pat for her incredibly thoughtful gift. I know Dad and Fleta are smiling down from heaven...

Seven Years Ago

I know where I was exactly seven years ago today. I was on my way to Kazakhstan on my first adoption trip for Michael. I had been in the process of adopting him for over a year, and I had known about his existence since late 2005 when I had seen a photo of him on the Adoption Ark website and had a lightbulb moment, knowing I was seeing the face of my son.

The photo below is not the one on the listing, but it's pretty similar.

He was 9 years old. Wasn't he a cutie pie!?

There have been so many ups and downs in the past 7 years but very few involved Michael. He has been a great kid 95% of the time, which is pretty remarkable.

He has grown up so much in just the last year. And in 4 months he will be 18! Yikes.

Mother's little TV she watches in her room died about 2 weeks ago, and we went to Goodwill and bought her a new/old one for about $7. Couldn't get the Direct TV remote to work, however. I called them yesterday after lunch, and still couldn't get it done. So when Mike got home, Mom gave him $20 and sent him to Goodwill again, to buy a newer one.

For $5.95 he got a little Samsung with a great picture, and was able to program the remote in 5 minutes. She doesn't watch much TV but she likes to have it on.

I was so proud of him for going and buying the TV by himself. He used to get freaked out a lot in stores, even in Goodwill. Now he is a confident shopper. He also hooked it up quickly and easily, and was insulted when I told him I'd had the Direct TV people email me the directions about programming the remote.

And.... I have no idea why someone would go and pay hundreds of dollars for a brand new TV. Our Goodwill has tons of older TVs that work fine. No, not high def, but so what?! I am constantly amazed by people who think they have to have the latest and greatest gadget, and are willing to go to the edge of bankruptcy to get it. Yikes.

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On a completely unrelated topic... I am reading Inferno, by Dan Brown. Good book. I have to keep putting it down to go on Google and look up the places where the main character is running around. He's in Italy, a place I've always wanted to go, so I love the descriptions.

Did you know that a lot of famous people have death masks? After someone like Dante died they would pour plaster on the face and make a mold, then make death masks. The book talks about death masks. Fascinating.

Hollywood figured out long ago that this mask making was an effective makeup and prosthetics tool. I remember studying makeup at UGA [I was a Drama major] and you can do it on a living person. You put straws in the nose so they can breathe during the process of making the mold. When the face is done, the makeup artist can then use it to fashion rubber prosthetics.

Anyway, it's a good book and I always learn stuff from Brown's books, in a fun way.

Is It Safe to Drink While Pregnant?

Every once in a while I read something that makes me want to scream and throw things at the computer, and this article just did it for me. The NHS [National Health Service] in Great Britain says, among other things:

However, a study of more than 11,000 five-year-olds, conducted by University College London, showed drinking one or two units of alcohol a week during pregnancy did not raise the risk of developmental problems in the child.

Prof Yvonne Kelly who conducted that research told the BBC: "Heavy drinking is really very, very bad, but at low levels, in the work we've done we haven't found any negative effects in childhood.

I'm sorry. I totally disagree with this. Maybe they are right, but maybe they are WRONG. There are varying degrees of fetal alcohol brain damage, and many kids affected by it don't have the facial characteristics, or obvious behaviors.Some kids have perfectly normal IQs but the signs are more subtle than obvious.

I also want to point out that Thalidomide was once thought safe for pregnant women.

NHS, you WANKERS, listen up. Y'all should spend a week trying to parent a child with FAS and THEN you make these pronouncements.

Read the blog of my friend Stephanie - many of her 11 kids have FAS.

Because here's the fact: Fetal Alcohol Syndrome is 100% preventable. If you are pregnant DON'T DRINK ANYTHING AT ANY POINT. If you do, you may not have a damaged child. You may have a perfectly normal child. Or you may have a child who will never be able to live on their own, but looks perfectly normal. Why take the risk??

I belong to several parent groups and I see posts all the time by parents who are at their wits' end with kids who suffer from the effects of Fetal Alcohol Syndrome. They have kids that have no understanding of cause and effect. Kids who have to have verbal directions simplified and repeated many times. Kids who may or may not ever be able to finish high school. Kids who are sometimes quite talented in one way or another, yet socially cannot manage.

I have bookmarked this page, The Lifelong Effects of Fetal Alcohol Syndrome. If you want to see the reality of life with the FAS child, click on that link. I dare you.

These are the overall characteristics:

• Personality tends to be very endearing, cheerful, out going, good intentions (though with little ability to follow through)
• Trusting, naïve (sometimes with the wrong people)
• Difficult to motivate - often due to lack of cause and effect thinking, stubborn
• Live in the present, little concept of time/past/future
• Prone to lying, stealing, "borrowing", "mooching"
• Predisposition to addictions
• Limited memory, smaller brain, higher verbal skills mask problems

Adults with FAS have a very hard time keeping a job.

Skip down and you will see this horrifying piece of information about adults with FAS:

Continued difficulty with the legal and mental health systems is common, some judged incompetent to stand trial, others are in prison/jail system (80% of FAS affected adults incarcerated or in mental health facilities) Society has tendency to use jail as residential treatment.

Having a few glasses of wine or a beer or two while you're pregnant may seem harmless. It may be harmless. But the fact is scientists don't really KNOW exactly when alcohol affects the brain of a fetus, or how much is too much.

Before you drink, think about the fact that if your child's brain is affected by that drink, in 20 years your child will be very likely to wind up in JAIL.

I know this post sounds strident and judgmental, but I don't care. I have a child who has fetal alcohol brain damage, and she has every.single.characteristic of this terrible, preventable disability. I have no idea where she is, and I may never see her again. She is in total denial that there is any issue.

So for heaven's sake, DO NOT drink while pregnant. AT ALL.

Spring

Beautiful day here - 71 and the flowers are blooming. I was trying to snap a photo of the flower next to Lola's head and she thought it was something to eat.

Not much to report here. Happy to see some nicer weather!

Be Like Water

I decided for Lent this year to try and remember, every day, things I am grateful for in my life. To try and reinforce gratitude, because although I've had a lot of ups and downs in recent years, I still have a pretty nice life.

I am most grateful for these two people, who make my life lovely:

What a joy it is to hang out with Mom and Michael every day.

I think about all those years I lived alone, and I wish I had been more proactive about sharing my life with others. I was so intent on finding a husband and doing things the "normal" way that I stupidly prevented myself from having a much richer existence.

Instead of spending so much time and effort on my outside, I wish I had spent more time and effort on my interior, my thinking.

I was required to read a book years ago called Who Moved My Cheese? It was one of the key components of the corporate mindset at a job I had years ago. The book, like most self-help books, can be reduced to basically one sentence: be flexible in your thinking.

If there is one thing I have had to learn and re-learn throughout my life, it's that simple lesson.

Mother and I were laughing this morning at breakfast, talking about my dad, and the fact that when he traveled he never changed his watch to the time zone he was in. Mother and I ALWAYS changed our watch to the time zone where we were. Otherwise, you are living completely out of sync with your environment. When I traveled to Russia with the choir in 2003 there were folks who were constantly saying "It's midnight back home" and they never adjusted to Russian time.

When your life circumstances change, you have to adapt, or you will suffer more.

Bruce Lee used to say that we should "be like water." Same idea. Adapt to where you are.Water can change form and be a roaring torrent or a single raindrop, and everything in between.

One of the advantages to getting older is the ability to look back at your life and see what worked well and what didn't. Young folks get so caught up in their own angst, they rarely are able to take the long view. They think about their hair, their next date, their test next week, wanting more money, wanting a new car, or a million other things. Years later they look back in disbelief at how self-absorbed they were.

I see things posted on Facebook all the time by people who take their own lives and their own problems far too seriously. They can't see beyond their nose.

I have a friend who is terrified about getting laid off from his job. So he is working 60-80 hours a week, to try and make himself so valuable to his company that they will never consider laying him off. I understand that, and yet I think it's a huge mistake. I think it's fine to work extra hours when necessary, but once you set up that expectation, that you will spend most of your waking life at that office, then when you want to step back it will be seen as slacking off.

He is younger than me. One day he is going to look back and realize he should've spent more time with his family. He is going to realize he missed important milestones in his kids' lives, because his insecurity drove him to slave away at a job like that for far too many hours.

I can't tell him that, though. He thinks he has it all figured out.

It seems to me that as they get older, men are more prone to burrow into their lairs, to hold onto their early views and ideas with a death grip, to refuse to change because they think it's a sign of weakness. They rarely will alter their thinking unless there is some huge life event that rips them out of their complacency, like a divorce, or death, or job layoff. Women seem to be much more able to adapt and learn and change.

I see things posted all the time on Facebook by women over 40 who are coming into their true selves, and realizing there is a lot of wisdom out there if they will just put down the makeup and curling iron, get their heads out of women's magazines, and really look into their own souls. Once you take vanity out of the equation, and go back to simply grooming to be presentable, not to try to "catch a man" or other idiocy, then you have time to find your real, authentic self.

I'm not saying don't spend time on your appearance, I'm just saying don't spend too much time on it. Simplify.

Look around at all the ideas floating around in the world. Talk to folks. Make new friends. Try new things.

I see the truth of this every month in my book group. The group is open to men, but they never come more than once. They find a group of very intelligent, educated, outspoken women who don't flatter or kowtow to them in any way. We say what we like, and laugh, and really engage in some very enlightening topics of discussion.

Of course, these are generalities. There are always exceptions to my observations. There are some very enlightened men out there. I just don't get to hang out with them too often.

Sometimes I look back and realize I have been alive for many than a half century and it's a bit scary to contemplate. Then I take a deep breath and realize, I have so much less stress in my life. I am pretty happy with who I am and where I am. Life is not ideal, but life is never ideal. There will always be issues.

Right now life is OK, even though it's not ideal

I am looking at the sunshine and listening to the birds sing, feeling the cool March morning air through the window, and I am grateful to have matured this far, and to be able to adapt myself to this age and this place in my life without fear, with faith. I see things more clearly.

I have suffered some very painful things. I have done stupid things on occasion. I have missed out on some things. I have regrets, but I've never buried my head in the sand.

I am still here. I am still trying on new ideas and looking for new friends, and trying to really live. Without fear or shame. I can't control what happens to me but I can control how I react to it.

My message to everyone, no matter what your age, is this: Go out and do the same. Embrace it all, without fear. The most important thing is to not wallow in the negative. Get up every morning grateful you can get up, grateful to have people in your life you love, who love you back - if you don't have them, find them. Keep loving as much as you can, including yourself.

“Life isn't about finding yourself. Life is about creating yourself.” - George Bernard Shaw

photo by Lisa Amos

The Importance of a House

I started thinking about houses after reading What 50% of Women Would Choose Over a Big Engagement Ring. Choosing a simple ring and putting the rest of the money towards a down payment on a house is very wise, IMHO. A house is an asset that [usually] appreciates, and everyone in the family benefits from it. Nobody really benefits from a rock on your hand.

The older I get, the less I care about material things.

I am planning to simplfy my life radically in the next couple of years. I have many many books I've read and will never read again and have no sentimental attachment to, and they need to go. Ditto for clothes I will never wear again. Ditto for shoes.

I have a feeling that once I go through my entire house and ask myself these questions, there will be a lot less stuff to deal with: Will I need this in the next year? Is there any sentimental reason to keep this?

I am fascinated by the Tiny House movement. I think I could handle a tiny house if I lived alone, but not sure how it would work with 2 or more folks. If you want to see a fascinating number of these places check out tiny house listings. I so admire the ingenuity of people who build tiny houses. They have to make every inch of space work.

What appeals to us about tiny houses? I think it's simplicity. Less time spent in cleaning and maintenance. Fewer complicated repairs. The world has gotten way too complicated. Mortgages, taxes, regulations - are we better off now than we were 50 years ago? I don't know. Obviously the medical advances are great, but what about simple human interaction? I am so tired of seeing kids just bent over their phones or ipads, not interacting with each other. Michael is not really bad about it, but a lot of the kids are. I encourage him to get outside, and he does that happily.

Books have always been a great source of entertainment, education, and comfort to me. I hate the fact that the internet is tempting kids away from books, a lot of them.

Anyway, just some rambling thoughts.

When I was a kid we spent a lot of time at our own "tiny house" at the lake - no internet, no phone, no TV - and we had a great time. My dad always said those were the happiest times of his life. We were all together and we could relax...