The Crab Chronicles

Thanksgiving Relief and Regret

Every year now I am filled with two big emotions: regret and relief. Regret because there is nobody from either side of the family coming to Atlanta to eat Thanksgiving dinner with us. Relief, because I don't have to clean house and fix a big meal and wonder what my relatives are going to say that might cause a big fight at the table.

To be fair, none of my relatives have ever said anything rude or contentious enough to cause a big fight. I think those kinds of relatives are fairly rare in the real world, at least here in the South where we [mostly] are taught to have good manners.

At left, my mother's brothers and their families at our house on Thanksgiving, about 1970.

For most of my growing up years we got together with my mother's brothers and their families at Thanksgiving. At Christmas everyone stayed home. This worked out well. I got to play with my cousins and we had fun.

Then my uncle Don moved his family to Chicago for a job, and my uncle Bobby moved his family to Myrtle Beach for a job. Suddenly everyone was too scattered to get together. I think the last time we were all together was sometime in the mid 1970's when we rented a couple of cabins up in Gatlinburg for everyone. My grandfather had died so it was after 1972.

That was the Thanksgiving when one of my aunts asked me where I was thinking about going to college and my other aunt [who had not been to college] said "Why would you go to college?!" - like I was thinking about going to the plague-infested butt end of nowhere. In her mind, finishing high school was a great achievement and college was a waste of time for a girl. [That was as close as we ever got to a big Thanksgiving fight.] I was reminded of this the other day when my mother said her parents were astonished when she told them she meant to graduate from college and was willing to postpone getting married. My grandparents had thought she would meet a nice college boy and just get married and settle down. A lot of women did that in the 1950's - we called it "getting their MRS degree."

I am glad that for most of the early years of my motherhood adventure we had family coming for Thanksgiving -- at least my brother and usually a cousin or two. I like that aspect of Thanksgiving, reconnecting with family, without the pressure of gift-giving.

Right, Thanksgiving 2012, my son and my brother.

This year, my brother came last weekend [late Saturday afternoon] and left Sunday at lunchtime. Michael had to work, so didn't get much of a visit in. I had spoken to Bruce on the phone and I thought he was coming the Saturday after Thanksgiving.

OOPS.

He came in Saturday and the house was a mess and I needed to buy groceries, and I hadn't even put clean sheets on the guestroom bed. Well, that's what happens when you surprise me. Mom and Bruce and I had Costco lasagna for dinner -- which is really good lasagna, BTW. 

Oh well. At least we got in a visit.

This year it will just be me and Michael and Mom, most likely. I have invited others but they probably will call me and tell me they won't be here. OK. No big deal.

I was reading an article about a woman trying desperately to cook a big Thanksgiving meal the year her mom died, and it occurred to me I am lucky. I started cooking Thanksgiving dinner by myself one year when I was in college and Mom was sick. Mom sat at the kitchen island and talked me through making the turkey and dressing. I had expert coaching. I think a lot of times that's why women screw things up, they just aren't coached.

One of my fondest memories of Thanksgiving is watching my parents taking great gobs of butter and coating the turkey, and adding lots of salt and pepper. Those birds were always moist and delicious. Dad wasn't a cook but he always helped Mom, especially with getting the heavy pan into the oven.

I also loved the smell of the pecan and pumpkin pies as they were baking. Mom usually baked her pies and cornbread before putting the turkey in.

Another great memory is getting up on Thanksgiving morning and cutting myself a big slab of warm cornbread, then crumbling it into a bowl with lots of butter and pouring milk over it. Then I would settled down to watch the parades on TV.

This year, since none of us care for turkey, I will slow cook a pork roast all day. We will also have dressing and gravy, cranberry sauce and brussells sprouts. It will be delicious, and I won't have to wear a bra. In fact, I may be in my pajamas. We will eat at night, so when I clean up, the work will be done. That's just fine with me.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Acts of Kindness

Nothing makes a hard day bearable like a little kindness.

Some days are just hard. Today was such a day. One of my dad's first cousins died - at age 95. I knew him. I know his sons. 

Cousin Doug had a full life, a great family, but since his wife had recently passed away and his health was declining, I know he was ready. I was so very sad when I heard the news, though. He was always extremely kind to me. He was completely bald, and thus I was always able to spot him at family reunions, funerals, weddings, etc. He was usually taking photos. We have some great family photos, thanks to him. He took my parents' wedding photos. My dad loved him like a brother.

I think with his passing I was reminded of Dad's death -- 23 years ago but it feels like 5 minutes ago, sometimes.

 

A post I read on Facebook just now was powerful. It talked about random acts of kindness. Thinking back on the times I have been treated with great kindness makes me feel less sad.

I am grateful that I have been the recipient of genuine kindness many times.

When I was in about 5th grade I took a bad fall one day on the playground. I busted my knee like only a kid can do it, on an asphalt playground. A little girl who was a buddy, but not a close friend, rushed over and helped me up, and walked me all the way to the nurse's office, while I cried. I had hit a growth spurt early and I was bigger than all the other 5th graders. I felt like a rhinoceros clinging to a kitten. Lisa was a petite little girl, but sturdy and what a big heart she had. She was my devoted helper that day. Her kindness and compassion were genuine and I have never forgotten. I found her recently on Facebook and guess what? She grew up and became a nurse. No surprise there. I'm sure she is a wonderful nurse.

In eighth grade, on the last day of school, one of my teachers -- who was rather a stern lady -- hugged each child as they left her class for the last time. When she leaned over to hug me she whispered in my ear and said "You are amazing. You're going to do great things one day!" I was so startled I just sort of stumbled away, totally in shock. I was gawky and socially awkward and felt like a total doofus, not anything special at all. Her kind words boosted my spirits, though I wouldn't have admitted it. About a year later she died in an automobile accident.

Shortly after my father died I had to return some books and recordings to the local library. I had completely forgotten about them because I was just sunk in grief and barely functional. The librarian, an older lady who wasn't southern and had spoken sharply to the person in line in front of me, surprised me. I got up to her and pushed my pile of books forward and said "I need to return these and pay the overdue fines. I'm sorry they are so late. My -- my -- father..." and I just started crying, right there. She patted my hand and said "Don't worry about it. No charge, Dear."

In May of 2005 I had just moved into this house with my Mom and my daughter, and Mom fell and broke both shoulders. I wanted to follow the ambulance to the hospital and stay with Mom but I had nobody to care for my daughter or the dog. My daughter had only been in the US about 6 months and spoke very broken English. We had just moved into the house and really didn't know anyone. I called a couple of my cousins and they said they couldn't help. My neighbor across the street walked over and asked if she could help and I said "Can you keep my daughter for me, just overnight, while I get Mom squared away?" She kept my daughter and Coco, our dog, for more than 24 hours, and was very kind. I have never forgotten that kindness.

Just a few years ago Mom fell again, and my wonderful neighbors sprang into action. Mom refused to go to the hospital. So one neighbor got me a potty chair, another neighbor brought me groceries, another one walked the dog for me. Michael was at a friend's house and not answering his phone. I was exhausted, doing heavy-duty nursing, and all my neighbors were wonderful. I love my neighborhood and I have the world's greatest neighbors.

 

These are just a few examples. I've seen much more kindness than cruelty in my life, thanks be to God. I believe most people are good, and have good hearts. I try to return the favors when people are kind to me, if possible.

Being kind is the best way to get you out of your own head, and concentrating on the right things, the really valuable things in life. Plus, it just feels good.

below, a rare photo of my entire family about 1975, taken by Cousin Doug, now in heaven

 

Don't Discriminate Against Gay Parents

Shortly before I brought my daughter home from Russia in 2004 I started a group for parents of children adopted from Russia and Eastern Europe. The best support I got through the adoption process was from other parents. Like veterans, we were part of a unique group and only folks going through an international adoption could really understand the process.

I met a couple of ladies who were gay, and in the process of adopting two babies from Russia. The babies were medically fragile and desperately in need of medical care not available to them in their orphanages. I don't remember their specific issues. One of the ladies adopted both children. Her longtime partner went with her and attested they were "friends." They couldn't admit to more because if they had, the Russian government wouldn't have allowed the adoption to go forward. The government would rather have let those two children die than be adopted by a gay couple. I was thoroughly disgusted by that stance, but not really surprised.

Now, I read that our own government is allowing faith-based adoption agencies to discriminate against gay couples and still get federal dollars.

Pence Praises Rule That Would Let Adoption Agencies Exclude Gay Parents

This is utterly horrifying. Federal dollars -- our tax dollars -- are going to agencies who think it's just fine that religious organizations condemn gay parents and won't work with them.

I know what it feels like to face discrimination. When I was adopting my daughter I heard great things about a local adoption agency and I called them up, only to be told that because I was single they wouldn't work with me. This so-called "Christian" organization refused to work with single moms or dads -- despite the fact that I am not gay. Didn't matter to them. They thought it was better for children to stay in an orphanage than be in a loving single-parent home.

We have a huge population of children in foster care in America today. One in 5 children [20%] adopted through foster care go to loving, stable gay families. In contrast, only 3% of straight couples adopt from foster care.

Being gay is not a choice. People are born gay, straight, or bisexual. Many religions argue being gay is a choice -- then they can say it's sinful. I have several close friends and family members who are gay. It's not a choice. It's how God made them.

Thank God there are actually adoption agencies who help gay people adopt, like Lifelong Adoptions.

The lesbian couple who adopted from Russia are now the proud parents of two teenagers who are smart, kind, well-behaved, amazing. Their daughter is an honors student, now in college, and her brother will soon be in college. Both those medically fragile babies are now healthy, happy teens who love both their mamas and have had a happy childhood.

All children deserve loving parents.

I have met many orphans and all of them would have been thrilled to be adopted by a single parent or a gay couple -- because loving parents are always better than no parents.

No gay family should be turned down by a faith-based agency, but it happens. The fact that our government is endorsing that and turning over tax dollars to them is terrible. I want to bring attention to this issue because it is just WRONG.

Below, my son in the orphanage.

 

Kitchen Tips for Lazy People

Don't you hate hacks and tips for people who sound like they have a ton of money and a full-time maid? Or tips for people who are what I call Major League Foodies? I am proud to say I'm a Minor League Foodie. [I could write a whole other blog on THAT distinction.]

I advised a lady on my community Facebook group the other day to cease her search for perfect cornbread and just buy a bag of Fritos to eat with chili. Her response was that it had never occurred to her to just eat Fritos instead of cornbread. You're welcome. [Then I got to thinking about cornbread and, well, guess we had for dinner last night? Yep, pinto beans and cornbread.]

Hack #1: When you make chili, put a can of pureed pumpkin in with your chopped or pureed tomatoes. Nobody will be able to tell it's there -- trust me, I've tested this on my picky family several times. They won't know, particularly if you are good about spicing up your chili. Lots of garlic and onion. Maybe half a can of beer. Ground beef. Bush's chili beans, pintos - so you don't spend three days chewing tough beans. Pumpkin goes unnoticed. Then you have a one dish meal because there's a veggie in there. Years ago a boy came over to my house and inhaled two big bowls of my chili. I talked to his mama a day or two later and she was quite taken aback because he barely touched chili when she made it. I questioned her about her chili. Turns out, she put grated carrots in it. No wonder the kid didn't like it.

Hack #2: Clorox is a wonderful product. [No, they aren't paying me to say that.] I bought some Clorox splashless recently - didn't mean to. Just didn't read the label. Splashless comes out thick. You couldn't make it splash if you were a magician. Here's the beauty part, though: I have a white kitchen sink and it cleans it like you would not believe. Used to be I would have to scrub like a sweaty peasant gal and cuss a lot and that dadgum white sink still wouldn't be clean, but now I just pour some Clorox in the sink and wait a few minutes, and it cleans like a dream. Seriously. Get this stuff.

Hack #3: cleaning saucepans or skillets. I fully admit I am lazy about cleaning pots and pans. I will wait a day or two sometimes and then yikes, what a gunky mess. Here's how I recover: take a glass of water and pour some of it into the pan and turn the heat on medium low. Wait a minute and scrub with a sponge or scraper or something and voila. The mess comes out.

Hack #4: avocados. My mom loves avocados. I hate them. You buy those suckers and one day later they are a brown gunky mess. Even if they are good, getting the green filling out is messy and gross. Here's the solution: pre-made guacamole. Sabra. Never fool with a real [disgusting] avocado again!

Hack #5: Cooking veggies. Say you have a child or husband who is picky and really won't eat veggies. Here's the simple solution. Heat up a tablespoon or three of olive oil in a skillet. [Remember, it's the good oil, doesn't clog your arteries.] Throw in your fresh spinach or brussells sprouts or shredded cabbage. Take some decent balsamic vinegar and douse the veggies. Take either fresh minced garlic or [if you're lazy, like me] garlic salt, and spinkle with a heavy hand. Use LOTS of garlic. The balsamic and garlic make a great flavor. Taste and adjust. I would eat every veggie I ever fix this way if I didn't fear complaints from the family.

Hack #6: Rice as a legit side dish. I used to fear I couldn't make decent rice, because, well, for years I couldn't. It would always be a gloppy undercooked mess. Then I moved in with Mom and she showed me the easy way to make it. Put 1 cup of rice [the real stuff; I like Jasmine rice] in a saucepan that's fairly heavy and has a good tight lid. [We have an old Club aluminum pot that makes perfect rice.] Add in 1 cup of water and 2 cups of chicken or beef stock or broth [stock is better]. Add 1 tablespoon of real butter, a teaspoon of salt, and some onion powder. Bring it to a boil. Slap on the lid, cut it down to low, and leave it for 20 minutes. When it's done, the rice will be soft. Much better than commercially made rice, which is usually al dente. [Yucko.] Now, here's where the magic happens. Stir the cooked rice, and add in extra butter and seasonings. Garlic powder, onion powder, basil, thyme, etc. Taste and season. The broth, butter, and seasonings make it really tasty.

This is not a tip or hack but an admonition: TASTE while you cook! Adjust seasonings and taste again. Trust your taste buds. It also helps to have lots of great seasonings on hand. We have LOTS of different seasonings. Our staples are garlic salt, onion powder, and Lawrey's seasoned salt.

Teachers are Heroes

We spend the first 18-22 years of our lives going to school every day, and aside from our parents, teachers have an enormous ability to influence our lives. I was reminded of this when a Facebook friend posted a link to an obituary of one of her favorite high school teachers who made a big difference in her life.

My friend is still married to her high school sweetheart many years after they graduated, but an unexpected pregnancy had her feeling very insecure right around graduation time, and that teacher was supportive and encouraging, and made a huge difference in her life. They stayed in touch for years and his support and encouragement were unwavering. She is really grieving the loss of her friend.

We all make mistakes when we are young, and how or if someone helps us makes a huge difference in whether or not we overcome those mistakes. [Happy to report my friend did, and has lived a life that would make her old teacher proud, although her life has not been easy.]

Teachers are not merely school employees, simply there to do a job -- not the ones who are truly called to teach, as ministers as called to minister. In many cases teachers are true heroes, and their love and care will often be felt many years after a child leaves their classroom.

It can also work the other way, unfortunately. I have another friend who had a learning disability when we were both kids, except back then nobody had ever heard the term "learning disability." In the 1960's and 70's when I was in school kids with actual learning disabilities went undiagnosed and were labeled either as stupid or lazy. My friend was humiliated and shamed by a teacher who scarred him for life.

I have had teachers who embarrassed me and made me feel wretched, too, but fortunately they are in the minority. Most of my teachers were good, and several were excellent.

I told my mom recently that I had a history teacher in high school that nobody liked. Everyone dreaded landing in her class. Mrs. C gave out assignments and sat behind her desk for 90% of most class periods. Occasionally she would write something on the board and explain it but mostly she didn't explain anything. I'm not sure she even liked History. She didn't seem to have any enthusiasm for the subject AT ALL. However, her method of teaching worked well because it forced students to teach themselves.

Here's what she did. Once a week she would write on the board a long list of words and phrases having to do with the History unit we were studying. Our task was to re-copy each word or phrase and write a paragraph about it, WHO WHAT and WHY IMPORTANT were the things we had to explain in that paragraph. So a unit on the American Revolution, for example, might say muskets / Lexington and Concord / Boston Tea Party / Common Sense, etc. By the time I researched each term and read up about it, then wrote some sentences about it, I pretty well understood it.

Now, that method didn't always work. I liked History and it was easy for me. I had a Math teacher in 8th grade who was very attractive and had won a bunch of awards, and she never taught us anything, just gave us book assignments and tests. On the rare occasion she tried to explain anything, if I didn't understand her (which I usually didn't) I was too ashamed to ask a question because the answer inevitably included her tone of voice which was heavy with disdain, a tone that said Wow you are a moron, Dee. I learned no math that year and started 9th grade in a panic because I had learned nothing in 8th grade. [Teachers who win awards usually deserve the honors but not always.]

My mom taught for several years before my older brother was born. She loved teaching. One day, many years after she had stopped teaching, she was walking down the street in Augusta and a lady stopped her and thanked her for teaching her child years before. The parent had been really ticked off with Mom because Mom gave a lot of homework and the little girl was in a ton of after school activities. Mom was a tough teacher, but fair. When the parent complained that her precious darling simply didn't have time to do all that homework, Mom had replied that she needed to drop some of those activities and concentrate more on learning. The parent told Mom years later that the little girls had developed great study habits and had graduated high school at the top of her class academically. Mom was delighted to hear it.

Not long ago I re-connected with a high school teacher who had a big influence on me as a writer, and was also the faculty advisor to the school newspaper staff. She taught me a lot about good writing. [She liked to say "If the shoe fits, wear it. If it doesn't, put it back in the closet!"] We are still in touch and I sometimes send her stories and books I have written because she is always willing to proofread and encourage me. Long retired, but she is still having a positive effect on her [former] students.

I was tutoring a child in writing last year and in the beginning his mother emailed me the objectives he was supposed to complete in English that year. I looked at it and shuddered. No way was I up to that task of teaching my one student all that material. I would never have been able to cut it as a teacher. No way. However, I was able to help the student improve his writing skills and his confidence in himself as a reader and a writer, which made me proud. He was a delight to teach. [I am not tutoring this year because I have a full plate between paralegal work and writing.]

My hat is off to teachers. They usually accomplish tremendous things with our kids -- hampered by low pay, long hours, idiotic rules, and helicopter parents out the wazoo. God bless them.

above, me in a college writing class

the bearded fellow to my right is still a close friend and now has a Ph.D. and is a professor at UGA [go Dawgs!]