Shards of Memories
November 13, 2008
Isn’t that an incredible title — shards of memories? I wish I could claim it as my own creation but it comes by way of friend Steve who was responding to a recent email from me. I wrote about spending time with my cousins this week in Virginia as we all gathered for the funeral of my Aunt Hazel. She died last week at 79 years old. My mother is the last survivor of that generation.
My cousins and I sat around the dining table on Monday night and shared our collective memories of life in our family. It was truly a collection of the good and bad, the happy and sad, the ups and downs of 3 generations of an amazing American family.
We talked about my great-grandmother Dom who died when I was a toddler. She was the proud Pennsylvania Dutch, Scotch-Irish matriarch of our family who didn’t stand for anyone bad-mouthing her bi-racial family. I learned that she wore a Persian lamb jacket with a unique pin that my cousin Dottie still has. Funny, I have a faux Persian lamb jacket that little old ladies love because it reminds them of the ones they wore so many years ago — like Dom.
We also talked about my Bermudian grandfather Fred and the lovely hazel-eyed grandmother Hazel I never knew because she died of breast cancer before I was born. And we reminisced about Great Aunt Clara, the character in our family. She drove a big black car well into her 80’s and took no nonsense from anyone — except her 5 husbands.
I’ve often thought of how to spin our family history in a way that allows me to wrap it up neatly at the end with a big red bow. But this week, I realized, as Steve so wisely put it, that our family memories are shards from the past like broken mirror. Interestingly, as my cousins and I shared our memories I could almost see these jagged pieces being reassembled like a broken mirror — a mirror that reflected back the person I’ve become because of our family history.
Shards of memories.
What are yours?
What A Midlife Crisis Feels Like
November 11, 2008
In the next hour I will be at my aunt’s funeral. Aunt Hazel died last Friday at 79. And to be honest, I can’t imagine the world without her. My earliest memories of her are of a loving woman who always said what she meant and meant what she said. “No nonsense” was her mantra. Good cooking and a great sense of humor were her forte. She was part of the fabric of my life.
I talk a lot here about midlife and transformation and how this is all a bridge to the better half of life. Most of the time that’s really what I believe. But today, life is feeling more like a midlife crisis. Here’s how it’s hitting me right now:
- My aunt has died.
- She was my mother’s younger sister–my 10 years–and my mother is still living.
- My mother has dementia and although we’ve told her about her sister’s death, it’s hard to know how she’s taking this sad news.
- That makes me sad.
- I’m here in Virginia surrounded by cousins–Aunt Hazel and Mom are the last elders on this side of the family. My mother and immediate family can’t be here so it’s just me from the Michigan contingency.
- All the young cousins I held as babies are now grown and having families of their own.
- My older cousin who’s 75 feels like a peer and my cousin who’s just a few years old is about to turn 60.
- Yes I pretend sometimes that I’m only as young as I think but 60 is around the corner for me too.
Well enough from me now. I’ve got to leave for the funeral. You’ve got a sense of what a midlife crisis feels like to me today.
What about you?
An American Prayer for Obama
November 3, 2008
As he heads into the last hours of a grueling but historic campaign, Senator Barack Obama now carries the heavy burden of grief after the loss of his beloved grandmother this afternoon. I don’t know about you but I think he needs an American prayer from all of us–never mind what your political affiliation is. I’ve posted this video before but today someone really needs it.
Our sympathies are with you, Senator.
In Memory of Dad — Notes of Hope and Change
October 23, 2008
This week marks the 6th anniversary of my father’s death. Dad was a true Renaissance man — a dedicated physician, an accomplished artist, mentor to many and hero to me. He was the grandson of a slave and the slaveowner’s son and son of a domestic servant and a sharecropper turned factory worker. Despite his humble beginnings, Dad excelled in school because back then, that was the only way a young “colored” guy could remotely get ahead.
Dad injured his leg as a child and had to spend a year in a convalescent home. Despite this, he graduated near the top of his class from undergrad. Although he was positioned to go to medical school, back then they only took 2 Blacks in a class. So he waited for a spot for a year, earning his Master’s along the way.
In his senior year of med school, Dad’s leg was re-injured in the 1943 race riots in Detroit. Faced with another year in a convalescent home, he said “the hell with it” and let them amputate his leg at the knee. Despite THIS, he graduated first in his class — a fact he never knew until he retired 54 years later. The only thing we can figure is that it just wasn’t seemly to have a young Black man as valedictorian so grades weren’t posted the year he graduated.
Dad went on to a wonderful practice based more on service than on monetary gain. And as he grew his practice, he and my mother nurtured and grew 3 children — I was the oldest. Lest you think Dad was an egghead, that was just the tip of the iceberg of the man he was. He had a smile that was infectious, a million freckles, a sense of humor that had us laughing to the point of tears on many occasions. And so many people loved him for the caring and supportive way he showed up in the world — always.
As I grew older, Dad became my trusted advisor, my sounding board for what was supposed to be right in life. He was an amazing man who lived to be 83 years old. If he were here today and I were to tell him that a young Black man — another Renaissance man — was running for president of the United States, he would not be surprised. He always believed in the possibility that this country could rise above the heavy burden left by our history of racism. Because despite all, Dad was a man who believed in a world made better by hope and change.
I know he would have loved and been uplifted by the incredible music that has come out of this presidential campaign. So in search of a positive note this week (instead of too many tears), I found and posted here some of the music videos showcasing the talent and positive energy Dad would have admired and enjoyed. I hope you enjoy it too.
I love you Dad.
Ever So Fine Paul Newman Has Died
September 27, 2008
One of my earliest crushes was on the ever so handsome, incredibly fine actor Paul Newman. I remember sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the television gazing into those blue eyes that looked out from many a movie. As I got older, Paul remained one of my favorite actors. Well, now he’s gone — dead today of lung cancer at 83 years old.
Now only was Paul excellent at his craft of acting but he channeled his success into making an impact both on the screen and off. His focus on making the world a better place through giving back to those less fortunate was an inspiration to so many.
I don’t know about you but there’s something particularly sobering about the loss of yet another “senior” legend. It’s that mortality thing. It’s feels a little closer today.
What do you think?
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Karen - Midlife Coach
