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What’s next?

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I honestly am confounded by the current trajectory of the federal government of the States. I’m deliberately not calling them United States because this society is so very, very far from united!

This nation began on the eastern seaboard. It was colonized by people who were told that God gave them the right to take whatever they wanted (including life) from “heathens” who were at the time considered to be subhuman. This was called Manifest Destiny, and today this is what our current president believes of himself. He believes that it is God’s will that he should take whatever he needs to “Make America Great Again.”

There is nothing in the Constitution of the Unites States of America that states he cannot do this. Every treaty signed between this country and any indigenous people has been broken. The government only signed treaties to placate others so they could take what they wanted without too much resistance. Winner takes all. True, there have been amendments, but so far it seems, any interpretations of those and laws made afterward, are being thrown out by presidential decree.

I am unbelievably thankful that since my husband passed away a bit over a year ago, I have been able to reconstruct a good life for myself. I have found a soul mate, and we now share this home with a young woman who is an immigrant from Brazil. All of us care for each other, and we are painfully aware that our current government is making decisions every minute that are undermining the security of our lives.

My partner and I are 70 years old. Social Security and Medicare are vital to our ability to pay medical bills and get care when we need it. Our housemate is in graduate school in a Master’s program. The research she is doing for her program is on the psychological impacts on health of LGBTQ people in our society. Will any funding be available for her to continue her studies? Probably not federal funding… We are all wondering what will be withdrawn next.

I’m trying my level best to enjoy the company of friends with whom I feel safe. I wake each morning to the birds singing outside, and I sit to watch the bees go from flower to flower. The beauty of a peaceful life cannot be denied, and that was something I believed was a given. I was wrong. Most people, even in this country, don’t have the kind of life I have. They get up and have to work every day. Most people work very hard and at the end of every day, hope they will still have their job the next day.

I believe that this land mass is far to large and diverse to be governed by a government seat on the eastern side of the country. I believe that as a nation we have way too much to manage under our current system. It was more than 200 years ago that the Constitution was created, and that was when there were only 13 colonies! It is necessary to revise and revisit our governmental system. How that could happen is of monumental importance to every living thing, but truly, I cannot think of where this would even start!

I really do want to begin an earnest dialog of people who want this nation to be a good place to live, and that includes people whose opinions may differ from mine. What we are doing now is NOT making things better. I’m very worried that the country of my birth will fall to ruin soon if things continue as they are going!

Thoughts? Please be civil.

As summer winds down 2025

  Here we are and it is already nearly the end of August! Time flies by when you're busy and happy. My personal life has been so full of joy! 
  Today I read an article in the NY Times about estranged siblings. It got me energized to write again after many months. I will begin with my relationship with my only sibling. She and I were raised in the same household by two loving and consistent parents, yet our world views are quite different. We didn't fight much as kids, and we were mostly friendly as young adults. But after we each married, things changed.
  My sister married a police officer who had been policing in Watts, and he had  very strong opinions about  how dangerous the world is. My sister had not been exposed to this before, and over the years, she became more and more fearful and concerned that "they" were out there ready to target her family because of their ties to law enforcement.
  My sister and her kids were taught to shoot a variety of guns, and they had many in their home in a locked gun case. Her husband was also a gun maker, and had his own wood shop and metal shop so he could make as many as he wanted.
  Their lifestyle and beliefs became a major problem for me. I held onto my more liberal biases. I believed that most people, if they are able to live a comfortable life, will be kind to others. I am aware that life's circumstances are not equal, and some are born into a crazy world of struggling to survive. The fact that so many have been living in segregated areas and have been harassed because of how they look, makes things very complicated. I understand crimes being committed for reasons that make no sense to me, are of course a danger.
In any case, over the years, my only sibling and I drifted very far apart.
  In the last few years, each of us has been dealt some very painful life challenges. Our father died. Our husbands died. Then our mother died. My sister had some serious health scares and was living all alone. The rhetorical wall between us has become softer. We both acknowledge how differently we approach life, but we now both want to have a closer relationship. This fills me with joy! 
  On another front, my two sons cannot spend any time together, and do not communicate. It has been more than 10 years since their estrangement. Siblings sometimes don't really like each other. I certainly understand that. But I never expected that my sons would have to cut off all ties. It built up slowly. Over many years, the younger son felt humiliated, disrespected and physically threatened by his older brother. Once they became adults, they shared some friends and that made things worse.
  The ultimate event that made my younger son back away completely was a heated conversation when most likely both had been drinking too much alcohol. I won't go into details because in truth, the incident itself was the catalyst and not the real cause of their estrangement.
  I tried my best to get them to reconcile, but nothing I could do was any help. I had to stop trying to fix my family, and focus on my own life. But it is fragmented now, and there is nothing I can do to change that. Losing my husband made it more difficult because I was so devastated losing their dad, and alone for the first time in my life!
  Each came through for me, but separately. One lives far from me, so it was understandable that he had to come be with me when he could make the time to fly here. It saddens me that it feels like there is no hope that they will be able to reconcile, but time and life experiences can change things. I may not live to see it, but it might happen.
  I sort of feel the same about this country. There is a huge ideological divide here. It has been the undercurrent since this nation was first invaded by Europeans. The attitude that "White People" ought to rule by their interpretation of Christianity is abhorrent to more than half of our population, yet our governing documents are not worded to protect the country from the kind of power grab that is currently under way.
  I never thought I would see this here, yet it has happened. I can write letters, send money, carry protest signs and everything else, but it doesn't make much difference. I hope that somehow, this country will heal. I hope that the people who live here will reconcile enough to bring back our mostly democratic way of life. But I may not live to see it happen...

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Finding New Love at 70

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I am amazed, confounded, stunned, elated, excited, overwhelmed, grateful, delighted, and yeah, to be honest, a bit anxious.

It has been 9 months since my husband died. I grieved deeply, cried buckets, and after many months, I began to see the light at the end of the proverbial tunnel. I wasn’t too sure what I was seeing in that light, but I was not ready to give up on finding the right person to share what remains of my time on this beautiful and complicated planet.

So, I took a big, scary risk. I decided to try on-line dating apps. Oh, I didn’t try just one either. If I was going to do it, I was going to dive deep! I signed up for Our Time, Silver Singles, Facebook dating and eHarmony. What I quickly discovered, is that the “Matching algorithms” are not so great! For instance, I live in a sub-division of a major city, that shares the name of an actual city in another very distant part of my state. The service tried to match me with men who lived about 400 miles away!

I also selected specific characteristics, beliefs and personality types I was seeking, but I was matched with men who certainly did not fit the list! But I tried. I contacted some “profiles” that had an appealing photograph and interesting bio. Unfortunately, some were scammers. I was notified by the app management that I should discontinue communicating with about four people, who had been flagged as suspicious!

I had a couple of telephone conversations with men from these searches, but I felt kind of uncomfortable with some of the things they asked me. I am a very honest person, but I know there are creepy people out there, and the last thing in the world I need is to find myself in a scary situation! So I was getting pretty skeptical that I would find anyone with whom I would connect in ways that would be deep and meaningful. But hey, might as well expand my circle of friends at least right?

And then…I saw a photo of a nice looking man. He was standing with his hands, palms forward, looking well groomed, and I guess I would say, open. This was not someone who had been “matched with me” but a profile that I found intriguing. I decided to send a message and see if maybe there might be something to this guy that I might like. And he responded right away!

Not only did he respond, but we began exchanging emails that were, to my astonishment, great fun to read, very funny, touching and profound! After living with someone who was not a big communicator, and not particularly demonstrative or even romantic, I was kind of blown away! This guy had never met me, nor I him, yet we were connecting in some kind of sensational way that I had never experienced in my entire life!

I was out of town, and had to fly home in a few days. I didn’t have anyone to give me a ride home, so I told him I would probably be taking an Uber. We had made plans to meet at a location between where he lives and I live the following weekend, so I expected that would be the first time we would meet. But much to my surprise, he said that he wanted to drive for more than two hours, to pick me up at the airport!

I assumed he would meet me at the curb, and while part of me was whispering that I was maybe putting my safety at risk by allowing this, I decided to take the chance. But he is more of a romantic than I realized! As I was waiting for my luggage, he came into the area with flowers and helped me with my suitcase! He hugged me! He opened the car door for me! I think right then, my brain stopped being able to process what was happening!

The rest of that afternoon was a bit of a blur. I think I was in a kind of emotional shock! He went to his motel that night, and in the morning began a truly storybook romance! I can’t compare this to anything I have ever experienced in my entire life! This man feels like a perfect fit… neither one of us can stop the electricity we are feeling. We like each other, genuinely. We laugh, we get serious, we giggle into the night, and we love to be together. What is happening??? Now is really, really good!

Moving on

After Life

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It is not a little thing, losing a loved one after a long life together. I was married to my one and only husband in 1978, and we vowed to stay together as many couples do, ’til death us do part.

We lived together for 50 years! Some people’s lives are cut short far sooner than that, so we had lots of events in those 50 years that we shared. He had memories of things he said I had forgotten, quirks that drove me nuts, and things he loved to do that I didn’t care for at all! I’m sure he would say the same thing about me if he were able.

At first when he died, I felt as though I had been standing on a wooden floor that I knew had some rotten boards, but felt pretty sturdy still. Suddenly though, it completely fell out from under my feet, leaving me dangling above a hole and wondering what on earth I was supposed to do!

Nobody can tell you how this will feel to you. All I knows is, I felt that I needed to work my way, hand over hand, until I could find footing on a solid place, and then figure out to repair the hole. I have never been one to allow myself to do nothing and hope someone else will do it. But following this metaphorical scene, I could not find the original type of wood, there was nobody to help me know what sort I should buy, and I knew it would take a long time to re-build the floor to make me feel it was safe to walk again!

Everyone’s journey is different. There is no right or wrong way to deal with grief. For some it may be totally devastating and bring on their own demise. For me, it has taken 8 months from the time my husband was diagnosed with a suddenly terminal illness until now, when I am seeing a future.

Reading a favorite novel about people you truly begin to feel you know, it is always a disappointment when the book comes to an end. I miss the story, and maybe I might think about re-reading it. But I know it has already finished. The story concluded. I am looking at my life with my husband in that way. It might sound strange to you. But my husband’s story came to an end. My story that included him, has come to an end. There isn’t one single thing I can do to change that reality.

I suppose if I believed that somehow his spirit was hanging over me, I might do things differently, but neither of us believed that anyone lives forever, and neither of us believed we would see each other again once our lives ended. He was asked what he was worried about as he was dying, and he said he was worried I would not be okay. I promised him that I would take good care of myself, and I am doing that to the best of my ability.

He has launched into some other reality, and I can’t be in that reality. Maybe it doesn’t even exist! But I am here, and I am not about to die, so I am looking ahead to what may remain of the rest of my life. I am making connections with new people, going on journeys both actual and imaginary. I am trying to find someone special with whom I could maybe spend the rest of my days loving and being loved.

Maybe…

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DNA Discovery That Knocked Me Off My Feet!

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My dad died in 2020, just after the COVID 19 pandemic had shut down practically everything. It was not unexpected. He was 96 years old and had congestive heart failure. He had been developing dementia, and then had a big stroke. That is what ended his life. As I was writing his eulogy, and planning his ZOOM memorial service, I heard from my cousin that she had gotten her results from 23 and Me, but she could not find my name as one of her DNA relatives! I really didn’t know how that could be the case.

After the memorial service had taken place, I set aside my grief for a while, to try to solve this mystery. First, I looked at the numerous names that were listed as being my blood relatives. The only ones I recognized were my two sons. Then I checked to see if there were any who were listed as a 1st cousin. There was only one. My mind was reeling!

I knew that the two cousins I have on my mother’s side had not participated in this new DNA testing craze. But I also knew that they looked like their mother and father, and my mother and me. The cousin who had alerted me to this information is on my dad’s side. She had two sisters. One sister had died. The remaining sister had also decided to send saliva to 23 and Me. She and her sister were related to each other and to their children, but not to me.

This could only mean one thing. The man I adored and admired, who raised me and loved me, was not related to me. My “cousin” and I did more digging. We researched the names of the people on my match list. We looked on Facebook to find some. Then I recalled something my mother had told me many years ago. She had said that she and my dad had lots of trouble conceiving a child together. They had tried for 6 years.

They consulted a fertility clinic at the University of Minnesota, and it was determined that my dad’s sperm was not viable. They decided they would adopt a baby. Just after they had visited an adoption agency and put their names on a lost for a baby, their fertility doctor said they could use artificial insemination. My mom told me they “saved up enough of your dad’s sperm, and inseminated me and I got pregnant!” I never doubted her.

I mentioned this to my “cousin” and we had a sort of AH HAA moment! So I began doing research on artificial insemination. In 1953, there was no way to preserve live sperm as there is today. Live sperm only survives outside the body for at the most 15-20 minutes. In order to save a quantity, my dad would have had to be superhuman to ejaculate that many times is such a short period! It simply was an impossibility! Someone lied…

Meanwhile, I hired a forensic genealogist to see if I could find out who the people were that 23 and Me had found to be my relatives. She had no trouble at all tracing the DNA we had in common, and finding out who my actual cousin is. From there, she was able to trace the others and find out who my true father was. I found out I had at one time had 3 half brothers and one half sister. I also found out that because they could trace their family all the way back to the 1400s in this country, they were enrolled in the Cherokee Nation. Because I do not have a birth certificate with the man’s name on it, I cannot take my place on the enrollment documents. All of that is lost. I still kept this information only between my “cousin”, my husband and myself. It was beginning to make sense why I looked nothing like my dad or anyone on his side of our family.

Doing more research, I discovered that it was common practice in the 1950s. to find a man who would be what they thought would be a good match, ask him to donate sperm, and combine the sample with the intended daddy’s, so the couple would never know who the true father was. The recipient couple was sworn to secrecy. They never knew who the donor was because their doctor found him, and they never told ANYONE that they had gone through this procedure. They convinced themselves that the additional sperm had helped my dad’s to reach the egg. Nobody ever considered that one day, DNA and the Human Genome would be understood and tests could be done to find the truth.

My dad took this to his death. He never, ever even hinted that I might not be his biological child. My mother never hinted at that either. For my entire 66 years of life, I believed that my dad’s parents were my grandparents, that I had a history based upon their ancestors. I told all of my doctors what I believed to be my medical history on my father’s side.

When I was convinced that I knew my dad was not my father, I told my two sons. I don’t think it mad much difference to them. They loved their grandpa. He was a wonderful man! But it did not shake their understanding of who they were as it did mine. Why is that I wonder? I wonder about my only sibling, my sister. Did we have the same father? She was born 3 years after I was. Could the same man have donated sperm again so my parents could have her?

Eventually I told my sister, but she was adamant that she did not want to know if she had a different father. She refused to take any DNA tests, and was angry with me for telling her about this. Her own children found out, and neither of them is willing to take a test either. I may never know if we are half sisters, but I suspect that we are. I know my mother gave birth to her, but they also had to use artificial insemination again with her. My birth certificate only lists my dad as my father. There is not other paper record. The fertility clinic no longer exists at the University of Minnesota. There are no records. The doctors who were involved are all dead. I have no way of proving any of this except through DNA.

I have been able to find contact information for those older members of this alternate family. They have been kind enough to send me some family photographs. I have found obituaries and other photographs by searching websites. Some of these people certainly do look like me. Those who have passed on might have been people I would have liked, but I will never know. It all happened a long time ago. Today however, these discoveries are happening daily, and young adults are finding half siblings, and DNA relatives like grandparents, aunts, uncles and yes, mothers and fathers. We all long for connections with others, and when we find out we have blood relatives we did not know existed, it is an exciting prospect! We try to reach out in hopes of making a personal connection, but it does not always go real well. I think that we expect that a relative would want to know us as much as we want to know them.

When a child is born and the parents decide to put the child up for adoption, there is an original birth certificate listing the procreating parents’ names, and a second certificate is issued to the adopting parents. That is the legal document that the child will use to prove its identity in public records. The first certificate is kept though. It may be “sealed,” so the adopted child cannot locate the birth parents. But even that cannot easily stay concealed no that DNA testing is readily available.

We children of adoption or donor conception deserve to know our true medical histories. We deserve to be able to trace our actual ancestry and see our likenesses mirrored in the faces of those who came before us. We deserve to know our true origin stories. No one can ever really know whether their DNA relatives might have been a better family, or a worse family in which to be raised. There is no guarantee that one’s own DNA parents are going to be adequate, wonderful, neglectful or abusive. But genetic diseases do run in families, and it is shameful that someone could know they carry a genetic disease and still be able to donate DNA to a new life.

This is not unique to the United States. Many countries are dealing with this moral failing and the mental health issues that ensue when someone discovers they have been told a lie for their entire life by the people they trusted the most. So, what are we going to do about this? Genetics and DNA manipulation seems to have gotten ahead of our moral policies, and if we are not careful, we are going to be creating inbred children, because babies who are half siblings are being born by the hundreds. There are really good reasons for the taboos of marrying family members! How are we to know if we have fallen in love with a half sibling?

Something’s gotta change.

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Reciting the Pledge of Allegiance to the Flag of the United States of America

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  Recently, I was in discussion with a few friends. The topic of reciting the Pledge of Allegiance before meetings,( having nothing to do with our government,) came up. One friend asked me what had made me feel disinclined to recite the Pledge of Allegiance, and my response shocked her. I stated that in my personal opinion,  the recent escalation of flag waving by people in our country, had become a symbol of an ideology embracing distrust of elections, distrust of 1/2 of the citizens of the country, racism and hate. I said I feel that the flag itself has been stolen from me by these people, and I didn't feel safe around these new "Flag Wavers."  I also said that I didn't want to have people think that I agreed with this ideology when/if I chose to wave an American flag. Reciting the Pledge of Allegiance to the flag had become problematic for me.
  I explained that these days, when I see a pick-up truck driving down the road with an American flag waving from a pole behind it, I jump to the conclusion that the owner of the car is probably not someone I want to know, and that makes me feel sad and unsafe. To be afraid of violence or anger from a fellow American because he/she has the idea that if I do NOT wave the American flag, I do not love my country, is a sad state of affairs!
The woman asked me how I would feel if I were in Texas where everyone drives with a rifle in the back window of their pick-up trucks. I don't know how the conversation morphed into that, but I told her I would feel even more afraid! Guns are used to strike fear in other people. They are used to kill living animals, and they are dangerous. She thought I was nuts!
  This all got me to thinking. The reason we Americans are all so anxious right now is that we are all afraid of each other! The guns and flag waving are out of fear that "the other side" wants to take away things in people's lives they hold dear. Those of us who do not have guns for self defense are afraid of the people who DO have guns because we worry they think we might be their enemy and get angry enough to shoot us! We are afraid of a virus we cannot see or anticipate, afraid of wearing a mask and angering someone who thinks mask wearing is stupid, afraid of someone who won't get vaccinated, afraid to BE vaccinated, afraid to be shot at the movie theater or a concert, or driving in a car on the freeway. 
  Our country is a work in progress that holds a great deal of promise. Life and happiness and safety are never guarantees however, no matter where you are born to live. Democracy, like a strong marriage, takes a LOT of work! Fear is tearing at the fabric of our national symbol as it is undermining our national ideology. One out of Many, E Pluribus Unum, is an aspiration, but it can never be taken for granted. We are not "one" right now. My question is, have we ever been?

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No one OWNS This Country!

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About three weeks ago I read an article published in the local neighborhood newspaper, that gets delivered to every home (whether residents will read it or not.) It was written by a woman on behalf of the local Republican Women’s Club. In it she vented her rage about the “fraudulent election,” in the United States, how she was terrified that “Socialism” would take over this country. She said it was a “Call to arms” to “Take back our country!” The next day there was a paramilitary siege on the Capitol building in Washington D.C.

I will say I am not a registered Republican. I will also say that I have many colleagues who are registered Republicans. I don’t hear this kind of rhetoric from my friends. I found this letter deeply troubling! The land we inhabit that we call the United States of America does not belong to Republicans, Democrats or indeed even the United States government.

We all live here. Our elected governors make laws about how we are to live together on this land, the elected President either signs the laws or does not. The Supreme Court judges hear challenges to the laws and decide whether they are legal under the Constitution. European immigrants brought with them the concept of property ownership. They used it as a way of taking land for themselves and then fighting the native people to keep them from hunting or fishing there. Our European ancestors created businesses and sold parcels of this land for profit. But in the end, this country we now call the United States of America is a European system.

Before the Europeans came here, millions of other people lived here. They were here for over a thousand years before this “new world” was set upon by European conquerors. It was not a new world to the residents! Although the people living here then followed their food sources and moved around, they fought for resources with other tribal groups just the way that the first people have done in every land on earth. They never thought that the land belonged to anyone!

I am a descendant of both the native people who lived here and of the immigrants who came to stake their claim to this land, killing and decimating everyone and everything that stood in the way of what they considered their “right” to claim this land as their own. I am descended from slave owners who fought with the Confederate Army against the United States in the Civil War, and of people who fought in defense of the United States on behalf of the Union Army. I am about as American as I can be! My European ancestors came to this land in the 1700s, mixed and mingled with the native women and so started a new mix! And my Native American ancestors were here long before then.

Nobody can claim they own the United States of America! It is land that is populated by millions of people, and all of them came from immigrant families. Everyone migrated here from somewhere (even the native people who were here before the Europeans.) Some family lineages have been here far longer than others, but the government that we now live with has changed over and over again as boundaries have been fought over, and islands taken as our country’s territories.

I love this beautiful continent. It is my home land. For anyone to claim that this country only belongs to 1/2 of the voting population outrages me! I want this country to continue and to evolve in ways that will help us to live up to the aspiration in the Pledge of Allegiance “One nation indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.”

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Last Night’s Dream

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I awoke from a vivid dream last night. In the dream, I was running toward some friends with a device that was some sort of bomb. My plan was to let it explode, and take me out on the way. But in the dream, I realized that  was not what I wanted to do after all. Despite the problems I have been experiencing in my life (and in the dream) I want to live and make my life better!
I have been depressed over the realities of deaths of dear family and friends, disability of close family member, family members being at odds, beloved dogs dying and leaving a huge void, bonding emotionally with others and having them suddenly leave and losing that closeness, business struggles… I have allowed these events to pull me into a very dark place and I have spent the last several months feeling hopeless. (The bomb)
But after a strangely unsettling visit to a psychologist, I realized that I don’t want to allow myself to feel hopeless any longer. Just because things aren’t great doesn’t mean that they won’t ever get better. I got overwhelmed by the sudden confluence of sad events, but that doesn’t mean the future will continue to be bleak and unrewarding.
I don’t need to make any major changes in my relationships. I’m fine the way I am. I just need to work on building new ones to fill the voids. The dream felt like an epiphany. A weight was lifted from my heart. It’s strange how something like that can happen, even when you’re sound asleep. What a blessing that sleep was to me last night.

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I had a few thoughts this afternoon as I sat pondering the current inequality of income in the United States of America. It led me to another mental meander. Our country practices its own form of human sacrifice. It takes a lot longer, and I believe has a much greater length of suffering than the sudden deaths practiced by ancient people.

While there has been strong opposition to abortion, there seems to be no end to the ability of our “conservative” leadership in this country, to do their level best to ruin the lives of those who they deem to be unworthy.

One example is to withdraw all social support for people who for one reason or another, have been unable to climb the economic ladder of success. Take away food stamps, health care, public transportation funding, free access to anything that smacks of taking care of another person. If they can’t pay for it, it should be denied! It’s not the “taxpayers’ problem!”

Another example is encouraging so may young people from uneducated, poor segments of our society to jointhe military, where they are shot at, bombed, terrorized, and if they are lucky enough to return home, brain damaged, or psychologically damaged. Then to top it off, there is little opportunity to get help re-connecting to ordinary civilian life. Soldiers and their families become impoverished in so many ways, and then they are cast adrift to figure out how to survive on nothing!

“Right-To-Life ” is really right to birth, not right to life! There is so little support for babies and older children whose parents have no means to care for them. Children born to parents who cannot afford to care for them get nothing!

We need to see this for what it is; alternate human sacrifice. We don’t prevent the births, but we do prevent the lives!