The Blessing of "Aunties"

I was born in Alaska, and a native grandmother held me in church.  No one else could keep me quiet and content. She chewed the skins and made her last pair of mukluks for me.  I don't even know her name.  But I do know that she loved me.  And I know that we had a past life, in which I was her mother.  She checks in with me occasionally, and often smokes pipe with me.

 When I was two, my parents and I moved to Chicago, where I met Anna Esau.  I would crawl out of bed and totter downstairs to see Anna.  What I loved was that she adored me.  She didn't let me get away with anything, and at the same time she clearly loved me unconditionally.  I remember lots of laughter and cookies. 

One vivid memory is about my hair: it has always been very curly, and at the time, it was strawberry blond curls down to my lower back. People had so often told me my hair was pretty that I repeated it to others.  My mother was appalled and told me I shouldn't say such a thing.  But Anna Esau laughed and told Mom that I was just telling the truth.  I suspect the passersby were amused by it. 

When I was three, I had my tonsils out. I remember it clearly.  First, Mom and I went to the doctor, who took a blood sample.  Then we went to the hospital, and Anna was there.  She was an OR nurse.  I had to have a shot for pre-op. Now, when I was a year old, in Alaska, I had a serious infection and had to have shots.  I didn't like having the shots and wasn't going to let anyone do that to me again!  But . . . Anna was stronger than I, in will power even more than in physical strength.  She gave me the shot.  

She also took me into the OR and was there the whole time.  She helped me through the anesthesia process.  When I woke up I was in my hospital room with Anna right in my line of sight.

Anna had a friend, Freida, and Freida's father living in the apartment with her.  The elderly gentleman was an alcoholic.  Anna's response to that was to give him measured amounts of alcohol to drink - not enough to make him drunk but enough to keep him from painful withdrawal.  This man liked me, and he was also a carpenter.  He made me a toy chest.  It was quite beautiful.

Even when we  moved to a new apartment, Anna Esau was a part of my life.  She took Mom and me to an Estate Sale.  I spotted a beautiful little antique table, and I wanted it.  Anna had seen it too and had intended to buy it and take it home.  Instead, she bought it for me.  It was a long time before I recognized its value.  I was about forty years old when a friend who had worked at Sotheby's told me how valuable it was in money, though I already knew its value in love.

The last contact I had with Anna was a phone call.  It was surreal, partly because I had been asleep.  I had not heard from her in quite a while.  She asked about my parents, whether they were okay.  I told her they were.  Later, I found out they really weren't.  She knew.  My Dad told me that her mission was to keep families healthy - in many ways.  My parents were together for a while after that phone call, but finally they did divorce.  Both remarried.

I will never forget Miss Anna Esau: nurse extraordinaire; truth teller; lover of life; comforter of the little girl I once was.   

The Elders

I was born in Alaska, and a native grandmother held me in church.  No one else could keep me quiet and content. She chewed the skins and made her last pair of mukluks for me.  I don't even know her name.  But I do know that she loved me.  And I know that we had a past life, in which I was her mother.  She checks in with me occasionally, and often smokes pipe with me.

 When I was two, my parents and I moved to Chicago, where I met Anna Esau.  I would crawl out of bed and totter downstairs to see Anna.  What I loved was that she adored me.  She didn't let me get away with anything, and at the same time she clearly loved me unconditionally.  I remember lots of laughter and cookies. 

One vivid memory is about my hair: it has always been very curly, and at the time, it was strawberry blond curls down to my lower back. People had so often told me my hair was pretty that I repeated it to others.  My mother was appalled and told me I shouldn't say such a thing.  But Anna Esau laughed and told Mom that I was just telling the truth.  I suspect the passersby were amused by it. 

When I was three, I had my tonsils out. I remember it clearly.  First, Mom and I went to the doctor, who took a blood sample.  Then we went to the hospital, and Anna was there.  She was an OR nurse.  I had to have a shot for pre-op. Now, when I was a year old, in Alaska, I had a serious infection and had to have shots.  I didn't like having the shots and wasn't going to let anyone do that to me again!  But . . . Anna was stronger than I, in will power even more than in physical strength.  She gave me the shot.  

She also took me into the OR and was there the whole time.  She helped me through the anesthesia process.  When I woke up I was in my hospital room with Anna right in my line of sight.

Anna had a friend, Freida, and Freida's father living in the apartment with her.  The elderly gentleman was an alcoholic.  Anna's response to that was to give him measured amounts of alcohol to drink - not enough to make him drunk but enough to keep him from painful withdrawal.  This man liked me, and he was also a carpenter.  He made me a toy chest.  It was quite beautiful.

Even when we  moved to a new apartment, Anna Esau was a part of my life.  She took Mom and me to an Estate Sale.  I spotted a beautiful little antique table, and I wanted it.  Anna had seen it too and had intended to buy it and take it home.  Instead, she bought it for me.  It was a long time before I recognized its value.  I was about forty years old when a friend who had worked at Sotheby's told me how valuable it was in money, though I already knew its value in love.

The last contact I had with Anna was a phone call.  It was surreal, partly because I had been asleep.  I had not heard from her in quite a while.  She asked about my parents, whether they were okay.  I told her they were.  Later, I found out they really weren't.  She knew.  My Dad told me that part of her mission was to
keep families healthy - in many ways.  My parents were together for a while after that phone call, but finally they did divorce.  Both remarried.

I will never forget Miss Anna Esau: nurse extraordinaire; truth teller; lover of life; comforter of the little girl I once was.   

Peace at the Edge of Uncertainty

I have just finished reading a new book, called Peace at the Edge of Uncertainty.  The author, Neil Hanson, writes a poetic letter to his recently deceased father.  The eldest of three brothers,  Neil sits at his father's bedside in ICU as his father's heart gives out and he slips away.  The three agonize over whether to tell the hospital staff to resuscitate their father.  In the end they do agree not to take any heroic measures.

Neil says in the Afterword:

           We live in a nation and an era when we all want to know things for certain, and
           writing this story has helped me to this for the delusion it is.

           It is my sincere hope that reading this story might help some of those who
          consider themselves certain to receive the blessing of uncertainty.  I truly believe
          that it is only through humility, respect and tolerance for the views of others that I
          can approach Truth.  So long as I worship at the alter of certainty, Wisdom will be
          locked tightly away from me.

His view is mystical and practical at the same time.  It is clear that he learned from his experience of his father's passage through death to the other side.  It is also well worth our time to read what Neil Hanson wrote.

PAPERBACK GIVEAWAY (U.S. only)

Neil will giveaway 1 copy of the paperback version of the book to the FIRST person who leaves a comment on your review along with their email address.

EBOOK GIVEAWAY (International)

Neil will giveaway a copy of the ebook version of the book (in the format of their choice) to EVERY person who leaves a comment on your review along with their email address during the month of September.

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Blog Tour web site:
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http://neilhanson.com/

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Neil Hanson's Bio:
Neil Hanson lives and works in Colorado. Peace at the Edge of Uncertainty is his first book. He blogs actively and writes articles for periodicals. He is an avid outdoorsman, passionate about hunting and fishing. He spends a great deal of time bicycling the roads and trails of Colorado, and backcountry skiing in winter. His passion for gardening spills over into a joint venture with his oldest son, where they operate a landscaping and construction company in Colorado.

Spiders and Fruit Flies Oh My!

Hi all ~

This week I have been seeing lots of spiders spinning webs.  That's fine - I like to watch spiders.  Much worse are the fruit flies.  They breed so fast that it is difficult to get rid of them.  It doesn't help that they are not from this climate and there are virtually no predators of fruit flies.  Something has gone wrong in our food chain supply!

The spiders, though, signal that autumn is on its way, and the animal kingdom is getting ready for fall and winter.  I actually like spiders.  They are industrious and they help keep down the populations of flies and other pests.  Their webs are quite intricate and beautiful.

A few years ago, when I lived in a different place, I had to talk to a spider who had woven her web right where the outside faucet was.  I had to interrupt her web daily in order to water my plants.I tried to talk to her, but she wouldn't listen.  Seemed to me she could find lots of bugs in the garden and we could help each other.  But no, she was determined.

Now living in a house with my Dad, I see spiders all over the place, but only outside.  These spiders are helping with the balance, and I appreciate their work.  I just wish the fruit flies could be lunch for the spiders!

Moving into the Dark

A friend just asked me “What tools in your spiritual arsenal do you use to embrace the transformation of light into dark during this time of the year?  Are there habits, or traditions you use to transition yourself from the active growth of the summer and into the more introspective place of Winter?"  

As I thought about this question, I considered my childhood:  autumn brought relief from the heat of Chicago Summer.  I went back to school, which I sometimes enjoyed and sometimes hated, mostly depending on the teacher.  I spent more time reading, which I loved!  Winter with its dirty snow and ice wasn't so pretty in Chicago, but when we went to visit family in Wisconsin, it was often beautiful beyond measure.  My cousins lived in small towns and on farmland.  We made snowmen, and went ice skating.  I also loved the warmth of homemade comforters in an unheated second floor bedroom at my Grandmother's house. These days I seldom see my cousins, though I still sleep in an unheated room.

Both Summer and Winter are softer here in the Northwest, though the Summer days linger longer and the Winter is darker.  As Autumn approaches, I begin to feed the birds and the squirrels (though the squirrels don't seem to need feeding as much).

I give thanks for the harvest home, even though it mostly isn't my own handiwork.  I begin to read more and write more.  My writing group is more active and mostly everyone is at every meeting.  This is a change from sparse attendance in the Summer.  

Thanksgiving is on the cusp of late Fall into Winter, and I do give thanks for all the bounty I have received.  I celebrate the Solstices and Equinoxes with prayer and ceremony.  I pray with my pipe more often, and longer and more often sit in meditation.  It is a time for introspection and rejuvenation.  And certainly Christmas and Winter Solstice is a time for joy!

Already the air is softer and cooler.  It is beginning.  Rejoice.

Cousins by the Dozens

Today I talked to one of my cousins who I haven't seen for several decades.  I spent most of my childhood in Chicago, and my parents took me to Wisconsin frequently, at least once a year.  Since most of my cousins were there, I saw them regularly.  Both of my parents  have been living in the Midwest until my Dad came to Washington state a little over a year ago to share a house with me.  My parents have kept in touch much better than I have. 

Both of my parents came from large families.  Mom was one of 11, and Dad was one of 7.  Then three brothers from one family married three sisters from the other.  My Mom and Dad were the last of the three brothers and sisters to marry.  One of Dad's brothers had 10 children, and one of his sisters had 9.  Of all the families, only two had only children, and I am one of those.  But I counted 100 first cousins, including 8 double cousins.  All of us double cousins were fairly close, especially Maggie and me, the nearest in age.  We fought and played and loved each other.  I have lost Maggie's phone number, so if you read this, Maggie, please get in touch!

I called my cousin Joanne today, and we had a great time.  She just got back from a family reunion picnic in Iowa, and told me about next year's picnic in Wisconsin.  Hopefully, my Dad and I will be able to go.  I had such mixed feelings: I was happy to reconnect, and also sad for all I have missed through the years.  We all get so busy in our lives, and it is all too easy to lose our connections.

I remember how easy it was in the small town where my Dad grew up, and where my double cousins grew up.  We went down to the river and waded, and in the winter we went skating.  It is a resort town in the summer, and my cousins and I all worked in the family restaurants at some time or other.  Everyone knew we were Kimballs just by looking at us.  We would ask to get into attractions for free, and the ticket takers would ask which brother was our Dad.  They did let us in for free.

Today we also talked about one of my "double" cousins, who died in a car crash.  Living in a resort town in Wisconsin, at the end of the summer season, teenagers would drink and celebrate the close of the season.  My cousin Bill was drinking and driving during that weekend, crossed the center line and got hit by a truck.  Bill was such a gentle young man.  He often baby sat for us younger cousins, and was very caring.  When Maggie's mother died, Bill babysat all of his younger cousins.  He was always gentle, kind, and had a great sense of humor.

 Joanne also told me a story of when Bill was very young.  Uncles from both my Mom's and Dad's family owned a restaurant in Dalhart, Texas. This was near the end of WWII and somewhat after.  Segregation was still the norm.  The family didn't like it, but would lose their business if they went against the pattern of the time.  So the African-Americans, many of them soldiers, ate in the back room.  And Bill, even as young as he was, knew it was wrong.  And he treated them with great kindness.  I wish I had more time to know him.  He died too young!

I guess that is what my feelings were in the phone call.  Time slips away.  I made a promise to myself to keep in touch with family and friends. Joanne and I decided we must have a list of phone numbers and email.  We are too scattered and busy - so we need a reminder every so often.  We need our family.

Wasps in the House

Years ago I lived on a farm.  My bedroom had its own bath and an outside door.  I noticed that there was a wasp nest under the eave about six feet away from the door to my room.  So I made a contract with the wasps.  I asked that they stay out of the house, and not harm any of us humans or our animals.  I enjoyed watching the wasps that summer, and the only violation of the contract, even with my door almost always open, was a wasp that got lost.  The lonely wasp went out the door when I pointed the way.

Since then I hadn't really need to deal with wasps.  Until this week.  The wasps have found a way into the living room.  But then they want to get out, because they can't find any food, water or comfort. Generally wasps will stay out of the house - unless they have a nest in the walls, which I think is what we have.

Wasps, although annoying, should be thought of as beneficial insects.  They prey mainly on other insects, many of which are pests. In general, they avoid human activity and should only be considered a nuisance when nesting near homes or high traffic areas.  
http://eartheasy.com/live_natwasp_control.htm

I have been carrying them out, and they seem relieved to be outdoors, but wasps are still coming in.  And, I truly don't want to kill the wasps. I will have to find a way without chemicals and hopefully not killing the wasps.

This all reminds me of the song All God's Creatures Got a Place in the Choir:

By Bill Staines

All God's critters got a place in the choir
Some sing low, some sing higher
Some sing out loud on the telephone wire
And some just clap their hands, or paws
Or anything they got.

Listen to the bass, it's the one on the bottom
Where the bullfrog croaks and the hippopotamus
Moans and groans with a big to-do
The old cow just goes MOOOOO

The dog and the cat pick up the middle
While the honey bee hums and the cricket fiddles
The donkey brays and the pony neighs
And the old coyote howls

All God's critters got a place in the choir
Some sing low, some sing higher
Some sing out loud on the telephone wire
And some just clap their hands, or paws
Or anything they got.

Listen to the top where the little birds sing
On the melody with the high note ringing
The hoot owl hollers over everything
And the jaybird disagrees

Singin' in the night-time, singin' in the day
Little duck quacks, and he's on his way
The possum ain't got much to say
And the porcupine talks to himself

All God's critters got a place in the choir
Some sing low, some sing higher
Some sing out loud on the telephone wire
And some just clap their hands, or paws
Or anything they got.

It's a simple song of livin' sung everywhere
By the ox and the fox and the grizzly bear
Grumpy alligator and the hawks above
Sly raccoon and the turtle dove.

All God's critters got a place in the choir
Some sing low, some sing higher
Some sing out loud on the telephone wire
And some just clap their hands, or paws
Or anything they got.