Bah Humbug

If you know me personally, then it is no secret that the holidays make me crazy.  I know I get called a lot of things, and of those, one of the titles that can get repeated in mixed company is "control freak".  (Of course, that should have clued me in when Kelsey started down the road to ED, because I was told often that it is an individual's way of controlling their circumstances.  Like mother like daughter, with fatal results.)  But, anyway, given my need for controlling what I could in a hectic world of raising kids and working in a stressful industry, the holidays were like my Kryptonite.  Granted, the holidays have their own sort of routine, which we all call tradition, but they crowd in on all the other stuff that goes on in a life.  None of that stuff stops so you can savor the holidays.  Oh no, you're just supposed to be of good cheer and still work 12+ hours a day.  And, no one suddenly increases your income by 20% so you can afford all those gifts plus pay the electric bill, now higher because your home is literally lit up light a shopping mall.  I know, I know.  You've heard all this before.  But, I'm just setting the table for the main course.

Worst of all for me maybe is that I want to love it.  Every year I sit by the tree and try to recapture those long ago days when, as a little girl, I would curl up with a book and read by the light of our Christmas tree - maybe with a fire going in the fireplace nearby.  And every year I wanted that same sense of peace and comfort that I had as a kid for my children, all the while enduring my own nervous breakdowns.  It's a lot of pressure:  trying to make yourself happy when you're not actually.

Now enter our Empty Nester years.  Marissa is all but out of the house - busy with her own life, which is as it should be - but it is in the lull Before Grandchildren.  We live far away from Greg's siblings, so the holidays are a quiet, intimate affair.  My cousin will have her holiday party, and we, like last year, will make the drive down to where my mother's family all live toward the beginning of the month, but it is a relaxed event without pretension or expectation.  No stress there - just the welcome anticipation of hearing more colorful stories of a family I've been connected to for all my life, but don't know well.   There is still the issue of gift giving - which I'd like to say I do well, but that is not always the case.  That one probably never gets any better or less stressful.  I love giving gifts, but hate it horribly when they are not spot on, and it's like gambling.  A lot like gambling.  Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose, and always you spend money.  But, people who are control freaks are probably rarely compulsive gamblers.  Those two things do not go together.  Yet, still, in these quiet years - what one might call the Viagra Years (when we still want to act and feel young, but just quite aren't always up to the task) - this should be the time I could re-grab the magic.

Yet, what you realize is that, while you may move on with your life after a loss, the holidays never get better.  Or, I guess I should say, they haven't gotten better yet.  There is just too much emphasis on being with family.  As I set the Thanksgiving table last week, it was so obvious that it was lopsided.  There was a place setting missing.  I filled the void by putting most of the food dishes around that side of the table and kept myself upbeat on the surface so no one would see how bothered I was by that visual image, but the next day I had a migraine like I haven't had in years.  The pain was white hot and blanked out everything but the fact of it.  I told my mother-in-law that it was the change in the weather, which might actually be partially true, but I think it was my brain exploding from the stress of having to endure one more holiday without one daughter.

You realize you need to be thankful for the family remaining, but occasionally, in our infinite fragility as humans, we lose sight of that.

Another Mean Season

Welcome back my friends to the show that never ends

We're so glad you could attend

Come inside!  Come inside!

- Karn Evil 9, Emerson Lake and Palmer

Welcome back to the Mean Season.  For anyone who may be new, that is the term our family therapist coined for the holidays and how it can be perceived to individuals suffering from eating disorders.  We are sold the concept that holidays are about connecting with family, having good times and making lasting memories.  And there is that.  Sometimes.  But, the holidays have a darker side for someone with an eating disorder.  The entire season beginning now through the end of the year focuses on food.  And lots of it.  Cookies and eggnog, rich dishes in an overwhelming number.  I wrote a piece last year about the holidays that, if you're hosting a Thanksgiving dinner, I would encourage you to look back over.  It was on my mind last night as we were sitting around the restaurant table hashing out the Thanksgiving menu.  My mother-in-law is in town for the holiday and wants to stay in, rather than travel down to my cousin's.  That is fine, we anticipated as much, but between work, two blogs, an NHL lockout to protest as loudly and as frequently as possible, and a seriously injured quarterback to worry over, I had not given the actual menu much thought.  So, I petitioned everyone for their menu preferences.  Probably a large mistake.  Greg's mom is lobbying for green bean casserole as opposed to a simple fresh vegetable.  On top of mashed potatoes with a lot of butter and sour cream, stuffing, bread and dessert, even I was beginning to be triggered by the richness of the food choices.  The lesson I learned is that I probably should not have asked, I should have just fixed what I was comfortable with.  Likely that no one would have noticed, everyone would have found something they liked and the focus would have stayed where it should be:  on spending time with family.  Oh, and watching lots of football.

We as a society have laden the holidays with so many expectations that any real meaning has been completely trampled by the trappings of excess.  Not just food, but gifts and their quantity and value.  Don't get me wrong, I like to buy gifts for people but I'm so scatterbrained that if you didn't put me on a set schedule, like Christmas, I wouldn't be disciplined enough to get them bought and sent with any regularity.  But, the expectation and the disappointment when those expectations aren't meant can be daunting.  I hate to disappoint people, it's crushing, but I certainly have.  And, I have to confess, I've been disappointed.  Last year for our anniversary, which is three days before Christmas, Greg presented me with a Troy Polamalu ornament.  I like it, but a friend had given me the exact ornament for Christmas the year before and it was very prominently hanging on the Sports Tree in the Sports Cave right at the foot of the stairs.  So, I knew it was a last minute gift that he ran down to the Hallmark store about a mile from the house and grabbed with little thought, and it upset me.  A lot.  Looking back on it, I'm not proud of that reaction, particularly since he had spent the months leading up to the holiday occasionally showing up with little surprises for no reason at all:  the Yoda mug I'm drinking my coffee out of now, a book about Rin Tin-Tin, the Super-8 DVD (love that movie), my fleece lined Pens hat, among other things.  So, I am a leading example of the things I seek to criticize.  And me, of all people, should know that the only thing that really matters about the holidays is being together as a family and loving one another.  But sometimes that can be the absolute meanest part of the holidays...

...more on that next time.

Charlie trying to serve himself up as Thanksgiving dinner

  

Post-Election Night

What a difference four years can make.  For the country, it has seen the death of Osama bin Laden, but the birth of the Tea Party, four years of rough economic times, held together by a bold stimulus package and the bailout of the auto industry.  We have seen healthcare reform and the coining of the phrase "Obamacare".  We have also added to our jargon words like "birthers".  But, the war in Iraq has ended and there is a set timeline for withdrawing from Afganistan.  And it goes on.  I actually tripped across a list of President Obama's 50 Top Accomplishments in his first term just in case you are not sure what has gone on over the last term.  It has been pretty jam packed.

For me personally, of course, it has been an equally raucous ride.  Much of it on a downhill trajectory, but not all of it.  I sat in my mother's living room watching the results come in four years ago with her and her night attendant whom I had just hired in an attempt to try and keep her at home.  She was a lovely young woman, raised by former hippies and therefore pretty liberal.  She and I were nearly giddy as the results rolled in.  Mother finally lost her temper with us and sternly reminded me this was her house and we were NOT to celebrate Barack Obama's election in front of her.  I am not sure if she was more offended by the fact that he was black or a Democrat, but my money is on the former just being aggravated by the latter.  She would never spend another night in that apartment, so I've often felt a bit guilty about ruining it for her, but of course some major history was being made in front of us, and it was hard not be excited by it.  And actually, it wasn't me that ruined it for her really, it was the American electorate, but boy was I glad about that.  I will always that remember the tug and pull of emotions that night.

I will likely always remember this election day as well, but it was a far different experience.  Tuesday night I watched the results from a basement 1,400 miles away from that north Austin apartment building.  I was with my husband, four fewer dogs, no mom to worry about and, of course, the big one:  one less daughter to celebrate or commiserate with.

Of course, aside from the jarring difference in circumstance and locale, I'll remember it because it was a challenge just to participate.  I have been battling a stomach bug all week, and it was wicked that morning.  Getting dressed to go to the polls was a challenge, but we timed it right and there were no lines or I would not have made it - without some grave personal embarrassment anyway.  As it was, I barely made it home without a major issue.  There is no early voting in Pennsylvania, or I would have voted long ago.  And, the whole drama that most of the nation knew a little about with the voter ID did raise its ugly head.  While it had been struck down by the courts for this particular election, it will be in force for future ones, and the volunteers at the polls were instructed to make sure people had ID's.  That caused confusion in other areas.  At our particular polling place, they just reminded us that it would take effect going forward.  Other places were asking to see it.  There were long lines in many places.  Marissa had to wait a half hour to vote.  She was lucky.  Some places across the country waited for hours.  If you look at where the main issues were, it impacted minority and young voters in particular.  Ask me, there was a definite push to suppress voting in areas likely to support the President.  News flash:  he won anyway.  In both the electoral college and popular vote.  For those of us who support him, we can breathe a sigh of relief and take some satisfaction in a battle well fought.  But, we cannot rest on those laurels very long because those same antics will impact the values we fought for in future elections.

Which brings me to the main point really.  This was a hard fought election, with a lot of bitterness probably on both sides, but from my perspective the social conservatives seemed to be the ones throwing the big barbs.  That is likely not fair, but, like I said, that's my view of the world.  We all have our unique view of things.  Doesn't make us always right, and it certainly doesn't mean the other guy is always wrong.  I think in an election cycle now complicated with the speed of communication through social media, that is easier to lose sight of than ever before.  So, for one last time, this is my appeal for all of us to remember who we really are at the core:  Americans.  Our ancestors built this country on the foundation that we have the right to express our personal beliefs.  I don't remember ever seeing anything about suppressing our neighbor's beliefs if they don't agree with us.  To my conservative friends, particularly the ones who were getting a little feisty on Facebook or Twitter on Tuesday night, I say this:  for now, my political leanings have won the day.  Four years from now you have another chance at it.  I hope we will be ushering in maybe the first female President next and her name could well be Hillary, but if that sounds like a bad idea to you, then back the other candidate, and accept that this is the beauty of the process.  In the meantime, you have the right to continue to work for candidates locally and in the mid-term elections that you feel will represent you.  More importantly, you have the right to live your personal beliefs.  You are against abortion?  I do not have a beef with you over that.  I simply do not believe my government should impose that belief system on others.  End of story.  I believe that my friends who are gays and lesbians should have the same rights as you and I do.  That does not make me a bad person, I'm sorry, but it doesn't.  But somehow so many people personalized all of this and demonized individuals who don't share their views.  It is time to put it aside and get back to living our lives together as one nation.  I hope we can do that, because we do have a lot of work to do.

Mother Nature Sends a Message

And that message is that she's pissed.

Satellite image of Super Storm Sandy

Last night Lawrence O'Donnell was showing footage of residents of Staten Island more or less losing it because they felt they were being ignored, left isolated in their desolation in the wake of super storm Sandy.  At first I sat listening with my head half cocked, trying to decide if my primary emotion was sympathy or derision because, after all, exactly what they did they expect to happen only days after a storm of such enormity swept through 13 states (perhaps there is something to note here - that the storm hammered essentially the original colonies - but I'm not sure what it would be)?  Surely they didn't think someone was going to come snap some fingers and make it all go away.  But, at the same time, I could be empathetic to the swirl of emotion and fear that they had been living in for the last few days.  They were cold, dirty, scared, probably hungry, and cut off from all the things they normally rely on to get information.  The calendar just turned back to the wild, wild west days for these guys, so used to cell phones, television and internet.  Finally people show up with cameras in their faces, but no real help, and I think it boiled over.  I probably have a tad more insight than I would have at any other point in my life because of where we were during the storm.  Just the slightest hint of Sandy was plenty enough for me.  So, in the end analysis, I thought they were snapping under the pressure of an untenable situation which didn't help them get any warmer or their houses any less damaged, but I knew that it was a collective expulsion of the extreme pressure all these poor people had felt for what probably felt like forever.

I can't even begin to understand their devastation, but it was a few tense days even in Pittsburgh, so I can only speak to my own experience as the largest storm this area has ever seen passed through.  Maybe it'll give you some insight to those angry people on Staten Island if you, like me, wondered what they were thinking.

When I woke up this morning and peeked outside to gauge what to don to walk the dogs around the block, I saw the first hint of actual sky I've seen in days.  I could make out a small shining speck moving slowly across the sky - some plane well above us making an early morning haul to some unknown location.  It was a heavenly sight.  The clouds pressing down over the area for a solid week have been oppressive, even for someone like me who loves rainy weather.  There was even a little sunshine - maybe five minutes of sort of weak light and bluish skies before the clouds settled back in and the rain returned.  Maybe it's what made the week seem so very slow and long, but I think it's more complicated than that.

Tensions had begun to grow beginning on Monday.  We all knew the storm was coming, and we were all being told that it would be on a scale like the area had never seen, but of course that means no one can really envision it and therefore two camps develop:  those who freak out and those who underestimate it.  Greg certainly was in the latter, at least in terms of what he expected to hit here.  A lifelong Texan, he had been hearing dire warnings of hurricane impacts all the way up to Austin off and on for years.  It never happened.  Therefore, he was convinced that we were too far inland to really feel the impact.  I was leaning more toward the former, probably because I watch way too much post-apocalyptic television.  We were being told to prepare for high winds, likely to damage trees and threaten power.  I believed that part, since the power goes out around here with an amazing ease.  Of course, we had friends near Philadelphia, so that was worrying me too.  But, still, no matter what camp you fell into, it was still something in the future, a nebulous worry. Come Monday it became a little more real as Sandy neared landfall.  The skies became leaden, the shorts-wearing weather of the week before gave way to cold rain and the trees began to sway.  Local news reported that there were no generators to be had and batteries were flying off the shelves along with bottled water.  We were being advised to make sure our cell phones were charged.  Schools were closed for the following day and the state closed the liquor stores.  Generators?  Why, I wondered, would anyone need a generator?  I grew up in Montana during the 60's.  The power went out with great regularity and none of us had generators.  Of course, we all had fireplaces.  But, I definitely knew why people would want alcohol, and I figured closing the stores just would drive them out in the wind to the bars, which did not close.  But, they stayed closed for two days, so someone was pretty set on that being a good idea.

At any rate,  as the storm made landfall, its mighty reach began to extend inland towards us late on Monday.  There we sat, the skeptic and the believer on the couch together when the power flickered off, then back off again, and we looked at one another, illuminated by the light of my computer screen, suddenly cut off from my internet connection in mid keystroke.  I can't say what Greg was thinking, but I was wondering exactly how long it would take before our nice warm house got cold.  A few minutes later the power came back on and stayed on eventually, but I can tell you that I will be buying a generator as soon as I can.

As the week went on, the winds weren't nearly what they were predicted to be and the rain kept falling, but even the river levels didn't rise like we thought they might.  But all around us, nature was turning on its inhabitants as though it was intent to dispatch us back to wherever it was we came from.  The death toll in this state alone is standing at 14.  Fourteen souls who drew breath and had family who loved them.  It seemed incredible that we were being spared so completely.  So, come about Wednesday when it was clear that any real danger was past, there was a collective sigh of relief and only then could I really realize how tense I had been in the days before.  Then I could step back and realize all the normal crap that one faces in a workday (as I've always said, that's why they call it work instead of fun) seemed so heightened, and why the days seemed to be dragging.  It was a constant waiting game of wondering when the other shoe was going to drop, because it seemed almost impossible that it wasn't going to when there was so much destruction all around us.

Thus, at some point last night, as I watched those poor people on Staten Island, cold, hungry and scared, I realized that whatever we had worried over during the week was nothing compared to what others in our neighbor states are feeling at the moment.  So, long way around to saying to all of those people who are stranded now because of Sandy, it's cold, it's dark and it's frightening.  If you want to throw a little temper tantrum, you just go right ahead and do it.  Help is on its way.

From NBC News

We All Fall Down

 One thing I have to say about no hockey is that I have gotten out more.  I remember thinking at one point last year that I was watching my first fall in thirty years from my window.  This year, I've been able to wander out and around the neighborhood and marvel at the sights up close and personal.  It's amazing to see the explosion of color.   It's not like back home - Montana - actually.  The humidity sort of literally puts a damper on things, but that is a minor complaint.  I'm not sure that any words I can write here will do it justice, but there are some evenings when Cheyenne and I kick our way through the fallen leaves and gaze up at the trees in the local cemetery, and they seem almost like they are on fire as the last of the sun catches the reds and the golds.  And I think to myself how lucky I am to be here.  I caught myself sort of marveling at that fact recently as we made our way around the labyrinthine paths of the old cemetery, Cheyenne keeping her nose to the ground in constant pursuit of new and interesting smells, me with eyes on the treeline and my head in the clouds.  I would almost say I'm blessed because this is like a dream come true, but then I remember what it took to get me here.  I realize had I not lost a daughter, I would still be in Texas.  I would actually still be in debt.  We'd be struggling to pay the mortgage and keep up with the payments on the second mortgage we took out.  Greg would probably be doing the same job he had when I left, and I'd be a collections clerk.  Would she still be sick?  Maybe.  Probably actually.  So, I'd still be hiding the coffee under the doggie steps, I'd still be finding bags of vomit under the bed if I ventured into her room.  There would be the constant worry about how long her body could take it before shutting down on her.  I would have a pool, I would have my deer and my dogs, our friends would be close by, but life would be a struggle on a lot of levels, and there wouldn't be This.  This amazing city, with its zoo and museums.  This proximity to the team I've loved for so long.  This amazing fall.

Life isn't a total bed of roses.  My job can be stressful and steeped in negativity.  I can't take vacation because there is no one to cover one of the tasks I'm responsible for - or at least not without undue burden on others - so I may not be at burn out, but I'm definitely crispy around the edges.  There's the stress of Greg worrying over his brother, there is the tug of money (sometimes made worse by living in a city with so many wonderful things to do), and we still worry about Marissa.  But, the truth of the matter is, life is so much easier than it was.  It's a plain and hard fact of losing someone who has been sick for a long time.  I noticed it right away actually.  How quiet the house was.  Actually, at first, that quiet was nearly deafening.  I hated being in the house by myself because it nearly screamed the silence at me.  But, we could do things and have things around the house that we hadn't been able to for a long time.  We could leave for a movie and not worry about what was happening back at the house.  And the rest of your life opens up in front of you.  It's just the way it is.  It adds a layer to living with grief that others don't have.  If your loved one is just suddenly taken from you, say in an accident, or a sudden and quick illness, your life shifts, but there is not that competing sensation of no longer having all those responsibilities mixed with the grief.

The irony of it all was on my mind on a lovely autumn evening when it was hard to imagine anyone having a care in the world.  But, you know that thought process is not unique to me.  I remember when my father-in-law died.  He had been sick for a long time, and my mother-in-law had steadfastly cared for him, worried over him and staying by his side with the help of her oldest daughter.  Then he was gone.  She was still young enough and financially secure enough that she had a chance at freedom.  I actually remember thinking of her life as a widow that way:  freedom.  And she did venture out into the world.  A few months later she took a trip to Scotland and had a fall while she was there.  As I recall she broke an ankle.  She developed some health problems after that which were fairly serious.  I always sort of thought that it was almost like Survivor's Guilt.  I have no idea if that is a valid diagnosis or not, but I remember thinking it was so odd that she finally got a chance to spread her wings a little and they were immediately clipped.  Maybe she was exhausted and her immune system was compromised as a result.  Maybe it was strictly coincidence, but I tend to believe true coincidences are rare.  Maybe it was a lot of things combined, but you wonder how many people just have not been able to live with the guilt of feeling some relief from no longer caring for a loved one.  How many can't overcome that?

I probably sound like I am complaining.  Complaining about a pleasant and simple life.  I'm not, but I do have to wrestle with the guilt that naturally comes along with it.  Would I trade the sunset streaking through the leaves in this idyllic little piece of the world to have Kelsey back with us.  Of course I would.  But, do I love it here?  Yes, I really do.  And sometimes that seems like it's not quite right.

The Chasm of Distance

Many people would have the right at this moment in time to tell us, "I told you so."

There were people who thought we were basically running away from home when we came here.  Even some people who supported the move basically thought we were running away from our problems and cautioned that one always carries one's problems along with them.  But, for me, with Greg and Marissa both on board to moving, the pets currently all sleeping peacefully around me, and my favorite teams just a short drive away (even though one isn't playing and the other isn't playing well), there wasn't much risk other than financially, but even that worked out in the long run.  For Greg and Marissa there was a lot more at risk.  Marissa left a serious relationship behind, and it couldn't survive the distance.  While I came toward family, Greg left his behind.  So did Marissa.  She barely knew Mother's side of the family.  She doesn't know Dad's at all, so essentially she left everything and everyone she knew too.  It was inevitable that something would eventually happen that would test the decision to leave people who they are so closely bonded in both love and blood behind.  Therefore, when the call came Monday morning that Greg's brother had fallen, hit his head, gashed it, been knocked unconscious and was being admitted to ICU with concerns about bleeding in the brain, the borrowed time I think we all knew we were living on just came due.

I honestly don't know just a whole lot of details about the situation really - but he is now out of the ICU, but still in the hospital.  What I do know is what I see:  Greg's very torn that he is so far away.  He wants to be there to support his brother.  I assume he's out of danger or they wouldn't have moved him, but the fact that almost a week later he's still there at all in today's medical climate tells you something about the seriousness of the situation.  Greg, to the best of my knowledge, has not been able to talk to him.  To make matters more complicated, Greg doesn't have a traditional job where he can take some vacation days and run down to Texas.  Since he's a contractor, if he leaves, he loses his position.  He knew that when he took it, but he likes it because it entails limited interaction with others, and he doesn't seem ready to re-enter the regular workplace.  I am guessing, but I believe that he doesn't want to answer the inevitable "getting to know you" questions:  so, are you married?  How many kids do you have?  I think that's the thing he likes the most about being here actually, we don't know anyone, so he can avoid those uncomfortable conversations.  As political as he is, I tried to get him to do some volunteer work for the Presidential campaign.  At least to host a debate watching party (the campaign provides some material for it and does the inviting - it would be a good way to meet like-minded people), but his argument was logical - our house is too small - but the truth is, he's just not quite ready for all of that.  But, now, here we are:  between a rock and a hard place with the holidays fast approaching and gifts left to buy.  If he just goes ahead and leaves, we're in some serious hot water.

But, really, this isn't about us as much as this is my way of exploring an aspect of our path to recovering from grief that I hadn't talked about before, which is that distance solves some problems and creates some others.  And these are the things that anyone else who reads about our journey needs to take into account.  I think the rationalization is that in a world of high technology and social media, it is easy to keep in touch.  And we have proved that is true pretty much.  Greg was engaging in quite the text conversation with his best friend back in Texas all during the UT game last night.  Granted, for our generation anyway, it's not the same as spending face time with someone, but it does keep us in real time communication and bridge the miles to an extent.  Until something critical happens:  a birth or a wedding on the one side of the coin.  An illness or a death on the other.  You get some advance notice with a baby or a wedding.  Not so much the other.  These are things you have to think about when you take a giant leap like we did.  You have to understand that because you have endured one tragedy, you are not immune to anymore.  As a matter of fact, you now know that life is not a fairy tale and it's very likely that bad things will continue to happen.

On the other hand, I'm not sure any of us would have cared - or did care - at the time we decided to move.  We had a house whose whole upstairs was basically a storage area for us because we couldn't bear to go up there.  We were completely haunted by whole sections of the city where our daughter had been during her life.  The escape the ghosts, we had to run from family and friends.

I am not sure, sitting here at the moment, that I know the answers these tough questions.  For me, this was the right move.  Absolutely.  But, there was a very real and very deep cost to it that has nothing to do with dollars and cents.  I know that too.  Because Greg and his brother are paying for it right now.

Get well soon Randy.

Not-so-Random Acts of Kindness

The news was particularly dark this week it seemed to me.  I opened up the newspaper one day during the week to a headline about a 13-year old boy who shot his grandparents in cold blood in one of those zillion little towns that populate Pennsylvania.  From what I can tell based on what has come out right now, there is no real motive other than he is just one of those rare exceptions to my rule of "No Bad Kids".  He is a Bad Kid.  Monsters do walk among us.  The scary thing, as this now shattered family is finding out, sometimes you have to wrestle with the realization that you gave birth to one.  Right below it was the article about Malala Yousufzai, the now 14-year old Pakistani girl who spoke up about wanting to go to school when she was just 11.  She became a national symbol and apparently a national target.  She was shot in the head by Taliban extremists while waiting to go home from school.   If she lives, they have vowed to finish the job.  She'll never be safe unless she leaves, and all she wanted to do was get an education.  I was thinking about the courage it must have taken Rosa Parks to do what she did, and this little girl surpassed even that at the age of 11.  Two children died in a house fire here.  Someone shot at the Obama campaign headquarters in Denver (sadly proving my point that the ugliness of the race has gone way too far).  But of course, the big headline was Jerry Sandusky, still in absolute denial, getting what will amount to a life sentence in prison.  I have no doubt that it will be hotly debated:   it's too little, it's too much...  One thing no one can really debate, it is completely tragic.  If you opened up the paper, there was an article about a man who died after a roach eating contest.  Wow.  Both tragic and absurd.  And disgusting.

Headlines like these make one wonder if maybe the Mayans knew that the world would be better off without us right about now and decided we should be wiped out right before the holidays this year.  Of course, I'm not one to think that things are worse "these days" and the "good old days" were actually good.  I am a student of World War II, afterall, and am all too aware that the man who was responsible for sending six million people to their death for no other reason than their religion and/or sexual orientation during that time was actually born and nutured in the 19th century.  Then of course there is a long history of horrors throughout time.  The bottom line is that horrible things have been perpetrated upon humans by other humans since we crawled out of the primordial ooze.  It is downright depressing.   To combat that to a certain extent, one of the local papers, The Pittsburgh Post Gazette runs a column called Random Acts of Kindness.  The gist is that 'Burghers send in stories about strangers who did something kind that they observed or were the recipients of.  Maybe it is a bit corny, but when the front page is full of dark news, it is nice to be reminded that most of us are still primarily good people trying to do the right thing and sometimes actually touch someone else in a way that is profound.  I think I needed to remind myself currently not to give up in the face of darker news; therefore, this is my own version of that column.  I know most of the people in these examples, and it is hardly inclusive - it is a very small sampling - but we have been the recipients of many acts of kindness in the last few years.  We probably survived the many trials we have endured because of the support we received.  But, I think that is true of all of us. We all rely on little kindnesses here and there, maybe without even realizing how they sustain us.

To remind myself not to give up on the human race after the onslaught of bad news during the week, I recalled my husband's lifelong best friend hitching up a U-Haul to his truck and driving with Greg non-stop to bring the furry part of our family and a load full of stuff from Texas to Pittsburgh.  He put a lot of sweat equity into helping Greg get the house in Round Rock ready to sell as well.  He didn't have to do any of that.  Sure, friends support friends, but he went well above and beyond.  His family, who supported his being away for so long and so much, deserve a shout out as well.  I was also very touched by my brother-in-law's girlfriend who worked tirelessly to help with our garage sale fundraiser for the charity I was involved with, AFED.  She probably put in more hours than any of us, myself included, arranging for donations from her daughter's Girl Scout Troop, helping us sort and price things, working the actual sale and then taking left overs for resale.

Then there were both of our Realtors who went above and beyond.  Shoot, our Realtor on this end picked this house for us sight unseen.  Not many people would have been willing to step up and take on that responsibility.  Then she arranged to have people check in on it for the couple of months, during the holidays nonetheless, that it was vacant.

Of course, there were all our friends who put up with us during a lot of difficult years.  After Kelsey died, all the people who provided meals, sent cards or books about grieving and maintaining faith, or just listened to us when we needed it.  Lots of my friends gave me gifts when I left - things meant to remind me of the good things about where I was leaving and things meant to help me get settled or enjoy the trip here.  Too many to recount here.

Once I got here, I got lots of help and support too.  As I've written about before, my Lovely Philly Friend and her then boyfriend (now husband) drove across the state multiple times to show me around and keep me company.  And of course my family who made me feel like I was truly one of them, even though I'm not related by blood.  I remember the locksmith who dropped everything to come help me get into the house after I locked myself out.  He came back the next day to re-key the house and didn't charge me a trip charge, so he essentially came out for free once.   That was a nice act by a relative stranger.  And it wasn't the only one.  My neighbors have been awesome - even Mr. Mike helped me get Greg's Father's Day gift tucked away when I was struggling to handle a big heavy box drug around the side of the house.

These are just a few of the kindnesses we have been the recipients of over the years.  Just a very small tip of a very large iceberg to give you just a few examples.  Have I done enough to pay it forward?  Almost certainly not.   All the more reason to be in awe of the kindness we have received.

I bet you have stories like mine.  Incidents where people in your life made you realize that there is still good in the world.  Even if it seems sometimes like there is an equal amount of bad.  So, maybe, in the end analysis, the world shouldn't give up on us humans just yet.