A future baked from scratch

I shared two pieces of honey cake with my 14 month old son last weekend on Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year. Seemed simple enough, I found a recipe that appealed to me, baked it with the usual mishaps (hand mixer started smoking, couldn’t find 3 ingredients I was sure I had), and then the cake was consumed on a lovely fall-like afternoon.

But this was different. Yes, the cake was especially delicious and Duncan could not get it into his mouth quickly enough, but this moment made me cry. I had accidentally started a positive family tradition where I had none prior to this moment. I had started a positive family tradition with food to top it all off.

Starting out being a parent I felt so inadequate because of my upbringing. But as I move and live through parenting, feeling my way around it, I am finding that I don’t need a schedule or a how-to book for creating traditions or even spur-of-the-moment-fun. This seems to occur naturally when fairly happy functional people who love each other are together.

Earlier I was convinced I was lacking the mommy-gene, but I seem to be finding my way around the honey cake crumbs and sticky-little-fingers just fine.

Fortune Teller

The late Neil Postman, author, New York University professor, and prophet, predicted how and why people such as today’s members of the evangelical/fundamentalist movement and other right wingers would be living in a dream world cut off from reality. Postman is best known for his 1985 book about television, Amusing Ourselves to Death, in which he wrote

"Television is altering the meaning of ‘being informed’ by creating a species of information that might properly be called disinformation. Disinformation does not mean false information. . . . What Orwell feared were those who would ban books. What Huxley feared was that there would be no reason to ban a book, for there would be no one who wanted to read one. . . . Orwell feared that the truth would be concealed from us. Huxley feared the truth would be drowned in a sea of irrelevance. Orwell feared we would become a captive culture. Huxley feared we would become a trivial culture, preoccupied with some equivalent of the feelies, the orgy porgy, and the centrifugal bumble puppy."

New Marketing in Death and Mourning

I'm not sure why I had the presence of mind to start thinking of my funeral arrangements in such detail and well before the average age of death for a white female. But more and more I am feeling like it is an important task. Perhaps I am a little controlling. Yes, I also have some concerns about the lack of crowd I could draw. A positive is that I am planning some storytelling, a "best of" for entertainment purposes that could sway some in.

Now I am thinking of a raffle. People love believing they can win something even if it is associated with death. This darkish raffle could get some strangers to fill seats.

The reality is I have friends and family all over the country, their bank accounts are not what they expected due to the stock market, and people in general don't want to bother anyone or be bothered. This has to lead emptier, more lonesome, and sadder funerals.

Any ideas on how to fill funeral seats will be appreciated. A carnival themed funeral...who wouldn't want to mourn over an elephant ear on a Ferris wheel?

Tales from the grave

I was giving Dan some additional instructions for my funeral the other day. I was including ANOTHER story that should be told about me after I am gone.

I got worried that I had so many stories I wanted people to hear, that maybe we needed to be better organized. It occurs to me the stories could be arranged by subject, that way people could come in to hear what they were most interested in without it taking up their entire day. The subjects might be things like post office, public transportation, dreams, mental health, celebrity sightings, the homeless, and travel disasters.

At this point it occurs to Dan he might forget a story or two and it would help if I write them down. Now these stories will have a home under the label eulogy, and I can relax again about my funeral plans.

Birth of a Family

One year has passed since our son was born. We reviewed all the amazing skills he has mastered in a year like rolling over, laughing, crawling, drinking from a cup, eating bits of food with his tiny fingers. But this year seems like more than a list or items to check off.

We've lived an entire year as a family. As a mom, dad, and baby. We've lived in a house. We've grown, gotten shots, slept, cried, kicked our feet, spent money, fallen down, danced, sang, burned cookies, clapped, gone for walks, grew flowers, pinched the dog, baked pumpkin muffins, gone to the doctor, lounged on the porch, stained clothes, napped, fed the birds, wiped runny noses, worked, felt lonesome, thrown toys, been hungry, saved money, took baths, played, gotten bruised, felt overwhelmed, read books, played at the park, cuddled, gotten frustrated, felt mad, chewed on itty-bitty toes, worried, screamed, watched thunderstorms and snow fall, lost puzzle pieces, had out-of-town visitors, gone on trips, laughed, missed each other, gotten bored with each other, felt scared, done laundry.

Until now I have not lived as part of a functional everyday family. That is what I was most scared about when it came to being a mother. That is what I knew I didn't have the experience to do. No book could show me how to be "regular" when life went up and down as it naturally does.

I feel proud of my son being one. And I feel proud to be part of my regular-old-ho-hum family. Happy birthday to us.

Dream 2: Ridiculous Rationalization

We had two new rescue dogs who insisted on biting Duncan. Dan and I decided the parental thing to do would be to keep the unruly dogs because they were clearly in need. The dogs had come to us for help.

Our rationalization was that we chose to have Duncan. Most likely these were unplanned pregnancies. If we gave them up, they had no where else to go but down.

Dream 1: Sense of Future Home

Dan and I were gifted Jan and Michael's farm house and surrounding land making us feel lucky and loved like you imagine a well-cared for child feels on his or her best day.

To make the house our own we did some construction to the house. Opening up rooms...raising ceilings...hanging our own artwork. Allowing us the feeling that a firm security deposit was accepted. It was becoming part of our own self-made history and future.

We had land, animals, privacy, yet at the same time we had connections. A pond, growing food, lives, space for the creation of art to be imagined, made, admired. A sense of place, ourselves, needs outside of immediacy. This land in particular was brought on so purely by a relationship of love, it is startling and stunning.