Wednesday, February 25, 2009

A New Project

I met three colleagues today for lunch at The Olive Garden in Johnson City, and we talked about putting together a program for the NSN Heroes project. This involves producing some kind of a fund-raising event to benefit the National Storytelling Network before the end of the year.

My colleagues, all female, are Molly Catron, Linda Poland, and Brenda White Wright, the latter whom I had not met before. We are all storytellers; in addition, Brenda is a motivational speaker, trainer, and diversity consultant; Molly is a keynote speaker and human resources consultant; Linda owns a tour guide business; and I'm a retired clinical social worker. I'm also the oldest of the group, the others being in their 50's and 60's.

We have decided to meet monthly and begin working on our stories according to the "combinatory" theories explained to us by Brenda who learned the concept from David Novak.
I thought I had two stories almost ready to go, but have now changed my mind and have different ideas for two new stories so I must begin writing. Before I do that, however, I will let my unconscious work on them. If that works as it has in the past, one of these mornings soon I will get up in the a.m. and be ready to write. I often do not know the ending, but if I'm lucky it reveals itself as I work through the words. Othertimes, I have to wait for a good ending to work itself out, sometimes after I've told the story a time or two.  

I'm excited about this project.  Stay tuned...

Saturday, February 21, 2009

Off to the ER-again!

Wednesday eve we made our 2nd trip to the ER this month. Same old problem--Rocky couldn't get his breath. He had been that way on Monday, then Tues. he was energetic and up and doing.
However, Wed. he could barely get out of bed. As the day wore on, he could sit up but could not lie down (we have the head of the bed adjusted so he is never lying flat) or walk farther than a few feet. He had to stop and rest, gasping for air, on his way to and from the bathroom.

Around noon, he told me to pack a bag in case he decided to go to the hospital. I did so, and with the assist of a calming med (he tends to panic which makes matters worse) he slept for awhile. But same thing resumed late in the afternoon. He feared that he had pneumonia, although he did not have a fever.

So by 6:00 pm, we were on our way to the ER. He saw a doctor he's seen before there. Some doctors can communicate much better than others, as we all know. Discussing the fact that this was Rocky's visit in less than a month, I asked, "What's going on?" Finally, the doctor could give me enough information that I could form an analogy.

The fact is that Rocky's lungs are shot, even though there is no evidence of cancer. Think of it this way: his lungs are his treasure (assets, resource, whatever word you want to use). What's in his pocket is his only cash reserve. He has no bank account, checking or savings. It is possible for him to borrow a little, from an outside supply of oxygen, but that is limited.  And Rocky is fighting against carrying an oxygen tank around with him wherever he goes, and only uses it sporadically. He says he can't feel it is helping him very much. 

He much prefers the breathing treatment he gets from a unit called a Nebulizer. I think it's because he has to breathe the warm medicine in, and it reminds him of smoking, bless his heart. But that's just my guess.

So, the doctor explained, the only thing he can rely on is the cash he's got in his pocket. So let's play out this scenario. He is planning on going to Java J's to listen to, or maybe even tell, a story. He feels pretty good and has been doing household chores to help me out (in other words, he's enjoying life spending his "cash." He might as well since he can't save it up, the doctor says.) Then an hour before we are to leave he breathes in some dust particles (or pollen, or pet dander, or perfume) and his lungs have to spend whatever cash he has in his pocket to fight the breathlessness he begins to feel (and, the doctor says, the lung infection that starts right then). Now, he can't manage the walk to the car, let alone into Java J's and standing at a microphone.

Ironically, he cannot save any cash up by resting more. The more exercise he can tolerate, the slightly stronger his lungs will get, but that sounds more hopeful than it really is, because in the doctor's words, "his lungs are rotten," and to the doctor's credit, he lowered his voice to barely be heard when he said, "rotten." I felt the tears coming, but held them back. I looked at Rocky and his eyes were glistening with tears then, too.

So, we came home with some strong meds and some better understanding of the situation. We've made some environmental changes and plan some more. Yesterday, our helper, Jack, and I moved our 4 cats to a lovely apartment in the basement we created for them out of an old extra dog kennel, covered with a tarp and with king-size pillows in the bottom. We filled up a large petfood dispenser with Meow Mix and I purchased one of those new-on-the-market bubbling water dispensers that will keep 1 1/2 gal. of water fresh for them for several days. 
I have another friend who will come twice a week to take care of those chores (I am so lucky to have friends like this, and enough resources to pay them for their gas and trouble.)

There is a cat door to the outside world so the cats are not imprisoned in the basement. In fact, they had instantly used it and all four, including the old Mama, had climbed the poles that support our upsairs Master bedroom deck. They danced at the door for awhile, but as the night grew colder, below freezing, they disappeared. We didn't see them again today until they came up to lie in the sun.

Rocky will miss the cats a lot. He has always called them his "therapy cats," and he cradles them and pays attention to each one every day. I'm not talking about kittens. Three of these are 10 years old, and their Mama is of an undisclosed age since she came stray. I hope to post a short slideshow of them yet today.

Another decision we made is to move ourselves into the guest bedroom so we can tear out the carpet in our bedroom and put down hardwood. Our family room has wood floors, but we have always preferred the warmth of carpet in the bedrooms. Those days are gone, I guess. 

So life goes on--thank God! And we make the necessary changes so we can remain at Castle Yonder.   Mimi

Thursday, February 19, 2009

Memes

Yesterday, I mentioned the concept of "memes." I remember the title of the book I read, The Meme Machine, by Susan Blackmore. If you are interested in exploring more in the realm of memes, you can get an overview by Wikipedia at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/meme. 

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

20/20 Documentary of Feb. 13, "Children Of the Mountains"

Last Fri. evening, Rocky and I watched the 20/20 documentary narrated by Diane Sawyer titled "Children Of the Mountains." We had totally different reactions. Rocky is a native southerner, having been born in Mississippi, spending his childhood in Georgia and Tennessee, and then the next 25 years in Delaware. He reacted to the documentary negatively saying it continued the stereotype of the Appalachian living in poverty and being "hillbillies." He was angry. He is a retired Journalist who believes in presenting both sides of the story. "Children Of the Mountains" clearly presented only one side.

My reaction was that of the social worker. I probably projected myself onto Diane Sawyer who I thought focused not on the Appalachian people but certain children who must powerlessly grow up in appalling circumstances in Appalachia. Sawyer could save herself in many people's eyes (people who are angry about the stereotyping) if she did a series of programs, perhaps on "Children Of the Tenements," "Children Of Salt Lake City," "Children of Casino Communities," "Children Of the Barrio." I thought Sawyer was saying, "Hey, look here, look at how we are abandoning our community's children."

I found it interesting that Rocky, a southerner, and I, a Yankee, had such differing reactions. Later, I talked to my California daughter who reacted just like I did, and then looked at my West Virginia storytelling friend's blog and found a number of comments from people who had reacted just like Rocky did.

As a resident of SW Virginia for the last 27 years, I have never really felt totally at home here.
Often, as soon as I say something, people look at me and say, "You're not from around here are you?" In fact, the manager of our local Office Depot said that very thing to me this week as I shopped for a flash drive that was compatible with my Mac computer. I responded by looking at him quizically, like "why are you asking me that?" He replied without my saying anything, "well most people around here don't use Macs!" I don't want to admit what I was thinking at that moment because I was successful at keeping it to myself! 

My native home is Indiana and it's hard to march in a high school band, and root for the hometown at football and basketball games, and track & field events, and represent the local American Legion at Girls State, and sing "Back Home Again In Indiana" without it remaining in my heart my home. Flat though it may be, Indiana is my true home, the home my parents immigrated to from a very similar geographical area in East Germany early in the 20th century.
Frankly, I wouldn't want to live there again, especially since all my folks are deceased, so I felt forced to adopt a home as I followed Rocky to employment, and that turned out to be Washington County between Abingdon and Bristol, Virginia.

I never lived in the mountains or a hollow until I moved here in 1982. Frankly, I thought I had moved back into the 1950's; it seemed so backward. But it either progressed rapidly or I paused long enough for it to catch up because most of it seems just fine right now. So, whether I talk the right way or not, I've adopted this area as my home. I had lived here 5 years when it happened. I had been visiting my daughter in California, and realized how ugly the landscape there was along the highways, brown dead grass with lots of scattered litter, and a young man waited on me in a store with an artificial booger hanging out of his nose and safety pins in his ears, and the traffic in front of my daughter's home was horrendous. Those images were still fresh in my mind when I arrived home in the middle of an April afternoon. We drove from the airport and when I got out of the car and walked down our terraced rock garden to the house, there was a light snow covering purple and apricot pansies and bright yellow daffodils, and instantly I knew this was now "home." I was glad to be here, and nowhere else.

I now have developed a real fondness and appreciation for this area. Sometimes the native-born delight me and other times (when school principals use bad grammar on television) I'm ashamed. I love the metaphorical poetry of the local language, the humor in the words and the tone of voice, the banjo, mandolin, and autoharp music, and especially the stories. I read a lot of Appalachian authors trying to understand the local perspective of the people. I was the only person in the audience one summer for a Festival showing of a film about the religion of the area, because I didn't understand the noisy religion either. The film explained that the Appalachian wants a "heart-felt experience" when they attend church and that's what the calling out and the speaking in tongues and the scare induced by sermons about hell and damnation are all about. I have depended on the media to educate me as well as my experiences with my social work clients, my neighbors, my professional colleagues, and especially my storytelling group.

In my commentary on Granny Sue's blog, I asked if the reason West Virginians were so outraged by the documentary was because Sawyer focused on a group most affected by poverty that Appalachian really wants to deny? Granny Sue set me right on this--that they do not deny these problems with chemical abuse, but rather that they do not want to be defined in this way only, and Sawyer did not present the other side of the story--all the industrious, healthy, stable people who truly keep their communities functioning.

I have long wanted to write a book, or produce a film, that I would call "The Other Appalachians," based on the lives of the Appalachian professionals I've met in the fields of medicine, law, education, business, and the arts. But I've never pursued this objective since I done't think I have the major credential that one should have to write that sort of book--I'm not Appalachian-born.

Two years ago, or so, I read a book about "memes." The meaning of memes, as I understand and remember it, is expressions of an idea, whether truth or myth, in some verbal way (a catchy tune, an adage, a proverb, a lingering joke, a pun, etc.) that resonates with people and lives on sometimes for years. I believe that the idea that "all Appalachia is beset by poverty" is a meme. Likewise, I believe that the idea that "the Eastern Establishment (or National Media) is out to exploit the Appalachian culture" is also a meme. These ideas lead to a mind-set that feeds into a self-fulfilling prophecy, and a "Us Against Them" philosophy, which is not a very healthy way for individuals, let alone communities and nations, to operate.

That's my soapbox for today. More later!  Mimi






Monday, February 16, 2009

Another Monday

It's a week later and I haven't posted for a week (obviously). Not that I haven't thought about it. In fact, I took pictures of purple finches at the feeders just to post them. So, I'll do that today.

I've been on the computer a lot, but working on our local story group's website. I finally got it on the Internet (bristolstorytellers.org) but since I'd started before Christmas, it had holiday images on it. When I attempted to edit it, I was forced to call for technical help and found that although I still had the file on my desktop, the posted file had been "corrupted," and could not be edited. (As a writer, I find computer language like "corrupted" eerily metaphorical.) This meant that I would have to re-do the file information, so that's what I've been working on.

Complicating all this was the fact that I was running out of memory on my hard disk (that's what had corrupted the web files, the techies told me) so I had to increase memory. I threw away all the software I could spare, then thanks to good friend Molly moved almost all my photos to Flash Drives. Not even that did the trick, so I pulled out the external hard drive my son-in-law had given me for a Christmas gift in 2007 (!) but which had intimidated me so I wasn't using it. I took a deep breath and went step by step and hey! it was easy! Especially when I called on the techies again twice yesterday and once during the week. So by Sat. I was ready to re-work the website and got half of it done. Hope to finish today, but I had to take a break and do something else for awhile. Thus, this post.

I do want to report on the storytelling event I was supposed to take part in on Feb. 5. Remember? The snow and ice kept me isolated for two days. Well, the event (Arts Array program at Virginia Highlands Community College) was highly successful without me. Honestly, I'm not sure I should rejoice or grieve, but practically, I am rejoicing. In spite of the harshly cold evening, between 80 and 100 people came to hear four of my colleagues who are members of our Beaver Creek Storytellers. Reportedly, the storytelling was excellent, the audience entertained and appreciative, and the storytellers made enough money to cover their gas and meals plus change for their pockets. 

Our guild operates differently than many storytelling organizations. We are not incorporated, but we do have some policies just so we stay on the same page. One of which is that if there is any payment involved, or a "gate" from admission charges, after expenses are paid and if our treasury has enough in it for expected annual expenses, then storytellers, musicians if any, and the M.C. divvy up the "take" (except for fundraisers) minus 10 per cent for the BCS treasury. In the case of the Arts Array program, the college paid us $250 which was divided by five storytellers. The M.C. was our member, Paul, who is an employee of the college so he did not get paid by the college. The five storytellers included me, but I didn't tell. So in lieu of the 10% that should have gone to our Treasury, I endorsed my check over to BCS to make it fair. Whew! High finance!

In the beginning, I struggled with this idea of paying the storytellers, because I was used to tellers doing their telling out of the goodness of their hearts for their organization. However, our members did not agree with me, and I finally realized that many of our members, not all but many, cannot spare any money for gasoline, or meals, even coffee that is often involved in doing a gig. So instead of a fat treasury out of which we might buy t-shirts, or select one person (who? who? who? of several who would like to go?) to send to a conference, or record a cd that fewer than 100 people will buy, or put out a fancy brochure, we let our storytellers defray their expenses. The longer I've lived with this policy, the better I like it. 

Well I did not mean to write about Beaver Creek Storytellers, but I wanted you to know that we had a good program on Feb. 5--without my presence! Ironically, I did not get to watch the Westminster Dog Show that night because it wasn't on. I had made a mistake and had to wait a week to see it.

Now for some bird pictures!  Mimi

Monday, February 9, 2009

Monday's Wash Day

Did you learn this song when you were little, like I did?

Today is Monday, Today is Monday,
Monday's wash day, Everybody happy?
Well, I should say!

Today is Tuesday, Today is Tuesday,
Tuesday Ironing, Monday washday
Everybody happy? Well, I should say.

Today is Wednesday, Today is Wednesday,
Wednesday Cleaning, Tuesday Ironing, Monday washday,
Everybody happy? Well, I should say.

Today is Thursday, Today is Thursday,
Thursday baking, (a little faster) Wednesday cleaning, Tuesday ironing, Monday washday,
Everybody happy? Well, I should say.

Today is Friday, Today is Friday,
Friday fiii-sh, (a little faster) Thursday baking, Wednesday cleaning, Tuesday ironing, Monday washday,
Everybody happy? Well, I should say.

Today is Saturday, Today is Saturday,
Saturday shopping, Friday fiii-sh, (faster) Thursday baking, Wednesday cleaning, Tuesday ironing, Monday washday,
Everybody happy? Well, I should say.

(Hushed and reverent voice) Today is Sunday, Today is Sunday,
(very hushed) Sunday church, 
(Louder) Saturday shopping, Friday fiii-sh, Thursday baking, Wednesday cleaning,
Tuesday ironing, Monday washday,
Everybody happy?
(Very loud) Well,   I--- should---saaaaay!!!

Today was the first day I felt like doing some household chores. And laundry was at the top of the list, and somehow this song kept coming into my mind as I transferred clothes from the washer to the dryer to the closet, from the hamper to the washer to the dryer and to the closet, over and over. I did leave some to be done tomorrow. I don't know how two people can have so much laundry! 

It's like trash! How can two people accumulate so much trash?

Note the picture I posted of the rising moon over the knobs that we live in. When I got down the lane to my house, we are so nestled into the hills that even though I looked east, I could see no moon. It was still down behind the knobs surrounding us. Only later, when the sky was velvet black could I see the moon, and indeed it was still silver. (No, I won't begin singing, "By the light of the silvery moon..." at least not right now.)

When I pulled into my carport, I had another opportunity to take a picture. BTW, I have a new Canon Power Shot E1 camera and this was the first time I had been out to take photos. So, here's the subject of my last photo. His name is GreyBoy, Tommy for short.  


Sunday, February 8, 2009

Springlike

I have faith in the daffodils--and here they come! I can see little green shoots just coming through the mulch. They are somewhat later than in recent years past, probably because this winter has been pretty cold so far. However, it was a springlike day today and I went outside this afternoon to clean off the family room deck and replenish bird feeders.

The little slideshow I've posted shows some of the flora and fauna here at Castle Yonder. If you put your cursor over one of the pictures, it will get larger and take you to my Picasa Gallery of Photos. You can look at the pictures one by one, or click on "Slideshow" on the left hand side of the page and see, what else?--a slideshow!

I snapped some photos yesterday, my first day out since I've been recovered from the bronchitis, with my new Canon camera. I haven't put them on the computer yet, but plan to do that tomorrow. Stay tuned!

Saturday, February 7, 2009

How To Become A Fan Of This Blog

Hi! I received 4 e-mails today from friends who had looked at MR@CY but could not figure out how to post a comment or how to become a follower. So perhaps a little instruction here would help. 

To post a comment, look at the end of the current day's posting. You will see the word "Comments" or something similar, along with an image of a pencil. Click on those words and the same page will come up, but at the bottom will be all the comments that have been made. Then you will see a large white space in a rectangle where you can write your comment. When finished, you can click on "Preview" to see what it's going to look like. Or you can click on "Post" or "Publish" I'm not sure now which words are used, but then be patient for a few seconds while your computer posts it. 

To become a fan of MR@CY, on the current blog page, you will see in the right hand column
"Follow This Blog." Click on this and fill out what is needed, be sure to save it (usually a button  somewhere at the bottom of the page). It should return you to the current blog page and if you have selected a photo of yourself on the previous page, you will see a tiny little photo that you submitted under "Followers," and you will notice that the number of followers has gone up by one (YOU!). You are not obligating yourself to anything, but you are letting the world and me know that you are reading my blog. (I always wanted to be the most popular--I never made it in high school, but since I'm in my 2nd childhood now (LOL), I like the idea of having fans ;)

If you're having trouble, send me an email and I'll try to trouble shoot for you.

Thursday, February 5, 2009

Snowbound

Snow--all day yesterday and night before.
Temps- below freezing
Problem: We're snowbound, meaning we can't get off the hill our house is on, and if we were to get off, the hard part, even with a 4-wheel drive truck, is getting back up. This means I won't be able to tell a story tonight as part of an Abingdon, VA Community College's arts series. 

Here's where our physical limitations are changing our lives. In years past, we wouldn't have thought anything of taking shovel, chain saw, boots as preparation for whatever the weather might bring. But no longer. Now we think about running out of breath, a tendency to bronchitis,
weakened muscles. No more "The show must go on," but "The show will have to go on without me."

Sadness and frustration. 

But as my syrupy friend says, "Look on the bright side!" The bright side of this, for me narcissistically, is that "Oh, good, I'll get to watch the Westminster Dog Show!"