on my way to Africa...Again?

So, I am headed off on another adventure, this time to West Africa; Liberia to be exact. Who gets to go to Africa twice in a lifetime? Me! While Liberia is not the country of South Africa wherein the rhinos walk and lions roar, it is a place with much needed care and consideration, one which is often not only not locatable, but forgotten. I head off this time to work in the schools, to help the Liberian teachers give the ability to read to the pupils they care about, but feel unfit to help. I cant help but think of Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs wherein food and shelter are our most basic. When we dont know where our food is coming from, how can we concentrate on the sounds in a word? When our stomachs are rolling and our heads full of lice, how do we worry about the spiritual growth of our children?

And thus, I know I will return to the unknownst gluttony of the United States with both an affinity for my country and thankfulness that I was lucky enough to be born there and an overwhelming sense of guilt: I have too much, I work too hard, I need nothing. It is hard to return home after a trip like I am about to have and conflicting emotions will run through me. In all though, there is never a trip I have regretted, never a memory from a trip I am saddened to have had. Even the bad ones change a person, give them more depth, more understanding and somehow more love.

I wish everyone could have the experiences of seeing those that have so little and love so much, those that have everything and yet feel empty. Trips, such as this one, remind me of the amazing rights I have as an American citizen and of the incredible gifts that my birth in America, to parents who were citizens of a country that enabled them to provide for me everything I needed to be powerful, thoughtful and most important, able to succeed.

Obama just gave a 2 year wait to illegal immigrants who have lived productive lives in the US for over 5 years. I believe that people who want to come to the US shouldnt have to do it as illegals, they should be able to come, to work, to make a better life for themselves and their families. If they work, pay taxes, and lead citizened lives, why shouldnt they be allowed to come here? Why should I guaranteed better/ more rights just because I was lucky enough to be born here? I believe the US believe in the rights of all people: life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness for all. You come here and work, pay taxes and dont engage in crime, you can stay because we want hard workers, people on the up and up, people who contribute to the betterment of society. The label of "illegal" is the problem. It causes people to hide, be paid in cash, scared to pay taxes, go to school, buy a house If we decriminalized it, welcoming those who contributed positively, I believe it would all change.

People need to help others, to recognize that being an American gives them unalienable rights, and with those rights comes big responsibilities. I am off on one of my American responsibilities: Help others with the knowledge you have. This time, it isnt at my college or at a conference for educators. It is in the wetlands of Western Africa, where the people want the best for their children and their children's futures, but were born into a country where there is very little chance for the pursuit of happiness, liberty and possibly life.

My Man

So, I have shied away from my blog since my grandma's death. Something about writing my thoughts made me cringe, as if the last time I sat blogging it was at her bedside and it seemed too much to think about. But, she isnt coming back in person and most of you who know me know that I would want her to zombie or to haunt me. My thoughts of her plague me enough. As her life ended and all of the wonderful stories she used to regale me with about living in Chicago, Houston, Missouri (pronounced Mousura for her), WWII, Gpa, the Richtones, her dogs, and her life in general, I came to understand something really important: her life was about her family. Now, I dont just mean blood family, but those in our lives that choose to be a part of it for whatever reason and weather the good, the bad, and the worst and hang in there. I decided I was going to be more conscious of mine, especially mine in San Antonio where I currently reside.

So, I decided to start dating again. Now, let me get this straight, I hate dating. I feel like each person sends their representative to the table and after months, one realizes this other person isnt who you thought he was. Im sure that goes both ways, I too am not what they thought. So, I decided I would go out and be myself, mouthy, know-it all, fun-loving, adventuresome, wholesome, loving, pensive self. And, I met a man named Wayne.

Wayne is a fun-loving man who loves to travel and even in the 7 months I have been dating him has been to Ireland albeit for 4 days! He is a warehouse manager for the Energy Company and while he makes no money he loves his job. It has tested my belief that "I just need someone who loves his work and goes to it everyday" line item. He loves his job but works hourly and the lack of funds does bother me. I think it isnt so much that he makes nothing, but that he makes nothing and is fine with it, that his goals dont go further than the warehouse cause he likes it there. So, I have been trying to manage my thoughts about it. He is right when he says he has had higher paid work that he hated and would rather be paid squat to do something he likes. I cant tell though if it is truly that he loves it or if he thinks he cant find something else. Anyway, he loves to eat out (my personal favorite) and loves movies. In fact, he is a move know-it-all. So, we have seen some good ones this summer as I am off work. I do like going to movies but hardly have in my life. I know nothing about pop culture and movies. So, I am learning some here and there. He seems to genuinely care about me though, yet doesnt suffocate me, nor make me feel bad when I have to work. Much discussion has occurred concerning the amount of work I do, most of it from his end assuring me it is okay. I still feel like it isnt. Thus, I have been making a conscious effort to balance with him and work some better. This last month as summer came on I saw him 18/31 days so that is good. The biggest issue for me is that when we are together we talk so well and time leaves us. Soon, a dinner that was supposed to be an hour or hour.5 is 4 hours. He loves my dogs and even kept the crazy Zoey over night last week while I went to Austin to have dinner with Diane and shop for shoes with Loretta. He took her to Starbucks and to McDonalds and bought her her own chicken sandwich. The way to a schoodle's heart is through her stomach...ok, whose kidding, my heart too. He cooks (and actually, I have yet to cook for him cause he actually likes to cook!). He is good man I think and I feel lucky to know him.

Chicago

After coming back from Vancouver (AERA) and recovering just barely 4 days, I headed to Chicago for the International Reading Conference. I was going to be staying with my dear friend Janne and visiting a city I have never seen, but heard SO much about. My back ended up givng out and I had to come home early, but the one day I spent in the city was fantastic! We saw The Chicago Museum of Art which is currently my favorite museum in the world and much more!

Vancouver

Went, had a great time at Granville Market, eating mussels with Diane and Jody and talking school with Marva, Patricia, and Caroline, visiting the Capilano Suspension Bridge and walking blisters on the bottom of my feet! It was grand! Then, to save some cash, Jody and I took the train to Seattle and had more amazing fun with ourselves and Sunny (who came in from Korea) in Pike's Market, Fluevog, and in the rain. Joyous times at the end of the semester! Screw work!

Willow

With the passing of Gma, one of things that had to be discussed was Willow, her sweet terrier companion and steadfast friend. But, there wasnt much discussion because my best friend Loretta, who had been keeping her since mid August stepped up and said, "You know, I just knew I was going to end up with her and I want to keep her." So, there it was. Willow would be an Austin dog (lucky thing). In the last days of Gma's life much was said about Willow. Grandma asked about her several times a day, "What is Willow doing," "Tell me about Willow in Austin," and "Call Loretta and ask about Willow" was commonplace. Grandma had taken on Willow after Gpa's death as the last connection to him. Gma was worried what would happen to Willow and wanted money to be left for her care. As such, a trust fund was set up and even my horrible Aunt agreed. So, LoLo is now a trust fund baby.

12 year old Willow now has a new lease on life. She acts like a puppy, jumping around for walks and dinner, jumping on the couch and snuggling next to Loretta. She wears a thunder-shirt when it rains and is held by Loretta to ease the leftover fears. She goes to work at WaterLoo Counseling Center where Loretta is the Executive Director about 2X a week. She even has an office chair and a sign in. She does races (as per the picture) and had dog friends who she says hi to on walks. She eats frozen green beans as treats and snores. She is such a blessing to Loretta and I, but specifically to Loretta who got the chance to have a dog, a GOOD dog, who absolutely adores her. Dont get me wrong, she still loves her GiGi, but she is a Loretta dog now.

I feel so lucky to have a friend like Loretta who so willingly took on the task. My whole family is thankful, but most of all, I think Willow is.

Holidays

Good friends were here and there, but grandma wasnt. I noticed. I really, really noticed. Ally, Jason, Ace, Sylvie and Athen were sweet and Leia, Brian, Nessa, Aiddean, and Brandon were so welcoming and fun. Loretta was understanding and loving. It was fine, but well, I missed my grandparents. I missed waking up and calling them to drive over to my parents house. Then my brother and dad would fight and I would get my feelings hurt and we would all eat breakfast. Tradition died this Christmas, with the choice of me not to go to Dallas and for Dallas to move on without me there. New traditions for everyone, I guess.

But now, after visiting Dallas for the last couple days and going to grandma's house yesterday, I get it, she is gone. Forever. And today, when I got in the car (which was packed with things from her house) to drive back to my home in San Antonio, the whole car smelled of her, of her life. I miss her. I miss her, I miss her!

Willow, grandma's dog, told a friend of Loretta that she was happy because grandma and grandpa were with her all the time now. Willow has been living with myself and Loretta since early June, way before grandma's death. I wish I could feel that way too. I know she is with me, but I need her on Earth with me. Oh, to understand how energy works in the world of a dog or an enlightened person.

Stress isn't good for you!

But, it is prevalent in our lives, or my life anyway. Why is that? If it is chronic, then could it be that we/I am the one causing it? That due to the faults I have, the tragic flaws inherent in me/us, we dictate the emergence of stress?

Im stressed about work, I dont really like my job and it feels there is no end in sight. The hours roll on like a semi, with me either overwhelmed and consumed with things that in no way benefit me (example grading and editing students' papers), or drag on and on virtually not moving with boredom and ennui avast. How can that be? How can it be that I am bored and have so much to do all at the same time? So, while I need to be working towards tenure because without it, I will lose my job, I have no time to work on my writing. Okay, I probably have time (between like midnight at 8:30am), but I dont wanna. I dont wanna work on my writing. I hate writing. It makes me feel inadequate.

I heard yesterday that two of my friends did not get tenure at A&M-San Antonio. Both have been there since its inception. The people on their committee felt they "didnt have enough publications in their field" and "didnt give enough service." They have given a ton of service, way more than me, and as for publications, their articles are in education and they are in education so how is that outta their field? Im confused. Both of these people really wanted their tenure; they imagine themselves at A&MSA for the long haul. What is to become of someone like me who doesnt see themselves here for the long haul, but needs to job until I see what my next life step is? Someone who at the same time needs tenure to keep her job, doesnt give a shit about her job? Dont get me wrong, there are a few things I like about my job. Just overall, I could walk away tomorrow and not really miss it. Sometimes I dream about working at Target, if that tells you anything.

So, stress. My job is stressful, my dogs are stressful. I love them and they are stressful. I need a dog walker because Zoey is ADHD and on the days I work, I am gone a long time. It's not that she would have an accident inside, but instead that she wont sleep if I come home and she has been inside all day, even with a good night walk. She is hyper and no one really wants to keep her when I travel, stress. Then Charlie- his bum leg has cost me $4,000 and whether or not spending that was a good call, it was spent. Now, it is lame again and he needs surgery to either try and refix it again or take it off. The decision is hard concerning what to do. He uses the leg and has feeling in it, but it is so expensive to refix again with the possibility of it not working. Both cost about $1,000. What to do?

Then, my house on West Kings. It is the cutest house--that I dont want. Why dont I want it you ask, because it costs so damn much of my paycheck to live there. House poor they call it. Some people moved in to the house 2 years ago and were planning on buying it. It was all set and now, they are pulling out of the deal. Im stuck trying to sell it again. Stress balls.

So, my 13 year old Honda Civic is on the fritz- so I bought a little Toyota Rav4 from my friend Diane. Ive had it about a week and the MaitReQ light came on. The manual says it comes on for an oil change, but it still has over 1,000 miles to go on the current one, according to the sticker. What the hell is that bullshit? Now, regardless of the fact that it is prolly something little like when they did the last oil change, they forgot to reset the light, I have to make time to take it somewhere and run a diagnosis.

I miss my grandma. I miss her all the time, I think of her everyday and I am not sure what to do with the angst that I do have because she isnt there to listen to it and make it better. She was my rock-the one who loved me and listened to me and made me believe she understood, no matter what, everyday as needed. There isnt anyone like that now. No one. My tears roll every time I say her name or think about her, which is all the time, especially when Im in the car when I would have been having a session with her. In addition, I have come to the realization that without a family, I will die alone in a hospital bed, like so many others, a sea of nurses who poke your body and care nothing about your soul. That's depressing.

Lastly, I am once again struggling with a spiraling depression-like angst wherein I feel lost about what to do. It is very generalized angst. Im just not happy, with my life (job, living situation, car, animals, family). It feels yucky and I cant see how to fix it. I could look for a new job at another university, but why? It's the same job, different place and people. I could move back in to my house, but I dont want to have to pay so much. I could give Diane back her car, but I need one. I could find a new home for my animals, but I would miss them too much. I miss my grandma and there isnt anything to do about that.

Sometimes I imagine running away--but even that needs planning.

I dont know how

to not have my grandma. I dont. Every time I see a picture (there are 6 in my house alone) I imagine her in her house in Carrollton. But, she isnt there and then, I feel this gut-wrenching sadness, deep in the pit of my stomach. How can this have happened so fast? How come I wasn't prepared for this? How come death is so hard for me? How can it be so final?

Fifteen things I miss already

15. Her calling me Jen-Jen and GG
14. Love you more
13. Coca-Cola, especially her open one in the fridge
12. Her never-ending Mt. St. Helen's reading list
11. All the cards and letters she wrote while claiming to never write cards nor letters
10. Imagining her drinking a cappuchino and eating a donut everyday
9. Spending the night at her house and watching TV lounging on her arm
8. Splitting dinner with her every time we'd go out
7. Ability to talk to her for hours (and of course, everyday calls on the way to work)
6. Scrabble games
5. Her unending quest to cure me of my skin ailments
4. Her unending ability to make me feel better
3. Dropping to my knees to hug her in her reading chair
2. Having someone who genuinely cared to have me around as much as possible
1. Feeling unconditionally loved

Even as I wrote those 15, there are so many more, so many little ones, so many deep ones. 35 years with someone. The angst in my head is overwhelming. People keep telling me, "She lived a long life." Very true, but she wasnt done. Her body told us that as it just wouldn't go, wouldn't stop. It fought and fought. It doesnt matter now though, her "not time", became her time. And no comment about the length of her life or my luck in having her around so long makes me feel better. Actually, it makes it worse. I knew her longer, better, with all of the knowings of a child growing up with a daily role model who was loving, smart, caring, sincere, and whom adored you with all they are. Only those who have had that and lost it can understand how absolutely terrifying and disparate it is. Most children grow up and leave their parents, some with a quick step and others more laden, but I never left. From the day I was born she loved me and when she looked at me as I sat in that hospital day after day feeding and sitting with her, she told me again and again in her eyes how much. I will never be the same.

My Grandma, Helen Edith Palmer Cooper

left the Earthly world on October 6 at 93 years old, 35 of those years spent with me. I came to Dallas thinking I would be there 3 days, until she got the medication going for the respiratory infection. Instead, I spent 12 days with her, lifting her oxygen mask just enough for her cappuchino or milkshake, caramel apple slices, or hot fudge sundae. I sat with her for hours, talking about everything and nothing, watching TV with her, painting her toes and holding her hand, hoping with all I am that she would get better despite the specialists showing me x-rays and displaying no hope. I cried, and repeated over and over and over that I loved her and it wasn't her time. But, in the end, I watched her get mass amounts of morphine and anxiety medication, watched her not get enough air to breathe. I watched the person I loved most in this world suffocate, unable to get a breath, longing for my Gpa and her best friends Brownie and Sue, long passed. It is them in the picture.

And now, I am changed. Heavy and laden.

I feel broken and lost, as if there is a giant hole in my heart that is eternal. She loved me and I felt loved. That sentence says it all. There are so many people in one's life who you are said to love and who say they love you, but very few actually live the part, love unconditionally, with the intent of the entire being. My grandma gave me that. She was always happy to see me, hear me, and to be a part of my life. She was the most understanding and wisest person I know. She was my heart and I am broken.

In the last year I have lost 2 of my most vigilant fans, my most ardent followers. I have lost the ones who held my heart safe, protected it and loved it, loved me for nothing more than I am, but more than I am. Mitzie Mouse and Grandma made me a better person. They loved me and I them.

The following song was sung by a dear family friend at Gma's funeral (which I didnt attend). BJ told my mom that Gma requested it after it was sung at my Gpa's funeral. So, I am attaching it. I do know that all was well in my Gma's soul as she was a charasmatic light in the world and will be missed eternally.

Sitting with Grandma

Yesterday we got the worst news ever. After battling pneumonia for the last 3 weeks (she got it after her fall), Gma's lungs are almost completely filled with infultrates and her prognosis is grave. I personally saw her xrays with her lung specialist. Made her feel sad to show me, I could tell she knew what I was seeing and understood what we were up against. She gave Gma maybe 2 weeks unless there is a dramatic change. Made me cry all night off and on and when I saw her this morning, I just wept. I cant even describe the depth of my sadness, nor my fear for my family should she leave us, which unless there is a miracle, she will. Even my dad was at the hospital today. And I, well, I feel like I need to be there. I dont want to see it, but I want her to know that someone is there with her always, that she is loved so much, and that when she struggles to breathe and I lay a hand on her head or her hand, I think she remembers. As an asthmatic myself though, watching someone suffocate is so scary. Gma is so scared too. I can see it in her eyes. She is petrified of not being able to catch her breath, that feeling of being underwater wherein you wonder if you will make it to the surface in time. I dont wish that on her. One thing about going in a catastrophe and acute issue is it is quick.

As I sit here at 1am alone in the room with her, her body twitches and all I find myself doing as her leg moves or her hand begins to sew in her sleep, is watch the O2 and BP stats to make sure she is staying in the 90%. Then I can return to my computer to work.

People try to say the right things, you know. The one that is getting me right now is, "You are so lucky to have had her so long!" Yes, I am and no Im not. I mean, if I didnt really know her, like was true of my paternal grandparents, the pain wouldnt be so bad. So, yeah-Im lucky, but the pain is much, much more intense. I feel like I am losing the one person who loved me for being me, for just who I am. Grandparents are wonderful that way and now, I am possibly going to not have any.

What's New?

Well, days continue to roll on, continue to move at the speed of light and at the pace of a snail. Life is such an oxymoron.

Im teaching 6 courses right now, 2 sections of an undergraduate assessment and remediation course, a graduate assessment and remediation course, a graduate theories and processes of reading course, an adolescent development course and a course full of independent studies. I think I made about 20 syllabi and am meeting students until the cows come home. BUT, hopefully I will be able to pay off my loans this semester and start saving for a car.

The biggest news is that grandma fell and broke her back about 3 weeks ago. The saddest thing ever. The worst thing was I was there when she fell and we just hoisted her up and she walked around for a couple days before it became clear she wasn't okay. After several back surgeries in her life, this newfound break is really not good, not even counting the fact that she is 94. She has been on her back for over a week now and has developed fluid around her lungs, prolly from laying down all the time. Im so scared that I am about to lose my favorite person in the world. Grandpa, Mitzie, and now Grandma, my favoritist people in the whole world are leaving me one by one. Im going up there on Friday after my mandatory meetings.

I'm trying to remember, I'm trying.

Most of the time, nothing is ever as big a deal as it seems right now. Death is a big deal, irreversible, and obviously life-altering, but other than that, it really isn't as big of a deal as you think it is.

We all have heard of people who through the truly most life-altering of times, full family deaths, loss of limbs, mobility, cancer, and other seemingly huge deals, come to find out that while the next breath is difficult, after many, the angst begins to fade and the perseverance and tenacity that is our life on Earth carries on.

So, don't sweat the small stuff, and really, dont sweat the seemingly big stuff. All fades and ebbs. Over time, our stories become triumphant, living, changing. That horrible experience with the boyfriend in high school becomes insight, the death of a loved one, a lesson in love. We tell ourselves there are reasons, and maybe there are. But, regardless, big stuff becomes small, small becomes big, and then small. The recursive spirit of hope, breath, and ultimately of life.

So, remember, dont sweat the small stuff and most is small. Keep calm and carry on for it is in the next breath that it becomes easier to breathe.

Going to the Zoo?

Those that know me know that I do not do zoos. I dont like animals caged, often in extreme heat, on display for sitckey, popcicled youg-ins. The animals even look miserable. I would be. Someday we will be the ones behind bars and weird aliens will be looking at us, "Look at the blonde one," and, "That one is fat," and, "Look, that one is brushing her teeth!" Anyways, last Saturday I went with a friend of mine to a "zoo" in Johnson City. I say its a zoo, but it more like a sanctuary as the animals they have were given to them. As such, they really dont have many exotics (A pair of lemurs, couple of zebra and a camel or two). But, the amazing thing about this place is that visitors get to ride on a trailer and feed the animals, pet them, and have them, well accost you. It was awesome. I pet a zebra and a camel, had goats and llamas bowl me over for my feed bucket, feed and pet a buffalo, a camel, and various other creatures.

Mentors

My thoughts after reading Ken Robinson's, The Element (2009):
Guidance from others is such an important part of knowing what you want to be, inhabiting the space between passion and aptitude wherein our full potential resides. Or, so I think. I believe that having someone to guide us, to give us aid when we need it most is vastly important for it is often that they see something in us that we ourselves do not see. Good mentors raise a person's self-esteem, make them feel that they are worthy and wanted, smart and able. Or, at least good mentors do that. They recognize what nurturing could do for a person, seeing a light inside that reminds them of someone successful, something more than is there now, can tell that with nurturing something spectacular would blossom. They fan the flames of interest into a genuine passion--I see it as exalted work.
So, according to Ken, there are four roles of mentors: 1) recognition-Mentors must recognize a spark and fan it to flame; 2) encouragement-Mentors believe we can do things that might seem impossible without them. They dont let someone succumb to self-doubt for too long and guide our hand, pushing and pulling as is needed; 3) facilitating-Mentors provide strategies and advice and even paving he way for us; 4) stretching-Effective mentors dont allow us to sit idle, to be less than we can be and are able to remind us that we are put on this Earth to push boundries, our own and others'.
Effective mentors are able to push and pull, nudge and remind, find power within us which helps to fuel their power as well. These people inspire us and lead us to marvel at what we have done. They share in our successes as if their own. They open our eyes to possibilities that inspire us. They drive us to follow their examples, moving us to take on roles and then supporting us in our pursuit of the goals. Mentors show us the next steps and help us to take them. While I imagine myself to be a mentor of others, most specifically the preservice teachers I work with , I wonder if I realize the power I have to inspire them or to deny them helpful signposts to success. Do I even know what it means to be successful? What does it mean to be successful anyway? Where is my mentor at this stage in my life? Do I have one?