Lessons Learned by a Suburban Housewife on the Power of Unity: The Auroville and Sarvodaya Shramadana Experience

This is a re-post of something I wrote 9 years ago that never found a home. I dug it out after reading the NY Times yesterday about the partisan squabbling over the bailout bill. The behavior of our elected officials depresses me, particularly now in this time of crisis.

I think we need some unity at this juncture of our history in the United States. But, frankly, who is here to teach us? And more importantly, who would follow? I was hoping that Obama could work his magic on the lot of them, but it doesn't appear that that is going to be the case. At least not yet.....



The lotus flower: A Symbol of Wisdom

I confess. I am a suburban housewife.

Me drinking from a coconut on the road to enlightenment

This is an embarrassing admission to make to the group of people that I traveled with to Southern India and Sri Lanka. Many of them do poverty work and fight for social justice. Some of them live on intentional, sustainable communities. Many of them have given up money to work for a cause close to their hearts. They certainly do not live like I do, driving a mini-van and raising kids in a neighborhood of upper-middle-class homes, with green lawns, on cul-de-sacs, near and next to people much like us, down the main road from a large University which is my husband’s employer.

I live in a neighborhood like many others in this country. But is it a community? Considering the lack of time I spend in connection with my neighbors, I think not. And if it isn’t a community, what does it take to create one? Do community members have to spend a certain minimum amount of time together? Do communities have to be made up of people who are all alike? Do they need to be composed of people who are motivated to cooperate, grow and change? Do the inhabitants have to possess a certain minimum amount of resources? Or are resources an impediment to social cohesion and solidarity? And where does the idea of sustainability fit in? Is there a prescription that can be followed as to how “community” can be created? And if so, can I apply it to my white-bread neighborhood, where many of us do not even know each other’s names?

These are some of the questions I sought to answer as I participated in a Kellogg Foundation grant to study “community, spirituality, and sustainability” at the Sarvodaya Shramadana Movement, a development organization in Sri Lanka, and in Auroville, an intentional, international community in India.

Upon close inspection, Sarvodaya and Auroville appear radically different. Sarvodaya is an organization and a movement; Auroville is a group of settlements. Sarvodaya develops community with participants that have little choice as to where they live; Auroville creates communities with people who can choose to move to a land far away. Auroville has created a community where many of its inhabitants have accumulated a measure of wealth; Sarvodaya advocates a society without affluence. Sarvodaya is based in tradition; Auroville prides itself on creating a new culture. Sarvodaya is based in a traditional religion; Auroville flourishes in the midst of a new brand of religious (SPIRITUAL?) anarchy.

But for all their differences, both Sarvodaya and Auroville start from the same transcendent vision. Either through Gandhian philosophy and Buddhism or through the teachings of Sri Aurobindo and the Mother, they seek to realize the dream of human unity for all. Think about this for a minute. Both groups either attract or actually develop people who come to understand that we are all “one.” This has deep and permanent consequences. Simply put, people change from being "I" centered to "other" centered. This revolutionary germ of a concept spreads miraculously among those who are introduced to it, transforming them into advocates for harmony within the human, animal and natural environment in which we all live. Through this one simple but powerful idea, I have seen equality; empowerment and awakening take root. The result is an attempt to create a world that is heaven on earth, based in community, spirituality and sustainability.

Did I learn this in church as I was growing up through the teachings of Jesus? I surely could have, but I didn’t.

It took this trip for me to actually see the power of what I can only call “oneness.” When this concept takes root, you can no longer ignore an ailing neighbor, nor can you walk by a person on the street who doesn’t have food or shelter. And you can no longer harm the environment for temporary gains that will destroy the land’s ability to support your children and grandchildren. You become a servant for the human community. Some folks might even become saints or revolutionaries.

Now, does this mean that Auroville or the Sarvodayan villages are perfect manifestations of this ideal of oneness? I can unequivocally say “no” to that. In fact, in many ways, the problems of all of these communities mirror those of the society that we come from. The difference is, they are trying to strive for human unity. I don't see much of that where I come from, and I find that good and inspiring for my soul to see.

If I truly want to live a life in pursuit of community, sustainability and spirituality, what does this mean for my life in suburbia? Is it hopeless for me to look for like-minded people in my neighborhood? Do I have to move to Sri Lanka or to Auroville to find people striving for the good of someone other themselves? Does that mean that a Dr. Ariyaratne, a Mahatma Gandhi or a Sri Aurobindo need settle in my neighborhood so that it can be transformed as I’ve seen communities transformed in India and Sri Lanka?

After a lot of thinking about these questions, I can unequivocally say, “no.” What I think is essential is the simple power of the concept of unity. The concept is so powerful, so transcendent, and has transformed these spiritual teachers so completely that they don’t need to be physically present to teach us the good news. I think that any of us can light the spark that starts the revolution toward a community of unity or oneness in our neighborhoods. Even a suburban housewife. The spark will spread.

We only need begin.
__________________________________

I posted this on my blog at Open Salon, a place that has been very nurturing to me of late in my writing efforts. Thanks to one member (Critical Mess) and the People that Read Open Salon articles for making this one of the People's Picks (No Pans) 2/7/09. Even at OS, which I think of as a very legitimate platform for thinking writers, it is an effort to get noticed if you aren't writing about the popular culture or about something that can be sensationalized. I think that the focus on disharmony and/or controversy is one of the things that keeps energy from flowing to the right and righteous, and maybe has something to do with the mess in which we find ourselves.

25 Random Things About Me

This originated from a facebook invitation, which copied an Open Salon invitation, to write 25 random things about yourself. These aren't exactly, 'random,' like "I love peanut butter and ice cream" (which I do) 'random.' They are 'random' as in, today, these things rise to the top of my head as important things in my life, 'random.' This feels more narcissistic than most posts. But, what's a a little narcissism among friends?

What are your 25?

Anyway, for what it's worth, here's my shot at it:


25 Random things about me:

1. Family is everything to me. I delight in being a daughter, wife, mother, sister, aunt, cousin, daughter-in-law, sister-in-law and a near-mother-in-law.

2. Being adopted was my fate. I was blessed to find Darlene and Lowell and their wonderful Scotch, Irish and German, and Swedish families. I am partial to the crazy Swedish branch (here and in Sweden).

I heart holidays

3. Adopting Daniel and having James were two of the most important events and adventures of my life. I couldn’t live without them. They don’t follow the rules but neither did their father or I.

4. My friends are like family, particularly because growing up I was an only child and ‘built family’ through my friends. I plan on retiring with some of them (Deb). Two of them (Rob A. and Susan) allowed me travel adventures I could not have experienced without them. I cherish one of them (Lisa) that lives behind me. One is now in Portland and working for a demography center (Gu). One I met at the Baton Rouge, YMCA at our children's swimming lessons (Jerri). One took care of my children in State College, PA (Bernie). One was my mentor in Human Ecology (Lyn). One I grew to know after her husband died (Kimberly). There are so many more.

5. I met my full-brother 15 years ago after we both grew up as only children in the Northwestern United States, two states apart. Rich and I lived literally blocks from where he and my birthmother lived in Ballard, Washington. My brother was a gift.

6. I am ½ Greek and ½ Norwegian although I look totally Scandinavian (pale as all get out).

I always had my own tree. T'was the beginning of the 15 boxes of decorations we now own.

7. I was an AFS exchange student in Tres Rios, Costa Rica when I was a junior in high school, which started my travel lust. I recommend international travel or residency to nearly everyone, including my children. In this, and in many other ways, my children are so unlike me. They barely want to leave the state.

8. On Christmas Day in 1981 I was taught how to weave on a back-strap loom from an indigenous woman named Rosa on an Island across from Lake Titicaca in Guatemala. I can remember thinking, “this will be the coolest thing I’ll ever do.” Fortunately, that has not been the case, but it was one of the coolest…

9. I met my husband, a Peace Corps Volunteer on a bus destined for Cahuita, Costa Rica in the fall of 1981. The bus broke down and we met again near the white and black sand beaches of Puerto Viejo two days later. He visited me again in the summer of 1982 in Portland, Oregon. We got married in April of 1983 at the Orangetown Courthouse, in NY. At the time of our wedding we had spent roughly 6 months with each other.

10. Rich and I were married twice but not divorced in between-- once in April of 1983 and again in October of 1983. The second was less traumatic than the first. Marrying him was the smartest thing I’ve ever done. He is truly my life partner. Thank God I listened to my intuition and heart.

11. Meeting the people of Nature’s Spirit in 1999 while working on a Kellogg grant studying community, spirituality and sustainability was one of the fortuitous events of my life (XOXO Elisa, Ricks, Charlie, Kathy, Carolyn, Francisco). I finally got to visit Dr. Ariyaratne and Sarvodaya, an organization that gives my life hope and meaning, and I was introduced to Auroville, Vérité, Village Action and Bhavana Dee, more reasons for hope in this life time. I need it-- “hope” that is.

12. On New Year’s Day in 2000, I spent the day with a channeling Buddhist Monk in Anuradhapura, Sri Lanka and learned about my and Sri Lanka’s destiny.

Here I am with our first boat, Nena I (my father named it after me). I love the water and smell of a sputtering 35 hp engine. The dreams I have not realized are owning a boat and living on the water.

13. My favorite books and writers are all based in the spirit or on religion. However, a requirement appears to be that the authors are about ready to leave their religion, or at least that they’re irreverent. I think this speaks volumes about my relationship to religion but not to my relationship with God. I am a converted Catholic that thinks like a Buddhist, and has a soft spot for Hinduism and Judaism, and Sufism.

14. My grandson Kellan has been a shining light in my life, and is the sweetest soul I know (other than his mother, Brandi, and my cousin Carrie). He re-taught me what I already knew, that what is best for you cannot be planned.

15. My mother has made my favorite cookies (white, puff, cookies that melt in your mouth), her spicy pumpkin pie, her creamy cranberry salad, and my Aunt Lucy’s ham sauce for me for the last 45 years of my life, mostly on Thanksgiving and Christmas. She made me cook, travel and learn to ski and swim – all of which I now love-- and is probably the person closest to me alive.

16. I have been lucky in love and have been loved well by the men in my life. I owe this to my father’s love in the first instance, I think.

17. I love to travel, cook, read, write, dance and laugh.

18. I am a loud speaker and laugher, and all my life people have been telling me to “shhhh.”

19. I like my animals often better than people, and have a hard time living a content life without them. I grieve hard when they die.

20. Moving to Louisiana was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but it has forged and defined me and my life. You’d have to drag me out of here.

21. Although I was trained as a gerontologist, I feel blessed to have found work on the other end of the life span, helping children avoid truancy and delinquent behavior, and working in an office with an eclectic band of social worker types (the closest people I’ve found in Louisiana that I can call ‘my people’).

22. Meeting Rich’s Jewish family and relatives was like “coming home.” I’ve never experienced such a feeling of belonging in my life. They make me crazy but I wouldn't have missed them for the world.

23. I like television and am addicted to American Idol, So you Think you can Dance, this season of The Bachelor and Ghost Whisperer.

24. I love weddings and funerals, both are celebrations when they are done right. Both make me sob, sleep and feel content.

25. I have a phobic aversion to the telephone, and it gets me into trouble. Rich and I fight over who has to answer it. This is related to my tendency toward hermetic behavior.

Did I mention that I do not like my picture taken? Nearly always though, at about a year later I think, "that's the best picture anyone ever took of me!" So, you can imagine that I love these pictures, most taken about 40 some years ago.

Senior Retreat Letter to James

Daniel & James in the Jacuzzi Outer Banks, NC

(Sweaty) James trying to hug his Dad after a Cross Country Run

James in Scrubs (after the NLYF in Medicine Conference) Hugging his Mom

James and Daniel with Grammy

James, Cousin Steven and a Jelly Fish

James (3) at his YMCA Swim Lesson

James with newborn Kellan

James with "Jasmine" at Disney World Summer After 8th Grade

Now that James has had his Senior Year Retreat and opened the letters from his family I can share a portion of the one I wrote to him. Even though, I'm sure my sons appreciate these letters, I'm afraid that they will lose them!

It's my job to chronicle. So, here they are (the prior post was my letter to Daniel in 2003). And although it might seem that in comparison James needs much more guidance than Daniel (due to the length of this letter), I can say with confidence that this is not the case. They are/were pretty similar in their behavior and development at this stage. I've also dug up some of my favorite pictures of James in the last few years. Above are the pics. Below is the letter.

"Dear James;

This is your mother writing: The woman who bore you and who has been your greatest fan, and in the last year or so, I’m afraid, the person who has been your greatest critic. We have been lucky, you and I, in that we have now, and really always have had a very special relationship. I don’t know many mothers that have the kind of relationship with their children that I have with you. I can’t imagine what life would have been like without you. What a loss that would have been for me!

You have been one of the bright lights of my life.

I thought that maybe I ruined our special relationship when I left you for 3 months to go to Sri Lanka and India when you were a youngster, and also when I went to Duke University for two years, nearly 5 years ago. But, you have stuck by me through thick and thin, even though I haven’t been the perfect parent. (Maybe the greatest good that will come out of those absences will be that you’ll realize that ‘mothers’ and ‘wives’ have dreams too. Your future wife will appreciate me for those forays much more than you have or will.)

As you have stuck by me, I have stuck by you. I have stayed with you through your travails in life. Lately, this has meant: Sleepless nights, multiple phone calls, signing up for and learning how to text message, incredible frustration, and nail-biting worry. It’s a wonder that parents don’t stroke-out from the whole experience of raising teenage children. But, you know what? It’s taught me some great lessons, the most notable of which is surrender. A great gift.

Growing up is so painful, not only for the person doing it (you) but for the parent watching it. However, these difficult times have begun to bear fruit: I have seen such growth in you in the last 6 months or so. You have found your balance, have been moderate in your behavior, and have direction. You’re a great friend, a wonderful uncle and brother, and a very special son. Please, keep going. Don’t sell yourself short. You, more than most people, have the potential to have an extraordinary life.

What I want you to know is that mistakes and pain are often the precursors to great growth.If you’re like your mother, you will go through such growing-pains again, probably often throughout your life. Your job is to find the lesson from these experiences, grow and improve. In the process, try not to hurt the people you love. It’s not their fault.

This letter is supposed to be sage wisdom and a recounting of the special times in your life. So first the wise advice: If I wasn’t going to be around for the next 18 years, here are a few of the things that I would want you to remember:

As your Grandfather Marvin always said, "moderation in all things."

As Grammy says,“I never promised you it would be easy.” And as your mother says,“it won’t be."

On the really big decisions, pause before you act. Look before you leap. But then follow your gut.

Stay close to God in all things, in whatever religion you choose, or not.

I’ve learned over the last 50 years not to follow a 5 or 10 year plan: Have direction but then follow the opportunities that God presents to you.

A person’s kindness and ability to love is more impressive than the depth of their intellect or the amount of money, possessions or power they have.

Appreciate what you have. The grass is not always greener.

Most important things can not be measured in dollars.

Looks are not the most important thing, which is related to another truth which is "Looks can be deceiving."

There is no substitute for spending time with your children and spouse. You can never recoup that time.

Don’t let familiarity take the joy and surprise out of your relationships. Don’t be cranky or pick on the people you love. Be creative in your relationships.

Be gentle with your family and people you know. People are fragile.

Often the best first course of action is to listen and shut up.

Learn from all people, regardless of their educational level or level of income. There are a lot of idiots and evil people with degrees and money.

See the magic in everyday things. Know you aren't the center of the universe. Find the humor in the absurd. Decide to be happy.

If you make a mistake, say you’re sorry. Reverse course if necessary.

Talk and stay close to your parents.

Stay close to your brother. You need each other. Believe me.

A partner is a man’s best asset. Men don’t belong alone. They need female energy.

Don’t pick a spouse who is tortured or who you have to ‘fix,” even if she is the most interesting and sexy thing around.

Don’t forget that you were named after my father. He was a great man, even though during his later years you may not have known that.

Finally, I want to close this letter with snippets of things I remember from your life, that I will cherish always.

You hopping on one foot on a chair reciting the names to 1000 dinosaurs in our State College basement when you were 18 months old.

Making colored cake frosting with dye made out of beets, because you were on a “no artificial color or flavor diet.” And you never complained.

Reading books, any books and you saying, “More!”

You running after me wanting “breasting” at 3 years old!

You and Daniel rolling like a couple of squirrels on the floor and me wondering whether you were going to maim or kill yourselves doing it. And I couldn’t make you stop!

As a young child, you telling me that although my trip to Sri Lanka would be very hard for you, you "wanted whatever I wanted and whatever was the best for me."

Our trip with you to Disney World to toast the end of your childhood (the summer after the 8th grade). You chose the rides, the hotel movies, and the time we got up and went to sleep: which of course meant that we went to bed at 2 a.m., got up at noon, and went on the scariest rides during the hottest part of the day!

Our sailing trip on Lake Pontchartrain for dad’s and my sailing class graduation. You loved the speed, the waves and the wind as much as we did!

You taking me to the movies to see “Knocked Up” because I was stressed. I was the oldest person in the audience by 3 decades! It was so great to spend time with you.

Our trip to Atlanta to visit Emory. You drove the rental car even though you weren’t authorized to do so because I was such a nervous wreck in the Atlanta traffic. You said to me, "if you were an animal you would be shedding." I had such fun.

You coming into our bedroom and playing silly, “Flight of the Conchords” songs for me. You make me laugh!

Your beautiful poems to me and your father. My favorite was “you hath clothed me and you hath loved me.” It hangs on our wall.

You throwing Kellan up in the air and yelling,"Duuuummmmbledooorrrre!!”

Your always smiling face. Your big heart. Your love of your friends and their families.

Helping your Grammy ‘on demand’ in the garden!

Your interest in cooking.

Us cooking together!

You encouraging me to write anything, but mostly a cookbook!

I can’t wait to see what happens during the next 18 years!

I love you James;

Mom"

Senior Retreat Letter to Daniel

Daniel and James with Nellie, one of my father's best friends, at Dad's Wake

James and Daniel at our Outer Banks family vacation

Daniel with Grammy and Papa before his Senior Ball

Daniel (3), Risa our dog, and Mom on a Hike in Washington

James and Daniel with their Grammy last Summer


Brandi, Daniel & Mom at the Museum of Natural History, NYC

Dan and his Dad with a Pregnant Brandi

Daniel and Brandi with baby Kellan 1 year ago

Now is the time of year that we parents of children in U-High (also known as the LSU Laboratory School) write letters for our children to be read by them at their Senior Retreat. Rich and I wrote James' letters last week, and he will discover what is in them, as well as what is in his grandmother's letter and his brother's letter on this Wednesday to come.

This is a special tradition, and so indicative of the Louisiana culture of love of ritual, family, friends, community and sentimentality. And although I am so excited and anxious for James (our Senior this year) to read our letters, I can't post them, as James might peek at this blog and then see them before he should (this is a very slight risk as I'm sure my 18 year old NEVER reads this blog). So, instead of posting James' letter, I will post Daniel's letter that I wrote to him 5 years ago.

He has evolved into such a wonderful man, partner, dad, and graduate student. And our relationship gets better by the day. But, I brag. Here is the letter I wrote to him in 2003 (Good Grief! Where does the time fly?). Let me also find some treasured pictures, not necessarily of him then, but in the last 5 years, to accompany this missive:

"Dear Daniel,

I am writing this to you to be opened at your November Senior Retreat, a ritual for U-High students getting ready to graduate from high school. I consider your graduation to be a major accomplishment and a goal you’ve achieved by overcoming some huge obstacles, obstacles that other kids never have to face. I am so proud of you.

There was a time when school was nothing but trouble; when you thought that you would be better off without it and without your mother who was always on your back riding you about the importance of your education. During those tough times, I hoped that one day you’d be able to experience the excitement of learning and the anticipation of looking ahead to college. I think you’re at that place right now (despite having to take Physics) and it gives me such great pleasure to see you happy and planning for your future life. Although things could change, at this point, you’re looking at majoring in Sports Management at Southeastern, which sounds perfect for you. Do you know how many people your age have no idea what they want to do? Worse, there are people who don’t find anything interesting. There are a million things you can do and learn. This is just the first of many adventures for you. Remember to include us in your plans along the way. They give us so much joy, just as you do.

I have so many memories of you Daniel—the first time we saw you in Korea (Daddy described you as a little ball with a head), you directing the “band” in that front playroom in Seattle (where the “band” was Grammy, Papa, Dad and me and where Papa had on a plastic majorette’s hat); you and dad driving off together in Fred the Red Ford Falcon to your Montessori School in Seattle; you and James tumbling on the floor like a couple of cats, playing in the basement of the house at Penn State; you, James and Daddy falling trees on Grandma Marge’s property in NY; you walking around the streets of Seoul alone buying food; teaching you about dinosaur names and buying you “teenage mutant ninja turtles”; you and I playing tennis in the rain outside in our backyard in Tara and at the courts at Orange Beach; you driving me around in that golf cart at Destin and stopping and starting so abruptly that I almost fell out; you and I awake on New Year’s in Rome, watching people throw furniture off of their balconies; your first dances and us buying the corsages; watching you become so independent and self motivated with your jobs (the card shop, the yard work, filming games for James’ team); you helping so much taking James to his activities and becoming such a good mentor to him; some of our dinners out as a family in the last several years where you and James are hilarious and so fun to talk to; enjoying you at Robin’s wedding in NM, and more.

So most of my memories are good! Yes, we’ve had rough times, but that’s mainly because you have certainly had your share of rough times, too many. I’m sorry if I’ve been hard on you but I felt—right or wrong—that you needed some limits and a push or two along the way. I wanted you to grow-up to be a fine man with many opportunities for a great life. Now you know that you can overcome, and that’s a good thing to know in this life. There will be other disasters and successes; and I’m always here for you to help you celebrate or grieve. As I told you recently, you can always come home.

I love you Daniel. And I’m sure glad that for whatever reason, the little boy from the South of South Korea found his way home to us. How would we have been a family without him?

Mom"

Remembering My Dad

On a boat of course-- this time in Alaska

I am relieved September is over because the tail end of it will always be sad for me.

Two years ago, during the last week of September, my dad died. I was devastated, probably at least in part because I felt that his move from Oregon to Louisiana to live with me was a contributing factor.

As a friend recently reminded me, it doesn't matter how old you are or how old he is -- when your dad dies, it hurts.

My dad had not been well for so long prior to his death that it was hard for me to remember him as the father of my youth, instead of the father of my middle age, which is pretty much the difference between being the caretakee and the caretaker. As time passes, the essence of him becomes clearer, and for that I am grateful.

So, here's to you Lowell. I dearly miss you.

Here is the letter I wrote right after he died, and some pictures of him doing what he loved to do best.

"It's hard to lose a dad. He hadn't been well his whole life but always triumphed over illnesses. He had had every single illness possible from the time he was a child (including polio and rheumatic fever) and probably survived them only because he didn't listen to my grandmother, who would have had him in bed for the rest of his life, and because my mother watched over his health like a hawk, when he’d let her. And the boys, he lived for his grandsons. In these last years, his main nemesis was his diabetes (which really made him feel crappy because he refused to eat appropriately) and his mini strokes (which changed his personality).

Through it all, however, he absolutely loved his daughter and his grandchildren. If there was ever a person to love you unconditionally, it was my father. Daniel is taking it very hard, as even when he was "in trouble" with us, he could do no wrong in the eyes of his Papa. That isn't the kind of support you get often in life, if at all. So, Daniel has been orphaned, in a way, by this. Daniel and James went over to their house often to visit. Even though he wasn't much of a talker, they loved being with him. I never heard them once complain that he wasn’t like other papas that could play ball or roll around in the dirt.

He wasn't any sicker than usual on Wednesday; in fact, he was just as ornery as usual. On the night he died, he had a piece of chocolate cake before dinner and one before bed. He refused to buy that $7,000 hearing aid right up until the end. And he drove his favorite car (a 1992 white Olds 88 with red leather interior) to the donut shop around the block, even though he was on the verge of having his license privileges revoked! He died at home, in his sleep at 3:00 in the morning probably from a massive stroke. We speculate that after he died his spirit flew to Oregon and went to Long Beach, down the Columbia River Gorge to Multnomah Falls, over to Hood River, and then to the Cascade Locks for a piece of pie. We will have a Memorial Service at St. Alban’s Episcopal Church in Baton Rouge next week to make sure that the priest can help him find his way home.

My father was a very important man. He was the Secretary Treasurer of the Retail Clerk’s Union in Portland for many years and organized many white collar businesses in town. Even today, the neighborhood grocery stores pay well and have good benefits mainly because my dad unionized them years ago. Later, he was a State Mediator for labor disputes—an interesting job but one he didn’t love nearly as much. He spent a fair amount of time in Washington DC, lobbying important political people, including presidents (Kennedy and Humphrey among them). He took me and mom to all his conventions all over the US; I think back on talking with all of those interesting activist folks at those conventions and how lucky I was to be included, as most times I was the only child in the room.

My dad didn’t have a file folder of friends. In fact, I’m not sure he liked most people. But, for those family and friends that he did love and trust; he was fiercely loyal, in a quiet sort of way. He had friends from his childhood in Hardman and Heppner, Oregon – farming communities in Eastern Oregon – life long friends from Rosenblatts and his union days, a multitude of his daughter’s friends that he took out on his boat or out to dinner over the years, and his son-in-law, who he fathered after Rich’s dad died soon after we married.

My dad and mom married late-- but marrying my mom was probably the best thing he ever did. She forced him to have an emotional life. For various reasons attributable to both of them, they couldn’t get pregnant. Mom’s doctor arranged to adopt me, although dad was very reticent about adoption. He just didn’t see how you could love a child that wasn’t ‘your own’ but he did it for my mother. Of course, he and I fell madly in love. When we adopted Daniel, he wasn’t for that either. He couldn’t see how you could adopt a child from half way around the world and love him like ‘your own’. Well of course, Daniel came home and it was a love affair for 20 years. Then when I got pregnant with James, all dad could say was, “What about Daniel?”—he was so worried that James would take away Daniel’s thunder. Of course he loved and was very proud of James, who we named James Lowell.

I called him Lowell a fair amount of time but he was my dad. I was lucky."

Dad and I taking a break from a drive, at a rest stop in Oregon

With mom and me in Washington DC where he lobbied for the Retail Clerks Union

With me by his Buick

Reminiscing: and trying to force things back to normal

My cousin Carrie Ellen

Me in the Nevada hills

My father with his Impala in Portland, Oregon

My husband Rich (R) and his older brother Robert in Pearl River, NY

After the last couple of difficult weeks (hurricanes and illnesses) I found myself reminiscing about 'the old days.' Specifically, this has manifested itself in a quest for all things 'vintage' (from my childhood), various purchases from etsy and ebay, and a thirst for pictures from days much earlier. This is very unusual for me. For although I was brought up with antiques, in my adult life I have never really been a buyer thereof.

I do think that vintage is more attuned to nostalgia, or a period you have experienced, and an interest in antiques is more about an appreciation for a history that you have not lived.

At any rate, here are a few favorite pictures. My mother contends that things were much simplier then. Were they really?

Even though I still feel sick, I cleaned James' room and bathroom as they were so disgusting (more bad parenting I'm sure). I just couldn't stand to resume normal household operations near those rooms of the house. I am making chicken Cacciatore for dinner and am happily setting the table with fresh linens and candles. Just these things have settled me down. I hear Rich upstairs playing guitar with Jim and Jonathan, James laying on the couch playing XBox, and my mother singing outside in her garden.

Photos in this post were taken 1. by my father, Lowell Ashbaugh, 2. my father, 3. me, 4. and Rich's father, Marvin Vlosky, respectively.