Where Are They Now?

2012 Graduates: Steven, Shane, Richy & Avery with Richy’s Dakota Ridge HS tassel.

Patrick had four very close friends who graduated in 2012. That year my dear friend Jean got an idea to help me through my grief over losing Patrick. She collected a total of $600 from our mutual friends in the Jeffco Association for Gifted Children (JAGC) and gave me the money to provide scholarships.

That $600 was the perfect amount, allowing me to give $150 each to “the boys” as I affectionately call them. We had a big cook out on the deck and I gave them each a graduation card and their checks. I also promised Sam, Avery’s brother who was due to graduate in 2013, that I would do the same for him the next year. A tradition was born.

Sam and I at our 2013 cookout celebration honoring him.

In 2013 I honored the first graduate from the Wheat Ridge HS GT Center program, Paul, and I have been giving scholarship at the Center ever since. I had advocated for the creation of the HS GT Center a few years before with my JAGC friends, based on Patrick’s unmet needs as a GT kid in a mainstream HS setting. I made things official in 2016 when I created the Patrick Straut Foundation, a 501 (c) 3 non-profit. That’s the history of the Patrick Straut Foundation.

This week, as I anticipate the tenth anniversary of Patrick’s death, I thought it would be good to look at where “the boys” are now. Ten years is a long time at that age and much has happened. I hope to get updates from the Center recipients over the coming weeks and share those on the Foundation website.

Steven: Steven and Patrick met in the neighborhood in late elementary school, they used to play together and hang out as they got older. Steven was Patrick’s shooting buddy, they shared a love for target shooting and old and powerful guns. They had gone up Squaw Pass the weekend before Patrick passed away and had a blast target shooting at their favorite spot in the national forest. Steven has completed five years of certifications and is a very successful plumber. He bought a house in the mountains a few years ago and works enough to meet his needs. He enjoys spending time at home and hiking in the Colorado mountains. Work life balance has never been a problem and never will be from what I’ve witnessed.

Shane: Shane was a childhood neighbor and classmate of Evan’s when they were in elementary school. Patrick got to know Shane during his many sleepovers at Evan’s house growing up. Patrick lost contact with Shane when Evan moved up to Mount Evans Outdoor Lab school in middle school. But, fatefully Patrick and Shane landed in the same Japanese class as Freshmen at Littleton HS. They didn’t even recognize each other at first! But when Evan joined Patrick for a football game, he recognized Shane straight away. There was also an incident where Patrick and Shane threw coins in Evan’s tuba (he played in the Evergreen HS band) and they almost got in big trouble. Shane lived with us for his Senior year at Longview HS, which was a good thing for him and for me. He reminds me of Patrick in many ways, and has always been very thoughtful around Mother’s Day, Patrick’s Birthday and anniversary of his passing. Shane married the love of his life, Tyne, in 2016, they allowed us to be the third set of parents at their wedding and it was a most beautiful event. Shane and Tyne are living happily ever after and managing all of the challenges of adulthood with grace.

Richy: Richy was always the most happy-go-lucky of the bunch. I’d always see him walking around the neighborhood with his iPod, jamming to the music. I’d always stop and see if he needed a ride. Richy ended up taking Patrick’s space in the basement early in 2012 and living with us on and off for most of the next seven years. Jerry described it beautifully when we were talking today. Our house became an anchor for Richy. He still has a key and uses it to just come right in the door, which is fine with us. In fact, it was Richy’s visit yesterday that inspired me to write this all down. The tassel on the framed picture of the 2012 grads is Richy’s. I asked him yesterday if he wanted it back and he said not yet, he liked seeing it hanging on that framed picture. Richy has a steady girlfriend who he has been with for a few years, he’s working at Gunther Toody’s where his persona is Richie Rich, which is perfect. He’s like a third son to me.

Avery: Avery and Sam also lived in the neighborhood growing up. They were friends of Steven and Richy’s. Patrick was blessed to be brought into this group of boys who all looked out for each other. Avery is one of the most hard-working and responsible young men I’ve encountered. He took courses towards his Associate’s degree in Business while working full-time after high school. He never took a penny in loans, rather he earned the money, then took the courses. He has a good job in the Water Department in Castle Rock and has achieved many certifications along the way. He is preparing to buy his first house this spring. He also reminds me a lot of Patrick in ways, he’s quiet and reserved. He’s also extremely reliable and always ready to help us do things around the house when he stops by to visit.

Sam: Sam works full-time and shares an apartment with Avery. He is sporting a very fine Honda in a beautiful shade of blue. This is after he drove the Scooby Do van for a few years. He looked a lot like Shaggy too. Like his brother, he’s a true friend and would do anything that any of the other boys asked him to do.

What truly amazes me is that Patrick had such amazing friends at the age of 18. They were all there for us 10 years ago when he died and we still see them all today. COVID has dampened that a bit, but I trust that things will return to close to normal soon. For the tenth anniversary and St. Patrick’s Day, I’ve invited them all to stop by if they can to visit. We’re going to plan a big cook out with everyone who wants to join in for June 25 this year to christen our updated and newly painted back deck–just like old times!

Patrick’s 18th Birthday cook out on the deck: Emily, Patrick, Avery, Richy’s back, Sam, my feet 🙂

Posting this reminds me that I really need to talk about Patrick’s best friend, Evan. I will write an update on him, Brendan and Emily in another post. This is enough for today.

I miss my boy, but feel so blessed that he left us his friends!

Giving Thanks for Wonderful Care

Patrick’s sign on the greenbelt decorated with our new Thanksgiving wreath

It’s the time of year to reflect and give thanks. I have much to be grateful for this year, this very strange year has actually been kind to me in many ways. My Humpty Dumpty-like fall on October 23 couldn’t have been better timed, in terms of having Jerry and Emily home to help me function. I have been able to continue my work and am even developing new contracts well into 2021. I am blessed.

I wanted to round out my blogs about my time at Swedish Acute Rehab with acknowledgement of the many people who cared for me. My previous blogs called out those who were my kids’ ages: Rose, Dom, Megan and Georgia. But there were many more, and they were all just wonderful care-givers and fun to be around. I never thought I’d be sad to leave a hospital, but I really kind of was.

Certified Nurse Assistants

These are the people who see you at your very worst. They get you to the commode just in time, they greet you when you are in pain and need your medication, they help you take a much-needed shower. They get you ice water and ice packs at all times of the day and night. I had the best CNAs ever.

Tonya and I became fast friends when she cared for me on the Ortho unit before I went to Rehab. She assured me that I would be in good hands once I got downstairs and she was right. She always made my care a priority and the woman can make a bed that makes you feel like princess, particularly on shower day. I hope to see her and her daughter one of these days when I’m walking on my own.

Hana was also very attentive to my every need. She was the poor soul who had to weigh me. This was accomplished very early in my stay in the rehab by wheeling in a device that was like what they use a vet’s office, but much bigger, like pig-sized. You had to use the walker to get up the ramp onto the scale, then move the walker off the scale. Needless to say, I was not happy with the result. Hana also managed to tape off the bandages on my leg for my first shower in rehab. She used a Belongings Bag and some very effective tape. I thought, for sure, it wouldn’t work, but the whole bandage with dry as a bone. I hope to see her again too.

Sydney also cared for me when I was just out of surgery. I was so out of it with the Oxycodon that I didn’t recognize her at first when I saw her again in the rehab. My favorite Sydney story is that I was taking a shower, while she was making my bed. You get clean sheets and blankets on shower day, which was Tuesday and Friday for me. She asked if I was doing ok, I responded that I could spend another half an hour just sitting under the water. She paused and said something about having other patients she needed to do blood sugars on before dinner. She was actually trying to figure out how to give me another half hour of shower time. I really was just kidding. Sydney was the CNA that accompanied me to my car when I departed.

Left to right: Sydney, Amanda, me and Rose

Nurses

Having spent time in the hospital at this time makes me appreciate all that nurses do even more. I watched the stress build as people got sick and others had to float to different floors to cover. Despite the significant stress they face everyday, all of my nurses had bright dispositions and were ready to help me troubleshoot everything that came up.

Amanda (pictured above) was the most dear of the bunch. She was another one who met me when I was in a lot of pain on the Ortho floor, just after the surgery. At that point, my whole left leg felt like it wasn’t attached to my body. I’ve previously described it was a water logged tree trunk, weighing down the rest of me.

Amanda bailed me out, big time when I was trying to work at the hospital. I spent the first whole weekend not being able to connect to the internet. As it turned out, Jerry had put software on my laptop that prevented it from seeing the hospital wi-fi. In the midst of all of this the Data Report that is my main annual deliverable for an important client was in my email, but not on the hard drive of my laptop. I desperately needed to ‘see’ that file to understand the magnitude of change that my client had made to the file in her last review. Amanda took my laptop to the nurses station to try to connect there, no luck. Finally, she printed the whole 80 page document for me so that I could work on it. She’s a keeper.

Ephrem cared for me much of the time. He’s from Ethiopia and quite the joker. When I was giving out beaded bracelets, he picked one for his girlfriend, but because she’s in Ethiopia, he proudly wore the bracelet for the rest of his shift. He’s also the one who convinced me to look at the incisions since they are healing well and just a bunch of staples. I had previously decided to put my past behind me, one of many lame references to Lion King that seemed funnier on pain meds…

Jeff was my nurse upon my arrival in the rehab unit. He did a great job of getting me settled in and setting expectations for how things run there. He also really, really wanted to give me a flu shot that first night. I pushed back, knowing that I often feel ill when I get it. I wanted to be as strong as possible for my first round of therapies. I did relent and get the shot while I was there.

Don helped me on one of my roughest nights. I just couldn’t get comfortable to go back to sleep after waking an hour into the night with hot sweats. He suggested getting an order for melatonin to help ease me to sleep. He is a wise and experienced care provider, having been a paramedic for years before becoming a nurse.

Atzae was another very special nurse. She took care of me on Halloween night after the Casper like haunting. She also had to change my bed that night because the ice pack had melted all over the place. I never got to say good-bye to her, but left a bracelet for her.

Cassie is memorable for how she decorated her face shield with tons of silk flowers, initially as part of her Halloween costume, but just left it that way. She was also very efficient and friendly, and celebrating an early pregnancy. We talked about crochet. She’s going to make an afghan for her new baby.

Shannon & Lynette were both with me near the end of my stay at the rehab. Both were hosting student nurses during many of their shifts. So I had my blood pressure taken and my bladder scanned, maybe a little more than needed to be. But it was awesome to see the students in their school uniforms so enthusiastic about their chosen field. And Lynette reminded me a lot of another Shannon, at least from what I could see with her constantly behind a face mask.

Occupational Therapists

My main two OTs were Liz and Laura, who job-share. I met Liz first, as she works the beginning of the week. She was the kind soul who helped me get my very first shower upon arrival on the rehab unit. She also taught me how to use a sock puller, a grabber, and the correct way to take off and put on clothes with an injury. Always remember to do the bad leg first. They both are very professional and proficient in their jobs.

Liz on the last day we worked together.

I didn’t manage to get a picture of Laura, but I hold her close to my heart. She listened to me when I just needed to complain. She also was the one who was with me when a move I made, attempting to step over a rolled up towel, sent pain through my body so bad I was sure I had broken the hardware. She managed not to laugh at that outrageous claim. She even suggested I talk with Dr. Press about it.

Sara is an OT that I only got to work with a few times. I met her when I was still quite swollen from the trauma and the surgery. She shared with me that she has certification in the management of edema. I was blessed that she could spend some of our OT time doing gentle massage to relieve my body of the swelling. She also taught me how to use diaphramatic breathing to get rid of the edema. While she was working on me I told her that she was an Earth Angel. She actually got tears in her eyes and said that no one had been so kind before. I wish I had the chance to have more treatments from Sara. She is an Earth Angel.

Physical Therapists

Rose was my main therapist and the leader of my care team. She was amazing and I give her a lot of credit for my rapid recovery. I blogged about her at length previously. She was my Scarecrow. I hope to stay in touch, and even to join her for a yoga class that she told me about in Wash Park.

Georgia was 9 months pregnant when I met her. Our first encounter was a bit dicey. I had seen her around and I knew from Rose that there was a colleague who they were protecting from a patient who had the Mrsa virus. So when she walked into my room on a Saturday morning. I stopped her in her tracks to tell her that I had NOT been tested for COVID 19. Her eyes got a little big. She checked my medical record and confirmed that I had, indeed, not been tested. She worked with me anyway, but did go get her face shield. She let me ride the bike, a favorite way to warm up. And we talked a lot about late pregnancy, child birth and mothers-in-law. I hope for her a healthy baby boy and a safe and relaxing maternity leave. I didn’t get a picture of Georgia.

Megan is the young woman who taught me that OT is way more than about work and accommodations for work. She helped me to yoga while at the rehab. That was an hour well-spent. I blogged about her previously since she was among the young ones who blew my mind.

Exercise Therapist

Dom was my exercise therapist. The connection we made one day while working out together is what got me blogging about my Rehab experience. I truly believe that Dom and I were both there at the same time to help each other with our transitions, which I blogged about at the time. Sadly, I never got a picture of Dom, just of his tattoo. But he did get a picture of me doing my best Ruth Bader Ginsberg curls–with 5 pounds this time, not the 8’s.

Physicians

Dr. Armitage was my Orthopedic Surgeon. I only ever met him in the ER when he came to confirm that I had broken my hip and that he could fix it the next day at 1:45 pm. He was very matter-of-fact, explaining that he could pretty much do this surgery in his sleep, that it only takes about half-an-hour, and there was nothing to worry about. I see the effects of his handy work in my x-rays that show my new pieces and parts that allow me to walk again, so I am grateful for his skillset.

Dr. Press was my doctor in the rehab. I could count on him coming into my room just a few minutes after 7:00 am every day, with a smile behind the mask and shield. Every day he’d ask how I was doing. Early on we had a heart-to-heart about Oxycodon. It was clear that he thought it a necessary evil and he was supportive of me getting off it as soon as was practical. We also shared a few mornings of watching MSNBC Breaking News scroll on my TV with no sound as the election results so slowly made their way. What I remember most about him is his adorable curly hair that flows over his face mask. I’m told his son has the same hair. I feel appreciative to have had such a down-to-earth Dr. in Rehab.

This is probably too much information for anyone but me. But I wanted to document who each of these wonderful people were and how they helped me while it was still fresh in my mind.

Here’s the note I left on the board for them. With gratitude to all and a wish that they can have a Thanksgiving that is safe and relaxing.

How Did We Get Here?

Device that knitted back my broken hip.

Side view that shows the rod that goes down my femur almost to my knee.

I was headed out to King Soopers to pick up a few things on Friday morning, 10/23. The mini-van was encrusted in ice for the first time this year. So I started it and put the defrosters on full blast. I went back inside, did a few more things then came out to remove the ice. Front windshield, no problem, cleared the driver’s side mirror and window, while standing in the icy grass. Walked to the back window and there was still a lot of ice on it, so I stepped into the driveway to scrape it. I was on my left hip before I realized what happened.

I heard the crack and felt sharp pain. I managed to roll onto the grass from the driveway. I tried to yell “Help” but I had hardly any voice. Thank God my neighbor across the street was out working in her garden so she saw or heard me. She and her ex-husband were working on landscape in the yard. They quickly assessed that I needed a hospital, alerted Jerry and the ambulance was called. I had surgery to repair the hip, big rod that goes almost to my knee (the break was the opposite of most people’s) from my hip. The official terms are Fracture, intertrochanteric, left femur.

I’m posting this to document what I originally wrote on the Meal Train site for our family. It seemed important enough to document, particularly since there are a few blogs about the wonderful people who cared for me at Swedish Acute Rehab.

My Yogi Occupational Therapists Megan

In keeping with my focus on the young professionals who have helped me walk my journey of physical healing here at Swedish Acute Rehab, meet Megan. She is 27 years old and a very creative Occupational Therapist (OT). She also spells her name the way I had planned to spell it had Patrick been a girl. Everyone said I was spelling it wrong, and it didn’t matter, but I felt meeting this Megan was a lovely affirmation.

I only met with Megan twice, but it was memorable. On the weekends, I only get an hour of therapies instead of the 3 1/2 I have during the week. It’s a different group of people, just as competent as the weekday staff. My other weekend OT who is very special is Georgia, 9 months pregnant and still working with patients every day. We had many talks about late pregnancy, childbirth, and newborn babies. I gave her one of my baby afghans that I’ve been making and storing for future days.

This past weekend Megan was my OT. On our first meeting, we went to the OT gym, which is typical. She showed me some good stretches and we talked. She asked me what I was worried about going home. I answered that I really wasn’t worried. I felt that we had the equipment that we need (thanks to my regular crew explaining all that to me and providing me with the resources). Then Megan explained that OT wasn’t just about “occupation” or work as we usually think about it. Rather, this profession grew to encompass activity that the patient used to engage in to consider how accommodations may be provided so that the patient can resume the activities that give them joy.

Immediately I said, “Yoga”. This wise young woman smiled at me broadly under the mask and said, “Great tomorrow we will do yoga together”. And we did. I did Sun Salutations while holding onto the counter for stability. She helped me modify Warrior 2 to get a slight bend in my affected knee and stretch my back and shoulders. I did “legs up against the wall” (without the wall and on a raised mat). I was able to stretch my body in ways I hadn’t in almost three weeks. It was divine and made me fell almost normal again. At the end of our time, I chanted the chant that Leslie taught me and I practiced with my AWWA friends for eleven years. Ending in “Shanti, Shanti, Shanti. May ALL Beings Enjoy Peace, Happiness and Blessings.”

Namaste

Rose, You are My Scarecrow

My time at Swedish Acute Rehab is quickly coming to an end. Tomorrow is my last day of therapies, I will be discharged on Wednesday. I am looking forward to going home, but I will hold these two weeks in my heart. I have learned so much–to walk again with a walker, to ask for help when I need it, to practice gratitude for simple kindnesses.

In my previous blog I mentioned that there were two member of my care team who were so young, yet so knowledgeable. Today I want to talk about Rose. Rose is my Physical Therapist, as such she is the leader of my care team. Rose is 28 and has already completed a Doctoral degree in her field. She’s clearly a gifted grown up though said she was not identified as a child. She shared that she just did lots of extra projects in school because she was interested.

Physical Therapists have to be tough and they have to challenge you every single day. Rose does this with kindness and humor. She always gives me two choice, both of which she can accept. She’s a natural at reading her patients. She knows when I need a break and also when I need to be pushed.

Last Friday was a beautiful day so Rose took me out into the courtyard to practice walking with the walker on the sidewalk and on flag stones around the fountain. As we talked she shared that she spent the months of April and May on the COVID floor here working with patients. She explained the practicality of the situation, once you are exposed you may as well stay up there for a while. And oh, by the way, tests weren’t available for staff at that time since they were in such short supply.

When I was 28, I finished my MBA, got married, traveled across country camping out of a hatchback with Jerry. But I can’t fathom having the maturity to do the things that Rose does every day. I told her on Friday that she is my scarecrow. She’s the leader of my care team, the one with the brains and she has helped me believe that I have what it takes to go home successfully. She’s also the one who it will be hardest to say goodbye to.

The picture attached is of Rose and I on Friday when Jerry came to observe my progress and understand my needs at home.

My Earth Angel: Dom

Dom’s tattoo that is a replica of his mother’s.

My care team here at Swedish is amazing. There are two, in particular, who are so young and talented. My Physical Therapist Rose is 28 years old with an Doctoral degree. My Exercise Specialist Dom is 24 years old with a Masters degree in his field. Their ages are interesting since they are the same age that Patrick would be and that Brendan is.

Dom is relatively new on the staff here. Last week when I was the new kid on the block, he was shadowing while Rose worked with me–those first painful walks just a few feet down the hallway on the walker. My leg felt like a water-logged tree stump. They are both very professional, but make me feel like an old lady at 60 using a walker for the first time in my life.

On Monday, Dom was on my schedule for Exercise Therapy. He came into my room with two 8 pound dumb bells. He had me doing flies with those, which I could manage, but I suspect most women my age might not have been able to manage. I’ve been doing two Pilates classes a week, right up until the accident on 10/23. Mid thrust, I said, “Dom, I’m your Ruth Bader Ginsburg”. We laughed out loud.

At the end of that session, Dom shared that I was the first inpatient that he had ever worked with. The team thought I’d be a good guinea pig for him and I was. Previously he had been working with outpatient cancer patients.

Tuesday he brought those 8 pound dumb bells back and I did over the head presses with them. Admittedly, that was challenging, but I did 30. I appreciate this 30 minutes of exercise every day in addition to the more focused OT and PT, which I also appreciate, but aren’t as fun. Working with Dom is like having a personal trainer. I’ve always been too thrifty to give myself that gift. I appreciate this time with Dom and his knowledge of how the surgery has changed the muscles in my hip and leg.

Today, Dom and I made some interesting connections. I was working hard to move my hip open, slowly making a small arc with my foot on a washcloth on the floor. My glutes are really messed up from the fall, the surgery to put a rod inside my femur almost to my knee, and the additional trauma of driving a screw through my IT band into my hip bone–it’s sore. It’s also a very important muscle group to the thing I need to do to go home–climb those steps.

At some point Dom said something like, “We all face obstacles and we get through them.” Then he pointed to a burn scare on his wrist and shared that he’d been in a terrible car crash as a 17 month old baby. He also has scares on his forehead, I’d noticed but never asked. I asked what happened and he shared that his mother and sister died in that car crash. He was raised by his father and his mom’s sister. His Mom would be 60–the same age as me. We both shed some tears.

Then Dom showed me his tattoo, it is a replica of the tattoo that his mother had. I just know that we were put here to ease each other in these transitions. I will cherish my time with this beautiful young man for the upcoming week that I will have the pleasure of having my own personal trainer.

Life is Good. I am Grateful.

My Project: Mount Carbon Fun Center

Diorama Patrick Created to Share with His Principal

Journal about The Project

Disappointment After Meeting Mr. Summers

Earlier this summer I found Patrick’s Journal from third grade. This is the year that I have called The Lost Year in my presentation, The Quiet Storm, that talks about Patrick’s life and death. I knew that third grade was the year that Patrick was fixated on creating an Underground Recreation Center at his elementary school. I’ve had the photo of the diorama that he created when he was invited to make a pitch for the Rec Center to his Principal, Ms. Anker. But somehow the journal was tucked in a back corner of the bookcase in my office.

Reading about the events, in Patrick’s own words, makes me so sad. You can tell how very excited he was while he was conceiving the underground rec center.

“My Project

My friend Jason and I are doing a project. Our project is a Mount Carbon Fun Center. It has an Entertaining Center witch has a TV, a bed, and much more. It will also have a gym with a climbing rope, some weights, and basketball hoops. The last room is going to be the Aquatics Center with a regular pool and a baby pool. I think Jason and I have a very big project.”

His teacher noted that he was more engaged in his writing during this time of great excitement about the Mount Carbon Fun Center. To her credit, she thought it would be good for her husband, a contractor, to meet with the boys and talk about the realities of building such a project underground. So she made the arrangement.

She was not a teacher familiar with the overexcitabilties that accompany GT kids. In fact, her primary goal for Patrick was to convert him from being an introvert to an extrovert, which never happened. During this time Patrick spent time at home building the diorama that contained all of the details he conceived for the rec center to share it with his principal. He was so excited about the project!

Then the meeting with Mr. Summers happened and Patrick was devastated. He was a highly emotional kid and this project was something that had really captured his 8 year-old attention. Everyone at school was surprised when he cried…

“Disappointment

Today I was disappointed about my project because it will cost about 2,000,000 dollars. Some of the money will be spent on excavating. Mr. Summers said we would have to excavate 555,555 cubic yards. Some money will be spent on hauling the dirt away. Mr. Summers said it would be 55 truck loads. Finally we would have to pay for backfilling. Backfilling is when you already have the walls in and then you push the dirt in. Truly I was disappointed but I learned.”

I sure do miss that sweet little boy. Today is 9 1/2 years since he left us way too soon. It is also National Suicide Month. Watch those sensitive kids, the world is so harsh and it crushes their souls.

 

Spruce Abuse

Colorado Spruce, April 2010

Hack Job Cutting all of the branches six feet up.

Status of 30+ year old tree, April, 2020.

This post diverges a bit from my usual, but I just have to share what happened this week. We have lived in the same house for 27 and a half years. The Colorado spruce tree that sits just on the neighbors’ side of the property line was here and already a large tree when we moved in. This is the third family who has lived in the house since we’ve been here.  We have trimmed the bottom branches every five years or so, or the neighbor did. It was a shared tree on the property line and we respected its beauty. I also liked that it concealed my view of the rest of the street, it made my yard feel more private and protected.

The spruce tree has outlived three aspen trees, two that were here when we moved in and one that volunteered on the same property line closer to the houses. The tree is a part of our home landscape, and as I look at a quarter century of family photos, it is prominent in many of them. As a dear friend said when I was telling her what happened, “Trees hold special memories–they grow as a family grows.”

Well on Sunday, the new nextdoor neighbor hacked out the first 6 feet of branches from the bottom of the tree. He did not say a word to us, he just hacked it up. So here’s what we have to look at every day. I’m told it will grow back, if it doesn’t kill the tree.

Why would any one do this to a beautiful, healthy tree?

Where will the bunnies go when it’s cold?

I’m getting used to this new normal, but I don’t like it.

Giving Gratitude Daily

Yesterday I had the great honor to convene with my many friends who are advocates for gifted and talented students via a Zoom call. We have been meeting for a few years now. I’ve known many of these wonderful women for decades, some I’ve just met recently. All are smart, funny and dedicated to supporting GT kids as educators, administrators, social workers, resource teachers, and parents. We had a blast; talked for 2 1/2 hours and laughed a lot! I needed that.

It was helpful to talk about our fears, our successes and frustrations at this most strange time. Many of my friends are on the front line of “remote education”, suddenly faced with keeping students engaged in school academically and meeting their social/emotional needs. Gifted kids often have significant social emotional needs, and many of ‘our’ students are also from low income and at-risk homes. This means that there is a lot going on for them and they really miss the stability of the school routine that supports them.  It was good to hear how things are going on the front lines. And I know these educators are using every creative energy they have to make remote learning work as good as it can. I left the call last night with such gratitude for these friendships and for the important work that they are doing to keep kids safe and learning.

Then I remembered my Gratitude Jar. A few years ago, making gratitude jars was the activity at a Christmas party hosted by a couple of these wonderful friends, Lisa and Cyndy. We all picked a vessel to decorate and Lisa and Cyndy had tables full of things to customize our jars. I faithfully put a note about gratitude in the jar every day for the first few months I had it, but then I stopped. My jar has been collecting dust on a table in my office for a couple of years now.

Today seems a good time to dust it off and start putting one thing that I am grateful for in the jar every day. So, that’s what I did. I started with a note about being grateful for my friends and the ability to connect with them at this time. And grateful for Zoom to allow that to happen.

I invite you to make your own gratitude jar or start a simple gratitude journal. I do believe that we open ourselves up to abundance when we stop to be thankful as part of a daily practice. I know there are others of my local friends who a jar a few years ago at Lisa and Cyndy’s house. Get them out, dust them off. Find the good in each and every day.

Stay well friends and give thanks!

Terri

 

What Would Meem and Poppop Say?

Meem & Poppop at one of our weddings

I’ve been doing a lot of painting and cleaning while on “Stay at Home” orders these past few weeks. Painting helps me process and there is a lot to process.

My mind has wandered to what my maternal grandparents, Martha and Earl Wyckoff (Meem and Poppop), would have to say about the state of things. Poppop passed in March, 2001 and Meem died on Thanksgiving Day, 2010, just four months before Patrick.

I pulled out the last scrapbook that my Mom made for Meem for inspiration this morning. It is a big book, containing photos and captions from every decade of their lives. Turning to my Mom’s remarks from Meem’s funeral, I was reminded that Meem was born during the peak of the Spanish Flu, on October, 30 1918. Her mother was confined to bed rest at the time. That must have been terrifying for her Mom. This is something I don’t remember Meem talking about.

What I remember her talking about was growing up during the Depression. She was eleven years old when it began. She started dating Earl when she was a teenager. They both lived in Almonesson, NJ, next door to each other. He was 4 1/2 years older than her and had been in the CCCs in Idaho. In November, 1936 they accompanied another couple who were eloping to get married in Elkton, MD. Maryland had a lower age limit to get a marriage license (I think). They were their witnesses. The story goes that the guy said to Earl, “You may as well get married while you are here. When will you have enough gas to get back down here?” So, Martha and Earl were married, but they kept it a secret because they didn’t have enough money to get an apartment of their own.

Once they told her parents that they were married, they lived with her parents. Before very long, my grandmother was pregnant with her first child. But she was very ill at birth and only lived a few days. I have reflected on what that grief must have been like. She was so young and the loss of a child is so much to bear. I know that they bought a family plot in the cemetery nearby to bury the baby. She never had a grave marker until my grandmother bought the marker for Poppop after he died. Money was always an underlying concern and they never wasted anything. This rubs off and I am grateful for all they taught my parents and me.

During the Depression, Meem was a hairdresser, so never out of work. There’s an irony to what’s happening today. Poppop worked for RCA as a prototype builder. He was proud to have had a part in building the prototype of the lunar rover. Poppop had an amazing gift for seeing how things fit together. He did this work despite having no formal education as an engineer.

Both of them had an amazing talent to see the potential in things. He could fix anything, we always said, “Don’t throw that away, Poppop can fix it.” She could make anything out of fabric and glue. She loved Elmer’s Glue! In their retirement they started an antique business, MarlWyck Antiques. They focused on refinishing old trunks. Poppop would strip off the old leather, fashion new metal corners, hinges, etc. Meanwhile Meem would recover the trays inside the trunks with beautiful cotton fabric. Their pieces were amazing works of art.

So, with their history of being young adults during the Depression, I wonder what they’s say about the state of things today. My guess is that Meem’s counsel would be to keep using what we have. I have frozen soups, a turkey that I didn’t cook last year for Christmas, and lots of other things that I can cobble together into meals. She would also advise that it’s about time I cleaned the basement! After Patrick died down there, I just couldn’t face the space for a long time. Then Richy moved in and stayed for the better part of seven years. Lots of stuff to clean and throw out there. I know she’d say keep trying to be kind to each other. She always said never go to bed angry.

Poppop was not a man of many words. He would say, “It’ll be ok Dolly.” And then he would give me one of his most amazingly tight hugs. And it would feel like it’s going to be ok.

May we all use the lessons learned from our elders. May we find the lessons in this time. And I think it’ll be ok.

Stay well friends.