I’m Fine

How often have we uttered those two little words? I’m fine.

And of the many times we have said I’m fine, how many times have we in reality not been fine? How many times have we been anything but fine. How many times have we said we are fine because we don’t want to explain why we’re not fine. Or we don’t want to admit that we aren’t fine. Or we don’t want to admit to ourselves that we are certainly not fine. Admitting that we are not fine forces us to admit that we are struggling, that we are less than strong, that we are human after all.

It’s easier to tell someone that we are fine rather than admitting the reality of how we are. Many of us don’t want to admit that we are less than fine. Perhaps we feel that admitting that we aren’t fine makes us appear weak. And admitting publicly that we aren’t fine also forces us to admit to ourselves that we aren’t fine. So this is a supposedly easy way to deny our true feelings.

Of course, if the clerk in the grocery store asks how we are doing, we aren't going to lay out all our fears and worries. So there certainly is a time and a place to tell someone we are fine. It's a social norm. The clerk doesn't really want to know everything about your life. Asking is just a social norm.

We construct a facade by pretending, to ourselves and to others, that we have no problems or difficulties or emotions with which we don't want to deal. We construct the (false) image we want to project to the world. And in the process, we deny our true feelings. 

The words I’m fine are uttered frequently in television dramas, when it’s all too obvious to the viewer that the characters uttering those words are anything but fine. As vierws, we know the backstory. But it isn't only in television dramas that people pretend they are fine. Real people do it all the time, to avoid admitting that they are struggling, that they aren't as 'together' as they want people to believe they are, and to avoid the potential shame or embarrassment that might arise if we admit that our life isn't what it appears to be.

Unfortunately, avoiding our true feelings is not a good, or healthy, long-term strategy. Eventually our repressed or ignored feelings will catch up with us. Perhaps we will become physically ill. Perhaps we will have a breakdown.

And if we acknowledge our problems or fears to others, we have to face them and admit to ourselves that we are not happy, that we are struggling, or that we we need help. Sometimes we pretend that we are fine to avoid conflict with others.

Please think before we utter those two little words I'm fine. Are you really fine, or is there something you are avoiding?

The Memory of Me

A member of my brother-in-law's family died recently.

I knew him from family gatherings, but since I lived in California and later, New Mexico, I hadn't seen him for many years. After I made a donation in his memory to his chosen charity, I received from one of his sons a thank-you note and a small card with his photo on one side and information about funeral services on the back.

What really struck me were the words on the back. I don't know who wrote the verse, but it struck me.

I'd like the memory of me to be a happy one. 

I'd like to leave an afterglow of smiles when life is done. 

I'd like to leave an echo whispering softly down the ways, of laughing times and happy times and bright and sunny days.

I'd like the tears of those who grieve, to dry before the sun of happy memories that I leave when life is done.

My version isn't quite so poetic or elegant. I would write the following thoughts about my life.

I'd like the memory of me to be a happy one.

I'd like to leave memories of my great love of animals, especially dogs, wolves, elephants and leopards.

I'd like to leave memories of my efforts to protect these precious animals.

I'd hope to leave memories of my passion for helping to feed the hungry in this country, in Africa and in Ukraine. 

I'd like to leave memories of my belief in education as a way out of poverty and a path to a better life, especially for women. 

I hope the young women I have helped with their education, both in this country and in Kenya, will remember my belief in them.

I hope those I leave behind will not forget how I supported women struggling to survive in impoverished countries around the world.

I hope people will remember my love of photography and that I used my talents to raise money for charity, as well as to brighten lives.

I hope my love of travel will inspire others to follow their dreams and their heart.

I hope those I leave behind will remember my love of music and of reading and of history.

I hope memories of my desire to always keep learning will inspire others to never stop learning.

I hope the memories I leave my daughter are good ones, and that she remembers that despite our differences, I always stood behind her.

Most of all, I hope I will have left the world a better place than when I entered it.

I have no plans to depart this life any time soon. My health remains good, my mind sharp. But sooner or later, the hourglass of my life will run out of sand. Until it does, I plan to continue to pursue my passions, to read voraciously, to travel, to explore, to learn and to photograph this beautiful world and its magnificent animals. 

Whenever my time comes to an end, it feels good to know that I have set down in words those things I hope friends and family will remember about me.

Surprise Memories

Every so often something happens that takes me back to a time decades in the past.

Sometimes it’s a smell. Sometimes it’s something as mundane as using my mother’s mixing bowls. This morning it was a sense that enveloped me when I walked into my bedroom. i guess it was the feeling of a spring day, with the windows open. The sun was shining, the air was crisp and cool and fresh. And it took me back to being in my bedroom in my parents’ house many, many years ago.

Every time I see a ceramic chicken, I think of my mother, who collected ceramic chickens. When she died, each of us kids took one as a tribute to her. The others were donated to a charity thrift shop.

It's always a pleasant surprise to have these sensations surprise me at random.

The Green Bowls

Tomorrow, May 8, is Mother's Day.

My mom has been gone for nearly 16 years, but every time I use one of her green mixing bowls, I am reminded of her. The bowls are not a set. Each bowl is a different shade of green, and each is a different size. But I still consider them a set.

I have no idea where the bowls came from, or how old they are. But I'm sure they are quite old.

But I treasure them all the same.

And today, of all days, I decided to make some chocolate chip cookies. I try to limit my consumption of sweets, so I don't bake as often as I would like. I enjoy baking more than cooking, but over the years I have greatly cut back on my baking. But how interesting that today I decided to get one of the bowls from the cabinet and use it to prepare cookie dough.

Is it coincidence that it was this day I decided to use one of the green mixing bowls to make cookies? I don't think so. I believe that something -- or someone -- led me to this decision. And let’s face it. It’s 91° outside – – not exactly a great day to have the oven going as I bake cookies.

Whatever the reason that today is the day I decided to bake, I am grateful for the memory of my mother.

Back to the 1850s

Welcome to the 1950s, women of America. Or is it the 1850s? Or maybe it's the 1750s.

The leaked draft decision of the US Supreme Court that appears likely to overturn the Roe v. Wade decision that has been in effect for close to 50 years is about to remove a woman’s right to decide if and when she is to give birth. How fortunate we women are to have this learned group of people, most of them old white men, to decide our future childbearing plans for us. Whatever would we do without them?

All of these so-called pro-life people are not pro life at all. They are nothing more than pro birth. They don’t care what happens to the women who are forced to give birth to children that may be the result of rape or incest. They don’t care about the children that may be born into lives of abuse or poverty. They don't care about the women who simply cannot afford to raise yet another child. Or maybe these women simply don't want to have children. Birth control is not 100 percent effective.

How many of these so-called 'right to life' people have ever fostered a child? How many have adopted a child? I am pro-choice, and I have an adopted daughter who is now a 28-year-old mother of a baby boy.

The bottom line is, it’s nobody’s damn business if and when a woman chooses to have a child. 

I made a decision many years ago when I got married that I did not want to have children. That was my decision. It was not made for me by a bunch of presumptuous people who thought they knew what was best for me. 

No judge or justice or religious leader should have anything to say about women’s reproductive choices. How about we start mandating vasectomies for men? How about if women whose husbands or boyfriends believe it’s OK to force a woman to give birth to a child, start denying sex to those men? Maybe when men start paying child support for each child they father from the child's birth through age 18 they will come to their senses. And I would love to know how many of the male Supreme Court justices have paid for abortions for their mistresses. The same goes for anti-choice politicians.

I don’t care what religion someone follows, or if people follow no religion at all. It’s not my concern. But person and no religious institution should be allowed to force me and others to live according to their religious beliefs. If you think abortion is a sin or an affront to God or whatever, fine. Don’t have an abortion. But keep your religion out of our law-making process. And judges at any level are supposed to keep their personal beliefs and biases out of our judicial system. Religion has no place in American laws, nor does it belong in schools. Religion should be private.

Abortion is a deeply personal matter, or at least it should be. The government and religious institutions should have nothing to say about a woman’s personal health care decision. 

Whenever a 'pro-life' person is asked to state a reason to oppose abortion that is not based on religion, nobody can come with anything. Religion and government should be -- are supposed be to - separate. We should not permit any legislation that is based on or invokes any religion. Religion needs to get out of the legal arena and it needs to get out of government. 

And spare me the BS about 'my body, my choice' when it comes to the horrendous imposition that comes from mask mandates to help prevent the spread of a disease that has killed millions of people. But it's apparently OK to disregard that sentiment when it comes to women's reproductive choices. If it’s your body your decision, it should be 'my body, my choice' when it comes to whether or not to have a child.

If the anti-abortion argument were really about the children, there would be free, universal pre-natal care. There would be free, universal health care for both mother and baby. There would be free, universal child care. There would be free, universal college. But the anti-choice crowd has shown time and again that it is only pro-birth. Once the child is born, mother and baby are on there own.

I am not of childbearing age, but that doesn’t mean I’m any less disgusted by so far successful efforts in several states to control women’s bodies. Where will the ultra-right wingers stop? There already are mutterings about working to make gay marriage illegal? How about outlawing birth control, as the Catholic Church would prefer? Or what about interracial marriages? Will women no longer be allowed to get a credit card or buy a car without a man's signature?  We are on a very slippery slope if the court's thinking about overturning Roe v Wade comes to pass.

Women, it's time to rise up and object in the strongest possible ways to protect the advances we have achieved over the past decades. Women are just as capable -- or more so -- than men. We are not second-class citizens. 

The stakes are too high for each of us, and for our daughters and granddaughters, to sit quietly while others dictate our decisions.