Mood Swings

New Yorker cartoon by
cartoonist and illustrator Lianna
Finck

Every day, (OK sometimes hourly) I vacillate from putting my total trust in God and Dr. Fashi to full swing paranoia.  Somewhat like this guy in the cartoon.

On my morning walks I still listen to stand up comics on Pandora.   The Jerry Seinfield station is my favorite.  That's mainly because, while not exactly G-rated, they don't get off into truly uncomfortable territory.  I hear short clips of a small variety of standups.  Sometimes I hear the same ones over and over.  I don't mind this if they're performers and bits I like.  It's clear that each one has a particular persona.  Jim Gaffigan's is laziness.  He tells us the reason his wife had their five babies at home is because he didn't to put on pants to drive to the hospital.

 I've heard Brian Reagan do a bit about lazy people a few times now,  He uses the invention of peanut butter and jelly packed in the same jar as the height of  laziness.   The first time I heard it I thought it was clever and acuate but clearly didn't apply to anyone I know.  Now I find myself strategizing daily about how to get my meal made using the least possible utensils because every single thing I use has to be washed with soap and water.   I have become Brian Reagan's peanut butter and jelly example.

People ask me, sometimes daily, if I'm lonely or bored.  The answer is no.  I'm in contact with multible people every day.  But I'm not comfortable with Zoom or any platform that forces me to appear in public.  That means I have to comb my hair.

But, as usual, my CODness is paying off.  Since I am the antithesis of spontaneity,  I work from a daily list of to-dos and then feel compelled to do them. Oh, and there's the hand washing thing.

But most important on my list is to stay in daily touch with God and Dr. Fashi.


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Never Give Up

The Legend of Sisphus - "Never give in to circumstantial disappointments."

We've all been there.  Banging our heads against the wall and then thinking we had "the answer."  But no,  Not this time.

I just finished reading a lengthy article in the New Yorker magazine by Rivka Galchen about young intern Hashem Zirkey, at Elmhurst Hospital in Queens.   It's basically about his life in the ER and it is heartbreaking.   He describes every day as very different but always tramatic.  Protocol changes almost daily.

It's evident  Zirkey cares deeply about his patients.  On March 21st one of the patients who seemed not as sick as others signed out to recover at home.  He walked by later and asked Zirky where the bathroom was.  He was walking - that's a great sign. Talking - that's a great sign.  A short time later the man had collapsed in the bathroom.  When Zirkey reached him the man had no pulse.   The patient died about 15 minutes later.  "Nothing like this had ever happed to me," Zirky said.

One of the things Zirkey treasures is being able to communicate bad news to patients in a compassionate and humane way.  Families are calling constantly.  One night he had a patient who was critically ill and on a ventilator.  His family called wanting to say goodbye.  Zirkey had to put the phone on speaker in order to hold it to the patient's ear. "I felt like I was intruding....I thought, My God, this is real.  This is what everyone is doing now."

One of the surgeons at Elmhurst described much of his work as a "hundred-per-cent Sisyphean task".

Another fan of the legend of Sisphus was French philosopher and prolific, Noble prizing winning, writer Albert Camus,  In his 1947 novel "The Plague," he described something that has struck with me all these decades since I read it. I may not get the details straight but the profound message, for me, was this:   In a world much like what we're experiencing now, he tells about a time when two  exhausted, and discouraged doctors who were ready to throw in the towel, were able to get away for a short respite.  They went for a night time swim and, at some point, they found themselves swimming in perfect sinc, which somehow empowered them to carry on their work.  They were able to continue pushing the bolder.

I have been uplifted by both stories.  Zirkey's, which I read today and "The Plague" which I read decades ago.

The point of the Sisphus legend is that we don't have control of the universe.  Stuff happens.  We get one issue solved and another pops up.  But we can choose to find meaning and purpose in continuing to roll the boulder.

Unfortunately for Camus, he was killed in a car crash at age 46.  That too, for me, is a profound example of the Legend of Sisphus.


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Girl Power

In the 60's I was a total feminist.  Over the decades I've  calmed down considerably.   I no longer have a "them or us" attitude.  We're all in this together.  We all need to be who we're called to be.

"Mrs. America" is a new series on FX.  In it  Cate Blanchett plays female-empowerment woman Phyllis Schlafly. Only Schlafly was on the opposite side of the feminist movement.  Her biggest achievement was squashing the Equal Rights Amendment.  The ERA was a short statement guarantee equal legal rights to all Americans, including women.

During this time in the 70s best selling conservative author Marabel Morgan wrote a wildly popular book called "The Total Woman," in which she encouraged the traditional-stay-at-home spouse.  During this time I was asked to be the speaker for a large group of conservative women in South Florida.  I was especially flattered because they were aware of my views.  They also invited me to bring copies of my most recent poetry book.

It was only when I arrived at the event, ready to go, did I discover that there would be two keynote speakers.  Me and another woman who was, not only traditional to the extreme, but a close relative of Marabel Morgan. And she bought along piles of  The Total Woman bestseller.

I was actually fine with all of this and thought the event planners did these women a service by presenting two views of what comprises a total woman.  Only I brought the book that contained a snarky poem with a point by point response to Morgan's book.  I just kept my head down and my sense of humor in tack and all went well.  Here is my poem, which, you'll be relieved to know, I did not read.

The Total Robot 

For two weeks
I agreed with everything you said.
And we both developed ulcers.

I told you the awful speech you made 
Was good.
And you said
"Why did you betray me?"

I stopped wearing pants
and started wearing frilly dresses
And ribbons in my hair.
And you took me to Carvel's for lunch.

I forced Cathy to give away her $25
Overalls, 
And you said, 
"Why does my daughter hate me?"

I met you at the door
Wearing nothing but my sexy apron,
And your brought home
Three Hatian refugees and a 
Catholic Priest. 

I baked you a big apple pie,
Every night for a week. 
And you said, 
"Why aren't you working on your article?"
(Just before you had the gall bladder attack.)

I said, "Yes,  let's;"
To everything you suggested
And our friends had to bail us out of jail.

I dressed all of the children in pink,
And lined them up to await your return,
But you never did.

     - by Cecily Crossman 

       

Best Easter Ever!

Family Easter Morning Drive By

How could it be the best Easter ever?  In most of the world every person in my age group is on house arrest.

I grew up pretty much unchurched and the only Easter I remember was when I was a little kid and somebody made me a wool suit for Easter.  Who or why?  I have no idea.  But I do remember my little brother and I being put on a train going from Indianapolis to Louisville on Easter Sunday and how miserably hot that suit was.

It was a whole other story when my kids were growing up.  Easter was the most meaningful Sunday of the year.  And, while there is a big difference between the Easter bunny and the risen Christ, at our house the Easter Bunny and assistant weren't available to hide eggs and baskets until late in the day.

But for the last couple of decades Easter has been pretty much grand.  Most of us who hang out at church often are excited about the big overflowing crowds.  It's part of a world wide coming together to celebrate new life.

But I am slowing down and there is always a huge Easter brunch at my church so by the time all of it is over it takes extra energy to get with family and other folks.  Both Easter and Christmas are "high feeling" days and can turn from wonder to despair on a dime.

Yesterday was a different kind of Easter.  Since time began people have longed for God in times of trouble.  You'd think that folks who are well off would be the most grateful.  But it doesn't often work that way.  When our backs are against the wall we need a reminder that God is with us and it will be well in the end.

As millions of others, I watched our fantastic church services on TV.  I took communion with a saltine and hot tea.  But there were a boat load of streaming worship services to choose from.  By the way, if you're wondering why a handful of church leaders across the country chose to conduct regular services despite the obvious risks to the health of participants and all the folks they're coming in contact with today - the answer, overwhelmingly, is greed.

I spent much of the day visiting virtually with family and friends from my favorite place on the couch.  It was sweet - and just what I needed.

Even though we're not at church physically our spiritual leaders are working like crazy to care for us.  And they are succeeding.  But giving in most places of worship is way down.  As long as I've been writing this blog (over a decade) I don't thing I've ever made an ask - until today.

I hope you'll give - no matter how small - to your church or synagogue, or wherever you find spiritual power.

And if you're not spiritually inclined, give to for your grandma.


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Separation Anxiety - It's Not Just for Kids Anymore

After my posting about my son wearing his baby in a Baby Bjorn my niece sent me the book, Separation Anxiety by Laura Zigman.  I started it yesterday.  In the book the main character, Judy, in order to quiet her considerable anxieties, wears her dog.

At this particular time in history,  I think we all can relate.

Already, after reading only a couple of chapters, I have discovered a new, helpful, term.  The fictitious Judy writes for an online magazine called Well/er.  Following is the magazine's concept:

Well/er believes in tiny incremental gains in physical and emotional wellness instead of big ambitious ones.  Hence Well/er not Well.  DOING JUST ENOUGH IS ENOUGH TO CHANGE YOUR LIFE.

Then, this morning, syndicated columnist' Leonard Pitts wrote a piece called Making peace with quarantine.  In it he writes about the difference between Easy and Easier.  He's an introvert so he knew it would be easier for him than others to separate, but he's forced to truly miss the personal contacts all of us need to stay sane.   He concludes his column with the following: I thought this would be easier for me than for many of you - and it is.  But it turns out "easier" and "easy" are two entirely different things.  

So,  I'm trying to be "Well-er" and experience "Easier" in a more realistic, grateful way.

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Humility on Palm Sunday

This is Palm Sunday.  I attended virtual church twice.  At 9:30 in my pajamas and 11 am in my walking clothes.  My senior pastor, David, preached, of course, about folks celebrating Jesus' arrival in Jerusalem by praising him and placing palm branches in his path.

Jesus, on the other hand, chose to ride in on a donkey.  Quite a humble thing to do.

Pastor David started his sermon by reminding us that the slain Martin Luther King, Jr.'s body was (per his wishes) transported from Atlanta's Ebenezer Baptist Church to Morehouse college, a distance of four miles, in a mule drawn wagon.  It's pretty clear that both Jesus and Martin did this humble thing to honor the poor and suffering.   And in this way Martin was also honoring his savior.

During this time, my husband, Ken, and I, along with our two small children, were in Atlanta living in a tiny cottage on the Emory University campus.  A few years later I wrote the poem below.

Yesterday we walked with Martin, 
It was raining very hard. 
Hundreds, thousands pressed against us,
As we neared the fenced churchyard.

That morning I had fed my babies,
Dressed them, hugged them with thanksgiving,
Then drove us to all our day places
(You know I have to make a living. )

They were all alone in Memphis,
When the awful moment came,
Martin laughing by the railing,
At the small Hotel Lorraine.

People came from everywhere,
Needing rides and food and bed,
We scrambled to find safe places,
For them to lay their weary heads.

Yesterday we walked with Martin,
It was raining very hard.
Bobby, Ethel, Harry led them,
But hundreds, thousands swarmed the yard. 

This morning we made Easter eggs,
For the preschool celebration .
We'll play and sing and clap our hands,
While waiting for the resurrection.

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Emotional Diversity

This morning I watched my church's daily devotional and heard one of my favorite smart people, Dr. Jon, speak on "Emotional Diversity."  He learned about it from Tonya, a mutual smart person friend.

Emotional diversity is about deeply experiencing all of our emotions in order to be a reasonably happy well-rounded person. As you know I'm not good at expressing sadness.  It's not that I don't feel the pressure of it,  I just can't easily let it out.  As you may remember I had to visit a counselor to help me deal appropriately with my grief when my husband, David, died.

Mr. Rogers was an expert on emotional diversity.  I finally got around to watching the Tom Hank's movie earlier in the week.  But I found it extremely slow moving and frustrating in that the main character (besides Mr. Rogers) was messed up and angry.  To me it was tedious.  I had to watch it over a three day period in order to get through it.  

But, to my great surprise, when Mr. Rogers arrived at Lloyd's front door with a pumpkin pie - I fell apart!  And I couldn't stop until Mr. Rogers said goodbye and whispered something in the Lloyd's dying father's ear.

Quite the cathartic release.


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