12.15.2009
Article on AOL Health about FTD
This article was on AOL Health today. It is about frontotemporal dementia, which is what my mother and grandmother suffered from (we believe my mom had FTD-MND and my grandmother had Pick's Disease), and what my brother or I may develop. It is a horrible, devastating disease that needs and deserves attention. Please read this article and also visit this website to learn more about this family of neurodegenerative diseases. Help us find a cure or a treatment.
A wealth that I will never know
I perusing the pictures of an acquaintance of mine on Facebook. This lady is a lovely lady; I worked for her briefly years ago, and babysat her son when he was little. She and her husband had a gorgeous home in downtown Philadelphia, and she is gracious and funny and smart. Because of her husband's job, they moved to another major metropolitan area on the East Coast, and they now also have a beautiful daughter. They have a summer home and they travel a lot.
Terry and I have friends that we would consider wealthy. A couple of Terry's friends are millionaires, and they have more than one large home, and nice cars, and all that cool stuff. They've never had to worry about paying bills or having their utilities shut off; I'm sure that paying the babysitter was never an issue, and they've dined in many fine restaurants. But this lady and her family that I know, theirs is a wealth that is a step above.
I realized this when I was looking at her pictures. There was a picture of her son with someone who is quite well-known around the world for his entrepreneurial skills and business acumen. He is a Renaissance Man. This lady and her family were staying at the resort that this man built - I don't know if they are friends with him, but it wouldn't surprise me. Her son and this man seem quite at ease and comfortable with each other in the photo.
It got me to thinking. What would I do with the wealth that Renaissance Man has? What would I do with the wealth that the lady I know has? Would I be different? I know I wouldn't work, at least not in any regular sense of the word. Where would I live? I could have more than one house - I would definitely have to have a house in Paris, and one on an ocean somewhere, preferably somewhere warm. Terry could have all the guitars and amps he wanted and a state-of-the-art recording studio. Susannah would go to the best schools. I would take care of my dad and my brother and Terry's relatives so that no one would ever have to worry about paying bills. I'd help my friends. It's like when we fantasize about winning the lottery. It's that distant, and that unlikely, and just a pleasant dream that will likely never come true.
There is so much stress that is caused by not having money. I wonder, when you DO have money, where does the stress come from then? I know money doesn't solve all problems, but it certainly helps with a lot of them.
Would I still want a garden? Would I hire a maid and a cook? What would I do with my time when Susannah was in school? Oddly enough, I think I would become a yoga teacher, which is what the lady has done, and that's pretty cool. Would I still spin yarn and crochet blankets? Would I develop a taste for expensive wine? Would I get Botox? (Trust me, I've considered it. I don't like this aging nonsense at all.)
What would I keep that I currently own? Would I buy a fancy car? I would definitely get some dogs, and I'd walk them myself. I'd keep the old copper watering cans that my mother collected. I'd keep the turquoise ring made by the Native Americans in New Mexico that Terry gave me for our anniversary. I'd keep my yarn and my spinning wheels and my books and my pictures. Maybe I'd pursue art full-time, in some fashion. But the only real artist I know is my friend Amy. She can draw a picture of a crumpled candy wrapper, and it is beautiful and awe-inspiring. I do pleasant watercolors that would probably match one of the rooms in your house - nice to look at, not all that original. I admire originality.
So many questions, so few answers. But that's okay. It's fun to dream. I wouldn't mind a free stay at Renaissance Man's tropical resort though. He could invest in the S.D.R.F. (Sally Debt Relief Fund). It's totally a worthy cause. ;o)
I have to admit, I've got a good life. I have a roof over my head and food in my belly and a job, and a husband and a daughter who I love more than life itself, and I have my health. I don't have much material wealth, but I sure do have a lot of life wealth, and for that I am grateful.
Terry and I have friends that we would consider wealthy. A couple of Terry's friends are millionaires, and they have more than one large home, and nice cars, and all that cool stuff. They've never had to worry about paying bills or having their utilities shut off; I'm sure that paying the babysitter was never an issue, and they've dined in many fine restaurants. But this lady and her family that I know, theirs is a wealth that is a step above.
I realized this when I was looking at her pictures. There was a picture of her son with someone who is quite well-known around the world for his entrepreneurial skills and business acumen. He is a Renaissance Man. This lady and her family were staying at the resort that this man built - I don't know if they are friends with him, but it wouldn't surprise me. Her son and this man seem quite at ease and comfortable with each other in the photo.
It got me to thinking. What would I do with the wealth that Renaissance Man has? What would I do with the wealth that the lady I know has? Would I be different? I know I wouldn't work, at least not in any regular sense of the word. Where would I live? I could have more than one house - I would definitely have to have a house in Paris, and one on an ocean somewhere, preferably somewhere warm. Terry could have all the guitars and amps he wanted and a state-of-the-art recording studio. Susannah would go to the best schools. I would take care of my dad and my brother and Terry's relatives so that no one would ever have to worry about paying bills. I'd help my friends. It's like when we fantasize about winning the lottery. It's that distant, and that unlikely, and just a pleasant dream that will likely never come true.
There is so much stress that is caused by not having money. I wonder, when you DO have money, where does the stress come from then? I know money doesn't solve all problems, but it certainly helps with a lot of them.
Would I still want a garden? Would I hire a maid and a cook? What would I do with my time when Susannah was in school? Oddly enough, I think I would become a yoga teacher, which is what the lady has done, and that's pretty cool. Would I still spin yarn and crochet blankets? Would I develop a taste for expensive wine? Would I get Botox? (Trust me, I've considered it. I don't like this aging nonsense at all.)
What would I keep that I currently own? Would I buy a fancy car? I would definitely get some dogs, and I'd walk them myself. I'd keep the old copper watering cans that my mother collected. I'd keep the turquoise ring made by the Native Americans in New Mexico that Terry gave me for our anniversary. I'd keep my yarn and my spinning wheels and my books and my pictures. Maybe I'd pursue art full-time, in some fashion. But the only real artist I know is my friend Amy. She can draw a picture of a crumpled candy wrapper, and it is beautiful and awe-inspiring. I do pleasant watercolors that would probably match one of the rooms in your house - nice to look at, not all that original. I admire originality.
So many questions, so few answers. But that's okay. It's fun to dream. I wouldn't mind a free stay at Renaissance Man's tropical resort though. He could invest in the S.D.R.F. (Sally Debt Relief Fund). It's totally a worthy cause. ;o)
I have to admit, I've got a good life. I have a roof over my head and food in my belly and a job, and a husband and a daughter who I love more than life itself, and I have my health. I don't have much material wealth, but I sure do have a lot of life wealth, and for that I am grateful.
12.11.2009
A 'quiverfull' of babies
So Michelle Duggar just had her 19th baby last night. The little girl was very premature, weighing in at only 1 lb 6 oz. It is her and Jim Bob's ninth daughter.
So now Michelle and Jim Bob have a daughter who is younger than their first grandchild. Whatever, it happens. The ages in my combined family are sort of wacky too, given the age difference between my husband and me. There is something about the Duggars that really bothers me, and it took me a while to put my finger on it.
The Duggars believe in the Quiverfull Movement, that is, they will have as many children as God wants them to have. As someone who experienced postpartum depression, the thought of having this many children makes me ill with terror. I also can't imagine what is must be like when the stomach flu hits the Duggar household.
Although my natural reaction is to recoil from such fervent shows of evangelical Christianity, this is not what truly bothers me. Now obviously, all we see of the Duggars is what they show on TLC, which I'm quite sure is highly edited. However, one would think that if there were truly some problems in the family, we'd hear about it somehow. No, I believe that the children are happy and well cared-for. I don't agree with what they are teaching their children, but that's their decision to make, as much as I think it is a load of hogwash (creationism and other fallacies). It has also been said that the Duggars have no debt; their house is paid for, their cars are paid for, their children's basic needs are taken care of. There are families out there with just one or two children who either have a lot of debt (like we do) or don't pay a speck of attention to their children. So that doesn't bother me either.
What bothers me is the environmental impact this one family is having on the Earth. They are a family of consumers. They consume food, they consume space, they consume diapers, they consume water, and whatever is not consumed ends up in a landfill somewhere (I assume; I haven't seen them composting their tater tot casseroles [then again I assume there are no leftovers in their house. Ever.]). And they are teaching their children to go forth and start Quiverfull families of their own. If all 19 children do that, and let's say that each child marries and has eight children, then that's 151 more grandchildren for Michelle and Jim Bob. Whoa. That's kinda crazy.
I am a consumer. As Americans, we make up 1/20th of the world's population, yet we consume 1/4 of its energy and resources. I try not to consume quite as much. I turn down the heat and put on a sweater. I turn the lights off when we're not in the room. I try to buy local food when possible. We recycle all the time and compost some of the time. In the summer, we open the windows instead of turning on the air conditioning. I drive a small car. I could do more, and I want to do more. I want to spend less money, consume fewer resources, and save more things. And the Duggars don't do that. And that's what really gets to me.
How much does it cost to heat their home? Arkansas gets pretty cold in the winter. And what about the crap food they feed their children? That's not healthy, and that food doesn't come from healthy places.
I don't care if the Duggars are evangelical Christians - I guess it works for them. I just shudder at the thought of their impact on the Earth.
I don't think Jesus would approve.
So now Michelle and Jim Bob have a daughter who is younger than their first grandchild. Whatever, it happens. The ages in my combined family are sort of wacky too, given the age difference between my husband and me. There is something about the Duggars that really bothers me, and it took me a while to put my finger on it.
The Duggars believe in the Quiverfull Movement, that is, they will have as many children as God wants them to have. As someone who experienced postpartum depression, the thought of having this many children makes me ill with terror. I also can't imagine what is must be like when the stomach flu hits the Duggar household.
Although my natural reaction is to recoil from such fervent shows of evangelical Christianity, this is not what truly bothers me. Now obviously, all we see of the Duggars is what they show on TLC, which I'm quite sure is highly edited. However, one would think that if there were truly some problems in the family, we'd hear about it somehow. No, I believe that the children are happy and well cared-for. I don't agree with what they are teaching their children, but that's their decision to make, as much as I think it is a load of hogwash (creationism and other fallacies). It has also been said that the Duggars have no debt; their house is paid for, their cars are paid for, their children's basic needs are taken care of. There are families out there with just one or two children who either have a lot of debt (like we do) or don't pay a speck of attention to their children. So that doesn't bother me either.
What bothers me is the environmental impact this one family is having on the Earth. They are a family of consumers. They consume food, they consume space, they consume diapers, they consume water, and whatever is not consumed ends up in a landfill somewhere (I assume; I haven't seen them composting their tater tot casseroles [then again I assume there are no leftovers in their house. Ever.]). And they are teaching their children to go forth and start Quiverfull families of their own. If all 19 children do that, and let's say that each child marries and has eight children, then that's 151 more grandchildren for Michelle and Jim Bob. Whoa. That's kinda crazy.
I am a consumer. As Americans, we make up 1/20th of the world's population, yet we consume 1/4 of its energy and resources. I try not to consume quite as much. I turn down the heat and put on a sweater. I turn the lights off when we're not in the room. I try to buy local food when possible. We recycle all the time and compost some of the time. In the summer, we open the windows instead of turning on the air conditioning. I drive a small car. I could do more, and I want to do more. I want to spend less money, consume fewer resources, and save more things. And the Duggars don't do that. And that's what really gets to me.
How much does it cost to heat their home? Arkansas gets pretty cold in the winter. And what about the crap food they feed their children? That's not healthy, and that food doesn't come from healthy places.
I don't care if the Duggars are evangelical Christians - I guess it works for them. I just shudder at the thought of their impact on the Earth.
I don't think Jesus would approve.
12.02.2009
Today is the day
December is always a stressful time. I'm usually finishing a class, and I'm a procrastinator, so that means that I have a lot to do in a small amount of time. I have to buy and make Christmas presents for people. I have to take Susannah to church and watch her Christmas play, and take her to ballet and watch the Nutcracker and be the backstage mom. And I still have to do the usual things - clean, cook, go to work, hug Susannah and Terry, vacuum, feed the cats; you know how it goes. Sometimes, I have too much wine, and I get weepy, and I feel sorry for myself. And today is the day that I feel sorry for myself.
I wish my mom was here. I wish I could call her on the phone. She was such a good mom. She was funny and warm and loving and cultured and down to earth. I'm angry that she didn't get to be the grandmother she always wanted to be. I'm angry that she was stolen away from us, and I'm angry that her disease was so ugly and horrible to her. It stole her voice, and it stole her body, and it stole my Ma, and that is just not right. And that makes me angry and sad, and I feel sorry for myself that my mother is dead.
I wish my Jeb was here. I call her 'my' Jeb, but she was everyone's Jeb. I wanted to keep her all to myself at the end, but I knew it wasn't possible, and that made me angry. She was the truest friend I ever had - she listened to me, she understood me, she hugged me, and she never judged me. And she made me laugh. And now she is gone, and I feel sorry for myself that one of the greatest people I ever knew is dead.
I'm angry that my grandparents died when I was young, and I'm angry that they lived far away. Everyone I knew had grandparents nearby when we were growing up, and they did fun things with their grandparents. My grandparents lived in Kansas and Minnesota, and I never even met my Grandpa Watson. And I feel sorry for myself.
And I feel guilty today. I feel guilt about wanting time to myself. I feel guilty for not wanting to visit my MIL because where she lives is so sad; there are many lonely, old, frail people there, and they hang their heads as they sit in the wheelchairs in front of the television in the common room. I feel guilty for wanting a bigger house. I feel guilty for wanting more money. I feel guilty for throwing out food that doesn't get eaten. And I feel guilty for complaining about it all.
So I'll go ahead and feel sorry for myself, because today is the day that I do that. Perhaps I'll have a good cry, and yearn for a time when things seemed easier, even though they weren't. They were just easier compared to today. I'll wish I still lived in Paris. I'll wish I had a dog. I'll wish that I had chosen another career 15 years ago. And I'll cry some more, then I'll dry my tears and blow my nose and go to bed.
And then I'll think of all the things that I'm grateful for: my husband, my daughter, my dad, my brother, my friends, my house, my job, my car, my still-functioning brain, my still-functioning body, my sight, my hearing, my ability to communicate with others, the time I had with Ma, the time I had with Jeb, music, yarn, spring, animals, good food, good drink, and good memories.
And I'll go to sleep, and tomorrow I'll go to work, and it will no longer be the day where I feel sorry for myself. It will be the day that I am glad that I am me.
I wish my mom was here. I wish I could call her on the phone. She was such a good mom. She was funny and warm and loving and cultured and down to earth. I'm angry that she didn't get to be the grandmother she always wanted to be. I'm angry that she was stolen away from us, and I'm angry that her disease was so ugly and horrible to her. It stole her voice, and it stole her body, and it stole my Ma, and that is just not right. And that makes me angry and sad, and I feel sorry for myself that my mother is dead.
I wish my Jeb was here. I call her 'my' Jeb, but she was everyone's Jeb. I wanted to keep her all to myself at the end, but I knew it wasn't possible, and that made me angry. She was the truest friend I ever had - she listened to me, she understood me, she hugged me, and she never judged me. And she made me laugh. And now she is gone, and I feel sorry for myself that one of the greatest people I ever knew is dead.
I'm angry that my grandparents died when I was young, and I'm angry that they lived far away. Everyone I knew had grandparents nearby when we were growing up, and they did fun things with their grandparents. My grandparents lived in Kansas and Minnesota, and I never even met my Grandpa Watson. And I feel sorry for myself.
And I feel guilty today. I feel guilt about wanting time to myself. I feel guilty for not wanting to visit my MIL because where she lives is so sad; there are many lonely, old, frail people there, and they hang their heads as they sit in the wheelchairs in front of the television in the common room. I feel guilty for wanting a bigger house. I feel guilty for wanting more money. I feel guilty for throwing out food that doesn't get eaten. And I feel guilty for complaining about it all.
So I'll go ahead and feel sorry for myself, because today is the day that I do that. Perhaps I'll have a good cry, and yearn for a time when things seemed easier, even though they weren't. They were just easier compared to today. I'll wish I still lived in Paris. I'll wish I had a dog. I'll wish that I had chosen another career 15 years ago. And I'll cry some more, then I'll dry my tears and blow my nose and go to bed.
And then I'll think of all the things that I'm grateful for: my husband, my daughter, my dad, my brother, my friends, my house, my job, my car, my still-functioning brain, my still-functioning body, my sight, my hearing, my ability to communicate with others, the time I had with Ma, the time I had with Jeb, music, yarn, spring, animals, good food, good drink, and good memories.
And I'll go to sleep, and tomorrow I'll go to work, and it will no longer be the day where I feel sorry for myself. It will be the day that I am glad that I am me.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
