Sunday, July 22, 2018

Appreciating My Parents



Yesterday, my nebulizer machine wouldn't work. I took it apart methodically. After I'd removed the hose from the unit, I turned it on, and felt air coming through. Turned it off, re-attached the hose, and again felt air. Then, I replaced the inside part where you pour the Albuterol solution, and felt no air. Aha! I took a paper clip and stretched it out and poked it through that sucker. The tiny pinhole was clogged up. I replaced the part, and felt air! I tested the final attachment, including the mouthpiece, after filling the little compartment with an ampule of Albuterol. Voila! I now have a working VIOS nebulizer. Next cycle I run through it will be with a solution of vinegar and water, to clean out any other buildup. 

My father, Robert J. Flygare, who passed away in 1997, was a chemical engineer. Hence, I composed the following and sent it to my mother and sisters.

"Well, things breakin' down can cause ya dismay
Unless you're a daughter of Robert. J.
He could fix anything, and I'm just that way--
Thank God I'm an engineer!"

Then, I got to thinking about Mom, who turned 92 in May. Her response to my e-mail had been, "Yes, all our daughters are 100%."  I thought about that for a few minutes, and then sent her this:

"Mom, you said in an e-mail to me: "Yes, all of our daughters are 100%." Well, you are 100%, too! Yes, I sent a poem about learning to fix things by watching Dad, but that doesn't mean I couldn't write a volume about all the things I learned from you, back when I was "Gigi Doll," (aka "Little Vi.")  Here is a list, at random, of things that warm my heart because I got them from you: (and I am still learning!)
1. When driving, even though we now have seat belts, if I have to brake suddenly, I automatically swing my right arm across the passenger seat to protect the person sitting there, even if there is no passenger!            

2. I sing my life. I find myself turning so many things I do every day into a song! Mom, you sang our childhood to us. This link is to a video from You Tube of five sisters singing "Music in my Mother's House" to their mother and her friends at her 80th birthday party. You won't be able to understand the verses because of the laughter, (I couldn't).  But the chorus comes through loud and clear.
3. You were wonderful when I was learning to drive. I felt so calm and relaxed when I was in the car with you! You were calm and patient with me.
4. .Every day, after we got our stereo, I'd come home from Linden Park School and ask you if I could listen to one of our classical records. You were always so pleased to fulfill my requests. It was because of your description of the music course you took in college (you even gave me the textbook!) that I decided to pursue music as a minor in college. Who could ever forget you singing "Ceeeee-sar Frank! Ceeeee-sar Frank!" to the Symphony in D Minor? (It is actually pronounced "SAY-sar Fronck") You taught me so much about classical music!
5. "Do for OTHERS." What a gift. Your words, so often said to me, are my motto. People can't be happy if they are self-centered. You taught me that.
6. You drew me to the United Methodist Church, and back to my Christian faith. I am forever grateful for that.
7. You taught me some simple things that I still appreciate--here are two: (a) how to put polish on my fingernails the correct way, and (b) the polite way to fold your hands in your lap at church if you aren't wearing gloves--always cup your hand with a beautiful ring on your finger inside the other hand--do NOT lay it on top, because that looks like you are admiring your jewels and showing off the people next to you in the pew.
8.  You taught me to assert myself. I have always admired how forthright you are. I like to think that I got that from you. I bet we all did!"
I'm sure there are many, many more things I could add to this list. 
______________________________________________________________________

I hope all who read this take a moment to cherish their parents, be they living or not. I continue to feel blessed every day of my life because of the beautiful childhood they gave me.

Thursday, March 15, 2018

My response on Quora to the question: What is the most cringeworthy thing you have seen at a wedding?

Elizabeth Flygare
Elizabeth Flygare, former Retired Paraprofessional Librarian (1975-2010)




Myself, in true ADHD fashion, nonchalantly photobombing every attempt the professional photographers made to take pictures at my niece’s wedding reception last May. My fat ass got in about twelve of them - me at an awkward angle, snapping with my phone, oblivious to the horror that was rippling throughout the room as I blocked their view. The sister of the bride had to text my sister (mother of bride) to tell her that “Elizabeth needs to sit down and stop taking pictures.” A month after the fact, my sister emailed me the worst of the photos. You can even see the looks on the faces of the guests, the wedding photographers and the wedding party. I will add that I had on a bright pink batik tunic and shocking pink leggings, finished off with bling Birkenstocks. I looked like I was wearing the drapes.

I honestly was clueless about what I was doing. I was simply focusing (forgive the double entendre) on our 91-year old’s mother’s request to me, that I “take lots of pictures,” because she doesn’t travel any more - she has a caregiver - this is the first family wedding Mom has missed. Mom does not know about my faux pas (too lazy to look up the plural of that) and - thank heavens, the other family members at the table were too polite to mention it to me after the event, and I know they didn’t tell Mom.

I will never wear that outfit again, but here is a photo of me wearing it at WisCon in Madison, a week or so after the wedding. In this one, I am with my boyfriend, and I’m not being a fool. (at least I don’t think so) Obviously I packed the outfit for the con and wore it with aplomb because I hadn’t yet heard about my “performance” at the wedding reception. (My sister didn’t see the proofs until June) She was plenty pissed off at me, but she promised me that no one else would see the photobombs, and that they would not be printed. Haven’t worn the outfit since. The shoes hurt my feet, too.




Wednesday, January 24, 2018

My Review of Girl at the End of the World on Goodreads

Girl at the End of the World: My Escape from Fundamentalism in Search of Faith with a FutureGirl at the End of the World: My Escape from Fundamentalism in Search of Faith with a Future by Elizabeth Esther
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

I have heard horror stories about daily spankings, ("the sword of the Lord,”) starting when children are six months old. I have read about the fear of being "left behind" (when, not if) Armageddon happens, and families who have meeting spaces in case the Rapture occurs and they are "arrested by the Antichrist." I’ve heard all about the modest clothing, the practice of "courtship" (arranged marriages) in place of dating; in short, the self-flagellating, terrified affect carried around like giant rocks around their necks by people who were born and raised in this environment. I have read countless non-fiction books about fundamentalist sects that are out of the bell curve, and I have observed people who appear to be carrying that weight.

But never in my born days have I read someone’s actual words about how she believed that "being a pacifist means hitting your kid to save her soul." The use of violence against children is abhorrent to me, as I am sure it is to most. Never have I ever heard of a little child forced into street preaching, believing "I am ready to die for Jesus." In this short book by Elizabeth Esther, we are taken into the graphic world of hyper-literal interpretation of the Bible (my note: which version?) along with rigid rules, fear, child-beating and brainwashing.

This is religious abuse.

Elizabeth Esther's wake-up call comes following the tragedy of the attacks on 9/11/2001, which were interpreted by her family as the Apocalypse. Following this is a private disclosure by Elizabeth's own mother, where she confides to her daughter that before marrying Elizabeth's father, the love of her life died of a serious illness. Catapulted by the shock of this loss, her mother lands directly into a marriage into what amounts to a cult. Yes -- even so, Elizabeth’s mother chooses to follow the rigid teachings and practices.

Elizabeth marries a man named Matt, who was raised as she was. They start out resolving to bring up their children along the lines of their childhood mindset. Then, one day, the light comes on: It is the moment Elizabeth’s mother hands her a kitchen spoon and orders her to discipline her one-year-old baby. She realizes that she that she does not have to break her daughter's spirit by beating her. Eyes opened, Elizabeth finds the courage to say "No!" The cycle is broken. She and her husband, Matt, begin to hunt for the truth. They find others who are willing to give eyewitness accounts of their own abuse. Through arduous research, including the process of hearing from others about this type of fundamentalism, they learn about misuse of tithe money, adultery and horrendous beatings of women by their husbands in similar sects.

"Love me, God. I dare you," she prays. She feels a call so strong that she follows it. Now, she and Matt are raising their children in the Catholic Church, where mystery is embraced and service to others is encouraged. Through her new faith, Elizabeth is freed from the terror of a vengeful, punishing God. She learns, through therapy and her newfound beliefs, to be gentle with herself. She gains the courage to put away the self-loathing and, for the first time, feel able to be both holy and happy. We see her make peace with her mother, accept her parents’ apology, and become able to forgive. I am glad I stayed up late enough to finish this book. I slept better knowing that Elizabeth Esther and her family have found security, safety and grace. I will never again make fun of the fundamentalism movement in which she was raised, because cruelty is never funny. Many who read my review will question her decision to turn to Catholicism; I respect it. I respect her for having the guts to write this book in hopes that it will help others. I am thankful that she has realized that she is a beloved child of God, and that she has found joy and purpose in life.






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