A time to Rejoice in the Midst of Mourning

Yesterday I had cause to rejoice as I talked to my youngest daughter and learned that she had given birth to Leviticus Rex, her fifth child and my thirty first grandchild. At the same event I was attending when I called my daughter someone asked me if I had any great grand children. I said no, but the question caused me to reflect on the reasons why I have no great-grandchildren. Although my oldest grandchild is married and in her late twenties she has not been able to have a child. The next oldest grandchild has chosen to delay having a family as he and his wife embark on a year long tour of the world. The next two grandchildren, both of them boys, died shortly after birth. It would not be reasonable to expect the next three grandchildren to have children at this time based on age alone since all are in their late teens. However the nineteen year old is is impaired by autistism to the point that her parents were required to obtain extended custody. The next has Down's Syndrome and the next has decided that she is a boy.

Gaslit?

Gaslit?

After a recent exchange of comments on my Facebook page in which a person unknown to me has tried to gaslight me (I wasn't familiar with the term 'gaslighting' until lately but essentially it means a person sets conditions to convince you that you are not thinking straight.) I now believe there's an attempt being made to 'gaslight' American conservatives by the government. When we express concern about certain actions that are going forth such as the categorization of Texas and Utah as alien territories for the purposes of military training exercise. When veterans and others such as I express doubt about the wisdom of the project, media gets on board and accuses those who show concern about this as not thinking straight. Some of my close relatives namely my sister and my nephew dismissed my concern. I pointed out in one of my comments on Facebook that I have experience in my life that gives me insight into the workings of the government. From childhood my brother would attempt to convince me of various things and I would resist. One time he accused me of being slippery as I was not willing to accept the premises that he would set but even then I realize that premises are the basis of logical conclusions and it is in the premises that one can be misled. As far as official recognition of our intelligence, both my brother and I were identified as merit finalists as high school juniors. in other words our knowledge and intelligence were significantly more than most of our peers. Both of us were offered the opportunity to attend elite institutions of higher education however the financial realities of our family meant that both of us attended the University of Utah. My brother obtained his bachelors degree, I believe the subject was journalism, after returning from serving in the United States Marines. I attended two years of college before my marriage but returned after having 10 children and eventually graduated from University of Utah. However I also attended George Mason University in Virginia and Brigham Young University in Utah. My brother worked as a journalist usually in editorial positions in California and Washington state while I was a stay-at-home mother. However I was the primary influence in the upbringing of my children. Six of my nine living children were Merit semi finalists, two were given recognition by the Merit Foundation and one scored well into the 90s on college selective tests and her school career included being selected for Governor's School in Virginia which is a highly selective program. Some of my nieces and nephews are also very intelligent however as far as official recognition is concerned, none of them have received the same acknowledgment. Tests and awards alone however are not truly the mark of intelligence. In my opinion the ability to think independently and creatively without being herded along by whatever the media says is a more valid indication of intelligence. By this measure my children rank very well. I believe that to some extent fruits vindicate the value of the branch.

Alive for Now

A few weeks after publishing the previous post my weakness and fatigue and periodic painful episodes of what I identified as indigestion still plagued me. I suspected heart disease and diabetes were responsible. My lack of any medical insurance but medicare part a made me wary of getting involved in a search for answers. Finally, on October 18 my daughter Nancy, an MD, decided I should go to the emergency room. She suspected atrial fibrillation. She drove me to The Allen Wing of New York Presbyterian Hospital, a small hospital just south of Spuyten Duyvil Creek and The Bronx. Within minutes my pulse and blood pressure were being taken as I was admitted. Next I was led into a room where blood was taken and an EKG administered. Next I was led into a curtained area to wait on results of the various tests. Blood pressure normal, pulse normal, heart normal, but then the emergency room physician returned in something of a hurry. "We've found the problem. You have about 30% of normal hemoglobin and are severely anemic." I was given two units of blood then taken to a room. I discoved that my roommate was a Mormon woman from Puerto Rico named Liria Cruz-Pacheco and we enjoyed a lively conversation. When her problems with obtaining oxygen supplies were settled after a few days they brought in a young woman who had attempted suicide. She apparently resented the cheerful noises made by my visitors who included three granddaughters and a baby grandson with their assorted parents and requested a different room. She was taken to a room across the hall where the other patient moaned in evident pain or called for nurses. Before long she changed back to my room. Over the next few days I was given various tests includind a simultaneous endoscopy and colonoscopy. I was sufficiently aware to watch the monitor that showed the progress of the camera through my large intestine. I saw the narrowed opening and heard the radiologists confer about the blockage that prevented them from exploring any further. That night I was taken down to radiology again for a CT scan. An 'apple core' tumor, so named because the tumor left an apple core shaped opening which had less thana centimeter opening. I realized that my bouts of 'indigestion' resulted from temporary blockage. Surgery was recommended and I agreed. My son-i-law Lata and his home teacher gave me a priesthood blessing. The tumor was causing bleeding and would eventually close off my gut completely. I was taken to surgery on Friday evening,October 24. The anesthetist introduced himself and indicated the cross he wore around his neck. "I'll be praying for you." he said. Later, in the operating room, the nurses found that they had somehow misplaced a mat under me. They asked me to lift my hips and shoulders off the mattress at the same time so they could shift it down. I said I no longer levitated and I would lift my shoulders, then my hips. A few months later several of my young grandchildren demonstrated that they could balance on their heels and head with their bodies lifted. I'm simply not young and lithe enough. Meg came up from Virginia and waited through my operation and recovery then sat up with me all night and chatted, sharply reducing mystery use of self administered morphia. I finally released her from my thrall and she was able to return to Nancy's apartment for sleep, returning later with avocados and sea weed to relieve my awful post surgery diet of 'clears'. My attractive young surgeon stopped by on Sunday morning and said I was his favorite patient. On Monday, two and a half days following my surgery I was released from the hospital with a few very small scars. The laparoscopic surgery had removed half of my large intestine from the exit of the small intestine to the center of the transverse section at the top of the square shaped loop, including much of the omentum with 30 lymph nodes and the associated blood vessels, all through a three inch long incision just above my navel. Several 1/2" incisions were made for various cameras and surgical tools including a stapler to join the edges of my shortened large intestine with the small intestine. I didn't feel the need to use the prescribed painkiller or laxative once I returned to the apartment. With a month old baby and a heart patient already in residence I knew I would have to see to my own needs, but I had not required nursing in the hospital. My recovery was rapid. I am using alternative methods to subdue whatever cancer may remain in my system but my doctor called with a pathology report and only three of the thirty lymph nodes removed showed signs of cancer.

Time Is Not Enough

Now and then I encounter elderly characters in fiction or essays who are portrayed as being filled with ennui, tired of life and kept from ending it only by fear. I think the authors must be relatively lacking elderly acquaintances and friends. As an old lady I've known many old people and they are usually less bored with life than most of the teen aged people I know. I admit to a certain amount of impatience with my ebbing strength and increasing folio of deviations from youthful health. I have so much I want to do and learn and less vigor to accomplish my projects such as building a 'three sisters' keyhole garden to replace the grass in my backyard. My problem with death is that it will end my work as an artist, at least for a while, and I won't be hugging grandchildren without a physical body to use. But since I believe that sometime after death I will receive a new and better version of my mortal body, I only fear the actual process of death. I truly relish the prospect of eternity to learn and work and love.

Un-hedged

Nephi wrote a plea that the Lord would not hedge up his way in 2 Nephi:33. For several years my way has been hedged up on the north side of my driveway where a dying hedge planted near the pavement made it uncomfortable for people to exit from the passenger side of a car parked close to the edge of the pavement in order to leave room for another car to park in the front part of the driveway. I had the impression that the hedge belonged to my neighbor on the north because landscape people maintained his lawn and shrubbery and they regularly trimmed the hedge on his side even as it died and left little more than a large barrier of sticks. I wrote him a note suggesting that if he would have his landscape people remove the hedge I would provide the material and labor to replace it with a fence. He ignored the note. after his death I hoped to address his heirs about the matter but I didn't have the opportunity until a few weeks ago. At that time his daughter said that removing the hedge was not a priority with her but she introduced the idea of locating the property line. She led the search for the mark on the sidewalk but although we searched for several feet north of my driveway we couldn't locate the shallow cut in the pavement that marked the property line. I had vague thoughts of contacting the city about locating the line. The next morning I discovered that my neighbor had persisted, and much to my surprise, the mark is located several feet past the hedge, well into the area groomed as the neighbor's lawn. Suddenly the hedge became my responsibility instead of being a petty annoyance. Within days my son and I used ingenuity , a pickup truck, a nylon cable and a mattock to remove ninety percent of the hedge, the part that had died and become virtually rootless. Two small scraggy section of the hedge still had living roots and could not be budged until the roots were cut away. Within a few hours the hedge had been completely removed and by the next morning it had been carted off to a disposal site. The first section of the fence that replaces the hedge has been set up and as soon as I return from helping with the birth of my 28th grandchild I will complete the fence. I suffered the irritating presence of the dying hedge for at least five years, but because I never thought of it as my responsibility I blamed it on my neighbor. I wonder how many other things in my life are similar. I recall the story told by a woman who felt annoyed because her husband always left spots of soap or toothpaste residue on the bathroom mirror, then he died, but the spots continued to appear. I will look for those areas in my life where I have incorrectly assigned responsibility. I resolve that I will no longer suffer guilt for things that other people own nor blame others for issues that belong to me where ever I can determine the difference.

Return to Okishdu

Although I write well enough to have tested out of the requirement to take English or writing courses at several universities including GMU and U of U, I make a number of mistakes as I write. Several years ago I took a writing workshop from Dave Farland/Wolverton in which I learned more than I have in similar workshops with Orson Scott Card and other mentors over the years. DF emphasized creating useful outlines and avoiding the passive voice by eliminating 'was' wherever possible. I tried to apply his teaching to a series of books set in the mythical land of Okishdu which I created years ago and continued to work on. Many of my friends and a number of my children and older grandchildren have enjoyed the series. Now one of my younger grandchildren is eagerly reading the books as I print them out. He is nine years old and has an elevated vocabulary for his age, but I realized that some of the scenes were a little sophisticated for a child. I decided to re-visit Okishdu and re-edit my stories. It has been a challenge and a joy. I am about midway through the series and it has taken a lot of time. I submitted the series to a couple of publishers several years ago, but now I feel it is just as well that I didn't succeed. Will Okishdu ever see print beyond what I accomplish with my Canon printer and a Fellowes binding system? I am putting the revised stories on the web at http://okishdu.com as I complete them. In a sense I can claim to be e-published, but so can any blogger. Frankly as an artist and a writer I have never produced any creation that is more fun to revisit than the land of Okishdu.

Reposted from another blog where it was misplaced

In October I wrote the following. In November we all cast our votes. I try to avoid following politics at this point. From what little I am inevitable exposed to, my predictions that the incumbent would continue his dictatorial behavior has been accurate. Prudence vs. Penuriousness, Assertiveness vs. Bullying I've been following presidential politics for over a year now. During the Republican primary season I had various favorites but Governor Romney was not one of them for several months. This was primarily because of 'Romneycare', the program he instituted in Massachusetts during his time as governor. I finally warmed to him during the debates in Florida. I have never cared for Newt Gingrich, who debated with Romney and seemed to lose ground as a result of his failure to rise to some of the challenges he met. RicK Santorum and Michelle Bachmann were two of my favorite candidates for their solid conservative records. I am close to being a Libertarian. I believe that the federal government should be severely limited in its powers. We need a common defense against our enemies, but instead of having federal laws that cover virtually every aspect of our lives, I think that the states should deal with each other on most issues. In my view one of the few federal responsibilities would be the regulation of international borders, but our current administration has followed a pattern set by previous administrations that create chaos on the borders. As the final weeks before the election provide us with the spectacle of a government losing control of foreign relations, failing in providing economic stability, and burdening business and citizens with ever more onerous regulations, we are given the opportunity to review the people seeking the office of President of the USA and Vice President of the USA. I disagree with the policies pursued by the current administration. Crippling domestic oil production and the transportation of oil from Canada through dubious environmental concerns, imposing an expensive and extensive medical program on the entire population, pursuing a policy of producing edicts from the White House whenever the President grows weary of the constitutional practice of letting Congress make law, and the encouragement of Islamic fundamentalists such as the Muslim Brotherhood instead of shoring up our alliance with Israel are my primary reasons for wanting a change. On a more personal note, I admire Mitt Romney and Paul Ryan for what I have seen of their character as revealed in the recent debates. Both of them maintained a positive and intelligent demeanor while debating their opponents. On the other hand, President Obama seemed disinterested and repetitive. Certain memes repeated again and again by the Democratic campaign, such as the 5 trillion dollar tax break for millionaires seems to have been made up from a few obscure and biased studies and then fixated upon as if it were holy script. However, it is the behavior and demeanor of Joe Biden that has caught my attention more than any other single fact. At his debate with Ryan, the notably penurious vice president behaved in a manner that disgusted me. I have contemplated ending my relationship with those who approve of his antics. He acted as a bully and a bore. The moderator added to the insult with her permissive behavior toward the Demoncrat, clearly aiding him by interrupting Paul Ryan when he was getting to the point. Ryan gave us the compliment of assuming we would understand his message, and I did, what I could hear of it through interruptions and the loud laughter and OMG expletives. Biden gives me the creeps

White Friday

I serve a shift at the Provo Temple every Friday morning . A few weeks ago, the day after Thanksgiving, I was posted near the front area where recommends are checked. The temple parking lot was full and people of all social stations from young to elderly, poor to wealthy, most in vibrant health and some restricted to using motorized wheelchairs, streamed into the temple wearing smiles of anticipation for an hour or so of simple service to those who had departed this existence. Once inside the temple they would change their clothing to white gowns and suits. I thought of the many who had camped out the night in the parking lots of various malls to take advantage of 'Black Friday ' sales. What a contrast.

The Tree

My neighbor has a tree on her yard which is a puzzle and a bit of a problem for me. It overhangs my yard and has damaged my roof over the years. If it were planted so that it gave her shade, or if it were near a window that overlooked it in such a way as to provide a pleasant prospect I could understand why she hasn't had it removed. However, it is in an obscure area near the back of her house on the north side and planted so near her house as to threaten damage to her foundation. Several months ago I suggested that I would be willing to share the cost of having it removed but he seemed to take mild offense and said she had it checked out regularly by a firm of tree people. A month ago a heavy, wet snow fall cracked off the major branch that had concerned me. It was suspended from the tree by a bit of frayed wood and bark and weighed down the wires that come into our house from the telephone pole at the back of my yard. It also leaned against the roof of my back porch. My greatest concern was that one of the wires suspending it was my electrical supply line and I called the city utility emergency line. The storm had brought down many limbs and trees and it wasn't until nearly two days later, at 3 AM on a Sunday morning that a crew showed up. They informed us that since the electrical line came in a a different angle, the branch was no concern of theirs, but they stayed around for more than an hour cutting branches from the trees along our fence line that impinged on the neighborhood power feed. The following Monday morning my son carefully positioned a ladder next to the branch and began to trim away the smaller branches that had snagged the various phone and internet lines that supported part of the branch. Looking out the window I suddenly sensed the need to pray for his safety. Opening my eyes, I saw him remove the last of the smaller branches and relieve the weight on the lines. With a snap and a whoosh, the branch separated from the tree and fell, displacing the ladder. My prayer for my son's safety was answered as the ladder remained upright against the house, even though it was vertical with one side only inches from the edge. My daughter quickly ran out of her apartment downstairs and steadied the ladder while my son descended. In the end, no harm was done to either my son or the house or the various supply wires. I noticed that the branch, nearly 8 inches in diameter at the base, had a dark streak at its center and several other, smaller branches had also been broken to hang loose above a less vulnerable area of my back yard. So essentially I need no longer worry about the branch, but the tree itself may well be suffering from some disease that will bring the entire thing down eventually. The problem I then faced was whether or not I should contact my neighbor about the potential threat. She lost her husband to age related problems a few months ago and she recently survived a long bout with cancer. She is old and frail and lives alone These factors were part of my quandary. Fortunately I was able to consult my bishop during tithing settlement. He advised it would probably be best to ignore the problem under the circumstances. I am really grateful that I was able to obtain his counsel. Meanwhile we have a lot of fire wood when we get around to clearing up the branch with a chainsaw and other equipment as soon as it is warm enough.

Time for Review of Attitudes and Actions

We take the Sacrament of the Lord's Supper every week except for Stake Conference and General Conference. Although taking the sacrament gives me the weekly opportunity to review my attitudes and actions and repent, it is at the conferences that I get the prompting as to what I need to consider more closely.
Nearly two years ago some things happened that started a long and difficult period of peculiar persecution. The situation resulted from several factors, none of which were under my control. The persecution ended, at least it it on the back burner now, in January. I have had an immense burden lifted from my life.
One of the questions I had to address involved forgiveness of those who created the situation through their deliberate actions.
One of them is my sister.
She sent an e-mail to the FBI saying my second son would kill someone and they had to take her seriously.
She has only had minimal contact with that son, only at funerals for my parents. Otherwise she thought she knew what he intended because of things she read on Facebook.
The FBI took it seriously enough that they communicated with the local police who turned up in numbers and tased him when he asked for a warrant. He spent weeks in a mental institution with threat of six months in the state mental hospital. At last an actual psychiatrist interviewed him and said he was no threat. After that we requested records from the city to indicate why the police had responded in such a violent and potentially lethal manner. The result of the inquiry was that they charged him with the crime of resisting arrest. After eighteen months of appearing in court for delays and continuances, the trial date was set. My sister was one of the witnesses. She didn't appear. The charge was not dismissed but only set aside unless and until further evidence came forth.
Perhaps to some this doesn't sound like persecution, but I had already witnessed my son being tripled tased to the ground then hustled out of my home and stuffed into the back of a police car. From that point on I lived in fear of a police force that could intrude on my peace and safety with very little excuse.
So it came to a definite pause and a weight lifted off me. But then I had to decide what to do about my sister. While the trial was active I was prevented by advice of the lawyer from contacting her because of the risk of 'tampering with a witness'. Once the threat retreated I had to decide if and and when I should contact her.
I made the choice to take no action in contacting her. I have forgiven her, but as Dieter F Uchdorf spoke at this conference I had to decide if my continued lack of contact is a sign of unforgiving.
For now I cite the various situations in history and scriptures where people chose to end contact with their oppressors. Moses left Egypt, Lehi left Jerusalem, Nephi left his brothers and their people, Alma left Noah's court, Limhi and his people left their city in the dead of night. Paul left a lot of places after being persecuted.
So avoiding people is sometimes okay. For now, that is what I choose to do with my sister.

From the Atlantic to the Pacific and thoughts on the new Provo Temple

I arrived home from a trip to Florida on Saturday, September 30 and the following Friday I got a call from one of my daughters who wanted me to travel to California with her. The catch was, we would leave by train that night. I quickly made arrangements and completed a couple of obligations and joined her at her home that evening. The train was delayed but we reached California the next day. In Florida I had stayed in St. Augustine and Orlando, the former including several trips that took me to the shores of the Atlantic. In California I stayed in Santa Cruz, and lovely little resort and college community at the north end of Monterey Bay. We visited the rugged shoreline and on Tuesday we spent most of the day at the Monterey Bay Aquarium. I have traveled from coast to coast s number of times, specifically when we lived in Oxnard and Port Hueneme California and were moving to and from the Washington D.C. area, but as far as I recall, I never traveled from one coast to the other so quickly.
I have six lovely daughters and I am fortunate that three of them live close enough for me to visit with a simple car ride. Three of my daughters live on either coast. I have visited with all of them in the past three weeks.

Last Saturday, October 1, the Prophet announced that the burnt out shell of the Provo Tabernacle would be converted into a temple. This is a wonderful idea. Although the tabernacle had served the community as a center for many various meetings ranging from musical performances to a Catholic Christmas Mass, but particularly for Stake Conferences for local stakes, the current Provo Temple is under pressure, particularly the baptismal font. The tabernacle building is larger than that of the Nauvoo Temple and it originally had a baptismal font in the basement, as did the Salt Lake Tabernacle.
When President Hinckley was interviewed after the renovation of the Vernal Tabernacle into a temple he said the Church would never undertake such a project again. Yet several subsequent temples have been built in previously existing buildings. The Provo Tabernacle provides a special case. Although gutted by the fire, the brick walls and most of the four stairwell towers seem to have remained intact. Some of the original stained glass windows survived the fire. The situation provides for the construction of an entire structure inside the walls which could not only provide for significant changes in the interior space from what was originally in place, but also allow for upgrades to the structural stability of the structure in case of earthquake.
The entire quarter block north of the temple was preserved as a park, which could easily be restored after adding space similar to what was added to the Salt Lake Temple as an arrangement of recommend area, waiting rooms, dressing rooms, administrative spaces, etc. It was the addition of these areas under a park like area that restored the Salt Lake Temple to its status as the largest LDS temple in the world. The Church has acquired most of the block to the south of the tabernacle. This could be used to build an underground parking garage. Although the transit situation is favorable, with several bus lines running past the property, there is a dearth of convenient parking space. I doubt that there will be a cafeteria area in the temple since there are many good restaurants and cafes in the neighborhood. The architectural sketch of the proposed temple shows a restoration of the central tower. This hints at a central placement of the celestial room. The building is long, promoting the idea that it would be arranged with four ordinance rooms, two at either end of the temple. In any case it will be interesting to see what the architects do with the space. In any event, the addition of an additional baptismal font in the Provo area is greatly to be desired.

Strange Things

I wear soft contact lenses. Every night I take them out and put them in again the next morning. Every twenty days I throw the old contact lenses away and get out a fresh pair. I keep the boxes of unopened contact lens in my safe which is hard to access. A few days ago I woke up and prepared to put in my contact lenses. I had no trouble with the right eye, but when I tried to put the lens in my left eye instead of having a sudden improvement in my eyesight, things remained dim. I tried again and again with the same results. Then I noticed that I felt that there was something in my eye after I removed the contact lens yet again. I found another contact lens. When I removed it, my eyesight cleared dramatically, indicating that yet another contact lens remained. Somehow I had two contact lenses in my eye! I have a hard time explaining how this could have happened. Do I walk in my sleep with such acuity that I could get into my safe and remove a box of contact lenses and put them in my eye? If so, how dumb is it that I didn't put them in separate eyes?

Chickens

I knew about chickens; that they are, like most birds, pretty productive of manure and they don't mind where they leave it. So why did I jump in and volunteer to adopt four hens when one of my daughters had too many? I'm still figuring that out. It hasn't been difficult to manage. I quickly made plans for a 'chicken tractor' thanks to comments from another daughter on our family chat. Within three days of the chickens coming home to roost I made them a tidy little home on wheels that I can roll around the yard so that the distribution of fertilizer is equalized. We've gathered about 7 eggs, and observed with regret when one egg was destroyed by the chickens. Chickens are fun to watch, at least as much fun as fish, and when clean and dry they are rather handsome.
So I guess that in the long run I would have to say that although chickens can hardly be considered pets, because of the manure factor, they are handsome, fun to watch and now and then you get a very fresh egg.

Why I Dislike and Distrust Boarding Schools

The pharoahs of Egypt decided that marrying siblings had advantages. Although nature abhors incest, shown by animal behaviors that avoid close kin interbreeding, it has certain economic advantages. For centuries the middle class of Egypt followed the example set by their leaders and incest was the norm.
The noblemen of China believed small feet were a sign of beauty, not unlike the preference for Cinderella's tiny tootsies in the fairy tale, but they conceived the idea of folding back the toes in little girls with normal feet to achieve the ultimate in tiny feet. Thus an entire culture tortured and crippled its little girls for centuries in the pursuit of a spurious idea of beauty.
A French king wanted to witness the birth of his mistress's baby and his will was granted by having her lie down for the birth instead of squatting as is normal. Thus modern women mostly suffer through birth lying down unless they are fortunate enough to have a midwife preside at the birth instead of an OB.
There are many other examples of how stupid elite behavior is adopted by the society at large. The idea of sending children away from home to go to boarding school is one example. In medieval Europe the various counts and barons began to exchange hostages. Sons were sent to the castle of the liege lord or rival where they were trained as pages, then squires, essentially unpaid servants. When hostages were no longer the political advantage they had been earlier, the habit of sending the kids away for schooling remained the favored option among the elites.
Thus the idea of boarding school became entrenched in western society. It is not found in other cultures where it is properly perceived that children are better off to be at home until they reach the age of maturity that no longer requires parental supervision.
A good example of this is the scriptural account of Jesus who lingered at the temple. He was old enough and wise enough to counsel with the elders, but he still obeyed his mother when she discovered he was not with the family on the return trip home and returned to fetch him.
Boarding schools dilute the influence of the family and strengthen the influence of peers.
The British, in particular, continue the idea that it is a favored few who can afford to send their children away from home for schooling except for holiday periods. Such icons as Harry Potter and the children in the Narnia books promulgate the practice.
Sending children with 'special needs' away to institutions where they can receive 'better care' has been favorably received at various times. Thus children with Down's Syndrome were seldom seen in public for many years. States and municipalities created institutions where paid attendants 'trained' the children. Lately the idea of warehousing these children has been seen as cruel and wasteful. They are kept at home and provided with training and teaching through their schooling.
It may be perceived that to send a child to an institution where they are taught and cared for, instead of making provisions to care for them at home, provides a better opportunity for them to be surrounded by their peers, but there is a far greater risk that they will be abused and neglected by those employed to care for them.
What parent, except under exigencies of poverty or incarceration, would agree to have their children sent to an orphanage or work house, yet the practice of institutionalizing children with assorted handicaps or talents, except for rare visits to family, continues to be seen as a desirable behavior by many.

Stewardship

As my life has changed my stewardships have changed, but some remain essentially the same. I no longer have an active stewardship of my children since all have grown to adulthood. I am in a complementary situation where I can give them compliments and sometimes advice, and they can do the same to me. My relationship to my grandchildren is a less formal stewardship, unless one of their parents makes a request for something more formal as needed. The stewardship of various callings changes as the callings change.
I have a stewardship over my health and a responsibility to maintain my possessions so they won't be wasted. I have a stewardship over my talents so that I may give something of value to the world I live in.

Waiting for the Failure

I visited a friend the other day who is forced to spend her days in a chair. She has a couple of controls, one for the chair and the other for the TV. After a life of self sufficiency and generosity, she must be the recipient of care even to eat. Her mind is keen but it is difficult for her to speak. I've found that the most valuable thing that I can do for her is let my mouth run. I store up funny episodes that others tell me and we talk about our lives. I told her that my mother thought I would be unable to have children and she told me that her mother told her that the world in which she would live would make it almost impossible to bring up children. I gave birth to ten children without apparent problems, in spite of having damaged kidneys, and she raised a family of 6 to adulthood and now some of them have grandchildren. I've always felt that history would swerve to bring about some cataclysmic events within my lifetime, but if so, given that I'm closing in on 68, it better happen soon.

I Now Believe that the PTB intended homicide

As I review the actions taken by authorities with regard to my son Richard I have come to the conclusion that they intended to dispose of him. The severity of using three tasers simultaneously, administered when he was in close hold of at least five men, argues that they had no reason to use the devices for subduing him. They were large and armed. He was sleepy and shoeless. He offered no threat other than his dangerous opinions. That the authorities; Provo Police Department, Wasatch Mental Health, and others associated with this action have continued their harassment is despicable. After committing him involuntarily with no request for action other than a phone call from the FBI, which now seems to deny having instigated the activity, the hospital kept him for several days after the 'Mental Health' court decided he offered no threat. Bills for more than $30,000 have been rendered for this action. So now he is expected to pay for a flagrant violation of his civil rights? I have heard of few worse actions by the KGB or Gestapo. This post could get me into trouble, but sometimes you have to stand on a wall and warn people.

Family Togetherness

Early on Thursday morning I returned from a week of family reunion. It was only partial since four of my nine living children couldn't attend for various reasons. Even so, with nine grandchildren, including one who must be counted as an adult since she is married and attending college, and ten other adults, it made enough of a crowd to require planning. My ex-husband recently purchased a large brick house with eight or nine bedrooms, most with an en-suite bathroom and there are two additional half-baths in various levels. Keeping toilet paper stocked was a minor goal. The cousins had a lot of fun at fairly simple pleasures; sliding down an improvised water slide made of 25 feet of polyethylene sheet, visiting the local pool, running around the vast empty rooms of their grandfather's new house, visiting a puppet show in a local park and playing in the playground that has a climbing tower. The adults mostly visited and watched the children. Early in the week before the younger cousins came I took the older cousins to the Smithsonian where we walked from the Castle to the Air and Space Museum to the American Indian Museum and across the Mall to the East Wing of the National Gallery for a quick tour through the small French paintings exhibit. Then we ate lunch in the Cascade cafe where I introduced them to Gelato before we made a quick tour through the east half of the gallery and down the front stairs and on to the Natural History Museum. After a tour through bones and stones and taxidermy and a stop at the museum shop everyone voted to return to the Castle and end the day. My daughter cruised by and carried us home, replete with visual information to be digested.

Internet Togetherness

One of the delights of my week is the Sunday family chat which is sometimes lonely but sometimes full of intersecting comment. It is a time to share various information that may have escaped mention in e-mails and blogs. It is a chance to visit across the miles without worrying about the similarity of voices that makes a conference call between my various daughters difficult to follow. Tonight was one of the better chats, with as many as 6 of us joining in.