Walking through Lives Together

A midmorning walk in this prairie town of Moose Jaw with old friends was good for body and spirit.

(That’s some of the group waaay past the steps.)

In the past 24 hours ~ when not getting some sleep! ~

visiting twisted and turned through past and present careers,

health and wellness issues of family, friends and self, 

what addresses have changed

memories of that first nursing year of starched uniforms, black stockings,

room assignments ~ who lived where and with whom

and the brave naivety of the young women entering the adult maelstrom of health care,

to be spun out into brave maturity and entering the next chapter of lives well lived.

Obviously there has not been enough said or discussed,

laughed about and worried over.

A dip in spa waters at Temple Gardens Spa warmed and relaxed us,

our words rippling over the waters without so much as a breeze on such a sunny day

This evening a very civilized buffet supper capped off the day (healthy with requisite desserts, wine and coffee.)

Conversations that ran from September 1965 to 1968 at graduation, carried forward unerringly, telescoping and spiraling at least every five years ~ more or less frequently for some of our class.

Can I call all this communication?

All the words fluttering back and forth

in a hurry to be caught in acoustic butterfly nets

and sent off in some other direction

caroming off of each other as we are taking these walks together.

“Travelers, there is no path, paths are made by walking.”

~ Antonio Machado

Forty Five Years Later

Communication had lapsed over for many over the years. For some close bonds remain. All of us prairie girls that had begun nursing careers at Regina General Hospital in September 1965. We shared an experience that is not found in nursing schools today that I am aware of. The experience of a residence for nurses in training.

Our experience as young women was to live in a residence that housed approximately 300 girls. Seniors, Intermediates and Juniors ~ In 1965, our class were the Juniors. We had Big Sisters who were to guide us through the first year of this daunting experience. For girls raised in the city, it wasn’t quite so daunting having grown up with the ways of urban life.

Our graduating class, the Class of 1968, began in 1965 with over one hundred girls. At graduation, we were about 90 newly minted nurses with black bands and beginnings ahead of us.

Forty five years later, we are a much smaller group having spread world wide. Some we have lost track of and some, sadly, have passed away. But we are still the same girls now with stories of careers, husbands, children, grandchildren and a lot of traveling through the world.

“Fond memory brings the light of other days close to me.”

~ Thomas More

Pre-Programmed Communication

Unlike the wide blue skies brushed with white clouds drifting over deep teal blue water, metallic boxes of white, black or brushed metal are stocked with food or stuffed with clothes.

Unlike the weather that changes at it’s whim, buttons and panels and touch pads are ours to command.

Then we listen and respond to selected beeps and buzzes and whirrs of timers and motors.

Appliances that wash and dry, cook and clean.

If the sound is different, there is meaning in it’s tone.

The fine aroma of a cooking meal means good food!

A shrill whistle means it’s time to make the tea.

A bzzbzzbzz means it’s time to get up.

Sounds of swirling water means pipes are clear in kitchen and bathroom.

Machines communicate with us in foreign tongues only the owner, and repair man, seem to understand.

Houses vibrate with all the goings on of our conveniences while we thank or curse them.

“There is a world of communication which is not dependent on words.”

~ Mary Martin

Scripts and Comfortable Sweaters

Communication within privacy of four walls only to a mirror, journal or out loud to the air recipes, budget and plans for the day, wonderings about outside people and inside things is routinely comforting.

The public face communicates well over coffee with a friend,

trading money for bits of conversation at the checkout,

brief visits with family here and there.

Scripted small talk or shop talk is easy energy

with tight gaps of silence where no script has been learned.

Private aloneness is comfortable as an old sweater

slipped on at the end of a too public day.

Too easily comfortable with no reason to

pick up the phone

send an instant message

write an old fashioned note.

Left wondering about fitting in with others

if there had ever been a ‘fitting in’

tumbling the same ideas and opinions over and over

in the thought pools of your mind

until they become smooth, bland and uninteresting.

To emerge from deep isolation is necessary but frightening

Too bright. Too loud. Too demanding of time and energy

unsure of how to communicate without a script

unsure of what to communicate that is interesting.

Slowly, slowly becoming stronger and more at ease.

Putting the old sweater away in a back corner

Setting the script in the book shelf with all the other words

Daring to be inspired by others

Reconnecting with buds and shoots of family, friends and community

Opening doors and windows wide and welcoming others in.

“The person who tries to live alone will not succeed as a human being. His 

heart withers if it does not answer another heart. His mind shrinks away if 

he hears only the echoes of his own thoughts and finds no other inspiration.”

~ Pearl S. Buck

My Brother's Lunch Box

My brother’s lunch box, 

our names scratched atop

lengthwise and cross wise,

several years apart in age, 

a shared history of school lunches, sandwiches wrapped in wax paper, handmade in the kitchen at the farm

generations 

of brothers and sisters, 

since passed through many schools.

Lunch from noisy cafeterias, glossy vending machines,

from colourful lunch bags, insulated lunch kits

or just plain brown paper bags.

memories of my school days 

in this old, dented green and white lunch pail 

filled with bobbins, thread and sewing supplies, 

a reminder of how my big brother and I 

shared this dented experiences

from an early age ~

later on in life in a very unexpected way ~

epilepsy in adult life, 

symptoms, medications, and life’s limitations.

Were the names scratched on that same lunch pail 

an innocent prescient of what was later to be?

“If you can look into the seeds of time, and say which grain

will grow and which will not, speak then unto me.”

               ~ William Shakespeare

Alone Against a Deep Current

The chant was loud and clear. The roar spread across the land to the excitement of young students ~ and the outrage of the public. Communication with the country and very possibly the world at large in this instance was not taken into consideration - surprising in this age of texting, instant messaging, camera’s on every phone, and Twitter. CBC radio is my information site and reporting there has been swift and certain.

Despite poor judgment in regards to avoiding the many forms of social media and technology, responsible leaders did not communicate to said students that they were actively participating in a blatant announcement of forthcoming bullying of the young and vulnerable. Bullying that would very likely have devastating and very dreadful results. 

This chant apparently has a very long history, twenty years I am told, however long history does not provide an automatic approval status for behaviour so very dreadful. 

Bullying starts with distorted attitudes, is fueled by such chants and ends up in life long consequences for those that have been bullied. Many of the bullies, or perpetrators, are also scarred when they realize just what they have done. Our educational institutions are places where attitudes are changed, new learning happens and lives are built. This recent chant from two schools of higher learning is very diametrically opposed to any institution of higher learning.

Another thought - were there some students pulled into the fray not clearly aware of the meaning behind the words of the chant? And if so, what kind of a response are they having?

“Knowing what’s right doesn’t mean much unless you do what’s right.”

~ Theodore Roosevelt

Going Public

There was a lot of communicating going on today in Victoria at Centennial Square. I was very disappointed to have to miss this second annual Recovery Day in Victoria. The communication today was about and by recovering alcoholics and addicts going public. Speakers at a podium in the open air and sunshine. Public about where they have come from, where they have been, how they got there and that they are here, walking among us as ordinary members of the community. With a difference. The difference is that recovering alcoholics and addicts have learned to live life on life’s terms despite the strangely normalized use of drugs, whether prescription narcotics, illicit narcotics or the wide, and widening array of alcoholic beverages.

These men and women have stepped up, sometime very many times, and asked for a sober life not really knowing the incredible changes that would entail. Changing attitudes, friends, residences, places or types of employment, sometimes staying away from still drinking or using and dearly loved family members....and the list goes on and on.

I have been honoured and pleased to care for many folks in these situations as they try one more time, or for the first time, to find stability in sobriety. 

Thank you to each and every one of you brave enough to try first or one more time until you find what you need to do, what attitude you need to change, what life changes you need to make. You are all awesome folks.

And a special thank you to the Umbrella Society - Gordon, Sharlene, Chris, and Amber. Trevor, you as well - you are missed but we are glad you are continuing your work in another venue. You have brought many into recovery and the facilities available, walked through life situations with our mutual clients, and cheered them on into sobriety.

“Life isn’t about finding yourself.  Life is about creating yourself.”

~ George Bernard Shaw