Thoughts of Grandfather

Above: Grampa’s 90th birthday 1972. My mother made the dress.

July 17th was my maternal grandfather’s birthday. He was born in 1880 and died in 1977. He was my favorite relative. He was a man of few words and a limited education-he completed the eighth grade to be exact. Then he went to work on the family farm. When the farm was sold, he worked on Henry Ford’s farm. My grandmother, who died before I was born, took in teachers for room and board. She worked as a seamstress.

Grampa L. worked as a laborer his whole life. After he stopped working on farms, he was employed as a custodian at the local high school. One time he got on my case for throwing away pencils. He saved pencils long after the erasers were tough and unusable. Throwing out something useful was simply not done.

For as long as I can remember, Grampa would get up at 5:00 am like clockwork and put on his green janitor uniform, even after he retired. He lived by a strict schedule. His little unassuming house was always neat and clean, every tool in its place. He grew raspberries, corn, sunflowers and rhubarb in his back yard in a small Michigan village. When he let you slip your little hand into his, you felt warm and protected. He was decent. He was kind.

                                     

Grampa could make you obey just with a glance, and you knew he would take care of you while in his presence. I miss him and feel him on the other side. Even though my grandfather on my father’s side was a prominent and well-known physician, I favored my earthy grandfather who said “you ain’t” and “well, I guess it’s “prid’near quittin’ time.”

You could always tell when Grampa was in town. His red Mustang would be parked by the curb near the post office or  in the lot at the grocery store. He drove it until he no longer had a license, probably in his mid-80’s because I remember him driving to Cleveland alone in his 80’s. It was depressing when he couldn’t drive anymore. The Mustang went to one of my cousins.

 I remember Grampa taking me with him on errands in the village.  I’d cringe as he drove too slowly in second gear. His beloved cherry red car lurched and sputtered as he neared the end of the street. He paid no attention to the lurching. We’d get there, everything was in a half mile radius. He’d turn his head as far as he could, about 15 degrees, at the corner. I hunkered down politely until the turn was made.

Each time we visited, he’d make sure to mention my sister and me at the check out counter. He’d announce to the clerk, “These are my granddaughters. They’re visiting from Ohio.” His pride made me feel good. His words let me know I was loved in a way that is unique, unconditional; the affection is not contingent on  rank, employment, money or marital status.

What was said in private was another matter entirely.

Grampa’s handwriting was perfect and slow, like his other movements. He never failed to write me little notes in which he would include a stick of Wrigley’s licorice or Juicy Fruit gum.

He liked to read Westerns and when we were little girls, he would hide the books that had bad words in them. The words were mild compared to today’s ever-present in-your-face, irritating, unavoidable vulgarity. One time I snuck and anxiously prowled through the  book until I found the offensive word. It was “pecker.”

Can you believe it? Gone are the days of good and proper verbiage. Gone.

God bless you, Grampa. I can’t wait to see you again on the other side.

Journal prompt: write about your grandparents. Did you know your grandparents? Who is (or was) your favorite? What words and feelings would you use to describe them?

 

© 2016 Susan E. Rowland

Women, Weight, and Writing, an Interview with Amye Archer

 

Before we get started with the interview with our featured author, I want to take some time to add my condolences and prayers for everyone who is grieving from the recent tragedies in Orlando, Milwaukee, Baton Rouge, and Dallas.

                                              *****************

Almost every woman I know is self-critical about body image. It’s rampant, beginning in childhood or teen years. Happiness is shattered by the realization that all your self-worth is wrapped up into a concept society deems important. You are a clothing size. And if you don’t fit the bill, you are “nothing.” You become someone who is overlooked, ridiculed, and shamed. You have to be someone who is “easy on the eyes.” Being overweight is the new group to hate. It’s a painful membership to a club nobody enjoys.

                                                      *****************

I’ve been reading women’s memoirs on body issues and relationships.  Fat Girl, Skinny really hit home for me because Archer has the uncanny ability to tease the funny bone while talking about sensitive issues. A few emotions are prevalent in writing about life and eating disorders. There is anger, grief, frustration and fear. We eat for comfort. We eat for love but the satisfaction doesn’t last.

The goal is to deal with our thoughts as habits. Then we can cherish and love our physical bodies. And, we don’t do this fight alone.

It’s interesting that Archer talks about overweight women as a “marginalized group.” Writing a memoir about your body is like walking out on a diving board naked. There comes a time when you jump in the water, naysayers be damned.

          “I am down almost thirty pounds now, and for the first time I can remember, I am actually inviting a man to touch my body.” AA

For Archer, joining Weight Watchers offered her the support, the challenge  to get fit, and the joy of belonging. She began to reach her goals.

“I have been humiliated most of my adult life. I have worked so hard at being accepted, so sweet and nice, always over compensating for the lack of aesthetic on the outside.”  AA

Below is my interview with writer, Amye Archer, Fat Girl, Skinny. You can find her here.

 

 

SR: What made you want to write a memoir?

 AA: I’m afraid that my writing a memoir was more necessity than choice. I have a difficult time writing from an imaginary perspective. My own voice is my own, and even when I try to write fiction, the character is often exactly me. So, yes, there was a point where I felt that this story needed to be told, but I also never felt there was any other way to tell it than from my own voice.

SR: Do you journal or write your thoughts during the day or did you just sit down and decide to write a book?

 AA: I do not journal, but it’s important to know that my writing is happening in my head at all times. If you knew me in real life, you would know me to be a little clumsy, forever preoccupied, and often forgetful. And that is simple because I am always writing, and that writing takes up a lot of my mental space.

I’m also not a big fan of disciplined writing, or of “forcing it.” I sit and write when the muse is with me.

“I spent years feeling responsible for someone else.” -AA

SR: As a co-dependent in recovery, the above sentence screamed out at me and made me realize how much addiction to approval in any form can be  about relationships and childhood wounds.

 AA: I think it’s important to realize that there is a strong correlation between obesity and codependency. For me, as I grew more and more unhappy with my relationship, I found comfort in food. Sometimes it works in reverse. But there is oftentimes a connection clearly, because when we let ourselves get to morbid obesity-which I was at 275-we are clearly not taking care of ourselves, but are often great at taking care of others.

 It was a hard lesson, the idea that we must care for ourselves above all others. We live in a society to which the concept of self-love and self-care can be demonized, especially when you’re a mother. But it’s important and necessary for survival.

SR: How did your relationship with your sister factor into your writing? IE, family issues about truth and relationships are intense when writing memoir. What would you say to memoir writers who are excavating old wounds?

AA: I don’t advocate writing off family members, but the old adage is true: if they truly love you, they’ll come around.

I’m very fortunate in that I have artists in my immediate family, so the whole “laying it out there for the sake of the art” is an acceptable practice in my family. However, I understand that is not always the case, especially for those writing abuse/survivor memoir.

 My best advice is that you stay true to the message of your story. Never forget that there are people in your exact situation who can be reached through your storytelling. It takes tremendous courage to write a memoir of any kind, but it’s also a great responsibility. Be true, be honest, don’t hide or shrink from the truth and you’ll do fine.

SR: Thank you, Amye! You give everyone who struggles with body image  a feeling of hope. I love that you give us answers.  

“This is my own life taking shape around me.” -Amye Archer

                                                           *******

Right now, I am happy by being down about 12 pounds and am leaving sugar OUT of the house.

As a writer and artist, my goal is to be a healthy role model for my grandchild who has cystic fibrosis. I think about how we didn’t have so much junk food when I was a child.  Food was real food, even though we ate meat, we didn’t have access to so much processed food. For me, trauma and anxiety influenced my lonely food addiction. Now it’s a battle for health. It’s been my lifelong struggle to accept myself for who I am and not what I look like. The challenge of life’s journey for many is around learning to love the self. In turn, we become of service to others. It seems that the key to happiness has to do with how we view ourselves. I feel that gratitude is an essential factor in healing.

Dear readers, I hope you continue journaling, writing, doing art, playing music or whatever form of creative expression inspires you. The door to the path of healing is always open.

                                                       

 “Hang on. You will become one of us. We will accept you.” -Weight Watchers advisor to Amye Archer.

If you are moved to contribute any comments or questions, please feel free.

Journal prompt: write about weight and body image. Have you ever struggled with over-eating or addiction in any form? Use pictures and collage in your journal.

 

Quotes are from Fat Girl, Skinny. Art is mine.

 

Copyright ©2016 by Susan E. Rowland

What I Read in 2015, Four at a Time in Random Order

 

If I want to stay in this blogging game I guess I’d better share what I read in 2015. I find that reading helps me write my manuscript. The way another author writes about an experience stays with me and inspires me to stay with it.

 This is a series of awesome reads I’d love for others to enjoy. I’m not giving it to you all at once-just four at a time. I mostly read non-fiction. Once in a while, I’ll pick up a fiction book that grabs me. Call me too serious, that’s just the way I am.

Also, I don’t rate books with stars on my blog. If I review a book, I liked it!

• North of Normal, A Memoir of My Wilderness Childhood, My Unusual Family and How I Survived Both, by Cea Sunrise Person, 2014.

The author’s name alone should tell you a little about her parents. An offbeat family living in the California suburbs chucks it all to forage in the Canadian wilderness. Eccentric, opinionated adults bored by modern society haul their child along with their dreams about independence and freedom. Living in tipis, living off the land, and on the lam from the law and social services is just one aspect of her nutty childhood and coming of age experiences. Through sheer determination, Cecelia becomes a fashion model and works her way into adulthood. What some kids have to go through is just plain mind-boggling.

Loved it. I worried about her and cheered for her.

• A Different Kind of Same, A Memoir, by Kelley Clink, 2015.

Clink is devastated by her brother Matt’s depression and suicide. She is determined to comb through his writings while working through her own issues as a sibling left to grieve. While sifting and sorting through her brother’s belongings, she bravely attempts to find answers about why he suffered so badly. From Michigan to Alabama, and with a look at a life in New Jersey, Clink offers insight into her feelings of loss and betrayal, as well as an honest focus on emotional/mental health, and family ritual in American life.

Raw and honest. I admired her tenacity. Her testimony is so important.

• The Boy Who Harnessed the Wind, William Kamkwamba and Bryan Mealer, 2009.

You must have heard about him. This is a true account of a boy from Malawi who grows up to become an acclaimed achiever. He creates electrical power for his people by inventing a windmill. He sees a need and discovers a way to find a solution. From a culture of magic and folklore, he advances into a world of science and accomplishment. Poetic, visual, and personal, Kamkwamba with the help of Mealer, brings the reader into a place of hope for improving people’s lives in underdeveloped countries. You can hear him on TedTalks.

Absolutely loved the book. Read all night. Do yourself a favor and learn something. Then, go out and help others.

• You Don’t Look Like Anyone I Know, a True Story of Family Face Blindness, and Forgiveness, Heather Sellers, 2010.

Wow. So you’ve heard that actor Brad Pitt may suffer from prosopagnosia, a little-known neurological disorder. Sufferers are unable to recognize faces. Can you imagine? You have to memorize speech patterns and movements. Every single time you meet up with someone, even those close to you and with whom you work on a daily basis are unfamiliar to you.

Author Heather Sellers is a child with a “crazy” acting mother and a hard-drinking father who are separated in gritty, flamingo-decorated Florida. She is bewildered, different, forever compensating for her own weirdness. She attends at least five schools before third grade. Sellers somehow survives a testy, lonely childhood. YEARS LATER, as a productive, creative and literary adult, she discovers that she is “face blind.” What????

I won’t be a spoiler. You just have to read the book! Don’t blame me if you call in sick for work because you are really reading in bed with a cup of mocha java. 🙂

Journal prompt: what did you read in 2015? What are you reading now? Write a detailed list and try writing some reviews. If you don’t keep a list of what you read, try starting one. Even jotting down the titles is helpful.

Try listing articles you read. Writing about what you read, even just noting your brief impressions helps you as a journal-writer to gather ideas for your own future work.

My Love

The bristling burst of anguish

threatened to shatter my day.

But slowly, rhythmically the long lament disappeared

down into a song

as you took my hand

and held it to your cheek.

 

My January Romance Story

We still got the fire goin’ on!  This is my January romance story.

This Sunday the 26th, Jesse and I will celebrate 29 years together. We met at a Super Bowl party in 1986. It was at a family style Fish and Chips place upstairs at what is probably the nation’s smallest country “mall.” I’d been living on my own with my two kids for a while. Then I rented a house in town which I shared with a roommate, Daisy* her young daughter, and my two children. We helped each other with our children and supported each other emotionally. Daisy was into football and I wasn’t. She didn’t want to go to the big screen TV showing by herself so she convinced me, after much urging, cajoling and bribing (she’d buy the meal), to go with her. I went along and the rest is a long love story. Jesse was sitting by himself near the front intently watching the game. He didn’t look around much or seem interested in making small talk except during breaks. He had on his red and blue flannel shirt and his trademark leather cap, now long retired. You know… men and their favorite hats…

So that is where  we met. He owned a gift shop on the first floor of the 10 shop mall. I worked in a produce market. I had seen Jesse around town once or twice. He always looked very focused and somewhat serious. He had a slow and steady air about him. That part of his personality has never wavered. I needed security and he provided that for me.

Let’s back track a little.

As a teen, I never dreamed about Prince Charming, nor did I fantasize about long wedding dresses and being walked down the aisle. That was never in my vocabulary. I missed out on that one for some reason. Sure I was curious about that fancy kiss, and passion, but was more interested in the horse than the knight who rode in on the horse. I wanted an art studio. I wanted the writers’ shack.

In my twenties I spent a lot of time roaming around in the woods looking at plants, bugs and birds. I read and drew a lot. I loved music. I did two years of college before moving out west.  My goal was to be an elementary school teacher for my bread and butter, and I was going to buy a bit of land, build myself a cabin and be the next Thoreau. As an independent woman, I had to find my way in the world in a way that made sense to me. Never, ever did I feel that it was a man who was going to give me what I wanted or needed in life. I had a strong need for self – reliance and a pioneering, free spirit attitude, probably to my parents dismay. Perhaps my resistance to frilly weddings was more about trusting people, or choosing men who were unwilling to make that commitment. As my story unfolds, the success of a long term relationship has worked as we celebrate nearing the three decades marker. I hope and pray this story continues. A man’s companionship meant everything to me; but I did not want to be traditional, however, I did end up being in a supportive, relatively happy and stable relationship. No long white dress. Not my style. Maybe in some other lifetime.

I am so happy to be with my best friend and partner. Admittedly, I had to come back and re-write this and leave out some things! Dorky, I know, but hey. We made it this far.

Adding back a list I post here and then deleted.  Here are my do’s and don’ts:

• Compliment the other person. Show your love with hugging and kissing often. Nobody likes to be constantly criticized.
•  Don’t expect the other person to fulfill every one of your needs. They are not super-human. Nobody can fulfill ALL your wants and wishes!
•  Don’t go to bed mad at each other.
•  In an argument, use the old adage “count to ten” before speaking.
• When you need alone time, schedule an hour or two, or a weekend getaway for yourself.
•  When you need romance time, you have to tell your partner what you want. They can’t read your mind. Take a special weekend for yourselves. Get a babysitter, then go out, or schedule a room in a nice hotel, even if it’s just for one night.
•  Little things like the dishes or coffee cups being returned to the sink are not paramount.
•  Men use different communication styles. They like to fix things and do things for you.  That is the way they show love, and the show love by making love. Sometimes you have to tell them what you need and want.
• Usually men don’t like to talk about feelings. Consulting any relationship books such as Men are from Mars, Women are From Venus can be helpful.
• Avoid narcissists at all costs. If your partner (or you) is never willing to say “I’m sorry” or “I was wrong”, and blames everyone else but him/herself, run the other way. Concession is absolutely necessary in a happy relationship. If you find that he (or you) is a “right fighter,” IE someone who has to win everything, or is a know it all, you might want to consider getting therapy, or might have to re-consider your partnership. One-upping is not love.
•  Be willing to admit your shortcomings. Don’t go on and on about old boyfriends or male friends. Your husband/wife wants to be exclusively the only one.
• Anything other than  honest and faithful relationships to each other does not work. This is only my experience.

Journal prompt: write about your relationships. Have you ever been married? What are your views on couples? What do you feel keeps a committed relationship joyful and sacred?

* not her real name

Copyright © 2014 text and art by Susan E. Rowland