IslandRoar

Spin Cycle: Cyber Santa

Jen of Sprite's Keeper very generously took the time to organize this Secret Cyber Santa Spin (say THAT five times fast). From a list of our favorite bloggers, she waved her magic wand and assigned us one lovely blogger on whom we were to post.

I get to rave about The South Dakota Cowgirl, Jen, one of my all time most fascinating bloggy buds.

I was first attracted to Jen's blog because her world is so completely different than my own. Originally from Texas, she rides horses in barrel events and lives on a huge cattle ranch in South Dakota.

Her days are filled with riding and training horses and helping her cowboy, Zach, with multiple ranch related activities, from herding and preg-checking cattle to rescuing horses stuck on wire fences.

It's clear from her posts that she's an awesome cook, but her creativity doesn't end there. Among her many talents, she makes gorgeous jewelry, plays piano and guitar, sings, and even writes her own songs. Her voice is lovely and definitely worth a listen.

I can't imagine what it's like to live on acres and acres populated with deer, antelope, rattlesnakes, jackrabbits and prairie dogs, but Jen's spectacular photographs and video give me some idea.

I may have originally followed SDCG out of curiosity, but I've stayed because of the sincere and generous person she is.

Like all of us, Jen has been through a lot, and I don't mean just upending her life in Texas to move to South Dakota. Her heartfelt writing reveals a woman who is courageous and adventurous, playful and stubborn, and very much devoted to her friends and family.

If you don't already follow SDCG, you should make a point to click on over there and take a look around.

One thing I didn't plan on when I started this whole blogging thing last May, was the extent to which I would develop actual relationships, however virtual, with fellow bloggers. Jen may be much younger than I, and our lives as different as night and day, but through her words I sense a kindred spirit.

She has been a fun and loyal cyber friend, and I truly hope she goes on sharing her world with us for a long, long time.

Jen may not know this, but it's entirely possible one day I just might show up at her door, ask her to throw me on a horse, and have her give me a personal tour of the ranch. I get the feeling we'll have a lot to talk about.

For more Cyber Santa Spins, go call on Sprite's Keeper. And give her a big holiday hug from me.

 

Spin Cycle: Wish List

 

What do I wish for? Ha! A better question might be what don't I wish for?

I know admitting I wish for anything is probably mucho politically incorrect. So let me say right up front: I love my family and I'm grateful to be blessed with my wonderful life, blah blah blah...

Now that that's out of the way, I have to say it'd be really nice to replace the crappy carpeting in my house with hardwood floors. What were the people who built this place thinking! And on that same note, tile for the kitchen and the bathroom, because apparently they considered that a luxury as well.

While I'm on a roll, let me add a hot tub and a sex life (I don't believe the two have to be mutually exclusive), and a car that runs so that people won't actually laugh at me or want to scream obscenities about me murdering the environment when I drive by.

And how about a MacBook, a Kindle, and an ass you could bounce a quarter off of (they exist, I know they do. Ask Twenty Four; she sees them every day in Money Town).

Let me not forget a successful writing career, generous stock dividends, and children who are cheerful, always polite, and eternally grateful.

Wow, I'm exhausted. Who knew being shallow was this consuming?

Of course, I'd have to tag onto the end: no more wars or hate or poverty, and public acceptance by all world leaders that women really are the superior sex. No wish list would be complete without those.

Anything else?

No, actually, I think that'll do.

 

For more inspired and infinitely more generous wish lists, go see Sprite's Keeper. I really wish you would.

 

Story Time

 

A few weeks ago the librarian at work who runs Toddler Story Time was off-island at a conference. They asked me if I would be willing to fill in.

As I generally aspire to be an optimistic, fearless sort of person, I smiled and said, "Sure."

Yeah. Right.

I had about two minutes to prepare. Okay, maybe it was closer to 30, but clearly I needed more. The parents and their tiny offspring assembled in the children's room, eying me with suspicion.

Perched with only half my ass on a kiddie-sized chair, I began reading from the pile of books the children's librarian had left for this purpose.

It was a tough crowd. The kids were all under two, but they were the least of my problems. I spilled out a bag of puppets onto the floor. Passed around bells. They were putty in my hands.

But their parents? Well, they expected more. Clearly I did not know the routine. Naively, they expected singing.

"Oookaay," I exclaimed brightly. "What should we sing?"

Then I drew a complete blank.

How embarrassing. There I was, a veteran mother with three ancient children. Not to mention the thousands I've cared for in the hospital. Although to be fair, sick or injured kids don't frequently require lots of singing from their nurses.

Maybe things would've run more smoothly if I could've administered IV antibiotics or listened to their lungs?

Meanwhile, the toddlers were waiting, bells at the ready. One adorable little babe sporting round pink eyeglasses stared at me with wide-eyed expectation. My heart melted.

"How about Itsy Bitsy Spider," one grandmother not much older than me suggested helpfully. And off we went. 

"You had to sing?" First-Born Son remarked incredulously that night on the phone when I recounted my tale of woe. "Those poor kids."

Do you see what I have to put up with? And he's the nice one.

Now that it's over, it doesn't seem quite so bad. Maybe I'll even do it again some time. Although I'll definitely bone up on my kiddie songs first.

I get to see that sweet little baby with the pink glasses each week when she and her mom check out their books. She always gives me a huge grin. I'm convinced she remembers who I am.

But I'm not quite sure if she's laughing with me or at me.

 

Death-Defining

For her Freshman Seminar at college, Daughter #1 is taking a class on death and dying. Because she is just that lighthearted, laugh-a-minute type of girl.

As an assignment, students had to interview a person who has dealt with death as part of their work. D #1 took the easy way out and chose me.

She called me late the other night and grilled me for a half hour about my experiences as an RN working with dying patients. I don't know how she felt about it afterward, since she's about as forthcoming as the CIA, but I found the experience enlightening.

One of the questions was did I feel that working with the dying had changed my attitude about death. I didn't really think I could answer that. See, I started working in a nursing home at 16, long before I'd thought much about death at all. I have to say I'd been pretty sheltered from death; I'd never even been to a funeral.

From that, I was thrust into this world where it was commonplace for at least a couple of patients to die each month, often when I was on duty, and frequently requiring me to do post-mortem care, which basically involves washing and wrapping the body before it's transported to the funeral parlor or morgue.

I continued to work with elderly patients through college and my early days as an RN. Then I moved to pediatrics, where I had to readjust my views toward death to include young people, even children and babies. It was difficult but I considered it a privilege to work with these patients and their families. A blessing even.

As hard as it is to conceive of, I came to believe some people can live a life filled with more purpose and meaning in 8 or 18 years than others might in well over 80. I'm not saying it ever got any easier to see kids die. But I did start to see age as only one factor (albeit a significant one) in the big picture of death.

Another question Daughter #1 had was whether I thought doctors and nurses viewed death differently.

"Like night and day," I told her.

Generally speaking, physicians have an adversarial relationship with death, even those working with the terminally ill. And that's probably as it should be. Most of us count on our doctors to help us fight like crazy to avoid death.

Nurses, on the other hand, are more often the ones present when death occurs. And while we rarely welcome it, we learn to accept it as an inevitability. Having seen enough of it, we realize it's not always fearsome. And in some cases, when we know it's coming, it can even be poignant and memorable.

Don't misunderstand me. I realize the gaping difference between dealing with death on a professional versus a personal level. For all the dying I've witnessed, I've still been incredibly sheltered from it in my own life so far.

And when that changes, as it obviously will, I can only hope some tiny bit of the strength and courage I have witnessed in those I've cared for might be found within myself.

Madame Librarian

 

Well, my summer library job has just morphed into a permanent year-round position.

I'm pretty relieved. No more scrambling to find yet another odd job to support my writing habit until I become rich and famous and immortalized in the halls of literary fame.

Yet I don't need Daughter #1 to remind me (though no doubt of course she will) that this latest employment opportunity only serves to clinch my place in the annals of future Crazy-Old-Lady status.

Before, I was just going to be that Weird-Woman-Down-the-Street. You know, the one who lives all alone, with all those cats (for the record, I have only 5 cats, but the way some people talk, you'd think there were at least 20)? I mean, it wasn't like I was some eccentric old spinster librarian or something.

Except now I kind of am. Maybe not full time, and minus the Masters in Library Science, but close enough.

Although I'm not sure if one can actually be considered "a spinster" if one was once married. Or if a sexist word like spinster is any longer even considered politically correct.

Probably not, in which case I can be the Eccentric-Old-Lady-Librarian-Divorcee. However "divorcee" sounds rather racy and provocative, and therefore probably doesn't jive with the whole "librarian" personna.

Or does it?

I think it's time to cast aside stereotypes. Or maybe, just start a whole new stereotype. What do you say to a Brilliant, Single, Writer/Librarian who loves all animals and dances on tables when the notion strikes?

I'll let you know, but I think we might be onto something...

Seen The Glory

This Week's Spin: Books

This week we're supposed to write about books we love. One of my favorite writers happens to be a very good friend of mine, as well as a mentor: John Hough, Jr.

He lives on the Vineyard, where his roots go back a long time. He makes his living at his craft, not always an easy thing. John's had many books publilshed over the years, most of them novels.

His latest book, Seen the Glory: A Novel of the Battle of Gettysburg, came out on June 30th.  I wanted to write about it then, but I hesitated to use this space for any type of review. But when Jen made books the topic for this week's Spin, I could resist no longer.

I love this book. It is a meticulously researched and accurate portrayal of the Civil War battle, but it is so much more than that.

It's the story of  Luke and Thomas Chandler, idealistic brothers raised as abolitionists from Martha's Vineyard, who enlist in the Union Army. It is a love story between one of the brothers and Rose, their Cape Verdean housekeeper whom both brothers have been secretly in love with for years.

John allowed me to read the galley before the book came out, and I pored through its pages, anxious  to find out the ending for these characters I had come to care about deeply.

If you love coming-of-age stories, love stories, or historical fiction, you must read this novel. I've enjoyed everything John's ever written, but this book is easily my favorite.

It was one of those rare, wonderful times when I was really sorry to reach the end of a book, because I didn't want to let go of these characters or their story. You should definitely check it out.


To read about other people's favorite books, check out the other Spins at Sprite's Keeper.

Summer Job

Library Lady

I just started a summer job at the library. Daughter #1 was kind enough to point out for me that I am:
    1-a middle-aged woman
    2-single and ALONE (you might wonder how I know she said this in
       capital letters; just trust me on this one, okay?)
    3-I have five cats, and now,
    4-I work in a library

I suppose she's insinuating that this makes me some sort of cliche. But, as I'm sure life will eventually point out to her, aren't we all?

I've had a bunch of odd jobs the past few years. It's a very Island-y thing to do. A lot of work is seasonal, and many of us are trying to pursue some artistic career that may not pay very well. You've got to grab the opportunities as they come.

I worked at the high school till last year. I've done some subbing at a nursery school and a little private duty nursing as well. But I'm digging this library gig. It's kind of like being a kid in a candy store (yet another cliche).

I almost took a job in a jewelry shop, another area in which I have a personal interest. But messing with the merchandise there could turn into a very dangerous, very expensive disaster.

Daughter #1 worked in a book store last summer. This is another place that seems quite harmless on the surface. Yet for certain people, such as my daughter and myself, it could actually be quite insidious (by the way, the fact that we both love books almost more than life itself has nothing to do with us being related. We are, she informs me repeatedly, nothing alike. Any similarity in our personalities, eye and hair color, sense of humor, or interests, is purely coincidental).

By working there, she got a discount on any books she purchased, and this is where the trouble started. I'm not sure what percentage of her earnings she recycled back into the store, but all I'm saying is I know who paid for her gas last winter, and it wasn't her.

I won't, of course, have that cash flow problem working at the library. I may be exposed to constant temptation, but at least all of it's free.

As for D #1, she wisely realized that she needed to earn more and spend less. So this summer she's got some heavy duty babysitting jobs lined up. She loves kids, says she can't wait to have her own.

I say, bring on the babies. Because, unlike jewelry and books, prolonged exposure to other people's children does not generally lead to an uncontrollable desire to posses one of your own. Especially not when you're an 18 year-old independent young woman with college and a career and your whole life in front of you.

But I better be careful; I wouldn't want to make her sound like a cliche or anything...