Run down to New Year

Christmas isn't here and I am already thinking of New Year's Resolutions. This time last year I was preparing to go to the hospital in the morning to have half of my thyroid removed. I thought the hardest thing was going to be the immediate physical recovery and that by New Year I would be raring to go. I made resolutions based on that. Boy, was I mistaken.

It turns out that the surgery and physical recovery were the easiest part of it all. The hardest part was the mental slide I found myself on once the stress of the holidays left and I had nothing to think about but life.

I'll be honest, I was gifted during that time by wonderful people, with huge hearts and generous kindness. I will never forget the flavor of the best and most soul nourishing soup, or the joy of sitting with a friend as she patiently helped wrap gifts. I will carry in my heart the perfumed scent of the knitted "neck cozies" my "second mother" sent me to protect my sore and scarred throat.

At the same time, I was deeply wounded by the lack of consideration by people I honestly expected more from. I didn't notice it at the time, but in the ensuing months, I admit to feeling seriously hurt at the lack of outreach, not even a get well card from places I would have thought would have reached out. Worst of all, there was one place I specifically reached out to prior to surgery with very specific requests for help (and this is a place that is designed and organized to help in situations just like this), and nothing was done.

This year, 2011, which I had hoped would be an improvement over 2010, the year in which I lost my faith in my health, has failed me. As is turns out, 2011 was to possess moments and events of great blessing, things I will remember with fondness and gratitude. It also contained some soul-shattering, confidence-busting events as well.

I feel like I have shut down in the past 12 months. I have no interior dialogue that doesn't involve mental ridicule. I feel constrained, but don't know how to change it. I think 2012 is likely to be a year of hard work for me mentally. I am finally beginning to feel ready to face it all and get it behind me.

Stubborn

A new personal record is about to be attained. It is December 8th and I have yet to turn on the heat in the house. Only now am I feeling the lack and the need.

Tonight, I will curl up in warm jammies, nana socks, my thick robe, and blankets on the couch. The bed is already adorned with flannel sheets and thick blankets. Tomorrow we will have a fire in the fireplace most of the day. I think I can make it to December 10th, maybe 11th.

Yeah, I'm stubborn. Thank goodness my family is right with me on it. So far, nobody has complained they are cold.

In a battle of Mother Nature vs. me, I know Mother Nature is always going to win, I just want to be sure I put up a good fight.

Waking Up

It's been nearly a year since my thyroid surgery. My neck is healed and I am repeatedly told it is barely noticeable, though I still see it very clearly and vividly. I think my meds are pretty good, though maybe not perfectly adjusted. It has been a long and dismal year (let's be honest 2 years) and at long last I am beginning to feel like I am waking up.

For so much of the last 12 - 18 months I slogged through life. I dealt with details, arrangements, schedules, and necessities. I cooked meals, ran errands, paid bills, organized gatherings, dealt with crises. The one thing I did very little of was live and wake. It was like I was a sleepwalker, or someone just one step out of phase with the world around me. I was adrift, and carried along with the tide of daily life.

I have a long way to go, there are still lingering hurts and conflicts to resolve. Even so, each day I feel more like I have an inner life again, like I am thinking again and not just operating.

In this season, in which we are connecting with those we love, whether dead or alive, near or far, I am going to make the effort to come fully back to the life of the living and awake.

I miss me. Wonder if anyone else has noticed?

Connectedness

I have been thinking about people who commit suicide lately. To be clear, not because I have considered it for myself, but because twice in the last 4 months it has peripherally touched my life.

In July, as I was overseeing the summer program in our community, a woman in our village chose to end her life. She didn't want her landlord or friends to find her, so on a soft Summer morning she called 911 and let them know what she was about. Of course, when someone calls and says that they are going to end it all, the police respond in force. As I arrived at camp that morning, there was already a police cordon, SWAT team members, and some evacuations going on less than two blocks from the location where I was responsible for 60 children and 10 staff. Conflicting reports said it might be a hostage situation, or maybe a murder/suicide. I was in touch with police and had to help staff plan a release of campers at the end of the day. Not fun, and seriously miserable when it became clear that this woman had simply called to say she wanted police to come and claim her body.

What was truly terrible was the outpouring of comments and concern that happened in the wake of this woman's actions. So many people were devastated to hear of what she had done. The heartbreak was palpable. Yes, she had suffered the loss of a dear pet, yes she felt alone, but at the end of the day there were many who mourned her choice and the fact that she would no longer be a part of the fabric of village life.

More recently, like in the last two weeks was the untimely death of a man who owned a local garden center. He was a minor celebrity in our area, everyone having been to this center at one time or another. A larger than life personality, he drew you in with his enthusiasm for his chosen profession. You might bulk buy at Lowes, but you went to Always the Garden for the real gems in your garden.

The news of his death began much like the news of the earlier suicide I experienced this year. Rumors, chatter, speculation, followed by horrible confirmation. Now, dozens of people I know are mourning the death of this amazing person.

So, here is the question I have...... Why can people not see the impact they have on the lives of the people around them? Why can someone not see that the threads of their life intertwine and tangle with so many others? By snipping their thread they leave us all at loose ends, trying to repair and restore.

Would it have been different for these two people if they had seen? Would the choices have been different?

I wish for peace for these tortured souls and peace for the people who ache with their absence. In those moments when feel the darkness and wish to silence the voices in our heads, I hope we can see and feel how what we do will leave others in pain. No person exists in a void, no person should act as if they do.

Too Long

It has been too long since I have posted. Too long since I sat and listened to what was in my head and put it down in a record. The Spring and Summer came and went and I drifted along in them, busy sometimes, bored sometimes, overwhelmed at times. Why was there never a moment when I stopped to write?

Fall is here and another year of homeschooling is under way. Big changes for us now that I am feeling better. More activity, more events, more coming and going is filling our calendar. It is good.

There is other stuff, baggage to be unpacked. I'll get to that, but for tonight I needed to break the ice and just put something down.

Full

Tonight is one of those night where I truly feel that my life is full to overflowing. No half-full vs. half-empty here.
It has been a good day. We got errands done as a family this morning, indulged in a trip to the Library, got some good chores done at home, and made dinner on the grill. The weather was agreeable, the temperature comfortable, the family in a good mood. With grass freshly cut we made burgers on the grill and had dinner on the porch. What a nice way to end such a nice day.

So here I sit on the porch in the fading light. I am listening to the birds singing, Connor and Drew playing in the yard, and the hum of the Spring evening. I feel full. Full of happy, full of hope, full of contentment. For a person raised to believe that life is frequently out to get you, days like this are soul healing.

Well, I am off to work out dessert for us all, though today has been awfully sweet already.

I wonder

Susie Isabel Clay- 1888

Was it a whim? Was it a long-planned for and much-anticipated outing with friends? Did she board public transit, walk through the cold Chicago streets, or get a ride with friends? How did she start her day? Did she read the paper, eat toast and coffee, indulge in a breakfast out? It was school vacation, was there a stack of papers to grade calling to her? Did she leave that stack behind to treat herself to an afternoon of fun in Chicago's newest and fanciest theater?

I don't know the answer to any of these questions. What I do know is that on December 30, 1903 Susie Clay, native of New York State found herself in the audience of the Iroquois Theater in Chicago. She was about to become a part of American history. The day, that may have started with such promise for so many was about to become the last of their lives, Susie included. They died when the Iroquois Theater, billed as "fireproof" went up in flames, killing 650 in the audience, mostly women and children on a school holiday outing to see a matinee in the City.

Susie is a mystery to me for a number of reasons and she haunts me more than any other ancestor I have uncovered. Susie is the aunt of my husband's great-grandmother. They shared a name, and I believe an affinity for each other because of it.

By the time Susie was 17 she had lost both of her parents, who had been Potato Famine survivors. I can't imagine facing life at 17 in the late 1800s as a young woman alone. She must have been feisty, a trait I admire and am drawn to. Instead of settling down and marrying a nice boy from the area, Susie became a teacher. She taught in her home area, I've seen her mentioned in teacher union information published at the time. She must have been innovative and dedicated, because she is particularly singled out for her teaching strategies.

Why she decided to move to Chicago is beyond me. Yet, in 1891 she appears in the Chicago City Directory as living alone in a boarding house. She is in her early 20s, far from home, hearth, family and friends and making her way in a new city. Susie spends the next 12 years teaching in Chicago and moving from boarding house to rental apartment. Each year her name appears in the City Directory as she determinedly continued with her independent and solitary life. No husband, no children ever appear in her life. What independence! Independence I believe it to be, I've seen pictures of her and she was lovely.

So now I find myself at the Christmas Break of 1903 (before we thought to call it Winter Break or wish Happy Holidays). For reasons known only to her she did not make the trek home to be with family. I don't know how long it had been since she had been home at all. When was the last time she saw her siblings, put flowers on her parent's graves, checked in with former students and colleagues? Did she feel lonely and at loose ends? How did she spend Christmas Eve and Christmas morning? Was the trip to the theater a mid-Winter "pick-me-up" for a homesick woman?

I can imagine the theater sounds and smells. It was so new I bet it still smelled of paint and fresh varnish. All those women and children were gathered to enjoy a matinee in Chicago's newest theater. I can hear the excited voices, mothers trying to still squirming children. The rustle of coats, the click of heels, the playbills crackling, and the frisson of anticipation in the air must have been wonderful to be a part of. I can imagine the lights going down, the last flurry of movement as everyone settled in to be amused. It was a comedy play, with a well know male lead. The laughter must have been wonderful. I can see doting mothers grinning at the delight of their children. Susie was there, I can see her as part of the crowd, with her smart clothes, and straight back.

I assume she was in the balcony, inexpensive seats, and the most dangerous. As the play moved on, none knew what was in store for them. At some point in the play, a piece of scenery came to rest against a stage light, it began to smoke, it began to flame. The audience saw what had happened and a small nervous energy ran through the crowd. The leading actor broke character and encouraged everyone to sit down and remain calm. The crowd responded and the stage hands began to lower the ASBESTOS curtain to contain the fire to the stage. The wooden bar that weighted the bottom of the curtain caught, allowing only half the curtain to fall. Someone opened a back stage door, giving the fire a blast of cold Chicago air. The fire blasted free of the stage, billowed out over the balcony, killing hundreds as they sat. Now panic would not be stopped, and everyone ran for exits. Children were trampled, doors and gates were illegally locked and bodies stacked up at them, fire escapes hadn't been built and people rushed out doors stories in the air with no ladders or stairs. The carnage is beyond imagining.

The chaos in Chicago should be easy to envision. Injured, dying and dead were transported to hospitals and morgues all over. Some by hearse, some by ambulance, some by public transit. Nobody knew where anyone was, and many were unidentifiable. There are tales of fathers losing wives and all children, entire families wiped out. One poor soul searched the city and when his daughter was found, he gathered her poor broken body and brought her home by public transit. For days the paper carried names of the injured and dead and where they could be found.

Susie had no family to worry, no husband to notice her absence. There was no person to wander the morgues and hospitals seeking her. Ultimately she was identified by a woman who identified herself as a friend. Was she a fellow teacher, a former student? What made her able to say that Susie was missing and go looking for her? How was Susie identified? By sight, by clothing, by jewelry?

Susie was sent home to New York State to be buried beside her parents. She was 34 when she died. Her life leaves so many questions for me. Was it a whim? A whim that took her to Chicago to begin with? Was she trying to start over, start at all? Why did she leave her home and her siblings to teach in Chicago and why did she find herself at the theater that day?

Susie haunts me. I feel like it is important that our family remembers this solitary, independent woman. I keep her picture nearby and look at it often, wondering about her. Someday, I hope to find a newspaper article from her hometown that might answer some of my questions. Until then, she makes me think about how seemingly innocent choices can lead to very unexpected moments in time. Imagine, she started the day a Chicago teacher out for an afternoon's amusement, and ended up a victim of America's worst theater fire EVER.

I remember you Susie, and I want to know your story. I wonder.....