63 Down - 63 Up

Finish each day and be done with it. 

You have done what you could. 

Some blunders and absurdities no doubt crept in; 

forget them as soon as you can. 

Tomorrow is a new day. 

You shall begin it serenely 
and with too high a spirit 

to be encumbered with your old nonsense.
― Ralph Waldo Emerson 

I recently saw an article in The Guardian by someone I do not know (and do not care to - I cannot even find it again) who decided to look back at his life in the manner of the documentary series 63 Up (where a group of children were interviewed and observed every 7 years from the age of 7 to the most recent filming at 63. You can "Google" it.). Since I'm 63 I noticed and thought it could be a good thing to look back from age 7 to now.  I tried to look at who I was (or who I remember) at different points and some of what was going on in my life (in our lives). It's not an autobiography. It touches on some stuff, but everything isn't here. I intentionally left some things out. I've deleted a lot that I needed to throw out there and then purge (purge and purge?). I play "fast and loose" when it suits me.

[Is this a narcissistic exercise? I guess it's supposed to be. Fair warning.]

Here goes:

At 7 I was a reader and an artist. My older sister taught me to read at 4 or 5 so it was on. I loved Play Doh and paper. My hoarding started about then or soon after with some wonderful paper our uncle gave us. I had a brother almost two years younger and a new baby brother. I was a bit of a bully and loved my baby dolls (I wanted to be a mom when I grew up). Little did I know that the innocence of that time would be shattered by a sexual assault(1) the following year. It was a cousin. The difference in my experience  and the adjustment/recovery for me was I was forced to "say something" when I discovered that he was "bothering" my sister too. Together we went to our parents who BELIEVED us. I am convinced that the trauma for so many others continues, in part. because they are doubly betrayed - first by the perpetrator and second by those who don't or won't believe them.

<---- I suspect this is my first day of school. I was 6.

At 14 I started public high school. It was shocking to go from one of four students in our 8th grade class at catholic school to one in a class of a couple of hundred students. Science and math were the only real academic challenges and there was an art class - an ART CLASS. My wonderful art teacher, Filberto Chapa,(2) make a huge difference in my life. He saw our spirits and inspired us to be the people we could be. While I was a good student and made many friends, I pretty much hated high school and was ready to get out of my hometown. I was shocked at the attitudes so alien to those in my home and elementary school. Racism and sexism were pretty rampant. I was known as a radical. [Yeah, me, a radical. I am much more radical now.] Before heading off to college I would take a first plane ride at 18 for a Girl Scout event with the Menominee People in Wisconsin (it opened a door).  I was a rebel politically, socially, and religiously. I wasn't afraid of much and generally bluffed my way through what fears I had (although I am still afraid of heights and the dark). I believed there was something else ahead, MORE. There had to be.

I graduated from college at 21. Excellent high school teachers, a good memory, and ridiculous standardized test-taking skills (accident of birth - Dad had almost a photographic memory) resulted in 33 college credits so I only had to "do" 3 years in college. My plans to double major in art and psychology were derailed by the death of the woman who ran the art department the semester before I arrived. She was the art department. I was disappointed, but transfer made no sense for me as I could risk losing the credits I had earned by testing (thus requiring me to "do" an additional year - sounded like prison) so I completed my BA as quickly as possible (but still played around with classes I wanted to take. No art? Fine. I'll take Shakespeare, philosophy, and theology!).  Surprised to live past 20 (don't ask me why I had the irrational idea that I would not live to see 20 - teenage drama I suppose), I had to decide what to do with myself. I knew I did not want to be a teacher. I had thought I wanted to be a counselor. The path ahead led to graduate school or law school. Frustrated with psychology, I chose law school. I had almost figured out a man incapable of loving me (I was a baby. What did I know of life and love? He did me a favor. But I would not finally "give up" on him until almost two years later. Full disclosure - I might "Google" him still.). I graduated, went home, worked for my dad, dated a couple of local guys, substitute taught in my high school (receiving confirmation of the wisdom of my decision NOT to get a teaching certificate) and ran away to Ireland for 2 months. That trip was the making of me. I fell in love with the place and its people. Who was I? I was brokenhearted and a little bit lost and then a little bit found.  And then I headed off to law school. Isn't that what we all do? We make the best decisions we know how to make at the time. We try to figure out what is important to us and get to work.

Lord! So much happens in those 7 years from 21 to 28!

By 28 I had married a remarkable guy I met in law school, graduated, had my first baby (and we were thinking about a second child  - a second pregnancy at 29 that would result in twins), tried a variety of jobs in the law (one with a maniac who shot off a gun in the office, among other things - quit that one in 6 months, one with a couple of Peter Pans for 2 years, and was on my third one - with a municipality), and was still learning to navigate my role as a military family member. That was (and is) a constantly moving target.  I found the work varied and interesting. I found the people varied and interesting. I learned that I really did not have an agenda or much desire for promotion. I was fine with being "a" boss. I didn't have/want to be "the" boss. We juggled the demands of two professional lives (DH was in the National Guard and, by this time, working as a civilian attorney for the Department of the Army. I was an assistant city attorney and adjunct at the local college). Little did we know how life would change with the next year's blessings. So, who was I at 28? I was a harried wife, mother, and lawyer. I had good friends, but family and work were the focus.

<Sigh> 35. Can I just say that I don't remember 35? Let me look at a calendar...and as I do so I will look up 42 as well...and 49. I totally remember 56 so I should get some brownie points for that.

I was 35 in 1991. By 35 I had a husband (same one) and 3 children. The kiddos were 6, 6, and 8 - they were in the neighborhood elementary school. We had experienced huge changes. I had started on the "mommy track" working part time - ran the district office for a state senator. We (me officially and the kids because they had to be somewhere) played in politics quite a bit including helping Ann Richards become governor of Texas. Some of it was heady stuff. We had moved from the chaos of a military town to a smaller town/bigger house/safer neighborhood (with other kids to ride bikes with and walk along the edges of the rotting front porch with. Aren't there always things it's best not to know at the time?). Who was I? I was a juggler. the year before my mother had a massive heart attack (at 63) and so I had juggled home, my shifts with mom, and my job(s). The kids were (and are) resilient (good thing). Thirty-four had sucked so I probably was catching my breath a bit at 35 as life would change once again as my boss left elective office and I started teaching adult education/GED classes and parenting classes in 1993.(3)  That job ultimately led to my earning a livable pension and becoming a better parent as you must learn the material to teach it. I would take a great deal of parent educator training. The parent thing was more important overall (but avoiding bag lady status in my dotage was not a bad thing either -  the kids will be able to afford "the home").] Life was messy, but good.

In 1998 (at 42) I was four years past losing Dad. He died in a car accident (although that does not really tell the story). It was awful. There was a lawsuit. Once again I was grateful for the legal training and attitude (have I not mentioned the "don't fuck with me" attitude? I think I have. I had learned it by 8, but I usually tell people "by 10." Maybe I was born with it.) which carried me through. I was more "myself" as the children were fairly independent. We all had to grow a little tougher as DH had deployed with the Bosnia Peacekeeping forces in 1997. I was stunned. After he got his 20 year letter (proof of sufficient service to retire) I did not consider he would deploy (and it would eventually happen two more times). We had achieved a goal of taking the children to Europe in 1997 (please note that I was the parent who traveled with them across the pond both ways and got to do all the reassuring that "things will work out" when we hit blizzard weather in Ireland and were iced out of Texas airports on the home leg).  Who was I? I was confident. I knew "things would work out." The kids and I also had learned a new life rule - when in doubt did the action pass the "Grandpa would want you to do it" test. Even now it is an unspoken consideration.

Forty-nine brought a "disturbance in the force."(4) All of the children were in college and DH deployed again.(5) I did not have to "be brave" for anyone - the pets didn't care. This time I seemed to have time to think about the danger even as he sent photos of himself sitting in a bunker across from a companion who was holding a cupcake. I knew it was not all fun and games and "cupcakes." We were in transition at work as well. Once again I juggled multiple jobs - teaching my GED class, running the adult ed. program, teaching parenting, and working with student services at the college. I would become the director of advising the next year. I was working 60 - 80 hour weeks as we reinvented student services. Attitude was useful as we made changes and ruffled the feathers of the "but we have never done it that way" people. This may have been the year I threatened to take the IT guy out in the parking lot and kick his ass. But I was kind and nurturing too. And I realized I had so much to learn about the operation of the college and the technology in use that I baked a lot of "thank you" cakes(6) for those who were helpful. [The IT guy never got a cake.] In another year I would tell my boss that she was killing me and that things needed to change. We reached resolution about job, responsibility, and pay. Work was fine. It was still work, but we did good work and grew the student population each year. There were challenges, changes, and some losses. I learned some tough lessons. But I learned. One day I received a "retirement statement." It was another stunning moment. It took me a little time, but upon researching public pensions I discovered that I had enough time in public service (4 years at the city, 4 years at the state, my time in adult ed and the college) that I would actually have a pension in a couple of years. I laughed. Before that my attitude had been "Let me be the bad guy. You guys need your jobs. I don't need this job." [Admittedly, I love being the bad guy. Pick a fight with me, PLEASE.] But after seeing that retirement statement I thought, "Wow. I only have to behave myself a little longer. I need to stop asking questions and just go along and get along." That effort didn't last a week. Who was I? I was flexible, capable, hardworking, nurturing, bad-ass, lucky, and cocky. They were afraid of me (thank heavens for that law degree). They would just have wait me out.

By 56, in 2012,  I was retirement eligible, but I stayed almost three more years continuing to advocate for "truth, justice and the American way"(7) or my concept of it anyway. I continued my efforts to hold the line for student friendly programs/policies/practice while I looked for a good replacement who would continue with the improvements we had made to student advising. [Of course, that is not what happened.]  I had always been an advocate for students and my team members. There were times I "kept my head down and colored,"  - one must pick one's battles. I always tried to tell the truth as I saw it. I asked hard questions that needed to be asked. It mattered - to me anyway. I would sit in meetings and wonder "who is going to stand up for the students when I am gone?" I have that answer now - NO ONE. 

Mom had died in 2010 after 2.5 years here, relocated from her home to an "independent living center" where she had more care, but still her independence. I learned a great deal about congestive heart failure and the local medical community (good and bad) and hospice.  I'm glad we had the time together. She gave me such gifts - the example of grace in life and death. So after two years an orphan and with another estate settled I was tired. I was tired of the fight at work and looking forward to retirement.(8)

I approached 63 with caution (Mom's big heart attack hit at 63). I studiously avoid Snickers bars and walk the dog regularly. We - DH (same one) and I - have now been married 38 years and retired for 4. We lost my baby brother during our first year of retirement. Devastating (doesn't really tell the story, but the only word that comes). At this point do we really need another reminder we cannot fix everything - we do not have the power we might sometimes think? So now "we" siblings are three. My sister and I still have a brother, but our brother does not. [I am always surprised when a thought like that comes. Even now I know the world viewed through my eyes is not really the world - it is just my world.] As one friend says (critically, I might add), we do what we want to do - read, volunteer, travel.... We have achieved most of our goals. The children are grown, educated, and productive members of society. When people ask I say, "the kids are good" because they are. They are good people. There are still a few things we might like to do this year and the next, and the next. We will travel as long as we can - as long as we "have legs" is how one friend described it.

I finally had (made) the opportunity to study art and I've been a potter for over 10 years, blessed with three amazing professors who taught, challenged, and pushed me to challenge myself. I'm about to finish a 10 year work of art (9) I planned as a fundraiser for a local charity and as something to take me well into retirement. I'm still learning. 

Demonstration at a community event this summer. (I need a haircut).

And what have I learned from this exercise? 

During editing (which continues) I thought, "we survived" - "I survived." There is a lot of life you just battle through. It can be physically, mentally, and/or emotionally painful and difficult. You keep going. We kept going. I kept going. Did I perform perfectly? Nope. I did the best I could at the time - the best I knew how to do. I made the choices I thought were right. Sometimes I fucked it up. Overall, we have been fortunate. Looking back let me examine what I had to deal with as well as recognize so much I did not have to deal with.

I'm still that artistic kid who loves to read. I just have wrinkles and some grey hair now. How would I describe myself ? I'm the same person I've always been - nurturing, impatient, messy, judgmental, artistic, procrastinating, smart, funny, confident, loyal, hopeful, lucky, privileged, and, yes, aggressive. I am grateful. 

I do have an attitude - optimistic and bad ass. Even now I am quick to warn "don't fuck with me or the people I care about." But I will bake a cake for a birthday or try to do whatever else someone might need. I still try to follow and share the examples of my parents. They taught me grace and responsibility. They gave us permission to be our own people and to follow our dreams. And I'm still dreaming.

 [Please see "Final Note" below, even if you skip the footnotes. (I always tend to skip the footnotes in other people's work so I try to put interesting/worthwhile/secret stuff in mine.)]

NOTES:

1 It was attempted rape, but I was a kid with an attitude. I threatened him and he backed off. Then Daddy threatened him and ultimately his parents. He should have been prosecuted. We know more now. We live in a new world.

2 Filberto just died this week.  He was 77.

3  Did you see that? I had refused to get teacher training in college, but by the end of my 30s I had taught college, adult education, and parenting classes (and God laughs). This would not be the end of my teaching career.

4 Star Wars (1977)

5 This time to Afghanistan. It would be the third and last deployment. The second was to Iraq in 2003.

6  Perhaps I missed feeding the lost boys of my adult ed class.  I don't see the thread here, but I did rather operate via mom principles...always...provide structure and love 'em...and bake them a cake for their birthday and whenever else they might need one. The dad principles were there too...stand up...do what's right (and know that sometimes that may mean you have to kick someone's ass).

7  Super(wo)man (in this case I guess "super want-to-be") I am not.

8 Everyone can be an ass. My "acting out" at work was simple. I left a message on my voicemail for people to email me for the quickest response. I did answer the phone when I was at my desk; I replied to every email; but I didn't reply to voicemail for the last three years there. If you wouldn't take the time to email, you could call back and hope I was at my desk. It my job wouldn't give me someone to answer the phone, "oh well."

9 http://artofpeacefestival.com/13.html

FINAL NOTE:

There are a number of articles "out there" about the documentary series 7 Up  through 63 Up. This one had some interesting conclusions that echo what I observed.

"While all psychological theory agrees that severe emotional deprivation has profound implications for personality, within “normal” environments, our most fundamental selves appear impervious to anything life throws at us....

The second truth is another that we don’t always acknowledge: we are eventually sustained by who we love, not by what we achieve."

https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2019/jun/09/63-up-michael-apted-television-series