I had an interesting encounter with my past this evening.
When Rick arrived home from work at about 5:00, he said he’d like to head over to the Y for a workout before dinner, and did I have any problems with that. No, I said, fine. Just then his phone rang, and he was dragged into another problem for the next 45 minutes. When he finished up, he headed out to the Y.
I felt unhappy, but unwilling to say so as I’d told him earlier that it wasn’t a problem. He asked me to save him some dinner, so I said I would.
I began feeling angry and upset as he walked away, snapping at the kids and just generally feeling pretty unhappy. I mulled over in my head why this was… what was bothering me about the situation? Here’s what I went through…
Going at 5:00 was fine, 5:45 wasn’t so much. Hmmm. Why?
Well, either the kids and I eat without him, or we hold dinner until closer to 7:00, waiting for him to get home. So? What’s wrong with that?
Family dinners are important… I don’t want to skip them for casual reasons. Rick’s workouts aren’t casual to him. He’s missed them lately after his bike incident, and he won’t be able to go this weekend. So what’s the big deal?
I finally hit on it when I remembered sitting at the dining room table as a child, watching my mother dish up food for me, realizing she was unhappy because of the empty place where my dad should have been. Family dinners were important in my childhood too — no tv on, classical music playing, a nice meal with the table set, and my mother’s good cooking.
The tension around my dad’s absence was palpable. My parents didn’t have a very happy marriage, and I understand that now, but I didn’t then. I wasn’t sure why Dad wasn’t there. He always had work going on, it was the nature of his job.
I realized this evening that somewhere along the way, I wondered if my Dad’s absence was my fault, or if it was a sign that I wasn’t important enough to him to come home for dinner. I’ve placed such a high priority on being together for dinners as much as possible because I want my kids to know that they’re worth coming home to.
I know my Dad loves me, and loved me then too. I know there were many complex issues at work, and I was caught in the middle of them. I can understand that with my head. But I was caught by surprise by the child inside me, feeling sad that Dad had left an empty place at the table. Sometimes the heart doesn’t listen to the head.
July 8th, 2008
Moxie Toy
Originally uploaded by Anne Bennett
Note to self: don’t leave new rolls of paper towels on the floor when you go to pick up a daughter’s friend… this is what Moxie does to them.
We were gone for no more than 25 minutes. You should see the plastic bag the towels were in. (I know, I know… I forgot the reusable bags.)
July 8th, 2008
We gathered with several friends to cheer on our local community’s parade today, despite the rain. Emily and Nathan were eager to participate with the Y this year, and dressed in their full soccer uniforms for the event.
We set up chairs on Karl Rd., and watched the procession of children’s sports teams, high school marching bands, fire trucks, police cars, politicians, and community organizations. Despite the rain, there was a significant crowd, which I was pleased to see.
One of the groups that came by was the Northland Jaycees. I haven’t thought much about the Jaycees in recent years, but seeing them today reminded me of my connection to their history.
In 1946, my grandfather, C. William Brownfield, penned the Jaycee Creed. I had to look it up today after we got home and had some quiet time (once the picnic guests departed this evening…):
Jaycee Creed
We believe:
That faith in God gives meaning and purpose to human life;
That the brotherhood of man transcends the sovereignty of nations;
That economic justice can best be won by free men through free enterprise;
That government should be of laws rather than of men;
That earth’s great treasure lies in human personality;
And that service to humanity is the best work of life.
I update many of these lines in my personal beliefs. Yet they still speak strongly to me of what all of us should strive for in our lives, and they speak strongly to me about what our country has forgotten from our heritage. As Brad points out in his awesome post, our country was founded on revolution. The United States was founded by a group of people who spoke the truth to power. They believed in a limited goverment, in the rights of individuals, and in the responsibility of citizens to guide and correct their own goverment.
Where is the brotherhood of man that transcends nations in the Bush government? Our egotistical, narrow minded White House occupant fails to recognize other nations’ traditions, values, and citizens as equally valid as our own.What would Iraq say about brotherhood beyond borders?
On the Fourth of July, remember the Bill of Rights. Remember those who have been, and still are, willing to speak truth to power, when power wants truth silenced. Remember the dream of justice for ALL, not just the privileged. Remember the Declaration of Independence, and think hard about how relevant many of those points still are today. Remember that criticizing our government is one of the highest acts of patriotism and love for our country, and become someone my grandfather would be honored to meet.
July 4th, 2008
The kids and I went to my dad’s place today, working in the gardens. We had a wonderful sunny day (and I managed to keep enough sunscreen on me–I’m only pink here and there, not strawberry red all over).
We picked purple raspberries, which were enjoyed by all at lunch with pancakes and whipped cream. 
We also picked peas–lots of peas. They’re coming on strong now, despite the late planting. They’re planted near a tree, so are getting some shade during the day, and the weather hasn’t been hot enough for long enough to really make them unhappy. The vines are still blooming, and for all the pods we picked today (and those that were picked yesterday and Sunday) there are still LOTS more that will need picking SOON. And lots of darling little tiny pea pods, just emerging from the blossoms too! So cute!
Not so cute–the swarms of japanese beetles on the grape vines, the red raspberry canes, and the peach tree.
Kathy discovered the beetles on the grape vines, and the kids were soon set to work, each armed with a mason jar with some gasoline in the bottom. Grab a beetle, drop it into the jar. It’s a fortunately quick death for the beetle. Luckily, neither one of my kids is particularly squeamish about picking up bugs, especially bugs that don’t bite you, so this didn’t prove to be a difficult job for them and they made good progress. Once I finished up with the rows of peas, I joined them, and we got both jars about a third full of beetles.
We took a break for lunch, then went back to it. I happened to look at the peach tree (a young one) as I went by it, and realized that there were beetles on nearly every leaf on the lee side of the tree (this was after the wind kicked up in the afternoon). As I took a closer look, I saw peaches absolutely COVERED in japanese beetles! I actually had to assume they were peaches, because the mass of beetles were peach shaped–I couldn’t actually SEE the peaches under all the beetles.
Emily and I got right to work (Nathan had been drafted by Grandpa to help cut down a dead tree). This was a little harder for Emily — the tree is taller than I can reach at the top, and it was windy, whipping the leaves around as well. So unfortunately, there were a number of beetles we only succeeded in scaring off the tree. (I’m sure they’re back by now.) One of the beetles she scared wound up divebombing her face, freaking her out and causing her to splash gasoline out of her jar and down my leg. Blech. Once I washed myself off, we finished the leaves we could reach, and started on the peaches.
Emily held the branch down lower so I could reach it more easily, and I simply grabbed handfuls of beetles and threw them in the jar. {shudder} I am not, by and large, a squeamish person. I handle bugs, reptiles, arachnids, rodents… whatever, I can usually deal pretty well. (I draw the line at roaches, however. I cannot get past my revulsion of roaches.) But even I was getting creeped out by all those beetles in my hands… all those little hooked legs squirming, hard beetle shells trying to push their way out of my closed hand.
We wandered the beetle hangouts for the rest of the afternoon, scooping up stragglers that had missed the initial slaughter.
Euw. Just euw. I so wish there were birds that thought japanese beetles were worth fighting over for a meal. It’s just gross to handle that many at once.
July 2nd, 2008
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