All It Takes Is A Little Love

I was a timid child, quiet and obedient at all times. I had a naive way of viewing the world. Because my mother was so loving and supportive I tended to assume that everyone else was that way as well. Somehow I got through my childhood without being bullied or treated badly by either my peers or any adults. My world was rather protective and idyllic and made for a lovely way to grow into an adult save for the fact that I was not totally prepared for the realities of life. Somehow I knew in my heart that I had to venture out of my bubble and face the world as it really is so I shunned offers to attend private religious universities in favor of a large public university in my hometown. I eagerly applied for admission to the University of Houston because I believed that being there would better prepare me for the adult world that lay ahead.

The first thing that I realized was that with thousands of students there I would have to work hard not become just the number that served as my identification. I saw the anonymity of a large university as a way for me to reinvent myself as someone willing to be outspoken rather than a shadow lurking in fear that I might say or do the wrong things. I overcame my reluctance to raise my hand in class and to make appointments with professors so that they would know who I was. Mostly I began to write essays that honestly voiced my opinions, not just the ones that I believed would keep me out of the limelight or trouble. 

It was a very freeing experience that allowed me to participate in discussions and debates. I met people from far away states with customs so unlike my own. I heard truths that had never before been part of my knowledge. I listened to Mohammed Ali speak about the war in Vietnam in the Cougar Den. I expanded my confidence bit by bit often with the help of professors who saw potential in me that I never realized was there. My worldview grew exponentially in ways that I might not have otherwise imagined. 

I suppose that the same kind of things might have happened at any university that I chose but I needed to be among strangers rather than old friends who were going together to universities that recruited Catholic school girls. I wanted to evolve without anyone noticing that I was changing. Even though I did have friends at the University of Houston I rarely encountered any of them. Every class was filled with new faces and new possibilities for becoming confident in myself. 

I have to admit that the maturing process was not always smooth going but even in difficult situations I learned that I was capable of asserting myself and setting things right. All the while the world of ideas was feeding my appetite for knowledge that had been heretofore unknown to me. I voraciously read the books and articles and essays that the professors assigned. I learned the intricacies of art, language, literature, psychology, geography, history, politics, mathematics and even physical activities. I went to street dances and athletic events and learned about the wider world from everyone that I met.

Along the way there were mentors who realized my potential and encouraged me to be a lifelong learner. They helped me to understand my strengths and my weaknesses and how to use my talents in ways that had a positive affect on society. I still think of them and the impact they had on me. 

To this day I prefer to be an observer more than an activist but I know that sometimes I must step forward and I have the tools of speech and logic and information to state my case. Those are the skills that I took away from my time at the University of Houston. There I more closely became a citizen of the world just as my high school English teacher had encouraged me to be.

I have never looked back nor wished that I had gone somewhere else. I don’t know of another university that would have had as much impact on me as the one that I chose. The key to my success at the University of Houston lay in the quality and dedication of the professors who one by one offered me a personalization of my educational plan. They were open and ready for my questions and my musings. They managed to know that I was way more than that number that I used on all of my papers and tests. They were dedicated men and women who guided me into my life as an adult. 

Of course there were other experiences that would shape me later. Being responsible for the health of my mother increased my belief in myself. Meeting a young man who shared my hopes and dreams and thoughts boosted my assessment of myself. Successfully becoming more and more independent showed me that I was ready for whatever came my way. 

The day came when I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and I liked the person that I saw. That was a glorious moment that I have never forgotten. it seems that from that day forward I had no more qualms about being myself, a woman willing to keep expanding my worldviews. From the University of Houston I learned that knowledge really is power and I have never stopped reaching for more.

It always amazed me that my mother was as optimistic as she was. She had every right to be dreary and anxious but that only happened when she avoided the medications for her bipolar disorder. Most of the time she was the sunshine even on a cloudy day. She often ended each day when my brothers and I were still children by tucking us into our beds and reminding us how lucky we were. She was one of those people operating on a low income who gave an amazing percent of her funds to those who were less fortunate. Her smile was worth a million dollars and she flashed it wherever she went. People who took the time to know her loved her, even clerks in stores. I never completely understood how she managed to find the good in every situation or how she found such joy in simple things like stopping for a scoop of ice cream. 

When Kermit the Frog from Sesame Street first sang his classic “Rainbow Connection” my mother fell in love with the tune. It represented her outlook on life which included dealing with dark and difficult times always followed by incredible hope and gratitude for however much good came her way. She would tear up and smile like an innocent child whenever she heard the strains of that tune. Those were happy tears in which she emotionally celebrated all of the goodness that she saw in the world. 

Through my mother I have become attached to “Rainbow Connection.” I purchased a Hallmark Christmas ornament that features Kermit singing his now famous song. Each year when I hang it on my tree. I think of my mother and smile with some happy tears welling in my eyes. Somehow her allegiance to finding the best in even the worst situations reminds me to push my own tendencies toward pessimism away. She showed me how to deal with my problems by finding the wonder in the most ordinary moments. Now whenever I see a rainbow I find myself thinking that it is my mother’s way of reminding me not to dwell too long on the difficulties that I may be facing. 

This is admittedly a  very difficult moment in time for me. I worry constantly about the health of my beloved country, the United States of America. On some days I become so engrossed in the negativity of our president that I forget to take my mother’s lead and look for the progress that is slowly moving to set things right. Then I see a photo from my son-in-law of  a brilliant rainbow stretching across the sky on a rainy day and I feel as though it is the voice of my mother assuring me that this too will pass. I see her sweet smile and I hear her reminding me to look for the good for it will surely outdo the bad. 

I think of how much easier my life has been than my mother’s simply because she sacrificed so much for me and my brothers. I realize what I learned from her including becoming the soup and bean queen in my extended family. She taught me how to stretch a dime by making the most of every drop of food that I bring into my home. She showed me that it is possible to endure even the most unbelievable tragedies with dogged determination and always unrelenting appreciation for whatever I have.

There is great irony in the story of my mother’s life. By many measures hers would have been a dreary tale. She was the youngest of eight children who wore hand me down clothing and shoes. She endured the taunts of other children for being from an immigrant family but she nonetheless soared in school where her teachers noted her many abilities. She learned how to sew her own clothing so that she was always stylish. She watched musical movies and learned how to dance without formal lessons. She worked to pay for classes that gave her secretarial skills that afforded better jobs than she might otherwise have had. She married young and ended up in the middle class with her engineer husband and three children only lose that status when he died when she was only thirty. She would struggle financially for the rest of her life but somehow managed to buy and pay for homes twice and to ultimately earn a college degree. 

Just when my mother seemed to be on the brink of an easier time of life she was ravaged by a mental illness that stalked her for the remainder of her life. She had periods of health and periods of extreme illness but kept her job at the University of Texas Health Science Center until she retired. She was so loved by her co-workers that they gave her a rousing send off unlike anything I have ever before or since witnessed. When she died of lung cancer in her early eighties the church was filled with family and friends who spoke of the many times that she brought joy to them when they were feeling down. She was indeed the rainbow connection for many souls whose lives she had made brighter and happier. 

I look for the rainbows in life now because they remind me of to look for the joy even in the darkest of time. My mother knew so well how to do that and I suspect that she would want me to be a lover and dreamer just as she was. 

Once upon a time there was a little girl who lived an enchanted life. She had a beautiful mother whose smile lit up the family home all day long. Her father was a handsome man who read stories and poems to her and told her that she was capable of doing anything that she wanted to do. Sadly like so many fairy tales real life interceded and took her father away, leaving her family struggling to stay adrift but hers was a hero’s journey filled with brave and caring souls who seemed to arrive to save her and her family on cue. Along the way she learned how to be an optimistic warrior much like her mother had to become.

The little girl knew what she needed to do because her father had already tutored her before he left this earth. She watched the courage of her mother who never seemed to lose her bright outlook on life no matter how dire situations became. And so the little girl grew into a woman and met a handsome prince who was kind and loving so much like her father. She married him and the two of them began a beautiful life together but as all stories go even with true love times can become difficult and so it was with them. Luckily the young woman knew what to do, how to navigate the difficult times. She had watched and learned from her mother and was able to navigate through the roughest of seas, including a time when her charming prince became so ill that is seemed that he might die young just as her father had done. 

Good fortune was on her side. She cared for her two small children while doctors performed miracles on the prince. Soon he was well even as he had grown thin and pale during his illness. The family carried on surrounded by loving friends who encouraged them to move forward into the future. And so it was that time seemed to go by so quickly as the young couple grew into their middle ages with two beautiful daughters who had also learned the lessons of the challenges and delights of life. 

The prince was a modern man who encouraged the woman to seek more knowledge and to use her skills to be successful both inside and outside of the home. As she soared he never once felt a need to pull her back into the confines of an imagined role or to suggest that she was somehow breaking the rules of a good marriage. He was proud of her accomplishments and so too was his mother who had often longed to expand the dimensions of her own life. And so the woman whose father had told her to reach for the sky did just as he had instructed her and life was so good. 

The woman’s story has been a saga just as is true for anyone who has ever lived. She has encountered heroes and villains and found herself in battles for life and truth and all that make life wonderful. Time and again good has conquered over evil just as the fairytales foretold that it would be. She had learned that happy outcomes did not come from magic but from the hard work of millions of people of goodwill. She saw that the stories that her father told her were written in the long ago to show children how to have good faith in the kindness of the vast majority of humans. Those stories were parables about how to push forward and be resilient even in a world that feels ugly and unfair. 

The woman had learned that we do indeed have fairy godmothers and godfathers, people who come into our lives at the very moment when all seems lost. They are the kind souls who nurse and nurture us, shield us from harm, encourage us to keep moving forward. She saw that humans have pushed forward by being forced backward from the beginning of time. She was no different from any of the characters who had provided images that showed her how to overcome the monsters who seem to invade every person’s life. 

The woman had learned patience and unrelenting kindness from her mother. She understood that it was not silly to be happy even when there did not seem to be any reason to be so. Her mother had shown her that the sun always shows up again, the hard times that challenge us only help us to grow in strength and adaptability. So the woman found ways to keep calm and carry on even when it felt foolish to do so. 

Now the woman and her prince are old. Their daughters are middle aged. Their grandchildren are creating their own stories. The woman hopes that they have learned the secrets to a good life just as she had from her mother and father. Times are tough in the moment. Life seems to be littered with problems. Some days are more difficult than others but the sun keeps rising even when it rains. Hard work and goodness have never gone out of style in the long reach of history. The stories have new characters but the themes rarely change. Good will triumph over evil even in the worst of situations. Patience and unrelenting goodness are never out of fashion even when it seems to be so.

The kings are in their counting houses hoarding their gold. The people are struggling and dreaming of better days. The old woman and the aging prince have faith that this too will pass as long as we don’t all give up on honor and loyalty and love. The story continues. 

I joke with my dentist that I hate snakes and dentists. My phobia has nothing to do with his skill. He has never hurt me like one of my previous dentists did. He has a gentle touch that I greatly appreciate. What I really hate is the fact that I have never had dental insurance and every dime I have ever spent at the dentist came from my own funds. I seriously do not understand why teeth and eyes are not considered part of our bodies when it comes to medical insurance. I mean who thought of those things as somehow being different?

I’ve been seeing dentists since I was a toddler. The first one who kept my teeth in good shape worked with only children but he was quite brutal with me. For some reason I had lots of cavities even though I rarely had sugary treats and my mother insisted on keeping my oral hygiene at the forefront of my daily routines. In spite of her efforts to keep me cavity free I seemed to require one filling after another with great regularity. 

My mom did not realize that the dentist would yell at me during the examinations. I was too quiet and shy to say anything about his abusive behavior but I learned to dread visiting him in a way that has followed me into my adult life. It was not until he went after me when I brought my rosary into the examination room that I was able to be freed from his anger. I was only praying that the event would not be as painful as it always was and for some reason the dentist became belligerent at the very idea that I thought I needed divine intervention. He called my mother into the room and demanded to know what was going on. The entire episode showed Mama that he was definitely not the person who should be taking care of children. She removed me immediately and never again took me back. 

The next dentists I had were all quite good, patient and mostly pain free. Sadly the trauma of my youth never left me. Surprisingly I did not seem to have as many cavities with the new guys. I pretty much went through life with good bills of dental health until it was time to take out my wisdom teeth, an act that terrified me and should not have. The dentist I had at the time had a magical touch. The teeth were out before I even knew he was getting started. Unfortunately one of the four that I had was twisted around a nerve and so it has never been taken out lest I end up with damage that would leave my mouth eternally numb. 

That wisdom tooth has been the source of cavities, root canals and eventually a major need for an implant. That procedure was months long because I needed a bone graft before the implant would be successfully placed. All along the way the dentists who have worked with me have been incredibly professional and understanding of my fears. I have never once been hurt by any of them but my dread of dental work stays firm. Perhaps it is the cost of the procedures that fills me with horror for I have never had dental insurance. Tens of thousands of dollars have been invested in my teeth when buying promising stocks would have been a better way of using my funds. Sadly I had no choice but to keep my mouth healthy. 

What has never been adequately explained to me is why my teeth as well as my eyes are not covered by regular health insurance. Surely they are part of my physical body and whatever happens to them will have an effect on my general health. It has been clearly documented that dental health or lack of it is closely related to heart troubles. It makes no sense to have these two aspects of my anatomy classified as nonentities when it comes to health insurance. Who came up with that idea and why haven’t we as citizens raised the roof about the unfairness of this strange kind of thinking?

I had a dear German friend who would go back to Bremen each year to have all of his dental needs provided. He laughingly noted that getting such services for free paid the cost of his flight. He not only did not understand why Americans had separate insurance for teeth and eyes but he was totally confused as to why we did not have universal health insurance for everyone. He found it quite interesting that we seemed to be so adverse to the idea of a national health insurance program. 

The truth is that American healthcare is really upside down and inside out. Doctors’ offices are filled with elderly people on Medicare and some poor people on Medicaid but the average working person who is purchasing health insurance can only afford to see a doctor for the most serious reasons. As a senior citizen I can see my gastroenterologist for twenty dollars. If I need an endoscopy or colonoscopy the total bill will be way less than one hundred dollars. Sadly my grandson who is experiencing some concerning health issues will have to pay six thousand dollars for his tests even after his health insurance pays its portion. This bill does not even include the fees that he will ultimately have to pay to the anesthesiologist.

Why do we Americans hold on tightly to a system that seems to be so unfair? The cost of health insurance is skyrocketing and in many cases people can’t afford to use it until symptoms become frightening. We pay extra for our eyes and for our teeth and see that as being natural when citizens in other advanced nations are enjoying the health perks that my German friend used with regularity. Perhaps it is long past time to repair our system that doesn’t always make sense instead of staying with the old ways out of fear that trying new ideas will be even worse. Surely there is a better fairer way for all. None of us should hate dentists and snakes simply because dental work is so expensive.  

“I’m tired, boss. Tired of being on the road, lonely as a sparrow in the rain. I’m tired of never having me a buddy to be with to tell me where we’s going to, coming from, or why. Mostly, I’m tired of people being ugly to each other. I’m tired of all the pain I feel and hear in the world…every day. There’s too much of it. It’s like pieces of glass in my head…all the time. Can you understand? …”  Stephen King, The Green Mile

Stephen King is masterful at putting words together in such a way that we can viscerally feel them. Right now I find this quote from The Green Mile speaking to how I feel on some days. I too am tired of people being ugly to each other. It is contrary to who I am as a person and yet it seems to have become so pervasive in our society of the moment. The most horrific peddler of ugliness is our President of the United States who enjoys insulting people over and over again, most especially women and people who have the temerity to disagree with him. 

I am so tired. I have enjoyed a good life and for most of my days on this earth I found ways to be optimistic even during the most trying times. I seriously had no idea that there was an underbelly of pain in the world so horrible that it would one day reveal itself in the poisonous taunts of a man whose job should be to help us live together, listen to one another, and find mutually created ways to insure that all Americans enjoy the fruits of our democracy. Instead I watch the horror of the undoing of our common decency and willingness to work together while seeing the growth of the hatefulness that no longer festers in the dark. 

I recently returned from a sojourn in Maine, the home of Stephen King. I was enlivened there in the beauty that seemed to to surround me. I stayed in a little cabin with the windows open both day and night so that breezes swept across my face. I heard the wind whispering through the pines and listened to the everyday voices of people staying nearby. I had a bed, a two burner stove, a small refrigerator, a bathroom and a heater to chase away the cold at night. I realized that it was all that I really needed to feel comfortable and happy and I began to wonder why we humans seem to require more and more luxury to feel the joy that I realized in that tiny place that took me back to the basics of what we humans need. It made me realize that all of us may a be a bit too selfish in terms of sharing our good fortune. 

I thought of how that small cabin might become a haven for someone who is homeless. I realized that most of us only need a tiny bit of the riches that we have to feel safe and secure and satisfied and yet we fight over the idea of contributing for the welfare of all. We want to keep as much of our wealth as possible even as it becomes more and more apparent as we grow old that we cannot take any of it with us. 

I stood on a rocky shoreline not far from that cabin and witnessed the glory of nature as a strong wind from the ocean blew across my face. I thought of the thousands of years that those rocks had been weathered by forces that carved and changed them. I wondered about the people who had once stood where I was in the long ago. I somehow believed that what they wanted from life was probably not that different than my own desires. Somehow as our lives became easier than ever before in history we seem to have become too focused on artificial ways of being happy, methods for medicating our feelings with things. We party in extravagance while somewhere in the world there is great poverty and suffering and we only shrug at the suggestion that maybe we might spend less on frivolities and more on lifting others out of the horrific situations that seem to be drowning them. 

I suppose that I am a far too serious person. I lost the innocence of my childhood when I was eight and my father died. I felt the yoke of responsibility descend over me. I became more and more aware of how the people around me were feeling. I was able to channel my old soul into the profession of teaching where I shared my hopes and beliefs that everyone has the right to a safe and secure life. 

I felt good in that little cabin in Maine. I thought of Stephen King while I was there and understood how that place has always provided inspiration for him. Life was slow enough and simple enough to rest and clear my head. It is only in returning to the hubbub inflicted on the world day in and day out by a wealthy bully who somehow became the leader of our nation that I grow weary again. I witness his ugliness and how it inspires an underbelly of our society to be just as cruel and and I feel that glass in my head. I too am tired of the pain. Can you understand?