There Is No Planet B

In colonial times, people did for themselves.  People were self-reliant and depended on neighbors who had skills for specialized items:  blacksmith, chandler, cooper, etc.  People didn't shop much.

Later, came the general store where people got their basic supplies - staples, fabric - the tools to continue to do for themselves.  For the most part, everything was "homemade."  Clothes were made.  They didn't come from Malaysia.  Some shoes and boots came from the cobbler.  Others were simply fashioned at home.

Nobody went anywhere to buy a loaf of bread or a can of soup.  There was the milk man [also egg, bread, farm-fresh vegetables, etc.], then catalogs from Sears, Montgomery Ward, Burpee Seed [which also sold LIVE mail order poultry!], door-to-door sales fr Watkins, World Book, McCormack door-to-door spices, Amway, Fuller Brush.

Then came "downtown."  There were shops to buy hats and buttons, bakeries, barbershops.  It was all very "modern."  In big cities came Barnes and Noble [1873], A&P [1859], Macy's [1858] and Bloomingdales [1861]!  People were living in a commercial wonderland.  Who could ask for more!

Yet, more they got - with strip malls, outlet malls, and big box stores.  Then infomercials, online ordering and personal shoppers. 

What next??

This is the miasma that is current consumerism.  Producers, consumers, and finally the big business of the whole recycling component.  The options just make a body quiver with anticipation.  But we've got to clean up our act.  We've got to get it together.  We need more slogans!!  No - we need to actually understand that the best things in life are not things.  Shopping evolved to meet our needs.  It's time for us to evolve to meet our own needs and save our home.  It's time to do for ourselves again.

 

Bottom line:  I consume and recycle.  

Stan produces and recycles.  

Together, we have a zero economic 

and environmental footprint.  

We are so very proud.  

But the question remains -

What next!?

~T, 02-16-2013

But I Don't Want to Say Goodbye …

Sometimes life just seems like chapters full of good-byes.  There is an end to things no matter how much we want to hold onto them.

Sometimes my heart just aches.  I've lost too many people.  In the quiet, the sense of loss overwhelms.  I miss so many people but then I stop to consider Stan's perspective.

Stan retired in 1994.  The VA needed to downsize its senior staff and offered an irresistible retirement package.  He called my office on Tuesday morning and said that he was retiring on Friday.  It was exciting!  I took a disability retirement two years later due to asthma and chronic bronchitis.  I was okay, just slower than I had been, and I tired easily.  I was certainly prone to infection and had repeated sinus infections.  I didn't realize how limited I had become until I was put on oxygen - and eventually had a lung transplant.

Stan fussed and took care of me.  He is still overprotective and still fusses.

But since he retired, together we taken care of many critically ill people in their final days.  We've lost Stan's father, his Uncle John, his Aunt Stephanie, my mother Bette - and so very many close friends.  Our circle of close friends included many transplant recipients and their support group.  And all the while, Stan fussed and took care of me.

When we first approached the idea of a lung transplant, the team talked in terms of one year, three year, five year survival rates.  It trades one fatal condition for a different condition that is complicated medically and usually short-lived.   [Stan continues to fuss and take care of me.]

We all know about the survival rates going in, but the alternative is unacceptable.  So we go forward.  We do it together.  We become very close, sharing such a live-changing experience.  When a transplant friend dies, there is a missing piece in the group and a missing piece in my heart.  I hate a friend going through the pain of loss of a close loved one and not being able to do anything about it.

Stan has grieved for family and friends.  He is stressed watching transplant friends struggle wondering if we're next.  It's hard for me to lose people, but I always know that I'm all right.  I can feel the strength.  Stan watches my face for a sign.  He can't feel what I feel and is never certain that I am all right.  It's harder for him than it is for me.  He never says much.  He just fusses over me.

~~~

For family, and for so many friends:  it gets harder and harder every day knowing that you are no longer in this world with us.   We still haven't been able to accept the fact you're gone... we miss you:  Stan, John, Margie, Stephanie, Bette, Donna and Donna, Elaine, Patty, Judy.  Gary!  Sheila.  Heidi and Mary.  John, Isabel, Bill, Dave and Dick.

Everyone loses people they love.  Families feel it because it's part of living;  soldiers feel it and it affects them forever;  medical teams feel it every day.  People always sympathize and suggest that it will get easier, that time will help heal.

I don't want it to get easier.  All those people, the family, the friends are too important to forget.  It shouldn't be easy.  In life, the things that are really important are never easy.

Softly the leaves of memory fall,
   gently, I gather and treasure them all.


Unseen, unheard, you are always near,
   so loved, so missed, so very dear.

~T, 02-9-2013