More Than Enough

more than enoughI like to think about and write about concepts.  I find it fascinating that we have buzz words or phrases that become trendy and once shared on social media or on TV you hear them everywhere.  When I hear these concepts or phrases it makes me think, and when I keep coming back to it to think some more, I like to write about it so I can think it through.  This one is controversial.  I know it will probably make many people angry and some will say I am insensitive.  That’s OK.  Maybe it sounds like I am.  But I am probably one of the most sensitive but honest, sometimes bluntly so, people you will meet.

I am all about equal empowerment for women and men, but not one at the expense of another.  I understand the history of feminism and gender roles/stereotypes, the psychology, the struggles and oppression of women and I am thankful to live at this time in history rather than even 75 years ago when my mother was growing up.

I also understand that there are so many people that didn’t have the strong and supportive childhood I had.  I was told I could do anything or be anything I wanted.  I have friends that were told they were worthless and they believe it to this day.  I have done a lot of research about childhood influences and the way one’s experiences affect your behavior as an adult.  It’s heartbreaking.

I have friends who have, as teenagers and adults, been in toxic relationships.  They can’t or won’t leave these relationships because this is their norm, believing that this is what love is and they will never find another person who loves them because they just aren’t good enough.

So that brings me to a saying that I see a lot.  I am enough.  Many people use it as a mantra.  It’s the way they find the strength to get out of the toxic relationship or to overcome their abusive childhood.  It’s the way they learn to love themselves or move towards self-acceptance.  It’s a good thing.

But it grates on my nerves.  I hate it.  And it took me a long time to figure out why.  I’m actually not sure if I have figured it out but here I am, writing and thinking it through.  The fact that it irritates me probably says a lot about me and my crazy issues.  But it does bug me and I think I know why.

It feels like settling.  It feels like I’m saying “I’m just ‘meh’ but I’m not a bad person”.  And that feels wrong to me.  I know how it’s used and it’s uplifting and empowering to some.  But it’s the word “enough” that bothers me.

I have always said that the person who says “You should accept me as I am”, is a person I believe doesn’t want accountability for their actions or doesn’t want to get better.  We should always be trying to get better.  There is value to accepting that people are not perfect and never will be.  There is value in accepting that about ourselves.  But that doesn’t mean we should give up on self-improvement.  We all have bad days where we do something stupid and sabotage our success.  We are sometimes too critical of ourselves, about our decisions, our bodies, or things we just are unable to change.  It’s just not productive and I wish I had helpful suggestions but I’m really just thinking this through.

I guess I’m looking for a mantra that says more than I Am Enough.  One that acknowledges self-acceptance and imperfection as a spouse, a parent, in one’s job, in friendships, in our bodies and more but that builds strength and resiliency and the desire to try again.  I want it to help me build my self-awareness and self-love when I don’t have it and to encourage me to work on that.

I realize that’s different for every person.  I feel like I understand the concept but haven’t really figured out the buzzy words for it.  I will work on that.  In the meantime, I would love to hear everyone’s thoughts, presented in a helpful way to help me think this through, not bashing what was said – enlighten me.  Leave a comment and share.

 

Happy Fall Y’all

Fall2017-7019

I love Fall.  It’s my favorite season.  And with a newer house, it’s fun to decorate for the seasons using decorations you’ve had for years, and adding a few new each year.

I usually start decorating for fall in mid to late September.  I add a few Halloween decorations throughout October and then more Thanksgiving related in November.  But the “Fall” decor can stay basically until December.  And since it’s my fave, it makes me very happy.

I love changing the front entry and living room decorations for the seasons even though we don’t use that area that much.  The console table by the front door has some fall leaves, a straw acorn, a glittery pumpkin, and some candles scattered across it.  On my white couch in the living room, I always change out the pillows for the seasons.

Scattered around the Family Room and dining area are some random pieces to add some color to our most lived in spaces.  I don’t do a lot, other than the mantel area (pic at top) because we do truly live in this space.  There are always drink glasses, computers, magazines, remotes, shoes, and toys around.  Lots of toys.  As you can see on the pic with the red circles, my grandson decorates too.  Those are Hot Wheels cars he has strategically placed in the stones of the fireplace.  Not sure why, but it’s his own design.

Outside decor is fun but I don’t really do a lot of over the top stuff.  I have some ghosts and skeletons, some orange lights (can’t see them in the photo) and other little random things.  I love my hay bales, pumpkins, and my FALL sign.  I added the Fall sign this year and also found a similar one for Christmas that says JOY.

So, that’s most of my Fall decor for October.  Can’t wait to get started on the Thanksgiving and Christmas decorating.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Let’s Try It This Way

Tere_July_2017I started my journey to healthy on June 1st of this year.  It is kind of consuming my life right now.  I am committed to eating healthy and losing weight so I can be a healthier person.  And it’s working.  I have figured out many of the mind games I need to play with myself to make this work for me.   I joined the Y and I am trying to workout every day, as well as going to yoga and circuit classes 3 days a week.  I have had bad days and great days.  But every day, I am focused on making this work.

A few weeks ago, I posted an update and I said I did not want to make this a weight loss blog.  I still don’t want that.  But this journey is taking up so much of my time and my thoughts every day.  I would like to share but I have hesitated because, like I said, I don’t want this to take over Facebook and my blog too.  So I have decided to try something that might solve that problem.  I created an Instagram account for my weight loss and and healthy living journey.

I can share weight loss photos, food ideas, thoughts and learning, and failures and success.  It’s also another piece of the accountability puzzle.  I can post all those food pictures and gym/exercise pics there and not bore everyone with them, unless you are interested in that kind of thing.  There is a huge weight loss Instagram community out there with so many inspirational stories.  I follow quite a number of people who have lost over 100 pounds, several over 200 pounds, and they have all done it through healthy eating and exercise.  I feel like this will fit.

So, if you are so inclined, follow me on Instagram @tere.onmyhealthyjourney.

Everyone else – see you here in a few days.

 

 

I Still Don’t Like It, But . . .

2017-05-31 11.36.56-1A few weeks ago I wrote about the healthy changes I have been making in my life.  You can read about that in this post.  People have asked how it’s going.  I still don’t like it but I’m doing it.  I don’t want this blog to be a weight loss blog.  It’s more about a lot of things in my life that I want to share.  But this healthy lifestyle is also a part of my life now and this is a place where I am committed to honesty with everyone, including myself.  So here is how it’s going.

“It” is actually going well.  As I said before, I’m not sure what to call “it” but I’m sure not going to call it a diet.  Diets are temporary and, because of my age and health, this has to be something I do forever.  I am pretty sure I will never be perfect at it.  Like, that would be crazy.  That’s not my goal.  My goal is to lose weight in a healthy way and to “get healthy”.  And after 3 weeks, I have lost 19 pounds.  My weigh-in date is on Wednesday, which is tomorrow, and I am hoping to pass 20 pounds.  Of course, much of that is water weight and I know it will slow down now but it is certainly motivating to see it working.

So here is what is working:

  • Eating mostly plant based meals, lots of veggies, beans and grains, some fish and chicken, and lots of fruit. I’m not hungry and it’s easy to have these foods around the house.  I’m still trying to figure out amounts to buy so I have things on hand but also use them up before they go bad.  I hate wasting food.
  • Tracking my food on the MyFitnessPal app and website.  I am not obsessed with the number so some days, I go over by a few calories and some days I am under by a few hundred.  I use it as a guideline but I track EVERYTHING, even the mistakes.  The goal is to know what and how much I am eating so I can learn what works and what doesn’t.  And of course, the accountability.
  • Drinking lots of water.  I’m lucky.  I have always preferred water over most any drink.  I rarely have a soda.  I seldom drink juice.  I occasionally enjoy a diet lemonade.  So to stick to pretty much just water all day isn’t hard for me.  I track it on the app and I am averaging 90 ounces per day of just water.  My skin looks better and I just FEEL better.
  • Planning ahead.  I’m known for being good with whatever is going on so this has been a wee bit difficult but I’m sticking with it.  When I was traveling last week, I took healthy snacks – some worked and some didn’t – but I had them with me so I wasn’t tempted to buy airport snacks.  There are some healthy things available in the airport but sometimes they are hard to find or you just don’t have time between flights.
  • Moving more.  I got an Apple Watch.  It keeps telling me to “stand up” and to move around more, pushy little bugger.  Until last week when I was traveling, I was doing Yoga at least 5 days a week.  I am getting back on track with yoga this week and I am going to add a 30 minute walk at least 3 times a week.  It doesn’t hurt to go up the steep, steep stairs anymore and I don’t dread walking across the parking lot.  I’m really amazed at how quickly it has made a difference.

And here’s what has been hard and I still need to figure out:

  • Planning ahead.  Yes, I know I just said it worked but it’s been a struggle for me and I’m still figuring it out.  Last week I made sure my hotel room had a refrigerator, brought snacks, and made a plan to walk to a market close to the office to get fruit, some avocados, and breakfast items as well as other healthy options for the room.  Things happened and I didn’t have the time to go to the market until late in the week.  Lunch was brought in so even the healthiest choice was sometimes high in calories or had a sauce.  I got sick and didn’t eat at all one day.  I didn’t eat hardly any of the snacks since I was helping train and didn’t want to eat while training.  I still made pretty good choices and even had a piece of cheesecake on Thursday night as a treat.  And I have learned what to do for the next trip.
  • Eating Out.  I can almost always find at least one option on a menu.  Problem is, I don’t always want that option.  When are restaurants going to add calories and more options to the menu???  So I use that meal as a “cheat meal”.  I know a lot of people have a “cheat day” every week but I don’t really do that.  I save my “cheat” for one meal as needed and then I enjoy the heck out of it.  The rest of the day, I stick to the plan.  I just have to make sure it doesn’t happen very often which can easily get me off track.  Realistically, it’s what I should have been doing all along – eating healthy 90% of the time and enjoying an occasional treat meal where I don’t worry about it.
  • Consistency and Structure – I’m not really very structured in any area of my life.  I like variety.  But I know when I am more consistent and add structure to my day, I am more disciplined and accomplish much more than when I fly by the seat of my pants.  I make fewer mistakes in choosing food when I have it prepared.  If I eat out, I can look at the menu ahead of time.  I eat better when I plan out my day and week.  This really goes along with Planning Ahead from above but it’s a little more than that too.  Work in progress.

I will occasionally update my progress here, probably about once per month.  I didn’t want to go on and write about something else until I had posted a follow up.  Now that this update is here, I am excited to share other parts of my life and make this just one part of the bigger story.

It’s Hard, I Don’t Like It

Casey_bridal shower-6621That’s me in pink.  This was taken a couple of months ago at my daughter’s bridal shower.  I am with my aunt, my daughter, my cousin and her daughter, and my sister.  I’m fat. That is not a criticism of myself.  I’ve been heavy, a big girl, or fat for most of my adult life.  But I’ve always been healthy fat.  I know there are many who believe that’s not possible but it can be done.  I was an athlete in high school and I have always been pretty active, even if it was to prove the fat girl stereotype wrong.  I’m strong.  I eat pretty healthy.  I understand nutrition and continually educate myself.  I really was a healthy fat person.  I had gained and lost weight over the years but pretty much maintained my weight as a large person.  I’m not going to lie and say I didn’t want to lose weight but I was ok being who I was.  But about 5 years ago, things got out of control.

I was going to dance fitness classes and Zumba and on a healthy eating plan.  I went to these classes almost every day.  I had lost about 60 pounds.  Then I messed up my knee and had to have surgery.  Then I had a hysterectomy.  If you are not already aware, a hysterectomy throws you right into menopause.  Thankfully I didn’t have all the hormonal stuff – no hot flashes or mood swings – but, lucky me, I did get to experience the slowed metabolism and weight gain.  I stopped dancing and I ate whatever I wanted.

Then I discovered I had an incisional hernia from the hysterectomy surgery.  This required an additional abdominal surgery to repair the hernia.  The recovery for that was even worse than the hysterectomy.  There were some complications and it really took about 8 months before I felt “normal” again.  But I didn’t really feel normal at all.

I had become lazy and ate whatever I wanted.  I like healthy food and continued to eat healthy but I just didn’t care about how much and I didn’t push away from the bad stuff.  I started gaining pounds.  My body started to FEEL heavy.  I had never FELT the heaviness before in my life.  My knees hurt.  I was tired.  I didn’t want to do anything.  I didn’t feel like it.  So I didn’t.

I had built a new house in a neighborhood with a sidewalk.  I told myself I would walk more.  The lies we tell ourselves!  The stairs in my new house are pretty steep.  I curse them every time I climb them.  I’m working from home now so my movement is even less than before.  I gained more weight.

Then I had a couple of things happen.  First, I had a cancer scare.  I had an abnormal pap that showed pre-cancerous cells.  Shhhhhh – no one but a few family members and friends know about this.  I guess it’s out now.  I have been in treatment for almost a year now and the last exam showed no cancer but we are waiting for some lab results to confirm.  Yay.  A cancer scare, even a minor one, will wake you up and make you think about your mortality real quick.

Secondly, I was told I have Hepatic Steatosis – Fatty Liver Disease.  It’s common in obese people and can only be reversed by losing weight, specifically by reducing fat in the diet and exercising.  If not addressed, it could lead to liver cancer or a need for a liver transplant.  Well, that just sucks.  I tried to pretty much ignore it for a few months.  I love my doctor who gently asked if I had considered surgery.  I explained I was wary of surgery after recent experiences but I also knew that I would still have to diet and exercise so if I have to do that anyway, I would prefer to do it on my own without surgery.  He was very supportive, saying “You are smart and know what to do, you can do it.”  But my labs from last month showed elevated liver enzymes and triglycerides.  Dammit.  Recommendation – Low fat for the liver and low carb for the triglycerides – I guess I will only be able to eat vegetables from here on out.  I love vegetables but I cannot be a vegetarian.  Much respect to my many friends who are, I just can’t.

So it’s time to put my big girl panties on and do something.  So, very pissed off, I started to figure this out.  On Wednesday, I started my research.  I have to research and put a plan together.  It motivates me and gives me something to focus on.  I learned on the Today Show this week about The Blue Zones Solution by Dan Buettner.  It’s an extremely interesting book/project about the world’s longest living people in 5 different areas of the world.  One of the things leading to their longevity is the way they eat – mostly plant based, local, fresh, real food.

I went back to Myfitnesspal.com and re-downloaded the app. It works for me and keeps me accountable. I went to the grocery store and bought fruits, vegetables, chicken, non-fat greek yogurt and whole grains.  I ordered The Blue Zone book.  I researched ways to improve liver enzymes through food and healthy methods.  I ordered some turmeric. I added more beans to my pantry.  I was still mad and still defiant about the whole thing but if I must do it, I was ready.

On Thursday afternoon, I told my daughter I was back on a diet.  I don’t really like that term but it’s easy to use in conversation.  She said to me, “All this year I have tried to get you to join me in my diet and you just kept saying NOPE, thanks Mom!” She called me out.  I got a little petulant and said “I know. It’s hard. I hate it! I hate it and I don’t want to do it! It’s hard! You have to be prepared. You have to cook all the time.  It’s hard.”  She countered with “You just find healthy recipes like on skinnytaste.com or Pinterest and it’s not hard.”  I explained the reasons why I must do this now.  And then I reiterated “It’s hard and I hate it!  But I stayed within my calories yesterday and today and I’m doing it.”

I am better today.  I might have been hungry when I said all that.  I am accepting now, or maybe just resigned.  I’m starting slow with a goal of 1 pound lost per week.  I’m determined to go up and down my steep stairs at least 5 times a day.  I made it 3 times today so far.  If I don’t fall down those steep things, maybe they can be used to make me healthy.  And today I added yoga. I used to hate yoga, then I learned a better way of doing yoga and loved it.  I did 40 minutes of an Amazon Prime video for beginners today and was not loving it at all.  Yoga for big girls is different than yoga for skinny girls.  I decided to find an online resource with videos for yoga for plus sized women.  I did and actually found two – Curvy Yoga and Body Positive Yoga.  I think I’m going to love yoga again.

My journey is just beginning.  I’m sure I will write about it here.  Because it really is hard.    And I don’t like it.  But I’m going to do it.

My Widow’s List – 10 Realities

PriestI was scrolling through my Facebook feed yesterday and ran across this essay entitled “10 Things I Wish Someone Had Told Me About Becoming A Widow on the Today Show Facebook Page.  This type of thing always catches my attention because, well, I’m a widow.  I don’t use that word except on legal documents but I will get into that later.  So I stopped to read.  This was a good one.  Sheryl Sandberg of Facebook also did one of the best descriptions I’ve seen of the real feelings one has when your spouse dies.   And as I always do, I started thinking about my own list – what would I tell people about the reality of the W word and all that goes along with it?  What is the TRUTH?  Do people really want to know?

Some background – it was 2001 and my husband Gary and I had been married for 20 years.  Well, actually just short of 20 years.  He died on June 3rd and our 20th anniversary would have been on June 20th so I just say 20 years when someone asks.  We had 2 children.  My son Zack had just turned 15 two weeks before and my daughter Casey was 11.  Gary died of a heart attack at home when the kids and I were away at my parents for the week.  It was horrible and I would never wish that on anyone.

So what would my Need To Know for Widows be?  I have thought a lot about this for the last 16 years and I do know that I come up with something different every time I think about it so I decided to write down just some of my thoughts.

  1. Death Sucks No Matter How One Dies – People have asked about the way Gary died (death makes people say both incredibly kind and naively stupid things).  “Do you wish you had been able to say goodbye?”  No, I wish I didn’t HAVE to say goodbye.  My mom died over a period of 5 years, struggling with breast cancer.  Neither was harder or easier, they were both awful.
  2. People Don’t Know What To Do – Because everyone handles death differently, people don’t know what to say to you or to do when they see you.  I know widows who cry uncontrollably when they run into friends and who need constant support.    I know others who talked constantly about their spouse to the point it made people uncomfortable.  Others don’t want to talk about the person at all.  Be patient with people.  They care about you.  The people that I appreciated the most were the ones who just asked “How are you doing?”.  Yes, of course, there were times I wanted to yell “How the hell do you THINK I’m doing?” but I didn’t.  I just answered as best I could, usually saying something like, “We are ok, just learning a new normal.”  You will find what works for you.
  3. Nothing is Normal – I just wanted things to be normal.  I wanted my normal life with my normal work life, with my normal kids and my normal family.  NOTHING was normal.  I wanted people to treat me normally rather than like a broken doll.  I hated the look of pity on their faces even though I knew it came from a good place.  I wanted to go through the grocery store without seeing all the shiny, happy people who didn’t seem to have any idea that my husband had just died.  How could they walk around with all that normalcy?  The smell of flowers brought back reminders of the funeral home.  I just wanted to be able to smell flowers without thinking about all that.  And then, slowly, there came a new normal.  It was never the same but it was still mostly beautiful and good.  Our lives had changed forever.  We just created our new normal and it works for us.
  4. The First Year Is The Worst – All year long, there were reminders of things we had done the previous year.  Trips, photos of random stuff, decorating for Christmas, holidays, etc. were all reminders of the times we had together as a family.  Unexpected things like getting my detailed cell phone bill the following month and seeing all the calls to his phone the night he died.  You could trace the timing of the calls right up to the time a friend went to the house to check on him.  I could feel the whole thing happening all over again.  The days leading up to the 1st anniversary of his death were anxiety filled and full of the memories of how unaware we were of the tragedy to come.  And then, the anniversary of his death was here.  And then it passed.  And we were ok.  And it was still hard.  But it got better.  Different, still hard, but easier each year.  But that first year was the worst.
  5. Your Real Friends Know What You Need – Once when I was traveling for work, my daughter was supposed to call me when she got home from school.  She didn’t.  I couldn’t find her and I was panicking, driving in another state, crying.  I called my friend Kay, saying I couldn’t deal with this, I was going to have to quit traveling, my kids needed me and I wasn’t there.  She quietly listened to me freak out and then very calmly said, “I need you to do something for me.  I need you to say the F word 10 times.  Right now, say it.”  And I did.  10 times.  And it felt better.  It really did.  And then my daughter called to let me know she was home and everything was ok.  Thank you Kay.
  6. Your Kids and His Family Are Hurting Too – I lost my best friend.  My kids lost their Dad.  His mom said to me once, “You lost your husband but you can get married again.  I lost my son and I can never replace him.”  I was mad about that at the time because I felt like we were in a grieving war but I also knew that no parent should ever go through losing a child.  I felt like whenever I took my kids to visit his family, we were just a reminder that he was gone.  I knew they wanted to see their grandchildren but he was missing.  I had to get over myself and my grief so I could be there for his family.  Same with my kids.  At one point, I had to force them to go to counseling and it really helped my daughter.  But I first had to admit that what I was doing to support them wasn’t helping them.  They were teenagers and that’s hard enough.  Teenagers who had lost their dad was sometimes far too much for a parent to handle.  So even though you lost your husband, other people lost him too and you have to figure out how to help them through it.
  7. Don’t Worry About The Widow Word – As I said, I pretty much hate the W word.  I have never liked labels.  I don’t like referring to myself as a Widow.  It creates an image in someone’s mind of who I am and that image is rarely correct.  I had to make peace with the fact that I am a Widow.  When you first met people, the easy small talk question always asked is “Are you married?”.  I would apologetically stumble through “Well, my husband passed away a few months/years ago” because I had identified as Married for so long and to say anything else felt like it negated all those years of happiness. And I didn’t have a choice in not being married anymore. But pretty much instantly, it made people uncomfortable.  I have tried a couple of things over the years.  But mostly, when asked if I am married, I just say “No”.  Then I ask questions about the other person.  I can still talk about my kids and tell stories as I get to know the person.  If it comes up in conversation that my husband passed away or if they ask, it is just part of the conversation, not the beginning of the conversation creating an awkward start.
  8. Your Spouse Was Human, Remember Them That Way – Gary was a human with all the faults of any man.  He could make me madder than anyone.  He was messy and left a trail of clothes, newspapers, and cigarette ashes everywhere.  He drank, sometimes too much.  But he was a GOOD man.  He tried to be a better man.  He loved me and our kids unconditionally and he was a true partner in every sense of the word.  He was my best friend but he wasn’t perfect.  After people die, it seems we only see them through rose colored glasses.  We stop talking about the bad things we used to complain to our girlfriends about.  Why?  Let’s be real.  Let them be real.  I watched family members put up pictures of Gary where none had been and who had previously criticized his bad habits make excuses for him after he died.  It felt so hypocritical.  He would have laughed at that person.  And what if you were angry at your spouse?  What if your marriage wasn’t in a good place?  The hard reality is that nothing can be changed.  It is what it is.  This is not a movie.  There is nothing that forces you into accepting that you cannot change things like someone dying in the middle of a relationship in trouble.  But it can help you learn a lot about yourself and your responsibility in the situation and you CAN grow from it.
  9. Your Spouse Will Be A Part Of Your Life For A Long Time – Over time, things come up that bring him back into parts of our lives.  Even many years later.  We talk to my grandson about his Poppy that he never met.  He knows he was a Firefighter.  He knows his Poppy loved to fish.  My grandson doesn’t completely understand but he does know that his Mommy’s Daddy was loved by us all.  A few days after my husband passed away, my 11 year old daughter caught me in the kitchen.  She looked at me with her big blue eyes and said, “Who is going to walk me down the aisle when I get married?”  I immediately teared up and choked out “I’m not sure honey, I guess we will figure it out when the time comes”.  I thought that was a long time away with lots of life changes in between.  Now 27, she got married last week.  It’s been 16 years since he died.  She asked her Uncle Greg, my brother-in-law, to walk her down the aisle.  He wore a button with her dad’s picture on his lapel.  She wore her dad’s retired firefighter badge inside her dress and the same button with his picture pinned to her bouquet.  I believe her dad was there to walk her down the aisle.
  10. You Will Be Happy Again – It doesn’t feel like it will ever happen but it will.  Everyone says it.  And it really is true.  Early on, you will laugh and catch yourself.  It will surprise you.  My dear brother made me laugh several times the day of the funeral.  We were not being disrespectful, it’s the way he shows love, stuff was funny, and it was more helpful than you can imagine.  My kids and I have come a long way and it was hard.  But we always laughed and talked about the good times with their dad.  And we made new memories and laughed some more.  I wish they had been able to grow up with their dad.  But really, life was happy with some sad times, just like kids who DID grow up with their dad in their lives.  And that makes me happy.

Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story?

2017-03-31 12.47.55For those not addicted to the Broadway musical Hamilton, the title is the name of the final song.  I’m kind of obsessed with Alexander Hamilton right now.  But that is not what this is all about.  The lyric just happened to fit my thoughts for today.

As many things do, this started with a dinner discussion with my daughter and her fiancé who were sharing the story of getting their marriage license this week.  Questions were asked of them to which they had no answers – for one, his father’s birthplace.  By way of a brief explanation, his father was not in his life for most of his life and there has never been a need to have knowledge of personal things.

Discussion turned to my late husband’s birthplace.  She said he was born in Ducktown, Georgia.  He was not. I explained he was born in Copperhill, Tennessee.  I asked her what she put down for me.  She replied, “Clarksville, Tennessee of course”.  I smiled and said, “Murray, Kentucky”.  We all laughed but it really made me think.  Watch out when I start thinking.

Genealogy is my passion.  Historical Records, such as marriage licenses, court records, birth certificates, death records, etc. are validation for researchers that one has the correct information.

It is also a passion of mine to tell stories about our family history.  I want my children and my grandchildren to know something about the people that came before them, both significant and insignificant.  We have family members that influenced American history, who impacted the lives of entire communities, and those that quietly struggled through their daily lives one day at a time and influenced only those directly related to them.  All of them are interesting and important and beloved.  And as long as I tell their stories, they stay alive in some way.

But who is telling my story?  And their Dad’s story?  And their grandparent’s?

So much of what we know about our family history, or any historical figure studied by writers or researchers, comes from stories and letters that were WRITTEN DOWN and saved by someone.  We don’t do that anymore.  We don’t write letters.  Few people keep written journals.  Everything is online or done through emails or text.

We do have Instagram and other social media that will give us what our ancestors did not have – lots of photos.  But what about the stuff going on in their brains and in their hearts?  I want to know about that stuff.  I know a great deal about relatives I never met because I have letters that were shared between them.  I learned of their hopes and dreams and fears.  I learned about their personalities and how they felt about their families and about themselves.  I feel like I knew them.  They are people I care about, even though they were born over 150 years ago and died over 90 years ago.  These things are really important to me.  But maybe not to my kids.  Or maybe just not as important as they are to me.

So what’s the answer?  I’m not sure yet.  My only solution right now?  To write my own story.  I need to figure out how to put aside some time to do that.  Maybe I will periodically do that here.  What have I left out in sharing stories of my childhood?  I feel like it’s well known but maybe not – do my kids even know WHY I was born in Murray, Kentucky?

It’s because my parents met in college at Murray State, got pregnant, got married, and had me there.  My brother was also born in Murray soon after I was.  Our parents struggled as young married college students with two kids but my mother was determined that they would graduate from college and would not drop out.  My dad joined ROTC because the small stipend he got monthly (I think they said $45 per month) would pay for married student’s housing.  My mother asked her father to go to the bank with her to get a loan, even after he told her she needed to give up on college and go be a wife and a mother.  Mom’s parents kept us during the week on their farm in Hopkinsville and we saw Mom and Dad on weekends.  They both graduated against all odds and my dad was obligated to join the Army.  Our family traveled the world and my dad retired as a General at the end of his long career in the Army.  Not what anyone planned but really, does life ever go the way we plan?

Why do I know those details?  My mom shared stories with me.  She wrote letters.  And when my grandfather passed away, she wrote down more details in a speech to be read by my father at my grandfather’s funeral.  She gave me a copy.  She was sharing stories of the type of man my grandfather was but she also shared a little about what kind of woman she became because of his influence.

I love those stories.  It says so much about the determination my mother had in anything she wanted to do.  And it shows the positive influence she had on Dad.  Mom had a quiet, respectful way about her until you told her she couldn’t do something.  But when she made up her mind, get out of her way.  She was the first person in her family to go to college.  And she eventually obtained her Masters Degree.

My story is intertwined with many others.  We all have both individual and a shared history.  We will see where this goes.  Maybe it is me who will Tell My Story.

 

Thanks, I didn’t know I needed that.

imageI love to cook.  I love cookbooks.  I love old cookbooks.  I love to sit and read cookbooks.  I love history and tradition but also crave new things.  I love to experiment.  Sometimes I succeed and sometimes I fail.  Sometimes I fail BIG TIME.  My daughter just loves to tell about the time, years ago, that I put salt in my blackberry cobbler instead of sugar.  It wasn’t that I didn’t know better.  I really do know better.  I was not experimenting.  I don’t remember how I did it because it’s so unbelievable to me that I did it.  But I did.  And it was truly awful.  It went right down the disposal and my kids wrote it right into our family history, to be used to embarrass mom for all time.

While I am a pretty good cook, I am not that great of a baker.  Baking is a science.  You have to do things exactly as they are supposed to be done or things don’t work.  Or it might not work because of the temperature outside or the humidity.  With cooking, if you don’t image-1-1have kidney beans, you can substitute black beans.  If you think it would be good with sour cream added, go ahead!  There is still science involved in cooking but there is a little more freedom to experiment as long as you know some good solid basics.

My family is full of good cooks.  And there are others who pretty much hate to cook.  Those people also hate to eat so there is probably a connection, right?  Both my kids are pretty good cooks too.  My son and his fiancé cooked Thanksgiving at their house this past year for the first time and it was sooooo good!  I love the way each generation keeps some of their family’s traditional dishes and adds some new, interesting options.  Or they blend traditions from their original families into a new tradition of their own.  What my kids consider our traditional Thanksgiving dinner actually looks very different what I grew up with.  Over the years, my husband and I took bits and pieces from my family, from his family, and from my sister and his sister in law to create our own traditional meal.

image-3My mother in law gave me a stand mixer some years ago.  She had it for many years.  It was not high end at all but it did the job.  I had always coveted the iconic Kitchen Aid Stand Mixers.  They were beautiful, sleek, and powerful.  But I couldn’t rationalize spending that kind of money on something I would use only occasionally.  The hand me down worked just fine.  Until a few months ago when it literally fell apart in my hands.  I pulled it out to use it and I set it on the counter.  I went to lift the main part to put in the beaters and it came off the bottom, fell into 3 pieces and screws/bolts rolled to the floor.  I tried to put it back together but eventually carried it to my outside trash can and dropped it in without ceremony.  I pulled out my little $10 hand mixer and finished whatever I was preparing.

Over the next several months, I used my hand mixer a good bit.  There were times when it was completely adequate and others when it was a bit frustrating.  I actually used it more than I thought.  I looked at stand mixers on line.  I considered buying a low end stand mixer but I have come to believe that, at this point in my life, if I can afford it, why shouldn’t I buy what I really want.  I couldn’t afford it right away but I decided I was going to save up for a Kitchen Aid mixer.

I randomly had that conversation with my son and his fiancé.  And at Christmas theyimage-1 gave me a card and a touching and tearful conversation about why they wanted to give me something I really wanted – a Kitchen Aid mixer.   So they did.  It now sits on my counter.  It’s beautiful.  And sleek.  And powerful.  I didn’t know I would love it.  But I do.

Life really is not about stuff and stuff doesn’t make you happy.  I know this.  But I really am happy with my life.  I am not a person who must have the best, the newest, the name brand.  I don’t buy a lot of things for myself that cost a lot of money.  I splurge every 3-4 years on a really good camera or lens because photography is one of my passions.  I splurged on my home because it was my dream and I worked hard to get it.  When something makes my life better or enhances my ability to enjoy my family and my life, I will get it.  My cameras and lenses allow me to pursue my hobby of capturing the lives of my family for current and future generations.  My home allows me to have all of my family and friends here with me, all in one place which has been a dream of mine for some time.  And this mixer, it’s just a small part of doing something I love – cooking – and enjoying the process.

Thanks Zack and Chris.

 

 

When I grow up I want to be just like . . .

. . . Me!  These are some of the women I admire – Stevie Nicks, Carrie Fisher, Edna Lewis, and Iris Apfel.  Some I have admired a long time and some are new to me.   Some have had struggles in life and overcome them, growing into themselves as they aged.  Others always knew who they were, learning more and growing as they aged and lived their lives authentically.  I would not say they didn’t care what others thought about them.  But I would say they knew who they were and succeeded in spite of others who tried to change them.

I have been thinking about them a lot lately.  I think we all hit a point in our 40’s or 50’s that we reflect on who we are.  Did I become the person I thought I would be?  Do I like who I have become?  What is next for me?  Because if you feel you need to change some things in your life, now might be the time to decide what your next move might be since you are coming to the end of your second 1/3 portion of your life.  You know, the first 30 years, the second 30 years, etc.  We have time to live our authentic life but  I think it takes a little experimentation to see where your comfort level really truly lies.

m_stevie-nicks-70sTake for example, Stevie Nicks – a member of the band Fleetwood Mac, songwriter, singer, fashion icon, bohemian goddess, free spirit.

I first saw Fleetwood Mac in concert in 1977 in the Washington DC area.  Stevie fascinated me.  Forget that her name was Stevie, so cool.  As she floated around the stage in her black top hat and flowing sleeves and layers of lace and skirts, twirling, lost in the music, I wanted to be her.  Stevie Nicks is my spirit animal.  To this day, inside, I am Stevie Nicks in 1977.

But, truth is, I’m nothing like her.  I would say my true fashion style is more bohemian than anything, and there are touches of that, but I have always worked in a professional environment and I am a plus size woman.  So I have spent a lot of time buying more traditional clothing and whatever was available in plus sizes within my budget.  And while I’m not afraid to experiment, I’m lazy.  Yoga pants or jeans are fine with me and now that I work from home, I own a lot of t-shirts and sweaters because, why not?  I think if you ask anyone that knows me what my style would be, they would not be able to tell you.

So where is my comfort level with this?  I don’t know.  I need to figure that out as a part of this ongoing reflection.  So do I stop being practical and buy only clothing I love?  Cause I would love to rock a black top hat every day but I’m not going to do it.  I actually almost ordered one on Amazon a few months ago and then thought better of it.  So am I authentically practical and lazy or should I try to live authentically the way I am in my head, like Stevie?   I’ll get back to you on that.

m_iris-apfelSpeaking of fashion, Iris Apfel is fascinating.  Google her.  Or watch the documentary about her on Netflix.  Iris is in her 90’s and still going strong.  She is a former interior designer and a fashion and accessories icon in NYC.    I love that she wears things she collects.  And she collects beautiful things.  Now, they are never things I would buy but in her hands, they are beautiful.  She is fearless.

Her apartment looks the same way she dresses.  It is a collection of things she loves, picked up on her travels throughout the world and on local shopping trips.  She has a life-size wooden ostrich that holds liquor in an area under one of the wings.  On top of the ostrich sits Kermit the Frog.  Just fun.  And so many memories for her.

I want to be fearless like Iris.  In my own way.  To travel.  To collect things I love.  To live life surrounded by art and inspiration until the very end of my life.

m_carrie-fisher-los-angeles-home-1Carrie Fisher was always someone who intrigued me.  The daughter of Hollywood royalty, she had a troubled early life.  She dealt with drugs and mental health issues but managed to find a way to inspire others through her strong female characters, the way she wrote about her life, and her “I don’t give a shit” attitude.  Carrie did what she wanted, she said what she wanted, and her honesty was provocative yet humbling.

I recently saw the documentary on Carrie and Debbie Reynolds called “Bright Lights” and it made me love her even more.  I delighted in the relationship between Carrie and Debbie that had developed over the years in spite of their differences.  Carrie’s style in her home – collections of things she loved, things that were given to her, things that made her laugh – just clicked with me.  Nothing really went together but it all did.  She was who she was.  And didn’t try to be anyone else.  And she was great!

m_edna-lewisMy newest fascination is Edna Lewis.  You may never have heard of Edna Lewis unless you are a Foodie, and even then, maybe not.  But you owe it to yourself to learn about this talented woman.

Edna was born in Virginia, moved as a young woman to NYC where she worked as a seamstress, a cook, and eventually became a chef, known for her Southern cooking.  I think Edna’s cookbook, A Taste of Country Cooking, pretty much defines her with the focus on seasonal menus, simple preparation and flavors, and the “feeling” of those who cook in the South with stories from the time she was growing up.  I come from a long line of Southern cooks and I know those feelings – the tradition of the family and friends gathering around your table, the smell of honeysuckle and apple trees, brushing the earth off  your vegetables that just came out of the garden, picking plump blackberries off the bushes on the side of the road.  It’s been a really long time since I have done some of those things but I remember.  It was a simpler time.   Simple, fresh food tasted good and her cookbook reminded me of that.

And she did it at a time when chefs were white men, mostly focused on French cooking.  She wore her colorful, African inspired garments and she cooked simple, fresh, the way she had learned growing up.  She did it her way.

These women are very different but they all have one thing in common.  They did things their way.  They lived authentically.  That’s inspirational.  I think a lot of people, very often women, spend a lot of years trying to be someone that others think they should be.  That’s normal but you eventually break free.  At some point, whether it’s at age 45 when your kids are grown, or 50 when you have a grandchild, or turning 56 when you realize you are on the downhill side of that second 1/3 portion of your life, you learn to not care so much and you become YOU.  How liberating is that?

 

 

I Want To Know More

ezmaOver this election cycle, there has been frequent talk about women, notably the fact that we had a female candidate, the photos of the lines of people waiting to put an “I Voted” sticker on the grave of Susan B. Anthony, the controversial comments about women.  Several times I have wondered who was the first woman in my family to vote?  When was that?  I don’t see any suffragettes in my female genealogy and am more inclined to believe that the women in my family did what their husband told them to do.  Until we get to my mother.  She was strong.  But in a quiet way.  She was not afraid to express her opinions or take advantage of options presented to her.  Quietly and with strength.

Today, as I sat and absorbed the election results, I needed to get off social media and distract my mind.  I perused some of the blogs listed on my old blog list.  Many haven’t posted in months but I looked back over the last year, just to find something interesting that would make me think.  I found this post from Planting Dandelions.  It is about finding her female line.  It made me think.  I have never really paid much attention to the line of mothers and grandmothers as I delved into my genealogical research. I followed names and history, mostly male but some female lines.  What about the mothers and grandmothers? What would that look like for me?

So I did some research.  Starting with my mother, I looked at her mother and grandmother.  Then I kept going.  Until I couldn’t anymore.  Here is what I found:

2016-07-07-12-00-07Me – Tere Cunningham Priest

09-12-2005-10-27-18-906My Mother – Annette McKnight Cunningham (1940 – 2005)

4canslerkidsHer Mother (on right) – Ezma Cansler McKnight (1912 – 1992)

image-13Her Mother – Flossie Bennett Cansler (1890 – 1991)

jamesandneciebennettHer Mother – Necie Lantrip Bennett (1853 – 1929)

Her Mother – Mary Ann Menser Lantrip (1830 – 1904)

Her Mother – Dorothy Croft Menser (1804 – ?)

This was an interesting exercise for me.  While I have strong, loving relationships tying me to my mother and grandmother, as well as my great-grandmother, these are not the women in my history, other than my mother, who fascinate me the most.  I loved them deeply and respected them beyond measure for the hard lives they lived.  But I am fascinated by some of the other women throughout my family tree.  Women who dealt directly with war, literally in their backyards.  Women who lost children and husbands to war, sickness, fire.  Women who wrote everything down so generations later we know something about them and their lives.  Strong women who took what life gave them and lived the best life they knew how.

But these women are my direct line, mother to mother.  I am descended directly from them in a straight line.  Suddenly that means more to me.  I owe it to myself to find out more about them than I knew yesterday.  These are country women.  The other side of my family was made up of families who were part of the birth of our nation with fathers who were doctors, statesmen, and landowners.  Those women were educated and kept diaries.  Many in my mother’s line may not have known how to read and write.  But those families were also a part of the progress of our nation.  They were the ones who left and moved across the wilderness to make better lives for their families.  They settled in primitive areas and farmed the rocky land, the women and children right beside their husbands and fathers.

I want to know more.