A Different Kind of Parenting

Fathers should neither be seen nor heard. That is the only proper basis for family life.    Oscar Wilde, An Ideal Husband, 1895

My Dad's method of parenting was almost opaque, you couldn't see much of it. He was a benevolent presence but mostly absent due to his job. His style of parenting was to quickly give the information about your crime and leave the scene ASAP. For example, I'm not sure what my transgression was but something I did infuriated my Mom. Normally she handled it herself, with swift repercussions or a reprimand and it was over. But she was on a kick to get Dad more involved with the parenting and she must have said something to him. When he came home, he walked through the room where I was doing my home work and said, "you're punished." That was it. I looked up quizzically. For all I know I'm still punished because there was never any consequences. But think, I'm still puzzled, so it did strike a chord. Granted the chord was amusement as I aged, but still...

In a way, it's really sad. Dad really didn't know what to do with us kids. There is no question that he loved all of us, but he was clueless. This was probably because he was the baby of his record breaking dysfunctional family. [for proof see the post "Anxiety as Energy" of 3/25/11] He had no guidelines and certainly no mentors that were admirable. Happily for all of us he was a good, kind, remarkably intelligent and funny man who did rise to the occasion as we all aged.

We owned what became a very popular restaurant in the Chicago area and the reason that it was popular was not just because the food was good. It was him. He worked insane hours, 14 hour days were usual, and greeted everyone who walked through that front door like they were long lost friends. People adored him and kept coming back for more. Due to the work load, he was rarely home except an occasional Sunday and always Monday nights. He truly made the most of his time off, and crazy though it seems, Mom and Dad frequently let people from the restaurant follow them home on Sunday night and have a party. I'm still laughing about them waking sister Trisha up to play the piano. She says about those parties "I loved it, I'd fling the rollers out of my hair and go downstairs and play for hours." On a School night! I don't think you'll find this recommended in the parenting books.

What else you won't find recommended in the parenting books is my Dad's driving methods. He learned to drive vehicles that should never have been on the road, held together by string and tape. This was the mid 1930's and these were the kind of cars and trucks that you had to 'double clutch' to change gears. He never developed a natural response to an 'automatic' transmission and drove with both feet, one on the gas, the other on the brake. "Do as I say, not as I do, Sue" he frequently said, as he drove this way at a blistering pace. Most absurdly he drove like this to the race track to place his bets in between lunch and dinner at the restaurant.

Another of his tiny flaws was his drinking: lots of it. Part of it was the era, people back in the 40' through the 60's to my recollection drank a gross amount of booze. However, this could just be me, what I was witness to. But this was another in the series of 'do what I say, not as I do' school of parenting. Happily for us he was a fun loving drinker. This was problematic in that it caused no end of confusion for those of us who went out in the world and had to deal with obnoxious, and worse, even violent drunks.

A woman drove me to drink and I never even had the courtesy to thank her.    W.C. Fields

When the relatives would come over on Sundays, both sets of Grandparents, and of course the 'Betty-will-bring-the-beans' Hewitts, they would drink beer and have a BBQ in our back yard. The Grandpa's would give us quarters [a fortune in those days] to fetch the beers and joked with us which we loved. The Grandma's, but really my Mom, would be fixing the food. When the party really got rolling they'd pitch the empty cans into a cardboard box for points. See what I mean? Not exactly the picture most families have of excessive drinking. For our excessive drinkers it was mostly singing and beer can pitching. If there was anything more serious I certainly wasn't aware of it.

Dad's best parenting skills involved the restaurant. He was a good boss, "the best!" said many of his old employees who came to his funeral. And everyone of us kids got to work with him at the restaurant. I did from the age of fourteen through twenty, and at that restaurant got to be parented. He gave directions and wanted everything to be lovely, or as he said, "simple and elegant" and strived for that in all of the operations of the restaurant. He was gentle in his instruction and frequently made fun of our gaffes. The time I walked out of the kitchen with a full tray of dinners and inadvertently sprayed french fries all over the floor. I was so embarrassed I kept walking right back into the kitchen. I was also laughing really hard but then so was he. The time I made a customer fish the silverware out of my apron pocket [when he told that story he always claimed it was the dinner rolls but, as God as my witness, he said that just for a bigger laugh], he found out about it and roared. Remember, I was in my teens... Anyway you get my drift.

Dad was never harsh but fair. The bartender who was nipping extra tips out of the cash drawer was fired promptly though graciously, the married bartender who was having an affair with a young waitress also was let go with no explosion. He kept Bruno, our main bartender, who I'm quite sure never once voluntarily smiled at a customer because as Dad said, "he came with the place, he was the Blum's brother, and honest as the day was long."  Fair, appropriate, good business skills and gracious, these are excellent traits to pass on to one's children.

He had his blind spots and kept the waitress, Ciel and Rose, who also "came with the place." They worked lunches. Ciel was harsh and very old [I'm smirking, as they were probably about my age now which isn't old at all to me] but an efficient waitress and made excellent coleslaw. He kept Rose who had mild B.O. but would laugh uproariously with the customers and adored my Dad. Anyone else, especially in this day and age would have summarily fired them. He kept them on and they rewarded him with incredible loyalty and devotion. [Are there any big companies in America left who value their employees like this?]

So, unlike Oscar Wilde's admonition Dad did become a more visible presence, especially after his bi-pass surgery and he soon decided to retire. He was only sixty and those of us who witnessed how diligently he worked feared that he would be bored out of his skull in retirement. Quite the opposite! He relished the time away with no oppressive obligations and eventhough he was 'the host with the most' he truly was basically more introverted than any of us realized.

We, and Mom, got to enjoy seven more years of him, all wishing to the depths of our souls that it could have been more. I treasure those visits and the grand reunions which were all delightful celebrations. I wish he was around to see the family now: twenty great grandchildren and counting, he would have embraced and loved each one. I miss him still.

susansmagicfeather copyright 2012 Susan R. Grout all rights reserved

Valuing Other Mothers

Grace fills empty spaces, but it can only enter where there is a void to receive it, and it is grace itself which makes this void.                             Simone Weil

I'm one of those people who believes that we are mothered [and fathered, but that will be the next post] by many women in our lives, not just our biological mother. There is no planning this, there is grace and serendipity about the "other mothers" who show up in our lives. They can be co workers, therapists, next door neighbors, teachers, members of our church, cousins, aunts, grandparents or shop keepers. The connection is sometimes only recognized in retrospect, and sometimes, for a very lucky few it is immediate: you know that you are being nurtured and loved and you come back, repeatedly, for more.

My own mother had six kids under the age of ten and you can imagine that she might have been short on time and attention for all of us. That's where the grandparents came in handy. My Gramma Florence, who in later years called herself "GG" after the first grandchild was born [she gave us a choice between that or "Grandma Twosie", no contest] was available on an irregular basis. The three oldest got to have sleepovers at her house. This was thrilling but less than ideal in that we slept in their attic especially it seems on hot summer nights. [It's a miracle we didn't all perish from heat stroke. There was no air conditioning and during the day it often reached 100, heat rises...] Grampa was stern and strict but Gramma was really fun and funny. Fun in that she rarely interfered with what we were doing and also she rarely disciplined us. Then she was, to my child's mind, an excellent cook. No rules to speak of and great food, a child's idea of perfection.

The perfection didn't stop there, she not only loved us, she was incredibly lovable. I loved the way Grama would pinch her nose when she laughed which she did frequently. I loved her softness and her melodious voice. [My Grandparents argued constantly and Grampa said, "Florence if I say 'white' you say 'black." She also was pleasingly plump and Grampa used to say, "Florence, if you get to 200 lbs., I'm divorcing you."]

To my knowledge she never 'played' with us, or taught us much of anything. But she let us hang with her in the kitchen while she made biscuits, cookies or dumplings. [Does anyone make dumplings for chicken stew anymore? It's heavenly.] Actually the entire experience was heavenly: eating her delicious food, talking into the night with my sisters in the attic, walking over the pungent smelling creeping Charlie to go play in their 'barn'. The barn was old, built long before the subdivision and my grandparents house which was a Craftsman, built in the 1920's. That barn housed junk and old newspapers that my grandparents saved for the newspaper drives held by the schools. Most likely it probably was filthy but we didn't care and treated it like our fort.  At the time, Gramma was in her sixties [which to us was ancient] and she must have been exhausted by us but still she let us come.

So when I said "she never taught us much of anything", I mean like scholarly things because she did teach us many other things, like kindness, freedom, caring, love, cooking and humor. In her seventies, after my Grandpa died she would come to all of Mom and Dad's parties, drink her Scotch on the rocks [one] and when the music was really rolling she'd dance the hula with her arms only. I know that this embarrassed my mother but to us it was dear, charming and beautiful.

GG Up in Arms

True heaven was playing with the fat
dangling off GG's upper arms.
GG would obligingly hold her arms out
and we'd gently swat the fat back and forth.
The skin felt like satin, velvet, love,
smelled like Merle Norman and lavender.

It's the memory of those arms I treasure:
Arms that are cloud light yet mountain solid,
Arms that could encircle children, dreams, the world,
Arms that wove a hula, graceful as a breeze,
Arms that gave more than they received.

If our Catholic fairy tale of heaven is true
GG's there in heaven's kitchen
wearing her apron, weaving a hula--
fat merrily waving on those glorious arms.
Susan R. Grout 2001

A nurturing Auntie

susansmagicfeather copyright 2012 Susan R. Grout all rights reserved

On A Great Danger to the Church

Be afraid, be very, very afraid. You may have unwittingly had dealings with two dangerous groups recently targeted by the Catholic Church: the US Nuns and the Girls Scouts of America.

As I see it, those old white guys in Rome got together and decided there was a crisis on American shores with those pesky Nuns who help the sick and the poor and the Girl Scouts who sell cookies and help girls become women. The crisis is--- these women are not obeying them. The objectionable behavior of the Nuns is not spending enough energy combating a woman's right to govern her own body and these same Nuns are loving and caring for all people, poor, rich, gay, straight. Such sins! The Girl Scout's crime is they are affiliated with Doctors without Borders and Oxfam who support, are you ready?, family planning. Wow, really evil. Hmm, this might have something to do with women, wouldn't you say?

What is evil is hatred against any group of people [women, gays, transsexuals come to mind] and withholding help from people when help is available. Specifically, I'm talking about not allowing condomns for the Catholic men in South American and Africa where the men are inadvertently killing their wives by infecting them with AIDS. One simple little piece of rubber could curb this misery and destruction of human life.  Hey, isn't that indirectly murder? However, rubbers would interfer with the Church's philosophy: "we must make more babies", desired or not. What sense does that make? I am positive Jesus Christ never dictated how a woman should manage her body. I believe his only dictum is "love one another".

Honoring Mary

 And all of this so called crisis ignores the real problems our world is facing: starvation; people dying of AIDS; sexual, and/or physical abuse of children; greed running amok; climate change...Where is the Church on these serious and important issues? Listen to the silence.

As far as I know these Nuns have committed no crimes against humanity. They have served and waited on the whims of the Church, always the underlings. How have they been rewarded for their devotion and their diligence? They have no pensions and they weren't allowed to pay into Social Security so in essence they are like the lilies of the field, they have nothing and they have been improverished. Now they are being censured.

Impoverishment is certainly not true for the priests. They have pensions and places to live until they die. They have Social Security. Interestingly and by contrast, a few of them have almost successfully bankrupt certain parishes throughout the United States with the lawsuits over their pedofilia. And, I might add, all of this was routinely covered up by the hierarchy of the Church. That is a crisis.

Sincerely, if you thought long and hard on a subject that was sure to ignite indignation among the female population of the Catholic Church you couldn't pick two better subjects than the Nuns and the Scouts. I bet Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert could have a ball with this. Perhaps that is precisely what the Church is doing. They want to piss off the women. They saw how successfully the Republican Party has been with it's woman hating campaign and they decided, "what the heck, if it's good enough for Rush, it's good enough for us."

Go to confession oh holy fathers! It is not too late to redeem yourselves and apologize to these good women, make amends! Or like with the misogynist Rush, we won't buy your wares and we will cancel all of your advertizing. Because you know, deep down, the greatest danger to the church is--- to have a church that no one comes to.

susansmagicfeather copyright 2012 Susan R. Grout all rights reserved

Summer Time of Life



2009 Summer Groutfest


                                                                      

                                                                                           

2010 Groutfest

Summer time and the livin' is easy.
Fish are jumpin' and the cotton is high.
Oh, your Daddy's rich and your Mammy's
good lookin', So hush little baby, don't you cry.
                                                                                One of these mornin's you're gonna rise up singin'
then you'll spread your wings and you'll take to the sky
until that mornin', there is nothing to harm you
with Daddy and Mammy standin by.
George Gershwin/ Ira Gershwin

I guess there are probably people who don't love summer. They're probably living in climates like Texas, where the temperatures hit the triple digits and stay there for weeks or even months on end. I would hate that too, so I count my lucky stars that I live in a climate that is drizzly and grey for many months but blissfully beautiful for most of the summer.

2011 summer Groutfest

My sister Sally starts in May with the refrain, "I'm gonna hit the deck" meaning that she moves most of her more important possessions outside to her covered deck with the chaise lounge. There she encamps with her books, radio and drinks, spending the best time gazing into the sky. I do the same. I love my deck and watching the birds dive and whirl in the air catching bugs and building their nests.

We had an unusually cool spring so these last few days of sun and warmth has put me in mind that everyone needs to have a summer. Summer is full of hope and celebration.

In my work that is exactly what we create for the clients who come in mostly with a winter mindset. They desparately need some hope and celebration in their lives. The clients drag themselves bravely through the door and await the opening, the ray of sunshine that can come into their life through change. Many of these clients are facing the storms of life: betrayal, divorce, illness, death, abandonment, abuse, fear, uncertainty and boredom. While I have no magic wand, I prefer to pretend that I do. Hope can be magical and can expand their world and mindset, bringing a welcome change into their world.

When you walk through a storm, hold your head up high                            and don't be afraid of the dark.                                                                                                                 At the end of the storm is a gentle rain                                                   and the sweet silver song of the lark.

Rogers and Hammerstein

This is not to suggest that I'm all Mary Poppins about people's lives, far from it. I realize that first we have to slug through the slush, the winds, the rain and the tears before peering into the sunrise. "Walk on, walk on, with hope in your heart, and you'll never walk alone." So to those brave souls that come into counseling I make sure that they are not walking alone.

I just read two books that really underline this philosophy that were wildly different in their premise and style. The first by Anne Tyler, The Beginners Good Bye, explores the life of a man whose wife has died. We follow his ruminations of the perfection of that marriage which keeps him clinging to some false assumptions. He is unwilling to let go and have anything or anyone new come into his life. There is a gradual awakening and a willingness to change that is delightful in the telling. The second book is by Anne Patchett, State of Wonder, in which a youngish woman is sent into the Amazon to find her old professor. She is grieving for a colleague who has died there and encouraged by this wife to try to find his body. The wife never loses faith, the youngish woman loses faith and finds it, and along the way regains a sense of self and a new way of looking at life. Both novels explore change and hope. Both are excellent in their own ways.

The reason I'm thinking about hope and the wonders of looking forward is it's so easy to be in the summer of life. This, needless to say is when everything is going well. It is so difficult when internally you have the storms of life crashing all around you.

The truth about life is the situation is hopeless: we're all going to die. However, the circumstances can be hopeful. This was sadly illustrated in the movie, "Life Is Beautiful", where a Dad tries to makes the most horrific of circumstances [Ausweitz] into a comedy for his son. Tragic yet funny. Quite an effort, but I contend well worth it. You can always sing, hum and laugh each day of your life.

That is one reason that we have Groutfest every year, we want to celebrate all being together and there are no better celebrants that children--- lots and lots of children. My mother's nineteen and twentieth great grandchildren were just born, my youngest grands are turning seven, our 44th anniversary is this month, everyone's turning a year older--- see there are plenty of reasons to celebrate. So why wait? Celebrate the summers of our lives.

susansmagicfeather copyright 2012 Susan R. Grout all rights reserved

Gratitude Dude

Gratitude can change your attitude.             Al Anon

Blessed is she who expects no gratitude, for she shall not be disappointed.                W.C. Bennett

A grand light bulb moment came to me years ago sitting in the car of with a friend while on the ferry. She was going on and on in an unpleasant way about something [her ex?] and I, very dutifully, was listening, listening, listening. Sinking ever lower in my seat I turned my head and looked out the window. The water was sparkling, the sun shining, the earth moving and I turned back to her and said, "excuse me, I'll be back in a bit." I went up on the deck of the ferry and the only one talking to me were the seagulls wheeling over head. It was a defining moment for me because I realized that I didn't have to endlessly listen to someone go on and on about the same old complaint. I could exit stage left and open up to the world.

In my practice I get paid to listen. I have always assumed that was only half of the equation. I also get paid to come up with inventive, interesting and sometimes even effective solutions to the problems that the clients bring to me. I don't let anyone go on and on with the same complaint because, for one thing, it is bad business for the brain to ruminate. So I gently interrupt and insert an idea or merely point out that we talked about the exact same thing fifteen minutes ago. I'd want someone to treat me this way, do unto others and all...

Ridiculous as it seems, all those years ago I firmly believed I was supposed to not only listen, but to solve problem of those I'd listened to--whenever, where ever. Silly, I know so when I figured out, "just step outside and take a breather" it opened up a whole new world for me.

Last post I talked about the roles that most of us played in our family of origin. A good clue as to whether we are being driven by a role [and not being authentic] is to listen to our bodies. As I said, my body was sagging and I was feeling heavier and heavier in that car seat. Happily I had been to a meeting recently and heard the phrase, "gratitude can change your attitude." Knowing that I was feeling anything but grateful to be where I was, I left. The day was waiting for me. Now I also realize that I had the freedom to do this and this isn't always the case. Sometimes all of us get stuck with a sick kid or a crabby person who we have to tend to in our lives. We have to stay, but still, we can take breathers. And speaking of breathers, one of the first things that happens when someone is under stress is they start breathing from the top part of their lungs. So taking several deep cleansing breaths is essential to maintaining your equilibrium. It clears the head, gives oxygen to the brain and rejuvenates the entire body. Simple and effective and essential to remember when under duress.

The sick kid is not going to be grateful to you nor is the crabby older person you're taking care of, let it go. Once I was driving down our road, out onto the road into town when I came upon papers strewn all across the highway, some of it looked like money. I pulled off and started to gather the papers and the money and noticed all of it was from a wallet that was laying in the middle of the road. After about twenty minutes, as I was finishing picking everything up and placing it back in the wallet, I noticed it was one of our neighbors down the road know for his eccentricities. I was holding the wallet thinking about trying to find him when up he drives, grabs the wallet out of my hand and says, "thanks' and zoomed off. Dude! Made me laugh really hard and has made an excellent story ever since.

susansmagicfeather copyright 2012 Susan R. Grout all rights reserved

The Road to Well Is Paved with Good Intentions

In a time lacking in truth and certainty and filled with anguish and despair, no woman should be shamefaced in attempting to give back to the world, through her work, a portion of its lost heart.                                        Louise Bogan

No pessimist ever discovered the secrets of the stars, or sailed to an uncharted land, or opened a new heaven to the human spirit.                               Helen Keller

I started doing workshops with a dear therapist friend in 1985. Both of us were weary of people relishing their victim hood and languishing in the land of the 'unwell'. They almost took it as a badge of honor that they had been abused and so therefore did not have to strive to get well. How could they when they were living their past each day and driving a groove the size of a Hummer into their consciousness by constant verbal and mental repetition. [see post on brain wiring 11/7/11 ] Getting well is incredibly difficult for some, but it is possible to achieve with a certain amount of determination and luck. I added the 'luck' because some of these clients ended up having dread diseases which exacerbated their despair and others had literally been in wars and suffered a degree of brain damage. No fault there.

In the workshops we stressed recovery and resiliency. Our formula went something like this:

1. Articulate the trauma that was in your life.
2. Feel the feelings that you have about the event or situations.
3. Express to another person what that was like for you.
4. Write down what you want to get rid of.
5. Do a formal ceremony of letting go of the events.
6. Let them go with love. The past is gone forever.

To say the least I am over simplifying what took us an entire weekend to accomplish but you get my drift. We educated the participants on what contributed to their getting stuck and labeled it 'family roles'. We reduced the roles to four: "The Star"; "The Rebel"; "The Dreamer"; and "The Class Clown".

If you were the Star, you'd probably be the oldest child and an overachiever in your family of origin. You probably got a lot of kudos from, not only the family but also the outside world. So it's not easy with all of the reinforcement to stop being hyper responsible, sometimes to a ridiculous degree. These are the people I always want to hire. They tend to be perfectionists and put in 150% for any job they do. Sounds ducky unless you are the one who's keeping yourself awake at night worrying about not getting everything done in a timely fashion, possibly pissing off your boss. You see? Sounds great but can have lousy repercussions.

Next is the Rebel--- sometime with good cause. This is usually the second or third oldest child who wants no part of the goody-goody role of the first child. This child acts up and rebels. So off they go on a pursuit of fun, failure and fanfare. The rewards are the fun, excitment and rubbing the authorities' nose in it. Carried into adulthood it many numerous downsides most of which are the failures that come with constantly reacting in an angry fashion to the world.  Living in constant anger takes a toll on a person and on those who love them.

The Dreamer tries to stay under the radar  in the family and keep the low profile by being mostly in their own world. They might have a hard time connecting with people because they are so guarded and a real down side is that they tend to absorb much of the pain of the family dynamic. Ouch.

Everybody loves the Class Clown, the life of the party, the diffuser of all tense situations, the distractor of potential problems with their keen sense of humor. Seemingly an impeccable role unless it  means that no one really knows you and your relationships are all superficial. The belief that the clown acquires is "I must be amusing to be" ... truly a set up for loneliness 101.

The Way Out

Just as roles can be rigid and narrow, so can the descriptions of the roles be rigid and narrow. People are more complex and complicated than mere stereotypes. These are just handy generizations we cobbled together for our clients to help them recognize part of themselves, and how being stuck in a family role can be destructive in their lives today.

If you find yourself in one the roles, it is important to break free of the patterned behavior that goes with it.  Most of us came from less than perfect homes and have a couple of these roles in us. In times of stress, we tend to fall back on the least helpful roles. This is preventable if we are aware of our internal mechanisms and have taken pains to correct the rigidity of the roles. Losing the rigidity and gaining the awareness and fluidity, enables you to choose how you respond to life rather than reacting. Recognition is key to recovery from the old roles and breaking free of them is crucial to leading a happier life. Victim hood is being endlessly stuck and responding the same way with an emphasis on pity for yourself rather than love. It is an unfortunate trap and a prison.

Why do people stay stuck in roles that cause them heartache? They either don't know any other way to be or they are defeated before they begin the difficult road to change. A familiar refrain is "I've always been this way." Being stuck, like the women who are in abusive relationships, in an odd way feels familiar even though it isn't exactly comfortable. It's the known, change is the unknown. Fear keeps you stuck in that place, love can set you free.

Many of the women I have worked with over the years have said, "I pick the same type of man over and over again." What we do is dissect their role in their family of origin and see if we can find a pattern that has come with them from childhood [their role in their family] and let her, with her new awareness respond differently to the men in her life.  Fascinating and it works well.

The picture of the turquoise water and the hole in the rock wall, is illustrative of what lies beyond---- the mountains blocking your way to a new life. But look, there is light in the cave. What else? You say to yourself, "This could be dangerous--if the way out looks frightening, perhaps it is". So the first order of business: you have make the leap into the water. Then you have to know how to swim.  However, if you have an excellent guide/teacher who has swum through the hole in the mountain and come out on the other side unscathed, dive in. Swimming through just might be exhilarating...

This picture was taken in Capri and our guide, Guido, was a native and had swum all over the Isle of Capri-- we were lucky to have him as our guide. We got to dive off the boat  into that gorgeous, warm water and swim through that hole in the mountain. I must admit, I had some trepidation as I saw we were about to swim through a cave. When we did swim through that cave and came out on the other side, there was the most lovely little beach. A delightful surprise. Ah, refreshing, invigorating swim then to a tranquil, warm, sunny beach--everything you want in a beach, and life for that matter. I felt sad for the few who opted to stay on the boat, they were fearful of the water.

Risk getting well, and risk being optimistic. You have to do this on purpose. I am attempting to give back to the world a piece of its broken heart, one client and family at a time. It is never easy work but the rewards are like diving into that turquoise water...

susansmagicfeather copyright 2012 Susan R. Grout all rights reserved