Small Town Therapist on a Wealth of Sisters

Mom, me and Sally's daughter Naomi's wedding

Only the heart knows how to find what is precious.             Fyodor Dostoyevsky

I am the lucky recipient of four sisters. In so many ways my sisters have enriched my life.  In addition to liking and loving each other we also, handed down from our parents, all sing and play music together. What could be better? Well, sharing food. And we do, oh, those meals!

Is this a family reunion or a beauty contest?             a fellow therapist's remark to me.

This was a remark by a friend, when I expressed a bit of anxiety, many years ago about an upcoming family reunion and how I looked. Cracks me up now because it was when I was in my early forties and looking pretty good, but the slight insecurities cropped up and I verbalized them to a therapist friend. This was not the norm for me but is, sadly in many families, lots of insecurities then fostered by unkindness.  In some families what remains in the sisters memories and traditions is a series of competitions among themselves and sometimes for attention from the parents. This is has been less true for me. I, frankly, was kind of an oblivious child and things sailed swiftly over my head. Awash in my own thoughts, it did not occur to me to see my siblings as competition. I am saddened when I hear people complain about their siblings. They suffer with either difficult sisters or ones that they have literally nothing in common except mutual antagonism. In truth what they are really suffering from is the sense that they can only be great, lovable, respected if they declare themselves "better than".

My sisters are all kind and loving and are incredibly important to me and have shaped my world. As a matter of fact, my first memories are not of my parents or grandparents but of my first artistic endeavor involving my older sister Sally. We were only five and three years old, happy to be in our new big bedroom. Our mother had hired painters to paint the upstairs bedrooms in our new house. My sister Sally, in a fit of inspiration, got our crayons and together we drew "ghosts" all over our newly painted bedroom walls. [See how I cleverly blame Sally]...Our mother was less than enchanted. Despite the fallout, I still fondly remember the sheer delight and expansiveness that I felt drawing on those walls. A million years later when we were recalling that blessed event our mother said, "I foolishly had the men come back and repaint the walls, and now that I look back on it I regret that I did that. Who cares? it was funny and cute." This is also the sister who, when at age two I dropped scissors out the window of our second floor apartment window. Sally, age four, picked me up and held me out the window by my ankles to see where the scissors had fallen. According to the story told by my mother, the woman in the apartment across the way from us, saw this daring feat and was so upset she had to stay home from work that day. Sally didn't drop me.

Sally's never dropped me and she and her whole family have remained very dear to me in my life. Sally and her family moved to the Northwest in 1969 and we found that the holidays were especially wonderful when our families combined. The holiday we most treasured was Thanksgiving. For more than thirty years either Milici's would make the two ferry, seven hour car trip to our house or we would do the same to their house. [The reality: if we'd been fabulously wealthy and could have flown the lot of us--- the trip was approximately 25 minutes by plane. We weren't wealthy.] 

The stories of these Thanksgivings are so sweet to me. We'd arrive at Sally and Dirk's house and sometimes the husbands would construct the dinner table. Another memorable time, there was an incredible snowstorm that only the young and fool hearty would tackle, [yes and yes to us], and we arrived having driven at 20 MPH around a long,long Lake Crescent where the trees were so burdened with snow they bent over into the road. Gloriously beautiful and terribly nerve wracking. Another Thanksgiving our teenage sons were bored and desperate to play chess. Once they located the chess board they couldn't find the chess pieces so they made all of the chess pieces out of cardboard. Good determination! Amazing what one can do when one is desperate.

It is well to have as many holds upon happiness as possible.               Jane Austen

Next in line of sisters is Trisha. We loved nothing better that getting up on a Saturday morning and seeing if we could dress as twins. Though she is two years younger Trisha was average sized and I was/am a shrimp so it was possible. [My mother used to look at me, sizing me up, and say, "I don't know what happened to you."] I am going to gloss over all the times I teased Trisha because when we did get along it was always adventuresome and fun. And I did eventually mature.  As we got older Trisha whose then husband used to travel to the National Guard for training in the summers would come from Chicago to the west to visit us. I was forever grateful. This enabled us to bond as mothers with our little children. She was always daring and willing. Once she traveled to the NW to see me and sister Chin and our families with all three kids under the age of six. Then her kids got sick as she was about to fly home. Trisha had the delightful experience of traveling with three kids under the age of six on the airplanes with colds and diarrhea. Adventure in the worst way.

Funny how life is. When I decided to write about how lucky I am to have these sisters,  I remembered I had to hop on my bike and ride to town for a lunch date. First stop was the post office where I had a package ready for pick up. The wrapped package was way to big for my bike so I had to open it. Lo and behold, my darling sister Trisha had sent some treasures: four journals written by our mother from the '60's to one year before her death; a Jane Austen action figure; and silver tongs for extracting sugar cubes [or holding one's nose?]. I was just able to squeeze all the contents in my pannier and rode on that  brisk sunny day to lunch with my friends. I took great delight in showing my friends the trove Trisha had sent. Out of one of the journals was library receipts. We especially got a kick out of what Mom did in her quirky way. She made notes on her library receipts about each of the books she'd read. Examples, "No!". "Good dialogue and characters". "Very odd"...etc.

Trisha and I at the Art Institute 

Now with the addition of the guitar workshop that Sally, Trisha and I go to each summer we have grown closer still and have fun in a creative environment. There is a student concert and each of us writes and performs our work. One year Trisha's song was not only praised by the teachers but also asked if she would agree to make a recording of it. These teachers were all pros or semi pros in the music industry. Quite an honor. Sally's "Time Will Tell" album and her performance of that piece was well received and sung enthusiastically by all in attendance at her student performance.

Part of the Grout, Hu, McClure tribe

It wasn't until I got married and moved to Northwest coast that I became closer to the younger sisters. Our family was divided into the older girls:  Sally, me and Trisha; then younger ones: Chin, Kathleen and Bobby. As we grew up there wasn't much interest on my part for playing games with the little ones when they were four, six and eight years younger. But as it turned out, my sister Chin moved with her two kids to our town and we began a new relationship and were in constant contact. We were mutually supportive of each other through the trials and tribulations in our late twenties and thirties. Chin produced four children two of whom live here today with their girls and it is great to be surrounded by family. Also I have the privilege of being close to my nephews and nieces who handily lived nearby. To my delight Chin has become a well regarded member of our small town especially in the affordable homes community, a musician and as an artist. She has even played the banjo and sung her original housing song in front of a Congressional committee on Affordable Homes.  Chin's a banjo aficionado and we have great fun playing together on an irregular basis.

Kathleen and me

On a sadder note, my youngest sister Kathleen died of a heart attack in April of 2019. It was so difficult to lose that funny vibrant little sister.

Although we'd only see each other sometimes as infrequently as once a year my talented, sweet little sister Kathleen was a phone call away. We'd discuss great and grave problems, trade tidbits of information on our families and share what adventures Kathleen and her family were off to next. One year she came with Sally, Trisha and I to guitar camp and she blew the roof off the joint in her student performance. Kathleen choose to play "Afro Blue" by John Coltrane and everyone was stunned by her excellent guitar and singing. I was so proud. In addition Kathleen was an artist of note. My brother in law Steve Grout, professor at a Textiles and Science institute, appraised her work and was so impressed he gave her high praise and encouragement. I still, achingly miss that dear sister.

 burying Mom

Here's an example of our joint efforts. Our mother died 2010  and her wish was that we scatter her ashes. No problem. Scatter them around Dad's grave. Ah, something of a problem, not sure if it was quite kosher at the cemetery. So we clandestinely entered the cemetery with our trowels, tiny rakes and the ashes. We dug around Dad's head stone and sneakily spread the ashes.

Above in the picture are Trisha, Sally, me and Kathleen at the scene of the crime. We never skulked through the cemetery where we placed some of Mom's ashes around Dad's tombstone we even brazenly had a small picnic. Shhh! Mom would have gotten a great kick out of us.

The photo below is of all the sibs plus niece Katie singing the Mass at Mom's memorial. The other photo is Sally, Trisha and I enroute to Guitar Camp.

I want to add, if you have a sibling that you cherish, contact them today. You never know how long they'll be around to love.

We especially love to go to Guitar camp ! together.


susansmagicfeather 2024  Susan R. Grout 

singing at Mom's Memorial

Small Town Therapist on the only way to conquer our fears

The grands many years ago, they like to make fun of fear.

I have a darling grandniece Lily. I had the pleasure of riding the ferry with her an her siblings many years ago. At the time she was two and a half years old. Lily had sparkling ice blue eyes and she was a flaxen haired sprite who melted my heart from the first time we met. I had the good fortune to ride the ferry on my way home from a doctor's appointment to ride with them and they kept me joyfully entertained the entire ride. 

One game that Lily made up was running from our booth and darting past a particularly tolerant and amused 13 year old young woman who would smile at her as she raced past,  sometimes mouthing "boo". Afterwards Lily would run into the booth giggling wildly. At about her tenth pass through I suggested to Lily that she say "hi" to her new found admirer. Lily stuck out her lower lip and put her head down. Clearly this was way too scary. But she's two so she did her tricks several times again and on the last time of her daring adventure she came bouncing back to the booth exclaiming proudly, "I said hi!" I gave her a hearty congratulations and laughed to myself.

Some people are afraid of spiders 

I had a bike accident in May of 2015. One of the unfortunate but somewhat understandable consequences of the accident was I was uneasy riding on gravel roads. Uneasy, ha, I was scared to death. 

I'm smiling but it did hurt like hell

 For many years, my husband and I biked to a cafe with our pals for breakfast, our usual Sunday jaunt. A beautiful day, dry as a bone, warm and perfect for a ride. My good friend Magsie suggested that we take an alternate route to go to the Cafe. I was game, the other five bikers opted out. We rode pleasantly on this side road for about a mile and then...it turned to gravel. Not just gravel but also washboard gravel--- with pot holes. Exactly like the road I had the accident on. Ugh. I silently held my breath and kept on talking but Magsie figured it out and said, "I bet this is hard for you."  "Well, it isn't too bad, at least it's not down hill."  Then we came to the down hill. [As I write this I noticed I'm hunching my shoulders.] Because I didn't want her to be overly concerned I pushed on, went fairly slow and then, thank god the gravel road turned into a paved portion. We met up with the others en route to the Cafe and all was well. Whew.  

Riding with pals is the best fun

I'm glad that I did that portion of gravel but I still hadn't ridden down our one mile long gravely hilly road. I must add that the county road crew had come about a month after my accident and smoothed out the worst of the bumps and washboard. So I challenged myself to ride my bike down that very road where I fell and hurt myself. I did so thinking, "I can always get off and walk if I want to". I lit out. Down the first hill muttering to myself, "that wasn't so bad", then finally I'm on the gravel hill of my nightmares. I kept internally saying, "just go slow and pay attention" and I did down the first curve, around the pot holes, down the second part of the hill and ultimately past the part of the road where I bit it and wrecked. I made it. It's as though I said "hi"! I was so proud of myself that day that I rode seven more miles. The ride ended with another gravel road that I rode down. It was actually good almost easy.

I know from my counseling others that "you must do the thing that you believe you cannot ever do"-- to paraphrase Eleanor Roosevelt. This was a very little thing but hey,  if you have a scary thing in your life and you want to get past it, you must say hi.

susansmagicfeather 2024 copyright Susan R. Grout 

Small Town Therapist on Growing Continually

Good lighting is essential when being photographed

Learn as if you are going to live forever. Live as if you are going to die tomorrow.                   Anon 

It's only when I get news that one of our colleagues is injured, sick or dead that I turn away from the mirror, examining my face with the latest wrinkle and deeply appreciate my health and the ability to enjoy the time I have left on earth. This is sad for two reasons: one, that someone I love is in trouble or gone, and two, that I am capable of being so petty. 

Anyone who stops learning is old, whether at twenty or eighty. Anyone who keeps learning stays young. The greatest thing in life is to keep the mind young.  Henry Ford

I started thinking about this pettiness after I bought a new computer, which sounds profound---the entire world at my finger tips. Shallow in that it should include my ability and knowledge of how to best utilize this laptop. One unfortunate part of owning this tablet is that sometimes it sits in my lap. When the power is off and the screen is dark I can see my face gazing down---with each line and wrinkle outlined on the screen. Then, to make matters worse, I generally scowl at myself which only increases the temporary displeasure. Fortunately for the sentiments in the first paragraph of this post, I relish- very much- my health, my life and my loved ones.

To keep the heart unwrinkled, to be hopeful, kindly, cheerful, reverent- that is to triumph over old age.                      Thomas Bailey Aldrich

So I am trying to do the above, 'keep my heart unwrinkled', to stay open to new experiences and to learn things that are challenging to me. [Like learning to use the functions of the little computer, and successfully handling and finishing the writing of this book.]  

I always endeavor to be kind in all my dealings with all people I encounter. Cheerfulness is next to godliness as far as I'm concerned, even in a difficult day I can find something to be amused about, that's part of my religion. As for reverent, well, will irreverent do in a pinch? That's exactly how I plan to triumph over old age if I am lucky enough to live to a ripe old age.  I want to strive to be knowledgeable and lively and find joy in most things in life.

With two sisters at New Years

Another thought about the above list: I'm so lucky I was to be born in this country. In observing the bigger picture, we all must remember that women in other countries in the world regularly die in child birth or with some dread disease, are being sold into slavery, have little or no education, work until they drop, are beaten senseless with no repercussions, are required to be veiled, wear a burka and/or stoned to death for not wearing the burka, have no access to birth control and no choice for a husband. Whew, my good fortune to be a woman in the USA. Let's all keep working on advancing women's rights. So add this to the above list: I express gratitude each and every day for my good fortune, which is an obvious and easy way for me to triumph over ageing.

A favorite author of mine, Norah Efron died in 2013 at the somewhat young age of 71. She made fun of her own feelings about ageing in I Feel Bad About My Neck and I Remember Nothing. She wrote and amused us, even from her sick bed. Sure she made tons of money from her writings and movies [who doesn't love 'When Harry Met Sally?'], but she also opened her head and heart to us all. She wasn't a world politician, she didn't set policy, stop the war on drugs or guns, help impoverished people or find a cure for cancer, but darn it, she made us laugh. Norah will be fondly remembered for a long, long time and that is the kind of legacy that appeals to me.

 I am large I contain multitudes.    Walt Whitman

It's not the years in your life but the life in your years that counts.    Adlai Stevenson 

The last laugh

susansmagicfeather  2024 Susan R. Grout 

Priorities for Our Country

a victim if Pompeii  

 

As I soothe you I surprise wounds of my own                                this long time unmothered.

from a poem by Linda McCarriston

 

I find it unbelievably sad that one of the richest countries in the world incarcerates the mentally ill in jails all over our country. Ask anyone who works in the prisons and they'll tell you that there are many inmates who just don't belong there. First of all the rather innocuous stoners who smoke their joints aren't really damaging anybody or anything but themselves. Hopefully this has been somewhat alleviated by states legalizing marijuana. Next up are the mentally ill who stop taking their medications and then awful things ensue for them or to them. Mostly they get taken advantage of and get arrested for being out of line. They truly are out of line and out of their minds, but no one is asking, how to help that's too complicated. What do we do with them? In the unenlightened states it's into the slammer where the possibility of treatment is zilch. [These are most of the southern states, that lean red.] This is not only sad but nutty if you do a cost analysis. This has to stop. Why is no one addressing this issue? Not sexy enough I guess. Out of sight out of mind, really simplistic thinking for an otherwise advanced society.

Of course, it goes without saying that the justice system, with rare exceptions, is definitely prejudice and the preponderance of inmates are people of color [see the Sentencing Project, a study in 1989 and the current statistics].  By way of example, take Rush Limbaugh. Even though he knowingly took many addictive prescription drugs, forged his Doctor's names on scripts, had multiple Doctors writing scripts and caused himself to become nearly deaf due to his abuse of oxycontin, was he charged by the court system? Was there jail time? No. Zero. Imagine if this was a Hispanic or African American man, do you honestly think the slap on the wrist, and no consequences would have applied? Neither do I.

There are good alternatives to incarceration for the non violent and the least of the offenders. It is easily proven that prevention programs and half way houses, whether for drug and alcohol problems or for mental illness, are far cheaper in the long run for the society. The costs of incarceration is huge, almost triple what prevention costs in all states. Yet the ones who are touting the strict punishments for the druggies and the mentally ill are, guess who? the people who profit from owning and building the prisons. This is analogous to the pharmaceutical industry  ["big Pharma"] who push the pills that they know are not effective, the pills that are only barely more effective than placebos [sugar pills] as the answer to mild and moderate depression and curing children's hyperactivity.

The drug companies would have you believe that only with their particular drug can you recover from depression. Pharmacology does have its place in psychotherapy, but significantly less than the drug companies would have you believe. As I said, the truth about antidepressants is that, in controlled studies, placebos did almost as well for mild depression. [Turner et al, University of Oregon Health and Science 2006 and a 2005 article in Scientific American]. However, pharmaceuticals is a multi-billion dollar industry and the last thing they want you to know is there's a more natural route to recovery from depression. That route  is nearly, and perhaps more effective as taking their drugs.  By the way, this is only true for mild to moderate depression, if the depression is severe, bring on the drugs.

[Caution: If you are currently taking an antidepressant and want to stop, do not cease taking your medication. Talk to your doctor about withdrawing slowly.] 

Here are some ideas that can be effective to relieve depression.

1. Do follow a healthy, nutritious diet, be modest in your portions and don't over eat.
2. Do at least 30 minutes of  exercise regularly [most days), which can be as simple as walking or yoga.
3. Do have several good supportive friends in addition to family members.
4. Do become aware and mindful in your life.
5. Do seeking counseling when troubled.
6. Do make sure you are amused and or laughing every day and share that with someone. 
7. Do remember that life can surprise you and be eager to have more good times in your life, even if you are going through a rough patch.
8. Do plan a trip even if it is to another neighborhood for the afternoon, but move the body away from staying house bound.
9. Do go beyond yourself and help a neighbor, call a friend in need, volunteer.
10. Do sit and let all of the sadness that is in you rise up and just watch it, don't judge it, allow it to be--- then get up and do something silly.
11. Try meditation, yoga, swimming, dancing to still the mind and open the heart.

 No one really wants to hear what does help if it involves, well, work. This is like the people who want to lose 10 pounds in a week without altering their caloric intake or doing exercise. Bad news, nothing out there actually works without less calories and more movement. Awareness does help, knowing and being conscious of what you eat and making sure that every bite is treasured and actually good for you.

I am a human: little do I last                                                                                 and the night is enormous.

But I look up:   the stars write.                                                                          Unknowing I understand:                                                                                          I too am written and at this very moment                                                           someone spells me out.                                  Octavio Paz

We need to treasure people and remember that they are all somebody's baby and should be treated with dignity. Unfortunate genealogy, abusive homes, get rich quick schemes gone bad, dishonesty and sheer meanness exists out there. But there is a whole world of good people out there who need another chance. We need to band together and support treatment rather than incarceration. Cost wise and compassionately it makes sense. It blows me away that while there is this current slew of cost cutting going on in governmental agencies no one has the guts to well, reform the prisons, especially in regard to the mild drug abusers and the mentally ill.  Hope abounds for the ones, druggies and  the mentally ill, who are willing to walk the harder road to recovery. Some are never going to recover but at least they should be given a shot at healing and be taken care of rather than abused. God knows that some of the scarier people need to be locked up possibly forever, but let's be judicious about it.

the door is wide open, don't go back to sleep   Rumi

susansmagicfeather copyright 2024 Susan R. Grout