Thursday, September 27, 2012

My Journey to Surgery

Hopefully she has some good people for her recovery
As I said in my last post [9/9/12] I never casually sign up for voluntary pain. That's one of the reasons that I fought and fought hard to not have total hip replacement surgery. Here's a brief list of the methods I employed to fight the inevitable:
  1. I read and re read Sarno's book Healing Back Pain in the belief that I was faking it.
  2. I distracted myself from the pain mentally with loving thoughts, ignoring the the pain, pushing through the pain, giving myself stern talkings to...
  3. I distracted myself physically with breathing techniques, yoga, acupuncture, bike riding, hikes and physical therapy.
  4. I took copious vitamins, herbs like tumeric, rubs like arnica, pills like aspirin and aleve.
  5. I saw doctors: my primary care physician, a Rheumatoligist.
  6. I submitted to X rays and a cortisone shot in the hip [ouch x3].
  7. I got two professional opinions from orthopedic surgeons.

I finally faced the truth, as my chosen surgeon said, "nothing you could have done and nothing short of the total hip replacement is going to take the pain away," from my poor little degenerated hip bones. So I scheduled surgery.

Once I had the date for surgery I was handed a three ring binder called "My Joint Journey" [I am not making this up]. In it was the lush detail of how to prepare for surgery, how to prepare your house, the exercises that they recommended prior to surgery and  after surgery. Not exactly stimulating reading unless you're about to voluntarily go under the knife.

Things changes. I went from the most reluctant candidate for surgery to the most impatient. Not being able to walk very far greatly influenced my turn around. I was reminded of this when I witnessed my cat who ordinarily turns tail and runs at the sight of the cat carrier, actually walked into it after his last fight with the local bully racoon. The very good Mr. G took him to the vet to get patched up with hardly a gutteral meow. Goes to show that when you need care, you want it ASAP. I lucked out and someone cancelled and I got in for my surgery three weeks earlier than was originally scheduled.

I knew that I was in the best of hands, I had researched well [with the help of my daughter-in-law] and my logical brain finally kicked in to comfort me. This happens when I board an airplane, I always say to myself, "I can't fly this plane so I surrender all control to the pilot." My surgeon, a jewel of a man, radiated enthusiasm and confidence. Believe me that helped enormously. He was my pilot, I surrendered control to him.

The night before surgery we got to stay with my son's family and that was a treat and comforting. My grandson flings himself on me and is "my blanket" and my granddaughter hugs me and pats my back saying "you're going to be fine." My daughter in law [who is a Physical therapist] had many words of wisdom and reassurance. My son, as usual, was darling and dear to me.

The hospital experience was excellent in that it is a well oiled machine with caring professional nurses. I kept jokingly saying to the nurses that this was "my spa experience" and part of me was absolutely serious. OK, no mani/pedis or facials or massages but loving attention and concern about me and my experience in the hospital.

Only one day was atrocious and that was the day after surgery. I had a violent reaction to the Oxycontin and barfed not only on my nurse but also on the PT. The determined PT really wanted me to get out of the bed and god knows I made an attempt but the black dots in front of my eyes got in the way. My BP had dropped down to 62/48 with all of the barfing. Thankfully they quickly figured out it was the meds, and once those dreadful pills left my system I was truly better. My son and family showed up that evening and I was able to revel in my grandson projecting himself all over the room, Superman fashion, on the nurses rolling stool.  My granddaughter made a game of the walker and son and daughter in law brought treats. There is no question in my mind that the most welcome ingredient for a fast recovery is loving attention.

Tomorrow I will talk about another essential ingredient in recovery.

susansmagicfeather copyright 2012 Susan R. Grout all rights reserved

Sunday, September 9, 2012

Anticipation, ADD and Adaptation

A painting my Mom did of the county fair
I am close to having a total hip replacement and am attempting to be calm and philosophical about the entire experience. Ha. It's like there's a small circus living under the back of my skull, distracting me from today, riotously projecting me into the future.

You must do the thing you think you cannot do.
Eleanor Roosevelt
When I have a big event in my life my latent form of ADD takes over. I found myself diligently scrubbing my soap dispenser when that awareness hit me. After wiping down the cabinets, making a pie, doing two loads of wash and cooking breakfast, it's all I can do not to redecorate the entire house. Also, in my pre-operative state, I forget to eat and am easily distractable from mundane tasks. Last night I was going to have a glass of wine, but the bottle wasn't cold enough so I put it in the freezer and then set about making a shrimp/pasta/veggie dish for dinner. Lo and behold, when I went to get a few ice cubes this morning, there was my Chardonnay Popsicle. O dear.

I guess that there plenty of up sides to this ADD, the house is in order, the clothes clean, folded and put away. I'm quite ready for my surgery physically. Emotionally, hmm.  I wonder if I'll ever be ready to go into the hospital, voluntarily, to get cut. This is the main reason that I fought this hip replacement for almost five years. This is also the reason that elective plastic surgery absolutely baffles me. Signing up for pain? No, thank you, that just sounds silly to me.

In analyzing why I was so recalcitrant about the hip surgery I came up with a number of reasons.
  1. My husband hadn't retired until April and I guess that I felt insecure about asking friends and relatives to be available to take care of me.
  2. We had insurance that wouldn't allow me to choose my surgeon myself.
  3. I was able to ride my bike literally anywhere I wanted to go in our small town.
  4. I was inconvenienced by my hip but wasn't in pain until seven months ago.
  5. I was deluded into thinking I could get better on my own.
  6. My Grandma died after her hip surgery, [however, she was 86 years old...]
All of the above sounds semi ridiculous now as I write it. But they were contributing factors to my reluctance. That all changed with the negative: the advent of pain, and the inability to walk more than a couple of blocks. And the postive changes: my husband's retirement and our new health insurance. Then seeing the x ray of my poor little bone-on- bone hip made the decision easier.

Let me remind you, I'm very grateful to have this operation, I just wish I was on the other side and well into my recovery. O well.

Wish me luck and a speedy recovery. If you're inclined to pray, please do so, if you're inclined to sweet visualizations and sending healing energy, fling some my way. I'm confident I'll be fine and recover quickly, but there's this small circus...

susansmagicfeather copyright 2012 Susan R. Grout all rights reserved

Monday, August 27, 2012

And Then the Women Said "What?"

Who does not love wine, women and song
Remains a fool his whole life long.
Johann Heinrich Voss
These days many of us are shaking our heads in wonderment, is this pre-1920?  Yesterday was the anniversary of the day women got the right to vote, 8/26/1920. This should be celebrated with homage and cheer to the hard working suffragettes who helped bring this about. However, this is not the case everywhere. What concerns me is I'm getting the strong impression that certain segments of our population would just as soon we lost, not only our right to vote, but also our right to privacy. The is a devolution.

A very elementary thought: isn't what happens between a woman and her doctor private? It certainly is true for men. In my business, I hold sacred the rights of my clients to keep whatever is said in my office in confidence. The exceptions: the client is a danger to themselves or others. An example [one that is true for counselors and doctors everywhere] is that if the client is being abused, or is suicidal or worse homicidal, then someone must be alerted. Other than that it is private, and as sacred as the priest hearing a confession. I don't repeat outside office what I've heard inside without the written permission of the client.

So, why is it OK for the politicians to be dictating that women must divulge what is between her and her doctor? Well, it's not OK ever. If that trust is broken then it should be true for any man considering a vasectomy or penile enlargement, or Viagra for that matter. Do you see sweat forming on some of the male brows? I do because this is a logical argument. What's good for the goose is good for the gander. Just as for a young man, any grown woman over the age of 18 has a right to privacy between herself and her doctor.

I don't believe in calling anyone a name but...
Here is the party that supposedly wants government off our backs, but they make
A woman's body can prevent pregnancy in cases of 'legitimate' rape.
Todd Akin,  Republican from Mo. a questionable member of the House Science Committee
There are in fact two things, science and opinion: the former begets knowledge, the latter ignorance.               Hippocrates, Law

Let's connect the dots. Who, I must ask all American voters, has the babies? Who brings that baby into the world? Who earned the right to vote in 1920 through a hard fought battle? Who has tried to keep these baby givers and voters restricted? I have a hint for you, it's not the Democrats. And it's not the Democrats who have it in their platform that no abortion is allowed, even in the case of incest or rape. Is this a loving, nurturing, concerned or caring platform for women? Is it right to attack the victim of a rape by requiring her to carry the child of her violent abuser? Isn't this just another form of abuse? Why and how can they justify no right to privacy for a victim of rape or incest? The fact is, horribly, most of the victims of incest are under the age of sixteen. So, not allowing her to have an abortion is a form of child abuse. In essence, they are recommending child abuse in their platform. Think about it: this is almost as egregious as the sexual abuse that the little girl suffered.

When an entire party agrees that abuse of little girls and women is acceptable and allowable, there is a word for that---misogyny. It means hatred of women and they will be misogynists all if they vote to OK this stupid platform.

There, of course, is a solution to the above. Vote for candidates who actually like and love women. Who respect our rights to privacy. Who would never dream of taking away your grandmother's right to vote because she doesn't have a driver's license and hence no photo ID.

As simplistic as this sounds, vote for your daughter's rights, vote for your mother's, your granddaughter's and your grandmother's rights. Vote to honor women, not to disrespect them. Do so with love and gratitude that women have these rights and sincerely do not want to lose them.

susansmagicfeather copyright 2012 Susan R. Grout all rights reserved.

Monday, August 20, 2012

Groutfest 2012


Many divergent activities at Groutfest 2012

Fun at the fair!
Girl cousins--- sharp shooters
It is more or less inexplicable why the best times are with family. I believe, in part, it's an event that resonates with all the most delicious fun and laughter. We revel in each others quirks and idiosyncrasies [did you ever notice that if you hyphenated that word it could be 'idio-sin-crazies', good name for our band]. Though, to tell you the truth, I am exhausted from all the days of entertaining the hoards, mind you, it's a good exhaustion, one that makes you sink onto the couch and smile with the memories.

Here are a some of those memories.  J, our seven year old grandson, on one of those very hot nights awakened Mr. G at 5 AM. Mr. G-"J, what is it?" J- "Papa I can't sleep because of the lines.' Mr. G- "What lines J?" J- "Here, I'll show you". So he goes into his bedroom and J shows him that there is a tiny bit of light coming in from the curtain that's pushed aside to let air in. Mr. G- "J is this what you mean??" J- "YES!" So, he pushed the curtain tight thereby cutting off any chance of air circulation, creating a sauna. Another time J complained that the girls, who were sleeping across the way in the guest house, were keeping him awake. Mr. G -"J, how can that be, you have curtains to block the light". J- "Well, if you stand on this chair and pull the curtain back you can see the light!"

The mainstay of Groutfest
Then there is our seven year old granddaughter, who takes every opportunity to cartwheel, do back-bends into a kick over, endlessly. She is devoted to our 14 year old cat and carries him everywhere. Our eight year old grandson, S with his skinny arms was able to ring the bell in the carnival game, first try, and won a prize. Our ten year old granddaughter, La, is such a good sport, she loves being with her older cousins and yet is a good natured about being with the younger kids with nary a complaint. My older son helped fix up a rusty old bike of mine so that La and I could take what I thought would be a short ride down our road. This was not to be. We went out to a main road, up several hills and down several miles to a small lake where we put our feet in the water. It wasn't until we got back home that I found out La had only one workable gear on my old bike. As I said, a good, uncomplaining sport.

A winner of the first heat, the long narrow car named, 'boardwalk'.
The zucchini is on top of a red shoe, and they named this entry, 'shoefly'.
We don't do anything extravagant, we BBQ, play games, talk, talk and eat. When I'm more physically able we hike, this time it was hot for the NW and so we went swimming instead and, of course to the fair. Our boys entered their creations in the 'Zucchini 500'. Yes, each of the cars has a zucchini on top of it. They had a blast racing their 'cars'. We only wished we'd squashed the competition. S came close.

My parents hosted many a family reunion and my father famously said, "I love to see you all come and I love to see you go." I didn't get it then, but I do now. Good exhaustion is still exhaustion. My Mom said after our get togethers when she was in her 70's and 80's, "I'd stay in bed the entire day after you all left." We aren't that bad yet. We went to the fair Saturday, yet again, to hear our niece and nephew in law's band and even rode our bikes. So, see, while we still have our relative 'youth', and by next year I'll have that shiny new hip. Do come to Groutfest 2013, you're invited. It's a ball!

susansmagicfeather copyright 2012 Susan R. Grout all rights reserved

Monday, August 6, 2012

The Thing With Feathers

Hope is the thing with feathers---
That perches in the soul---
And sings the tune without the words---
And never stops--at all---
Emily Dickinson
When you consider all of the problems that can befall someone, having a hip that needs repair seems fairly insignificant. That is, I might add, for those who are not in the throws of facing surgery and having to wait more than two months while in pain. Not fun. However, I'm quite sure that I'll get in prior to the two months estimated time limit. I have hope. Foolish? False? Not sure, don't care.

Hope is a peculiar beast, definitely more an owl than a vulture. And I am a creature of my era because I can have the owl perching on my soul. I am going to have the most modern and helpful of techniques: a total hip replacement. If this was fifty years ago, I would be one of those prematurely old women hobbling around with my cane, no hope of recovery. You see, as I did my own X-rays, my hip is "very deteriorated", bone on bone. Even I felt sorry for my poor little left hip when my husband and I gazed at the X-rays in the doctor's office. My right hip, bless its stalwart bones, looks textbook beautiful and I'm not sure I've ever, until now, been in love with a bone prior to gazing on its perfect looking X-ray. I'm thanking the stars that I won't have to have another surgery.

It has never been, and never will be, easy work! But the road that is built in hope is more pleasnat to the traveler than the road built in despair, even though they lead to the same destination.                                        Marion Zimmer Bradley


I am in the business of hope based on more than thirty five years of counseling people on how to live their life differently. Counseling is nothing if it's not mind expanding, world enlarging and option giving. I guess what I most love about it, is watching the person before me come to the AH! It has to be their AH! and that's why one of my familiar statements to my clients is, "do you have to do everything that I say?" Because, of course, the answer is NO! I have loads of ideas and experience but it has got to be the shining light in the other's mind, eyes and heart that is just right for them.

susansmagicfeather copyright 2012 Susan R. Grout all rights reserved

Monday, July 30, 2012

Looking at the Impossible, Seeing the Improbable

You can learn a lot of things from the flowers
especially in the month of June,
There is health and happiness and romance
All in the lovely month of June.             from the movie "Alice in Wonderland"

I'm one of those gardeners that knowledgeable gardeners, observing my habits, would just shake their head. However, I've made myself happy by willy-nilly planting things where I choose rather than having any advanced plan. No grids, no maps, no agonizing as to where to fit in an exotic breed. I plant what tends to work in the northwest with a nod to "deer proof" [ha-ha] and bombs away. I was complaining to another gardener at the farmer's market, "the deer are eating my crocosmia and they aren't supposed to like it." He said, "I guess they didn't read the manual, naughty, naughty."

If there is a plan for the garden, it's subtle. I do veer away from certain colors like dark burgundies and notice  I don't have a lot of yellow but other than that the garden is fairly freeform. I did losely follow the rule of bigger plants in the middle of my circles [no squares at my place] and smaller plants toward the front of the beds. I like it crowded so there isn't much room for weeds. Sometimes I find myself, with a freshly dug up plant on the shovel wandering around looking for the right place to plant it. This is wrong, wrong, wrong, but this is what I do. I figure I have ADD/911 as a gardener.

It is best to win without fighting.             Sun Tzu
Since gardening is a hobby I decided it better be something that I love, not something that I agonize over. So my garden does not resemble Monet's at Giverny but does resemble the water lily series after Monet was losing his eyesight. It is a peaceful lovely place especially if you keep your distance and ignore the persistent weeds that poke up through the flowers.** Remember, no agonizing. I do weed-- just so the poor things can survive-- but irregularly to say the least.

The art of enjoying the best gardens is looking at the impossible and seeing the improbable. Looking at the miracle of life from a seed, a bulb or a corm and seeing the improbablity of the creatures like the bumble bees, the butterflies and the birds that happen by. Glorious.
A garden is the best alternative therapy.     
                   Germaine Greer
One of the great things about being in the garden is the ability to lose myself in the minutia of the plant world, seeing the details of how a plant is growing, it's shape, it's buds, it's blossums and it's health. I then drift to who's landing on this plant: the friends, like the bees, the butterflies, the bumble bees, the ants. This gives me great pleasure to then learn about these creatures and this year I'm focusing on the butterflies. Isn't it a grand year for butterflies? Or could it be that I am studying them and so see them everywhere. The Western Tiger Swallowtail, the Monarchs, the Western Admiral, the Lorquin's Admiral and that's just the ones that I've noticed since July 21. On that date I acquired a guide to butterflies, it's written so a child could understand it, with gobs of pictures for identification. Luscious and fun to do. Our sons and all four of the grandkids will be with us in August and I have plans as their camp counselor...

**Unbelievable but true, as I was writing this sentence Mr. G hands me the phone and I've won a set of gardening tools from a raffle!

susansmagicfeather copyright 2012 Susan R. Grout all rights reserved

Tuesday, July 24, 2012

The Glory of Singing Siblings

As white a candle in a holy place, So is the beauty of an aged face.
Joseph Campbell
All the siblings plus a niece at Mom's Memorial
Knowing that someone has your back is indeed important. Knowing that someone, always and forever, has your heart is a treasure greater than words. That's what it's like to have love from your sisters and brothers. My siblings have been there for me at each important moment of my life: the weddings; the babies; the anniversaries and the celebrations. They've been there for me on the sad occasions too: the deaths; and the memorials; the illnesses and the operations. Every occasion.

Singing with our brother in many part harmony

There's something about families singing together that is just better than any other groups you can pick or make. If it's family, if it's blood-on-blood, then it's gonna be better. The voices singing their parts are going to be tighter and they're going to be more on pitch. Because it's bloodline-on-bloodline.
Johnny Cash
I am the second oldest of six kids and except for our brother at the end of the line, its sisters all the way. I revel in this fact and, as a matter of fact, we even named our singing group that we had for six years "Sibling Revelry", to honor us. We were raised on singing, my part always being harmony. This was natural because my Sally had a more beautiful soprano voice and besides, I like being a "second fiddle". Sal and I actually made it to the radio when she was eleven and I nine singing "Tonight You Belong to Me". Sadly this did not lead to fame or even a recording contract.

Our parents were not stellar but could be really fun and as Sally said, "they didn't really raise us, we raised ourselves." Too true, Mom was busy with the littler ones and Dad worked sometimes fourteen hours a day. However, they did give us the priceless gift of music. When we'd have relatives over, or  had parties, or when we went for the very occasional vacation we'd sing. The songs were the ones that our parents knew, from the 1920's to the 50's. We were also treated to songs that my Mom's parents taught her, and we have taught these to our children. Dad being more 'underparented' than just about anyone but an abandon child [see post of 3/25/2011 for the story], may not have even been around singing until he was a teenager, working in his father's restaurant. He enthusiastically contributed the songs of his teenage years.

I know that in some families, [many that I have worked with in my counseling practice], siblings are not a joy but a constant source of headache or heartache. In many families the siblings are so estranged that they seldom speak and never see each other. I always internally think, "how sad." But then they don't have the wonderful siblings that I do. These are people who are not only intelligent but creative and caring--- plus they sing at the drop of a hat. Nirvana.

I'm not sure that this piece of advice will fly for most families, but from my own experience I suggest that families sing together. Start now. It melds, shapes and harmonizes families in a positive way. The singing aids us all through the difficult times and the celebrations. Besides that, it can't hurt.

susansmagicfeather copyright 2012 Susan R. Grout all rights reserved

Friday, July 20, 2012

Delusion, Derangement and Denial Revisited

There are a thousand hacking at the branches of evil to one who is striking at the roots.                                   Henry David Thoreau
This a post I wrote and revised. Sadly and with a heavy heart I am writing again because of another tragedy, this time in Roseburg, Oregon. More dead and still the U.S. is electing people who are too cowardly to stand up and do what's right, pass legislation to aid prevention and treatment programs for the mentally ill, pass stricter background check laws, confiscate all assault weapons and ban them permanently. Let's be part of the solution and start hacking away at the roots of evil.

I, like most of the nation, am reeling from the news of the 12/14/2012 tragedy, the slaughter of the innocents in Newtown, Conneticut. Another deranged, suicidal young man has murdered twenty little children and six women.  That's it for me: I am becoming involved in the movement to get these extremely dangerous weapons out of circulation. Why, for all that's good and holy, would anyone need to have an assault weapon? It makes about as much sense as having a personal rocket launcher or a personal drone. As I write this I can only imagine some of the demented thinking, "that's a mighty fine idea..." It is insane to risk the safety of our little children and our citizens to indulge the very few who demand these weapons.
The middle of the road is where the white line is, and that's the worst place to drive.          Robert Frost
This destruction of our children, our people, has got to stop. There is every reason to not sit on the fence about this issue. If the legislatures are too cowardly to step up to the NRA and the weapons lobbies, then they should lose their jobs. We, citizens need to clamor for justice in the form of outlawing these assault weapons. Australia did just that in 1996 and they've not had another slaughter since then. 
Our children are our most precious resource
Give me one good reason a citizen needs to own/use an assault weapon. One. The truth? There's money to be made by the evil weapon manufacturers so they try to convince people that it's their right. Don't be fooled, really it's greed, pure and simple. It's stupidity to be cowed by these people and absolute foolishness to overlook the greed element. Don't the people in the NRA have children, grandchildren, a heart? Ask them.

The following I wrote first in July, 2012 and then in August... I revisited it and decided to publish it again although it grieves me to even have to. I said then:

This is another very black time for Colorado. Yet another deranged individual who wishes for notoriety at any cost has deluded himself into thinking fame will give him respite from his own insignificance. And yesterday, 8/5/2012 yet another deranged, sadly deluded  young man killed six Sikhs at their temple in Wisconsin.

It is, of course, impossible to assign motives for killing innocent people. There really is no rationale that satisfies. However the persistence of artificial drama in the cases of the recent murderers, their poses, costumes, timing leads me to that inevitable conclusion: they desperately want to be noticed. Pathetic and very sad.

There have been studies of mass murderers, one I remember was of Charles Whitman in the 1960's. He murdered University of Texas students at random and earlier in the day, his mother and his wife.  One of the discoveries was that he had a brain tumor, glioblastoma, that might have accounted for his warped thinking. He was also an amphetamine user and he had come from a family where the father was physically and emotionally abusive. Hmm.

The above description does seem to add up to a lethal combination, but I'm not convinced that every mass murderer has all of those features. Certainly that wasn't true of the young men, Eric Harris and Dylan Kiebolt who had good homes and loving parents. Indeed the commonality with the latest mass murderer, James Holmes is that they were white, young males with a high need for drama, a very bad feelings about themselves, a worse attitude about humanity and, of course, an easy access to a plethora of assault weapons. I realize no one is going to attack me for writing about the drama angle, or the low self worth or their lack of compassion and actual hatred for their fellow humans. But you know as well as I do if I point one tiny finger at the obvious-- easy access to guns, wow, will some people get defensive. They want to deny that the glorifying of guns and the use by these young men of the assault weapon has anything to do with these mass murders.

I'm not so sure we should outlaw guns but instead make each bullet cost about $500. Then it would be like, 'I'm gonna shoot you, after I save up to buy a bullet'!    Chris Rock
How on earth can anyone prevent mass murder? Truthfully, I'm not sure we can predict who'd be a candidate for such a huge heinous crime. But we certainly don't need to glamorize it, nor to endlessly focus on it. Wouldn't it be great if instead the focus was on prevention? Wouldn't it be great if we would have licenses that actually screened for suspicious behavior, and licenses for responsibility and competence with a weapon? We do after all license our cars and our citizen who drive those cars. Another thing, I've heard it said that we can't hold the gun sellers responsible for the crimes committed by the criminals. We hold the bartenders and restaurateurs responsible for a drunk who has left their establishment and ends up killing someone in a car accident. Fat chance, I realize, to get the lawmakers to toughen our laws, but it's a nice fantasy of mine and a good idea. Better than the nothing that's normally done after each of these horrendous murders. Nothing.

The entertainment industry could do their part also. What sense does it make to have our children swallowed whole by the entertainment industry, that makes the grossly violent movies, and worse, the hate filled video games [Cop Killers, really?]. When are the citizens going to see that some of the legislatures are bought and sold by the gun lobbies?  It makes no sense that our citizens are armed to the teeth and there is no stopping the NRA with their campaign of "guns don't kill people...people kill people." Guns without ammo won't kill people, that's true. It should be against the law to have an assault weapon with a  'magazine' on that gun that fires rapidly killing massive amounts of people.  But, I'm with Chris Rock, and that's an even better fantasy: legislate for prohibitively expensive bullets. Bring those on!

 Please join me. In our state there is the Washington Association for Gun Responsibility, find out what is the most effective organize you could contribute to. Call your legislator and perhaps we need to take to the streets and protest the ineptness of the government on gun control.

This is not the time to be Republican or Democrat about this issue. This is time to be a caring American who demands safety for all of our citizens. Take a stand, call your legislature today and say we are sick of the gun lobby and the NRA co opting our safety. Let's get those assault weapons out of circulation today. Let's get some treatment programs for the mentally ill.

A pregnant young woman trying to protecting her unborn child from Mt. Vesuvius that erupted in the 1st century. The instinct to protect our children should be this strong. 
susansmagicfeather 2012/2015 copyright Susan R. Grout all rights reserved

Wednesday, July 18, 2012

Praise Does Wonders




Sometimes it's hard to see something lovely that's right in front of us*.
I was in the third grade and my teacher was a "strict" nun who everyone groaned when I said I was in her class. She was not very warm and quite demanding of every pupil. But, she saw something in me. This nun, who was not voluminous with her praise, looked me square in the eye and told me that I was very smart. Because this is the first time I ever heard this, I still remember this and it's a testament to the strength of her words. I think she added "try your hardest always and you'll get good results". This was to a third grader, no more than eight years old and it's made a lasting impression on me.

Children have more need of models than of critics. Joseph Joubert
Since you never know who you're going to positively influence, I think it's the best  advice to be generous in your truthful, loving comments. Be generous in praise and encouragement if you see something in someone--especially someone who might not suspect that they have a good characteristic or talent. You'd be amazed at how many of my clients have said, "no, I've never heard that before," when I've complimented them on being articulate or insightful.

Giving legitimate praise is an art. In order to praise, you have to really study people, be open to their goodness and see what they are all about. This goes nicely with the "be aware and amused" and "tell the truth and run" philosophies that I frequently spout. I want to stand up for this philosophy as being a good hobby. It's a kick to see the talent and the good in people, not always mentally doing a "make-over" or internally criticizing them. It makes life more interesting and much more pleasant.

What is not pleasant but is certainly interesting is the nuns are back in the news. Since a special nun made a great different in my life, I take attacking them, especially for petty reasons, as an affront. As one of my clients said, "what's the deal in dissing those sisters?" Those modest, humble, kind and helpful women who attend to "the throw away people" in our society are being scrutinized and vilified by the Catholic church. That church should be funding them and kissing the hems of their slacks. But no, these men [mandated by the Pope, the US bishops] are appalled that the nuns aren't marching for fetus's rights and shunning their brethren who are gay. Seems funny to even write it, but sadly that's what's become the focus of the church in Rome. All of the good, moral history of the church [well, not the Inquisition] and Jesus's command to "love one another", goes right out the window with their criticism. Truly tossing the baby with the bath water, with no concern as to who's below to catch the baby. These are women who are doing the grunt work, who have dedicated their lives to doing good. What's next? Calling these fine women witches? Haven't we heard that somewhere before?

Sincerely, when was the last time you heard about a scandal of nuns seducing children? Never, right? So is there some connection?  Is this just a ruse to distract us from the real enemies not only of the church, but of morals and decency---misogynism and pedophilia. Think: what would the church hierarchy do if St. Francis was alive and practicing today? He would probably be condemned for attending to the poor. And for mistering to the animals? Starting an order for nuns? My guess is excommunication.

The cathedral in Assisi, the church of St. Francis
Many thorny issues confront the church



susansmagicfeather copyright 2012 Susan R. Grout all rights reserved 

Tuesday, July 17, 2012

The Art of Resilience

I knew they [his captors] could never break him.        Anthony  Zamperini
I don't deserve this award but I have arthritis and I don't deserve that either.                    Jack Benny
Most of us have something that we've endured. We did it either well or not so well but we got beyond it. I'm going through one of those periods, I'm enduring the painful, wonky hip and today- not at all gracefully. This is ironic because I just finished reading a book with the greatest lesson anyone could have on what the human spirit can endure. The book was Unbroken by Laura Hillenbrand, the story of what Louis Zamperini lived through mentally, emotionally, physically and spiritually. He was an Olympic runner in the thirties, then WWII intervened and his plane was shot down in the Pacific. He and another man survived in a raft for more than a month to be alas, captured and imprisoned by the Japanese. [It makes my painful hip the equivalent of a splinter-- though a big fat splinter...]

Now the trumpet summons us again...a call to bear the burden of a long twilight struggle, year in and year out, "rejoicing in hope, patient in tribulation', a struggle against the common enemies of man: tyranny, poverty, disease and war itself.
John F. Kennedy
To add to that theme, [I must be in the mood], we watched "The First Grader" last night. This film is about a Mr. Maruge of the Kikuyu tribe in Kenya who was captured and tortured by the British after his participation in the Mau Mau uprising in the early fifties. He was imprisoned for over eight years. At the age of 84 when Kenya announced that anyone in their country could have a free education, he petitioned his local grade school. When he showed up for class, the school didn't want to allow a man of his age in. He had to fight to have the right to learn to read and write. As grim as his past was, the focus of the film was on his present and it ended up being a joyful film. The same was true with Louis, grim, grim history that ultimately ended joyful. How the heck??

I keep asking myself, what do these two men have in common to survive their grueling experiences and then thrive in their old age? For one thing, they both believed passionately in their causes. Zamperini first in running for his country, then fighting for his country and then fighting for others.  Maruge fought against the colonial rule and unfair oppression by the British and then for his right as a citizen of Kenya to be educated. Both of them believed fervently in their causes that filled their earlier and then later lives. Both of these men never gave up despite heavy opposition and difficult circumstances. Both men kept their dignity when attacked repeatedly. Both men were kind hearted and modest and had marvellous senses of humor.

Today we are looking at a powerful lot of apathy in our citizens. Even though there was a tremendous turn out for the 2008 election, many of our citizens chose not to vote. I watched with tears in my eyes as the citizens in Africa were allowed to vote for the first time in their lives. These people cherished this right so greatly that they stood  in line, some overnight, so they could vote the next day. Here in this country some fat heads are trying to take the privileged of voting away from our citizens because they don't have the proper identification. Make no mistake: it's shades of Jim Crow raising its ugly head. Sadly those of us who should be fighting mightily for the threatened voters are distracted, or worse disinterested. The big 'to do' in the House and Senate, the cause for alarm and recrimination was all about the clothes made for the Olympians---they were made in China. It's a done deal and though not the smartest thing I've ever heard, truly a ten cent issue. Taking away voter's rights--- a million dollar issue. Where is the screaming and yelling about that? Where is the moral indignation?

Come on America, we can do better. Find a cause worthy of your passion and then throw yourself into it. Value yourself and your opinions and use the wonderful rights that our forefathers and mothers fought for: the right to vote and to express your voice for what you believe in.

susansmagicfeather copyright 2012 Susan R. Grout all rights reserved

Friday, July 13, 2012

Thunder and Lightning Illuminate Old Feelings

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 golden sky
and the sweet gentle song of the lark.
Rogers and Hammerstein
Last night I woke to intermittent bright light in my darken bedroom. Sleepy, I tried to make sense of the flashing light and decided "there's got to be lots of cars going down the road." Ah, but then the thunder came and I knew it was the beginning of a thunderstorm.

Even as a little girl I've always loved electric storms, the tingling air, the tension after the first zig-zag light in the sky, the cymbal crash of thunder. Exciting to me and never frightening. My sisters and I used to run outside to be part of the show, so fabulous and often occurring in the Chicago area.

The last thunderstorm I witnessed was in Milwaukee. I was with my Mom in her  apartment on the eighth floor of the residential care facility where she lived. My Mom relished her view overlooking Milwaukee and she called the apartment her "Aerie". It had a spectacular view in each season, above the tree line, over the birds, where she would watch the clouds, the rain, the snow and the storms. When I visited it was mid August which as most people know is usually hot and humid. That year was no exception. 100 degrees most of the week I was there. Relentless.

On my last day, clouds started to gather. Mom and I watched an old western on the Turner Movie Channel and decided to turn in early. We'd had such a good day, I made her a fresh tomato, avocado, cheese, lettuce and mayo sandwich which she ate one quarter of with delight. We'd played Scrabble and talked, talked, talked. Mostly it was me asking her every question I could think of about her life and our family. And she willingly obliged though some of the stories were painful.  Ever the stoic, Mom told the stories without so much as a waver in her voice. [She is the last survivor of her family, her brothers all died before her, only Aunt Vali, Ed's wife is left.]

I tucked myself in for the night on the couch, grateful that we'd had all the time to talk and reviewing all the stories about her brothers and my Dad in WWII, along with the tales of her growing up in Wisconsin in the twenties and what it was like for her to be widowed at sixty five.

Crash, flash, boom! The noise was incredible and felt like it was inside the aerie. I awoke and knew it was the very close. I sat up and was treated to a fantastic spectacle of gigantic bolts of lightening, illuminating everything in its path and then the clap of thunder almost immediately following. Mom was awake too, it was only three o'clock and the show went on for ten or fifteen more minutes until the rain finally came. We agreed it was glorious.

The next day I was to leave and I packed my things and, as usual, was ready well before the proper time for departure. I did something out of character. I knew that my mother traditionally hated long or protracted good byes but I decided that I needed to do it, so I knelt before her. I took her hands and immediately started sobbing and shaking, through racking tears I said, "I have loved you so much and I am going to miss you, you have been a wonderful Mother to me." I had only seen my stoic mother cry on three occasions, when my Dad died, when my brother-in-law Dirk was diagnosed with cancer and then when he died. She was sobbing and crying with me right then.

I finally gathered my suitcase and wheeled myself down the hall, but I couldn't stop crying. Somehow I got to the airport, it was a tearfully journey. Most fortuitously my sister Sally was overlapping me. When I saw her I fell into her embrace and sobbed again. Basically I didn't stop until I got to the Northwest.

How I wish that I had jumped into her small bed with her the night of the storm but at the time I was still playing by her unspoken rules. Still, I like the thought of it. I'm glad that I knelt before her and put my head in her lap and held her bony-bird-like hands for the last time and she and I grieved together. She died exactly one month later.
I have loved you with an everlasting love, I have called you and you are mine.
Song sung at Mom's memorial, requested by her







As I wrote this I really relived those precious last moments and I became racked with sobs. Mr. G came in with a worried expression and I could hardly talk from the sobbing to tell him what I was writing. He rubbed my back until I could tell him about the storm, my Mom and the grief.

I expect for a long while thunderstorms will be tinged with an air of sadness, but there is still the thrill and the exhilaration of life.

susansmagicfeather copyright 2012 Susan R. Grout all rights reserved

Monday, July 2, 2012

My 100th Post [!] and My Favorite Topic

There's something in me that's joyous. I don't hate hardly ever and when I love, I love for miles and miles, a love so big it should either be outlawed or it should have a capital and it's own currency.                     Carrie Fisher
All that is necessary to make this world a better place to live is to love---to love as Christ loved as Buddha loved.              Isadora Duncan
To be loved is fabulous, rich and wonderful. However, the greater pleasure far and away, if there was a contest, is to be loving. Being loving increases your joy twelvefold. I have this on the best of authorities: me.

Dear readers,

If I had the privilege to live ten lifetimes I am not sure I could properly thank all of the people in my life it has been my honor to love. This includes you. They bring me joy continuously, and I couldn't feel any luckier or happier. I have so many people that I love.

One of the keys to my own happiness [and I urge in my clients to do the same] is to stick closely to my/their internal wisdom. A personal example I give is in 1992 when my husband got a new job and moved ninety miles away, I didn't. Back then it was not as common for couples to live separately and I had many a person come up to me and say "when are you moving?" When I'd say, "I'm not." They would then add, "oh, no! Are you divorcing?" "No," I'd say, "I just don't think I should move." Kind of a whimpy response but there was something in me that just knew that I belonged here, in our small town with my practice. Turns out, through no fault of his own, there were budget cuts and he lost that job after only nine months. That would have decimated my practice, and I'd have to move back home to pick up the pieces. Oh, the money and heartache that would have cost me. So, the end result is I'm truly grateful that my gut came through for me.
Different strokes for different folks.            Sly and the Family Stone
The gut and internal wisdom also came through for Mr. G, he could have given up and moved home too but something in him enabled him to weather that storm, find eventually the perfect job in another small town. He was closer to home and came home every week end. He was fulfilled in his very busy and important work as I was in mine.

There are so many tomes written about love and I am not sure I'm adding anything much to them except this: be on the outlook for how you can love. Be on the outlook to increase someone else's joy. Be on the outlook to be aware and not let your own life pass you by. Be on the outlook for amusement, it's a great way to go through life. Then please share that joy, love and amusement with others. If you get loved in return, well hot damn that's just a plus. Time's a wasting...

Much love, Susan


susansmagicfeather copyright 2012 Susan R. Grout all rights reserved

Monday, June 25, 2012

Asking for Help


Only in the last year of her life did Mom allowed us to push her around the Art Museum

One of my teeny tiny flaws is the inability to ask for help in a timely fashion. I usually wait until I am struggling, red in the face with exertion and completely frustrated before I'll finally ask for help. Then and only then, will I call out to Mr. G for assistance with a weed wacker that won't wack or start for that matter. Most recently this has surfaced because I can barely walk due to my wonky hip and finally agreed to see a surgeon. The hip replacement is inevitable and I'm not pleased but resigned to the obvious. So, I'm stubborn in my independence and not surprisingly this is a rather large club I belong to. In my work I've found many people who are also members. Since in humans this insistance on "I want to do it myself!" starts at age two, I believe it's not one of my finer qualities. Here's an example of someone else who is a proud member of the "I should be able do this myself" club.

I worked with an older gentleman, I'll call him Billy Bob*, several years ago. At the time BB was in his late sixties and he came to me with a complaint about his nearly ninety year old mother, "Priscilla*". BB had to put her in a local nursing home, as she was starting to lose her balance. "Priscilla's been the bain of my existence," he said. "Listen to this: I was at the nursing home, bending over to tie my shoe and she tried to correct how I was doing it! I was just fuming."  I said my usual, "tell me more," and BB fleshed out his tale. "I grew up as an only child with this critical, demanding 'Southern belle' and my father was a pious preacher."  BB still resented his upbringing and especially his Mother each day, even all of the days and years they live apart. I said, "what a pile of energy you've put into this resentment! Let's get busy letting go of that." Now that BB was attending to Priscilla on a daily basis, BB was going to have to learn some new strategies ASAP.

"You've come to the right place," I said, "my Mother was a critical person also and I believe I have a strategy that could work for you. First of all, you're on the right track, asking for help will enable you to broaden your options for responding to your Mom." Frankly he looked almost ashamed that he was asking for help and that seemed hauntingly familiar to me. "Secondly, the key word here is responding, you've spent a lifetime reacting. So, tell me what do you and Mom do together?" A spark of recognition flashed in his eyes, and he said, "I realize though I love the many women, the only one I don't have any fun with is my mother."

I learned early on with my Mom that I had to address the criticism in a lighthearted but firm manner. Then the rest was easy for the two of us, we forged an indelible bond over Scrabble and books. At my encouragement, Billy Bob devised a new plan and very soon became one of those people who only late in life grows to appreciate the mothers that they got.

My strategy for him was simplistically obvious: I said, "Be aware of how amusing southern belles can be and then report all of the amusing stories to me and your friends." Needless to say, her behavior was over the top, one of the best descriptions of comedy. Since this man had a wicked sense of humor, what happened next was really fun.

Billy Bob began squiring his mother all around our small town. Priscilla proceeded to run at the mouth with her outrageous demands, observation and requests. Guess what? People were delighted by her. "Here she is almost 90, and she's flirtatious and treats everyone as if they're about to do her bidding." He was laughing as he told me this. Shopkeepers, waitresses, his friends, his neighbors, joined in the fun and really enjoyed her. This also unleashed a joyous appreciation in my client. In the end, Billy Bob was dear, kind and tickled to be with Priscilla, an attitude he kept for the last four years of her life. Priscilla died happy and Billy Bob was touched and proud of those last years. He learned to let go of who he imagined she was [a bitchy demanding crank who was purposefully trying to piss him off] and learned to appreciated her finer qualities: love, loyalty, the sharp mind, the biting sense of humor and yes, the adoration of a son who she kept trying to 'tweak' to perfection until her last breath. Amen.

I am so grateful that I learned to find my mother amusing and  I also was joyous in her company to boot.

The moral of this story for all of the Billy Bobs out there: it is so worth it to ask for help, it's expeditious.

Amuch loved and appreciated Mother who could be over the top sometimes

*Obviously these are pseudonyms and I mixed up some of the facts of this case with others.

susansmagicfeather copyright 2012 Susan R. Grout all rights reserved.

Thursday, June 7, 2012

They'll Have Nun of It

All religions are the same: basically guilt, with different holidays.          Cathy Ladman
As the church sinks slowly...
To all things clergic, I am allergic.             Alexander Woollcott
Well, they've done it again, made me laugh at the news. The Vatican seems to have a talent for the absurd. The Vatican is directing the Catholic clergy to again attack the nuns, this time for writing a book. The biggest irony: it's a book on sexual ethics. What's so funny about that, you say? The Vatican has wimped out from the problems of sexual ethics and grossly mishandled thousands of cases of sexual abuse by the clergy for decades. Then they turn around and pounce on a Catholic nun, Sister Margaret A. Farley, who is trying to bring the church into the 21st century. Her book [which I hope will now make it into the bestseller list] is Just Love: A Framework for Sexual Ethics. She modestly states, "It was not to be a book about the current official teachings of Catholic church." No, it's more loving than what is currently being taught by the Vatican. It embraces all people, women, men, gay, bi, etc. In my humble opinion, it is imperative to remember that the criticism leveled at her is the voice of old, mostly Italian men and definitely not God. Let me also add: these are supposedly asexual men [one can only hope]. Remember Jesus dictum was, love one another. Does this sound like love to you?

Before I go on, so as not to repeat myself, please read my post of May 21, 2012 on "A Great Danger to the Church." This focusing on the good Sisters and the Girl Scouts and the Hippies [!] is all such a colossal waste of time and energy when the church could be doing so much good around the world. The world needs help. But they are poor little lambs who have lost their way, baa, baa, baa. They are in need of a good shepherdess to guide them and I think Sister Margaret A. Farley with her bravery and forthrightness is just the one to do the job. All in favor, say Aye! All those opposed--- well you've already had your say, even if it was just keeping silent in the face of intolerable behavior towards gays, women,  and the poor.


No surprise that the Church has become big business, this has been happening for centuries. To be fair that is true of all of the major religions and I believe  it's time to start hitting the most egregious of the intolerant churches in their pocket books. This may be the only way to allow our voices be heard in protest.
The Catholic Church has a tradition of being a business
Let's all join in and at least make fun of the pious people populating the Papacy who are pooping on women predominantly.

susansmagicfeather copyright 2012 Susan R. Grout all rights reserved

Monday, June 4, 2012

Engulfed and Embraced by a Book

Magazines all too frequently lead to books and should be regarded by the prudent as the heavy petting of literature.                                              Fran Lebowitz
I just got out of the hospital. I was in a speed-reading accident. I hit a bookmark.             Steven  Wright
I actually feel sorry for people who don't like to read. As my own sainted mother used to say, "I don't know what I'd do with out my books," and I quite agree. She loved a good book more than just about anything and when she read a book she particularly loved she often would start it all over again after she finished the first time. I know she did this with Charles Frazier's  Cold Mountain, so I forced myself to read the entire book even though it was grim, grimmer and grimmest. Happily my son gave me Charles Frazier's Nightwoods  and it was excellent. Dark but not grim. I hate unrelenting grim. I've been caught up in a good string of books lately. I know that with some in put this can continue. So, I want to know your four favorite books and why they are your favorites. OK, two favorites...
She is too fond of books, it has turned her brain.     Louisa May Alcott
I have this rule about books that I might have shared before: if I've read around 100 pages and believe if I lost the book that I wouldn't care, I won't finish it. I abhor being trapped between the pages of a book whose characters I can't admire in some way. Why have the thoughts of awful people in your head? For me, there has to be an element of love or respect, or again, why bother. These characters in my books may even have grotesque flaws-- like the ones in the last book I finished, Heft  by Liz Moore. One of the main characters was almost agoraphobic and grossly obese, the other was a teenager stuck with an alcoholic mother. I grew to loved them and Liz Moore's writing. I actually missed the characters when the book ended, gold standard for me of a good book.

Am I simplistic in my thinking that if everyone read good literature we'd have a smarter, more compassionate world? I know that there's lots of trash out there but at least people would be thinking if they were reading. At this point most households are viewing and not living their lives, or worse they're living other's lives. Isn't that the fascination with "reality TV?" What a marvellous scam! First of all they don't even pay the participants and then somehow they con huge numbers of people to view this nonsenses...

When all the while, hidden in the recesses of libraries [thank you, thank you Andrew Carnegie] and bookstores all over this land are treasures waiting to be discovered. Batteries not necessary, electricity need only after sunset. As Tex said, "sober, bored and thirsty, are three of my biggest fears," if he had the right books he would never suffer from boredom. One fear solved forever.

Speaking of never suffering from boredom, once when I was visiting Mom in Milwaukee, we went into a bookstore and there on display were books that had been marked down. Among the books was a trilogy by Mom's favorite author, Robertson Davies, the price slashed by two thirds. Mom said, "look at that! That marvellous author being marked down like that!" and she went over and raised a fuss with the owner---"how dare you do that, this is one of our best living authors today!" she said. I was laughing though somewhat embarrassed and hustled her out of there fast. But it still tickles me to think of Mom doing battle with a bookstore owner for Robertson Davies' honor. It's got to be what's bred in the bone...

In the Aerie, a favorite chair, a treasured book.


susansmagicfeather copyright 2012 Susan R. Grout all rights reserved