Cancer - Maybe I *AM* a Hater...

I spent a good deal of time today thinking about the concept of hate - and considering my own relationship with the idea. Hate is unpleasant - and a waste of energy. It's destructive and, as far as I can see, serves no legitimate purpose, other than to feed upon itself and others. The analogy may be a little off, but in my mind, I liken the concept to an emotional tapeworm. Who would want that?

The 88 year old man who walked into the Holocaust Memorial Museum in Washington DC today and opened fire leaves me struggling to conceptualize how a human being could be so filled with hate... Again, I've spent a good amount of energy today trying to understand the situation. Apparently, hate devours energy in that manner as well.

Struggling to explain the existence of such evil (because really, that's what hate is) to my eight year old also took its toll on my emotions and energy. That, at least, fills me with hope and love - that she didn't understand why either.

Hate - whether it's manifested in hate speech or terrorist acts - is abhorrent. Ironic, I know. I've already been accused of being a hater of hate. I just struggle deeply to understand its motivation. This struggle has become the theme for my day.

Driving tonight and listening to CNN, the events today in Washington were again brought to my mind, followed by an interview with someone who is currently fighting cancer. As I listened to his words, to the statistics that were discussed, I would have given anything to hug my mother again. I had to put the phone down when I caught myself about to call friends who had also lost loved ones to cancer. I wanted them to know I was thinking of them, praying for them and that I was sending them hugs, wherever they may be. I wanted to reach out and hold all my friends who have survived their bouts with cancer - and those who are still fighting. I wanted to do something, anything, to help fix it all!
A radio broadcast of a Larry King interview did this to my emotions.

Then I realized, HATE was welling up within me, making me feel this way.

I still don't understand (and probably never will) the idea of hating another human being. I do, however, understand the concept of HATE. I will freely admit that I hate cancer. I don't pity it. I am not able to shrug off my feelings towards it. I can't even pretend these things. Cancer is a horrible HORRIBLE thing and I wish more than anything that our society could find a way to eradicate it from the face of the earth. I DO HATE - I HATE CANCER.

Click here to go to the American Cancer Society and see how you can make a difference

Coincidences?

Isn't it funny the way the internet (and life) works?

As I drove home this evening, I listened to an interview with someone who had been diagnosed with, and just started chemo for, a rare form of cancer. He is letting his battle with the disease be a public one in the hopes of raising public awareness and support for cancer research. The interview may have been targeted at folks such as me - but if so, it worked. I missed my mother tremendously in those minutes and had to put the phone down before I started calling everyone else I knew who'd lost someone to cancer in order to tell them how much I loved them and wanted to send them a big hug. It was late at night - I caught myself before I actually hit the send button.
I reasoned with myself and decided that when I got home, I'd blog.

After all - encouraging people to support cancer research is ALWAYS a good use of a blog.

By the time I got through the thunderstorm outside, did a few things in the kitchen and plugged my laptop in to charge, the idea to blog had passed, however. As is my habit, I checked Facebook... and saw a friend had found an application that tells you how common your name is in the US. I'm 99% certain that I'm the only one with my name in this country (if we include my middle names, I'm fairly certain I'm the only one in the world) but I was lured into the application - an application that told me there are three of me in this country.
Still, I could account for me appearing as three different people in databases, given my time in the DC area, in CT, and in IL. But I had to google me. After all - I had to make sure.

My mother passed away over seven years ago - two weeks before Alexandra's first birthday. Her obituary was, for a long time, a staple part of the results when my name was googled. As the years progressed, however, it moved further and further down on the list - and eventually it disappeared. After all, the newspapers don't keep all their obituaries online for perpetuity.
For at least the past year, whenever I've googled my name, that obituary has been gone.

That is, until tonight. Tonight, when I googled my name in quotation marks to see just how many me's there are, there was my mother's obituary on the third page.
And now, here I am - at my blog, and ready to blog once more about cancer...

Now you just try to tell me that she wasn't advocating for cancer awareness in her own dead spiritual way....

Did you know the Shriners put on a circus?

I've held a lot of jobs in my life. I haven't kept such track as to know the precise number of jobs I've had, but I know they've outnumbered almost anyone else I know. I like to think of them as all little mini life experiences - each one benefiting me in some way and helping to shape the person I am continually becoming.
That sounds so deep.

Really, though, I've held a lot of jobs. Some of them have ben a bit - well, shadier - than others. I think the first of those jobs was during my senior year of high school, when I got a job working as a telemarketer for $6.00 an hour. Hey, that was good money then!!

The job itself was in a one room office space, sparsely furnished with folding chairs, folding tables and a number of telephones. The majority of the employees were high school students, that I can recall (okay, I can only remember two of the people I worked with, but they were both seniors too!). We worked for about four hours an evening and cold called people out of the telephone book, asking them to donate money to some obscure charity (I think it was the Shriners) and we would send them complimentary tickets to the Shriners circus when it came to New Britain.
The longer I worked there, the more jaded I became - eventually deciding the whole operation was a scam and that there was no such circus. From what I recall (it was a number of years ago), I was not the only one to come to these conclusions. The "company" packed up shop and left one day without giving us any notice, thereby cementing the idea that it had all been a scam. I never did receive my last paycheck from them.

Fast forward a bunch of years to last month. At a local business I was given some vouchers for free children's tickets to the Shriners circus when it came to Du Quoin. I laughed and then shrugged and accepted a couple - something to do with Alexandra this summer.
This afternoon we made plans with Alexandra's friend Emily and her mom to go to the six pm show. The $12 price tag on the adult tickets was mitigated with the fact that we had free tickets for the girls - it would be an adventure.

Mind you, the only circuses I've ever been to have been Barnum & Bailey's - the concept of "other" circuses made me wary to begin with, the Shriners having a circus compounded that with the memories of that shady job from so many years ago.

As we waited for Emily and her mother to arrive, we were given two free grown up tickets from some girls who had extras and were looking to unload them. Now all four of us had free tickets. Programs were $1; popcorn was $1.


Oh, and guess what - it was a real circus. There were acrobats and clowns and tigers and ponies and dogs and trapeze artists and jugglers and a motorcycle highwire act - and even elephants!


My overall cost for the evening at the circus - $4. It shattered the illusion of the farcical Shriners circus for me and opened Alexandra's eyes to the fact that circus animals may not be so happy (she mentioned to me during the elephants performance that they weren't happy because they were being forced to do things).

Oh what a night.

On the Way to the Last Day of Second Grade...

The drive in to Murphysboro in the morning is always when I start to wake up. It's a calming counterpart to the screeching of getting us up and dressed - and the vitamin D helps to energize me a bit. A little less than half an hour each morning when we can listen to the radio (usually CNN or NPR, but sometimes I cave and put on RadioDisney) and take the time to mentally wake up.

That being said, I am not always so aware of what's going on around us in the world at these times. I mean, I'm paying attention to the road and those surroundings, but life occurring outside of our little bubble? I don't normally drink enough coffee that early in the morning.

This morning, however, as we drove through De Soto, I was utterly horrified. Now I know I may not be the world's safest driver. I'm not saying I'm a danger behind the wheel, but I do occasionally go above the speed limit (shush, yes, I know... lead foot). When I drove past a man on a motorcycle with a boy about the same age as Alexandra gripping him from behind, I was shocked. It wasn't the motorcycle, nor was it the small child holding on for dear life. What horrified me was that neither the man NOR THE BOY wore a helmet. They zipped out into traffic after I'd passed them, pulling my heart out into my throat.


I'm sitting here now, drinking my chai, still trying to wake myself up - but that image, the boy gripping the man, no helmet on his head, worked well this morning of jerking me out of my sleepy haze. Other than making me slightly nauseous at the concept, it forced my brain to start processing my surroundings. I drove past a newly planted field and noticed that not only were the seedlings coming out in such uniform rows (that's something I've always noticed about farms and fields I've passed), but the tiny little plants in each row were a uniform distance from each other as well.
The wonders of technology - come to fruition in my observations of cultivated plant life.

This afternoon, when I pick Alexandra up from school, she will no longer be a second grader.
The world will have changed in some tangible way for me. I will be a third grade mom.
But the plants will still be the epitome of order and the irresponsibility of some people towards children will continue to be my wake up call.

Honesty... it's such a simple word

Alexandra, did you put your school shoes on?
Yes!

two minutes later
Then why are you barefoot?
Oh. I forgot.


Everyone keeps telling me it's a phase, that she's going to grow out of her constant lying. I've heard all the psychological excuses for it - she's asserting control or independence over her own life. I get it, honest I do.
But I don't like it.

Honesty is something I demand in all my relationships - and it positively kills me that I can't get it from my own daughter.
When the culprit is an eight year old girl who goes to a Catholic school, the easy remedy (and one upon which I rely way too often) is to point out that she's breaking a commandment and that Jesus is watching her. That's usually enough to cause instant penitence and the truth to surface.
But she's eight.

What happens when she's 18?

Hopefully by then she's gotten past the lying about EVERYTHING stage - but will she be an honest person? Will she have the underlying respect for others that is demonstrated in said honesty?
Or will she be sneaky? Will she be constantly trying to get away with things behind other people's backs? I doubt an ominous comment about God's omniscience will be enough to straighten her out at that age.

Maybe I shouldn't worry about it - after all... she's only eight years old. She's a good kid. She eats her vegetables, demonstrates an above average level of empathy in her dealings with others.
Maybe I'm looking at the rest of the world and imposing my distaste with the rest of humanity on her little shoulders.
Maybe it's a parent's nature to constantly second guess whether they're doing a good job in raising their children. After all, isn't there always something I could be doing better as her mother?

And maybe her foray into this realm of dishonesty is a good thing. Maybe (this might be the cynical mom speaking now) it is teaching her that not everyone tells the truth. Maybe it's teaching her to be a bit more discerning when it comes to trusting others.
Considering how trusting her mother tends to be - a little bit of hesitance on that front couldn't hurt...