Random Thoughts

Here’s the thing about privilege – it can be used in a positive way. Privilege has always been around.  Some people have forever had privilege.  We didn’t have a name for it when I was growing up, but it was there.  Those of us who had our own bedrooms as a kid – privilege.  Families who got to go out to eat at restaurants instead of eating tv dinners night after night – privilege.  Students who had their choice of university regardless of the cost – privilege. And I think I have understood the concept of it for quite a while, before I had a label for it, but called it “ luck ”.   Like, “We are so lucky that we get to travel a lot”.   Or “It sure is lucky we have a hybrid car because gas is so expensive!”.   But now I understand that those things often don’t happen because of luck.   They happen because of privilege – something I have through no work of my own, but society has “gifted” me.   So, whenever I can, I try to use my pri...

The thing about losing someone you love is, well, gosh there are so many things… One is – if it happened yesterday, or if it happened 15 years ago, it still feels like it was too soon. If it was sudden, or slow and expected, it still feels unfair. And if it was a parent, it is heart wrenching. Yes – the traditional “plan” is that the child outlives the parent.  That’s sort of the unwritten expectation.  And yes, reversing that order would likely be much more jarring and awful.  Even so, when it happens, especially if it is your last parent and you are left (an adult) “orphan”, you feel it with every ounce of your being. Which brings me to – today is Johnny Day.  It is the 2 nd anniversary of the death of my dad, John C. Thompson.  Those who were luckily enough to know him know that he was funny (laughed at his own jokes, sometimes so hard that it was difficult for him to get through the joke), liked to trick people (his poor friend Ed, how many times ...

I don’t want to give the impression that I walk around everyday in a daze and feeling sad, but I don’t want to hide anything, either.   When people you love die, the grief goes on.   It is not something that fits neatly into a timetable.   The 3 days off work they give you for a funeral doesn’t begin to scratch the surface of the number of days, months, and years you will grieve. So, no, not all day every day. But yes, parts of most days.   Maybe the sadness is triggered by a memory.   A photo.   A scent.   A location.   Or maybe it is always there but only bubbles to the surface when triggered… Today was no different.   Started out fine (albeit sleepy and rushed).   Productive and stressful work.   Rushing about trying to complete a big project.   Working on not one but two computers trying to tie together all the loose ends before a big “production number” at 5:00 pm.   In the middle of the mess, my sist...

One of my friends remarked to me today, “You love SO hard!”. That four word sentence encapsulates it – I love so hard .   And when a person LOVES hard, they GRIEVE hard.   They JOY hard.   They HAPPY hard.   And they CRY hard. I am thankful to feel as strongly as I feel.   But understanding that is who I am means having to make SPACE for myself.   Having to carve out time, sometimes physically on the calendar, to allow myself to feel. Today was one of those days. My sister Annette should have turned 59 years old today.   But brain cancer totally ripped her off and stole her from us last December.   Today was our first May 15 th without her.   My sister Sherry and I had planned to be together for this milestone but Covid 19 made that impossible.   So today, each in our own way, we celebrated the sister that we love, that we grieve for.   Today we celebrated ANNETTE DAY. My plan was to fill the day d...

Some days are better than others. I can slide along - everything ok.  Smiles, laughs, walks outdoors. Then it hits.  It's overwhelming.  Sadness.  Desperation.  Confusion. The tears flow. Then I remember, the mail. The note that was delivered from a complete stranger.  She didn't even know our names - she addressed it to "Arlington Career Center Neighbor" at our address. She made me smile.  And take a deep breath. And remember that not all is lost in the world.

These roses are my mom. Summer 2014 - roses and bees Not my actual, real life mother, of course.   But they are part of her.   They are, in my mind, a living breathing reminder that she spent time on this earth.   That she smiled.   That she loved me.   And that she is gone. They were her roses – one of several bushes planted in my parents’ back yard in Omaha.  My dad was taking them out around 12 years ago and I carefully lugged one from Nebraska to Virginia, in the hopes that it would survive and I could plant it.  It worked.  And now, each spring it blossoms.  This year's blooms It doesn’t make the prettiest flowers – they are a bit scrawny and don’t have many leaves.   The roses do not have a scent, which always disappoints me.   Then stems are short so they are hard to cut and bring indoors.   And the they have some very wicked thorns – I have been cut by them many times.   But for all of th...