History Repeating Itself

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Yesterday when I wrote about emotional cutoff and my three siblings. What I didn't mention in that post was my family's history of emotional cutoff, which truly deserves this post of its own. It's quite amazing what I have pieced together on just my mother's side of the family alone. Since the participants are all deceased, it seems like the most appropriate side of my family tree to explore...

I should start with the comment that impressed upon me that getting along with my siblings should be important to me. The comment came from my beloved Grandma Ann. She offered it to teenage Selena as a piece of advise, a pearl of wisdom, with what I believe was the intention of helping me navigate the waters of adulthood. She said to me, "You should try and get along with your brother and sisters, because in the end, they are all you will be left with."

What motivated her to say this to me?

My grandma grew up with many siblings in Minnesota. I am not sure of the exact number and the genealogy that provides this information is currently hopelessly lost under a pile of papers. (Note to self: get help cleaning up the house.) The number aside, what I remember from my childhood is snippets about how there was a lot of conflict among those siblings that resulted in cutoffs. In fact, some of my grandma's siblings when so far as to make sure the siblings they no longer had contact with received copies of their wills after they died that stated they were being deliberately written out.

Then there was my Grandpa Herbert's side of the family, Grandma Ann's husband. I knew my Great Aunt Myrtle, my Grandpa's sister. What I didn't know until I was a young adult was that I had a great uncle too. His name was Edward and he died at age 50 in 1951. No one talked about him when I was growing up. My mother mentioned him once, saying that he was cutoff from his siblings and that his surviving wife and children moved to Northern California.

Most of all, perhaps my grandma could see the beginnings of the rifts between us grandkids before her death in 1981. It's no secret in our family that there were two camps: my mother's versus mine. My siblings frequently changed sides between the two, manipulated by my mother. My dad avoided the conflict by retreating to the backyard garden. I could tell my grandma was frustrated with her only child's parenting style and seemed almost helpless to do anything about it. What my mother was doing was tearing us siblings apart; what my grandma hoped was that we could find a way to stick together.

I have learned that overcoming multi-generational family patterns of behavior is impossible for me to do on my own.

It's funny how, as I put this in writing, I suddenly feel absolved of my perceived failure to overcome this. I really wanted to put my grandma's advice into action, but I know as an adult that the task was not one I could accomplish without the cooperation of my siblings. I still believe her advice is the truth. Our siblings are the last remnants of family we have after our parents and grandparents are gone. Our siblings move through our entire past, present and future in a way that no one else can or will. Which makes losing them along the way to something like emotional cutoff seem so fundamentally wrong.

While I understand the wisdom and the motivation behind my grandma's advice, it was never something I could achieve on my own. I recognize now that it's not a failure on my part if my siblings choose to avoid their unresolved family issues by cutting off contact with me. As long as I continue to work on my own issues and remain open to my siblings should they change their minds, I can take comfort that I have done all I can do to prevent history from going down the same path one more time.

Comfort Food: I Love Fruitcake!

Image by Archie McPhee Seattle via Flickr

It's Christmas Eve and time for some baking. Well, except I live with fibromyalgia, so leaving the baking to Christmas Eve isn't practical. So I got head start earlier in the week and I made one of my all time favorite holiday treats, fruitcake.

I know what you are thinking. "How could she like fruitcake?" I know fruitcake is one of the most maligned holiday foods, but that is probably because you never had a piece of my Grandma Devine's fruitcake. My Grandma's fruitcakes were delicious.

And speaking to her ingenuity, she even figure out how to make her fruitcake with the eggs that our ducks laid. You see, my maternal grandparents gave us two ducklings one Easter as a present. Sammy and Julie were both girls, which we discovered when they both started laying eggs. Duck eggs taste really bad scrambled up like chicken eggs, but they work wonderfully in a fruitcake. They are also bigger than chicken eggs, so you use fewer of them in the recipe.

Now this year I decided to try a new take on fruitcake. I made a gingerbread cake in my crockpot before Thanksgiving, so I decided to Google and find a recipe for crockpot fruitcake. I scored big time with this recipe featured on the Chet Day's Crockpot Recipes blog. Click here to get there: Crockpot Fruitcake.

I made just a few changes to the recipe.

First, I used the Splenda for Baking brown sugar mix to decrease the sugar content. If you make this substitution, be sure the follow the package directions as you use only one half the amount of the Splenda for Baking compared to sugar. I made this mistake and now have the base to either make another fruitcake or maybe some gingerbread cookies.

Second, I used a combination of dried apricots, dried tart cherries and golden raisins. I adjusted the ingredients so that I used one cup each of the dried fruits and one cup of walnuts. I see a lot of room here to add any dried fruit that tickles your fancy.

The verdict: this is one tasty fruitcake! Even my hubby, who doesn't like fruit, really enjoyed eating a slice. I cut the cake in two and froze half for eating in the New Year. The other half will be part of the Christmas dessert spread. I hate to admit this, but this recipe is as good as my Grandma's and will become a new holiday favorite for years to come.

Leave me a comment if you try this recipe to let me know what you think.

Am I Haunted?

Image by riptheskull via Flickr

I just checked the NaBloPoMo website to see the blogging theme for October: haunted. I laughed and thought, "Of course that is the theme; it's October, Halloween month." Then I asked myself, "Am I haunted?" and was disturbed when I heard my answer: yes.

I'm not talking about ghosts and goblins; at least I don't think I am. I sorta believe in ghosts; I think my Grandma Devine tried to visit me the night after her funeral, which really freaked me out. I told her (and anyone who happened to overhear me) that I didn't want to see her again until it was my time to follow her. Weird, I know, but as much as I really missed her I didn't want her hanging around and scaring me all the time. I hope that was an O.K. thing to say; being 16 at the time and reeling from the first significant death in my life I know I was ill-prepared for a visit from beyond the grave.

I must believe in ghosts, because after my mother's death, I slept with a sleep mask over my eyes for at least a year afterward. I really wanted to avoid a visit from my mother. Despite my encouragement to discuss the subject, I do not believe that my mother ever accepted the fact that she was dying. But she died anyway, even if she could not discuss or accept it, right in front of me, my husband, my two sisters, my brother-in-law and my Dad. It was quite a last performance, which served to deepened my resolve to avoid a visit from her angry ghost.

My issues with death and dying aside, I admit that I am haunted by certain aspects of my past. Like everyone else on the planet, I wish I could change how I felt about some things and let them go. Other things I thought I had left behind sometimes roar back to life when I least expect it. I know I wrote a post not too long ago about letting go of my survivor's guilt about my cancer experience. It seems writing that post got me in touch with some of my other issues that need the same attention.

I'm not sure I'm going to write every day about the theme of haunted, but then again, I said that with other monthly blogging themes and wound up with a month's worth of posts on tomorrow, routine and heroes. I guess on of my blogging motti* should be "Never say never."

* = plural of motto

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My Personal Heroes: My Grandma Devine

My Grandma Ann Devine is my hero because she was the first person to teach me about unconditional love. My grandma and I got along very well, like two peas in a pod. She fostered my love of cooking and eating vegetables, real ones like cauliflower, Brussel sprouts, eggplant, artichokes, lima beans, fennel, asparagus, jicama and turnips. She always encouraged me, supported my interests and even once told me she saw a fortune teller that told her I would do great things. When she died in 1981 I was a devastated 16 year old.

There are two memories that I want to share with you that I think illustrate my relationship with my grandma. The first takes place when I am in grade school. I am unfortunately born in the month of August, which means that having a successful child's birthday party is not a likely proposition, what with most kids on vacation with their families or at summer camp. I insisted on having a party despite the unlikelihood that my guests would attend and somehow it was my grandma that became responsible for chaperoning my party. Predictably, only one guest arrived. Thankfully, my grandma made my party a success by spending the entire time keeping me and my guest engaged, entertained and happy. Her presence and participation turned my initial disappointment into a pleasant memory.

My second memory takes place in adolescence. As well as my grandma and I got along, my mother and I did not get along. Adolescence was a difficult time for me, filled with numerous fights with my mother. I started calling my mother a bitch in response to her venomous jabs at me. My grandma asked me about the strife between us and let me talk while she listened with interest. She offered some suggestions, things I could do to deal with the situation, Then she said, "Why do you call your mother a bitch? Why don't you call her a witch instead?" Her comment demonstrated to me that she empathized with my plight, although she did wanted me to clean up my language.

I have many more memories like these that I think demonstrate how much my grandma loved me. What I don't have are any memories of my grandmother ever being angry or cross with me. Even when she didn't agree with how I was behaving, calling my mother a cuss word, she had a positive way of bringing it to my attention so I could hear what she said without feeling judged or punished. In the sixteen years we had together, I never had a reason to doubt my grandma's love.

There is a poem I want to share with you and I think is a good analogy for my life and how my relationship with my grandma fit into it:

God never promised

A life without pain,

Laughter without tears

Or sun without rain.

But He did promise

Strength for the day,

Comfort for the tears

And light for the way

And for all who believe

In His Heaven above

He rewards their faith

In His everlasting love.

~Author Unknown~

For me, my grandma's unconditional love was my sun, my laughter, my strength, my comfort and a bright light in my life. These are the reasons that she is my HERO.