jackiedoherty.org

It’s been exactly one month since I last posted, and although I never intended to get away from it for so long, I needed a break. (For those concerned about my family’s health, we’re fine, but we did have a month of daily trips to Boston for radiation treatments that wreaked havoc on our lives and our holidays.) If you’re still out there, I’m ready to get back to writing regularly. In fact, I think I have been writing in my mind all along. I’ve certainly been thinking and reacting to events. The only difference is committing those thoughts to text. Like exercising regularly, writing with consistency takes discipline, and I aim to get back at it.

These last few days, it’s as if I am slowly emerging from a self-inflicted burial, like a female version of The Awakening sculpture…  Blame it on family health concerns, turning 50 (UGH—did I actually admit that?), the imminent onslaught of winter, or the bleak fiscal environment that surrounds us. Whatever it is, I have been struggling to thwart this malaise, and one helpful distraction has been my preoccupation with the views of people I love and respect regarding the presidential campaign. How is it that intelligent people can have such divergent perspectives on the leading candidates? We watch the same debates but seem to hear different things. For instance, I hear Obama say he wants to redistribute the wealth by reducing the tax burden on those of us making less than $250K and make priority investments in areas such as energy, environment, and education. I like that. McCain’s response is that he will cut taxes for all people (Where’s the revenue to do anything?) and slash spending (What about vital services?) and provide a $5K credit for funding health insurance. (Good luck finding insurance for that $.)  Some in my family, many of whom also make less than $250K, aren’t comforted by Obama’s plans to help the middle class. They say he is inexperienced yet have no problem supporting Sarah Palin.

Perhaps it is because we are informed only by points of view that support and strengthen our preconceived ideas, so we don’t really hear anything except what we’ve already decided. In my family, we can’t even have a polite conversation about it. I tried at my birthday celebration last week; it lasted barely three minutes before voices were raised and accusations made about Obama’s alleged terrorist affiliations (oh come on!) and Palin’s cutesy ignorance—not much listening happened. Perhaps our voting choice is more about philosophical differences regarding the role of government, but even that seems an incomplete explanation. The fact is, most of my Republican family members share my values; apparently we don’t agree on which leader will take us there. For my part, I can’t understand how they can be good, smart people (which they are), yet so misguided. I just wish they would listen more closely…

If you’re like me, you hate getting calls from telemarketers, yet find it hard to be rude to them, which can make it difficult to get off the line. (They’re just folks trying to make a living, right?) Since getting caller identification, this problem has greatly reduced our dinnertime interruptions although the phone still rings; we simply don’t pick up (unless I forget or get curious about a number). Last week, my niece emailed me that cell phone numbers are now going to be included in a public database too, making them subject to telemarketers. Turns out, this isn’t true according to information cited on the national Do Not Call Registry: “FCC regulations prohibit telemarketers from using automated dialers to call cell phone numbers. Automated dialers are standard in the industry, so most telemarketers don’t call consumers on their cell phones without their consent.”

Even so, I decided to block my home and cell phone numbers by calling the registry, which is managed by the Federal Trade Commission, at 888-382-1222. You can also block your phone number online. The whole process took less than 30 seconds—well worth it if prevents those annoying calls.

Based on a comment I received to a recent post regarding “a disastrous and widespread bullying issue pervading the entire school system,” I thought I’d write about the issue, which profoundly impacted my own childhood and is a hot topic with the Lowell School Committee. (See safety subcommittee agenda for Thursday, Oct. 9.) There is no question that bullying happens in our schools, our playgrounds, and our sports fields. It also happens in our businesses, on our roads, and in all walks of life. If they don’t end up in prison, childhood bullies often grow up to be adult bullies. I have no doubt that bullying has impacted each one of us in some way. In my case, I was a silent witness to children being bullied on the bus and I never spoke up for fear the bully would turn on me. Later, as a seventh grader, I was the victim of bullying by a bunch of supposedly tough girls. I use tough loosely because I learned then and it remains true today that bullies are not tough, which is why taking a stand against bullying makes a difference.

In terms of Lowell, the culture and leadership at each of our schools have the greatest impact on reducing bullying, which is why the school committee continues to put time into establishing effective policies and procedures to make sure prevention and consequences are handled effectively district wide. My personal theory, based on anecdotal rather than actual statistical evidence, is that bullying is more vicious and prevalent in school communities where there is little diversity, where outsiders are so clearly marginalized because the general population is lily white and of a similar economic status. In Lowell schools, “everyone is different” to a certain extent and so there is more tolerance for being different. That said, bullies are out there, so we’re working hard to improve school culture and educate children and staff that bullying is not okay, and it will not be tolerated. (More on this in a later post.) In the meantime, think about your own experience with bullying and the impact it had on you. For me, standing up to those seventh grade girls changed my life.

Between the economy tanking, cancer everywhere, and worries about the environment and future leadership in this country, I’m feeling particularly blue today. In an attempt to “keepa go” as my grandmother used to say, I thought I’d share a story emailed to me: There is a terrible forest fire. All the animals are fleeing the conflagration except Hummingbird, who is flying back and forth, scooping up little slivers of water from a spring and dumping them on the flames. “What do you think you’re doing, stupid little bird?” the other animals ask derisively, and Hummingbird says, “I’m doing what I can.”

Let’s all do what we can: pay attention, VOTE, support candidates you believe in, get involved, recycle, reduce your energy consumption, volunteer in your community…whatever. Just add your cup of water to others as we try to quell the flames of destruction and greed that threaten our health, our communities, and the very earth we share.

It’s a rainy Sunday; take a minute and enjoy this music video on YouTube by Cory at smpfilms. My daughter showed us the video today and we all enjoyed a laugh at Sparta’s antics and Cory’s catchy tune and lyrics. Aside from the fact that Sparta bears an uncanny resemblance to our own cat, the video captures a slice of life with a “mean kitty” and was definitely worth watching. We ended up hovering around the computer to watch a few other films by Cory featuring his cat, and I thought I’d share Identity Crisis with you as well. Who says a cat can’t act like a dog?

“My son has cancer,” I told a complete stranger yesterday; her face widened in shock as my eyes filled and my voice cracked. “Can I tell you my heart is breaking?” I wanted to add, but didn’t, because it was so inappropriate and awkward. The next months of treatment extend a nightmare that started for my family early this summer when I noticed my son’s neck was slightly swollen on one side. My beautiful, kind, intelligent son—not yet 16 years old—now faces four months of chemotherapy to kill the cancer that has invaded his body. Four months is a blip on the screen of his life because his prognosis is very good. It’s a highly curable cancer (Hodgkins Lymphoma) and we caught it very early (Stage 1A). I know he will survive this and live many more wonderful summers, but first we have to get through the treatment and its side effects. A few hours at the Jimmy Fund Clinic was enough to see that cancer chooses its victims indiscriminately, regardless of age or economic status, and that it is a disease that has become horrifyingly prevalent. (Who doesn’t know someone touched by cancer?) This blog will not be focused on our family’s battle with this disease. However, I will devote a page called Battling Cancer that will be updated regularly, so those interested in our progress can check on us.  A few weeks ago, the Globe ran an article about cancer blogs as a way to help folks deal with this disease, so writing as a form of therapy and to keep friends and family updated makes sense. If you are interested in cancer blogs, check here. In the meantime, we’ll take this battle one day at a time, realizing we’re blessed in so many ways. (Think you have problems? Spend an hour in the Jimmy Fund Clinic and your perspective will change.)

Sometimes when the furor of current events and life anxieties becomes too much, it is helpful to look up at the night sky. (It’s also helpful if you are on boat in the middle of a lake in New Hampshire, say, rather than in Lowell.) Armed with a 99 cent star chart and a member of our party who knew more than the basic two constellations (the Big Dipper and Orion), we explored the summer stars. The Big Dipper was easily spotted, low on the horizon to the northwest. From the outside two stars of the “ladle” we could point straight up to Polaris, the North Star, and thus find the Little Dipper. From the inside two stars of the ladle, we could point to a bright star in the middle of the Milky Way, almost directly overhead. This is Deneb, the lead star of an elongated “cross” that is Cygnus, the Swan. To the Northeast of Cygnus, the “W” of Cassiopeia can be seen, also in the Milky Way. Next to her is the “house shape” of Cepheus, the King on his throne. Apparently, Deneb is one of three bright stars whose constellations form the “summer triangle.” We were happy to discover Cygnus and didn’t get any further on this trip. But the stars are always there, waiting for us to look up and discover some peace in their timeless beauty.

Monday was my mother’s birthday. If she were still alive, my huge immediate family (six siblings, spouses and kids) would have celebrated together: consuming lots of food and drink, and making plenty of noise—maybe even playing a rousing game of pick-up charades around the dining room table. Since she died 18 years ago, my sisters and I have created a new tradition. We spend my mother’s birthday just the four of us. We walk the beach, play games, eat, drink and remember our mother with tears and laughter. For me, it has become a day that not only reminds me of her, but also confirms that no matter how painful life can be, there is hope that something good will come from the suffering. Sisters Day is a gift we give each other in honor of our mother who loved us so well. For me, the day has come to symbolize how the worst times in my life were also moments that led to the greatest personal growth, empathy for others, and gratitude for life’s blessings. Still, I have to admit, the potential for personal growth offers little consolation when you’re in the middle of heart-wrenching pain. As my family now faces every parent’s nightmare, a sick child, I try to remind myself to search for the silver lining—that we will get through this hard time and be better for it. (I’ll have to get back to you on how we do with that.)

My daughter showed me this video and I actually laughed out loud. (That’s something these days when I haven’t felt much like laughing.) The short piece is enjoyable even if you don’t happen to be a cat lover, so stick with it a minute because it gets better. Also, it makes a poignant point about life and what even a tiny, simple creature is capable of when she puts her mind to it—in this case, getting a drink of water.