Some Days...

...I really miss my father.

It's not even the family passages or anniversaries that get me, maybe because I know they're coming and I can prepare for them. At the end of June, I had dinner with my mother and my brother to mark what would have been Dad's 77th birthday and my parents' 56th anniversary. It was a lovely meal, accompanied by good wine and better memories. We sent Eve off to sleepaway camp last week, and I was wistful about my grown-up girl, but I didn't think about Dad.

Today I found myself talking to a patient and family about turning off a pacemaker, and why the cardiologist had told them they couldn't do that*, and why I saw it differently, and I thought "oh, Daddy will be so interested in this..." I had to blink back the tears before I could go on with the conversation.

Some things sneak in under my defenses and my preparation, and I feel my grief as if it were today and not nearly four years ago. I was blessed to have a father who loved me and supported me and taught me well, and I am grateful for the years he lived. And some days I miss him so much I can hardly bear it.

___
*The cardiologist was wrong. A pacemaker, like any other medical intervention, can be withdrawn at the patient's request - not removed, but turned off.

Feminist At the Movies ~ by Jay

If you haven't seen Toy Story 3 and its accompanying cartoon short, you may want to skip this post - there are mild spoilers for both.

We have a few days left before Eve goes to sleepaway camp, and so we're having an Eve-gets-to-choose weekend. French toast and sausage for breakfast, lunch from the snack bar at the pool, and a late-afternoon showing of Toy Story 3 (complete with frozen slushie-like-thing for a snack) and finished off with hot dogs and s'mores at home for dinner. Just an idyllic summer's day.

Except that when Mommy is a feminist, there's no such thing as a simple family trip to the movies.

First there are the Coming Attraction trailers (we'll skip the dad in the lobby admonishing his son to "man up". Estimated age of son: 7). Alpha and Omega is about wolves - a pair of wolves who are relocated and want to go home. Alpha is the female wolf; Omega is the male wolf who, pack in the pack in Canada, has no chance with her, but of course becomes her Prince Charming on the journey home.

Speaking of Prince Charming, what, precisely, is Disney doing to Rapunzel? I never thought I'd want to see more of the princess in one of those movies (or at least the trailer).

Megamind looks like it could be kind of enjoyable (I might be able to tolerate Will Ferrell's voice if his face isn't attached to it) but we get the male stars introduced in poses as Mighty Hero and Evil Genius and then there's Tina Fey - falling and screaming for help, and then captured and waiting for rescue. She's smart and has snappy comebacks, but she's essentially Lois Lane in glasses.

Sorcerer's Apprentice really caught my interest, but there appears to be one female character, a pretty blond girl who is the main character's love interest - and I figured that out even though she has precisely one line of dialogue in the trailer.

Then there's the cartoon. I love that Pixar movies have cartoon shorts. It's a wonderful little throwback, and the cartoons are cute and creative and usually pretty amusing. Day and Night is technically superb. Two animated creatures (they look sort of like the old-fashioned Casper with bigger noses) represent Day and Night, with scenes of sun and moons and stars and various landscapes visible through their bodies. They start out antagonists and become playmates - after Day shows Night a scene with a buxom woman in a white bikini, lying on a beach. So those charming animated blogs are, of course, male blobs, and they have only one thing in mind. Maybe if Pixar had a few women in their senior creative ranks, they might have plots and characters that are as original as they are technically brilliant.

So I was braced for the Main Attraction - and in some ways I was pleasantly surprised. Sure, Woody and Buzz are still the stars of the toys, but there was plenty of rescuing to go around, and Jessie and Barbie and even Mrs. Potatohead got in on the fun. Unfortunately, the main storyline of the film relies on the idea that Day Care is Evil. OK, it turns out in the end that it isn't Day Care that's Evil, it's one particular toy at that particular day care, but you have to hang around for the credits to figure that out. It's clear that toys - at least good toys, like Woody and Buzz and their pals, belong at home. Just like kids, I suppose.

Add some Latin-lover Hispanic stereotyping in for good measure, and you have a fairly typical - maybe even less egregious than most - example of pop culture neatly packaging the kyriarchy and handing it on to our children.

At least the popcorn was good.

Seen and Heard ~ by Jay

Several things whirring around in my brain after reading Tigermom's post...

Yes, of course, I'm delighted that Dinah reposted what I wrote, and added her wisdom as well (even if she did point out that we can't count. Or add. Or something).

Tigermom and I had the luxury of a real-life, face-to-face date yesterday for Thai food and gelato and a long, private chat. Our talk reminded me of how alike we are in so many ways, how we think the same way about kids and parents and schools and communities and practicing medicine and relationships.

And then I came home and read her post, and thought about silence. I was part of that difficult conversation, and while I was frustrated and angry, I didn't feel silenced. For all our commonality, Tigermom and I responded differently. It might have been the topic, or it might have been our different relationships to silence.

I have spent much of my life avoiding silence - turning on music, keeping the TV going as I do housework, listening to the radio and now my iPod as I drive around, and of course talking. Always talking.

When Sam and I have been busy in our separate worlds for a few days, and he touches me with obvious intentions, I'll sometimes say "I need to talk to you first". He knows me well enough to open his arms and hold me while we talk. Then I'll kiss him, and he'll say "so you've had enough talking?" and I laugh, and say "Oh, no. Never. But I can wait for more". The conversation - mundane, ordinary, nothing-special catching-up chatter - helps me feel connected.

It took me a long time to learn how to build and nourish connection by listening as well as talking, and in that process I also learned that I also feel safer when I'm talking. Silence is dangerous. Invisibility is terrifying. I know that there are times when I've been one of those monologuing, insistent, monopolizing voices that sent Tigermom into her stewpot. That's often my reaction to feeling unsafe.

It hadn't occurred to me until now that perhaps the voices that angered me a few months ago had their roots in the same kind of fear, but I still didn't find them silencing. I was angry and frustrated, sure. I knew I could have made my voice as loud and insistent as theirs, and I chose not to because I don't like who I am when I do that - and it wouldn't have changed anyone's mind. I found a smaller group where I could listen and speak to those who saw it my way, and I spoke my own truth when I had the chance in the larger conversation, and I sadly, reluctantly, let it go.

When I have allies, I am safe. When I know who I am and I can see myself clearly, I can create my own safety. Sometimes I can even tolerate silence, and choose to be silent myself, without fear. Maybe I can reach out a hand to a friend and help her feel safe, too.

Privacy? Censorship? Silencing? Part 1 ~ by Tigermom

Long time no see, dear readership.

And a shout out to Dinah for her kind words and yes, we are okay with you stealing Jay's post about male and female friendships. Please note that I am speaking for Jay without asking her so, Jay, speak up if it is a problem. You will note the irony of my action as you read on.

I do not know how many parts there will be in this thread but here at least is one.

Why have I been gone for a while?

I have always been shy. My brick and mortar friends might be surprised to here me say that, but I am. I feel open and free and quite uncensored when I already feel safe and secure. And I do feel safe and secure in so many parts of my life especially with my family, friends, and in my workplace.

But when I feel new and unknown to a community, and I cautiously dip my toes into the water. If the water is icy, then I yank my toes out of that water and even avoid nice, warm, welcoming, familiar and safe waters too. At least for a while.

Overkill? But there it is.

Some time ago, I was listening to a group of people discuss some very sensitive topics. Really sensitive stuff. And the discussing was among essentially good people.

But at one point the voices of people with very different opinions than mine turned from feeling like differences of opinion to feeling like monolithic and monopolizing pronouncements.

Should I pipe up? If I did, would "the others" loudly disagree with me? Should I put myself out there with a sensitive different opinion?

Not sure I wanted to feel that vulnerable. But I did dip my toe into the water and voiced a watered down version of my thoughts to test those waters. I was ignored and the hot and loud opinions of the others continued.

I felt really shut down.

And I had no idea how to talk about it. Blogging felt the perfect venue, but I still had no words other than four letter ones.

So I stewed.

Time has caused me to ask why "the others'" opinions held such power. Was it my temperament? Or was I silenced?

So thanks again Dinah. Your shout out reminded me I have friends here in this warm and familiar part of these cyber waters. It is safe to come out again.

Conversations With My Daughter ~ by Jay

Mommy, Daddy made a face at you.

I don't think so. He's sticking his tongue out at you, not me.

No, it's you.

Definitely not me. You.

You don't have your glasses on, Mommy. You can't tell.

I know your Daddy, and I'm older, so I know better.

I'm younger, so I still remember some of what I learned.

I Write Like ~ by Jay

According to this site, I write like Cory Doctorow.

I would have to read something by Cory Doctorow to know if that's a good thing.

Medical Advice ~ by Jay

Today's Rex Morgan, M.D. has a fascinating window into the physician/patient relationship.


Prostate cancer treatment? That's up to you. The doctor won't tell you what to do.

Your political career? Well, the doctor is all over that.

The Irony, It Burns ~ by Jay

I actually said that, out loud, to Eve today.

The occasion? A very personable young man was demonstrating remote control toys in a store in Big City. We'd watched him make the little UFO go up and down, and then make the little helicopter do loops, and then send the big helicopter soaring toward the ceiling. We'd picked up a UFO and a little helicopter and put them in our bag, which already contained several other splurgy items. As we walked away, the personable young man was looking for new customers, and he began to sing....

Come gather round people, wherever you roam
And admit that the waters around you have grown
And accept it that soon you'll be drenched to the bone.....

Didn't that used to be the counterculture?

Was Harry Right? ~by Jay

Bluemilk got me started thinking about this. I first heard Harry's thesis advanced by the resident I worked with on my med school psych rotation. She assured me that while I might think I had platonic friendships with men, the men didn't see it that way. I was pretty sure they did see it that way. I wasn't naive - I was engaged to be married and had done my share of dating and flirting; I knew what it felt like when a man was interested in me sexually and I knew the difference. I still know the difference, and I still have men friends. For most of my life, my closest friends have been men.

I had a best girlfriend growing up, but we weren't together very much - she lived in a different neighborhood and had a lot of afterschool activities and we weren't usually in the same class at school. We didn't trade sleepovers and call each other to check our outfits and have long closed-door talks like Eve does with her friends. My day-to-day best friend, the person I hung out after school with and rode bikes with and watched TV with and waded in the creek with, was the boy across the street. We were inseparable until he moved away when we were ten.

During that same psych rotation, we had a lecture on child development in which I learned that "all children" had a same-sex best friend during latency. I asked the lecturer afterwards what would happen if a child had an opposite-sex best friend during that period, and she said "gender development would become abnormal". Perhaps that explains it.

I started to seek out and cultivate female friendships when I was in med school, but I find I still gravitate toward friendships with men. I am blessed, now, with wonderful women friends, and I'm deeply grateful for them, but I still think my psych resident - and Harry - were wrong.

At The End of The Day ~ by Jay

Now it really feels like summer. I love coming home, sweaty and chlorine-y and covered with sunscreen, and taking an early-evening shower. Damp hair, clean clothes, feet in sandals - that's relaxation. Even the discomforts make me smile - a little too much sun has left my skin feeling dry; my eyes are slightly itchy from swimming; a couple of mosquito bites make themselves known. It's a delightful end to a day that included a few hours of work, Eve's special red, white and blue frosted cutout cookies, Sam cooking grilled scallops by the pool, and a view of the fireworks from the field at the junior high school.

I could be doing the dishes or cleaning the dining room or folding the laundry, but instead I am taking my happy summer self to bed at a reasonable hour. If you celebrated Independence Day today, I hope yours was a day of joy; if you simply had a summer Sunday, I hope it was a good one; and if you're in winter in the Southern Hemisphere, well, you can tell me about summer next December, and that will make me smile, too.